INSERT *ARIANA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?* MEME

honeymoon with stanley pines👀

a/n — Stanley Pines the man you are!

summary — SFW headcanons about the [gender neutral] reader on a honeymoon with Stan

──★ The photos from the zombie episode were chosen because things would escalate to stakes that high, even on a honeymoon.

──★ Well, maybe not that high, but I feel like things would go comically wrong.

──★ You run out of money, a bar fight starts, your taxi driver turns out to be robbing and bank and you’re involved in a car chase, you end up crashing another wedding, etc.

──★ The honeymoon is totally in Vegas, by the way.

──★ Stan tries so hard to make this a romantic trip for you, he’s honestly terrified of you leaving him.

──★ He’s hiring mariachi bands at restaurants you go to, and paying for your name to be written out in fireworks (they spelled it wrong but it’s the thought that counts.)

──★ And when anything goes wrong at all, he’s honestly really scared it’s gonna convince you to break it off with him.

──★ There’d have to be a lot of reassurance on your part that you are having a good time, and you love him.

“Look, I know i’m a lot to handle— And maybe this whole trip isn’t going as planned, and maybe—“

“Are you kidding? I’ve had a great time, Stan,” You smile genuinely.

He looked surprised, “No kidding?”

You laugh, “I always have a good time with you. I married you for a reason.”

──★ Imagine spoiling him as much as he spoils you.

──★ Like while he’s trying to write your name in fireworks, you’re on the black market trying to name a planet after him.

──★ Getting him breakfast in bed, and him being all surprised because like he didn’t ask you to do that.

“No shit, where am I? A hotel?” He’d jokes, faint blush rising.

“Motel,” You correct, “We couldn’t afford a hotel here. Hope this makes up for it!”

──★ I feel like the most romantic part of the honeymoon would be like the more insane parts.

──★ Like you two tied up in the back of a gangs hideout, and having to break free with a nail file.

bimbo approved, that was a great era for tumblr

im slipping back into my hazbin hotel phase someone save me

just got a stanley pines request i’m absolutely overjoyed, you people don’t understand how much I love that man.

i will literally devour your inside job fics i'm not kidding AHHH if you do reagan my heart is yours

begging for reagan and brett requests and for very different reasons. Reagan can do whatever she wants to me and i’d love it, and Brett would let me do whatever I want to him. Guys send asks!!!

college is a war that i am LOSING

"my baby, my baby" except its me to my bed full of stuffed animals after a long hard day of war (classes)

is this anything

i was born in the right century i love looking at boys kissing on my phone

HATE SEX RIVAL LUTE idc dom reader dom lute my switch ass would be happy either way i just need need need this 🙏

Lie still, close your eyes girl, so lovely it feels so right —

Lute x reader,, 2.5 words

a/n — I literally did not mean to make this so long, I literally blacked out or something. Anyways, more Rival!Lute shit here, here, here and here. You don’t actually need to read any of those to understand what’s happening, though.

warning — heavy smut, afab but gn reader, VERY SWITCHY ROLES, dom reader but also dom Lute, scissoring, fingering, weird angsty sex, also it takes like 800 words for the sex to actually happen, honestly probably kinda cheesy

summary — After years of fighting with a sinner who’s well gifted in combat, Lute finally looses control and… well… they fuck.

The fight was close, just like always. Every move Lute made to strike was blocked gracefully by you.  Her swift moves were countered by your calculated blocks, followed by your precise jabs in her direction.

Each extermination day, the dance was set in stone. You, a fowl sinner from the trenches of this mortal plane, would be in the very same place each year. Always to fight Lute, a skilled angel soldier with immense training and knowledge on the battlefield. 

The odds should have been in Lutes favor, but just like last year and the year before that, they never were. It wasn’t that she lost the fights, because she would never let that happen. But it was the fact you kept up with her so well that infuriated her. 

Her strikes became tougher, the growl in her voice unmatched. 

“Someone’s angry this time, huh, Lute? You afraid of a good time?” You drew back with a smile, playfulness in your voice contrasted the blow you just laid to her stomach, “Or are you just tired of losing to a sinner?” 

Lute hisses in response, falling behind you and grabbing the back of your shirt, spinning you around to get a better angle, “Don’t kid yourself, I don’t lose. You know that, demon.”

There was not only a venom in her voice, but an anger that could only be explained by the emotion of mild exasperation. She wasn’t tired of fighting or ‘losing’, she was sick of not winning. Her grasp on your shirt loosened when you took a millisecond to examine her position, which conveniently left her stomach exposed, before kicking her hard right where she was open. 

Falling back, she yelped, not expecting the sudden pain. That was another thing that filled her with a bitter rage each year, angels shouldn’t be able to get hurt. And yet, you always managed to make her feel the slightest bit, if not a decent amount, of pain after a fight. 

What she would give to make you feel the same thing, what she would give to make you feel that pain. She wasn’t obsessed, however, no matter the countless nights she’s spent thinking about it. And disregarding what she did to cope on those nights. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to kick you that hard,” You drew in closer with your weapon, bracing yourself to lay a blow in. This year, it wouldn’t be a draw. This year, in your eyes, would be the year you finally win.

Your hands rise above your head, ready to strike, when you falter. Lute was looking at you with her usual glare of hatred, clutching her stomach, and calculating her next move. But it was your weak moments that certain thoughts overtook you. How could it be helped? She looked so pretty. 

“Too slow, now you’re done for,” Lute sneered, smile growing as she lunged at you, spear clashing with yours as you barely block it. Your body’s were nearly pressed together, as she pushed the wood of her spear harder against yours, trying to break it.

Then her sneer flickers down, “What are you looking at?” She pants, catching her breath after the stimulating action. 

“Your have—“ you breath, “—very pretty eyes.” Your eyes don’t falter with contact, until she looks down. Your superficial attempt to distract her, unlike usual, failed to work.

As if snapping out of a trance, she finally analyses the situation. This is it. All it took was that one moment, and your fucking finished.

“Well i’m glad you think so,” she starts quietly, “Because they’re going to be the last thing you see before you fucking die.” 

She forcefully pushes back with the base of her spear, acting too quick for you to strike back, and swiping your feet. 

“Finally,” she almost laughs, “Finally, I win, you vile demon. I win—“

You slide your foot behind her calf and tug her forward, making her fall into the space next to you, leaving you time to roll on top of her. 

The wit in your voice was gone and replaced with bare survival instinct. Her hands go to grab her weapon but instinctively you pin them down. 

With nothing left to do, you simply stare at eachother, catching your breath and panting heavily.

Lute glared up at you with confusion, anger, and then something else. The light fell on the top of your head, illuminating a vague sketch of a halo around it. But you were no angel, Lute knew that. And yet something about the way you were looking her made Lute think, if you told her you were sent from heaven she would not only believe you, but curse god himself for not sending you sooner.

Angels don’t make mistakes, they’re perfectly sculpted to be flawless, and this is something Lute has always believed. Which is specifically why the following events confused her. Your grip on her wrists weakened, given her an opening to break free. And still, that’s not what she did with her new freedom. 

Strangely enough, when the constraints your hands acted as broke, she didn’t run away, or even fight back. Instead, she grabbed your collar, pulling you impossibly close, and doing something no one with the title ‘perfect’ would ever do.

You’ve always tested the limits of what she considered ‘possible’ as an angel. You condemned her with scars, when angels were incapable of getting hurt. You plagued her thoughts with lust, despite the ideas you filled her head with being overtly sinful for heavens standards. And now, you’ve provoked the, arguably, best exterminator soldier into making an irreversible mistake. 

But the extermination wasn’t on her mind as her lips slammed against yours, nor was heavens consequences. The only coherent thought in her head was a simple idea; despite your hatred for her, you kissed her back. Not just eagerly, but with twice as much force. 

And then, for whatever reason, reality came back to her. Brutal rage, no, violence filled her as she felt your lips on hers. To call it rage would be wrong. Yes, she did feel the necessity to cause harm to your well being, but something foreign dawned on Lute at that moment. An animalistic need for you, one that, despite being tainted by her hatred for you, was truly only fueled by it.

In one motion, she rolled you over, pining you to the ground by your shoulders and going back in for another kiss. Your lips were poison, that was undeniable, but the taste was sweet enough to distract from the deadly venom filling Lutes stomach. 

“Look what you’re doing, sinner,” She hissed into your mouth, “Your turning the blessed into the damned, you slut. Haven’t you been cruel enough?”

Her words were spoke with such a blaze of passionate disdain, you almost were at a loss for words. Almost. 

“Your seriously trying to blame this one me? I think it’s pretty obvious, Lute,” You speak inbetween mildly unpleasant, aggressive kisses, arms falling on either side of her hips as she pulls you into her by your shirt collar.

“You’re just dying to fuck me.” 

Your words made Lute temporarily stop, shoving you down and removing her hands from your shirt, and shifting away. 

You smirk at the annoyance on her face as she moves down your body, “Aw, sweetheart, don’t tell me I scared you away. I’d hate to loose the pleasure of your company—“

Her teeth launch into your neck as she struggles to pull your pants down, making you yelp in temporary pain. You feel her smile into the bite mark. 

Lute breathes in anticipation, savoring every moment of her fingers dancing down to your belt, and slipping into your bottoms. How many nights had she spent thinking of this moment in utter, crushing shame? And how many hours afterwards had she berated herself for thinking such vile things?

She didn’t have to think anymore, and soon, you wouldn’t be able to. She relishes in the gasp you let out when she teases her finger to the opening of your pussy.

“Fuck!” You hiss as she slips her finger into your already dripping cunt, “Eager there, are we, Lute?”

Your confidence had already begun to falter. In this fight, it was true, Lute was winning. God, did she devour every shaky breath you took as she began to move her finger inside of you.

“You know demon, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so wet so soon,” Her other finger teased your entrance, as her first one worked itself more aggressively as the seconds passed, “I just thought you’d have more self control. I guess there are just some fights you can’t keep up with.”

You let out a hiss of disapproval, “Fuck— uh, consider it a compliment Lute. That’s just how much I wanted your crazy ass.”

Lute snickered, your comment lacked your usual wit. You were responding for the sake of responding, not because you had anything clever to say. Pathetic, just as she suspected. Just as she always fucking knew you would be. 

“And I doubt you’re doing much better over there, asshole,” You sneer, drabbling on for more than necessary, “Fuck, ah—”

During your fights, one of the things that infuriated Lute the most was your seemingly perfect composure, never once breaking your playful facade no matter how many blows you took. Now, your fragile character was finally breaking.

All the more reason, the next finger she added, she practically shoved inside you. “Aw, look at that. Prideful sinner,” She tutted smugly, “Looks like someone’s a sore loser.” 

Her fingers worked themselves inside you relentlessly. Every single move implied pure, unrequited hatred. It was a sick kind of attention, but you’d kill to have it more. Despite the flirtatious demeanor of yours finally being compromised, you wouldn’t say it was in vain.

No, certainly not when she was finger fucking you so good. The anger was present and unbreaking with every thrust inside of you, only fueling what was the long burning fire of arousal within you. She would ruin you, just as you would do to her, and god, it was welcomed.

Every motion inside your right cunt led to an embarrassingly priceless moan from you, just as your witty comments turned into mumbles of hatred and fowl wishes upon Lute and her kind. 

But just as your climax drew close, Lute pulled her fingers out. She glanced at them proudly, as if standing over a field of conquered enemies. She basked the moment in, before licking her fingers boastfully. 

“You know, I really thought you’d last longer, demon,” She grinned, “But you really are pathetic, you know that?”

However, by then the neediness in your empty cunt had been replaced by a dull irritation at Lutes demeanor. You were enemies for a reason, and it seemed she forgot how equal the two of you were. 

Too cocky, you think, and far too slow. In one swift movement, you flip her over, pining her to ground just as she had you just moments ago. 

“Is that so, Lute? That’s big talk for someone who lost to a demon for years and years.” Your hands go to stop her wrists from shooting up, “I’m really not the pathetic one here.” 

“I didn’t lose!” Lute struggled against your grip, but strength aside, your position prohibited her from shooting up to regain her control. 

“And what to you call this, then?” Your grin had formed again, but it didn’t distract from the aching from your pussy, “Typical angel fashion. You never leave yourself open like that, Lute. You should know that.”

You scorn her as you free a hand to trail under her skirt and tug her panties down. You’re lucky you get them half way off before she jumps up again. Your hands are quick to catch hers, however. 

“Hm, who’s the sore loser now?” You taunt, shifting the position drastically so that you have both wrists pinned down with one hand above her head.

While Lute struggles against your grip, you use your other arm to host her leg over yours, drawing both of your open cunts daringly close to each other.

“Don’t be stupid, Lute. Do you want me to deal with that mess or not?” The mess in question being her, as suspected before, soaking pussy. 

She grimaced up at you. Before she had the chance to bite you back with a useless reply, you started sloppily grinding your pussies together, earning a moan of pleasure from Lute, and a groan of relief from you.

“Oh fuck—“ She curses breathily, leaning her head back and pushing her legs further into yours, chancing the friction between the two of your aching cunts, “This doesn’t— this doesn’t mean I like you, demon.”

“You know Lute, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the past session,” You speak through gritted teeth and furrowed brows as you start to move faster. 

The slick, filthy, slapping noises that filled the area with around you, filled Lute with an all too familiar feeling of anger at her losing battle. 

“Your fucking perverted sinner filth,” Lute spat out, cutting her sentence off with a terrible hoarse moan, “You were the dirt of the earth when you were alive and now your— ah— even worse in hell.”

“Uh-huh,” you remark, focused on the grinding of your parts against hers, having to take a moment to gather a reply. “I get that you hate me, dumbass. You don’t have to waste your breath—“ you groan with pleasure, “—I’d like to not hear your terrible voice right now, thanks.”

“Fuck you,” she growls, but the threat of her bite is nearly completely gone when her sentence is punctuated with the arch of her back. 

Your speed only increased as you felt the building of your climax, and from the way Lute looked right now, you guessed hers followed soon. In all truth, you didn’t really hate the sound of her voice. In fact, the desperation in it  made you swell with incredible pride. But then again, you guessed she felt the same way about you right now. 

“Fuck, Lute, ‘m close,” You moan, mostly to yourself. You thought about throwing in an insult at the end, after all, it seemed like the only way you were able to hear each other, but you decided against it.

She didn’t need to hear you, but you did bask, like her in your desperation, in her cries below you. Despite the immense, and probably foreign pleasure she felt, the jeers never stopped. 

Even in an intamiate moment like this, she was still the “mediocre angel” and you were the “vile demon.” And even closest to both of your climaxes, you were sure to remind each other. 

But it was then that both of you realized, between the switching of positions and roles, the year long build-up to the final ‘winner’ was worthless. 

The fight, just as usual, was a draw.

a/n — THE SONG TITLE WAS ‘Tear You Apart’ BY SHE WANTS REVENGE BY THE WAY. Boy, this one’s been in drafts for a long time.

I forgot how much fun it was to ruthlessly project onto characters! I have no one to thank but my life for being so terrible and confusing and awful and terrible and

I just can see this scenario with Stan! Please if you don't feel comfortable to write it tell me !

Stanley who was always "in control" and a dom in the bedroom ( even feeling like it's necessary as a consequence of his parents) to finally letting himself go, be taken care of, letting his control down and fully entrusting her in being very vulnerable (outside the bedroom he did let his guard down but he had a blockage to let it go intimately) !!!

-🌌

── .✦

Awwwwwhshdhfhhd this is unfortunately very in character. I feel like he’d have a massive problem with letting himself be taken care of, like and being seen as weak or being lesser because of it. So you’d have to be very gentle at first, and not to praising from the gettgo, because then he’ll think you’re making fun of him.

But as you slowly start to ride him and pin his hands beside you maybe then you can start making remarks about how good he’s taking it. Watch him unravel if you keep going, because he does desperately need your validation, the kind he never got as a kid and still never gets now. Tell him how lucky you are the have him, how perfect he is, and how much you love him.

He’ll be such a mess.