#greasy little creature
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"Oh, some women only say they like black metal because they want to fuck the musicians!"
Good. Somebody should want to fuck those men
#i'm sorry i'm drunk#but ive gotta say#these alleged girlies who only enjoy black metal because they wanna screw the musicians?#i could not care less if you paid me to#good for them#thirst after that greasy little creature
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making purchases is soo annoying when you r a system. just went oh! i should get a new mouse & keyboard for my design classes :3 (hate having 2 work w touchpad & my keyboard is sooo bustedddd) & just put the cutest hamster bt mouse + keyboard in my cart when i realized. not everyone here likes or commits to the cute n whimsical n joy filled aesthetic..
#had the horrifying vision of ros or bluejay hunched over in the design lab looking fucking dour in their big baggy goth sandman coat.#greasy. tired. etc. w a silly little pastel creature setup... REALLY funny. idk if i can do that 2 them though#txt
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I took a shower shaved my face and clipped my nails for the first time in over a week where is my good job sticker for beating the depression today
#I have been wiping down daily w bath wipes but my hair was getting a little funky#alas I am still only brushing my teeth like twice a week................ i just. can't make myself. it doesn't feel like there's any point.#i only showered because I don't want to get fired from my job for being a greasy little creature. i kind of do want to be fired though#i want an excuse to leave in a way that it wouldn't be my fault
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I will make no excuses. This is the biggest example of self indulgent art ive done since my birthday last year. I have no fucking clue what au this is. I jsut wanted to draw Sabo as a sheep, Ace as slutty and greasy as i could with him still being hot in my eyes, and luffy with adorable little bear ears. Also that shading on luffy’s pic was really fun to make.
I had a physical reaction to drawing the little animals. Theyre. Everything. To me.
Why luffy is bear- bears are so food motivated i love them.
Why sabo is sheep- rebelling against fate’s design, breaking from herd mentality, etc etc
Why ace is coyote- it’s really funny how people keep thinking theyre cats or dogs and take them in but theyre just feral creatures. Very similar to Ace me thinks.
I wanted to make luffy and ace typical predators of sheep. Something something them born to destroy the system of all that has ever been (harking back to that herd mentality) something something also breaking that promise too to be brothers with someone from that system
#my art#one piece#sabo#monkey d. luffy#asl brothers#one piece fan art#portgas d. ace#sabo the revolutionary#asl au#they make me ill#they make me physically ill#sick in the head#one piece spoilers
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Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':
Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)
He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.
It's hunger.
And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-
He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).
But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.
You're so soft.
You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.
And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.
You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.
He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.
It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.
"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."
You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.
That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-
(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)
But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.
"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."
You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.
"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."
"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.
You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."
"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.
"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."
He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.
(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)
He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.
It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.
He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.
Doesn't mean he likes it, though.
(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).
So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.
And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.
"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.
You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.
It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-
Until it's not.
He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.
"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"
It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.
"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."
He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.
The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.
But you're watching.
"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"
The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.
"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."
And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.
"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.
He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.
It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.
"Simon-"
"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.
And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.
"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."
"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."
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Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖
Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).
#you have a sweet little blossoming romance until tommy starts acting up and simon joins the army#but youre his first love and who knows...there may be a future for you years down the line#when old grizzled simon spots a familiar pretty face walking the streets of manchester while he's on leave#and really,him watching you and looking out for you is a relationship tradition at this point (:#idk im not confident with this and its not great but the idea was lingering and idk self indulgent#simon riley cod#simon “ghost” riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley/reader#ghost cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod fanfic#cod imagine#báirseach writes#cw implied abuse#cw fatphobia
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I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.
Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.
I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.
The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.
My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.
But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.
Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.
I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.
The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.
I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.
This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”
I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.
Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”
Terms were agreed.
The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.
“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”
Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”
“I have never been more serious.”
“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”
“No. You promised.”
With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.
I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.
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Always Hungry.
MDNI.
PAIRING: Martin x reader
WARNINGS: pwp, mentions of bruises and scrapes (martin) pussy eating. Reader is afab, but there's no gendered pronouns or use of y/n. Hastily written, no beta reader we die like victorian children.
WORD COUNT: 942.
A/N: Hi hello I haven't written a fic in 2 years but Martin made me crawl from my grave please enjoy!
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Martin's room smelled like incense. Cheap incense, bought online with a holder that made the smoke look like a waterfall. Martin only burned the incense to cover up the smell of sex and sweat, in case the landlord came knocking. It mostly worked, unless you pulled back the blankets on his bed. Then, it was all him, musky and heady and sweet, and you, more or less the same.
He was feeding his skink some blue worms, to match his blue eyes, and the blue candy that poked out from between his lips. He smiled. Martin always smiled when his skink ate, her blue tongue flicking out. She was a silly little creature, lacking a few brain cells, but cute nonetheless. More importantly, she seemed to like you, when you scratched under her chin, or held her little hands with your fingertips. Martin liked it too.
He was shirtless, only in a pair of black jeans that hung low on his hips. You followed the curve of his spine with your eyes from under his hair, down to his waist, and further down, his pants only halfway covering his perfect ass. He was covered in bruises, scrapes, and what you supposed you could call rope burn, from seatbelts digging into his skin. He was beautiful in a nihilistic sort of way, as if Chuck Palahniuk had specialized in paintings instead of novels.
You pushed away from the wall you were leaning on as you watched him, unable to resist touching him anymore. Your cheek brushed over his shoulder, fingers tracing up his sides. He smelled like you, and like sugar. His jaw flexed as his tongue rasped over the candy. Your hands moved up his back, cold fingers on warm skin.
Martin set the skink down in her tank and turned around in your grasp. He regarded you for a long moment, his eyes piercing as he tried to read your mind. You had half a mind to tell him everything you thought. His fingers cupped your chin, and tapped your lips. A wordless request for you to open your mouth. You did, and he brought his lips to yours, pushing the blue raspberry candy into your mouth. You kissed around it, your senses overwhelmed by the artificial flavor. Blue raspberry, what was it, really? Certainly nothing that occurred in nature.
His black hair fell around both of your faces, shielding you from the sunlight that was streaming in through the window. He made an obscene moan, and pushed the rest of the candy into your mouth with his tongue.
"Finish it." He whispered. His blue tongue darted out, and licked your lips. He smiled, a devilish thing that could only mean sin was on his mind. With that knowledge, you took his hands, and walked backwards to the bed. Your thighs hit the mattress, and you fell back. Your tongue pressed the candy to the roof of your mouth so you didn't choke on it.
He descended upon you like an animal, ravenous after starving for days, his hands pushing your shirt up over your ribs. His blue tongue darted out and licked your skin, teasing for only a moment. Then he bit down, nipping at your stomach with that same grin. His large hand squeezed your crotch, concealed by a pair of his sweatpants. His palm pressed against you, slowly massaging you through the fabric.
Martin sucked a mark into your skin, below your belly button. His head dipped down further, sniffing at your crotch, his nose pushing against your clit.
You smiled, and your hands found a home in his hair. It was a little greasy to be sure, but it was soft on your fingers, and he moaned so sweetly when you tugged on his dark locks.
His clever hands tugged your pants down around your ankles, and he didn't give you a moment to breathe. How could he, when you were the best thing he'd ever tasted? Vaguely, he wondered if he could make a candy that tasted like you.
His tongue swiped over your clit, and you shivered with want. Your thighs pressed against his cheeks as his head dipped lower, intent on devouring you.
"Martin," you gasped. "I have to go to work—"
You could feel him smile against you, his breath hot against your cunt as he laughed.
"Should have thought of that before..." He teased, utterly merciless. He pushed two fingers inside of you with ease, still slick from last night, and this morning. In fact, he could still taste himself inside of you.
Your back arched as he found your sweet spot with a practiced ease. Your hands curled in his hair, and the moans he made sent vibrations straight up your spine, like a low bass played from a quality speaker.
He coaxed you to your peak, and you came with a loud cry, your vision going utterly white with previews of heaven. He held you in place as you thrashed, a large hand pressing into your thigh.
When you opened your eyes again, his head was on your stomach, cheek resting against your skin. Martin was smiling, obviously pleased with himself. His nose and chin were shiny with spit and slick, his chest pressed against your core, just enough to keep your body thrumming.
“Call out. Spend the day with me.” He said. His fingers traced over your skin, drawing nonsensical patterns, writing invisible sheet music that only made sense to him.
“Martin…”
“Please.”
It was hard to resist him. Him with his blue lips, and shiny chin. Him with his black, messy hair. You sighed, and admitted defeat.
“Fine.”
#ewan mitchell martin#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell#fontaines d.c.#martin (in the modern world) x reader#heres to hoping this finds the right audience lol#ewan mitchell smut
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4:08 pm Memphis TN / 1:21 Am Texarkana TX
Mahogany tables beneath bourbon walls and a black ceiling as Carl, the saint he is, pours sweet tea and recommends the dry ribs. He holds himself as a gentle man, moving slowly with a little extra weight on his left as he steps towards the kitchen to fetch more of the drink. Damn the sweet tea—tables full of that honey nectar, the water of the South—brought swiftly over worn hardwood floors that have known the feet of many joyous, dancing folk. Folk with soft voices that end each phrase in kind words and affirmations, folk that meet and hold a gaze loyally, just like a deer is loyal to the headlights of its end.
For a moment, I dread the harsh hiss of my peers in the West; anxious fools we all seem in comparison to these tender souls of Memphis. The land of B.B. King, the land of the blues. “See you boys next time,” Carl seems to sing as we step back to the road and begin again. Soon the sun has expanded until she floods everything in sight with a color just like that of the sweet tea. Train yards, groves of locust, drowned fields of soybeans, a sandy full moon low to the horizon, and suitcase towns all burn up in her hand as we fly west.
With time, the snow slips back into the landscape, and just past 10 p.m., we arrive at a deserted navy hospital perched above Hot Springs Arkansas. A thousand windows lay dark, like the eyes of some terrible creature of the sea. The building feels alive, restless to sit drained of the life and death that once filled its halls. Towns like this make me rejoice for my destination, and I swear I saw envy in the eyes of those bound to stay as we stopped for coffee and waffles—“just passing through” written all over us.
Now, an hour past the reset of the day, we stop to sleep in a Texas hotel “under renovation,” or so a greasy fox of a man says, as I am sure he has said each night for years now. I’m not sure how one could fix anything with the sad sum we cough up, and so I turn my head away from the missing drywall and stained mattress and write of the day’s unfoldings. Austin tomorrow.
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damnation of a saint (teaser)
pairing — nun!reader x sin of lust!seonghwa ft. ateez as the other sins
rating — smut | mdni
wc — ~13k (teaser is 1.2k)
synopsis — life is dull when you are an immortal being such as seonghwa. every day is the same and you live (or rather, merely exist) through the times crushed by the burden of boredom. until something new comes along in the form of a kind, compassionate and righteous newly ordained nun. and so the sin of lust makes it his personal mission to corrupt the purest of souls: yours.
release date — OUT!!! LINK HERE
nsfw tags under the cut
tags — heavy religious/blasphemous themes (don't read if you're uncomfy <3), inclusive writing (reader is not described), also reader is the embodiment of purity and selflessness, 20240127 hwa (will to power d1 in seoul), kinda slow burn kinda vibes, tensionnnnn, sooo much teasing, dom!hwa, also very sly demon!hwa, supernatural sex, corruption kink (obviously), masturbation (f), oral (f), the (un)holy trinity = teasing + begging + mind breaking, some light impact play, breath play, hair pulling, fingering (f), monster cock!hwa, size training, pet names (angel, love, darling, sweetheart), praising, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification, multiple orgasms (f), overstim and more to be revealed in the full version <3
a/n: consider this teaser as the moodboard of the fic <3 also im so excited to be reworking on my fave fic ever. hope you enjoy it too <3
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Seonghwa was bored out of his mind. Like he had been for decades now, even centuries. He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel… well… anything at all really. And after years upon years of vegetating he didn’t care enough to even try anymore. He just laid there, endlessly staring blankly at the emptiness. He tapped his slender finger on his thigh, comfortably set on the bed of dark purple smoke he had materialized out of thin air.
He let out an audible annoyed groan as he was nonchalantly stretching out his long limbs which didn’t fail to catch the attention of the others.
“What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked as he was feasting on some delicious meal he poofed out magically. He didn’t even take a second to look up the bucket full of chicken drumsticks, wrapping his greasy fingers around the bone and eyeing the meat like one would their life long partner. But then again, that wasn’t too far from the truth for Yeosang.
“I’m bored” Seonghwa complained, pushing his long silky black hair back on his forehead and choosing to ignore Yeosang’s lack of interest, dragging out the word on his tongue, transmitting his state of utter apathy to the others.
“Why don’t you go up and play with the Humans?” Mingi suggested while checking himself out in the mirror, readjusting his bangs and sliding his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose before striking a pose to himself, remaining completely self absorbed.
Once again, Seonghwa wasn’t getting much attention from his counterparts but he was somewhat used to it when it came to Mingi.
“What’s the point? They are no fun anyways!” Seonghwa sat up straight and crossed his long elegant legs on the cloud of cotton like smoke.
“Why?” Jongho asked, unlike the others he deigned looking in Seonghwa’s direction with somewhat surprised eyes. “You used to love going around and breaking up happy marriages, luring men and women in with your charms… That was always fun!” He said a little sluggishly, but still with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Yeah… Maybe it was…” Seonghwa replied. “Two millenniums ago…” Another prolonged sigh. “When everything still felt fresh.” He got up from the comfortable cloud of smoke, pacing the endless void as his heels clacked and echoed with each step. “Now I know that Humans are only self centered vile creatures who only claim to have better morals than us because they are scared of the consequences that inevitably ensue from succumbing to their primal desires. When in fact, all they want is to eat, kill, have sex or not do anything at all. They are nothing short of underdeveloped, unevolved, spineless piles of meat”
“Meat? Where?” Yeosang said, finally lifting his head from the bucket of fried chicken to look around, eyes rounded in panic.
Not a single one of them reacted except Mingi who side eyed him with disdain before returning to more important matters at hand such as swapping the aviator sunglasses for narrower, more rectangular ones.
“That’s not entirely false” Jongho concluded, shrugging, easily giving up on the idea of comforting Seonghwa.
“I mean where’s the fun if you can’t break their minds to give in?” Seonghwa placed both hands on Jongho's shoulders, slightly shaking him while the latter lifelessly swayed back and forth. “What is the point if they don’t resist the call of evil? If you can’t erode their will like a rock made smooth by the incessant beating of the waves of the cruel sea.” Seonghwa huffed in a quiet, defeated voice, letting go of Jongho's shoulders to let his arms hang at his side while the other one stared at him blankly.
“Hm… okay” Jongho said before slipping off Seonghwa's reach to take his place on the fluffy bed of purple smoke, crashing head first onto the soft cloud.
A silence settled for what seemed like a long moment, even for them, immutable creatures to whom the very concept of time couldn't grasp at their permanence.
“Well you never tried with that girl…” Wooyoung said, slithering his way to Seonghwa without a sound. He had been watching the scene unfold from afar up until then. “What was her name already?” He snapped his fingers and looked to the side trying to access his memory. He turned to Mingi for help but he was too busy looking through the mirror, slipping on yet another dangling necklace and smirking, satisfied at the results. Wooyoung then tried his luck with Yeosang but he now had his face buried in a huge bowl of chicken broth, the empty bucket of fried chicken abandoned and slurping up a big mouthful of noodles in a rather unpleasant way. “Jongho?” he called, finally settling for the one that looked almost passed out on the bed of smoke, but still this one wielded the most positive result.
“Y/n” Jongho responded without conviction, still laying flat on the cloud of smoke, eyes growing heavier by the second.
“Yeah! That’s right!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “That girl is unbreakable,” he affirmed. Seonghwa scoffed and threw an unconvinced look to his peer.
“No really! I’ve tried to corrupt her but I really couldn’t”. Wooyoung said, raising his brows and talking loudly to support his point. But that did little to persuade Seonghwa, he was convinced that Wooyoung was just not as good as him at breaking the mortals’ souls. So yes, it was possible that Wooyoung had struggled with that girl. But not him, surely not him.
When Wooyoung saw Seonghwa was not budging his face dropped, and he turned to the others. “Please someone back me up on this one”
“Oh yeaaah… I remember her” Yeosang said, voice cut by various sounds of loud lips smacking and open mouth chewing. “Even I tried!”
Now, that was different. Seonghwa was interested. Most people are quick to indulge themselves when it comes to food. It was, so to speak, the easiest sin of the seven to succumb to. The Humans often say “there’s always room for dessert” and innocently eat a generous slice of cake after devouring a full meal. They don’t even notice Yeosang forcing the big spoon full of buttery sugary goodness into their mouths. They don’t even know Yeosang, himself, made this saying.
“She refused to even do as much as taste the delicious meal I made her sister cook her even though she was starving… instead she gave it to the homeless man living not far from her apartment.” Yeosang stated with aberration shaking his head in disappointment before plunging right back in the ramyeon bowl.
“Mhm” Seonghwa scratched his chin, his curiosity for the mysterious righteous girl was piqued.
“One day I tried to make her give in” Jongho chipped in from the dark purple smoke bed, even pushing himself on his elbows to look at the others, to Seonghwa’s surprise. “Made her miss the train and the bus she needed to take to get home after work and conveniently laid a juicy wallet stuffed full of even juicier bills in the gutter. All she had to do was to bend down and get the money to take a taxi to her apartment. But instead she took the money and walked to the police station to report the lost wallet, which was in the opposite direction by the way and then walked back home only to take a shower and leave right after to attend the charity soup kitchen. Anddd… Explaining this made me tired. Please don't talk to me for the next two hundred years, thank you.” Jongho concluded in one single breath before laying back down and turning on his side to nap comfortably.
“Maybe that one can be interesting after all” Seonghwa thought aloud.
a/n: tell me if you wanna be tagged through comments or through asks <3
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#seonghwa smut#ateez smut#seonghwa#park seonghwa#ateez#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa hard thoughts#seonghwa hard hours#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa ateez#seonghwa imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#mingi#wooyoung#kpop smut#smut fanfiction#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts
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Knight In Shining Glasses (Ford Pines x Reader)
Chapter 1: Raspberries, Royalty, and Rock Bottom
Okay so. I love Stanford Pines, but there's not a lot of fanfiction for him, and I think there should be! Anyways, probably won't write smut for this because I want to maintain the gender neutral reader, but I may do oneshots with this vision of Ford.
Also this is probably bad. I'm not an amazing writer. lol. I also had no clue how to start this. Anyways silly little twist ending, but this fic is still for Ford, just wait.
As I came to my senses, I felt the cold hard earth pulling me to the ground, and a strange sensation on my face, almost like something wet was caressing my face... is that a pig "EUGH," I jumped up in fear as the seemingly harmless creature stared into my soul with its beady eyes. "Oh Waddles, there you are, you've almost missed your tea party with- Oh! Hey y/n!" A small girl with a very colorful sweater spoke quickly and excitedly. I immediately recognized her as Mabel Pines, grand niece of Stanford... or well Stanley Pines of the Mystery Shack. I still haven't met the real Stanford I suppose. "Mabelllll are you almost ready for this tea party thing, I want to go play D&D& more D with Grunkle Fo- oh hey y/n" The other mystery twin ran out of the shack, clearly annoyed with the tea party ordeal. "Uh, kids, could you ask an adult in your house if I can come in and use your phone?" I asked, still not remembering how I got to the mystery shack. Maybe if I called a taxi, I could go home and retrace my thoughts. "Oh, the shack's open right now, you can go ask Soos," Dipper stated as he pointed at the sign that said 'Mystery Hack'. I thanked him and Mabel and ran to the door of the shack. How could I have ended up at the mystery shack? Before I could finish my train of thought, I ran into a strong force. "Heh.. gotta look where you're goin kid," the older gentleman said. I recognized him as Stanfo... Stanley Pines. "Sorry Mr. Pines, it's just, can I use your phone?" I begged and hoped the man wouldn't ask for money in return. "Depends... do you want to buy anything..." The man squinted his eyes at me. I reached in my pockets and pulled out all of the cash that I had, 5.76$....oh.... This can't get me a phone call, let alone a cab. I looked at the man in despair as I turned around. As I began walking to town, I started thinking of how I got here. It all started when I left Greasy's diner. I was holding some leftover raspberry pie that my friend Lazy Susan had given me. Walking towards my house, I remember feeling watched. The feeling grew more and more intense, until I turned around and realized I was being followed.... by GNOMES??? "Hello ma'am, I'm Jeff, and on behalf of all gnomekind, I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over that pie," the little man stared so intensely, I didn't feel like fighting, so I handed him the box of pie. He opened the box, inspecting it. "This is heavenly, how would you feel about becoming gnome royalty... is that look of fear on your face a yes... I feel like I'm getting a yes," With the shock on my face apparent, I screamed and ran the opposite direction. "Get them!! Soon we will have our spouse!" "SCHMEBULOCK!" "WHAT HE SAID" The gnomes all yelled out different things as I ran for the hills. I prayed that gnomes wouldn't be able to hurt me, but I also knew there were powers in numbers, so I continued to run until I got to a clearing in the woods. Exhausted, I sat down on a stump to catch my breath, but when I looked up, I knew I should have kept running. A giant mass of gnomes towered over me with Jeff as their leader. I took what I thought would be my last breath as I prepared to succumb to the darkness, "Stay back gnomes! What have I told you about harassing random people to be your monarch," A masculine voice sounded through the woods. I was in such a state of shock I passed out, but before I did, I saw a glimpse of the man that saved me, gray hair, glasses, and a familiar face... Stan?
#stanford pines#ford pines#stan pines#stanley pines#stanford pines x reader#gravity falls#ford x reader#stan x reader#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#standford pines#grunkle stan#grunkle ford#pines family
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Hello! I love your writing!
Could I ask for a Tony shot where he is being intimate with the reader and it's her first time and he is very sweet and gentle? Would love to see that side of him. Ty!❤️
Hi anon! Thank you sm for this request, i love writing about Tony<3
Soft Lovin’
(one shot)
PAIRINGS: Tony Montana x Virgin!Reader
WARNINGS: foul language, harassment in the workplace, killing (not graphic), Tony is kind of manipulative? Idk how to explain it I’m sorry😭
NSFW WARNINGS: Virgin!Reader, soft Dom!Tony, making out, groping, fingering, heavy praise, cream pie, oral (f receiving), light overstimulation, possessive Tony
sorry if I missed anything! This also isn’t proofread
˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚
It was a long, fast night at one of the hottest casinos/clubs in Miami, Florida.
You’d just started working as a bartender, just barely turning 21 and in need of a paying job. A friend of yours, Angelina recommended it to you. She said it was a easy way to make money. Just smile, make the drinks, and serve them. But you wish she would’ve told you about the following stares of all of the men in the room.
They followed you everywhere you went, all over your body, shamelessly roaming. It felt as though they’d pounce at any second they could. It was a policy that the men here couldn’t touch you unless you verbally consented to it, but you don’t think they really cared about that rule all that much.
An arm snaked around your waist, and you froze in horror as a man, with breath that smelled of pure tequila, whispered in your ear. “Y-you shhouldd come home wi-with me!” He slurred as his friends chuckled behind him. You felt tears like your eyes as you shoved him away from you. “What the hell is your problem?!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t take that well.
His brows furrowed with clear distaste. “Woooah, baby, no needdd to be a bitch.” He growled out, his breath smelled gawd awful and it made your stomach churn. His arm felt grimy when it was wrapped around you, and now that you look at him, he looked like a crackhead.
His face had scabs all over it, along with scratches that you could tell were from him clawing at his own skin. He had teeth missing, and the ones he had left were different shades of yellow, brown and black. His skin was greasy, as was his overgrown mullet that looked damn near matted on the top. He was thin as twigs, and you could visibly see his bones anywhere you looked over him.
He was the most revolting creature you’d ever seen. He was a dirty, smelly man, and now you felt all dirty and smelly.
“Leave me the fuck alone.” You bit out. Suddenly, the man reached out and grabbed your arm in a painful grip that was sure to bruise, and you yelped out as you tried to push him away from you. “Stop fightingg against me y-you whore!” He choked out.
You’re waterline formed fresh tears that began to spill over, then all the sudden, you were ripped away from him and into the arms of another, more warm person.
You peered up at the man slightly; he was short, but still taller than you were. His hair was a dark brown, a chocolate color and short. It was kinda messy, and you wanted to run your fingers through it to try to fix it. You took notice of the scar that ran along his eye. It was beautiful. Something that was surely a painful experience, yet it looked so pretty on him.
He was ruggedly handsome. A little rough around the edges, sure, but he was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. His hands were thick and calloused, and on his fingers laid beautiful rings that were probably worth more than your life.
You thought that he was foreign, and when he spoke, it seemed you must’ve been right. “Fuck are ya’ doin, huh, man?” He huffed out to the crack head bothering you. “You fuckin’ with a lady jus’ tryna’ do her job? Eh?” He growled out as he lightly pushed you aside, going chest to chest with the other man who was slightly taller than him.
“Woah, Tony, i-I don’t want no trouble, man!” He replied, his hands flying up in surrender as he almost tripped over his own two feet walking backwards, trying to create distance between him and the short, angry man. “Turn around and don’t look over here.” He told you, sparing you a glance.
You did as told, as he seemed to be your savior, but you couldn’t ignore the loud, blaring sound of a gun shot ringing through the air.
You covered your ears and flinched as you let out a yelp. The ringing in your ears hurt, and your breathing became uneven as you felt hands gently remove your hands from your ears. “You’re alright, baby.” Tony muttered softly in your ear.
He had been eyeing you all night, and truthfully, he was no better than any of the men here when it came to the staring. But, the thing that separated him from them, was that he would never come onto a woman who didn’t want him.
You were a small, dainty little thing. He had no idea what you were doing in a place as filthy as this. Even when he was watching her from afar, he could see her little body trembling. The way her hands would tighten when she passed by men. The snarls women sent her. She flinched at every little thing.
When he had grabbed you from away from that man, your scent flooded his senses. You smelled of lily’s and vanilla, and a hint of whisky. He was sure the whiskey part came from when he’d seen you spill it all over yourself earlier on accident after nearly tripping over your own two feet. He thought it was cute, though.
You reminded him of a deer. So pretty, and fragile. Curious or everything you shouldn’t be. Flinching at the littlest things. Even when he faintly heard you speak earlier, your voice was so soft spoken and sounded like velvet on his ears.
His little Bambi.
So when he was ‘casually’ at the bar ordering a drink and he noticed that man harassing you, obviously he’d see this as his chance to come and swoop you off of your feet. He had this all planned out, you falling into his arms right where he wanted you.
And now as he stood behind you, your back to his chest in ragged breaths with lingering gun smoke in the air and the sound of people screaming and running, he knew he had you where he wanted you.
“You’re alright, Bambi.” He muttered sweetly into your ear. Your head whipped around, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as you met face to face with him. Your eyes glimmered under the club lights, but the tears in them made your doe eyes all the more beautiful to him.
“W-what..what did you do? What happened?” You asked, your trembling voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if you were afraid that if you talked to loud, something else would happen. “Nothin’, don’t worry ‘bout it. All that matters is that your safe now.” He replied.
“I-I need to go.” You muttered as you pushed yourself away from him. You were slipping away from him, and he didn’t like the idea of that very much. This resulted in him grabbing your hand softly. “I—let me make sure you get home safe, yeah? C’mon.” He told you.
You hesitated for a moment. A strange, foreign man who just killed someone for harassing you wants to make sure you get home safe. Sounds promising. “Okay.” You sighed as you walked out of the front door and out into the parking lot, the man following closely behind.
He led you to his car, opening the door for you to make sure you got in properly before getting in himself. “can you at least tell me what your name is?” You huffed out as you put on your seatbelt. He chuckled as he glanced at you, starting the vehicle. “Antonio Montana.” He told you after a moment. “But people jus’ call me Tony.” He added.
He had a dorky kind of smile when he said it, and it made a smile of your own form. “I’m—“ you started, but you didn’t get the chance to finish. “I know who you are, baby.” He said.
Your face bloomed red. “You’re not from here, are you?” You suddenly asked. He smiled. “I’m from Cuba.” He said. It made sense now, his accent was thick, and it made your legs squeeze together, which he didn’t fail to notice. “Oh.” Was all you said with a nod of understanding.
“Whddya doin’ in that place, anyway?” He asked. You sighed as you pushed your hair back from your face. “Needed the money. A friend said it would be easy.” You frowned. Tony clicked his tongue. “Need new friends.” He said with a chuckle.
“I—will you be my friend, Tony?” You asked. You didn’t really know why you asked, but he saved you tonight; and it would be nice to have more friends. “No.” He said, and your mouth hung agape. Guess not then.
“Wha—why?” You stuttered out with furrowed brows as your body shifted to better look at him. He inhaled sharply before his eyes pierced into yours. “Can’t be friends with someone I wanna fuck, baby.” He said, his voice deep. It sounded like he was restraining himself from saying more.
Your mouth hung open and your cheeks reddened. “I’ve—I don’t—“ you stuttered, embarrassment consuming you. The car halted sharply at large gates as his head snapped to you. “You’re a virgin.” He said, matter of factly.
You nodded as you broke eye contact with him. You heard him whisper a breathless ‘fuck’, but it slipped passed your mind as the large gates opened, and as you drove forward, a large mansion revealed itself.
You were lower-middle class, just barely scraping by. Never in your life did you ever think that a random foreign man who just so happened to be one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen would kill someone for you, tell you he wants to have sex with you, and then proceed to take you to his mansion.
“Holy shit.” You muttered. You were gawking like a peasant, but you didn’t care. The closer you got to the house, the bigger it got. It was unnecessarily big, but the men stationed outside with guns didn’t go unnoticed to your prying eyes.
“What in the hell do you do, Tony?” You asked as he stopped the car in front of the house. He stepped out and opened your door for you, his hand gently holding yours to stable you. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He said.
And you weren’t gonna question him any further than that.
He lead you into his large home, and you were struck. Everything was red with hints of gold, and straight forward stood a large globe with the words ‘the world is yours’ on it. He led you up the stairs with a gentle hand to your back, directing you where to go.
You turned left and he stopped you at a large white door. “You can stay in here, take a shower n shit, I’ll be the next room over.” He said as he waved his hand around to the door next to yours. “Okay, thank you, Tony.” You smiled, to which he returned before walking to his room.
You entered the room, and surprisingly, it was different shades of purple. The walls were a dark purple with gold trim, and it looked beautiful. There was a large bed with lilac and dark purple bedding that had flowers engraved on it with lace trims. There was another door across the room, and when you opened it, it revealed a large bathroom with a gold trimmed tub that was built into the ground—almost like a jacuzzi.
It was glorious, you’d never seen a bathroom of all places look this extravagant.
You stripped from your clothes that clung to your body as your turned on the water, switching it to warm. As you stepped in, it felt warm against your skin; just what you needed after the bullshit you encountered today.
Suddenly, the door opened, making you gasp and cover yourself with your hands. In walked Tony with a knowing smirk on his face. “Sorry, baby, forgot to mention we share a bathroom.” He chucked out as he began to undress himself. “You don’t mind, do you?” He asked as you eyed him.
His body was toned and fit. Hair covered his chest and arms thick, and the gold chain that hung on his neck made you gulp. You couldn’t control yourself as your eyes looked further down, and your mouth slightly hung agape as you took in the sight before you.
His v-line was deep and his happy trail made your thighs squeeze together. He was uncut, his pink tip barely peeking through his skin. He was girthy, very girthy. The length was intimidating, and you felt like his cock was staring at you.
You absentmindedly shook your head. Your mind was spinning, and you were unsure if the feelings you felt were feelings you should have about a man you’d just met. He chuckled to himself at your reaction as he lowered himself into the tub across from you.
And for some reason, you felt yourself move your arms away from your body to stop hiding yourself from him. Tony felt himself get hard under the water from the sight of you before him.
Your body glistened with water, and the soft ripples of your skin made his jaw clench—but what really got him, was your perky nipples just barely peeking through the water. Hard, and he wished to know just how sensitive they were. Your neck was beautiful, bare. He wanted to wrap his hands around it and ruin your life, but he knew he couldn’t; not yet, at least.
“C’mere, Bambi.” He said. You hesitated for a second before making a move towards him. He gently grabbed your arm and positioned you onto his lap. You could feel his cock beneath you, hard and prominent. It rested against your cunt that clenched around nothing. “Tony..” you whispered breathlessly.
“You gon’ let me make you feel good, baby? Hm?” He muttered against your lips. The way you shook your head unbelievably fast was embarrassing, but god, did it turn the man on.
His lips met yours in a heated kiss. His lips were rough and just a little chapped against yours, but you didn’t care. His tongue prodded against your mouth, and your tongues tangled together. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and everything about the interaction you were having right now was sloppy.
It was a mess, the way the mix of your saliva stringed onto the both of your tongues when you pulled away, just to dive right back in and continue. Your lips were swollen and red, puffy from Tony sinking his teeth down onto them in his haste of kissing.
His hands roamed your body, from groping your sensitive breasts to down your waist before resting on your plump ass. “Not gon’ fuck you here.” He said, breathlessly against your lips as he pulled the both of you up and into his bedroom.
He laid you softly onto the bed, moving your wet hair from your face. He stared at your for a moment. “Stay here. With me.” He demanded. “I’ll take care of you.” He said as his fingers traveled down, prodding at your entrance.
“Yes, anything, just please—“ you whimpered out as he slowly entered a finger into your sopping cunt. “Shh, I know.” He said as his finger began to enter you at a steady pace.
“More, please!” You told him. He clicked his tongue. “So needy. Gotta make sure you’re ready to take my cock, Bambi. Don’ wanna hurtcha.” He cooed out, holding your free hand in his, squeezing reassuringly.
You bit down onto your lip as he added in a second finger, beginning to speed up his pace. “You ever touch yourself? Hm?” He asked breathlessly as he watched the way you squeezed down onto his fingers. You nodded your head. “Cant make myself cum.” You whimpered out, your face blooming red.
He laughed mockingly. “Que hermosa.” He said. You didn’t know what that meant, but it made your stomach clench in an unfamiliar way. “Tony! I feel weird!” You gasped out, attempting to shove his hands away.
“S’okay, baby, just let go.” He said as he kissed down your stomach to your pussy that seemed to be talking to him everytime his fingers fucked into you. He sucked your throbbing bud into his mouth harshly, and the feeling in your stomach snapped as you released your juices all over his face with a loud moan.
He shook his head against your pussy, your clit still in his mouth, and you damn near screamed. He released your aching bud with a smug smile. He lifted himself up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as he lined himself to your entrance.
“Wait—Tony-“ you muttered, and he halted his movements. “What’s wrong, Bambi?” He asked softly. You bit down onto your lip. “M’scared.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled. Not a mean, cocky smile; but a sweet one. “S’okay, I’ll be gentle.” He said as he kissed your forehead, down to your cute little nose, then both of your cheeks, all the way down to your chin before he finally planted a kiss to your soft lips. You felt your heart literally explode.
His tip entered you slowly, before you knew it he was half way in and the stretch was painful. You both hissed, but for different reasons. You were tight around his cock, clamping down on him with a force, nearly making it hard to move. Meanwhile, it felt like he was tearing you apart on his cock.
Your nails dug into his back as you clung onto him, your little sniffles and whimpers not going unnoticed to Tony as he kissed your shoulder. “Doin’ so good, baby. Takin’ my cock good.” He said through clenched teeth.
He was finally all the way in you, and Tony wanted to move badly, but he refrained in fear of hurting you. Tears rolled down your face, and Tony kissed them away while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
“Y-you can move.” You whispered, and Tony wasted no time in slowly pulling out before gently entering you again. The pain was quickly replaced with a pleasure you’d never felt before. “Oh my god—“ you gasped out as he entered you again, a little more harsh this time.
He filled you to the hilt, and you felt as though his tip was hitting your cervix as he rutted in you. “Amazing fuckin’ pussy, shit.” He groaned out as he began pounding into you.
Your moans grew uncontrollably and your breast bounced with every thrust his hips delivered to you and you felt like you were on cloud nine. You were so full, and you couldn’t get enough of his cock.
He was completely pussy drunk and the both of you couldn’t even form coherent words. Your gummy walls were warm and sucked him in so nicely. He never wanted to leave, and he was dreading the moment he was going to have to pull out of you. Your cunt felt like it was made for him, molding perfectly just to suit him and only him.
He was going to make sure he was the only person you were ever going to fuck again. He was going to ruin you for any other man, and make sure the whole world knew that you were gonna be his woman and his alone. He was the king, and he needed his queen. And when he seen you in that lousy club, he knew you were the one.
Nice, beautiful, soft and obedient.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, along with both of your moans, and your pleading. “Love this fuckin’ pussy, s’all mine, yeah?” He said as his forehead rested against yours.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he slammed into you harder. “Ffuckkk, yes, yes, Tony, all yours!” You slurred out. He chuckled. “My good girl.” He moaned out as his hips drilled into yours at an inhumane pace.
“M’a good girl. M’your good girl.” You babbled out, not even realizing what you were saying as you nodded your head feverishly. “Gonna fill this pussy. Make you mine.” He groaned out as his thrusts became sloppy.
You felt yourself cum again, releasing your juices once again all over his lower abdomen. The way you were moaning and twitching under him, overstimulated, triggered his own release as he spurred his cum into your sloppy pussy; painting your walls white. But he didn’t stop, and his cock continued to fuck into you.
Your cunt was milking him and he wasn’t complaining. You were an uncontrollable, moaning mess under him. Your pussy was sensitive and sore by the time he finally pulled out of you, his body thumping next to you as you both laid breathlessly.
His arms pulled you into him, and being in his arms, legs tangling together, made you feel like all of this was so right. So perfect. He was so perfect.
You’d never be able to get enough of him after this, and Tony knew he was done for. The both of you craved each other more than anything you’d ever craved.
You fell asleep in his arms that night, the last thing you felt was Tony press a kiss to your temple and the world around you went dim.
˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚
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#scarface#scarface x reader#al pacino#stvolanis#tony montana smut#tony montana x reader#tony montana#scarface smut#al pacino x reader#smut#imagine#scarface movie#al pacino smut
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A Northwest
Stan x Reader
words: 2,361
tags: sfw, fluff, reader is a Northwest
a/n: this way to the request for this story
You just arrived in Gravity Falls, a town your family has lived in for generations. However, you had promised yourself to never return. After a big fight with your little brother about a woman’s place in the family and him insisting that he should be the sole heir of the family estate and such, you had had enough. Told him that if he wants it, he could have it all.
Your parents hadn’t cared either. Well. your mother had but… your brother had to have learned his attitude towards women from someone. You and your father had never seen eye to eye on anything, especially when it came to such progressive topics like ‘Should women be allowed to vote’. God, you hated him. Even went to his funeral with a big smile on your face and the most colorful clothes you could find, pissing him off one last time.
But all of that was in the past now. All you cared about as you walked those familiar streets again was your niece - Pacifica. Preston had, unsurprisingly, run his wealth into the ground, leaving himself, his wife and daughter homeless. You on the other hand had made a great career for yourself and earned enough money to live a very comfortable life.
So, as soon as you heard about the whole incident from Priscilla (she calls you about once a month, only when her husband isn’t around to hear it), you decided to help. Not him. But his wife and mostly Pacifica. You had great hopes that maybe the next generation of your family wouldn’t turn out like the rest of them had and well, if you want something done, better do it yourself.
You had arrived a little earlier than expected and decided to stop by Lazy Susan’s Diner. Greasy’s Diner. When you entered and sat down at the counter it seemed like she didn’t recognize you. You didn’t blame her, you looked nothing like you did 34 years ago. After you had left you had decided to reinvent yourself completely, new clothing style, new hair color, although by now it was starting to grey a little.
You probably wouldn’t have recognized yourself either.
As you sipped on your coffee, contemplating whether or not to remind Susan of you, you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned to look it was a man in an old looking suit, wearing a fez and the cockiest smile you’d seen this year. You leaned back against the counter, amused.
“You’re new in town, aren’t ya?” You hummed, deciding to play along. “Yes, I suppose so.” He leaned against the counter as well, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew it. Well, let me tell ya, a pretty woman like yourself should not be wandering about these woods on her own. There are a lot of dangerous creatures lurking just off the main road. But don’t you worry, I will gladly give you a tour of the town, showing you all the places to avoid. And also the places to stop by more often.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at you at the last sentence. You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly flirting. Behind him in a booth two children groaned in an exaggerated way. He looked back at them with a frown. “Hey! Let a man have a conversation.”
Ah, he must be their uncle? Or something? You just smiled at him. Cocky, flirty, broad shoulders and responsible enough to take care of kids. If you had known that a guy like this lived here you would have come back years ago.
“I would gladly take your offer, Mister…?” You trailed off, inviting him to introduce himself, which he did. “Pines. Stan Pines, at your service.” He grinned at you and you nodded as you gave him your first name as well and continued. “Mister Pines. Unfortunately, I have some urgent business I need to take care of first. Perhaps we can postpone this tour?”
The man looked a little deflated at first, but quickly brightened up again at your question. “How about tomorrow evening. We meet here again for dinner. And after that we’ll take a stroll through town?” “Sounds lovely.” Stan clapped his hands together and winked at you before he went back to the booth with the kids.
By that point you had finished your coffee and headed out to look for Pacifica and her parents. You didn’t see it but as you left Stan looked after you, very obviously staring at your ass and grinning. He’d love to get his hands on that.
When you found them you got the basics settled first. Get them some place to stay the night. Then you got them a new set of clothes, their current ones being torn and dirty. That’s how you spent the entire rest of the day, pulling your brother and his family out of the hole he had dug them into.
You made it a point to hold it over his head though, that you managed to get rich on your own while he couldn’t even keep the money he inherited. He was mad at you the entire time but he couldn’t refute your words, you were correct after all. All throughout this you noticed the way Pacifica looked up at you with bright eyes.
To Pacifica you very quickly became her role model. Confident and strong-willed and most importantly, not taking any shit from her dad. She clung to you, asking you countless questions and admiring you for every choice you had made, especially standing your ground and moving away from the family.
She had heard rumors about her dad’s sister, but until today she had never actually met you. Obviously, her dad didn’t want her to get any ideas from you. You, the black sheep of the family.
Seeing Preston crawl back to you now, after all those years, was incredibly satisfying to you. If you’d also get to help turn his own daughter away from his precious ‘family values’ then you’d proudly call you her aunt.
While you were out helping your family, the Pines had also gone back to the Shack, now relaxing in front of the TV. Mabel was texting on her phone with Candy and Grenda. Suddenly, she gasped after having read the newest text from Candy. “There’s more of them?!”
Dipper and Stan looked at her in confusion. “Who?” Dipper asked, but Mabel ignored him, just stared at her phone as another text appeared. “She was at Greasy’s Diner? Today? We were there today! How did we not see her!?” Dipper was starting to get frustrated with Mabel ignoring him, so he placed his hand over her screen, making her look up at him.
“Who are you talking about?” “Pacifica’s aunt! Candy says that she heard her mom talk to her friend on the phone who told her that another Northwest came to Gravity Falls today. Apparently, she wants to help them now that they’re homeless.” Stan bellowed a laugh.
“Serves that slimy Northwest right! Blood runs thicker than water after all. Even he needs to learn that.” Ford, who was also enjoying movie night with his brother and the kids, looked at Stan. He had forgotten how much of a family man Stan really was.
Dipper frowned. “Okay, sure. But if she can help them out then that means she is also rich. Who’s to say she is any better than Pacifica’s parents?” Stan scoffed. “She probably isn’t. But who cares. Hopefully, they’ll just leave Gravity Falls together now and we won’t have to bother with them anymore.”
Dipper turned back to look at the TV. “Yeah, hopefully…” He mumbled, although he didn’t quite mean it. He hated to admit it, but he had started to like Pacifica a little.
The topic was dropped after that and movie night continued.
The next day came and went rather quickly for you. There was a lot for you to do, to get your brother on the right track again. So much so that in that haze you almost forgot about your date with Stan. But you remembered and soon excused yourself, leaving them in the motel room you had rented them.
You went back to Greasy’s and met up with Stan, who immediately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and his hand on the small of your back as he led you inside. He truly was a man of action and you appreciated that about him. There was a certain honesty in his behaviour which came as a refreshing change to the cold mask your brother and his wife had learned to live with.
“So, what was this business of yours that was more important than the best date you’ll ever have?” The way he was presenting himself in his seat, one arm over the backrest and the other resting on the table, while he looked at you through half-lidded eyes and a smirk on his lips. You loved this. It was silly in a way, but it was so different from the way you were raised that it left you feeling giddy.
“Oh, just some old family squabble. Nothing important.” A lie, of course, at least to some degree, but you knew that your family was hated in this town. And for good reason. So you didn’t want to taint his view of you before he got to know you properly.
“Hm, yeah, I get that. My brother and I had a rough time these last few decades as well.” His smirk had faded and you missed it already. Even so, you asked: “I’m so sorry. Where is your brother now? Did you manage to work it out with him?” Stan chuckled lightly at you and his smirk returned. “Well, considering that I live in his house… Yes, I’d say so.”
You chuckled as well. Now this was something you and your brother would never be able to achieve.
The two of you had a very nice dinner together and talked about everything and nothing. It was a fantastic date. When you left the Diner you turned to look at Stan again. He was already grinning at you and held his arm out for you to take. “Now, onto the tour?” You laughed and gladly looped your arm through his. You had already forgotten about this part of the date.
You strolled through the woods. Stan told you all kinds of fantastical stories about monsters and little supernatural critters that are said to live in these woods. You didn’t believe a word of it, of course, but it was fun to play along.
After about twenty minutes you had reached a wooden house in the middle of the forest. It looked like it was supposed to attract tourists, with a big sign on the top that read ‘Mystery Shack’.
“And this,” Stan made a grand gesture, as if revealing the house to you, “is my humble home. Well, my brother’s, but you get it.” You chuckled lightly and pulled his arm closer to yours again. “Yeah, I’m starting to.”
Stan led you inside, telling you about his family. You were starting to get really excited to meet them. Stan had talked so highly of them, you were sure to like them.
Something you didn’t know was that throughout your entire date, Pacifica had followed you. She was curious who you’d agree to go on a date with, especially so soon after arriving in the town. She was shocked, to say the least, when she saw you and Stan Pines entering the Diner. She was even more shocked when he led you to his home.
After you had entered, she stayed outside for a while, pacing back and forth and considering whether or not to confront you about it. Eventually, she decided to do just that.
Inside the Shack Stan had already introduced you to the kids, Mabel and Dipper, and also his twin brother Ford. It was very sweet, especially when you quickly realized that the kids were very similar to their great uncles. Or grunkles, as they put it. They were such a charming family and you envied them for it a little.
After a little bit of sitting together with them you heard a knock at the door. “Any of you expecting someone?” Stan asked around the room and everyone shook their heads. Dipper stood up and went to open the door. In front of him stood Pacifica.
“What do you want, Pacifica?” At the name your ears perked up. What was she doing here? You told her to stay with her parents. Then again, you wouldn’t have stayed with them either.
“Your great uncle went on a date with my aunt. I want to know why.” Everyone turned to face you, even Dipper craned his neck around the doorway to look at you with his mouth hanging open. Mabel was the first to speak up. She stood on her chair and pointed at you. “You are a Northwest?! …How? You are so… different!”
You chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, they don’t call me the black sheep of the family for nothing.” At that Stan’s expression immediately softened again. Being the odd one out in your family was something he could relate to.
By now Dipper and Pacifica had walked into the room as well. Pacifica had her arms crossed in front of her and looked at you like she was trying to figure you out. “I get that. But why… him?” She gestured towards Stan who frowned at her. You just shrugged your shoulders.
“He’s exactly my type. Plus! He seems to have the same kind of… affinity for making a quick buck like I do.” You smirked at Stan and he returned with a smirk of his own. In a way, you two were quite similar.
Pacifica groaned in frustration and turned to Dipper. “No way. I get a cool new aunt who immediately dates your stinky grunkle? This is unfair.” “Well, I’m about to be your stinky uncle as well!” Stan laughed loudly and soon enough everyone at the table joined in, even Pacifica.
#gravity falls#gravity falls x reader#zigreth writes#stanley pines#stanley pines x reader#stan pines x reader
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The One I Want: Part 3
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader
Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.
Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.
Words: 1720
The One I Want Masterlist
---
Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it.
In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions.
It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery.
“So I was thinking,” he says.
You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.
His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”
That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals.
There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached.
But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so.
“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”
You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises.
“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”
“What?”
His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin.
“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”
—
It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both.
“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”
Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”
Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”
“Not so much, no.”
“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”
You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats.
Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake.
“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks.
Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed.
Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy.
You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”
He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”
When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs.
“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”
With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.
He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”
Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”
“No.”
“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”
Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”
Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks.
Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”
“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”
There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.
After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”
“Oh, come on,” he whines.
When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe.
It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head.
“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination.
Your eyes snap up.
The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake.
You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later.
“You really don’t have to,” you say.
Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”
---
A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.
tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#top gun maverick#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin fic#top gun hangman#top gun#jake hangman seresin x y/n#tgm#tgm fic#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin x plus size!reader#jake seresin angst
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Gator definitely gets off on eating your pussy. Not only lapping up what you give him, but the praises as well.
He’s eager and enthusiastic, a quick learner with your guidance. Mostly your hands tugging that coiffed mane into caramel colored disarray - slick and greasy between your fingers from the gel he layers on top. He ruts his slender hips into the floor, which you permit the poor and pathetic boy to do. He’s uncaring that you don’t shave at times, eagerly inhaling the creamy curls like a wildly starved creature, his nose buried in them, nudging your clit. Learning not to jackhammer your walls with his thick fingers, now that had been a task and a half.
Letting him know that what he’s seen and heard, just because he’s a guy — it doesn’t mean he knows jack shit. And he’s gotten better, to his credit. It’s never reached that point you’d wanted, not until much later.
He was humping himself into your couch cushions, panting and licking at you like he hadn’t eaten in days. His fingers were moving, searching, but when he’d ventured a little farther in, pushed up to scale that thick trigger finger — you’d shot up into an arch that scared his dumbass half to death.
“What?! What the fuck did I do?” Stubble clad face shining with your essence, brown eyes blown to hell, mossy shards laying about in the abyss of the midnight black pupils, he stared, chest heaving in the simple black, tight t-shirt. His uniform attire discarded, with the exception of his pants, boots, and top.
Your answer was to shove his head back down, tugging at the roots, nails clawing at his scalp. Words followed momentarily. “Your finger. Don’t you dare move it, Tillman! Add the other one and curl —“
“Curl? Am I spelling something out, I don’t get it —“ His hand had started to reach for the vape on his tighter fitting pocket, spare set of digits attempting to adjust.
“If you reach for that disgusting ass vape, I swear I will leave you with balls so blue that you’ll lose all ability to function for the rest of the day!” You cut in.
When he’s not occupied with your pussy, of course the idiot wants that gross ass thing. He quickly calmed himself and did as told.
You weren’t aware that he possessed it within him to make your thighs shake or your eyes roll back this much. And as you began to hear the wetness increase between your legs drastically, you smirked and used one hand to drag his spare to your breast, your thighs tightening to hold him and that mouth in place. “I’m gonna fucking soak you.” Was all you got out before one more stretching drag of his fingers over that spot and swipe of his tongue against your clit brought your over the edge, and the translucent liquid spurted from your cunt.
His brown eyes had widened comically, but he regained, following your quick direction not to stop. And that’s when he did something unexpected… by far. He opened his mouth in the direction of your squirt, fucking his hips into the bed in a sloppier, messier direction, hand slapping and squeezing your tit in alternation, fingers not slowing down until you couldn’t take it anymore and you became spent. He came moments later, whining, biting into the meat of your inner thigh, ruining another pair of those Wal-Mart camouflage khakis.
“I thought that only happened in porn? Like a pussy party trick or something.” He’d said, marveling in the after math, blowing a cloud of that acidic fruit in your direction.
You rolled your eyes at his terminology. You didn’t want to let him know you hadn’t ever been able to do it before. After all, he’s still your student.
Yeah, you’re a damn good teacher…
#kristenwrites#my work#my writing#gator tillman#gator tillman smut#gator tillman x reader#gator tillman x you#gator tillman x y/n#gator tillman fic#gator tillman fanfic#gator tillman blurb#gator tillman fanfiction#gator tillman drabble#gator tillman x female reader#gator tillman x fem!reader#fargo fx#fargo season 5#fargo s5#fargo fic#fargo fanfic#fargo fanfiction
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Rolando x Reader headcanons? You know you want to 😤
oh my god YESSSSSSS i would be delighted!!! 🙈🙈💖💖💖 warning, this one is a teensy bit NSFW, of the 'Rolando would quite like to devour you, mind and body' variety 😉 tws for canon-compliant fearmongering, fearplay, invasive behaviour, mild body horror and and general monsterfucking 👀 (i mean, y'all saw the episode, you know what you're in for-)
Rolando x Human!Reader headcanons 🐟💖
🐟 the people who darken the door of the One Star Wonder are always at the end of their tether, and Rolando wouldn't have it any other way. each one is more pathetic than the last: delicious morsels dripping with depression, anxiety and jealousy, and their bubble-headed selves all caught up in their oh-so-human concerns. Rolando greets each one with the same greasy charm, yet he makes sure to flavour his guests with just one too many inhuman gaffes. an incorrect turn of phrase here, a flash of too many teeth there, and before long, he has successfully unsettled his meat. so the night You step over the threshold and greet him with a warm, unknowing smile, he grinned right back, sure of a particularly tasty meal.
🐟 "Well, aren't you a precious little thing!" Rolando cooed, working in a lascivious gaze in the hopes of making You squirm. You stammered out a flustered thanks, and asked him if he had a room for the night. Rolando was dizzy; he could smell the indecision on You like pheromones, those little top notes of apprehension and fear, and it was all he could do to not clamber into your brain right then and there. "I've got just the room for you, dear, right at the back. And don't let anyone here give you shit under my watch. How abouts I escort you there myself? I'd hate for some filthy pervert to gobble you up along the way." before You could protest Rolando slipped around the desk, pressed a spindly claw into the small of your back and ushered You down a damp, ill-lit hallway.
🐟 as he guided You under the broken lights, Rolando's piscine gaze drank in the contours of your form. he'd played carnal games with humans before—desperate creatures that they were, their strangled whines as pleasure bled into pain never failed to amuse him. yet he'd never been so struck by the beauty of your kind. "So, what brings you to my malign establishment?" Rolando asked, as he carded his fingers through your hair. You shivered, but didn't pull away...a response which confused Rolando, but gave his Infestor heart a quiet thrill. You told him that you'd been kicked out of your home, and electricity shot down his back. he couldn't wait any longer. "Poor love...how could anyone be so cruel? Don't you worry your pretty little head. Tonight...you're all mine." 🐟 the few remaining lights in the hallway burst, and Rolando slipped into the blackness. You cried out in confusion as something cold and wet seized around your ankle and yanked You to the floor. chilling laughter echoed around the hallway, where it reverberated off impossible dimensions, like the hotel had yawned open to swallow You. "Oh, aren't you a hoot?" Rolando cackled. "Such fear...such excitement...what a delectable combination." Rolando's yellow-green eyes flashed in the dark, and the deathly edges of his teeth glimmered with saliva. You tried to run, but he dissolved into the dark and snatched at your shadow, tripping you with ease. Rolando's inky, gelatinous form drooled up your side and pinned You to the floor by the wrists, neck, and ankles.
🐟 "Running ain't the smartest move, sweetheart..." Rolando hissed, "...but boy, is it fun!" his monstrous tongue curled around your earlobe and invaded the delicate flesh of your ear itself, lapping in a way far too wet and obscene. You curled in on yourself, trying to make yourself small enough to escape, but Rolando's invertebrate form slipped between your joints and stretched out your limbs until it hurt. one dirty yellow light flickered into life above You and illuminated Rolando's sickly smirk. "Golly," said Rolando, putting his head on one side. "By now, normally I've got 'em screaming and wailing...but save a few sweet little sounds, you're quiet as a mouse." he wrapped himself around your face and breathed a blasphemy against your lips: "If I didn't know better...I'd say you're rather enjoying this." 🐟 a litany of protests tumbled from your mouth, but all they did was make Rolando laugh harder. "Don't deny it, sugar! I see everything tucked up inside that nasty little brain of yours...and fear ain't winning this race, honey." a nail as sharp as a blade tucked itself under your chin, and curled, tilting your face up to his. in the dark, Rolando's smile gleamed with bad intentions. "Tell you what...how about we play a game? You try to keep those lovely lips of yours shut..." a slight sting, and Rolando draws back his claw to admire a rivulet of blood. "...and I see how long it takes to make you scream."
#oh my god DON'T LOOK AT ME 🙈🙈🙈💖💖💖💖💖#i am so. SO sorry for this. but i think Rolando has me a little possessed (ha) 😖😖😖#this is much less of a coherent story and more of a down bad exorcism you feel me. sometimes you just gotta get it out of you before you di#and i am so fascinated by characters who 'eat' emotions in any capacity...so much capacity for synaesthesia in writing...!!! 👀#anyway shoutout to all the other folks who are in love with our freaky fish guy. we gotta keep making propaganda 🥰💖#rolando x reader#rolando x you#rolando x oc#rolando#rolando helluva boss#helluva boss rolando#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#ghostfuckers#ghostf**ckers#ghostfuckers spoilers#ghostf**ckers spoilers#starleskawrites#long post#starleskasks#naughty tag#suggestive
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HD Erised 2024 recs
Here are some of my favorite fics from @hd-erised 2024. Listed in alphabetical order.
All These Winding Threads by @starquestingfordrarry [35k]
The tides of Draco’s accidental magic pull him under and leave him gasping. There’s a hungry ache that sits deep in his bones, growing worse every day. Soon it’s all he’ll be, a starving skeleton clawing at its throat. He needs a solution. Unfortunately, that solution looks an awful lot like Harry Potter.
As Luck Would Have It by @sleepstxtic [12k]
In Sixth-Year, Harry and Draco both win a vial of Felix Felicis from Slughorn and, under its influence, have sex in the Room of Requirement. In the aftermath, can Draco and Harry navigate their respective roles in the war, while grappling with their burgeoning feelings for each other?
Body and Soul by Justlikewriting [22k]
When the headaches became worse and it got more and more difficult for Draco to work, he was left with no other choice but to recognise his stupid problem exactly for what it was. Even if that meant realising that the best, or perhaps even only, solution could solely come from one person: the one person he hadn’t seen for months, the one person he was still in love with. The one person who should never know. Because, clearly, Harry would never be able to give Draco what he needed anyway.
A Dragon to Call Mine by @fantalfart [24k]
Well, Harry is tired. Somewhat. He’s been The Boy Who Lived for quite a few years now—or what Harry privately likes to call himself; The Boy Whose Life Is Continuously Messed Up By External Forces or The Boy Who Can’t Take a Break or The Boy Who Gets to Keep Living Indefinitely or The Boy Who Is So Done or even The Boy Who Is, Apparently, Never Taking Time Off—and it never really gets better. Easier, yes; boring even, but never better. So, when he was about to finish his speech that morning, when a rogue dark spell was aimed at him and that dragon showed up, white scales blanketed by the sun, Harry almost grinned. Because seeing the creature felt more like finally than it did danger. — Or, Harry finds out that living with a dramatic, opinionated dragon might be everything he’s ever wished for.
Equally Cursed and Blessed by @moonflower-rose [18k]
Harry's back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he's sure there'll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there'll be a few.
In a Year’s Turning by @hoko-onchi-writes [89k]
There’s an undeniable crackle in the air. Draco knows it down to his marrow. Can never unknow it. He doesn’t have to turn to know that Harry is standing at the library entrance. The hair on the back of Draco’s neck prickles. They’ve avoided one another for nine years. Managed not to run into one another during the week of Andy’s funerary rites. They’ve glimpsed one another several times. But they never came close enough to speak. Draco’s kept to their rules for most of a decade. Letters only. Plans for Teddy. Updates on Pansy’s gardens. No references to the Christmas of 2001. Draco spares a moment to grieve that he couldn’t have put this off another nine years. Then, he turns. “Hi,” Harry says. Draco’s throat aches. “Hello. It’s been a while.” Harry quirks a smile. "I wondered where that top went." -- Or: Harry is struggling to raise Teddy by himself. Enter Draco.
Just a little liquid luck by @smehur [5k]
Draco unbuttons his cuffs and the first three buttons at the neck and pulls both his shirt and his vest up over his head. “Oh,” comes a shuddery sigh from the other side of the bed. “No, leave it,” Potter hurries to say when Draco moves to smooth his hair back into place. “It’s just. It’s. Good. Like that.” Draco smirks, though he dares not look down at himself and the expanse of the flush burning hot stamps into his flesh. Tracking the movement of Potter’s eyes, he runs a greasy finger over the thickest of his scars. “You like them, don’t you? Pervert.” Potter tosses his head back, jostling the mass of his curly fringe from his forehead. “I bet you were into scars long before you had any of your own, Malfoy.” Yes, Draco wants to say. I want to lick yours. What he says instead is, “Fuck you.” “Fuck you,” Potter echoes, putting the same pregnant emphasis on the F. Draco bites his lower lip, wrestling down the rise of euphoria. “Your turn,” he says. “Take that off.”
The Most Splendid Thing by @lqtraintracks [61k]
Star Quidditch rivals Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter become accidentally bonded. They still hate each other, but now it’s untenable to leave each other’s sides—and my, but it feels oh so good to touch. They’re either going to murder one another, or fall in love. OR: A story in which Draco finally allows himself happiness, and Harry finally learns that he deserves to be whole.
Old love don't rust by tray_la_la [20k]
“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.
The Pain From an Old Wound by @citrusses [30k]
Getting hit with a mysterious blood curse is all in a day’s work for Harry Potter. Having to work with his former colleague, rival, bully, and boyfriend, is not. Harry’s not sure which is going to do him in first: the curse sucking his magic dry, or Draco Malfoy, as frustrating, condescending, and painfully attractive as he’s always been.
palindrome by @garagepaperback [25k]
“Why did you let me kiss you?” Potter smirks. “That’s not how I remember it. Why did you let me kiss you?” “I’m stuck in a time loop. You’re not going to remember, so.” Draco’s tongue drags, calcified around the words. “Why not.” Potter’s brows furrow but the smile stays undented. “That’s the best you could come up with?”
Runaway Train by iota / @sorrybutblog [18k]
Harry was already keen to figure out what’s been causing a series of disturbances in the London Underground before Draco Malfoy showed up acting suspicious. Two explosions, several very confused Muggles, and a cloud of mysterious sticky powder later, Harry and Malfoy can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Can Harry shag his way to the answer to all of his questions? Seems unlikely, but what can a man do but try?
A Soft Place to Fall by @amomorii [142k]
When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares? Or; A darkness crawls out of Harry, and there's only so long he can keep it to himself.
Storm's Eye by @shiftylinguini [12k]
Harry's surprised that Draco didn't have wards up preventing mortally wounded former school mates-turned-ghosted work fellows from bursting into his house. In Harry's addled mind, this seems like a great opening line to say to Draco's gobsmacked face. He doesn't get that far, though. Or: Harry gets hurt, Draco is a vanishing alchemist who may or may not be able to save the day, but under no circumstances are either of them willing to talk about Their Feelings. Well. Maybe "mortal peril" circumstances will do it, actually.
Sub rosa by @tessacrowley [37k]
After the tragic and unexpected death of his mother, Draco Malfoy’s quiet life as Potions Master, Hogwarts professor, and Head of Slytherin gets upended—first by the manifestation of mysterious and inexplicable magic, and then by the revelation of an inheritance deliberately hidden from him his entire life.
Where Starlight Falls by @agentmoppet [33k]
The magic concealing Sirius’s Last Will and Testament doesn’t reveal the full extent of Harry’s inheritance until two years after the war. When it does, it turns out that Harry has inherited more than just the Black Family vault—he’s inherited the family’s magic, too. He just has to find it first. And he needs Draco Malfoy’s help to do it.
I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!
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