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dilfdemolisher · 3 months

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Hey,

Heard you are in a Hannibal mood right now, so could you please write a needy Hannibal one-shot? They have been busy with their respective jobs and Hannibal comes home after a long, at first just wants to kiss and cuddle, but soon discovers how desperate his body is?😏(nsfw?)

Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable

an: I wrote this while listening to Honeymoon and I feel that its evident; so i insist y'all listen to Salvatore while reading...

YEARNING

Summary: A moment to lounge and enjoy peace becomes much more eventful when Hannibal arrives homes from work—hungry;)

Content Warning: Smut, Hannibal Lector is SIMP!!! Spread the word, oral and fingering (f!receiving), male masturbation (he jacks off during snack-time)

Word Count: 2k

It’s nice to finally have the opportunity to lounge—nothing to write—no one to speak to—no where to go—just you, your book, and the sun accompanying you while you sit comfortably in the lounge chair that has recently been brought outside.

You always believe you’re not one who’s affected by the seasons; that cold, dreary weather doesn't get the best of you. And you believe that until the weather starts to warm your body up and you feel like you just crawled out of a cave and haven't seen the sunlight in years.

Your whole body feels hot, and your internal temperature rising from the hot sun on your barely covered skin. You didn’t want the sun to have to penetrate through anything—you wanted it direct.

You can’t help but let out a sigh. You allow your head to roll back and take your eyes off the pages you are reading, savouring the way the heat permeates through your hair and warms your scalp. So caught up in your relaxation, you didn’t become aware of your partner's presence until you felt a hand on your shoulder that delicately squeezed you.

You don’t feel the need to open your eyes; you just feel content.

“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He speaks. Oh, how you’ve missed his voice. You’ve both been so caught up in your respective careers that the simple attention he’s giving you right now makes the world seem like it’s stopped spinning and that it’s just you and him, no one else.

He leans down and peppers kisses onto your shoulder; you can’t help but smile as his mouth trails upwords along the side of your neck.

Your sure he can hear the grin that's carved onto your face as you speak, “I’m savouring the weather. Who knows how long it will be until we get another day like this.”

He only responds with a hum in agreement, or maybe just in enjoyment of his activities; your not quite sure. “Care to join me?’ You ask in hopes this isn’t just a fleeting moment; you miss him—you want him.

He stays mute until he brings his lips to your carotid artery and lightly nibbles on the skin that serves to protect it. “I’ve missed you more than you know. I’m tempted to eat you up so I can have a piece of you forever.” He says before hashly nips you.

It’s a frighting statement indeed, but he said it to you. If it were for someone else, it would be a threat, but for you, its a declaration of love.

You can’t help but blush at his statement, “What's gotten into you?”

He doesn't answer; instead, he continues to manifest his care with kisses instead of verbalizing it. His hand makes its way up your back as he pulls his head away. Before you can complain, he places his hands on your shoulders and rubs. You can’t help the small moan that makes its way out of your mouth due to the pressure on your muscles.

You hear him quietly chuckle above you. You tilt your head back and open your eyes to look at him.

He’s staring right back at you with a satisfied grin.

It’s ridiculous, and you know it. But sometimes you remember how beautiful he is and it takes you off guard, turning you into a blushing, love-sick fool.

“Hi.” is all you can say. He says it back; you can see how humorous he finds this and how his simple touches seem to melt your brain away.

You bring your hand up to his, where he working on your shoulder. “You just got home from work; I should be loving on you.” You say while bringing his hand to your mouth for a sweet kiss.

He pulls his hand away, “Nonsense.” He says as he returns it back to your shoulder to continue your massage. “I live to love you.”

You love Hannibal, and you have no doubt your feelings are reciprocated, but its unusual for him to be this touchy.

“I feel like you have bad news and you’re buttering me up.” You joke. You can't help but swoon as you hear his chuckle from above.

“No bad news.” He says, “We’ve both been suffocated by our work lately and for the moment we aren't, and I feel it would be pitiful to waste it.” He explains.

Your smile grows larger at his words, “Take off your blazer.” You tell him. You hear him laugh once more as he shrugs it off.

You immediately understand how words come off. “No, not like that; I’m sure you’re baking in that. I’m just enjoying being here with you. I don’t need anything more.” Your a tad embarrassed by how forward you accidentally sounded, though he didn’t seem to mind.

He places his blazer down somewhere out of sight. When he returns, his hand lands on your scalp where he gently drags his nails along it. “Just because you don’t need something more doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

You rotate your head back once more to look at him. You remember a few moments ago how soft his gaze was. Now it’s much more hungry.

“I didn’t want to be greedy.” You whisper. There's no need for your quiet tone; Hannibal is the only other soul near you. Yet, just in case you stay hush. The words are meant for him. Yourself—your being—is all for him.

“You’re too sweet.” His hand falls down farther. He’s slow with his movement, teasing you. His hand lies on your chest, above your heart; you know he’s revelling in the past pace of it—physical proof of your need for him.

“Be greedy; you deserve it. Your always so good.” His hand shifts to encompass your breast. He has a firm grip, but nothing to ensue pleasure; he’s waiting for your response.

His simple words make your mind turn to putty. His face is next to yours—you can sense it. You feel his lips on your cheek—a gentle, kind kiss.

“That's what I want. I want to be good for you.” It was the correct answer to assume as his hand slides beneath your swim top.

You utter his name as he kneads your chest. You feel him exhale on your shoulder before biting into while pinching your nipple. His other hand, that’s not busy, starts to remove your top.

Hannibal's fingers work deftly, sliding your swim top completely off and casting it aside. You feel the warmth of his body leave as he comes to kneel in front of you. Being able to fully see him for the first time since he’s come home, you drink in the sight of him. His own eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of you.

He kneels in front of you and leans his head against your knee. Its not that you don’t appreciate it, but it’s rare that he’s so indiscreet about his wants. He’s the most cryptic man you’ve ever met—dangerous too. And yet, he’s kneeling before you, looking at you like you’re what makes the world spin.

He kisses your knee before sliding his hands up your outer thighs and pulling your bottoms down. Once removed and places aside, Hannibal grabs your hand thats laying lip beside you and takes it into your own, clasping your fingers in between yours to hold hand.

His gaze stays on you, his eyes looking at you with desire and devotion as he gently prys his legs apart with his hand.

“Hannibal.” You breath, your voice a mix of need and plea.

He smiles, a sensual curve of his lips that sends a shiver through you, "I want to make you feel everything," he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Every touch, every kiss. Let me worship you."

With that, he lowers his head and leans in, his mouth immediately on your most intimate spot which he handles with such precision. His tongue is skilled, flicking and swirling around your clit in a manner that hitches your breath.

“Fuck.” You swear while he uses his lips and teeth on you, alternating between gentle suction and soft nips.

You feel like he’s eating you alive.

Your hands grip the soild arms of the chair, head thrown back as he continues his ministrations. You can feel the internal pressure build, the delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you. His one hand presses down on your lower stomach to keep you still, holding you steady as he works you with his mouth.

“So good.” He lowly hums into you, the vibration from his voice adding to your pleasure. He quickens his pace, moving to a faster rhythm as he removes his hand from yours and probes it around your leaking hole.

“Please.” You gasp, and that’s all it takes for him to insert his digit inside you. He slowly drags it along your walls, only harshly hitting your sweet spot when you’ve been quiet for a moment.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer as he sucks and licks; your words become unintelligible and are just as loud as your moans until suddenly, Hannibal pulls away.

You watch him breathless as he removes both of his hands from you and brings them towards his belt to remove it. You both stare at each other as he unbuttons his trousers and lowers them slightly, just enough to remove himself.

His cock springs free, hard and dripping. He doesn't say a word as he lowers himself down and halts your legs over his shoulders while he dives into your core again. One hand he brings up to your pussy where he pushes two fingers in, moving them fast as his other hand wraps around his shaft.

His movements are synchronized, moving both his hands at the same time, at the same speed, matching the rhythm. His gaze never leaves yours; the intensity of his glazed over eyes boring into your soul only nears you to your orgasm.

The sight of him pleasuring himself while his tongue acts on your sensitive core is almost to much to bear. Every flick of his tongue, every movement of his hand causes your eyes to roll back into your skull.

Hannibals moans reverberate against you, only making you melt more and more. His pace quickens, both on you and himself. As you look at him once again, you can see the strain in his muscles as he gets closer to his own relief.

You reach down, threading your fingers between his hair and tug, urging him on. “Please Hannibal.” You whine, “Want you to cum.”

He groans at that. “So sweet, always so good for me.”

His strokes become more frantic, his tongue more insistent. The sight of him on the edge, the feel of his relentless movements on your sensitive clit pushes you towards your climax.

You feel your body arch towards him as your mind falls blank. The only thing in the world being Hannibal’s continued movements, his tongue on you and his fingers abusing your insides, drawing out your pleasure.

With a gutteral groan, Hannibal finds his release. His warm cum spilling over his hand, making a mess on the ground below him.

He collapses onto you, his head leaning against your thigh for a moment before he tucks himself back into his pants and rises. He presses soft kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, murmuring words of love and praise.

“You’re perfect.” You say quietly against his lips.

He grins, his canines poking out and revealing themselves. “I could devour you forever.”

#hannibal nbc #hannibal #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal smut #hannibal lector x you #hannibal lector smut

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slashersdaddy · 21 days

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Slashers Hcs

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Hannibal Lector, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Micheal Myers, Jason Vorhees

Bo Sinclair:

Bo is a quiet partner, if he's happy he's even quieter OR more snarky (no inbetween, hes crazy like that) he will forget things like valentines day, because thety arent something he cares about, but sometimes he will surprise you with small things; Your favorite candy, a candle in the scent you like, jewelry, clothes, ect. He wants you to know he loves you but by god will he make it hard. But if you suffer from fear of abandonment he will do small things to prove he wont leave (he thinks they are small) like getting your name tattooed on his bicep, or letting you leave hickeys on him. Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is a loving and doting partner, He will leave you gifts like a cat, statuettes of you, photographs, drawings, paintings, a cool rock he found he thinks youd like? its on your bedside table in the morning. He loves you and shows it in every way he can think, candlelit dinners? Check. Gifts for EVERY occasion? Check. Physical affection? Check. Love Letters? Check. He wants you to feel like a god/dess, worshipped by a loyal devotee <3

Lester Sinclair: Golden retriever Boyfriend. Kind of? Hes like a wolf that is loyal to you and his brothers. thats it. but of course he claims that hes all yours. If you ask for it its yours. You like the flannel he was wearing? The next day its cleaned and folded up on your dresser (because he knows the smell of roadkill isnt nice for you) Kisses you all the time, anywhere youll let him, holding your hand all the time. He will bring you fucked up lil things he finds on his daily adventures. He will also let you ride shotgun while he takes the scenic route to talk with you and show you all the pretty landscapes! Hannibal lector: He will rest your head in his lap while he works, gently stroking your hair and humming as he holds you. Hes a quiet affectionate Boyfriend. He will make your favorite tea any time you seem stressed and take 5 minutes to drink a cup of tea with you and talk about nothing in particular, and if you need something so soon as you say the word its done. He will cook and clean and be a house husband and working man for you :3 Billy Loomis: Guard dog boyfriend, do not expect to be able to get out of his sight, this man loves you and would kill any guy/girl who tries to make a move on you. during quiet moments with him he will watch horror movies with you, holding you close as you watch. he loves especially if you get scared so he can pull you into his chest and promise to keep you safe.

Stu Macher: Stu is a golden retriever boyfriend. he wants to make you happy, he will get you anything you request, as soon as you ask for it, if you are AFAB he has an app on his phone that tracks your period and will bring you your favorite snacks and mensural products along with pain killers and gifts the day your period is supposed to start. if you stay over at his place its horror and cuddles, holding you to his chest as he strokes your hair while you are watching the show. he adores you and adores your smile, he will watch sappy romance or comedies with you to make you happy :D

Michael Myers: Michael is a guardian, silent and watching you from afar, or close by. he doesn't talk much- or honestly at all, nor does he care to use ASL, he does however use tiny movements to show his care, little flexes of his hands, tilts of his head, and the occasional hand on your shoulder when he wants you to know he loves you, he's like a cat, leaving gifts at your door, or on your bedside table. its always random things, a knife he though you would like, jewelry, weird things that don't make sense Jason Voorhees: Jason is a big ass teddy bear, he will kiss you all over through his mask, cuddle you, bring you gifts, do things for you, carry you on his back when on walks through the woods, he doesn't want you to be in pain!! He will give you rocks, feathers, flowers, anything nature related, he will sometimes give you jewelry from the victims he thinks will look pretty on you (doesn't matter if your masc. or femme, he will still do it) He wants to keep you safe, so don't expect to be somewhere without him unless its at your house/cabin!

#slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend #slasher hcs #vincent sinclair x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #lester sinclair #slasher headcanons #stu matcher x reader #ghostface billy #hannibal lecter #hannibal lector x reader #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #jason vorhees #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader

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newtthetranswriter · 2 months

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Hello !

Firstly thank you for all of works on FT !! Is it possible for some hc for Natsu , Gajeel , Sting & Grey with a s/o that is jealous about their relationship with Lucy , Levy , Yukino & Juvia ? Everyone think that these four will end up with the 4 girls without knowing they already have a s/o . How and will they tell people they already have an s/o ?

Thank you & take care of yourself :)

A/n: Hello, Firstly your welcome for all the FT work. Secondly Thank you for the request I love this idea. So I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Natsu:

You guys just never thought announcing your relationship was necessary

So when Lucy joined and people started commenting on the chemistry between them Natsu brushed it off as just jokes

He doesn't even notice your jealous until you start distancing yourself from him

When he finally catches a clue he is confused why you would be jealous, after all he chose you didn't he?

But he would definitely take the time to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about

after making sure you know nothing will ever happen between him and Lucy, He will make an announcement to the Guild

Like he's jumping on a table and proclaiming that he is in love with you and will never look at anyone else the same way

After words he is more aware of comments about him and Lucy and shuts them down as soon as he hears them

Gajeel:

He was the one to suggest keeping the relationship quite, after every thing he did to fairy tale he didn't want you to get criticized for what he has done

When people started making comments about him and Levy, he just ignored them because he already had someone

So when you started to distance yourself he didn't really think it was connected

But once Panther Lily tells him that he needs to make it clear how he feels, he begins brainstorming

the next time you walk into the guild hall be ready for Gajeel to be on stage singing a song about you that barely make any sense

Once he finishes the song, even if he is slightly embarrassed he will pull you in front of everyone and announce that you are together and that he'll punch anyone who makes you feel bad

Gray:

You guys agreed that with Juvia's weird obsession with Gray, keeping your relationship between you and maybe your closest friends was the safest bet

But as Juvia became more touchy and more direct about her feelings, it put both you and Gray on edge

When he starts to notice you shying away from even just sitting together at the guild hall, he is more than ready to do something about it

He will fully put Juvia in her place, telling her that He is dating you and that if she keeps up with her shit or does anything to make you uncomfortable he'll take the problem to the master

he's not playing around, he doesn't want her kicked out of the guild but if she keeps making you uncomfortable then so be it

Sting:

It was your Idea to keep it on the down low, only Rouge, Frosch, Lector, and Yukino know

You just felt that with him being the new Saber tooth master, people would think he was showing favoritism if they knew you were together

He didn't like the idea but because you asked for it to be that way he accepted

But then rumors started spreading that he was showing favoritism to Yukino and you started to pull back from him

Both Yukino and Sting shut down every rumor as carefully as they can with out revealing who Sting is actually dating

Sting also tries his best to assure you that nothing is happening between him and Yukino

Eventually though it's Frosch who manages to get everyone to shut up about Sting being with Yukino

Frosch being as dumb as they are forgot it was supposed to be a secret

One afternoon when everyone was just chilling in the guild hall when someone asks Sting when he plans to marry Yukino, and before anyone else can tell them to shut up Frosch just goes "but Frosch thought Sting wanted to marry Y/n" queue the whole guild going dead silent

After Frosch's little comment everyone was confused so Sting rolled with it, deciding that he might as well just announce that. yes you and him are in fact together

(divider by @/cafekitsune)

#x reader #fairy tail x reader #newt writes #fairy tail gajeel #fairy tail gray #fairy tail natsu #fairy tail headcanons #natsu headcanons #gajeel headcanons #gray fullbuster headcanons #natsu dragneel headcanons #fairy tail sting #sting headcanons #sting eucliffe headcanons #sting eucliffe x reader #natsu dragneel x reader #gajeel x reader

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 3 months

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Yandere! Slasher! Heartslabyul Headcanons

Just a quick ramble hopefully because I saw something by @lustlovehart about serial killer Floyd and Jade and I was like: Jade Leech would make a convincing Hannibal Lector. Then I was like Deuce but Jason Voorhes. Now is the product of my brain rot. Non-Twisted Wonderland setting. Reader is gender neutral unless explicitly stated. Minor characters aged up.

Tw: yandere behavior, medical professional abuse, gore, murder, cannibalism, mentions of murder being recorded, forced cannibalism, verbal abuse, ooc Dylla mentions of some other real nasty shit

17+ CONTENT, DO NOT INERACT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT. IF YOU INSULT MY WORK BECAUSE YOU IGNORED MY WARNING YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! BY CLICKING KEEP READING YOU CONSENT TO READING THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL!

Riddle Rosehearts:

Bros the perfect serial killer I mean he's got it all:

Perfectionist attitude, dedicated to his work, abusive mom. I mean the slasher film practically writes itself.

I'm going with Riddle becoming a doctor like his mother was and being known for being one of the most successful doctors in the city. People are waitlisted trying to visit this "miracle doctor".

By day Riddle is the strict perfectionist who cares deeply for his patients, by night Riddle is meticulously finding and sadistically torturing criminals and "rule breakers" before beheading them. At first, he is seen as a benevolent force for ridding the city of its criminals and scum. However, The Red Queen, as he is called, swings her axe indiscriminately and soon beloved public figures are on the chopping block.

You could meet Riddle a multitude of ways, for this I'll say you are a critically ill patient who is in and out of the hospital. Hearing about the "miracle doctor" lead to you pleading with the red head. Riddle was moved by the "innocence" in your eyes and your desperate tone of voice. You needed him. He agreed and started your treatment.

Riddle grows feelings because of your kind and forgiving nature. You don't hold his strict and commanding behavior against him, only seeing it as him doing his job. Finally, someone worthy of the help of the Red Queen.

The problem came when you came into the office battered and bruised one day. Riddle demanded to know who the perpetrator was, but you kept you lips sealed. Riddle grew angry at your defiance, how dare you defy your queen, your protector. He screams at you, causing you to cry and curl into a helpless ball. Riddle feels guilt at making you feel this way and apologizes before gently encouraging you to tell him who your abuser was.

Riddle felt his rage hit an insurmountable amount when you revealed your abuser was the personal nurse your family hired for you. How dare this insolent peasant lay a finger on your divine form? No matter, Riddle will look through your patient files to find information about this personal nurse. He finds out that this nurse lives with you as a live in nurse, Riddle takes this information in with a sadistic grin.

Time to pay them a visit

You heard a garbled croak as you exited your ensuite bathroom. What could be making such a terrible noise? Cautiously you peeped through the door and crept towards the source of the noise. It was coming from your living room. You pattered over to the living room in bare feet, when a strong odor hit you. Iron. TWACK something slides from the living room to your feet. It was a head, YOUR NURSE'S HEAD! You opened your mouth to scream when a gloved hand silenced you. You stiffened as you hear a familiar voice.

Quiet my patient, you don't want to be framed for murder, do you? They were breaking the rules so I must punish them. The rule being one must never harm the spouse of the Red Queen!

Trey Clover:

Yo can you imagine though?

Your sweet town baker feeding you treats he made with love and your ex-boyfriend's flesh and blood (don't worry you'll only taste it a little). All with loving golden eyes and a knowing smile.

After some time in the big city for college, Trey moved back to his hometown to take over his family bakery. He is immediately accepted by the community at large for his amiable and brotherly aura. In no time at all the bakery becomes popular to people outside of the town as well (particularly cannibals and other shady characters).

People come to the front for sweet treats and are led into the back to become the fresh ingredients. Trey mostly murders people that come from out of town and tourists, people the town folk won't miss. However sometimes he has to make do with the outsiders within the town. Anything to feed his clients and himself.

Let's say that you moved to this small town of Bakersfield (name of town) for a fresh start in life, leaving your toxic family and manipulative ex-boyfriend. You decided leaving the city would allow you to escape your problems (plus there were serial killers loose, you didn't want to be beheaded or killed on tape). You like the idea of being part of a small tight knit community that work as one big family. However, you were disappointed when the community greeted you with a cold shoulder. Already your thought new life was going to be a disaster until you met Trey.

Trey met you when you visited his bakery, he doesn't remember seeing your face around (he wonders what you would taste like). He turns on his customer service smile and greets you kindly. Your glum expression immediately turns into a cheery grin. That's strange he kind of likes making you smile. You order one of his special desserts, which he whips up fresh just for you and your beautiful smile (men have pretty smiles too male readers, if I have any).

You end up coming to the bakery pretty often, not only for the sweets but the charming baker who works the front counter. You're surprised that he's single because you think he's quite handsome and kind. You gotten a tiny crush for the man who serves you pastries with a smile, and gives you back your money claiming your presence is enough. Trey put you in such a good mood that you brought some of the extra sweets for your neighbors and actually started making connections with the town's folk.

Trey saw you becoming more welcome with the townspeople and that left a sour taste in his mouth. He had to bite his lip to the point of bleeding to prevent himself from scowling when you rambled about how nice everyone has been. He was the first person to be nice to you and this is how you treat him? Looks like he'll have to play dirty to get back into your good graces. He may or may not have found the number of your old abusive ex and revealed your location. He knows that its wrong, but he'll make it up to you by being your protector.

Soon enough you'll only depend on him

This man was sick. No person you met could look at you so lovingly while bashing your ex's head in with a crowbar. This psycho killed people and ate them and was forcing you to play a twisted form of house. The chain around your leg reminded you of this fact. Every. Single. Day. "Open up my love, you're losing weight far too much, I can't have you wasting away." You look the devil who called himself your husband in the eyes and glared weakly. "I won't eat anything you make!" Trey laughed callously at your scorn. "It's funny that you think you have a choice." A rough hand grasps your jaw while the other pushes its way inside. You knew better than to bite his fingers, pain was a cruel teacher. The spoon of stew lays in your mouth and the hand holding your jaws puts more pressure on it causing you to whimper.

"If you swallow, you won't have to stay in the cold and lonely basement. Won't that be nice, sweet pea, you'll get to sleep in our nice warm bed. Only if you're a good for me and swallow.

Cater Diamond (longest one by far)

Hoo boy, this dude also is prime slasher material.

We'll keep the backstory of overbearing sisters and constantly moving due to his dad's job. This wore on his psyche harshly and made him more shut off from the rest of his family. Of course, his family only started caring when his grades start to slip. He was diagnosed with depression and ADHD. The medication only helped him get better at faking being happy and carefree all the time. His life allowed for him to become a very good liar and mask emotions very well. When in high school and during his current adult life social media was his one safe place where he could feel happy. Everything was fake and that gave him comfort that others people's lives were probably as miserable as his. He perfected his camera work and putting on a cute face for his audience and became quite a successful instaounce model (haha I made it more American) and influencer. When Cater graduated (barely) he refused to go to college and instead focused on pursuing his dreams of becoming a full-time influencer.

While Cater may seem cute, sociable, and relatable online, he also is jealous, vindictive, and murderous offline. He sees other people who are pretty and popular as a threat to his online presence, and threats must be eradicated. Enter his other pastime on the internet, streaming himself torturing and killing popular people on social media for an eager and sadistic audience. He goes by the username Killer_Diamond 💎💎♦️ and has millions globally bid to see who's suggested method of torture will be expertly carried out by Cater's creepily cheerful persona.

For this we'll say you're the cute new barista at an aesthetically pleasing cafe Cater frequents for coffee pics. You greet Cater with the same positive energy he exudes. He orders a very complicated coffee, and you create the coffee right the first time. No one in all the time he's been here has gotten his order to his high standards. Why are you so special? It almost makes him frown how flawlessly you completed his order, but your genuine smile makes the sides of his fake grin wobble. How could you so openly and freely be happy?

Let's say that you were adventurous and decided to peruse the dark web for some spooky content to sate your curiosity. When you stumble into a red room by accident. What you saw horrified you a person who you recognize as some model your friend gushes about being hot was being tortured as the live chat was filled with other horrific suggestions as what else to do to her. You felt bile come into your mouth as you saw the person in a bunny mask rip the model's eye out, causing her to scream loudly. The bunny mask turns back to the camera and chirps "Ooh a new person tuned in, say hello to them." You slam your laptop shut and lay awake in bed all night.

Cater felt like he had a new pep in his step, humming to himself a popular song he made his way to the cafe. Murdering always cleared his head and helped him destress, much more affordable than therapy. He greets you with a genuine zeal to see you, poor thing with large eyebags and a shell-shocked expression. He didn't like seeing you so disturbed. He asked you what was wrong, only for you to fake a cheery expression and ask him for his order. Cater knew you didn't trust him, so he'd have to befriend you if he wanted you to speak. Perhaps even kill the person who made you so upset.

Wait kill? Why did he care what happened to the person who upset you?

Cater offers you to sit and have a coffee with him, you try to explain that you're still on shift but Cater doesn't hear it and sits down beside you. Cater knows how to keep a conversation going and knows just the right things to say to make you more trusting of his intentions. He's a bit irritated that you still won't tell him why you're upset, but no worries he'll get you to open up.

You were losing sleep over the murder you saw take place. It had been weeks ago, but you still could see that eye on the tip of that knife. Should you call the police? No, the murderer might be able to trace it back to you. What on Earth are you going to do? Your phone pings notifying you that Cater or Cay-Cay as he prefers you to call him was messaging you.

Hey babe<3

Found this cute little hole in the wall sushi place, thought it'd be good for you to come and eat some food with Cay-Cay😘💕

Well, you'd always have Cater.

On my way Cay!

Cater has never felt love before. His family meant nothing to him, and he would never reach out to a fan in distress. However, you were perfect, so sweet and friendly. He felt like he could hide his murder stream from you and just pretend to be your normal loving boyfriend. He felt a blush come to his face at the thought of you being officially his partner. You'd take so many cute couple photos! However, you were too cute for your own good, attracting boys, girls, and others by being your sweet little self. It's not fair that you're so charming that other people want you! THIS WILL NOT STAND! Cater ramps up the murders and even ignores his chat pleading for him to drag them out longer. He just needs you to see that he's your perfect match, even if he must kill the ones, you love and isolate you.

No matter what happens Cater will have a place in your heart. Even if he gets that place by killing.

You were terrified, one night of drinking away your sorrows and now you woke up to total darkness. You tried to feel you way out, but your hands were bound behind your back. Oh god you've been kidnapped! You were going to die! A blinding light turns on revealing a luxurious room with red walls. Oh, seven this was the red room you saw! The person with the rabbit mask walks to the camera which was pointed at you. "Hello again my lovely viewers today I have a very special guest, my lovely!" You shake as tears fill your eyes; you try to scream but the tape covering your mouth prevents you. "Ah, ah, dear, wait till we get home to let out those pretty screams. My audience is not allowed to hear them." Another spotlight lands on a terrified friend of yours who you remember vanished a few days ago. They looked to be in rough shape. The rabbit figure bounced on their heels and walks very close to you with his back to the camera. "Before we start, I'd like to give my co-star a quick kiss for good luck. The figure takes the mask off and you gasp at the familiar face of you friend Cater.

"I know it's not the real thing, but I'll kiss you right on the tape. Oh, don't cry darling you'll have all of Cay-Cay later tonight. For now, we have an audience to entertain!

Deuce Spade:

Bro's literally just Jason Vorhees and Bubba Sawyer I mean come on, a puppy dog like killer who listens to the dead voice of his mother and you only.

Let's say Deuce was raised alone with his mother in the woods, his mother only leaving him to go gather supplies in the town. His mother had to raise him on her own and instilled in him a fear and hatred towards outsiders. Due to his mother raising him by herself and him never attending school, he isn't very educated and had delayed speech. His mother died when he was ten making him officially go crazy and hallucinate his mom still being with him. He's a hermit who lives off the woods and kills anyone who steps foot on his property.

You were a case worker who found a case of a woman who "abandoned" her child in the woods. Weird it's been swept under the rug for twelve or so years. Well, you weren't one to heed the warning of other case workers who begged you not to go. You weren't going to let some child continue to be neglected.

Deuce was going through the motions of his routine. Waking up, dressing, putting on his mask, kill something for breakfast, cook it, and he was currently repairing the small cabin. His mother had gone silent for some time, and it was worrying Deuce. Did his mother abandon him? A loud noise shakes Deuce out of his thoughts, as a terrifying metal monster approaches the house. Mother what do I do?

You drive your car through the woods towards the address on the file. Weird there's no official road up to the house nor any signs signifying that you are going in the right direction. Suddenly an item came hurtling towards your wind shield causing you to scream in terror. Holy shit is that an axe?! You hear a figure thunder up towards you and you scream in terror. A lanky blue haired man with a hockey mask covered in blood grabs the axe from the windshield and raises it above your head. You are prepared to ram the car into his body until he freezes.

Deuce what are you doing? A familiar feminine voice reproaches in his ear. His mother didn't want him to kill the trespasser? Mother I'm getting rid of the trespasser, like you've taught me. A ghostlike pinch formed on his cheek. Why would you try and kill your spouse that I handpicked just for you? After I put all that effort in Deucy you're still so ungrateful! Deuce grunts as he puts a hand up to his masked cheek. No mother I am grateful...they're actually quite attractive. Then stop wasting time and grab them before they drive away!

You scream as a hand breaks through your window and tries to pull you out of your car. You frantically swat at the hand that pulls you out of the driver's seat and places you over his shoulder. You kick and scream as he walks back to the cabin with you in tow, it was insulting how easy he managed to pick you up (Deuce is super strong in this, so fat readers you weigh nothing to him). You didn't want to die before finding the kid. "Hey, let me go, I need to find this kid named Deuce Spade!" The hulking figure freezes.

You are now being held off the ground and, in his arms, (if you're tall your feet are dragging) looking you dead in the eye. You try to maintain calm but who the hell would maintain calm when this muscular hermit is mouth breathing directly on you. The figure takes his mask off to reveal a handsome yet scared face of a man with blue hair, that looked a little too familiar. "Mother was right, you really are made for me." You open your mouth to protest when a pair of rough lips make contact with yours. You pound his firm chest with your fist, to no avail. The man pulls back to look at you with lovesick eyes and a heavily flushed face. "I'm Deuce Spade and mother said you are mine. How wonderful it is to have someone else in the family now!" Oh, geez what have you gotten yourself into.

Ace Trappola:

I heavily dislike Ace, like he rubbed me off the wrong way when we first met him in the game. I know everyone is supposed to be a villain but for someone who's one of our best friends he likes to insult us a little too much (more than the actual ex-bully). I'll try to do my best besides the biased (there are others who I didn't like on first meeting but grew to like).

Ace Trappola and you are childhood friends to your families. To you he's been a monster hell bent on torturing you till the day you die. He'll play the sweet golden boy next door to your parents, asking politely if you're home. Your parents sacrifice you to the demon in front of you to "play". They always blame you for the scratches and bruises you have after the "play date". He always gives you the same sadistic grin when others aren't watching.

Ace is a messed-up boy who wants to make you scared of him. He thinks it's funny when you cry in pain as he tugs your hair or punches you in the face. You're so much weaker than him and that gives him a high like no other. When puberty hit however, you grew much taller and stronger than Ace and wouldn't be pushed around anymore. When he brought a knife to school to scare you, you beat him to a bloody pulp. Something changed in him when you stood over him, once docile eyes filled with rage. It was kinda hot not gonna lie.

Ace goes from the bully to a psycho who stalks you constantly. You must have hit him too hard because instead of wanting to hurt you, he's hurting others who try and be around you. You think he's disgusting every time he groans when you hit him to get him to stop following you. Ace gets taken away to a psyche ward after the Senior Prom massacre. Let's say he didn't take to kindly to you asking someone out to the prom who wasn't him and killed almost every senior in your class including your date. You were the one who knocked him out for the cops to take away. His and your parents were distraught as they never thought an angel like Ace could do something so terrible. You were just glad you'd never have to see him again.

You moved on with your life and worked your way through college getting a degree in your dream field and meeting someone nice. Unfortunately, nothing goes your way as news broke out that an escaped mental patient had fled after a transfer to the mental institution in the town you were in. Ace knew where you planned on going to college and meticulously planned a way to get there so you can be reunited.

You were having a quiet night in, house sitting for a relative who lived nearby. You had ordered some pizza and put on some horror movies. You were watching Hallow's Eve (spoof on Halloween) when the doorbell rang. Must be the pizza guy. To your horror a familiar red head was at the front door in a blue mechanic suit holding a kitchen knife and was drenched in blood. "Hiya (Y/N) hope ya didn't miss yer boyfriend too bad? Cause I missed you a lot. You promptly slamed the door in his face. You don't have time for this.

Mwah different horror tropes hope you liked it. Now that I think about it, Ruggie and Leona or Ace and Deuce would make a pretty good Billy and Stu. Love ya bye!

#yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere obsession #yandere male #yandere slasher #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere ace trappola #yandere deuce spade #yandere trey clover #yandere cater diamond #slashers #yandere heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #deuce spade #ace trappola #cater diamond #tw yandere

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fairytail-whathesays · 11 months

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Could I please request sting x fairy tail member dragon slayer female reader please :)

Head cannons if that’s best for you, sfw/nsfw both are fine :)

Uhhh I don't typically do x reader stuff but I can try?

Being the only other female dragonslayer in Fiore naturally means that Wendy Marvell looks up to you a lot. You will have to let Sting know beforehand that he's gonna need to be at least decent with kids if he's gonna hang.

And he is, omg. Insanely good big brother energy. You should probably put a ring on that while you can, 'cause guys that the young'uns actually look forward to seeing don't come around often.

You're literally the hot person x hot person couple no matter what you actually look like.

Since Fairy Tail and Sabertooth are located in two different towns, you can't meet up often, so you make the most of when you do. Dates with Sting are all about fun and making memories, exhausting yourself doing something super interesting. It helps that he can even make mundane stuff seem really cool with his enthusiasm.

He is your hype man in all things. You do something totally normal and he's just gushing because eyyyy ain't nobody doing it like you sexy girl!!!!!

As with Wendy being your plus one, Rogue is also Sting's plus one. He doesn't come along everywhere Sting goes, but even a relationship with a girl he loves can't come before his literal best friend in the world and other half. Be nice to Rogue, it pays off.

Do you like cats? You better, 'cause Lector is not optional. Get along with the cats or date someone else.

Somebody did that to him once, too. They pulled the whole "is it the cat, or is it me" and he dumped her so hard she literally clipped through the floor and vanished.

If you're not the fighting type of slayer, that's fine. Sit back and let him handle it. But if you are? He thinks that's so freaking cool.

Sting will either piss off your dad something fierce, or get along with him way too well to the point you want them separated.

NS/FW:

Sting is very genuinely attracted to a lot of things and does not get turned off easily. Thin or plus size, small or tall, stretch marks or smooth, he is emphatically into you.

Sting is also very welcoming to change and exploration and loves trying new things. If you've got that one kink you've been too nervous to ask someone else about, talk to him about it.

Please let him lift you up suspended congress style.

Yes, you can peg him. Please peg him.

#sting eucliffe #fairy tail x reader #headcanons #reader insert #shipping

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suugarbabe · 8 months

Note

La lectora f!reader una chica con una personalidad muy atrevida y extrovertida, mientras que Lorenzo es todo lo contrario. No puede estar sin sonrojarse ante los comentarios que le hace el lector. Al lector le gusta follárselo, haciéndolo suplicar, llorar y gritar hasta que Lorenzo le dice que no puede más y que necesita correrse.

okay so i had to google translate this request but i think i got the gist of it I'm including the translation i'm working off of so hopefully this is what you were wanting!

prompt: The f!reader reader is a girl with a very daring and outgoing personality, while Lorenzo is the complete opposite. He cannot be without blushing at the comments that the reader makes to him. The reader likes to fuck him, making him beg, cry and scream until Lorenzo tells her that he can't take it anymore and that he needs to cum.

"Looking fit today, Berkshire," you can't help but pinch his cute little bum as you walk past him in the hall. The action causes a small yelp to leave his lips while the comment creates a flash of scarlet across his nose and over his cheeks, the freckles that dust over his nose more accentuated.

You loved making him blush. It was one of your favorite things to do, amongst other things. So on your way to lunch you decided you were going to do it again. Sitting down with the others you joined in the middle of a conversation. "You going to the party tonight, Princess?" You looked up from your plate to find Mattheo smiling uncharacteristically sweet at you.

"Of course, Riddle. You know I never miss a party, especially one we're throwing." Mattheo turned his stare to the boy next to you, "See, Berkshire, she's going. Now why won't you go?" You turned your body side ways on the bench, placing your hands on the wood in front of you. You knew this position accentuated your breasts and you put on your best puppy dog eyes and full pout.

You looked up at Enzo, who was trying desperately to avoid your gaze. "Enzie, are you not coming tonight?" Enzo gulped, words stuttering from his lips, "D-dunno. Not sure if I'm f-feeling a party tonight." You scooted closer, placing a hand dangerously high on his thigh closest to you. You leaned up slightly, whispering in his ear so only he could hear. "Would be a real shame if you didn't. I bought the sluttiest little dress, just for you," you drew circles with your thumb, his hard on increasingly growing and becoming more evident.

This time his blush made it to the tips of his ears, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. You knew the effect you had on him, and his friends knew it too. That reaction alone let them know they had gotten what they'd wanted.

As shy as Enzo appeared at all your little comments, he actually relished in them. He knew the more you came at him during the day, the better it would be for him at night. So he welcomed your crude comments throughout the day, never let you leave his sight during the party. You weren't lying when you said the dress was slutty. A slinky black number that he was convinced had to be keeping you covered purely by magic alone.

When you finally grabbed his wrist and began dragging him upstairs it was all the strength he could muster not to fall to his knees and whimper on the spot. But his legs seem to be able to keep following you, one foot in front of the other until he's in your room, and you've locked the door.

And now his hands were tied to your bed posts and there's tears running down his cheeks as he begs, "P-please, Angel, fuck, can't....can't hold it any longer, need to." A slew of incoherent babble leaves his lips as you sink down on his cock once more, fully sheathing him inside you. You grind on his cock, catching your clit on his pubic bone just right and moan out in pleasure before locking eyes with him.

"What do you need to do, baby?" Your hand is placed gently on his cheek, thumb swiping at his tears before sticking it in your mouth. You make a lewd scene of your tongue swirling around the digit and his hips buck up into you cause a groan to leave you both before your head snaps back down and you tighten your grip on his face. Enzo is immediately apologizing, "M'sorry, sorry Angel, just hurts so bad. Please, please let me cum. Wanna fill you up, wanna make you feel so good, so full."

If you weren't so close to the edge yourself you'd have made him hold out longer, but he knew you as well as you knew him and he was right. You started bucking your hips, grinding down on him. You leaned down close, licking a sloppy stripe up the side of his neck before whispering in his ear, "Go on baby, make me feel good, want you to come so deep inside it's dripping out of me for days." You flick your wrists, the restraints on Enzo disappearing instantly.

"Fucking hell," with the green light his grip is on your hips fast and hard. Fingers digging into the flesh as he ruts his hips upwards, fucking up into your cunt from underneath you. You grip his shoulders for stability, your head thrown back at the sudden change of pace and pleasure. You can feel his cock twitch deep within your walls. Your nails dig into his shoulders and that's the final push before his hips stutter, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he spills inside you. You're not far behind him, cunt clenching and milking him for all he's got as you're seeing stars, his name falling from your lips.

#enzo berkshire x reader #sub!enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x you #sub!enzo berkshire x dom!reader #slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut

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alicelufenia · 9 days

Text

youtube

All Dark Urge Barks

Patch 7 expanded on the point-and-click voice lines for Dark Urge (and also added them for voices that were lacking them, like Voice 8. Had to use a mod prior to patch 7 to hear those). From what I've seen they seem to also trigger more frequently than in the past? Not sure, but it feels more frequent.

Voice 1 - Joshua Wichard

Voice 2 - Lynsey Murrell

Voice 3 - Ken Nwosu

Voice 4 - Emerald O'Hanrahan

Voice 5 - Neil Roberts (not that Neil)

Voice 6 - Muki Zubis

Voice 7 - Pieter Lawman

Voice 8 - Tina Barnes (my personal favorite)

1 and 4 - I like the contrasts with these two; quiet and mostly whispering to themselves out of combat, screaming psychopaths in combat.

2 and 7 - at first I wasn't a fan as they're both very downplayed, but given Dark Urge's assassin background, there honestly should be choices for a more reserved and sneaky, less vocally homicidal maniac type of durge. It's the difference between "I'M COMING FOR YOU (threat)" and "im coming for you (promise)". Both their "Kill, kill, kill again." have that Luke Skywalker Smiling "oh boy here I go killing again" energy, and yeah we need examples of that in the voices.

3 and 6 - Nothing in particular stands out for me with these two. Not necessarily a bad thing, they could work with basically any kind of durge.

5 and 8 - Neil Roberts the voice of default Dark Urge, and Tina Barnes the voice of Alice. Okay not literally, as Alice is my oc, but I mean, voice 8 IS her as far as I'm concerned, so I was very excited to hear her Dark Urge lines, and wasn't disappointed. In my opinion these two are the best, hands down. I know they're not necessarily the most popular, but in my experience everyone who uses these voices, it's their favorite.

I especially love the contrast Tina makes between Tav and Dark Urge, it really helps creating the impression she's both Going Through It, and that Something occasionally just speaks for her. I'm loving it as resist durge, but it could be fantastic for embrace durge as well. And Neil's Hannibal Lector-like delivery is both entertaining and kinda sexy imo, plus if you haven't seen his bg3 streams, he has a TON of fun with reading every durge line with that strained unhinged tone.

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kyupidos · 28 days

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AHHH ¡que bien es encontrar a un fan de twst hispano! :D

Me gustaria pedir un escenario donde la overblot gang ve como yuu noquea a un estudiante que estaba apunto de entrar en overblot.

Seria chistoso ver como yuu se harta de todo y empieze a golpear con una pala a cualquier estudiante de nrc que este teniendo un colapso mental /j

Lector de genero neutro o masculino, cualquiera con el que te sientas mas comodo (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

08/31/24 — twisted wonderland <3

how to stop an ob under ten seconds ( gone wrong ) — summary. ‘the overblotters become first hand witnesses to a beat down ( courtesy of you )’

characters ;; riddle, leona, azul , tags ;; reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, funny shtuff ensues, romantic or platonic ( up to the reader! )

a/n ( ¡¡YO!! la mas twst fans hispano, la mejor!! hablo espanol pero no soy la mejor quando escribo entonces disculpame,, i LOVE this ask it’s so funny,, i need to see more of a yuu who just beats down whoever almost obs real talk ( also i wasn’t exactly sure how to pull this off, so i chose specific events they were in respectively and had some random character be the “almost ob’d” one, before proceeding to realize i’m actually not familiar with that many events, so until i am, this is a mere part one, hope that works ^-^ )

r. rosehearts — a magicam monster

— basically just about everyone was tired of how overbearing the magicam monsters were, riddle and yourself included. but one in particular was rather difficult to deal with, on their wits end with the way things weren’t going their way when they were getting told off for their disregard for safety when attempting to take their picture for social media. not like you cared—they had no good reason to be upset.

— one thing you were suspicious about; they seemed to be a mage themselves, likely from another school. and as they argued with riddle, you could tell things were going to get out of control..if they hadn’t already. what you were trying to figure out was if it was going to be because of riddle using his ultimate magic, or because the other mage was clearly overcumulating their blot.

— for the most part, you were just watching the scenario with your eyebrow raised—you’re a magicless student after all, the most you could really do without being violent is politely ask them to back down, and you already knew they wouldn’t care for that. at the very least though, you held on to a shovel; ‘just in case you really needed them off your case’, you explained yourself. so when you noticed the mage about to reach for their magic pen, clearly overflowing with blot, you pushed yourself from your idle stance, approaching from behind before slamming the mage’s side with your shovel like you were playing baseball.

— as the mage then proceeded to fall on his side and curl up in a silly way as he was practically KO’d, riddle merely stood in front of you after being a first hand witness ( he had quickly looked around just to be sure he wasn’t the only one who saw that ( but he was ) ) to your so apparent solution. you had to say, he truly was making a silly face that you could only describe as a mix of flabbergasted and nervous. “you doing good, riddle? to every problem there is a simple solution, ya know.” “ah-! yes, of course, [y/n].”

— it was only when you walked away to help deal with other magicam monsters that riddle put a hand to his chest to sigh in relief, but also a nervous smile on his face and wobbly legs. ‘were they planning to do the same to me when i overblotted..?’

l. kingscholar — a bead brawl opponent

— the idea of being invited to the sunset savanna with your friends and watching them participate in bead brawl was exciting; you definitely didn’t regret coming. the only issue, though, was when you’d heard the whispering of someone who you’d soon recognize as another bead brawl competitor while you were walking through the stalls in the city casually shopping with the others, and you could tell they were upset ( irritated even, as the stand seller nervously asked them if they were ready to pay and they merely slammed their money on the table before walking away ).

— wasn’t your problem though, despite your sympathy for whatever their issue was, so you continued on your way when leona questioned your slow pace. “what’s the problem herbivore,” he teased, “the heat getting to you?” “hmph, no way,” you rebutted. and that was the end of that, or so you thought, since you came to end up seeing them again once you went with the others to the hotel once you were all ready to retire from the sight seeing. the next day relatively early in the morning ( especially since it was just a little before kalim and lilia’s makeshift concert ), you were already awake from your random food cravings haven waken you up.

— you just figured you’d get up and go to the hall to see if you could get any snacks from a vending machine, so you hauled yourself up to do just that. you definitely didn’t expect to see the competitor from before sitting down beside said vending machine, eyebags evident as if they spent the whole night awake. you walked past them to get your snack of choice, thinking back to before, until you quit your hesitance to get a water bottle as well. once they slid themselves up from the side of the vending machine, you extended the water bottle to them. “sorry that i didn’t ask, but are you doing okay, dude?”

— it was only when they turned to stare at you with their irritated expression, that you realized that they were beginning to accumulate blot; and quickly, might you add. “what the hell do you think you’re doing coming up to me-“ they began, before they stopped midway as they noticed you disappeared. until they felt a pull at their lower leg, looking down to see you were the one grabbing it. “hey, what-?!” “dragon corkscrew time ( you may refer to nichijou’s “mio loses it” on youtube for visuals )!!”

— and with the loud thud that followed, a certain lion beastman was awoken as he begrudgingly made his way out to the hall. “hey herbivore, what’s your dea-“ he stopped midway, noticing the scene laid out before him, and the thumbs up you gave him which absolutely didn’t help. “..nope, not dealing with this. no migraines for me.” and with that, he was on his way back to his room with a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he sweat. ‘they were definitely planning to do the same to me, huh..’

a. ashengrotto — a club member at vargas camp

— though you weren’t an actual participant, you sympathized with the club members that were—it seemed extremely exhausting, after all. especially when it came to azul, in which you gave him a pat on the back when it came to it. though clearly, some members were struggling more than others; and you weren’t talking about him or idia. as you did your check in with azul’s team, you noticed presumably another member of his club off to the side, evidently tired out of his mind.

— he had his own help though ( him sliding against a tree until he reached to sit on the ground ), so you let it be for at least right then. and then you were on your way, ready to talk to another team to check in with them as grim, who was sat on your shoulder, annoyed you while asking for food.

— it was only on the next day of vargas camp when you had your suspicions, as the club member that you recalled from the day prior seemed a little more off his rocker as he begrudgingly helped out his club mates. at least, until he scurried off to a nearby place to sit on the grass to lay down again—honestly, if he did it even maybe once more you knew for a fact he was going to get scolded by vargas if it didn’t happen already. so of course you decided to be mindful as you approached, making sure grim was doing something else.

— “are you doing okay—?” you were in the middle of questioning him out of your goodwill, before you noticed the rapid accumulation of blot going on. and before he could even look up to scowl at you and get a word in, you instinctively acted upon your first reflex; a sideswipe sonar ( you can refer to ‘mio loses it’ quite a bit for these actually ) to his stomach—for the greater good, of course. and once you confirmed he was knocked out, patting the invisible dust off your legs, you turned away..only to be greeted with azul who was staring at the whole thing go down, trying to make his jaw drop subtle.

— you just stared back nonchalantly, “oh, hey azul, what’s up?” “u..uhm,” he tried, “it’s fine prefect, but what pray tell if you don’t mind me asking was that for?” thus he was met with a shrug, “blot accumulation..it was necessary! i’m sure he’ll thank me—uh, probably.” and just a little after you waved him goodbye, calling for grim to check on the other teams, he let himself breath a shaky sigh of both relief and stress. ‘should i be thankful that was something i managed to avoid..? i suppose so..’

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the-californicationist · 2 months

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¡Hola Cali! 🩷 Te dejé un mensaje con un DILF que pesqué hace algunas semanas, pero creo que se perdió por aquí o no pudiste leerlo. ¡Te extraño tanto! El trabajo me está consumiendo porque estamos en plena campaña política y solo quiero que termine, con el mejor resultado, e ir a descansar (y escribir).

Leí que estabas de vacaciones o algo así. ¡Espero que la estés pasando increíble! *Besito en la frente*

Vine con una idea que me está rondando la cabeza: Precio como candidato a Senador y Lector asesor, deciden mandar todo a la verg* y simplemente ACEPTAN QUE ESTÁN ENAMORADOS Y TIENEN SEXO CALIENTE Y DESORDENADO.

*guiño guiño*

Griss!! Lamento mucho la demora, mi amor. Espero que esto sea lo que esperabas <3

After serving in the SAS, John Price has decided to run for a seat in the House of Commons. You are one of his closest political advisors, helping him deal with a runoff election. The only problem? Your incurable crush on your giant, hot, bearded, future member of Parliament.

English translation of the ask: Senator!Price and Advisor!Reader, decide to send everything to hell and simply ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE IN LOVE AND HAVE HOT AND MESSY SEX.

Unfortunately, this fic is in English, but if you are looking for Spanish-language fics, please go read (and reblog!) @pricesugarwife and her amazing work!! She's the best!

The Runoff

The tremble in your hand wouldn’t be abated by the drink you clasped in it, the alcohol losing the battle against your nerves, and the brown neck of the beer bottle kept waving in little shivers, giving your fears away. You squeezed the glass tighter, feeling the sticky glue of the label you’d picked bare, its shards still caught under your fingernails, but you kept trying to control your muscles; mind over matter.

Only the blue, hazy glow of the computer screen reflected in your eyes as you watched the election results come in. Down twenty-two, up seventeen, down four, up twelve; you watched the number fluctuate as if it was your life hanging in the balance. Hell, this wasn’t even your race.

But, it sure felt like it was. You were entrenched in this campaign, elbow-deep in the muck of it, wearing its failures like dark purple bruises and its successes like lipstick-stained kisses, feeling the highest of highs and trudging through the lowest of lows. Every rally felt like a homecoming, and every debate put your nerves on edge. More than anything, you believed in your work. You stuffed envelopes and pressed flyers into the palms of your fellow constituents as if you were bringing them food for their empty bellies, passing out prayers for their unsaved souls. It was the most important work you’d ever done.

You needed John Price to win.

Being elected to the House of Commons was a big deal for an independent in his district. Luckily, John’s reputation quietly but effectively preceded him. His service to the RAF and SAS, his commitment to defeating agents of terror, his loyalty to the Crown – all of it gleamed just like the shining medals that hung on his chest, even if he grumbled about them. Despite his distaste for pomp, he sure did wear it well. The accolades looked good on his broad chest, each one more splendid than the last, all lined up in neat, indomitable rows.

Maybe I should spend more time looking at my stat sheets than his uniform, you thought, feeling guilty at just how many times you’d turned on incognito mode and searched for his award ceremony on YouTube.

The video had a few hundred thousand views, but it felt like most of those were from you. Seeing him walk out on stage, every bit the hero they’d introduced him as, made your breath catch in your throat. His sharp hat, the starched fabric of his coat, the bright, red sash slashing across his big, heavy body… you wanted to feel him sinking his weight on top of you, that power stealing your breath away, crushing your ribs, stopping your lungs from gasping in their precious oxygen. You wanted to feel the cold of those shining brass buttons upon your breasts, their rounded edges curling and chilling your heated flesh. You wanted the stubble of his beard to burn your soft cheek.

You wanted John Price, and that would be a huge mistake. The last thing he needed was tabloid pictures with a garish, screaming title like “MP CANDIDATE SNOGGING HIS OWN STAFF!” No, you wouldn’t embarrass him like that. You wouldn’t risk it. Even if the way that he looked at you across the war room table made you think that you could, you would never. His seat was too critical.

You needed John Price to win.

Your eyes flashed up to the screen, again, noticing a change in the counting. You watched the numbers slow their terrible give and take, the shifting ups and downs slowly trickling to a halt. You did a double take, checking the clock. The recount was over. It was a tie.

Your phone started to buzz. Then another. Before you took your next breath, it was vibrating fast enough to cancel out each subsequent ping, like a barrage of alerts, all fighting for the front of the line. You shut it down, hoping you could get a kill command through the thunderous notification storm. Finally, the screen went dark, and you saw yourself staring back through the black mirror, startled to see your sunken eyes, as if you were confronting a stranger. You kept the dead phone centered in your hand, gazing into your own face just a little longer as if to ask what she was looking at, daring her to flinch.

“Yours, too?”

A dark, smoldering voice rumbled toward you through the quiet of your shared office. You snapped your head to find him leaning against the doorway, the collar of his oxford missing its tie, unbuttoned thrice, wrinkled and lilting from sweat and rain and the stress of the day. His beard was shaggy, and his five o’clock shadow bristled across his neck, spreading on his cheeks as he gave you a half-smile, wiggling his dead phone in the air.

“Yeah,” you sighed, coming back to yourself, “Don’t look now, but Twitter is going absolutely mental.”

You pointed your chin at the screen, tilting your head up and leaning back in your chair so that he could look over your shoulder. There was barely a meter between the wall and the desk, so between you and the chair, John needed to lean close to see the final score. As he watched the screen, you watched the pulse of his heart beat through the wide vein in his neck. You could smell his musk, the human of his earthly form filling your nose and mouth, then his aftershave, fading, only the woody base notes remaining. A lingering scent of his favorite cigars clung to his hair and clothes. He smelled like a fire, a whirling inferno of vanilla and licorice and sweet tobacco that you had grown to love, to crave.

“Christ. A fuckin’ runoff. As if I haven’t put you lot through enough already.” He shook his head, crossing his thick arms across himself, sighing from a resigned frustration.

“We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t believe it was worth it,” you murmured in a hushed half-tone, your voice almost gone from all the shouting and mayhem you’d been a part of earlier when they’d called for a recount, “We believe in you, John.”

His smile widened, not enough to show those straight, white teeth, but enough to soften his eyes as he looked down at you. He tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to come with him.

As he disappeared through the door, you followed him into the office hallway, past the common room, scooting past half-dead interns, rabid with a new task. One of them was juggling three phone calls at once, but another was curled up beneath her desk fast asleep using a cheap fleece blanket for comfort. Your campaign office had been through Hell, and it was far from over.

A few of them tried to stop you and ask some questions, but you put them off, telling them to take a breather, get their minds right before making another phone call, and you continued to follow John as he led you through the winding office maze.

Finally, he pulled you into his office, grabbing your forearm with some force, and locking the door behind you.

“Got a surprise for you,” he said, pulling out two white bags from under his desk.

You smelled it before he revealed it to you, and you couldn’t help but gape in excitement,

“Is that… oh, my God. Is that Padella’s? Are you serious right now?”

You helped him tear into the bags like a feral hound, ripping at the tight plastic bow, pulling out the takeaway boxes greedily and without shame.

His grin was smug and satisfied as he watched you open the box and take in a huge whiff of the hot food,

“Yeah, it is. The seafood alfredo, right? Your favorite.”

“John,” you said his name like he had given you something far more salacious than food, ignoring his rolling chuckle, eager to get a morsel in your mouth as soon as you could.

“If I knew it’d get you to say my name like that, I’d bring it by every bloody night,” he laughed, hiding his pleasure under a joking tone. He leaned in closer to the open takeaway box, peering inside, “Go on, love. Give us a bite.”

“This is how you know I’m devoted to the John Price campaign,” you joked with him, raising your eyebrows with some sass as you prepared a forkful for him. You speared a juicy scallop, twirling some pasta around on the plastic tines of the single-use utensil, crafting the perfect bite for him. “Giving you first dibs?”

“Lucky bloke, me,” he said quietly, winking at you.

You pulled the fork into position, lining it up with his mouth, and you watched him open up those full lips for you, showing you his flat, pink tongue that bent to anticipate the creamy taste of the pasta. You placed it gently inside, the act of feeding one of the most dangerous men in the world suddenly too intimate, too endearing. His eyes watched you through the whole ritual, only fluttering closed when he shut his lips and began to chew his bite, savoring the flavors.

He let out a long groan, the sound of which made you want to squeeze your thighs together, your mind repeating it over and over like an echo, imagining your name falling in between his ragged, guttural sighs. You felt your cheeks run hot.

“Mm, fuck,” he smiled, talking with his mouth half-full, “That is damn good.”

You took your own bite, nodding, tasting the buttery alfredo, the perfectly-cooked noodles, and the light, savory scallop. It was almost better than sex. Almost.

Sharing the same fork, since you only had the one, you and John traded bites, sitting in silence for a while before the conversation turned back to work.

“They wanna put us in the runoff in less than ten days,” he said ruefully, understanding that timeline would be a brutal one.

“Ten days? Are they trying to kill us? The interns are falling asleep standing up,” you sighed, exaggerating a little, but making your point.

“You should head home. Get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort here, love,” John said, wiping a smear of stray alfredo off of his lip decisively.

You balked,

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t leave you now, not when we’re this close to winning this thing.”

He studied you for a moment, leaning his hulking forearms on his desk, spreading his wide hands across the soft wood of its tabletop, letting you see the small muscles in his hands as they stretched and pulled across his bones. He looked down at the space between his palms, grounding himself before he spoke, his voice just above a whisper,

“You make me feel like it’s actually possible.”

You reached out, your hand holding onto his wrist, making him look up to meet your eyes,

“John. It is possible. You’ve got Stallworth’s endorsement. Marchande will lose if you can get the Labor constituents behind you. I’ve run the numbers. Believe me, you can do this.”

“I can’t do it without you,” he frowned a bit, his brow knitting together, the timbre of his voice low and steady.

You smiled up at him, feeling his fingers lace themselves into yours, experimentally testing the boundaries of his touch,

“I’m here until the bitter end,” you let out a short laugh, nervous from how good it felt to be held in his hands, “And probably even after that.”

John was silent for a while, his thumbs massaging your knuckles in little, slow circles, his touch becoming more and more sensual, and then, he abruptly pulled away, leaving your palms face up on the table, your fingers bent in the shape of a shallow bowl as if begging to be filled. But, you remained empty, so you pulled your hands back to your lap, suddenly unsure, your body wanting his touch but mentally feeling as if you shouldn’t ask for it back.

He looked away, staring past you at the closed door and muttered,

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You challenged, keeping your volume as low as his, not wanting to break the fading spell you had cast over each other.

“I ask too much of you.”

You listened to the words as he sent them out, hearing two implications fighting within that one phrase.

Too much of my time, or too much of my body? You wondered.

So, you tried to make it easy on him. You didn’t want to be the distraction that ruined his race. You stood, closing up the box of food, cleaning off the tiny smear of alfredo that painted the corner of his desk. He stood with you, waving you off of the mess, taking over to clean it himself.

The bag rustled, the box popped hollowly as he closed it, paper and cardboard and plastic all swishing and clattering, a cacophony of noise. And then… a deeply still silence.

He was standing right in front of you, too close for you to think straight. You let yourself linger there, leeching the warmth from his heavy body and taking it into yourself, letting it seep into your skin. You vowed to keep the memory of it in some recess of your mind, saving it for dessert when you could be alone to savor its silky texture, tasting a ghost of all of the mirror universes where you knew what it felt like to be covered in him.

Suddenly, you felt his finger under your chin, a coaxing pressure, lifting your face to look at him. It was hard to look into his eyes. Some part of you knew that the moment he peered into them, when he studied what they were trying to hide, he would know your secret. He would be able to see all of your guilt, all of your stolen pleasure, all of the nights where your hand tried to replicate his presence, working itself between your legs to indulge in your fantasies about being taken by him, about serving him not as his campaign advisor but as his woman; his shelter and his release. He would look into your face and he would immediately know that you dreamed of being used like his own personal toy, helping him unwind after the stress of this election, putting all of his frustrations into you as he pounded himself into your mouth or between your spread legs, using you like a salve on a burn.

But, you showed him anyway. Your eyes flicked up to his, and you let him see it.

John towered over you, his shadow darkening your vision, framing you with his round shoulders. He had his thumb pressed just below your bottom lip, opening your mouth a little, watching your breathing crash heavy into your lungs.

You stood frozen in place, watching as his neck bent over you, the great trunk of his body craning down, shading you, closing around you like the boughs of an immense oak, promising that you were safe here nestled in his roots, some sort of primal argument, convincing you to stay still so he could devour you in peace. A rabbit, statuesque beneath the snarl of a wolf.

His face was now upon yours, close enough for you to see the little silver scars that crossed over his cheek and brow, hints at a dangerous life, whispers of old pain. A light spattering of freckles littered the bridge of his nose, fanning out beneath those pale blue eyes he had fixed on your mouth, staring into it as if hypnotized.

Finally, when he was near enough to taste your air, to feel the heat of your breath against his mouth, his lips broke their seal, opening in anticipation of another first bite, another chance to sate a different type of hunger.

His lips brushed yours, every moment taking an eon to pass, seconds stretching into thousands of hours, the office, the building, the city melting away from you like wax from a flame, the world giving way to dark infinity, and you opened your mouth to taste him, allowing your tongue to slip over your teeth so that you could know the sweetness of the smooth skin of his lip.

The moment you touched him, you were taken. He crashed into you, his mouth to your mouth, his chest to your chest, scooping you up like a greedy falcon, trapping you in his arms, flying away with you. Or falling? You felt like you were falling; like you had leapt too high and now would tumble through the sky forever, whirling helplessly. He tasted of the rich alfredo, and of his cigars, buttery and rich, masculine and heady. He was prying your jaw apart with his own, eager to fill your cheeks with his broad, heavy tongue. John pulled back just enough to allow you to take a breath, but he returned, unable to stop himself, softly sucking at your bottom lip, slanting his mouth over yours, the fever in him beginning to cool. Then, he pulled back altogether, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes wrenched closed, his body heaving from his desperate breaths.

He leaned back, staring at you with a worried look on his face, his voice deep and gravelly, a demonic purr,

“I… I’m so sorry.”

You nodded, lowering your eyes,

“I know. We can’t.”

“Can’t?” He panted, still reeling, looking at you like he was lost, like you knew the way out, “Do you want this? Me?”

You leaned your head into the strength of his hands as he cradled your skull, drunk on hope,

“More than you know. But, I don’t want to distract–”

John lunged at you, his mouth pressing to yours again, hurting you with his power. The weight of his jaw crashing into your lips, making you wonder if you would bleed from it, your own teeth cutting into the delicate membrane inside. But, he didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t concerned with your comfort. He was only there to consume you, to steal your breath, to drink your soul from your throat.

He moved his body against you like a python, curling and squeezing you with his arms, constricting your movements, pushing and pulling you this way or that, whatever would give him deeper access to your pink tongue. His aggression shocked you, and it was everything you could do to just keep your balance, unsteady on your feet, your hands clutching at his waist for support.

John’s kissing made you feel weak, like he was drugging you, forcing your mind into a daze. You tried to remember why you had tried to stop this from happening, unable to even imagine a consequence. You felt his hands wander away from your face, rushing down your neck, finding your breasts and roughly fondling them over your shirt. You’d ripped off your bra long ago, hot and tired, needing relief.

When he realized that your heavy tits were hanging freely, hidden beneath your oversized button-down, you felt him shudder, groaning into your mouth at the mere fantasy of seeing them, of marking your nipples in dark hickeys as he suckled you, letting his teeth tattoo his claim on your flesh.

You were brought back to the physical world when you felt your ass shoved into the long edge of the desk, stopping his forward progress. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a look that made you feel as if you might be in some kind of danger, even if you were relishing every fearful moment of it.

John had only shown you this expression once before. You’d been working late again, trying to keep yourself awake by brewing coffee in the break room. There’d been an incident or two with one of the interns, a bloke who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. You’d shut him down twice, and now, you hadn’t realized he had followed you inside the small kitchenette. This time, he wasn’t asking, and when you felt his hand on your neck, you’d screamed, fighting back, but not making much difference. Mere seconds later, John had marched in wearing this same expression stretched across his face.

It was a sort of ravenous joy, almost playful, but it was terrifying. He’d broken the intern’s wrist in his crushing grip, and then his jaw bone, striking the smaller man down to the dirty, tile floor with a single, cracking punch. Then, he’d stared at you, trying his best to control his visage, to push down that fiery arousal. Eventually, he was back under control, helping you out of the office, checking you for any wound, no matter how minor, worrying himself over you, promising that you’d never see that arsehole again. And you never did. You’d put it out of your mind until just this moment, always having more work to do. But now, you wondered if that intern was still walking around out there or if John had let his old ways return just for that evening. He was always good at eliminating threats.

You had assumed that his feral heat had been for the fight, an expression of rage. But now, you thought that perhaps it had been for you. The thought that this reckless lad had dared to put his hands on something that John had claimed as his own, righteously possessive over you to the point of fury, baring his teeth and curling his lip into a lupine snarl, briefly revealing his wrath before tamping down on it and hiding it from you out of fear that you would not agree to be his.

Now, he was not controlling his face. There was no polite gentleness in his eyes, no casual ease in his shoulders, no respectful distance between your body and his. No; now that you were in his grasp, he had no plans to let you go free.

He grabbed you around your waist, his fingers cutting into your full form, squeezing your hips and lifting you with ease onto the desktop. He distracted you with kisses, lulling you back into a hazy, pleasure-filled lust, making you aware of his desire by shoving himself between your thick thighs, the threat of his heavy erection pressing through his slacks and onto the crotch of your jeans.

Your body reacted on instinct. You felt yourself widening your legs and canting your hips to rub against his hardon like you were in heat, your biology doing everything it could to get his attention.

But, you had it regardless. He tugged off your shirt with a deft sort of accuracy that took your breath away. When he let his eyes drink in the sight of your round breasts, peaked with smooth, puffy nipples, his rushed movements stilled, and you waited while he studied you, reaching out his fingers to see if you were as soft as you looked. As he discovered the truth, his big fingers wrapping around each of your heavy tits, applying pressure, caressing the sides of them, feeling the thin ridges of your stretch marks, plucking delicately at each nipple, looking up at your face to watch your reactions; all the while, you could feel the throb of his fat cock fighting to touch you through your clothes.

Then, his touch became feverish again. Instead of a caress, it was a burning friction; instead of tender plucking, it was a shocking pinch. He was making you writhe beneath his hands, manhandling your tits to his own end, enjoying your whimpering cries of pain that fizzled into bright pleasure, the pressure of his dick against your sex making you aware of the growing wetness there, your panties proving your desire to you, warm and slippery.

You reached up your hand to touch his chest, mimicking his affection, admiring the firm muscle that spanned beneath your palms. Your fingers found the gap between his buttons, running through the dense patch of hair that lay on his sternum, raking your nails lightly across his skin. He furrowed his brow, wanting more, looking down at your touch and starting to unbutton his dress shirt. Within seconds, he was peeling it off of his shoulders, leaving it rumpled and inside-out on the floor.

Sitting up, you started to explore him with your mouth, letting your lips drag along his furry skin, licking your way across to his highest ribs, to that sensitive spot just below his armpit, changing your gentle exploration into a sucking, lustful kiss, aiming to leave a mark of your own. He let you bite him, enjoying the pain and groaning from it. Then, he grew impatient, and he fisted your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking you away from him, bending over you again, forcing you to kiss him as he pressed your jaw up to his, controlling your head.

But, he did not have control of your hands. Without breaking eye contact with him, you began to fumble with his belt, hurrying to open the latch, moving on to his button fly, popping each one away to reveal his boxer briefs, the cotton of them soft across the back of your hand. You watched his face, chaotic and full of a decadent sort of desire, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.

He kept his hand in your hair and let you work his pants away, peeling his underclothes down as far as you could get them, glancing down as the pink, swollen head of his dick peeked over the hem as you revealed him. The head was pointing at his hip, trapped there by the wide elastic of his briefs. Now that he was free to move, his length stood at attention, fully erect with a girth that made you dizzy.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, muttering a curse under your breath.

He jerked your head back, tearing your eyes away from his heavy phallus and forcing you to look at him instead,

“Something wrong, love?”

You gave him a submissive look, curling your lips into a sly smile, your eyes wide like a fearful doe,

“I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He smiled down at you, pleased by your appraisal, his gaze turning sinister,

“You’re not leavin’ ‘til I do.”

Quicker than you could breathe, he released his hold on your head and used both hands to ruck off your jeans in one violent pull. Your panties got stuck halfway, getting caught in the rough stitching of the denim. John looked down into your lap, staring at the silky fabric clinging to your wide hips, hanging off to one side at a messy diagonal, showing him the top of your unshaved mons.

You heard him sigh through his smile, his hand reaching forward and ever-so-gently helping the edge of your panties back into place. You were confused. He was supposed to be ripping them off and fucking you stupid, but he slowed things all the way down, returning to his delicate caresses.

John played with your breasts again, kissing your mouth, sucking on your neck. Then, he reached between your legs and touched you, his hand slipping over your covered pussy, groping you through the thin fabric. His fingers were warm, and the way he pressed them beside your tender clit made you tremble, your thighs shaking a bit as your legs hung off the side of the desk.

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands wrapping around the curve of your ass, pulling you as far forward on the edge of the desk as he could, throwing you forward like you were as light as a feather, his grip fierce and bruising. Then, he leaned forward, eager to put his mouth over your pussy, but you protested, gasping,

“John, my… my panties.”

He pinned his bright blue eyes on yours, looking at you unblinking, and leaned forward, showing you that he didn’t give a fuck about your panties. His hot tongue began to push and prod at your lips through the fabric, and you could feel your pussy clinging to the gusset, the wet cloth conforming to your shape as he licked and sucked.

As his tongue delved deeper, he discovered your sticky precome that had been soaking you right through ever since he’d found you staring at the vote count. He used his lips to suck on your folds, the knit of the fabric allowing only the tiniest bit of air to escape, making little chirping sounds as he applied more and more pressure. Then, you watched in a sick sort of awe as he took the gusset fully into his mouth, pulling it away from your body to suck your wetness from it like he was lapping up the last bit of ice cream from its cone. He even used his hand to loop it over his fingers, stretching out the thin triangle, making sure to get every last drop.

By this time, you were pretty sure you had dripped your stickiness straight onto his desk, and you could feel your pussy slipping around on the smooth surface with every little movement. John decided to finally give you what you’d been whimpering for, and he pulled your panties aside to drink from the source.

When the hot curl of his tongue finally connected, sealing wet flesh against wet flesh, you cried out, biting into your hand to keep yourself from being heard. You watched him eat you from your center, writhing his tongue deep into your hole and sucking on the head of your clit, using his bottom lip to reach that space underneath, teasing you within an inch of your life. Without thinking, your hand went to the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair, and you watched his eyes flutter, loving the feeling of your nails on his scalp.

Your legs were partly resting on his shoulders, and John stood up quickly, slamming you back onto the desk and hauling your legs over with you, shoving your knees into your chest, putting your pussy on full display. You felt his fingers curve down through your wet lips and into the sensitive divot where you were leaking from. As he sank his hand into your hole, you felt like you were so close to coming. All of his licking and teasing had put you on the edge, and now that his thumb was sliding beside your clit and his longest fingers were stretching out your pussy, you felt the spark of an orgasm ignite in your belly.

“Yes, love… That’s… ungh, fuck…” John felt it, too.

His hand was making all sorts of noise as he fucked his fingers up into you, the messiness only getting worse as your body flooded you with shock after shock of your orgasm. You were convulsing, your abs tight and protruding beneath your layer of fat, your feet pointed straight like a ballerina, all of your limbs frozen and tense, letting the orgasm wreck you and leave you boneless.

He pulled away from you, gently removing his hand, and he bent his mouth to you again, aiming to taste your fresh come, hot and silky, coating you in natural lube, doing its absolute best to convince him to listen to his instincts and sheath himself inside of your body.

But, John was careful. He pulled your legs back down to a bent position, one hand on each knee, prying you apart slowly, his eyes fixed on your flower so he could watch it bloom, covered in your sweet nectar.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice husky and broken.

You nodded,

“Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

He smiled at you, using his hands to push your breasts together, playing with your nipples in his warm hands, pinching you cruelly and then soothing you in small circles, never letting you know when the pain or the pleasure would come.

On the outside of your pussy, John rested his cock, spreading your outer lips with its weight to fit his girth right on top of your clit. He thrust forward, and you watched as the drooling head of his prick was shoved toward you.

He humped himself against you in a steady pattern, pumping himself across your wetness, trying to relieve some pressure. Eventually, you thought he was about to come, but he stopped, slowing to a slick grind. He looked up at you and ran his palm down his face, frustrated and beyond horny.

“I wanna fuck you so goddamn bad.”

“So do I,” you moaned, rocking your hips up and down, adding to his thrusting friction, using him like a toy to bring yourself back to a shivering edge.

“I don’t have a condom,” he confessed, helping you use his smooth head to massage the body of your clit.

“I’m clean. I actually don’t think I’ve had sex since I moved to the city,” you shrugged, slowing down with him, waiting for his consent before giving in to your mind-altering want, “But, if you wanna stop, it’s okay.”

He kissed your ankle, holding your foot in his hand, leaving little licks and love bites down your calf as he warred with himself,

“Haven’t been with anyone since Dahra.”

His ex-wife. She’d gone back to Urzikstan one day without so much as a note, packing a bag and leaving her rings on the counter. Apparently, when they’d finally met to fill out his divorce papers, he said that she looked happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time, so he signed without question. You remember when he had told you about it, three whiskeys deep and sharing a cigar on the roof of his loft, too late to go to the pub, but too early to stop drinking. He’d held your hand while he talked to you that night. You’d just thought he needed the support, and you tried to be a good friend. But now that he was getting himself off by slipping through your come-covered lips, playing in the mess that he made, you imagined that moment much differently.

“I trust you,” you looked up at him through your lashes, holding your breasts and teasing your nipples between your fingers, your skin feeling as if you were electric, sensitive beyond comprehension, every touch and pinch feeling like ecstasy.

Apparently, he didn’t need much convincing. In your next breath, you felt his head sloppily notching against your throbbing core, fitting snug in the soft entrance of your cunt, cradled there in your warmth. You gasped, enjoying the sensation of being gently licked by his cockhead in the center of your folds, filling a void, a missing piece slotting into place.

Then, he met your eyes, staring into them with a fondness that you had only dreamed about, framed by that same furious arousal, like staring at a white-hot flame and knowing it could kill you but admiring its beauty anyway.

“Hands on your knees,” he said, jerking himself a bit as he dipped into your entrance.

John watched as you grabbed your knees, pulling your legs apart, opening yourself up to him in the most vulnerable way, presenting yourself to him fully, without shame, all the guilt you’d been dragging around now gone, giving yourself to him freely and wanting him to take you like a prize.

“So damn pretty,” he muttered to himself, staring down at your coupling, watching as he stuffed himself inside of you as carefully as he could, trying to let you adjust but unable to stop himself from thrusting deeper and deeper.

He pulled himself all the way out and tried to sink into you again, his eyes snapping up to your face at the sound of a hiss coming through your teeth as he made his way through your tight muscles. You felt him stop, thinking he had hurt you, but you shook your head,

“Don’t stop. I need you, John. I wanna feel so full.”

An animal noise escaped from his throat, and he rewarded your bravery, finishing the job with a snap of his hips, sealing himself fully inside of you. The root of his cock knocked the breath out of you, making you gasp in wonder at the sensation of being stretched beyond any memory. Yes, it had been a while, but you were no virgin. Nevertheless, John Price’s fat shaft was making you question whether you had ever truly been fucked before. His girth was changing your definition of the word.

If you had thought that he would treat you reverently, like you were made of precious lace, you had another thing coming. It was as if he had been waiting for this very moment, and he planned to take every advantage of the opportunity. Now that he had you, he used you.

His huge hands scooped up your legs, silently instructing you to lock them around his hips, keeping your thighs wide as he rutted into you. You hooked your ankles together, admiring the pulsing feel of his large glutes as he thrust forward, feeling him squeeze and release, pounding himself into you with his heavy weight.

John was too big. You had to admit that to yourself at this point. You could feel him stretching your hole, pushing your flesh beyond its usual limits. But, you were drunk off of the way his dick made you feel like you were constantly coming. You’d never truly been able to find your g-spot. Every now and then, when you had a really great partner, you thought that you’d orgasmed from the grinding thrusts of his rod, but it was rare. This, though, how John’s cock was spreading you, how you could feel him on all sides, the unimaginable pressure… he was hypnotizing.

He would pound himself into you, slamming his weight into your hips, and the shudder of your bones would make your body tremble. Then, when he was in, the pressure of his dense cockhead would flash a glittering wave of orgasmic pleasure through your core, making you think that you were about to explode. But, you never did. The pleasure never stopped. It never found a peak. It would just build and build in crashing, tumultuous waves, whirling through your blood like a cyclone, each throb feeling like spark lightning.

Your mind was racing. Should I stop him? Is this normal? Am I gonna pass the fuck out? But, you couldn’t speak. If you tried to form a sentence or even a coherent phrase, he would bottom out again, flooding his shaft with your wet slick, and you would be overcome by another wave of bliss, nothing more than a warm sheath for his mighty sword.

The edge of you lip was cool and wet, and you realized you were drooling, your tongue resting on your bottom teeth like a panting dog, helping you whimper and mewling your moans as you felt him mold you to fit.

“Shit, you are still so tight, love. Can barely put it in. Squeezin’ me… fuck,” he was sweating, hoarsely groaning in long, deep breaths, his belly expanding and contracting as he labored over you.

You didn’t reply. All of your words had been crushed into whining cries, helpless gasps. You took his hand and lifted it up to your mouth, placing it on your tongue, hoping he would fuck your throat with his fingers. The look on his face was one of desperate curiosity, wanting to please you, to serve you however he could. So, taking the hint, he curled his fingers away and pushed his first and middle fingers deeper into your mouth, exploring you softly.

You moaned loudly from the relief and closed your lips around his knuckles, shoving him all the way in to the top of his palm, beginning to suck and lick him as if it were a heavy cock instead of his hand.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, his neck bulging with his ragged breaths. Then, he turned his gaze back to you, watching you comfort yourself with his fingers, suckling on them like a hungry calf, needy and persistent.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Tha’s bloody hot. Suck them deeper for me. Wanna feel your throat.”

You obliged him, your lips now reaching over his last knuckles onto the back of his hand and the callused ridge of his palm. If you stuck out your tongue, you could lick the middle of his palm, choking yourself with his fingertips and swallowing around them, clenching your throat in time with his thrusts.

“Mmmf-fuckkk,” he rasped, his face set in an agonized fury, “Gag yourself again. Choke on me, love. Just like that.”

You knew why he liked it. You could feel his response. Because every time you choked on his hand, your body would heave, trying to get air, trying to fight him away, and your pussy would contract, milking his thick shaft like a strong, wet fist. So, you gave him more, ignoring your mind’s fear and confusion, mentally moving past it, focusing only on his pleasure, and yours.

After a few more thrusts, the look in his eyes became one of concern, a worried flash of panic. He was going to come, and you knew it.

John tried to pull his hand back, gently attempting to leave the warmth of your mouth, but you didn’t let him go. You held his giant wrist in both hands, gripping him cruelly, forcing his fingers even deeper, bobbing your head as if you were sucking his dick.

“Gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna – ungh. C’mon! Come with me, baby. Come with me. Lemme feel –”

He used his free hand to swipe roughly over your clit, changing those waves of cracking pleasure into a blistering orgasm, the heat of which seared over your whole body, making you feel like you had a fever. You felt yourself gushing between your legs, all of the wetness he had been churning within you being pushed out by the rhythmic clamping of your own muscles. You were screaming, but no one would hear you. All of your keening was subdued by his heavy hand, getting lost every time you choked for air. The only thing you heard was the rushing of breath from his spreading lungs and the creamy, slapping impact of his body against yours.

Then, a barking, guttural growl that he tried to hide, cutting it off and grinding his teeth to prevent himself from screaming as he emptied his load into you. You felt it hit your flesh within your core, like a burning splash of lava, shooting into you over and over, foaming and folding around the swollen head of his prick. His come felt heavy as it pooled at your end, deep in your belly, coating you like a glaze and settling over your womb.

You wanted him to stay inside of you forever, but he was finished and totally spent, his strength fading to a relaxed daze. You unhooked your legs and let him step away, feeling the loss of him in your mouth and your pussy, unable to even roll yourself off of the desk. So, you had to hang there, your legs unsupported, dangling wide apart, showing him exactly what he had just done to you. And he looked like he was enjoying the view. He stared down between your legs and watched his cream ooze out of your fucked hole, the flesh red and shining from its ordeal.

There was nothing in his office for comfort. But, he needed to soothe you. Some instinct within him was screaming in his mind to hold you in his arms and keep you safe. So, he pulled you off of the desk, holding you in his arms, and guided you down to the carpet, sitting with his back against the wall and letting you lean against his body, keeping you in his lap with tired arms.

You were both so sticky, but the sweat didn’t bother you. You were happy to rest your cheek on his shoulder, caressing his furry belly with your hands, trying not to pass out.

“You alright, love?” He asked in a low whisper, “Did I hurt you?”

“Gonna be sore tomorrow,” you smiled, not lifting your eyes to look at his face, choosing instead to stare at how his soft body hair ruffled over your fingernails as you lightly scratched them across his skin. “Are you okay, John?”

“Worried about you. About this,” he murmured, some of his strength coming back to his voice. You looked up at him now, watching as he carefully crafted his next words, “Don’t want this to be a one-time thing. But, we can’t… I’m –”

“John,” you interrupted his turmoil, “In ten days, you’ll be in the House of fucking Commons. Then, you can do whatever you want. Until then…” You reached down and fondled his exhausted cock tenderly, making his body jerk from how sensitive he was, “I can be your little secret.”

He lifted your chin with his thumb just as he had at the start of this dreamlike encounter, kissing you tenderly, making sure he could feel your mouth against his, slipping his tongue over your lips just to reach the ridge of your teeth before pulling back again, his eyes turning back to that lascivious rage,

“You don’t deserve that. I want them to bloody well know that you’re mine.”

You didn’t ask who “they” were. That was just how John spoke to you. It was always you and him versus them. The media, the Parliament, the world… it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. But, you knew better than to let idealism cloud your judgment.

“Be patient, John,” you caressed his cheek, “Win your seat. I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, a small smile twitched on the corner of his mouth and he held you closer, hugging you to his chest,

“Not true,” he paused, looking down at your quizzical expression, a playful gleam in his eyes, “You’re coming to my flat, crawling in my bed, and letting me fuck that perfect cunt again.”

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