✧ I post mostly smut, including but not limited to some darker subjects and harder kinks. For that reason, I cry, I pray mon dieu; DON’T follow me if you are under 18 or do not wish to see explicit content on your dash.
Starving graduate wanting to spread the love, share some debauched thoughts and make it through each day ✧
♡ Masterlist ♡ Rules ♡ Prompts ♡
♡ Etsy Shop ♡ Ko-fi ♡ Anons ♡
♡ UNTITLED S.T.A.R.S WESKER FIC ♡ [Coming Soon]
♡ DAMNED ♡ Jack Baker/Reader
♡ SPENCER REID NSFW ALPHABET ♡
♡ HIS LOVE IS MY FAVOURITE ♡ RE Men/Reader
✧ Requests are open as stated above; however, I am not taking on any DC requests at this time! See my rules page for more info! ✧
🥺⛓️🤪 headcanons for a wizard with a random princess staying in his tower
(Love to see ur take on it you don’t have to though!)
I was already excited for the chance to write come oc/archetype style HCs, but I had soooooo much more fun than I'd expected with this ngl! Thanks, anon! ❤︎⋆˙⟡
🥺 first time headcanon
As the nation's resident wizard and arcane advisor to the throne—not only is he centuries older than your parents, the King and Queen, but he is a trusted friend. So when they sent you, their sweet daughter, the apple of your kingdom's eye, to his tower for protection, he swore he would never take advantage of you, no matter how much he dreamed of doing exactly that.
Magic is secreted deep in his veins now; it's the force that keeps his heart beating; it's as natural to him as breathing, but beneath all the charms and enchantments, he's still a man. A weak, dirty, old man.
So when you present yourself to him in nothing but your lacy chemise, hunger in your eyes, confidence and determination in your steps as you chase him around his library, the breakage of his will was inevitable.
He gave the obligatory rebuffs while trying hard not to gorge on the sight of your young, velvety skin, but giving in to his base urges was inevitable.
⛓️ kinky headcanon
"My dear princess, your inquisitiveness may be the death of you." He warns when he catches you up to your elbows in dusty old spell books he has thought about for decades, your nose pressed between pages of tomes that would make puritans of lesser mortals.
But you pay his playful chiding no mind, bringing him spells and recipes he's never tested that aren't proven to be safe. Some to affect your libido and your faculties, some that will make you senseless and obedient, some that will change your forms.
You could be Queen one day. No doubt you'll be married off to some sadistic king who may be his junior but will definitely be your senior, or maybe your willfulness will allow you the freedom to pick a young, kind, handsome prince to join lands with. He should think of your future before casting spells that make you deaf and blind, or completely insatiable in his presence.
But instead, he only thinks about the limited weeks, or perhaps only days he may have with you, and pleasing your every whim and demand until then.
🤪 silly sex headcanon
Does he possess the classic, ancient wizard getup? Yes. Big, pointy hat. Long, colourful robes with bright, brilliant patterns. It's tradition after all, he earned each one.
Does he wear it? Rarely. All that droopy fabric, the long trail and the large hat are hard to get any real work done in.
Will he put it on and let you tease him when you ask with your pouty lips and fluttering lashes? Yes. He'll even wiggle his fingers and chant all the preposterous, rhyming nonsense the common people imagine from him, as long as you'll play the fair, dramatic princess trapped high up in his tower.
All work and no play makes William insufferable. Fortunately, once he recalls a memory or fantasy of you bent over his desk or on your knees, kissing the head of his cock it will consume his thoughts, interrupting his research and experimentation until he takes a break to relieve himself.
⛓️ kinky headcanon
Speaking of Williams' workaholic tendencies... if only there were a way to placate both his incessant thirst for knowledge and your insatiable desire for dick...
Cockwarming, in case that wasn't clear. Dr. Birkin is into cockwarming. It's actually very comforting for him to know you're always there, always open, always looking up to him. He likes to reach down and fidget with you— twisting your hair and stroking your face when he's deep in thought.
🔪 dangerous headcanon
Doing it with Birkin is already a danger. He's a good man, and he presents as being very gentle, very tender. He might not be the most present father, or the most attentive husband, but when he's there, he's always kind, always nods as though he's actively listening instead of thinking about all the things his time could be better spent on.
But it's a facade that's hanging by a thread, one he barely even recognises himself. There’s a sick curiosity deep inside him, hidden beneath what most would consider acceptable, even expected from a scientist.
At any given moment while he's balls deep inside you, he might just start squeezing your neck a bit too hard, might bend you over a table with dangerous, fragile concotions strewn across it, might sink his teeth deep into your flesh, breaking skin and tasting your blood. All just to see what happens when he does.
✊, 🚨, 🛁 and 🚗 for Wesker? I loved your headcanons so much, omg!!
✊ masturbation headcanon
He curses you when he finds himself in need of that kind of relief, annoyed that the simple thought of your meer existances could could make him so hot and bothered.
Pissed off even more so that you're not here to put right the issue that you've caused.
🚨 sex that sent me to the ER headcanon
One moment everything is glorious, you’re bent over, nipples hard from the cool of the labs metal, your legs spread wide, pussy weeping around his cock as he pumps in and out of you from behind. He’s practically purring, in a blissdom of his own, impressed by how well you take his cock.
Then he tries to move you, switching up position only to hear an unusually high whine expel from your lips. He didn’t feel the crunch or the immediate pain that followed when your ankle struck the table leg, and he didn’t listen when you complained. “Quit your whining, it’s nothing. Now climb up here and let’s finish what we started, shall we?”
He took notice an hour later however when you were still nursing and flinching over an ankle twice the size of what it should be.
🛁 shower/bath sex headcanon
If things are going well enough that he actively wants you in his personal space, such as the shower or the bathtub, then fucking you in there isn’t going to be enough.
When he’s done fucking you stupid, and holding your head under the bathwater for the fun of holding your life in his hands, don’t be surprised if he suddenly gets very tender with you; patching up your wounds, scrubbing you head to toe, lotion, moisturiser, the works.
As I said, it’s not enough to fuck you; he wants to own you, and making sure you reek of him is a surefire way to make your position very clear to others.
🚗 car sex headcanon
I know jack shit about cars, but I know damn well Albert Wesker has a nice car, possibly vintage, certainly with a leather interior. And I know he likes to finger you on its plush seats, really digging in deep making sure he curves his fingers to hit that spot, the one that makes you lose control.
And he likes telling you not to make a mess just as he can feel your whole body start to tighten around fingers that are already primed to make you squirt.
Howdy!💖 and you're welcome 💖 thank you for filling my inbox more Wesker 😈
✊ masturbation headcanon
He curses you when he finds himself in need of that kind of relief, annoyed that the simple thought of your meer existances could could make him so hot and bothered.
Pissed off even more so that you're not here to put right the issue that you've caused.
🛏️ soft sex headcanon
Does not care at all for the concept of aftercare. The need to be tended and mollified seems archaic to him, something we should have evolved past.
But, the reality of you means far more to him than his ideals for progress. So, while he’ll likely grumble his was through it, if he loves you, he will make sure you get every ounce of coddling you desire if it's what’ll keep you in working order.
😺 how they eat the pussy
Slyly. With a smile tugging at his lips, growing more and more with every twitch and moan that he evokes from your body. He loves seeing the effect he has on you, especially from as little as the flick of his tongue or a well-timed exhale against your swollen clit.
Teasingly. Cause he also loved denying you, just to see how wound up he can make you. What promises will you make to him in exchange for something he can give to you so easily, hm?
Logan/Reader, Jason Todd/Reader, Bullseye/Reader, Bruce Wayne/Reader, 2K
a/n: SMUT AND LOTS OF IT!!!!!!!!!! Bruce’s part is inspired by the amazing @gilverrwrites “home movie” fic :)
cw: smut/18+ ONLY, voyeurism/filming sex, improper use of guns during sex (Dex), doggy style, ambiguous genitalia, wall sex, car sex, gn!reader
masterlist ao3 requests
PREVIEW:
...and you get the horns.
DC/Reader, Marvel/Reader (18+)
Logan:
You definitely have a knack for snooping. That's why you decided to paw through Logan's things for something to distract the mind-numbing drone in your head. And that's when you happened to find the stash of fine Cubans with the gold embossed label—straight from Havana in the motherland.
Of course, you hadn't intended to smoke them—just to take one from the package and give it a sniff.
To get a whiff of the heady aroma of the packaging and the vice that Logan can't seem to kick. But you were never one for apt timing. This is why as you raise the cigar to your lips, arms draped in the innards of his shelves—this is when he takes opportunity to walk in.
He was huffing with the exertion of a few rounds in the Danger Room, the tack of sweat clinging to his skin. With his shirt loped through the waistband of his pants to display the rugged hair that covers his body's stark musculature.
And all you could do was engage in your tried-and-true freeze response, staring in ogling fashion at him as he appraised you back coolly, in the doorway of his abode. Which you had intruded on.
And this is how you have found yourself now—stripped of all your clothes, shoved against the wall—your arms rucked in painful yet not undesirable position against your back.
As Logan, champing his teeth around the very cigar that you were in perceived act of thievery over, exhales a gust of smoke that wreathes about your face.
But you can barely care to cough, considering that his cock is sinking deep into you, the scrape of fine hair above it scratching at the cleft of your ass. A jagged moan escapes you as your jaw shifts against the wall where it's been shoved into, a wave of pleasure wracking over you as he fills you up to the hilt.
"Shouldn't go snoopin, darlin'," Logan grits through his teeth as he bucks his hips into you, the head of his cock nosing at the back of your walls. A tight gasp punches out of you—fruitlessly, you writhe against the implacable grip his hand maintains over your wrists.
"Logan—"—You whimper as he glides out, and all comprehensible words or thoughts are silenced as he pumps back in with another heady thrust.
All that comes out of you is a breathy groan, a chuffed "Fuck, oh my God—"
"Man's got a right to privacy," Logan continues. There's a gravelly edge to his voice as he presses the plane of his chest against your bare back, the clink of a buckle shuffling as he does so.
Bastard hasn't even sloughed himself of his pants to fuck you. The chafe of the pants against your thighs confirm this in some arousing obscenity that sends a thrill up your spine.
"And a right—"—Logan pulls back only to slam back into you, pushing the breath out of you with the motion—"—To protect what's his."
"Oh—I'm sorry—"—You mewl, feeling a hot, humiliating spike of pleaure jolt through you as he begins to set a pace, your skin slick against his—"—I'm sorry—"
"Nah," He informs you, pulling you flush against him by your arms, seating you on his cock, "Not yet y'ain't."
You get the feeling he's going to prove his point.
Jason Todd:
He's always got his helmet on the dining room table. But there's a certain atmosphere of 'don't touch it, don't acknowledge it,' that permeates the square acreage around where it sits. As though he's shedding the skin that camouflages him in the waking wee hours of patrol, so that he can become your Jason again when he returns back to you.
But he's sleeping—and he's snoring. Jason never snores unless he's had a particularly rousing day of weeding out the hive of scum and villainy. And this is why you so dare with most agile step you can muster across the tiled linoleum to nab it. Only then do you retreat to the safety of your shared room with it, ignorant to the green eye that cracks open in the wake of your departure.
It's a bit of a loose fit, considering that his head is larger than yours. You think that looking at the sleek black helmet that shrouds your head in the mirror is certainly impressive. As you view yourself in profile, crossing your arms over your shoulder, you think you look domineering. Intimidating.
"You look good," husks a voice that's still gruff with sleep from the doorway. It summons the bumrush of adrenaline that shocks through your veins as you whirl on heel to see the man of the hour.
Jason leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, and though his demeanor appears calm—there's something wicked in his eyes.
"Oh—"—Is all that you can consider formulating—"I—I wanted to try it on."
"Suits you," Jason says in casual, unhurried manner. He swallows up the distance between you both with powerful, confident stride.
"Why don't we try you with something else, too?" He asks, angling his head at you in idle curiosity.
That would be you face-down in the helmet on your shared bed, ass in the air—as he sinks his cock into you from behind.
"Oh—fuck—oh my god—"—You beg, your hands clutching into the sheets, your knuckles jumping through the housing of your skin as he glides into you.
The sound of him as he fucks into you is so obscene, the huffed grunt—the trapped gasps of your moans inside the enclosure of the helmet. It's hard to breathe.
But there's no way that you'd rather be anywhere but here, as he digs his fingers into your hips with such proprietary need and thrusts into you again, bottoming out.
Making the inside of your helmet fog-up, everything obscured save the wave of pleasure that is washing over you as he sets the rhythm. As the air fills with electric heat and the grunted praise that he laves on you.
"Fuck, look so good wearin' my stuff, sweetheart," He praises you in low oath, "Oughta make you wear more of it."
His voice is undone in a way that it rarely is, even here—you know the effect it has on him. As he pulls you against him so that he can feel you swallow him up, a tight hiss issuing through his teeth.
"Fuck, honey," He groans and you feel something inside you melt, "Could do this for hours."
You think that you could too—if you could just catch your breath.
Bullseye:
He's got so many weapons that litter the acreage of your shared apartment, knives that are used for target practice, knives that are used for work, guns that hang in loving spot against the wall, the ones that he keeps in the safe.
So many, all polished and shiny and pristine in clockwork order. You didn't see the harm in taking one off the wall—holding it in experimental manner to admire the heft of it in your hands. Pretending to fire a few shots the way that you're certain he does so in menacing capability in darkened New York alleys.
What you hadn't expected was for him to be watching you from the hallway—and to have such strongly worded opinions about you playing with his toys.
This is how you find yourself riding him, the muscles flexing in his stomach as he holds you with a proprietary hand against your waist. Staring up at you in worshipful manner as he leans against the ample headboard. Watching how you moan as you take his cock.
"Shouldn't play with guns, sweetheart," He informs you—a strangled moan splits from your throat as you sink down onto him, "It's dangerous."
Moreso dangerous when the gun that you played with—the one in his hand—is pressed against your temple as he keeps you close. As you take his cock, a pitiful whimper at the wave of euphoria that rockets through you from the inside-out.
"Oh—Dex—"—You plead, the cruel clutch of his fingers sinking into your body. Making a flash of pain dart up your body as you continue to ride him, your flustered gasps and the sound of sex obscene symphony. "Please—"
"No," he scolds as a groan falls from his lips when you seat yourself on his cock, "Think you need to learn your lesson."
The barrel of the gun asserts itself more fully against your forehead as you clench onto his shoulders for balance, your thighs trembling as you take the length.
"Fuck—"—You hiss and he chuckles, a masculine noise that hums through you.
"Besides," He drawls, and there's that familiar taunt in his voice when his hips buck up into you—making you cry out in pleasure—"—I think you like it like this."
He squeezes your hip for good measure, insistent to get an answer from you as he fills you up again.
"Fuck—"—Embarrassment joins the fray of pleasurable torment—"—Yes—I do—"
"There we go," He soothes, "That was easy."
You barely can tell how you've been flipped over onto your back, your hips wrapped around the muscular v of his waist. He's still hard inside you, still maintains a hand over you. Still presses that gun to your temple, a wicked smirk on his face.
"Now we can get to the fun part," He grins, and hits the back hard enough that you see stars. You can't wait to find out.
Bruce Wayne:
You hadn't mean to actually take the car for a ride. To see the way that Bruce jettisons himself from the seat—to watch the many bells and whistles that a state-of-the-art automobile could have.
You just wanted to pretend—to sit behind the driver's seat. After all, he had descended off into the further recesses of the cave. It seemed as if return would not be soon withstanding.
So you had taken it upon yourself to allow yourself into the cockpit. To sit in the interior, molded leather of the driver's seat. To imagine what it would feel like to wield a piece of machinery like this.
What you hadn't expected was for the door to hiss open with an exhale of air, to reveal his dour, scowling figure looming over you.
You had an apology prepared for him—after all, better to ask forgiveness than permission. But it seemed like he wasn't interested in anything that you had to say. Rather, he seemed more interested in what you could do.
Which is how you've ended up bent over the driver's seat, your fingers desperately scrabbling for any purchase on the smooth, uniform leather—finding nothing.
All you can do is take it as Bruce fucks you like he means to teach you a lesson, his corrugated grunts coalescing with your pitiful moans—the slick slap of his skin on yours has reverb in the cave.
Anyone could come and find the two of you like this. The idea is humiliating and arousing at once, that Bruce knows that he's put you into this position—but he doesn't care.
"Oh my God—Bruce—"—You beg, having found some hold on the center console, though you are still jolted forward by the press of his cock into you—"—Bruce—fuck—"
He's not interested in your pleas for clemency. All he does is continue at this brutal pace that has you sinking your teeth into the leather, trying to do anything to stifle the moans that he's fucking out of you. As his cock continues to sail in and out of you, summoning such pleasure out of the meter of your body.
"Bruce—"—you moan—"—Please—"
There's the wink of a light that catches your eye as he pumps into you. Through the haze of pleasure, you try to make out what the source of the red light is, comprehension slow but dawning.
It's a camera, inside the cockpit. Probably for security reasons—but why is it filming now, in the safety of the cave—
"Oh—"—You moan, a noise of pleasure and realization—he's filming himself fucking you. In his car. Fuck, that's hot.
The feeling of his cock hitting the back of your walls distracts you from any other coherent thought, as he fucks you closer to an orgasm.
💦✊😸 for Homelander if you don't mind? Need him on his knees like the finally minus the dying part 😅
I've watched that scene sooooo many times, it evokes a very complex cocktail of emotions
💦 cum headcanon
Once you know how he ticks… and he's not hard to clock, you can make Homelander cum fast, and hard, at the slightest of a touch. He's so sensitive. So susceptible to a soft voice and a gentle stroke over the tight crotch of his suit.
But boy does he fucking hate it. Makes him feel so small and weak, that you can play him so well.
If anyone else made him like that, he’d eliminate them on the spot, you're just lucky you make his dick and his heart feel good while you're at it.
✊ masturbation headcanon
Homelander was jacking off to you long before you even sensed he was interested. With flight, x-ray vision, and heightened senses, privacy no longer exists to you, not that you're away.
He's watching you through your walls at night, beating it in time with your own strokes, clenching his teeth—eyes ablaze as he hangs on your every ragged breath, clinging onto hope that you might whisper his name.
😺 how they eat the pussy
However you want, so long as you dangle your praise like a carrot on a stick, encouraging him sweetly through it.
Sometimes he squeezes your thighs a bit too tightly, or he keeps nuzzling against your aching clit long after you've passed overworked and sensitive, but it's because he craves the taste of your cum and the sound of your voice telling him you're gonna cum again.
Hello, I feel very embarrassed to type this here, especially as a young adult.
How do you kiss a guy ? 😭 I never dated and looking at all the men surrounding me , I'm not having an interest in any of them. However, I am so scared for when the time comes and I would have zero experience.
I am a woman who needs to have a connection to be in a relationship with a man, and it's also something I hold special, I don't want to try and give to someone random. One of the main reasons I never participated in games were you could end up kissing someone else. I always had high standards for dating and prefer to focus on my studies, career and life than to end up with any guy available.
I know so many people who not only kissed, but had sex since their teenage years . I'm just so scared I'm gonna be bad at it, embarrass myself, be awkward, stand there like a tree and so on. I know the right guy wouldn't laugh at me, but it's still something I stress about especially since I'm in my twenties.
I thought asking this here might be okay since you seem like an older sister with advices and open mindfulness. I thought it might be safe to share my worries and ask for advice with no judgement. Many people mock other people with little to no experience. And I saw you want people to ask for advice here if I'm remembering correctly.
Thank you so much, I hope that it's okay to ask this here. ❤️
Yeah my page is always open to those in need of advice to somewhere to vent or cry about something
This though, is one of those things you can't really force. It’ll happen when it happens and hopefully it’ll happen with someone worth your time.
Whether your need to make a connection is a demi thing or an inexperience thing, it’s a wise choice but if you want it to happen you’ve got to be putting yourself out there and earnestly trying to make those connections.
Idk you, so idk what your hobbies are but it’s hard to find someone if the only things you’re doing are working and staring at a screen.
Join a club, hang out with friends and make an effort to meet their friends when the option is there.
You're right, that the right person won't laugh at you. If they do, they're not right and don't be afraid to set that boundary. Just cause you're putting yourself out there doesn't mean you should lower your standards.
But overall, and I know it's hard not too, but I wouldn't worry about. It’ll happen when it happens, and you’ll know in your gut that you're doing it with the right person.
As for the physical part, nothing beats hands-on experience, it's hard to explain, but you just part your lips slightly and push them out a little. Not like a full pucker, more like a pout.
Anything beyond that you should really communicate about. Tongue is a big thing in the media and fanfiction but most people don't actually enjoy it.
You're welcome my lovely, I hope any of this resonates or makes you feel a little more confident about things going forward.
Most of all just remember, you're not falling behind or doing anything wrong, you're just doing things at your own pace. It's important to look after yourself.
