that boy is corrupt

Graylan | 27 | self ship blog | could you raise him to love me, maybe?

[shotgunshine]

Graylan ౨ৎ I work for Vought ౨ৎ I kin Emilia Harcourt (she is literally me)

Main F/Os:

Tony Soprano (The Sopranos)

“Josef” (Creep)

John Homelander (The Boys)

Kevin Moskowitz (The Boys)

George Mendez (Orange is the New Black)

Chris Smith (Peacemaker)

[3000s]

👆👆👆

[ladythedrunken]

Daeron initially tries to be a very respectful prince while courting his lady love, avoiding getting too close and only giving gentle kisses on the hand. But the poor drunken prince can only last so long before he's stumbling toward her room and hooking her legs over his shoulders. It's only his tongue, it's not like he's actually taking her maidenhood, so it's okay, right?

[shotgunshine]

you hate that character. im thinking about busting on his nose. Thats why im happier than you

[naiviridae]

Rara Avis SS26 "Melody of Love"

[coquette-club]

[fairyunicorngrl-deactivated2025]

[nastyakotsk]

#410

[r0ttn]

sitting on daeron's lap while he bounces you on his cock and whispers about how good you feel, send tweet

[ladythedrunken]

Need that

[nowimconvinced]

18+ or dni.

andrew had a bad day, is all frustrated and needs some relief.

i have it in my head that slight mommy kink. not that you are his mommy but sometimes he finds comfort but also turns him on by treating you that way.

lying on top of you completely naked, while you have a normal sleep slip on in bed. he'd asked you to play with him. he was already hard as a rock. lying between your parted legs, not straddling you. hiding his face in your neck as he slowly fumbles to put his cock in you and cries out in relief. really slowly fucking you, his bare ass going up and down. pulling at your slip so he can hold you above your hips as he ruts. he's making 'huh' 'huh' noises every time he slowly does.

his eyes are filling with tears as he pulls the top of your slip down. he's massaging your tit like a stress ball. then he avoids eye contact and puts his lips round your nipple. he's suckling like a rescued baby animal to a bottle. hollowed out cheeks. sometimes a fragmented 'mommy' slips out before he catches himself and fills up with more tears. more grunts as he slowly thrusts into you, the same slow pace. sometimes he likes you to tickle him, the movement as he jiggles inside you feels so good on his big cock and sometimes it makes all his muscles relax in pleasure, bottoming out in you and groaning.

before he cums, he always asks, 'can i make you pregnant? please?' into your neck, your collarbone slick with tears. he never asks if he can just cum. his arms around your waist grow tighter, big hands and fingers splayed against your skin, and he's back to your nipple but sucking hard now, wet licks all over it in a frenzy, pushing and burying his head into it. he normally likes you to hold his balls at this point and whisper, 'no, we can't andrew. we shouldn't, it's so wrong'. at that point he usually lets out a really long, broken groan as he ruts pathetically a few times, then again, then bottoms out in you. sometimes he's moaning 'mommy... oh mommy yes..' as he cums, his face completely blissed out as he paints your insides. then sometimes it screws back up in embarrassment.

you pull his head to your breast at this point, whispering, 'sshhh, shhh... it's okay, andrew. you were a good boy for me. such a good boy. now you have to keep quiet'. he usually settles then and sucks happily on your breast while he slowly comes down from his high, tingling in his lower stomach. he feels like he completely lost control when he came, he hopes he didn't pee? it used to feel like the same thing sometimes.

he's still inside you, soft, feeling the reassuring warmth of your pussy tight and secure all around his cock as he falls asleep, drool falling out the side of his mouth onto the nipple he used as a pacifier. you scratch his scalp gently through those auburn curls and usually fall asleep cuddled in too.

[louloucake]

call me when you want (need) me ♡⋆˚

-trailer trash!aerion, angst!!! some more background on pulling away from him when you find out he's been seeing other girls and maybe that is helping you see you do want him...𝜗ৎ

valarr told you not to see him anymore in the soft, reasonable voice he always used when he wanted to sound like he was being kind.

"i care about you," because of course he did. "that’s why i’m saying it now instead of waiting until this becomes uglier."

you tried to explain. tried to tell him that what you had with aerion was old and tangled and real in a way nobody else seemed to understand. valarr’s jaw tightened once, just once.

"i know what he is to you," he said. "and i know what he isn’t."

you told yourself that was it.

you told yourself you were done.

you told yourself a hundred things, all of them neat and sensible and completely useless because the next night you were in aerion’s trailer again.

the window was still sticky from the humidity. the air inside was warm, stale, familiar. his couch still sagged in the middle. the kitchen light still buzzed like it was one bad breath away from giving out. everything about the place looked exactly like it always had, and exactly like it never should have mattered to you as much as it did.

aerion opened the door in a sleeveless shirt and work jeans, looking annoyed until he saw your face. then as always the annoyance changed.

"you okay baby?" he asked.

that was the thing with him. he could be cruel, arrogant, impossible. but when he looked at you like that, like he’d already decided your feelings were more important than his pride, it undid everything. you shook your head and he stepped aside immediately.

you told him about valarr in fragments. about the argument. about the way he’d said it was unhealthy, like your life was a bad pattern he could spot from across the room. aerion leaned against the counter and listened, arms folded, expression darkening with every sentence.

"of course he did," he muttered when you finished. "he’s always actin’ like he knows what’s best for you."

you almost laughed. "and you don’t?"

he gave you a flat look. "not the point."

you should have left then.

instead, you sat on the edge of his bed while he rummaged around for a beer and finally handed you a glass of water. that was the way he got you. not with grand gestures. with small, practical ones that felt more intimate than flowers ever could.

that night you stayed until after midnight. you talked about nothing and everything. the school you’d almost quit. the way your mother kept hinting at "good news" whenever valarr’s name came up. the life that seemed to be waiting for you in polished hallways with polished people and polished lies.

aerion listened with his eyes on you the whole time.

at some point, sitting there in the dim yellow light of his trailer, with his knee brushing yours and his voice low and rough, you thought maybe you had been wrong about everything.

maybe it was him. maybe it had always been him.

not because he was easy. he wasn’t. not because he was polished. he wasn’t. not because he fit neatly anywhere in the life your family had made for you. because he didn’t.

because he was real. because when you were with him, you did not feel like a display, you felt like a person. that thought lodged itself in your chest and would not leave.

over the next few weeks, you started seeing him more. not less, more.

it was reckless, and probably obvious, and maybe even pathetic, but every time you tried to pull away, something in you dragged you right back.

maybe the material things didn’t matter. maybe the house on the hill, the embroidered napkins, the old money and old expectations, none of it mattered at all.

you had what you needed or at least that was what you wanted to believe.

and then you found the cigarette, stained with lipstick.

it was in his ashtray, tucked under a bent receipt, not yours. not even close. you don’t smoke.

you stared at it longer than you meant to, while aerion was outside fixing a loose headlight bulb on his porch.

for a stupid moment you thought maybe he’d had friends over, trailer park bbq? then you realized you were coming up with excuses, all the things, the nail, the lighter, and the perfume all coming back to you.

and suddenly the air in the trailer felt wrong.

aerion came back in, wiping his hands on a rag.

"hey you wanna run by the liquor store and get some ice cream?" he asked, and when you didn’t answer his eyes flicked to the ashtray, then to your face, and something cautious entered his expression.

"who was here?" you asked.

he went still.

"just some friend from town."

"some girl...?"

he shrugged, too casually. "yeah."

you stared at him for a long second. "you brought her here?"

his jaw flexed once. "it’s my trailer." that was not the answer, you knew it and he knew it. "does it matter?" it mattered more than you wanted to admit.

it mattered because you had been quietly, stupidly, painfully rearranging your entire heart around him. it mattered because you had started to think maybe love could be enough if it was honest. it mattered because now you were standing in his trailer with a broken nail in your hand and the humiliating realization that maybe he had never been imagining forever at all.

you laughed once, but there was no humor in it. "you know what? no. it doesn’t."

his face changed in a way you didn’t know how to name. defensive, maybe. offended. wounded, even though he had no right.

"you got valarr waitin’ around up there like some damn saint so…don’t look at me like i’m the only one with dirt on my hands."

the room was suddenly too small.

you had been carrying your own guilt for weeks, telling yourself it was your fault for coming back, your fault for wanting something impossible, your fault for believing him when he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room.

and now here he was, implying it was all equal. as if your boyfriend’s existence erased the ache of finding someone else in his bed.

it was hypocritical. that was the ugly truth of it. you knew it. you felt it.

you had valarr. you had no right to be hurt but hurt you were, deeply. you turned away before he could see your face.

"i should go."

aerion’s hand shot out and caught your wrist. not hard. not gentle either. "no c’mon."

"let go."

"no baby listen-"

you yanked your arm back, and his expression changed, something stubborn and angry and afraid all at once.

"you don’t get to run off every time it gets real," he said.

"real?" you repeated. "you mean like the girls you keep bringing here?"

his jaw tightened. "they don’t mean anything." so he admits it, multiple girls. the words were supposed to help. they made everything worse.

you looked at him, really looked at him, and felt your heart pulling backward inside your chest. "you didn’t tell me because you thought it wouldn’t matter," you said quietly.

he didn’t answer. you took a step back, and he didn’t stop you this time and by the time you got home, your hands were shaking so badly you could barely open the front door.

you went straight to your room and sat on the edge of your bed in the dark, staring at your phone until the screen blurred. you hated yourself for crying. hated yourself for feeling betrayed when you were, by every measure, in no position to claim betrayal.

you had no claim. you had no standing.

you had a boyfriend who wanted a future. but you also had aerion, who wanted you in the only way he knew how, recklessly, selfishly, half feral. and you hated that some part of you still wanted that more than anything.

the next day you tried to act normal. you went to class. you answered your mother politely. you smiled when valarr texted and asked if you were all right.

but aerion’s silence, his casual refusal to explain, to apologize, to even pretend your feelings mattered, felt like the final proof that maybe he never wanted what you wanted. commitment.

by the fourth night, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

not the not knowing. not the waiting. not the humiliation of caring this much about someone who could make you feel wanted and disposable in the same breath. so you called him and he answered on the second ring.

"what?" no hello, no warmth.

you stood in your room holding the phone too tightly. "can you meet me at the beach by the marsh?"

"now?"

"yes. where we used to go."

"what’s this about?"

"just come."

he laughed once, and it sounded tired. "you’re serious."

"yes."

that made him quiet for a second too long.

"alright," he said at last. "i’ll be there. in a few." then the call ended. you told yourself you were doing the right thing, that this was the moment you would finally stop drifting between worlds. you told yourself you were going to tell him the truth.

that you loved him. that you had chosen him, that none of the shiny things mattered the way he did.

the beach was empty when you got there.

the marsh beyond it was all black reeds and whispering water and wind that carried the smell of mud and salt. the sand was still warm from the day. the sky above you was clean and moonlit, the kind of night that made everything feel like it was waiting for a confession.

you sat down on a driftwood log and pulled your knees to your chest.

the phone in your hand stayed dark. no text. no call. no truck lights cutting up the road.

at first you told yourself he was late, he was coming.

then, much later, when the sky had gone even darker, you told yourself maybe something had happened. maybe he’d gotten held up or maybe his truck broke down, maybe he was coming and just hadn’t answered yet.

and by the time your eyes finally started to close, you understood with a clarity that made you feel cold all over, he was not coming.

you fell asleep curled into yourself on the sand, your hair blowing across your face, your dream school letters sitting untouched back at home, your heart full of words you had not gotten to say.

when you woke, your body ached from sleeping outside. your neck hurt. your skin was sticky with salt, gulls crying somewhere overhead.

no aerion. no truck. no message…just nothing.

you checked your phone with numb fingers, still nothing.

last night was the night you were going to choose him. now morning had come, and he was nowhere to be found. you stood slowly, brushing sand off your clothes, and looked out over the marsh.

the water was flat and dull beneath the morning light. everything looked unchanged.

it was a cruel joke, just as you were ready to choose him, to show him that you wanted to be his, all the way, nobody in between, he had not come.

and somewhere, very far away from the beach, aerion was awake with the smell of beer on his clothes and some other girl laughing too close beside him,

while you stood alone with the thing you never got to say.

i want to be with you.

[cr0nas-cha1n]

mdni

titus danforth would be the most possessive lover of all time. NO ONE is touching his S/O. ESPECIALLY if youre married. hed probably bark at them if they looked at you a second too long for his comfort.

he calls you "my love" or literally any pet name with "my" before it because you belong with him and no one else

he has to be touching you at all times or he doesnt know what to do with his hands

[kinned-the-evil]

Vacation!Jack abbot making you ride him in the big fluffy bed, balcony window open just enough to hear the ocean waves

Vacation!Pope Cody taking you down to a deserted part of the beach one night and fucking you hard on the ground

Vacation!Titus Danforth making every use of the private balcony to fuck you. In the private pool, on the patio furniture, even over the railing once the sun goes down no one else gets to see you like that

An: I think I might make a Shawn Hatosy characters vacation smut masterlist with a fic for each of these characters (maybe more fics if other events??)

[theyumeplanet]

f/o resting their chin on your shoulder while watching you do something, and you have to shoo them away

[bleghbarbie]

eww pope cody who gets so embarrassed when he leaks in his pants and sports a wet spot. and you’re not even doing anything. you’re just teasing him, a touch here and there. he notices it before you can, all wide eyed and trying to scoot back but doesn’t want you to stop. breath getting heavier, speeding up. hands all twitchy, patting at his thighs, trying to blot at the spot with the hands. murmur and scared whimper. you, still oblivious. his abdomen still lightly twitching from the release. closing his legs, small squirm and nodding at your words with a twitching smile, trying to focus.

[eyeslikeanangel]

[bleghbarbie]

pope cody who sets up a camera in your room because he.. has to. then feels guilty touching himself to the footage. back straight and eyes focused while sitting in his chair, laptop on the desk in front of him. glancing over his shoulders like he’s being watched. fingers flexing. hands coming up to unbuckle himself, then back down, and up again.

breathing hard, scared, nervous. then letting out the whiniest whimpers as he strokes. eyes focused on you, tracking your every move, stomach clenching and breath huffing. muttering to himself, “’m not supposed to be doing this.. i shouldn’t be watching you. tell me to stop..” pathetic begging as he keeps going anyway. “’m not being good right now. say ‘stop andrew’.. tell me to stop..”