#fic: the euphoric taste

[voxofthevoid]

konnichiwa, vox-sama ✌️

it seems like everyone is having fun since wednesday, huh?

wanna join this club too if it's possible, pleasepleaseplease

what would i ask of you? jeez, tough choice + others' preferences are partly mine

- voyeurism

- hickeys/marks on skin

- causing and soothing the pain

- something sweet

thank you and your inner source of ideas 🩵

Y'know, I was thinking yesterday that you seemed to have missed this week's shenanigans. Good to see you!

I've picked snippets of ~200 words from four different fics.

There's voyeurism, joint shower, face slapping, and a marriage proposal, in that order. The last one is stealth angst because it's from the Amnesia Fic.

Voyeurism, ft. itagofushi from i can offer you a black-lit paradise

At least Itadori’s clearly not complaining. His hands are almost reverent as they slide down Gojou’s chest, palming the skin he fought so hard to bare. And there’s that same, damning familiarity drenching every touch. Fingers splaying wide, trying and failing to grasp the entire expanse of Gojou’s chest. Hands encircling the thick column of Gojou’s throat, a gesture that should by all rights be threatening somehow turned into hungry affection. Megumi doesn’t understand how or why Itadori touches Gojou like that, but he knows he doesn’t want to either.

He’s not surprised when he lifts his gaze and runs into nuclear blue.

“Don’t worry, Megumi,” Gojou murmurs, his voice too gentle to be trusted. “I’m sure you’ll pack on some meat there soon—ow! Yuuji.”

Megumi ignores the whine and the pout, staring at Itadori’s fingers clamped on Gojou’s nipples. They’re pink. He remembers that. Right now, they’re not even visible, swallowed by Itadori’s crushing grip.

He tugs, hard and mean.

Gojou just moans.

“Honestly,” Itadori sighs, pulling on the nipples again. “I don’t get why you’re being such an ass to Fushiguro.”

“He, uh, he likes it,” Gojou says absently, his mind clearly lodged in the flesh Itadori is bullying.

Hickeys/marks on skin, ft. goyuu from (this is also part of the story) how the story changes

Yuuji lets out a measured breath and goes to retrieve the soap. When he turns around, the sight of Satoru, every inch of his naked skin dripping wet, hits him like a freight train, and Yuuji doesn’t stop or even falter, but his face or body must do something because Satoru’s expression morphs into smug satisfaction. He leans against the tiled wall, head tilted back and chest thrust out to let the shower spray hit his chest and sluice down in gentler streams.

His pale skin almost glows under the bright bathroom lights, but it’s the reds and pinks littering his torso that take Yuuji’s breath away. All the bleeding stopped long ago, but the bite marks and bruises seem starker. It looks different like this—more real, more violent. Maybe because of the wetness or maybe because Satoru’s upright. Yuuji’s mouth grows hot, his teeth aching with want and his tongue thrumming with memory.

His eyes trail down, taking in the sculpted stomach marred by teeth and suction, the weirdly cute belly button, and the snowy trail of short hairs before landing and snagging on the metalwork between the legs.

Causing and soothing pain, ft. goyuu from (the euphoric taste of your tears) swallow it, darling

“It’s none of your business who I fuck.”

“You made it my business,” Yuuji tells him; he doesn’t say, You made yourself mine.

Satoru shudders like he heard it anyway, eyes going dark and hot.

But this boy has never wanted with grace.

“You just wanted an excuse to be a fucking pervert—”

Yuuji slaps him.

Satoru looks delicate, his features fine and fey, but he isn’t, not even a little, and Yuuji has always treated him like that. His hand impacts flesh hard enough to make his own palm sting, and Satoru’s head snaps to the side with a sound that reverberates in the air between them.

He doesn’t make a single sound. Yuuji’s palm print grows bright on his cheek.

Yuuji dips his head, pressing his cheek to Satoru’s.

It’s hot.

“Don’t provoke me,” Yuuji says softly. “I’m already giving you what you want. Don’t be greedy.”

Satoru says nothing, makes no sound, and Yuuji stays there, rubbing his cheek gently against Satoru’s burning one until his own perpetually cool skin leeches off some of that warmth. He turns his head then, kissing Satoru where he hurt him, and that does earn him a noise—a low, gutted thing.

“Understand, Satoru-kun?”

Something sweet, ft. goyuu from the ghost in me was true (but you were haunted too)

"I was only thinking—can’t have some nubile young thing snatch you away from under my nose. Gotta put a ring on it before you realize you’re with an old pervert.”

Yuuji makes another noise, but he’s laughing too, a throaty noise that’s more incredulous than amused. “Nobody’s snatching me away. And you’re barely over thirty, that’s not old. Japan doesn’t even recognize same-sex marriage.”

“Who cares?” Satoru sits up, the covers spilling down to pool in his lap. The room is dark, but the Six Eyes see every shadow in high definition until Satoru closes his eyes again, focusing only on the sound of Yuuji’s breathing. “Only you and I need to recognize it. A ceremony would be fun, hm? We can have another one when you’re back here, with everyone there.”

Yuuji swallows audibly. “Are you really serious?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Yuuji laughs again, that same strangled sound from before. “You’re unreal sometimes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Yuuji’s dead silent for long enough that Satoru’s smile dies on his lips, slinking cold down his spine.

Yuuji says, “You didn’t actually ask a question.”

Ah, Satoru thinks, forcing down a shiver. You learned the worst things from me.

“Marry me, Yuuji.”

“Yes.” It’s instant, burning. “Of course I’ll marry you. Satoru, it’s you.”

[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get up onto back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. he licks his plump lips as he practically sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself, munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched, sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spills from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. you can feel his hard length pressing onto your thigh, causing you to moan into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nips at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

he spreads your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me, baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers, eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too, eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time, sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture, munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders, sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this, baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie, please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little, baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that, sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

[vorestarr]

ascended astarion and vampire spouses

so I've been reading the dnd 2e manual "Van Richten's Guide to Vampires" for fic/game inspiration, and there's this really interesting chapter on vampire brides and grooms. after reading it, it's very clear to me that Astarion didn't turn Tav into a typical spawn, but into a vampire spouse, which are two very different rituals with very different outcomes.

the typical vampire spawn creation process is exactly what Astarion describes happening to him: a painful death, a painful rebirth into undeath, fighting his way out of his own coffin, and Cazador's complete control over him. this is described pretty clearly in the guide to vampires:

According to most related tales, a vampire can create another simply by killing a mortal either with its life-energy draining power (draining all the character's experience leveIs) or by exhausting the mortal of his or her blood supply. If the victim's body is not properly destroyed, it arises as a vampire, under the control of the creature who killed it, on the second night following the burial. [...] Most vampires remember the instant of their death and the nature of their killer, and understand immediately their new nature. Certainly their new hunger gives them a good idea of what they have become. They must immediately free themselves from their grave. either by breaking it open from within or by assuming gaseous form and diffusing out.

so that's definitely what happened to Astarion, but that's not what happens to Tav. after ascended Astarion turns Tav into a vampire, they can ask him what happened, and he describes the following:

Astarion: You are so beautiful... And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Player: What exactly happened? Astarion: You were drained dry, and at the height of your delirium, I granted you one drop of my own blood. Things will be a touch different for you than they were for me when I was a spawn. I'm imbibed with unfathomable new talents. I am fairly certain I can extend Mephistopheles' blessings unto you. Player: Does that mean I need not fear the sun? Astarion: You need not fear anything. You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve.

for reference, this is how the guide to vampires describes the ritual for vampire spouses:

To actually create the bride, the vampire bestows what is known as the "Dark Kiss". lt samples the blood of its mortal paramour—once, twice, thrice—draining her almost to the point of death. This process causes the subject no pain; in fact, it has been described as the most euphoric, ecstatic experience, in comparison to which all ether pleasures fade into insignificance. Just as the subject is about to slip into the terminal coma from which there is no awakening, the vampire opens a gash in its own flesh—often in its throat—and holds the subject's mouth to the wound, As the burning draught that is the vampire’s blood gushes into the subject's mouth, the primitive feeding instinct is triggered, and she sucks hungrily at the wound, enraptured. With the first taste of the blood, the subject is possessed of great and frenzied strength (Str 18, if the character’s Str isn't already higher), and will use it to prevent the vampire from separating her from the fountain of wonder that is its bleeding wound. lt is at this point that the creator-vampire's strength is most sorely tested. He is weakened by his own blood loss, and also by his own rapture as the "victim" of a dark kiss. Overcoming the sudden loss of strength and the inclinations of lust, the vampire must pull her away from its own throat, hopefully without harming her, before she has overfed. Should the subject be allowed to feed for too long (more than 2 rounds), she is driven totally and incurably insane, and will die in agony within 24 hours. Once the subject has stopped feeding, she falls into a coma that lasts minutes or hours (2dl2 turns), at the end of which time she dies. Several (1 d3) hours later, she arises as a Fledgling vampire—and her creator's bride.

this to me sounds like what Astarion describes. he drains Tav almost dry, and at the very last moment, gives them a single drop of his blood. (also interesting reading this guide, the single drop avoids the problem of the vampire spouse being driven ravenous with hunger for the vampire creator's blood and attacking them. did Astarion know this and give them one drop on purpose to avoid that and Tav potentially being driven mad by it? or was he being selfish and this is just a nice but unanticipated outcome?)

i kept reading and there's a lot more interesting information about vampire spouses, but the most interesting thing I found related to the game was this:

Although there are some folk tales that describe the bride of a vampire as its slave, in much the same way that offspring are slaves, a bride is free-willed from the moment of her creation. The creator vampire does have great influence over the bride. however although this control is totally nonmagical. When a vampire is created in the traditional manner—that is, when a victim's life energy is completely drained away—the new fledgling instinctively understands much about the vampiric way of unlife, and about its own strengths, weaknesses* and needs. Not so the bride.

so basically, the vampire spouse is not tied to the vampire creator in the same way as a spawn (i.e., not able to be fully controlled) but is still extremely reliant on the vampire creator to teach them how to live as a vampire. the guide goes on to describe that some vampire creators may lie to their vampire spouse about the control or powers they have, in order to exert more control over them.

interestingly, if you ask Astarion if he can compel you the way Cazador compelled him, he doesn't give a straight answer, he just says this:

Player: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient.

to me, all of this says that Astarion was telling the truth when he told Tav that they would be different from him as a spawn, and also in emphasizing that they are not a spawn but a consort. he didn't create a spawn, he created a vampire spouse. he married Tav, and because of this Tav also retains their free will.

of course, Astarion doesn't say this. if he knows, he withholds this information in much the way that this guide describes, as a way for the creator to maintain more control over their spouse. but still, extremely interesting implications for the ascended Astarion romance, imo.

other interesting facts about vampire spouses from the guide to vampires:

the married couple has telepathic communication that can span miles -- so Tav and Astarion can potentially have a telepathic bond even after the tadpoles are gone. (another note, this communication has to be consensual both ways for it to work, so you can't just dig around someone's mind if they don't want it.)

the vampire creator is extremely jealous and possessive. (yeah lol)

their life forces are linked, so one suffering a great deal is felt by the other.

the bond can be broken, but the ritual to do so has to be initiated by the creator. to break it, they both spill their blood on the ground and allow it to mix. this dissolves all aspects of the bond (i.e., telepathy and linked life forces), but the spouse stays a vampire.

[d1s1ntegrated]

Im obsessed with loser shigaraki, do u think u could write hcs on his first time making out 👀

Also I’ve been obsessed with your blog your writing is just too good 😫 could I claim this emoji 🫶🏼 anon?

yass 🫶🏼 is all urs bby

i always thrive with loser shig <3

first time: making out with shigaraki hc's (slight nsfw mention) 『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』

shigaraki had never touched anyone like that before, let alone kissed.

he would crack jokes from time to time, taunting you

"you wanna just kiss me so bad, huh?"

til one day, you said yes, and he panicked.

your lips crashed on his in a fit of half-rage half-lust, sick of the teasing.

safer to say, he didn't disappoint.

albeit he was a bit sloppy at first

waaaay too rough and kept his lips pursed like a goldfish

he didnt think you'd actually do it

so he got super insecure when you laughed at him but he quickly got over it

and yeah no hes not beating the dry lips allegations but its okay

he def tastes like og monster energy (my fav to describe in fics)

but he caught on pretty quickly

then he was soft, slow, tantalizing

until he tried to use tongue

too much, again, but you slowed him down

"like this, tomu"

he's not stupid, he's actually a fast learner, he just needs a little help, yknow?

of course, kissing him got him hard as a rock, which was actually kind of endearing.

he quickly gained confidence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in

he forgot how to breathe a few times but its okay

once he really got the hang of it, its like a switch flipped.

he pushed you right against his bedroom door and pinned you there, moaning and grinding against you as his tongue explored your mouth

there was such a strong hunger in him, just knowing you liked him enough to want to do this with him

it drove him crazy

so he dragged you to his bed and urged for you to get in his lap

he kissed your entire face, down your neck

like a dam had been broken

months of tension led to this, and it was positively euphoric

the way he touched you and kissed you was unlike anything you'd ever felt.

you felt more than loved, you felt needed.

safe to say, you'd be doing this way more often

he never did stop with the teasing, though.

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』

thank u for the ask love!

[marycorcaroli]

PLEASE do a blurb/fic of zoro or luffy (your choice!!) being pussy drunk!! i love your work <333

first of all, thank you for your kind words, i don’t know if i wrote it well, but i tried my best ♡

zoro & luffy as a pussy drunk boyfriends ♡

english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes ♡

zoro.

you don't need to ask zoro for anything, he'll feel it himself when you want his tongue between your legs. zoro loves licking you so much and the way you whimper and beg for him to let you cum and give you the most euphoric orgasm. zoro licks cunnie better than anyone else, he was born to give you that pleasure. zoro isn't the fastest at this, he likes to enjoy every moment and every inch of you, making sure to kiss your thighs and your breasts before he starts licking you. he will start kissing your clit uncontrollably to hear you say "please, zoro, fuck me with your tongue" and he will go crazy for it. his mouth will not be able to stop until you cover his face in your juices, he will be covered in them and his knees will be shaking, his pants will be ruined because your cunt makes him cum more than you, your taste, your smell, your everything. he can't stop after two of your orgasms, he needs more. he wants to burrow into you while his hands hold your waist so you can't move away from him or push him away, he won't let that happen. zoro loses control of himself, his head spinning before his eyes, all he sees is you and your cunt swollen with endless orgasms. eventually he lets you go and gives you hope that that's it, but the next second you're on his face and zoro tries again to make you cum in a minute to feel your juices, he licks you all over and after hours of orgasms, he kisses you, but he wants more.

luffy.

luffy doesn't care where and when to lick you, he will lick you only because he wants to, he doesn't care who is looking at you, he is flattered to let everyone know that he can give you euphoria with just his tongue. he is the dirtiest and drooling, your cunnie is like air to him and he literally gasps when you try to move away from him and starts crying. he will beg you to let him lick you all day, it's only morning and luffy is so needy. he will stain all the sheets with his cum just from the sight of your cunt, in his head he has already seen what will happen to him, once he tastes you he will go crazy. he will start out very rough, luffy has waited too long. he will literally dig his face deep into you, his nose will rub your clit as his tongue does its best to bathe in your juices. he will make you feel too good, but you shouldn't forget about him. oh god, this boy is already sick, imagine a man who lives to be on his knees in front of you. he can't get enough air, he will never get tired of you and your taste, don't get your hopes up, he could die while he's licking you, it's beyond praise for him, if you want to thank him in any way, just spread your legs and that will be enough. luffy is ready to tell everyone how delicious you are and how lucky he is to have you. how he wants to be between your legs forever. i don't think he will ever be gentle, haha he just can't enjoy it and wants to take you all over. everyone has seen his nose, right? luffy is waiting for you to ride his face, your juices running down his chin while the two of you go crazy with your orgasms and can't stop whimpering, your eyes will be red and your face swollen with tears but luffy is even more turned on, i don't think he can stop.

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at you through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud.  Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core.  His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. 

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. 

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

[beababoobies]

Hi!

Can I please request Sir Pentious x reader NSFW headcanons/fic/whatever you wanna write?

If not that's okay, I hope you're having or have had a wonderful day :)

👀… yeah. I gotchu. I um. Yeah. 👀

Double Trouble - Headcanons + Minific

warning. smut. filth. you know the deal. that’s why you’re here. AFAB reader. enjoy lovely.

🐍 He’s super self conscious at first. It’s not easy having two dicks! Especially when both of them are bigger than average. He’s super hesitant to even touch you at first, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

🐍 A bottom. Jesus Christ, a bottom. Physically and emotionally this man is farthest from dominant. If you really wanted him to, he could try? But he’s just really soft & sweet..

🐍 He’ll encourage & praise you the entire time… when he’s not on the verge of losing it. Whether you only want to try taking one, or maybe if you’re extra adventurous and want to try both of them… not recommended, but it’ll turn him into a whiney mess.

🐍 Cries during sex. Just kiss his tears away and tell him he’s being good for you and he’ll have to hold never want to leave. Practically melts underneath you.

🐍 His fav position is definitely, DEFINITELY cowgirl (/boy.) and he will always be grabbing at you when he’s on the bottom. Your waist, your chest, your thighs. Your skin is just so soft and warm, he can’t help it. 

🐍 He prefers sitting cowgirl though, so he can kiss you.  He loves being at eye level. Sex is about love & intimacy to him, which is one of the reasons he really can’t understand Angel. How can you be so loving with that many people??

🐍 Sensitive. Very, very sensitive. Also, because he’s cold blooded, his cum is most on the cold side. Which means he always wants to cum inside you. You’re just so warm and lovely, he doesn’t ever want to pull out…

🐍 Whiney. Vocal. Whiney and Vocal. He will be writhing and whining at the smallest touches. Your name, small praises, begs. If you want to do it at the hotel in your room, you’re going to have to gag him on something, or slap your hand over his mouth. Those walls are too thin for this mans behaviour.

🐍 Loves going down on you. Whether it’s eating you out for hours until you have to forcefully shove him away, or just nipping at your thighs for a couple minutes. He loves the taste of you on his tongue. The vibrations of his long tongue pressed up against your favourite spots when he hisses? 

🐍 I digress.

You had finally felt brave enough to attempt to take both of them - usually, you’d be riding one of them and stroking the other, it was a gorgeous sight - albeit, messy - with him begging and crying underneath you. But this time, he was trying to keep it together. For you.

It had already been thirty minutes of him making you cum multiple times from eating you out, now all pussy drunk beneath you as he fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, piercing him lips together the best he could to stop himself from whining.

“You’re doing - ngh, sssss-ssso good, my dear..” he hissed out, watching your run your lubed up slit up an down the tip of his cocks, preparing yourself for what you knew would be a painful stretch. You sighed softly as you held still, lining both the tips up with your entrance before gently pushing yourself down, a choked moan coming from your mouth as you grabbed on tightly to the sheets beneath you.

“Oh my ssssatan.” He mumbled softly, clenching his eyes shut extra tight as he gently rubbing your hip, trying to help you ease into it. He knew you were in some pain, but for him? God, this was fucking euphoric. Having the love of his life trying to ride both of his cocks, warm walls clenching tightly around his tips as you tried to go down lower. 

Through his brain fog, he trailed one of his hands down to your cunt, gently using his thumb to rub small circles against your sensitive bud, making the pain fade more and more into pleasure as you let out a sigh of relief, bending your knees just a little bit more to take more of him. 

“Ssssso good.” He whines out, throwing his head back as he tries his best not to accidentally buck his hips into you as you let yourself get used to the feeling, being stretched out so thin felt so good, but that didn’t change the fact that there was still that light stinging, and you ended your mental battle with dropping down completely, lurching forward with a sharp whine.

“g-godsss - ssso tight.” He mumbled out as he let you get used to the feeling, both of his cocks already throbbing for release inside of you. God, this might be heaven on earth, is all he could think - the feeling of you, tightly clenched around him, wet and needy, taking both of his cocks.

He didn’t even want redemption anymore. This was heaven. 

[sehtoast]

Liquid Love (Homelander x gn!Reader)

bottle feeding, milk drunk sleepy homie, snuggling, fluff | Fic Directory

“That’s it, sweetheart.”  You coo.

He’s reclined against you, body slotted between your legs with his head nestled against your chest.  Homelander’s eyes are shut and his cheeks are tinged a warm pink.  You tilt the bottle of warm milk upwards just a smidge further, nice and slow, making sure every drop was his to relish without disruption.  You don’t want to break the illusion nor the strange bliss he finds himself in during these times.

He suckles slowly as if to draw out every possible second.  You surely won’t just abandon him after this, but he still wants it to last.  The day you agreed to indulge in this little… need of his was euphoric enough, but actually doing it was like ascending to the heavens.  Every second is bliss; every second must be savored.

The sound of your heartbeat in his ears and the warmth of your body ties together with every little gulp.  His hand grips loosely as he thumbs at your wrist.  Your skin against his feels like pure electricity, jumping between you both to somehow energize and relax all at once. His mind is adrift, body lighter than a feather.  If not for a lifetime of conditioning and control, he might just float away entirely.

Then again, he would never want to leave your loving embrace.  

He slurps the last of the milk from the bottle, humming in appreciation when you thumb a runaway droplet back into his mouth. He holds your finger gently between his lips, tongue laving slowly over it to revel in the unique blend of tastes.

“All better?”  You ask.  That’s right… he’d completely forgotten the state of his day.  Not that it matters anymore.  Not here.  Not with you.

“Mhmm…”

“Good,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his hair.

You’ve got the lights in his penthouse dimmed.  The glow of the city is the only thing that reaches the both of you, and you can feel him drifting off.  He probably won’t stay asleep for very long given that he’s still in his suit.  He never could find rest in its confines.

But you’ll be there when he wakes.  You’ll help free him from that contraption, tuck him in, and snuggle up close to hold him through the night.

The best part will be his sleepy smiles.  Not even pure sunshine could warm your heart the way those do.

[sunflowersteves]

singing in the shower || j.m.

pairing || pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary || sweet and soft mornings with joel suddenly turn to something dirty and euphoric when he joins you in the shower.

author's note || im kinda on my pedro pascal kick so please enjoy!! also dedicating this fic to @moonlight-prose because she said that joel miller is a shower sex man and i couldn't get it out of my head so go thank her for this (ily).

warnings || fluff, smut, vaginal sex, praise kink, shower sex, probably ooc joel, not canon, joel is sweet okay, [18+ only]

(1.8k words!)

The sun slowly cracked through the curtains and cascaded onto the floor, signifying the warm glow of the bright morning. You were sound asleep with your eyes sealed shut and your mouth slightly open. Soft snores echoed into the room with each exhale your chest gently heaves. 

Joel just stood by the doorframe, eyes glued to your peaceful slumber. You looked so ethereal—so beautiful.

He never wanted to let go of this sight before him. He wanted it locked into his core memory for as long as he could.

His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. He shifts as quietly as possible in an attempt to not disturb you. He was almost calculating his every move. Damn, he is fucking whipped for you, that’s for sure, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He is astoundingly happy to have his girls. 

A smile gently rises onto your lips as you feel Joel crawl back into bed with you. His arm looped across your side and rested his hand just below your chest. You hum as you draw your hand closer to his, squeezing his fingers gently. 

“Good mornin’, sweetheart.” Your chest fills with joy at the gruff Texan accent that reaches your ears. 

You just hum in response. Your eyes started to flutter open, and you lightly giggled at Joel’s beard tickling your neck. “Good morning, handsome.”

You turn over onto your back, which resulted in leaning into his hardened chest. His hand moves along with you until they are cupping your cheek.

He gives you a gentle kiss on your lips—one that feels full of love and adoration. Your hands reach into his hair and push through your fingers. His lips moved down to press sweet kisses on your cheek and jaw.

“Did you take Sarah to school?”

He lets out a breath that fanned up against your neck—hot and deep. He presses another kiss to your cheek and lets his senses flutter at the taste and smell of you. “Yeah, I just dropped her off.”

You couldn’t help but frown just a little bit. You always loved making her breakfast in the mornings. You loved to watch the back-and-forth banter that Joel and Sarah would give each other at the dining table while you were flipping pancakes. 

Sarah swore that your pancakes were the best she had ever tasted. She said that your recipe always beats the box kind.

“Hey.” His thumb reached down to your bottom lip. He affectionately rubs back and forth—feeling the softness of the skin. “She’ll be fine. I gave her a banana in the truck.”

You nodded, eyes locking with his before a big smile stretched across your lips. “One of us has to sleep in on my day off.”

Begrudgingly, you smiled. Only your Joel, huh. “Wake me next time, yeah?”

Your concern for Sarah made his heart palpitate against his chest. Your care and love for his daughter weren’t something he thought he would get in life. Hell, he thought he would be alone with Sarah for the rest of his life. 

But damn, he sure is surprised. 

He scratched his beard as if he was in thought, “if you think I could wake you up from what looked like the best sleep of your life, then you got one comin’, baby.”

You just roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna get in the shower. Are you coming?”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

The water streamed down your back, letting the scalding temperatures work against your tight muscles. You let out a content sigh as you ducked your head under the showerhead. Your routine showers together were always your favorite. 

You both just relaxed in each other’s arms while the entire bathroom steamed up like a sauna. It was one of the most relaxing times that the two of you shared. 

Joel reached down to grab one of the shampoo bottles. He squeezed some into his hand before gently pulling you away from the water. He turns you around and lathers the product onto his hand. 

You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan when his hands burrowed into your hair. The pads of his fingers scratch against your scalp, which almost feels euphoric. He smiles—his laugh lines were so prominent that if you had your eyes open, you would have swooned. 

He let out a deep chuckle—one that practically ruptured your eardrum with how low it sounded. He then guided you to the shower head, cupping a hand over your eyes so that none of the shampoos trickled down. 

You bit your lip, not even daring to tell him that you usually let your shampoo sit for a moment. You would never tell him, though—you don’t want him to stop anything that he is doing. 

He watched the water wash away all of the shampoos. A smile still plays on his lips at the sight of you relaxing with each and every touch. Everything he did was gentle and soft—nothing like the hard exterior that Joel Miller usually liked to play. 

He slowly drags you out of the stream of the water. He rests his hand on your cheek and swipes his thumb in affection—elation—all the things he holds so dear to him. 

His lips connected to yous. It was gentle and soft as his beard scratched against your cheeks. The sting that he would give to your skin each and every time his lips hit yours was by far your favorite.

Although, the kiss that was supposed to be sweet and kind quickly turned into something with a little more heat. His hands gripped your hips, pulling them closer toward his own torso.

Your entire body felt flustered from his touch, fingertips on your flustered skin, and his plump lips devouring your own.

He pulled away—just to stare at you. He needed to stare at your pretty face before reaching his hand down and fucking you with his fingers. 

And wow, you looked so sweet to him. Your mouth hung open—chest heaving up and down with impatience, and your eyes were filled with so much lust. You looked so incredibly adorable, especially when your hands went to desperately paw at his chest.

You wanted more. 

“You’ll get what you want, darlin’. Don’t you worry.” 

You could feel your walls clench around nothing from the pet name. Joel always called you something sweet—gave you a cute little nickname. But when he let his low voice click against his tongue, that is when you were absolutely done for. 

“Joel.” You say, breathless. 

He drags his index finger against the hood of your clit and swirls the sensitive area. Your hips jolt into him, making Joel’s smile curled into a smirk. “That’s it, baby, so pretty for me.”

You moan into him as he presses rough kisses against your neck—nipping and biting the thinned skin. You sounded so sweet—so pretty and hot. God, you sound so hot. He could feel his cock jump as your groans got louder. 

Your mouth parts as he starts to rub deeper and faster. Your body had already anticipated Joel fucking the living shit out of you per shower sex ritual, but this?

Oh, you never wanted it to end. 

“Please, Joel—w-want your cock.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Please, I need you.” You sounded so needy. 

He chuckled, “Gonna give you what you want, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.”

You wanted to beg. You wanted to mewl out his name like it was the only thing you knew. However, you couldn’t get another word in because Joel was spinning you around and pushing you against the shower wall. 

The tile felt cold against your chest. Your arms were propped up to hold the wall. His hands squeezed your sides and pressed a teasing kiss to your shoulder blade. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You knew it wasn’t really a question. He knew it wasn’t really a question. The two of you both knew that your slick was dripping down to your thighs from the mere thought of Joel Miller. His scruffy beard, his brown eyes, his loose shirts, his never kept hair—it was enough to send you fucking wild. 

He lines his cock up to the seam of your folds before ramming into you completely. You scream out his name, hands trying to tighten around the wall to keep up. He stills just for a moment—feeling the stretch of your spongy walls.

“Fuck.” He groans. Your pussy was like heaven. He could’ve sworn his life on it. “So fuckin’ tight.”

His accent swept you off your feet as it pounded into your ears. He started to thrust into you—groaning and almost whining from the flutter of your walls. He slid in and out of you so easily, almost causing his cock to jump once more. 

He whispered your name into the air, and you repeated his back to him. His hands clenched even harder on your hips, but you don’t care. You couldn’t care. Not when he’s pounding into you so hard and fast that you practically see stars. 

The thud–thud–thud of his hips meeting your own echoed across the tiled walls, pleasure slowly rising to its peak. Your moans and screams bounced against the walls, too, and barely audible sentences were fleshed into the air.

“Joel, I-I–”

His hand wraps around your torso to pull you close to his chest. “Gonna cum? Yeah, that’s right, cum on my cock. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

He fucks into you at a different angle, causing a scream to release from your lips. You’re singing his name, over and over, as his cock never stutters into you. He’s quick. He’s rough. He’s antagonizing with each thrust into your pussy. 

“Joel—Joel, oh my god, Joel!” 

Your core squeezes and spasms against his cock—his own hips sputtering into you from the grip. The scalding sensation spurs you into dumb sentences and shaky moans. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

He let out a string of curses before he choked on his own words. His cock milks into you, spurting thick ropes of his cum right into you. Your eyes almost roll in the back of his head from being so full. 

You both stood there, breathless. Your chests were heaving up and down and your smiles were dopy and satisfied. He presses a few kisses onto your shoulder and the junction of your neck—making him hum in contentment.

“We should probably clean up.”

You shift positions, sweetly preening to one another in the process. You let out a squeal, though, when your legs go under the water.

“Joel! It’s cold!”

He peeks his head over to you and laughs.

“C’mon, you can take a cold shower, can’t ya?”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Joel Miller.”

[anantaru]

i love LOVE your safeword fics with the genshin boys and wanted to ask if its possible with blade??😋😙 love your fics btw

cw. angsty?? saying the safeword, fem! reader

blade, who would beat himself up for it— to proceed without overstating the situation, he had experienced a roughed up couple of weeks in the near past and hadn't had the single chance to meet you.

blade had missed you, excessively, no, dreadfully, ravaging in his direful despair. but he had also seemingly forgotten about his own sense of self.

his inconsistent breathing was trapped immovable, floating around the jammed air as he fell into his own dangerous ploy of channeling his pulverizing frustration in each of his new blows. another thrust, and you taste the way your throat wilted a little, a bullet of panic rising inwardly, aside from your usual glory look— you wobble in shock.

what had started as an eye rolling and euphoric closeness with the man you utterly cherished, had now slowly swiveled into that of a clenching dread, eyes brimming with crystal pebbles as your chest constricted. There was a faint note of hysteria webbed into your expression as you at last— distantly, were able to make one last terrible, strangled sound of a word blade feared to hear one day.

he should've coddled, kissed and pleased you, but he gapes at you in utter disbelief, conceivably was his face dramatically stricken as all the nerves in his body froze to a standstill.

blade directly pulled out of you, as circumspect as physically doable while also aiming to not touch you at all. he couldn't bare to bestow twice as much damage on your shaking frame. you turn around to face him as the previously locked tears began to trickle down your warm cheeks.

his pulse raised at the terror-stricken sight, and all the man wanted to do was to enfold you in his arms but he couldn't— first, he had to be certain that you get everything you needed before you would allow him to get close to you again.

preliminary to helping you covering yourself up, blade rose off the mattress to get you a glass of cold water before carefully placing it on top of the nightstand, following suit and slanting back into the bed.

weight comes off his shoulders when he bottled up enough courage to speak to you for the first time, "i am—" but he pauses, breaking from within, "i am so sorry." and his eyes glimmer with hope for the entirety of this night, when you silently place your hand on top of his own.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[voxofthevoid]

Role Reversal Cigarette Play: (the euphoric taste of your tears) swallow it, darling

You always have such fun choices, friend 😌

This is a oneshot I wrote in a very weird frenzy. I've picked a bit of the eponymous cigarette play (CW for consensual burning with cigarettes):

“…This is the fourth one,” Satoru says eventually.

“The first two don’t count. You lost.”

Satoru’s face screws up—pure, simple displeasure. He really hates losing. Yuuji understands that. He’s always been the same; it’s only that the reasons changed over the years, growing darker and heavier from the moment he tasted the festering rot of that first finger.

“Fine,” Satoru snaps. “I’m not losing again.”

“I believe you,” Yuuji says honestly, lighting the cigarette, and he pretends not to see the way Satoru’s determined expression flickers. “You’re a strong boy, Satoru-kun.”

“Sensei,” Satoru whines, that distinct tone he has when he’s pleased but wants to complain anyway.

Yuuji hums indulgently, idly petting Satoru’s flank while he breathes in the smoke. Satoru tenses—or maybe he was this wound up to begin with. Yuuji’s more fascinated by how he makes a conscious attempt to relax, the tension draining out of his muscle in deliberate increments, and how it doesn’t quite work, his thigh pulling taut under Yuuji’s palm with damning inevitability.

The rest of Satoru’s body echoes that helpless, hopeless cycle—the restless eyes dancing all over Yuuji, the loud breaths growing quicker and shallower. His chest is heaving, and his stomach ripples as muscles clench and unclench. There’s sweat gleaming on every inch of his skin; it looks hot to the touch.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji tells him.

Satoru’s eyes flare wide and squeeze shut. He gasps Yuuji’s name, and maybe it’s meant to be an accusation, but it comes out pleading.

Yuuji breathes out smoke and desire, the cigarette dropping from his lips to press a fiery kiss to the middle of Satoru’s right thigh.

A shattered shriek rends the air.

And Satoru’s not so still this time, and Yuuji has to pin him down, one hand keeping his leg in place while the other burns him clean.

[bettymylove]

more (part 2)

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x draco malfoy

content: basically part 2 of this fic along with this ask!!

a/n: hope you like thiss! because I do alott<33

it was a chilly day in hogsmeade, being the middle of november, it was expected. you never usually visit during this time of the year, preferring to be wrapped up in your bed instead.

harry had accompanied you this time, you had asked him to, to tell him that even after the few heated moments between you two, it could not go any further.

he had left abruptly after hearing this, and you were left all alone, in the three broomsticks, sipping on your butterbeer until two boys decided to join you.

the boys of course being, mattheo and draco, "what are you doing here all alone?" draco asked while adjusting himself along with mattheo in your booth.

you remembered your little meeting a few days ago, along with the words they said and you were almost starving of their touch.

"well,I came with harry but he just left" you explained the whole situation to them and saw both their eyes widening, and mouths becoming a thin line.

"why did you do it?" mattheo came closer, he was expecting an answer you were ready to give, "I want- I want someone else" you had finally said, after contemplating it in your mind.

"and who might that be?" the blond boy, copied mattheo's actions his hand coming to rest on your upper thigh, his head moving, urging you to speak.

you knew it was a do or die situation, you knew you could never retreat what you were going to say and despite that, despite all the fears you had decided to say it, "you, both of you."

you were yanked from your seat to the say the least, your coat hurriedly being put on you as well as your scarf, and you were unable to make head or tail of who was doing what.

before you knew it you had reached the gate of hogwarts, after a much silent walk, but you did not miss, how both of their pants just seemed a little too tight.

you had reached the dungeons, both the boys quickly opening the door to their dorm and pulling you inside.

draco had captured your lips in a ferocious kiss, one that took your breath away, you weren't thinking where your hands were going, but you didn't care, you had resorted to resting your hand on his hair, pulling it slightly.

mattheo was behind you in an instant, slowly pulling all the layers of clothes you had off your body, until you stood in your underwear.

he had started kissing your neck while draco was fixated on your boobs, "you're so pretty, so perfect" he said in between kisses.

laying you down on the bed, both the boys were touching you everywhere, and soon you saw in your peripheral vision mattheo going down on his knees.

taking off your last piece of clothing, his face met your cunt, sopping wet and he couldn't wait for a taste so he didn't.

soon you were a moaning mess, bucking your hips on his face, screaming his name, gasping for breath you cane undone on his face then and there.

"you did so good, such a good girl for me" he praised you, and you felt yourself getting even more wet, if that was possible.

draco had soon replaced him, stroking his hard cock, which was red and leaking from the tip, he asked if you're sure and you answered in the affirmative.

entering you, he waited so you fould adjust yourself to his size and soon started thrusting slowly, which turned into vigorous ones.

you felt mattheo tap your cheek, "open up" and as soon as you did, the inside of your mouth met with his cock.

you were completely full and you wouldn't have it any other way, it was the best feeling in the world, feeling almost euphoric.

"god, look at you, such a fucking slut for the both of us" draco said in between thrusts, while grunting himself.

mattheo had finished inside your mouth and you swallowed, about to come undone yourself, "oh god, I'm gonna-" and you did before you could even finish your sentence.

draco finished inside of you painting your walls a pretty white, pulling out and laying down beside you, with mattheo on the other side, all he could let out was a sigh.

[hoe-for-daddywise]

Art the clown/reader Let me in

⚠️Warning: this fiction contains strong depictions of self harm, blood, drug abuse and graphic details of death. Slight NSFW but not anything major. 18+ Proof read maybe once ⚠️

Word count: 2512

Summary: one bad trip. A fic in which Art shows up during your high and you debate whether he’s real or not.

Just another bad trip, that’s all this was as mismatching colours swirled around your room from blue to green to yellow in a rhythmic dance, pulsating like a kaleidoscope.

So, when the air shifted and your bedroom door swung open, you barely noticed or you were too euphoric perhaps to care. Through the haze of your vision, however, a face emerged, a bloodied clown with black and white face paint and a black dot at the tip of his nose. He smiled, his teeth dirtied and yellow and you smiled back in fascination. “This is new.” You slurred. “I never see faces.”

The clown cocked his head slightly to the side and his smile faded somewhat before his brows raised into a surprised glare, his eyes setting on the new cuts on your arms and then to the blade next to you. He pointed at the blade, then to you, as if to ask if you’d done it to yourself, he never said a word as he sat face to face with you.

“Yes.” You laughed to which he clapped, proud of the harm you’d inflicted. There was something unsettling yet oddly captivating about the clown you believed your brain had conjured, the colours pirouetting around him like they were drawn to him, you studied his every move as he studied yours. He picked up the pill bottle next to you, examined the contents and shook his head as if disappointed.

The clown reached his bloody gloved hand toward the blade that was slick with your blood, picking it up to observe it. With a quick exaggerated motion, his fingers danced over the metal before popping it into his mouth and sucking every last drop of the liquid. A small part of you recoiled in horror, while the rest of you felt a thrill at the sight, excited at the way his eyes rolled back as he enjoyed the taste of you. A small shaky breath left your cracked lips as a heat rose within. He pulled the sharp metal out from between his lips and smirked at you, eager fingers shoving the blade back into your hand, willing you to go again. Complying, you placed the blade to your arm, watching how his nose flared and his lips parted while you cut into your flesh, he practically drooled at the sight of fresh blood mingling with dried blood. You groaned, happy to be pleasing him as you slashed three more times. You held your arm out to him, delighted with your work. The clown silently laughed and gripped your arm tight, pulling it to his black lips, his tongue swirling around the fresh wounds, lapping up every trickle. A small moan left you, earning a startled glance from the clown, his lips shaped in an ‘o’ which quickly turned into an animalistic smile as he pulled away, satisfied, the colours around him fluctuating. You were far too lucid to pay mind to the impossibility of the dream soaked reality you had fabricated to truly appreciate your situation, and the fact that, this clown, however improbable he may seem, clearly cannot be a hallucination.

“Can you see them?” You suddenly ask, mesmerised at the way the clown amplified your surroundings.

The clown tilted his head, unsure as to what you meant.

“The colours, the faces.” You continue.

Art glanced around your room for a second and then shook his head.

“That’s a shame. They’re so pretty.” You giggled. “You’re pretty.” You blush at your sudden admittance as the clown batts his eyelashes and smirks at you, a hand waving you off.

His eyes burnt into yours and his pupils seemed to swirl in your intoxicated state.

He was beautiful, this man was beautiful, even as the colours around you faded to grey to black to white, your trip coming to an end. “I wonder if I’ll see you again next time.” You ponder, leaning closer to his face, soaking in every detail before he inevitably disappeared…but he never did and the usual pain that formed in the centre of your head began to build letting you know that your high was over. That was when a slight panic set in and your breathing became harsh.

“How are you still here?”

The clown silently laughed, pointing his finger at you in mockery.

“Who are you?”

The clown showed his teeth in a snarl as you leaned in even closer, a tentative finger reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. You half expected your hand to go through him like a hologram but as it connected with the padded feeling of a body, you laughed, unsure of what to do next as his hand reached up to your head and patted it.

“What do you want?” You blinked rapidly, the clown simply wagged his index finger side to side as he stood. Shaking legs from your high failed to get you to stand and your body all but began to crash to the floor before the monochrome man grabbed you and steadied you, throwing you down onto your bed. You went to stand again but the clown held a hand out to tell you to stay put.

He crouched down and grabbed your pills, shaking the contents dramatically with a plotting smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “They’re mine.”

The clowns focus unwavering as he disappears out of your room and out of your eye sight. Standing, your clumsy feet tripped over themselves, following him towards the bathroom where he stood over the toilet. Your heart sank as he unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle upside down, the pills spilling out like small white stones, clattering against the porcelain bowl.

“No!” You scream, rushing forward and into his body. “Stop!” But it was too late, he tossed the empty bottle to the floor and, in a swift motion, pushed the lever down. The sound of rushing water echoed in the small bathroom, your lifeline swirling away.

“Why did you do that? I need them…You-you don’t understand.” Tears well in your eyes as your voice croaked, turning to face the clown who was wiping his hands together as if to say he was finished with his work.

Panic became fear and fear became anger, a storm brewing inside as you lifted your hands and began hitting the clown on the chest, each strike fuelled by the frustration of loosing the one thing you need to survive. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

The clown stood there, his face monotone as he allowed you to project your emotions to him, not flinching once as you continued to whack your palms onto him. You wished he’d fight back, offer some sort of punishment, instead, he held your gaze, curious to see what you would do next, but nothing could have prepared him for the swell of pure sorrow that crashed down on you like a tidal wave as you delivered your last blow to him. Like a flood gate had opened, tears spilled down your face, your makeup melting away as water lines stained your cheeks and a harrowing sound that was alien to you came from deep within your throat. The clown watched as you fell to your knees and gripped onto his satin suit, deflated and utterly broken.

He titled his head and a silent sigh fell from him whilst he crouched down next to you, gripping your face harsh to look at him in the eyes. He offered a small smile, kinder somehow than the ones he’d given you previously, and his dark eyes glistened with an understanding that transcended words, a mute acknowledgment of the pain you were enduring.

Suffice to say, you were still none the wiser as to who this man was, but one thing was clear to you, he didn’t want you taking those drugs any more. “Why?” Your voice trembled as you searched his gaze, desperate for an answer. “You don’t know me, why do you care?”

The grip on your face loosened and his thumb traced the contours of your cheeks, following your tears and wiping them away.

“Who even are you?”

The clown pointed his finger in the air as if he had an idea then his legs took him to your mirror. He took a deep breath, puffing air against the glass, creating a thin layer of condensation that began to cloud on the reflective surface. Reaching his finger to the mirror, he began tracing letters, each stroke slow and careful. Once finished, he stepped back, arms presenting his work with an exaggerated flourish.

“Art?” You recite.

Art nods vigorously, a large smile stretching across his face as he clapped.

“I like it, it suits you.”

He then points at you, as if wanting you know your name.

“Me? I’m y/n.” You blush as he theatrically sits back next to you on the tiled floor and shakes your hand.

“But, Art, you still haven’t told me why you chucked my pills.”

Art rolls his eyes as if frustrated that you won’t let the subject go before pointing at the empty bottle on the floor and holding his hands in a cross shape and then sticking his tongue out and pointing his finger to his mouth. He shakes his hand like he disproves of you taking the pills.

“But what do I do without them now?”

The clown put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to him, your foreheads just touching, his other hand points at himself and then to you.

“What about us?” A million thoughts race through your head, confusion taking over.

He then points at himself again and then extends his palm and pushes it down in the air.

“You’ll stay?”

Art moves his head back and nods at this, seeming excited, hoping you’ll take up on his offer.

“This is crazy.” You laugh. “I mean, thank you but I don’t know you. You let yourself into my apartment for gods sake.”

Art is insistent, however, pointing at you and him again over and over and then placing his hands together as if pleading you. You knew this was mad, and if better judgement had been on your side you would have said no, but, still hazy from you high you said what you never thought you would have, “okay then.”

The clown jumps up to his feet and practically dances around the bathroom. You giggle at this, watching the man you’ve just met who just somehow became your new life line.

“Well, I’ll have to talk to Eliza about it. She’s my room mate. Did you see her on your way in?” You ask.

Art suddenly stops in his tracks and his demeanour shifts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He lifts his hands to the side near his head and offers a sheepish smile as if to say, ‘oops’.

“What did you do?”

The clown extends his arm out towards your still sitting form, head nodding to his hand for you to take it, which you gladly accept, electricity sparks within you from the contact causing you to blush. Slowly, he pulls you to your feet, making sure you were steady enough to walk, fingers gripping your hips as you swayed lightly. When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he gently covered your eyes with his hands and walked behind you, pushing you along, a playful gesture that sent a thrill down your spine. You hadn’t realised how tall he was until now, and your body practically pressed against his had you grinning, you could feel the way his heart was beating rapidly against his chest, mirroring your excitement.

Each step you took felt like a dance, swaying in time with Art with his sporadic energy, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary ahead. As you neared your destination, your footsteps stopped and Art paused for a moment, allowing the tension to swell like the crescendo of a symphony. He leaned closer, his lips practically brushing your ear. Your breathing became heavy and your legs wobbled from anticipation all while his hands cascaded down from your eyes and slid down your arms lightly, causing a slight hiss from you as he grazed your new cuts. The sudden feeling of loss of contact from him made you groan as he stepped away from you, your eyes still shut but soon flying open when he tapped your shoulder.

The sight that greeted you took your breath away - a scene that was both shocking and surreal was laid before your eyes and there, Art, the artist, proudly presented his work with a display of his hands and a smile, eyes wide. He stepped aside slightly, allowing you to get a full view of your slaughtered room mate, Eliza, a grotesque tableau of colour and chaos painted your living room. Her insides had been filleted and her once green eyes taken from her skull; intestines and liver spread out for all to see. The only recognisable feature describable was that of her blonde hair which helpless gripped to her torn scalp.

Art twirled on the spot, pointed at the scene and then to himself, sweeping his arms wide as if to proclaim, ‘isn’t it magnificent?’, inviting you to join his twisted revelry.

A laugh left you, a deep guttural laugh that shocked the clown as much as it did you. Why did you not scream? Or cry? Or run in terror? No tears, nothing. Just a laugh that seemed to continue for ages, even as the clown silently laughed and pointed at your dead room mate. The absurdity of the moment settled over you as you found yourself mixed in the magic of his madness. He watched you, clapping now as you clapped with him. Words never came to you, they don’t need to, a wordless array of astonishment was all you could offer as you waltzed over to him and let your lips touch his.

[htchnr]

♰ drink you dry ༻ THRANDUIL.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist.➻ buy me a coffee! ➻ 1K drabble event!

CW ➻ smut ⋆ piv ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ blood sucking ⋆ wound licking ⋆ MODERN AU! Vampire!Thranduil ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ edited my old Graves vampire fic to be a Thranduil fic to see how i like Vampire!Thran ... safe to say i will most likely write a full thing for him now .. WC ➻ 0,7K.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you lean against the windowsill, leant forward ever so slightly as you looked out at the dark sky — stars spattered around like a messy painting.

a full body shudder wracked through you when his hands smoothed over the swell of your hips, long and slender fingers dragging up the curve of your waist — then smoothing back down.

his breath is hot against your ear when he leans in to speak, a shivering - "well, hello again sweetheart," - coming from his lips.

you whimper in pleasure as he dips his head down, his long silvery blonde hair cascading over your shoulder, his nose dragging against the soft skin of your throat — breathing in deeply through his nose as he drowns himself in your scent.

"oh how i've missed your pleasurably sweet scent," he breathes, lips brushing against the skin, his hot breath trailing as his lips are slightly parted in pure pleasure.

your breath hitches, your hands moving to cover his that have found purchase on your hips, your smaller hands gripping around his as his lips drag across your throat so euphorically.

oh how you've missed him — missed his large hands, missed his strong yet lean body against yours, missed his sharp teeth scratching down your skin — threatening to sink into your flesh and drink you dry.

he grins against your throat, sharp teeth scraping around in such a pleasuring way — if it was anyone else you'd almost be embarrassed at how wet his teeth got you.

he grins — his teeth pressed against your throat. "you missed me too, huh honey?" he coos, voice low and almost mocking.

though, how could you ever hate him when the endearing names roll off his tongue like sticky sweet honey, just waiting for you to give in and have a taste?

you close your eyes, clenching them tight as you shiver in anticipation — his hands dragging their way up your hips, slowly gliding up your waist — how were you ever meant to resist him?

you whimper, squirming against his hold as he pushes in — his teeth still dragging across your throat as he bottoms out.

moans fill the otherwise silent space of your attic, the erotic sounds spilling out the window and into the stars as he slowly pulls out — only to forcefully push in again.

"i've missed you so much, my dear," he moans — it almost sounded pathetic coming from between his sharp teeth. the chance of him missing you was slim, you knew he had plenty of places he went to drink and let himself go.

your breath catches in your throat as his pace quickens, your brows furrowing as you clenching around him, only getting even more aroused at the sounds he's making against you every time your walls tighten around him.

"are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he pants, his tongue licking a short stripe right over your pulse.

"you gonna let me taste you again? hm?" his sharp teeth threatening to break your soft skin if you move more than an inch.

you clenched around him, involuntarily showing him your answer. though, he knows you'll let him have you anyway.

"you love it, don't you honey?" he moans, savouring the sound of your whimpers as his teeth starting slowly sinking into your flesh — blood starting to slowly drip.

he drags his tongue across the small wounds, his pace having slowed to halt as he moans at the taste of your blood. he groans, leaning in to wrap his lips around the flesh.

you whimper and moan, your walls fluttering around him as you buck your hips against his. you would never admit how good it felt — how down right euphoric it feels as he wraps his lips around your punctured flesh and drinks your blood.

he sinks his teeth in a little deeper — his mind clouded with the taste of you as he seeks more. the obscene moans that are being muffled by your throat as he grinds into you.

you shut your eyes, the wave of euphoria crashing closer and closer the more he drinks. you were sure you could get off on his lips alone.

"oh shit-" you gasp, shaking against him as you orgasm hits you like a tsunami — blinding you with pleasure as you shake in his hold.

"oh just like that, you taste so good sweetheart-" he moans with your blood coating his teeth, bucking into you in a haze, chasing his own pleasure.

it doesn't take long for him to come, buried inside you with his lips wrapped around your wounds. he let's out a long, euphoric groan — painting your walls white.

he leans forward a little, holding you up as he catches his breath. and with that stupid, sharp and bloody grin whispers — "i'll come find you again my dear, you better stay put."

and though you're kind of curious about what would happen you you didn't stay put, you know you could never willingly walk away from him.

you let out a stuttered breath as he pulls out of you, his warm cum dripping down your thighs and onto the old wooden floor. and as if he disappeared with the low howl of the wind — he was gone as quick as he had arrived.

'what if i left?' — who are you even kidding? you'd always find your way back to him.

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

SuccubusReader x VariousJJKMen

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Four.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

Toji Fushiguro.

He had no curse energy but what was surprising was he could still feed you. You don't know what it was that filled your belly, whether it be divine energy or just his life force. If it's his life force then that meant every time he slept with you he was shaving off time. Even after explaining this to him, he had only laughed it off and said he was here for a good time not a long time.

Apparently, so was the other guy but everyone didn't take that so lightly so what the fuck. You did not understand these humans… or maybe it was just these men.

You turn around, pressing your back against the door as you look up at the man under your lashes. Sukuna and Toji were very similar in their sadistic ways. They were butt buddies after all. Toji was just more dormant about it. You weren't even going to waste the energy you got from Yu, no point.

"What?"

"You made Haibara lie?" Toji teased. "Nanami did say you were a bad influence on him."

"He…chose to lie…"

Toji chuckled, "Yeah, for you."

You shrug, "And you choose to risk your life sleeping with me, where is this going I'm starving."

"Ouch." Toji hissed as if he were in pain, "I forgot how bratty you can get when you are hangry." He grinned looking you over with a slow lean of his head. "You want daddy to feed you?"

"Yes!" You went for him, desperate for a kiss but he grabbed your neck and pushed you back into the door.

"Ah ah…" he chuckled at your pout-dammit you got excited too soon!- "Shouldn't you be on the ground kitten?" He questioned with a playful brow.

You glanced down, seeing his semi-hard cock, your heart began to race with anticipation. You slid against the door as Toji praised you for being a good girl, thumb rubbing your neck. Your eyes were focused on your prize, mouth-watering, all the way until your knees landed on the plush rug.

With his other hand, Toji pumped himself a few times, squeezing the tip of his cock. Your eyes fluttered, watching the precum leak upon his thumb. You whimpered looking up at him. Pleading for this taste.

"Such a needy girl…" he purred bringing his thumb to you which you accepted with greed.

You moaned, licking his cum off his thumb. It was just a drop- but dammit it was so good and you needed more. It seemed Toji had decided to bless you this night. He pulled you forward so you could take him.

"Go on spoiled brat."

You didn't need to be told twice! You plopped off his thumb to sink your mouth upon him. Your body hummed to life as you danced on your knees while sucking and licking Toji's massive length.

"Fuck…" Toji breathed while running a hand through his wet black hair. "…You look so good worshipping my cock baby."

Your eyes rolled in pleasure, you could feel your curse mark dance upon your stomach, slowly appearing as if someone were drawing it.

Toji's phone chimed, he glanced at it and then snorted, "The party is about to start." He reached down pulling you off his cock. "Open your mouth."

You chirped excitedly doing as he said. He began to jerk off, fisting himself as he spoke through his grunting.

"You want my cum?"

"Yes! Yes! Mmm~!" You moaned, you wanted it so bad your eyes were watering. You couldn't believe it! He was going to feed you!

"You gonna swallow it all?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Toji released a curse as he grunted- you opened your mouth as wide as you could and for some reason, he had moved his other hand to cover your eyes. You didn't think much of it, too ready for your euphoric release but that wasn't until you could smell your food but couldn't taste it.

You pushed his hand out of the way just in time to see him finishing wiping his cock with tissue and throwing it into the toilet.

"Noooo!" You chased after it like a dog but you didn't make it in time. Watching in horror as your delicious treat was swirled and gulped down by the toilet. You almost started crying, but hearing Toji laugh at your demise made you downright furious.

Fucking asshole.

~

"Where the hell is my bubble machine?" Gojo hissed while calling the company. He was in the kitchen walking around aimlessly, phone pressed to his ear.

Getou, dressed as a Roman soldier, was sitting on the counter. "I'm sure it'll be here soon."

Gojo scoffed, "Soon? The party is about to start- ah yes hello? Yeah, I'm calling because I ordered a bubble machine, and funny story I couldn't help but notice that it's not here!"

Everyone watched the spoiled man stomp away to complain.

Sukuna snorted, "A better question is where did our pet go?"

Choso shrugged, "We couldn't find her."

Nanami returned to his earlier suggestion, "She may have left."

Sukuna sounded pissed, "You really think she went somewhere else?"

Getou also seemed annoyed by that idea, "Our kitten wouldn't cheat on us."

Choso was starting to have doubts, "Maybe she got tired of us since we didn't feed her."

There was a pause as all eyes shifted to Yu who was now dressed in his Viking costume. "Wh-what? Why-why uh is everyone looking at me?" He looked around as guilty as ever.

"You don't have any input on our missing pet?"

"Uh… well…I think…oh! There she is!" Yu pointed as Toji walked in with you thrown over his shoulder.

The man was wearing his Viking gear, body scratched up like he fought a wild cat. Fresh nail marks no doubt from your claws.

Sukuna pointed an accusing finger at him, "Hey, did you fuck her?"

That only made Toji bark out a laugh, "Ha! No- quite the opposite." He set you down in your fluffy pink bed.

Immediately you turned around looking away from them, deciding the wall deserved your attention much more than them.

Gojo had just gotten off the phone, coming back in, he pointed toward you, "What's wrong with her?"

Toji explained how he flushed his cum and then how angry you got afterward, scratching and biting him as he finished showering and got ready.

Of course, they exploded in laughter, followed by saying how cute you were.

You roll your eyes glaring so hard at the wall that it was a surprise it didn't burn into flames.

Someone pat your head but you didn't turn around.

"Don't worry sweetheart," Gojo spoke, letting you know it was him, you glanced up as he grinned "…we will make sure you are nice and fed before you leave. You know we always take care of you." He chuckled. The doorbell rang making him clap his hands, "Guests are here~! Choso! Go put on your costume! Vikings or Romans, hurry up!"

You continued to pout even though you knew Gojo's words to be true.

"Hey, pet come take a shot with us."

You will be more than satisfied by the end of the night.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Five.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

[cinebration]

5 Times Cyclone (Barely) Kept His Cool (& 1 Time He Didn’t) (Cyclone x Reader) [One-shot]

Disclaimer: I know nothing about how the Navy and Air Force work.

I had originally planned an entirely different multipart fic, but my brain won't let me write.

Tagged: @crispysublimecupcake, @failure-of-a-student, @abaker74, @green-parx, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @deanscroissant, @b-bradshaw, @alldaysdreamer, @bat-luna-cat, @auntiegigi, @another-bookwyrm, @littlewhiterose, @lucy-sky

Warnings: none

Gif Source: garethamm

Beau “Cyclone” Simpson rarely frequented the bar, not merely because he didn’t much care for the atmosphere but because he felt it necessary to remain distant and aloof from his subordinates—even ones that were just names on paper to him.

After the success of Maverick and his team in destroying the unsanctioned uranium enrichment plant, however, Cyclone found himself alongside Warlock in the bar, watching the TOPGUN pilots toast their triumph. Music thumped a steady beat in the background as the chatter, laughter, and cheers swelled in rolling waves through the enclosed space. Sweat trickled down the back of Cyclone’s neck as the heat of the room pressed down on him.

He tried to let his professional façade relax a fraction. He was just as elated as the flyboys at the success of the mission—more so, considering he had known the full ramifications of the crisis should they have failed. His relief was as palpable as the strength of the relieved expression on Warlock’s face.

Sipping his beer, he scanned the room, lips bearing the faint ghost of a smile as he noted the euphoric faces of his subordinates. Beyond the core group clustered around the pool table, several pilots sat or stood in scattered groups, elbowing each other and laughing, beers in hand.

Beyond them, in the far corner beside one of the windows overlooking the beach, you sat at a table, a half-filled glass in front of you. One foot propped up on the chair across from you, aviators hanging from the collar of your blouse, dark jeans, and ankle boots the same color of brown as your faux leather jacket, you had the same easy confidence tinged with a hint of arrogance as Maverick, of all people.

Cyclone stared.

“Cyclone? Beau?”

Cyclone’s attention snapped to Warlock. “What?”

“Are you really so incapable of enjoying yourself?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You really weren’t listening.” Warlock shook his head. “We’re here to relax and enjoy the win.”

“There are too many other things to win,” Cyclone countered. “This is just one.”

He glanced at your table.

Your seat was empty.

Cyclone straightened in his seat, scanned the room. The flyboys blocked his view, flaring his irritation as he strained to see past them.

Nothing.

Cyclone ground his teeth in disappointment.

“What’s the matter?”

He shook his head, biting back the retort surging through him: You let her get away. Again.

“Nothing,” he muttered. He sucked on his beer, the taste of it flat on his tongue. “Nothing at all.”

~~

A week and a half later when Cyclone had finally succeeded in pushing away the frustration and disappointment, he sat in a war room across from his counterpart in the Air Force, a man he begrudgingly respected not so much for his track record as for his personality. The man had managed to rise with a stellar career through the Air Force without turning into a total asshole.

Seated at the head of the table, the Secretary of Defense, a retired general of significant pedigree, intoned in a deep, buttery voice, “The mission requires a joint operation between the Air Force and the Navy. The Commander-in-Chief is demanding that it be done quickly and with such precision that it would make a neurosurgeon eat his shirt.”

General Charles Mcloughlin chuffed a quiet laugh. “The neurosurgeons I know would never.”

Unamused, SECDEV continued, “This mission is top priority. I don’t need to remind you that we need top-level talent and genius thinking to get this done. So do it.”

With that, the man left the room, his aide scurrying after him like a remora trying to keep up with a shark. Cyclone turned to Mcloughlin, who returned his hard stare with a heavy calm, unaffected gaze.

“I take it you heard about this beforehand,” Cyclone noted, inclining his head at the folder in front of the other man. “You already have a plan?”

“A semblance of one,” Mcloughlin demurred. “I already have two pilots selected from our end, the real crème-de-la-crème of the entire Force.”

Cyclone sighed. “But?”

“We need to use F-22s.”

Raking a hand over his face, Cyclone leaned forward, forearms digging hard into the table. “F-22s can’t land on aircraft carriers.”

“No, but the carriers can launch support for one.”

“Why would an F-22 need support from anything? No other aircraft matches it.”

“Because we’re going to crash it.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Mcloughlin shook his head. “They’re being phased out by the F-35s. This mission requires us to complete the objective and then make it look like our aircraft can’t handle it anymore.”

“And you want my men to, what? Take enemy fire to make your crash look good?”

“Something like that.”

This job is going to give me an ulcer. The muscle in his jaw jumping, Cyclone stretched out a hand. Mcloughlin placed the folder in his palm. Leaning back in his chair, Cyclone flipped it open.

Your eyes stared at him from the first page. The ghost of a smirk played on your lips, the lens flare in your eyes a mischievous glimmer.

Cyclone swallowed thickly, his heart flinging itself against his ribs. Carefully, he flipped past your dossier, spent as many seconds on the second one as he had on yours.

He snapped the folder shut.

“When do I meet them?”

~~

Cyclone’s general dislike for the Air Force stemmed from a well-hidden jealousy. He had always wanted to get his hands on an F-22 Raptor, but the Navy didn’t use it. Even in his flyboy days, he hadn’t even been able to share the same airspace as one. He had never seen one in person, grounded or airborne.

Standing in a hanger on the Pearl Harbor-Hickam base in Hawai’i, Cyclone could barely contain his excitement and awe as he took in the F-22 Raptor standing but a few yards away. It took all of his control to keep his expression an impassive, unimpressed mask, even with only the general and Warlock in the hanger with him.

“Couldn’t bother to do this back on our home turf,” Warlock muttered to him, shaking his head as he stared up at the fighter. “No, they want to rub it in our faces.”

Cyclone made a noncommittal noise in his throat, then added, “Our pilots could use the humbling.”

“Nevertheless.” Warlock shook his head again.

Mcloughlin stood behind a small podium they had set up off to the side, a number of seats arrayed before it. The TOPGUN pilots and the two Air Force ones were yet to arrive to fill them. With each passing minute, Cyclone felt his heartrate kick up another notch. He ascribed it to the proximity of the stealth aircraft he had once dreamed of being close enough to touch.

It wasn’t until the soft tread of several booted feet scuffed over the cement floor that the blood roared through his ears. Woodenly, he turned to face the assembled pilots taking their seats. Despite their newfound friendship, Rooster sat in the row behind Hangman with Phoenix and Bob, the latter two taking surreptitious glances at the two Air Force pilots. Fanboy and Payback were the least discrete, staring both at the F-22 and the Air Force pilots in turn.

You sat at the back, dressed in a flight suit not dissimilar to the ones the TOPGUN pilots used. The two bars signifying your rank as a captain gleamed sharply in the light streaming through the open hanger doors.

You met Cyclone’s stare. One eyebrow rose up your forehead.

Hands clasped behind his back, Cyclone fought to keep his eyes ahead as Mcloughlin outlined the mission to the pilots. Your stare was magnetic, the pull of it almost irresistible.

By the time he stepped up to the podium, his wrist ached from squeezing it so tightly.

“This mission is a joint Navy and Air Force mission,” he reiterated, his throat straining not to give his nerves away. “That means General Mcloughlin and I retain the same authority.”

Sweat collected beneath the collar of his uniform. He glanced at the Air Force pilot leading the F-22 mission, a Daniel Hummel.

Your stare burned fire through him from the back of the room.

“If you don’t play nice with my men, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission. The general won’t listen to any appeal.”

His gaze shifted to his own men and women, careful not to pass over you.

“The same holds true for you.” He made a point of looking at Hangman. “There is no inter-branch rivalry here. We’re all on the same mission, which means you have to trust each other. If you don’t play nice, if you are insubordinate in any way, you are off the mission.”

His hands gripped the edges of the podium hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“Is that understood??”

A chorus of “yessirs” filled the room.

“Dismissed.”

He risked a glance in your direction as you stood to file out with the others. The ache in his hands hardly matched the one in his chest when you didn’t look back.

~~

Rage burned in Cyclone’s veins. It would be one of his own men that instigated the fight during training for a mission crucial not only to the objective but to strengthening Navy-Air Force relations.

He could already hear the Air Force brass whispering up the ladder about the lack of discipline in the Naval Air Forces.

Nerves buzzing, he felt like pacing and screaming at the two troublemakers standing in his office. Instead, he sat rigidly behind his desk, a glower on his face as he stared at Hangman and Rooster. Both men barely met his eye, their postures just as rigid, hands clenched behind their backs.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, the steel in his voice dangerous.

“Nothing, sir,” Rooster answered.

“We were being challenged, sir,” Hangman answered.

Cyclone clenched his teeth. “Did I or did I not say to play nice?”

“Yessir,” the men agreed in unison.

“Then why is Captain Hummel in the hospital?”

“Airmen are made of weaker stuff,” Hangman quipped.

Cyclone’s jaw audibly popped. The faint smirk on Hangman’s face evaporated.

“Thanks to you, the primary on this mission can no longer serve on the mission. We don’t have the time to train another pilot to act as this mission’s secondary, so you both are relieved of duty. I can’t risk you injuring the other pilot. Dismissed.”

Both men shouted “sir, yessir” and filed out of the room so stiffly they threatened to snap their spines. Cyclone passed a hand over his face, releasing an explosive sigh when the door swung shut. His stomach spasmed as he thought of you taking Hummel’s place on the mission. The mission was dangerous as it already was, given the enemy aircraft that were likely to be encountered, but to deliberately trash a fighter in the middle of potential dogfighting another layer of suicidal to an already insane mission.

He hadn’t even spoken to you directly yet. The opportunity hadn’t yet arrived.

There’s no point, he thought to himself. You aren’t built for…anything but this job. It is your only mistress.

His nails dug into his palms.

Now he might never have the chance to find out otherwise.

~~

Chaos reigned on the aircraft carrier. The last of the F-18s had yet to land, instead doing circles above the aircraft. The enemy fighters had disengaged when the carrier had come into view, but not before launching a missile that hadn’t been intercepted.

It hit your win, as you rolled, sending you into an out-of-control spiral. Your engines clipped the edge of the aircraft carrier, a quarter-of-a-mile off your intended target.

The crash had been real, taking a section of the landing strip with it.

The urge to vomit overwhelmed Cyclone. Breathing shallowly through his nose, he waited. He waited an eternity for the final F-18 to touch down, Phoenix and Bob climbing out of the cockpit with unsteady legs. He waited an eternity for the rescue team to launch out after you, your parachute a clear beacon on the choppy water.

He waited an eternity for you to be brought onboard. Another eternity for the medics to flock to your side, surrounding you like vultures around carrion.

His stomach dropped when the chopper lifted off, carrying you to the nearest base for emergency medical assistance.

He slumped in the chair of his tiny office onboard the carrier. Numb, he reached for the phone already connected to General Mcloughlin’s line.

The general answered immediately.

“I heard,” he said.

The silence felt like a vacuum sucking out Cyclone’s breath.

“You ever bring a mission like this to my table again,” he hissed, “I will make you eat the proposal.”

He slammed the phone back in its cradle. Stared at it.

Picked it up again and slammed, slammed, slammed it against the desk until it shattered in his hands. A roar filled his skull.

Anything not bolted down smashed across the room, tore in his hands. The rage and despair gripped him in a dark whirlwind that violence didn’t satisfy.

He sunk back down into his chair, slid off it in a heap as its broken leg gave way.

Warlock found him sitting up against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess.

“She’s back at Pearl Harbor,” he said simply.

“Get me there.”

When he arrived, you were out of surgery and recovering. Forced to wait half a day before he could see you, Cyclone diverted all his calls to Warlock and delegated everything else. He sat statuesque in the waiting room, consuming nothing but bitter, thick coffee that made his stomach burn.

You were awake when the nurses let him into the room. Bruises mottled your face, your broken arm in a cast.

He almost couldn’t bear to look at you.

You tilted your head to better see him. A faint smile split your cracked lips. “Did that catch your attention?”

He choked on his tongue. “What?”

“I’m glad to see I’m important.”

Cyclone gently grabbed your hand. “You were always important.”

You laughed brokenly. “Come back when I’m not hopped up on meds. We have a lot to talk about.”

He promised quietly to return the next day.

Only when you were out of eyesight did he lean against the nearest wall and thank God for your survival. He fought back tears of relief through the prayer.