#future drabble?

[nymphoniah]

lessons learned | logan howlett

AN: here's a little drabble about logan fucking you from behind, keeping you in a headlock, squished between his biceps <3 and also some dirty talk here and there!

pairing: mean!logan x afab!reader

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only), dom!logan, choking, dacryphilia, name calling, porn without plot, dirty talk, creampies, unprotected sex, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), size kink, mark leaving (ie. hickeys), breeding kink, brat taming, rough sex

logan sees the way you watch his arms hungrily, your lust blown pupils observing the way his muscles twitch when he's feeling tired. he knows the chokehold he has on you.

just a poor little thing, wrapped around his finger.

"i see the way you look at my arms, darlin", he grunts, manhandling you so your back presses against his chest, his toned arms snaking around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

"you don't even try to hide it," logan adds, pressing kisses against your shoulder, his hands working at the straps of your tank top, slowly sliding them down to reveal your tits.

"such a dirty girl, hm?" he teases, rolling the sensitive buds between his thumb and index finger.

"were you ever taught that it was rude to stare?" he hisses, tugging at your nipples, making you wince out in pain. logan smirks at your audible displeasure, now turning his attention from your tits to your neck.

"i’m gonna mark you up doll, ‘oughta teach you a lesson somehow," he growls. logan presses a kiss against the shell of your ear, making his way down to your nape, planting wet kisses along the way.

you lean forwards, giving him easier access to your neck—and when you give him an inch, he takes a mile.

his kisses get more erratic, sloppier, messier, hungrier. he can’t hold himself back, he needs to mark you, and absolutely wants to show the whole world that you’re his.

and so he sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your neck, paying sweet attention to how your weak moans escaped from your lips. he’d nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave those love bites you both oh-so carnally desire.

your brain is all fuzzy from the stinging pain you felt on your neck, mixed alongside the growing pleasure you felt between your legs as he simultaneously paws at your tits.

“i can’t take it lo, s’too much,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight. tears start forming around your waterline as he continues his assault on your neck.

just as your vision starts to get hazy, he wraps his left arm around your neck, keeping your face snug between his forearm and bicep.

“be a good girl and fuckin’ take it,” he commands, a singular claw popping out of his right hand, slicing through your mini-skirt to reveal your lacy black pair of panties.

sheathing his claw, he hastily pulls them down to reveal your sopping wet cunt. “fuck me…” he hisses, admiring your cunt in all its glory.

“such a dirty fuckin’ whore, you getting off on this?” he says smugly, slipping a finger between your folds, observing the way your pussy sucks him in.

you weakly nod as you remain sandwiched in his headlock. teetering between the lines of passing out and losing consciousness, you mumble out a string of words—something along the lines of “i need you to fuck me,” or “fuckin’ put it in”; they both mean the same thing to logan anyways.

he obliges, with one arm wrapped around your neck, and the other hastily working at the belt of his jeans. in one swift motion, his boxers and jeans hit the floor in tandem, freeing his cock from the confines of the tight denim.

he spits in his hand, pumping his cock a couple times before he finally lines himself up, and slides himself in, down to the hilt. your pussy sucks him in like a vice, the two of you moaning in unison.

“you’re so tight for me, princess.” he groans, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, fully sheathing himself out, and pushing his full length back into you.

the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room. the pace of which he fucked you made you dizzy, the grip around your neck adding to the immense pleasure you felt in your cunt.

you attempt to press kisses against his bicep as the muscle secures you in place, but you fail to do so, as shown by your wine red lip stick smudged all over his arm.

“such a naughty whore, suckin’ me in like this” he teases, his free hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust of his. “need this dick to fill you up, huh?”

and you whine as much as your parched voice allowed you to. “want you so bad, lo” you mumble incoherently. “need you stuff me with your cum.”

“such a filthy mouth for a sweet little girl like you,” logan grunts, the movement of his hips getting sloppier. “beg for it.”

“need you to fuckin’ breed me,” you moan, “make me yours,” you cry out— and that’s what makes logan snap.

with a few final deep thrusts, he finishes inside you. his hot ropes of cum fill your cunt to the brim; your arousal mixed with his cum leaks out of your sopping hole before he even pulls out.

he keeps his cock inside you for a minute, pumping whatever he has left inside of you, and finally pulls out. he winces, already missing the way your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“need to keep that in you…” he says playfully, plugging your cunt with his thumb, the calloused pad making sure that his cum is stuffed deep inside you.

“now let that be a lesson for you, doll,” he quips, removing his thumb, slipping it into his mouth to taste the mixture of the two of you.

he then brings his thumb to your bottom lip, inviting you to have a taste for yourself. the heady taste of his cum combined with your slick had you moan around him.

he pulls his thumb away from your mouth with a pop, and you look up at him with your fucked-out eyes. you simply nod your head and give him a lazy smile.

surely it wouldn’t hurt to stare at him every now and then.

[dollyfetti]

🍮⠀⠀ notes: popular!bakugou x nerdy!reader, fluffy, college au ‿ ୧ 🍡⠀ word count: 839

everyone's either in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he always has people bombarding him with questions about his quirk or trying to get close to him. he doesnt mind the attention. bakugou carries a large amount of pride that comes along with his popularity. he's worshipped, always walking the halls with people following him.

but then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself in your own little world for the most part with very few close friends. your seat is in front of bakugou in all of your shared lectures, and you never bothered him, not once. truth be told, he never really thought about you until a specific night.

slamming his friend's car door shut, bakugou grumbles, "you idiots." he wasted yet another good night for studying. he threw it away by partying with people he didn't even find interesting. gosh, it's already 10:30. he wouldn't be able to stay awake. but he can't just go to sleep! nono, exams are too close. he needs glue all of the information he can into his brain. kirishima had recommended getting a study buddy-- who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? the girls would be distracted by his "huge muscles" and "unique hair" while any guys would be begging to see his quirk in action.

fuck this! katsuki doesn't need anyones help.

that confident thought bubble changes as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories. he remembers that quiet dork in most of his classes.. you seem pretty normal for the most part. a bit of a nerd too, so he wouldn't be worried about you having the wrong shit written down. with an ashamed grunt, he decides to find your dorm.

you munch on freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, going over notes you'd gotten from yesterday's lecture. you tiredly lean back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you're slightly bopping your head to the quiet music playing in the background when you hear heavy thuds of someone walking towards your room. you perk up when said person knocks on your door softly. you happily smile, thinking maybe one of your friends are stopping by. excited you made so many cookies, you hurry to the door and swing it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and drained frown, the katsuki bakugou stands at your door.. odd. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, just-- wasn't expecting you." you nervously rub your arm, leaning against the door frame.

he lazily raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "you expectin' someone?"

you shake your head. "nope.." you mutter with an awkward smile. bakugou eyes you up and down quickly, quietly clearing his throat at the small amount of clothing adorning your body. you bite your lip embarrassedly while averting your gaze. "you wanna come in?" you chirp, stepping to the side. he lets out a soft hum of confirmation, taking big strides into your dorm before you shut the door behind him. he walks over to your desk to observe your neatly written notes. "i need someone to study with-- you aren't stupid or anythin' right?" he cocks a brow, turning his head to look at you.

you hum lightly. "mm no, i dont think so.."

the scruffy boy plops down in your heart-shaped chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such precious time working on. you fiddle with your fingers shyly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch bakugou. "..do you want a cookie?" you politely ask, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

his eyes flicker to the plate, hesitantly taking a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and biting into it. it was soft and chewy-- and warm. his crimson eyes brighten a little, just a little. "'s not bad. would be better with coffee." he stares at the bitten cookie, cupping his other under the treat, careful not to make a mess. your bubbly self returns, offering a sweet smile. "coffee coming up!"

that day was the first of many of you and katsuki spending time together. you were never around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou. and as for him, he thought you were decently likeable. you made him feel good about himself without talking about his quirk or giant pecs. you also never asked if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

you had talked more than he anticipated. that night, bakugou found himself quiet while you blabbed about whatever came into your head, and he didn't mind it at all. even after that study session and hanging out numerous times, you're still that one quiet nerd in the classroom. only he gets to see the chatty side of you-- and he likes that. makes him feel special.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away. 

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known. 

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering. 

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready. 

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

[superbat-love]

Clark knew he was being irrational. After all, the man he felt so conflicted about was none other than himself. Could you really be jealous of your own future self? Yet, every time his older self treated Batman with such tenderness—holding open doors, guiding him by the hand up the spaceship ramp, or walking protectively by his side—Clark couldn't help but grit his teeth. As long as Bruce needed something, even things that were within his reach, the older Superman would be there in a second with the items at hand.

What made it worse was that Batman said nothing, calmly accepting it, when he would have snapped at Clark for even trying the same. Maybe Bruce had a thing for older men?

Later, as Clark poked sulkily at his dinner and grumbled about it, Bruce gave him a long, thoughtful look before sighing. "It was obvious to me that your older self has recently lost someone very dear to him. His movements were very natural, like he’s used to doing all these gestures for that person. Letting him do this—it's his way of finding comfort, Clark."

[occasional-yan-stuff]

GN!reader

warnings: death, manipulation, deception

Yandere!Time traveler who discovered your existence through records

Yandere!Time traveler who learned all about you before finally coming to meet you

Yandere!Time traveler who uses everything he's learned about you to make himself seem like the perfect guy

Yandere!Time traveler who goes back in time to get failed interactions perfect

Yandere!Time traveler who gauges your reactions to different gifts so he can get you the best ones

Yandere!Time traveler who occasionally redoes days just to replay special moments with you

Yandere!Time traveler who has confessed to you and then erased it more times than he can count.

Yandere!Time traveler who uses trial and error to learn just how to make you say yes to things.

Yandere!Time traveler who describes the deaths of people you hate in oddly specific detail that you think is a joke

[bunny-jpeg]

head principal!max verstappen was supposed to retire over five years ago. but that never happened. he often joked that the allure of racing pulled him back in. it was only on his second year of being head principal that he met you. painfully beautiful in the gear for the promising verstappen team. his logo over your heart as you followed him like a lost puppy around the paddock. max didn't want to think about the age gap, or the power dynamic or how you were able to bound the stairs so easily while he had a dull throb in his leg from decades of wear and tear.

when he was racing, he thought he had his whole life planned out. but, life never planned out that way. his fellow drivers all got married, moved on and even had families. while max was still finding his comforts on the track. it was why you were such a surprise. max took a gamble on you and it paid off. powerful on the track and a darling in front of the press. you were trained to a t for formula one. smiles and trophies, a beaut for them. max remembered when he saw you for the first time in the fireproof underlayer of your uniform. the 'm' and the 'v' of his logo partially warped due to the size of your breasts. his gaze lingered and made you stand up a little straighter. you swallowed and meekly asked, "does this look alright, mister verstappen?" and max simply replied, "you wear it with pride." as he reached out, testing the waters to rub your shoulder, "continue to wear it with pride." and you, with a big smile nodded happily. he knew you fought like hell to get to where you were, a girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere. no one wanted to sign you, except for max.

it was only about time you two collided into each other. and that started over your car. the pretty black of the vehicle looked lovely against your form as he bent you over it. his hands on the zip of your jeans before he pulled them down to your ankles. he admired your behind before he gave it a slap. you whimpered. when he eventually got the two of you naked enough and sank into your cock. it was like everything clicked together. this what was what he was missing. he held onto you tightly, like you were going slip away from his grasp. he groaned against your skin with his nose in your hair soon after. his cock nudged against some of the softest parts of you. he wouldn't find out till later that you were actually a virgin which only excited max more. oh, you were a virgin? no other man was able to get their hands on you just like no other team in f1 could. you were max's in any way he could get you. he had sex many times, there was no dry spell in his life for pussy. but when he pulled the first orgasm out of you, you having to cover your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut, he knew he was far gone. anything you wanted, he'd give you. except something licked at his brain, wearing verstappen branded gear was hot on you. but wearing his last name like a title only made you more stunning to him. wouldn't be the first time someone his age got with someone who was questionably younger. even though you were an adult, it would still raise a few eyebrows. your voice was strained when you called out for him, "mister verstappen! mister verstappen!" he came back to reality and heard your sweet voice say, "can you slow down, you're going to bruise me." and max almost came right at that moment. instead he slowed down, letting you enjoy this intimate feeling.

when he eventually finished inside of you, your sweaty half-clothed body over the hood of your precious car. he helped you back into your clothes and when you got back up right, you clung to him like a gentle kitten. you even pouted when you said, "you didn't even kiss me, mister verstappen." and he simply chuckled and took you by the chin before he kissed you. he then said, "if you win this weekend there will be more where that came from." max waited for the write up, or the press headline or something the following week. but nothing came, instead max received pictures of you whenever you were apart. speculation did swirl when a photo of you seated on max's thigh while he explained how your free practice went, his hand around your waist. those same hands would be on both hips as he buried his cock into you. your sweet moans echoed in his mind as he took you apart on the bed. you were in the netherlands and he wanted to 'wish you luck' which meant letting the fat tip of his cock nudge against your sweet cervix. after most races you'd whine about body pain in your lower half from how you couldn't sit comfortable due to the damage that max had did. "shouldn't you be going slower, old man!" you whined as he continued to fuck you. you tried to hit his strong back, but years of formula one followed by other trainings post "retirement" left him easy to overpower you. pin you down and take you by the waist. let his cock drool pre cum into your sweet sex. even if you hit and scratched up his back when it all became too much. it felt almost romantic, max's lips against your neck as he thrusted into you. when he wasn't fucking you quickly, he was taking so hard thrusts that made you drool all over the bed. you complained about him being too fast, but now you were going to feel every inch inside of your sore pussy.

you were so eager to please. you wanted to do the team right. max would make sure that you were taken care of. contracts, cars, all of it. you just sign the dotted line and keep looking as beautiful as you were. don't worry that the team branded t-shirts were always a little too tight on you and don't mind that it was max's last name on your track pass. "it was just a printing error." "they think i'm married to you though." "is that a bad thing to think?" "no, sir."

slowly seeding ideas into your head. could you imagine the contract you'd have if you got closer to max verstappen. he'd often hold you in his arms after sex and remark that it had been too long since there was a verstappen on the track. while he enjoyed the position he was in now, he longed for his last name on the podium. you simply cuddled closer to him and let him drag his hand across your thigh, "maybe one day, sir." you smiled, "maybe you'll get lucky and have a child!" while that idea was sweet, he didn't want to cut your career short. not that short at least. for now he'd have to simply put into your mind that while your last name was lovely. his last name would look a lot nicer. as he kissed down your neck, it was a promise. you'd be his super star on the track and his loving wife off of it. <3

a/n: reader is an adult, just with an age gap to raise and eyebrow at.

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one. 

[ssongsboo]

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

❕ : happy sion day ᰔᩚ

⟢ she keep me going .ᐟ

the lingerie was supposed to be a surprise.

a look-but-don’t-touch-yet moment.

but then he kissed you like he missed you from the other room, like the day wasn’t long enough to be apart. and your knees just sort of… hit the floor on instinct.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, head thrown back as your lips wrap around him. “you’re too good to me.”

your mouth’s full and your hands are busy- one pumping what you can’t fit, the other gripping his thigh to keep yourself grounded. it’s messy already, spit sliding down your chin, lipgloss smudged into a sticky ring at the base of his cock.

you’re trying to impress him. to give him something to remember when he closes his eyes tonight.

and you are.

but sion’s eyes catch something else- something behind you- and his breath stutters.

“fuck-”

you blink up at him, confused, lips still wrapped around his dick. he gently grabs your jaw, pulls you off with a wet pop, and angles your face toward the mirror on the far wall. your brows knit together, cheeks flushed, mouth shiny and open.

“look,” he pants. “look at yourself.”

you turn slightly, confused- until you see it.

your reflection. on your knees, back arched like a goddamn wet dream. and behind you, framed perfectly: the swell of your ass in that see-through lace, the way your thighs twitch every time you moan around him. and worst of all- the way your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate and fluttering like it misses him.

his cock twitches in your grip.

“you’re fucking dripping,” he growls. “sucking me off like a good girl but leaking all over the floor like you need to be split open. you like this?”

you nod, almost dazed. “i love it.”

“yeah? you like being seen?” he fists your hair, dragging your mouth back to his cock. “i’ll keep watching, baby. watch how pretty you look gagging on me.”

so he watches as your throat bulges, as tears glitter in your lashes, as your lips stretch around him. and behind you, the lace sticks tighter to your heat, slick making the fabric glisten. your hips grind subtly, needy, empty.

“fuck,” sion chokes out. “i’m gonna cum just watching you fuck yourself on air.”

you whimper around him, trying to take him deeper, and he loses it- hips jerking forward, hand tight in your hair, voice wrecked and raw as he spills down your throat.

you swallow all of it.

wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. blink up at him through glittering lashes.

he looks down at you like you’re a fucking miracle.

“get on the bed,” he growls. “mirror’s staying right where it is. i want you to see what i do to you. how good you are for me.”

[egotisticaleverything]

Pervy Young Hank HCs

[NSFW]

WARNINGS: Dubcon-ish elements, Hank being a nervous pervert, pantie stealing, pantie sniffing, Polaroids of you/reader used in… less than SFW ways, non-consensual up skirt photos, degrading kink, unedited, tell me if I left anything out!!

A/N: I know this may be OOC but I see nerdy boy and I think “hmmm what if I made him a pervy little FREAK” then I giggle kick my feet and give the internet my deranged thoughts. Enjoy.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Hank has always been nervous, around you especially. The minute you entered the mansion and he layed eyes on you his heart skipped a beat. Something about you was so alluring, but my lord this man was awkward about it. He was practically running away from you out of embarrassment.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t like you, oh no. Quite the contrary, he liked you a lot. Every week on laundry days you’d notice at least one pair of your underwear missing, you swore you had counted and made sure they were all there but they just seemed to disappear. Disappear into a locked drawer in Hank’s room, stashed right beside a photo of you from the staff pool party the year prior. And a photo from last years Halloween party, and Christmas, and- is that a Polaroid up your skirt? Dirty fucking pervert got off to anything to do with you, he’d probably jerk it to your x-rays if he had nothing else.

In his little stash he’s at least smart enough to not take your favourite pair of panties, no he’d never do that to you. But any other ones are fair game. He’d get off looking at your photos, your underwear practically glued to his face with how much he’s pressing it against himself, whimpering and whining like a little bitch. Every time a pair of your underwear starts looking your sent he slyly slips it back into the pile during laundry day, swapping it for another as the cycle continues.

“Oh fuck-“ Hank whined, your most recently worn pair of panties hugged his face as he shoved them into his nose, consuming your leftover sent as he stroked himself, his cock practically throbbing as it leaks beads of pre-cum. Through foggy glasses he eyes the photos of you layed upon his desk, he couldn’t help himself, more could he tell you. He was too far gone in this act, he couldn’t risk it too much. But god how he loved the concept of him getting caught, you storming into his office and witnessing a scene like this, seeing not only his face buried in your panties but all those Polaroids, swimsuit pictures, Halloween costumes, up skirt shots on the stairs. You’d probably call him a filthy pervert and slap in him the face, throw all sorts of names at him. Oh like hell he’d let you, he’d pay to have you do it. The concept of you even touching him is enough to drive him over the edge. These thoughts slowly consumed him as his strokes became even more frantic, approaching his climax as a string of incoherent moans mixed with nothing more than curses and your name rolling off his tongue. Soon enough he came, spilling himself all over his desk, as your stolen panties fell from their place on his nose it landed right in the puddle. Shit.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Future Days

"Hello Benjamin." He shook his head, out of breath, looking you up and down.

"How are you alive? And so young?" he demanded. "I ain't seen you since '57."

"I suppose you can thank yourself for that." You looked over your shoulder, watching a guard enter the room and slowly back out. "I like the beard. It suits you."

"Y/N-"

"You sure took your sweet ass time coming back to me. How many years has it been?"

"Sixty eight," he whispered, freezing in place as you placed a hand to his cheek.

"Take me home, Ben. We have a lot to talk about. Especially that son of ours."

"Ours?"

_________

[scribbledswans]

grr i need shedletsky x reader who likes to read cookbooks ( a match made in heaven ik ik ) [ can be headcanons or one-shots, thx in advance! ]

This was actually an incredibly interesting request because i couldnt tell if you meant SPECIFICALLY reading cookbooks and not actually cooking. Regardless heres some headcanons!

Shedletsky caught you glaring down a cookbook in the cabin kitchen one day and immediately told you to have a look at it. Maybe you'll find something in there you'd wanna make, who knows!

You were obviously kinda shy about it at first, whether or not you could cook is entirely up for debate but you loved seeing the pictures of these beautiful foods and the recipes all seemed so simple... Ah what the hell.

After a bit of Shedletsky's Unwavering Enthusiastic Support, you'd find yourself in the kitchen following the recipes as closely as you could. He would be your primary target for when you needed a taste tester, and holy cluck it was actually kind of impressive how well they turned out most of the time.

Of course, theres the occasional time where you'd forget an ingredient and it would suck, but he'd always laugh it off with you after the fact and help you clean up.

Sometimes after, He'd find you alone in the kitchen trying to fix where you went wrong last time, endeared of how proud you'd get when the food came out correctly. When he does catch you doing this he pretends like he was just walking in to get a drink so he can try the food and praise you for how well it came out.

HE'S GREEDY. You always have to make a little extra so he doesnt eat everything before anyone else can get to it! One time he took like half a plate of cookies from the kitchen and you lectured him so bad he was pouting like a sad dog around you for the rest of the day. Your food is just that good bro what can i say.

[soulsforsales]

I don’t think people understand the extent and effect of Jason Todd’s trauma. I mean, every time Jason goes “I died.” Everyone’s like “we know, Jason!”

But no. No, you don’t know. He died — in every sense of the word. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped giving out air. His body was taut, numb, paralyzed.

And the crowbar, the beating didn’t kill Jason Todd— the bomb did which means he laid down on that cold stone floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood and counted down the minutes to his death, quite literally and even in his last moments, beyond all logic, he was hoping that Dad will come, Dad will save him, Dad will be here. But Dad was too late.

And he was helpless and tired and bleeding when the shrill scream of the explosion cut through followed by that chilling silence. He must have felt the debris press into his already broken bones and skin and that’s when it must have hit him that it’s actually over. He’s dead and Dad couldn’t save him. So, he must have closed his eyes and waited for the peace that follows with being dead.

Because he was just a kid. Sixteen. Kids die and go to heaven, right? Well, even that was snatched away from Jason.

Because he was forced back to life— whether it was climbing out of your own fucking grave or the Lazarus pit— he was forced back into a life that was his no more because who he was, the kid, the Robin— he died and what came back was someone no one could identify.

He must’ve felt his heart beat frantically to push all that blood through his aching muscles, his lungs finally swallowing in air after being black and blue for god knows how long. He came back only to find out that the one person he loved most in the world didn’t think him worthy of being avenged. No matter how much Bruce suffered after Jason’s death— in my opinion— Jason’s anger is justified. Because he was JUST A KID. He was killed simply to spite Batman, he was killed as collateral damage. A KID- BEATEN BLOODY AND BRUISED FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO HELP HIS MOTHER FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO PROVE HE WAS GOOD.

Can you even imagine how many times he must’ve just wanted to stop? Can you imagine how much he wanted to just go home and have Alfred bake him cookies again? How much he wanted to hug Bruce and try forgiving, how much he wanted to call Dick “brother” again and just be his “little wing?”

It pains me to see how he’s treated— both fanon and canon.

Jason Todd isn't just the “angry Robin” or “the violent anti-hero with a grudge” he’s so much more.

He is a hero. And he died a hero. He died trying to save someone. He died hoping he saved someone.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: he did NOT deserve that. But look how he took all the bad things that happened to him and only gave the world something better in return?

Yeah, that’s who Jason Todd is.

[narumi-gens]

dreams aventurine x f!reader

18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, 2.1 spoilers, pregnancy/parenthood

aventurine has never thought of himself as a man who dreams of the future, not beyond a certain point. but there's something about you that makes him doubt himself.

because when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, he can't help himself. he thinks about what would happen if he didn't pull out and cum across your ass, your tits, or your stomach, painting your skin in white spurts like he usually does. he thinks about what would happen if he buried himself deep enough for you to feel him in your throat and spilled himself inside of you for once.

what if he didn't climb off of you as soon as he caught his breath. he thinks about what it would be like if he instead stayed there even as he softened, cradled between your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his trembling form to hold him close, your fingers gently running through his sweaty strands, your touch alone doing more to calm his mind than an orgasm ever could.

there are times when he allows himself to imagine beyond even that, but only in his weakest moments when he decides to spend the night, always under the pretense of the late hour, or the bad weather, or how comfortable the bed he bought you is. it's a pretense that you see through, but never challenge him on as you know that doing so would make him leave.

it's only once he's sure that you're deep asleep and he can turn his unguarded gaze to your features in the dark that he dares to let his mind wander beyond the bounds he normally sets. he imagines your stomach swelling as the months pass, of your hand grabbing his to press his palm to your belly to feel the fluttering of new life from within.

he imagines a small bundle pressed to your bare chest, skin-to-skin. you're crying, but so is the newly born infant that you hold so dear. so is he. sometimes, the sunlight shines through the windows of the hospital room, and other times the rain is deafening against the glass.

likewise, sometimes when the baby in your arms opens their eyes to take in the world for the first time, their color mirrors yours. but more often than not, it's his own pink and blue irises looking back at him, promising a life of good luck.

he imagines the feeling of a small palm pressed flat against his own much bigger one, as a young, tiny voice stumbles over the words he tries to guide them through.

he pictures the smile on your face, both adoring and soft, as you watch with tear-filled eyes as he teaches your child the blessing of their people.

as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry.

no matter how many years have passed since he was taken from sigonia in chains, he'll never forget his sister's final words to him. but when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, they feel like more than just a memory.

it feels like she's speaking to him across the years, to him now, trying to guide him towards this single future with you instead of any of the infinite other futures he bets everything on.

maybe, if he chose to listen to her, there could be another avgin for gaiathra to bless. maybe, if he ever chose to give in to his weakness, to your warmth, to your softness, to your love, the avgin wouldn't have to live and die with him.

[dao-afterdark]

oubaitori

(n.) the idea that people, like flowers, bloom in their own time and in their own individual ways.

warning(s): male!reader, reader is straight (for now), brief mention of financial abuse, assholey behavior, threats, queer themes.

a/n: finally i have something to post on here! i was having such a hard time trying to figure out what to do, but i think i got something now. thank you @sooniebby for offering to help, and being one of my main big inspirations to even make a blog like this. here → is wei’s little bio if you’re curious! this is technically supposed to be a drabble, or an intro to what i’m attempting to create! please enjoy 🙏🏼.

Life’s full of surprises; some good, some bad, some marvelous, and some downright ugly.

You fled your parents house the moment you were able too; freeing yourself from the shackles of financial abuse and the stifling atmosphere.

One of your friends from high school, Cody, had a friend who had enough room for you to live at, and you took the opportunity without hesitation.

Normally you wouldn’t stay with a complete stranger, but you’re desperate, plus you’re sure you can handle yourself.

You arrive at the address that was sent to you and raise your fist, but the door swings open before it can make contact with the wood.

There stands a distraught and disheveled young man, a college student like you, you guessed. His fair skin was flushed from emotion, and his eyes were wet and wild.

“Uh.. Are you Wei…?” you ask hesitantly.

The man’s expression suddenly sours, his dark eyes narrowing in on you, lips curled into a sneer. “Who are you?”

The accusatory tone has you blinking, gobsmacked, but annoyance quickly begins to brew in your gut. You open your mouth to defend yourself when another voice from inside cuts in. It’s nice on the ears, but twinged with vexation.

“Yo…”

From behind the defensive man comes another man, his black curls wild and partially tangled, torso bare minus the barbell’s that adorn his nipples- something you stared at for far longer than you should’ve- and the robe that’s barely hanging onto him. He’s barefooted and wearing fuzzy, Hello Kitty pajama bottoms.

“…What’re you still doing here? Didn’t I tell you to leave already?”

From that statement alone, you knew pretty quickly what the situation had to be.

“Who’s he? Another person you’re toying with?” spits the irked man, glaring with betrayal at the man you assume is Wei, his thumb directed at you.

Wei rolls his eyes, a smile full of exasperation on his face. “Respectfully, get the fuck outta my house. You’re not my boyfriend, you freak.”

“Fuck you, Wei!”

“I’m good. I had my fill,” Wei throws back with a careless shrug.

“You’ll regret this..”

The heartbroken man then shoves into you as he storms off in a fury, the gate rattling and clanging as it’s slammed shut. It makes your ears hurt.

Some regret and agitation floods in your system.

Wei then draws your attention, pinching his chin with his thumb and fore finger, squinting at you. “Sorry about that, but uh, who are you? I don’t think we’ve fucked before…?”

You balk at his words, heat rising in your face. You defensively sputter out, “W-What?! No! We’ve never met before!”

“Oh! Sooo who are you exactly then?” Wei asks, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, studying you with curious garnet eyes.

“I’m supposed to be your new roommate? I’m sure Cody mentioned me?” you explained, a little frustrated and flustered.

Realization eventually floods Wei’s face. “…OH! Cody’s friend! Shit that’s today!? Fuck, I’m sorry dude! Here come in!”

He rushes back inside the house and a hefty sigh leaves your lips, uncertainty clouding your mind.

Great. It seems like your roommate is a playboy of sorts. Hopefully that drama doesn’t trickle into your life…

᭄᭡ decor credits to: @/ribbonrabbitdaycare, velaazuretail, caecusmedicus