#He DOES look pretty fucked up. Some kind of beast
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Some creatures are more difficult to perceive than others
#Treecko#skitty#dusknoir#chatot#pokemon doodles#original art#context: I’ve said this before but explorers was the very first pokemon game I ever played#I wasn’t watching the anime then so it was also the first time I ever saw a dusknoir#And for whatever reason I just couldn’t quite….comprehend what he was supposed to be#Thought he was some kind of robot until he did his ghostly disappearing act#Definitely a fun game to play when you know nothing about pokemon!#Everything was so new and exciting! And you don’t know what anyone looks like until you meet them!#The other thing in a similar vein was with dialga#I didn’t know what dialga was SUPPOSED to look like so when they’re all talking about how fucked up he is I was like damn#He DOES look pretty fucked up. Some kind of beast#And then after fixing time you see he looks THE SAME except with a palette change#Like oh. i see. That’s just what you look like#Dialga should’ve got a special form tho#Maybe something replacing the steel type with ghost#Bc without time he’s technically not alive#And I read somewhere the steel typing might’ve represented the steady nature of time or something#So with time being stopped it’s not flowing so steadily huh#This wasn’t supposed to be abt dialga tho. Get your own post#ANYWAY dusknoir is a weird looking guy especially when you’re not quite sure what you’re looking at#but he is canonically handsome so do with that what you will
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yandere alastor x fem!reader hcs
sfw + nsfw below
i have this idea that, when you were both still human, alastor married you for a marriage of convenience (probably tax purposes). he's not one for love, but he does quite like to make things easier for himself, as well as a bit of reliable companionship from someone he can trust. he found it rather cute that you were head over heels in love with him.
he insists upon keeping you at his side almost 24/7. you accompany him everywhere; to his station while he's broadcasting, about town as he runs his errands, even to his overlord meetings, though you are forced to wait outside. he knows you won't up and disappear; even if you weren't such a good little pet, there isn't anywhere you could run that he couldn't find you.
the other overlords tease alastor about his little 'pet' he keeps on such a tight leash. he doesn't ever object to this title.
gives you dancing lessons and doesn't allow you to rest until you can copy his movements exactly. if you collapse from exhaustion before that, he'll coo and brush your hair out of the way, then haul you to your feet and start again from the beginning.
he won't have you doing much other than keeping your shared home clean and occasionally cooking a meal or two. you're his darling, he can't have you wearing yourself out taking care of him. he'll do most everything - he just wants you to sit there and look pretty for him.
won't allow you to leave the table until you finish the meals he makes for you.
loves to have you hanging on his arm. you're like a precious little trophy for him to show off - only his, and no one else's.
being alastor's beloved companion makes you a prime target for blackmail and kidnappers, but he doesn't want you to fret, dear - he has it covered. his shadows are on your trail in the extremely rare occasion he's not with you, and he's killed demons for less than even looking your way.
doesn't allow any kind of modern technology inside his home or upon your person, even if you died long after him. he considers cellphones to be the property of his enemies, and you wouldn't want him to catch you wearing the symbol of the v's, now, would you?
he picks out your outfits for each day, even has them custom made at the tailor's just for you. he knows best, darling, so don't fight him on this. he doesn't want you going out looking like some common harlot, not when you belong to the radio demon.
often takes out his frustrations of the day on you at night when you're alone in his bedroom. he bites and scratches and thrashes like a beast trapped in a snare, and he relishes in having you wear the marks when he's done.
his favorite position to have you in is plain old missionary; not only is it traditional, but he enjoys having complete control over you while he bucks up into your heat.
like most animal-based demons in hell, he enters a rut once a month and rarely emerges from his quarters; which means you don't, either. at least three times a day, and he only stops to give you rest and to whisper the filthiest things you've ever heard in your ear.
enjoys bondage to an extent, but only on you. he's not opposed to pretty little collars wrapped around your neck, either.
now, when you're in the mood and he's not, he's not totally cruel. while he won't fuck you when and wherever, he'll allow you to straddle his thigh and hump his leg like an animal while he continues whatever work he was doing before.
he may often be brutal, he knows aftercare is extremely important. he can't leave his darling bruised and broken for next time, can he? licks up any blood he may have drawn and ensures you drink when you're done, even if he has to hold your back against his chest and tip your chin up to force the water down your throat. he'll usually run you a bath and, surprisingly, will gently bathe you before dressing you in the finest bedroom silks in hell and putting you to bed.
he doesn't sleep much, but since meeting you, he's replaced many of his nighttime activities with sitting at the side of your bed and watching you sleep.
alastor doesn't love; but he knows he would tear hell apart at the seams if you were ever taken from him.
#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#radio demon#alastor smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x you
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Sharing is Caring
Guys. Listen to me. Soap and Gaz sharing you.
Part two
Content Warnings - fmm, Anal, threesome, double penetration, multiple orgasms, tit slapping, rimming, oral (both m and f receiving), throat fucking, multiple positions.
Soap and Gaz sharing you. At first it started out with just a friends with benefits situation with Gaz. A way for him to unwind after returning from deployment. He's fucked you ten ways to Sunday. Couch, counter, your bed, his bed, the shower, the fucking floor. If it's a flat surface, you've probably been fucked there.
And it's not like he's just taking. He gives, hell you're half convinced he gets off more to eating your ass then he does to any other kind of foreplay. You'd be fully convinced if he didn't loose some of his precious control and ends up lightly throat fucking you each time you give him a blow job.
He's had you screaming his name often and loud, he has scratches down his back and arms from making you tumble off the edge into another orgasm as his hips slam into yours. He's sweaty and panting, you're on the verge of passing out from sheer bliss yet you both know the night is far from over. He'll take you in missionary first, cowgirl next so he can grope at your breasts while you bounce on his cock. Then he'll have your face shoved into a pillow with your ass up high as he pounds your ass. You'll both go to the shower and it would take a miracle to keep him from getting on his knees to "clean you up proper dove".
Now how did Soap get involved? Well Soap was complaining about having trouble finding a new fwb after his last broke things off for a stable relationship. And who would Gaz be if he didn't offer his pretty little toy up? You've discussed a threesome with Gaz before, told him it was on the table. To just let you know when it would happen. So he texted you that a mate of his had some steam to blow off.
God, did Soap have some steam to blow off. Your hips had bruises the shapes of his fingers, your voice was hoarse from when he fucked your face. Groaning and throwing his head back as his hips bucked while you gagged and spit dripped down your chin. Gaz watched from his spot, lazily fisting his cock while he watched Soap utterly destroy your pussy and throat.
"God what a fuckin' whore." Soap growled as tears ran down your face and you looked up at him. "Takin' my cock down yer throat like it's yer job."
Gaz pulled you into his lap, spreading your legs open with his own to keep them open. "Clean her up mate. Not nice to leave her like this." Tears rolled down your cheeks as Soap ate you out like a starved beast. Constantly teasing and sucking on your clit between shoving his tongue into your soaked and ruined cunt. Gaz kept him there by gripping his mohawk, telling him to get it nice and ready for him. You nearly sobbed when you heard that.
He had you face down and ass up when Soap finally cleaned you up to his liking, your cheek rested on Soaps inner thigh as Gaz plowed your pussy first. Your nails dug into Soaps thighs as you moaned and screamed. Orgasm after orgasm pulled from you until you could not form a word, slurring their names. "Kyle- mph- Kyle Kyle Kyle- fuck."
You thought you were hallucinating when Gaz bent over you and pulled Soap into a sloppy kiss. When you finally tapped out after Gaz filled your pussy once and ass twice, you watched with blurry eyes as Soap whined and moaned while Gaz rimmed him. The ache between your legs growing little by little as you watched Soap and Gaz absolutely ruin each other. "Kyle! Oh fuck!" Soap whined as he fisted the sheets.
To be honest, you weren't sure how you ended up sandwiched between the two sweaty men as Soap fucked your ass in rhythm with Gaz who took your pussy. There was hardly a shortage of degrading or praise from either of them.
"Good whore." Soap growled as Gaz whispered "Pretty dove, taking us so well."
Soap developed a fascination with your tits and watching them bounce and redden with each slap to them.
By the end of the night, you had Soaps number in your phone and you were tucked into bed, thoroughly worn out. Soap and Gaz barely made it back to their flat before passing out themselves.
#gaz call of duty#cod gaz#gaz x reader#gaz smut#gaz mw2#gaz x soap#soap x reader smut#soap mactavish#Waves original works#soap#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x gaz#cod smut#call of duty smut#gaz x female reader#soap x fem reader#waves original work
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Casanova
HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍
7.5K words;
TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.
ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D
______________________________________________________________
Money, all I ever want is money
But I never wanna work for the money
So I borrow the money from a woman
Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.
His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up.
Rinse. Reuse. Repeat.
As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.
Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid.
His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more.
On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must.
So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.
You.
Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.
That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.
Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty.
38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3
Seeking a male ages 21-28.
His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?
He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job.
He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell.
He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there.
As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.
Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo
A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.
Can you believe I never met her?
Can you believe she never met me, too?
But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave
And no I never listened
Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.
It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.
“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”
Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!”
He has you eating out of the palm of his hand.
“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night.
“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”
“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock.
“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”
“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”
“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”
At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears.
You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again.
“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply.
“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”
“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours.
“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.
Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes.
“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that.
“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”
“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”
“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”
The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame.
Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off.
You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week.
Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.
As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.
Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘
Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.
Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.
He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon.
So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house.
Scout’s honor.
I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down
Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around
Spending all of her money on drugs and things
To keep my mind from runnin'
Back to the hole that I came from
Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat.
He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.
Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo
Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.
Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club.
The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.
The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits.
As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd.
Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into.
Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
And I don't ever want to go back
~
“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”
Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.
At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply.
“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”
He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?
“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”
He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”
“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”
He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.
“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.
“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down.
“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.
“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows.
“Fuck!”
Hm, Casanova
You know that I'm a casanova
Throw my pennies in the well
Waking up in jail
'Cause I never paid attention
Do you remember all the good times?
Do you remember all the bad times too?
She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave
And no I never listened
~
You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends.
It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents.
“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”
“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”
“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”
You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity.
“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”
He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you.
“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out.
“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.
Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach.
She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.
His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.
Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘
He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead.
Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind.
~
It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around.
You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.
Monday, 3:31 PM
Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.
Wednesday, 11:27 AM
Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢
Friday, 5:58 PM
Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us.
Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.
You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave.
Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue.
Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight?
You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.
Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚
Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.
~
I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool
Everywhere that I go, everything that I do
Stop me using the money on drugs and things
To keep my mind from runnin'
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
And I don't ever want to go back
Ping!
Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35
Ping!
You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.
Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.
He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.
He’s not going to New York.
Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins.
He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.
To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.
He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.
~
The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?
Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy.
You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car.
You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed.
Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with.
As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile.
You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it.
The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.
Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment.
~
3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family.
You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.
Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman.
Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect.
You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.
Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.
You’re silent for a beat after the beep.
“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face.
“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”
“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling.
“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.
You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.
Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.
~
He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice.
5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while.
His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.
The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face.
Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance.
He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.
But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.
I'm back in the hole
I got nowhere to go
La la la la, la, la
Spinning around
In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.
In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about.
The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement.
He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing.
His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on.
The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move.
Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south.
The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.
~
Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.
You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.
Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them.
Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.
~
He doesn’t even remember how it went down.
The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy.
To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights.
So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations.
Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.
“Fuck!”
The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.
“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”
Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?
“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice.
“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”
“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone.
“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.
The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.
“Hello?”
~
“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”
You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.
“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you.
“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest.
“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”
“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.
“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”
You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs.
“How much do you need?”
At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.
“It’s $75,000.”
“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”
“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”
“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.
Harry rolls his eyes and continues.
“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”
You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”
~
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again.
Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait.
Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —
You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole.
Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest.
He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.
“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.
His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.
“What the fuck is going on?”
You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.
“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”
You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition.
“I-I,” you stumble.
“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”
His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises.
“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”
His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.
“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.
“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”
“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”
If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.
You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy.
Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection.
He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life.
“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”
You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for.
“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his.
He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you.
“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs.
“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you.
It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.
“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”
Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.
He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently.
“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.”
“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”
Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.
“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest.
He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping.
“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”
Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.
His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you.
“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”
You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch.
“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”
He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.
“You close?”
“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”
Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s.
Harry is finally home.
“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”
He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.
“I expect nothing less.”
And I don't ever
Back to the hole that I came from
Back to the hole that I came from
And I don't ever want to go back
#harry styles#harrystyles#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry edward styles#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles fiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles x yn#harry styles writing#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff
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Honestly dude? I kinda brought this on myself. Definitely coulda gone a little softer on my bro... I mean boyfriend, but like, come the fuck on! He came home every fuckin' day from practice, kicking off his rank shoes, and stomped all over the house leaving nasty sweaty footprints on the hardwood bro! Then he fuckin' thinks it’s cute to sneak up and hug me with his soaked tank top, as if his funk wouldn't ruin my clothes! What the fuck!
Ok, ok, looking back after everything that happened, maybe I shouldn't have called him a Nasty Sweatrag, and told him to soak himself in bleach next time... Especially not in front of the creepy Goth kid, who happens to be his little brother!
One moment, I was just shouting at him, really laying it on him, sick of the sweat and the time he spent with his bros. I guess I was a bit jealous, but damn dude! I'm his bro! I mean, his girlfriend... or at least I was, until I made him cry and his brother glared from the corner of the room, seething.
In that split second before my stomach heaved, I knew I'd fucked up bad. Like, really bad bro! The world fuckin spun, I hacked and spluttered, then everything went black. I woke up later that day in a bedroom that was distinctly mine, but totally different. When I sat up and noticed my B-Cups were flat, solid, and square, my nipples small and pointing downward with the new bulk, I knew I was fucking JACKED brah! I, I mean I was fucked... this is a bad thing damn it! I'm not some lumbering meathead! fuck!
Anyway, I tossed my sheets, and noticed the rest of me. I was definitely taller, with big, clammy feet like my best bro... I mean boyfriend's, dangling off the end of my bed. My legs were thick, solid and capable of carrying the added bulk I'd suddenly packed on. The entire room reeked of humid funk. There were dirty clothes all over the floor by the hamper, battered, worn old sneakers and cleats by door in a heap, and my Vanity had become a fuckin' beast of a gaming rig dude! Fuck yeah! Wait... no, I don't game damn it! I'm not a fuckin' dude!
the rest of the room had changed similarly. Everything that could have pointed to a female living here, was now distinctly male. And that of a Big, Dumb, Sweatrag of a dude, as I'd called my bro earlier. However... it didn't bother me. I could barely smell it over the pungent fog that came from my muscled-up body. I was swole! And kinda gross dude, not gonna lie... But like, I can't fuckin help it! It’s like there's a fuckin' furnace inside me, burning up everything it’s got to keep me pumped and riled, on edge so bad I can't stop myself from fidgeting. my hands just, do their thing dude! One minute I'm lookin' in the mirror, the next I'm groping my fuckin Rod... I, woah... ok, it might be getting worse! I meant my fuckin' cock! I, I mean dick! Fucking damn it!
You know what, whatever. like I said, one minute I'm standing there, the next I've got my dick in my hand, or groping my fuckin nuts like those behemoths at the gym! Or it'll slide up my shirt, lifting it up while I don't even realize it. There’re all kinds of fuckin' weird dude things happening, and I can't stop any of it! My bod fuckin does as it wants if I'm not actively fighting it! The worst, and I mean it, the absolute fuckin worst, is when I've just scratched my junk good, and suddenly, like fuckin instinct, I'm sniffin' my fuckin fingers like a damn animal! What the fuck dude! All the fuckin' bros say its natural, that its some caveman shit... I might believe them, because it happens with my pits too! Just, standing there hittin' up one of the pretty chicks... I... I mean uh... my old friends... and then wham! sweaty pit fingers all up in my grill!
My Bro's little brother, the creepy Goth kid caught up with me when I'd all but sprinted the few blocks to his and my bro.. I mean my fuckin' boyfriend's house. I was just coming to terms with the fact that I'd hauled ass down the street, half naked, when He opened the door, and busted out laughing. Even when I had him dangling off the floor by his hoodie, threatening to squash his scrawny little pipsqueak ass, he cackled, before his eyes flared, and in an instant, his hand was out, my nipple in his fingers, as a cold pain flashed over my chest, and I looked down to see my nip was pierced, a silver barbell forcing it to stick out, perked up and stiff.
My jaw fell, and I dropped his ass, trying to form words as this wild, aggression filled me. The fuckin' goth punk crossed his arms and smirked, just as the piercings, or rather, the hex he'd put on them, erupted to life. I felt as if my brain was being squeezed from the inside, as if this fuckin' loser had his hands on it, wringing it out like a wet towel. I clutched my head, stumbling until I hit the couch, and sat, my legs splaying wide to give my fuckin' junk some room, like any dude does, when I felt the pressure lesson, and a strange, warmth began to flow from the back of my head, down my spine, and settled into my fuckin balls dude! It was like having all your smarts and who you are, drained down and stored where it belongs bro! Brains in your fuckin balls!
Fuck... no wait! He said if I couldn't fight it, if I didn't learn what it was like being an athletic dude, I'd lose everything I was, and end up just another sweaty meathead, lumbering around the gym, lifting big, gettin fucking swole, and plowing my way through chicks until graduation! I had to fight it; I couldn't give up. And my bro wasn't fuckin' helping!
He was always a fuckin' Golden Retriever, happy and dopey and dumb, I shoulda realized he was a good dude and I was lucky, before I'd been Bro'd up and brain squeezed out! Now, my fuckin' bro loves taking me to the gym, putting this body through its paces, even throwing fuckin shade when he got a whiff of my fuckin' pits! He laughs, but dude? I'm fuckin ripe, always am since his little brother turned up the juice and made sure I fit right in with the bros. My bro... boyfriend... finds it hilarious when he catches me flexing in the mirror while pumpin' out reps, or when I have to peel off my tank cus it got too damn soaked! Just look at my fuckin boxer briefs bro! See that sweat? Thats a fuckin' Man's sweat! I'm a fuckin beast bro!
All I had to do was last 1 week. Live like a fuckin dude for 7 days, learn my lesson, and I'd have my old life back. That shouldn't have been hard... well, I shouldn't have been hard, when my best friend Laura forgot what was in my fuckin pants one night while I stayed over, and fuck if I didn't end up railin' her for a good hour, before I realized too late that I'd be stuck as a sweaty dude if I shot my 5-day pent up load!
She gave me no option. Teasing me about being a big dumb meathead, all brawn, no brains, thinking with my fuckin' dick, and the last straw, the moment that ensured I'd be a dude forever, was when she bit and nibbled her way down my neck, her nails leaving red scratches along my fuckin back, until she bit my nipple, playing with the barbell with her tongue, and I fuckin lost it. Just fuckin plowed in, balls deep, and shot my load. That was it, everything that had made me a girl, had unloaded with high velocity into my best friend's belly. I nearly blacked out, my big feet scrabbling in the sheets trying to get deeper as my balls drained desperately. When it was over, I fell to the side in bed, gasping as she panted and giggled, tracing her nails through the sweat dribbling down my pecs.
It’s been a month since I'd lost both my temper, and my female body... but fuckin look at me brah?! The bros and I are fuckin swole! My bro says I'm far better off this way, and Laura does her part, keeping the damn Male Aggression and insatiable need in my balls, satisfied. There's a reason dudes are the way they are. Sometimes, they just can't help it.
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Watched the Nimona movie last night. Review I guess. It was pretty damn good. Definitely would’ve probably been regarded as Blue Sky’s magnum opus if they’d gotten to release it instead of being fucked over by Disney. Very cute, very funny, very powerful in the right moments. A thing that stuck out to me is that it’s really only an adaptation in the loosest sense of the word. It takes the core premise and beats of the comic but is functionally an entirely different kind of story that does its own thing. And given that ND Stevenson was heavily involved in production, I suspect that was intentional.
The comic was much darker and more downbeat in a lot of ways, plus it was significantly longer and thus could afford to be slower paced. But more than that, it was a lot more meaty in terms of themes and scope. The whole “LGBT allegory” element was there, but it wasn’t the sole focus, the comic was a story about a lot of different things; not just an LGBT experience, but also discussion of fantasy genre tropes and clichés, criticism of other fantasy deconstructions, character study, exploring what it means to be a hero or villain, critique of the glorification of crime and cruelty in underprivileged communities, corruption in governments, peer pressure, the senseless and self-perpetuating nature of violence, the worthlessness of revenge, etc.. And above all that, it was a story about trauma and people’s responses to it, with Ballister representing people who actually deal with their problems and move on while Nimona represented people who let their mistakes and suffering and grief consume their identity, or worse, use it as an excuse to indulge their worst qualities and take out their feelings on everyone around them.
The movie, by contrast, has a much more narrow focus. The LGBT allegory is front and center and basically the entire focal point of the movie, aside from a spattering of themes about the danger of zealotry and rigid fundamentalist thinking. This gives the movie a much tighter narrative and pacing that suits its inherently shorter runtime, but also leads to a ton of changes to the story either to convey a different kind of message or just work better in a different medium. Most obviously in how Nimona is vastly more sympathetic in the movie and essentially really is the silly gremlin the comic fakes you out into thinking she is, scrapping the comic’s twist that she was a genuinely bad person who was completely serious about wanting to be a villain, caring nothing for the lives she destroyed with her behavior and idolizing Ballister because she thought he was the same as her and would thus tell her what she wanted to hear (i.e., that she was justified in killing and destroying everything around her in the name of getting even). And in the changes to the Institution’s history and nature. And all sorts of other things.
All in all, I feel if you go in comparing and contrasting the movie and the comic, arguing which changes are for the better or worse, you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment in either direction because they’re two different beasts and it’s like comparing apples and oranges. So keep that in mind if you’re a fan of the comic watching the movie or a fan of the movie wanting to look into the comic. I think ultimately I still like the comic better, but that’s purely my personal opinion and there’s plenty that I think the movie did better.
Some other observations:
Riz Ahmed my beloved, thank you Mr. Stevenson for this perfect casting. Literally perfect for Ballister.
Acting in general was very good. You can tell this was a passion project for a lot of people, not just Stevenson.
Only two changes that are objectively bad are Ambrosius losing his awesome Van Halen hairdo and changing Ballister’s last name — Blackheart is a way cooler name than Boldheart and it’s a pointless change, one that I’d argue even hurts the narrative since it makes it too obvious that Ballister isn’t actually a bad guy.
The animation is really great with fantastic expressions, stylish movement, and wonderful aesthetics that perfectly suit the story, but there’s times where it feels a little off. But there are parts where it looks less “movie” and more “cheap mid-2000s CGI-and-Flash cartoon show from France”.
The humor can be a hit and miss, in a “going through the motions of a Hollywood animated comedy for kids” way. The movie excels when it’s either imitating the comic’s Old Internet sense of humor or going hard on the drama, but there’s bits where it seemingly slams on the brakes to do Illumination-esque Twitter humor and those bits definitely throw off the vibe.
Having an actual straight up attempted suicide in the climax was shockingly ballsy. I genuinely can’t believe they went there, but I’m glad they did because the film wouldn’t have felt nearly as raw without it.
I don’t know how they managed to make the Director even more of an asshole than in the comics, but they did.
#nimona#nimona film#nd stevenson#ballister boldheart#ballister blackheart#ambrosius goldenloin#movie review#animated movies#movies#films#comic books#dc comics#webcomic#web comics#indie comics#netflix#blue sky studios#lgbt film#lgbt fantasy
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Steve isn't sure what he was expecting a dragon hybrid to look like. Monstrous probably. The last word he expected to think is 'pretty'.
But he is. His long hair that looks so soft, his big doe-eyes, full lips, soft jaw... even the way he tilts his head, looking so curious. The little smirk, the amusement, the glint in his eyes.
And the dragon parts don't make him look anymore monstrous either. They probably should. Massive wings that, even folded behind him, take up so much space with how massive they are. The dark leathery skin and scales climbing around his bare torso, a line of them going down his arm, to his claws.
"Oh, hel-lo," he uses his wings to lift him from where he's sat on the floor, the movement dangerously smooth. "Who do I need to thank for you?"
"What? Oh, uh, no, that, um," Steve stammers, face flushing. He grabs the handle of his sword, feeling a little uncertain. He misses the way the dragons eyes linger on his sword. "I'm not... I'm here as a knight of the Kingdom, to... uh, facilitate, your leave?"
The dragon steps closer, slowly and carefully. "Is that your fancy way of saying that you're here to kill me?"
"I'm not a murderer," Steve draws himself up. "I'm not gonna hurt you unless you force me. Making sure you leave is technically following my orders."
"Technically," the dragon repeats. He hovers, hesitating, before leaning into Steves personal space. "What if I don't want to leave?"
"Why wouldn't you? The people here are assholes to you. There's plenty of towns who'd love a dragon."
"What about my treasure? I'd have to start a new hoard and..." He sighs, looking around at the ruined little castle he's nesting in, full of trinkets and gold and instruments. "This took so long."
"Couldn't you take it with you? Or, uh, I could have it moved?"
"No," the dragon growls, baring his teeth for a moment. He clears his throat after a moment, looks a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I just... I don't like people touching my things."
"Right, no, obviously. Sorry."
The dragons grin only grows as the quiet stretches out, Steve struggling to find something to say.
"I'm Eddie, by the way."
"Huh?"
"Eddie. Kind of. It's the closest way of saying it with the human tongue."
"Oh. Uh, hi? I'm Steve." Steve smiles a little, gives him a little wave.
He's adorable, Eddie shakes his wings a little. Bites his lip to try and stop himself blurting something embarrassing out, but can't stop himself asking, "you wanna stay a little while?"
"Oh, no, I should-"
"Tell the people that you spoke to me for five minutes and it did nothing? Nah, come on. We can chat or something. Think of some excuse on how you so nearly defeated the beast, if only the wily thing hadn't slipped away or whatever."
Steve follows him after a moment, looking over the little room Eddie leads them into. It's covered in softer things, blankets and stuffed furniture.
"Here," Eddie gestures to the big centerpiece loveseat. He perches on a little table, the space already cleared perfectly from other times he's clearly sat there.
Steve unclips his sword before falling back onto the seat. He shifts around to get comfortable, sprawling out. The sight has possessiveness burning through Eddie, Steve fitting perfectly among his treasures.
He stiffens when he looks to Eddie, who watches him with sharp eyes, leaning forward. Something about him looks suddenly dangerous.
"Uh, Eddie? Is this alright?"
"Yeah," Eddies voice is low, hushed. "Yeah, that's perfect."
"You sure? You're looking at me like you want to eat me."
Eddie immediately shakes his head. "No. No, it... I don't want to hurt you. It's..." Eddie looks him over again. "Fuck. Sorry, it's... I want to keep you."
Steve flushes bright red, tries to laugh it off. "What, you'd consider someone like me treasure?"
"You'd be the prettiest," Eddie tries for teasing. But his voice is strained, eyes still just as dangerous and sharp.
"How would that work? Like, keeping me?"
"Don't," Eddies voice cracks. "This... Bad idea. You- you should go."
Steve shifts so he's sat on the edge of the chair, hesitates. "When should I come back? It's... I don't know if any excuse I have will be good enough. They're probably gonna send me back anyway."
Eddie closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. "Steve."
"Right, sorry, I'm leaving."
He grabs his sword before walking quickly out. He doesn't look back until he's outside, immediately spotting Eddie in the window. He tries to wave, but Eddie ducks out of sight.
Logically, Steve knows he should take the warning and run. Come up with some bullshit tale that'll keep the people from bothering Eddie, or something that'll get them to send someone else.
He knows, he understands, that going back would be a bad idea. A really bad idea. Dragons infamously keep people as treasure and finding a dragon that would let someone they see as treasure walk away is unheard of. Steve knows that Eddie wouldn't be able to let him go a second time, not with how obviously he was waring with his instincts.
"Is the dragon dead?" Is the question he's asked as soon as he arrives back.
Steve is already shaking his head, answers without thinking. "Not a killer. I'm going to try to talk to him again tomorrow."
edit: not a part 2 but for those asking for more, I'm slowly making it a full fic on ao3
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#ficlet#creaturefeature
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Shinichiro and Draken with a s/o who has a pet cat or rabbit or something and her pet is always taking up her time?
Me and my babygirl bunny
Shinichiro Sano VS. Noodles the Cat
This man has fought and bled for what he believes in. He has faced adversaries that would make most men crumple in fear, and has garnered the respect of many of them. So for him to call your pet his most hated enemy really does mean something.
He is mad salty about it. Not even going to pretend he doesn't have issues with Noodles the cat. You're his sweet perfect angel that was sent form heaven as a reward for all his efforts in this life. Your cat was some kind of divine retribution for crimes he must have committed in a past life.
"Hello, my sexy beautiful and absolutely perfect angel, Y/N~~~!!! .... and Noodles." "Mrow~"
Shinichiro swears the feeling of hatred and disapproval is mutual however. Your cat is constantly hissing and swatting at him when you're not looking. Ever seen a grown man get punked by a cat?
"He's the devil-fucking-incarnate baby, he tried to slit my throat last night I swear-," "Oh baby, stop being silly." "...B-but the scratches..."
Truthfully, he's too scared to demand you choose between him or the cat. He doesn't want to risk you picking that feral trash goblin you call a kitty-kitty over himself... Cats don't live that long anyways... Right?
Ken Ryuguji (AKA Draken) VS. Mr. Fluffers
First and foremost, he bought you the fucking thing. Worst purchase of his life.
But you had confessed, a deep and profound love for the cute little fluffy beasts one night. Had told him it was your one true hope and dream to have one someday and he had decided about a year of you two moving in together he would make that dream come true.
So what if the little beast looks like it craves human flesh, he's sure the little guy is just skittish and that with time it will warm up to him.
Wrong. So very fucking wrong.
Mr. Fluffers loves you. He eagerly awaits your pets and hops onto your lap to receive your attention and affection. Draken, however, he seems to be out for blood. Every time he walks into the room the rabbit is thumping and kicking up his feet at the mere sight of him.
"I'm pretty sure this thing is sayin' fuck you with its eyes." "Don't be ridiculous, and Mr. Fluffers has a name."
Meanwhile Mr. Fluffers:
He knows how much the little fucker means to you though. And he is by no means scared of a bunny. He can kick that bunnies ass...maybe.
Draken lets the little thing stick around despite the fact that it only seems to bite him and naw on his things. Anything to keep you happy.
#not really yandere#so i wont tag it as such#draken tokyo revengers#draken headcanons#ken ryuguji headcanons#shinichiro sano#shinichiro sano headcanons
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reborn au plot.... stuff. has plasticity spoilers. also canon characters die!
i said this recently, but i don't have much in the way of an overarching story after tori's, like, 17. part of this is just that i haven't made some major decisions about the premise (like what orochimaru is up to) and part of it is that...... what problems would even challenge these characters. like we have a bunch of weird interpersonal shenanigans but like obviously one appeal of this au is giving tori opportunities for Feats.
so i decided on a Feat.
i think as an ongoing looming threat, i might have some petty proxy war stuff going on. no one wants to reignite a multi-nation shinobi war, but everyone is scrambling to grab things for themselves, especially since konoha just like.... stole from iwa??? ame burned down half of kusa? oto-nin are just? in the wind???? someone probably hires orochimaru. people are out trying to snatch jinchuriki left and right.
so i was thinking thusly: one of the bigger nations captures fuu for the seven tails. ame sends an akatsuki pair which includes tori. somehow, the situation goes completely to shit. multiple nations are involved. the seven tails is released, killing fuu. everyone wants this weapon and they don't care if they had to kill a young girl to get it.
akatsuki's solution is that they should simply control all weapons. tori knows this will fall apart. she also knows that, even if she wrestles the raging seven-tails into a container and gets around the multiple nation's people ALSO vying to capture it for themselves, and she takes it back to konoha, this also solves nothing. and so she thinks: if no one can resist the temptation of a weapon, then i will remove the weapon.
this is the part that's a pretty big plasticity spoiler, but also a few people guessed it so i don't mind sharing. basically, the shinigami doesn't like tori because he can't have her. she's a weird, foreign thing that shouldn't be there. functionally, she can't die. she can be irreparably maimed, so she still has a healthy fear of most life-and-death situations, but she technically can't die. (she's unsure if this still applies in this universe in the earlier parts, but we'll let her figure it out eventually.)
the side-effect of this is that she has more bullshitty leeway with summoning the shinigami than other people. it can't take her soul so it will take things around her more indiscriminately, so she's not going to use it if her allies are around. but if she's fed up and doesn't care if everyone dies? fuck it, we're going to kill the tailed beast itself.
i want how this to be accomplished to be kind of metal and/or gross. you know that scene in plasticity where tori is simultaneously herself AND the shinigami and she's confused? like that but they're eating the seven-tails.
tori comes to later and the whole battlefield is dead, from the shinobi to the plants and wildlife. whatever other akatsuki was with her is either some probationary schmuck, a canon character who got separated, or hidan-but-he's-not-revived-yet (i'm leaning towards this last one). at first i was like "how does she explain she killed a tailed beast" to other people but THEN i decided
tori realizes she's done something she should not have been able to do. she's just created another weapon people will want to use. so she gets up and goes home, and she lies.
the seven tails killed everyone and ran off. yes, even the forest. even the little bugs in the trees. the soil is irradiated. i guess it was pissed off. how did i live? aren't i a barrier specialist..........?
and then of course everyone goes out looking for the tailed beast. like, you can't just have a wild bijuu running around!! but they can't find it. it's nowhere. it will never be found because it no longer exists.
probably at some point she'll tell someone, most likely itachi and/or deidara. hidan might confront her about it. but i just love the idea of her getting a major feat and then immediately denying it.
also she may or may not decide to repeat the experiment
#reborn au#here you get every thought that comes into my head for this au#even the ones that would be huge spoilers for other story concepts lol
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ben florian relationship and intimacy hcs
genre: smutty fluff
pairing: ben florian x gn reader
wc: 1k
warnings: rough sex, ben is a top, edward cullen syndrome (feels bad boning you cause he doesn't want to hurt you by accident), werewolf/beast hybrid traits, knots, scenting, ben is a top, office sex, lingere, ben is a very loving attentive top, lot's of fluff and aftercare
a/n: yo remember when I was like hyperfixated on descendants teehee :p,,,,, this is from that lmao
also not super proof read!!
As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+!!!
tags: @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @dustyinkpages @yesv01
Look
Ben drinks respect juice with every fucking meal
He snorts kindness and consent in between council meetings
He is the best boyfriend you could ask for
He’s always so considerate and gentle with you
Literally treats you with kid gloves
Until you rile him up too much
God he’s just overcome with love and desire for you
And even then ngl he’s still trying to hold back
Okay
Hear me out
He's a beast hybrid
We know this
So I feel like he does have some pseudo werewolf-ish, more animalistic tendencies
It’s another thing he tries to keep under control most of the time
But with you????
You’re so comforting and relaxing he doesn’t even realize he’s doing something
Scents you without noticing it
You’ll visit him between meetings to catch up over some tea or coffee
He kisses the back of your hand, skimming the proposal in front of him
“Uh… Ben?”
“Yes, love?” he answers
He looks up, distracted, and realizes he was rubbing your wrist on his face and neck
He sputters an apology and you’re like no it’s cute!
It’s good that you find his scenting endearing because he’ll also do it by biting and sucking on your neck
And the inside of your thighs
A lot
God he just can’t get enough of you
This might be a hot take
But he’s 100% a top
Hands down
Stress relief for Ben means topping you until you can’t walk, think straight, or remember your names
And he’s a very stressed out person
So this is a pretty regular occurrence
He definitely goes a little bit feral
Just a tad
He actually growls sometimes
Which is a very nice sound
He can and will mark you the hell up
Bruises scratches hickeys
BITE MARKS
I hate to be the one to break this to you
But he does in fact have a knot
You’ll probably have lost count of how many times you’ve cum by the time he finally pops his knot inside you
He’s already pretty well endowed
So the extra stretch??????
The full feeling of him swelling up inside you????
The satisfaction of being absolutely stuffed full of him and keeping it in place with his bulging knot???????
Unmatched
He can’t really move when his knot is there
Which is kind of the whole point yk
But he will smother you in kisses and praise and kind of grind and hump into you a little still totally blissed out from you
As much as he can at least
Until his knot finally goes down
The length of time this takes varies
But the entire time he’ll be caressing you and kissing you
Breathing every loving thought that crosses his mind
CEO OF AFTERCARE
Probably feels bad abt getting rough
Like he's literally so gentle and attentive
He touches you more softly and tenderly than you knew someone could
He loves just holding you to his chest and rubbing your back
It's not so bad right after but the next day when you have hickeys bruises on your thighs and bite marks on your neck and chest
When you can't walk??
He feels TERRIBLE
You're like Ben
I would do it again right now if you wanted to
It takes a while for you to really make him understand you like it when he gets like that yk
Will definitely accidentally rip pillows/sheets/mattress
Left particularly gnarly claw marks in the headboard on more than one occasion
Will not hesitate to pin you against a wall the second you two are alone
Or any available surface really
You know when guys wear a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up?????
That times a thousand constantly
That’s what it feels like with him
A lot of growling
Once he gets more comfy with absolutely destroying your guts get ready
He loves the idea of bending you over his desk in between meetings
He loves the view too
Like a lot
But god he can’t go more than 5 minutes without looking at your gorgeous face
Expect a lot of kisses and cuddles after that
Like more than usual
If he’s especially stressed pLEASE ride him
It has to be the right type of stressed though yk
Anywhere is fine but especially in his office
Office sex reeeally hits different with him
When he leans back in his chair and starts undoing his pants???
When he pulls you onto his lap??????
Might as well get a pregnancy test right now cause that shit is hot as fUCK
God it so fucking hard for him to keep quiet
He’ll be moaning your name a whole lot
He loves it when you ride him
But he really can't help himself from grabbing your hips and pistoning up into you
God he is so fucking obsessed with you
He’ll be kissing you and holding you close and moaning your name
Sometimes the only thing that gets him through the day is getting to lay you down in bed and kiss the shit out of you and make you feel so, so good
He loves when you get all dolled up in pretty lingerie too
He loves unwrapping you like a present
WEAR THIGH HIGHS
Oh my god he’ll lose his shit
And if you pull him in by the tie????????
Hope you cleared your schedule cause that shit turns him the fuck ON
God Ben is just so loving and passionate
Hot sexy politician werewolf boyfriend hot sexy politician werewolf boyfriend
He takes such good care of you
And god he loves every minute of it
#descendants#descendants x reader#ben florian#ben florian x reader#descendants smut#ben florian smut
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itto headcannons please 😩☝️
not sure what kind of headcannons you wanted :) so I decided to do a sfw and nsfw.
nsfw is below the cut.
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
☆ arataki itto
cw(s): afab! reader, mentions of breeding, positions; full nelson, prone bone, size difference, dick details, morning wood
synopsis: headcannons for the boss of the arataki gang (arataki itto is biggest goof)
𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 (𝐬𝐟𝐰)
itto is the biggest goof around town.
but he's your goof. you can't help but adore him and the way he sees light in every situation. (even when there is none.)
↳ though he's not rich, and not the smartest, he finds ways to make you smile. whether it be hugs, compliments, or a pretty pebble he found on his adventures that he wanted you to see.
↳ itto is a respectful king, he loves every bit of you and he makes sure to often kiss you gently all over. pecking and covering all of your skin whilst he worships you.
↳ flowers are a must. he makes sure to pick up some pretty flowers that remind him of you whenever the both of you meet up.
↳ itto loves to chat and talk about how his day went, telling you about the smallest details, and of course, ending it with his proclamation of love for you.
↳ big, clingy, and cuddly bear. (best cuddle buddy.)
↳ his favorite thing to do is tackle you, taking you down with him as he bear hugs you.
his frame absolutely engulfs your entire figure !! he's so big and muscular, but his chest is oh so squishy. (there's a slight panic that he'll suffocate you every time your face is pressed into his chest, but a couple of hurried taps has itto letting go, apologizing with a sheepish grin on his face.)
↳ as previously stated (and already known !!) itto is big.
↳ realistically, itto smells (kinda) sweaty. fresh out of the shower itto smells like a mix of honey with an earthy wood scent.
𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 ( 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 )
↳ his dick stands at 9 inches hard, and about 7.5 inches soft. tip is a pretty pinkish brown (#ad8882 if you want.) it curves slightly to his left, is very veiny, and quite girthy.
↳ itto is extremely dirty without realizing it in bed.
it's hot in the moment, but it's quite lewd and embarrassing when itto talks dirty. itto finds inspiration from films and porn, heck, even the erotica novels that he finds at the back of yae publishing house. (he skips all of the pages except for the explicit scenes.)
"f-fuck yeahh... pussy is sucking me in so deep, hm?"
"gonna pound this sweet cunt and breed it real good..."
↳ despite the embarrassment felt sometimes when you hear him spout filth into your ears, you can't help but moan.
itto's cock reaches reeeal deep. you swear you can feel his tip touch your cervix.
his relentless pounding has you weak, huffing for air as he flips you over into a different position.
↳ speaking of positions, itto loves prone bone.
it has his dick hitting every right spot inside that sweet cunt of yours, every mewl drives him crazy as he clutches onto your hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress as he plows like a beast.
↳ loves full nelson as well.
he feels so big and strong when he's holding you by the knees, all while thrusting up into your warm pussy.
itto does tries his best to be gentle, but it's so hard when he looks down to see you writhe and beg for him oh so desperately. he doesn't want to keep his poor baby waiting after all.
↳ there are times where he's real clumsy and cute, letting out small profanities and a small whine when his cock slips out of your wet entrance, or when he almost cums undone from just rubbing his dick up against you.
↳ itto cums an ungodly amount & has insane stamina, so you'll be in for a couple of rounds possibly passed out by the end of it.
↳ he's sweet, making sure to clean the both of you up with a wet and warm towel.
↳ itto throws a loose shirt of his over you before he passes out, unconsciously moving in his sleep to spoon you from behind.
↳ his morning wood has the both of you going for sleepy sex.
↳ small, sweet, murmurs and whispers are exchanged.
itto is a big cuddly bear who can't help but want to plant himself deep inside you because he loves you so much!
#genshin smut#genshin imagines#genshin impact smut#genshin drabbles#genshin impact#genshin x reader#itto smut#arataki itto smut#arataki itto#itto headcanons#genshin fic#genshin impact x reader#genshin fanfic
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winter wonderland
wanted to pump out a little gift for y'all before christmas 🫡 also i DESPERATELY needed to write for my girl gwen ugh love her 🫶🏻 (i’m legally married to her in case you’re wondering)
pairing: gwen stacy x fem!reader
summary: headcanons for being gwen's girlfriend during winter <3
warnings: established relationship, cursing, implied girly/femme reader, reader is shorter than gwen, tooth-rotting fluff
word count: 687, should take about five and a half minutes to read
listen to: winter wonderland by beabadoobe
i don’t imagine gwen being a cold weather girl
she would much rather prefer walking in the park with you over trudging through piles upon piles of snow
she definitely has soft hands (calloused from her drumsticks, but soft), so she hates winter because her hands get all dry and cracked
her cuticles also get really bad, girl’s hands look like this:
but no need to worry, because her pretty girlfriend’s to the rescue!!
every day you SLATHER this girl’s hands in lotion and pluck her cuticles
you also paint her nails in her current favorite color and she does yours <3
even with hating winter, she has so many poofy jackets
they surprisingly look so good on her
whenever you see her in one, you always HAVE to go and give her a big bear hug because what else are you supposed to do?? she looks like a fucking marshmallow!!
when you say you’re cold, she always insists on giving you her jacket. of course you protest every time, but it never works
she of course wants her girl to be warm, but she always wants to see how dumb you look in the jacket (girl’s 5’8 and has muscles [you can’t convince me otherwise], of course you’re gonna look like an idiot in it)
she’ll take a picture and post it on her story and you’ll be like “ gwen noooo :((” and she’s all “oh, I’m sorry. can’t help that you’re smaller than me” 😭🫶🏻
sometimes you convince her to go out in the snow with you
it takes a while, but once she’s out there, she won’t go back inside
she is absolutely a BEAST at snowball fights
you’ll be hiding behind a tree holding your snowball, and she’ll come out of nowhere and hit you right in the face
you have to yell at her to stop at some point because it’s just snowball after snowball and you’re starting to get cold
you guys also make snowmen, i don’t make the rules
hers always look kind of demented tho
shit’s looking like this:
“gwen, what the fuck is that 😭”
“that’s harold. what do you have against him?”
“he looks like he got thrown in a blender…”
“your face looks like it got thrown in a blender.”
“you’re so rude!! ☹️ you know what, at least mine looks better.”
christmas is the absolute best with her
you guys would have a tradition of giving each other the most ass gifts ever, like cat socks or shrek earrings
one year she legit gives you coal
the next you get her an empty pringles can, you get the process
sometimes she actually turns up and gets you something good that reminded her of you
one year she literally gave you this amazing dress
satin in your favorite color that came down to your knees with lace on the edges
“where’d you get the money for this?!”
“i have my ways.”
“i swear to god, if you spent all your money on this…” (she did)
needless to say, it’s your new favorite dress
she also loves baking with you, even though she‘s ass at it
you’re trying to make snowflake cookies and they end up looking like a fucking whale
also the dough’s super inconsistent because she poured almost the whole bag of flour in 😭
poor girl cannot follow instructions for the life of her (I don’t believe in consistency LMAOLMAO)
the cookies are so bad you almost gag trying to eat them but at least you spent quality time with your girlfriend!!
if there’s one thing she does know how to make tho, it’s hot chocolate
she has a killer recipe, but she refuses to give it to you
says it’s a family recipe that can absolutely NOT be shared
after a day of her kicking your ass with the snowballs, her hot chocolate’s the best thing to perk you up
your cold hands will graze each other’s as she hands you your mug <3
you’ll cuddle while the snow falls outside, her arm gently around your waist, tons of blankets over you two
#spotify#gwen stacy#gwen stacy x y/n#gwen stacy x you#spider-verse#spider-man: into the spider-verse#itsv#spider-man: across the spider-verse#atsv#reader insert#fluff#tooth-rotting fluff
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hello! i'm new to your blog, and im honestly in love w/ all your yanderes, especially mykolas :)
if its okay with you, could i request some headcannons of how mykolas acts and looks, like what kind of traits he has?
💕💕
im so sorry this took for fucking ever for me to get to nonnie 😫 ik youre not new to my blog anymore but welcome!!! here's some hcs on the forest puppy for you
🌲 the beast • mykolas
· mykolas isn't any specific creature. he's kind of just his own thing with no real origin. he’s incredibly tall (over 8 feet with the antlers), bipedal digitigrade, glowing white eyes and a skull-like face, he definitely doesn't look like anything naturally occuring in nature either. some believe he's the offspring of a devil worshipper who was abandoned in the woods, others think he's some sort of werebeast who can't transform back into a human. mykolas himself has no clue either, and mostly responds with non-answers if you ask him about it.
· behavior wise? he honestly acts like a mix of domestic animals. he purrs like a cat, whines like a dog, throws little stompy tantrums like a bunny, all while being built like a tank lmfao. additionally, he’s VERY territorial after meeting you and will pick a fight with anything and anyone that invades the space he deems your home.
· before you, he wasn't really.. living. he just kind of existed, moving through each day without a sense of purpose. your existence grounds him and makes him feel alive, and that's why hes so obsessed with being by your side. he loves nothing more than cuddling you for hours on end, and being away from you gives him anxiety
· he DOES speak, but his english is pretty busted and his voice is rough from hardly being used. pronouns, adverbs, and adjectives are rare to hear from him and his grasp on grammar isn't the best. he doesn't mind if you teach him but he does get self conscious about it if you bring it up to him.
· he’s carnivorous, but he mostly eats fish because he doesn’t like the mess that hunting makes. trespassers are an exception to this.
· outside of the above, none of the tales that the people he lives near spun about him are true. he’s not a bloodthirsty beast, nor is he evil. he’s just lonely, and he’s not capable of fixing that on his own
#inbox | anons#🌲 mykolas#dating him is honestly kinda like dating a big pet with crazy separation anxiety#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x oc#yandere headcanons#yandere oc#yandere terato#yandere teratophilia
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gepard nsfw hcs
gepard landau x fem reader
wc: 0.8k
content warning(s): nsfw
mdni banner by cafekitsune
Gepard definitely has a bit of size kink. Can you blame the man though? He’s tall and built, and when he sees how your physique compares to his, all he can think about is the size difference. It feels like he’s going to break you if he touches you too roughly, yet at the same time, he can’t stop fantasizing about manhandling that body of yours to see when you’d break and crumble beneath him. Even when you two interact innocently, like brushing your hand up against his or leaning against him slightly, heat rushes to his dick when he thinks about how easy it would be for him to just physically overpower you.
Gepard also has a praise kink. He likes imagining you telling him how good he is, how much of a thoughtful lover he is. Imagining your sweet voice purring “good boy” at him always makes him pop a boner, and he drools at the thought of pleasuring you until you’re panting out all sorts of praises and moans for him. He likes it when you’re vocal and can tell him he’s doing everything right, and whenever Gepard hears you grunt or gasp when he doesn’t expect it, his face immediately turns red. He’s terrible at hiding his raunchy fantasies the moment you’re involved, so it’s obvious when he’s been thinking about you.
He also has a tendency to get wet dreams way too often. He doesn’t have time nor the heart to really masturbate, and the thought of getting off to you has his stomach swirling with shame. But his unconscious knows how to do the job for him, and Gepard dreams constantly about folding you underneath him and fucking his cock into you until you’re fucked senseless and creaming all around him. He wakes up with cum all over his sheets and his face burning, yet it felt so good to have you wrap your arms around him in his dreamscape and beg for him to fill you up with his cum. Every time he gets one of those naughty dreams, he can’t look you in the face for a week.
He’s big. Heavy balls, hung cock, huge tits, everything about him is overwhelmingly big. It ties in well with that size kink of his, but he got a little shy when he showed you his dick for the first time and you stared at it for a second too long. He never wants to hurt you, so he’ll take his time prepping you and stretching you open. He’ll finger you for what feels like an eternity, the boy transfixed on how pretty you sound and how warm you are around his knuckles. Deep down though, he wonders what it would be like to completely break you and rip you in half on his swollen length, what it would be like to feel you claw up his chest and cry out about how he’s too big for you to take.
He used to get all flustered when you asked for him to go down on you, but Gepard learns very quickly that he likes eating you out. He likes to see what kinds of things will get reactions out of you: spreading your lips apart with his fingertips, broad full-tongue licks up your drooling cunt, teasing your clit until you’re practically sobbing… There’s something so satisfying about having you cum all over his mouth and then staring up at you with lovestruck eyes, his own cock straining against his pants and begging to be put inside of your warm hole. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and Gepard’s utterly hooked on you.
It takes everything in him not to cum the moment he sticks his dick inside of you. You’re so cute and warm and tight, everything he’s dreamt of. It also takes everything in him to not pin you down and hump you like some rabid beast in heat, but he truly can’t help it. He tries his very best to make you cum before he does, but if you squeeze around him when he doesn’t expect it or moan his name in the way he likes it best, he’ll cum his brains out right into your pussy. Even though he’s inexperienced, he has the stamina to keep going, and Gepard will rail you over and over again until the two of you are breathless, cum-covered messes in each others’ arms.
As sappy as it sounds, Gepard’s a sex-with-feelings kind of guy. He wants the physical intimacy to actually mean something, and he’ll only agree to sleep with you if he feels like his feelings are somewhat reciprocated. There’s nothing he loves more than to pepper you with kisses and puppy eyes when he’s on top of you or to hold your hips and rub circles into your skin when you’re on top of him. He has a tendency to cry out that he loves you whenever he cums, and he gets hard immediately when you tell him that you love him too. He’s wrapped around your finger, and as long as it makes you happy, he’s willing to do almost everything in bed. All he asks is that you stay with him and leave a special place for him by your side.
georgia o'keeffe: sky above clouds iv
#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#gepard#gepard landau#x reader#fem reader#my writing
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Werewolf! Michael myers RZ Halloween NSFW Alphabet
Note: I wanted to do an NSFW Alphabet for the Werewolf Tall Mickey for a while now. This gif is giving me them Tall Myers vibes.
18+ Minors DNI
A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex?)
Panting like crazy, he's been through so much fucking he's panting like a dog who ran a long way. He starts to clean himself like a dog licking your juices off his balls, which leads him to clean your back, which you don't mind. He then asks if you want food, which you replied with a yes to that. Eating in bed with making sure you're doing well after the fucking he did to your body, He'll lift you up to take a hot shower before bed.
B = Bodypart (Their Favorite Bodypart of their body and also their Partner's)
The giant is a Werewolf. His arms had a lot of strength to them to decapitated a victim, and the jaws he has, he would be breaking bones and crushing wind pipes with his large fangs.
You and your small frame to him perfect to him. He loves your soft lips that are so comfortable against his. He melts when you try to reach his face to cress it
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)
He has a breeding kink, and he's staying in deep till he fills you up real good.
D =Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He wants to see you in loose lingerie, which he will try carefully to take it off in a creative way every time. A way of teasing you till be gets down to the night of breeding sex
E = Experience (How experienced are they?)
He had none if you lived in a Sanatorium for 15 years, and you mostly did art in your room. You can only imagine it was when he got out he had seen Victims doing it, especially in his old abandoned house. He may have seen some videos online when you were at work.
F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)
Missionary, easy position to learn, and to see your face scrunched up in the amount of pleasure you're in. Cowgirl, you can ride and bounce on top while he watches you ride on his beast and play with yourself. Doggie Style, do I have to say why he loves this position? He'll put you into this position for a little rough fucking from behind. Mating Press, his breeding kink kicks in when he's ready to release his load into your warm womb. He'll stay in that position as a plug to keep his semen inside you.
G = Goofy (Are they more Serious in the moment, or are they humorous, ect?)
This time means I want to make you feel amazing in the moment, so he doesn't want the mode spoiled by something goofy during the act he'll become grouchy which will take forever to get him back in the mood.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the Carpet match the Drapes, ect?)
On top he has lovely long locks, he had grown out when he was in Smith's Grove with some stuble on his face, down below, it's a little forest, but a quick trim down there it looks better. When he goes wolf, looking a bit like an Old English SheepDog due to his long hair, and his abdomen is completely covered by his long wolf hair.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect..)
He's definitely wanting to give you a lot of kisses while praising your body during what he calls sometimes, "Breeding time," which is every time when you both have sex. Having him holding you in his arm in between rounds, he's careful not to be laying his whole body on you. Definitely saying sweet nothings in your ears during the round.
J = Jack/Jill off (Masturbation headcannon)
He doesn't do it often, but if that urge creeps on him, he's going to take care of it. He can turn you on by how he would show how he strokes, starts at the base of his shaft stopping halfway, then strokes fast at his tip. Making a wet sound from it, he will do that when he fingers you.
K = Kinks (One or more of their kinks)
Breeding, praising of any kind, Cockwarming, and size differents kink
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do )
This man wants to rut in the bedroom cause it's more comfortable for sexy time.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)
A touched starving man gets turned on by suggested touches on his body. He would be thinking about you with a heavy pregnant belly with swollen breasts for you and his pups that makes him go into breeding mode.
N = No (Something that they wouldn't do, turns offs)
Definitely, no mentioning Smith's Grove or Sister
Won't turn you into a Werewolf if you ask him. He loves you this way.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills ect)
Definitely giving you some oral, eating you out like a straving beast. Michael definitely enjoys a good oral treatment on his disco stick (He'll pound you real good as a Thank you.)
69 is his favorite. He's eating you out while you're giving him head.
P = Pace (Are they Fast and Rough? Slow and Sensual? Ect.)
Does start slow before picking up the pace and going to pound town. He doesn't want to go too rough on you, but he can't help it. He loves you so much. He'll go soft the next round
Q = Quickies (Their opinions on Quickies rather than proper sex, how often, ect)
Depending on how he feels, he would not be interested one day. The next, he's got you bending over the couch or counter and give you one. He'll be giving you more when he is done hunting.
R = Risks (Are they game to experiment, do they take any risks, ect
Out of curiosity or just getting horny when out in the woods, he would want to go down on you in the woods. Like a wolf in the wild, he will do the dirty with you on a blanket (so your back isn't pricked by branches just so you're comfortable while in pleasure Town) He might want to fuck you when he's in his Werewolf forme, his huge dick on you looks like it can't fit in and would tear your holes into one big hole (and a trip to the ER)
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)
Will go all night if he's back home early or he's having a day off, around 10 or 12 rounds, depending on how much energy he has that day. Morning sex is a big Yes for him.
T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
You probably have a vibrator you have in your dresser that you would use before you met Michael. You take it out to use it when he's not home and needy of him. He finds it useless cause why would you use it if he can give you endless hours of pleasure from him.
U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease)
His form of teasing is showing you is the for mentioned of stroking his cock, and fingering while stroking his tip making a luded sound from it. Cockwarming is another form of teasing from him he'll be in you for a while till he's ready.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make?)
Loud Panting, grunts, and moans in his gruff voice, Hella hot.
W = Wildcard (Random Head cannons)
When you first met, Michael wasn't comfortable with you on seeing his face. He would wear his wore out mask or his Jack o lantern one. When is he ready for you to see his face he'll let you do the honor of taking off his mask.
Michael would, on occasion, pick wild flowers when he's out for you. He would come home with a big boutique of wild flowers he found in the woods.
He would make you a mask as another form of his love for you.
Michael may not look like it, but he deep down he wants to hear the sounds of little feet on the floor one day. He would wonder when the day will come you tell him that you want a baby.
X = X-ray (What's going on in their pants?)
Human: A good size, 7 inches with good girth
Werewolf: Hidden underneath his shaggy fur is a near 10 inches cock with big girth and knot (he won't put all of it in but started half before going in fully when you get used to his size)
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
His sex drive depends on his mood. He would be cranky one day the next day he's horny and uses his look when he wants to rut.
Z = Zzzz.. (..how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)
After a shower and some leftovers, you cuddle up with your man clean clothes and dried you'll drift off to sleep. He'll follow suit when you're asleep and you're doing good after the pounding you got from him.
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just some thoughts about Street Racer Ryusei that maybe I'll write something about in the future, hopefully. for now have some headcanon things.
Ryusei Shidou x Reader
890 words. no warnings.
Street Racer Ryusei who is either a hit or miss on wether people like him or not. he is kind of an acquired taste and a strange one at that, but he likes it that way. he unsettles a lot of people and honestly, he enjoys that too. he is as much of an event out of the race as he is in it, blond hair with hot pink tips, a tongue piercing and a style that truly stands out.
Street Racer Ryusei who is infamous for three things: being a great racer, being fucking wild, and being horny all the time. also picking fights, but he files that under being wild. people need to live a little more. you don't get as good as him without a personality to match. he is in this life to have fun, and there is as much fun in throwing hands some times as there is in racing. it's the excitement that comes with the danger.
Street Racer Ryusei whose car is as much of a stand out figure as he is. the 2020 Camaro ZL1 is painted in a deep blue with shocking pink highlight stripes running down the sides. it's a beast that matches the owner in power and looks. it's funny to think back now that he had let his mechanic choose the model, well she chose well, he really grew to love this car - it makes sense, she was his girlfirend at the time, he is really glad they ended in good terms, he really didn't want to have to find another mechanic.
Street Racer Ryusei who is good. in fact he is great. he is known as a phenomenal racer and he very much lives up to the hype. though, he doesn't really race to win. he races for the high of it, for the thrill of speeding through the city streets under the night sky. he lives for the fun, and a good competition makes his body explode in pleasure. doesn't matter if he loses so long as he gets his fun. hell, he will even thank the winner for letting him get such a high.
Street Racer Ryusei who hears about you before he even sees you, the murmur about some new racer arriving at the city and proving themselves good picking his interest. sure, he doesn't go chasing after you but he gets excited but he gets excited for the moment your paths cross. and they will, any good racer in this city will have to face him at some point.
Street Racer Ryusei who gets excited the first time he sees you, you are good and hot? now, thats a winning combination. he approaches you shamelessly, eyeing your car as well as your body. he flirts with you, right there on the road as you wait for the race to start. maybe he'd be winning twice tonight. and if you give him the chance, he can even make a bet out of it.
Street Racer Ryusei who races like his life depends on it - like he always does, but this time it's more fun. whenever he sees the blurry shadow of your car he feels the blood pump harder in his veins. you lived up to your hype as well as he did to his, and boy, was he into that. win or lose, he is already beyond riled up.
Street Racer Ryusei who'd only be satisfied with two results: him in first and you in second or you in second and him in first. if you win, he'd be down bad for you even harder, someone who knows how to enjoy the speed as well as him is only a turn on. if he wins he'd still be very much into you, high off of managing to make it in such tight competition. feed his competitive drive and you feed something else real quick.
Street Racer Ryusei who'd be looking for you the moment the race is over. he wouldn't leave you alone in the after party. good luck trying to shake him off, he'll be coming after you the moment his eyes spot you. but not only that, if you let him have your number, he will be calling you for a coffee date. or maybe a dinner. or whatever the fuck you want, cause at this point, he isn't even afraid to admit he got pretty damn hooked on you pretty damn quick.
Street Racer Ryusei who sure might be a bad boy in the asphault but who can be such a simp when it comes down to you. sure, a horny ass simp, but still a simp nonetheless. unafraid to show much into you he is. he's an honest guy after all, why would he hide? nah, he is gonna be all over you all day, no avoiding it.
Street Racer Ryusei who if you end up dating him would become disgustingly lovey in front of people. he is a fan of pda - in part because he likes to annoy people. blowing kisses to you before a race, whining dramatically if you don't do it back. kissing you passionately after a race, especially if one of you won. he wants people to see, he is proud of you - and of himself. of course he is a show off, and you knew that going in.
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