#something about him just fuckin. brands people with him

[gorillagorillagorillagorilla]

There is something so fucking wild about johnny being so influential on the people he spent time around that even after 50 years they still recognize him INSTANTLY. EVEN IN SOMEONE ELSES BODY, EVEN BY THE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO MOVE ON

Like fuck, rogue had broken up with him, alt told him to fuck off as soon as he'd found her, even Kerry and him were on shitty terms at the end. But they all fucking respond, they know it's him the instant they see him. Alt didn't have to even acknowledge him, could've totally ignored his presence beyond the blackwall, but she doesn't! She shows right the fuck up! Even after all the shit he's done to Kerry and Rogue they still want to relive when he made them happy! Even when they know it's not gonna last or it's not gonna help.

And sure it's been 50 years so rose colored glasses and all that but fuck. It's been 50 years. And even though they've all been doing their own things and (trying) to move past him they still recognize him the INSTANT he's back

[bunnyrafe]

gassppp bf rafe dragging reader out of a party theyre at after threatening to fight a girl- who she saw practically eye-fucking him :0

does that make any sense 😭

the way i did a little dance while reading this because ABSOLUTELY… reader who does not play about her rafey.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 500 f / kook!reader, partying, mentions of drinking & drug use, rafe has met his match, daddy kink, suggestive.

you’re not one to fly off the handle. in fact the first thing people often say about you is how sweet you are. the sweetest girl who loves to party, loves expensive things and being taken care of. that’s how you won over rafe’s heart. perfect for him in every way, even when your nasty temper does happen to make an appearance.

at first, you don’t think much of it when you catch her eyes rake up and down rafe’s form. your vision is bleary due to everything in your system. a few drinks, one or two puffs of rafe’s joint— the usual. maybe you’re seeing things. actually you must be seeing things; there’s no way she’s this fuckin' dumb to salivate over him right in front of you, as you cling to his side and press your glossed lips to his neck.

unbeknownst to you rafe follows your gaze, rolling his eyes when they land on the girl in question. he ducks his head so he can grumble in your ear, squeezing your hip through the material of your pretty party dress in the process— “ignore her, baby.”

“do you know her?” you’re quick to ask.

rafe’s face twists up, “fuck no.”

“good.”

everything’s peachy as it should be until rafe gets up from your side— once he’s up, he leans back down and plants a sweet kiss to your lips. one that makes you grab at him for more, expecting him to pull you away with him to a more private room. instead he whispers against your lips, mimicking your pout— “i gotta go get something, bunny.”

you nod obediently, but don’t let go of his hand until you absolutely have to. “be good,” he mouths to you.

and honestly, that was your plan. to be good. to wait for him like you were meant to. you don’t remember getting up from your spot on the sofa, you don’t remember stomping over to her in your brand new heels. but you do recall seeing her make a move, eyes glued to your boyfriend as he weaves through the crowded house, ready to follow after him.

there are a few voices surrounding you, calling for rafe “cameron, come get your girl.” that was mere moments before you felt his arms wrap around you, tugging you away while you continued to shout and nearly full on bark like some over territorial puppy— “i’ll kill you, bitch.”

of course you didn’t mean it… well. a tiny part of you did.

you keep your arms folded against your chest. rafe’s jacket hangs off of your shoulders as you sit in the passenger seat of his truck. frowning so hard that your cheeks hurt. any kind of buzz or high you’ve had has completely worn off, but sparks go off when your boyfriend grabs at your thigh with a big warm hand, reassuringly rubbing his palm over your skin. he clears his throat, huffing a laugh through his nose… “i mean— all things considered, that was pretty hot.”

“shut up.” you grit through your teeth, drowning in embarrassment.

“nah,” rafe grins, “i’m serious, baby. you’re just— just a little protective over your daddy, nothin’ wrong with that.”

you hang off of every word, happy to still have his approval after your stunt. yeah. he’s right. there truly is nothing wrong with that… and you intend to show him just how much you’re obsessed with him when you two get back to his place.

[bunnys-kisses]

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ mad(ly in love) max｡ ⊹˚.⋆

partially inspired by this by @angldelight before it got away from me! <3

max knew you looked better in blue than red. and if you did look good in red, it was the red of the his team rather than the garish red of ferrari. he believed the statement that everyone is a ferrari fan even if they don't know it, because if they saw a photo of you, they'd have brand loyalty to the stallion for the rest of their days.

there was a reason why your face and name were everywhere in your home country. you were a pride and joy to the nation you called home. but, max was more than happy to stake a claim on you.

max liked you because you challenged him. far too many women would bend over backwards for the three time champion, but you simply glared him down with your hands on your hips. you stood toe to toe with him even if there was a height difference. but you kept your gaze steady on him.

"don't fuck me over again." you said, "or you'll regret it."

"i would never do it on purpose, princess. maybe you should watch where you are going from now on." he bite back in response. he noticed a twitch in your hand, like you wanted to grab him by the front of his driver's suit and pull him close. either for a punch or a kiss.

it would eventually lead in kisses. max liked when you were mad because then that meant he could flip the script and get ferrari's little princess on her knees with a mouthful of verstappen cock. it was honestly cute, while he wanted to dive into your sweet cunt and make your insides sticky with his cum. he'd have to make you acquainted with his size.

max verstappen was fuckin' crazy though, being involved with him was like being a deer and getting your leg caught in a trap. the type of obsession that clamped around you, dug its teeth into your fragile skin. you were so cute though, something some delicate and soft. formula one was for the toughest, the mental and physical strain of it all (that could be why he was so... off). and while max believed in you, he worried.

where you were going, who you were with. you hadn't only been in monaco for a few years and while you had the likes of charles to help you around. when he heard about men you had met, max felt something curl inside of him.

it started inauspicious. he slipped an air tag into the back pocket of your jeans while you were in your driver's room getting ready for dinner with some guy that max couldn't even remember the name of. he was all smiles as he wished you a great time.

too bad there was an issue with your car. how could you have a flat tire already, you just got the car? and when you asked your date to come pick you up, he totally ghosted you. little did you know that while you were struggling with you car, max went to meet your date and give him a few firm words. that was when the real mad max came out.

"listen mate. you're never going to give her what she needs. hell, not even what she wants. there are plenty of fish in the sea." he got a little closer to the other man, "but you can't have her."

"why?" your date swallowed.

max nodded and flashed that winning smile, "because she's mine. and i know she may have talked so nice to you. she's like that. charming. but sadly she's taken. so i think it's in everyone's best interest that you delete her number and go back to finding your perfect match." he patted the man on the shoulder like they were buddies.

"and if i don't."

max's smile only grew, "i don't like people fucking what's mine. she's taken, mate. move on." he couldn't verbalize exactly how he'd rough up the other man. he didn't want to make headlines. but there was something in his gaze that made your date high tail it out of there. your number blocked and deleted.

max then used the air tag to find you at a bar close to your flat where you were drinking away your sorrows. but, don't worry about that! max was now here to make sure that you had the best night ever. while that meant ending up drunk and curled up in his bed, but he didn't mind. he was even a gentleman and created a barrier of pillows between the two of you. no funny business. even if he wanted to. when he eventually fucked you, he wanted you conscious.

that air tag would come in handy, turns out that you wore the same pair of black levi's jeans. max was wondering if he had to get more air tags to place along other items. but, he lucked out with that one. you thought it was a strange coincidence that he seemed to be where you were.

and he'd laugh and tell you, "small city, right?"

it took months of hard work but, eventually he got to sink his pretty cock into your prettier hole. the happiest day of his life. he had invited you on his boat for the afternoon, and while he didn't expect much. he wasn't expecting your pretty tits on such display. a pretty red checkered print bikini and sandals as you stayed close to max.

and then alone, out in the waters. you ended up straddling max's waist while he sat on one of the seats up on the deck. it was couch-like and allowed you two some room as you rubbed your sweet pussy up against the front of his shorts. his hands dug into the plushness of your ass as he moved against you. you were painfully pretty, and it drove max insane. you'd try to run him off the track, but he'd always get an apology by having your pretty tits in his face and your pussy around his cock.

"you feel so good." he said, "you're so soft."

you whimpered, "i'm not that soft. you keep feeding me all this good food since i came to visit! my team is going to be pissed." you squirmed a little.

he kissed at your breasts in front of your face and laughed, "well, then. i guess i'll have to keep feeding you better food." his teeth then nipped your left breast and it made you whine. his hands continued to grope you ass and you squirmed a little more.

you didn't realize that you're movements only made him harder and he had to force himself to let go of you to take his cock out of his shorts. this was a dream come true, after months of being your little shadow.

"you know how to do this?" he asked.

you held onto his shoulders and chuckled, "yes, i've had sex before." which made something cold run through max's body, but it was quickly heated up once more when you sank down on him.

other men might had had you, but he was going to make sure you were his forever. no need to get stuffed with another man's cock, when you have max who, as he might add, can get into you quite easily. it was like you were made for him as you started to ride him. he pulled you into a kiss with one hand while he groped your behind with the other. he felt your core shiver around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock.

this only lit his need for you more. if you were so good on top, how good were you on the bottom, or at your side, or stuffed full of fingers and toys as max pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. he wanted you, he was mad for you. while he'd sometimes pull dirty tricks on the track, he had a whole other set of skills for you. because he could never hurt you on the track, too much of a risk for your safety. but he'd bruise your little pussy and cover your pretty soft breasts in large bites. he'd hope that cameras would get a good look at the pretty marks.

a lot easier to scare off men than to see a woman decorated with hickies. if he had it his way, you'd be wearing a little chain with his initials on it. or better yet, chubby little verstappen baby at your hip. the thought made something hot run through him. oh, that unlocked something in his brain as he was balls deep inside of you. he continued to leave a mess of bites on your chest as you continued to rut against him. your back arched a little when he bit one of your nipples.

"i need you to burn that bikini when we get to shore." he said between heavy pants as he grabbed your ass roughly and pushed himself up as much as he could go. his voice was a little strained from the intensity of it all.

"why?" you asked as you looked down at you.

"because, someone might get the wrong idea. and i don't want you getting hurt." he replied. it showed off far too much, too much of what belonged to him.

he rubbed up against you further. his cock poking some of your deepest parts, he wondered if he was the biggest you ever had. or if there was some other guy in another part of the world who took you apart better than him. unlikely. the way he watched you wiped drool from the corner of your mouth as you rode him made him excited.

during his time racing alongside you, he had seen you at euphoric highs of victory and deep anger when losing. but, this was a whole other look, you were far from focused. only really thinking about the cock, his cock, stuffing you full. guess there was no need to get you into his clothes and keep an air tag in your bad anymore, not when you had such a sweet look across your face.

he ran his blunt nails down the side of your thighs and felt you clench harder around his cock. which made sparks appear in the back of max's mind.

"pretty thing." he said. there was a softness to you that he wanted to sink his teeth into. especially the slight chub at your hips, next time he wanted to bite down on the skin and leave pretty bruises across it. you were just so beautiful. he thought formula one was for ugly men because they wore a helmet all the time, not pretty women who made max go insane.

you whined a little bit and started to feel yourself really get hot all over. his cock fit in you perfectly. while lust clouded your head, you honestly did think about throwing out the bikini you were wearing on board the boat. he kissed at your pulse point and you moaned, your pussy fluttered around him.

"i need that bikini gone before we get back to shore." he said.

"why, what will i wear?" you asked a little shy. you couldn't get back onto land with nothing on!

he grabbed at your ass once more and pushed you down on his cock, then held you for a moment. his lips were squared with yours as he said, "i got some extra clothes in the bedroom below deck." he knew that it was either red bull or verstappen merchandise. something that he had a lot of and could get wet.

while it wouldn't show off your pretty figure. the idea of you getting a bit chilled while heading 'home' and having your nipples poke through a shirt with his logo on it made him hotter. maybe he'll turn the ac up in the car on the drive home.

"i don't want anyone to see the bikini ever again. i'll buy you something nicer." he said as he thrusted up into you, "i don't want hungry eyes on you and neither do you. you're not a piece of meat." even though max wished to devour you, you were not meat. he'd say you were more like fruit. something refreshing and bright. something to crave on a warm day like today.

"i should have something in my bag." you said as you continued to ride him.

he held your soft hips and looked up at you, "no, no." he said then licked his top lip, "wear my clothes, they'll be more comfortable." and it'll hide your figure better.

you were the first to climax, and he managed to get you across the seat of the couch and fuck you from behind doggy style. perfect angle to make sure every last drop. you clawed at the faux leather and arched your back, your sweet noises against the sounds of the sea. your pussy clenched around him as he bullied the tip up against your cervix.

it was important for the two to get acquainted.

he finally finished inside of you and let out a sweet groan. he clenched onto your hips tightly and watched you go fully limp against the couch as you tried to catch your breath. he pulled out and gooey cum dripped out of your poor pussy. ah, it's okay. he simply pushed it all back inside of you.

with the amount he finished inside of you, you were at least 3% dutch now!

when max was finished with you, he knew that he was going to keep the little princess of ferrari. maybe eventually you'll wear the red bull logo across your pretty tits when you entered the paddock. or maybe better yet, the verstappen last name. but for now he'd simply have to stake his claim by shoving all his cum into your sweet cunt. after all it was a safer place to keep it compared to his own fist.

-

even with the start of the new season. his fixation of your cunt didn't end. so what you're on a different team, that didn't mean he couldn't easily go to the ferrari area and just get you to himself. when you win the first race of the season and sing along to your national anthem, max smiles in second. not because he is happy that you are winning.

but because he knew that his cum was dampening the front of your sweet cotton panties. you may have the trophy over your head, but he knew after this, he'd get another chance to sink another load in you. <3

a/n: is this anything? does anyone want more of this????

[evilminji]

*Gasp of joy* Brain, you shouldn't have!

You know how the Wayne's have basicly been the ONLY Good And Uncorrupt Wealthy Family in Gotham? And probably fuckin curse resistant AF because otherwise, HOW!? (No, seriously, the local magical population is baffled but impressed!)

....you....you wanna bet at least a few of those suckers died thinking "but I haven't completed my orphan hospital for sickly waifish puppy's and sad eyed children, yet! I... must... save... THE CHILDREN! *le dies (×.× ) * " to the tune of their beautiful (and somehow bizarrely benevolent and well adjusted) families weeping at their bedsides.

Whoop! There's a ghost! Hello, Mr. Wayne.

(Why does this Keep Happening? Please have LESS unfinished bussiness. You're supposed to be rich. Stop trying to help people ON YOUR DEATH BEDS! FFS.)

I say all this? Beeeecause~?

( >.>)(<.< )

Allright! Time to come clean, folks! Which side of the family lead to our descendant dressing up in a Kevlar BAT SUIT!!? Throwing himself off buildings in the middle of the night. Cavorting around with Amazons!

We aren't even mad about the last one! We're actually deeply and respectfully impressed! But who pulled THAT off? Angela? That yours? (*shrug* I mean... probably? It DOES seem like something my daughter would do...)

So like?

Imagine Danny~.

Trying to eat his generic brand cereal. IN HIS Underwear. When? All these Fancy Ghosts show up to his A College Kid's, Baby's First, Crap Apartment(TM). He's eating on a pillow on the floor for God's sake. It's too early for this! C'mon guys...

But, no.

They want permission to go Haunt their Descendant.

Danny sighs. He can already FEEL his cereal going soggy. This is gonna take a while, ain't it? Okay... okay, WHO is you offspring, what did they do, and for how long? You know the rules, guys.

Then they hit him with the oh so casual "BTW he's Fuckin Batman".

YOU WANT TO WHAT!?

(They convince him. How? He couldn't tell you. It's... is? Is this what It's like meeting a Fenton? For other people? Huh. He always thought people were exaggerating...)

Which? Is how a dead Victorian Old Man has arrived to ABSOLUTELY tear this Trouble Making Youngster a new one, in front of his little friends! Just full on full names him. Oh, OH! The broken BONES! The BRUISES! Have you no regard for your poor ancestors health! Their fragile hearts! Trying to put us in the grave AGAIN, are you?! Why in MY DAY-!!!

(Nightwing? Recording this for Alfred. It's gonna be an early birthday present~)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[cyber333angel]

getting spanked by rafe because he saw you talking to a pogue..

you have been rafe camerons girlfriend for a long time, everyone knew you were his. there were signs to tell that you belonged to him all over your body. from the gold anklet that dangled on your foot, to the “r.c” tattoo that is branded under your boob, flexing when you wore a bathing suit . except not everyone chose to acknowledge how much you meant to rafe.

you and your boyfriend were currently at a party, it was a typical kook house and owned by one of rafes friends, kelce. sitting on the couch for about 30 minutes you watched as your boyfriend sold coke to a broad amount of people, you knew he sold and you honestly didn’t mind. but it did get very tiresome to watch. “rafey m’bored. we’ve been sitting here like allll day! it’s a party, i wanna actually do something!” your boyfriend ignored you, persuading a customers into buying some coke. “rafey!” you grip his arm and looks back at you “kid, can’t you see im working? go play with your girlfriends or something till im done.” you pout at him and mumble “y’re so annoying.” him not paying attention to you, you leave and go find someone who is actually willing to talk to you. you find a friend of yours and drink a couple of shots in the kitchen but she tells you that she needs to go the bathroom, you nod and stay put. soon after you see an old friend.

“oh m gee! hey jayj!” you have known jj maybank since you childhood. both growing up as “pogues” but since your parents had a good business they grew into more money, naturally making you two grow apart. “hey princess. how’s kook life been treating’ya.” you roll your eyes and talk to him for while. back at the table rafe hears from a friend that he caught his girl flirting with a pogue. instantly aggravated from the rumor, he makes his way to the kitchen, finding you with all smiles talking to some guy. furious, he steps between you and jj, “heard you were-uh flirting with my girl, is that-that true?” he looks at him picking a fight, you attempt to explain the misinterpreted scene to him “rafe-“ he pushes your arm away. “nah let the fucking pogue answer, baby.” his patience was gradually thinning out.

“calm down dude , theres literally zero reason to get heated.” jj says “no one was macking on your girl, alright trust-“ he was cut off by rafes fist connecting to his face, making him stumble to the ground. rafe grabs your hand and pulls you out of the kitchen “rafe what the hell! why would you do that, we were just talking!” ignoring you he makes his way to his car and opens the passenger side. you pout, “m’not getting in with you if your angry rafey.”

“sweetheart get in the fucking car, i promise you it will only be worse if you keep testing me, go sit in the car.” whimpering at the unsympathetic tone you sit down, you decide it’s best to stay quiet the whole ride. he pulls into the driveway of tannyhill and you try a last attempt to explain yourself. “rafey please listen t’me! I really was just catching up with him! I hadn’t seen him-“ rafe has his head down, rubbing his eyes. you quiet down when he puts his hands on your thigh, rubbing it up and down gently. he says calmly “go up stairs to our room and take all that shit off. when I get up there I want to see you with your ass in the air and your mouth fuckin shut, alright?” you nod keeping your head down, knowing there’s nothing you can do now. up in your shared room, you strip yourself of your clothes and climb onto your bed, feeling nervous of the punishment coming to you. hearing rafe come up the stairs you quickly get into position with an arched back. you also hear a faint jangle as he steps closer, in front of the bed he takes both of your hands and handcuffs them. you knew where this was going but it was inevitable to run from. rafe appears behind you “you know what you did to deserve this right? know how bad you disrespected me in front of people, you-you understand that right?” you shake your head frantically onto the soft pillow “yes daddy I know, said m’ sorry already!”

“I didnt ask all that, what your gonna do is count each time you get a spank alright? you can do that hm baby?” you nod again “yes daddy..” he pulls you by your waist to the edge of the bed, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap, your legs and arms dangle off his thighs. you close your eyes and the first spank lands, a loud “pap!” echoing in the room. it stings, you squirm around in his lap “ouch!” you cry, but do as your instructed “o-one!”

“stay fuckin still.” the second one is even harder then the first. rafe had already done five brutal slaps on your right ass cheek. “your taking it like such a good girl..good job baby.” your right cheek was already feeling numb leaving your left rear end a little alleviated. you know you’ll be bruised and hurting tomorrow. rafe sees some of your slick oozing from your cunt, he takes two fingers and plunges them into your sticky hole. you flinch and mewl, he chuckles. “you like that shit? you like when daddy’s upset?” the slaps did hurt but you couldn’t admit it did turn you on..well you didn’t really need to admit it seeing how the evidence was shown by how soaked your pussy was. “don’t worry princess im halfway done..” he spanks you once more, wincing, this time you couldn’t count. needing a minute from the intense sting. your boyfriend leans in close to your ear, “c’mon what number was that sweetheart?”

“s-six daddyy please m’sorry!” he mocks you “aw four more baby s’okay, you can do it.” finishing the intense ill-treatment on your ass, rafe helps you up from his lap. now sitting on him with a bruised behind and tears running down your face. “what’d we learn today sweet girl?”

“not to talk’to other g-guys and respect you.” he nods “mhm that’s right. I didn’t want to hurt you alright baby? just need you to learn to respect me and know who you belong to.” you nuzzle into his neck “s’alright rafey, i know.. can you make me feel good now daddy, please! m’so sticky!” he smirks at you “yeah of course..you did so good for me and I know how much this needy pussy needs to cum.”

[chrolloluvr]

💸 Ways Toxic!Mammon takes over your life as your controlling, doting boyfriend (pt.1?) 💸

Note: Female!Reader, AFAB (Whoever came up w/ voxtok shout out to you!!!), this also takes place before Fizz quit. Also not proofread!

Warnings: semi nsfw, cussing, manipulation, slut shaming, killing, dominance, toxic relationship goals!

Social media. As we all are aware, he has a huge influence online. He has millions and even billion of fans, which he can exploit and persuade very easily. He controls your accounts, people you follow, the things you post (if he even lets you post at all), etc. He controls all of your comments, and filters them. One time, your best friend had left a comment that said, "Damn girl, looking fine ASF", And he was fuming. He forbid you from ever seeing that 'friend' ever again.

You most likely have to make a secret account that you post on. And its very popular. It may consist of you talking about Mammons icks, dancing videos with him (you convinced him, because you told them they were privated.), which all most likely get millions of views. But lets hope Mammon does not find it, or else he will not be happy with you.

How you two as a couple are perceived. He cares alot about his public image. So he will pay out media outlets and news stations to percieve you, himself and your relationship in a good light. So lets say Mammon is getting "cancelled", (he never in a million years actually would, too many people look up to him and adore him.) for bringing supposed groupies backstage after an event he is hosting. Even if he actually did, he would pay the media huuuge amounts of money to get himself out of trouble. Same goes for you. Your poor choices reflect onto him as well, since you two are a very public couple.

Like I have said before in previous posts, you two are definitely the most watched, reported and popular couple in Hell. Sinners and native demons admire the dynamic between you two. So lets say you lash out at a fan for getting their camera too close to you? And then that fan posts footage on Voxtok or Sinstagram, you may get some backlash.

Lets be honest, Mammon probably wont jump to defend you unless it involves him in some way. If it does not involve him, he will block some people by logging into your account, (because he knows all of your passwords), but nothing more.

The clothes you wear. He buys you your clothes, so in his mind, he has every right to choose what goes on your body. If he sees you wearing something revealing, he will tell you 'you look like a slut babe. Where are you going, the fuckin' strip club?' He says shit like that even if your showing an inch of stomach. He for the most part wants you to wear things he chooses. He prefers if you two are matching all the time, but if you are just going out to get groceries, he likes when you wear oversized sweatshirts/hoodies, with leggings. I know its an oddly specific combo, but he thinks it doesn't show off any of your supple skin, and you look so appealing. Especially if its a brand Mammon owns. Mans will go feral. I feel like every time you leave the house with or without him, he will be sitting on the couch, saying 'C'mon, you know the drill cutie. show daddy what your gonna wear, yeah?'

He loves it when he sees you in a natural, underdressed state alone at home. His by far most treasured thing he likes to see on you, is you either in your bra and matching panties, or you in an oversized t shirt and panties with no bra. He especially likes those really dainty, "girly" colors and patterns. He likes seeing you dress feminine.

Calling him daddy. Yes you heard me. He has a huge power influx, and having you call him that fuels the fire in his ego. If its the morning, and you yawn and stretch out a tired, 'good mornin' daddy', he is hard. And this isn't even a fully sexual thing for him, since he isnt all that sexual extremely often. He just loves being called daddy. But if it were somebody else calling him that, they would get the death stare and an upset Mammon. But with you, he likes dominating you. So call him daddy. It will get him in a good mood, and If you want something from him? A daddy or two wont hurt.

Who you talk to. Once you two are together, he with subtly cut people out of your life that he thinks are a threat to your relationship. He will try to cut off any of your male friends or if you had any, your ex's. This sneaky man will probably send photos of you giving him head that he took without your permission. And he will never tell you he did that. Anyways, once he gets rid of all of these people, he will convince you that 'ohhh, princess, c'mon dont get your panties in a twist. Maybe they are just on vacation, you dont gotta act like a little whiny bitch-'. And by vacation, he means threatened, or killed.

He does not want you being influenced by anybody but himself. And especially not by any men. One of his many influx of issues is his jealousy/possession, (which I will get into on another post.) SO really the only other person besides himself that you can talk to are people he has met, and are proven to him to not uphold any power against him.

Meaning he will never let you meet Asmodeus. He is a horrible influence in his mind, and he does not was Ozzie to make you aware of his manipulation tactics. He may let you meet Beelz or Lucifer, but never Ozzie. He is the embodiment of lust, which is like toxic waste for your mind.

You bank account. If you need him to send funds, he will as long as you give him a little kiss on the cheek. But if you have been a bad girl, you might need to work for his money. If he is feeling particularly nice today, he will text you, sending a photo of the transfered funds he sent you, reading 25k+ sent. He loathes in the 'oh no you didn't have to Mamm' he gets from you, or the 'I feel bad, send it back!' Because in reality, he does not like to spend his money on anything useless. And to him, you aren't useless. So sharing some of his "hard earned" cash truly shows how he trusts and believes you wont go out on a limb for him.

And plus, now that your with him, he has taken all of your funds. He wont tell you that, even thought it didn't matter, considering how little you had compared to his trillion dollar net worth. So if you ever do stupidly decide to leave him, you wont be able to.

Puts a tracker on you, or has his goons follow you. This is another thing you are blissfully unaware of. He has an unreleased app on his phone, where he can see wherever you are at all times. While you were sleeping in your shared bedroom, he would put a tracker chip deep into you ear. So that he doesn't have to worry about his most prized possession running away when he isn't around. Or if he cant physically see you and he wants to? He has some loan sharks or his bodyguards follow you silently. I think awhile back, Mammon developed "Mammons Super Secret Spy Glasses", a product made for naive kids, and was released to the masses. But that transformed into an opportunity to exploit his goons into using them to spy on you. Do they want to creepily follow you? No. But can they refuse. Absolutely not. Nobody can refuse Mammon.

If somebody does take you somewhere, he will have his goons kill them, but come to the location and make it look like he killed them for your sake.

Controls where you can and cant go. He 100% does this. He wouldn't even let you in the vicinity of any kind of smoke shop, strip club, etc. He wants you to stay innocent, and naive for him. Meaning he will never let you in the lust ring, which alludes to the fact that him and Ozzie... aren't on the best terms per say. But will let you in any other ring under severe supervision. He cant have you doing any stupid shit to mess with his public image.

He wont even let you roam around in his own ring, because he is well aware of how dangerous it has become. He doesn't want his pretty little thing being kidnapped by some dirty, greasy men on the streets. But if you really want to go somewhere, he will let you go near there, but he will cover your eyes with his top two hands, and guide your waist with his bottom pair of hands somewhere he deems safe.

I also think he would follow you to the bathroom, and he would definitely offer to (does anyways) wipe for you.

How you act. Once you two are together, you will learn things the Mammon way. He will teach you how to become his esteemed future wife, and soon you might even have his kids (when he feels like babytrapping you, but that might be a later work.) He will teach you his version of manners, such as how to sit properly on his lap, teaching you how to french kiss (Which he assumes is your first time kissing somebody), How to sit still properly on his large cock, How to rock your hips just right-

He just wants you to be prepared for him. If he comes home at night, he expects the usual kiss on the cheek, asking him how his day was, and then the finale, which consists of your naked body and your legs being spread wider than his shit eating grin. He just wants to be ready to blow your back out, not having to worry about wasting time.

In the morning, he wants his breakfast served by none other than his obedient little princess. Then, he wants you to personally brush and floss his teeth. Then, he wants you to pick his outfit. (you will never truly get a say, he just wants to know from your perspective what makes him sexier.) And finally, the finishing act, holding your hair tightly into a makeshift ponytail, while he bobs your head up and down his cock.

Sexually frustrating you. After a while, you will miss his sexual touches. You will begin to crave them, as you will find yourself wanting him more and more. He is just so good at eating your pussy, and making you feel like your on cloud 9.

So don't be suprised if you find yourself humping his leg, as he bounces his thigh up and down to try and overstimulate you.

Makes you come to his shows. He will drag you to them. He does not care how tired you are, you will be there and sit pretty. He will let you in for free, but if you want a piece of merchandise, or some popcorn, he will make you pay. (even though its his money). When you first start dating, that is the case. But now that you two are officially an item? You sit up on the terrace with him in his webs. He has two of his left side arms wrapped around you, while he forces you to hand feed him.

And sometimes people catcall you from up above. One time, a couple dudes got drunk of Beelzejuice, and started berading you. By asking you to flash a peek of your tits, and show a little pussy. You were highly offended, but Mammon was not happy.

Those guys ended up in the E.R., but they would have died if it weren't for your expertise in calming Mammons temper. After that little incident, Mammon had later that day taken your ass on a one way ticket to pound town. So you can thank those guys, I guess...

Anyways, what if you need to use the bathroom during a show? He pauses the entire thing, because he wants you to watch how good of a planner and mastermind he is at pageants. Will literally wait outside of the bathroom door for you, and checks his watch if your taking "too long".

But anyways, he will also try to get you and Fizzarolli to be friends, since both of you are basically brainwashed by him.

The things you buy. He will not ever let you buy any cheap shit. Its a bad look on his behalf. So every time you two go out, you have to ask him if you can get something. If he deems it as "not doing anything for your look", he will make you put it back. And this goes for everything. Online orders, Voxtok shop (tiktok shop), etc. It always has to be approved by him.

Also, he will never let you buy any sex toys. He thinks his fingers, tongue and dick are more than plenty. If you ask him for any sex toys, he will call you an ungrateful little whore. So its best if you don't ask, unless you want Mammons over the top mumbling and grumbling.

Emotionally manipulating you. He will do this all the time. If he ever does something wrong, he will never admit to it. He will either never glaze over it, or will turn it on you somehow. It will start with his angry grunting, huffing, and puffing. If you ever ask him if he is ok, he will literally whip his head towards you and give you the most deadly glare you will ever see. His Aussie accent will come out very abruptly when he's mad.

Throw the worlds biggest temper tantrums. Sometimes you think hes a baby in an adult mans body. Some of his have gone on for days on end. He will pull every trick in the book. Whining and fake crying are things he has tried to use on you.

If he is really ruffled up, he will start yelling at you for no reason whatsoever. He just yells a bunch of belligerent bullshit, and does not give any reason why. Truly, the best thing to do to calm him down is spread your legs nice and wide, and let him lap at your cunt for hours. If he is 'borderline dangerous' mad, he will refuse to talk to you for a couple days. Even if you try, he wont budge. Deep down, he cares for you. And he knows that if he gives in, he might hurt you.

If he wants something from you, he will flash his infamous puppy dog eyes. (Bottom photo below), But if he is annoyed with you, he will make the deadly glare (Top photo below)

So, just try your best to keep him calm and happy. Even if that is through means you don think are necessary 💚

[peachsukii]

content // pro heroes, long distance, kirishima loves you so so much, scent kink if you squint?, kiri/baku/kami friendship nonsense, early 20s. @bunnions inspired this after our little perfume talk!

6:03AM

Kirishima stood by the doorway with Bakugo, scrolling on his phone while patiently waiting for Kaminari.

“C’mon Sparky, we’re gonna be late!” Bakugo groans, foot tapping angrily against the floor.

“Dude, we’re an hour ahead of schedule because you insisted we needed to be early! Chill out,” Kaminari snapped back from the other room.

Kirishima was too preoccupied with swiping through pictures of the two of you together, his heart aching in his chest at your smiling face. God, he missed you something fierce. You’d both been on opposite patrol schedules and back to back missions hours away from home. It was starting to feel like the universe had it out for you two.

“Yo, Red,” Bakugo calls out, waving a hand in front of Kirishima’s phone. “Did ya hear me?”

He awkwardly chuckles under his breath. “N-no…sorry Kats. What is it?”

“I was askin’ if you were alright. Y’don’t have that annoying morning joy or whatever you called it.”

“Oh,” Kirishima pauses, sighing while tucking his phone back into his pocket. “It’s gonna sound lame, Y/N and I have been on opposite schedules for weeks now. We haven’t gotten much time to spend together and I miss her.”

“S’not lame to care about someone, you of all people should know that,” Bakugo says while placing his hand on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I get it, I miss my girl, too. This shit’s exhausting.”

“You…do?”

Bakugo pulls his hand away and puts it on his hip. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

That was a stupid question. Kirishima knew Bakugo better than anyone, maybe even more than his own girlfriend, and how his heart works when it comes to caring about others.

“Sorry, stupid question,” Kirishima apologizes, shaking his head. “I just can’t wait to see her.”

Bakugo scoffs. “So that’s why ya smell like Wisteria 76 every day, huh?”

Kirishima blushes, hand shooting to his face to cover his embarrassment. He’d been wearing your perfume daily, addicted to how it comforted him while out on patrol, a constant reminder of you lingering through the air; subtly sweet with a hint of musk. He missed the way it would invade his senses as he kissed your neck or whenever he’d hold you close. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough to get him by while he was forced to be apart from you. He sprayed it on himself, his clothes, the pillow he used in the hotel room…

Wait.

How did Bakugo know the exact perfume name?

“How do you know the brand name, Kats?” Kirishima asks, eyebrows quirked with curiosity as Bakugo’s face started to flush scarlet.

“…my girlfriend uses the same shit. I tried usin’ it but my fuckin’ quirk overpowers the smell instantly.”

“So that’s why you’ve been hovering around me the whole time we’ve been here!” Kirishima exclaims, shoving Bakugo in jest. He smacks Kirishima’s hands away, turning around and crossing his arms tightly over the broadness of his chest.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll blow this whole room up.”

“Okay man, calm down. That’s sweet of you, Kats. Who would’ve thought you had a soft side for that kinda thing?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bakugo grumbles to himself before turning back around to face Kirishima, bumping him with his shoulder. “I’m tryin’ to say you can talk ‘ta me about her if it’ll make ya feel better.”

Kirishima flashes him a toothy grin and laughs. “Thanks, man. Same goes for you too, ya know.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes before patting Kirishima on the back. “Thanks, Red. Bring her over for dinner after we get back, we can all catch up an’ gives me an excuse to cook.”

“Found ‘em! What’s got you two so smiley this morning?” Kaminari interrupts as he skips to the doorway with his goggles in hand.

Kirishima glances at Bakugo before responding. “Girl talk. Let’s get goin’!”

“Aww, you guys never wanna talk about girls with me!” Kaminari whines as the three of them head out to the agency together. “Just cause I’m single doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your hot girlfriends!”

Only another week and the two of you will be reunited once again. Maybe Kirishima will commit to taking that long needed vacation time you two talked about - the world’s had plenty of Red Riot’s time, it was your turn to have him all to yourself.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

what do you think stalker!anis body count is?

i can’t work out if he’s had a “fuck everything that walks” phase or not

I��ve thought about this a lot actually, cause I’ve also had trouble deciding that lmao. I originally intended for stalker!ani to have BPD, but as he developed as a character I think antisocial personality disorder fits him much, much better. Both disorders experience hypersexuality.

In this essay I will…

Stalker!Anakin has never had a girlfriend before reader. Unfortunately he was painfully awkward and strange during his elementary school years:

Exhibit A: tying nettles together with worms (a beautiful bouquet if you ask me) and giving them to a girl he thought was pretty.

Exhibit B: staring and unapologetically eavesdropping on any conversation.

Exhibit C: starting conversations with “I am Anakin Skywalker, I am seven years old and I like to collect Hot Wheels. Do you like to collect Hot Wheels?” (Bc his therapist said he should try to be ‘relatable’ by finding people with similar interests. How is he expected to do that unless he systematically goes through his entire class list and initiates/interviews his classmates??)

Moving onto his middle school years were even worse bc he found out that girls are hot and hot girls make him horny. Everyone remembered him as the weird kid, told the other sixth graders and ruined his chances of winning people over with his new, carefully crafted personality/mask.

So when he asked his crush to the homecoming dance he bought real flowers (sans worms!!), and his mom helped him find a cute sign on Pinterest to copy… She refused the flowers and said “ew”, thinking there were prob bugs in it (she’d heard the gossip). Anakin unwrapped the flowers and shook them out to prove they were indeed wormless, made a joke and then the girl reconsidered her refusal and decided ‘hey maybe he’s not so bad, all kids are weird anyway so he’s probably fine now’.

Turns out he was in fact trying to be fine & normal. But ended up in a ‘Carrie at prom’ situation at the homecoming dance bc the guy who also liked Anakin’s date was there. Anakin ended up with a suspension and the other guy ended up with the girl.

Then the summer of 7th grade he wacked a grown man with a table.

That didn’t bode well for his highschool conquests of course! So he got his rocks off with the occasional use of the good ol’ ‘hide in the bushes with binoculars and hope Becky from Algebra changes in front of her window again’

Anakin got his first job at the Hot Topic when he was 17. This is where he tried out everything he’d learned over the years and he realized he was actually very decent at speaking to girls as long as he kept up his masked personality. Anakin stayed a virgin until a pretty girl with a nose ring (she worked at Claire’s, he was getting his ear pierced) complimented his Suicidal Tendencies t-shirt and he smooth talked his way into getting her in his car after his shift. Then… continued to do that for a while, strictly fucking. She thought it was strange that he never really wanted to talk before or after.

He was just trying to perfect his sex game and she was just a body. She wasn’t his dream gal, so she was perfect for making mistakes and learning from them. He didn’t have to worry about appearances or properly apologizing for accidentally not doing super great at something, he could just move on and keep going. After all, she was just a body to practice on.

Unfortunately for Anakin he had a brand new court appointed therapist at the time who didn’t think promiscuity was good for the healing and reconditioning process (it wasn’t).

So Anakin put a stop to fuckin’ the girl from Claire’s. He was very confused that she was so upset when he just completely ignored her. The next time they both worked, she waited at his truck like usual and he walked right past her and got in his truck, locked the door and backed out of the parking spot without waiting for her to move (she was fine just really mad).

Claire’s girl confronted him about it, thinking she’d done something to upset him and asked if that was his way of breaking up with her. Anakin’s like??? Break up?? We were never dating!!?? (This is how he found out that when you fuck someone weekly for over four months they will more than likely form an emotional attachment)

To avoid a repeat of that incident when he moved to the city for college (he dropped out obvi), he got a job as a bartender for the sole purpose of people watching for research and practicing being a normal dude. Being a normal dude includes learning how to pick up chicks, so I think he probably took a girl home once or twice a month just to keep sharp on his pretending and fucking skills so he’d be on his best game when he found the right girl.

So in conclusion, yes he did have a ‘fuck everything that walks�� phase. Just not for the sex. For research.

me reading the DSM-5 and diagnosing him. [im a doctor you can trust me]

Tag List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi i @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker r @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser @ahano

[inkyquince]

I need my Rook to wake up sandwiched between Lucanis and Spite. Give me that nasty demon fade threesome, fucking me stupid over the bloody corpses of our enemies.

SO, after finishing another playthrough (shut up) I am FIRM in what I believe. Which is the following:

Spite fuckin falls first, Lucanis falls harder. Spite ADORES Rook, even outside of a romance. He doesn't even show this preference for Neve (i'm vindictive and this makes me smile. Neve is my least favourite- I DONT HATE HER, LEGIT, ADORE HER, JUST OUT OF ALL OF THEM, SHE'S AT THE BOTTOM. IM SORRY BABY). Spite even fuckin says he LOVES Rook if they focus on punishing Illario. (Don't even get me started on Illario holY SHIT "you picked the wrong dellamorte" brother you have a string of failed romances, sees his cousin in his FIRST relationship and starts scream crying. im so mad he's hot). Solas offers to separate Lucanis and Spite? Lucanis tells him to fuck off WHILE SPITE YELLS THAT HE HURT ROOK. Spite adores Rook and its PLAIN to see, even hurting Lucanis because he wants to talk to Rook. Also he's a bitch to everyone when possessing Lucanis and trying to waddle out, except to Rook, he's fuckin purring and wanting scritches. He shows how much he likes Rook in like... The second interaction with Spite? Even when flatly telling Lucanis that you will kill him if he gets to rowdy? Spite moans and says "Watch about for them I WANNA TALK TO THEM, ROOK TIME"

This is a poly relationship. Brother, that's just semi canon. Fucker, HE'S THERE ON YOUR DATES, NIFFIN HIM COFFEE. He giddily gazing at Rook as Lucanis says he loves you and then sticks his nose into the coffee. Lucanis is his and ROOK IS HIS FAVOURITE, THESE ARE LINES HE FLAT OUT SAYS. Hawke fuckin joked that Justice makes sex with Anders a threesome, and that blond twink frowns at you, i feel like Lucanis would just "yeaaah.... yeah." Mostly because he FULLY admits that he can't control the wings. Those are all Spite. THEN, DURING THEIR INTIMATE SCENE, THEYRE BURSTING OUT. spITE IS ACTIVELY IN THE SEX SCENE. Brother, Spite openly says that when Neve and Lucanis are together, he is mentally OUT of there. Not interested. Plays with the Wisps. Rook and Lucanis? Brother he's activating wings and bouncing around and giggling.

I like that he fuckin SNIFFS people, like Taash. I'm sorry, there should be 20 more horny lines from him, talking about how Rook smells. Everyone would be horrified constantly (Emmerich would be SCANDALIZED, Taash goes "lol same").

IN FACT, WAIT, BACK TO SPITE IN ROMANCE SCENES- ITS IMPLIED HE'S ACTIVE IN ALL OF THEM. When Lucanis and Rook first attempt a kiss, brother is GOING IN, and then, starts, pulls back, swears and fucks off. Brother, Spite said something. It was RIGHT after a possession too. Fuck, if Rook visits Lucanis randomly in his hidey hole pantry? "Spite, could you not.... Mierda." BROTHER?? HE IS HERE. I love Spite so much, he's like a grumpy cat that has TWO favourite people, a skeleton boy he likes to paw at and a well meaning uncle he can vent to (Emmerich. God I love Emmerich).

I like that he's Lucanis but just... Purple. That's my brand babey.

Anyway, yeah no, Spite would want to get fucky with both of them and Bioware remains COWARDS for not letting us.

[tainted-liquor]

'La Princesa De Mi Corazon⋆˙⟡♡

E42!Miles Morales x Daddy's Girl!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles ! TWs: Cursing, realistic teenage dates (he didn't spend no 5k cmon now) W/C: 2.4k A/N: This can be read as an autistic reader if u squint rllly hard ! Another lovely request I got!! Enjoy luvs

For as long as you can remember, you've never actually been told the word "no" by your father. When your mother didn't wanna get something for you, you'd just ask your dad! Since you were the youngest and first daughter in your parent's long line of sons, with you having 4 older brothers, there were times when you didn't even have to ask, it was just yours before you could even think about it. Clothes, phones, shoes, makeup, perfume, all of it was yours. You were a daddy's money girl, with everything in the world right at your fingertips. So naturally, you tended to avoid serious relationships with boys due to your insanely high standards that had been curated since birth. Until you met him, Miles.

Miles was the complete opposite of you and your aesthetic. Where you were giddy and childish, he was serious and mature. You possessed everything under the sun in the shade of pink, where he barely had anything besides black and purples in his closet. Originally he didn't fuckin' like you, like, at all. He thought you were a 'spoiled air-headed dressed up money drowned bimbo' due to his experience in 'working' with rich people. They all seemed to act the same way and wanted the exact same thing, money or power.

But that view dropped immediately when he saw you interact with others. You weren't rude, you definitely weren't stupid, and you were the kindest most giving person he had ever seen before. People all in your circle constantly praised you for how sisterly you were, handing out gifts and words of wisdom like candy. Your only 'flaw' was your ignorance, living blind to the world around you due to being so heavily protected by your father. Sure, there was crime everywhere and New York was a walking murderhouse, but you didn't know that!

You were casually talking to one of your best friends Brenna when you bumped into someone, knocking you straight on your ass and causing him to stumble back a little. "I am so so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!" you empathized as you picked yourself up and immediately offered to help the stranger. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket as he spoke, his voice quiet and steady as he did. "Oh my bad, It's all good. Just be careful." You gave him a warm smile and a brief nod before setting off again, assuming that would be the last time you two spoke. And damn were you wrong.

The next time you'd see Miles, you were at the mall the following Saturday with a shit ton of bags in your hands. You practically skipped through the concourses of the mall, smiling and giggling with Brenna. You were in a brand new off-white dress and rounded the corner to see Miles waiting for a Cinnabon in line. As soon as you saw the blue and white logo of the bakery, and the smell of sweet sugar and baked goods kissed the tip of your nose, you stopped what you were doing and stood behind the familiar set of twin braids. "Hey, Miles!"

Miles looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening a fraction when he saw over 10 bags on each of your arms. "Yo…what's up with all your bags? You don't feel your circulation gettin' cut off?" he asked with a bewildered expression, "Damn, how much money you spent here?" he gawked. Truth is, you weren't sure. All your dad said was to have fun and he didn't necessarily…give you an amount to spend, he just handed you the card and told you the PIN. "I actually don't know. This has to be a minimum of 600 dollars, Daddy just kinda told me to have fun with it!" You shrugged like that was completely normal.

Miles stared for a minute, analyzing the 20 bags you had in total from various stores. he sighed with a small smirk, shaking his head in disbelief as you sort of merged with his spot in line. Neither of you realized, but you unknowingly recruited Miles in your shenanigans at the mall as soon as you both left the bakery with a series of sweets. You three set off to the nearby sneaker outlet, buying everyone a minimum of 4 pairs of sneakers to match every outfit they'd ever make. If Miles didn't know before, he knew now that you were the gift god when it came to generosity and Daddy's money.

His entire perspective of you changed that day, with you more actively talking his ear off and surprising him with random shit you got with your dad's credit card. He knew then and there that your standards were sky high and anyone who ever fell in love with you would be up for a bullfight ahead of them. He saw how your dad showered you with absolutely anything you asked for, with you even having a real-life princess crown from 2011 plated with morganite and rubies stationed in a plastic case on a high shelf in your room. But as he spent more time hanging out with you or spending time over at your house with your brothers, it hit him like a fucking truck. He knew whoever found themself head-over-heels for the pretty pink princess of her family would be in for a fucking hell of a time, he just never expected it to be HIM.

The day he realized he loved you was just like any other day, with you speeding up to him whenever you saw him. Your usual poofy dress skirt flows behind you like something out of a Disney animation. As soon as he knew to grab you so you didn't send the both of you falling to the ground, he felt a sudden warmth in his face. No, not you smushing your face against his as you gave him a spine-breaking hug, but a new kind of warmth that screamed danger. He suddenly became aware of your perfectly fitting style and the way each of the features on your face harmonized perfectly to create the perfection that is you.

Even though you came from completely different backgrounds, you never ONCE in your life dared say something about his situation. There were nights when he would just watch you as the prowler, skipping through his neighborhood like you didn't hear any of the gunshots, screams, explosions, or see anything wrong at all with where you currently were. It's not that you didn't notice, but you were completely aware that not everyone was as fortunate as you were, so you had no right to look at situations that weren't identical to yours any differently. And despite how "uppity" you looked on the surface, you truly thought of everyone as a new friend.

You, on the other hand, were crushing HARD. On some, you actively got quieter and sometimes just shut the fuck up entirely when Miles was nearby. You knew that you were probably making a mistake by genuinely loving someone so fully in this age of infidelity and communication issues, but you couldn't help it! He was just so pretty and listened to everything you had to say and he never once asked you for anything! Ever! You didn't know how Miles would behave in a relationship, but you damn sure weren't prepared for it.

When Miles asked you out on a date, you were a squealing mess. You threw on a pretty pink dress and quickly threw your goddess braids into a quick bun. When your dad watched as you eagerly checked your outfit in the mirror, he was a little taken aback when you told him that you were going on a date. He gave you a warm smile, telling you to be safe and if he tries anything that he'll blow his fuckin' top off. You laughed at him being so overprotective, calmly explaining to him that Miles wasn't like that at all.

You silently pondered where Miles was planning on taking you. You didn't want your first date to be all fancy, because that made them look like they were trying way too hard. But you also didn't wanna sit in some random diner, either…you didn't know what you wanted. All you did was hope that he paid attention to any of your conversations as you patiently waited on your velvety couch. You immediately perked up at the sound of the doorbell, flying to the door and waiting a couple of seconds before swinging it open.

"Mírate! La princesa de Nueva York! You love your dresses, huh?" He asked with a small smile, bracing himself as you dove straight into his arms. You giggled as you did a small little spin, showcasing the new silk dress. "I was debating on a different babydoll dress I have or this one. This one just felt more fitting!" you shrugged as you closed the front door behind the both of you. Miles had no idea what a babydoll dress was, but he made sure to let you know that you looked stunning in this seashell shade of pink. You follow closely behind Miles, loosely wrapping both of your arms around his left arm as you begin to break down the various types of dresses, and which one was your favorite.

"I didn't even know dresses had names…What's your favorite kind?" He asked with a small amused smile. Not only was this the first time someone had actively listened to you rant about your love of dresses, but he made an effort to even ask what your favorite one was? Lord, he was in for an earful. And he clung to every single word you said like it was the sweetest of melodies. When you finished your long-winded rant regarding pink flowy sundresses, he nodded with a bashful grin. "So a puff-sleeved peasant dress made of chiffon?"

You nodded eagerly as you realized he had been listening to you the entire time. "Yeah! I drew it in my sketchbook a little while back, I think I'll show you when we walk back." You chirped as you slowly began to approach what looked like the most gorgeous candy store of your life. It smelled like heaven and looked just like eye candy. You didn't even get the chance to point before Miles gently guided you through the frosted glass double doors. You beamed as you immediately set off (taking him with you) toward some of the pastries.

You filled up two mini bags with various types of candy, croissants, and two rock candies, one in purple and one in pink. "Miles, what's your favorite candy?" You asked as you scooped gummy sharks into your bag. "Uhh…those sour airhead stripes," he replied as he grabbed two near-frozen sodas from the wide commercial fridge. You got two packs of his favorite candy and slipped it into one of your candy bags, skipping over to him to pay for everything at the counter. You rummaged through your bag for your wallet, looking up to realize Miles already had planted his card in the reader.

"C'mon, this is like, so much stuff! Let me pay!" you insisted as you went to open your wallet. He gave you a firm glare, zipping your entire wallet closed and stuffing it back in your bag. "You good? I'm taking YOU on a date, not the other way around" he asked as you intertwined your hand with his, allowing him to lead you back out of the candy store. You played back his words in your mind, processing each syllable and just how much it meant to you. You giggled to yourself as Miles told you that you were gonna go rollerskating before he took you back home!

There was no actual problem, you loved the idea of going skating with Miles! The issue was…you couldn't skate. Miles laughed loudly as he watched you attempt to meet him on the rink, trying not to bust your ass on the soft and neon carpet. You froze in complete terror, holding both arms out and vaguely resembling a confused cat with its ears back. Miles glided over to you between a fit of giggles, holding out his hand for you to hold onto.

You firmly grasped his hand, holding on for dear life as he slowly guided you to the shiny hardwood floors of the rink. "Miles I'm gonna fucking cry," you state, wide-eyed and afraid as your legs seem to weaken as he gently pushes you forward. "Alright, hold on mama. I gotcha, just drag your legs forward," he instructs as he glides forward like clockwork. He takes both of your hands within his, laughing as you fight back the urge to scream as you look down at the ground. "And here I thought you loved skating!" he laughed.

"I do! I swear I do! But I can't…oh my god I'm gonna faint…" you sighed as you wrapped both arms firmly around his torso, squeezing him like your life depended on it. "Alright, c'mon. Te ayudaré." he shrugs as he propels the both of you forward as slow as he knows how to. It was amazing, and your face lit up when you realized how fun it was to 'rollerskate'. You hadn't realized when, but you naturally picked up the rhythm of Miles's legs, adapting his style of skating slowly but surely. And when you realized you weren't even holding on to him anymore, your face lit up brighter than any star in the world.

When you packed everything up and returned both of your skates, you were giggling like a child and buzzed off nothing but sugar. You wildly explained how much fun you had and how you felt like a flying fairy on the skating rink, thanking Miles over and over for being so fun. He dropped you off at your house, holding a brief conversation with your parents as you skipped upstairs to find your sketchbook. You eagerly showed him the plethora of dresses you had cooked up in your head, explaining every one of them.

"Damn, you really are a princess huh?" He chuckled as you flipped through the many beta designs of dresses comparable to that of Princess Diana's. "I'll just have to get you one of these next time then huh? Tú eres la Princesa de mi corazon." he chuckled as you waved goodbye. You didn't know what he was saying, but you couldn't help but beam at the affectionate energy radiating from his words. He gave a formal goodbye to your parents before disappearing as swiftly as he arrived.

"I like that kid. He's very proper." You heard your mother exclaim. "Will he be over more often?"

You nodded eagerly as you ran up to your room to scream more into your pillow.

[princessbrunette]

can you do jj spitting in the reader’s mouth after making her call him dad

basing this around the episode where jj dressed up as a paramedic because that was one of his sexiest looks n people moved on from that too fast !!!!!!!!!

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

jj was not the responsible one in the group. jj, was the fun one! the trouble maker, the reckless loose canon, mr ‘stupid things have good outcomes all the time’. he was not responsible, let alone strict.

that was until he met you.

he couldn’t believe half the things that came out of his mouth. like, ‘do your jacket up, now.’ who even says that? he couldn’t stand the thought of you in trouble, couldn’t bear for you to do any of the dumb things that he’d normally do, and he would never ever in his power let anything or anyone pierce through your skin and hurt you. not a chance, you’d have to get through him first.

thinking that this change of his went unnoticed is a laughable offence. he was consistently ridiculed with ‘wow, who are you and what did you do to our best friend?’ — and that he could take, usually laughing it off with a petty tongue in his cheek— wondering the same damn thing. but you, well — you had taken it upon yourself to don him a brand new nickname.

‘dad’

it made him huff, nostrils flaring and nose tip twitching upwards like it physically made him itch everytime it slipped from your mouth. “thanks, dad.” you’d giggle when he’d stop you in your tracks to tie your shoe before you went tumbling over yourself. “sorry dad!” you’d whisper in amusement when he would send you a tight lipped look that meant shut up and listen. “please, dad?” you’d emphasise deviously when he’d deny you the permission to do something reckless.

the worst part is, it made his dick hurt. no not throb, not stiffen— hurt. the sentiment made him wanna fuck into you in a way that strays from his usual pipe game. no cheeky quips with a thumb on your clit having eased his length in inch by inch, no— none of that. he means a headlock, or full nelson or something ridiculous and a deep hard fucking that makes you cry.

you’d been a pain in the ass on this little mission of his that he didn’t want to let you on in the first place. it involved a failed jail break, a stolen ambulance and paramedic uniforms. well, he wore the white all-in-one paramedic suit and the navy cap with the logo on it, and you — you sat pretty in the passenger side wearing a polo top with the hospital logo and a black mini skirt. he said if the two of you get caught, it’s on you and your ‘sex shop costume adjacent’ get up.

in hindsight, it was clear you were feeling him in the uniform from the start, looking at him all unfocused and doe eyed whilst he rambles about the plan on the drive there, sucking on that juicy bottom lip and all.

“dude— are you listening? john b’s livelihood is on the line here. we gotta take action.” he barely glances at you as he steers the ambulance, which only makes you want it more.

“yes, dad.”

it’s dad this, dad that— all the way up until you’re panting in the back of kie’s car— having escaped a police chase with no john b in tow. jj was frustrated, full of adrenaline, and turned the fuck on— which is why your panties were around your ankles as soon as he got you back to your empty home.

infact, the pink lace underwear was still binding your ankles when he had your knees pressed to your chest, his all-in-one uniform pulled down off his body just enough to have his dick out, fucking into you mercilessly with a hand around your neck. you’re totally fucked our already, moaning and squealing uncontrollably— and the cap still resides on jj’s head as he grits his teeth, talking down to you.

“nah, call me what you wanna call me— go ‘head, you know i’ve been waitin’ on it to slip out. who am i, babydoll? fuckin’ tell me.” his voice grits and his cheeks are all pink, still cute despite everything.

“d—ugh!” you can’t get it out, because he’s hammering into the spot now, and you’re nearly there. also, you chickened out. you both knew you were into it, this whole ‘dad’ thing— but there’s pride involved. embarrassment. the self awareness that you’d be a wet dream for a freud-following-psychology-student.

“come on,” he chuckles but it’s angry. “say that shit. loud n’clear baby i’m listening.”

“dad, please! wanna cum, dad!” you cry, and it’s this big burst of emotion, because you’re somewhat humiliated— feeling exposed over your kink that had been thinly veiled as a joke until this very moment. his jaw drops for a second after you say it, like he can’t contain the pleasure flooding out of him— but he gains control again in a second, authority seeping into him. his hand loosens from your neck, instead choosing to thumb at your bottom lip.

“yeah, yeah that’s right. that’s what i thought. so you do know how to be a good girl, got it. now open up.”

you don’t, so he tugs your jaw open with his thumb and leans in, spitting a big wet glob of spit into your mouth, smearing what didn’t go in around your swollen lips and laughing at you. sick, sick man. “you like that shit, huh?” and you really did.

he stops getting so antsy and irritated in the future when you drop the nickname on him in public after that point. now he knows what it really means.

𐙚🐈‍⬛⋆.˚❆

[hexxedghost]

Uhh bsky seemed to like this thread when I posted it, so thought I might put it here too.

It's the only smut I've written (and man am I in awe of people who can just write smut all the time, I was in struggle town lads)

Top!Ghost, Bottom!Soap. Little hint of praise kink, I just want Ghost to call Soap a good boy and have Soap's brain melt over it.

Good Boy

In Soap’s defence, it had never happened before. He’d been praised for his work. 

A clap on the back and a ‘Good work, son’ from Price.

A cheeky grin and a ‘There’s a good lad.’ from Gaz

It felt good to have his work recognised. It left a warm, comforting sense of pride in his chest.

But when Ghost rested a heavy hand on his shoulder, leaning over with hot breath against his ear to say: “Good boy, Johnny.”

It nearly takes him out at the knees. The blood rushes south so fast, he nearly blacks out. As he walks away he can feel Ghosts eyes on him, face hot as the stumbles the first few steps.

The prick looks amused. Fucker.

It could have been fine, though, a one-off oddity that he can safely ignore until he’s in the privacy of his bunk.

But it wasn’t just once.

He swears Ghost is doing it just to fuck with him now.

He's sly about it, never saying when it's obvious or going to draw attention.

It's almost like he waits until Soap feels like he's back on solid footing before he casually drops it into conversation.

It was a quick murmur as they leave the helo after a mission, the sound of the chopper blades drowning out everything else as the hand on Soap's shoulder sears him like a brand.

Or an offhand comment when they've gone for a smoke, the words cheeky as Soap hands over the rolled cigarette.

The others don’t notice, too used to tuning out their banter by now. The addition of the occassional 'Good Boy' blending in with all the other colourful commentary they normally keep up.

Which is probably why Ghost feels ballsy enough to pull that shit during a mission.

After Soap has a frantic few seconds disarming a tangle of trips rigged to blow the building out from under them.

"Building safe, copy." he radios out, hands still shaking from how close that call had been.

“There’s a good boy, Johnny.” comes the heavy rasp crackling over the speaker.

On comms for fucks sake! Soap wants to fuckin throttle him.

Ghost is doing it just to get a rise out of him. And he hates that it's working.

Even when they’re at mess afterwards, hail and hearty with a successful mission right behind them, he can't seem to help teasing Soap.

“Nice job on that last one, Tav.” Gaz slaps him on the shoulder as he takes his seat.

“Youngest in the SAS for a reason.” Soap says around a mouthful of food, winking as Gaz pulls a face.

“Was well handled, nicely done, Soap." Price murmurs behind his mug.

"Proper good boy aren't you, Johnny?" comes the rumble at the end of the table.

His cheeks burn as Gaz and Price laugh. They don’t mean anything by it, they figure it's just being lads and taking the piss.

Soap risks a glance at Ghost and sees his eyes trained on him, a glint of something burning and dangerous peeking through the mask.

Christ he was so fucked.

-

It’s later on, past midnight, when he decides that something has to be done about it.

His can't focus when they’re on mission, either fuzzy with lust or trying to walk in a way that doesn't give away he’s hard enough to punch through wood.

He's not putting his squad at risk just because he's tenting his shorts like some hormonal teenager.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the door feels louder in the late night air.  There's no answer at first, and he wonders if he's made a mistake, should just go back to his bunk.

But then the door opens, Ghost blinking languidly at him.

“Took you long enough.” he rasps.

“Piss off, ye feckin reprobate.” Soap shoulders his way past the door into Ghost's room and throws himself into a chair and feeling a little pissy he’ll admit.

Across the room, Ghost leans against the door, arms crossed and looking at Soap expectantly.

This was going to be like pulling teeth, and he can tell the bastard is amused by it all; eyes seeming to brighten under the mask.

“So, what's your reason, then?” he finally gets out.

“For?” Ghost asks, tilting his head.

Of course, the cunt was gonna make him say it. Part of Soap wants to just give up, storm out. Just go to his room, wank himself unconscious to be done with it.

But Ghost was blocking the door. On purpose, Soap would bet.

“Why do ye keep callin' me a fuckin good boy, eh?” he presses

Ghost holds his gaze and blinks slowly, “Morale”

Fuck it, Soap is leaving, he’s not playing this fuckin game. Even if he has to wrestle the man out of the door. He shoves at the big bastard to move.

“Telling me you didn’t like it, Johnny?” Ghost asks, barely moving from the force of the push Soap gave him.

Soap growls, frustrated, “No’ about that, is it? You dinnae call Gaz or feckin Price that. Is only me you do that to.”

“S’right. Only you.” Ghost counters.

He looks up at Ghost to find that gaze burning into him. This feels dangerous.

“Feelin a bit singled out is all, LT.” he mumbles, hand coming up to awkwardly rub at his neck.

He feels like he's on the wrong foot now, not sure where's safe to step in this minefield of a conversation.

Ghost pushes off the door and moves toward him. It feels like being hunted, and Soap is very quickly learning that apparently he likes that.

He stumbles as the back of his knees hit the bunk and suddenly Ghost is looming above him.

His blood feels molten, too close to his skin and rushing through him. There’s a buzz in his ears and his throat clicks when he swallows.

This close, he can feel Ghost chuckle, feel the hot wet breath on his neck when he leans down.

"D'you want this?" he asks, voice low.

Soap's tongue seems to stick to his mouth, unable to form words.

The prospect of finally getting to have the thing he'd been obsessing over for weeks.

The thing he'd spent the dead of night fucking his fist too, face hot with the shame of it.

It left his head spinning.

Eventually he manages to choke out,   

"Yes. Fuckin' yes, Ghost, pleas—"

He cuts off as Ghost grabs him by his hair, pulling just enough for his scalp to prickle as he growls in his ear.

"Good boy."

The whine that comes out of Soap should be embarrassing, but he's too gagging for it to care.

Ghost lets go of Soap's hair and stands back, just out of reach.  

"Get your kit off then, or do I have to do all the work?"

“Shoulda known you’d be a nasty bastard.” Soap snarks as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Reckon you like that, Johnny.” comes the smug reply.

Soap ignores him, fumbling for his belt, shoving his pants down to his knees.

His head falls back, groaning lowly as the pressure on his cock finally lets. He goes to take a moment to collect himself. But instead there's rough hands tugging them the rest of the way, boots yanked off and tossed into the corner of the room.

"Impatient aren't we LT?" he jokes weakly, heart hammering in his chest.

The words die out as the bed dips. Ghost straddles him, settling on his chest heavily.

Soap feels like nothing exists beyond him, the way Ghost fills his vision. Calm and collected as he casually unzips and takes himself in hand.

"Done this before, Johnny boy?" he asks lightly, as if he wants to know the weather and not whether Soap's sucked cock before.

"Dinnae flatter yersel' Ghost. No' my first." Soap eventually rasps out, eyeing the thick length in Ghost's hand.  "I can take ye."

Ghost chuckles at that, "We'll see about that."

He taps the heavy head of his cock on Soap’s lips.

“Open up.” he orders.

God fuckin help him, Soap does, and tries to ignore the way his blood fucking sings at the single huff of approval out of the man over him

His head swims at the scent of hot skin and musk, mouth flooding with saliva at the taste of salty skin on his tongue as Ghost steadily feeds him his cock.

Part of him wants to drag his teeth against the tender flesh, just to be a brat, but there are strong hands in his hair and his eyes fall half closed.

Ghost hasn’t even taken his gloves off, still practically dressed.

At the realisation, Soap feels himself moan around the length in his mouth, Ghost's hands tightening in his hair.

“Knew you’d be good for me.” Ghost says, his voice is dark, and eyes bright in the dim light of the room

Soap can feel the sticky pool on his stomach from his cock, already angry red and steadily leaking.

“With me, Johnny.” Ghost demands.

Soap tears his eyes back to the man above him, the lighting making it seem like Ghost's eyes are molten gold.

He can tell under the mask he's smiling.

“There you are sweet'eart.”

He can’t stop the groan that comes out of him, stomach clenching at the petname.

Ghost adjusts his grip on Soap's hair, testing how much he can take before adjusting and rocking his hips forward.

“Just take it, there you go. There’s my good boy, eh?”

He relaxes his throat and breathes deep until his eyes start to water and his head swims with it. He’s already so close and he hasn’t even been touched yet, cock twitching each time Ghost bottoms out.

There's a moment, which his nose buried in the coarse hair at the root of Ghost's cock that he looks up and locks eyes with him. It's like staring at glowing coals, flickering embers held in the dark with a smouldering heat that scalds his blood.

Soap's feels his cock twitch in warning, he's so fucking close, he feels his eyes start to roll back.

But then Ghost smoothly pulls out of his mouth, leaving Soap gasping and blinking away the tears. Lightheaded and dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen into his lungs.

“Not bad. Reckon there's room for improvement.” Ghost says, chuckling at the frustrated sob Soap lets out against his thigh. There's the soft touch of a hand through his hair, before Ghost moves away, sitting at the side of the bed. Soap throws an arm over his eyes, chest heaving with each breath.

There's the feeling of a gloved hand trailing over his stomach, making him jump.

“Nearly made a mess of yourself, though.” he hears Ghost tease.

“Fuck off” Soap's voice cracks, Christ he sounds wrecked

He looks at Ghost from under his arm, seeing his eyes trace the same path as his fingers had.

“Ye could get more comfortable, ye know?” he grumbles, causing Ghost to look over at him. As much as it had been exciting, he's starting to feel awkward completely starkers while Ghost could zip up and be ready for the tarmac.

“I look uncomfortable to you?”

The bastard is grinning, Soap can tell.

“Ye look like yer dressed for a fuckin funeral.” Soap quips, looking at the ceiling, heart still beating too fast.

“Can’t have you dying before I’ve had my fun.” Ghost teases as he gest to his feet and  strips off.  The pale flesh and scars are devoured by Soap’s hungry gaze as his eyes are drawn back, like a moth to a flame.

As he drops the last piece of clothing to the floor, he looks over to Soap on the bed.

“Mask stays on.” he says, the rest of him bare.

“I dinnae care.” Soap lies.

Both of their eyes tracking how his cock jumped at the idea.

Ghost laughs, not unkindly, “Slag.”

The bed shifts under him as Ghost settles at the end of it. Soap sits up on his elbows, suddenly nervous.

He's no stranger to casual dalliance, to a quick and dirty release stolen in a pub bathroom or if he's lucky someone's flat if they're generous.

But it's Ghost.

It matters. It's not something he leaves in the early hours, hidden in cigarette smoke and strangers mouths. What if it ruins everything?

"Johnny?" Ghost is looking at him, a hand circled around Soap's ankle.

"M'fine," he says without thinking, scrambling for an excuse for his sudden silence, "was jus' wondering how ye want me?"

He goes to roll over, but there's a sudden fierce grip on his hips as Ghost tugs him down the bed, keeping him on his back.

"Wanna see you." is all Ghost says.

Soap feels like his heart is lodged in his throat, as Ghost rummages around in the bedside table.

"You've done this part before, haven't you?" it's a genuine question. But there's that teasing tone to it that has Soap rolling his eyes, falling back into the rhythm of their banter.

"Oh aye, I'm a fuckin blushin virgin." he jokes, kicking out and catching Ghost in the side. "Chaste as a priest, I am."

Ghost glances up at him, the heat still in his eyes.

“Better start praying then Johnny. Won’t be after I’m done with you.“

Soap feels his breath catch at the threat. “That a promise, LT?”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead just clicks the bottle of lube open, pouring some onto his fingers and pressing two into Soap. There's an intensity to his focus as he presses deeper until they brush against the spot that punches a groan out of Soap.

"There we are."

"Hurry it up will ye?" Soap growls. He'd been trying to ignore the dull ache of being stretched open. But now there was a steady building at the base of his spine, his breath coming in shallow, cock filling out again after flagging.

"Patience is a virtue, Johnny." Ghost murmurs.

Soap winces at the feeling of Ghost removing his fingers, looking down as there’s a pause.

“Ye alright?”

He can't help but ask.

He gets a nod in response.

“Well, come on then. Show me how nasty ye are.” he wiggles his eyebrows and revels in the small huff of a laugh from Ghost as he lines himself up.

“Might regret that, Johnny.” Ghost says, locking eyes with him.

“Regret you takin yer fuckin tim-” he cuts off in a groan as Ghost smoothly presses the head of his cock in, his other hand tightly gripping Soap's waist.

“Fuckin hell, coulda warned me.” he says to Ghost's shoulder.

Ghost hums. "Could’ve.”

“Prick.” Soap lets his head fall back. He relaxes into the feeling, letting his body adjust. Ghost waits until Soap gives him a nod before slowly sheathing himself to the root.

That lightheaded feeling is back as Soap rests his head against Ghost's sternum. That languid bloodwarm feeling of being full trickling up his spine.

“You solid?” he hears from above him.

Soap shifts a bit, feeling the ache of how stretched he was. “Aye.”

“Good.” is all the warning he gets before the first thrust knocks the breath out of Soap’s lungs. His hands come up to grasp at Ghost's biceps, groaning at the drag of skin on skin, wet heat and rushing blood.

It's not gentle, he’s sure he’ll have bruises on his hips to hide for weeks from the whiteknuckle grip Ghost has. But he could tell the bastard was holding back.

“I’m no’ made of glass, Ghost, I can take it.” he bites out.

Ghost laughs in his ear. “Careful Johnny, or I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

The response is automatic.

“Ye already have.”

Ghost stills and Soap feels immediate panic he’d overstepped.

They hadn’t spoken about what this was.

Whether it was just a bit fun to left off steam or something more that they'd been dancing around for years.

Before he can scramble to come up with an apology, a joke to lessen the seriousness of what he’s just let fall out of his mouth, Ghost gives a snarl.

He snaps his hips forwards and Soap can swear he feels it in his throat.

The grip on his hips tightens so hard it nearly hurts as Ghost drives into him. It feels primal and possessive, heady and addicting as he rakes his nails down pale flesh, urging for more.

Ghost grabs the back of his neck, pulls him forward so he can growl in his ear.

“Made for this aren’t you, made for me.”

It isn’t a question, though Soap thinks he’s nodding. He feels dizzy with it, how much he wants this, how much Ghost wants him.

“Gonna be a good boy for me, Johnny?”

Ghost voice sounds raw, eyes burning as the meet Soap's.

“Fuck.” Soap sobs, it sounds more like a plea than an answer.

“There you are, sweet'eart, show me how well you take me.”

Soap falls back on the bed, Ghost's hand drifting from the back of his neck down to his thighs. He can feel the rough calluses on his skin, feel his teeth nearly rattle as Ghost slams into him.

It’s too much, just on this side of painful and he never wants it to end.

There's a dizzying feeling every time he feels Ghosts cock drag against him in just the right way. There's bruises blooming on his hips under the near deathgrip Ghost has on him.

“Thought about this a lot. How good you'd be for me.”

Soap doesn't have it in him to respond, he feels like he’s sinking deeper into a calm. His body goes lax and boneless, mind buzzing at the pleased growl from Ghost when his body just submits.

“Love seeing you like this Johnny, fucked brainless and still fuckin desperate for me.”

That pulls a whine out him, clenching down around the cock still driving deeper into him. He thought Ghost would be quiet, but each word of praise fills him like warm honey, mind swimming.

“Show me you can come like this, sweet'eart.”

Soap can already feel himself hurtling towards the edge, wrapping an arm around the back of Ghost's neck and pulling him close.  

"Fuck, Ghost, please." he pleads.

He hears Ghost's voice in his ear, raw and rough, “That's it love, be pretty for me.”

That does it.

Soap's entire body seems to lock up for a moment, pleasure sparking through him and settling into the base of his skull with a blistering heat. His cock pulses, untouched and painting his stomach.

“There’s a good boy.” he hears Ghost murmur. He bites down on the meat of Ghost's shoulder to muffle the whine that threatens to make its way out, hearing those words.

As he comes down, dizzy still, his head lolls forward, like his strings have been cut. He dimly registers the twitch of Ghost’s cock inside him, and softly groans at the feeling of it slipping out of him spent.

Soap slumps on the bed without Ghost’s grip holding him, body heavy and lax after the orgasm that was wrung out of him. He should get up, he knows the routine. He should leave so he isn't intruding.

Instead, his eyelids grow heavy and he drifts into darkness.

When he comes back to himself, he's been cleaned up, blanket pulled over him to keep out the chill. There’s a solid weight beside him.

“Back with me?” Ghost asks.

“Solid.” his words sound slurred, but the laugh from Ghost isn’t cruel. Soap pushes himself up so he's sitting, before Ghost speaks again.

"Didn't hurt you, did I?" There is a weight to his words, even though he's clearly trying to keep the tone light.

"Reckon me hips'll have a few bruises. I dinnae mind that though." he glances down at the purple on his side. It's not quite a handprint but enough of a suggestion of one. Showers were going to be fun.

He jumps as Ghost trails a finger over one, gentle and completely at odds with what had caused them.

"I'll keep that in mind." Ghost says. There's something about his voice that's off, doesn't feel like it's hitting Soap's ears like it normally does. He looks over to ask him if he's alright. It takes Soap a moment to realise what’s different.

“Ye weren’t lyin. Yer a bonnie bastard beneath the mask.”

He gets a smirk in response, and his heart fuckin clenches with it. He still hadn’t asked what this meant, for them. He suddenly feels vulnerable, naked and tucked into the covers of Ghost’s bunk.

"Eh, sorry for passing out on ye at the end there," Soap mumbles, his ears burning.

Ghost shrugs, "S'fine. Don't mind."

Thre's a quiet, but the buzzing unease under Soap's skin doesn't settle. Just like before, he doesn't know where to put his feet, worried he'll detonate whatever this is between them.

"Do ye want me to leave?" he asks like an idiot.

“Got somewhere to be?” Ghost raises an eyebrow.

"You reckon there's somewhere I should be?" he counters with another question. It's the same dance they've done for years, always toeing the line but neither crossing. Strange to have the feeling after they've fucked like they'd die without it.

Ghost sighs after a moment, and Soap readies himself for the pushback. The return to status quo.

Instead, Ghost grabs him by his chin, holding his gaze steady.

"If I wanted a quick fuck I've got more than enough offers, Johnny. Wouldn't have risked this."

He rests his forehead against Soap's.

Their breaths merge in the space between them,

"Fucking said before, didn't I? Only you." he says softer this time, thumb absently running along Soap's jawline.

It feels like the minefields behind them. Throwing caution to the wind, Soap moves forward and kisses him.

Something in him settles when Ghost's hand shifts from his chin to cup his face, a warm feeling in his chest that burns brighter than pride as he drags his teeth and gets a nip back in retaliation.

It feels just like the normal back and forth in a strange way that makes him laugh, Ghost grumbling a bit.

"Was enjoying that." he murmurs into the crook of Soap's neck.

"Was enjoying not doing missions half mast, but ye ruined that ye fuckin bastard," Soap counters, frowning as he feels Ghost smile against his skin. He shoves him.

"Ye can't be calling me fuckin good boy in front of the others." he says seriously. As much as his blood sings with how good this all feels, he doesn't want it to effect the team, or his ability to do his job.

"I won't." Ghost says, and actually sounds like he means it. 

He pulls Soap close to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing his face into his neck. Sleep doesn't make them wait long.

[katsus-world]

Keys

Bakugou fluff! Just something small because I haven’t posted in a while! Not proof read so sorry about any misspellings 😣!

Your hands smell like metal as hangers make their way to some racks in front of you. The lanyard around your neck making you sore as you reach to rub the back of your skin.

A yawn pulls to your lips as you continue to walk around the store, today’s been pretty slow and nothing interesting ever happens so you’re always bored out of your mind.

Or that was until now. Heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor, ash blonde hair catches your eye as he walks up to the register.

“Fuck, what is he doing here?” You thought to yourself as you see your super hero roommate walk in, his handsome face covered in dry blood and ash.

“I lost the fuckin’ key at work, gimme yours and I’ll pick you up later.” He grumbled as he looks at a little all might key chain that was on display.

“Couldn’t you have texted me about it and I would have dropped it off at your agency kat.” You sigh as you walk over to a cabinet, unlocking it and grabbing the key from your coach purse.

“Tch, I lost my fuckin’ phone too. The stupid villain took our shit to make a weapon.” He’s walking around now, eyes looking at everything, and all your coworkers hiding behind shelves and racks of clothes, trying to find out what your conversation was about.

“Be careful out there, dumbass. You’re filthy right now, I might just have to mop the floor once you leave.” He shoots you a look and snaps his lips.

“Wish you could do that in the house, ya pig.” He chuckles to himself, finding his comeback clever. You roll your eyes, but the sound of him makes your heart melt.

You walk out the register and follow to where he’s standing. His suit is ripped from the back, his muscular shoulder blade on display. His boots leave little marks on the floor, shit now you might actually need to mop when he leaves.

“Fuck this place is boring, can’t believe you work a nine to five y/n.” He snorts as he sees some knock off gucci shirt, walking over to the shoes where there’s knock off Jordan’s and literally every other brand.

“Sorry, not all of us have to luxury of being heros.” You replied, hitting his rip playfully.

“You could have.”

“I’m not talking about this anymore, Kat don’t you needa be saving people or something?” He turns to look at you, eyes annoyed that you’re kicking him out of your shitty store.

“Rushing me outta your job ain’t nice sweets.” His finger hooks at the bottom of your chin, heat fills your face as you pull away from his touch, now your coworkers are DEFINITELY staring.

“Since when do you like nice? Shut up and take the key.” The jingle of the dynamight keychain pulls his attention. His gloved hand takes the key and shoves it in his pocket.

“Let me know when you get off of work and I’ll come get ya. Ima’ cook tonight, don’t order nothin’.” You nod as he reaches down to kiss you, you smile softly at him as his lips brush against yours.

“Get me that all might keychain.” He whispers in your ear so no one else could hear, his ears pink with embarrassment. With a giggle you “mhm” in response and watch as your hero boyfriend walks out.

Your coworkers are gonna have a FIELD DAY with this now.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊

Bonus! :

“Katsuki where’s my key, ima be late to work!” You call out as you search around the living room table.

“Fuck about that, I lost it.” He walks into the room, hands in his sweat pockets as he looks at you with a bored expression.

“Fuck do you mean you lost it!? Bakugou I swear to god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as you try to calm yourself down. He smacks his lips at you using his last name.

“Don’t go to work today then. Stay with me.” His voice is horse with neediness as he walks up to you, rough hands finding home at the curves of your waist.

“Katsuki..” you bite your lip at the thought of going back to bed with your boyfriend. Fuck it.

“Lemme go call in, but you’re buying me lunch!” He grins at your words and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever you want sweets, come back to bed when you’re done.” As katsuki walks away, he can’t help but play with the dynamight figure that was in his pocket, his fingers careful to not touch the keys. 😉

[gabessquishytum]

I've been thinking a lot about medieval longbowman Hob,,, and how a modern alternative might be gymbro Hob,,, the kind of gymbro who bulks and gets really strong and is just an absolute unit,,, and so i dug up this ole gym dreamling encounter from discord, and here we are!! The Hob I'm picturing here is an unholy amalgamation of comics!Hob in 1389, and Ferdie. So make of that what you will!

Fuckin' Resolutions

Dream is not the kind of person who makes New Year's resolutions. He's the kind of person who prefers to repeat his mistakes over and over and then yell at everyone who says “I told you so!” But. Dream is now in possession of a membership to his local gym, courtesy of his least favourite sibling. They obviously thought it would be a funny joke. Dream is out to prove them wrong.

And so, kitted out in a brand new pair of shorts (black) and a tank top (also black), as well as new trainers (you guessed it: black), he enters the gym. It is a new year. He can do new things. Maybe going to the gym will be the solution to the puzzling mess that is his life.

Naturally, Dream chooses the foyer area – what seems to be a writhing mass of people to his anxious eyes – in which to embarrass himself.

Scanning the various arrows pointing off in different directions, hoping that one of them might tell him where to go, he loses concentration. It really is quite overwhelming, with a myriad of classes, workout areas, lockers, and even a small snack bar. Dream looks around, wildly lost. And he walks right into something very warm, and very soft.

"Woah!" The warm and soft something says. "You okay there?"

Dream pulls himself backwards like he's been burned. In front of him stands a broad, smiling man, about the same height as himself. He's rather sweaty, and he smells… good.

Dream mumbles something about a yoga class that sounds nonsensical even to his own ears, but the man nods along seriously. He's entirely focused on Dream’s words, and he seems quite absentminded as he pulls the hem of his t-shirt up and uses it to wipe the sweat from his nose.

Dream’s mumbling trails off to a complete stop and he just gazes straight ahead. Hiding beneath the man's inconspicuous t-shirt was, apparently, the most gorgeous, soft, godly stomach. It bounces slightly once freed from the fabric. The rest of his torso is just as thick, and Dream even catches sight of his pecs peeking out. They're the kind of muscley-soft that should absolutely be illegal, if only for the sake of Dream’s sanity. And hairy, too. From his chest to the waistband of his shorts, thick body hair curls lovingly across his skin. It glistens faintly under the bright lighting, drops of sweat looking more like the golden highlights in a painting

The guy raises an eyebrow as Dream continues to stare. "Whoops! T-shirt kind of hides all that, right? Sometimes it's a surprise for me too!"

And what a wonderful surprise, Dream thinks. The guy is still giving him a free view of his belly, apparently unbothered by Dream’s gawping mouth. He can't stop looking at the little spills lovehandle over the waistband of the man's shorts. The man angles himself one way, then the other, like he's showing himself off. He even flexes his chest.

"I'm sorry." Dream stutters. "I think I may be having some kind of sexual awakening?"

The guy laughs – nearly making Dream faint outright as he watches the gentle shaking of his stomach. "You're very sweet. I really didn't mean to flash you like that." Tragically, he pulls the t-shirt down again. But he does offer Dream his hand in recompense.

"I'm Hob. Would it be okay if I show you the way to the yoga class?"

Dream nods dumbly. He isn't so much shaking Hob’s hand as he is holding it. The t-shirt tents over his belly, but the rest of him is still sturdily visible. Thickly muscular arms and thighs, wide shoulders, a warmly smiling mouth. Dream might as well have met Apollo the sun god himself in the middle of the gym. This man is certainly more magnificent than any classical figure.

"I'm Dream." He says, meekly. Hob has started walking, pulling him along by the hand. Dream takes one devastating glance at his arse (it's right in front of him!) and wonders hysterically whether his face is as bright red as it feels. He's never thought to describe another man's arse as pendulous before, but there's something hypnotic in the swaying motion created by all that soft flesh.

Hob turns and offers him another bright smile. "Yes, you are. Very dreamy." He allows Dream to come up right alongside him, and drops his voice to a theatrical whisper. "You know, cute boys at the gym don't usually look at me like that. Not unless they think I'm not looking, anyway."

Dream makes a disbelieving noise.

"I know! They don't know what they're missing. Once you come over to the dark side, you never go back." Hob continues, with a jaunty wink. And Dream feels the tips of his ears begin to sizzle. He must be bright red from head to toe, surely. He squeezes Hob’s hand (which he still, incomprehensibly, holding) in an attempt to convey his agreement. Hob, for whatever reason, squeezes back.

"Well, here we are. Yoga class is in there." They come to stop somewhere along a corridor. Dream hasn't been paying attention and has no idea how he'll find his way out of the building.

"Thank you." He manages, and clears his throat. "I am sorry. If my staring was in any way offensive."

Hob’s eyes twinkle and he plucks at the front of his t-shirt idly, pulling it up an inch or two. Dream gets a glimpse of soft lower belly for his troubles. "Not at all. Feel free to objectify me any time." He leans close, and bumps Dream gently with his hip. "In fact. I'll be very disappointed if you don't have at least three more sexual awakenings when you watch me doing downward dog."

And with that, he enters the yoga class, leaving Dream to stumble after him.

The yoga teacher is a very nice woman called Rachel, and there are at least a dozen people in the class. Dream actually feels quite comfortable hiding towards the back of them. Hob is a row in front of him, and he winks over his shoulder. He's absolutely divine to look at from behind – everything is taunt and muscular from his shoulders to his calves. Except for his arse, which carries a healthy load of fat. Dream has spent most of his life looking at men with lustful intent, but never has he seen a man like Hob. This is a man who could draw a longbow, or heft a battleaxe. He could scoop Dream over his shoulder and carry him like a bag of flour, should the need arise.

And, as it turns out, he is devastatingly flexible. It seems almost unfair. Somewhere along the line, Dream just finds himself staring, transfixed, as Hob contorts into pose after pose. His thighs flex, his shoulders remain steady as ever, and Dream gets another lovely little peep of those sweet lovehandles. After the class, Rachel praises Dream for knowing his limits and not pushing himself too hard. He doesn't have the heart to explain to her why he spent most of class standing with his mouth half open.

Hob is waiting by the door when Dream scurries away from the other class attendees, with his yoga mat strategically positioned in front of his crotch. He smirks, and once again pulls his t-shirt up to wipe his face. He's not even sweating, particularly.

Dream is sweating. A lot.

“I don't suppose you'd fancy a little post-workout drink? You can get a decent protein shake around here.” Hob quirks an eyebrow upwards. “Or I could just help you find the showers?”

“Showers.” Dream breathes out, clutching his mat tighter. “Please. I think you need to make up for the absolute mess you've made of me, this afternoon.”

Hob looks very pleased with himself indeed, and he wraps his arm around Dream’s waist. It's an intimate gesture that makes Dream throb from head to toe. “I may make a mess, but I always clean up after myself.” Hob murmurs.

Dream's hand brushes Hob’s arse is passing as they start walking… and he can really only hope that Hob is telling the truth about cleaning up. If only for the sake of his brand new shorts…

[princess-glassred]

Idk how this would happen but Imagine if somehow when the losers were kids, Richie gets into some kind of Big esque reverse 13 going on 30 scenario and just wakes up one day in his adult 40 year old body while it's still 1989. You expect him to freak out and have a crisis but no, richie lowkey likes being old cause he has an excuse not to go to school.

He smacks his head on the clubhouse ceiling and can barely fit in the stupid hammock anymore because of his long ass legs. All his friends try to razz on him for having body hair now but richie is like "i know! Its awesome! Im like a sasquatch!". Even though the body is only 40 Richie is still just a kid so hes acting like hes elderly, he even asks Bev if she thinks he can get senior discounts in this body. All of the losers have to beg him to please stop wearing shorts and put on some fuckin jeans. Richie tries getting beer now that he's but its so awkward "i'd like to get some beer." "Uh ok, what brand?" "...beer." "is this your first day being alive or something?".

Because he's a whole ass adult he can scare Henry with how tall and strong he is, so one day when they're in public bathroom he just comes out of the stall and scares the absolute crap outta him. In order to stop people from asking why a 40 year old is hanging out with a bunch of preteens so he says "They're my kids. All of them. I fucked all their moms.". For a while richie was just walking around in his kid clothes even though they didn't fit him at all and looked ridiculous on him, until Bill stole some of his dads clothes and gave them to him. Sometimes adult men will hit on Richie and he literally doesn't know how to respond, especially cause no women hit on him at all. Belch huggins dad gives him his phone number and he doesn't know how to feel about that. Eddie comes out of this entire richie situation with his taste in men totally changed forever.

Don't worry though, the whole thing wears off eventually 😉

[littlemissstel]

Thinking about sukuna and

that one "Kitty you better not be dead" song.

Like imagine him finding this abandoned cat (In the modern au) and laughing at it because it looks absolutely repulsive, drenched and dirty in a cardboard box but then it starts following him- making cute noises (it sounds like screaming rather than meowing) as if having a conversation.

He lives in a shitty apartment above a convenience store. Technically he doesn't have to, but he simply doesn't care enough to find somewhere else, let alone have the means to maintain it.

And then he realizes the poor thing is limping! So now he has to take it to the vet but- OMFG are cat medical bills expensive, and he was just a drug dealer on the low, but now he's gotta sell some REAL stuff 🙄

This guy would flop on the sofa after meeting with ONE buyer and let out the biggest sigh as if he just slaved away at a 9-5, cussing out the cat for being, "So fuckin' needy."

Now he has to do his research on public forums about the best cat food and gets pissy when the normal one he gets is out of stock. At some point he has enough and either buys in bulk or cuts a deal with the shop owner bellow (he is friends with) and pays them to add it to their shelves which he can now do because the cat encouraged him to start working seriously.

At first it was the vet bills, then he realised that food was expensive, and to set up basics like litter boxes, bowls... And of course the cat needs a leash? The vet said it would be best for his kitty to be an indoor cat and so outside appearances must be special, meaning their leash must be decorate and on brand. Don't get him started on the cold- the poor baby needs clothes too.

He unintentionally raised up the ranks in his "job", then got noticed by one of the higher ups in the underworld. Now he is doing the real dirty work. That also means his hours are more demanding and he simply can't have that. What was his kitty supposed to do all by themselves?

Now he has to take the kitty into torture rooms with him. Make sure they are strapped in when he does a drive by and tells the person he kidnapped in the boot to shut up because his kitten is sleeping peacefully in the backseat. What a pain.

There are only a few people Sukuna trusts with his pride and joy, two of them being Nanami Kento and Uarame, who were more than amused to see the ever so infamous man take such careful measures with the small creature. That being said they quickly put anyone else who openly acknowledges it in their place and have also formed a bond with the cat, even going as far to send gifts on its birthday and Christmas.

Sukuna would end up hunting down the person who left the kitty by getting into the street cameras.

He'd rather kill a thousand people than go a day without his cat.

I'm going to write something proper on this, i adore this concept SO much! PLEAASSEE leave name ideas for the cat!!!