im Avocado on ao3 and im a dumpster fire in real life // they/them, 31 // 18+ MINORS DNI // Feel free to say hi! 🥑 // requests open for: Ken/Ryland Grace/Lars Lindstrom/Holland March // I block blank blogs & spam likers who don't reblog
requests are: open for Holland March/Ken/Ryland Grace/Lars Lindstrom // commissions are: open // art trades with mutuals: open // some of my work is NSFW, 18+
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You chat with Ken about his age. ‘secret-sexy-video’-verse. suggestive but not explicit. gn!reader x Ken.
There are over a dozen cosmetic products around your sink now, and only two of them are yours. Ken is a dedicated follower of skincare so it usually takes him three times as long to apply his various tinctures in the mirror as it does you, but you’re happy to perch on the side of the bath and bask in his company as he goes. It has a meditative quality, watching him massage floral-scented creams into his soft skin. It relaxes him and it relaxes you.
“Ken, can I ask you a weird question?” you ask. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and smiles that dazzling smile just for you.
“You can ask me anything, no matter how weird.”
“How old are you?”
You’ve long considered this question. He looks fantastic, there’s no doubt about that, he’s annoyingly attractive. But there’s also tiny little tells of his age here and there: an understated wrinkle around his eye or laughter line that never quite leaves.
You see his brow furrow and his fingers twitch as he does some internal math, then after far too long a pause, announces: “sixty-five.”
You almost fall into the goddamn bath.
“Sixty-five?!” you ask. He shrugs.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m your Ken, so I kinda started properly existing when you decided it… and you got me when you were what, seven? So I’m sort of your age minus seven. But in a much more metaphysical sense I was around for longer than that because I’m stereotypical Ken, so… yeah, sixty-five. I was made in 1961.”
Many questions push to the front of your attention like kindergarteners around their first-ever teacher, demanding to be addressed first. You go with:
“How do you know what ‘metaphysical’ means?”
“My word-of-the-day calendar. Yesterday it was ‘smorgasbord’!”
Oh, that’s why he called your body a ‘smorgasbord of delights’ mid-coitus last night. That’s another mystery put to rest.
“You look really good for sixty-five Ken. Like, crazy good.”
“Thank you! It’s the moisturisers. And also the fact I wasn’t a human person for many, many years, just a lump of unfeeling plastic until your love turned me real.”
You’ve said more than once you don’t think his situation is a Velveteen Rabbit thing, but you choose not to remark on it this time.
A beat as he changes bottles.
“Do you know what a ‘problematic age gap’ is, Ken?”
“Mm, I think I can kinda guess from the words it’s made up of.”
That’s true, he’s been much better at filling in the blanks recently. When you speak again, your voice is lower. Suggestive.
“Some people find that sexy.”
He peers at you from his position in the mirror, hand slowing its massaging motions as he considers this.
“Do… do you think it’s sexy? If I looked up your secret sexy video history, would I find that search term?”
You stand up and embrace him from the back, hands alighting on his abs as you press a kiss between his shoulder blades. He shivers in excitement.
“Maybe once upon a time. But now I don’t need secret sexy videos. I have my un-secret, even sexier real-life boyfriend.”
“… and that’s me, right?”
“It is. Come to bed, honey.”
“I need to finish my routine before we sleep—“
“Not for sleeping.”
“Oooooh.” He looks at the bottle in his hand. He looks at where you make eye contact with his reflection.
He throws it to the side and follows you out of the bathroom in a dead sprint.
Hi!! I had a Ken x reader request!! She visits Barbie land with Barbie and meets Ken (or vice versa) and within 0.2 seconds Ken is confessing his undying love for her which he thinks for the longest time is unrequited until he finds her sketchbook filled with art of him and they kiss
The reader is a super dorky hippie artist type girl
NOW THIS!!!!! This is... you are amazing elle, thank you for this adorable ask <33
Part one of:
You're pretty, for a doll. 🎨
Ken x Artist!Reader
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Summary: Barbie tells you her secret. Now you're in barbieland with a ken-doll attached to your hip. And your lips.
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Tags: Kind of a love at first sight except your more sensible about it, fluff, ken's kinda obsessed, pining, ken's literally a puppy, ken thinks you dont like him back, no kisses yet! No use of y/n, I tried to keep it gender neutral, not proof read very well.
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Mina's notes: this idea is SO cute im obsessed! I hope i haven't mischaracterised ken but this is just how i see him. Not many notes other than that and I hope you enjoy part one!! <3
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After a trip of rollerblading from california Into an artic setting, then camping with Barbara– well, barbie, riding a bike through a field of tulips, riding a rocket ship!? And finally driving a boat in the ocean...
You and barbie both made it to the outskirts of barbieland in the automatic pink car, you could see the large, clouds that spelled out "Barbie"
It also wasn't hard to miss the population of pink buildings and pink everything.
You didn't know what to expect but this makes sense.
Barbie had told you about what barbieland was like, what had happend with discovering the real world... and what the Ken's did. You then had a personal grudge.
But, she assured that everything for them was back to normal, even better than it was before, and you were excited.
Being able to see the lives of the toys we used to play with as a kid? That's mindblowing!
Maybe you could use barbieland to document your art, show the beauties of women through the barbies.
You and barbie parked the pink car in the central roundabout and you practically jumped out with eagerness. "Barb, this is amazing! I didn't think anything could be this pink!"
She smiled at your contagious reaction, "I know! It's so different from the real world, I do miss being here as much as I used to, but the real world is my place."
You swivelled around many times, looking at different houses, different barbies and anything you could see.
There are so many barbies!
"Seriously this has to be the coolest thing I've ever done. Thank you so much for trusting me with this." You easily embraced her for a moment.
"You're my best friend! Of course I trust you with being in barbieland." Barbie laughed. "Here, let's introduce you to some of the barbies!"
And just like that, you two were skipping around barbieland, allowing you to meet all kinds of barbies, a few of the ken's and especially Allan.
When you both arrived at the beach you were both fascinated and amused. "Wow, so even the ocean is plastic."
You stepped through the sand, leaning down to poke at the solid sea.
You turned back around to barbie when you noticed there was a ken next to her now, chatting away. No doubt was he asking about you.
"Hey barbie, are they from the real world?" He whispered–loudly.
"Mhm, they're my best friend!" She nodded, turning to you as you stepped over to the pair.
"Let me guess... Ken?" You tilted your head.
"Woah! How'd you know?" Ken spoke in awe, brushing a hand through the strands of his bleached hair nervously.
Ken was immediately gagged. He's only been to the real world a few times after the incident, never has he seen a real human this pretty.
"Lucky guess." You shrugged. Man, the ken's really are oblivious.
"You– so... barbies best friend?" He swallowed a little too hard.
You nodded, telling him your name and then allowing your eyes to linger on his appearance as he repeated it.
Obviously he's attractive... he's a ken... but there's something about him. Maybe it's the dumb charm. Maybe it's that dopey grin. You'd rather not figure that out right now.
You turn your head to barbie, "So, is there anything else you'd like to show me, Barb? Ooh, we could have a girls night!"
And just like that, Barbie and you left ken on the sand, standing there as his gaze seemed to follow you. The more he stared the more he noticed the funny feeling within his tummy.
He is so in love with you!
Maybe you're his soulmate..
Overtime, you switched between where you stayed, mostly in barbieland as it's just better than home, it allowed you more freedom to work on your art.
Barbie noticed that Ken was spending a lot of his time with you, always trying to catch your eye, seeking your attention as much as possible.
She also noticed you had been pressing your nose into your sketchbook a little more than often, but when Ken stepped anywhere in your vicinity: you smacked it shut.
Clearly, you had something to hide.
Unlike Ken who obviously showed his undying love for you, you were in denial.
Having a crush on a doll!? That's insane! On a ken-doll no less...
So, Barbie took it upon herself to figure out what had you drawing so intensely. She knew you used your art as a way to present your emotions.
Entering her dream house, she noticed you, pencil against paper, resting on her pink couch, eyes glued to your sketchbook.
She greeted you politely before sitting on the end of the plush coushins. "So, you've been drawing a lot." It wasn't a question, rather an observation.
"Wut.. I don't know what you're talking about." You couldn't keep eye contact longer than a few seconds.
"Can I see?" "No." "What! Im you're best friend." A beat. "Fine."
You reluctantly handed her your sketchbook after sitting up straight. You watched as her eyes trailed along the two pages.
"It's all.. Ken?" Barbie asked, clearly a little puzzled.
"Don't say it like that! I can't help myself recently.. ever since meeting him I just.. keep drawing him." You proved your words, showing her other pages.
"They look exactly like him!" She praises and you immediately accepted it. "I– thank you, actually. I don't know what it is about him... it feels really good to draw him."
"Didn't you teach me about crushes?" A brow lifted on Barbies face, smiling like she had figured it all out. Well, technically she has.
"Barb. I do not have a crush on your ex ken-doll boyfriend." You said slightly through your teeth, a certain warmth flooding through your body.
"I don't see you drawing anyone else like this. Not even the real human males in the real world." She now had a grin plastered on her perfect face.
You paused, bathing in the embarrassment that you may actually be fully attracted to a doll. A ken-doll.
"Either way, we just met like a week ago, we can't just start dating... that would be weird!" You were now standing, pacing around in front of barbie and her couch.
"I ship it." Barbie said quietly, making you freeze, your cheeks tinting pink.
"I didn't teach you that word..." and she just shrugged.
The silence settled for a moment before you spoke up.
"So.. what should I do..?" You huffed.
"Well, it's not like it'd be hard to start dating him." She reassured you.
"What?" "He's completely obsessed with you!"
You laughed then, "He's not.." But the more you thought back to previous memories, times you've spent with him, you picture him like a cartoon with hearts in his eyes.
The way he acted around you, spoke around you.. he was pretty desperate. Ken is obsessed with you–he's just very polite about it. That you respected. You smiled to yourself, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
In barbieland, you realised that you felt a lot more comfortable on the beach there than you did at home, even though it wasn't real and the sea is fully made of plastic.
You didn't go swimming at home that much anyway. Too many eyes and people, it always felt like you were being watched.
But here, you could sit in the sand while other barbies sunbathed, their ken's by the their side or beaching in the sea. Whatever that meant, you'd have to ask Ken about that at some point.
Speaking of ken..
Your head tilted up from your lap, watching the blonde himself, beaching.
You ducked your head again, sketching away in your book. A guess to what you were sketching? Well the man right in front of you of course.
Only for the hundredth time (probably).
What you didn't expect was when you lifted your head again to capture his frame in that tropical shirt–he was right there. In front of you. Looking down at you sitting in the sand, the cheesy grin that made your tummy flutter.
"How'd you like my beach moves?" Ken asked, hopeful.
"Oh, uh.. yeah. They were great. You really know how to beach, Ken." You praised with a sheepish smile before snapping your book shut, having reminded yourself of what you were doing.
After fisting his pumps in the air as a celebration of your praise, he raised a brow at the sound of the paperback closing. "You're doing that art thing again?"
"Uhh... Uh hm. Yep, just some sketches." You dipped your head after nodding, knowing heat was rising to your cheeks.
Before he could say anything else you jumped to a thought, "Actually.. I was just about to head back to the real world to grab something from home, you wanna come with?"
"Definitely!" Ken said, way too quickly, like a puppy asked to go for walkies.
You opened your mouth before closing it, forcing your eyes away from his body. You collected your things and stood, giving him a once over. "Okay. Sounds good, just gotta grab my rollerblades.."
"Yippee! Real world trip!" He eagerly jumped into step beside you, and although he wasn't entirely oblivious to your odd behaviour and reddening face, he didn't think it was because you felt the same.
You both walked in silence before you ended up breaking it.
"I thought you didn't like the real world? after you know..." you asked quietly, looking up at him as you both stepped onto the pavement.
"We do not mention.. that. It was not cool of me and I will never ever ever ever do anything like it again, but the real world still has fun things, like beach!" Ken explained solemnly but then brightened up as he mentioned the beaches of california.
"Yeah, I guess it does." You sighed.
And so, you two travelled into the real world. You hadn't ever brought ken with you yourself before so you didn't know what to expect, you've only hung out with him in barbieland.
But now, leading him to your apartment, your home. You felt a tingle wrack your body.
Meanwhile–Ken was ecstatic. Getting to come to your personal home? With you? Where all of your personal belongings are? He could learn so much about you! Despite already knowing you're an artist.
Once there, you unlocked your front door, pushing the door open and moving aside to let him in. "Well, this is it, the home of me. My place.." you cursed yourself silently for how awkward you were being.
He smiled, the expression full of gratitude as he followed you inside like a lamb. Your place was so.. you! Ken was also obsessed with the scent around your apartment–all that filled his senses was you.
"I'm just gonna go toilet real quick, you can explore if you'd like." You pursed your lips before disappearing into the hallway– but not after depositing your things on the couch, that caught Ken's eye.
He watched you walk away before looking down at the book that was always shut when he's around.
Whatever could you be drawing? He thought. He's an innocent–well, not totally innocent–ken-doll who wants to know every inch of you.
He loves you for Mattel's sake!
He loves you so much that he'd do anything! That includes looking through your very private and very suspicious sketchbook...
If he figured out everything you liked, he was sure he could make you feel the same way he did.
Ken wouldn't want to miss that chance.
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Extra notes: i'm incredibly sorry if you don't like how this turned out 😖😖
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So, I’ve been trying to do one shorter fic/hcs list & one longer fic request every day, but as my writing work has picked up, it will probably take me longer to get through my list :(
if you’ve sent me a request I am not ignoring you! I will still be working my way through them it might just take me some time! (Plus I keep coming up with my own silly ideas which I have to write down lest they escape from my brain from butterflies)
in the meantime, I really appreciate when yall reblog my work! Please remember tumblr is the reblogging website and it’s the only way to make sure stuff reaches a wider audience. If you like what I do, please throw me a reblog!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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What do we think of Ryland being a pass around bottom?
look. the people on the aircraft carrier are all stuck in each other’s space. they’re tired, they’re on a deadline, they have to work out how to save humanity… and they need a bit of stress relief.
and look. Eva has definitely already fucked him. broke the seal on the idea, as it were. and suddenly you’re seeing Dr Ryland Grace exiting out of a different bedroom every morning, all mussy-haired and puffy-lipped after spending the night doing who-knows-what (or who-knows-who, perhaps).
there are knowing looks and playful elbows, and quiet discussions amongst project members about if Grace has paid them a visit yet. how pretty he looks sucking dick or taking a strap. the perfect companion if you need to blow off a bit of steam.
you have a blunt, vodka-induced conversation with Ilyukhina one evening about how you need to fuck someone until they scream and she just nods over at where Grace is sitting in the corner and looking over some papers.
you ask him over. he’s all too happy to follow you to your rooms.
you spend the evening fucking him until he forgets his own name, your grip digging into his hips so hard that he has bruises which resemble your handprints. he’s on all fours, you’re on your knees, dragging him back flush against you over and over until the only sound you can hear is the slap of skin on skin and his moans. he even leaves his fucking glasses on so they get all foggy. you’re weak for this man. you make him come three times. he makes you come more.
you cuddle after, because the closeness is nice and he needs a bit of aftercare. you joke about how you didn’t think he had it in him and he shrugs with a blush. “I was a bit of a, uh, slut in my college days…”
he visits your rooms more and more often as the weeks go by. always leaves with a bit of a limp and a smile.
dry humping that gets so intense he can’t help that he comes in his pants but it’s okay he makes it up to you by eating you out until you’ve finished at least 3 times
Ryland/Colt/Driver x Camgirl!Reader ୭ 🎵—FEM!reader
ahem. can u tell i went crazy w driver for this one...lol thats my bf ☹️🖤..
RYLAND GRACE
— He stumbles onto your Twitter by accident while searching for "zero-gravity simulation" and instead finds your pinned tweet: a twenty-second clip of you riding a dildo in nothing but thigh-high socks. He watches it nine times before he even realizes he's hard. His first thought is "I need to analyze this frame by frame for… scientific purposes." He doesn't. He just cums into his palm, face flushed, muttering your display name under his breath.
— During your live streams, he takes notes. Not creepy stalker notes, helpful observations. He focuses on the angle for your hips when you arch your back, the exact pressure needed on your clit from the way you gasp when you use a vibrator, the precise rhythm that makes your thighs tremble. He tells himself it's for "research." Then he uses those notes to jerk off later, imagining he's the one applying those findings.
— He finally works up the courage to request a custom video: you, dressed like a lab coat, reading a fake scientific paper about "The Effects of Repeated Orgasm on Cognitive Function in Pretty Women." You film it, giggling and snorting through the whole thing, finding it ridiculous but creative. He cums before you even finish the papers. He nervously saves the video to a hidden folder.
— He's watched your "cum countdown" video so many times he knows exactly when you moan his name, you said his name once—joking—and he's never forgotten. He replays that second over and over, whispering your name back, his hand wrapped around his cock, pretending you're there, that you're saying it for real.
COLT SEAVERS
— He finds your Twitter through a friend's retweet, sees you in a lacy bra and boy shorts, and immediately thinks "I could make her scream louder than that." He follows you, likes every single post, and leaves corney, god awful comments like "You're a hazard, sweetheart. I'd risk the fall." He's cocky, but he's also genuine and pining hard, and he doesn't care who knows.
— He slides into your DMs with a photo of himself shirtless, covered in fake blood from a stunt, holding a thumbs-up. "Just took a hit for the team. You look like you'd be worth the concussion." You laugh to yourself and reply, "You'd have to impress me first." He's hooked. He spends the next week trying to come up with a line that's better than that. He fails. He sends you a video of him doing a backflip off a moving car instead. (idiot.)
— He catches one of your streams live, and you're doing a "strip tease challenge" where you remove one piece of clothing for every donation. He donates $500 just to see you take off your panties. You read his username, "stunterseavs" and say, "A stuntman i'm assuming? I've always wanted to fuck an adrenaline junkie." He cums in his jeans right there, hunched over his phone, missing the rest of the stream because he's too busy cleaning up.
— He sees other guys in your comments, talking dirty, and he gets possessive. He starts commenting with his own brand of "alpha" energy (it's extremely loser-ish): "Back off, freaks. She's mine." He knows it's pathetic, but he can't stop. He DMs you, "Tell me I'm the only one you think about when you touch yourself...please?" You send him a voice note of you moaning his name with a fat smug grin on your face. He saves it and listens to it on loop while he fucks his fist.
DRIVER
— He finds your Twitter entirely by accident—a retweet from a crash video account that seemingly accidentally retweeted or was hacked into. Your profile pic is you in a tiny little dress that has your tits spilling out and he stares at it for ten minutes before following. He never likes, never comments, never retweets. He just watches. At night, in his apartment, he opens your profile on his phone, scrolls through your entire archive, and jerks off silently, riddled with a hot flush of guilt, is jaw tight and his eyes never leave the screen. He never makes a sound.
— Your videos often feature you touching yourself, your fingers glistening, and he can't stop thinking about his hands on you. But he always imagines wearing his driving gloves—the leather ones, the ones he wears when he's working. He imagines sliding them over your thighs, your cunt, the rough texture making you gasp. He strokes his cock with the same gloves on, the leather smelling of gasoline and sweat, and he comes hard, his breath hitching and ragged.
— He watches you live, but he never types in chat. He just sits in the dark, his laptop's glow on his face, his hand moving slowly under his sweatpants. You're playing with a vibrator, gasping soft, and he's so focused he forgets to breathe. When you cum, he does too, silently, his cum spilling over his fingers. He wipes his hand on his shirt and closes the laptop without a word.
— One night, you're streaming and you mention you have a thing for hands. "Big, strong hands. Perhaps a little veiny. Definitely wearing gloves." He freezes. He's wearing his gloves right now. He slowly takes one off, then the other, and he sends you a private message: a photo of his bare hand, palm open, slightly scarred knuckles. He doesn't write anything else. You reply, "I'd let those hands do anything." He gets too worked up before he can even reply.
— He fantasizes about picking you up from a stream. You're in a club, or a bar, and he's in the corner, watching. He follows you to the parking lot, grabs your wrist—gentle despite the action—and pushes you against his car. He doesn't say a word. He just kisses you, hard, his tongue in your mouth, his hand up your skirt. He fucks you against the door, his hand over your mouth, and you come on his cock without a loud sound. He drives you home, doesn't ask for your number, and the next night he watches your stream again, knowing you're thinking of him.
HOPE THIS WAS DECENT? lmk if we want more of these three or any of these ones...
one time we were listening to fleetwood mac in the car and my sister who was probably 4 at the time asked, without being prompted, “can girls marry girls?” and THAT is the power of stevie nicks
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you’ve been at a party and both had way too much to drink, you’ve been teasing each other and trying to rile each other up all night, and by the time you get home he’s so needy he’s basically fucking your mouth with his tongue before you’ve even made it to the bedroom
he fully trips over his own feet in a rush to get his clothes off, he can’t see straight enough to undo the buttons on your blouse so he just rips the last few off (he’ll feel bad about it in the morning),
you end up fucking on the carpet, Holland’s hands buried in your hair while he messily thrusts into you, pressing sloppy open-mouth kisses to your neck, drunkenly slurring your name over and over as he cums deep in you <3
You know he’s a sloppy mess… you just know. 18+. Holland March x gn!reader. Drunk sex. Too much lube.
How many drinks have you had? Eight? Ten? Too many, for sure, but he's had way more. Holland March smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and you love him more than any man who's ever stumbled into your life.
You can barely walk straight. Neither can he, so it seems like a stupid idea that you're hanging onto each other for support as you stagger back to his house; especially because you stop every five steps to kiss in a way which can only be called pornographic. Your tongues slide together outside your mouths, coating his 'stache and your chin in spit. Every single one is broken with a long groan.
"Baby, the things 'm gonna do t' you when we get inside..." he slurs. You pin him up against his front door as he scrabbles for his keys in his pocket, but in this state they end up just falling on the floor. He kisses down the length of your body as he kneels to get them, lavishing particular attention over your groin, and pauses for just long enough undo the goddamn lock.
The two of you fall into his house in a flurry of hands and stripped clothes. He falls over as he tries to get his pants off, just dead-ass hits the floor with an oof, and it's so stupid that you burst into laughter.
"Whasso funny?" he grouses, fighting with his own boxers to free his cock. You kick off your jeans with ease and slide into his lap right there in the corridor. Can't even be bothered to make it to the bedroom, you have to feel him inside you now.
"You didn't wear underwear..." he manages, eyes bright. He says it as if he's witnessing a miracle.
"Stopped botherin' when I'm with you, Hol. But..." you dig around in the pocket of your discarded Levis and bring out a tiny bottle, "but I've always got lube."
He throws his head back and lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a growl. His hands come up to grab either side of your shirt - you just realised you're still wearing it - and he tears. Buttons ping across the room, bouncing off things like pinballs and becoming lost relics in his hall.
"I liked tha' shirt--!"
"'ll get you a new one," he grumbles, tweaking your nipples with rough fingers as you start to grind down against him. He's so hard even just from the promise of you, it’s kinda flattering. His precome soaks you both filthily as you lift up to get yourself ready for him. You don’t have quite enough control over your hands to squeeze the lube gently so half the bottle pours out instead, dripping down his balls and into the carpet.
“Oops!” you laugh as you stretch yourself open on your fingers before attempting to line up his cock with your entrance. You can feel how empty you are but it’s difficult, the world is spinning and making everything hard. Hard, just like Holland is., you think. Teehee.
“Please baby c’mon, don’t leave me waiting, gotta feel you…”
His begging trails off into drunken mumbling as he gets caught up in the sight of his dick slipping around your hole. There really is too much lube, but you’re nothing if not stubborn, so you hold him a bit tighter than necessary and sit.
Holland goes inside in one stroke. His head lolls back, his eyes going white as they roll up towards his brain.
“So fuckin’ good…”
“Mm…”
You begin to bounce on him, the wet slap of lubed skin filling the empty house. Holland’s hands come to rest on your chest, then your hips, then he’s dragging you down so he can start kissing you as you take him. With a quick push you’re on your back and he’s controlling the pace, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he fucks your hole with his cock. Your sex is covered in slick, your mouth is covered in spit, it’s all just very messy. You fucking adore it.
Holland leaves your lips alone, leaving a long trail of saliva between yours and his, but simply clamps down on your neck so he can give kisses around your pulse. All the while you’re aware of him rutting into you like an animal, the tip of his cock hitting exactly where you need it to. Pleasure crescendos as your drunk brain tries to form words.
“Hol… Hol—! ‘M gonna…”
“Me too,” he chokes, and a second later he floods you with come. It pushes you over the edge and he splutters out a string of expletives as he feels your orgasm pulsing around his cock. The two of you stay there for a moment, riding out the aftershocks, his head tucked beneath your chin. He’s a bit of a dead weight on you, but you don’t mind.
Then he starts to snore.
“Holland y’ sonovabitch, you’re still ‘nside me—!”
He manages to roll off of you as you slap him, wrapping an arm around you to bring you close. Fuck it. You let sleep take you right there on the carpet in a puddle of come and lube. It’ll be tomorrow you’s problem. For now, you’re pleasantly drunk and even more pleasantly fucked out, and that’s just perfect.
you'd think that "inhuman thing that isn't a person but speaks like a person and talking to it will slowly drive you mad" would only be found in folktales and fables and so on. but no. chatgpt
cream crackered tbh love @avocado-writing - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
