#reader is delirious

[ghostlywhiskey]

current brain rot is single mom & simon who aren't dating, but he becomes a father figure for your daughter. and it's the way when its time for him to be deployed again, it's the way your daughter reacts that starts to change your feelings entirely towards him.

the morning he's set to leave, footsteps trot their way down the hallway of your house. no knock is given as a warning, the door opening as your daughter makes her way into your room to nudge you awake. except, you've been awake most of the night. your body turning onto it's side to face her figure standing at the side of your bed, faces illuminated by the faint light of the alarm clock. it's 5am and you feel like you could run a marathon, but that's due to the fact your brain hasn't shut off the past 6 hours since you got into bed.

"we promised simon we'd say goodbye," the little girls voice gently reminds you, fingers grabbing at the sweater you deemed your pajama crewneck. a delicate tug is enough for you to sit up. your own hand reaches to brush her hair back before pulling her head closer to you, a soft kiss placed at the top of her head.

"get warm clothes on, it's chilly this time of morning," you murmur, and as you stand up she's already listening to your request. your daughter slips quickly out of your room and back to hers to get warmer clothes on.

and soon enough, the two of you are holding hands as you head outside of the house and a few doors down to simon's house. the exhaust from the car visible in the cool morning air because of the car lights. simon is sat in the driver seat, door propped open as he glances to see the two of you approaching. but, your daughter quickly releases your hand at the sight of him as she runs directly towards him. no words are spoken as he pulls her in close and her face becomes buried into his abdomen.

you stand a few feet away, quietly with your arms crossed in an attempt to preserve any ounce of warmth your body has. the sight in front of you tugging at your heart - she's far too young to understand the severity of his job that would add to the sadness she has over him leaving. but you aren't. and part of you wishes you were as naïve as a child, thinking he was simply going to be away for a few months, nothing more and nothing less. but there was far more that went into all of it, and it was part of what kept you up the whole night.

"no hug from you?"

the words spoken pull you from the trance you were in. eyes that had become unfocused on the scene in front of you now refocused on simon, his body now standing out of the car as your daughter had taken the spot in the drivers seat for warmth while she waited for you two to say goodbye to each other.

"of course you get one," you quickly respond, as if thoughts weren't plaguing your mind moments ago. feet close the space between the two of you and both of your arms wrap around each other. there were plenty of quick hugs and side hugs between the two of you, but your brain counted this one as you both held each other. was it over a minute? did the lack of sleep warp your concept of time and make 3 seconds feel like a minute, or did the hug last that long?

"i'll be back for both of you," and at that point, you were sure the hug lasted longer than a minute as your body became frozen at the simple words spoken. eyes closed as your forehead rested against his chest and your hands gripped the fabric of his sweater.

"we'll be here," voice quiet and muffled into the sweater he was wearing, but he heard as his hold on you grew a little tighter seconds after the words left your mouth.

[delirious-donna]

The Temporary Assistant [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: I’ve been obsessed with the exhausted lawyer for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve written a fic for him… please be kind cause I baby.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: NSFW, pwp, established relationship, reader is assumed to be a little bit on the booby side, pseudo boss/subordinate dynamic, spit as lube (don’t do this folks), Higuruma is a breasts man, nipple play, little prep, cumshot

Masterlist

“She quit. What do you mean, she quit?”

Higuruma massaged his tired eyes in steady circles, huffing out a laugh at your exasperated questioning and the equally perplexed look on your face.

“Darling, I don’t know how else to phrase it other than the young lady no longer works for me,” he offered with fatigue lacing his tone. It was late, and he didn’t want to be having this conversation for the third time today. The first had been with his partner at the law firm they jointly owned, and the second with the agency supervisor his previously employed assistant worked for.

Nanami hadn’t been surprised at the news, a fact that bothered Hiromi more than he cared to admit. His partner was not one for pulling his punches, so Hiromi was accustomed to his sometimes blunt manner of speaking, but it still hurt to think that Kento had seen something coming that he had been blindsided by.

“I’m only surprised she lasted this long.” Those were his parting words as Hiromi stalked dejectedly back to his office at Nanami’s insistence that his assistant would be far too busy to spread her attention to them both. Not words he’d been happy to hear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Higuruma. That’s not like her, but I’m afraid it’ll be at least two weeks until I can provide a replacement.” The agency supervisor sounded genuinely shocked at the sudden resignation, and his day simply went from bad to worse.

Hiromi flopped onto the couch, his head lolling back with his eyes sliding shut from the weight of his fatigue. It had been mounting all day, and now that he was home, where he should be finding solace in the comfort of his surroundings and his loving wife’s embrace, he was hit suddenly with a fresh reminder of the shit he’d landed in.

A soft hand caressed the side of his neck, inducing a shiver of relief. It was followed by the weight of your body settling over his spread thighs, your head resting against his shoulder. His suit jacket still hung from his lithe frame, the button undone and the shirt beneath badly wrinkled from the long commute home, but you didn’t care about his untidiness. 

He felt every quiet exhale fan his throat, the ghost of a smile finding its way to his face despite it all. Your nimble fingers burrowed into the knot of his tie, loosening it until you could pull it free and toss it away. “What are you going to do, Hiromi? I know you have that court date coming up… it’s a busy time. How about Nanami’s assistant?”

“Not an option. I already tried,” he muttered with a shrug. 

Opening his eyes, he peered down at you tucked into the crook of his neck, a hand inside the collar of his shirt and your nails grazing gentle patterns over his collarbone. He chewed his lip, fearful to broach the idea planted by his partner when his foot was almost out the door. “You could always ask your wife…”

Selfishly, he indulged himself in your affections, your scent that permeated every corner of the home you shared and let his fingers, stiff from the cold, warm against your feminine curves. You might not be so keen to indulge him once he suggested you work as his temporary assistant, so he would take what he could until push came to shove.

“Your fingers are icy, Hiro. Come here,” you chided with a click of the tongue, though he knew it was only born of concern for his health. Hiromi hummed happily, grateful when you pressed his palms together with yours on either side and blew hot air to dispel the chill.

“What would I do without you?” He whispered, sitting upright and nudging your nose with his when you glanced at him. Hiromi’s eyes drooped, heat dusted his cheeks at the proximity, and when you let out an airy giggle… he swore he swooned all over again. Just as he had when he first met you and fell in love.

He doubted he would be in the position he was today had it not been for you. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he would be here at all if he hadn’t met you when he did, but that was a story for another day.

You admired the side profile of your husband, eyes low and hazy with appreciation of his strong jaw and prominent nose that hooked just so at the end. “Good thing you’ll never have to know.”

Hiromi groaned aloud, burying his face between the soft skin of your décolleté. His cool lips skimmed the tops of your breasts, first on one side then turning to the other, making you shudder and hum. Your fingers threaded through his black hair, tugging firmly at the roots just how he liked, and his hips jerked in response.

A great fuck and a good night’s sleep would fix him, you were certain of it. It wouldn’t resolve his work issue, but Hiromi worked better with a clear mind, and you knew it was murky as bog water right now. Your man was a brilliant lawyer, dedicated to working towards a more just legal system for those normally underrepresented along with his partner, but he was a terrible workaholic.

You couldn’t count the nights he traipsed home from the office at an ungodly hour only to drag his tired body into his home office to continue where he left off. Only coming to bed when you physically dragged him away from his keyboard and desk with threats of pain and not the kind he typically enjoyed.

It couldn’t be easy to be his assistant, though you knew damn well that he was a good man. The poor girl probably had enough of the endless expectations and incessantly long hours which were necessary to get through all of his demands because he refused to finish at five like normal people. On the few occasions you’d stopped by his office, you could see the fraught expression written all over her young face and how her eyes pleaded with you to distract her boss enough so she could catch up with the mountain of requests waiting for her attention. Poor girl…

Ready to go to town on your poor overworked and stressed husband, you rocked your pelvis against the seam of his zipper, pushing his head further into your chest whilst his cock twitched and hardened beneath you. Hiromi practically purred, the sound muffled and vibrated right down into your soul. The possibilities were endless, and you were considering if you should slide to the floor and bathe his cock in your spit or ride him until all that wicked tension left his body when he suddenly paused.

His hands moved to your waist, the pressure firmer than expected and he gently slid you back along his knees so you were no longer planted over his poorly concealed erection. The flicker of guilt burnt in his whisky-smoked eyes, and it soured your smile. Hiromi shook his head and exhaled deeply, his eyes flitting away from yours.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered.

“You… can’t fuck your wife?” Your voice broke into a laugh that had nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with the bitter twist of uncertainty in your stomach. “Since when?”

“Don’t say that. I want to, but I need to ask you something first.” Hiromi cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press what he hoped were reassuring kisses to your forehead, cheeks and lips. “Then you can decide if you still wanna… y’know.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion forming like a snake ready to strike, and your arms folded tightly across your chest. He swallowed nervously, struggling not to ogle your beautiful breasts that he would be fully buried in by now and likely suckling on had it not been for his damned conscience. 

“Spit it out, Higuruma.”

Oh, he was in trouble.

Hiromi cleared his throat and fixed you with a beseeching look. “Will you be my assistant?” He rushed on when you visibly bristled. “It’s only for two weeks until the agency can find me a replacement and, and… it was Kento’s idea!”

“Throwing Kento under the bus isn’t going to save your hide, Mr Higuruma!” You slid sideways onto the couch, ignoring the groan of disappointment from beside you. “You know very well I am in the midst of my PhD. How could you think it would be feasible for me to come work in your office as an errand girl for a fortnight?”

“Well… I have a plan,” he said, both pointer fingers coming together as he continued to give you the best impression of those adorable dogs with the droopy eyes.

When he didn’t elaborate immediately, your eyebrows rose and you nudged his knee with yours. 

“R-right. I know you’ve been writing your paper here at home. So, I thought that maybe I could also work from home. You could help me out and continue your work in between the things I need.”

Dammit, that wasn’t quite the terrible idea you had initially anticipated. You eyed your husband from head to toe, and he desperately tugged at your folded arms until he could take your hands into his. He kissed across your knuckles, nuzzling his cheek, rough from a faint five o’clock shadow, into the back of your hands.

“Hiromi…” you warned, but he was almost too overjoyed to hear his given name once more to heed the warning in your voice.

“Two weeks. That’s all. And I promise not to ask for too much, only the absolute necessities that I can’t manage myself. Please?”

How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly and especially when you knew just how under the cosh he was with his upcoming trial? It would only interfere with your deadlines if he didn’t uphold his promises, but you chose to believe that he would. After all, Hiromi was rather keen on keeping his balls attached to his body.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

~

The first week went by without incident. It was an adjustment, to say the least, but once you found your feet and Hiromi got used to not having to leave at the arse crack of dawn, it was rather lovely to see more of your handsome husband.

Being able to sit down at the small kitchen table to eat lunch together was a daily treat, and it filled you with triumph when he would eagerly seek you out in the kitchen with his nose sniffing out whatever delicious treat you had prepared that day. Ensuring Hiromi ate during the working day was, more often than not, a struggle, with several text messages bouncing back and forth until he acquiesced–but not now.

Maybe it was the lure of stolen kisses or the giggles shared when you called him Mr Higuruma, breathlessly pressing your body into his and squealing playfully when he pawed at your backside in turn.

You’d be lying if you weren’t enjoying the pseudo roleplay of boss and subordinate. Playing pretend with a power balance that didn’t translate to your relationship outside this current scenario. There was no top or bottom, no dominant or submissive, just two people enraptured by each other. Sometimes you led, and other times he did. Your marriage was well-balanced, and you loved that about Hiromi. He wasn’t threatened by a woman that initiated, in fact, he loved it—loved you. So this new experience, where he was large and in charge at all times, was certainly thrilling, but not everything was smooth sailing. 

Hiromi was demanding, to say the least. When he was engrossed in a specific piece of work, he had a way of speaking that made you want to smack him round the head with one of his many manila folders, preferably one of the thicker ones.

No wonder his assistant had quit if he regularly spoke to her in the clipped manner you had heard on more than several occasions now. Only your intimate knowledge of the man kept your tongue in your head and your hand away from the folders. Niceties were time-consuming when he was against the clock. He didn’t mean to be cold, and you told yourself this over and over, but it still hurt, just a little.

Higuruma could get used to this. 

He idly wondered how he would feasibly make the transition back to office working once this temporary fix came to an end. He didn’t miss his morning commutes, the packed trains that felt like being crammed into sardine tins, nor the chill of the office before the heating had a chance to warm the rooms sufficiently. 

It was a treat to be able to roll out of bed and right into his desk chair. If he wanted to start at 6am, he could, though you would chastise him thoroughly if he dared to. He knew you liked your morning snuggles, and so did he. Waking slowly to your soft snores which he liked to call purrs, and soaking in the smell of your sleep-soaked skin whilst his hands roamed every inch of your softness he could reach. It made it easier to escape the clutches of sleep, knowing you were waiting for him.

However, the star attraction of the current situation was you. Never had he cast an appreciative eye over one of his assistants, not even before he met you, but you were his wife, and he couldn’t help but gawk at his sheer dumb luck. There was something altogether forbidden about the fantasies in his head which, of course, made them all the more alluring.

The first few days at home he had stayed in comfortable clothing, favouring the sweats he’d wear around the house on the weekends and his old college sweater, but quickly, he realised that this didn’t work for him. He needed the structure of his routine even if he wasn’t venturing past his front door, so the suits returned—starched collars and a black tie at his throat. As if to match his energy, you started to dress formally too, and what a treat that was.

Pencil skirts that he didn’t think he’d ever seen, blouses that nipped in your waist, pinafore dresses that swished around your thighs and most decadent of all–lace-topped stockings. 

You were driving him to distraction, and the worst of it was that he was certain you didn’t realise. It made him sound shorter than he liked, his words coming out clipped, and his pleasantries sounded cursory rather than heartfelt. You were doing your best to accommodate his needs whilst still working on your paper, and here he was, wishing to bend you over his desk to run his nose and mouth over your squidgy thighs, the meat of your backside and the seat of your underwear until it soaked through with his saliva.

By the time the second week rolled around, Higuruma was a volcano, ready and raring to erupt at the slightest breeze or incident. The lunchtime kisses were no longer satiating his desires, nor were the evenings spent worshipping at the altar of your puffy, spit-covered pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch this very specific itch.

“I’ve made the copies you asked for, Hiromi. I’ve also updated your calendar with the pre-agenda meeting that came through from the opposing side. Was there anything else for now?”

Hiromi audibly moaned when your wrist grazed his fingers, setting down the documents in question and lingering by his side, waiting for an answer. He tugged sharply at the knot of his tie, feeling choked for air—starved of logic. 

As he glanced up at you, he paused. Your bottom lip was held fast between your teeth, eyes positively alight with playful mischief. So maybe you were more aware of the thick-as-sticky treacle tension than he gave you credit for. He fixed the cuffs of his shirt in an attempt to mask the shake of his hands, setting his pen down before leaning back in his chair. It creaked in protest, and you raised a hand to stifle a laugh. 

“Actually, there is something else, and it cannot be put off a moment longer,” he drawled with a tone that suggested he was going to dictate a letter or something equally menial. 

You were not expecting him to spin his chair towards you and yank you down by the arm into his lap. The shriek that left you was genuine, only silenced towards the end by the firm melding of warm, insistent lips. His hands were everywhere and all at once; squeezing the tops of your arms, ripping at the buttons that hid your cleavage from him and skimming beneath the tight hold of your skirt until it rucked around your hips.

There was such urgency to his movements that you struggled to catch up, but finally, you broke apart from his mouth, saliva strands webbing and breaking apart as your tongue passed through them and across your swollen lips. “Mr Higuruma! What would your wife say?” 

It was meant as a spicy joke, a nod to the little games that had been at play and the dynamic the two of you had fallen into, but you sensed immediately that it didn’t go over well. He stopped fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, half of them free from their holes and the lace of your bra now prominently on show, breasts firmly squeezed together given the constraints of the material.

“I-I would… never. I mean…” You watched the desire in his eyes shift to panic, and you shushed him with a finger over his lips. Your heart ricocheted in your chest at the sincerity, and if you believed you couldn’t love him any more than you already did, it proved untrue when you witnessed the devotion that shone in those whisky-coloured eyes.

“I know. It’s okay,” you murmured, closing the distance and trailing your lips over his jaw and up to his ear. “I like it… keep going, please?”

Oh gods, how could he have ever deserved a woman like you in his life? Hiromi whimpered, his eyebrows pinched together, and he felt that final strand of restraint snap clean in two. His lip trembled for a second before he was on you again. Hungry kisses pathed down your throat, a hand at the back of your head to keep you close and manoeuvre you exactly as he wanted.

You scrabbled at his tie, pulling it free with a whip crack until you could toss it behind you and return your focus to his shirt so you could scratch at his chest and leave red welts across his skin.

“No.” The frantic lawyer shook his head, pressing his fingertips over the fresh mark he’d sucked into your neck simply to watch you whine from the pressure of the blooming bruise. “Belt, now.”

Jumping at the ragged command that rasped from Hiromi’s throat, you complied without teasing or complaint. Working the tail of his leather belt through the buckle and sighed at the clatter of the metal when it rattled free to join his tie somewhere unseen in the room.

“Fuck… take it out, please.”

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, nor did he wait for you to pop his top button or lower his zip. He was too focused on freeing your bountiful tits and taking them into his mouth. Your eyes raised to the heavens when his hot needy tongue licked around your nipple, the lace cups shoved down to push your breast up and into his face. 

For long moments, you only watched as he laved you with his spit, lips drawn around your pert buds to elicit that deep-seated squirm of pleasure that echoed between your thighs. Hiromi lifted his gaze to your face, making sure you watched as he sandwiched your breast together with his broad palms so he could suckle both nipples at once. Your jaw slackened, your stomach sucked in, and your hips undulated atop his thighs.

It invigorated the tightness of your hold on his cock, drawing it out of his briefs followed by his heavy balls to stroke him hard and fast. He could take it, you knew that, his purpled cockhead sticky from precum that painted your fingers and palm. You paused with his foreskin pulled back, fingers ringing his base to use your other hand to tickle the seam of his balls. He jerked up with a muffled grunt, a resounding pop echoing in the study when his lips pulled free of your breasts.

“Need you, Sir. Please, want this,” you paused to squeeze his shaft in emphasis, “Inside me.”

“Little fucking temptress, you know that? Should’ve bent you over this desk days ago…” He growled against your collarbone, marking it with his teeth.

Higuruma stood abruptly. You squealed and anchored an arm around his neck, refusing to give up your possessive grab of his throbbing dick. He turned and shoved the back of his chair flush against the edge of his desk to stabilise it before dropping you into the leather seat and folding your legs back to your chest. 

His rough fingers pinched into the fat of your thighs, fiddling with the sticky bands of your lace stockings and damn near ripped them. You would have complained had it not been for the raw emotions written all over Hiromi’s face, his eyes fixed on the seat of your underwear and the obvious stain that was caused by his ministrations.

Bending his knees to drop closer to you, he savoured your mouth with his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to curl over your teeth. He filled his hands with the fat of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart and massaging the roundness with little gentleness. It was all you could do to moan, the sounds swallowed greedily only to be replaced by a pleading keen when he tugged your underwear away from your cunt. The fabric bunched around your knees, and you assumed he’d move back to remove them fully, but he didn’t. Instead, he twisted the material until it was tight around the bend of your knees, pinning you in place. 

His long slender fingers stroked your pretty slit, coming away with remnants of your arousal and using it to mix with his precum that continued to weep onto your hand. Hiromi’s head sagged forward, black hair falling into his eyes as a long string of saliva fell from what he’d gathered behind his teeth to your sensitive clit. He smeared it around the bundle of nerves, scissoring his fingers until he could tug it feverishly.

“Hiro… fuck me already. Goddammit, I’m gonna blow,” you whined, painfully aware that you were dangling by a thread.

You helped him lead his cock to your entrance, tapping it against your folds to see the tendons in his neck strain and giving you some semblance of smug satisfaction. When he finally notched where you needed him most, your breathing was coming so rapidly you faintly worried you might pass out from this. The air was so thick you struggled to inhale, drowning in this faux forbidden tryst.

He groaned, long and low. His nose nudged into your warm cheek as he bent even lower and pushed into your velvet heat. “That’s it. This pretty pussy is sucking me in—fuck—oh, you like that?” He teased, his hips drawing back only to plunge in again, and deeper this time when he felt you clench around him.

You gripped his forearms, head lolling against the headrest when his cock reached your depths, and the coarse midnight patch of hairs at his pelvis rubbed delicious friction into your pert little pearl. 

“Mhm… mhm. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Higuruma could have laughed at the absurdity of your words. What made you think he could stop even if he wanted to? You were hugging him too perfectly, pulling him back in each time he withdrew his hips. The rhythmic pap of his full-to-bursting balls against the split of your ass rocketed him closer and closer to the finish point, enough so that he fisted the base of his dick to stave off his looming orgasm. He wasn’t ready for this to end, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop either.

The tails of his shirt escaped his trousers and obscured the view of his cock disappearing into your warm cunt, and he growled in frustration. You were so close to the precipice of your orgasm that you didn’t realise why he was growling, only moaning at the primal noise and clenching down hard enough that Hiromi’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Releasing his hold on your thighs, he grinned wolfishly at the imprints of his fingertips on the backs of your legs. With his heart pounding rapidly, he ripped his shirt up his torso and gripped the material between his teeth. His cock sawed in and out at a pace that was losing its rhythm at an alarming rate. 

He’d never looked like this before, crazed with desire and burning heat covering the apples of his cheeks. The whisky smoke in his eyes was barely visible due to how blown out his pupils were, and you lifted a hand to caress his cheek. His eyes cut to you, hips rotating whilst buried against your cervix, and with a sharp nod, he asked you to cum for him. His thumb sought out your clit, working it from side to side whilst his balls drew painfully tight and the first lick of molten heat dripped at the base of his spine.

Your eyes rolled over, limbs going lax and pliant pinned between the chair and his body. Your toes curled within your stockings, thighs trembling and butterflying open onto the arms of the chair. Hiromi rode out your high, slowing himself just so, but he couldn’t hold back for too long.

With a willpower that shocked him, he pulled out at the last moment and pumped himself until thick viscous spurts of cum shot across your exposed breasts and stained the blouse covering your stomach. He convulsed so intensely his knees nearly buckled, long drawn-out whimpers ripping from his throat, and you watched it all through hooded, blissed-out eyes. 

Hiromi sagged forward, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His cock twitched as it softened, the sensation worsened by your toying little fingers exploring his sensitive skin and rubbing the mixture of his and your arousal into his pelvis and across his balls. He didn’t know what to say. The fantasy lived out was so much more than his imagination could conjure, but he still felt a little vulnerable now it was over.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and licked over his parched lips. Words caught in his throat, but they were cut off by the trill of his phone on the desk as it vibrated across the wood. You handed it to him with a shy smile, and he answered it after smoothing back his hair.

“Mr Higuruma?”

“S-speaking,” he answered, clearing his throat urgently.

“I’m calling from Clerical Angels. Unfortunately, I have bad news. It is going to be another week before a new assistant can start. I’m sorry for the delay, I know it must be an inconvenience…”

Your eyes widened at the conversation you could hear as clear as day, meeting his steady gaze with cheeks that burned with a combination of mild embarrassment and intrigue. One more week.

“Not at all. I think I can cope, my wife is happy to bend over backwards for me.”

Oh, Hiromi would pay for that comment… but not for at least another week.

[violetthecreator]

Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

[erwinsvow]

thinking about being rafe’s new stepsister—your mom marries his dad and you move to tannyhill right before summer starts. at first he doesn’t care about it at all, doesn’t even talk about it with wheezie n sarah, more annoyed than anything that he has to deal with yet another girl in the house.

then he sees that you’re real pretty, shy and sweet the way he likes, never talking back to anyone, always doing what you’re told. he thinks he could have fun with you, the way you get so pleased with he actually volunteers to drive you around and give you a quick tour of the island. you were gonna go ride around on your bike but there’s a nail in the tire. rafe tells you “get your ass in the truck, kid, i’ll show you around.” you leave your useless bike where it is and so he ends up taking (really more parading) you around, showing you the beach and the country club and the good ice cream shops.

he thinks he’s going to have a good time trying to get into your bed, that it’ll take some sweet talking and latent touches and his devilishly handsome smile to urge you into thinking that this is a good thing, that you should want to be spend such quality time with your new big brother. rafe thought it would be such fun… until he ends up wrapped around your little finger!

he doesn’t realize when exactly it happened, somewhere in between driving you to the kook parties and feeling mildly irritated when he sees you talking to some boy and then feeling beyond ecstatic when you abandon the conversation to talk to rafe instead, the sulking boy taking off the second he sees rafe walking over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. that boy thinks the two of you are dating, and when you do nothing to quell that idea, he starts feeling like he’s never felt before.

the pair of you leave from the party when you want to leave, despite his friends telling him how early it is and that they had people lined up to buy. what you say, goes, and so he takes you to get ice cream after leaving and the two of you eat it in his car in the parking lot, and before long, this is happening every other day. walks on the beach after dinner with the rest of your new family, midnight runs to get snacks when you get hungry—first you’d knock on his door or send him a text but now you two are basically together until midnight every night anyways, so it doesn’t take more than a tug of his arm to get his attention.

“shit, kid, got me running in circles for your crap-” he’ll tell you when he comes back to tannyhill with take out from one place for the two of you to share for dinner and drinks from another place, the new water bottle you wanted in yet another bag, but you had asked rafe so sweetly to pick it up for you, he couldn’t find it in him to disappoint you and say refuse.

in front of the others, it’s all pg-rated, movies on the couch sharing a blanket, but once they’re out of eyesight you lean against rafe and he holds you like a boyfriend would, carries you to bed when you fall asleep and gets in right beside you. presses a kiss to your forehead and says “sleep tight baby, m’right here” in his sleepy, low voice and you feel like you’re in heaven.

one time ward comes to wake you up and your bed is empty, and he goes to rafe’s room to ask if you went out last night after the two of you left to get dessert—which was really just an hour of making out in the backseat of his truck and returning before anyone got suspicious—and he sees you sleeping in there and just is speechless and about to get so angry at rafe. but you jump in and lie to his face, saying you saw a spider that disappeared and couldn’t sleep in there so you just came straight to rafe’s room because he was awake. (ward half believes it, rafe tells you he loves you right after he walks out because you defended him without a second of hesitation.)

it’s really funny because he really did just want to see if he could get into your panties but he’s so whipped for you now—feels like you get him and support him and clear up some of the fogginess in his brain. you keep him out of trouble and you’re good for him, and he’s trying hard to be a good boyfriend to you, even though he’s not your boyfriend, could never be your boyfriend.

drives you up to norfolk for a weekend trip—you lie and say your friends are meeting up there and rafe offers to take you since you don’t drive much (you don’t drive anywhere because rafe takes you everywhere). your mom happily agrees while ward is suspicious, still, but doesn’t voice anything since he doesn’t want your mom to worry. takes you on a real date, where he can hold you by the waist and kiss you and do anything he wants since no one knows you two.

books a cute hotel by the water and fucks you for the first time there, because he’d once thought getting caught only added to the appeal of seducing you, but now it just makes his blood run cold. you don’t care, though, and you tell him as much—that no one in the cameron family could make you stop seeing him unless you decided other wise. after all you knew that would be a part of the deal when you decided you had to make your new step brother yours until any circumstances and stuck that nail in your bike’s wheel so you could find an excuse to spend time with rafe.

that night in the hotel he holds you close and talks quietly to the ceiling, to you, to no one in particular since he thinks you’re asleep.

“don’t have to worry about getting caught, baby. i’ll just marry you and then no one can tell us what to do. just wait until we get back, then it’ll be fine, ‘jus us two forever, hm?”

<3

[localapparently]

!! Please do not reupload my comics anywhere. Thank you. !!

/ orv epilogue spoilers

[Story, 'One Who Is Loved by All', has begun its storytelling.]

!! Please do not reupload my comics anywhere. Thank you. !!

[ghouljams]

*punches a hole through a table*

The things I would do to be coddled and taken care of by Price

Oh the things I would do...

He wouldn't even ask for anything in return. "Just doing my job sweetheart" he tells you when you mumble out a quiet thanks. As if he doesn't lay behind you while you sleep and positively purr with how well he's taking care of you. Price strikes me as a man who has to make sure his proverbial pack is well taken care of, whether that's you or the 141 doesn't matter. He positively preens when you tell him he's good at this, at taking care of you. Not that he would ever let you know that, but the 141 sees it when they drop off extra medicine.

"You're really, uh, goin' the extra mile, huh?" Soap asks passing off the pharmacy bag.

"Hm," Price grunts, "hadn't noticed." And it's not like Soap can say anything else the way Price glares at him as soon as he opens his mouth to tease his captain. It doesn't matter if other people think he's over protective or fretting over you too much, all that matters is Price taking care of you and doing it well. Although seeing your fever hazy eyes smiling up at him is almost a reward, you're so cute when you're reliant on him.

[greatlydelirious]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞

Slashers x F!Reader

What [blank] Dicks Look Like Masterlist

summary: “An extremely detailed description of different Slasher dicks.” Hex Color Codes, predictions of exact measurements, what sex would be like; basically, I went crazy with it.

warnings: pure debauchery, very much my own opinion 

Billy Loomis:

Height - 6′ 0″ (1.82m)

Body Type - Lean, Toned

Tip - #AE6D6A

Shaft - #D49D8A

Length - 6.8in (17.27cm)

Girth - 4.6in (11.68cm)

Details - Circumcised, cleanly shaven, and has noticeable dark blue veins when he becomes fully erect. Grower, not a shower.

Billy is a lot of things; mysterious, brooding, and brash, but understated isn’t one of them. His plans are big, but his cock is bigger. It wasn’t a surprise for you when you say how large he was for the first time. Although it barely fit in you, it did fit his personality. The only thing he is more passionate about than revenge is fucking you until you can barely walk the next day and need to call out of school.

Expect to also have bruises and love bites to boot. Billy loved to lay his claim on you by making sure you had visual reminders that you were taken. Even if he was with Sidney, he needed everyone to know you weren’t up for grabs.

Just like him, the tip of his cock is a dark and heady reddish-purple. Billy’s taste in sex is quite rough and possessive. He took you with his cock in every way imaginable and only used positions that had you flush against him.

If he’s not inside you, he’s practically fucking you with his eyes. He watches your every move like a predator assessing its prey. An apt description when his eyes are as dark as a shark and he holds you so tight like you’ll bolt at any moment.

Do you want to be possessed completely and treated like a fuck doll? If so, Billy Loomis is your guy.

Stu Matcher:

Height - 6′ 3″ (1.90m)

Body Type - Lanky, Toned

Tip - #EDA491

Shaft - #F1BDA8

Length - 7in (17.78cm)

Girth - 3.9in (9.90cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is a little overgrown, but it’s thin so it’s not really a problem. Tilts to the left.

Just like his stature, Stu’s cock is thin and long. He fits nicely into your pussy but couldn’t completely bottom out.

Sex with Stu is more fun than anything else. He likes to make you giggle and squirm, especially while you’re impaled on his cock. He’s a goofball through and through, but at the drop of hat, he’ll go from tickling you to fucking into you like a man possessed.

Like any other young man, Stu’s as horny as it gets. His love language is touch so he’ll always either have his arms around you or have you planted on his lap. The latter was a dangerous game as it inevitably led to him grinding up into your ass. You tried to be discrete, but he was so long and always so hard against you, you couldn’t help but blush and bite your lip till you almost bled to suppress the string of moans that threatened to spill out.

Billy would always snicker at how you “fucked like rabbits”. Thank God for birth control, because with how frequently you fuck and how deep Stu comes in you, you would be pregnant by now.

Despite your continuous salacious activities, your relationship was rather sweet. You loved how you had to go on your tiptoes to kiss him and the way you got to lay your head in the middle of his chest while you snuggled together. You especially loved how he always made sure you were comfortable and getting maximum pleasure from sex.

To make a long story short; Stu was the pinnacle of a golden retriever boyfriend (with a big dick).

Mark Hoffman:

Height - 5′ 9″ (1.75m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #D47F71

Shaft - #E3A78D

Length - 6.9in (17.52cm)

Girth - 5.3in (13.46cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is trimmed, but not fully shaved, and he has one thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. Tilts upwards and to the right.

Intimidating was a word apt for all aspects of Mark Hoffman. Personality, looks, and more importantly his dick. You can still remember the first time you saw him in all his naked glory. As you gaped like a codfish, that damn devilish smirk spread across his face in cocky male triumph. At least that time you could agree with it.

The ratio of length and width was perfect for deriving pleasure that wasn’t painful, but filled you to the fullest. A personification of the phrase “just right”.

You loved to suckle and lick at the thick head of Mark’s cock. Lightly teasing him with pleasure light enough to make him grunt, but not completely come undone. But, just like the man himself, the tip is an angry red. Your teasing would last a minute before that same tip hit the back of your throat.

Mark loved to fuck your throat to feel how hard you work to accommodate him. Your lips stretched thin around his thickness almost uncomfortably. A factor that only worked to spur him on more.

When Mark Hoffman fucked you he didn’t seek to inflict pain. No, he made you so dick drunk that drool slid out your puffy lips and you couldn’t even begin to remember what day it was. That’s just what good dick does to a woman.

Bo Sinclair:

Height - 6′ 1″ (1.85m)

Body Type - Muscular 

Tip - #BD7365

Shaft - #D59C88

Length - 8.1in (20.57cm)

Girth - 5.4in (13.71cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven (I mean look at his face, man grooms himself), and he has multiple veins along his shaft that are sensitive. Tilts upwards, hefty balls.

Holy Mother Mary and Joseph, Bo has so much feral masculinity it borders on toxic... okay it definitely is toxic. He’s charismatic, sexy, has a killer smile, a huge cock, and he knows it. Not only knows it, but revels in it. Cockiness is the least of your worries when it comes to Bo, however.

Bo is an experienced lover since he was the resident playboy when Ambrose was still bustling with life. Now you get the pleasure of having him all to yourself. More of a curse than a blessing since the man has an insatiable sex drive.

He fucks every hole you have with a delicious stretch that makes you moan like a whore. Bo praises you for taking him so well by grunting at you about how you're his “good little slut”. Degradation is his specialty, but you’re usually too dick-drunk to care (and the darker side of you absolutely loves it).

Bo is a shower all the way. His tight jeans leave little to the imagination as whenever you’re in the same room you can see the hard outline of his cock. An instinctual display of his dominance. He needed to be in power and you were more than happy to give it to him.

One of his favorite things was to have you lie your back on the bed with your head hanging off so he can fuck your throat. Nothing spurred him on more than the sight of his cock bulging down your throat. Sometimes he liked to wrap one of his hands around your neck, so he can feel him fucking you even more.

Get ready to familiarize yourself with being sore because Bo won’t go easy on you. If you do complain he is more than happy to ease your pain with his damned mouth. Good for being an asshole and even better for bringing you pleasure.

Vincent Sinclair:

Height - 6′ 1″ (1.85m)

Body Type - Lean, Strong

Tip - #C98274

Shaft - #DCAC99

Length - 8.2in (20.82cm)

Girth - 5.2in (13.20cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and slightly paler than his brother. Tilts upwards and to the left.

Vincent is the sweet version of his brother Bo. Although they possess similar impressive equipment, he lavishes your body like you’re royalty. He is more of a giver than a receiver.

Aftercare with Vincent was glorious. In the afterglow of sex, he will wet a rag in warm water to wipe you both off before laying you against his chest. Once you become putty in his strong embrace, he likes to run a brush through your sex-tasseled hair. A gesture that is even more intimate than what you just engaged in.

Vincent thought it was fascinating that you are so fascinated with his dick. So much so that he surprised you with a mold of it as a gift for you to use whenever he was unavailable. (If Bo found out, you would never hear the end of it.) In return, you offered to model nude for Vincent which of course led to passionate, mind-melting sex. His room seemed to turn into a sauna during it all. You always ended up being hot and sticky with sweat that made you want to sleep the rest of the day away more than anything else.

Even though he was always quiet, during sex he didn’t hold back the animalistic grunts that crawled from his throat. Fitting since his cock was perfect for breeding you fully. Another accurate fact since Vincent always lovingly stroked your belly afterward.

Vincent is sugar, spice, and everything nice in and out of the bedroom (if you aren’t a prospective statue that is).

Lester Sinclair:

Height - 5′ 7″ (1.70m)

Body Type - Scrawny 

Tip - #C7877E

Shaft - #D6A795

Length - 5.3in (13.46cm)

Girth - 3.8in (9.65cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, a nice accumulation of hair, and veiny. 

This man is the picture you see when you look up why size doesn’t matter. Lester has no qualms about putting in the work to make you orgasm. He eats you out like a starved man and his fingers are so deft that you forget he spent most of his day cleaning roadkill. Additionally, Lester always made sure to pay special attention to your clit while he fucked you.

He is the king of a quickie. In his truck, on top of his truck, on the ground, or in the bathroom; the man knows how to get you both off and do it fast. Especially since his brother Bo will never give the two of you peace.

Lester liked to call you his “little slice o’ heaven”. In his words, you were as sweet as pie and tasted like it too. It didn’t take much for you to rile the man up till he was chomping at the bit to touch you. When you wore your lace bra and tank top he would be practically beg on his knees.

Everyone underestimated him, but that left more for you. Who doesn’t love a man who isn’t afraid to get down and dirty? (Oh yeah, he totally eats ass too. I have no shame in saying it).

Brahms Heelshire:

Height - 6′ 3″ (1.90m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #DA9F99

Shaft - #D7A294

Length - 7.8in (19.81cm)

Girth - 4.6in (11.68cm)

Details - Circumcised, hairy just like the rest of him (facts are facts). Hangs low.

It was a mystery how Brahms was so well endowed with, well... everything. The man was mouth-wateringly muscular despite his proclivity for slinking in the walls all day and to say he was hung was the understatement of the century.

One time when Brahms was desperately grinding against your stomach you shivered at the realization of how long he was. The tent that grew in his sweatpants could have housed five people. A fact that the boy didn’t fully quite understand.

Ever the eager one, Brahms wanted nothing more than to completely sheath himself inside you in one thrust. Although, a good hard squeeze of his cock made him listen to you; even if he whined in need. (However, he loved nothing more than to bury his face in your sweet folds. Something he was far too good at for his inexperience.)

He liked when you were authoritative yet sweet. Whispering to him what you wanted him to do if he wanted to be your “good boy” while running your thumb along the slit on the pretty pink head of his cock.

Although Brahms only slightly stretched your pussy, the way he could barely bottom out in you made your toes curl with tortuous delight. Each push inside you made him rub against the spot that made your eyes roll back and made his tip kiss your cervix.

Brahms Heelshire may have no experience before you, but he learns rather quickly like the good boy he is.

Thomas Hewitt:

Height - 6′ 5″ (1.95m)

Body Type - Wide, Strong

Tip - #C7777A

Shaft - #EABCAF

Length - 4.8in (12.19cm)

Girth - 6.0in (15.24cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, another hairy bastard, and has thick veins. Huge balls.

What he lacks in length, he makes up for in width, because just like every other inch of his body, Thomas’s cock is thick.

Prep is key for the beast of a man to snuggly (while still stretching) fit inside your warm depths. Thomas is desperate as he spreads you with his fingers, one at a time. One turns into two turns into three, and by the fourth, you’re a whimpering wet mess begging to finally be filled by the real thing.

Pre-cum weeps from the tip of his blushing cock as his bulky frame cages you in and fucks you like an animal in heat. The deep flush on the head is the same color as the flush on his cheeks by the end of your far too-loud lovemaking.

Charlie Hewitt often vulgarly taunted Tommy about him “fucking” you, but Thomas was so head over in heels with you, the only phrase he liked to call what you two did was lovemaking. Even if he was rather rough on occasion. Every time your sweet voice asked him, “Do you want to make love to me Tommy?” while you stroked his broad chest, he felt like he would burst right then and there.

Tall, strong, and wide, not only was he sturdy enough to not be swept away by a tornado, Thomas Hewitt could satisfy all your primal needs. And you did for him as well, because based on the whined grunts and growls he showers you with; pumping you full of his cum was Thomas’s favorite thing.

Michael Myers:

Height - 6′ 8″ (2.03m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #EFA29A

Shaft - #F5BEAB

Length - 9.7in (24.63cm)

Girth - 5.6in (14.22cm)

Details - Circumcised, good amount of hair, and veiny. Hangs low (Do you see the size of that thing?).

Silent, but deadly. Inhumanely strong. A giant amongst man. And that’s just the descriptions for Michael’s dick. But seriously, it was a wonder how you survived being his girlfriend. He was a little too thick and a little too long. Not that you're complaining, it’s just A LOT to get used to.

Michael took you hard and near brutal when he wanted, how he wanted you. Despite this he still had an underlying tenderness. When he slammed you against the wall he cradled the back of your skull in his enormous hand. Instead of just ramming in you he scissored two of his thick fingers inside you to make sure you were relaxed and wet enough to accommodate him. Something that didn’t take very long, especially when he let your hands roam across the expanse of large muscle he procured over the years.

The light pink tip of Michael’s cock was soft and velvety; a stark contrast to the rough edge of, well, everything about him. Surprisingly, Michael wasn’t keen on fucking your throat like he did your pussy. He enjoyed looming over you as you gently sucked on the head while stroking his shaft with both of your hands (there was even room for a third). 

Sometimes he even just liked using your mouth to warm his large cock. That’s the only way you could get him to finally lay in bed. Nothing was more comforting for him than resting his cock in your wet mouth while you occasionally swallowed around him to prevent yourself from soaking your sheets in drool.

With his size pain was customary, but it only added to the onslaught of pleasure Michael gave you time after time.

Freddy Krueger:

Height - 5′ 10″ (1.77m)

Body Type - Average

Tip - #E37B6E

Shaft - #FCBCA0

Length - 6.1in (15.49cm)

Girth - 3.9in (9.90cm)

Details - Self-circumcised (iykyk), no hair whatsoever, and similar to the look and texture of the rest of his skin. Details are for his natural state because he can make his dick whatever he wants.

This is what nightmares are made of it, but when it comes to you it is in the most sensual way. Like I said above I put what I think is his “natural dick state”, but Freddy can be as big or small as you want him to be. Want to be fucked by tentacles? He can do that. Want to be fucked by a guy with two dicks? Easy peasy. Want to be fucked by a dick that vibrates? Okay, I think you get the point by now.

If you’re into Freddy you have to be a little bit of a masochist. Those knife fingers aren’t just for display babe. It’s his way to have you marked by him even when you aren’t in the same realm. You either have to bundle yourself up or create lie on top of lie about how you have a really angry cat.

After terrorizing some poor victim, Freddy loved to thoroughly pump the leftover adrenaline into you. This made sleep not fully restful for you. The only time he is soft on you is when you fall asleep during the day. If he is not busy during those times, he will shower you with gentle touches and slow foreplay. Freddy likes to call you his “sleepy kitten”. Which is a nice reprieve from the many other groaned nicknames. Including but not limited to; slut, whore, dripping cunt, dirty little bitch, etc.

Freddy might be a dirty old man, but he is your dirty old man.

Jason Voorhees:

Height - 6′ 5″ (1.95m)

Body Type - Strong

Tip - #AE8071

Shaft - #CDAD90

Length - 7.1in (18.03cm)

Girth - 5.7in (14.47cm)

Details - Uncircumcised, sparse/ patchy hair, and deep purple veins. Tilts slightly down.

Jason is like water in your hands (no pun intended). He was enamored by you the first time he saw you. You were so delicate and soft-spoken and didn’t engage in all the sinful activities everyone around you did. Rarely did his mother approve of anyone, but for the first time Pamela told Jason to go protect the “sweet girl”. Something he couldn’t agree with more.

Although he is the most inexperienced, he is also the most eager. Jason doesn’t fully understand his own arousal, but what he did know was that he wanted to touch you... everywhere. Pure instinct and your encouragement aids him in exploring your joint pleasure.

The last thing Jason wanted to do was hurt you. Unfortunately, he didn’t quite understand his own strength. Anytime you whined out in pain, he would immediately stop and pet your head in a gentle apology. All of Jason’s actions stem from the need to do good. Originally it was just for his mother, but now he wanted to do good for you even more so.

Jason’s cock has a dull hue due to his “reincarnation”, but you don’t mind. More than half of the time he is buried deep inside you anyway. He is so long and wide that its hard to pay attention to anything, but him.

At first Jason comes extremely quickly because the foreign pleasure is too overwhelming for him. Thankfully, he has no problems getting hard again and finishing right where you both left off. Stamina and strength coursed through his vein with an inhuman longevity.

With a little handholding, Jason has the attributes to be the sweetest and most attentive lover.

Jesse Cromeans:

Height - 6′ 7″ (2.00m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #E3A391

Shaft - #EFC2A5

Length - 7.2in (18.28cm)

Girth - 4.5in (11.43cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and rather smooth. Perpetually hard.

Unlike all the other little pigs, Jesse tortures you with pleasure and only a bearable amount of pain. Considering his size, he found it easy to succeed in just that. In tandem with knives, ropes, whips, paddles, toys, and various tools of course.

Not only does the mask stay on during sex, but also the camera. The only eyes who would ever re-watch it though is his. In a way, you’re Jesse’s muse. You inspire his strong ambition and lust for blood. Truly the only woman to spread warmth throughout his body. Well, a warmth that’s not from blood.

I also need to mention that he smells so good. A mix of aftershave, cologne, and a hint of metal is a concoction that calls to your hormones. Masculine, yet sophisticated.

“Perpetually hard” means just that. Jesse is always ready to fuck you. If he isn’t actively doing it he’s either watching one of your shared tapes or thinking about it. The sheer thrill from his kills only adds to this constant flame of desire. Anyone who lengthens how long it will take for him to get back home to you will greatly regret it.

Jesse has the means to give you anything your heart desires. Although all you will be able to think about is his cock and dominating presence over you.

Asa Emory:

Height - 6′ 0″ (1.82m)

Body Type - Lean

Tip - #EDAB90

Shaft - #F8CBB4

Length - 6.9in (17.52cm)

Girth - 4.7in (11.93cm)

Details - Circumcised, clean-shaven, and flushes a hue of red when fully erect. Tilts upwards.

Like the creations he strives to make, Asa’s cock is perfection. Consistently colored with a small hue of red on the tip, soft-skinned, and tilted upwards enough to rub against your most sensitive areas. You would expect nothing less from him though.

This is an extremely dominant and submissive relationship. Although you are his prized creature, nothing is given to you freely. You must earn all his affection and expect to be punished when you act beyond your means. Asa loved how sweet you sounded while begging, but he loved how wobbly you sounded while being reprimanded more.

His cock is also big enough to hurt when he decided you didn’t deserve a gentle touch. However, if you took it like a good girl, he would make sure to soothe your aches and let you have a clean slate the next day.

Since Asa was the only person you interact with, you don’t merely crave his touch; you starve for It. Being a rare bird in a gilded cage made you stir crazy, but the second he spent time with you, all your previous sadness was quickly forgotten.

You may rely on Asa for everything, but no pet could ever compare to you. TLDR; You are a glorified sex slave, but no one in your life has cared for you this extensively.

Norman Nordstrom:

Height - 5′ 10″ (1.77m)

Body Type - Muscular

Tip - #ECA9A1

Shaft - #EEBEA2

Length - 8.4in (21.33cm)

Girth - 5.1in (12.95cm)

Details - Circumcised, hair is trimmed, and has one thick vein on the top side of his shaft that goes from the base all the way to the tip. Tilts upwards, hefty balls.

Norman is a strong force of nature despite his visual impairment. Extraordinarily little would lack in your relationship. He has great spatial awareness and even better hearing. Another bonus was that he loved to constantly be touching you. Norman had a particularly good idea as to what you look like. Not that your looks mattered to him. Your heart was invaluable and to be honest… so is your pussy.

Even though Norman is much older than you, he has no problems getting hard and fucking you properly. And boy his cock was so huge it was easy for him to have you drooling. He is also huge on oral sex; not for him, but for you. Norman made sure you were sufficiently wet for him to fill you with minimal pain. He also only liked coming inside you. Truly the king of breeding kinks.

The mating press will become your go-to position. Not only did it keep his cum inside you the best, but it helped him press into you the deepest. You will eventually learn to have no shame. Norman sure didn’t. I mean his sweatpants left very little doubt that he was constantly horny for you.

Norman will treat you like a princess and protect you like a knight. All he asks for in return is your heart and eventually a child.

Yautja:

Height - 7′ to 8′ (2.13m - 2.43m)

Body Type - Muscular 

Tip - #83453D

Shaft - #7F6C41 near the tip and fades to #71653D at the base

Length - 12.4in (31.49cm)

Girth - 6.5in (16.51cm), 7.5in (19.05cm) knot 

Details - Nothing to circumcise, no hair, and more details are below. Huge balls.

Did you really expect an 8-foot alien creature with more strength than you could ever dream of possessing to have an averagely large cock? The virility of Yautja males is unmatched by any other species in existence. Your hands will be figuratively and literally full.

Yautjas have their genitals sheathed inside them while they’re not actively mating. Leaving the area of the groin a rough round mound of skin. Due to their frequent hunting and sparring, it protects the sensitive flesh from being harmed.

The reddish-purple-hued tip is pointed and textured by ridges that help your male nuzzle his way deep inside you. Similarly, firm bumps and ridges travel down the widening shaft to aid in the mating process. The even thicker knot at the base of his cock keeps the Yautja snuggly in your depths to lock in all of his seed.

However, with the sheer quantity of hot seed he produces into you, a rush of it always spills out after he pulls out. While growling he will use his thick, rough fingers to coax it back inside you. An act that will never cease to make your face heat into a blush. 

You audibly gasped when you first saw your Yautja’s cock in all its unsheathed glory. In contrast, the male trilled at the sight of the soft pink flesh between your legs that was tantalizingly dripping for him. Neither of you had seen the opposite species naked before. Something about the foreignness of it all made you even more worked up.

Mating with a Yautja is difficult at first, but once you finally fit all of him inside you, you’ll crave nothing else.

The amount of calculation and color comparison I did for this is wild. I hope you got a kick out of reading this because I sure did while writing it. Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated <3

[miiyochi]

sandwiched in-between

cw. suggestive/nsft, implied 3some 

note. don’t think about the time paradox logistics this would probably cause. don’t think about how convoluted and nonsensical this is either.  just take it. consider it pwp because im too tired

you’re not exactly sure how or why you ended up in your current situation. never in a million years would you have expected to be sandwiched between two solomons from two different millenniums. 

the first solomon, your solomon who you affectionately call “sol” is pressing soft and sweet kisses down your chest, slowly unbuttoning your shirt as he goes further. 

the second solomon, one established as past!solomon is more hasty with his movements. you sit on his lap back pressed against him while he caresses your hips, nipping and sucking at your sensitive neck. past!solomon’s middle and ring finger are shoved down your mouth, muffling any sound that spills from your lips. 

“you say this is our apprentice?” past!solomon remarks between kisses, sol hums against your skin before pulling away.

“they’re cute, right? but let me remind you, they’re my student.” solomon narrows his eyes at his past self, only for his double to smirk back. it was weird…this was all so weird. solomon getting jealous over himself? getting touched so desperately by two solomons who both wanted you to themselves… how did this even happen.

“i must say, this ones a little greedy. squirming so much under my touch, you’re enjoying this aren’t you? getting touched by two men like this… you love it don’t you?” past solomon whispers into your ear, nipping at your lobe. your solomon nods in agreeance. his hands slowly moving down from your chest to your thighs stroking at your inner thigh with the lightest touch; teasing you when they move further inwards. 

solomon slowly peels off your shirt, his past self wasting no time at letting his hands explore your body. ‘was I always this impatient?’ solomon thinks to himself, shaking his head before pressing a hand to your stomach. he gently pushes you backwards further onto past!solomon, grabbing your legs and hooking his arms under your thighs. solomon presses a kiss to either side before making his way inwards. 

“if you wanted me this badly you could’ve just said so, mc. one of me isn’t enough for you, hm?” solomon smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. “don’t worry my love, tonight all you’ll get is me. after today, all you’ll ever want is me.” 

m.list

[nonamenonamenon]

in your original timeline, the sorcerer had known he never had much of a chance compared to the brothers that you lived with in the house of lamentation.

compared to the 7 demon brothers, who you had a close-knit relationship with, and who you'd formed pacts with because of your unwavering tenacity and kind heart, who was he to compete for your affection against them?

when possible, he constantly grabbed the chance to give you the comfort of another human. he knows it better than everyone elseー how lonely it gets being the only human in a place filled with otherworldly beings.

he felt that it was all he could give you that the brothers couldn't, anyway.

the great sorcerer, solomon the wise, constantly reduced to a sulking mess whenever you'd rejected his plans due to the brothers always coming first in your eyes.

whether it being levi needing a player 2, or asmo needing a lab rat for his new cosmetics, he'd always been pushed aside for the brothers.

when everything was turned on it's head, and when the both of you were sent to another timeline, he saw this as his chance.

he felt too guilty taking advantage of a situation as painful as this (to you, at least.) as a chance to gain your affections away from the overprotective brothers.

he feels only an iota of guilt in his heart when you visit his bed chambers at night, afraid to sleep alone, and tearing up due to missing the brothersー your version of them, at least.

softly, he runs his hand through your hair, and strokes it, as if he was soothing you. you quickly fall asleep next to him, his warmth only serving as extra comfort to you, and he stares.

how long can he keep doing this? how long can he have you? before everything is back to normal? before he's back to playing second fiddle? he knows this game of house won't last forever.

but, for now, he'll treasure it.

he'll treasure coming home with you, groceries in hand, and cooking dinner together in the kitchen.

he'll treasure doing laundry with you, making a mess of the floor in the process as you splash water at each-other.

he'll treasure your movie nights, where you're cuddled close to him because of the cheesy devildom horror movie he (purposefully) picked out.

before he loses it, he'll treasure it all. he'll keep it close to his heart, as the one thing he refuses to have ruined.

solomon shuts his eyes, dreaming of a universe where both of you come home to each other everyday, where he isn't second to the brothers, and he falls into a deep sleep.

[satoandspice]

Sukuna has two dicks, one thicker than the other, which you don't understand why until it starts expanding inside of you, forcing in what you realize in horror to be eggs. It lasts forever, your stomach distending, and nausea worsening as the space inside you fills up more and more. Already exhausted, you can't get away from him, having been fucked and reduced to a drooling, sobbing mess. It's hard to breathe, being this full, and you wheeze when he pulls you off his cock, finally done stretching you out. Sagging in his arms, he slides you right back down on his other dick, and starts thrusting. The force would throw you off his lap, but his nails pierce your skin and hold you in place. What parts of you not held down flail around in a dizzying, embarrassing frenzy. This time when he cums so much it spills over and runs from between your thighs to your ankles you thank him for doing so, more relieved to be done than terrified about what has happened.

[deviouz]

OKAY SO LIKE idk if you take requests anymore but I need this done so bad and I love your writing so like imagine Jason Todd being adopted and raised by Catwoman and the reader by Batman as robin like a girl robin and basically Jason needs info or wtv and he defeats the reader in a battle or something and handcuffs her and like seduces her for it and reader's usually had super high morals and stuff but she's like simping over him and melts for him practically but idk something like tht like cat women and Batman but roles reversed but yea

Totally get if this is like weird too much though lmao

here’s a lil drabble while i make my way through other requests <3 thank you lovie!! also, jason’s name didn’t really come up, so i guess you can imagine it as whoever? i did write with jason in mind though!! ;; soz

role reversal !

“Come on, I know you can spit it out. The old man can’t be that important to you.”

It was hard to fight off the embarrassed blush as you jerked your wrists from behind your back, the cold bite of steel a painful reminder of the predicament you had found yourself in. The fight was long and drawn out, having left both of you breathless for a while before your captor had gotten the upper hand. It was times like this you really wished you had paid more attention to your father’s teachings about how to get out of precarious circumstances as this one.

How the hell were you supposed to dislocate your thumb and slip out of the handcuffs again?

Being Robin had given you quite the ego. It hadn't really occurred to you that getting captured was a possibility. Batman had shown you every trick in the book on how not to get caught.

Your opponent was as sly as a fox, though. He was quick on his feet, definitely hard to defeat. It was when you had the upper hand, or believed so, that the rug was quickly pulled out from under you, sharp smile and all.

Silence would be your best friend. There was no way in hell you were going to divulge any information that could be used against either yourself or your family — you’d sooner die than allow that to happen.

It was when he had made way to pluck the black mask shielding your eyes did you move, head jerking to the side while a noise of disapproval escaped your throat.

“Don’t touch me.”

He kneeled before you, lips curled into a smirk as a hand trailed from your knee to the middle of your thigh. Your suit was thin, meant more for agility than anything. It was nothing compared to the protective kevlar of the Batsuit. Stealth was your strong suit, and it turns out lingering touches from a man clad in a catsuit was your kryptonite.

“Don’t be like that. We can have fun! I promise I’ll make it worth your time,” he practically purred, voice smooth and intoxicating. “Just tell me what you know.”

Had your heart always beat this fast? Did he drug you? Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up, the deprivation rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time.

“I thought I told you not to touch me,” you quipped back with a clenched jaw. Hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed, you were a sight for sore eyes. “How about you take these cuffs off and we go for a round two, hm?”

He had the audacity to giggle like it was the funniest thing in the world. The hand on your thigh began to inch upwards once more.

“Darling,” God, did that sound pretty rolling off the tip of his tongue, “any round two that we have will be somewhere with some nice booze and a bed, and maybe with soundproof walls depending on how loud I can get you.”

You were stronger than this, surely. Anything to protect Gotham and the people inhabiting it. You wouldn’t lose your nerve to a man with pretty words knelt before you.

“I can give you what you want, you know. Think of it like a trade; you give me the information I need, and I’ll have you screaming my name for all of Gotham to hear. Fair?”

As his touch began to grow more bold, warm hands slowly parting your thighs as he moved in between them, you knew you had to act fast. Resolve could only last so long, especially when coupled with a nighttime job known as being Robin — you were long overdue for something devious and a long nap.

Mustering up what little restraint remained, your foot raised to kick him back, momentarily leaving him a breathless heap of muscle and suave on the ground before you.

“You really don’t listen well.”

[delirious-donna]

Praise [Nanami Kento]

an: this is an old fic of mine which got slapped with a flag the first time around. I’ve reworked it and I like it far better now and I hope you will too.

premise: Kento finds it so adorable when you look at him with those big, shiny doe eyes. Has he noticed that you do it more when he sings your praises? Oh yes, and he plans to make you purr for him.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: praise kink, office sex, possibility of being caught, boss/subordinate dynamic, sloppy blowjob, cum swallowing, Kento being a bit of a tease but with good intentions

Masterlist

It was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore the way you squeezed past him in the break room. The lilt of faintly murmured apologies and downcast eyes that refused to meet his own.

Nanami watched you keenly whilst you poured your coffee and sprinkled in packet after packet of sweetener. Leaning against the far wall with his coffee mug dutifully hiding the smile that rose to his lips. Ever the sweet tooth.

His board of directors would shudder in their golf carts if they knew he mingled with his subordinates on a daily basis rather than locking himself within an ivory tower. It was an argument he was accustomed to, and one that he assured anyone that asked was worth the risk. Workers who knew the big boss outside of his office were more likely to be productive. He had reams of research tucked away, statistics on the positive impact on retention rates and the upward trends on quality assurance.

It was all a ruse, and a convincing one at that. Kento could recite KPIs at the drop of a hat until those scrutinising eyes turned vacant and disengaged. All for you. His every effort to satisfy the worry that stalked your every breath it seemed at times. For you see, you meant the world to Nanami Kento and he to you, but he was also your boss and that caused problems.

A secret relationship, one that might be frowned upon if he weren’t the CEO of the company, but it was at your continued insistence. You wanted to be taken seriously for your contribution to the company and he respected that decision. The board answered to him at the end of the day, he held a majority share in the organisation he had built from the ground up, but he understood your desire to find your own worth rather than be tied to his side.

You were a dedicated worker, a real asset to the executive team he managed personally and from the moment he met you, he knew he had to have you. Never before had he felt compelled to pursue something so risqué. Most would call him risk averse, what they didn’t know would likely make their jaws drop.

Whilst his gut instinct was immediate, the road to where you were now was not so quick. It had taken time and a boatload of patience. A sensual dance of flirtation and seduction which had severely tested his restraint, but after months of witty remarks and sexual tension thick enough to choke a horse, you were finally his.

Quite frankly he hadn’t known he had it in him. It was the first time he had spent as much time and energy on pursuing anyone, but the reward had been more than worth it. Only recently, he asked you to move in with him and the spacious penthouse no longer felt too large and lonesome. The bachelor life was not meant for him. It was an ill-fitting suit and he gladly welcomed the tailored fit of being your adoring partner and lover.

It was tainted by the fact that you shared the same bed, woke tangled in each other’s arms each morning but never arrived to work together. The same was true at the end of the day, though Kento tended to spend more hours in the office for obvious reasons. He understood your reservations, it was hard for a woman to be taken seriously at this level and although he operated with a policy of complete gender equality, there were still those old-school fuckers that looked down on women.

He’d assured you he wouldn’t hesitate to fire anyone who even uttered a derogatory word regarding your relationship but you begged him to keep it quiet for now. Unfortunately for him, he was wrapped tightly around your finger and so, despite his desire to the contrary, he bowed to your wishes.

Only thought of the day where he could stand proudly by your side without fear of repercussion in your eyes kept him going. Wheedling out the bad seeds covertly in the background to lay the groundwork for the years to come and how prosperous and happy you both could be if given the chance to flourish freely.

Nanami was a good man, at least he hoped he was.

However, his gaze was anything but at this moment. He felt the surge of predatory intent wash through him as he took in your grey skirt and the matching jacket that pinched your waist in the way he liked most. The knowledge of those delectable thigh highs that concealed your bare legs ran rampant, and he idly cursed that he wasn’t pressing you up against the counter and fucking you like he wanted to do. To hell with coffee and boring Monday meetings.

No, he had control and an idea.

“See you in ten,” he said on his way out the door, flashing a quick wink in your direction and watching your jaw drop in response.

~

The boardroom was noisy as everyone took their seats. Conversation flowed but you couldn’t pay attention, not when you knew that Kento was up to something. That faint crocodile smile he had offered not long ago lingered in your memory and you straightened deliberately in your chair, uncomfortable for the first time in many months.

He sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled whilst he studied the open planner set before him. Strands of blonde hair fell into his face, and the annoying part of you that wanted to sweep it back reared its head. As if he could sense your thoughts, he parted his hands and fixed his hair without glancing at you.

The sooner this meeting was over, the better. You had a project in need of your attention, and literally any excuse not to be caught feeling frisky in the office. A prospect that was growing exceedingly harder given the unknown meaning behind that sly little wink in the break room.

The proceedings started as normal, the boring bullshit of every corporate meeting and then it happened.

“Excellent work on the Fushiguro account. You exceeded expectations, well done.” Nanami announced out of the blue. His warm hazel eyes fixed you in place whilst your colleagues eagerly added to the sentiment, some genuine and some because they were simpering fools.

You found yourself staring at him—at your boss—with cheeks that felt hot enough to fry eggs and wide eyes blinking much too rapidly. Raw pride swelled in your chest along with a squirm in your lower half and a pleasant sensation twisting in your gut.

“Thank you, sir.”

Perhaps it could be put down to a one-off but not when the offers of praise started to come thick and fast. He made it seem so natural as if he were paying it no more attention than a good boss should do and he certainly shared the successes out amongst your colleagues, but this was something else—you knew it.

Could he sense that your thighs were pressed tightly together beneath the opulent table? Did he hear the hitch of your breath every time he mentioned your name? How about the heat spreading across the back of your neck or the bead of sweat that trickled down your spine? Could he smell your arousal?

Goddamn his fiendish ways. Kento always could read you like a book, and not just any book plucked from the shelf. You were a well-thumbed and beloved story that he would read fondly over and over, each time finding new things to add to the piles of reasons for loving you.

You were losing your mind. Furiously beating your pen against the still empty pad you’d brought with you for note taking. You crossed and uncrossed your legs for the hundredth time, desperately wanting to excuse yourself for the solitude of the bathroom. A splash of water to your face was long overdue.

So lost in the abundance of praise being heaped on you, you didn’t hear the call of dismissal. It wasn’t until the scrapping of chairs met your ears did you realise it was time to leave and you were ready to rocket your right out of the room as soon as the door opened.

“May I have a moment of your time?” Nanami asked you nonchalantly. Your knees almost buckled at the idea of being alone here with him.

Only once the last person left and the door thudded shut did you dare to look at him. Dared to bear witness to the blonde God that was leaning back in his chair—observing you.

“Is everything alright? You look… flushed.”

Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you chewed over your words. “I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate the concern.”

“Hm. That you are, sweetheart. So very fine…” he enthused, reclining back in his executive chair to rake your standing figure with a lustful eye. Oh, he wasn’t playing fair in the slightest and somehow that made everything far worse.

Kento admired you from the top of your head right down to your shuffling toes and back again. The flash of his pink tongue wetting his lips did nothing but force a fierce shudder down the length of your spine. You knew where this was going, part terrified and part excited beyond belief. In the sanctity of your home, you would have already pounced.

“Ken—”

“I can smell your arousal, darling.”

Quick as a flash, he was leaning forward in his seat and wrapping both hands around your wrists to tug you towards him. You gasped aloud at his downright filthy accusation and the way he was manhandling you to stand in front of him. The edge of the desk hit against the backs of your thighs and Kento used your moment of imbalance to seat your butt against the edge of the glass top.

He rolled his chair closer, a thick muscled thigh pressed between your legs and forced the tight hold of your skirt to ride up to accommodate his presence there. Nanami groaned at the sight of your lace-detailed stocking tops, a calloused finger swiped across his mouth as if deciding what to do next.

“Have you noticed how… receptive you become when I praise you? Or how your beautiful skin blooms when I tell you how clever you are?”

Kento brushed his thumb across your cheek, stroking your jaw and tilting your chin. His free hand fingered the lacy tops of your thigh highs, straddling the line where the garment met your bare skin and you fought down the moan in your throat. You were melting into a puddle, no more than an ice cream cone on a blazing summer day and longing to be licked up by the man before you.

“Such a brilliant mind inside that pretty head, I’m truly a lucky man,” he rasped, and you snapped.

Grabbing him by the knot of the tie at his throat, you pulled him to meet you halfway in a searing kiss. Damn it all to hell, you no longer cared that you were in the workplace or that the door wasn’t even locked, you needed him with a dizzying urgency that refused to be denied a moment longer.

The aroma of rich, bitter coffee and musky cologne filled your nose, it birthed a breathy sigh of equal parts comfort and desire. You tried to slide onto his lap, to anchor your knees on either side of his hips but he held you fixed on the table with two strong palms.

“My precious sweetheart needs to show me how good she can be. Think you can take care of a pressing matter of mine?” Kento’s gaze dropped to the obvious lift to his expensive dress slacks, and you caught his meaning immediately.

The idea of being praised more was all the encouragement you needed to bend at the waist and palm him through the heavy material. You could feel the outline of his straining cock, both your mouth and pussy drooled in anticipation of revealing the beast hiding beneath those layers.

You made quick work of his belt, unfastening the buckle deftly before freeing his button and dragging the zipper down. Nanami assisted in lifting his hips enough to shuffle his trousers down whilst your eager fingers hooked inside the waistband of his briefs and finally his leaking cock sprang out.

The velvet skin appeared agitated and angry, the tip flushed a deep pulsing purple and pearlescent precum oozed freely from his slit. You touched the silky liquid without grazing his skin yet he still twitched from watching you alone.

“Mm… gonna show me what you’ve got, sweetheart? Show me who the real boss is here?” He drawled almost lazily, and your breath hitched at the insinuation that you were the one in charge. That thought made your cunt clench and your stomach flutter.

You wrapped around his shaft, working the beads of moisture down his skin to make the pump of your fist more slick and comfortable. Kento watched you through hooded eyes, delving his hands through your lustrous hair and pulling it free from the clip holding it back. You were such a sinful sight; all flushed cheeks and heaving chest that strained the silky fabric of your blouse to the limit.

“Gods, you drive me crazy. Do you know how much I have to restrain myself when you’re around?”

Big, round doe eyes blinked up from where you knelt between his parted thighs. The surface of your irises were glossy like polished mirrors and saliva escaped your pouty lips before you’d even gotten close to taking him into your mouth.

He knew your tight little pussy would be throbbing in need, that lust covered your folds and tracked down your thighs, sticking to your skin and waiting to be licked clean by his tongue. He could smell it, practically taste it and he would, once you were finished.

“Kento…”

He nodded his head, giving you the permission he knew you were seeking to do what you both wanted. That first sensation from the heat of your mouth sent him crashing, head tilted to stare at the ceiling and strained the thick tendons in his neck.

You moaned around his girth, slobbering already as your overexcitement spurred you on. The ache in your pert clit was maddening, the clench of your thighs not enough to relieve the ache in the pit of your abdomen. The friction wasn’t nearly enough, you were desperate for more. What made it worse was the heavy, bitter taste of Kento’s cock. It made you salivate, but not only in your mouth. The underwear beneath your skirt would have to be trashed as completely ruined at this point.

“Fuck, that’s it. Taking me down your throat so well, so proud of you sweetheart,” he groaned whilst noticing your restless wriggling and knowing exactly what you wanted—what you needed. “Play with yourself, my love.”

You jumped at the instruction, eager not to waste a moment of time in complying with the request and grateful that your man was so in tune with your needs and not just his own. A hand slid beneath your skirt and rubbed erratically through the sodden cotton of your ruined underwear. Never had you fallen apart so quickly, never had your heart thundered so much that it might explode.

“I love seeing you like this. Let me hear you purr for me, kitten.”

Swallowing around his thick girth, your cheeks hollowed to increase the suction of your mouth and Kento’s head snapped down to your face with parted lips. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat but you didn’t stop, barely hesitated as he slid further down until you gagged and spluttered when you pulled off for air. It was only for a moment. You were too resolute in bringing this powerful man to his knees.

With a flickering tongue that pressed thickly against his heavy shaft, you tasted him thoroughly and let spit bubble at the sides of your mouth to coat your chin. Kento was fighting against the rise of his hips as he twisted a hand into your hair and gently guided your head up and down in the perfect bobbing motion.

He was close. Hell, you were closer.

Your forearm rested on his strong thigh, hand wrapped around the remaining inches of his shaft that refused to fit into your mouth and throat whilst the other hand dipped into your sopping hole.

Your cunt clenched around your slim fingers, and you could sob. You longed for something else, something more and you knew just what you wanted, but perhaps you weren’t going to get it.

“Sw—sweetheart… i’m gonna - oh fuck - swallow it like a good girl, please?” His plea was breathless and the nearest you had ever heard to a whimper. It was beautiful and empowering to know that he could be brought to heel by you.

The low flutter of your lashes along with a subtle nod and watery eyes were his sign of your acceptance. Kento allowed the pressure that was building to a crescendo to release like a riptide. He spilled his seed down your throat and filled your mouth as he pulled his hips back.

He was in awe at the sight of you licking your lips like the cat who got the cream. His chest heaved with every twitch of his dick, emptying himself against your pursed lips and smearing the remnants for you to lap up greedily. Kento smiled, lazy and content now that the ache of his balls had drained away. He was quick to haul you up and onto his lap with your surprised squeal causing him to chuckle.

“I love you, my beautiful, smart and funny girl,” he cooed into your ear, his large palms coasted over your jittery thighs and hooked between your legs just where you needed him the most.

“Now then, time for your reward…”

[violetthecreator]

New snarky hot vampire husband fic incoming soon 👀

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

the only You for Me

Captaineer drabble (Captain is reader) | Words: 381 | (fluff/sorta hurt-comfort?) | Read on AO3

From where he lies beside you, you feel a hand rest atop yours, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Mhm,’ you hum in assent, ‘ ‘course.’

‘Were there ever any of the other “me”s that you… liked more than, well, me…?’

‘What? No, Mark, of course not. Why would you–? No. You're my Mark. Hey,’ You take his face in both your hands, gently making him meet your eyes. ‘I didn't go halfway across the multiverse just to find any old Mark.’

He gives a small laugh and you press your lips to his forehead before returning your gaze to look directly into his.

‘I'm sure the other "me"s out there have their own "you"s that they cherish in their own ways, and some of them could be enemies, in a sense, or even strangers. But that's their business. I love you. This you. More than anything or anyone — and I mean anyone. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that for you to fully believe you deserve it, or truly understand how much I mean it, but I'll remind you forever if I have to.’

It's dark in the room and you can just about make out his eyes and other features, but you can feel the slight tingle of warmth on his cheeks, imagine the blush tinting his face.

‘Forever's a long time,’ he says, voice low and soft and undeniably adoring.

‘Yeah, well, I think we both know the meaning of “a long time” better than maybe anyone. And in all that time — all those lifetimes, all those universes, I would always choose you, no matter what.'

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, using your upper arm as a pillow. His arms wind around your torso, pulling you close. You wrap your free arm over his back, stroking his dark curls and winding them gently, comfortingly, between and around your fingers.

‘I love you,’ he whispers against you. ‘You’re my whole universe, my everything. You're the only you I want, too.’

You want to wrap him up in your heart, deep within the warmth of your chest. But since you can't, you settle for holding him tighter, every night, and you never let go.

[suguwuus]

Could you write a connor x daughter of Athena. Where she has been at camp for a year, but they have known each other for about two weeks and he flirts a little too much in training and she thinks he is being mean. but in the end they make up.

★ nice

oh em gee my first req i feel like spongebob on his first day with his shiny lil spatula and squeaky shoes

p.s. so sorry this took so long i was so very sick when you sent it in and then exam week left me bruised and broken and so sleepy 😭

wc: 2.4k words

Who the Hades is this guy? Or more like, who the hell does this guy think he is?

You stared at the hunched-over figure wiping your bronze weapon down with a cloth, whistling as he went. It was too casual for someone like him to be doing something like that, especially with your weapon.

You recognized him as one of those Stoll brothers. They had been at camp for almost as long as you had, yet it seems that he's been popping up and about into your business these past few days. And he had been doing it a lot. Offering to carry your things, greeting you good morning and good night, even going so far as to try and make your bed for you. It was strange. Suspiciously strange. And you didn't trust him. From what you've heard and seen around camp, he was a prankster, an awfully resourceful two-faced troublemaker who could ruin your day with two paperclips and a cup of orange juice.

You thought he was no match for you, though. After all, you were equally crafty and clever as well, if not more than him. You thanked your mother, Athena, for both those skills and the grace to notice the signs this early on.

Gods, what was the purpose of all of this? You couldn't figure him out. You had some ideas, some guesses, but you couldn't pinpoint anything exactly. You needed direct contact with him; you needed to observe him up close so you could finally see his true intentions. Did he get bored and were you his new target? Was he doing this for a bet? Did you do something recently to catch his attention?

So, it was strange. Strange that you two have been skirting around each other for the past few years, not talking unless forced to and if you did, you only exchanged small talk. Why was he now all up in your business? Was he plotting something? You remembered when he put a tarantula in your half-sister Annabeth's bunk. You thought that was the last time you'd see those two boys.

"You look like you're plotting to kill him."

You jumped. Said Annabeth stood behind you, holding a plastic bag full of something you could only guess was your cabin's deposit of trash. Every other morning someone would do this to keep the cabin clean—and every morning Connor would greet you. Today, he added an offer to wipe your weapon down. You reluctantly agreed, vulnerable at 7 in the morning.

You knew you shouldn't be driven by rumors and gossip, shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But your overly paranoid self just refused to try and get to know the boy.

You pursed your lips and turned to Annabeth, sucking in a breath. "What's he like?" You asked.

"A little shit," Annabeth replied, and your heart sank. "But," she continued. "He's a reliable little shit. He's not evil or anything like that. He just has a talent for getting on people's nerves, him and Travis. It's a Hermes kid thing. Why?"

You glanced nervously to the side. "He's been doing the absolute most for me recently. Asking if I need help with anything, greeting me every time we see each other. We're not close. We're not even close to being close."

Annabeth took a few moments looking over at him as well, a small smile on her face. "Hmm. Well, I can't say anything for sure. But there's a very low chance he's doing this out of malice."

You cringed. "So..."

"Just wait and see where this goes," She advised, swinging the plastic bag. "If he hurts you, beat him up." Then she went away.

You scratched your head, starting to walk away from your cabin. That was...sort of helpful? No worries. You could handle this. It wasn't everyday you dealt with someone with the first name Connor and last name Stoll, but it wasn't everyday that you climbed the lava tower, either, no? And you survived that. So how hard could a boy be?

Quite hard, as it turned out to be.

You watched him stand up, stuffing the dirty cloth in his pocket. He then looked around the camp, walking in circles as if searching for someone. You knew he was looking for you, so when he turned in your direction you reluctantly waved a hand, but not enough to be obvious or easily noticed in the bustle of the camp.

When he spotted you, he jogged up to you like an excited dog, haphazardly swinging your weapon. He held it out with calloused hands. "Here!"

"Thanks. Erm, Connor." You added his name for good measure and took your weapon back. You inspected it quickly. No tampering, as far as you could see. It was clean, too. You looked back up at him and nodded. He had done a decent job. An honest, decent job?

"Did you just wake up?" He blurted out, sporting a smile that made you feel...what, self conscious? His words didn't help.

"No, I've been doing errands while waiting for you." You kept your answer plain and simple. "Why?" Without realizing it, you smoothed out your shirt.

He saw where your hands were going and chuckled, his eyes crinkling as if you just cracked a joke that amused him twice as much as the average pun did. "Don't worry, sunshine, you're not the ugliest thing I've seen in my life."

And the he walked away whistling, probably going off to tie someone's shoelaces together to trip them up. What the fuck? You thought, still processing what had just happened. What was that all about? Don't worry, sunshine?

You bet Apollo was laughing at you from Mount Olympus with the way the sunlight was shining right onto your face as Connor walked away, blinding you as you stood there in confusion.

You eyes searched the assortment of campers for Annabeth, some tiny bit of support you could anchor yourself to. She wasn't there. No striking grey eyes of hers among the orange shirts. You grit your teeth, accepting your defeat.

Well, not exactly your defeat. Not yet, at least. Hopefully not.

You gave Connor your best glare as he walked up to you in the middle of the arena. He swung his sword in his hand back and forth as if this was a game to him. Luckily for you, you also saw it as a game. A fun game to try and get to learn a thing or two about him. You wanted to observe him, close up? Here was your chance.

Sword practice. Sparring. Percy as the instructor overseeing the match. Perfect.

"Shake hands, guys," He said, standing between you and Connor. He then nodded at the boy. "No cheating, alright? No extra tricks."

"Yeah, yeah," He said, tapping his foot. You saw how he seemed almost giddy, but when he met your eyes, his smile melted and he cleared his throat.

You held a hand out. He shook it, not taking his eyes off you. He had a serious expression on, devoid of all humor or teases. "Nice shirt," he mumbled. And then he was off, stepping backwards until he was a reasonable distance away from you.

Shaking the confusion out of your head, you got into position, holding your weapon as you adjusted your stance.

Percy gave the signal and you two were off, celestial bronze clashing against one another. Your ears rung and you tried to not let the sun blind you.

Frustratingly enough, you couldn't observe much except for his physical traits (a light spray of freckles across his nose bridge, a nasty looking scar on his knee and a bruise on the other one, a hand with only one fingernail painted cherry red; unsurprisingly enough for a son of Hermes, he seemed to be ambidextrous) and that he was awfully talkative.

"I might have trouble focusing, but I'm multitasking right now, see? Your face is distracting, but I can handle it." "You're nice to look at when you're cornered like this, you know? Cute and mad, I should piss you off more!" "I really like your lack of enthusiasm all the time!"

Parry. Strike. Slash. Clang! The tip of his sword grazed your jaw and you swiped at his shins. Contrary to his blabber, you stayed silent except for grunts and the like, determined to finish him off.

Someone in the audience of campers yelled for Connor to focus. Instead he laughed. Soon you ended up with your weapons pressed against each other, screeching as the material of each grinded against one another. You were face to face with him now.

"You seem a little rusty, maybe you should consider practicing with me—"

That was your last straw. You pushed him back, so hard that you ended a few feet away from him, and charged, but at the last second swung to disarm him from his waiting sword instead of striking. With your momentum, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pushing his head upward, and stepped behind him, holding your weapon to his throat.

Victory.

"You know, I'd say something, but I don't think it's very audience friendly, I think it should be reserved for someplace without overbearing coordinators or nine year olds," He giggled.

You released him after Percy gave you the signal. Of course, you had to be somewhat polite. So you maneuvered his body so he was facing you, standing properly now. You took his clammy hand and shook it, looking him straight in the eye.

"Good duel," You said, nodding, chest still rising and falling from the intense practice match.

"Yeah, yeah, good duel," Connor replied, stumbling over his words. "Percy didn't...didn't have any comments for us, y-yeah, that's...that's good, right?"

You nodded again, and he let go of your hand, swallowing and glancing at the floor. He wet his lips, as if there was something he was itching to say, something stuck in his throat.

"You...you have nice eyes." He walked away with something you might have called a scurry.

Tilting your head in utter confusion, you heard a voice and felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned around to see a little girl of about 12 years old. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her chubby cheeks from sweat. "Return the compliment. That's pamahiin, you know." She shot a cautious glance at Connor's turned back.

"It's what?"

"Superstition where someone curses you in the form of a compliment. He's been saying all kinds of things since the start of your match!"

"That doesn't sound like a Greek superstition to me. Where'd you hear that?" The girl left before you could finish. You shook your head. Silly kids.

You decided you had some business to attend to, so you jogged after Connor, following him down the path to the archery range.

"Hey," you called. "Connor!"

He slowly turned around, looking anxious. "...Yes?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You're being strange. You kept talking during sword practice—you never do it that much, and you keep offering to do things for me. Are you following me around? Why did you compliment my shirt out of the blue right before we started?"

His brain seemed to load. And then he smiled. "You watch me during sword practice?"

"Sometimes, when there's nothing else to watch. The point is, you're acting off!"

He cleared his throat. "Well, erm, you know, I've just been seeing you around and I wanted to get to know you more. Wait, I complimented your shirt? We're all wearing the same ones."

You stepped closer. "No, are you up to something? Trying to get under my skin? Everything you say is somewhat backhanded and it feels like you're planning to get me in trouble, or both of us in trouble. If you don't like me, just say it straight to my face." You clenched your fists as you finished.

His expression morphed and looked horrified. "Oh, my Gods. No, I'm sorry."

You stared hard, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Shit, Y/N. That, uh...that wasn't...oh man, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I mean, I am mouthy all the time, but I didn't want you to think of it like that! I do, I'm complimenting you, I guess we just don't match up in terms of what's a 'nice' gesture or not.

"I'll say it straight, then. I'm being nice to you, trying to say nice things. Because I think you're nice."

You raised a brow. "...Nice?"

"Yes, nice. And I really liked practicing with you. And greeting you in the morning and at night. And you. I like being nice to you even if you don't understand my little pickup lines sometimes."

"So you weren't trying to be mean?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Ah...okay. I see. That's...fair. I guess I was just paranoid." You slowly nodded, understanding his defense. You could see him nervously putting his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Mhm." He looked to the side. "Oh, and by the way, maybe the thing I said this morning was confusing, you're not ugly at all, I think you—everything about you, is very, pleasing to the eye."

You chuckled. "—Is nice."

He let out a relieved laugh at how you had caught on. "Yes, exactly that. Oh," He perked up, looking behind your shoulder. When you followed his gaze you saw some campers walking towards him, and they did not look very happy. He put his sword back into his scabbard and tied his shoelaces, which had come undone.

So he was a prankster. Obviously. But he wasn't as bad as you thought. Not mean, just a little mischievous at times. You definitely were just paranoid. It's not everyday you got that many compliments. Puzzling ones that needed comprehension, yet still compliments. And he was easy to talk to. Not mean at all. Come to think of it, you hadn't fallen victim to his or Travis's pranks lately, not in a long while—

"That's my cue," he reached over and awkwardly patted your shoulder, averting your gaze. Despite that, he was smiling ear-to-ear. "See you sometime, okay? Bye!"

"Bye...!" And he dashed away, leaving you beaming in amusement. Wait, pickup lines? Those were pickup lines to him?

Nice? Nice as in flirting?

[specshroom]

Just failed my driver's test :(((((((

Anyway, completely unrelated but

♥ Choso would hug you while you cry about failing your driver's test.

♥ He understands how pent up emotions and stress would cause an outburst. He doesn't think it's weak, he finds it endearingly human.

♥ Even if you feel ridiculous and childish he doesn't think so. He just holds you until you calm down a little. He'd stroke your hair and softly say things like "It's alright", "It's okay, you just got nervous".

♥ He'd kiss your forehead and when he feels how hot it is, he'd get you some cold water and headache medicine.

♥ He'd be so kind and patient. He'd feel honoured that you'd be so open to showing your emotions around him.

♥ If we're talking about no Au/ canon Choso he'd probably unintentionally make you laugh by saying something like: "I don't even know what a driving test is so it can't be that important."

♥ If we're talking Normal AU Choso then he'd say something like "At least I still have an excuse to drive you around :)"

♥ He tells you the story about how Yuuji almost crashed the car when he did his driving test and jokes that you couldn't have done worse than Yuuji.

♥ You wouldn't need to explain much to him, he'd just let you cry and sleep it off with your head laying on his dampened shirt. He doesn't feel the need to rush you and he'd let you tell him about it when you're feeling better.