#i fuckin. i love him so much he's so good

[deanssun]

── .✦ soldier boy x reader 18+

SOLDIER BOY was mean and rough with you. especially when you acted bratty, or decided to tease him.

"oh, you're in for it now little girl." he growled, his big hands, much bigger than yours, grasp onto your hips in a bruising hold. his jean-clad knee pulls apart your thighs, situating itself right below your dripping cunt. the white lace panties you'd been wearing were now translucent almost. your puffy folds could be seen through the damp fabric.

one hand found itself on your ass, grabbing the globe of fat harshly. smacking it as hard as he felt was needed. a moan left you at the sensation, the warmth igniting from just one slap edged you on. your body throbbing for his touch, heat pooled all inside you. his presence only fueled the fire.

"please, ben..touch me!" you pleaded with him, hips attempting to buck into his thigh, craving some friction. though a quick slap on your thigh finally helped you understand how much trouble you were in.

"only good girls get my cock, bad girls get punished. and you have been a bad fuckin' girl. you modern women, thinkin' it's all fine and dandy to leave their man with this-" he motioned towards imprint in his jeans, which almost looked like they were about to burst at the crotch.

not like you would've minded.

"so, you're gonna sit 'ere and take what i fuckin' give ya." soldier boy emphasized, brushing a finger of your clit. the slight friction causing a new wave of warmth to flood throughout your body.

you were in for a long night, and only you wished that most of it was spent on his dick, but you were 'bad' and had to be punished. you would do it again though, in a heart-beat if it meant seeing him all worked up like this..

SOLDIER BOYS cock slammed into your tight heat. the squelching noise of your wetness mixed with his seed filled the room. a white ring had formed around the base of his dick. his relentless pace brought you to the edge each time his thick shaft brushed against your cervix. hitting that one spot deep inside you just right...and when you were about to cum, he'd stop.

"you really thought i would let you cum so soon? needy whore, always wantin' and never givin'. just let yer' daddy use you, i deserve this anyway. you were such a fuckin' tease earlier.." his fingers tug on your scalp, pulling your head back to meet his. lips crashing onto each others as he continuously pumps you full.

after hours of filling you up with his warm cum, hole dripping everytime he'd slide out and push back in, his calloused fingers began to rub your clit. giving attention to the sensitive bud, as his mouth worked on your neck. teeth marks and hickeys litters the skin, there was no way to cover them up. and that's how he liked it.

your orgasm crashed over you like a thousand nukes, ones of great pleasure though. your small body shook and shuddered against him, his hips slapping against your ass as his thrusts never faltered. you were bruised and spent, just how he wanted you. ben never was one for aftercare, yet he stayed inside you, lighting a cigarette and holding it to your lips. as you took a drag, the smoke filling your lungs he'd mutter-

"atta girl.."

sunny yaps! THIS IS MY FIRST SOLDIER BOY SMUT AHHHH!! I AM TRYING TO GET THE HANG OF WRITING SEX SO PLEASE COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!!! PLEASE LMK IF THIS IS ENJOYABLE BC IDKK 😥 I LOVE UU ALL!!

[kedreeva]

Well, I've had a bit of a rough week. A deer totaled my (new-to-me I've-only-had-it-a-year) car when it rammed headlong into to side of it on a dark back road, and set off the passenger side side airbags (on the doors, not the dashboard ones). Thankfully I was completely unharmed aside from ringing ears and it did not do a whole ton of damage running into the side of the car (as opposed to the damage that would have been done the other way around, if I had hit it), but unthankfully it hit the airbag sensors and the airbags going off made it unable to be repaired for less than the cost of the car. The deer did not even have the decency to drop dead on the spot so I could eat it, it took off running back into the woods (at least according to the guy behind me that saw it hit me, because personally I thought someone had fuckin' shot my car, because the airbags are apparently explosively powered and smell like gunpowder and smoke).

So, I've been away dealing with that and looking for another car. I was not in love with the Patriot, even though I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it (rather, I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it because I was not in love with it), and I was still badly missing my Liberty. So imagine my surprise when I found a new listing for a 2010 jeep liberty with nearly the exact same number of miles on it (70,139) as the patriot I just lost (70,106). It looked practically pristine, came with a clean bill of health from Carfax, and was within a few hours drive to go get. On top of that, it was listed as marked down because it was at non-same dealership that wanted space back, so it was less than the insurance payout. I still called, and I still asked them to do me better than what they had it up for, and the guy was SO busy explaining how much trouble it would be to give it to me for the price I asked with all the taxes and fees and stuff included but that he would valiantly go talk to his manager that I didn't get a chance to say I MEANT just the car price not including those things. So he came back with a price, I asked again for lower again if I could bring cash today (offering the price I wanted to pay total in the first place, had he stopped to listen) and they accepted it.

So, I drove down in my mom's car with her, and took him out for a spin. He drives like a new car. Whisper quiet compared to the lawnmower of car the Patriot was. Tight steering, gas, break pressures, good wheels, great pickup and go, rides high like my old Liberty did, huge backseat/trunk space for caging and hay and stuff. They had detailed the inside so it was pristine and even smelled like new car. Stunning little beast.

When I climbed in to drive home, I found a heads-up penny sitting on each front seat. I think probably the dealership guy put them there in reality, but I choose to believe that it was a peace offering from the universe. Or perhaps the car trying to tell me his new name: Lucky.

I managed not to cry about having a car so much like my good boy Colt back under my hands, but it was a close thing. Anyway, here's to the next 200k miles! Let's see if we can beat Colt's record :)

[crossbackpoke-check]

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[star-writes-sometimes]

raaah I love tattooartist!thanos

what if like during our session we were to pass out (ik bae checks up on us but still pass out)

a/n - i absolutely love this ask thank you much!! i kinda hate how this turned out but it was driving me insane so im deciding its as good as i could do :)

c/w - fluff, tattoos, food/forgetting to eat mentioned, passing out

—

“fuck, beautiful, what’d i do to deserve this sight?” thanos asks teasingly with that dumb flirty smirk on his face.

you don’t have the energy to roll your eyes like you usually do. for the first time in a while you’re nervous about getting a tattoo. you’ve wanted a rib tattoo since you started your tattoo pinterest board but you know how much it’s going to hurt.

it didn’t help that the last over the last couple of months, your attraction to your tattoo artist turned has into a full blown crush. 

after your first tattoo you assumed his flirty behaviour was just his way of getting consistent clients. you didn’t mind, he was pretty and it felt nice to have his attention. yet, as you had more and more sessions, his cheesy flirting seemed to get more and more sincere and it’s left you wondering if he actually likes you.

you’re sitting on his tattoo bench with your shirt taped up at your boobs. the stencil is already placed and thanos is holding the needle in his hand ready to start but you can hardly focus. the air feels hot and your clothes feel itchy and your mouth feels dry and fuck did you remember to eat today?

you’re snapped out of your thoughts by thanos turning on the needle. he gives you a wide smile and runs his free hand along your stomach. the action would normally reassure you at least a bit but it all just felt wrong today.

“ready?” he asks sweetly.

and against your better judgment you nod.

as the needle touches your skin you relax a bit. it was just a tattoo, why were you so worried? you’d done this multiple times before, you knew what it was going to feel like-

fuck.

that isn’t the normal tattoo pain. as he moves the needle across the ridges of your ribs it feels a hot knife is carving a canyon in your skin. the pain is blistering and you have to squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to focus on your breathing.

after almost two full minutes of this torture he pulls away to check on you. you know he’s asking if you’re okay but it sounds like he’s underwater and you can’t focus on any specific word.

your shyness feels like the main villain because you want to tell him that something is wrong. you should tell him that something is wrong. but he’s glancing up at you with that stupid smile and he’s rubbing his thumb affectionately against your skin, patiently waiting for your answer and you just don’t want him to think less of you.

it’s entirely illogical but you don’t want him to think you were pussying out because of the pain. and you don’t want to admit you were dumb enough to forget something as simple as eating. and you most definitely don’t want him to know about your feelings.

his ego doesn’t need that.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay,” you finally say and offer him a small smile.

it must be convincing enough because he frowns but nods and turns the needle back on.

as the needle touches your skin again you immediately start regretting every decision you’ve ever made. the smart part of your brain knows that thanos would be more than kind if you asked to stop and reschedule the appointment. unfortunately, that part of your brain is being drowned out by the part of your brain screaming at the pain.

a rhythmic thumping fills your head and darkness creeps into the edges of your vision. your chest seems to get tighter and you wonder if this is how you’re going to die before you feel nothing at all.

thanos feels your body go limp and quickly turns the needle off, “flower?!”

his hands cup your face and he starts tapping on your cheek rapidly. your eyes flutter open and you squint up at him, flinching slightly from how close he was to your face.

“fuckin’ christ, beautiful, you gave me a scare,” he says with a nervous laugh. he pushes your hair out of your face and smiles softly.

“sorry,” you say, feeling your face get hot with embarrassment as you realise what has happened. you sit up properly and offer a small anxious smile as he hands you an unopened waterbottle, “thank you.”

“what happened, love?” he asks. god why did he have to look at you with such genuine care? why was it these moments were reserved for when you were alone together? why did he have to be so pretty?

you give a pathetic shrug and look away from him as you slowly sip the water, “i don’t know… i’ve never passed out before.”

he hums in thought and rests his hand on your thigh. his thumb rubs circles on your bare skin in a familiar and comforting gesture, “have you eaten today?” 

you wince as if he had asked a deeply personal question, “i think i ate lunch.”

his eyes go comically wide and he grabs your hands to pull you closer to him, “baby! that was six hours ago you know you need to eat before getting a tat!”

your shame only grows and you squeeze your eyes shut and nod, “i know.”

he sighs dramatically and stands up. he takes off his gloves and throws them out before offering his hand to you, “come on, pretty.”

you finally look up at him with a confused expression and try to speak, “what-”

“you know for most clients i would almost prefer it if they passed out during tattoos, but i like talking to you, flower. so, i want you at full strength, let’s go get you something to eat. then if you’re up for it, we can finish your tat or we can just reschedule,” he has a cheshire cat grin and makes grabby hands at you.

you take his hands with a small smile and he pulls you up. you untape your shirt and adjust your clothes to be appropriate again. 

“we don’t have to reschedule, i don’t wanna be annoying,” you say softly.

he laughs and throws an arm around your shoulder as he leads you out of his room, “honestly beautiful, i would almost prefer if you reschedule, it gives me an excuse to see you again soon.”

you smile and nod. the reception room is empty, everyone else had gone home for the day. but, before you two walked out of the building his arm tightens around you and he leans down to your ear.

“never pull that shit again, okay, princess? you tell me if you haven’t eaten or you're not feeling good or any other thing that feels even a little off. scared the fuck out of me seein’ you like that,” he whispers to you intensely.

you nod with wide eyes and you can feel your chest tighten nervously at both his proximity and low tone. does he even realise the effect he had on you? you hope not.

[w1ngriddenangel]

late night | chris sturniolo

in which . . . reader wants nothing more than for chris to just pound her ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

pairing | chris sturniolo x reader

warnings | smut, porn w/o plot, praise kink, breeding kink if ya squint

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

as soon as chris got home from a filming a car video, he knew. he always knows. he can tell by the way you look at him all doe-eyed with your lips pouted.

“hi sweet girl,” he greeted you. “you miss me?” you nodded in response, looking up at him. as soon as you gave him that look, chris knew he was a goner. “you need somethin’?”

“been wanting you all day…” you trailed off, avoiding eye contact. his eyes darkened with lust, and he wasted no time before smashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. his hands rubbed all over your sides, your legs—anywhere he could get his hands on. he wanted this just as much as you did. he loved when he came home to you needing him like this.

“please.” you begged him. your pleas did nothing other than spur him on, and within seconds both of your clothes were tossed somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom.

he leaned in closer, lips brushing against your ear making you shudder. “gonna make you cum so hard tonight,” you could’ve moaned at his words. your brain was cloudy with nothing but him. “can’t wait to be deep inside your sweet pussy.”

he wraps his hand around his throbbing cock and gives himself a few pumps before lining himself up with your pussy. “please, chris,” you begged. “be rough with me.”

his eyes flashed with excitement at your words. who was he to deny you? he smashed his lips against yours once again. his tongue immediately claimed your mouth. “you sure?” when you nodded in response, his lips curled into a smirk. “you asked for it, baby.”

with one harsh thrust, his entire length is inside of you causing you to loudly cry out. a deep growl escaped his lips, the feeling of your spongy walls making him feel like he was in heaven.

“you feel so fucking good.” his thrusts are brutal and punishing. you wanted him to be rough, that’s what you were going to get. his hips kept snapping forward—he was reckless. the headboard was banging against the wall with each thrust.

“oh my g-god, chris!” you practically screamed. your moans made him feel more confident, his hands tightly gripped your hips, there were definitely going to be bruises.

“yeah, baby,” he moaned. “take every fucking inch of me.”

his hand slides down, running your clit roughly in circles. the new sensation made you go crazy, crying out even louder. “gonna ruin you for everyone else. nobody else is ever gonna fuck you like this.”

you couldn’t respond to that due to chris’ brutal thrusts, but both of you knew that it was true. “filling you up so good you can’t even talk huh? nobody else is ever gonna touch you.”

“i only w-want you,” you managed to get out. “filling me up so good.” chris’ eyes almost roll back at your praise, his praise kink coming out.

“you look so good like this,” the wet squelch of his cock plunging in and out of your soaked cunt fills the room, making chris immediately feel the knot form in his stomach. “you love this shit, i know you fuckin’ do.”

we grabs your thigh, moving one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. the new angle hits you in just the right spot, causing you to scream. tears were pricking your eyes, and chris took notice of it. “hittin’ that spot so good, ain’t i? fucking you so good you’re crying… awwwe.”

he was mocking you. you knew it, but you felt too good to even be humiliated. you loved it. “g-gonna-“

“love fucking stretching you out like this.”

your vision blurred and your toes curled, you kept tightening around chris and he knew you were done for. “squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight… you gonna cum around my cock?”

“yes!” you squealed. your loud cries were getting even louder, and you were writhing under him. chris felt you squeeze him one last time before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his warm cum inside of you. he let out a loud groan as he filled you. “take all of it, baby. every last drop is staying in your pretty pussy.”

[malsmind]

pineapple juice

chris sturniolo x reader !established relationship

summary: chris came across a tiktok at night, giving him an idea for the next time you go down on him.

warnings: smut, oral (m recieving), dirty talk, pet names (baby, ma), cum eating, slight hair pulling, face fucking

author's note: had this idea while studying LOL, hope u like it!

wc: 877

english is not my first language!

it was one of those nights, chris laid in bed, scrolling trough tiktok, unable to sleep. he rolled over in bed, a soft sigh leaving his lips. his eyes narrowed in concentration, reading what the text on a tiktok said that he had on his foryoupage. "can pineapple juice really change the taste of semen?".

he watched the tiktok, listening to the guy on his screen explaining and educating the internet about the myth of pinapple changing the taste of cum. when the video came to an end, chris put his phone down, deciding he'd finally had enough of endlessly scrolling trough his phone. he laid awake in bed for a bit, thinking about the tiktok he just watched before he eventually fell asleep.

waking up the next morning, he got up, walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glas of pineapple juice, drinking it while sending you a good morning text. you were currently visiting a friend that lived a little further away from where you and chris lived, making you temporarily long distance, which wasn't a problem, especially not since chris had a plan.

...

every morning since seeing that tiktok, chris had consumed a good amount of pinapple juice, even cutting pineapple up and eating the few slices it provided troughout the day. today, you were finally coming back home.

chris was sat on the couch, waiting for your arrival. he heard your keys unlocking the front door, the soft thud of the small suitcase you had taken with you hitting the floor echoing trough the house. you walked towards the living room, spotting chris on the couch, immediatly jumping into his arms and hugging him. "i missed you." you mumbled into his neck, and he squeezed you in response, kissing the top of your head. "how was your time there, did you have fun baby?" chris asked you, leaning his head back to look down at you. "i did, it was so nice catching up again, but i really missed you." you chuckled, making him chuckle too. after looking at him for a little with neither of you saying anything to properly talk about you little trip, a small smirk formed on your lips, chris immediatly matching it. "yeah? what else did you miss, ma?" his voice was low, hands traveling from your hips to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. you put your lips to his neck, pressing soft kisses to the sensetive skin, making chris suck in a sharp breath. "i could show you..." you whispered against his neck.

before you knew it, you were on your knees infront of the couch, sitting between chris's spread legs, his sweats and boxers tugged down to his ankles, his dick in your mouth, tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. "shit." he exhaled, "missed my cock so much, hm?" he said, tilting his head to the side, looking at you in awe as you gagged around him, trying to take in as much as you could. "look so fuckin' good like this, baby." his hands grabbed your hair, guiding your head carefully. your hands grabbed his thighs, your soft moans sending vibrations trough his dick. "just like that." he breathed out, tightening his grip in your hair, bucking his hips up, fucking into your mouth at a faster pace. chris knew he wouldn't last long, he never did when your pretty lips wrapped around his dick so delicately. your occaisonal gags made him bite his moans back, loving the feeling of you struggling to take him fully, you both loved it.

his hips thrusted into your mouth faster, moans leaving his lips, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him. "gonna make me cum. you want it? you want me to cum in your mouth, ma?" chris groaned when you sucked harder, answering his question, no words needed. his hips bucked up, breathy moans leaving his lips. "so.. fuck... so fuckin' good." he moaned. the harder and faster his thrusts got, the more you gagged. gasps and moans left chris's lips, he let go of your hair, pulling out of your mouth.

you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him. his hand wrapped around his dick, stroking himself. "gonna swallow f'me? gonna be a good girl, hm?" he asked, tilting his head, you nodded. his stomach tightened, mouth opening as loud moans left his lips, warm drops of sweet cum dripping down onto your tongue. once his stroking slowed down and every last drop of him was placed on your tongue, you pulled it back in, closing your mouth and swallowing, then sticking it back out to show him. he smiled down at you, biting his lip, waiting for you to say something.

once you registered the taste, how it was sweeter than usual, you smiled up at him. "wait, you actually did that?" you asked with a chuckle and he frowned in confusioun. "how'd you know?"

"you sent it to me, chris." you laughed. he didn't even realise that he sent you the tiktok, he was literally half asleep when he watched it. apperantly, awake enough to remember how he wanted to try it out, but not awake enough to realise he'd accidentally sent it to you.

dividers by @issysh3ll

@middlepartmatt @emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

[lis-likes-fics]

Keep Me Warm

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2.3k words Prompt: Thigh fucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, thigh fucking, fingering, daddy kink, Dean calls reader "babygirl", aftercare... A/N: Ugh, part of this actually got me there hahaha. Thank you and enjoy!

“This is what Hell is like.”

Dean shakes his head, bringing the lip of his ice cold beer to his mouth. “No,” he takes a swig, “too cold.”

You grumble, turning over in the bed and shoving your face in the crappy pillow in an attempt to warm your frozen nose. The blankets wrap tighter around you, too thin to help as much as you need.

You start to speak, but your voice is muffled against the plastic-y feel of the pillow’s fabric. “Can’t hear you, baby.”

You lift your head. “I don’t even know how you can drink that.” Perspiration dribbles off the side of his bottle and wets his hand. surely adding to the freezing temperatures brought on by the broken motel heater.

Sam is out trying to find some hand warmers or something to help with the cold, but every convenience store he comes across is fresh out. It seems everyone is struggling to deal with the below freezing temperatures.

Dean’s chuckle is gruff. “I’ve been dealing with this for a while. Cold doesn’t beat alcoholism, sweets.” You roll your eyes, emerging from the covers to shuffle over to him. You drape yourself over his lap, curling into him to siphon some of his warmth away.

“If you loved me, you’d warm me up,” you mumble.

Dean laughs again, “Oh, baby. I have a couple ways I can warm you up, but you’d only say that Sammy will come back any second now.”

You roll your eyes, turning to lay on your back so you can see his face. He’s looking down at you, his tanned skin slightly flushed with blood in an attempt to warm his skin. He feels warm to you—Dean always runs hot. He’s like a furnace.

His phone pings, and he grabs it from where it had been thrown into the sheets earlier. “Speak of the Devil,” he says ironically. “Says he’s gonna find a Walmart to look for a space heater.”

He glances at you, bobbing his eyebrows suggestively. “That’s a good ten, fifteen minutes from here.” He leans down, one hand dropping down to the top of your head. The other finds your thigh, squeezing it gently as he smirks. “I think that’s plenty of time to warm up, don’t you?”

You shouldn’t. Sam has to suffer through your relationship enough, if he comes back before you’re done, he’ll probably just wait in the car or something while he waits. You don’t want him to catch you again, especially not when he’s doing so much right now to warm you all up.

But the way Dean’s looking at you has always been hard to ignore. The way his hand curls around your thigh, his fingers dipping down to feel you squeeze them together, is intoxicating. You lick your lip absent-mindedly and let out a heavy sigh as you concede.

“Fine, you dog.”

His smirk widens, like a predator of its own as he leans down further. He lets out a low, deep bark before swooping down to capture your lips in his own.

You moan into the kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sucks on your top. Your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair. He supports the back of your head with his palm, and you already feel warmer as you soak in the heat of his lust.

He doesn't even touch you at first, at least not where you need him to. He mouths hungrily at your mouth and at your throat while his hand paws at your thighs, groping and kneading the doughy flesh with a desperation that pinpoints just why the bulge digging into your back is so prominent beneath you.

“You're terrible,” you breathe, holding him to your neck.

“I don't hear any complaints about it.” He pulls a sliver of skin between his teeth, nibbling at it with an eager hum. You chuckle breathily, the sound nearly coming off as a whimper with the way it shakes. “Fuckin’ love these thighs, babygirl.”

You feel his hand stroke farther up your inner thigh until he cups your clothed pussy. He rubs his hand against you, eventually slipping beneath your sweatpants to feel how wet you've already become.

He groans against your lips, sliding two fingers between your folds to gather your arousal on them. “Jesus, you're fucking soaked.”

You arch your back slightly, drawing his attention to your chest as he smirks. Dean's hand continues to rub up against your clit, teasing you and coaxing you as you keen into his touch.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” he instructs, his voice rough with his growing lust. You do, tugging it over your head, despite the cold of the room. You hardly feel it—you can steadily feel your body heat rising higher and higher under his hands, one on your aching clit and the other petting your hair.

Your nipples peak immediately against the chilly air. Dean leans down and laps at them, sucking them between his lips as his hot mouth makes you shudder. His tongue licks greedily over the peak, his teeth occasionally grazing and making your breath hitch.

Your hand presses against his belly, feeling the curves of his abs beneath your palm with appreciative fingers. You lift his shirt clumsily, pressing your mouth to his skin. You warm him with your mouth and hands as he warms you, keening into his touch and smiling every time his belly tenses beneath your lips.

Your kiss becomes sloppy when he presses a finger into you, parting your pussy with a thick digit that has you sighing heavily. “Oh, Daddy.”

His lips curl around your nipple. He sucks on it, pulling it taut before letting it slip out with a smack. “You like that, baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You spread your legs farther apart, inviting him in. He groans, pulling his fingers out of you just to pull your sweatpants off. He prods at you again before shoving then back inside at a new angle, thrusting his finger deeper inside of you and curling until you gasp. “Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues to support your head in one hand as the other keeps fucking into you. When a second finger stretches you even more, he attaches his lips to your nipple again with a grunt.

Your lips part and let out a tiny gasp when he starts to circle your clit. Your hips lift up into his hand, your chest presses up to his mouth. Breaths leave you with a frugality you're not sure you can afford.

“C'mon, baby,” his voice is husky, coarse. “You gonna cum for me, babygirl? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Let me feel it.”

You feel like you’ll burst. There's a deep gasp in your chest waiting to be taken as it curls and curls. Your legs tense, your belly tight as it anticipates your undoing.

Dean keeps curling, keeps coaxing. He's guiding you closer and closer, luring you, reeling you in. “You're so close, baby. Let go. Hm? Do that for me, baby. Let go for Daddy.”

It's an unfurling. Your eyes close, your brows pinch, your lips part as you inhale a sharp intake of desperate breath. The pleasure washes over you like it's trying to wipe sense from your mind and replace it all with unadulterated lust.

You grab onto his shirt squeezing tight as you try to stifle needy moans. “Ah, fuck, Daddy.”

He curls his fingers tight, almost like he's trying to take hold and lift you up, his thumb still circling. “Good girl,” he drawls. “That's my good fucking girl.”

He pulls his fingers from you, using the two, sticky from your slick, to rub at your clit some more before pulling away to smack it lightly. You shudder and shake beneath his touch, whimpering at every contact. “Yeah, you like it, don't you? Feels so fucking good, doesn't it?”

Cold forgotten, you nod and let yourself tremble as the high wanes to something that buzzes in your bones. “Yeah, yes…”

Dean leans down to kiss you, hungry and greedy as he continues to smack your cunt. He smirks every time you whimper, every time you flutter against his hand. It's somehow worse when he gropes your thighs again, his grip tighter than before. He kneads them in his palm, this insistent and possessive thing that makes him harder beneath you.

“Come here.” He moves you from his lap, lays you across the bed as he moves to stand. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, pulling a little chuckle from you as he takes hold of your legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So fucking pretty.” He leans over your body, pressing his mouth against yours, your throat, your collarbone. His hands grab at your thighs like a lifeline, squeezing them in his palms and groaning.

You pull his shirt over his head, rubbing your hands eagerly against his chest and his belly, admiring the strong, solid feeling of him against you. “You're abusing my thighs, Dean.”

He hums deeply. “I'm gonna fuck your thighs, baby.”

He lifts your legs, pushing them together and back. His hand rubs along your ass, the back of your thighs. A deep sound rumbles in his chest as he shakes your head and stares. “Maybe this is the real Heaven.”

“Dean.” You clench around him when he shoves his finger back into your cunt.

“What was that?” You shiver, and he laughs at you. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

You hear his buckle clink. He pulls his pants down, watching you as he goes. His eyes, usually green as apple, are a dark forest that soaks into your skin. It makes you warm, it makes you ache.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, baby?”

You nod, raising a hand to tease your nipple with shy fingers. “Yes.”

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles. “Good. You know what you're gonna do? You're gonna hold these thighs together and you're gonna keep ‘em nice and tight while I fuck them.”

You swallow thickly, an emphatic nod of your head outlining your desire for him, to please him, to be pleased by him.

“Say ‘Yes, Daddy’.” He says it as a reminder.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you—though a better word would be to say he devours you. He tastes your lips on his tongue and breathes you in like a flower.

You press your thighs together, watching as he takes hold of you, one hand stroking his cock slowly with a hiss.

You feel him slide himself between your thighs, your arousal wetting the bottom of his cock as it glides over your wet folds. He holds them close and lets out a long sigh at the feeling.

He starts out slow, like he's teasing himself with your warmth and your wetness. His brows knit together, his lips part with thick breaths.

“God, you're fucking perfect,” he groans. The blunt head of his cock presses against your clit, and a small whimper falls out. His hips jerk at the sound, quickening his pace until his breaths are heavy and shallow.

Precum dribbles from his tip and onto your belly, smearing along the inside of your thighs. You put so much focus on keeping your legs together that they begin to shake. His arm wraps securely around your legs, keeping your ankles on his shoulder as he palms at your breast with the other hand.

“Always so good for me, aren't you, babygirl? Hm?” He ruts into you, the gathering slick making it easy to move back and forth in search of his release. Each slide through your folds brings a breath from your throat, and each press against your clit makes you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitching. He leans even closer, forcing your legs back more as his measured thrusts become less steady. His breath becomes erratic, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I'm gonna cum, baby. You gonna take it for me?” You nod eagerly, watching with lidded eyes and shallow breath.

“Cum on me, Daddy. Please, I want it.”

His thrusts stagger until you feel the warm, sticky spurts of his cum painting your belly white. He groans, the sound deep and rumbling, almost a growl as his hands grab onto whatever he can find. “Fucking Christ.”

The sounds of your breaths fill the air. You lay back against the mattress, your fingers itching for him to hold.

Dean lets out a thick breath. He admires the sight of you, heavy-bodied and covered in him. He lightly smacks your side, a little pat of his warm hand that strokes you soothingly.

He lets your legs down, tucking himself back in his pants. “You doin’ okay?” his voice is a hum, a low and gentle sound that makes you grin.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “But you're cleaning this up.”

He laughs heartily, walking away to find something to do it with. You lay there, naked and feeling much better but slowly becoming aware again of the fact that the room is freezing.

He finishes cleaning you up. You groan, turning on your side and pulling the covers back over you. “I think we should just fuck. I'm cold again.”

He chuckles deeply. “We'll put some clothes back on, and I'll cuddle you. How about that?”

You peek up at him with your best set of puppy dog eyes. “You'll cuddle me?”

He nods, his smirk curling over his lips as he gently shakes his head at you. He picks up his shirt to pull back over his head. You watch as it covers his chest. “Yeah, baby, I'll cuddle you.”

You hum, grabbing your shirt and pulling it on. Once you're dressed, you give him the space to join you under the covers. It's much warmer, and you're much happier to lay there with him.

When Sam comes back holding a space heater, his face scrunches in disgust to see the both of you spooning. “Ugh. Did you have sex while I was out?”

Without looking at him, Dean just brings you closer. You glance at him. “Fucked hard, Sammy.”

“Dean!”

[nameless-jamie]

PR Disaster

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Jamie Tartt was a nightmare to work for on an average day. But on a day when he was desperate? He was unbearable.

Y/N had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get through her emails while Jamie sat across from her desk, relentlessly attempting to convince her to do something insane.

“Come on, love,” Jamie pleaded, drumming his fingers on her desk. “It’s just one night. Just a little thing. Barely even a date.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at a charity gala.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Jamie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, you have to.”

“Oh, I have to?” She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "M'not getting paid for this so I don't have to do shit, Jamie."

"Don't be difficult, babe. I beg you!"

“Let me get this straight. You, a fully grown man, need a date to some fancy event, and instead of—I don’t know—asking out one of the many women who throw themselves at you, you come to me, your freaking assistant?”

He sighed dramatically. “I can’t take some random girl. That’d make it worse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Worse than what?”

Jamie slouched lower in his chair and sighed. “Some wanker journalist wrote a whole article about how I’ve ‘lost my edge’ since I’ve been single. Said my game’s sufferin’ ‘cause I’m too ‘unfocused.’” He made air quotes, looking deeply offended. “He said I'm too horny for the pitch or some shit. Like, I can’t be single and good at football at the same time. It’s bullshit.”

“That does sound like bullshit.”

“Right?"

"Too horny for the pitch, is my favorite thing anyone has ever said about you, though." Y/N laughed, wiping a small tear out of the corner of her eye.

"Y/N be fucking for real right now. The plan is, if I show up with a girlfriend, it shuts everyone up. And if I take you, it don’t get messy. No expectations. No awkward post-date texts. Just you lookin’ dead fit in a fancy dress and me lookin’ like a man not in the middle of a public downward spiral.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’ve thought way too much about this?”

Jamie grinned. “Because I have.”

She exhaled slowly, staring at him for a long moment. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Best ones usually are.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

"And if the press wants us to kiss it wouldn't be awkward because we already did that once!"

"Jamie, that is still a fucking accident. We don't talk about that!"

"I mean I want to talk about it—" Jamie couldn't finish that sentence before a pen was thrown his way.

"Pick me up at 7. Go away now!"

The night started when he picked her up for the gala, in a freaking stretch limousine.

Y/N opened her door.

Jamie’s brain short-circuited.

She stood there in a dress that was so—fuck. It was tight in all the right places, dipping low at the neckline, hugging her waist like it was personally designed to ruin his life. Her legs? Glorious. The slit in her dress? Criminal. Her makeup? Perfect.

He actually forgot how to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head. “Jamie?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to speak. “Huh?”

Her lips twitched. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking like a fucking teenager. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you look—” He gestured vaguely at her, struggling to find a word that wasn’t fuckable. “Good. Nice. Decent.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Decent?”

Jamie winced. Fuckin’ idiot. “Nah, not decent. I meant, like, proper good. Like, unfairly good. Like—fuck, what’s the word—illegal?”

She laughed, and Jamie swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, that’s good to know,” she teased. “Considering I’m supposed to be your date.”

Right. The fake date. The one that wasn’t real. The one where he definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how he wanted to keep her locked in his car all night so no one else could look at her.

Jamie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together, Tartt.

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “You ready to go?”

Jamie didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just opened the car door for her, staring straight ahead as she got in—because if he looked for even a second longer, there was a very real chance he’d be showing up to the gala with a boner.

And that was definitely not part of the plan.

Y/N soon realized that the problem wasn’t the gala.

The problem was Jamie.

Because he was apparently way too good at fake dating.

For someone who was supposedly just trying to fix his reputation, he seemed very committed to the role.

He kept his hand on the small of her back all night, his thumb moving in slow circles against the fabric of her dress like it was second nature. He leaned in close every time he spoke to her, his breath warm against her ear. And worst of all, he kept looking at her like that. Like she was the only person in the room.

He also seemed to be having the time of his life making up a fake relationship history.

“Oh, yeah,” he told an interviewer from The Athletic. “She played hard to get at first, but I wore her down.”

“She pretends to be annoyed by me,” he added later, “but really? She’s obsessed.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue multiple times to avoid strangling him.

But then came the real kicker.

“She makes me a better man. I mean fuck— have you looked at her. She is not going to her own flat tonight, am I right love?”

Y/N nearly choked on her champagne.

What the fuck was he playing at?

She was fully prepared to murder him the second they got into the car.

But before she could, the event photographer asked them to pose for a picture, and—

Jamie pulled her in, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers brushing the bare skin at her side.

Her breath hitched.

And then—

Jamie fucking winked.

The camera flashed.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a journalist called out:

“Jamie! One more shot—how about a kiss for the cameras?”

She froze.

Jamie, however, seemed thrilled by the idea.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned to her, smirking. “What d’you reckon, love? Give the people what they want?”

She stared at him, genuinely considering murder.

But the cameras were waiting. The journalists were watching. And it's not like it would be their first one...

Jamie—the absolute menace—was already leaning in, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a real smile.

She had two options: make it awkward as hell by shutting it down, or commit to the bit.

FUCK, she was his freaking assistant. And she's totally into him. But that wasn't important right now. If she did not kiss him the press would know that Jamie Tartt brought a fake date or worse they would think that his own girlfriend hates him. If she kisses him though, the PR disaster after that would fucking suck.

Fuck it. With a deep breath, she reached up, placed her hand on his chest, and let Jamie close the distance between them.

It was barely a kiss—a soft press of lips, just enough to make it convincing. But Jamie’s hand tightened on her waist, just for a second, and her fingers curled against the fabric of his suit before she forced herself to pull away.

The cameras loved it.

Jamie did too, judging by the way he looked at her afterward.

“Not bad, love,” he murmured, his lips still inches from hers. “Please tell me that one was an accident too. Or else I might have to take you home with me tonight.”

She just rolled her eyes and shoved him. Idiot.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to absolute chaos.

Her phone had exploded.

Twitter was going insane.

She clicked on the first headline that popped up.

"Jamie Tartt Goes Public With Stunning Mystery Girlfriend at Charity Gala—And We Have ALL the Details"

She scrolled down, her horror growing with every paragraph.

"From the way he looked at her to the way he kept a protective hand on her waist all night, Jamie Tartt was absolutely smitten. Sources tell us that he was completely devoted to her the entire evening, barely paying attention to anyone else. And let's not forget the viral moment when he told reporters, 'She makes me a better man.' Our hearts? Melted."

“Oh, for fuck sake. I knew it.”

She stormed into Nelson Road, phone in hand. “Jamie fucking Tartt!”

Jamie, who had been laughing with Dani, turned at the sound of her voice. “Mornin’, love.”

She marched up to him and shoved her phone in his face. “Do you know how many people think we’re actually together?”

He barely glanced at the screen before shrugging. “Yeah. Bit mad, innit?”

“Mad? Mad?” She scrolled further. “People are already speculating about a wedding! I just got an email from Vogue asking if we’d do a couples photoshoot and a fucking interview!”

Jamie grinned. “Vogue, yeah? That’s kinda sick. Let’s do it. I can tell ‘em about how you snore when you fall asleep on the couch.”

“I do not snore.” She gaped at him. “Jamie. This is not funny.”

“Babe, you do,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, "And it’s a little funny.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You love me, remember? You make me a better man.”

“You fucking prick. You even liked a post that said, ‘Jamie Tartt and his girlfriend are the it couple of the season’!”

Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause we are.”

Her jaw dropped. “We are not.”

Jamie tilted his head, a playful glint in his eye. “You sure about that, love?”

She refused to answer.

Jamie must’ve noticed her hesitation because he leaned in, dropping his voice. “Just say the word, and I’ll post a proper ‘soft launch’ photo of us on Instagram.”

She shoved him away.

But later, when she caught him scrolling through a fan edit of them kissing with that smug little smile, she had the sinking suspicion that Jamie had no intention of letting this fake relationship die anytime soon.

And worse?

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. She had to clear the air, though...And the PR of all of it was going to be a fucking disaster.

[baekhyunsbestie]

Lisa please a #icumfromeatingpussy fic or little something 🥺🥺 pretty pleaseeeee

— my iceberg angle

⟢ : DOGTOOTH !?

⠀ SHE CAN RIDE MY FACE,

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ I DON'T WANT NOTHIN' IN RETURN!

⠀ BECAUSE IF SHE GET OFF, THEN I GET OFF,

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ THAT'S MY CONCERN!

★ content: 18+/mdni. baekhyun x f!reader. fingering + oral (f! receiving). hair pulling. face fucking. baekhyun cumming untouched like the loser he is <3333

baekhyun is buried so deep between your thighs he might as well be drowning, but if this is what it means to sink, he’ll go willingly—no air, no escape, just the intoxicating heat of you. he drinks you in like a man starved, tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring every tremor that rolls through you, every desperate tug of your fingers in his hair. you pull him closer, like you need him just as much as he needs this, and it only fuels the fire licking up his spine.

but then you whimper his name—breathless, needy—and something inside him snaps.

he groans against your cunt, the sound reverberating through you as his tongue flicks over your clit with reckless urgency. his lips latch onto the swollen bud, sucking deep, greedy, like he’s lost all sense of restraint. his fingers press into you, curling just right, coaxing you toward the edge while his own hips rut mindlessly against the mattress. he’s gone, utterly wrecked, lost in the wet heat of you, in the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. his own aching need is an afterthought, a distant pulse compared to the way you shatter beneath his touch, the way every flick of his tongue pulls you deeper into the abyss of pleasure he’s so desperate to drown you in.

“fuck, you always taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans, voice muffled against your cunt, the words melting into the feverish heat of your skin. his hips jerk against the bed, chasing friction he knows won’t be enough, but it doesn’t matter. not when you gasp his name like that, not when your thighs tremble around his head like you might trap him there forever. god, he wants you to. he wants you to hold him there until he forgets everything that isn’t you.

“yeah, baby, just like that,” you pant, body slick with sweat as he drags you toward your third orgasm in the span of ten minutes, his tongue and fingers working you open like it’s all he knows how to do. “fuck, think ‘m gonna cum again.”

and then it happens.

you come apart beneath him, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your back arches, body taut with pleasure. your walls flutter around his fingers, slick coating his chin, and that’s all it takes. his breath stutters, a low, guttural groan ripping from his throat as his cock twitches, spilling hot and thick into his boxers—untouched, undone, ruined by nothing but the feeling of you unraveling against his mouth.

he slumps against your inner thigh, chest heaving, wrecked in every possible way. but when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, eyes dark and glazed over, lips gleaming with the mess he’s made of you, there’s still something hungry in his stare.

“holy shit,” he rasps, voice raw, wrecked. “you made me cum just from tasting you.”

and just like that, he’s diving back in—desperate, insatiable—to see if he can do it again.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ eater!baekhyun u will always be loved by me

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[luvingarisu]

heh... so, uh.. heard you were taking requests..

how about some.. daikichi karube hc’s.. 🌚

babe these pics made me scream ily

wrote these as gn as possible :) lowkey cringed over using the word hole but whatever </3

ALSO I WROTE THIS SO FAST BC I LOVE KARUBE SM SO I DIDN’T PROOF READ </3

♡ he is such a whore before you. TOO much experience i fear. but we listen and we don’t judge <3

♡ idc what anyone says this man goes SLOWWWW we all saw him kissing his manager’s girlfriend.

♡ he savours every fuckin’ moment

♡ absolute filthy mouth too

♡ when he isn’t groaning or cursing in your ear he speaks in the most insanely attractive, yet condescending way

♡ “feels good, yeah?”

♡ “you fuckin’ love it huh?”

♡ “am i makin’ you feel good baby?”

♡ yk that one position he the dudes behind, you’re both sitting up and he has your arms pinned to your back? THAT ONEEE!

♡ lover of classic back shots too, simply because he’s an ass man.

♡ goes crazy for the arch, hands on the small of your back, keeping you down as he delivers deep, rough, painfully slow thrusts into your hole, fucking you into the mattress.

♡ every time starts with a heated makeout session.

♡ slow, opened mouth kisses, hips pinning you to the bar, to the wall, to the sofa, wherever you are. hands always under your shirt, fingers indented into your waist as he tries to pull you impossibly closer, and without a doubt, always ends up sliding a thigh between your legs.

♡ despite loving back shots, bro loves a good ride, and on more than one occasion he’s had a lit cigarette between his lips, thin plumes of smoke escaping his lips while he praises you and groans

♡ will NAWT hurt u bc my man isn’t abt that life. spanking and that’s IT! but its usually light and playful and honestly just and excuse to grab a handful of ass

♡ also! would probably not be down for public quickies. he likes it slow, deep, and heated, he can’t do that in 10 minutes. will by all means fuck you if he knows the bar is empty, but if he doesn’t have at least 30 mins he’s just tugging you close, promising to fuck you when you get home.

♡ definitely has a thing for being clothed while you’re fully naked, on top of him, bouncing on his cock completely exposed while he still has his shirt and jeans on, tugged down just enough to slip his cock into you.

♡ gets such a fuckin’ ego boost when you choke on his cock too, is a bit of a fiend for holding your head down, only letting you come back up when he knows it’s becoming too much, and from then on, just guides your head, hand tangled in your hair with a light grip.

♡ head thrown back whilst one arms crossed behind his head and it’s absolutely the hottest thing you’ve ever seen

♡ i need this man in the most filthy, diabolical way ever.

[i-cant-cast-that-yet]

Listen, I had a whole diatribe typed out train of thought style on aroace shen yuan, but I miss clicked somewhere and now it's gone but while I'm too tired to rewrite it all I'll give yall the spark notes.

Please keep in mind, this is mostly based on my specific experiences with being aroace-- as I myself am, and also me hard-core projecting. If this comes off as strange, it's because I'm a little strange myself. Also this probably makes no fucking sense so good luck.

Aroace Shen Yuan:

He's aware of PIDW Binghe being archetypically "hot," but doesn't personally get the appeal. He's seen the fanart, he's read through the copious amounts of papapa in the novel, he's aware that Binghe is suave n sexy n mysterious and that on paper he's supposed to be a chick magnet, but naturally shen yuan is straight so He's not into it obviously.

And you know what? I really do believe that pre-transmigration shen yuan wasn't actually attracted to fictional binghe. Not even in a parasocial or subconscious way. He was, however, definitely obsessed with his blorbo. It was about his deep fascination with the specific trope inversion binghe represented. It's the one thing that kept shen yuan engaged when the novel gradually took a nosedive beyond anything resembling a self-respecting internal narrative and fell face first into weekly updates of binghe's conquests and escapades. It's about how much shen yuan loved to read about binghe having to use his wits to overcome his obstacles when his early life disadvantages came to rear their heads and keep him from blasting through all obstacles. His weaknesses eventually made him strong, and even though that plot point was likely the first to disappear with the in-world discovery of xin mo, the promise that binghe might retain that level of intrigue kept him worth slogging through the rest of the novel.

That, and the longer the story goes on, the more tragic binghe's narrative becomes and the more protective shen yuan feels; the more righteous indignation the narrative evokes in him. Binghe is disrespected by the very text he's borne from in the perversion of his original wants. Binghe wants a home, love, stability, respect from his peers, and most importantly, he wants security and the apologies he was denied as a young boy. As the story goes on, these desires are given solutions that don't address the root causes via endless harem drama. This is likely because of xin mo exacerbating binghe's insecurities and amplifying his need for dual cultivation to manage his own unstable meridians, but for an ace shen yuan, this reliance on not only sex but meaningless sex with wives who because of circumstances outside of anyone's control cannot truly give binghe any of the emotional consolation he needs to work past his own issues, must have been infuriating. Add on the layer of vague disgust at having to be essentially coerced by an evil sword to rely on sexual encounters for both your physical wellbeing via cultivation, but also as a thinly veiled imitation of a coping method for binghe's complete lack of control over his childhood circumstances, and then to watch those real issues get chopped up into monster of the week papapa with whatever new fetish bait wife airplane has cooked up for the masses? I'd go fuckin bonkers too, man.

All of this to say, I think when shen yuan dies and ends up as shen qingqiu and then meets young binghe, he's probably intensely second-hand guilty alongside his terror and confusion. This is his Little Guy, his Big Terrible Dude, all wrapped up into a doe eyed, bruised little boy that he's supposed to bully now under threat of death. This is the little boy with so much kindness in his heart and so many more reasons to hate instead. This boy hasn't chosen hatred yet, but now shen yuan has to play his part in incubating that choice towards anger and self destruction and there's nothing he can really do about it.

He tries, of course, because shen yuan isn't going to let some nebulous system strong-arm him into abusing a child, even if in the end he can't avoid the truest of damning events in the endless abyss, he tries because he can't stomach letting this boy hurt more than fate is bound to force him to hurt himself.

But I'm losing sight of the point here. Back to the aroace funny bit.

I think that within the text of the canon svsss novel, we have enough textual evidence to safely call shen yuan demi. Yes, that man is deeply repressed, but something about his specific flavor of fond, resigned acceptance to binghe's actions post canon in relation to their marital bed n whatnot, I think he's attracted to binghe, but I don't think he's like...*attracted* attracted. This is where the grey area really begins. There's a sort of attraction that as an ace person I like, conceptually experience. The idea of having someone being like, handsome and having big muscles, and being into you, etc, that's all well and good in a vacuum, but in reality? Rather not.

I'd like to posit the idea of shen yuan being eventually comfortable trying to open up both to himself and to binghe largely because for the longest time, shen yuan still has the internal feeling that nothing in this world is real.

That binghe is still, at his core, fictional.

Idk about yall, but attraction to fictional characters is so much more palatable than attraction to a real individual. Mind you, I am actively aroace, and I've never dated in my 23 years alive, so this is real projection hours, but I digress, I myself have had a handful of crushes in my runtime that I've never bothered to act on out of pure disinterest in the act of romantic or emotional connection with others.

When you can't see yourself wanting to engage with the full complexity of another person on such an intimate level, either emotionally or physically, but you still feel deeply attached to them on a level bordering obsession, its...disconcerting to say the least. I feel like if shen yuan cared so deeply for binghe, would put up with his clingyness and his antics and his possessiveness, but never fully saw him as real? It'd be devastating if binghe even found out, and shen yuan really doesn't want to hurt him, but he can't manufacture a feeling where it doesn't exist. He's devoted to binghe, he enjoys making binghe happy, he wants to be with binghe, but he knows he isn't feeling the way his wives were written to feel about binghe and that makes him worry.

Sure, he feels 'a frission of heat' or whatever bs airplane had yapped about occassionally, and binghe's muscles do indeed 'bulge provocatively' quite often, but it's not the same, dammit. He loves binghe, but he's not quite sure he's in love with being in love. He's attracted to binghe, but none of the tropes he's been pushed into by the system have done anything but make him roll his eyes and sidestep whatever papapa plot line he's stumbled into.

And just maybe, it all makes him feel like he doesn't actually love binghe, and that he's been lying to him all over again. That he's doing exactly what shen yuan tells himself he was forced to do against his will, and that he's chosen to hurt binghe this way.

What shen yuan doesn't understand is that binghe realized a long ass time ago that his shizun isn't a very romantic person, but he is nothing but caring. That his shizun may not be a typical lover, but that couldn't matter less in binghe's eyes because shen qingqiu is choosing to keep binghe around even when it so clearly goes against what feels natural to the other man because he simply wants to have him around.

There's a lot to be said around the idea of "ace people can still love," and how it leaves a bad taste in my mouth as a predominantly aromantic individual, but that's neither here nor there, but I think there's something even more impactful to be spoken about people who can't, don't, or won't love in a "normal" or "typical" fashion, but who still choose to hold space for another in their life. For those who find themselves in love with someone who can't quite love them back "properly," but who yearn so strongly that they take what they can get. For those who don't need flowers and declarations of undying love, but a listening ear and a willing companion to spend their days with.

...

Also I think it would drive bingge up the fucking WALL trying to seduce his not-shizun and pulling out all the stops only for literally none of it to work lmao.

Anyway I'm gonna go rot in a corner at work now, lmk if I should like, elaborate further on anything or delete this haha

[inkyrainstorms]

The Martian Stan AU - The Apology - Excerpt

Ford was working as he always was nowadays, half listening to the radio behind him and trying to stop his heart from jumping in his throat every time that Stan stopped speaking for more than 10 minutes and nothing but static filled the room again. Ford wasn’t sure what exactly his brother was talking about anymore, as he welded a set of support bolts into place, but he nearly dropped the welding gun on his foot when Stan suddenly spoke after a long stretch of silence.

“Ford?”

Ford fumbled for a moment before shoving a stack of loose paper aside and  setting the welding gun down on the table beside him. He put his hands on either side of the radio on the same cluttered table and took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

“Yes, Stanley?” He asked softly.

Stan, of course, didn’t hear him, but had paused as if waiting for a response before continuing anyway.

“I know, I know damn well you’re probably never gonna hear this, but I need to say it anyway before… Well. I don’t need to eat as often and shit and I know you’d love to figure out why but… I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last out here either way.”

Ford didn’t say anything, staring down at the wooden grain of the table like he could burn a hole clean through it with his thoughts alone. His palms ached from where he’d dug in his fingernails, and his shoulders mangled to hunch even further.

Stan laughed. It was a bitter, ugly sound.

“Ah, damnit. This isn’t about me. Can’t even do this right, you idiot” His brother took a deep breath. “ But Ford… I think I need to apologize.”

Some old, fossilized hurt in Ford’s heart snarked ‘you think?’, but Ford nearly gagged as he suffocated the thought before it could take root anew. He felt sick.

Oblivious to Ford’s turmoil —and of course he was, because he didn’t know Ford was right here, that Ford wasn’t going to let one of the last things he ever said to Stan be that he thought Stan was worthless— Stan continued.

“I don’t think I ever got to, back when… you know. What I said that night is a bit of a blur to me to be honest, but I know I was spouting nonsense and saying all the wrong shit and… Moses, Ford. I know it’s too late now but I’m sorry. I really am.”

Something in Ford simultaneously healed and broke in his chest at Stan’s words, but he didn’t get the chance to process it because Stan wasn’t quite done yet.

“And I need you to know it wasn’t on purpose. I’d never do that to you. Never. Why would I ever want to hurt you like that, poindexter? I just… I was scared and I didn’t want to be alone in Glass Shard Beach scraping barnacles off the Taffy shop for the rest of my miserable life and I wasn’t. Thinking.” Stanley’s voice had been rising in a steady crescendo, but suddenly got so quiet that Ford had to strain to catch the words in the buzzing static. “I’d… I shouldn’t have gone into the gym. I shouldn’t have even gone near your friggin project. I didn’t go there to break it, I would never—“ his voice broke. “I thought you knew that. I’m your brother, you dingbat, why would I ever want to hurt you?When did I ever not support you, man?”

“Then why did you do it?” Ford whispered back, just as quiet. That old anger he’d tried to push down rose up again, simmering. Stan knew he’d poured months of his life into the perpetual motion machine, that he’s shed more than a few tears and more than a little blood and sweat over it. And then he’d thrown it all away?

“I’d only hit the table, ya know. Didn’t think the grate’d pop off or anything like that. I tried to fix it. I know I should’ve told you, I know and I’m sorry, just…” I was scared, goes unspoken. Ford’s legs were shaking, and he tried to steadily himself by leaning further on the table. “I know I should’ve told you. I know. I messed up fuckin’ good, Sixer.” Ford flinched.

“I’m. I know you’re never gonna get the apology you deserve cause I was too much of a coward to actually call you and say something.” Stan’s voice was shaking. And I’m sorry for that too. And I’m sorry for not listening to you about your stupid book, and I’m sorry— ugh. We’ll be here all day trying to name my fuckups. That’s the last sorry you’ll ever hear from me you nerdy, uh, nerd.”

Stan sighed loud enough for the radio to crackle and screech. “Good going, Stan,” he muttered, his voice getting quieter as he evidently walked away, done.

And all that was left was static.

Ford pushed himself away from the table and sank into the rolling chair nearby, putting his face in his hands and trying to breathe as the chair was pushed back several feet from his momentum.

“He’s lying,” Ford tried to say, but it tasted like ash in his mouth. “He’s trying to make it so… so.” He faltered. “He’s obviously trying to deceive me.”

Trust no one.

But he had trusted Stan. And Stan got hurled into a Dimension of Nightmares for it.

Stan has no reason to lie, Fords mind whispered, because it was always against him no matter what stance he took. He doesn’t think you’re coming to save him. Why wouldn’t he try to explain the worst mistake of his life in a fit of guilt and complete loss of hope?

“Shut up,” Ford said intelligently, and he didn’t dare pry his face away from his hands, heels of his palms digging into his eye sockets and pushing up his glasses to his hairline

Stan had no reason to lie.

Stan came to help him at the drop of a hat after ten years of being too afraid to even call him. 

Stan… Stan didn’t mean to break his project. It was a stupid accident, done by a stupid teenager too afraid to admit his own failings. Stan didn’t betray Ford. Not like he thought his twin had, for all these years.

Ford was wrong. About everything. He was wrong about Stan and Bill and Fiddleford and, Moses, had he ever done anything right in his entire, miserable life? Ford didn’t know. 

The empty bunk bed beneath his own  for those last few fateful months before Backupsmore, the tears and screaming at a boat that never even left the shore, the years of resentment and refusing to believe he missed his own twin, what was it all for? Because Ford suddenly felt the sharp sting of grief all over again, throbbing with a ferocity he’d refused to acknowledge for the past few weeks. Years. 

It was like he was 17 years old again, mourning for all the wrong reasons and all the right ones too. For his brother. For his chance to become someone worthy of recognition, of love. For pushing away the ones who’d already loved him.

For the first time since the day Stan fell into the portal all those weeks ago, Ford pulled his knees up to his chest on the seat and, in the safety of his own arms, he wept.

The static crackled on, steady and unchanging. Unforgiving.

———————

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @littlelilliana15 (if anyone else wants to be tagged pls let me know! I’m going to probably be posting more for this au sometime this week)

I have ideas for a mini comic and a whole animatic using Space Oddity so I’ll just have to see how far I get, really

[benzendrine-nosebleed]

The Bats and The Rams: 7 Minutes In Heaven

AYYY I've got another banger oneshot for you guys!! I wrote this around Halloween and never got around to publishing it. I honestly have barely any recollection of writing this because I was absolutely wasted, but I hope you love it as much as me (finding it like 3 months later) love it! "Ted throws a Halloween party, and you get stuck in a closet with the Ram that's been eyeing you up all night." Schlatt x Reader, Totally 18+, 3134 Words

It was getting later into the night at the house party Ted threw. He rented out an Airbnb, and he was going to have to be paying a cleaner’s fee for sure. Since he was the oldest of the friend group he could do so, while mostly everyone else was just shy of 20. Drinks had been poured, jello shots had been taken, and the few trying to test their luck were in the middle of the basement floor, spinning an empty vodka bottle someone had used for the punch. There were 8 or 9 people around when Schlatt spun the bottle, his nervousness hidden well behind the blue turtleneck he was wearing, and the horns pushed his hair into his eyes enough to hide the furrowing as he watched the bottle intently. He was been eyeing you all night, hoping this would be the moment he had a chance. The bottle landed on you, and you weren’t disappointed. He was quite charismatic when he wanted to be, flashing a perfect smile when he knew you were looking, trying to impress his guy friends when you were in the same room.

“Well, I’ll start the time when we close the doors on you guys,” a girl said, standing up and practically running to the closet door to open it.

Schlatt stood up nervously, a smile creeping onto his face as he walked closer to you. You could smell the cologne he was wearing. It was fresh, somewhat woodsy, and spicy. He caught up with your step, turning to you once you both reached the door. You smiled at him, feeling the flush on your face reaching deep beneath your skin. He held his hand out, letting you walk into the larger closet first, and you looked around. It was carpeted, and a blanket or two were on the floor, undisturbed thus far by awkward people not doing anything other than maybe a kiss or two. Once he followed you in, the door closed, and the girl yelled, “Alright, seven minutes!”

By the time she had finished yelling that, Schlatt had his hands on your waist. “I was hoping it’d be you,” He said, his hands gently swaying your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling drunkenly. “Yeah? You wanted me, huh?”

A small laugh escaped him. “Yeah, you’re , you’re somethin’ else,” He pulled you closer to his own hips, swaying along with you. He leaned his head down, shoving his face into yours, as you pressed back against him. Fireworks were going off between you, and after a moment’s notice, his hands were moving up and down your body, but your hips still rocked together, pressing harder and harder, trying to feel what was behind his pants. His hands came back down to cup your ass, and one hand slip down to your thigh to pull your leg up and around his waist. You obliged, wrapping it around him. The kisses were growing feverish, desperate, and your hips moved to grinding rather than swaying now.

He pulled away and began to leave bites down your neck, (Fitting, you were dressed as a vampire) and leaving marks as he sank his teeth in. You moaned softy, running your fingers into his hair, feeling the headband that was holding his horns on. You tossed them off, and felt as Schlatt moved the hand from your thigh to your top, pulling it down to expose you, and dive face first in. His mouth moved to kiss your breasts, sucking softly, and he squatted down to suck gently on your nipple. His hand kneaded the other tit, his thumb gently caressing the nipple his tongue wasn’t on. You were stuck there for a moment, lost in the bliss, waiting for your turn to begin pleasing him. He took his time though, worshipping your skin. “Fuck, y’ taste so fuckin’ good,” He’d moan out between soft suckles and some nibbles, switching which breast he would tongue tease. Your fingers worked in his hair, softly pulling it as you began to feel your need to return the favor growing.

Finally it reached a point where he kneeled down to begin worshipping your thighs when your own desire grew to be too much. You knelt down with him, moving to keep a hand on him in the darkness as you pushed him back to sit down. You crawled on top of his legs, and began kissing him again feverishly. You pulled down the collar of his turtleneck, nibbling softly at the soft flesh of his neck. He groaned, moving his hands to your waist again. As you began to peel his turtleneck up, you could hear the girl out there yelling, “You’re halfway done!”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna be done with you in that long,” Schlatt moaned out. “We’re gonna need to find a bedroom so we can really, really have some fun. You pressed a line of sloppy kisses down his chest, stopping between each to agree with him. “I need more of you baby, more than what I’ll get in here.” His hands quickly moved to undo his belt, shimmying against the wall to pull his pants down enough to give you access to him.

“Can I?” You asked politely, like there was some formality left with being shoved in the closet, drunk, and attempting to hook up. Before he could answer you moved your hand to his boxers, well tented and damp already. His cock was begging for attention, just like he had been earlier... but he it needed to be you. You pulled his waistband down, taking him in your hand, and gently stroking it as he shifted again, pathetic whimpers immediately escaping his mouth as you took over. You reached his belt line with wet sloppy kisses, and immediately moved your mouth to the head , giving it a long, torturous lick so you could hear those beautiful moans again. “I think I’m going to need some more time too,” you giggled, your eyes having adjusted to the darkness well enough to see his face twist with pleasure.

Your mouth moved back to his stiff length, giving it another torturous lick, just enough to get it lubed up to glide your hand up and down him effortlessly, them moving to wrap your lips around him. His hands had no idea what to do anymore: they wandered across his head, your head, your neck, the floor, he was trying so desperately to hold onto anything to ground himself while your tongue worked on sending him to heaven. His body arched involuntarily into your mouth, shoving himself down your throat, almost to the point of gagging. As you pulled his length out and stroked his cock, you shifted your legs to be between his, spreading his out far enough for you to kneel between them to have a better angle at his crotch. “Gah-ahd damn,”He moaned out, completely at your mercy now. His hands finally rested in your hair, gently tugging you down to him again, which you happily obliged.

“One Minute!” The girl yelled out, a shrew of laughter coming from the other room.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, “I’m not done yet, we’ve just started...”

Schlatt pulled you up off of him by your hair gently. “Pull your shirt up, we’re taking this somewhere where we can keep going,” He let go and began working his own pants back up, buttoning them and pulling his shirt down. We listened as the group outside the door cawed at the 30 second mark. Schlatt stood up, pulling you up with him. He grabbed your hand sharply, and opened the door fast enough to catch someone else from the group listening in on the other side of the door. He stormed past her as she fell over, pulling you with determined strides up the stairs to where some of the bedrooms were located. “C’mon toots,” he spoke, leading the way faster than you could keep up. As you both moved up the stairs, the party moved around you, people walking up and down the stairs, drinking in the open spaces, lights flickering from the bonfire outback in the firepit came through the windows while music flooded the space between the painted bodies.

Schlatt strode to the bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall, which was empty, other than a duffel bag of clothes and the furniture. He pulled you in, practically slamming the door behind you, and locking it with a satisfying, ‘click!’ While you took in what had just happened, Schlatt picked you up, and walked to the bedside, tossing you onto the pile of blankets and pillows. He climbed on top of you, pinning you down. “Y’ ready for more?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” You smiled, feeling as his hands pressed your wrists down into the bedding.His body loomed over you while he leaned into your face, ferociously consuming your lips with his own. He kissed hard and fast, his hips began grinding against yours as he settled his weight onto you. You could feel his hips shift so they were parallel with yours, his cock grinding against you again. While he kissed into you, one of his hands moved to pull your top down again. “Y’know don’t think that this is just gonna be a one time thing, Honey. I’m gonna make you mine, and I only wanna see you like this.” He massaged your tit again, while his other hand kept you pinned still. You took this opportunity to move your hand back down to his pants, rubbing the damp bulge shrouded by his pants. He growled as you applied gentle pressure, the friction of the fabric was too much for him to bear. As you unbuttoned his pants and worked your fingertips past the boxers again to grab his soft flesh, his own hand moved from your tit to your core, gently running his fingers past the velvet skirt.

He lifted the skirt enough to give his fingers access, moaning while he explored you. “Fuck, y’ look so good in a skirt, but you’re gonna be so goddamn hot when I’m using ya.” He slid his fingers through the web of the fishnet to your panties, slipping them aside while he slid his fingers across your slit, already soaking wet from his foreplay. He gently ran a finger through the folds, exploring them as he worked to the entrance, refraining from slipping a finger in, though you could feel how his fingers wanted to bend right into you. He was having too much fun teasing you like this, getting you hot, bothered, and lost in the feelings he had building in himself all night. While your hand worked against his hard cock, the tip slick with precum, he couldn’t help but huff out a low gruff.

“Jay, fuck,” was all you could muster out as he quickened his pace along you, eventually sliding a finger into you. You could feel your core tighten with each press of his finger into you.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked, ain’t ya?” He pulled his finger out, hastily moving to sit up on top of you as he finished undoing his pants, and slid then to his thighs, his boxer briefs trailing just above his pants. He took his stiff length into his hand as he worked himself. He looked down at you, looking back at him doe-eyed at the masterpiece he was. He practically was fucking his hand with how desperate he was to blow off the tension from the party. “I’m not gonna let ya cum just yet, I wanna feel that pretty little throat of yours first, then I’ll make ya cum for me.”

He shifted his hips forward and pressed the tip to your lips, half-pinning you down as his thighs straddled your arms. You wrapped your hands around the back of his thighs as you let him into your mouth, the slight saltiness of the precum being a welcome surprise while your tongue wrapped around his cock like a lollipop. You slowly worked at your own pace, taking in a couple inches of his length. He rested one hand on top of your head, the other one on his lower back. “You feel so fuckin good like this baby, I love seeing you suck me off.” He slowly worked your head down to take more of his length, eventually bringing your head as far as he could, shoving your nose right above the base. He held you there for a a second or two while he exhales a long moan. Once he pulled you away, you could feel that his cock had stretched your throat out, and you coughed a couple times from the gag reflex. You looked up at him looming over you, he smiled, that stupid fucking smile made you crave him more. It made you want to perform the unholiest of things to him, and to have him do so to you. A small chuckle escaped him while he stroked his cock, now slick with your saliva. “Mmkay, now we can have some real fun. Y’ ready?”

As you blinked away the tears in your eyelashes, you replied, “Uhhuh.” He lifted himself off of you, allowing you to breathe fully again, and he settled onto the bed next to you, his back to the headboard. “C’mere baby, let’s start like this. I wanna see you riding me.”

You sat up, and brought your leg over his, straddling himself at full, throbbing attention. “Jay, I’ve never been on top-“

“That’s okay,” He put his hands on your thighs, “I’ll help guide you.” His sudden softness and assurance made you feel better about your first time riding. He moved one hand to his length, and helped guide it to you, begging for him to fill it. “We can take it slow to start too so you can get a feel for it, mmkay?”

“Okay,” You breathed out, rolling your hips to line the tip up, and gently lowered yourself down, taking in part of him before moving back upwards. Him entering you even just this much, felt heavenly. As you slowly worked himself into you, he leaned his head back, his hands on your hips tightening with each movement. “Jay, fuck... fuck you feel really, really good,”

“Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good too...” He growled out, his hands continuing to guide you up and down his cock. Your hips rolled, stirring him inside of you, and you couldn’t tell anymore where his guidance ended and you own rhythm began. You definitely could feel his hands on your hips though keeping you from going too far up and slipping off of him. “So... so fuckin’ good...” He leaned his head forward again, his gaze shifting from him fucking you, to your tits, to y our face, contorting with pleasure. Although you felt mildly embarrassed to see that he was watching you, like this, there wasn’t much you could do to stop the feeling, the motions, the rampant pleasure coursing in your veins. As you began to find the perfect speed to bounce on him, he pulled a hand from your hip and wrapped it around your neck.

His mouth was partially agape as used his hand as leverage to bring you down to him, pressing his entire length into you. He buried his face into your tits while you gasped, the full length of him shoved so deep into you felt so incredible. He showered your chest with nibbles, kisses, and sucked hickeys into them while his other hand began to move your hips against his, grinding them together, pressing every which way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Mmmm, my god,” You spoke through gritted teeth. He pulled away after a few moments, and pressed into your face, kissing you before you could speak another word. His hand moved back to your hip, changing your pace from grinding to bouncing again. He started softly, then quickened his pace after feeling how slick you still were, how you tightened around him each time you reached his tip.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby,” He moaned out, looking down at his hands while he kept fucking you. “You keep tightening around me like that I’ll fuckin cum in you.”

“Please, please Jay,” You smiled back.

He nodded, his mouth wide open. It slowly turned into a smile as he continued to speed up, bouncing you up and down on him, your own body trying to keep up with his hands guiding you. He even thrusted his own hips into you, continuing to fuck up into you with panted breaths and slurred words. You whimpered, lost in the sensation of his cock raking against your clit, the array of gentle and harsh sensations bringing you to climax a few seconds before he slammed you down the entire length of his cock, his hips slamming into your ass as he poured into you. He cried out a string of “Oh fuck, fuck baby, god, fucking,”’s as his hips jerked his cock down to the base in you, making sure your belly was full of his cum. Sweat poured down his face as he looked up, his hands leaving impressions in your thighs. He shot back against the headrest, panting heavily. He slowly lifted you off of him, being gentle to the sensations bring on overdrive.

You could barely hold your own weight up and collapsed on the bed next to him, panting heavily, rhythmically with his own. Moans seep out of you with each exhale, still riding out the high. He lays there, folding his arms above his head as he recovers. You can hear his orgasm rake through him in waves as well, grunts escaping his with each clench of his stomach. Nobody moves for a few minutes, the sounds of the raging party filling the void in what would otherwise be a quiet, oasis of a room.

“Hey,” Schlatt spoke out, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah?” You reply quizically, lifting your face to meet his gaze down at you.

“That was amazing,” he smiled. One of his hands moved to stroke the hair out of your face. “You’re amazing.”

You smile sweetly, the last of the pale foundation for your vampire costume covers the blush of your cheeks. “You too, I loved that, that was really, really fun.” You pull yourself closer to him, resting your head on his chest, letting his arm sink in between your neck and the bed. He turns over, wrapping his other arm around you.

As you both lay there, listening to the party continue to blaze on, all you can focus on the ram in between the sheets.

[puzzledprose]

MORE RONIN CONTENT we all ask in unison (love the way you write him)

If I’m being completely honest this was just an excuse to use some annoyingly flowery language and have a try at an actual story, so please be nice I’m still new to this 😅

Tear open your chest and carve a home for me in your atrium

Ronin x Reader

When Ronin looks at you he sees something pure. Not holy or righteous; not something pious or saintly. No, what he saw was more like a canvas to be painted on; ripe fruit that has freshly fallen to the ground, set to be consumed by the rot of the earth. The worms and the flies and the mould eat away at it yet it does not care, the rot loves the sapped fruit as it loves the rot. A love that is all consuming and destructive.

When he added you to the server he knew you were no killer, it was all a wicked game of cat and mouse to him. Ronin was just a toddler playing with his food before he ate. His plan was to toy with you as long as it was fun and split your skull open once it wasn’t, but in getting to know you an unexpected feeling of affection began to fester in his stomach. Every witty comeback and reciprocated threat of murder only served to fuel the whirlwind of emotions burgeoning in his chest.

Yet his newfound fondness for you did not entirely curb his insatiable need for carnage, rather, it blossomed from it. Ronin wished to both cut and cherish you, to maim and shelter. Nothing could be more romantic than you offering your own flesh at his alter of putrid vice.

And to your own detriment, you did. Again and again you offered up your heart as an unholy sacrament to him. You accepted him for all the depraved things he was. Or at least all the depraved things he thought he was. Ronin was a killer, you know this, you’re not naive. And yet you saw past all evil he was and found what was beneath it.

The oil on your stove simmered slowly as you cooked a simple meal for you and your boyfriend. You found yourself zoning out and staring at the bubbling liquid.

Out of nowhere a firm sensation latched itself onto your hips and held you in place while a cold breeze of air slithered it’s way into your ear. You jumped at the feeling and turned around to see your culprit; the devil himself.

“What’s cooking darlin’?” He asked before giving you a soft kiss on the neck and settling his chin on your shoulder.

“Nothing too special, just some fried chicken.” You answered as your heart rate dropped and you turned your body around to face Ronin.

“Smells real fuckin’ good.” He replies as he moves his hands from you hips to your waist.

Ronin find his way into sitting on the counter as you two have your usual evening small talk about your day as you finish cooking. When you’re finished you plate up the food and hand it to him to have a taste. Needless to say he was more than happy with what you had made.

“Thats the stuff.” Ronin praised before he kissed you on the forehead and hopped down from the kitchen counter and sauntered into his living room. “I’m watching a movie if ya feel like joinin’ me?”

You let out a short sigh at the thought of letting Ronin choose a movie again before you called out “Only if I get to choose it, if you do I’ll end up puking out this lovely meal I spent so much time cooking.” You have an exaggerated pout and giggled to yourself as you made your way into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to your boyfriend.

The rest of that night was spoken through a language of short kisses, mumbled “I love you”s and cheesy rom-com dialogue <3

[nameless-jamie]

SURPRISE, YOU'RE AN IDIOT

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

A/N: Small chapter. Baby TART DU DU DUDU DUDU

TW: cursing, small angst

Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the little stick in her hands as if sheer willpower could change the result.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

With Jamie Tartt’s baby.

Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break through her ribs. This wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet. Sure, she and Jamie had been together for a while now, and she loved him more than she thought was even possible—but a baby? A whole fucking human? Inside of her?

She set the test down on the sink and raked her hands through her hair, sucking in a breath. Panic curled in her stomach like a tight fist. Jamie was wonderful—so fucking wonderful—but he was also Jamie. The same Jamie Tartt who once tried to make toast in the microwave, who got distracted by his own reflection mid-conversation, who could barely remember to feed himself if she wasn’t around to remind him. Would he feed our baby protein bars?

But then, another image surfaced—Jamie with Roy's niece Phoebe, letting her paint his nails bright pink and calling it ‘well fashion-forward, innit?’ Jamie bringing extra snacks to training because ‘Sam likes ‘em, and he shares his protein bars with me.’ Jamie kneeling in the stands after a match, signing a kid’s tiny Richmond jersey and asking if they liked football like he wasn’t the reason they were beaming up at him in awe.

Jamie Tartt, who loved loudly, deeply, without hesitation.

Y/N exhaled, tension slipping from her shoulders.

Because of course Jamie would be excited. Of course he’d love this baby. He was the love of her fucking life, and no matter how much of an idiot he could be sometimes, she knew with absolute certainty that he would be a good dad.

So, yeah. He deserved a proper surprise.

And she knew just how to do it.

Jamie walked into their flat, tossing his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Oi, babe," he called, stretching. "Long fuckin’ day. Roy was on my arse the whole time—‘Jamie, don’t be a dickhead. Jamie, stop posin’ in the mirror—’"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Y/N standing in the kitchen, grinning at him. Like she just won the Champions League.

On the counter in front of her was a small yellow box, wrapped neatly with a bow.

Jamie tilted his head. "What’s this? For me?"

"Open it," Y/N said, biting back a smile.

Jamie smirked. "If this is a prank, you’re losin’ your job. I have the authority to do that, you know."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Just open it, Tartt."

Jamie grinned, untying the ribbon before pulling out—

A tiny, tiny baby-sized Richmond jersey.

With ‘TARTT’ written across the back and a '9', Jamie's kit number.

Jamie blinked.

Then, he snorted.

"Aww, babe, this is cute. Is this for—wait what, are we gettin' a puppy or somethin’?"

Y/N just stared at him.

Jamie, still clueless, twirled the jersey between his fingers. "Bit small, innit? Think they printed it wrong—"

Y/N sighed dramatically. "Jamie."

He looked up. "What?"

Y/N placed a hand on her stomach.

Jamie blinked again.

Then, finally—finally—it clicked.

His eyes went wide.

"Wait."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to catch up.

Jamie pointed at her stomach. "Wait."

Y/N nodded, holding back laughter.

Jamie pointed at the tiny jersey. "Wait."

Y/N sighed. "Jamie, you absolute idiot, I’m pregnant!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Jamie let out a loud, delighted, absolutely overjoyed—

"FUCK OFF!"

Y/N burst out laughing as Jamie grabbed her by the waist, lifting her clean off the ground, spinning her around like a lunatic.

"JAMIE!" she shrieked between giggles. "PUT ME DOWN!"

But Jamie was grinning like an idiot, pressing messy, rapid kisses all over her face.

"You’re havin’ my baby," he said, in pure, awed disbelief. "Are you sure? You can't fuck with me right now, I'm goin' t'cry for real."

Y/N smiled. "Yeah, idiot. I am."

Jamie kissed her again, slower this time, hands settling on her waist.

"You’re fucked now, y’know," he murmured, grinning against her lips. "Baby Tartt’s gonna be an absolute menace. You're stuck with me, love."

Y/N smirked and shrugged. "Like father, like child."

Jamie laughed, resting his forehead against hers.

"Guess I should start baby-proofin’ the house," he joked.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Jamie, you’re still not baby-proofed yourself."

Jamie gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Unbelievable."

Y/N grinned. "Guess I’ve got two Tartts to look after now."

Jamie smirked, pressing another kiss to her lips.

"Yep. And you love it." Y/N's smile was one of fullfillment.

Jamie sighed. "No, but for real babe, I'm goin' to cry now. Can you get me some tissues? M'gonna lose it, I'm gonna be a fuckin' dad."

"Oh, yeah, sure I'll go get 'em"

[xxplastic-cubexx]

was talking to my brother the other day after i rewatched dark phoenix and he was like 'why is everyone so mean to charles in this movie?? were they always this mean to him ?? is it cause he's bald now- he lost his pretty privilege??' and i fear i havent recovered