mlmmetalhead

[mlmmetalhead]

PERFORMANCE REVIEW || Mark S. x male reader || NSFW minors DNI ||

I have been listening to “A straight faced science girl” on repeat you guys have no idea how much I love innuendos and longing and stuff

Mark isn’t supposed to think about his coworker like this.

He knows it’s not professional. He knows MDR isn’t the place for feelings, certainly not the inappropriate kind. Not the kind where you stare at the slope of a colleague’s shoulder and wonder what their skin feels like beneath a button-down. Not the kind where you memorize the pattern of their breathing from the next desk over.

But [—]’s hands move with such precision. His fingertips glide along data sheets like he’s coaxing secrets from the page. When he calibrates the data refiner, Mark stares shamelessly, heart thumping behind his pressed shirt. He can’t help it. [—] is so careful. So focused. So absurdly competent. It’s intoxicating.

He starts keeping notes in the back of his handbook. Not real notes. Just phrases. Thoughts he pretends are metaphors for team bonding, but really…

They’re things like:

Initiate handshake protocol. Grip firmly. Maintain eye contact. Feel heat transfer at the palms.

Or:

Insert quarter-inch macrodata cartridge. Twist. Push until internal alignment clicks into place.

Or:

Set burner beneath [—]’s beaker. Wait. Observe what overpressure does to him when he bites down on his sleeve.

Or:

Log proximity metrics. Update field entries. He smells like coffee and lemon soap and something warm I don’t have words for.

He writes one about using the filing system. It’s meant to be about sorting records, but it ends up something else entirely:

Color code his tabs. Run your finger along the edge. Push deep into the cabinet until you hear a moan of resistance. Withdraw slowly. Repeat for consistency. Confirm satisfaction with head of department.

And:

Apply coagulant. Watch his breath hitch. Press your mouth to his collarbone and test viscosity levels until he melts in your hands.

He has no idea if [—] knows.

Sometimes [—] glances over like he does. Like he can read through Mark’s too-straight spine, his overly calm tone. Like he sees right through the empty workplace phrases and into the part of Mark that wants to unzip [—]’s jumpsuit and—

God.

Mark hides in the supply closet after lunch sometimes and just breathes. He grips the shelving unit. Imagines [—] walking in and pushing him against the cold metal with some deadpan line like, “Did you want to merge our workflow streams today?” before unbuckling your belt.

He’s losing his mind.

He finds a slip of scrap paper one day in his locker. It just says:

“Insert long-form report into internal mailbox. Deliver orally. Await feedback.”

It’s [—]’s handwriting.

Mark nearly blacks out.

[mlmmetalhead]

are you a yumeshipper????/pos or at least are you yumeshipper friendly?

I want you to take one good look at my blog and think of an answer to that. Yes to both lol

[mlmmetalhead]

Maybe this is a sign to watch Severance 🤭🤭🤭

it absolutely is, it's so peak do it

[mlmmetalhead]

Severance masterlist

Mark Scout

Mark S. has a filthy mind

Mark Scout with a crush on another widower

Breakfast

Mark S. thinks it’s humiliating..

Performance review

Helly R/Helena Eagan

nothing here yet

Irving Bailiff

nothing here yet

Gemma Scout

nothing here yet

[mlmmetalhead]

Mark S. thinks it’s humiliating, it’s stupid, it’s so risky, but he’s already too far gone.

He’s locked in one of the stalls, hand stuffed between his thighs, forehead pressed against the cool door. All it took was seeing you spreading your legs while sitting on the chair in the office room, the fabric of your pants stretched tight over your thighs and crotch, the casual way you smiled at Mark when you caught him staring, like it meant nothing.

Mark bites down a whimper as he pumps his cock, thinking about your hands, your mouth, your voice saying, “Boss,” in that rough, sweet way that makes Mark want to fall to his knees. Sweat drips down Mark’s face as he presses a hand into his mouth, trying not to moan with all his might. His mind races, this whole attraction thing is very new to him, and he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he wants to think about in this moment. He thinks about you bending him over his desk. About him pushing you against a wall in storage closet, mouthing at your neck. Thinks about your fingers in his mouth. Thinks about clouding the conference room glass windows while the large table shakes. About grinding against your thigh with a whine.

His legs shake and he comes way too fast, shuddering, trying not to make a sound. After, slumped against the stall wall, he hates himself for about five seconds, then immediately thinks about doing it again.

[mlmmetalhead]

no hate but if your aroace how it says on your page how do you write smut? sorry if this is a weird question and disrespectful im just curious

No worries, valid question. Basically, I still have a sexual drive, but just have no desire for other people and don’t enjoy sex. I like the thought only, but not when someone else is brought into it

[mlmmetalhead]

BREAKFAST || Mark Scout x male reader || NSFW MINORS DNI || cw: mentions of public sex, a blowjob

You’re standing shirtless in Mark’s kitchen, half-asleep, barefoot, wearing only a pair of loose gray pajama pants that cling a little too well in the morning light. Your hair is damp from a shower and curling at the ends. There’s a faint red mark on your collarbone where Mark had kissed you a little too hard the night before. You’re just pouring coffee. Quiet, soft-eyed, unbothered. Mark leans in the doorway and stares.

He’s wearing yesterday’s button-down, slightly wrinkled from being left on the back of a chair, and a pair of boxer briefs. He looks like a stray cat. Disheveled. Undone.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters. Mostly to himself. “You have no idea how hot you are.”

You look over, startled. “What?”

Mark straightens up and walks closer, shaking his head slowly like he’s been hit with something. “I’m serious. You don’t get it. You stand there like that.. like it’s nothing, and my brain just stops working.”

You flush immediately. “Mark..”

“No, listen,” Mark insists, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His voice is low, quiet in the warm kitchen. “You are so… genuinely hot. It’s not even fair.”

You give a shaky little laugh, eyes on the coffee pot. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” Mark says, burying his nose in your shoulder. “You’ve got this whole thing. Like you don’t even try. You’re just there, existing, and I’m over here forgetting how to breathe. Do you even know what you do to me?”

You tilt your head back slightly, exposing the line of your throat. Mark takes the invitation and kisses behind your ear.

“Your shoulders,” he murmurs. “Your arms. Your voice. The way you look at me when you’re tired, like you’re already picturing me under you. You walk around in these pants like you don’t know what they do to me.”

You turn a little, half-laughing through embarrassment. “I think I know now.”

Mark smiles against your skin. “And your face. Your fucking face. Your stupid little smile.”

You hum. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who tried to hook up with me in a library.”

“I did hook up with you in the library.”

“Right. Not exactly the moral high ground.”

Mark grins and presses a kiss to the base of your neck. “All I’m saying is, if we weren’t already dating, I’d be helpless. You could destroy me.”

You exhale, low and soft, and finally turns around. You kiss Mark once. Firm, deep, grateful. Mark presses your foreheads together. “You’re still making out with me before coffee.”

And then, quieter: “Stay here today. Don’t go anywhere.”

You brush your noses together. “Okay.”

Your back bumped lightly against the edge of the counter, half-lidded eyes meeting Mark’s, your lips parted as if about to say something but then Mark leaned in and caught your mouth in a slow, deep kiss. It started lazy, indulgent, but there was a tension underneath it, the kind that had been bubbling since Mark walked into the room, shirt half-unbuttoned and voice still rough from sleep.

You made a soft, surprised sound as Mark’s hands settled low on your hips, fingertips slipping just under the waistband of your pajama pants. Mark pulled back just enough to speak, his voice hoarse and shaky from want.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy. You know that, right?”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t argue. You never could when Mark got like this; needy and bossy all at once, like he was desperate to worship you.

Mark dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor without another word, hands bracketing your thighs. “Let me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper, and you nodded quickly, one hand sliding into Mark’s hair before he could even answer out loud.

Mark tugged your pajama pants down, breath catching at the sight of your cock, sleep-warm and flushed and already half-hard just from kissing. He leaned in and mouthed along the sharp line of your hipbone, murmuring, “God, you’re perfect like this. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your fingers tightened slightly in Mark’s hair, voice low and shaky. “We’re still in the kitchen, you- fuck- lunatic.”

“And you taste better than coffee,” Mark said without missing a beat, grinning against your skin before finally taking you into his mouth, slow and unhurried.

You cursed under your breath, head tipping back against the cupboard door as Mark worked you open with his mouth; messy and focused, like he was trying to commit every sound you made to memory. The sunlight was still pouring in through the window, golden and soft, the air thick with the scent of toast and something sweeter underneath, need, want, home.

And when you came, fingers trembling in Mark’s hair and whispering his, Mark didn’t stop until he’d swallowed everything, pressing one last kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Mark looked up at you, lips swollen, eyes bright with something more than just lust.

“Guess we’re skipping breakfast,” he said, breathless.

You dragged him to his feet and kissed him hard. “You’re not off the hook yet,” you murmured. “You’re mine for the rest of the day.”

Mark smiled against your mouth. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

[mlmmetalhead]

Antidote

Mark S x gn!reader — 1.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Mark likes Petey/Petey's gone/you're here/you like Mark/Mark likes you/Mark still likes Petey a bit. It's not that complicated.

∘₊✧ A/N: innie Mark is just sooooo. Title inspired by Gaga's Disease which is such a Mark song.

∘₊✧ Content/warnings: nsfw, reader's gender and parts not mentioned, reader replaced Petey so is in Helly's shoes, thoughts of, discussion and allusion to Mark x Petey, hinted alcohol on Mark's tongue, making out, coming in pants (kinda handjob but it doesn't quite get that far before it's over so also kinda premature), it's in a Lumon severed floor corridor so not really private.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘You talk about Petey a lot. Do you miss him?’ you interrupted Mark. You were curious enough, but mostly craving his attention on you instead.

After a thoughtful beat he answered, ‘Every day,’ with a flashy smile and that fake singsong employer voice you hated, but when you looked across at him you saw a wet sheen in his eyes that looked a little like the one he sported on arrival in the mornings, red eyed and sniffling as he stepped into MDR.

He’d been allergic to the elevators, Petey had said. You knew that not because you’d ever met Petey, but because you liked to spend time around Mark, and Mark seemed to have little else to talk about but his absent best friend. You simply took any opportunity to get a few moments alone with him, and in honesty, you’d listen to anything he had to say.

‘It’s ok,’ you reassured, averting your gaze to offer him a slightly more private moment, ‘if you want to, y’know, really talk about him, it can stay between us. None of the bullshit – real feelings.’

With a careful glance back at Mark, you saw his bottom lip quiver and his eyes focussed ahead on the stark white, piquing your curiosity more than ever.

‘Thank you.’ He answered almost silently, swallowing the words, too frightened to speak in case it brought on actual tears.

‘Did you… alright, did you have feelings for him? Hell, are we even allowed to have those kinds of feelings here?’

Mark bit his lips together. His steps slowed. 

‘He was my- my best friend,’ he heaved. It was different to the other times he’d said it, you thought; it carried more meaning. ‘And sometimes I think…’ he trailed off. 

The words he didn’t say rang in your ears.

‘You don’t have to answer me, it’s okay,’ you added hastily, ‘and anyway, I shouldn’t have pried.’

‘No, no, I appreciate your interest. I- well, actually, I’ve been having feelings for-’ he smiled again. A real smile this time, a quiet one. To himself. It was bashful and incredibly cute, and it made you beam inwardly. ‘Nevermind.’

Your heart skipped. Where Mark had sobered, you’d turned lightheaded. ‘Let’s just keep walking, okay?’

He nodded, and you continued through the maze of corridors. It only took a few more steps for him to resume the endless stream of anecdotes about his best friend;

You know, there was this one time… 

Petey always used to say… 

He liked it when I would… 

We were alone in MDR once, Petey and I, and…

‘Mark,’ you tried softly when he’d come to the end of one such tale – a story in which they’d clearly been flirting outrageously, and how you were the only person down here that picked up on it you’d never know. God, you’d love to meet Petey.

‘Mark-’ you persisted when he didn’t respond, lost in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks and turned to him. He lifted his head and as he parted his lips to speak, you lunged forward.

‘Yea-huhgh-’ 

First was the familiar taste of Lumon coffee, and then a hint of something else, something you’d never tasted before. Well, your innie hadn’t anyway. Beneath all that though, he tasted like Mark, and where you thought kissing him would satisfy your desire it seemed to only ignite it. 

You pulled back panting, his breath just as fast and hot against your cheek. His lithe body trembled where it was pinned between yours and the wall you’d slammed him into.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- is this ok?’ you breathed.

‘Yes,’ he answered at once.

You pushed your fingers into his thick, neatly combed hair. As you reached up, your hips pressed into his and his eyes fluttered shut. You rolled your hips and watched as he gasped. ‘I don’t know why I did that but it felt good and I don’t want to stop. Do you?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Mark confirmed, eyes wide again.

‘Did you, um… did you do this with…Pete-’

‘Kiss me again? Please?’

You didn’t need to be asked twice. Your lips pressed back onto his, hard, and he shifted against you, one of your thighs slipping easily between his; you could feel your arousal throbbing against it. He whimpered into the kiss this time, and you expected it to turn feverish, but it remained slow and soft. Itt felt natural this way.

‘Okay?’ you breathed against his lips.

‘Mhm. Don’t stop,’ he mumbled back. His shaky hands explored a little, one massaging lazily at your lower back as the other held you close.

You placed a reassuring hand at his shoulder, dragging down his jacket and slipping inside, feeling the warmth of his body radiate through his shirt, fingers instinctively tugging at the fabric. The hem pulled loose where it had been tucked neatly into the waistband of his trousers and god, he was squirming now.

‘Please,’ he begged through a heavy breath. 

So needy, just like you’d imagined he’d be all those times you found yourself gazing at him over the desk divider, his beautiful profile far more interesting than the data you existed to refine. If only the numbers were quite as thrilling as Mark, you’d have had more perks than Dylan by now.

You gasped into Mark’s mouth when your fingers curled under the hem of his shirt and made contact with the gentle curve of his belly. It was oddly comforting to touch him here, and thrillingly intimate. 

His hips pushed forward and you dropped your hand to cup over the crotch of his pants, the thick fabric already sticky with precum. 

‘How do you like it?’ you breathed between peppered little kisses; you couldn’t tear yourself away long enough to speak otherwise. 

‘I… I-ohh-ngh-’ he trailed off as you stroked his length slow and steady, and his body dropped back against the wall in complete surrender.

‘That’s ok,’ you whispered, ‘we’ll figure it out.’

Mark gave a hungry nod, a thick strand of hair falling loose over his forehead. 

What you asked next was a gamble. It would either pay off spectacularly or ruin the moment in an instant.

From the way Mark described Petey, he sounded just as handsome as you found Mark. The mental image of the two of them making out in secret, writhing against one another while shooting banter between gasps and little moans wasn’t a bad one.

You could almost hear them at it; Mark whining, ‘Oh, f-fuck, Petey-’ — Petey panting, ‘Doesn’t your outie get any Mark? This is record time even for you.’ — Mark growling, laboured, ‘My outie would eat your outie for breakfast.’ — Petey laughing, ‘Prove it,’ as Mark’s eyes flutter shut.

It was just too good. And so you gave in. ‘Is this how Petey did it?’

A loud cry slipped out of Mark’s mouth in place of words, and you felt his body slump as his knees buckled.

You sealed your lips back over his, tongues sliding languidly together, and his whole body shuddered, fingertips driving into your waist, hips stuttering. The blissful kiss broke abruptly, followed by a sharp gasp and a delicious warmth spreading over your palm, staining the front of his pants.

‘Oh… oh god…’ he panted, head dropping to the crook of your neck.

‘That’s it. It’s okay,’ you whispered, stroking at his hair with your free hand.

‘No, I-’

‘Shh, you did so good for me.’

Feeling a burst of something fluttering in his gut, he nodded weakly and pushed himself up. It was the same sensation he felt when Petey would tell him he did good. 

He was a flushed, breathless mess, hair falling over his darkly glittering eyes and pink in the face. You got to work straightening him up, almost lovingly pushing his hair back into place, tightening his tie, tucking his shirt in.

Mark felt his eyes turning hot again. He wasn’t sure why. It felt different to when he felt sad about Petey being gone. It felt different to stepping out of the elevator. It actually felt kind of nice, so he gave in, letting a tear trickle down his cheek.

‘Well, you’ll do,’ you said, dusting down his shoulders and softly wiping away that one solitary tear with your thumb. ‘The stain on your pants is a bit of a giveaway, though, can’t do much about that.’

‘I don’t care,’ he beamed.

You smiled back and took his hand, stalling for a moment to just look at him before pulling him with you back to MDR. The walk was silent and blissful. His fingers clasped tight around yours.

‘Wait, did I answer your question?’ Mark smirked before you turned the final corner to your shared office.

‘The one about how Petey did it? Oh, I think so,’ you smirked back, pleased with yourself and hopeful you helped Mark work through his loss, and even just a little bit.

‘Actually, Petey could be a little rough,’ he reflected.

‘You like it rough?’ You raised an eyebrow.

Mark leant in and ghosted his lips against yours. ‘I like it however you want to do it. More importantly, I wanna find out how you like it.’

[mlmmetalhead]

Wanted to make a severance self insert oc and realised that would include thinking about what the suppressed parts of me would be like if they could live freely

[mlmmetalhead]

You’re five inches deep inside Mark S and Helly R is five inches deep inside you which way you moving

[mlmmetalhead]

Mark Scout probably always knew he’s bi on some level, but never really got to explore that, not even in college. So his first experience with a man being in his later years is probably a bit of a source of anxiety for him, he’s constantly not sure if he should be doing something differently or not, even when it comes to just the way he talks to you. He keeps deflecting and making nervous jokes although it’s painfully obvious he’s just really, really nervous when your hands trail his chest and you can feel the heartbeat echo in his torso. Mark full on yelps when you enter him even though he insists it feels good, (which it does but it’s also because he’s so used to drowning out his own inconveniences to not “bother” others). And once he gets the hang of it, Mark likes to cling to you, nails on your back, mouth on your neck, but not even because it’s particularly intentional, he actually just kind of clings to you as a way of escaping his own body. Not that there’s not an element of liking the way your body feels against his, of course.

[mlmmetalhead]

Mark Scout with a crush on another widower.

Mark is halfway through chopping onions when Devon breezes in, too casual. “Oh, by the way, someone’s joining us for dinner.” Mark doesn’t even look up. “Is this another guy from your writing group who thinks Kafka invented trauma?”

“No, no, this one’s actually… grounded. His name’s [—]. He’s a friend. He lost his wife too. I think you two would get along.” Mark freezes mid-slice. “Wait—what?”

“Relax,” Devon says, swiping a carrot and popping it in her mouth. “he’s not a date. He’s a friend. With a dead wife. You guys can trauma bond.” Mark glares, “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

Mark expects someone older. Grayer. Maybe a bit hunched from grief. What he gets is you: tall, broad-shouldered, with warm eyes and strong hands and a smile that makes Mark feel like he’s blinking too much. You say, “Hey, thanks for having me,” and Mark’s heart makes a strange noise in his chest. You took off your jacket and rolled up your sleeves. Mark watched, transfixed, then immediately scolded himself.

“You’re forty-something. Act normal. He’s just… broad. Broad is fine. Broad is not illegal.”

Devon poured wine. Mark poured himself too much. You smiled at something Devon said, and Mark thought “Oh no” because it wasn’t just the smile, it was the laugh, warm and a little shy. Mark felt it in his ribs.

“[—]’s got a son and a daughter, by the way,” Devon added brightly as she set the food on the table. “They’re adorable. Maybe next time we can all hang out together?” Mark nodded politely, but his mind was elsewhere, still stuck on how your presence seemed to fill up the space.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily between the three of you, but Mark couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something between him and you something that went deeper than the casual, friendly banter. He tried to push it down. After all, you had kids. You were a widower. And Mark was… well, just Mark. But when you looked at him across the table, the hint of a smile on your lips, Mark’s heart skipped a beat. And suddenly, dinner didn’t feel so casual anymore.

[mlmmetalhead]

Mark S. has a filthy mind.

It starts innocent, or at least it should have.

You lean over his desk to hand him a form. Simple, innocent, but the sleeve of your shirt rides up, exposing the strong line of your forearm, and Mark’s brain just… breaks.

He stares. For too long.

Long enough that you tilt your head, give him a confused little smile like, “You good, boss?” And Mark panics, nearly knocking over his cup of pens. “Y-yeah, thanks.” He stammers awkwardly. You leave, strolling back to your own station, blissfully unaware. And Mark sits there, red-faced, papers crumpling slightly in his sweaty hands, mind spinning completely out of control.

Because all he can think about is your hands. Strong, capable.

What they would feel like if you just grabbed him, hauled him in by the tie, kissed him breathless right here against the desk.

Maybe shoved him down onto it.

Maybe ran those big, rough palms down his sides, held him open, touched him like you owned him.

Mark spends the next hour staring at the screen, absolutely useless. He tries. He really tries. He opens the file. He closes the file. He types two words.

He deletes them.

He imagines your mouth, the soft curve of your smile, the way you sometimes look at Mark like you’re considering devouring him whole, and then he’s squirming in his chair like an over-eager schoolboy, cheeks burning, thighs pressed tight together under the desk.

“You okay, man?” Dylan says at some point, peering over his divider.

“Mhm,” Mark squeaks, definitely not okay.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an image slams into his mind is him dropping to his knees under the desk. Pushing your legs apart. Looking up at you while your breath catches, one big hand coming down to cup the back of Mark’s head–

Mark jerks in his seat so hard he knocks his own pen onto the floor. He ducks down to get the pen, big mistake, because the movement brings him closer to your legs under the table, and he catches a whiff of your scent, clean and a little sharp from aftershave, and he just—

He pauses, crouched there, gripping the pen too tightly, imagining what it would be like if he stayed down here, if you’d let him nudge between your thighs and mouth at your cock until you were tugging his hair and gasping his name, trying to keep quiet in a room full of people–

Mark shoots back up into his chair so fast he nearly blacks out.

[mlmmetalhead]

Special Agent Dale Cooper sucks mad dick

I don’t make the rules. He’s very soft, at least at the beginning. Laying his head on your thighs, seemingly so innocent, just looks like he’s cuddling his beloved. You barely even bat an eye until he starts placing kisses on the sensitive skin, and when you finally ask he looks up and bats his eyelashes, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, and asks: “can’t a fellow appreciate his beautiful man anymore?”

Appreciation quickly turns into him slipping down your boxers, hands gripping your thighs as his mouth works wonders. He is very good with his mouth, and he knows it. Dale will look up at you through his pretty eyelashes to see the way your brows scrunch up in response to his tongue flicking over the tip. Can’t help but smile every time. Cooper will moan softly with his mouth around you solely because he knows that the vibrations are sent straight to your core.

He never really tells you this directly, but he likes when you mess up his hair when he’s giving you head. That picture perfect FBI approved gel hairdo suddenly going all over the place as your hand clings to his head? Makes his eyes roll back. Dale is also a big fan of you cumming on his face, for the same reason. He likes how filthy it feels. He’s aware, on some level, that he looks and acts like a goodie two shoes. So when his lover can ruin that image? Risking leaving a wet stain on his boxers now.

[mlmmetalhead]

I recently watched a video talking about what your favorite Mouthwashing ship says about you (spoilers: most of them are bad), and one thing I explained in the comments that I think is important to explain to certain people (in general with a lot of fandoms, tbh) is that a lot of shippers in the fandom understand that these relationships would not be good and are in fact deeply unhealthy, but perhaps that's the point.

Like, most of the Jambone x Curly shippers I've seen don't like the ship because it's cute or good, but because it's narratively interesting and would be extremely compelling to see. I honestly get it even if I'm not super interested in it. Jildo and Curly already have an extremely interesting and unhealthy relationship dynamic. It is heavily implied that JarJar acts very emotionally abusive towards Curly, belittling and manipulating him frequently and likely damaging his confidence and ability to stand up to people. But he is also obsessed with Curly in a very fascinating way.

Meanwhile, Curly has not only been friends with Jimbo for a long time, but has a fatal flaw of being too loyal and passive for his own good. As many have said, Curly is like a golden retriever in both a good and bad way.

Curly is Jackass' victim and enabler at the same time, which is why he is one of my favorite characters in the game. You both feel bad for him but also understand that he really fucked up and a lot of stuff is his fault. His most endearing traits are also some of his worst traits. Again, the golden retriever comparison is very accurate. He is friendly and loyal and believes the best in everyone (and very cute), but that loyalty and belief in everyone are also his fatal flaws.

He enables Jello because he thinks that there is good in him, and like a dog, he sees no wrong with most people no matter what they do (until it's far too late). I can't remember the fic I saw this in, but one good line I saw once was something along the lines of: "You believe in people and see nothing wrong with them no matter what until they abandon you at the park in the middle of the night." Curly sees no wrong in his friend because that's the type of person he is, and while it can be cute, it's also dangerous.

It can also often be detrimental to himself, as we see Juice be cruel to him as well, yet Curly excuses it as just Jizz being Jizz. He doesn't see anything wrong with the way he is treated, making him become desensitized to Jive's behavior and seeing it as not a big deal.

I think Curly's status as both victim and enabler would be interesting under the context of an abusive romantic relationship. There is an even greater power imbalance present, and Jojo may do a lot worse things as a result and be a lot more controlling and manipulative. He could be more physically and verbally abusive, make more threats, and even be sexually abusive (since he is canonically a rapist already, and hates Curly more than he hates Anya, thus he would probably put more aggressive hate into it). The whole relationship would be horrible and disturbing, but also interesting to see.

I love fics exploring their unhealthy friendship, so seeing it as an unhealthy romantic relationship could be even crazier to see.

~~~~~~

There's also the nuances of Anya x Curly. Most people ship it specifically in the context of AUs where Curly actually stands up for Anya and helps her out. Their dynamic as characters could be really cute, especially if he puts in the work to protect her.

I personally find the potential of post-crash Anya x Curly to be interesting as hell. I generally find their non-romantic dynamic post-crash to be interesting enough on its own, but I also think it could be absolutely crazy if they developed romantic feelings because those feelings would develop from some really unhealthy places for the most part.

I see Anya as someone who still holds some resentment towards Curly, but also sees herself in him and feels he doesn't deserve what happened to him. Maybe at one point seeing him go through something similar to what she went through might feel a little cathartic, but anything after that is too much to her. She is also his primary caretaker and a nurse, so she feels responsible for his wellbeing and wants to take care of him. She also seems to read and talk to him a lot, which probably feels nice because she can have some company while also being safe because Curly is not in a position to be able to hurt her. Anya doesn't exactly develop proper feelings for him per say, but she still uses him as a bit of an emotional crutch of sorts and becomes very attached to him because of it.

Meanwhile, Curly feels deeply guilty for not helping Anya and feels she deserves better. He believes she has no reason to care for him, but chooses to anyway, and thus he is extremely grateful towards her, possibly idolizing her to a certain degree. He slowly develops his own weird feelings, seeing himself as unworthy of her kindness and wanting the best for her, while also being dependent on her, even if it's in a more direct way.

They never get together or even realize that they themselves have feelings for each other since those feelings are #messy, but do form a weird codependent relationship of sorts. I've seen some cool fanart of Anya hugging/holding onto post-crash Curly, and it made me think about the potential this whole dynamic has and how unhealthy it could be, both for Anya and Curly. I believe they would not work out or be healthy (though probably better than Jazzy x Curly), but could be interesting narratively.

~~~~~~

Basically, what I'm trying to explain is that a lot of people don't ship certain Mouthwashing ships because they think it's good or want to romanticize it, but because it is narratively compelling and can explore complex dynamics more.

[mlmmetalhead]

And it's only because you're feeling alone. // W. BUTCHER X M. READER

Summary: Butcher fails to inform you about the Boys trip to Russia, and leaves you in New York while they're on their trip. When you learn about it last minute, he assures you that he'll come back in one piece, and that he'll make it up to you. But while the Boys wait in the van for Kimiko, he gets an unexpected call from you and steps out. And while Kimiko is dealing with her part of the mission, Butcher decides to take a small break.

(honestly, I do NOT remember if Butcher was with them in this scene or not but let's pretend he is)

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, use of sex toys, sub reader ig, Butcher teases too much, orgasm denial, gay stuff, not proof read

"Right, now we just wait for the lass to do her bit, and then we're off," Butcher reassures the rest of the group, patting M.M on his shoulder. The other male gives him an annoyed look, swatting his hand away. Butcher leans against the inside of the vehicle, standing around in the silence. He starts to nod off ever so slightly, before getting startled by the sound of his phone buzzing. He takes out of his pocket and makes a humming nose, walking towards the doors of the van. He holds it up for the others to see, saying a simple "Gotta take this," before stepping out.

He moves towards a darker spot in the alley they're parked in, answering the call with a smile on his face. "’Ello there, sweetheart," Butcher says warmly into the phone, listening in for your voice in return. When he gets back a timid "hey", he starts to get a bit concerned.

"You alright?" It's a simple question, with a simple answer. It was either a yes or a no, but he didn't get either one of those back. He was surprised with the answer he got in return. His face flushes slightly when you let out the tiniest whimper into the phone, a smirk forming on his bearded face. He now knows exactly why you called, and exactly what you want. "Thinkin' about me cock, boy? Getting yourself off when 'm not there?"

He teases you, taken aback slightly at the amount of needy noises leaving you. First it was a couple more whimpers, that soon transitioned into full on whines. He shushes you gently, thinking of a way to satisfy you while being over four thousand miles away. He checks over his shoulder for a second, glancing back at the parked van. He hums to himself, sticking his hand down his pants. "Tell ya what," he begins, using his hand to give his cock a few lazy strokes. "If ya tell me what you want me to do with yous, I'll give it all to ya when I get back," he states, groaning and biting his lip at how hard his dick is getting because of the scenario.

"Want you to fuck me, Billy," you gasp into the phone, one of your hands stroking quickly at your cock, hips grinding against the sheet on your shared bed. "Need you t- to fuck me so bad," your noises pour into his ears like a song. Butcher liked when you were like this, open and vulnerable to him. He liked how much trust you put in him to allow him to see you in such a state. He continues to stroke at his own dick, grunting at the way your words roll off your tongue. And then, he got an idea. A really great idea. He starts to speak once more, gaining your attention.

"Why don'tcha get that toy I bought ya and put it to good use," he murmurs as he looks over his shoulder once. You whimper before sitting up on your bed, Butcher hearing the rustling of the sheets from the other side. When you get back to your phone, you make a noise to alert him of your return. He welcomes you back in a teasing yet sweet tone.

"Get started for me, boy," he coaxes you with a velvety tone, smirking at the way you whimper. When he hears the pop of a cap, he knows how engulfed you'll be in pleasing yourself in the next few moments. As you spread lube onto your fingers, you start to mumble his name, letting out little noises when he starts to reassure you that he's there with you, and that he'll make you feel a thousand times better when he gets back. Drool is collecting at your lip, biting down on your bottom one when you start to finger yourself up.

You start to huff and pant, listening to Butcher sputter as he tugs at his own shaft. As you stretch yourself open for the toy, Butcher looks around again at the van, knowing that he hasn't got that much time left. Kimiko wasn't a slow worker. When you're finally done prepping yourself, you grab the toy and put it towards your entrance. You let out a yelp as you push the tip in, Butcher imagining the lewd image of you in his mind and groaning as he draws closer to his release. You start to fuck yourself with the toy, pushing it further and deeper inside of you after every other thrust.

You imagine Butcher in place of it. You think about him hovering over you and pounding into you, making you see stars. But while also reassuring you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on, praising you for how well you're handling him. As you bite down on your lip, it almost slips past you that Butcher curses on the other end of the phone, releasing into his hand. As you try to follow suit, he curses again while pulling up his clothes and tucking away his cock.

"Sorry boy, but I think we're gonna have ta cut this short for tonight," he says, frowning as you start to make noises of complaint, mumbling about how close you were. He shushes you gently, calming you down enough for you to just pout, agreeing to his instructions. "Gotta go now, love, see ya when I get back," he says in his usual gruff tone, imagining the noise you make after paired up with that usual pout you do. He chuckles after you say goodnight to him, hanging up his phone.

Right on cue, Hughie opens the door of the van and whisper yells for him. He wipes his hand clean of any fluids and hops back into the vehicle. He waits to hear the report back on what's going on, but then his phone dings. As he lifts it to see what it is, he's taken aback by the sight displayed on it. You'd sent him a picture of your cock, cum splattered onto your thighs with the words "couldn't wait for you :(" written underneath the attachment. He chuckles, stuffing his phone into his pocket and thinking of a way to punish you when he gets back.

[mlmmetalhead]

And for you, I keep my legs apart (and forget about my tainted heart)

Pairing: Unspecified Male character x Male Reader

cw: 18+, age gap, (older man x younger male reader), anal fingering, riding, subtop male reader, dombot male character, size kink

Thinking about an old man going for a guy like you who definitely isn’t his type, with your scrawny frame, short height that barley reaches eye level on him, and with a meek presence that couldn’t even scare away a stray cat if you desperately tried to do so.

Yet you’ve somehow managed to gather the courage to buy someone like him- a man that could probably be your father or something, a drink. At least that’s what he thinks you’re doing. It’s hard to tell when you’re talking so much - well nervously rambling that is, about the interior choices made for the dingy bar and the nutritious value of their menu (fuck who cares?)

But he listens to you anyway while his eyes trail along your lanky frame, eyeing your every little reaction to him (What ? He’s bored and he has no interest in the mind numbing football game playing on the television nor the group of rowdy men who look like they’re on a mission to drink themselves to an early death)

So he watches; watches how you jump when your fingers accidentally brush, watches how you avoid eye contract when he leans in close to your ear to ask you something, watches how you stumble over your words when he laughs or smiles at something you said.

At some point he watches you start squirming around in your seat and that’s when he notices the outline of your boner showing through your ill fitting jeans (Jesus Christ, this is what you’ve been hiding kid?) Despite being in a dimly lit bar he can tell you’ve opted out of wearing briefs, cockhead firmly pushing against your jeans and casting a dark spot that’s probably the reason as to why you’re squirming around in your seat

Now it’s his turn to jump as your knees knock together, gaze avoiding yours because how is he supposed to look you in the eyes when he’d been shamelessly staring at your crotch? and now he’s the one who can’t get through a sentence without stumbling over his words because all he can think about is all the ways he could cum with the help of your cock.

It doesn’t take much before he’s inviting you back to his house.

For a moment you look surprised by the invite, probably haven’t expected that and truth be told he’s surprised himself since he usually isn’t one for one night stands and if he were to do one it would be in a cheap motel not in such an intimate space like his place. But something about you has him acting like a horny teenager who’d just seen their first pair of tits.

You’re quick to accept the offer though, even thanking him for inviting you into his home (such a strange thing to do but somehow he can’t help but be endeared by the gesture)

Well at his place you continue your nervous blabbering, talking about his choice of decor or lack there of (fuck you love to talk don’t you?) while he continues thinking about all the ways he’s going to cum tonight.

Eventually he leans in for a kiss, swiftly cutting off your blabbering, tongue slipping past your lips to and tasting the sweet drink you’d been sipping.

A breathy sigh escapes your lips, hips bucking against his and he can’t help but notice the way your hard cock is firmly pressing against him.

“Christ, take this off kid,” he breathes against your lips and tugs at the belt you’re wearing, watches in amusement as you practically yank it off of your body along with the pair of pants you’re wearing.

Once you’ve complety stripped down he can finally see what he’d been eyeing all night and yeah he was right, you’re big, bigger than anyone he’s taken before, cock girthy and curving past your belly button, with an angry vein protruding to the side and a heavy set of balls hanging between your thighs.

And in that very moment he can’t help but thank everything under the sun for having decided to wear a plug to the bar, hole twitching in anticipation at the thought of all the ways he’s going to be skewed onto your cock.

Just as he’s about to tug his own shirt off, you go to speak before swiftly halting yourself.

“What? You’re not about to tell me you’re a virgin are you?” He says, in a joking tone something that quickly fades into something more serious as you continue to stand there staring at him without saying a word.

Suddenly he feels like he’s been splashed with a bucket of ice cold water and the first thing on his mind is to tell you take your clothes and get out because he’s not fucking a virgin tonight, that’s for damn sure. However just as he’s about to utter those words you manage to splutter out a response.

“Nonono I’m not but-,” you try to say, hand aimlessly flailing in the air before you continue speaking . “…I just I- won’t last long.”

That’s when he laughs, a long hearty laugh, that has his head tipping back, hand clutching onto his stomach and he knows he should feel bad for laughing so much but he just hadnt expected those words to come out your mouth

When he finally manages to gather himself you’re looking absolutely flustered, hands fisting your clothes and looking like you’re about to sprint out of here and he can’t help but want to take you out of your miserry

“don’t worry about it kid, just sit down for me yeah?”He says, nods his head over to his worn out blue couch: the one he usually sits in to drink his morning tea, the one he usually falls asleep in while watching reruns of some forgotten tv series , the one that is now adorned with a pretty boy with sugary sweet lips, cock hard and weeping between your legs, just patiently waiting for someone like him to come sit on it.

The thought itself is enough to kick him into gear and as he proceeds to strip the clothes off him he can’t help but notice the way your gaze follows him closely, an observation that stirs something foreign inside of him

It’s been a while since someone looked at him like this -like really looked at him, not with pity in their eyes because they know death’s patiently waiting at his side but with pure hunger, as you trail your gaze over every mark, every scar, every inch of skin he uncovers as he slowly takes his clothes off.

He can only take so much before he feels compelled to speak “Easy there, if you continue on like this you’ll finish before we get to do anything “

That seems enough to snap you out of your trance, looking absolutely flustered and once again he can’t help but be endeared by you (Christ, he really needs to get get it together)

“Still sure about this?” he says, and busies himself with rummaging around for the lube and condom he keeps in a drawer.

He only gets a meek hum in response and when he turns his head to look at you he sees your gaze focused on his lower half, probably eyeing the plug he’s got on.

The realization has his hole twitching in anticipation before he’s walking over to you with lube and a condom.

“Seriously has anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” He asks with a small smile on his face.

“‘M sorry-“ you begin to say before he leans down and cuts you off with a kiss, even hears a moan of his own escaping his own lips. He’s kissed many men before, that’s for sure. Some kisses had been snuck in dark bars others have been done in a drunken haze while in cheap motels.

But they’ve never felt like this- hungry, frantic almost leaving him weak at the knees as you thrust your tongue into him, sharp teeth nipping at tender skin , and hands wandering all over his body as if you can’t get enough of him.

It takes everything in him to break the kiss , and he hears a sound of protest escapes your lips, hand desperately clawing at his hips to pull him back in.

“that’s enough,” he says voice all firm but there’s nothing but warmth in his gaze as he peers down at you . “Got to save some of the fun remember ? Gonna let this old man ride your cock?”

“Yes yes yes please I’ll do anything just please-” you cry out, practically choking up on your words, while keeping a vice like grip on him.

“Shh easy there” he says, and gently nudges you back into the chair, before swiftly pulling the plug out of him.

A gasp escapes his lips as the cold air blows on sensitive skin, hungry hole now clenching around nothing. “Christ!”

Despite the strong desire to jump your bones- especially with the way you’re looking at him right now, he knows that he isn’t stretched enough for your cock.

So he tosses the condom your way before he opens the cap to the lube bottle and pours the content into his hand, fingers making quick work of warming it up for him.

It doesn’t take much before he’s got his slick finger pressed up against his rim, pushing it inside without much resistance as a soft exhale escapes his lips “you’re - ah you’re so big kid, can’t ah can’t take you like this”

He only hears a strangled sound escape your mouth as the words roll off of his tongue, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he works a second finger inside.

“Fuck me,” he breathes out, head tipping back, as waves of pleasure start running down his spine, all while you closely watch him the entire time.

And as a third finger joins into the mix he turns his eyes to look at you, noticing the way you’re looking at him all teary eyed, poor neglected cock weeping against your stomach and his voice is all hoarse as he says the words “you can touch yourself son it’s alright ”

You don’t waste a second wrapping a hand around your dick, erratically stroking from rot to tip as you keep your eyes glued to him. “Ah fuck! Feels - feels so good sir please ! Need- ah fuck need to fuck you please sir please”

“God you should see yourself kid, so pretty like this, so eager for an old man like me,” he breathes out, continues moving his fingers in and out, almost matching the pace of your own hand.

He wonders if this is how it would feel being speared onto your dick, fat cockhead nudging against his prostate with every thrust of your hips, his hungry hole taking your size as if it were nothing.

“Sir- going to cum please-“ he hears you cry out and the sound of your words snap him back into the present moment.

“Stop,”

A strangled sob escapes your lips, almost reluctant to pull your hand away from your dick but obedient as you are you listen to him.

Atta boy

He walks over to you on shaky legs, hand cupping your teary soaked face, slick thumb brushing over your cheek as he says “Want you to cum inside me, that alright with ya?”

You furiously nod your head in response looking so ridiculous he can’t help but chuckle before he turns around for you.

And as he stands there caged between your legs he can’t help but notice the warmth radiating from your skin, the smell of your cologne that’s biting at his nostrils, and the sweet sounds you’ve been making all night that are now trickling straight into his ear.

It’s only then he realizes how very real this is and how this isn’t just another dream his lonely mind had conjured up for him.

“Go easy on me alright? Been a while since I did this with someone,” he says, feels your cockhead circling his entrance before you slowly push inside of him.

“Jesus Christ!” He says through gritted teeth, face scrunching up, and nails clamping onto the couch as his body gets accustomed to the feeling of being stretched around your dick.

“Is this ah- is this alright sir?” You say, under a shaky breath, body quaking as you continue to sink inside of him.

“Going to tear me in half kid” he barks out, as the burn persist. Every nerve in his body is practically screaming as you continue to push your way inside of him but despite all of that there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Eventually he gets used to the stretch, the burning sensation dulling a bit as his body starts to relax “Fuck just like that, going to make me feel so good aren’t you?” He murmurs out, hands loosening their grip on the couch as he shuffles around to get more comfortable.

“Yes yes yes please want to be good for you god please I need-“ you slur out, and he feels your body violently shaking beneath him.

“Shhh easy there,” he coos out, voice a bit wobbly as you finally bottom out.

He makes a point to ignore the way you’re buried so deep he can feel your ballsack kissing his ass, and can practically taste you at the back of his mouth, just so he can help you out “Breathe in for me yeah?”

Without fail you do as he says “now breathe out for me okay?” Just like before you do as he says, body now much less tense and head relaxing in the crook of his neck.

He gives you a couple of moments to catch your breath before he slowly raises his hips and pushes them back down again. “Oh- oh mpfh fuck!”

“Go-god- so- so good sir” he hears you cry out as his hungry hole continues to swallow your cock.

And fuck if he doesn’t agree, feels as if the breath has been punched out of him with every thrust of his hips, knees already screaming in protest but being way too addicted to the feeling of your cockhead continuously jabbing at his prostate.

“Mhp! Feels so good kid, think- ah think I can feel you here” he grunts out, hand blindly searching for your own before placing it on the slick skin of his stomach. “Feel it,”

“Ah fuck! Sir please please want to make you feel good please!” You sob into his neck, unable to do anything but take it as he bounces on your dick.

“But you are,” he says, makes sure to puncture every word with a thrust of his hips “going to make me cum just like this,” and he really means it, doesn’t need a warm palm around his dick with the way heat’s already coiling in the pit of his stomach.

“Going to cum too,” you whine out, hips now meeting his thrust which catches him off guard.

“Fuck! Just like that, keep going,” he says through gritted teeth, the fire in his abdomen growing stronger and overtaking everything in his body as you continue to slam into him.

“Think I’m gonna” you splutter out, hips stuttering.

“Yeah you gonna come inside this old man? Come on then want to feel you,” he manages to say, as the world around him starts to blur out, ears ringing loud and before he knows of it you’re cumming , a loud moan tumbling past your mouth as you clutch onto him for dear life.

It doesn’t take much before he too reaches his orgasm.

“Ah fuck!” He cries out, body quaking in your lap as hot white ropes of cum spurt onto his stomach.



For a moment there are no words exchanged as the two of you take the opportunity to catch your breath but when you finally decide to speak the first thing you say is “so how about round two?”

His eyes widen in surprise before he bursts into laughter “you’re going to kill me you know that kid?”