sourszt

[sourszt]

[ 𝟏𝟐:𝟐𝟓 𝐚.𝐦. | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 ]

𝐟𝐭. abby anderson x fem!reader

𝐜𝐰. nsfw, thigh riding, making out, praise, porn what plot lowkey, wlw, lots of kissing, needy!abby, slightlysubby!abby if u squint (idc ik she’s vocal), i think thats it. top!reader, slighttease!reader, okay i think that’s fr it

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. i want her. i need her. i crave her. abby <3 this is jus a lil drabble bc shes so strong i know thigh riding w her just goes crazy. im also obsessed w that scene of her laying down w the book on her stomach. not proofread.

it always started out the same way; you finding abby hidden away in her room, nose deep in some book she was barely reading to escape the day. it was usually when everyone was out eating or messing around in the lounge areas because that was the only time she had to herself. and because she knew you’d find her there every time.

she’d put her book down across her stomach and pull her legs up to make room for you to sit, asking why you were there. it was all apart of the show. she knew why you were there.

you would play along, telling her what she was missing out on. today, it was blackjack in the mess hall. the prize? the fruit cups they were handing out, fresh from the fields nearby. she also knew that she didn’t miss anything and that you would reveal two cups hidden underneath the jacket you took off moments later.

the fruit was sweet — a mixture of strawberries and blueberries and melon. although, neither of you made it entirely through your cups when you leaned forward to pop a strawberry in abby’s mouth, slowly easing between her knees as you stacked your half empty cups and set them onto the dresser.

abby’s lips pulled into a soft smirk, barely revealing her teeth as she mumbled, “what, you’re not gonna let me finish?” despite that, she’d grabbed the spine of her book and set it down beside the fruit cups to accommodate you, her blue eyes analyzing your lips like they were the most fascinating things.

they made their way back up to yours when you started to grin down at her. “sure i will.” the words rolled off of your tongue lowly and teasingly before you finally kissed her. her being half propped up against her pillows, you met her halfway and crawled up to find her lips.

her hands latched onto your waist, squeezing into your clothed skin in a silent plea. a soft whine escaped abby, muffled against your mouth. you were sweet — sweet like strawberries. abby lifted off of the bed an inch, pushing against your mouth with pure need.

“you want it bad, don’t you?” you teased her gently, earning a playful little glare from her. it didn’t last long when she saw your fingers hurrying to unbutton your pants and she whispered a sharp curse before offering a helping hand. the second they hit the ground, she grabbed your jaw and pulled you down into a kiss much deeper than the one before. it made you gasp, her strength nearly knocking you off balance. you caught yourself against her strong shoulders.

it didn’t take long for the kiss to take a turn when abby’s teeth pulled at your bottom lip in your attempt to come up for air. she was panting already, her face flushed and her eyes half lidded. you wanted so badly to tear into her for it and rile her up but you didn’t get the chance to when her hand suddenly snaked around the back of your neck, holding your head firmly in place as she came up to kiss you again.

it was like that for a while, pushing and pulling while your hands did the rest. abby now groped at your ass, particularly liking the noises it drew from you, as she helped your one of your thighs over hers. your hands found purchase on her chest when you sunk down onto the thigh you straddled and abby took your moment of distraction to press her lips to your jaw.

“abby,” you whispered her name, voice cracking when you felt the flat of her tongue against your neck. she hummed into your skin when you grabbed the side of her neck, your thumb lazily stroking her cheek. “shit, baby,” you had to bite your lip to keep a moan down as her teeth grazed your collarbone.

“you sound so pretty f’me,” abby cooed as she settled back against her pillows. you were about to protest the loss of contact when she suddenly bucked her hips up and her thigh grazed against your clothed cunt. the hands that had at some point shifted to your hips held you in place as she flexed the muscles of her thigh.

she watched you from underneath her lashes, taking her bottom lip between her teeth when she saw your jaw slacken in a silent moan. you mumbled a strained curse and let your head dip down towards her chest while you tried to adjust to abby’s gentle rhythm. you could feel the bed gently shifting each time her heel pushed off of it.

“c’mon, baby,” abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head as her fingers grazed up your sides, gathering the hem of your shirt between them. instinctively, you sat up to let her peel your shirt off. for a moment, while abby held you upright to admire the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra, you ground your hips against her thick thigh.

abby’s breath hitched in her throat when you balanced yourself on her abs that you just had to lift her shirt to feel. your other hand toyed with the waistband of her sweats. she huffed, knowing what you were doing. she knew to anticipate your hand sliding down to cup her clothed heat, her eyes fluttering shut as her breathing threatened to go erratic.

she leaned back onto her elbows when you slipped your hand down the front of her pants and found her clit through her panties. all the while, you made up for her dying pace by picking your own up. “fu-fuck,” abby hissed. she nudged her leg to the side to give you better access.

you loved seeing her like this. her eyebrows were beginning to tent together and her reddened lips were parted in soft moans. her eyes struggled to stay open with your fingers working her clit just the way she liked it and she wasn’t sure if she should look at you or the hand down her sweats.

every so often your hand would slow down when you got too caught up with fucking yourself on her thigh, but she didn’t mind. she enjoyed the sweet little whines you’d shamelessly let slip. and every once in a while, amidst your languid thrusts, your knee would hit the back of your hand and it would bump against abby’s sensitive clit.

“that’s it,” abby breathed encouragingly. one hand settled at the small of your back, aiding you along. she could feel the desperation in your thrusts, each one more eager than the last. she grabbed the wrist that was still inside of her sweats, guiding you over her body. “c’mon, baby, almost there.”

your lips clashed messily as you continued to ride abby’s thigh. you knew her sweats were already a mess because of you and that you probably looked just as bad but you didn’t care. all you could think about was how good abby’s thigh felt on your clit and how big her hands were groping your tits. he was all but stealing the air straight from your lungs.

“fuck, abby,” you whined against her lips. “i’m… i’m close, ‘m so fucking close.” that familiar churn in your stomach continued to grow each time you rolled your hips on abby’s firm thigh.

abby cursed under her breath at the sound of your voice, so whiny and full of need. “‘ts okay, let go for me.” she husked. she watched your face twist as you got closer and closer until it finally hit you.

her hands slid up and down the fronts of your bare legs as you rode her through your orgasm. your pace fell short and your moans filled the room. her name fell from your lips over and over, balling her sheets in your fists.

even after you fell slack against her, she kept her hands glued to your sides. her thumbs rubbed soft circles into your stomach while you caught your breath. you were covered in a thin sheet of sweat and your face was still so flushed when you came up to look at her. but that didn’t stop you from seeking out her lips.

she accepted the kiss gracefully, sliding one hand up to the base of your jaw and holding you in place. the kiss was slow and soft, but abby sensed it shifting to something more when you shifted back onto your heels and started lifting her shirt up her toned body. she hummed and pulled away, giving you nothing more than a questioning look.

“i’m gonna let you finish, isn’t that what you wanted?” you teased her breathlessly, throwing her words back at her as you slotted yourself between her legs.

abby went to say something sharp back but the words caught in her throat when you dipped your head down to the hem of her bra and kissed her skin. “fuck,” she moaned softly when you ghosted the tips of your fingers down her sides and stopped at the waistband of her sweats, “you’re fucking insatiable, you know that?” she choked out as she peered down at you.

“you love it.”

not proofread my b 🤑 i need more smuts of my Wife without strap. yes i support strap use #backthatstrap but idc i need HER. just HER.

[sourszt]

[ 𝟏:𝟐𝟏 𝐩𝐦 | 𝐫𝐞𝐱 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐧 ]

𝐟𝐭. rex “splode” sloan x fem!reader

𝐜𝐰. nsfw, shower sex, quickie, pet names ‘sweet thing’ and ‘pretty girl,’ oral (m!receiving), facial, praise, (in)correct use of powers (blood manipulation), exhibitionism if you squint, rex being soft but also not ?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. this came to me in a vision. i power wrote this last night, knocked out and i’m posting it now. more invincible smuts to come im obsessed w rex and that show. not proofread.

right after a mission, each member of the guardians of the globe had their own way of recollecting themselves.

most of them, decently battered and beaten, would make a brief stop somewhere in the city to give themselves a breather before gathering back at headquarters. the rest would grab a quick shower at headquarters and then head to the lounge area or kitchen to wait for the rest of their team.

you were typically among the former. after taking a decent beating a couple of times a week, you would fly home just to make sure your family was okay. and to reassure them that you were, too. it would only be about half an hour before you’d return to headquarters, which was around the same time as your other teammates.

half an hour of near radio silence within that tower.

near radio silence.

up in the training floor, one shower was still running long after the rest had been abandoned. steam had already condensed onto each bathroom wall and mirror. the sound of rushing water pelting the floor hardly muffled the harmony of stifled cries and grunted curses from that small yet open stall.

somehow, rex sloan had ended up with you in the stall, slinking in when you were all alone to kindly offer to inspect for wounds. you agreed to his oh-so-kind offer, well aware of his malicious intentions, but on the condition that he be quick.

so that was how you wound up pressed to the cold tile wall, back arched and legs spread while rex took you from behind. he was no stranger to your body, knowing exactly where your most sacred spots were and abusing them relentlessly. it nearly brought you to your knees, rex’s hand keeping you upright while the other groped your tit.

“no one’s gonna hear you, sweet thing.” rex husked into your ear, voice strained as he pounded into you. “‘ts just you and me in here.”

you continued to bite at the back of your hand to keep your volume as low as possible when rex’s grip on your hip tightened and he pulled you back into a particularly rough thrust. it caught you off balance for a moment, a surge of pain rocketing through your body, and a pitchy moan tore from your mouth. “fucking christ, rex!”

the man grinned at your whining. “that’s it, keep ‘em comin’,” rex’s other hand snaked around your torso to cup your throat. he yanked you back nearly flush with his chest, groaning at the way your walls clamped around his thick cock. “fu-ckin’ hell. you feel so fuckin’ good around me.”

the new angle let him hit one of those sensitive spots inside of you, and this time you couldn’t quite cover your mouth in time. you weakly grabbed at the hand splayed across your throat but by then you didn’t care about how your cries echoed off of the bathroom walls.

he knew you were reaching your breaking point when he felt that familiar tremble in your thighs underneath his palm. you were already taking him so well, spasming cunt practically swallowing his dick so greedily, but still he persisted.

“do the thing.” he whispered with a smirk playing on his lips.

his rhythm began to die down, telling you that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. as if you’d even tell him no.

you took one of your shaky palms off of the cool tile and reached around to rest it on rex’s waist. it took you a moment to focus as you began concentrating his blood flow down to his cock, gently restricting it at the base. you expanded his blood volume by the slightest percentage, minding the few injuries he sustained during the mission earlier.

rex felt it right away, cock instinctively twitching inside of you. his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his wet hair clinging to your skin; his fingers dug into your plush thigh. you could feel him stopping himself from rutting into you. he hardly had any restraint as he whispered your name so desperately.

“easy.” you instructed. “i need to — fuck — need to focus.”

you were doing anything but that, truthfully. which would’ve been lethal if you didn’t know what you were doing. but alas, this wasn’t the first time.

rex hissed at the same time you did when you felt his cock gently swell inside of you. not enough to be painful, but definitely enough to feel it. the moment you dropped your hand, rex took it as his cue to move.

“fuck,” his voice broke into a soft whine, “so goddamn tight.” he reached between your legs and nudged your thighs apart a little more. “c’mon, sweet thing.”

he moved his hand from your throat to between your shoulders, pushing you down as he pulled out to his swollen tip only to slam his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside of you.

a cry of his name came from you, only egging the arrogant man on. “god, you’re so fuckin’ good for me. aren’t ya?”

you could barely last much longer; that tight, hot coil in your abdomen was steadily unwinding with each of rex’s deep thrusts. you held on to the wall for dear life, your palms sliding against the slick tiles. the weight of rex’s chest against your back made you peer over in time to see his hand envelop yours against the wall, his strong fingers lacing through yours. he kept you upright while he fucked you through your orgasm, mumbling encouragement into your skin.

“that’s it, pretty girl. takin’ me so damn good — fuck!” rex’s grip on your waist began to falter, as did his rhythm, when he realized he wasn’t too far behind you. it didn’t help that your cunt was spasming uncontrollably around him. “come on, i’ve got you.”

the groan in his voice was enough to send you over, head falling forward with a cry of his name. your thighs trembled in his hold and threatened to give out. you hardly managed to keep yourself upright as he continued to pound into you. the stimulation almost became too much to bear, a few tears mixing with the sweat and shower water trailing down your face.

you finally gave out once rex pulled out, body going limp against the wall. rex caught you at the waist and closed the brief gap between you. he buried his face into your neck and pressed soft kisses to your skin. “god, i’ll never get used to that. so fuckin’ perfect.” he mumbled as he turned you around to face him. “do you… mind?” his green eyes shamelessly raked down your body, his still-hard cock twitching in his hand at the sight.

both of your legs were sore beyond belief, and they were sure to get worse after the nap you were bound to take later, but it didn’t stop you from sliding down onto your knees and replacing rex’s hand with your own. your own abilities amazed you; you could hardly wrap both of your hands around his swollen cock, let alone fit it in your mouth.

“fuck” rex groaned, long and low as he braced himself on the wall behind you. it shielded some of the water from splashing into your face, but ran down his body and allowed your hands to pump him with ease. “ju-just like that, christ.” a few stray drops of water running down rex’s red locks fell onto your face as you stared up at him. you made sure not to break eye contact when you took the tip of his cock onto your flattened tongue, easing it past your lips.

one of his hands went to your hair, brushing it out of your face as best as he could before resting his palm at the back of your head. it didn’t guide you nor did it force you to take him further. it encouraged you. you knew that he was already close. it only took you a few skillful bobs of your head and twists of your hands before he started whining. your favorite tell of his that he was about to come.

you inched back enough to take your lips off of his cock and stuck your tongue out, his cum painting it not seconds later. you took it all, gracefully swallowing it before getting back to your feet with his help. he was on you the moment you were, gently pressing you against the wall as he captured you into a deep kiss. not an ounce of concern crossed you, considering you were definitely supposed to be in the lounge by now.

“don’t think that counted as quick, rex.” you said with a smile when he finally pulled away.

“ask me if i give a shit. i hope those a-holes heard us.” rex sassed as he reached for your shampoo bottle. “another wash can’t hurt, right? turn around.”

i love him so much.

[sourszt]

hi! if you see this, do you have a link to your "first time" xiao fic from kinktober 2021? i can't access it through the genshin masterlist :(

YES sorryy i’m trying to re-organize my masterlist and ive been behind 😭💔

[sourszt]

rules of the road

general rules

• MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! you will be blocked.

• don’t be a cunt! life is short, if u don’t like it, scroll bruh

• please read all tags! there are dark subjects in some fics, some i do NOT condone irl so please read tags!

requesting rules

• PLEASE BE SPECIFIC! i’d prefer if you include character, potential plot, what you want included, etc. so i can give you what YOU want! :)

• NO MINORS OR AGING UP! i don’t give a FUCK if a character is almost 18 or if everyone else just ages them up, i do not want to see canon children in my requests

• NO SCAT/EMETO/NECRO! please. god.

• PLEASE BE PATIENT! i may not get to your request until later on or at all, unfortunately i am very busy :( feel free to re-request or ask another very talented writer on here!! (trust, i’m not that great a writer anyways)

[sourszt]

the complete collection

no minors allowed beyond this point !

arcane

terrifier

the boys

the last of us

blue eye samurai

one piece

genshin impact

danganronpa

marvel

miscellaneous

specials!

do not steal my works, share with credit! <3

[sourszt]

pls excuse the mess while i rearrange my intro card n shit 😞 new user !!

[sourszt]

「 RIN 」꩜ she/they ꩜ 20 ꩜ #1 jinx apologist

ੈ✩‧₊˚ navigation ⋆·˚ ༘ *

• NSFW + MINORS DNI — ageless blogs + minors will be blocked. sfw content will be on my other blog(s) @brxflovskii

• masterlist ꩜ voicemail ꩜ rules

[sourszt]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII *takes deep breath* IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII :D

[sourszt]

Girllll…please…more Ellie content…bc oh my gawd 😭 begging on hands and knees 🙏

LMFAO OMG I SHALL TRY !!! TY FOR THE MESSAGE BAE <33 once i find motivation trust me ellie is on my list 🗣️🙏🏼

[sourszt]

WOW that HL fix was fucked up…..

Gimme more-

HAHA i will def take this into consideration muehehehehe (and im so glad you enjoyed :3)

[sourszt]

More autistic reader with art PLEASE I’m begging

OMG i will try once im on break but ngl i fear im almost outta fuel with my baby fart 😞🙏🏼

[sourszt]

in love w south park so im plugging my 100% sfw, older sister sp drabble blog because i finally have baby fever for the first time in my life because of those shitty kids !

rin | 20 | any pronouns | #1 kyle defender

: ̗̀➛ navigating . . .

★ masterlist

★ rules

★ requests [open]

[sourszt]

in light of this morning’s news, i will be taking an indefinite break from here for now, i’m sorry.

my heart goes out to women, immigrants, people of color, lgbtq+, and everybody who has been/is going to be affected by this election. i know i will not be posting, but if you ever need to let go in my dm’s or under this post, please do so.

take care of yourselves, please ♥️

[sourszt]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 | somnophilia + captive

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — homelander x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, somnophilia, captive, non-con SLIGHTLY turned dub-con, stalking, reader is part of the boys, fuck or die basically, breaking & entering, fingering, slight pregnancy kink, oral (f!receiving), slight dacryphilia, lmk if i missed anything !

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — this is very dark please read with caution!! if you don’t think you will like or be able to handle this, PLEASE do not read i will not be upset !! but homelander is an asshole so unfortunately this isn’t really ooc. not proofread!

he should hate you. he knew he should.

staring at your face on the meeting room screen, captured on a shitty blue-tinted doorbell camera. after weeks of searching, he finally found out who you were. working with the very people who had not only killed his indestructible colleague and coworker and trying to damage his image, he had to admit you were a slippery thing.

not anymore.

now he knew what you looked like, it was time to show you hell on earth. he was the fucking homelander and you of all people should know that. you’d seen the side of him that millions couldn’t. he could kill you in a heartbeat for what you’d done. for what you knew.

in a handful of different ways, too. he could let his lasers seep into your eyes and melt your brain into liquid, he could rip you limb from limb with his bare hands, he could tear your heart clean from your chest and have your disembodied head watch it slow to a stop before he drove a hammer into your skull.

but as he stared at your photo, something in his heart told him that he’d be doing none of that to you. at least, not yet.

his bright blue eyes narrowed at the screen he so desperately wanted to shatter with his fist. he tucked his hands underneath his cape behind his back to keep him from doing so — madelyn would have his fucking head.

he instead examined every single one of your visible features, embedding them in his mind so that he would never forget them. and very soon, you would do the same.

—

sleep didn’t come easy for you that night.

your day had been unreasonably long and stressful, and you found you were still processing the events when you clambered into bed hours after you reached home. which was another thing in itself.

the boys were getting too trusting with their secrets and recently they had roped in another supe: mesmer. some washed up d-lister who was still milking his childhood fame at failing conventions full of millennials and up.

that encounter had gone to shit thanks to kimiko, as you learned that girl’s name was. butcher nearly had everybody’s asses when he realized you’d gone behind his back but settled the matter with a few colorful words.

but you were still scared getting into bed. somebody else had information on you that could likely kill you. you didn’t entirely trust that mesmer wasn’t willing to sell all of you guys out for a few extra minutes of stardom. your house felt much bigger lately ever since starting this mission with butcher. every shadowy corner felt like there was a demon lurking within it.

like something was waiting for you to fall asleep.

even after you managed to shake that uneasiness off and drift off into a deep slumber, you failed to notice the two eyes watching you through the window just a few feet away.

honestly, homelander had been watching you since you first got home. he’d remained undetected as you ventured through your house: rest, dinner, shower, — he had to admit that he watched you a little too intently during this step — and finally sleep.

you had to be an idiot. how could you not realize that the homelander was so close to you? that he knew who you were already?

and god, how easy it was to get into your house. all he had to do was melt the fucking lock to your back door and make his way through each room — he already knew the layout quite well — before landing at the foot of your bed.

he must have stood there for half an hour just watching you toss and turn, hum and whimper like you were having an rocky dream. part of him was deciding what to do to you. the other part already knew.

he slipped one of his gloves off, and then the other, gently placing them on your nightstand beside your phone. he pinched the edge of your comforter and threw it off of you and onto the floor. your body reacted to the sudden change in temperature, writhing around a little.

he waited another few minutes before touching you. he wanted to decide where to start. first, he brushed your slightly tangled hair out of your face with precision, wanting to see your face up close. the last time he saw it was earlier that day on the monitor in the meeting room.

this was much better than that.

then he straightened out all of the wrinkles in your oversized pajama top, taking a quick peek at your panties underneath. he watched you slide them on earlier. a delicate pair of lacy wine red ones. his cock twitched in his pants at the thought of taking them off of your unconscious body. not even knowing until you woke up.

he tested you out by grabbing one of your tits through your shirt. you didn’t react. not until he started kneading it, pinching at and circling your nipple until it poked out from under the fabric. then your head rolled to the other side with furrowed brows and a soft, pouty whine left you.

homelander actually fought back a curse when he realized how hard he was. it was getting more and more difficult for him to take his time with you. so he didn’t.

you were still sound asleep when the bed dipped to accommodate his weight, and creaked as he positioned himself right over you. he could smell your shampoo. it smelled like the one that maeve used. probably a cheaper alternative, but still.

his hands came up to the hem of your shirt, this time slowly inching it up until he could see your tits. they looked unbelievably good like this. he toyed with them for a while, restraining himself from latching onto one of your nipples. not yet.

for a fleeting second he thought about getting you pregnant — if he was even able to. what you’d look like with a big belly that carried his child and swollen tits that were full just for him.

homelander had to squeeze his eyes shut or else he would’ve come untouched.

he dragged the tips of his fingers down the curves of your waist, then your hips, noting the way your steady breathing was suddenly distorted. your torso twisted like you were ticklish, but he held you firmly in place. he risked waking you up with the force of his grasp alone, but by some miracle you remained asleep.

you picked such a dangerous profession for a deep sleeper.

he shifted down to the foot of your bed, sliding off of the edge to get a good look at your pussy. the lace hugged you perfectly, and it left nothing to the imagination. he couldn’t resist using them for a little while. his thumb found your clit through the thin layer, humming when your thighs instinctively parted wider for more.

“slut.” he whispered.

a broken whimper pulled from your throat in your slumber, prompting him to pick up his pace. his other hand forced your leg up before he dragged the flat of his tongue up your clothed cunt. you were getting wetter. he could smell it.

his eyes rolled back at your almost sweet scent, the hand that held your leg quickly moving to palm his cock through the pants of his suit. he continued to eat your cunt through your soaked panties until he was nearly about to come in his trousers. then he decided he’d had more than enough fun.

you were a mess in your sleep. constantly moaning and whining, hips gently bucking up into his hand. it was only a matter of time until you woke up.

so he pulled your panties off of you and went to unbutton his pants, wrapping the soiled fabric around his stiff cock. he fought back a particularly loud groan as he returned between your legs. he draped one of your legs over his shoulders and ducked down to taste you.

really taste you.

his tongue dipped past your wet folds and into your cunt, pulling a choked cry from you. even in your sleep your hips rolled up into his face, like you were begging for more.

somehow it was better than he anticipated. how impossibly sweet you were, how your sleeping body reacted to him. and the noises you made for him. because of him. he groaned softly against your pussy, the vibrations making you whine.

it wasn’t long until the stimulation became too much to bare, your eyelids beginning to lift as you woke up. the only thing you could register was the warm, thick tongue violating your cunt at a blinding pace. your senses were instantly forced into overdrive and you weakly tried to shift yourself upright.

but a hand much larger and stronger than yours stopped you. fingers dug into your skin in a bruising grip, and a low voice shattered the silence. “move and i’ll fucking kill you.”

you instantly recognized who it belonged to and your blood ran cold. you heeded his stern warning and lowered your gaze to see homelander’s face tucked between your thighs. the sight alone made tears well in your eyes and frantic pleas begin to tumble from your trembling lips.

“please, don’t.” your body was frozen with shock, only tensing when his deep void-like pupils started to glow red.

he released the side of your waist only to swipe at his chin that you saw was shining with your slick. the sight was horrifyingly obscene and you couldn’t hold back the low, shaky whimper it drew from you. you watched his face subtly twitch with realization and his smile grew, his sharp canines poking out.

he held your gaze as he dragged two of his fingers up your slit, humming when he felt how much more wet you’d gotten. your eyes screwed shut when he slid those fingers inside of you to the knuckles without warning. you struggled to keep your body still, fearing that any sudden movement would set him off.

“if you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be so fucking wet.” he curled his fingers and your head fell back into your pillow. “look at me.” he snapped through clenched teeth. he removed his fingers, leaving you empty and wanting more.

you hardly had a choice. his cold blue eyes brought goosebumps to your skin when you found them again. you felt beyond exposed — beyond violated — but something deep inside of you ached for release. in your sleep, his rather skillful ministrations translated into a sensual dream and you were building to your climax when you woke up. you knew he wasn’t going to kill you.

at least, not until he was finished with you. you had very little to lose at that point. so you slowly parted your legs and draped one more comfortably over his shoulder. the gold plated eagles on his suit dug into the undersides of your thigh but you didn’t mind. you kept your movements slow, well aware that he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of you if he thought you were stepping out of line.

he understood your silent plea, one that your voice wouldn’t allow. “atta girl.” he murmured before pressing a kiss to the spot just below your belly button. you watched him go lower, his warm breath teasing your cunt.

you weren’t sure if you were allowed to speak yet so you endured his cruel treatment until he finally granted you relief. your back instinctively arched when his mouth finally closed around your core. his tongue lapped at you, observing your responses. now that you were awake, he could see your body really writhe.

your head rolled back with a pitchy, dragged out moan and you grasped at your sheets for some kind of leverage when his warm tongue penetrated you. your hips bucked up into his slow strokes and he groaned against you.

“oh, fuck,” the curse came out strained. you could feel the tip of his nose poking at your sensitive clit.

your body reacted like it typically would and before you could even consider it, your hand flew to his hair. his eyes narrowed at you and his pace faltered for only a split second. the contact was unexpected, but he knew you weren’t making a move to even attempt to hurt him.

your fingers raked through his blond hair and traced down the side of his face. “g—good, feels so good.” you were hardly coherent, but something about your wild urgency made something in homelander’s stomach tighten. “so fuckin’ good, my good boy,” he’d been working his cock with your panties wrapped around it and suddenly he lost his rhythm.

you were visibly mindless by that point, nearly at your breaking point. but he couldn’t deny how much your slurred rambles were working him up. he continued to eat your cunt with a newfound vigor, moaning every time your fingers gently tugged at his hair.

he knew you were nearly there when you clenched around his tongue. you finally came with a strained cry when his lips wrapped around your clit. it was like a brick wall had hit you at full force. he came quickly after, releasing into the lacy fabric of your underwear.

it took you a moment to ride it out, your hand falling from his hair while you tried to steady your spinning head. panic seeped in the moment your heartbeat returned to normal and you looked down at the man still perched between your legs.

he was already staring at you with a blank expression like he was considering his options for you. what felt like forever passed when he started to wipe at his grinning mouth. a grin that gave you chills.

“the fuck am i gonna do with you, huh?” he asked rhetorically, laughing bitterly. he rose to his feet, suddenly towering over your limp form. “i could take you right now. fuck you dry and kill you. i could take you all for myself so i could be the only one who fucks that sweet pussy. nobody would know where to start looking. or i could let you go and let the paranoia do the rest.”

he rounded your bed to stand beside you. you were too overcome with fear to move, let alone really process his words. “i’m the fucking homelander, you stupid slut. don’t forget that.” he reclaimed his gloves that rested on the bedside table and left.

you were left in an eerie silence. you knew he would be back for you. you just didn’t know when.

i dont even have any afterwords ngl 😭

[sourszt]

𝟑:𝟑𝟗 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — fluff, you paint art’s nails!, autistic!reader, lowkey just tooth rotting fluff, cuddles, autistic rambles (me fr whenever i Know Stuff) part 2 to this (i hope tumblr will let me link it, if not it’s titled Small Cuts!)

the next time he saw you, you weren’t sleeping.

the rest of miles county was, art made sure of that when he crept through your unlocked back door. you were lying on your living room sofa with your back to that door, focused on the front door. the one he’d used last time. in your lap was the bee plush from last time, stained red in some spots where he had held it.

on your head you wore bulky headphones, likely noise cancelling because when art slammed the door to test the waters, you didn’t even flinch. he rolled his eyes. how unprepared you were. ironically, while you were waiting for him, too.

he debated taking your head off with his rusted cleaver. actually doing it this time. he had no great excuse not to, but his curiosity got the better of him and he ended up planting himself right behind you to knock your headphones off.

it was playful. it only startled you for a moment, thinking your pet was jumping on your head, but you grinned when you saw the black and white clown smiling down at you. he waved his fingers almost flirtatiously, accepting the stuffed animal you once again thrust against his chest.

again, shock overcame him and he was partially upset that the familiar rush of adrenaline right before the kill of a lifetime never came. but he took the little bee and made him dance in your face, booping your nose once more.

“do you like him?” you asked. the sound of your voice looked like it scared him, like he wasn’t expecting it. “you can keep him. i named him beet.” you were pretty soft spoken despite the excitement that radiated off of you.

art eagerly nodded and hugged the stuffed animal to his chest rather theatrically. he pointed to your sofa, particularly where your legs were draped across the cushions, then at himself.

“oh, yes,” you shifted over to allow him to sit down. he bounced on the cushions, admiring how comfortable they were. then he set little beet aside and poked at your headphones. his blue eyes looked to you for permission.

you nodded and helped him put them on, holding his little top hat while he listened to your music. you glanced at your phone to see what he was listening to. “oh, i love this song. dead man’s party by oingo boingo. do you know oingo boingo?” you asked, pushing the headphones back off of one of his ears. he shook his head, clearly enjoying your choice of song. “it’s nice, right?”

he listened as best as he could to your aimless rambles about the band and the music and how the lead singer was the singing voice of jack skellington from a movie he’d never had the interest to see. you hugged your knees to your chest and watched him. rather, his hands.

he held the headphones to his ears, giving you a good view of his dirtied hands. his gloves were pristine white but his fingernails were crusted with dirt and the remnants of something red. you moved slowly as to not startle him and tapped his arm, gesturing for his hand. reluctantly, he allowed you to take it onto your knee.

he stared at you while you observed the state of his nails. they were a good length, so he likely clipped them and didn’t bite them. you held a finger up and disappeared upstairs for a while. when you came back down, you had two handfuls of equipment. scrubbers, lotions, bottles, nail polish.

“may i see?” you asked, the products laid out in your lap.

it was intimidating. this was a typical setup before he burned someone alive with acid and skinned them. who was to say you wouldn’t do the same?

but you hadn’t yet.

so he stretched his arm out to you. he placed his hand in your lap while you scooted closer, draping your legs across his lap with his permission. the song eventually changed and he zoned out to concentrate on the new one, rocking to the rhythm of it.

you wet his hand with some oils after removing his glove and rubbed it in before going in with a little brush that got rid of the dirt and flecks of paint. then you filed his nails and prepped them for black polish that you painted on with precision. when you finished one hand, you waited for him to give you the other.

he admired the job you did, smiling and pointing at his nails. you nodded along. “do you like it?” he gave you a thumbs up with his free hand, waving his wet nails around to dry faster. “be careful, or it’ll ruin.” you praised his carefulness.

art patted his lap, helping you comfortably onto his legs so you could easily do his other hand. you repeated the process, narrating it to him this time. a few times, you had to tell him to hold still when he’d get carried away with the music.

when both were finished and dry, you helped him put his gloves back on and giggled at how excited he was by the new little makeover. he hugged you close, wiggling you around like a kid with a stuffed animal bigger than itself.

he was quite comfortable to sit on, and he allowed you to for the next couple of hours while you talked about each song that he listened to. he appeared to like your music taste. “this is my monthly playlist.” you informed him when he started to click around on your phone. he went to several different playlists and tapped on random songs until settling on one he liked.

“korn? i didn’t see that coming.” you shrugged. you very quickly got to rambling about facts you knew about that band. after a bit, you started to grow tired and curled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder. it was getting pretty late but you didn’t want the moment to end.

art reached over and grabbed beet, placing him in your lap. he knew you were close to gone when your chatter began to die down. he had to admit, he liked hearing you talk. it was certainly a pleasant change from screaming and crying.

he didn’t mind when it came to a stop and you had melted against his chest with steady, soft snores. subconsciously, your arm had loosely wrapped around his torso. it was odd. normally if someone managed to get this close to him, they wouldn’t be breathing anymore. yet here you were, sleeping so soundly in his lap.

with his manicured hands, he scooped you up and walked you upstairs to your bed. he placed you down gently and tucked a spare plushie into your arms. you didn’t stir.

he left your headphones on top of your coffee table beside your phone when he took his leave, alone with a little note that read: ART :)

lowkey based on a fanart i saw where he had black painted nails ugh i love him so much im fully convinced i’d get through to him and he’d be my bestie (let me be crazy pls) + i feel like he’d be so patient with autistic ppl (still delusional) yippee

[sourszt]

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | torture + non-con

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — art the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, art the clown in general, torture, non-con, slight kidnapping (?), bondage, knife play, blood + blood play, violence, fingering (not sanitary knowing art, wash yall’s hands !!), slight dacryphilia

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — foreword, i do NOT condone anything in this fic ! david howard thornton himself actually said art would be against this and i find art a comfort character, this is just for kinktober purposes 😞 if you guys are NOT comfortable with non-con or torture please do not read this, spare yourself the pain please i beg 😭 i will not be upset bruh

you were a force to be reckoned with, that much was evident.

whether it was because you were drunk or with a friend group that made peer pressure feel good, it didn’t matter to the black and white clown you approached at the club. he had been standing there for the past hour or so, staring at you through the split in the crowd.

obviously he had a crush on you. that was what your friend whispered in your ear with a little nudge to your side and a drunken giggle.

your devil costume left very little to the imagination, faux red leather hugging your curves. that had to be it, without a doubt. you had already been getting attention throughout the night, so this was only more fuel to the fire that was your ego.

his costume was detailed to say the least. the fake blood on his costume looked rusty as opposed to the cherry coloring on everybody else’s clothes and faces. he must’ve made it himself.

it took a few more pushes of encouragement until you finally went up to him, wondering why he was unable to take his eyes off of you. it wasn’t flagged as creepy in your fogged mind, rather flattered.

“you’ve got a staring problem, don’t ya?” you shouted over the music with a giggle, leaning against the bar counter for support. your high heels definitely didn’t cheap out on the high part.

looking at him up close definitely made your mind wander a little more. he was much taller than you — likely over six foot — and seemed pretty lanky under that suit. his eyes were a brilliant blue, starkly contrasting the black makeup neatly circled around them, and they couldn’t seem to get away from you. his hooked nose, as well as his entire face, was painted white and had a singular black dot on the tip of it.

something about him piqued your interest, and it only grew when he didn’t answer you. instead, he smiled and tilted his head down, like he was feigning some bashfulness. it was cute. you respected the commitment to the act.

“i don’t suppose you want something from me?” those drinks you had earlier were kicking in, making your confidence soar to unnatural heights. “what’s your name?”

you expected him to drop his little facade and lean in and tell you. but he didn’t. he reached for your wrist and shifted your palm upwards. you were beyond curious, but allowed him into your space.

he dragged his finger across your palm a few times, you piecing the motions together. a-r-t. “art. oh, your name’s art?” the clown nodded with a wide grin.

that wasn’t his last trick, it seemed. from the palm of his hand, he revealed a fake red rose. the synthetic petals were slightly crumpled and stained with drops of something even darker than its natural color.

it was a little corny, but you blushed nonetheless. it was sweet. he gestured for you to take it, so you did.

“hey, let’s get outta here. the music’s making my head hurt.” the second part was a lie, but your motives were relatively pure. you thought that he was only silent because of the volume. maybe the fresh air would make him open up a little bit more.

art nodded a little too eagerly and started moving you towards the door. you could only give your friends a very brief glance, them offering you smiles and raised thumbs before you vanished outside. you would soon wish that they’d kept you inside.

you took in a deep breath of fresh air outside, observing the parking lot. there was not a person in sight. they were all inside. except for you and art.

art. you spun around to see where he had gone and found him hunched over a black trash bag. initially, you were going to pull him away from it, thinking he was digging through waste when he suddenly straightened up and turned towards you. his hands were behind his back.

words got caught in your throat and you found yourself laughing to fill the silence. a wave of anxiety washed over you until art revealed another fake rose. this one was attached to a plastic stem.

but while you graciously accepted his second offering, you failed to notice the bat he had brought down onto the side of your head.

—

you never had a concussion in your life, but you were sure this was what it felt like.

you awoke to a blinding headache and nausea bubbling in your stomach. your vision refused to adjust properly, but you couldn’t miss art’s black and white suit in front of you. your depth perception wasn’t the most reliable, but your body knew to start acting.

you went to kick and scream but found it futile. duct tape muffled your cries, though it was ripped off faster than you could register it was there, and thick rope around your limbs kept you still against the table you were draped over. a few blinks helped you understand your predicament: you had been moved to some sort of warehouse and were tied down to a cold, steel table that had goosebumps prickling on your exposed skin.

your clothes were intact, which made you sigh. one victory.

though you weren’t sure for how long. art hovered over you from the side of the table, his sick grin mocking you as he eyed you from head to toe. it felt like he had already undressed you just by the way he was sizing you up.

that came next. with his one hand that was free, he started to drag his finger down the center of your chest. the closer he got to the low-cut hem of your top, the louder your protests became. art was prepared for that.

he brought a thick chain with several rusted scalpels and medical scissors down onto your legs, creating multiple shallow breaks in your skin. you screamed out. he whipped you again. this time you bit back guttural cries and accepted his hand.

his face screamed disgust and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe that you would ever ask him to stop. the way his creased white face morphed was eerie. it rendered you silent while he unzipped your tiny red corset.

you flinched when it popped open, exposing your tits. you hurried to cover yourself but your arms only moved as far as the rope allowed you to. either way, art flung his chain at the arm closest to him and you had to choke back a scream.

blood seeped from countless wounds, warmth running down and onto the table. you squirmed and cried as much as art allowed you to. he seemed to enjoy your agonized writhing, running dirtied fingertips over your open cuts.

“please, please,” you whined. it was mindless rambling at that point because you knew he wouldn’t.

he had shifted his attention down to your pleather skirt, slowly undoing the zipper on the side. you wanted to kick and fight but you dreaded the idea of getting cut into even worse. so you let him peel it off of you, along with your panties.

“oh god, oh god,” you sobbed, clamping your legs together to keep some of your dignity. art must have been keeping a spare blade tucked in his hand because suddenly he sliced deep into the side of your thigh. you couldn’t help the scream that tore from you, which earned you another gash along your ribcage.

you started to think he was bleeding you dry as slowly as he could. but not after he had his fun first. your body shook underneath his gloved hand as it traveled down your stomach and towards your bare pussy.

part of you thought he was going to force your legs apart and jam as many scalpels inside of you as he could manage, so you resisted when he tried to pry them open. but when he did, after lashing you a few more times, he ran his blood soaked fingertips through your folds, making it slick for him.

it was nauseating at first. but after he pushed two fingers into you, the strange sensation of his fingerless gloves sliding inside, that feeling simmered into pleasure. you choked on a whine, your body fighting the urge to roll your hips into his hand.

your skepticism prevailed the second he slid his blade across your stomach. you cried out, and art felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers. the reaction was satisfactory to him and he gave you a few more markings before deciding you’d had enough for now.

the blade clattered onto the table a moment later and his freed hand went to your breast. you couldn’t deny what it did to you. the pain was beginning to make you delirious and you melted into his touch a few times. you pulled against your restraints but it didn’t get you very far.

for a while, he worked into a steady pace that had you crying out with more pleasure than pain. your cuts stung, but those sharp pains added to your rapidly building orgasm, that was only really accumulating with your eyes closed.

art didn’t seem to appreciate that, quickly finding his blade and carving something into your skin. it tore you out of your momentary tranquility and a scream ripped from your throat. as you did, his other hand curled inside of you and a moan fought to follow. pain and pleasure battled inside of you, and it was sick that the pleasure was threatening to win.

your body twisted to get away from the scalpel in your side but it was to no avail. he cut and sliced until he had crudely carved the word “CUNT” into the fleshy part of the side of your waist. blood oozed out of the deep gashes and art ran his gloved hand through it, smearing it all over your skin. crimson covered your breast as he came up to grab it again.

you got the message to look him in the eyes while you came, which came soon after he added a third finger. how he was able to do it with ease made you sick. you shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself in any way. you would probably need stitches and therapy after this.

but now, all you could focus on was his long fingers. the feel of his fabric white fingerless gloves inside of you, probably soaked with your blood and slick. your gashes burned every time your back arched off of the table but somehow, it intensified the growing fire in your stomach. that tensing of your thighs, the weak thrusts of your hips that attempted to match his.

it amazed you how he was still silent, blue beady eyes focused on you and only you. they started to widen when your moans went pitchy, like he was encouraging you to let go. he didn’t look so scary then. his face went closer to yours, and he was shocked that you didn’t immediately flinch back.

he offered you slow nods as his fingers continued their assault on you. your thighs parted in acceptance and defeat, your orgasm finally crashing into you. moans came out mingled with sobs because it was over.

your mind was spinning, and he granted you a moment to compose yourself before getting back to work. breathy pants quickly turned into raspy screams once more as he swiftly carved something else into the bloodied inside of your thigh:

ART WAS HERE

[sourszt]

𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — fluff, art meets someone who isn’t scared of him, art goes to kill u but alas you are … autistic!reader, nonverbal!reader, lowkey a projection of me and how i regress/how art makes me regress lol, also a little theory as to how art gains strength/why he kills so relentlessly as a demon, not proofread!

a demon must feed off of fear. it’s how it gains strength and power. art was no different.

it was his luck that his appearance alone usually struck the fear of god into people. tall but lean in a black and white clown suit, sometimes stained with a strange red substance. face painted white, black outlining an eerily smiling mouth and wide blue eyes. at least, sometimes they were blue.

when he was knee deep into brutally slaughtering people, his eyes would go pitch black from excitement and because his strength was slowly doubling.

everyone who had the misfortune of knowing of his presence feared even his name. all except one.

he’d encountered many who feigned tolerance towards him, some even daring to embrace him before meeting the same fate as everybody else. because they reeked of the same fear as the rest. he could tell in the way they tried to steady their shaking hands, the way their eyes glazed over as they realized they had lost the fight.

but you. you.

you were different. he’d tracked you down after watching you walk home from a little neighborhood party, and he observed you for a couple of days. you lived alone, hardly touched your phone, typed and typed away on your computer with your glasses hanging onto the edge of your nose. completely indifferent to the rest of the world outside.

nobody would miss you. nobody even turned their heads towards your house as they walked by it.

so obviously nobody noticed when he slipped into your house that night. the inside was drab. nicely decorated but it still felt empty. perhaps you’d just moved in not too long ago.

when he found you in your bedroom, comfortably sleeping, he found that wasn’t quite the case. all of the decor, if you could call it that, was stuffed up in here. merchandise from several franchises were nailed, taped, displayed on every surface of your bedroom. sonic, ninja turtles, spiderman.

art stared at it. then at you. you were swarmed by stuffed animals, arms wrapped tightly around a particularly huge fuzzy stuffed sonic plush. the side of your face squished into it and you hummed in your sleep.

he set the garbage bag he had slung over his shoulder down and began searching for something to dismantle you with. the metallic clinks echoed in the room and seemed to wake you up when your muffled grunts became clearer and you began to stretch out your curled limbs.

it took you a while to notice him, but when you did you only blinked. art figured it was a shock response and gave you a taunting smile, baring ugly teeth. your eyebrows knitted together while you sat up, but still you said nothing. not even a scream.

art rose to his feet, towering over you even on your hip-high mattress. in his hand, he had a hefty tool that glinted in the moonlight. fear should have been radiating off of you by now, but that rush he was expecting never came. perhaps you thought you were dreaming.

but as your eyes scanned him from top to bottom, you seemed to accept it as reality. even as you reached out and gingerly tapped his bloodied, gloved hand with the tip of your finger. you didn’t question it.

art hesitated. but only because he doubted he would be strong enough to take your head off with one clean swipe. he wasn’t even close to half of his full strength yet. why was this taking so long?

you turned to the side, searching for something in the sea of stuffies you were haloed with just moments earlier. plucking a smaller one out of the heap, you offered it to the mysterious clown at the side of your bed. it was one of your lesser favorites because you didn’t want him to get it dirty with his white-stained-red gloves. a little fuzzy bee you got from a museum years back.

art pointed at himself, and you nodded with a gentle smile. you half thought that was what he wanted. some strange stuffed animal reaper.

he reached for it, and the cleaver in his hand hit the ground with a thud that made you flinch and cover your ears. almost instinctively, you leaned towards him.

you weren’t scared of the knife itself but the loud noise. art was baffled that somebody could look to him for protection. had you any idea who he was? the miles county clown, was the name every tv within a 50 mile radius was echoing daily because of him.

well, you probably actually didn’t. in the days he watched you, you neglected to turn on the news or scroll through social media. was that why you weren’t scared of him?

either way, his palm found the top of your head, awkwardly patting it with a force that told you he was also trying to push you away. you peered up at him with a straight lipped smile, and gently grabbed the wrist of the hand on your head. he tensed, shocked, but allowed you to flip his palm upwards, watching as you ran your finger over his red stained glove.

you spelled out your name, letter by letter, and pointed to yourself. you also couldn’t speak. or you couldn’t at the moment.

art could only tilt his head at you, genuinely frowning because his presence wasn’t scaring you shitless. he was more confused than anything else.

you gestured towards him and handed him your own palm. he was to etch his name onto your skin.

it took him a second to do it, letting his hand cradle yours while he dragged his finger across your palm. A-R-T.

registering the name, you nodded up at him. it was quite fitting for him, you thought.

the clown grinned and waved your own stuffed animal in front of your face before booping your nose with it. he found he liked the sound of your giggle, which brought him both comfort and unease.

you were sad when he left so quickly, dropping your stuffed bee into your lap and grabbing his garbage bag. he put a finger to his lips and wagged his fingers at you before retreating back into your hallway. the sound of your comforter shuffling made him pause and he found you bent over, picking his cleaver up off of your floor.

you sheepishly held the heavy handle out to him.

you were quite tall. still significantly shorter than him, but taller than he was expecting. wearing a slim fitting tank top and some athletic shorts. you even had some tattoos on your arms and on your thighs. things he hadn’t seen past your sweaters and jeans.

he took the cleaver and prepared to take his leave, but was stunned when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. for a moment, he was the scared one. but he soon realized that you were only hugging him.

“thank you,” you whispered, so softly and shakily he almost missed it over the buzz of your electric fan. still, you held no fear of him.

you smiled when his arms briefly closed around you.

and then he was gone.

i love him sm 😞😞