#not necessarily in a good shape himself

[softaestluv]

everyone always talks about one of the members of tf141 coming home after a particularly rough day of training on base and fucking you cruel and unforgiving… now let’s make it ghoap— as I always d

slight dubcon, mentions of aggressive sex

You were Johnny’s friends with benefits, more so benefits than friends. He texted you, more often than not, to come over, relieve a viscous ache in his core he couldn’t quite jerk away on his own.

And like a faithful friend, you always responded, for his sake, really. It’s not that you needed him, waited patiently, impatiently, for his text to come over. A short mistyped text—

‘Ned ya, birdie’

You were at his doorstep within minutes, cunt already wet from the drive over. Thinking of all the ways he would bend you in two, coax your orgasm out of you like no one ever has. Ram the shape of his cock into your walls until it took, until your poor, oversensitive walls only knew the curve of his fat cock.

Like a fucking pathetic dog trained, your pussy only knew him, only craved him. Weeped for him when he was on assignments, when your fingers weren’t fucking enough, when the dildo he bought you didn’t quite fill you the way he had, when other one night stands couldn’t even get you off the way Johnny seemed able to.

Your peaks and climaxes wrapped around his roughened finger, claimed them as his fucking own. Couldn’t get off unless it was on his fingers, tongue, or cock.

You hated it. Hated that one harsh grip of his large palm around your jaw had your panties soaked, clenching and throbbing around nothing until he would finally give you what you wanted.

These were normal days for Johnny. Ripped you in two and melted your brain into nothing but the sensory receptors linked to your clit, womb, and Johnny’s fucking cock.

But days he was tired, frustrated, infuriated with work were different. Johnny was flirtatious, charming, welcoming— graced you with enough kindness to give your aching cunt a break. Treated you with more care than a warm pussy he could take his anger out on.

Though when you were fucking Soap, the demolitions specialist; the version of himself where he hadn’t quite returned to civilian humanity, you were always left with a sore cunt, aching bones, a limp, bruises so harsh it alarmed your coworkers the next day— if you made it to work that next day.

You could barely handle one, but somewhere along the lines Johnny had invited you out with Simon. You hadn’t necessarily had intentions to sleep with Simon that night, Johnny was more than fucking enough, even when he was wasted. But maybe Johnny wanted it to happen, coaxed you with soft words and sweet promises.

Ended the night with tears in your eyes as Simon stuffed you full from behind, Johnny’s warm palm cupping your jaw as he fucked your mouth leisurely, cooed soft praises down at you for being such a good girl, taking both of them so well.

Then, Simon’s presence just became an expectation. The texts between Johnny and you became a group chat between the three of you. Simon’s short and curt texts the invite to Johnny’s flat more often than not.

It was great, amazing— every other cliche word in the book. They seemed more in-tune to your body than you did. Enjoyed every moment split between the both of them.

That was before the both of them came home grumpy, angry, pent up. Needed to expel their frustrations in ways only your spongy cunt could provided. It was difficult to deal with Johnny on his own, but involving Simon in the picture, the man who was the picture of a brute, nearly had you passing out.

You were sobbing into Simon’s neck, the larger man fucking ruthlessly, unforgiving into your cunt, arms banded under your knees. Johnny behind you, slamming into your ass with synchronized strokes it had your mouth watering, body limp between them.

You hadn’t even made it past Johnny’s hallway, the two of them had you pinned against the wall in seconds. Bullied themselves into your holes without a care. You were already babbling, body already bruising under their tight grip, hadn’t even been more than 10 minutes since you walked through the door, and their torment hadn’t even really started for the night.

But, ‘Aye, ye can handle it, can’t ye, hen?’

[warnersister]

Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

[gurugirl]

DILF [2] | older!harry

→ MAIN MASTERLIST ←

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again months later on Valentine's Day. It's unexpected, but very much welcome.

A/N: First part here! This isn't really super focused on Valentine's Day, it just happens to takes place on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light), spanking, a touch of jealousrry

. .

Y/n wasn't big on Valentine's Day. She'd never dated anyone long enough for it to be of much importance. Though she did fondly remember the little heart-shaped candies and tiny Valentine's cards that would get shared in school when she was little, things were different as an adult.

So, instead of celebrating the holiday (if it could be called a holiday), she'd be going out with her single girlfriends and celebrating being a single girl instead. A single girl with a few drinks in her belly and a little dancing to get the blood flowing. Tara tried to do some kind of seductive dip to the beat of the song while Warren and Y/n laughed.

"This is how you do it!" Warren shouted over the loud club music and grooved her way down with the beat. She was the one with all the rhythm. Y/n and Tara were fighting for their lives to keep rhythm, but they were having fun, nonetheless.

"Priya commented on the post. Look…" Tara held her phone out to Y/n to look at the comment on her Instagram account.

"J said Y/n's looking yummy tonight!"

Y/n laughed and looked at Tara. "J? Oh my god, I haven't talked to him in ages. Let me respond!"

She took Tara's phone and typed a comment.

"You both should come out with us!"

After another round of drinks and dancing, Priya and J had joined the group at the club. Y/n wasn't necessarily interested in J. In fact, she hadn't really been interested in anyone since Harry. It'd been a couple of months since she'd seen him. Their night together was engraved under her skin and in her brain. She thought that with some time she'd forget about the older man, but her fingertips tingled and her chest grew tight whenever she thought about him, which was daily.

She didn't know why she had never called him. Maybe she was just stubborn, hoping he'd find her somehow and reach out himself. She had his number, but he didn't have hers. When he dropped her off at her place the morning after, he gave it to her and told her to call him.

And the more time that had passed, the more awkward it felt to randomly reach out to him. Now the window was surely closed, and she'd blown it. Which she regretted. She regretted that she was stubborn and wanted him to chase her that time. Wanted him to work to find her—which wouldn't have been all that hard. She had every social media account known to man, and everything was public. All he had to do was type her name into a Google search bar, and he'd find a dozen ways to contact her.

But she didn't call, and he didn't search her up, and that felt like the end of that. Unfortunately. It was unfortunate because he'd been so good. So exceptional compared to every other man she'd been with (if she could even call anyone who came before Harry a man). She was way more into him than she realized. Of course, by the time she realized it was too late, and now she was kicking herself.

"Hey, you here with us?" Tara took Y/n's hand and moved her away from the dance floor.

"Yeah. What do you mean?"

"You were zoned out there for a sec. Staring off toward the exit. You okay?"

Blinking her eyes and looking around, she nodded. "I'm good. Just started thinking. Sorry. Maybe I need a water. Probably should slow down a little anyway."

"Of course. Yeah, go get water. And stop thinking. I know who you're thinking about. He's in the past now. Okay?"

Tara knew that Y/n was kind of stuck on Harry. She'd confided in her a couple of weeks later. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was eating away at her.

"You're right. I'll be right back."

No sooner had she stepped away from Tara than J was on her heels. "I'll come with you!"

The oak bar was cast in reds and pinks for Valentine's Day. A sappy, upbeat song played loudly as she waved toward the bartender to order a water. J stood next to her, leaned into the veneered wood. "Just water?"

Yn nodded. "Need to cool off a little. Not interested in getting sloppy, ya know?"

She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, turning her head to peer around the space and pretend she wasn't aware of where his eyes were wandering. She could deal with J. He was nice enough, and she knew he wouldn't push or anything. He was a bit too mild for that.

When her water was handed to her, the pink straw inside was tucked next to a stirrer with a heart at the top. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she took a drink as J slid in a little closer. "Do you wanna dance?"

She really didn't want to, not with him. It wasn't that he was ugly or unlikable or anything… she just didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Leading men on wasn't her style.

But before she even had the chance to tell him no, she saw a familiar hand attached to a familiar arm placed down on the bar next to her. She slowly turned, looking upward at the man whom she'd just been thinking about. He wasn't smiling as he leaned closer to speak. "You never called."

Turning so she could face him, she placed her elbows behind her on the bar top and lifted her brows in an attempt to feign complete control and calm. "Correct."

She watched as Harry looked past her to J and then back down at her. "Who's this?"

"A friend. Why? Jealous?"

She didn't know what angle she was going for with her hard-to-get act, but that's all it was—an act. Deep down, under her cool facade, she wanted to finish unbuttoning his shirt, the top three buttons already free, so anyone could see what he was working with underneath.

"Jealous of a boy? No."

Y/n reached for his button and pressed at it, her eyes on his. "Now, Harry. Honestly… He's my age. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to find someone my age. Thought you'd be happy for me."

"Thought you said he was just a friend."

She laughed and looked back at J, who was just standing by silently, looking between Harry and Y/n. Far too mild. She turned back to Harry. "See? You are jealous."

"Why didn't you call?"

Clearing her throat, she shifted her footing to get a little closer. "Because I wanted you to find me. I worked so hard to get you to crack that night we met and thought maybe you could put in a little effort if you were interested."

"That's not how it works," he spoke as he dipped his head closer, placing his other palm down on the edge of the bar to cage her in. "I gave you my number. You didn't give me any of your contact info. Didn't want to overstep. Ball was in your court."

"I'm easy to find, Harry. All you had to do was Google my name."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Saw your post on Instagram."

She lifted her brows, and a smile pulled at her mouth. "Is that so? And did you select this outfit just for me?" She reached again for his shirt, letting her pointer finger trail down the cotton edge along the button slits before she ran the pad of her finger on his warm skin.

Harry looked down at her hand and then back into her eyes. "Was gonna go on a date tonight. That's why I'm dressed like this."

She blinked, moving her hand away.

"Hey, uh… should we like… go back? Or, uh…" J spoke tentatively as he stepped closer.

"She's with me. You're welcome to go wherever you please, though," Harry responded, his gaze locked on Y/n's.

"I think—actually, um…" J stumbled on his words.

Y/n lifted her hand and looked over at J. "It's fine. Harry and I have a lot to discuss. You can go back to our table."

J opened his mouth and searched Harry's face, then looking back at Y/n and nodding, he scuttled away like a dog with his tail between his legs. She felt a little bad. Clearly, he thought he might have had a chance even though he never did.

"See? A boy. Couldn't even form a sentence. What are you doing with him anyway?"

"We were having fun is what we were doing. Hanging out with people my age. Why do you care anyway? You said you were gonna go on a date. Where is she?"

"I don't know where she is. Maybe at home. I didn't want to go out with her, so I cancelled."

"Then why did you plan a date?"

"So I could try and move on from you."

She hadn't expected that level of honesty from him, but his confession had her heart thumping hard in her chest.

"Coming here to find me doesn't make it seem like you want to move on."

He shook his head, his eyes shifting downward over her dress before pinning them back on hers. "I didn't think we were done yet. Really expected you to call."

"And I really expected you to figure out how to find me. Should have been easy."

"You like the chase, then. Is that what you want? For me to chase you? Follow you around like a puppy dog?"

She laughed softly. "I don't think being a puppy is quite your style. But I do like that you came all this way just to see me."

He edged his hand toward her arm, running a thumb over her skin. "I'm too old to play games, Y/n. If you expect me to run after you, jump through hoops just to see you, and beg you for your time, then I'm not your guy."

"But you came here to see me."

"Yes, I did. Consider this your freebie cause I won't do something like this again. Ball's in your court now. What do you want? To go back and play with that little boy I sent away? Or to stop fucking around and come back home with me tonight again?"

Her lips parted as heat rose up her spine. A wanton need wrapped itself around her throat as she swallowed thickly. She enjoyed being the one with all the power and feeling like she was in charge. But it was different with Harry. Despite everything, he was the one calling the shots. And she wanted him so bad she could taste it. After all, he'd ditched a date so he could come find her.

"You like me." She grinned.

The tension outlining his posture softened as he rolled his eyes, and she watched as the edge of his lips turned upward. "What gave it away?"

"I like you, too. But my place is closer this time."

Y/n's friends were already watching the whole thing go down before she returned and told them she was heading out. Tara smiled. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Her apartment was only a few minutes' drive away. The small talk they'd been making before they stepped inside her place all but vanished the moment Harry pushed her to the wall and placed his knee between her thighs with a desperate kiss.

She even gasped in surprise when he moved her and she felt the plaster of her wall behind her back. He ran a rough palm up her bare thigh, the skirt of her dress shifting upward until the stretchy material was at her hips and he groped her ass.

"Wanted to do this the second I saw you standing at the bar. Show everyone who's taking you home…" he spoke against her mouth as his thumb caught on the slinky elastic string of her thong. She felt his thigh inching up between her legs as he moved in closer.

She was pinned to the wall as he worked his mouth down her neck and continued kneading at her ass. But then she felt the material of his pants against the crotch of her panties as his thigh pressed solidly into her.

A small, weak-sounding whimper fell from her mouth when he nudged against her, signaling for her to move her hips. The spot where his mouth kissed and sucked over her throat had her head spinning and it was almost involuntary as she began to rub herself on his thigh. She gripped onto his shoulders when he began to guide her hips.

It was kind of pathetic, the way they hadn't even made it into her bedroom. Barely'd made it past her door before they were all over one another. And now, there she was, grinding her pussy against his thigh like she was in some kind of dire need, a pitiful girl so wrapped up in desperation that she was reduced to humping his thigh like a pup in heat.

The most embarrassing thing was how good it felt. His lips on her skin, his thick thigh pressed against her, his hands on her ass. "Oh god…"

Harry moved his face and looked down at her with a smirk. "Making a mess, Y/n. Guess your tough girl act was all fake. Now look at you…"

Slowing her hips, she reached up to his face. "You started it."

A boyish dimple scored into his cheek as he lifted his brows. "Did I now? Clearly, you like it. Soaking right through my pants."

"Mmm… You like it too, though. Love how wet I get, don't you?"

He licked his lips and shook his head like he couldn't believe how tenacious she was, even when pinned against her wall. "So sure of yourself, Y/n. When my day started, I imagined I'd be doing this with someone else by the end of it. Bet she'd get just as wet for me."

Y/n let out a serrated breath, though she never stopped grinding over his thigh. "Doubtful. You wanted me. Practically dragged me out of the club 'cause you knew that other chick wouldn't do it for you like I can."

"Do what for me? Huh? Hump my thigh like a desperate, horny little girl?" He teased as she moaned at the way he nudged his leg up harder.

"You wanted me a little desperate, and that's what you got. You knew nothing was gonna feel as good as me. You missed it."

"Maybe. Maybe I kept imagining you every time I got off for the past two months. Maybe the only reason I agreed to a date with that other woman was because she kind of resembled you. Wanted to pretend I was fucking you again."

Y/n let out a moan. "I want you to fuck me."

"Do you deserve that, Y/n? After that little stunt you pulled? Huh? Leaving me high and dry like that? Wasn't nice."

"I wanted to call you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Hmm… but you wanted to play games. Not sure sorry cuts it."

He moved his leg away, and Y/n stumbled forward, her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her dress back down over her thighs.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" She looked at him with rounded eyes, hoping that he wasn't changing his mind as he pushed away and took a step back.

"Not sure. Maybe that's something you're gonna have to have to figure out. This is a lot of work, you know? Telling you what to do and how to do it. Might be nice for you to try and use that brain of yours for once."

She scoffed as he grinned at her. She knew he was mocking her, and it was meant to be playful, but still. "For once? You don't think I use my brain?"

He shrugged as he paced into her living room, and she watched him look around like he was assessing. Following behind him, she kept her eyes on his strong build and turned a light on. It was clear he was sporting a thick erection under his pants at that point. She smiled when she stepped toward him.

Taking his belt, she gripped at the leather and pulled it through the buckle before she opened his pants and cupped around his length. "You can fuck my mouth. I won't even complain. I'll let you use me however you want."

She got onto her knees and kept her eyes on his as she peeled his underwear down. His big cock had been straining against the material of his boxers and it nearly hit her in the face when it was released. She cooed and gripped around the base of him to lift it upward and began kissing gently along the underside and down to his sac.

Harry stitched his brows together, and his lips parted as he watched her. He placed a hand at the back of her head and moaned. He didn't really care about an apology, but he was going to make damn sure she understood he wasn't into the little games. He'd had plenty of that kind of thing when he was younger. When he was closer to her age, and he'd never been a fan of it.

If she really did want to be with him, or at least date a while, she'd need to learn that he wanted things clear and well communicated. "That's a good girl. Keep going."

She stroked from root to tip as she tongued along his skin, making a wet path as she went. But suddenly, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back before he shoved his thick head past her lips and slid it down her tongue, bumping against the roof of her mouth as he went. She steadied herself, quickly, gripping his muscled thighs as he held the back of her head and worked himself in and out.

He was going easy on her, not pressing his full length down her throat. Not yet. "Let's put that pretty mouth to good use. Show me you can work for it, yeah?"

Harry thrust in, his mushroomed crown glided over her tongue and back out to her soft lips before he did it again, a little deeper that time, the slit of his cock kissing the back of her mouth just before it curved into her throat. He kept his eyes on her face and the way her lips wrapped around him just right.

"Fuck you're so pretty, Y/n." He thumbed at the edge of her lip as he drove into her, feeling the saliva from her mouth coating his cock. He moaned when she blinked her eyes up at him. "Didn't want anyone else to suck my cock but you. Didn't want to even touch anyone else. Know that?"

She hummed over him in answer as he pushed deeper, making her gag lightly as the metal on his buckle clanked with his movements. "I know you know that. Proved it to you by making a fool of myself, stalking your Instagram so I knew where you were gonna be. Got me all wrapped up in you after just one goddamn night."

Y/n felt her eyes blur as tears roll down her cheeks when he nuzzled his dick in deeper and she swallowed around his tip with an embarrassing wet spluttering sound. She'd let him choke her with his cock if that's what it took. After hearing his confession, she only wanted to show him how much she had missed him and how sorry she was for not calling.

So, she leaned into him further, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to force the rest of him into her throat. The gagging and gargling noises she made were loud. It sounded like someone was being waterboarded.

"Fuck…" he gasped as she sputtered around him. He bent his knees the slightest as he let her suck and swallow around him. She was treating his cock so good he didn't know if he should just let her continue milking him like that until he was nutting down her throat or if he should reward her by returning the favor.

But damn did she feel good on his dick. She was giving it her all, and he'd decided she was forgiven.

Pulling her back, his wet dick slid past her lips and hung heavy in front of her face as he helped her stand up. She inhaled sharp breaths between little coughs as she wiped her face. "Was it okay?"

"Better than okay. You're a fuckin' star, Y/n. I need you in your bed, though. Got a condom?"

Knocking her head up and down affirmatively, she blinked her bleary eyes. Harry followed her to her bedroom and watched as she pulled a small box of condoms from her underwear drawer, and he took it from it before he pointed at her dress. "Clothes off. Then get your ass on the bed."

The thrill of having him there made her shaky. She yanked at her dress and removed the fabric before shedding the rest of her underthings.

Harry kicked his pants and his boxers off before his shirt joined the pile of clothes on the floor. He watched her climb onto her bed and sit at the middle in wait. He tossed the box of condoms onto her mattress (secretly pleased it was unopened, unused) and crawled after her on the bed, adjusting her legs and pushing her thighs apart before he thumbed her clit smoothly.

"Do you deserve to come? Think you deserve my cock?"

Y/n blinked at him as she nodded. "Yes. I just want to be good. Make you come too. Please…"

He grinned as he let his eyes coast down her denuded body. She rolled into his thumb before he took his other hand and pressed his middle finger inside. Everything that touched her pussy was glistening wet. The gushy sound his finger made as he fucked into her was lewd. She spread her legs apart further for him and dropped her mouth open as she kept her eyes on his.

She was so pretty like that. Naked and spread apart for him, lusting for him, wanting him. He added another finger and pumped into her harder. Her tits swayed as her pussy swallowed his fingers whole. She was so confident and bold it had his insides pulsing with need.

With his eyes pinned to hers he dipped down to replace his thumb on her clit with his lips and his tongue. Y/n fell backward to her mattress and moaned from the pleasure. His tongue stroked her clit and pressed flat over it before he pulled at it and repeated all while he fucked her as deep as his fingers could reach.

He held her down as she arched her back. His chin and his nose were wet, slurping and groaning into her as he worked her so close to the edge she was already seeing stars. "Yes… right there… right there…"

But he suddenly moved away. His fingers, his mouth, his body. She sat up to look at him and watched in satisfaction as she saw him digging into the box of condoms. His face was flushed and matched the shade of heat on his heaving chest.

He rolled the tight rubber down his shaft and then looked at her with dark eyes. "Turn over. Hands and knees."

With a smirk, she got to her knees and made sure to let her eyes linger on his cock before she turned and placed her palms flat onto the mattress. "Like this?" She wiggled her ass at him.

Harry moaned deeply and placed his hands on the curve of her hips, smoothing his palms over every inch slowly. "Exactly like this."

She felt him lean over her back, his mouth at her ear as he palmed at her tit. "How do you feel about me spanking you a little?" His dick was warm between her thighs as she pushed back against him.

"Whatever you do, I'm gonna love." She reared back again and turned her face to look at him as he sat back. She watched him raise his arm before his palm struck her bum with a sting.

She keened sharply and jolted forward. He did it again in the same spot as he locked his irises with hers. "Other side now."

As promised, he landed his hand over the globe of her ass again, once and then twice, a burning sensation left behind making her inhale sharply.

Then he kneed in closer and she felt him line up his dick with her entrance, fitting himself into her slowly before he plowed in with one thick, harsh thud that had her bending forward face down.

She yelped into the soft comforter when he issued her another spanking, one to each side, as he began to thrust in and out of her, long and languid with heavy palms burning into her skin.

The bite of pain blossomed with heat and curled outward, spreading along her flesh until she could almost feel the detail of his fingerprints searing into her, marking her. He groaned as he drove in deep, glutes flexing as he forced his cock through her sensitive insides.

Her bottom was stinging, aching, burning with every smack of his hand… until it wasn't. Until the gooey, pleasurable warmth of her walls that stretched around his cock deliciously melded with the sharp barbed pain of his swats… That was—it felt like her body was thrumming with a lusty, satisfying ecstasy that sent liquid fire through her veins.

"Fuck, oh god, fuck…" she mumbled into the blankets as her body was spanked and fucked and swatted and pounded. She loved it.

Harry halted, planting his palms down on the mattress to catch his breath, cock buried whole into her. They were both panting, reeling… Y/n's muffled moans pulled a smile onto his lips.

"Apology accepted," he spoke quietly as he kissed the center of her back between her shoulder blades and then reached forward to gently wrap his big hand around the front of her neck to lift her head.

"Hear me?" His deep voice sounded in her ear.

She nodded, the column of her throat bobbing into his palm, eyes still closed as she let out a feminine grunt that was probably meant to mean yes.

"You okay?"

Again, she nodded slowly, this time her eyes fluttered open. "Mmhmm. Yes."

"Hurt?" He punctuated his question with a rock of his hips forward, nudging into the end of her sharply.

She hissed, and her spine bowed. "Yes."

Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding out and in when he felt her swallow thickly before her moans vibrated into his palm. She was dripping. Every time his hips met her skin, it wetted his lap and the front of his thighs.

She had been all he wanted. Ever since the morning he dropped her off. Thought for sure he'd hear from her by the way she was acting around him. All flustered and soft and dreamy-eyed as she looked at him. Pouted when he said he couldn't come in but gave her his number. And then she just never called.

That was a hit to his ego. That he thought he somehow had the upper hand with her. But now he had her drooling, moaning, and sobbing his name as he railed her deep. He would see to it that she didn't leave him hanging like that again. He'd give it to her so good she wouldn't be able to even think about another man. At least for a little while.

But Y/n was feeling the same kind of way about him. And now he was at her place, in her bed, fucking her with his big cock like he had something to prove.

"Mmm… Harry…"

"Yeah?" He pushed in firmly, swiveling his hips to let her feel all of him. "Is that good?"

"Fuck… it's deep—sh…shit!"

Letting go of her neck, Harry used both hands to guide her rhythm as he fucked into her, tilting her into an angle that had the big crown of his cock hitting a tender spot inside her. She tensed and clawed at the blankets in response to how he commanded her movements.

He loved watching her pussy slickly spread apart on his cock, how tight it wrapped around him, how wet she made everything, the way her ass wobbled. He was tempted to give her another swat but thought better of it, knowing that he'd already done a number on her backside. Her skin was raised just enough that he could feel the small welts from his hands. He didn't want to break the skin.

His abs clenched as he plowed his dick through her, their bodies clapping together, her bed wrenching under them from the force of his thrusts. She was mumbling nonsense, straining to keep herself steady as he worked her over him with his hands gripping the meat of her hips tight.

But he slowed his motions, loosening his hold on her as he pushed in deep and stilled. He stared down at the space where they were connected as he thumbed softly at the flesh of her ass. When he was buried in like that, he couldn't see the end of the condom at the base of his shaft, so it looked like he wasn't wearing one. The dirty thought trickled warm down his chest and made his cock throb before he pulled himself out.

He pulled her up and helped her turn before he positioned her flat on her back, her tits spreading softly as she looked up at him with a dazed expression. He sat back on his haunches. "Still okay?"

She nodded, a smile slowly turned her lips upward. "I'm fantastic."

"Good. Gonna pull you up like this…" He took her thighs and dragged her up so her hips were off the bed and the backs of her thighs were draped over the tops of his. "Fuck you nice and deep, work your clit til you come. How's that sound?"

"Mmm…" Y/n nodded and squeezed her tits as she bucked her hips upward. "Yes."

He grinned down at her. He loved how confident she was. How unashamed of her body she seemed to be. Liked the way she carried herself. It was sexy to see a woman happy in her own skin.

He reached down and slowly stroked her clit, eyes connected to hers to watch her expression soften and then her brows arch as she parted her lips and moaned. "Yeah?" He murmured with a grin.

"Yes… You're so good. Fuck…" she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, a soft gasp fell from her lips as he slid his fingers in circles on her clit and mushed into her swollen hood. She pushed her breasts together and arched her back before shifting her head to look back up at him. "Fuck me. Please."

"Want my cock, Y/n?" He nudged his hips forward, poking his condom-covered tip to the tight ring of muscle that would stretch nicely around him once he pushed his way back in.

"I need it," she pleaded in a breath, canting her hip toward him.

The harsh line of his brow as he took all of her in, spread out for him, was that of a man ready to devour. Y/n watched as he wrapped his long fingers around his base and shifted his pelvis, dipping his thick cock head just inside of her.

"Fffuck…" she stretched her neck and moaned as she took every inch he fed into her.

He slid deeper, taking his time as if he hadn't just been pounding into her and pushing her to her limit moments before. He moved his thumb over her bud as he went, her arousal smeared filthy on his fingers and all over her pussy lips.

Y/n shifted her sight to Harry's face, admiring his handsome features and the way his lips parted, how his muscles tensed as he rolled into her. He was enjoying her body, reveling in the way he felt inside of her. "Does it feel good? My pussy's good for you?"

"Your pussy feels incredible. Even with this fucking condom…" he laughed softly. "The kind of pussy I'd chase after and make a fool of myself for."

With their eyes connected, Y/n felt her heart ravaging behind her ribcage. She understood what he meant. Because, while she didn't think he'd made a fool of himself, he had chased after her to find her at the club. And he said that wasn't something he normally did. She was grateful he had, though.

His rough palm pushed her hand to the side so he could grope her tit. He continued working at her clit as he stuffed himself in to the brim and they both panted hot breaths as their connected bodies throbbed in unison.

He pressed down as he circled her wet bud, and the extra friction had her skin buzzing, pulsing with desire. Heat stretched over her thighs and curled viciously through her insides.

Harry slowly inched back and then pushed in deeper, his thighs flexing as he plunged wetly, gently smacking into her. A breathless sob fell from her mouth as she took him to his root over and over again.

His slow thrusts were deliberate, calculated. Every stroke of his rigid cock through her soft walls, every press of his thumb on her sensitive clit, every brush of his fingertips on her nipple had her rippling around him, trembling. The luscious stretch of her pussy around him as he drove in and dragged out made his tip leak into his condom.

Y/n began circling her hips to press harder into his thumb, using her leverage to get him deeper, to feel the biting pressure of his thumbprint. The soft, wet spread of her pussy around his shaft ached and squeezed and slushed.

His moan vibrated deep from his chest as he felt his balls tighten when he buried in and pressed himself flush to her. The shadows in her bedroom cast a moody expression over his features. He tilted his neck back, angling his face toward her ceiling as if he were in ecstasy.

And the languid thrusting suddenly turned into a heated pace. Harry's eyes darkened on hers when he looked back down at the girl he was fucking. He stroked her clit and released her breast, yanking her hip to meet his powerful thrusts. He battered her tender insides with his brutally thick column of rigid flesh. The sounds of plapping skin, her mattress springs bouncing, Harry's rhythmic grunts and groans as he drove in faded to a white noise as Y/n realized she was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside her.

She cried his name and her body shivered with every harsh plunge of his cock, the orgasm dotting white stars behind her eyes. Harry's own desperate moans were a giveaway that he was about to come just as hard.

"Fuck!"

Her body bounced and gushed as he drove in and in. The deep, ragged sounds he made were erotic, and a convulsive shudder wracked his powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. His cock jerked inside her and then he was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into her clutching cunt.

Somehow, she'd found herself lying on top of him. He'd brought them to lie back together, and her chest was pressed to his. She felt his hand on her naked back, slowly caressing her skin as their hearts began to slow and calm.

"Mmm…" Y/n smiled as she nuzzled into his chest.

His hand drew down over her ass gently. "How's this feel?"

Lifting her head to press her chin into his pec, she raised her brows. "Sore. But that's what you wanted. To show me I was a bad girl. I deserved it."

Harry pushed a breath through his nose. "You're not a bad girl. Just stubborn. But now you know better than to play games."

Y/n shifted her gaze toward the edge of the room and pushed herself up from him as Harry watched her get off her bed and traipse to her dresser. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him and lifted her phone before pressing a few buttons, and then Harry's phone rang from his pants.

"There. Now you have my number, too. We've got no excuses anymore."

He reached his hand out toward her as she walked back to her bed and curled up next to him. "You shouldn't need an excuse. If you want to see me, then that should be enough."

She placed her palm on his chest and angled her head back to look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I mean it when I say that. I regretted not reaching out. I promise no more games."

"Mmm…" He ran his hand down the back of her head. "Sounds like I finally fucked some sense into you then."

Y/n laughed. "Guess I needed that, too."

"I think you did. So did I, to be honest."

"You needed some sense fucked into you?"

Harry chuckled, his handsome smile making her heart flutter as he shook his head. "No. I meant I needed to fuck some sense into you. I'm already chock full of good sense. Don't need any more."

"Can't argue with that. So what now? You gonna stay the night with me?"

"Yep. Then, tomorrow, we'll make plans for a date. A real one."

"Why not make plans now?"

"Because we're gonna do it tomorrow. Cause I said."

"What if I'm busy tomorrow?" Y/n teased and bit her lip.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He grinned.

"Hmm… It looks like all my plans have suddenly been canceled. Guess I'm all yours."

. .

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[bunicate]

Wrio with a cute bunny girl who goes into heat that actually makes him go at it like bunnies! >.< so much so that he couldn’t even get hard anymore and reader just whines and pokes it telling his cock to get hard again for more breeding!

i luv this idea eeeek. big domineering man + docile horny bunny girl will always be delish .

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི bunny fem reader ᕱ⑅ᕱ daddy kink. minor breeding ﾉ wc ꒱ 0.5k ﾉ 18+

wriothesley knows that for others they believe rules are made to be broken.

he didn’t necessarily follow that same philosophy. he preferred to run on the straight lines, rarely ever straying, but he knows that many wouldn’t do the same. 

luckily he’s more than capable of adapting and making sure that those who sought to play out of bounds would be dragged back in by his bare hands.

rules are there for a reason, and he couldn’t understand how they slipped from him this time.

he regrets giving in to your every request. he admits it’s because his heart softened at the sight of a creature so precious.

wriothesley is wasting away on the bed with his clothes disheveled and stained while the bunny he loves so dearly, ravaged him.

“you’re so handsome daddy . . .”

there it is again.

the dulcet sound of your soft voice feathered by a petulant whine.

your finger poked his spent cock. it laid wet and heavy on his taut stomach, with some of his cum damp on his chest. he can’t remember how many times he’s fucked you. he was warned about your heat, and nothing could prepare him for this.

he’s fought tough battles, taking on men thrice his size, skirting on the edge of death. they were brutal fights that nearly cost him his life, and somehow that seemed like a much easier hill to climb.

he’s exhausted and drained of every drop of cum he could pump out, and you still weren’t done. you continued to kiss his cock, lapping at it with long and rough strokes. the skin of his leaking shaft was raw from your sucks and the heat from your inner walls.

he could barely muster the strength to speak. his voice is hoarse from commands that fell on your deaf ears and all the groans escaping his lips.

“baby . . . daddy is tired . g-give-give me a second.”

he pulls at your floppy ears to halt your movement, but you only nose at his balls in response. your tongue darts out to taste his sweaty skin and he curses at himself when his body betrays him.

his dick twitches to life from your incessant nipping, and hearts take shape in your eyes.

you drag your soft body on top of his once more to straddle him yet again. your fat bunny cunt gaping and dripping cum hovers over his pudgy tip before swallowing his entire member.

“fuckkkkkk . . bunny, you’re gonna kill me. . .how much fuckin’ nut does that little pussy need ?”

you make a sound, halfway from a moan and a giggle. like a good bunny, you hop up and down until his head kisses your womb filling it with hot seed.

your tits bounce with every jerk of your hips and his hand on your plump ass encourages more of your of passion.

“daddy daddy daddy , I need all of it ♡ love y’r cum so much, hnn~”

there was never a battle wriothesley couldn’t win, not yet at least, but this time, wriothesley forfeits.

he’s accepted that he’s finally lost, and that his sweet bunny girl was the cause of his demise.

[bigmomma25]

Character Analysis of Pete Dinunzio (Comic Vs. Pilot)

Disclaimer: This is by no means a very good or professional analysis or anything, this is just me whipping out my Honors English high school powers for fun, to put these guys in a jar and shake them. Getting as much content out of this comic as possible even if it means yapping. Pete goes first because he's easy, lol

The Comics Highlight His Flaws

The first difference I noted when watching the pilot first and then delving into the comics is; Pete is aggressive. Much more aggressive. He's the most argumentative member in the first few panels, with most of his comments being rather pessimistic or sexual in nature. He always has some sort of retort or comeback to defend himself and his views, and his passions come out mostly in anger.

There's also a silent shame that comes with his behaviors, much more likely to complain about what he doesn't like than happily explain what he's passionate about. When he does have passionate moments, it's because these things that make him very vulnerable are being criticized, and he gets defensive. Like his love for Christopher Lee.

Without any prior knowledge of these characters, it can be assumed that Pete comes from an abusive household. His behaviors are major signs. He's most likely so combative because he's used to constantly being under fire, especially with (I think) 8 other siblings who are implied to be mostly older men. If he didn't have a slick comment or keep up this "tough" persona, he'd be their personal punching bag - figuratively and literally.

All Pete really knows is aggression, being canonically the poorest member (he states that he couldn't even afford to be in the Boba Fett conversation in the comics). It's been shown that the club lives in a shitty area in Staten Island. Plus, they're heavily bullied. It's shaped the way he communicates and interacts with the world around him. Even his obsessions - he likes seeing people get ripped apart to the point it becomes a kink.

Even the way he speaks sets him apart. Not necessarily his accent, but his word choices are usually much simpler and his points are very blunt. He's not portrayed as booksmart, and his swagger comes off more as a performance (both of masculinity and of nonchalance) than a natural way of being.

It's also worth noting his position in the very first panel of the comics. Bill is head of the table, of course, it's his house and he's the leader. (I'll get to that symbolism in Bill's analysis). But Pete is sat right next to him, lower than Bill and somewhat distant from him, but still seeming closer and getting more focus than Jerry and Josh.

His position is meant to draw your eye from an artistic perspective, he is unconsciously trying to secure himself a good spot for control and stability. If you're on Bill's bad side, you end up like Josh (I'll get into the lolcow-ification of Josh later on too), but Pete gets the least shit from Bill. Pete is not a pushover, and he feeds into Bill more. Their bickering seems almost comedic.

Totally different dynamic than he has in the pilot, so them getting along so well may be retconned. He has much more of a moral compass in the pilot, and while both versions show Pete *attempting* to be a mediator and a voice of reason, the pilot shows it more. Almost like Pete didn't want to be there, much preferring Jerry's company since they were both reasonable.

Bill and Pete's dynamic also goes to solidify Pete's relationship with his father and the toxic masculinity he displays constantly. Pete has the urge to stray and separate himself from the obviously immoral tendencies of his father, but still seeks approval from an authority figure in which he admires. Someone he sees as "cool" and capable, teeter-tottering between loving him and fighting him. His father is very authoritative, Pete was never allowed to question anything. He associates anything "girly" with pain - like how Bill associates women with sexist stereotypes, expecting to be hurt by them because of their shared experiences with bullying and Bill's mommy issues. Except Pete had it literally beat into him.

Him connecting masculinity to being capable and independent leads directly to his tendency to make choices on the fly. In a house that's always arguing, someone has to make a decision. And Pete wants to be seen as the macho man who knows what he's doing, but also doesn't care that much. So he mainly makes decisions with common sense, emotion, and whatever he's compelled to. A very "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" mentality from living in a conservative household.

Though I do feel that most of his decisions come from a place of shame. If you're secure, you usually don't have to make it a point, or brag about it, or defend it so vehemently. You just... are secure. This directly ties into his canonical bisexuality along with his horror passions. His whole life he's been told everything about him was fundamentally wrong, and he's trying to run from it. Which is why he tries to separate his personal love for horror makeup and SFX from traditional gay and drag art forms. Those things are looked down on. He hates being looked down on. Which is why he uses gays, along with Josh, as scapegoats.

The Pilot Highlights His Positives

From the first 25 seconds of the pilot, Pete is already a more positive version of his comic alternative. He's more successful in diffusing the bickering between Josh and Bill, and is more level-headed and goal-oriented. He's calmer, seeing things go wrong and actually wanting to find solutions instead of dwelling on the small details and who-did-what. He almost feels like a disgruntled mother with more humor. His independence also shines, but so does his tendency to run into danger without thinking.

Pete also sits much farther in the pilot at their meeting table. He's at opposite ends of the table, like the other head, or leader, willing to criticize Bill and never really seeing eye-to-eye with him. He tries to lead before Bill does, starting with the "Sexy Sirens" tape, and has a little bit of a power struggle. He's leaning back, to distance himself, and his nonchalance is more natural, it's just who he is. Josh and Jerry seem closer to Bill than Pete is, which is a total 180 from the comics.

A big point of Pete's character in the pilot that isn't touched upon at all in the comics is his sense of justice. He wants things to be fair - from the trivia-off in Joe's shop, to the DnD game. He tries to break up fights but will hit back if he's being hit, or someone else is being hit unjustifiably. Much like a shephard dog instead of a guard dog, like his comic alternative. But only to the club, he's still a menace to his general environment.

His trauma is shown more subtly but it is still made a point - while Pilot Josh is unconcerned when Bill's mother is yelling at the club, Pete seems the most worried and distraught, the first to start sweating and holding his head. His body language screams abuse. His introduction panel also shows he's relatively used to beat downs, seeming silently resigned and defeated rather than horrified like the other characters.

His sexuality also seems more on-par with a teen boy and less hypersexual, and there's less sexist comments. He's definitely still a little freak, shown with his creepy little faces, clawing at the glass, and his comments about "Battle Broads" the series, but he's not trying to repress nearly as much.

Combining the Two

Since the point of the comics was to be an exaggerated version of real life incels, I'd say the pilot is a more realistic representation of who Pete is as a person. But with such a short run, it didn't get to show the entirety of his character, which would have to be fleshed out across multiple episodes. The comics is a satirical piece mocking and displaying the worst of the worst, and t pilot is a commentary on the societal failures that lead to children with this kind of behavior.

There are some parts where they undeniably intersect though. Like Pete's tendency towards violence to solve his problems, and one specific comic panel (which I can't exactly find right now) where Pete comments that sewing's for sissies, and Jerry insists that he's not. Pete's reply is "Of course not you, Jerry, you're a wizard. Keep it up." This can be seen as him just wanting his clothes repaired, but it can also be interpreted as Pete putting his own insecurities and internalized feelings aside because he loves and respects his friends too much. It shows that he doesn't actually believe what he's saying to the degree he insists. Pete is the second most likely to have the capacity to change his ways, if he ever so chose.

Honestly, it's up to interpretation how these traits are combined. Some fans like the comics more, some fans like the pilot. Though Evan seems to be leaning more into the pilot interpretations of the characters now than the comics, showing a possible reboot or retcon of their old traits, just like the retcon of Epilogue Pete.

Summary (MBTI, Enneagram, etc.)

I'm gonna use my general knowledge of personality quizzes to get my point across, lol.

I honestly believe his MBTI is ESTP, as someone who studied it for a very long time and spent way too long on PDB. But he is a very unhealthy ESTP that never found an outlet for his more creative attributes, and lives in unhealthy environments that disrupt his peace.

On the good side, he can adapt easily, read his environment and the people in it well, and he is extremely passionate. He's pushed by his love of horror and film, seeking out people with the same interests and motivation to get things done. He's very experience-based, seeking out adventure, and has a lot of energy. He's very down to earth, lives in the moment almost too much, can easily improvise and comes up with decisions very quickly. He's a quick thinker, but thinks after he acts, not before, and is very life-smart. He's a good communicator, he's practical, hedonistic, and fair.

Deep down, he seeks validation from his peers, wanting to be seen as competent, talented, valuable. At his best, this helps him connect with others in a meaningful way like he craves. But he never really gets there, which leads to him forming a persona he believes will get him that respect. He's actually a very sensitive person in that way, not necessarily emotional but very touchy when it comes to what he loves. He's prone to pessimism, doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, and doesn't see himself in a world in which he's truly successful.

He's selfish, rude, doesn't trust others, has an intense aversion to rules, and doesn't look at any information that goes against what he believes. He can be bossy at times, or judgemental of others who don't meet his standards, and doesn't keep other people' feelings in mind. This leads to an internal struggle with seeing everyone as fake or not as dedicated, but also wanting, needing connection with other people. This can lead to him being rather conspiratorial, which leads to the whole "Jock vs. Nerd" conversation.

I also think he's a sp/so (self-preservation social) 8w9. His biggest fear is being hurt and betrayed by the people he loves, so he seeks out control and stability so that can't happen. He tries his best to be self-reliant so he has no need to open up to others and make himself vulnerable, and he's hard to warm up to. But once he likes you, he's loyal for life. He isn't very loud about these traits, trying to maintain an air of calmness while also being no-nonsense. He doesn't want to lose control of his anger, but also has a tendency to do so, leading to small outbursts of strong aggression. While he craves connection, if he has too many failed relationships, he may start to see them as a waste of his time and become very introverted, like how he became in the epilogue.

__

Yep, that's it, enough yapping for me. Those are all the things I noticed, hopefully it's entertaining to somebody lol.

[pennzance]

His Grace, the Duke of Ankh, Commander of the City Watch, Blackboard Monitor, Sir Samuel Vimes is literature's greatest Policeman.

Not Detective. He himself would readily admit he sometimes misses the obvious clue (not to mention his general view on 'clues'), and plots have turned on how stupid some people believe him to be.

No, Policeman. It is a very different role than the Detective. Sam Vimes fills a hole in the universe labelled Policeman. There are any number of contenders scrabbling to fill the hole labelled Detective and, on the Disc at least, no one is quite the right shape. All of the time, anyway.

But Vimes is different. He is the quintessential 'on the job all the time' sort of Copper. Consistent. He works at a problem and he just never stops. He doesn't solve crimes with a flash of brilliance that needs to be explained away as some sort of superpower, he does it by writing things down and asking questions and taking note of who is trying to kill him this week.

Most would describe him as a fundamentally decent bloke, but Vimes sees himself differently. He is a suspicious bastard who happens to be employed in his capacity AS a suspicious bastard for the good of the City. That he is perfect for his job never enters his mind.

He's not necessarily a good MAN. Suspicious as he is, and maybe just a bit too knowledgeable about how best to disable an opponent in really quite painful but technically non-lethal ways, he knows deep down he's an irredeemable street tough made good.

He's certainly not the best HUSBAND, although Sybil would likely disagree with any who said so out loud. He's constantly late, he's dour at parties, he keeps the worst hours known to man or ape, he reflexively dislikes anyone who refers to their 'breeding' as an asset, and in general he does not fit into the world of high society she hails from.

And, as much as it pains him, he could be a better father. But he is doing his best in that regard, and woe betide anyone who would be stupid enough to make any such comment to the contrary in front of him.

But Sam is certainly the best Policeman he can be. Understanding, but rigid in his adherence to the letter of the law, he knows how to bend it in a way that doesn't threaten to break it. If he's unsure of himself, he'll barrel on ahead to do what is RIGHT and put up with the consequences.

He is Pratchett's ur-example of the man who does the job in front of him because no one else is going to. And that job is Policeman.

And he does it SO well, he sets such an incredible example, that late in his career, he commands the respect of policemen far and wide. They follow in his many boot-wearing footsteps. They fit the hole in the universe labelled Policeman as well, and make it their own.

But they are all called Sammies. After the first. The best. The only.

Sam Vimes, despite his titles and accolades and honors, is literature's greatest Policeman. And he will forever be so, because a Policeman is all he feels comfortable being.

[lcvecove]

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I’m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

[mysticpearl]

How about blind!reader with genshin men (you can choose) and she accidentally slipped and somehow managed to mess up genshin man’s important work and he ends up blowing up on her? Angst please and I don’t mind if you do comfort or no comfort!!

Have a great day🌚

-> blinded mistakes

synopsis -> you're blind, and you accidentally knock over a months worth of your husbands work, and it gets ruined.

warnings -> super angsty!!! brief mentions of ayato putting his hands on reader (no hitting or anything) might do a part 2 for comfort part cus i wanted to focus on the main argument w this one...

a/n -> ooooooomg i'm a sucker for these tropes i love angst so much. thx for ur request, this was sm fun to write! 💗💗

w/c -> 1.1k

-> ayato

ayato knew you were blind, and he was as understanding of it as he possibly could be.

but in times like these, where all of this work was to be turned in for city matters by next week, he had no patience for anyone.

he had been cooped up in his office for a while at a time over the past month. these documents were incredibly important to him and how the words written on the paper could impact how festivities were held to be a much easier way for himself and the city. 

basically, his papers were pretty damn important. and you knew that.

you walked in his office one day with thoma helping you through the hallways. you didn’t want to trip, especially with a mug of tea in your hand, and you didn’t want to bring a cane with you. 

but, thoma may have made a big mistake of leaving you in ayatos care as soon as you walked through the door. because you knew ayato was in no way shape or form able to draw himself from his work at the moment.

you were not able to use your cane to feel around the room, so without knowing where the rug was, you tripped.

and the tea you held in your hands went all over his desk, soaking his documents. the ink was splotchy and obviously ruined. you weren’t able to see what happened, but by the way ayato gasped and grabbed your wrist you knew you fucked up pretty bad.

“what the hell were you thinking???” he pulls you up forcefully and pushes you down on his couch, where you started tearing up. you weren’t necessarily used to him yelling at you, for arguments, especially over such as this, were very minimal. he always found a way to come to an understanding with you, no matter what you may have ruined. 

“i’m sorry! i didn’t think thoma was just going to leave-” you were cut off by an angry voice.

“this isn’t thomas issue, y/n. it’s yours. how clueless can you be?” he brings his hands to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose before groaning loudly. 

“i’m sorry that i can’t fucking see, ayato!” you yelled back, slamming your hands on the couch and leaning back. “is that what you wanted to hear?”

he shook his head, but you didn’t know that. he lays his hands on your thighs, squeezing them, before getting close to your face. you could smell his hair, the sakura shampoo he uses being evident. 

“i don’t want a fucking apology, y/n. if these documents are not in by friday, there is no change for inazuma. the change you’ve been awaiting, the change i’ve been awaiting, and the change everyone of the city has been awaiting. you took that away from all of them. because you decided you weren’t going to bring your cane to make sure you don’t fucking fall!” he yells to your face, making the tears spill out.

“i’m sorry! i just wanted to bring you something to drink because i was told you were overworking yourself. gosh, how bad of me for caring for my husband,” you yelled, hands shaking in both fear and rage. you knew talking back to him this way wouldn’t lead to anything good, but you tested your luck anyways.

“remove yourself from my office. i don’t care how the fuck you do it, but i demand you leave,” he said with a low, threatening tone. you knew he was enraged, and you stumbled through the door to the hallway, where ayaka was waiting to take you back to your room.

-> wriothesley

you always felt grateful for wriothesley, and the last thing you wanted to do was to upset him. he was one of the only people to look past your disability and see your heart, see your kindness and purity. 

so when you come up his office stairs very, very slowly with a cup of tea and trip on an uneven plate in the ground, ruining his documents that were incredibly important to him and the palais mermonia, especially to neuvillette, you knew you were screwed.

normally, this didn’t happen. he’d meet you down by his office door after a guard or sigewinne escorted you through the fortress, and help you walk up the stairs with the support of his arm.

he immediately slams his hands down on his table, walking over to where you were. 

you felt his presence looming over you, though unable to see it, you slowly and carefully sit up. he lifts up your chin before speaking.

“why. why would you do that,” he starts in a low tone, something similar he’d use to speaking to misbehaved criminals. “i told you not to visit me today. and what do you do? the complete fucking opposite!” 

you rub your eyes, trying to show no signs of weakness. you stand up, and he grabs your hands, making you feel the mess you made. ripped papers, bleeding ink. a month of progress is officially gone. 

“you feel what you did? that has taken me months! and it’s ruined! if i lose my job because of this-” he starts, dropping your hands as you turn around, your bottom leaning against the desk. 

“i’m sorry! i should’ve either stayed home or have a guard escort me up, i didn’t mean to ruin your progress!” you wipe more tears away, hearing him give an annoyed sigh. 

“you’re right. you shouldn’t have come at all. this would never have happened if you didn’t come. do you understand how much trouble i could be in? if you didn’t visit me at all, i wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment of asking for new documents, and i wouldn’t have to do hundreds of papers in three damned days!” he says, obviously distressed.

“look, i’m sorry, okay?! you can tell neuvillette and all of fontaine that i was the one who ruined everything if you want to! i’m sorry about the hassle and i’m sorry for putting more stress on you! all i wanted to do was bring you a cup of tea because you left the house stressed this morning!” you yelled back, crying at this point. “if you don’t want the embarrassment, then you can embarrass me. it seems like i’ve done enough to deserve it, so do it! tell the whole world what i did wrong, and how horrible of a wife i was!”

you called a guard in to escort you out, and that was the last wriothesley had seen of you that day.

[prapaiwife]

"A friend, someone you know, a close one, roommate assistant"

It's the way Kim said said all how he feels kenta is to him at this moment. And the way kenta was like tussling with him but looking at kim hearing him say all these words to him because he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Like he obviously understands what those words mean but it's also like he couldn't take it in or have it even process to grasp what he actually means to someone. After all he's someone who didn't grow up with any love so to have someone tell him that so openly and easily is a disbelief.

But I just love how all in kim is he has such a protective nature towards kenta. Like their bond is already an emotional one but it's going to be more of a sentimental one as time passes. Like with these two it's all about the control vs autonomy because kenta spent much of his life under Tony which we know has caused a lot of trust issues and being manipulated constantly. He was conditioned to suppress his feelings which makes it hard for him to be vulnerable. Before he opened up to Kim about his feelings he was keeping them to himself. All that he's endured and encountered will make it really challenging for him to assert any of his feelings. So it's inevitable that Kenta's struggle with his autonomy will be an obstacle.

But kim has a lot of patience and understanding when it comes to kenta's reluctance to open up to him about anything. He knows that his upbringing has really shaped him and how he views people. How he views the world and how he especially looks at himself. But Kim gives him that really good gentle encouragement for him to feel like he can talk to him. Make him feel safe at least with him so he can express whatever he's feeling without any hesitation and fear of being punished for it. And we all know that Kim is very protective especially if kenta pushes him away his persistence is to just protect but also gives kenta space as well. But that doesn't mean he doesn't ever get frustrated with him because of how Kenta is so shielded from everything and anything it gets in the way when he wants to get closer to kenta and wants to understand him more.

I feel Kim being so observant he can see that Kenta doesn't like loneliness but he's been isolated since he was a child. He doesn't even necessarily hate ppl or have a disdain for them (except tony) but he's been told and believed that everyone hates him. I think Kim can tell that kenta wasn't born cruel and aggressive it's just the world he was thrown into has turned it's back on him. It's like kenta doesn't want the weight of the world on his shoulders but asking for help and letting ppl in is foreign to him.

With everything that Kenta has been through since he was a child it was like as if his age has stopped. But his body obviously kept growing! but his brain has been forced and or used to skipping certain stages of things in his life that he's meant to experience and to feel. It's like his mind is frozen and his feelings are very limited he doesn't really know what he's capable of when it comes to love and to love someone fully. And the fact that he will get to experience that with Kim even though it might not be right away I do think as time goes on within their relationship he'll know what it's like and that's going to be just so great for him to witness to see that he is meant to be loved.

[biteyoubiteme]

thicc thigh obsessed gyu 😵‍💫 he loves how squishy and plush they are, touches them all the time, rests his head, inner thigh kisses and wearing pretty thigh highs and stockings has him hard and drooling

beomgyu x thighs

beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!!! chubby reader implied, thigh fucking, marking, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.6k

an: okay I want to say I love that you sent me this and it was stuck in my head forever and im just now answering it but omfg- gyu IS A THIGH LOVER I'll take it to the grave/ die on that hill bc YES. and specifically the gyu I wrote in bubblegum flavored- so if you see beomiebear mentioned here thats why bc it’s so him coded pls I love it thank you for this. [m.list]

He would so buy you thigh highs, little sets of garter belts that clip to the top of them. He loves the marks it leaves on your thighs if you’ve been lying down with them on. Likes to snap the bands to make you jump. He loves when you’re in a skirt, and loves it even more when you wear tights, he ruins every pair you’ve ever had and loves to rip them just enough to suck hickeys on your inner thigh. Will take the time to suck them Into the shape of a heart, spending as much time between your legs as possible. Gets you fishnets a size too small, still stretchy enough to feel comfortable but tight enough to let your skin dimple, the marks left after you've taken them off turning him on just as much. 

He loves it when he lays on your plush thighs and you play with his hair. Loves it more when you wear thighs highs when he does it, finger tucked under the elastic, running back and forth. Loves when you sit and it makes a little roll right where the end is, peppers kisses all along the seam. Will use his teeth to pull them down enough to kiss the indents on your skin. 

Insatiable when you casually walk in wearing anything that highlights your thighs. But it’s always the first thing he notices anyway. You could be spending dinner with all your friends and he’s got his hand shoved between your thighs under the table, not necessarily touching you but just resting his hand between your legs for the comfort. 

Gets you specific stockings to wear during sex, the lace lining on top the perfect spot for him to kiss along. The sheer gauzy fabric is just the right texture for him to run his teeth over while he looks up at you from his knees. dons so many kisses to your lower half you have to remind him your mouth exists, pushing his hair back from his eyes, “beomie if you’re good I’ll let you fuck them,” 

and he’s putty in your hands, his weakness so easily exploited when it came to you. Because he loved to push his cock between your plushy thighs. His hands holding your squishy flesh hard enough to leave red hand prints all over. 

Laying you back against the mattress and lifting your legs up, pushed together and slathered with lube, your ankles over his shoulder, arms wrapped around your knees as he pushes his cock in and out between your thighs. 

He’s a whiny mess kissing at your legs, begging for release as you squeeze your legs together for him. You watch the way the tip of cock pokes through the seam of your legs with every thrust. His hair in his eyes as he loses himself, “Oh god- you feel so perfect-“ his fingers digging in harder as he orgasm gets closer, and watching the way you look laid out before him, your body reverberating with every hash slap of him against you. 

He always cums so much when fucking your thighs, the hot streams pulsing out and coating your stomach. cock jerking as he gives lazy thrusts, his whimpers so sweet to your ears as you praise him, “You came so good for me beomiebear, if you clean me up I’ll let you go another round,” and he will comply licking you clean and burying himself between your legs to properly devour your wetness; a reward within this request itself just before he’s hard again and ready to do it all over.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[anantaru]

thoughts on cockwarming and who loves it the most ?

including. neuvillette, diluc

cw. cockwarming, lots of teasing especially in diluc's part, petnames: love & baby, fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

a soft, enervated smile goes across neuvillette's tender lips as he sinks you down on him— and the way it happened all at once, how your walls latched on his shaft oh so strongly, oh so familiar that he found himself already lost in deep puzzlement.

for now, neuvillette doesn't move his cock in you, not an inch, nor does he necessarily want to either. ultimately, the man decides against showering you with his sloppy thrusts as he leans his face against yours gently to capture your lips.

tranquility shapes your mind that of joy as it manifested with the feeling of his body resting his weight on yours. your legs automatically wrap around his hips to keep him there as your cunt squeezes him ever tight, lures him in for more of that sweetness, the crushing compression of your sore walls gripping him so tight that he could barely keep up with his breathing.

oh yeah, neuvillette was losing his mind.

nails carving into the fat of your thighs, watching how you're turning delirious due to just how impossibly well he felt inside of you.

he groans out through a tensed jaw, knitted brows accentuating his pleasured face as he attempts to part his lips to voice something, a tender coo or loving praise on how nice you felt— yet unsurprisingly, all that really escaped in the end was a soft hum, a pleased one, one that turned your physical state into a myriad of emotions passing between you two.

"baby— i am," you babble out, definitely not expecting neuvillette to move anytime soon, "i'm gonna— s-soon," as you let go of a shaken whine that reverberated across the entire room.

your aching thighs were restless, hugging around his hips steadier as you exchange moans between each other, the rather lewd although sensual noises bouncing from mouth to mouth.

"does this feel good? please tell me, love," neuvillette mutters and he was so close to you that you felt his bottom lip scratch yours, "i need you to tell me," you shudder at his heavily raspy voice as he nibbles on your bottom lip.

for the better part of about five minutes, the iudex has got you wrapped around his finger, has conquered your mind effortlessly as the wet sounds between your legs only added to this, every wet squelch and throb having you whine uncontrollably.

but do not forget, because you know you're save surrounded by strong arms.

you can barely breathe with how thick and bulky his erection would throb in you, but you're utterly pleased by it, not wanting it any other way.

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

diluc wasn't even aware that he liked to be cockwarmed by you— although this much wasn't the end, because once he's actually experienced it for the first time, he'll drag it out one by one, keeping his cock buried without moving until you're practically unable to speak.

and while you might assume that he found himself fantasizing about you in his office. a lewd, little fantasy about his darling settling on his lap and cockwarming him during work— there was just something so, lets call it, special, about resting next to each other late at night, together exhausted from the passing day— his cock softly stored within your walls as you're exchanging serenity through kisses and fondles.

greatly stammering over his words, diluc presses your body against his frame as your sore nipples repeatedly scratch against his chest, resulting in you letting go of a soft, surprised squeal, "how does it feel, hm?" he slowly runs his digits over your thigh, leisurely, leading you on to do what he really wishes for, most likely to hear you whine out his name, sob and cry it for more.

without mincing words, diluc was a little nasty for that— but it was also so sweet when he smiled into your lips as you whisper out his name.

what else was important to note is that despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for a good while already, diluc simply cannot help himself but get slightly shy when making love to you, most definitely due to the fact that it was deeply saturated in passion, paving the way for something stronger.

you can feel the hearts in his unspoken language— in his kisses, his traces, the feeling of him throbbing inside to the squeezes of you.

see it this way— when diluc touches you, it's like something in the pit of your stomach turns wide awake and gets set aflame, in an instant, roaring flames of love conquering your body and mind.

the flames continuously grow and are persistent in your soul— and when diluc notices your yearning for him, the man could never hide his ultimate desire for you, he needs to catch it.

that truly was the pleasure of feeling the rush of loving you.

you hold on to his sweat-laced back, barring your fingernails into the damp skin before beginning to smear wet kisses all along his sharp jawline, a few of them smothering over his cheeks, and at last, finding his pretty lips again.

you're so wet, sore and thirsty for him to move already, but he doesn't, diluc needs to savor you more. his eyes never leave yours, only when he wanted to admire the mess he made of your warm cunt slicking him up all the way to the base.

you sniffle into his shoulder as diluc chuckles breathlessly, "a little more, my love—just a little longer," he promises before giving your breasts a good squeeze, full on knowing just how sensitive they had been getting.

even with diluc showing you more of his dominant side, he never fails to smile ever so gently, smiling wider and letting you see the light of his eyes.

perhaps it's actually his smile that awoke that unique feeling in you— for one, it was tender, glazed in molasses and popsicle sweet, with just a hint of mischief.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[fear-is-truth]

angry peter maximoff is my shit bro, I love it. when peter is fucking the reader in an aggressive way (he’s pissed off) what do you think he will say during rough sex? like degrading words or something.

u match my freak, anon…i don’t think he’d call reader names that are too degrading. maybe “brat” or “missy” in a condescending way. but this doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s not nasty.

Peter has you in a brutal mating press, and his hips are slamming forward so inhumanly fast that you can’t even form a single coherent thought. pleasure accompanied by pain courses through your body. whimpers escaping your lips, you feel every ridge and every vein rubbing against your plushy walls as your boyfriend jackhammers his dick into you. noisy squelches from the way your battered pussy is clenching around his cock, in an attempt to adjust. jesus christ, you can feel his tip bully your cervix every time he thrusts into you. you’ve really pissed him off.

“act like a brat, gunna get railed like one.”

his huffs, breath hot against your cheek. the couch creaks with each vicious thrust, the friction, milky white ropes of release dribbles from where the two of you are connected onto the ruined couch cushions below. at any given time he’ll blow his load straight into your womb.

wash rinse repeat. more like thrust cum repeat.

“ugh, fuck— can’t get enough of this pussy,” peter moans out, and you drunkenly register seeing a vein pop on his neck. you’re close, your mouth opens and shuts like a fish out of water, but no sound comes out.

“if you want somethin’, use your words. smart mouth that never quits bitchin’, no sense in startin’ now, hm?”

he doesn’t slow down, instead grabbing your ankles and throwing your legs over his shoulder, burying himself even deeper. there’s no warning when he blows yet another hot load into you, the slight stutter of his hips doing nothing to deter his pace.

“haaaah, peter—” you keen, toes curling as he pushes you to the precipice of your fifth (or was it the sixth?) orgasm. the way he stretches you up so perfectly, his cock melding its shape in your cunt feels too good.

“does the little brat want to cum?” he croons into your ear, punctuating his words with an extra brutal thrust.

“yes p-please, oh god yes!”

peter doesn’t let up, instead, he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re wailing.

“lil miss attitude til that attitude is dripping down your thighs, hm?”

 fear-is-truth

[heetr]

I want a Heeseung smut with forced eye contact stuff. Maybe, you could also have routine sex but it's unpredictable—like he's hard just watching you wash dishes, style yourself on the vanity, and stuff like that

🐦‍⬛ my ex was like this, and i miss it. a. lot. especially now that i can imagine it’s really heeseung eye me and teasing me in the kitchen instead 😗😗😗😗😗. #imdelusional.

heeseung couldn’t help himself. before he’d met you, he’d been celibate for a while. wanting to give the rest of his body and possibly his children to the one woman he was gonna love for the rest of his life. then you showed up, not necessarily throwing your body at him but you made it known that you wanted him and he could have you anytime.

so he made you his fuck buddy—aka. best friends until you both catch feelings. he took all his sexual frustrations out on you—he kissed you when he had sex with you. you did everything a romantic partner would do, except be romantic partners. “you look hot,” heeseung smirked from the couch.

not only were you a fuck buddy, you were roommates. “i’m cleaning the dishes?” you laughed softly, heeseung nodding to himself. but he saw you wearing one of his old shirts, with nothing underneath—one that stoped just barely above your thighs. “getting turned on by a clean woman? i respect that.” you hadn’t realized he’d walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter behind you.

checking you out, staring at your ass—how it fit into those panties so well. how the shape of it drew him in, made him harder by the second. his stare was heavy—it was hot.. it had you dripping already. heeseung had to think about how fast (or slow) he wanted to ruin you. it wasn’t even a surprise anymore.. this was your normal routine. “were you created to drive me insane?”

you jumped a bit but finally turned around, in the process of cleaning the sink—water dripped down your thighs and that definitely got him going. “it’s rock hard—.” he sighed, looking like a lost puppy, he looked down at his sweats before peaking at you through his lashes. “wanna help me?” you playfully rolled your eyes, turning back around and finish the sink—when you heard him shift closer, arms curling around your waist as he pressed himself against you.

you were trapped, but in a good way. he grinded himself up against you, moaning deeply before he looked at you again. “feel that? that could be inside of you..” and you were tempted.. right here. right now. on the floor or the counter.. whatever you want.

“don’t look away,” he says, voice low and dark, breath ghosting your lips. his fingers press deeper into your jaw, enough to make your thighs squeeze together instinctively. your heart pounds in your ears as he presses up against you, hard and throbbing, the thick shape of him grinding against your ass through the soft cotton of your shirt. he’s already so worked up, just from watching you stand there, doing nothing but being you. and you fucking love it.

he turned your body around, picking you up and carrying you to the couch. once he sat you down, he couldn’t help but free himself. cock slipping out on stiff. it was literally pointing at you. it seemed to get bigger every time you saw it. “awe~ it’s so red.. and angry.” you leaned in to kiss his tip.

“look at me,” he growls, voice rough and ragged, stroking himself a little before leaning down. eyes on the same level—“you know the rules, baby. you cum when i say. you break eye contact…” he leans in closer, lips barely brushing yours, smirking when you try to chase after the touch, “you don’t get to cum at all.” it’s a threat he’s made good on before, and the reminder has you clenching around nothing, dripping for him.

it’s always like this — it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. folding laundry, brushing your hair at your vanity, reaching for a cup on your tiptoes — heeseung watches you, hungers for you, and when he decides he’s had enough, he takes you. every time is different but just as reckless, just as heated, just as possessive. it’s part of the thrill, part of the reason you’re always just as needy for him.

you can barely breathe when he pushes your panties to the side and slides two fingers inside you without warning, slow and rough, dragging a broken sound from your throat. you nearly choke on a moan, fingers scrambling against the edge of the sink for something to hold onto. your thighs shake with the effort of staying upright, staying good for him, but you don’t look away. you wouldn’t dare.

“such a good little roommate,” heeseung mutters, his voice dropping into something even rougher, almost mocking, as he curls his fingers deep inside you, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. but his grip on your chin is relentless, keeping your gaze pinned, making sure you see the way his lips curve into a cocky, proud smile. “mm, so desperate all the time,” he chuckles under his breath, drawing another choked whimper from you with a sharp flick of his wrist. “lucky for you… so am i.”

[the-maddened-hatter]

Alright so I pretty much said all of this verbatim on a reblog of someone else's post, but I wanted to put it here on my blog too.

As I've mentioned before, I would *very* much like to see Peri canonically having a disability that causes him to use his wand/cane and not just have it be an accessory, and so I analyzed the episodes he's in that I've been able to see so far and came up with a few observations:

As much as I'd be unopposed to seeing it portrayed, leg issues don't really seem like a major deal to fairies in general given as Cosmo misplaced his for most of an episode and a pair of sticks were a good enough replacement for him to have fun at the arcade in human form (without even drawing human attention)

And Peri can apparently use his powers as listed above without his cane since he doesn't always immediately have it on his person (especially since Dev & Hazel took his cane in Lost in Fairy World and he didn't have any power or mobility problems)

But!

I *could* easily see him having some kind of magical fatigue issue or magical equivalent of hypotonia or balance disorder, since he's shown to be

very tired after a morning spent magically creating cupcakes (a probably small but very repetitive task that leaves him running low on energy)

When his stationary float is disrupted he remains seated instead of floating back up again

3. A minor contact/startle reflex is enough to disrupt his hover and cause him to immediately fall pretty hard if not very far

4. speaking of distance, he is shown to sometimes float a bit lower than his parents, which, while not consistent and likely just an animation choice, could tie in with the other points to support the diagnosis theory

However, pain may admittedly be more of a factor than the above images suggest,

he may not just be tired from shape shifting like I'd thought since right before that he was walking (albeit in horse form) and afterwards (low) cloud float is apparently easier and faster for him than just quickly trotting past his parents

He also didn't really seem to be having too much of a problem at all before he hit the ground

Where it goes to a definitely tired and possibly more pained look.

Maybe he didn't want to tell Dev that it was painful either out of pride or because he didn't want to potentially upset him and just went with "tired" because that was what he assumed. It'd be interesting to see if it happens again in a different form.

Personally I think it'd be cool to see both and have it be a chronic condition (directly magical or otherwise) that he already had before the series began (diagnosed or not).

If he's the first fairy kid born in a long time he probably would have been monitored very closely, but it may have taken a while for doctors to notice a problem since there was little reference for comparison and may have even caused some potentially serious problems that gave Comso & Wanda a bad scare, which could tie in pretty well with their developing a high amount of over protectiveness of him, and that in turn leading him to try and behave too far in the other direction (not seeking help when he really does need it, pushing himself way too hard and suffering the fallout which he then tries to hide, ect)

If he's undiagnosed but having the problems it could be interesting to see sort of an inversion of the "character must learn to accept their disability" storyline wherein he's more connecting certain events & symptoms and we get to see him adapting to accommodations and letting himself try different approaches moreso than to having new symptoms (though we as the audience may see these symptoms more or behaviors contextualized as symptoms where they weren't necessarily before).

Idk either way I just think it would be cool (and I've probably put away more analysis into this than will ever pay off lol)

also to everyone who draws him as a disabled mobility device user: ILY please draw more of it it feeds my soul

[sesamenom]

love how versatile feanorians are. for you those are reasons to hate him, for me that's a (non-comprehensive) list of reasons why he is my blorbo

i've decided to become a maglor hater for no reason other than i think it's great discourse.

FUCK that stupid bard getting away without consequences while his brothers all DIE. oh what if we just give up the oath hoop dee doop dee doo doo. GOOD FOR YOU, MAGGIE. HAVE FUN BEING ALONE.

[hades-in-bloom]

Curious

Vergil Sparda x Reader

summary: after he finally (and by accident) stays the night, he finds a reason to leave again in the morning. Prequel | Sequel

warnings & contents: fluff all over; a little bit of angst; this silly little man does deserve good things (eventually); Vergil is vergiling again; could be age gap, could be none; the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: this thing wrote itself. So it’s not my fault. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: luma — devil saint

***

Everything about this feels strange to him. Foreign. Alien, even.

He tracks you with his gaze as you move around the kitchen, still in your pyjamas. He finds this particular piece of clothing strange, too.

"I need coffee," you grumbled at him right before that. To him, ‘need’ feels like too strong of a verb for something he doesn't consider essential. And he would never. Yet for you, it seems vital. This piques his curiosity. Or rather, you pique his curiosity. You—and those little frivolous rituals of yours that seem to shape the world you live in.

To him, it’s fascinating.

He continues to watch your every move until you draw closer to his chair. You hold two cream-colored cups filled with a dark, bitter liquid. Extending your arm, you offer one of them to him. His eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. He doesn’t expect the gesture, you can see it in a way his shoulders tense, too.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” he asks bluntly, eyeing you up. There’s no malice in his tone of voice, just a smidge of frustration. Barefoot, he sits there clad in his well-tailored leather pants and an intricately designed combat vest, the buttons fastened all the way up to his chin. This way he makes an attempt to shield himself, clinging to the remnants of his dignity.

You give him a smile.

“Drink it,” you say, nudging the cup closer to him. You’re used to him slipping away without a word at dawn, so his decision to stay this morning leaves you taken aback. But you suppress your emotions, determined not to scare him off. “Come on, Vergil. It’s just coffee.”

He hesitates for a moment longer before his slender fingers wrap around the cup, taking it from you.

“Surprised you know what coffee is,” you tease gently.

He smirks faintly. “I’m a demon,” he retorts, “not a caveman.”

“Half-demon,” you remind him playfully.

He hums into the cup as he takes a sip. He doesn’t say a word back. You know he wishes he didn’t have a human heart. You know he believes it makes him weak.

“How is it?” you ask, watching him sip the coffee.

“Appalling,” he mutters in response. “Why do you feel the urge to drink it every morning?”

“Why do you feel the urge to flee from my bed in the mornings?” you counter with a teasing grin.

And then your heart stops. You heart sinks as you realise what you've just said in the heat of the banter. He frowns, and panic washes over you.

“Vergil…” you gasp, but he interrupts you.

“Silence,” he says firmly, though his voice is low. Gentle, even. You comply without question. He pauses to gather his thoughts. He needs a moment of his own to process.

“I am sorry,” you try again as the silence becomes unbearable.

“You have a right to be disappointed. I suppose,” he says suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks as if this conversation is giving him a headache, but you know him better than that. He’s actually trying to talk to you about his feelings. Your breath hitches.

“I’m not disappointed,” you try to reassure him. He gives you a telling look. “Alright,” you admit quickly. “I am a bit disappointed. But I do understand.”

“Do you?” he muses, his eyes narrow. You understand his skepticism, too. He’s been through Hell and back, both literally and figuratively. You don’t necessarily share much in terms of life experiences.

Except for one thing: humanity. At least to some extent.

“I won’t hurt you,” you give him a promise.

“I’m not scared,” he scoffs, but there's a hesitation in his voice.

“Then what is it?” you ask bluntly.

“I…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. Abruptly, he stands up and sets his cup on the table. “I don’t need this,” he claims, grabbing his things and soon after leaving the house without glancing at you even once, retreating in shame.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing mind and nerves. Your heartbeat soars before gradually settling as a realisation hits you: he will find you again.

After all, he’s curious.