#KENNY WHEN I CATCH YOU

[superpyodan]

thinking about the fact that Kenny’s name is actually Kendal … 😂😂😂😂

also, kind of unrelated, but - Kenny… When I catch you …. I cannot listen to Car Seat Headrest without thinking about him. Get out of my brain NOW.

idk i'm mad at him right now for no reason whatsoever. like genuinely no reason. i want to chop him up into pieces and put him in a stew

[khiptid]

Fionna and Cake Episode 9 Moodboard (SCARED)

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

“ 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨,

𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥 ”

┊❛ 𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛

𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚��𝙙 ❜┊

“ 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘥 ”

❀° ┄───╮

its my little meow meow’s birthday 🥹

no hate but like lowkey if gege put me jjk kenny would’ve had to box it out with me before getting his grimy brain fluids on my pookie bear

matter of fact throw gege in the ring too— he still hasn’t payed for his crimes either

╰───┄ °❀

he felt filthy.

the taste wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard he tried.

“curses taste like a rag that was used to clean up shit and vomit.”

mission after mission.

day after day.

was this really how he was supposed to go on? being a sorcerer was a thankless occupation that was at the cost of his sanity.

his morals could only do so much to keep him from coming undone, a fraying thread— slowly unraveling to reveal something sinister.

and the taste— god he couldn’t get rid of the taste even if he wanted to.

satoru had asked him if he lost weight not too long ago, to no one’s surprise— swallowing curses does ruin one’s appetite.

sometimes he felt like he’d skip meals after a mission for weeks at a time, his companion practically begging him to eat.

he couldn’t say that this week would be any different. he just wanted to be home and away from it all, in the arms of his beloved no doubt.

————————————

with a click of the lock, he pushed open the door, dragging his feet.

immediately he was hit with everything and nothing. his senses went blank save for his hearing and sight, he was taken aback and then he remembered.

“hey sugu…” a pretty little head peeked around the corner

“is this your doing…?”

she smiled sheepishly before fully emerging from behind the corner, a steaming mug in hand.

“i’ve been working on it.”

her cursed technique, she was always humble about it. it wasn’t as flashy as his own or satoru’s, she’d argue that it wasn’t nearly as useful like shoko’s.

but at this moment, he couldn’t disagree more.

“i’m going to bring back your smell, yeah?” she murmured softly, passing the mug to him

and slowly his smell did come back, revealing the steaming mug to be the dark roast coffee— perhaps the one satoru brought back for him on a mission abroad a few months back.

the smell was overwhelming considering it was the only thing his brain could process, but not in a bad way. almost as if it was ridding him of the foulness that plagued him a mere few minutes before.

“y/n i—“

“you must be exhausted.” she cut him off with an apologetic smile

“i uh.. started a bath for you, some bath salts are in there to help— should be enough time for you to relax and then i’ll bring your taste back so you can drink your coffee.” she fidgeted, a habit she’d do when she rambled

his tired eyes couldn’t help but soften.

“you didn’t have to.”

“i see how missions take a toll on you suguru…”

“it’s my duty—“

“but at what cost?”

his eyes snapped down to hers. all this time he thought his inner turmoil, his resentment and bitterness that was festering— he thought he kept it well away behind his morality and sense of duty… and she just saw through it so casually.

she could see him.

his throat went dry as he tried to speak, she just offered him a smile.

“it’s the least i can do— now stop second guessing whether you deserve it, the water’s gonna get cold.” she mused before taking the mug back and disappearing further into the small apartment

and as much as he’d like to stand there and process, that bath sounded really nice.

————————————

he stayed in that bath until the water became lukewarm, she really had a knack for aromatherapy. the bath salts left a eucalyptus scent wafting through the bathroom as the water relaxed his aching muscles and the unrest in his mind.

he had dressed into something comfortable before emerging from the bathroom, pajama pants and a plain long sleeve, his hair out of its neat bun instead the raven tresses still dripping a little bit of water down his back from his lazy towel drying.

the rest of the apartment smelled warm and cozy, it usually smelled like this anyways but with his sense of smell heightened he could appreciate it more.

he made his way to the living room where she sat couch, waiting for him with another steaming mug of coffee.

“come, sit down here.” she tapped the spot with her foot

he took the invitation in stride, nestling on the floor with his back against the couch as he sat in between her legs.

she handed him the cup of coffee before trailing her fingers through his hair, gently working out the knots. he took a sip of the coffee, his senses finally allowing him to taste the bitterness of the drink.

he could stay like this forever.

“do you want to talk about your day?” she hummed

“there’s nothing significant about today, just another mission.” he murmured against the rim of the cup, staring into his drink that reflected his eyes

“you can’t say nothing significant happened today!”

he tilted his head up only to be met with a frown.

“what do you mean…? it was just another mission day…”

“can’t believe gojo was right about this.” her frowned deepened

“am i missing something…?”

“your birthday silly!”

he blinked a few times.

his birthday?

he checked the date on his phone, his lips forming a little ‘o’ at the calendar staring back at him.

so it was that time of year again?

“gojo said that you have the tendency to forget but i didn’t think he was serious.” she pouted

“now why are you upset?” he reached up from his position, resting a hand on her cheek

“because it’s your birthday— stupid higher ups made you go on a mission on your birthday!”

well when it was put like that…

“gojo and shoko wanted to throw you a surprise party after your mission but i remembered how overwhelmed you get sometimes especially after dealing with curses… figured a party was the last thing you wanted to come home to.” he couldn’t help but smile at the little detail she picked up

“they still plan to come by later with takeout and cake… but i suggested that you had some time to decompress and recuperate first and they were on board.”

“i don’t deserve you.” he blurted out

“well that’s too bad, i think i’m quite comfortable where i’m at.” she chuckled lightly, tapping the side of his face affectionately

“you’re always taking care of people, who’s gonna take care of you?” she let out a sigh, her gaze shifting downward in a pensive state

“y/n..”

“let me do this for you okay? then you can push me away and be your broody self—”

she felt the words die in her throat as she felt his grip on her arm.

“can i be greedy for a moment?”

“it’s not greedy if it’s for your sake.” she frowned a bit

he took that as a sign when he got up, with his knees to the ground he still managed to hover over her sitting figure on the couch. his rough hands cradling her face like precious treasure.

despite her eyes widening in surprise, there was no hint that she wanted him to back off.

“can i be greedy?” he repeated hoarsely, his breathing stilled after realizing their proximity

“with me, you can be as greedy as you want.” she whispered

and he was more than happy to oblige, feeling and tasting her warmth as he pulled her in, capturing her lips with his in a slow, sweet kiss.

all he could taste was her sweetness that complimented the coffee taste that still lingered on his own lips. a comforting contrast to the nauseating and despicable taste of his reality, a piece of his own little heaven, his sanctuary.

and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“happy birthday suguru.”

[shhroomer]

Missed my girl <3

Just some miscellaneous drawings I’ve compiled of my south park oc!

[lovereadandwrite]

LOVER BOY WINS AGAIN

[smoments]

no bc the way that gojo looks at geto (kenjaku) when he’s getting sealed never fails to make me physically sick. like even as he knows he’s going to be captured and there’s nothing he can do about it it’s SO clear from looking at his face that all he can think about is the fact that his supposedly dead best friend is in front of him and i feel the lostness and the confusion radiating off of him and it's like he's still in shock & trying to cling on to that last shred of hope that he could still be alive. he's searching for suguru in kenny's smile even though HE KNOWS IT'S NOT HIM!!! it’s so wide eyed and vulnerable and childlike and i’m going to cry and throw up lord

[lyril]

lumpus is a fascinating specimen glad theres other people also fond of him

HE SURE IS i will be honest i almost like him a Little Too Much because i Also live in my fantasy world of make believe where camp lazlo is a little more than a 6.4/10 show (I STILL LOVE YOU SWEETHEART!) and instead also includes all my insane 20k spiels of backstory stringing and talks about character writing but

(also. i do think it's funny how popular slinkman is in comparison, i love him just as much, but i actually see people mention really liking slinkman pretty frequently if someone happens to posts about camp lazlo which is GOOD because he DESERVES IT MAJORLY but the lumpus bug has Also caught me something awful even though i hate him and he sucks so i'm alone adrift in the world out here...)

edited this just for him

[elitehoe]

Nick Jackson foulplay?? Oh wow Kenneth you really done fucked up brother

[finndoesntwantthis]

Obviously “I Can Fix Him” is also for Hangman and Kenny lol wow it’s even another cowboy metaphor!!!!!! Having a great and very mentally stable time!!! :)))))

[bloodmoonmuses]

bitch wtf he wants me dead

[superpyodan]

I HATE KENNY SO BAD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i hate him i hate him i hate him im being so truthful rn (i’m lying so hard)

[devoti]

gojo looks so tired like why are the corners of his eyes so accentuated i'm going to throw up let pookie have a restful nap please

[gor3-hound]

I'M HOWLING AT THE MOOOOOON GOD FUCK. don't play logan we both know i'd take all like... 11 inches of those claws 😓😓😓

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[tojisun]

oh but something vile with dbf!simon—

how you come to him the moment you finally fucked your boyfriend. you’re all giggly as you hop in his car, your cheeks all fever-warm.

simon hums, eyeing you with a quirked brow. “what’s got you all giddy?”

his hand drops to your thigh, clamping down until your skin’s all dimpled underneath his touch. he goes back to the road, his car revving amidst the silence, and you almost want to lie and hide what happened but his grip is already tightening up and you huff, concealing the way you feel so pleased with being read so easily by him.

“kenny’s roommates were away so we finally got to fuck,” you reply, chirping, eyes trained to the blurring road to avoid simon’s reaction.

there was nothing from the older man, his silence stretching on, and you feel the beginnings of a pout forming on your lips because you were so sure he’d break. but simon just drives on, exiting out of the highway and into the familiar roads leading to your place.

you bite the inside of your lips, eyes furrowing in your frustration because fuck simon—

then the car jolts, sending you careening to the window. you yelp, scrambling, trying to catch where simon is going, and your confusion only grows when you see that he’s suddenly pulled into an empty parking lot.

“si—”

there’s a flurry of action—the engine dying, the car stilling, and simon pulling you towards him using your shirt before hot lips latch on yours. the kiss is messy, all nipping teeth and snarled grunts, and you giggle, heady, melting into him.

it drags on; lips smacking together, moans filtering out. it is desperate, and not one he’s ever done before. it’s addicting—this simon that is spurred by his jealousy—and god you want more.

he pulls away with a growl. simon’s still dragging his lips along your jaw when he murmurs, “who’s a better fuck, love? me or your new toy?”

you roll your eyes, pushing him back. god, he’s so predictable—he pulls away every time your dad’s back home from a business trip like by doing so, simon’s absolved; and then running back to you the moment you show interest in someone else.

still, the predictability is what’s fun.

“i don’t even remember yours anymore, mr. riley,” you reply, humming.

it’s a deliberate taunt, you know, but one that simon easily folds into—his eyes go dark, domineering, before reaching forward to cup your jaw. his thumb presses flat on your lips.

“then, won’t you let me remind you?”

your eyes narrow, victory singing in your blood. you give him a shy nod.

“good,” simon rasps out, already pleased. “let’s move you to the backseat, yeah?”

“okay,” you reply, your voice a shy whisper.

you might have to text kenny after this.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

could you do a Peter steele x fem reader? <3

A/n: every now and then I’m reminded of how much I love this man he’s so pretty like I can’t

Warnings: smut, size kink bc you legally can’t write Peter without it I refuse, fingering (f receiving), I wrote this over a few weeks and forget what I wrote so if I missed something please let me know otherwise enjoy!

You'd been hired to help out with Type O Negative's new record. They'd rented out a place with a recording area and some rooms, a kitchen and a few bathrooms. You were just there to cook, clean, help out with what they asked.

When you were looking for a job this description was strange but the money was good.

You didn't know who Type O Negative was or the members so you were terrified to find out that the lead singer and bassist was 6'8. He dwarfed everyone, made you feel miniature.

You tried your best to avoid him and barely made eye contact, mostly because you didn't want to hurt your neck. Also because Peter had a habit of standing too close to you, anytime you tried to look up you were in a shadow under his chest.

It terrified you.

What's more is you couldn't shake the thought of him sneaking into your room late at night, covering your mouth with his big hand so he could bruise your insides without a worry that others would hear you.

The band was currently recording a song, you had heard Peter's deep voice vibrating the walls earlier, since then it was mostly instruments.

Kenny had asked you to make some pizza, "we thought about ordering but we couldn't decide which place to get it from." He'd told you. You accepted the request and got to work on their food.

You were just pushing the meal into the oven when you heard a voice that made you jump. "You dance when you cook?" You had a hand on your chest as you turned to see Peter leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at you with a smirk, eyeing your body.

"Huh?" You asked, acting dumb. You'd always been told to make food while you were in a good mood, some old thing about bad energies burning food. So, you'd put on the radio and dance.

Peter chuckled and shook his head. "Pizza's almost ready?" He asked. You nodded.

"Just give it a few minutes." You went to the fridge to get yourself something to drink.

You felt Peter come up behind you, towering over you and leaning down to your ear. "Why do you do that?" You didn't say anything, staring into the fridge with wide eyes as Peter's hot breath fanned over your cheek. His one hand went to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze while his other arm leaned on the fridge above your head. "always avoiding me, you get quiet and cold." He said.

"Why?" He was like a growl in your ear. His tongue moved past his lips and traced the shell of your ear, drawing a shaky breath from you.

Peter let out a soft hum. "Oh, that's it, huh?" He trailed his tongue down from your earlobe to your collarbone. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" The hand that rested on your hip moved to your stomach and dipped under your waistband and into your panties.

You gasped, your back already arching in anticipation. Peter grinned and started kissing up your neck. He pulled you away from the fridge and closed the door. He held you close with his strong arm while his calloused fingers started toying with your clit.

His kisses became more aggressive, so did the movement of his fingers and his grip on you got tighter. You could feel his hard-on against your back, thick and lengthy.

Fuck, he was so hot. His grunts as he rubbed himself against you, his firm hold on your body and thoughts. You wanted him inside you. You needed him inside of you.

You could feel a knot building in your gut but before you came Peter pulled his hand out of your pants. "Naughty girl, thinking she could just cum like that?" You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. Peter chuckled at your obedience. "Good girl, now on your knees." He smacked your ass.

It took you a second for you mind to catch up with you and you got on your knees in front of him. Peter pulled his hard cock out of his jeans and tapped the tip against your cheek. He was so big, so big you were scared to think of how it would fit in your mouth, never mind you cunt...

"Just open your mouth and try not to gag." You had no idea how you were supposed to take him and not gag. You didn't get a chance to think too much about it before Peter pushed himself past your lips. You only managed to take half of him before your had to push him back.

His low chuckle sounded again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” His hand cradled the back of your head, he used your mouth as his own fleshlight. You gagged around him even though he asked you not to, he didn’t same to mind as every time it drew a guttural moan from him.

He twitched down your throat, a wetness pooled between your thighs.

Before he came he pulled out, you coughed and wiped your mouth.

Peter pulled you up, aggressively ripping your clothes off and tossing them aside as he bit up and down your neck, your collarbone. Leaving dark marks with two prominent teeth marks, like a vampire.

You could barely keep your mouth shut with how much you were moaning, how good he made you feel. Small, fragile. His.

He hoisted you up and held you close and he pushed his tip into you. You gasped loudly and shook your head. “S’not gonna fit, too big” You whined, Peter just laughed and pushed deeper into you, only stopping when he was halfway.

He stretched you out so much, he hit every spot without even trying. “See?” He asked, sweetly kissing your cheek. “Not that bad, hm?”

Your arms wrapped around his neck. You were mesmerized by his perfect green eyes, sharply drawn face and those fangs.

You nearly came as he bottomed out. You could feel him pushing against your stomach, making a bulge which you just had to feel.

There was no grace period. Peter pushed you against the wall and slammed his hips into yours over and over again. The kitchen filled with your loud moans and skin slapping skin.

Peter had your legs over his shoulders, his teeth practically sunk into the space where your neck and shoulder connected, drawing lewder sounds from you as you begged and begged even when your brain couldn’t comprehend words anymore.

You clenched around him as the knot in your stomach quickly came undone. Pleasure shot through you, rocking your body and you clung to Peter, clawing at him all while he laughed with a tone that carried such pity.

Tears dripped down your cheeks when you realized he wasn't stopping. Your head fell to his shoulder and you watched as the bump on your stomach returned before leaving again and again.

Peter's deep grunts in your ear had your mind spinning as he continued to pull more sounds from you, promising that every time he got you over the edge it would be the last just for him to tell you another one when you were barely over that one.

This was exactly what you wanted. Your body hurt but your cunt kept sucking him in, tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for more.

Finally, after the nth time you'd cum, you felt him twitching inside of you. Wanting to help him you tried kissing his neck, instead ending up just weakly licking him. It didn’t matter and soon you felt his hot cum hitting your gummy walls.

It was really only then you realized you hadn’t used protection. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, your body was too weak to do anything about it even if you wanted to.

You’d thought he’d just drop you and walk off. Instead he carried you up to his room, gently setting you down on his bed before he went to get a wet rag to clean you up.

He was so gentle. Even with his big hands, littered with callouses, he was so sweet with you. He was especially careful around sensitive areas, making sure to praise you all the while until he crawled into bed with you.

He held you close, holding you on top of him like he was your mattress. You cling to him as he continues to praise you. “I knew you’d be loud.” He muttered.

Tiredly you looked up at him. “Why’s that?” You asked, voice soft.

“We we’re looking for something to put in the background of a solo.” He explained. You wanted to ask questions, be mad, but his hand was playing with your hair, lightly scratching you scalp and you just couldn’t keep yourself awake.

Sure enough when you woke up later Peter wasn’t there. You thought about going back to sleep but you wanted to know more about this song you were supposedly in.

You took the blanket with you as you made your way through the house and to the recording room. Peter was on the couch and gestured for you to sit with him so you did, curling up in his lap and nuzzling into him as his arms wrapped around you.

“Hey, play the song.” He said. Your eyes were closed and you were about to fall asleep again. The song started nice and soft which didn’t help, Peters deep voice echoing in your head. Right up until you heard yourself calling out for him.

Your eyes shot open and your cheeks heated up. You looked up to Peter who was just smiling proudly at his work. “Don’t worry, you’ll get paid your fair share.” He promised, moving your head back to his chest and letting you sleep some more.

[tutsduckies]

I am so down bad it's not even funny. I know it's not my man but the face is there and I can't resist