#like i have literally no idea what to expect and that's so fun!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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99 PROBLEMS | MV1

an: this is literally a crack fic, i had the idea when i was listening to 99 problems by jay-z and i was talking to @iamred-iamyellow please enjoy

summary: max never expected to one day have a 17 year old son. he didn't know he was a father. but now he's got to try and figure out how this nerd is his son. and also teach him how to live a little.

wc: 3.3k

Max never thought he’d be a single dad to a teenage boy, but shit happens.

One minute, he was in Monaco celebrating another podium win, champagne-soaked and grinning for the cameras. The next, there was a seventeen-year-old with his eyes and an attitude to match standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag. His name was Noah—“not ‘Dad,’ just Max”—and he wasn’t here to bond. No, Noah was here because apparently the universe thought karma would be funnier this way.

Max was on the balcony of his Monaco apartment replying to a few emails, the city’s lights flickering like a postcard behind him. He could hear Noah inside, rifling through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of “real food.”

“Hey, don’t knock the caviar!” Max called over his shoulder. “It’s got protein!”

“Caviar’s not dinner!” Noah fired back, slamming the fridge door.

Max smirked, chuckling a bit. The kid had a point. The life of a Formula One champion didn’t exactly prepare him for raising a teenager. Most days, it was all jet-setting, high-end sponsorships, and a new girl on his arm by sundown. It was messy, but it was his kind of messy. Now? Now, he had to figure out how to squeeze fatherhood in between the chaos.

“You seriously live like this?” Noah asked, stepping onto the balcony, holding up one of Max’s custom helmets. His tone wasn’t admiration—it was judgement.

“Like what?” Max said, not looking up from his phone.

“You know, like...this. Cars, women, parties. I mean, isn’t it exhausting?”

Max chuckled low, pocketing his phone. “Don’t have time to be tired.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, uh...where do I fit in this circus?”

Max turned, his smirk fading just enough to let a flicker of honesty show. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Max glanced back at the city below. “Now, go grab a drink or something. Just...not the champagne.”

And that’s how it started: the driver, his kid, and a life moving faster than either of them could control.

Max hadn’t had a conventional childhood and he could tell this kid did, well as conventional as it was to be dropped off at your dad who you’ve never met’s house a few weeks before your 18th birthday.

He thought that maybe while he was here he could teach him a few things, take him to a few races or something.

Max didn’t really know what to do.

The private gym was tucked into the corner of Max’s penthouse, all sleek machines and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was rarely used. Most of Max’s training happened at the Headquarters. or with his team, but Noah had been dragging his feet around the apartment all week, so Max figured a little sweat might do them both some good.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, tossing a pair of dumbbells onto the mat. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank. Ever lifted before?”

“Sure,” Noah replied, unimpressed. He sat down on the bench press, giving the machine a once-over like he was deciding whether or not to trust it.

Max crossed his arms, watching as Noah pushed through a few hesitant reps. “Not bad. But if that’s your warm-up, we’re in trouble.”

Noah glared, setting the weights down with a clink. “Not all of us need muscles for a living.”

Max laughed. “Touché. So, what do you do for fun then?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, like hobbies, friends, maybe a girlfriend?”

Noah shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. “Not much. I play some video games, read, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

“Read?” Max frowned. “What, no parties? No sneaking out? You don’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Noah’s voice had that dry teenage edge to it. “I’m seventeen. I lived in America my whole life. You can’t even get into a bar without a fake ID there.”

Max froze mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink?”

Noah gave him a look like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “No?”

Max stared at him, dumbfounded. “God. If only you knew what I was doing at your age when my dad had his back turned.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Clubbing in Paris. Drinking champagne with supermodels. Living the dream?”

��Belgium, but close,” Max said, leaning against the bench press. “Keg parties in the back of some guy’s trailer in Hasselt. Terrible beer, worse decisions, and my trainer yelling at me the next morning. Still, though. I can’t believe you’re seventeen and haven’t even had a sip.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Noah muttered.

“Not a big deal?” Max barked out a laugh. “Mate, by seventeen, I’d already figured out my go-to drink order. Vodka tonic. Not classy, but it got the job done.” He leaned in, his grin borderline mischievous. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Noah held up his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no. You’re not turning this into some wild ‘how to live’ project.”

Max raised his eyebrows, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying. Gotta live a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to end up like you,” Noah shot back.

Max laughed again, but this time it came quieter, almost thoughtful. “Trust me, buddy. Nobody ends up like me. Now, come on. Two more sets, and then I’ll show you how to make a proper protein shake. Don’t worry—I won’t spike it.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head as he got back to work. It was just another morning, another disagreement, but Max couldn’t help feeling like they were inching closer to something real. Something like family.

By the end of the week, Noah was starting to think his dad was running some kind of unofficial competition.

On Monday, it was Marie. She was Monegasque, blonde, and talked like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. “Bonjour, mon cher,” she’d purred at Noah, ruffling his hair like he was ten. Max had barely noticed her leave, too busy scrolling his phone for his next big sponsorship deal.

Tuesday brought Yasmin, a Brazilian model who walked around the apartment in Max’s oversized shirt, pretending not to notice Noah glaring at her from the couch. She’d tried to make conversation, something about school and books, but Noah had just shrugged until she gave up.

By Wednesday, it was Clara, who had an annoying laugh and kept calling Max “babe” like they’d been married for years.

Thursday was a whirlwind—two girls, both of whom Max forgot to introduce. One of them waved awkwardly at Noah as they left, heels clicking on the tile floor.

By Friday, Noah wasn’t even fazed. He sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal while Max brewed coffee, shirtless and looking entirely too smug for a guy running on five hours of sleep.

“How?” Noah finally said, his spoon clinking against the bowl.

Max glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “How what?”

“You know.” Noah waved vaguely toward the hallway where yet another pair of heels had disappeared moments ago. “Them. How do you...?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he poured his coffee. “Not that complicated.” He took a sip, leaning against the counter like he was about to deliver some ancient wisdom. “They like fast cars and big dreams. I’ve got both.”

Noah squinted at him. “Yeah, but don’t they know what they’re getting into? Like...you’re not exactly giving ��dad of the year’ vibes.”

Max laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Oh, they know. Trust me, they all think they’re the one who’s gonna ‘change me.’” He set his mug down, smirking. “Spoiler alert: they’re not.”

Noah frowned, stirring his cereal. “Doesn’t it get old?”

“What?”

“The whole thing. Girls coming and going. Don’t you ever want...I don’t know, something normal?”

Max tilted his head, studying him for a second. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, why are you so interested? You got someone back in the States?”

Noah snorted. “No. Not unless you count my English teacher who used to give me extra credit just to stop talking in class.”

Max grinned, pushing off the counter. “Smart kid. Learn from me, though—don’t waste your charm on teachers. Save it for someone who can actually keep up.”

Noah rolled his eyes, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” Max said, raising his coffee in a mock toast, “I’m still your dad. Crazy how that works.”

Noah shook his head, walking out of the kitchen. But as he headed toward his room, he caught himself smirking. Max was a mess—there was no denying that. But, annoyingly, there was something kind of fascinating about watching him pull it off.

He had to give him some respect. Three time world champion but he lived his life like an unbothered bachelor that didn’t have a multi-million contract under his belt.

Two days later, Max was standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to decide between a black shirt and a white graphic tee. He ended up tossing the black top onto the bed, shrugging into the white tee. His phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from the group chat reminding him that their table was already reserved at Jimmy’s.

Max grabbed his watch and headed toward the living room, adjusting it as he walked. Noah was sprawled on the couch, scrolling his phone with the kind of disinterested focus only teenagers could pull off.

“You wanna come?” Max asked casually, pulling his car keys from the counter.

Noah didn’t even look up. “I’m seventeen.”

Max leaned against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m Max Verstappen.”

Noah gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, that’s not how laws work.”

Max stepped into the room, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with one hand. “Relax, kid. You’re with me. No one’s checking your ID.” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Unless you want to stay here and eat more cereal while I’m out having the time of my life.”

Noah hesitated, sitting up slightly. “What, and hang out with you and your harem of club girls? Hard pass.”

Max grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s not just girls. My friends will be there. Good music, good drinks, a little chaos. You could use some chaos.”

Noah snorted. “I don’t think I fit your ‘chaos’ aesthetic.”

Max walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to fit. You just show up, keep your head up, and let the good times come to you. Trust me, kid—it’s not rocket science.”

Noah looked at him, torn between scepticism and curiosity. “And if I hate it?”

“Then you call it a night, and we’ll come back. No harm, no foul.” Max shrugged. “But at least you’ll know what you’re missing.”

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anyone tries to buy me a drink, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Max grinned, slapping him on the back. “Now, go change. You’re not wearing that.” He gestured vaguely at Noah’s hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s not wrong; it’s tragic. Go put on something that says, ‘I’m seventeen, but I could still be cooler than you.’”

Noah rolled his eyes but got up and headed toward his room. Max leaned back against the couch, chuckling to himself. This was either going to be a disaster or the most fun he’d had in weeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah emerged in dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked.

Max whistled. “There you go. Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t push it,” Noah muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the elevator. “Welcome to the good life. Try to keep up.”

Jimmy’z was everything Noah expected and nothing he was prepared for. The place was loud, packed, and drenched in neon lights that pulsed to the bass of some remix he didn’t recognise. Max walked in like he owned it, breezing past the bouncers and slapping hands with a few familiar faces on his way to their table.

The VIP section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A couple of Max’s friends were already there, leaning back with drinks in hand, laughing at some story one of them was telling.

Max clapped a hand on Lando's shoulder, said something about ordering another round, and then turned to Noah with a grin. “Alright, kid. First drink’s on me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to drink?” Noah muttered, looking around nervously.

“You’re not supposed to get caught drinking,” Max corrected, flagging down a waitress. “Two rum and cokes. Easy on the rum for him,” he added with a wink.

Noah sat awkwardly, trying to ignore the curious glances from Max’s friends. When the drinks came, Max slid one across the table. “Here. Cheers.”

Noah picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, immediately grimacing. “This tastes like gasoline.”

Max burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own drink. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a milkshake, but you’ll get used to it.”

Noah frowned but kept sipping, each drink slightly less terrible than the last. By the time the glass was empty, he didn’t hate it—but he definitely wasn’t in a hurry for another.

“Alright,” Max said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Time for your next lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“Yeah.” Max grinned, nodding toward the dance floor where a group of girls was laughing and swaying to the music. “How to get a girl.”

Noah blinked at him. “I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re eighteen in three weeks,” Max shot back, smirking.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know that?”

Max sipped his drink, looking almost offended. “I pay attention. I’m not that bad of a father, you know.”

Noah snorted. “Debatable.”

“Hey, come on,” Max said, leaning forward and pointing at him with his glass. “I’ve got three weeks to turn you into someone who doesn’t spend prom night sitting in the corner playing Angry Birds. Let me work my magic.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Noah mumbled.

“Exactly my point.” Max gestured to the dance floor. “Now, watch and learn.”

Noah shook his head, but he couldn’t help smirking. Watching Max in his element was like watching a lion stalk the savanna. Ridiculous, over-the-top, and somehow annoyingly effective.

Noah leaned back in the plush booth, his gaze flicking nervously between the drink in his hand and the dance floor. “This feels illegal,” he muttered under his breath.

Max, already halfway through his second rum and coke, let out a loud laugh that turned a few heads. “Illegal? We’re in Monaco.” He gestured broadly at the glittering club around them, as if the name alone erased all laws. “The girls here don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re pretty enough.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’m not?”

Max leaned forward, smirking. “You’re my son, so of course you are. Trust me, kid, you’ve got the genes. Now, you just need the confidence to back it up.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, sure. Because confidence is something you can just magically summon.”

“Exactly,” Max said, snapping his fingers like it was that simple. “It’s all in the attitude. Look, you don’t need to be the smartest or the funniest guy in the room. You just need to act like you know something they don’t. Makes them curious. Curiosity’s half the battle.”

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”

Max grinned, sitting back and gesturing to the waitress for another round. “And yet, here I am. Multi-millionaire. World champion. Living proof it works.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” Noah hesitated, then gestured vaguely at Max’s whole presence. “You.”

“Exactly. And you’re half me. Which means you’ve already got a head start.” Max leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting Noah in on a secret. “Here’s the trick: don’t overthink it. If you go out there looking like you’ve got something to prove, you’ll scare ‘em off. Just...be cool.”

“Cool,” Noah repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice.”

Max smirked, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But if I come back with two numbers before you even finish that drink, you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head as Max strolled off toward the dance floor, impossibly confident and infuriatingly charismatic. It was hard not to admire it, even if it made him feel like an awkward kid in comparison.

He stared down at his empty glass, debating whether to order another drink or just leave, when a girl about his age walked past and glanced his way. She gave him a small smile, and Noah froze, his heart racing.

Max’s words echoed in his head. “Just act like you know something they don’t.”

Noah took a deep breath, set his empty glass on the table, and stood up. His palms felt clammy, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit back down. But then he caught Max watching from the floor with an infuriating smirk before turning to whichever woman he was talking to this time.

Don’t overthink it, Noah reminded himself. Just be cool.

The girl was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a friend, laughing at something on her phone. She looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him in curiosity.

“Hey,” Noah said, trying to sound casual. “You looked like you needed saving from a bad joke.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And you’re the knight in shining armour?”

“Something like that,” Noah said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Or at least I’m not the guy who made you laugh like that.”

Her smile widened, and her friend nudged her playfully before disappearing toward the bar. “Smooth,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you use that line often?”

“First time, actually,” Noah admitted, his lips twitching into a nervous grin.

The honesty seemed to win her over. They started talking—light, easy banter—and before Noah knew it, she was laughing at something he’d said about his dad being a “professional bad influence.”

From the booth, Max had a clear view of the whole thing. He nudged Lando, grinning like a proud idiot. “Lan, look!” He pointed toward the dance floor. “The son of a bitch did it!”

Lando squinted, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “He’s my kid. Of course he’s got it in him.”

Noah returned to the table a while later, looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen, and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his cheek.

Max raised his glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy!”

Noah slid into the booth, trying to suppress a grin. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Max said, slapping him on the back. “You’re officially part of the club now.”

Lando smirked. “Better keep an eye on him, Max. He’s almost got more potential than you.”

“Potential? He’s a damn prodigy,” Max joked, laughing. “First drink, first girl, all in one night. Kid’s got a better batting average than I did at his age.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. As much as his dad’s teasing drove him crazy, there was something undeniably cool about seeing Max so proud.

“Alright,” Max said, clapping his hands together. “Now that you’ve got your feet wet, let’s see if you can do it again.”

Noah shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “But just so you know—you’ve officially graduated from boring.”

For once, Noah didn’t argue.

the end.

348 notes · View notes

darlingdaisyfarm · 18 hours ago

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hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. except him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .”

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

��Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

#I NEED THIS OLD MAN #smut #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #stan pines #stanley pines smut #grunkle stan #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #stan pines x you #stanley pines x you #stanley pines x reader #gravity falls headcanons

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3igbootyl0ver · 1 day ago

Text

A New Face (Pt.4) | Home

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: after eight months, you and Tara are closer than ever. Her playful texts pull you away from a project, and you spend the night cuddling, reassuring her you're not going anywhere.

word count: 981

a/n: hi guys this is literally so short bc I didn't want to ruin it + I'm already working on another part for who hurt you. this can read as a oneshot by itself hence the extra title; anyways I hope u guys like it, any feedback is appreciated and I'm proud of myself for figuring out how to do this collage thing below xoxo

It’s been 8 months since you and Tara went on your first date and started dating; since then, you’ve shared countless memories, learned more about each other than you ever expected, and your bond only has deepened, making you both excited to see what the future holds together. There’s been a mix of growth, fun and intimate moments; and although there’s a few challenges, there’s always playfulness and banter in the relationship.

Tonight, you’re focused on finishing your project, eager to submit it at least a day before the deadline so you won’t have to rush and send in poor quality work. But then, a ping on your phone distracts you.

Tara <3

can you come over? i miss you and I’m bored

Sent at 11.45pm

You

sorry babe, I can’t. i have a project due in a few days

Sent at 11.47pm

Tara <3

guess i’ll just sit in bed..alone,cold

all by myself

w nobody to cuddle with. allll alone

You

oh shut up I’m putting my shoes on

Sent at 11.55pm

This usual banter happens often. Honestly, you didn’t mind how clingy Tara is, you knew what the younger Carpenter has been through. She decided to let you know about her past after a month of dating, with what happened to her and the core four a year ago; and you comforted her with cuddles and kisses with soft whispers for being brave and having to go through all of that.

It’s almost midnight, but the way Tara’s playful messages cut through the tranquil night, it’s hard not to smile. You know her well enough to recognize when she’s pretending to be dramatic—and when she’s genuinely feeling a little lonely or vulnerable.The little banter between the two of you has become a ritual, a comfort. But beneath it all, there’s that deep understanding of each other’s lives, pasts, and fears. You know Tara’s history, and you know she’s been through a lot. You could never understand how anyone would willingly put her in harms way. A single glance from her could make you melt into a puddle, as if the weight of the world disappeared in the softness of her eyes, leaving you both grounded and utterly undone at the same time.

You know that when you get to her place, all the tension in your body will melt away. As you head out, a small part of you can’t help but reflect on how far you’ve both come in just eight months—how much you’ve both grown together. Every little moment, where you can simply drop everything and be there for each other, makes all the difference.

Tara’s got a special place in your heart, and tonight, it’s all about making her feel seen, heard, and loved. For so long, the idea of "home" felt like a distant concept, something that belonged to a life you couldn’t fully reclaim after your parents passed. You thought you’d never feel settled again, that kind of deep connection, the feeling of being truly seen and understood. But with Tara, it’s different. It’s effortless, the way she makes you feel both grounded and free. Her presence fills spaces in your heart you didn’t know were empty.

As you may your way to her place, a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. It’s funny how simply being with her, in her space, cuddling under the blankets, or sharing small moments of laughter, feels more like home than anything else ever has. When you knock on her door, she’s already standing there, as if she already felt your presence from a block away; wrapped in a blanket, her hair falling messily around her face, and that familiar twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “You’re late,” she teases, her voice a soft mixture of playfulness and a hint of relief. Ever since you both got together, Tara’s been more anxious, fearing that Ghostface might pop out and take you from her. She’s expressed her concerns to you, and you’ve made sure to constantly remind her that you aren’t going anywhere. “I’m not going anywhere, Tara— you’re stuck with me, no matter what.” Besides, you don’t mind constantly texting her and sending pictures of whatever you’re up to.

“Lay with me? Please?” You fold almost instantly, allowing her to pull you into her bedroom while making sure to keep quiet, since Sam is asleep. Just as you settle onto her bed beside her, Tara does her little grabby hands and you pull her against you, her legs over yours and hugged your torso, resting her head and smiling into your shoulder, inhaling your scent as she had always associated you with safety. You smiled fondly, caressing her thigh with your hand before leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. Tara’s eyes fluttered at the gesture, and you can feel your heart soar at how adorable she is.

“I love you, so, so much. Did you know that?” You whispered close to her forehead. The warmth of your whisper sent a gentle shiver down her spine. “I know, but I don’t mind hearing you say it again, and again..” You chuckled softly at her statement.

“I don’t mind it either, because I’ll keep saying it; every day if I have to” You smiled softly, the words lingering between you.

Before you could say more, she pressed her lips to yours, soft and gentle—the familiar taste of strawberry from her lip balm making you sigh in content. The kiss was warm, comforting, like coming home. When she pulled back, her eyes fluttered open, a shy smile tugging at her corner of her lips. “I love you more,” she whispered, her breath mingling with yours.

It was safe to say that you didn’t manage to finish your project anytime soon. But with Tara in your arms, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

--------------------

a/n: i hope this is enough for ya'll bc i literally couldn't figure out a way to continue without it being too draggy and boring. fyi 'who hurt you' pt 2 should be coming out in 2 days hopefully idk AND idk how this taglist thing works so lmk if you'd be interested in it

taglist: @bella423

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x y #scream

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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 2 days ago

Text

Vampiric Thirst

(Old note: Throws this at you guys. Haven’t written in a while. I don’t know if that will change, but I couldn’t help but make this after the whole vampire event. Once more I end up disappointed by Obey Me events. I really need to lower my standards like I do for Ark, because as fun as the concepts can be, every event ends up feeling rushed and half-baked. They’re not gonna stop though because suckers like me will pay money for a dopamine hit because I have no meaning in life.

New note: Obviously taking some liberties to make it so that Solomon does actually have vampiric urges rather than just being a horndog because this game is literally mostly horny, but I crave plot and substance and have no interest in horny. Maybe I don’t want to fuck anyone, maybe I want actual stakes and near-death because if there’s no threat of dying, then what’s the point of living? Anyways, have something started last July, haha. It’s short, but I want it out of my WIP pile where it’s been judging me from the goddamn corner. I have a bunch of lore ideas with this given the events status being introduced after Nightbringers release, but I won’t get into it cause I’d need to refresh myself on OM.)

Word count: 3668

TW/CW: Soft, safe, nonsexual G/t vore, fearplay, blood, bloodsucking (I hate any word with suck in it, but it’s in here), prey in a stomach full of blood

__________________________________________________________

“Because I’m always craving you, Kat. So much so that I honestly could devour you.”

That… hadn’t really been what I had expected when I asked him why he seemed to be acting odd today when he walked into my room at Cocytus Hall to give me something, kind of freezing when some sort of realization went over him.

I couldn’t help the way my heart picked up the pace anxiously, despite having come across multiple situations similar to this one. Seeing Solomon with a similar hunger to Beel that was uncharacteristic of him made my anxiety spike a bit. “Buuut, you’re not. Right,” I asked nervously, unable to NOT notice the way his eyes glowed slightly as I lowered the book I’d been reading. I couldn’t help but keep my desk chair facing him, something instinctive decidedly not wanting to turn my back to him despite having been in far worse situations.

It didn’t seem to matter much as he touched his throat lightly, stepping slightly closer and replying, “I don’t think I could actually stop myself if I wanted if this keeps up… Kat, I know this is a sudden request but… would you mind if I drank some of your blood?”

“Wha- blood?” I blinked a bit in surprise, feeling a slight epiphany as I realized. “Ooh! I thought Vampiritis couldn’t affect you. Or did your hubris come to bite you?”

I intended no pun, but Solomon still let out a snort of amusement, though he also looked a tad sheepish like I had hit the nail on the head. I had told him that he should still be careful with the brothers himself, but he’d mostly brushed me off and said that he needed to keep his ‘precious apprentice’ from either catching Vampiritis or becoming a human-sized CapriSun to the afflicted demon brothers while that whole situation was figured out. But, it seemed like his rather attentive nature to me hadn’t extended to himself and he ended up contracting Vampiritis despite all boisterous assurances that he wouldn’t.

“Unfortunately, it appears that being around the brothers so much has infected me,” the sorcerer sighed, looking a bit dejected at having contracted the disease. His eyes seemed slightly glazed over and unfocused like he wasn’t fully in the conversation.

“Well, Barbatos might still have some of the antidote,” I replied, seeing him perk up slightly at the reminder, eyes refocusing with his normal clarity from the pretty obvious distractions on his mind. I set my book down on my desk and started to get up, adding, “I'm sure Diavolo will be able to-."

I yelped when there was a sudden weight against my shoulder and I was shoved back into my chair, looking up at Solomon with startled eyes. His own glowed slightly as he unintentionally loomed over me, looking caught off guard at his own actions.

“Uuuuh, Solomon?”

“I'm a bit a-... worried that I may not be able to hold back against my current thirst on the way to Diavolo or Barbatos,” Solomon admitted. “I'm afraid that if something isn't done NOW that I'll quite literally see red.”

“Really? Did you really try to make a shitty joke in the current situation,” I asked, but I couldn't make myself add any bite to it. His grip on my shoulder was firm and I could feel it tightening slightly each second, able to feel the shake in his grasp. Feeling overly aware of him with the proximity, I could barely hear the slight pant beneath his breath. I took a steadying breath of my own. “Look, I'll give you a LITTLE bit of blood. Just enough to hopefully ebb the hunger pangs, alright? Then we can go to Diavolo with your mind clearer.”

He jolted slightly at my suggestion, or maybe it was just my voice, and a conflicted expression passed across his face. He opened his mouth to say something but it didn’t come out for a few seconds, straining before saying, “I… Yes. Yes, perhaps that will help abate the hunger.”

I didn’t like how he hesitated as he said it or how his expression looked both extremely guilty and eager. But, despite the anxious feeling settling in my gut, I trusted him. To a point.

“Alright, well, first of all, you gotta back up a bit there, bud,” I planted a hand against his chest and shoved at him. His lips twitched in the barest frown before allowing himself to be pushed back away from me, giving me some much needed breathing room and some relief from being pinned by my shoulder to the chair. Absentmindedly rubbing the back of my neck, I thought aloud, “I kind of don't really trust you with my neck, so we're gonna go with… a wrist, I think, yeah.”

“R-Right.” Solomon looked like he was barely paying attention, hands shaking slightly as he bit his lip, seemingly trying to keep his mind clear enough. I saw a bead of his own blood from it.

I reached down and began to roll my sleeves up nervously, only slightly comforted by the sight of the protective charm on my right wrist. Once my sleeves were rolled I felt a bit awkward as I kind of held both out towards him. “Uhhhh, take your pick, I guess. Just don't bite too deep? I'm not sure if you could break my wrists by biting them, but I'd like to not test that too much.”

“I'll do my best,” Solomon presumably tried to give me a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace. He gave up pretty quickly and carefully grabbed my left wrist like it'd snap at his touch. If Vampiritis gave him the cliche super-strength that movie vampires had, maybe it was for the best.

I was a bit surprised when the sorcerer kneeled to get better access to my wrist, feeling more than a little awkward - I probably should have stood up or figured something else out before offering my blood to him since he wasn't really in the headspace to think clearly - but the awkwardness was tempered by a familiar squeamishness that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was similar to, but wasn't quite as bad as, the nauseous anxiety I felt anytime I had to get my blood drawn or a shot.

I managed to watch as Solomon raised my wrist slightly to his face, saw him open his mouth to reveal a glimpse of the elongated canines that were a symptom of Vampiritis and felt a bit of his breath against my skin. But I felt myself pale right as he opened his jaws wider and averted my gaze before he bit down, warned by the slight tensing of his hold on my wrist.

There were two points of pain that suddenly bloomed along my wrist vein as the skin was pierced, making me yelp and stiffen. I managed to mostly resist the urge to pull away as I bit down on my tongue, but my heart skipped a beat as a twitch from my arm told me that he probably wouldn't have budged if I had tried to pull away properly.

I swallowed thickly, wondering if he could taste adrenaline in my quickened pulse for a moment before the pain in my wrist faded startlingly quickly. It was cold and numb, like novocaine to my system, and I couldn't help but blink in surprise and look back.

Only to immediately avert my gaze again with a fresh wave of dizziness and queasiness.

"Okay, nope," I muttered to myself, trying to push aside the image of Solomon latched onto my wrist with a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and an almost blissful close-eyed expression out of my head. At least one of us was having fun.

Thankfully, it wasn't too long before I heard the small gasp and slight panting as he detached from me. It had maybe been several seconds, probably enough for a full mouthful or two with the smaller veins in my wrist compared to my throat, but it had felt awfully long, and I felt the lingering squeamishness that I knew would remain for the rest of the day.

"I hope that helped clear your head a bit," I pulled my wrist back to myself and gingerly touched a finger to the two beading puncture wounds as I started to turn my head to look at Solomon. My hand had a pins and needles feeling. "I was a bit worried you'd-."

My voice immediately became muffled as my mouth was covered by a hand, eyes widening and crying out in surprise when the force of Solomon lunging upward caused the desk chair to fall back. It hit the desk edge first before sliding to the ground, rattling my skull as the chair back hit the ground, making me grunt from the fall and ending up pinned beneath the feral sorcerer.

"Mmph!" I blinked away my brief daze, looking up at Solomon's face in the shadow of the desk as panic flared across my pacts. His slightly glowing blue eyes were replaced by an intense red and I could see streaks of my own blood from the corners of his mouth. The feral looking expression was something I'd never seen in him before, but I couldn't summon anyone or use a spell with my mouth currently covered.

There was a sharp tug against my neck as my choker was broken off, jolting me from my frozen shock. I squirmed and bucked beneath the sorcerer, twisting up and elbowing him in the face. The man HISSED at me and I took advantage of his surprise to shove his hand off of my mouth. Kicking at his chest to push him off me and retreat further beneath the desk, I began to recite a summoning spell.

"Hear me and heed my call," I exclaimed as quick and clear as I could, feeling a pressure behind my eye. Solomon was sat from where I'd pushed him back, hand against his cheekbone where I'd struck him. His expression went from indignant surprise to one of uncharacteristic, raw fury. I saw him tense like a coil before trying to push forward off the ground to lunge towards me again. I quickly raised my leg, shoe planting firmly against his chest as it barely stopped him, knee almost buckling painfully against the force. “In the name of the sorcerer Katherine, I draw upon my pact with the ring of li-GHT!”

My voice hitched as Solomon grabbed the ankle of the foot against his chest, pulling it to the side and yanking me closer. My heart raced, gritting my teeth as we scuffled in the cramped space beneath the desk. I tried to not fuck up saying the summon, while trying to stop him from stopping ME from saying it, while also trying to get my foot loose and scramble further back again.

“Come forth, Mam-mphf!” I narrowed my eyes and grunted as Solomon let go of my ankle and managed to wrestle both of my wrists in one hand, covering my mouth again with his other. The pressure that had been building behind my eye fizzled out and disappeared dead in its tracks.

The sorcerer wasted no time in descending on me, making me gasp in pain as my throat was bitten. I squirmed but could do nothing as restrained as I was, my pained panting lessening as the numbing began to settle in my neck, my hand still tingling from loss of feeling in the wrist. I heard the first swallow as he began to drink greedily and felt a rush of lightheadedness. Lightheadedness that lingered as more blood was stolen and less was able to reach my head properly, making my thrashing lessen alarmingly fast.

I tried to call out Solomon’s name, to try and appeal to him past the feral fervor that had overtaken him. But, of course, it came out as an easily ignored muffled shout that I barely heard over the blood rushing in my own ears and the sound of gulping.

Time slowed painfully as I remained pinned beneath the sorcerer, the lightheadedness and weak feeling in my body increasing every second. My limbs felt more and more like lead until my arms simply hung by my wrists in Solomon’s hold, now struggling to just keep my eyes open and focus on the wooden grain of the desk underside above, trying to not pass out with the fear that if I closed my eyes that I wouldn’t open them again. However, even that became too much effort and my eyelids slid closed.

I felt cold and tired.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed with my eyes closed but I realized that I was being nudged, barely able to focus on the voice, “Sh-Shit, Kat? Kat?!”

“Nnngh,” I groaned at being nudged again, eyelids twitching a few times before I managed to groggily force them open. My sight was blurry and I had to clear it with a couple blinks to look up at Solomon, who gazed down in worried panic with slightly glowing blue eyes rather than the red from before. I just felt an overwhelming wave of relief at seeing that he seemed to have come to. “Oh, thank god..”

I let out a relieved sigh, eyes closing again tiredly, adrenaline either long gone or drained and feeling exhausted relief at seeing Solomon alright. My brow twitched and furrowed as I was shaken, struggling to get out of the dazed stupor I’d almost immediately fallen into without realizing it.

I just wanted to sleep now, man, leave me alone.

“Come on, stay with me,” Solomon said, something brushing against my neck as he murmured some words under his breath. “I can’t have my adorable apprentice dying on me.”

“Mmmn-n-not adorable,” I grumbled weakly, managing to open an eye in an attempt to glare at him. He pulled his hand away from my neck and the glow of a healing spell dissipated in his palm. The healing spell didn’t clear away the blood on his hand and chin, making me wonder how bad I looked if HE looked this disheveled and blood-covered.

“I can’t believe that worked. You’re ridiculous,” the sorcerer laughed, but it was strained. He reached for something nearby and muttered another spell, adding louder, “Just try and stay awake while I try to fix this before the bloodlust becomes unbearable again. If this is how Beel feels all the time, no wonder he goes mad with hunger as often as he does…”

I groaned in acknowledgement, fighting to keep my eye open. I gave up and lifted a lead-heavy arm to drape lethargically over my eyes. “How much blood can I lose before dying?”

“Well, the average person can lose up to a fifth of their blood on average before going into complete shock. However, more than forty percent is almost certainly lethal.”

My lips pursed at the information, quiet for a few seconds before lifting my arm slightly from my eyes to peer at him and mumbling, “I don’t like that you just know that.”

“You did ask,” Solomon replied lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He seemed satisfied with whatever he cast and started reaching for my neck again. His expression fell when I involuntarily flinched slightly away from his hands.

“I-... s-sorry…”

“No. No, it’s… understandable,” he sighed slightly, grabbing my other wrist instead. My hand curled defensively as he lifted it up and tied my choker around the wrist.

I let out a surprised noise as I felt a sudden surge of energy and slight warmth, having not realized how chilled I was with my lack of blood. Not enough to be jumping up and down or anything, but I didn’t feel like I was about to die anymore. I blinked at not feeling like death and gave Solomon a bleary quizzical look.

“It’s to magically help your blood levels. I can’t make something from nothing, especially in my mental state right now, but it'll keep you from dying to blood loss,” Solomon explained, giving me a guilty, apologetic, and shameful expression. He sighed and I felt like his eyes flickered for a second. “It's also to help you breathe and hopefully keep you clean.”

“Solomon. I don't like that you said that…,” I narrowed my eyes at him and shifted to try and push myself into a sitting position, yelping when my elbows buckled beneath me. Yup, still too weak to move much.

“Don't strain yourself,” a hand planted against my shoulder to keep me down as the sorcerer looked at me with concern. He tried to give me a reassuring smile despite the obvious mental strain it was taking him to maintain control.

Probably would have been more effective if there wasn't a slight discoloration on his face where I'd elbowed him as bruising started setting in, he hadn't literally just overpowered me, was on the verge of relapsing, and we were both covered in my own blood. In my slightly delirious state, I had to internally admit that it was quite a look.

“Sol-.”

“It's nothing you haven't handled before,” the sorcerer continued, interrupting whatever further protests or questions I had before he started reciting the now very familiar shrinking spell I’d grown accustomed to hearing from the brothers.

Almost immediately the lightheadedness and vertigo took over, dazing me and making my vision swim. I barely registered the sensation of being lifted from the ground, my eyesight refocusing in time to see Solomon’s mouth open above me. The elongated canines that had punctured my skin minutes prior now framed the dark confines of his bloodstained jaws and the warm, shaky exhale that washed over me was saturated with the scent of iron. My heart skipped a beat.

I knew any protest or words would fall on deaf ears but as I was lifted closer to Solomon’s open mouth with his tongue extending slightly to lay over his lower teeth I couldn’t help but weakly say, “If this ends up killing me, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

There was another, sharper exhale from the sorcerer and a slight upturn at the corner of his lips before I was transferred from his palm to the slick, textured surface of his tongue, the muscle curling behind me and drawing me into his jaws. Saliva instantly soaked into my clothes as teeth lightly clicked shut behind me to leave me in darkness, able to hear and feel everything around me flex as Solomon instinctively swallowed some excess saliva.

His breathing was more noticeably ragged from within his jaws, huffing as his tongue quivered beneath me. I was confused, laying in a tired daze and wondering why nothing was moving, used to being tasted, sometimes with aggressive fervor. From the way I could feel drool pooling beneath my back I could tell that I was appealing to him, but the question of whether or not it was brought on by the Vampiritis would have to wait until later. I realized when his tongue only gingerly lapped at me a couple times before gravity began to shift that he seemed to be desperately holding himself back.

“Right,” I mumbled, letting myself slide toward the back of his throat. “Kind of attacked me.”

Solomon probably didn’t want to hurt me more.

I grunted slightly as a swallow quickly dragged me into his gullet and more hastened my descent down his esophagus, breathing restricted by the tight confines and each inhale laced with the tang of blood. Slipping past the collarbone was more constrictive and I was able to hear the sorcerer let out an exhale of relief, felt the odd sensation of being tightly hugged on all sides by peristalsis pulling me yet able to discern the sensation of him leaning forward slightly.

“I can’t tell how much of it is the Vampiritis but… this is unnervingly satisfying,” he admitted, voice resonating down to my bones in my descent. “I really hope you’ll be able to breathe. I guess I’ll find out if you don’t flail.”

There he went, mentioning breathing again. I was almost confused but as I felt the slight pressure beneath me that precluded spilling into a stomach, I realized that he quite literally had his fill of me. There wasn’t even a splash as I was forced into the organ, just slipping into a chamber of blood that I was thankful I couldn’t see. Whatever he did to my choker was allowing me to breathe, which I was thankful for considering I hadn’t exactly braced myself to hold my breath, and oddly enough each inhale was clean air instead of iron-saturated liquid. Potentially some sort of personal breathing bubble, I wasn’t exactly going to summon a light source in here.

“You’re good, Solomon,” I mustered the energy to shout up, feeling for the nearest stomach wall in the space expanded with my own blood. I tried not to think about it too much.

“Thank goodness,” Solomon let out a sigh of relief. Everything sort of sloshed around as he moved, the force of him shifting and standing up making me sink a little. “It seems eating you has tempered the bloodlust slightly. I was worried that I was going to drain you, felt like I was starving and greedy even though I feel full. Now, to get Barbatos and-.”

Solomon was interrupted by the sound of the door breaking open and slamming against the wall, Mammon’s voice shouting in a panic, “KAT!”

“Uh oh.” Solomon and I muttered at the same time.

“I assure you, this looks far worse than it is,” Solomon told Mammon, and considering how bloody and disheveled the sorcerer and my room was, I didn’t think the demon would believe that.

All I could do was wish Solomon luck and prepare to potentially be sloshed around.

#g/t vore #safe vore #soft vore #cinnwrites #shall we vore #obey me solomon #om solomon #g/t

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