#henry mchenry x you

[safarigirlsp]

Wicked Fairytales

My fun little series in which I give my own twisted twist on some classics.

Bah Humbug

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Kylo Ren x Reader

Charlie Barber x Reader

Clyde Logan x Reader

Henry McHenry x Reader

Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Commander Mills x Reader

Word Count: 35.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Extra Smut. Language. Angst. Romance. Graphic Violence. Murder. Main Character Death. Light Violence Against Reader. Old Timey Sexism. Bastardization of Classic Literature.

AO3 Link

Based on A Christmas Carol

A Comedy of Eros

Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Humor. Romance. Soulmates. Violence. Non-Con Elements. Physical Aggression Toward Reader. Possessive and Jealous Behavior. Dominant Men. Bitchy Women. Conniving Wizards. Drugging - Kids today might call it Sex Pollen. Confusion. Duplicity. Bestiality. Orgies. Cuckolding. Exhibitionism. Misogyny. Old Timey Sexism. Toxic Men. Jacques/Pierre Canon as Developed by Silky and Myself aka Shithead Behavior. Bastardization of Shakesperean Tropes. Misuse of Shakespearean Quotes, try to count them all. Fear Not, No Attempts at Ye Olde English Contained Herein. ☠️Rey☠️

Don’t let the warnings scare you! This is Romance and Comedy.  

AO3 Link

Based on A Midsummer Night's Dream

Outrun the Devil

Lawyer Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 14.9k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Blood. Gore. Murder. Beheadings. Supernatural Themes. Romance.

AO3 Link

Based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Love & War

Regency Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Smut. Non-Graphic Mentions of Violence and Death. Old Timey Sexism. Fluff. Romance. Humor. Stilted Language.

AO3 Link

Admiral Ren in Love

Top notes of Pride & Prejudice with undertones of Cinderella.

The Beast

Vampire Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: None! Shocking! Some light horror and sexy themes.

AO3 Link

Notes of Beauty and the Beast, Dracula, and The Raven in my best Poe-ish attempt.

Music of the Night

Victorian Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 14.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Graphic Violence. Fires. Guns. Murder. Old Timey Sexism. Romance. Dark Phantom of the Opera Vibes. Victorian Kylo.

AO3 Link

Based on The Phantom of the Opera

Here There Be Monsters

Pirate Captain Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 51.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Action. Adventure. Romance. Light Violence. Swords. Guns. Orgies. Bar Fights. Pirate Shenanigans. Old Timey Sexism. 

AO3 Link

This is the result of my love for Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, it's a classic.

Maneater

Commander Mills x Lawyer Reader

Word Count: 37.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Violence. Blood. Gore. Graphic Dinosaur Violence. Enemies to Lovers. Idiots in Love. Sexism in Survival Situations. Hot Toxic Masculinity. Character Crossovers. The Commander Mills Jurassic Park AU that had to happen.

AO3 Link

Mixing two of my favorites together for a fun AU - Commander Mills and Jurassic Park! Yes, it's a classic.

Ghost Town

Gunfighter Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 14k

AO3 Link

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Alcohol. Graphic Violence. Gun Violence. Lots of Violence. Horror Themes. Possession Themes. Supernatural Themes. Shameless References to The Shining. This is a Darker take on Flip than I usually write, but it’s Halloween!

Inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins.

Everything A Big Bad Wolf Could Want

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Fluff. Language. Chasing kink. Primal Play. If there’s such a thing as Lumberjack kink, it’s in here. Extreme bastardization of fairy tale dialogue.

AO3 Link

If I were Little Red Riding Hood...

Cinderella

Kylo Ren x Reader

HCs Only

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Light Smut. Fluff. Happy Murder Thoughts. Humor.

Cinderella Themes.

[glassbxttless]

Hi! Here is where all of my older work and characters I no longer write for will be linked! Note, that I DO NOT write for some of these characters any longer but I wanted to keep them up to share! For characters I do write, check out my writing rules page!

This content is 18+— Smut is indicated with *

**as of 03.27.23 this list is still being updated**

( CLYDE LOGAN X F!READER )

Valentine

Dad!Clyde // one , two , three , four

Kiss Me Again

Help Me Get Rid of This Asshole

All Day, All Night*

Wedding Date*

After Shower Special*

See You at Home*

Ohio Bound*

Mother’s Day

There Ain’t No Skiin’ in West Virginia

Kitty Eatin’ at the Duck Tape*

Mama Bear’s Spa Day

Homecoming

A Quick Dip

Just a Gallon of Milk

Someone Borrowed*

Hey Bartender

Do You Mind?

Showering in Adoration*

( ADAM SACKLER X F!READER )

As You Grew, So Did We*

Talking Body*

Tongue Tied

Becoming a Dad

Pretty Please?*

Banana Pudding*

Earn It*

( FLIP ZIMMERMAN X F!READER )

Call Me That Again*

I Want to Spend My Life with You

What Do You Think?*

Actirasty*

Holiday Party*

Mark You Mine*

Truth or Dare*

My Girl*

Daddy’s Good Girl*

“I’m Sorry, Sugar.”*

Hiking to the Falls*

Your Parents’ House*

Our Marriage Story

Did You Eat?

Marlboro*

Happy Holidays

( DANIEL JONES X F!READER )

( PHILLIP ALTMAN X F!READER )

( CHARLIE BARBER X F!READER )

( RONNIE PETERSON X F!READER )

( BEN SOLO/KYLO REN X F!READER )

( RICK SMOLAN X F!READER )

( JUDE X F!READER )

( PAUL SEVIER X F!READER )

( HENRY MCHENRY X F!READER )

( JASON ROBERTS X F!READER )

( AL CODY X F!READER )

( ADAM X F!READER )

( ALLAN X F!READER )

( PATERSON X F!READER )

( MAURIZIO GUCCI X F!READER )

( MATT SOLO X F!READER)

[mrs-gucci]

The Forever Bite [drabble] {vampire!Henry McHenry x Reader}

anonymous, for spooky sunday:

Vampire Henry biting you while he fucks you so he can keep you forever ���😍😍

oh yes, yes to all of this! I��ll be the first to admit, I’m not very well-versed in vampires since I don’t really write them. but, I tried to research and do my best with it :)

warnings: smut. biting. possessive-ish behavior.

(possible) tw’s: vampire stuff. descriptions of blood.

word count: 463

Shuck-shuck-shuck.

The headboard slams against the wall as Henry’s hips swiftly drill into you, skin smacking together with a lewd squelch. He’s looking down at you with a fierce snarl, pearly white fangs shining in the low glow of the moonlight.

“You’re mine.” He growls, hand wrapping around your throat. “Say it.”

You nod in agreement, gasping softly. “I’m yours, Henry.”

His hand pulls away from your neck, but his fingers remain, trailing over the taut flesh. He pushes against the veins, the tendons, groaning softly. 

“Your blood must taste so sweet, my lover.”

Your eyes widen at his comment, seeing the way he licks his sharp fangs. He’s thirsty, you know it.

“H-Henry--”

“Let me bite you, please. I’ll make you mine forever, Y/N. It’d be so easy to just...” His fangs gently press into the skin on the curve of your shoulder. “Sink my teeth in, taste your delicious blood. God, I can smell it through your skin, your veins, just begging to be set free. Begging to be drank by me.”

You whimper, back arching instinctively, hands in his long black hair.  “I...I don’t know.”

He’s close, now, the thought of sinking his fangs into your flesh getting him even more riled up than he ever imagined it would.

“There’s a c-chance you won’t become a vampire.” He breathes, fucking you harder. “And even if you do become one, you’ll get to live forever with me, be mine for the rest of eternity.”

You give it a thought as you reach down, clit tender when you begin to rub it. You bring yourself to a quick but pleasurable climax, and in your dopey state of mind, you look up at him with a wild expression in your eyes.

“D-Do it, Henry.”

Henry grins, quickly bending down to sink his fangs into your skin, groaning at the first taste of your sweet blood. His orgasm comes only seconds later, drinking your blood as he buries his load deep in your cunt.

You let out a loud yelp at the initial pain of bite, but the pain quickly settles and you feel your body relax slightly. Nothing feels any different as he takes a drink from your veins before pulling away, lapping at the skin he’s just abused. 

When he finally pulls away after a minute or so, he immediately kisses you,, keeping you in a tender embrace.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks, looking into your eyes for any signs of transformation. “Normal? Different?”

Nodding, you smile, reaching up to caress his cheek. “Yes, I feel fine, Henry. I feel completely normal.”

His lips pull up into a small smile and he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle softly.

“Good, I’m glad.”

[paterson-blue]

The Night, The Flame

Summary: You come home to an unexpected visitor.

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: femme!reader, sub!reader, dom!Henry, pussy eating, pussy worship, cigarette smoking (y'all already know lmao), degradation, edging, overstimulation, brief mention of consensual somnophilia, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, kinda dub-con if you squint I guess, possessive!Henry, insecure!Henry because it's me & I have to do that shit-- fuck, I think that's all, but let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Uhm. Cannes. That is all.

Your apartment is dark and silent when you arrive home. It’s late, and after a night out with your friends, all you’re thinking about is a shower and straight to bed. You don’t notice that things are a little off—the door to the coat closet slightly ajar, a half empty glass sitting abandoned on the kitchen island, the small decorative glass ashtray usually kept on the coffee table missing.

You don’t notice until you spy movement from the corner of your eye, out on the balcony. Your heart leaps into your throat for a brief moment as you freeze in place, but then a split second later you recognize the lean silhouette, as well as the tell-tale orange glow of a cigarette.

Henry.

You sigh in relief, and just a little bit of annoyance that he’s startled you. You hadn’t been expecting him. Walking over to the sliding glass door, you open it up to peek your head out at him. He’s sitting in one of the patio chairs, long legs resting on the balcony’s edge as he overlooks the view of the city. He’s wearing nothing but a tight pair of black boxer briefs, wavy hair blowing in the slight breeze; you wonder, idly, where the rest of his clothes are.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming over,” you finally say when he fails to acknowledge you. He takes another deep drag of his cigarette before reaching one long sinewy arm out towards the patio table, where the ashtray sat. He taps off the excess ash; you notice that the little container is already half full. How long has he been here?

“How did you get in?” you ask, not quite knowing what else to say.

He hums, the sound low and quiet; still doesn’t look at you. “You gave me a key.”

You blink, but then��yeah. You had given him a key. A “just in case” key he hadn’t wanted to take. Just in case what? he’d asked, making a face at the object like it offended him. You hadn’t really had an answer. Just in case you want to see me. Just in case you need me. Just in case you want something more than this.

Henry had been giving you the best orgasms of your life for four months straight, but the man was so broody and flighty that you didn’t dare bring up a relationship. Didn’t dare ask him to stay. The only outcome would be disaster, this you knew. So, instead, you’d said: in case you’re antsy after a show and want to come fuck me while I’m asleep. And oh, how his eyes had gone dark and hungry.

He’d taken the key.

But, of course, you’ve forgotten about that. Because it’s been two months since then and he hadn’t used it once (at least, that you’re aware of, and doesn’t that send heat down your spine?)

You stand there for a moment, watching him smoke; somewhere in the distance a police siren cuts through the low hum of night time traffic. Henry stabs the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray and promptly lights up another, the flame momentarily bathing his face in light. A deep breath, then he’s leaning his head back, letting smoke curl up towards the heavens. His dark hair falls over his slim shoulders, ones you knew were decorated with freckles you couldn’t see.

Why was he here? What did he want? You try to think, to remember if he told you something about tonight—he’d had a show. A new set of some sort, a new venue. And now here he was, three in the morning, half naked and chain smoking on your balcony. Your gaze traces over his form, recognizing the tension in his jaw, his back.

“Bad night?” you ask softly, gently. You want to reach out and caress him, to soothe him, but you aren’t sure if it will cause him to flee. You compromise your urge by moving closer, but not too close, settling in your own chair across from him. He doesn’t answer but at this point you don’t expect him to—he was in one of his moods. You gaze out at the cityscape with him, waiting for him to finish, for his inevitable leaving. Maybe he’d just needed a place to clear his head.

After a while you feel yourself starting to get a little sleepy—you’re beginning to consider grabbing that shower and telling him to let himself out when he’s done with whatever it is that he’s doing—when he stands. You jerk your head over to look up at him, arching a brow in question. He brings his cigarette up to his plush lips, studying you, eyes dark and wild. It makes you feel cornered; makes you feel like prey.

Henry always seems to have this effect on you.

Silently, he grabs the throw pillow he’d been reclining against, and then leans down to stub out the rest of his cig. You track the movement, watching the soft glow of the embers scatter close to his large fingers. There’s a brief moment of suspense where neither of you move, blink, breathe—and then he’s stalking towards you, a lion going after it’s kill.

He tosses the pillow onto the concrete floor in front of you, and then he’s kneeling on top of it, right between your legs. You feel your face start to flush, and you instinctively press your thighs together as you look around furtively. “Henry.” Your voice trembles, breathless already; he hasn’t taken those eyes off of you. “Henry, don’t.”

He ignores your warning, strong hands gliding up your calves and under your dress, gripping your thighs and prying them open. You gawk at him, but he’s not focused on your face, not anymore.

“Henry, someone will see.” You try again, pushing against his grip; he pushes right back, keeping your legs spread for him. His eyes roam over the sheer white lace of your underwear, and his lip curls up into something akin to a sneer.

“What’s this? Hoping you’d find someone to show these to tonight?” His fingers press into your skin as if to accentuate his words. You frown at him, and start to speak, to tell him no and to stop being an asshole. You don’t get the words out. Anything you’re about to say flies out of your brain when he presses his face between your legs, planting his mouth over as much of your cunt as possible.

You squirm in your seat, letting out a little whine. He works his jaw, sucking on you through your underwear, and you know the fabric will be sopping wet in no time with how messy he’s being, letting the lace capture his saliva. He presses his nose right up against your clit—inhales deeply and lets out a low groan. It’s possessive. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest.

“Fuck, Henry—“ you curse, moaning softly when he rubs that stupid perfect nose up and down, up and down, taking his damn time, his breath hot where it fans out against your skin. “L-Let’s go inside, please?”

He bites the inside of your thigh in response, and then suddenly he’s wrenching your underwear down your legs. He tosses them over his shoulder and you yelp when they go over the side of the balcony.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap at him, but then he’s shoving your legs up and back until your knees hook over the arms of the chair you’re in. When he looks up at you his eyes are ablaze, his hands pressing at the backs of your thighs, his big thumbs opening your pussy to the cool night air.

“You’re gonna sit right here and let me taste you.” His tone is dark and demanding, and you look down at him in disbelief. Your mouth opens to say something—anything—but then he’s yanking your forward by your ass and burying his face into your pussy. He doesn’t start out slow; apparently, that’s not the mood he’s in tonight. Instead, he shoves his tongue into you as deep as he can, rubbing his nose against your clit—and even still, he’s grabbing at you so hard you think he’s trying to get deeper.

You clench around him and he moans, moving to suck messily at your folds. You’re hyper aware of how fucking noisy it is, the way he’s eating you—slurping at you—and your face feels like it’s on fucking fire. Christ, what if one of your neighbors heard? What if they saw? You clutch a hand into his hair, hips rolling up into his mouth without your permission.

Henry seals his mouth over your clit and sucks hard, tongue beating out an insistent pattern against the bundle of nerves. You gasp, wriggling against him, and he just holds you even tighter, nose pressing into your pubic bone in a way that surely can’t be comfortable.

“Oh shit.” You whisper, voice breaking as you try to stay quiet. You’re already close, somehow, just on the edge, thighs trembling—and he fucking knows it. He fucking knows it because he stops that gorgeous rhythm, presses his tongue back inside and groans at the taste. He starts the process all over again and you’ve never hated him more.

He does the whole thing twice more before you’re making incessant, involuntary little noises, still making a futile attempt to stay quiet. Henry looks up at you as he circles your clit with the hard point of his tongue and for some reason that’s what does it. You clap a hand over your mouth as you cry out, the noise close to a sob. He’s snatching your hand away in an instant, his fingers wrapping all the way around your wrist, holding it tight.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ muffle yourself. What the fuck’s your problem, huh? Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut you are? Don’t want anyone to know how good I make you feel?” He’s speaking loudly, voice carrying into the night. He grabs your other wrist, holding them both and squeezing so hard you think they might bruise. “You fuckin’ ashamed of me?”

That seems to cut through the haze in your brain, and you manage to shake your head at him, holding his gaze. Of course you weren’t ashamed of him. Why would he think that? Henry seems to flounder for a brief moment, as if he hadn’t expected those particular words to come out of his mouth. But then he lets out a growl, and he’s leaning forward, spitting right onto your pussy.

You gasp, clit throbbing as you feel the liquid trail over your skin. Henry uses the index and middle digits of his free hand to push his saliva into you, his fingers following as he stretches you out deep, deep inside. When he looks up at you he’s composed himself, back to his normal guise of control. “Let them hear,” he snaps, “I want them to hear.”

He gives no warning before he’s setting a frantic pace with his fingers, fucking you with them harshly. You let out a shaky cry, and he gives you a sharp grin.

“Louder.” He demands, his own voice rising in volume. “Scream my fuckin’ name.”

You do, you do, lost to the merciless pace of his fingers inside you, to the wet squelch of your cunt as he hammers your g-spot. You can’t escape his touch, can’t escape the intensity of his gaze as you cum all over his hand. Henry fucking laughs, the sound ringing out over everything else. “Listen to that sloppy pussy. You’re gonna bounce on my cock right here until I fill it with cum, and then I’m gonna fuck you again over the railing. You’re mine.”

He doesn’t stop, even when you sob out from overstimulation, body shaking with it. Your cunt grips his fingers like a vice, and he lowers his mouth to your clit just in time to bring you to a quick second orgasm. Your thighs close around his head as you scream for him, just like he wanted—you don’t even recognize the sounds you’re making.

When your legs finally fall back open to release him, Henry pulls his fingers from you into his mouth, sucking at them as his dark eyes stay trained on your slick folds. You’re panting loudly, all pretense of politeness forgotten as you focus on him. He reaches out to brush a feather light touch over your pussy, humming low in his chest when you twitch for him. “Pretty thing. I bet my cock’s gonna slip right in.”

You bet it will, too.

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @mariesackler @millenialcatlady @peachyproserpina @leatherboundbirate @jynzandtonic @cornmousequeen @icarusinthesea @heartofjakku

[ohsolonelyghosts]

hi there! I know I’m not a big account by any means, but I did want to put out into the world that my requests are in fact open!

I will write for any ADCU character!

[desiraypark]

Hello. It's been a while.

Here's a little self-indulgent Henry McHenry smut for you. Do "adult gummies" make anyone else horny? Just me? Okay. Well, this idea came to me when I was high and of course, horny.

Fun Fact - it was almost Sackler x Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, Reader is high and Henry is sober. There are implications that Henry has some "dark" energy but there's nothing dark or triggering in this.

Okay, bye!

A long, hard day deserved an evening in which time slowed down. The plan was to go home, take a bite of something nice, have a nap, and catch a ride to Henry's show. The crowded city would be of no disturbance to you because you'd be relaxed and moving on your own time. Fluid and still, at once.

However, you woke up to rain, thunder, and darkness. Lightning illuminated the sky. But the darkness stood over you. You jumped awake. It wasn't the clap of thunder that yanked you from your sleep. It was the presence.

"You didn't come..." he said.

You tried to rise from the bed--the singular cashmere blanket fell down revealing your breasts--but your own body smacked you back down. Oh, right.

You felt your blood pump in your veins--rushing through your body like a hurricane. The chaotic heavens sounded like they were five feet away from you. The bedroom's usual scent of wood and a sugary plug-in fragrance was heightened. And Henry smelled like rain and trouble.

"I'm sorry. I overslept," you responded.

His eyes scanned your body. Without a word, he turned around and walked into the bathroom.

The THC made every inch of your body pump.

Every inch.

You didn't notice until Henry went into the bathroom.

Your nipples were suddenly erect--your pussy throbbed. This always happened when you ate one of those gummies. Sometimes, you wondered if you partook just for this reason.

Your eyes closed again. You heard the shower water run, then, everything went black again.

Cold air hit your body.

"I looked everywhere for you," a voice boomed above you. Your eyes popped open again. "I couldn't see beyond the footlights, but I still looked for your silhouette."

Your blanket was gone. Henry straddled you, held your face with one hand, and trailed his tongue down your cheek before meeting your lips with a kiss.

"I--" you started. Peck.

"I--"

Kiss. You bent your knee so that your foot was flat on the bed--leg elevated, making more room for him.

"I didn't mean to sleep so long..."

"Mmm..." Henry growled before planting his lips against yours again. His hand left your face and slid down your neck, over your chest, and over your breast. He cupped the flesh in his hand, and you bent your knee more--pulling your foot back further.

"I even searched the balcony..." he said. He pulled his face from yours and dipped over your chest--taking your nipple into his mouth. A chill went down your spine and a gasp left your lips.

"I didn't know me being there meant so much to you," you said.

"It always does," he said--the clearest sentence he'd formed all night.

"I'm s--"

"Shh..." he whispered, before sucking at your nipple and switching to the next. Your heavy head fell deeper into the pillow as Henry devoured your breasts. Then, that one hand made another journey down your body--sliding across your belly, then gripping your raised knee. It rested there as he sucked on your nipple. Then, it made its move down your thigh, over your mound--and with a bite to your areola, he slid three fingers inside of you.

"Fuck..." you whispered.

Henry continued licking and sucking at your breasts as the pads of his fingers rubbed your velvety interior. The sloppy sound of your wetness nearly echoed throughout the room. You were certain that you could feel Henry's fingerprints being embedded upon your walls. But you needed more. Immediately.

You ran your fingers in his hair and whispered toward his ear...

"Fuck me..."

That was all he needed. There was no teasing. No question of if you deserved it after missing his show.

Henry pulled himself away from you, stood over the bed, and peeled his robe away. The robe fell to the floor with a whoosh--sending the faded scent of fabric sheets through your nostrils. He scanned your naked body again as he tugged at his cock. Then, he dropped one knee onto the bed to lean over you again. As he gripped his dick, he rubbed his fingers over your clit.

You opened your legs wider for him. Anxious. Your clitoris pulsed and your cunt ached to be filled. Hard enough, Henry climbed on top of you, grabbed you by the sides of your knees, and pulled you closer to him.

Finally, you felt your body opening. Henry slowly pushed himself inside--filling you with every inch before resting his body against yours. His pecs initially felt cool against your breasts, then, the coolness immediately turned to warmth--his body still somewhat moist from the shower.

With every push in and every drag out--you felt every part of him. Every vein, every twitch--that separation between his head and his shaft. Everything. You almost wanted to cry, he felt so good. He completed you so much.

"Let me on top," you whispered.

Somehow, the two of you reversed your positions. You fought against your high--and the internal battle put a smile on your face. Entering a "goofy" stage, perhaps. Mischievous. You knew something that he didn't know--and it made you chuckle inside.

You bit your lip and rested your hands on his torso--preparing yourself as you lowered on his length. Your eyes rolled back and the tip of his cock nudged your cervix. You knew it would hurt the next day, but right now, the foreign chemical in your brain whispered:

"Let it hurt...let it hurt...hurts so good...let it hurt..."

Henry rested his hands on your thighs as you rode him. His eyes traveled your body--your face. Your eyes were closed, a soft smile still painted on your face. Then, he smiled.

"Are you high?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

Teeth appeared behind your smile. "Yeah..."

You fell forward, smashing your chest against his as you lifted your hips and dropped them back down--repeating the act in slow motion. Suddenly, his hands slid up your backside and rested on your waist.

"Mmm..." he growled again. His fingers slipped down onto your hips, and he pressed them deep into your flesh. His body lifted beneath you--and he pushed deep, deep, deep inside of you, making you gasp and grip the pillow behind you.

His voice commanding, but soft. Like a lustful demon, he whispered in your ear, "Stay like this."

You gripped the pillow tighter and whimpered as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pinned your body against his. His little bird had flown too...high.

But no worries.

He'd get you back down again.

[inklore]

— 𝐅𝐀𝐐 ⋆ ˚｡

this blog is strictly multifandom, but that does not mean that i don’t play favorites for certain fandoms/characters. so there will most definitely be more writings for certain characters and fandoms.

requests: are closed, but thots are always welcome!

in no way shape or form should minors be interacting with anything on or posted to this blog. this is an 18+ space. anon hate and celebrity discourse also has no place here, so please respect that. if you are racist, homophobic, bigoted, zionist, islamphobic, judgmental to what people enjoy writing/reading, can’t depict fiction from real life, you will be blocked.

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞…

rpf, necrophilia, incest, pregnancy, daddy/little play, age play, spitting, kitten, bimbo!reader, foot fetish, animal play, race play, watersports, underage scenarios, alpha/omega, domestic violence, kid fics, male!character x male!oc, i hate the word ‘doll’ as a pet name so i avoid it like the plague.

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞…

smut (refer to the above list when it comes to this), fluff, age gaps, poly/threesome+, reverse harem, dubcon, noncon, yandere, toy play, cheating (to a certain degree), blood play, knife play, some bdsm, breath play, violence, gore, capture x captive, hunter/prey, praise and degradation, power imbalance, step siblings, supernatural, villainary, choking, mommy/daddy kink (to an extent).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒.

marvel ↷

miguel o’hara, hobie brown, marc spector, thor odinson, loki laufeyson, peter parker (all variants), yelena belova, joaquin torres, doctor strange, wade wilson, carol danvers, eddie brock, scott lang, hope van dyne, kate bishop, hela, pietro maximoff, logan howlett, wanda maximoff, steve rogers, kraven, cable, druig, makkari, thena, blade

dc universe ↷

dinah lance/black canary, diana prince, clark kent, pamela isley/poison ivy, arthur curry/aquaman, harley quinn, adrian chase, pattinson!bruce wayne, edward nashton/the riddler

top gun: maverick ↷

jake 'hangman' seresin, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, natasha 'phoenix' trace, beau 'cyclone' simpson, reuben 'payback' fitch

star wars ↷

poe dameron, finn, kylo ren/ben solo, bo-katan kryze, din djarin, young!han solo

scream ↷

ethan landry, stu macher, billy loomis, chad meeks-martin, mindy meeks-martin, amber freeman, tara carpenter

bridgerton ↷

anthony bridgerton, colin bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, kate sharma, simon basset, phillip crane

house of the dragon ↷

ser harwin strong, daemon targaryen, aemond targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen

american horror story ↷

cordelia goode, tristan duffy, michael langdon, harry gardner, madison montgomery, kit walker, xavier plympton, ally mayfair-richards

etc shows ↷

villanelle, lip gallagher, tommy miller, carmy berzatto, luca (the bear), kate parks, daisy jones, billy dunne, warren rhodes, geralt of rivia, love quinn, max wolfe, olivia benson, roman godfrey, dream the endless, lucifer (sandman), jonathan pine, mira phillips, the salesman (squid game), hwang jun ho (squid game), kim geon-woo (bloodhounds)

movies ↷

john wick, finnick odair, peeta mellark, johanna mason, han lue, cipher, walter de ville, tangerine, dave lizewski, thomas sharpe, james conrad, neil (tenet), edward cullen, millie / molotovgirl, dante reyes, thrandull, steve kemp, charlie swan, marquis vincent de gramont, keys (free guy), akira (john wick), beverly marsh (it two), ben hanscom (it two), keith (barbarian), frank (don't worry darling)

adam driver ↷

kylo ren/ben solo, adam sackler, flip zimmerman, phillip altman, charlie barber, henry mchenry, commander mills, rick smolan, officer ronnie peterson, matt the radar technician, clyde logan, paterson, jude

oscar isaac ↷

santiago garcia, poe dameron, nathan bateman, jonathan levy, william tell, blue jones, rydel keener

pedro pascal ↷

din djarin, javier peña, frankie morales, javi gutierrez, joel miller, dieter bravo

chris evans ↷

ransom drysdale, lloyd hansen, andy barber, ari levinson, frank adler, steve rogers, jake wyler

[glassbxttless]

So I’m a slut for Palaye Royale and they released a song this weekend that inspired this one fucking monstrosity from my brain. Enjoy!

Henry McHenry x Reader

Word Count: 1,124

Warnings: drug use (cocaine), oral f receiving, PIV sex, mentions of murder, tobacco use

The creeps are crawling up to the doorways, they're dying to find out what's inside. The creeps are always posting their photos, to show off what they're lacking inside.

Cameras are flashing, there’s a hand on the small of your back guiding you into the car as quickly as he can. The sounds of every woman lining the front of the club rings in your ears. The weight of Henry’s hand settling onto your thigh as he peeks out of the cracked window with that half grin that you’ve fallen in love with since meeting him earlier in the evening.

Seeing him across the club, sipping on a drink your friends had recommended to you. That same half grin plastered on his features as he cuts across the floor towards you. Welcoming you in with that unmistakable LA charm he's exuding. You’ll only know him for the night, but the night is better than never at all.

He offered you a drink, his lips trailed from your shoulder to under your jaw— making sure you know he wants to take you home tonight. You’re his love for the evening. More so than the girls he showed up with, more so than the girls trying to catch his attention at the bar, on the dance floor, in the line to the bathroom. He’s got more suitors hanging onto him than you’ve ever seen a man pull. But when he whispers, “gonna be remembering my name.” you all but melt into a pliant putty in his hands. Your hips grinding back against his on the dance floor, his breathing hard and ragged in his chest. Just as much as the ridge in his slacks.

And you are sitting in his car with him. While you’re popping the top on a bottle of champagne he’d handed over, he’s reaching into his jacket for a little plastic bag of white powder. He smiles, looking over the exposed skin of your back through the cutout of your dress. Your heart is racing and he’s peeking down the cutout to glance at the tiny bit of your ass peeking out. Uncovered by the underwear that’s now stuffed in his jacket pocket from your early endeavors at the booth. You’re pouring champagne into the glasses he’d had waiting here for you both. For whoever he took home tonight.

He’s smiling as he pushes you forward a little, “sit still.” He chuckles, quickly cutting a line against your skin. You can hear the quiet sniffing behind you, the tip of the tongue that hits your skin. You can feel the wetness beginning to pool between your thighs, when his lips are pressing up your spine as he lets out a sigh in relief. A happy noise you’ll remember for at least the night.

When you’re sitting back up, handing him his own glass of champagne, his lips are meeting yours, a hand cupping the entirety of your throat. You’ve missed another’s touch. You’ve needed him more than you realized. The way his tongue glides against yours creates such a spark in your body, you can’t help but want more. His hand is leaving your throat, climbing down your body and settling on your thigh. And you’re wanting to count the streets until you’re back at your hotel. Your heart is racing. His heart is racing. His eyes are blown wide, his smile big and loving.

You’re stumbling into your hotel room after ten more minutes. Hands are fumbling with clothing. He’s trying his hardest to slink you out of that dress. His hands are full of your skin, kneading and pulling and pushing each cheek of that pillowy ass. Your body is pressed tight against yours as he lays you back against your bed. When he starts kissing down your bare body, pushing your thighs apart, your breath hitches. He blows gently against your core, arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you towards his face. He’s crouching at the end of the bed only in his slacks. His shirt is gone, his chest is heaving as he trails his tongue through the folds of your labia. He’s doting on your taste, lingering in the sense of you. The way your panties are still tucked in his jacket pocket and he decides that taking them won’t hurt. You’ve got enough of them anyway.

Your fingers are squeezing at your own breasts, breathing tight and hot as he works his tongue into you— back out of you— up to your clit. He’s working you over and over and you feel yourself coming closer and closer. And when you’re cumming on his tongue, he takes his time to remember your taste. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in as he unbuckles his belt, sliding his own slacks off of his body. You hear the sounds of a condom tearing open as you roll onto your stomach, pressing your ass up high. He’s settling behind you, rolling the condom on, smacking a hot red print of his hand onto your right ass cheek. “God you’re beautiful.” He mumbles. The way his high is coursing through his veins does the trick for him. He’s hard enough to fuck you all night long.

And when he pushes into you, adjusting your hips up and holding onto you tightly— he feels you squeezing around him. The way he absolutely loves. He’s thrusting into you, hard and fast. You don’t know if you can even remember your own name. Your heart is pounding. He’s snaking one of his hands around you to rub at your clit as he pulls you back onto his cock. “Feel good, angel?” He mumbles, another quick kiss to your spine. He would say just about anything to get you to cum again, to feel you squeeze every drop out of him. And when your body begins to shake, he can feel the same pit coiling up in his belly, his balls drawing up as he shoots rope after rope into the condom. You’re squeezing around him, tumbling off into your own orgasm consequently.

You spend the evening, sharing cigarettes and stories of Los Angeles. You hear about the woman he’s falling in love with and you tell him about the coworker that holds your heart in his hands. The night is ending, sleep is creeping in. You can hardly keep yourself awake. You find him gone the morning after, not even so much as a note left— and it doesn’t bother you, not until the years after. When you recognize that pretty face on the news for murdering his wife in a cold sweat.

And you start to think, there really is no such thing as love in LA.

*

*

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please shoot me a message or fill out the form tagged in my masterlist!

[mrs-gucci]

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder. 

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured. 

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

-

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed. 

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair.  “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed. 

Bed, not beds. 

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before. 

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream. 

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat. 

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook. 

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present. 

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him. 

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect. 

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears. 

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony. 

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

[hedgy-hog]

I want to hear about a soft moment with Henry Mchenry. Something gentle, and cuddly.

Henry McHenry x GN Reader

Words: 866

CW/Tags: Alcohol, tobacco, smoking, mentions of drugs, implications of substance abuse

He fucked up. At least, he feels as though he’s fucked up. His big joke, his big laugh of the night and it fell flat. Almost complete silence, maybe a curse underneath a single breath. What did they expect? The announcer itself had stated it would be mildly offensive. Idiots, fools – all of them, none of them worth his time or his jokes. What do they know? Yet his chest still feels hollow. You met him halfway down the stairs on the verge of pouring his fifth drink, reaching out your hand for him to take. He’s quick to down what is in the glass already before enveloping your hand in his, letting you lead his too-heavy body up the stairs.

It’s hard for him to talk; he doesn’t know how. He’s trying to learn, but for now, he’ll let you do the talking. You’ve always been the one to sense when something is wrong. You ask the questions, always straight and to the point, and he responds in equal amounts. You wish for him to cut back on the drinking, the substances in his system when he goes to aftershow parties without you, but it’s one step at a time. Your questions are soft and concise tonight, slowly peeling the sweat-drenched clothing from his body. He lights up a cigarette in the meantime as you throw his clothes into the hamper to soothe his nerves. Instructing him under the sheets, he smushes the burning bud of his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. Sluggishly, he complies, flipping the almost too-heavy cover upwards and slinking in. You follow suit, sliding into your side and beckoning him to you.

Fuck, he’s losing them, isn’t he? He’s losing them with every joke he tells, with every missed laugh, chuckle, scoff. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, but no. No no no. He’s losing them, he’s lo-

“You’re not losing them,” you reassure him, ushering him to curl in on you. You know him so well, can read his mind like this wizard. Magical, ethereal. It’s almost unreal how he finds himself here, wrapped in your embrace, your fingers carding through his soft hair. “It was one bad night, Henry. Everyone is going to have them, unfortunately. No sweat off your back, though. Just rest, okay? I’ve got you.” You do. You do have him. No one has ever had him as you have. Sometimes the urges come, the one to take off and run. He doesn’t deserve this. When has he ever? The ghosts of his past littering his mind, still too strong to cut through the haze of glass upon glass of whiskey. With a billowing breath, he allows you to consume him entirely. His head lolls to your chest, your steady heartbeat reverberating into his ear. A reminder, albeit fast and fleeting, that you’re here, you exist.

Henry’s arms loop around your center, anchoring himself to you like a child to their mother. One hand remains in his hair, separating any knots gently with your fingers. You apply pressure to his scalp, a calm relief from the pressure behind his eyes. This is what he longs for, maybe even more than the continuous laughter reverberating through venue after venue. His fingers dip into your hip, skin alight as he traces against your pores. There’s nothing to say, only feel. He knows; you know. Sometimes it's hard for him to say, to think about. If he does, the fear is always there. It will flee, you’ll flee, he’ll flee. But no. Right now, he stays grounded, locked in your arms, and he in yours.

This is better than laughter – your… your love. It’s better than the booze, the nicotine. It’s hard to admit at times, but he knows it's true. He uses every ounce of control left in him not to shiver when your lips brush against the top of his head, once again reassuring him that everything will be okay. They will be. He has people to make laugh, sure, but when your laughter is the best sound, why would he wish to hear anything else? His finger inches up, sneaking underneath your shirt to brush at a spot he knows is sensitive. Your muscles cave in on themselves, the softest of laughs erupting from you along with the goosebumps. Yes, the perfect sound indeed. The perfect calming sedative he truly needs. Ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth rise in the hint of a smile, dark lashes brushing against his cheek as he settles in for rest.

You hold him all night, remaining awake for a short time after his breathing subsides to a steady and gentle pattern. You wish to ease his mind more, wish to take the pain away, wish to laugh for him louder than anyone has ever laughed before. What had drawn you to him when you met is not why you have stayed. No, there is so much more to it, and with that, much work to be done. But tomorrow comes a new day and both of you can try again. For now, you let his warmth draw you under, his pulse lulling you to bliss.

[paterson-blue]

Last Updated: 12/30/21

Requests/HC’s/Etc: closed

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Hiya everyone! Thanks for your interest in my work. Under the cut I’ve provided all my adcu fics/one-shots/what-have-you’s. This list is a constant work-in-progress & will be updated regularly.

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Clyde Logan

Fics:

Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago)

Clyde x Female!OC

AO3 I 3.6k + 4k + 4k + 4k + 4k

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 * I Part 4 * I Part 5*

One-Shots:

Cinnamon & Chocolate*

A/B/O Dynamics & MMF Relationship; Beta!Clyde x Alpha!Paterson x Omega!fem!AFAB!Reader

AO3 I 7.6k

Charlie Barber

Fics:

Deep End Distractions

Charlie x Fem!AFAB Reader

AO3 I 4.2k + 4.6k + 4.9k

Part 1 I Part 2* I Part 3*

Ficlets:

Wildest Dreams

Charlie x Fem!Reader (can be read as Gender-Neutral!Reader)

AO3 I 1.6k

Henry McHenry

Series:

A Study in Henry

The Night, The Flame*

~~~~~ Henry x Fem!AFAB Reader

~~~~~ AO3 I 2.1k

Fine Line*

~~~~~ Henry x Fem!AFAB Reader

~~~~~ AO3 I 2.3k

Maurizio Gucci

Fics:

Gold Rush

Maurizio x Fem!AFAB Reader

AO3 I 5.5k + ?

Part 1* I Part 2

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

Fics:

Shadow of the Sea

Merman!Kylo x fem!AFAB Reader

AO3 I 4.3k + ? + ? + ?

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I ?

Ficlets:

A Shrike to Your Sharp & Glorious Thorn *

Kylo x Gender-Neutral!Reader

AO3 I 1k

Paterson

One-Shots:

Cinnamon & Chocolate*

A/B/O Dynamics & MMF Relationship; Alpha!Paterson x Beta!Clyde x Omega!fem!AFAB!Reader

AO3 I 7.6k

Adam Sackler

One-Shots:

Fever Pitch*

A/B/O Dyanmics; Alpha!Sackler x Omega!Gender-Neutral!Reader

AO3 I 5.9k

Impulse Control* - ADCU Summer Fic Exchange

Adam Sackler x fem!AFAB!reader

AO3 I 8.4k

Nervous Energy* - Marie Sackler Giveaway

Adam Sackler x fem!AFAB!reader

AO3 I 3.7k

Flip Zimmerman

Ficlets:

Likes, Loves

Flip x Gender-Neutral!Reader

AO3 I < 1k

Paul Sevier

One-Shots:

Dreamscape*

Paul Sevier x Gender-Neutral!Reader

AO3 I 3.1k

Rick Smolan

Ficlets:

A Night at Home*

Rick Smolan x SoftDomme!Reader

1.1k

Father Francisco Garupe (Francis)

One-Shots:

Moment's Silence*

Francis Garupe x afab!plus size!Reader

AO3 I 2.6k

[babbushka]

April 2021 Fic Recap

Hello everyone and welcome to May! I can't believe April flew by so quickly, but you know what that means -- it's time for the monthly recap!

I've gotten quite a few new friends this month, so for the folks just joining me here, I take the first couple days of the month to compile all the writing, headcanons, general thots and discussions about AUs into one post. I also take this time to update my writing masterlist!

Some housekeeping:

If you’d like to be added to my taglist for future writing uploads, please click here!

If you’d like to see my complete collection of works, please visit my Masterlist here! 

If you’re new to the blog, I invite you to please read through my FAQ! 

I also upload all my chapter fics and oneshots to my archiveofourown account which you can find here!

Now, on to the recap!

Chapter Fic Updates

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch2)** ; Lawyer AU Kylo Ren x Reader

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch3)**; Lawyer AU Kylo Ren x Reader

Oneshots

Dinner & A Show**; Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Watch Dog**; Mob AU Kylo Ren x Reader

Day 535**; Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren

Character Headcanons

Henry McHenry being the leader of a cult lol

Ancient Emperor Kylo doting on you while you're pregnant

Ancient Emperor Kylo fucking you during a senate meeting*

Ancient Emperor Kylo lavishing you with attention*

Ancient Emperor Kylo being jealous

Flip Zimmerman comforting his wife

Flip Zimmerman arguing with his wife

Flip Zimmerman boxing in an underground fight club

Flip Zimmerman being subby despite looking like a dom*

Flip Zimmerman being possessive and protective over you

Flip Zimmerman loving fucking you in his office*

SL Kylo Ren loving to eat pussy*

Charlie Barber being touch starved*

Clyde Logan being the perfect representation of Summer

Edwardian Duke Lord Ren doting on Lady Ren during her pregnancy

Edwardian Duke Lord Ren's estate he builds for Lady Ren

Edwardian Duke Lord Ren's estate budget estimates

Edwardian Duchess Lady Ren's daily schedule*

Edwardian Duchess Lord Ren giving Lady Ren expensive Hanukkah gifts

Character Imagines

Flip Zimmerman

Young Flip taking you on a romantic date in the park ***

Flip eating you out for breakfast before his coffee**

Flip teaching you how to drive (it's a disatser)

Flip being stupidly in love with his wife

Kylo Ren

Mob Kylo reuniting after a short amount of time

Lawyer Kylo kissing you in the rain

Discussions about the Edwardian Duke!Kylo Ren x Duchess!Reader AU

Lord Ren's primary sources of income

Lord Ren being scandalously open with PDA

Lord Ren loving how Lady Ren's body changes during pregnancy

Lord & Lady Ren having all male heirs

Lord & Lady Ren's sons ages

Lord & Lady Ren's titles

Lord & Lady Ren's sons and their titles

The children's titles pt 2

Lord & Lady Ren's sons' education

Lord & Lady Ren's being helicopter parents lol

Lady Ren being the Princess of the house and being doted on by her husband and sons

Lord & Lady Ren giving expensive party favors

Lord Ren having a deal with the cops to ignore complaints lol

Lord Ren being present for his sons the way his father never was for him

Lady Ren being spoiled and rich lol

Lady Ren wearing royal jewelry given to her by Queen Padme of Naboo

Queen Padme & Prince Anakin loving their great-grandchildren

Lord Ren being rich and wanting to spoil his family lol

Lord Ren's eldest son's first birthday

Lord & Lady Ren being emotional over their eldest son's birthday

Lady Ren only wearing the finest bespoke clothing

Lord Ren taking Anthony out for drives in the fancy new automobiles when he's old enough

Lord & Lady Ren being big into fox and game hunting

Lord Ren watching Lady Ren get ready for a state dinner*

The fancy parties Lord & Lady Ren throw

The children attending fancy parties

Cool features at the estate

Lord Ren being a stuffy old man lol

How they deal with the Great Depression

Anthony volunteering for WW2 to beat the shit out of n*zis pt 1

Anthony beating the shit out of n*zis in WW2 pt 2ada

The total wordcount for the month of April clocks in at: 37,021

I'm so grateful for every single one of you here who read, share, comment, or in any other way interact with me and my writing! You're all so wonderful, and I hope that May treats us all kindly!

[suddenlysackler]

Keep Up

Henry McHenry x Reader

TW: tad bit of angst, mention of divorce, reader feels a bit insecure, henry is an ass but we’re working on him, brief mention of addiction/sobriety

A/N: Writing is hard but I’ve been working really hard on this so I wanted to share it even though there was really no point to the plot I just wanted to write for Henry. I have literally no posting schedule/writing schedule anymore. This takes place post Waltz in the Storm, only we’re gonna say Ann survived and took Annette and divorced Henry okay bye ily all so much.

...

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Your eyes are round and full of mixed emotions — trust, fear, maybe some excitement — as you grip the helmet shoved into your hands with a vice grip.

Henry watches you from the seat of the Harley he had bought with the money from the sale of his and Ann’s estate after the divorce. It’s ridiculous, really. Completely over the top, particularly for someone who was just making a comeback in their career and trying to get back to some sort of financial stability. “Just get the fuck on the bike and try to keep up with me, will you?” His tone leaves no room for argument, his face is playfully skeptical.

The red Harley Davidson motorcycle is “fully loaded” as the sales person had told the two of you as you made your way across the show room floor just a few days ago. It’s completely with heated grips and a backrest in the passenger’s seat and a full scale infotainment system for Henry to blast his favorite music between gps directions as he sees fit. He’d passed on the built in defensive driving mechanism and balked at the Milwaukee-Eight 114 engine and even sprung for the most expensive of saddlebags. Hell, he’d even told you he was planning on getting the leather embroidered with his initials. 

Did this surprise you? No, not in the slightest.

Henry is eccentric. 

It’s your default response to the questions and comments and concerns expressed by each member of your social circle from the moment you’d mentioned that you’d been seeing someone. Questions of who, what, when, where, why, and how and worries about whether or not someone who shined so bright would be good for you and whether it would even work.

Honestly, you ask yourself the same thing almost every day. If you didn’t love him, you wouldn’t be able to see it.

He asks himself how you can see it every time he wakes up to your hair spread across his pillows.

Back to the matter at hand. You. Him. Big scary motorcycle. 

You turn your feet inward almost absentmindedly, standing pigeon toed and letting your shoulders tense up as he kicks off the bike with an exaggerated groan and comes to stand in front of you. “I’ve never done this before.” 

Henry pulls off his own helmet, tosses it to rest on the seat, and smiles knowingly at you. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Shut up.” 

“Ann never —”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted just a bit. It was the one thing he continuously did even a year and a half into your relationship that made you lose your mind. He stops mid sentence when he sees the disappointment on your face. 

“I’m not Ann.” You say, trying so, so hard to not ruin the night. He’d been waiting for a break in the much needed rain falling over LA county for the past week to take you out and show you a good time. Try as you might, your lips start to tremble ever so slightly and you let the helmet clatter to the ground, beyond frustrated with him. With yourself even?

He rushes forward, hands all over you and your face before you can even bend at the waist to pick up the discarded the mixture of plastic and fiberglass at your feet. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You did it again.”

“But I didn’t mean it.” Henry says, pleads with you. His brown eyes convey the honest to goodness truth of it all and you know he’s good for his word. He really didn’t mean to. 

The past year was tumultuous, everyone knew that. Finding Ann stranded at sea on the coast just ten miles away from where Annette slept safely on board the yacht with her father. The accusations, the words thrown like daggers. The bliss and fervor and passion of their early days slipping away faster than vinegar leaves the bottle when you pour it, the whole ordeal just as sharp and bitter to taste. 

You’d been introduced to it just as the papers had been served to Henry’s modest home that had been inhabited for six months before Ann had made her final decision. 

He’s grateful for your loyalty and tells you that much just about every day. There isn’t a day where you doubt his love for you — how could you when you watch him work on himself in therapy and in the gym and with the way he tosses his cigarettes to the side and limits himself to a carton a week somehow? 

However, the one thing you had zero tolerance for was being compared to Ann.

Henry bites his tongue as he looks at you. He represses the urge to yell and ask why it always has to be about you, why you always have to nit pick when he does something you don’t care for. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the feel of your skin and how it’s almost as if it’s a balm for all of the negative emotions and thoughts crammed into his head. He reminds himself that you aren’t doing anything wrong by calling him out on this, that it’s appropriate to. Rather than lash out, he takes a deep breath and says the words he had been working so, so hard to work into his vocabulary in sincerity over the past year. “I’m sorry.”

The apology rings through your ears and settles in your mind. You sit with it for a moment and think about the Henry you had heard of prior to meeting him — the violent outbursts, the juxtaposition of his drinking and smoking habits in conjunction with his almost militant like work out routine. The selfishness and the narcissism and the screaming.

Your brow knits together as you process his words. “You’re sorry?” The words felt foreign on your own tongue, you couldn’t imagine how he must feel.

He nods slowly, giving you a once over as his cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m really, really sorry.” Henry promises, swears it. “It’s force of habit and that doesn’t make it right. I’m sorry. I’m working on that.”

You nod after the last word leaves his lips and you’re reminded of the fact that, yes, he is working on it. He’s working on a lot of things and you remind yourself that the whole reason he bought the bike was to celebrate one year of sobriety. With bated breath, you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek bone gingerly, an acknowledgement in it of itself. You know Henry doesn’t need your words.

Henry leans down and kisses your forehead, then crouches and grabs your helmet. He stays close to the ground for a long moment and falls to his knees. He buries his face in the fabric of your shirt and rests his arms just around the small of your back, memorizing the feel of holding you and relishing in the way your hands almost automatically move to thread through his hair, no longer matted from neglect and back to its usual thickness and shine. 

After a few moments of silence, you pull back just a bit to look at him. “I’m proud of you.” You whisper, eyes shining with a mixture of emotion.

His own eyes bore into your face, always working on committing whatever it was he was currently feeling to memory. “Thank you for helping me.”

A smile breaks out on your face and you shrug before leaning down and kissing his temple. “Always.” You murmur. “Now, will you please get me on the bike? Show me what I’ve been missing all these years.”

Henry smiles, the expression of satisfaction much wider than your own flash of your teeth. “You sure?” He asked, repeating your words from just a few minutes prior back to you.

“I’m sure.” You respond while trying to suppress the giggle that threatened to bubble past your lips at his teasing. You can’t help but cackle as he all but drags you to the bike and helps you put on the helmet, letting you inspect the bike before hopping on. When you finally straddle the seat, his left hand comes to rest over your arms, now looped around his waist and hanging on for dear life, before he hits the ignition and punches it, riding off in pure bliss and leaving the events of the past year behind, as it should be.

[rynwritesstuff]

Welcome to the dumpster fire! I was wondering which characters you write? Please tag me in everything! I especially love Jacques, Flip, Clyde, and Kylo!

Hi, Shannon!! Thank you for the welcome! I am planning on mostly writing for: Kylo Ren, Clyde Logan, Charlie Barber, Paterson, and Flip Zimmerman.

I will also, occasionally, write for: Jacques Le Gris, Adam Sackler, Maurizio Gucci, Jamie Massey, Phillip Altman, Toby Grummett, Ronnie Peterson, and possibly Henry McHenry once I see “Annette”!

I will also write some female characters x reader (such as Rey or Princess Leia!)

Thank you so much for stopping by, I will absolutely tag you in everything :) If you ever have any requests, please feel free to send them my way!

[peachyproserpina]

Birthday Blurb 8

Henry McHenry x Fem!Reader

TW: alcohol, drugs

WC: 413

He’s dizzy, this club is in Japan, no wait France. No no it’s. Does it even matter anymore? Henry can feel his world spin, knows he should head back to the hotel, check in on Annette, make sure she’s asleep but the call of drink and doing too many thing he shouldn’t is too strong.

Women have been all over him, he escaped to the bathroom to give himself a moment, he knows, they know. They aren’t here for anything worthwhile, just a quick fuck or his cash, he can’t even look at his reflection of the little mirror he’s snorting lines off of. He wanders out, stumbles, tumbles his way to the bar. Maybe other scotch, maybe something else.

He’s resting, trying to stop the pounding behind his eyes when he notices you sitting next to him. Waiting for the bartender to wander down, give them something to forget themselves. You’re pretty, it strikes him hard, nearly knocks the wind out of him how fucking pretty you are. You can feel his eyes on you and you give him a smile, a small hello before you turn back to the bar. He fishes out a hundred, flags the bartender down, now on a mission to buy you whatever the fuck you wanted.

You order a shot, Henry jumps in after you, sliding the bill over and a thanks to the bartender. You thank Henry, glassy eyes and that smile on your face. When your shot is set in front of you he snatches it up, veins flooded with all the drugs, drink, and lust for you. You gasp, a little furrow between your brows, getting angry and he loves that look more on you then he did the smile you gave him. He tosses the shot back, not swallowing, before he’s standing over you, pushing you into the bar, making you look up at him. Now that he’s at full height you’re awestruck at how imposing he is.

He is gentle with you, something he didn’t know he was capable of. Gently he wraps his hands around your neck, the other squeezes your cheeks together until he gets that perfect lillt ‘o’ he wants to shove his cock into. Before you can yank your head back he spits. Spits that shot he paid for right into your mouth. You’re stunned, getting angry, and aroused, and angry at the fact you're aroused.

Henry smirks and is off before you can do anything else.

[thatf-ckingfangirl]

Ah, the Tease! (Excerpt)

Annette (2021), Henry McHenry x The Conductor

Rating: Explicit!

Note: This is very much a crackship, but it’s honest-to-god one of my favorite things I’ve written and shared publicly xD

--

Green was such a contemptible color. It reminded him of moss, mold, and other dirty things. And while he had no idea what Henry’s hygienic habits were - and didn’t care to know - he still associated the man with filth. Filthy humor. Filthy language. Filthy sense of style.

His eyes latched once more onto the green beanie atop the dark-haired man’s head. Without shame, it bobbed and weaved its way between the mingling crowds, slowly making its way towards him.

The moonlight reception was otherwise a beautiful affair, filled with prominent names and titles, each dressed to the nines, engaging in loud small talk and whispered secrets. He indulged here and there throughout the evening, a man weak to temptation, and it was quite nice to be so involved for a change. He thought the presence of paparazzi would ruin the intimate atmosphere, but the steady flash of cameras added a sense of glamor. Ann appreciated such things.

Now, here she was before him, her white gown contrasting splendidly with the night-blue sky. She was as radiant as the ethereal and tragically-betrayed Periphonĕ she played each night at the LAMC. Glowing. Untouchable. He was almost relieved to see her. Alas, the green beanie appeared at her side.

It stood out like an eyesore against the soft yellow and white hues, taunting him, as if to say: yes, indeed, Ann Desfranoux and Henry McHenry were now wedded, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Least of all him.

“Ah, Ann, ‘see you’ve invited the entertainment,” Henry said, raising a glass of what looked to be remnants of whiskey. Wedged between his fingers was a cigarette. He wore a basic black suit, dress shirt ruffled and halfway unbuttoned, and all and all looked fairly bedraggled for a man just married. He tilted his head downward to look at the shorter man - a stinging reminder of their severe height difference - and winked. “S’a joke,” he said, “Glad you could join the festivities, my accompanist friend.”

Anger flared through his small frame at the use of his deeply-bemoaned title. Henry didn’t even look him in the eye when he said it. As if he couldn’t be bothered to gauge the reaction. Ann laughed heartily at the unfunny jest. A brilliant actress.

“Pleased to be here,” he managed, words devoid of all meaning. He took a sip of his own drink, a sweet Moscato, and looked at his friend, his escaping dove. She smiled and reached for his hand.

“Thank you for coming, truly,” Ann said, fingers warm and light. Something flickered behind her gaze. A silent wish for him to be okay with all of this. “It means the world.”

He glanced at their joined hands, conjuring up as much sincerity as he could muster. “I hope you will be happy,” he said and squeezed her hand, a final acquiescence. An acceptance. She beamed bright and let go.

Henry was properly looking at him now, the sudden soberness in his gaze flirting with something uncomfortable. But before any significance could be prescribed to it, he tossed back the remainder of the whiskey and slung an arm around his new bride.

“Let’s waltz, m’dear,” he slurred and, without further preamble, whisked her away to the dance floor. They were a whirlwind of greens and blacks and whites as jaunty melodies filled the night air, the crowd cheering them on in inebriated jubilee.

He watched from the side tables, trapped in a maelstrom of loss and envy. Envy for Henry, yes, that much was obvious. However, as the couple ambled around the dance floor, his gaze gradually slid from his dear friend to the mistake of a man grinning like the undeserving fool he was, fully knowing he’d gotten away with something he shouldn’t have by marrying this woman. Spinning her fast and effortlessly in his sturdy arms. And in separate, smaller degrees, the covetous and resentful thoughts he harbored so long for Henry briefly shifted to Ann.

The revelation plucked the glass from between his fingers, and he had to sit down for the remainder of the reception, dabbing at the now blighted cream-colored tablecloth, stealing glances at the bride and groom only when wine couldn’t distract long enough to stop it.

Read the rest on AO3. (it only gets hornier from here)