#thank you so much brrrrrr

[radiostarsz]

Listen dear, and listen close If you want a show, I'll be your host ♬

[meowuff]

So, it's @heckitall birthday and I've decided to try myself at animation again and had this one specific song playing on repeat in my head which just fitted absolutely perfect to the idea I had!

I'm not sure if you could actually call that thing I made an "animation" but I tried my best with the programs I had.

So, now to you Heck!

You are so unbelievably gorgeous in every way! I've been following your blog for a while and your posts, art, comic and generely you just fascinated me! Seeing your works and art inspired me to dig deeper into doodling and drawing again and I just wanted to thank you for inspiring me to follow that hobby more again!

I know that you're having your finals today, at your birthday, which is REALLY shitty, but you got this! I saw your work and I am so impressed by it every single time!

Never stop believing in yourself and the things you are able to create!

You are awesome!

Happy Birthday Heck!

It's pretty short and I originally planned it to be quite longer but I ran out of time and layers :T

[checkitoutmikey]

I just wanted to say that I love your blog. I just watched The Lost Boys yesterday (I know I'm fucking late to the fandom but hey) and thought because of the age that the fandom was basically dead. But then tumblr never disappoints and then I came across your blog and ahhh I'm glad to have found my way here. And a big shout out to your fanfiction on the boys they were all so well written. The interactions and the dialogue were really good. I loved it.

gosh thank you so much! you actually made me blush

sending thousand kisses your way ♥♥♥

welcome to the fandom! we have lots of great people here and even though we are small fandom, there's enough fanfiction to satisfy your thirst

please allow me to direct to much better writers and tlb creators in here

@ghoulgeousimmaculate, @misslavenderlady, @6lostgirl6, @auntvamp, @darlin-disastrous, @theyreonlynoodlesmike

[krakaheimr]

I know you are interested in Mr. Night, but do you have any opinions on any of his brothers? (Percival Darke from MC&D and the Investor from The Factory)

also I love your art !

Oh my goodness, a chance to talk about!! the blorbos!! ohh there's so much I could talk about,,, (and thank you!!!)

I will admit most of my opinions in regards to Darke and the Investor are in relation to Night? Mainly because I feel the most confident in my knowledge on Night (I could talk for hours about Night - I mean, my Call of Cthulhu campaign is focused on him), since there's fewer articles with him. But I find the potential relationship between the three absolutely fascinating, especially with how it's implied to be in the Black as Night tales?

For context, I interpret the three of them in accordance with Black as Night and The Great Shucks of The Unnamed Lords - so they're all personifications of human emotion, primarily greed, ambition, etc.

By far, I view Darke as the most powerful of the three. Specifically, he's rather independently powerful - with a particular penchant for the cosmic, alchemical, and otherwise grand. Anything theoretical - EVE radiation, multiverses, thaumaturgy - is something he's well-versed in. He's done his reading over his long lifespan, to put it mildly. His power lies in knowledge, in understanding, something which not only lets him twist the markets to what he pleases, but the anomalous in turn.

As for other parts of Darke, I like to think him a creature of habit. He's got strict routines he keeps himself to, always has precautions for anything he does. Everything has a method, and he ensures he sticks to those methods whenever he can. This, alongside his age, does mean he is rather antiquated and he acknowledges himself as such, hence his use of proxies and his strategic assigning of work over onto other people for matters that do change with time. The ancient workings of universes and the anomalous, however, those are matters he primarily trusts himself on.

When it comes to him and Night, I like to think that.. they don't necessarily know more or less than the other, but that they know things from differing perspectives? Darke is in a position where he can largely separate himself from humanity at large if he so wishes, and he mostly has done that. He simply doesn't need to interact much with the majority of humanity thanks to MC&D, which allows him the time to really learn the ins-and-outs of the anomalous, the theory behind it, and to properly study it all. Meanwhile, Night knows the anomalous from a more... on-the-ground perspective, the kind one would get from working with the "vermin" of humanity over millennia. Night could not explain the intricate workings of the anomalous like Darke could, but he can still use the anomalous well, even if he is not as powerful as Darke. What Night truly excels at is the human: Darke knows what makes the anomalous tick, Night knows what makes humanity tick. Night knows the desperation of humanity, how to take advantage of it, how to make up for his lesser power through manipulation and deals. He's also got less qualms about where he sources his people from - Night would gladly scrounge through the worst of humanity to find people that can be used and manipulated. Hell, it's how he sourced the people in the Spirit and later the Spectre.

Darke does occasionally negotiate with Night to help acquire things for MC&D, and their relationship isn't necessarily bad, but I doubt they always see eye-to-eye. The sheer difference in their perspectives and experiences of humanity would likely cause at least some strain, not to mention how their power imbalance and the emotions they're built from can add even more tension to it all. They're not hostile, but yeah, there's definitely some sibling troubles going on underneath all the formality. Darke is stubborn, routine-driven, the wealthiest of the wealthy (with all the personality changes comes with such wealth), knowledgeable and powerful to the point of condescension at times, all hidden with gentle formality; Night is weaker, bitter, and absolutely willing to dig around in the filth to find a way to better rival Darke, though he will no doubt act like he has no such intentions when Darke inquires about it. Two powerful personalities, so close in relation - yup, there's absolutely sibling troubles. The INVESTOR meanwhile,, oh that is a whole 'nother can of worms.

Much like Night and Darke, I almost don't like to define a lot about him? I like all three of them as these beings whose ultimate goals are unknowable beyond the imagery associated with them. I can slightly define their dynamics, but I rarely want to define their goals beyond that and beyond their wants to procure what they represent.

For the Investor, there's something about the brutal need to grow, to produce, to keep going. Him and his Factory are undying and ever-growing, paying no heed to the suffering needed to do so - hell, thriving on that suffering. But,, even if his foremen and the other beings of the Factory thrive on cruelty, I don't think the Investor himself does? I don't think he really notices. To him, the suffering is just... normality. Entwined into his very being much like the rust Night comments on in Contract Negotiations. Just a part of advancement, a part of him. No more notable than any other part of him, his mind or body.

He has become so connected to the rust, to the imagery associated with him, that it has become inseparable from him. Whoever he was before all this has now been overwhelmed and overpowered by that need to grow, produce, become more. At one point, he may have been more like Darke and Night, but there's a balance him and his siblings need to uphold when it comes to themselves as creatures, and the Investor did not balance that well, becoming what he is now. Night is disappointed, in Contract Negotiations. That alone implies that the Investor wasn't always like this, and that it perhaps is something that can happen to all of them - at least enough that Night understands what has happened.

He is no less of a person than he once was, mind you. It is just that... his personhood has combined with all THIS. There is still intelligence to him, still a very human-derived knowledge, reasoning, and skill. There's still the emotion. But, he is now also undeniably production itself, not just the emotions him and his siblings were formed from. He still has his goals, his motivations, but I do definitely think what he has become now is a form of extreme that entities like him can reach, something that Night and Darke view as an undesirable thing to become.

Oh, and on the topic of that! I do think Night and Darke's opinion of this differs from each other. Darke's distaste for what the Investor has become is more one of principle: how could the Investor let things get this bad? How it is all a disgrace to the family, to all of them, how unsightly it all is. Night harbors a bit more sympathy. Hell, in Contract Negotiations, he seems almost worried? He certainly questions the Investor's wellbeing. At its core: Darke is focused on what happened, Night is focused on why. (I really am just projecting my disability onto the Investor, huh. Why him? I do not know)

God, I love all three of them so much?? I do like to interpret them in a way where a lot about them is unknown, but... at its core, I like to view them as a human approximation of an eldritch horror, or an eldritch horror's approximation of humanity. They are "greater" than humanity, but what truly makes them terrifying is not their power imo, it is just how similar to us they can be? They're born from human emotions, and while their own emotional experiences may greatly differ from the human experience, they DO have aspects of humanity that when combined with the elements of eldritch horrors that they have make them... terrifyingly intimate, for lack of a better term? They KNOW us. They can lie and manipulate in ways the classic horror could not, because in the end, they are of human origin. Greed, the craving for more, ambition, power struggles. The wealthy, the criminal, the desperate. They're both so human and so symbolic? It's absolutely fascinating, and I have had to restrain myself here from going completely off the rails in my ramblings-- I would've drawn them at some point if I,, would just have the time and if I could just wrangle my brain into putting my mental image of Darke and the Investor onto paper ajasggdfasgjdf

If I were more eloquent with my words at the moment, I would absolutely spend some time rambling about how I think they can be such interesting personifications of different facets of humanity and aspects of human culture/society? Darke with his connections to the overly wealthy, the Investor's whole... ordeal, Night's ever-changing involvement with human groups (particularly those of criminal origins), but,, I do not even know where to start with that at the moment?? I have so many thoughts about that and they're refusing to become organized--

Thank you so much for asking anon!! this has been a delightful opportunity to ramble about these absolute guys hehehehe

[cultbunny]

breathe - will/malhare holds vanessa closely to help them wind down after a stressful day/event (ok hear me out bc what if he shows up as himself in her head sometimes, but also feel free to have him in the suit)

˗ˏˋ ———— gentle actions & prompts ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton ] .

she is hardly ever herself anymore. she is barely vanessa andrews. she is only ever vanny. only ever vanessa. a security guard. a killer. a vessel. NEVER her own. when she is reminded of this, it is not gentle. it is not a dawning realization. it hits her like a bat to the back of the head. blinding. searing. it sends her spiraling. retreating into herself. all she can do to not have a total breakdown, to protect herself from an oncoming storm. batten down the hatches. it is where she finds him. a vague impression, memories and imprints on the electrical field, down to a supernaturally subatomic level. making himself known, just like the first time. and it just upsets her more. makes her legs go out. she's on the floor of her somewhere, struggling. too much. nothing at all. ALONE.

but not. footsteps. the vague impression has legs. arms. hands. a torso. on their knees just next to her. taking her into an embrace like she's never felt before. this is a person, definitively so, just a little taller than her, just a little broader than her, but cradling her like she were freshly-spun glass. she knows it's a man just by the shape of them. and she TRUSTS him. ( she always has. ) she lets herself be held, even leans into it, lets the existential crisis ebb away, focuses on matching her breathing with his. they are perfectly aligned when she voices her worry. " don't. don't let go yet. " she's entirely vulnerable, softer than she's been in years. she knows this isn't wholly real, this is coping, but she is still afraid. " please ? " does she even know who he is ? what she's asking of him ? it doesn't matter. ( it never did. )

[valorant-reverie]

Sanji feels Zoro crowd into his back. With the swordsman’s torso being considerably broader than his own, the heat radiating from his body almost envelopes the cook, and he hums with gratitude just before Zoro starts trailing impatient kisses down the back of his neck, the stubble on his chin tickling pleasantly. Sanji’s long blonde hair is pushed aside to give Zoro better access, and then his hands settle on Sanji’s slim waist, leaving him trapped between the galley counter and the man behind him.

“I’m trying to concentrate.” Sanji insists, without any real force behind it, tying an impeccably neat ribbon around the lunch pack he has just finished making.

Zoro huffs over an exposed stretch of Sanji’s throat, and he feels the accompanying satisfied grin spread over his goose-pimpled skin. “Come to bed.”

“Marimo—“

“It can wait until the morning,” Zoro insists, and Sanji hates to ever admit it even when head over flaming heels in love with the idiot, but he’s right. It can wait. And contrastingly, the mosshead at his back absolutely cannot, and will not take no for an answer.

Sanji sighs. “Fine.”

“Still got it,” Zoro says smugly, and Sanji is about to rebuke him for being a prideful ass when he feels fresh crimson spill from his nose.

He cups his palm under the flow of it, and laughs despite it, in chorus with Zoro’s own amusement breathed lovingly over the back of his neck. How Zoro still manages after all these years to inspire such a flustered state in him, Sanji does not know. But he would not exchange it for the world.

~~~

And there it is! 💙🏴‍☠️💚

he knows what hes doing

[cream-stew]

So I saw you want prompts in your inbox and I'm a quiet lurker when it comes to your works especially that Neuvillette fic ahshshhssh I'm a proud dragon and monsterfucker so if you don't mind another fic that's kinda similar or all round different with Neuvillette and Zhongli please

Just Dragons fucking their darling wife to breed full of eggs you can ignore the eggs part if you're uncomfortable or change it

And I hope to interact with you more if that's ok🥺🐑

Ps. Size kink go brrrrrr

🔞minors dni

warnings: afab reader, monsterfucking, belly bulge, creampie, size kink, reader gets stuffed with eggs (genuinely idk if this should count as pregnancy but since it doesn't disturb me like pregnancy does I'll allow it <3 )

// note: monsterfucking is always 10/10 so I definitely don't mind lol also yeah you're more than welcome to interact more !! I always enjoy seeing your url in my notes thank you for the prompt <3

neuvillette: he's very worried you'll end up hurting yourself bc you're riding him SO forcefully, whimpering and gasping for breath whenever you're fully seated on his huge dragon cock, but he should have expected that the moment he let slip he could fill you up with his eggs... like. how else did he think you could react? ofc you'd scream and beg for him to fuck you like that, you're not a fucking coward!! and the more it goes on, the less control he has on his baser instincts, and it's not long before he flips your positions and pins you to the mattress so he can pump in and out of your eager pussy at his own pace, even more frenzied than your own... who was he fooling with all that "noooo the size of my dragon form would be too much for you my beloved don't do it haha" talk from before, obviously he wanted nothing more than to fill you to the brim😌 and he's just as into the size difference thingy as you are, staring at the bulge in your poor tummy whenever he slams his cockhead all the way though your womb, sometimes even pressing his palm down on it so that you'll feel even more pressure in your insides !

zhongli: he's stunned that you'd let him do that but he doesn't need to ask twice. he locks you in a mating press immediately, not even letting either of you strip, he just rips your clothes to shreds and fucks you against the carpet, making you feel him shift in his dragon for while he's already balls deep in your pussy. you are so wet for him luckily, so the stretch stings pleasantly more than anything else and you just cling to his shoulders moaning and babbling about how "you've never been this full before!" despite his eagerness it takes him a while to actually get going at his usual vicious pace, too busy mouthing at your neck and leaving bruises and bitemarks wherever he can reach, but by the time you're telling him just how ready you are for his eggs in excruciating detail, he can do nothing more but actually start railing you as roughly as he can... you feel him cumming deep inside you and way more cum than usual flooding your pussy, but before you can say anything else you finally feel several eggs press inside in rapid succession! it's a real stretch to fit them all inside your tight pussy, but you'll do anything for your dragon husband <3

[lcvemiyuki]

pilates workout | ushijima, hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: ushijima asks you for help on improving his core and balance

warnings: timeskip!ushijima x reader, established relationship, just a tad suggestive, fluff

characters: ushijima

word count: 502

a/n: you can tell how much i've been thinking about this😅...ushijima’s muscles go brrrrrr

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Toshi—no, you have to tighten your core more.”

You were determined to support your boyfriend, so when he asked for advice on strengthening his core and enhancing his balance, you took it as your mission. You were aware of Ushijima’s resolve and aimed to match it.

“Mm,” he grumbled, acknowledging your guidance as he adjusted his arms, moving back into the planking position.

Despite his incredible strength, the strain in his muscles was visible as he struggled to maintain his posture. His wide shoulders trembled slightly, and sweat trickled down his temple.

Circling him, you focused on making sure his workout was effective. “C’mon, just thirty more seconds. Keep your arms straight.”

As his hips began to sag again, you sighed lightly and crouched beside him. Gently, you placed your hands on his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Here, like this,” you said softly, guiding his hips back into position.

His quietness was telling, the occasional nod indicated he was taking in your instructions. You could sense the effort in his muscles.

“I should add this to my workout schedule,” he stated, his voice steady despite the exertion.

“To spend more time with you,” he added sincerely.

Leaning in, you whispered, “I’d like that.” His words pulling on your heartstrings.

Your hands stayed on him a little longer as you looked into his olive-green eyes.

The sound of your phone alarm shattered the moment. Yet, the warm feeling lingered even after you turned it off.

Ushijima gently reclined on the yoga mat, the fabric sticking to his sweaty skin. He lay flat on his back, drawing deep, steady breaths. His powerful arms moved behind his head, veins bulging as he began to cool down.

You brought him a small, white towel and crouched near his head. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, you leaned in closer, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss on his forehead.

“Your reward,” you whispered, smiling at him.

His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with an intensity that quickened your pulse. His gaze traced your features, saying more than words could.

His chest rose and fell rhythmically, his body glistening under the soft light. The sight was mesmerizing as your peripheral vision caught a glimpse of his waistband, which hung low enough to reveal the two sculpted grooves that trailed even deeper down.

Ushijima reached up, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, your heart racing as you hoped the warmth blossoming on your cheeks matched the heat of his hands.

There was a certain part of you, a hidden, daring side, that wanted to push him even further, just to see more of the sight of him now— sprawled out on the floor taking deep, heavy breaths.

A playful smirk crossed your face.

“What’s with the face, my love?” Ushijima’s deep voice pierced your bubble of thought.

“Oh! Nothing,” you assured him. “Now,” you clasped your hands together, “let’s continue, shall we?” you suggest, blinking innocently.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[laiiaaa]

THANK YOU VERY MUCH — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary You pay Carmen a visit after a busy night to give your thanks...with a little extra love.

length 3.1k

contents MINORS DNI, smut, lots of kissing, some heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex sorry Richie, soooooo much praise, teasing, a glimpse of subby Carm make brain go brrrrrr, fluffy ending bc he’s a cutie pie, imma be fr...he splooges in your mouth…in his office…after hours…don’t look at me ik it’s FILTHY!!!…apologies to the church it’s not my fault he’s a SLUT

Carmen’s sitting hunched over his desk in a mess of paperwork when Richie barges in.

“Your girl’s here,” he almost sighs, holding the door open as you walk in, all smiles and a Thanks, Richie slipping past your lips before he nods, shooting Carmen a look emphasized with a pointed finger: “No funny business back here, alright? ‘Cause I’ll fuckin’ know.”

When he walks away, you shut the door and lock it. Stupid fuckin’ lock, Carmen thinks, knowing that it’s mostly for show. He can’t remember the last time it actually worked. But he smiles back at you, turning his chair around when you peek over your shoulder after the fact anyway, his skin tingling with anticipation of feeling you in his arms again.

You carefully drop your bag on the floor and leave your jacket on the desk as you walk over to him, standing between his spread legs as he sits up. Your fingers tangle in his hair, voice syrupy sweet when his hands wrap around your thighs just below the hem of your skirt. “Hi, Bear.”

He looks up at you with his chin resting below your navel. An after hours haze comes over him, muscles sore and eyes heavy, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Hey, baby,” he drawls, letting you play with his hair a moment longer before bringing one hand to gently lift your top just a few inches, pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin, trailing right to your waistband to leave heated butterflies frenzied in your stomach. “Missed you a lot today…”

“Yeah?” You tug at his strands to get his attention again and lower yourself to straddle his hips. “Stressful day?”

His palms slide from your waist to your hips, pawing at your ass while he presses kisses to your jaw. “Yeah, just busy…‘n T was in a mood, so…” He trails off, too occupied with soaking in your perfume, your heavy breaths when he drags his teeth against your pulse.

“Carm?” you start, massaging his shoulders and moving to squeeze at his biceps—fuck, his arms, you just wanna…mm. You pry a groan from his throat and it only makes you want him more. “Lemme help you unwind, hm?…” 

One hand urges him to lift his gaze before you take his lips in a kiss, his hands making their way beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel skin to skin. It’s sweet, and it’s sultry, the way you kiss him, like you want him to unravel between your fingertips as you thumb at the knots in his shoulders. He’s not so sure he’d mind, what with the way you’re already turning his brain to mush with just a few cants of your hips against his. 

“Baby,” he breathes, “You don’t—you don’t have to…”

“I want to, though…” You’re nearly whining into his mouth. “You do so much for me, Carmy…”

“I, uh—” he laughs sheepishly, neck and face flushed and breath turning shallow— “I dunno ‘bout that—”

“C’mon, Bear—” you quiet your voice, leaning down close by his ear while a hand cups the opposite side of his face— “You cook for me all the time…” His fingers tease at the hem of your top again, and you peck his jaw. “You never let me lift a finger, and you always hold me…”

He sighs when your nails scratch at the tuft of hair behind his ear, head lolling into the back of the chair, eyes shut as his hands wander up your shirt dangerously close to your breasts. 

“And you make me feel so—” you drag your teeth along the shell of his ear, and put more weight against his hips, and he’s barely keeping himself calm— “so good—”

“Shhhhit—” he squeezes you tight to keep you from grinding against him again— “Richie’s just outside, baby, gotta be careful…”

“I don’t care…” Putting him in a trance, you carefully remove your top and let it fall to the floor, a pleased breath escaping when he grabs at you. “I’ve been missing you all day, y’know?”

“Yeah?” His chest is already heaving in anticipation, and it’s like he’s a virgin, cock half hard and throbbing just at the sight of bare skin he craves to kiss. “Me too, baby…”

You snake a hand down his stomach to palm him through his jeans while smiling like a minx. “And I miss your cock, Carmy—”

“Shhhhit—” he plants his hand on your mouth, and it’s painfully hard to ignore how he just twitched in his jeans— “The fuck’re you doin’?” 

You pout when he hesitantly uncovers your mouth. Feeling up his arms again, biting at your lip, you sigh. “Just showin’ my appreciation…”

He huffs, runs a hand through his hair with his eyes closed. “O-Okay, fuck…” 

How is he supposed to say no when you’re sat all pretty and topless in his lap? That wouldn’t be fair, now, would it? 

“Fuck, okay—” he looks you in the eye, brows furrowed and desperate for you like you always know he is— “We gotta be quiet, though, baby, alright?” A sweet kiss, slow and with his hands holding your face. “Gotta be quiet.”

You giggle into one last smooch. “Fine by me.” You shrug and shuffle out of his lap, sat on your heels in front of spread knees, mouth watering and eyes blown with lust as you brush your hands along his thighs.

He watches you carefully as you undress him: unbuttoning his jeans, opening his fly, looking up at him all sweet when you need him to lift his hips. By the time the denim pools around his ankles his cock is weeping pre and soaking through his briefs. 

“Oh, Carm,” you coo, kissing up and along his inner thighs past a tattoo of your name, leaving him reeling, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so worked up?” You trail your fingers beneath the hem while lending hot kisses over the fabric, and he groans a little too loud for someone who was just worried about being caught. “I would’ve helped you.”

“F-Fuck you,” he laughs, leaning back into the chair with an arm cast over his forehead to try and calm himself the best he can when you’re breathing on his cock and peeling sticky briefs down his legs.

His dick is throbbing by the time you free it, threatening to stain his white tee, and you’re practically drooling into his lap as you wrap your hand around the base of it. It’s thick, it has your thighs pressing together and tongue going slick, and you can hardly connect your middle finger and thumb.

A breath hisses through his teeth and you hum to yourself. “Mmmm, you’re so big, Carmy.” But you notice he’s not looking at you, and you pause. “C’mon, you gotta watch.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

“If you want me to suck it—” wet, slobbery kisses trail from his base up toward his cherry red tip as you pump him slowww, spreading pre down his shaft— “You could at least open your eyes a little, hm?”

And oh, what a sight he is when he obliges: cheeks flushed, brows drawn tight together, golden brown curls made a mess, bottom lip barred behind teeth, preening over the look of your lips glossy with spit. He thinks he could come in record time. 

You smile up at him sweetly. “There he is…” And before he can blink you’re taking him into your mouth, down far enough to touch your lips to your hand, down far enough to have him groaning. 

“Holy shit, baby—” he moans, a sound that makes you dizzy, “Oh, fuck…” His head lolls back again, exposing a bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulps down a breath, a hand of his brushing low and past dark thick curls before squeezing the fabric of his tee and revealing his happy trail. 

You pull your mouth up on his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip to hear him whimper—whimper, all drawn out and whiny like he can’t get enough—before you let go completely, holding him by the base and watching a trail of spit and pre connect his slit to your tongue. 

“Jesus fuck—…” He bites into his fist, a pained look on his face but with lust-blown eyes. What’d he do to deserve you? “So fuckin’ sexy, baby…”

You smile and kiss his tip. “ ‘Cause I love having you in my mouth…”

A heady breath accompanies another rush of blood beneath your hands. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmm ‘f course, Carmy…” You drag your lips back down to his base and flatten your tongue to lick a stripe to the top, prodding his tip past your plush lips before smooching it again. “You have the prettiest cock…” You gather a glob of spit and Carmen can’t peel his eyes off of it as it drips…down from your glossy lips…down onto the beating head…before the words “Thank you for letting me suck it…” fall breathlessly off your tongue.

That makes his hips buck up and a moan slip past stifled by a hand over his mouth. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come—”

You squeeze the soaked base of him, taunting with a feigned frown. “But I just got started…”

“Y-Yeah,” he heaves, “That’s the problem…”

You pump his cock slow with a tight fist how he likes it, grinning as your free hand snakes up his thigh; his breath hitches, and he starts to think he’s dreaming when you grab for the hand by his navel and bring it atop your head. He smooths it over your hair a few times as he releases choppy breaths, makes a face to ask Are you sure? He doesn’t expect you to hum against his tip, sending a vibration down his cock to make him choke on nothing before you murmur, “Do whatever you want…” kissing and licking along his shaft as your hand twists around his tip, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“You are, baby…” He tugs gently on your hair and guides your mouth back to where he needs you. “Like a—” you wrap your lips around him again, and even with his hands in your hair his head rears back— “Fuck, yeah, just like that—like a fuckin’ angel—”

It’s filthy, and it’s messy and wet and dirty, the way you let him fuck into your mouth, his feet planted on the ground and pushing the back of the chair against the desk, your hands pressing into the sinew of his thighs to keep steady. “God, you’re so fuckin’ good—so fuckin’ good for me, baby—”

And you’re practically dripping in your panties, doing as best you can to relieve some of that pulse between your thighs by grinding your cunt into your heels, too caught up in Carmen’s moans to think too much about the fact you’re in his office choking on his dick because it feels so good, and he looks beautifully euphoric, eyes squeezing shut every few seconds, neck flushed crimson above a gasping chest. 

You hollow your cheeks around him and he thrusts only halfway, the added suction too much to take all the way down to your throat. “Shhhit, suckin’ me so nice—so fuckin’ gorgeous—makin’ me wanna—” but you push away from his dick, drool-smeared lips curling into a smile. He wets his lips as his chest rises and falls at the loss of release. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen like this, all messy and covered in spit and pre with tears marring the makeup around your eyes. “Fuck me,” he groans, exasperated as he leans back into the chair and brings his hands up to his forehead. 

You sit up a bit and put more weight into your knees. You keep one hand languidly stroking his cock while the other grips his tee and pulls him forward, crashing into your lips so he can taste himself. His hands quickly take up your jaw, holding you firm against his lips to let him dip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss. Your neck is craned, and his back is hunched over, but with the way you keep your hand away from his throbbing tip has him groaning for more. 

“You gotta be quiet, Carm,” you murmur before he just kisses you again anyway. 

“Can’t—” you squeeze his dick when you near his head at that— “hah, fuck—can’t be quiet when your mouth ‘s on me like that—”

You push against his sternum to send him leaning back into the chair, and his head starts spinning with want. “Figure it out then—” another kiss to his weeping cock, just as sexy as the last ten times as you thumb at his slit— “or I’m not gonna fuck you when we get home.”

“Shit,” he hisses to himself, lifting his hips to move them closer to your mouth. He likes this side of you, knowing what you want and a little demanding, a smirk poking at the corners of your mouth when you command things of him you’ll make sure he can’t fulfill. Maybe he should fuck you in the office more often. 

He doesn’t get to ponder it too long, though, because you’ve already taken him into your mouth again, both hands now gripping at the base while your tongue laps at his slit like you’re begging for him to spill into your mouth. His knuckles turn white as he grips the arm rests of the chair, and he bites down hard into his bottom lip to stifle a moan loud enough to be heard all the way at the front door. 

“I needa come, baby—” you leave your hands on his thighs as you take him all the way in, his tip prodding at the back of your throat— “Fuck—!” He thrusts up into your mouth and realizes too late how fucking loud he is—how loud all of it is, what with you gagging and moaning as you try to get some sense of release while milking his dick for all he’s worth, the sighs of pleasure that slip off his tongue no matter how hard he tries, the wet sounds from your mouth every time he bucks his hips out of the chair. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he groans, a hand coming to the top of your head again to slow you so as not to let him finish too quick. “Baby—ah, fuckmmmmfuck baby, please—” He feels it churning in his gut all the way to his cock: that band stretching and stretching and threatening to snap, growing tighter and tighter every time your lips smooth over his head and your tongue laps at the frenulum. “Baby lemme—shit, lemme come down your throat please, baby—”

As soon as he begs it of you you’re moaning an affirmation, locking eyes with him for a split second before they shut again with ecstasy. He snaps with a stuttered thrust into your mouth, palms pressed hard into the arm rests as he chokes out your name as hushed as he can manage. “Fuck, pretty—” his release, bitter and salty, shoots into your mouth with a groan so guttural you feel it in your cunt.

The shift of his hips slows from a thrust to a meager cant, overstimulation crawling up his spine as you continue milking him. “Shit,” he huffs, arms going limp and jaw going slack. “Slow down, baby…needa—needa calm down…f-fffuck…” He watches as you slowly drag your lips up to the tip of his cock to clean him of his cum, another groan easing by at the sight. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby—” You’re giggling and pressing soft kisses to his thighs, and all he can do is tilt his head back and shut his eyes to try and recover. 

You wait less than a minute before you’re hounding on him again, thrumming with success and the thought of him fucking you when he brings you home. “How was it?” You ask the question sheepishly, smiling up at him and wiping spit from your lips like you don’t know how much you’ve just wrecked him.

He wills himself to sit back up again. “How was it?” He smiles back, heart warm. “Baby—” he cups your face all sweet how he is after sex, muscles pliant and brain dizzy with aftershocks of pleasure— “You’re fuckin’ incredible, y’know that right?”

You shrug despite your daze. “Obviously. You came in my mouth like a virgin.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, lips perking up into a reluctant smile. His thumbs brush along your cheekbones with adoration. “Your fault for bein’ so sexy.”

A precious kiss to your forehead, one that has your eyes slipping closed before his nose nudges past yours and he seizes your mouth in a searing kiss, one that’s built on passion and lust and appreciation and awe. Your palms sit beneath his elbows and he smiles into it, flushing when he tastes himself on your tongue but kissing you that much deeper when he does. 

There’s one last sweet peck before he says, “You’re perfect. Thank you.” Another between your brows and to each cheek before he grabs your shirt, crumpled beside the chair, and hands it to you. He lets you dress yourself while he fits his half-hard dick back into his briefs and stands to pull his jeans over his hips, wiping tacky hands down on the denim. It’ll do. 

He helps you get back up and ease your sore knees back into working condition before the door knob rattles. Both of you freeze. 

“Cousin!” A hand bangs hard on the door.

You and Carmen lock eyes. “Shit,” he hisses, looking down and fumbling with his fly. You panic only half-heartedly, the other half laughing at Carmen’s struggle. 

“Cousin!” Richie calls again, shaking the door, “You fuckers better not’ve been doin’ what—” 

Just like Carmen should’ve seen coming, the lock stops working and the door swings open as he’s buttoning his pants. 

Richie catches him and his expression drops. “Oh, you son ‘f a—” he seems to catch your smudged mascara and lip gloss— “Oh, God—” He grimaces and steps away from the doorway with his hands on his head. “In the fuckin’ office, Cousin? Are you kiddin’ me?”

Carmen figures you don’t care enough to bother with the complaints, because you’re shooting him a smile and tugging on his arm to lead him right past Richie. And he’s more than happy to follow behind, a stupidly lovedrunk smile on his face. What he’s got in mind for you when you get home—perhaps a polite thank you of his own—will be worth the headache tomorrow morning.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

NEEDY — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. wonwoo can’t keep his hands to himself because he needs your full, undivided attention.

wc. 1.08k

warnings. jealous sub!wonu, dom!reader, multiple orgasms (m.), handjob, heavy praise, light degradation (wonwoo gets called a slut), pet names, tears &lt;3 — MINORS DNI 18+

note. 2 months ago i asked what sub!idol u wanted me to write and wonwoo’s name appeared, so here it is >< better late than never— thank u to @gyuswhore for offering to beta-read this and easing my nerves mwahhh <3

“baby, please…i-i can’t take anymore!” wonwoo begs for mercy as you pump his cum covered cock teasingly.

“aww, but you kept asking me for this, didn’t you, baby?” you coo condescendingly with a faux pout etched into your lips. “just kept bugging me while we were out with our friends, isn’t that right?”

he stumbles over his words, stuttering out, “i-i-i was just… i just—“

“you were just what? being a needy slut? just wanted my attention?” you grit out, squeezing him harder in your hand. “now ‘m giving you all these orgasms and you’re being so mean to me… can’t even say thank you?”

wonwoo was being a needy slut. needier than you’d ever seen him. normally, he was reserved, keeping pda to a minimum, but today… today he kept trying to feel you up every chance he could, kept trying to kiss any and all exposed parts of you, kept trying to steal your attention away from whoever you were talking to. 

you tried to ask what was wrong, but he’d just shrug indifferently and it irked you. when you went back to your conversation with seokmin and mingyu, he’d just do the same thing over. and over… and over. 

you eventually grew sick of his begging, parting with your friends and going back to your apartment where you were now. you’d sat him on the edge of the bed and immediately got to work on him, pulling orgasm after orgasm till he had tears in his eyes begging you to stop.

“n-no! thank you! thank you, baby,” he gasps. “i’m sorry–”

you laugh at his desperation, hand continuing to languidly stroke his flushed, hard length, “what are you sorry for, pretty boy, hm? which part of tonight are you apologizing for?”

he whimpers, hips raising a bit, but your free hand quickly slaps his thigh causing his hips to fall and a soft ‘ah!’ to leave his mouth. 

you pout, “wonu… you’re being so bad today…maybe i should stop–” 

he lets out a frenzied cry, sensitive cock twitching uncontrollably the second your hand stops working him. “don’t! please, ‘m sorry– sorry for getting jealous, sorry for being needy, sorry for everything. please, please don’t stop.”

he’s well aware of how overstimulated he is and you are too. it’s not hard to miss with the tears running down his flushed face and how he’s jerking at the slightest touch. the thing is, wonwoo has something to prove. he needs to cum for you again and he needs to give you everything he’s got. 

you murmur, “aw, baby… jealous? of seokmin and mingyu? that’s what had you trying to fuck me while we were out?”

he nods again, “just wanted your attention…” he mumbles through pursed lips.

his words have your heart clenching, hand coming back to stroke his messy cock. at the return, he gasps, bottom lip finding sanctum between his teeth to stop the embarrassing noises from drooling past them.

you lean in to press your lips against his sharp jaw, “you’re so cute, baby, why didn’t you just tell me?” you mutter in between your kisses. 

his eyes flutter close and he whispers, “‘m sorry.”

you whisper back, hand resuming its previous speed. “don’t be…” 

he whines out your name, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. with his jaw going slack, all of his pretty noises fill the room again and you can’t help but giggle. you quickly maneuver yourself to straddle his lap, fisting him hastily.

he chokes on a sob, his face falling into your clothed chest in attempts to muffle his moans. his hands grasp at the bed sheets, pawing at that white, ruffled fabric. 

“don’t hide, pretty baby,” you tell him sultrily. “tell me how good i‘m making you feel? who’s making my good boy feel good?”

he peers up at you with his glassy, brown eyes while you continue your assault on his dick in between your two bodies. “y-you are… you’re makin’ me feel… makin’ me feel so good, Y/N.” 

“yeah?” you pant, pussy soaking through the denim of your jeans at this point. “i’m making you feel good? gonna cum again?” 

“yes! god, please let me…

you smile, voice just barely above a whisper, “do it, baby. cum for me, hm?” 

and as if he were hanging on to the end of every one of your words, his body jerks, dick twitching in your tight grip. his cum weakly spurts from his cock and joins the other loads on your hand and his thighs while he lets out a broken cry. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you– fuck! thank you!” he sobs, eyes rolling again and mouth hanging open to let his various babbles out. 

and he looks so perfect. so messy and brainless, yet so fucking pretty that it’s causing yet another wave of arousal to soak through your panties and jeans. 

you moan out more praise, leaning in to pepper kisses all over his face while he comes down from what feels like his 10th orgasm, though it’s only his third. 

“s’good for me, won. did so well, you know that?” you whisper, finally pulling your hand away from his ruined cock. “ do you feel okay? are you tired?”

he shudders, “‘m-m okay,” he nods, but his slurred words are proof that he is, in fact, tired. 

you laugh softly, free hand coming up to mess with the bangs that are matting against his forehead. “you are tired, baby. c’mon… let’s go shower and we can go to be–” 

“n-no… wanna–… what about you?”

“what about me, baby?” you coo, though you know exactly what he’s talking about. it’s the dull ache in your cunt that so desperately needs to be touched… or eaten… or fucked.

his eyes pleading, like he’s begging you with the mere look on his face. “want you to feel good, too.” 

“you already came, though, pretty boy,” you remind him. “it’s okay– hey!” 

he uses his last strength to flip you over onto the bed, pulling a surprised yelp from your mouth. “no.” he says sternly. “i-i’m gonna make you feel good.” he says, before getting on his knees between your legs, nimble fingers popping the button of your jeans. 

you’re a bit breathless at the sudden change in his behavior and the fact that your heart is just about to lurch out of your chest. “but–”

“no, buts. i’m returning the favor.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[thegnomelord]

Hello there! I'm a new anon, kinda scared to ask and spill all of my weird ass fantasies that I can come up with, but I somehow found the courage to do so.

After reading through the soft sex fic with Makarov (and omfg I am going CRAZY over it) I just randomly came up with an idea involving that.

So hear me out (aka let me just be delusional)...

You, a member of 141, currently stand in the interrogation room, your back facing the door as you stared down at the one and only Vladimir Makarov himself. It was honestly a miracle that you had been able to capture him, and you still had no idea how the hell the rest of your team had managed it.

You were currently their last hope at getting some sort of information out of him, and by now the others knew very well by now how talented you were at getting it out of prisoners (albeit they didn't quite know what your methods were), hence why you were here in this room.

At this point you might as well have tried everything, these including the good old torture methods (which you noticed he seemed to quote like for some reason, perhaps he was a masochist, you weren’t completely sure), intimidation, asking politely (which wouldn't you know, didn't work), and practically everything you could think of.

As you racked your brain for any sort of other ideas, you could hear some sort of taunt from the other, and that must have set you off or something along those lines as you found yourself suddenly pinning the bastard down on the desk (you must have unlocked his handcuffs at one point during it, or perhaps he had already managed to unlock them beforehand, you weren't paying attention).

You wanted to think that the other was surprised, even just a little bit, but he wasn't, having probably expected you to have a small outburst.

Maybe you would have to resort to that. That one method that none of the others had seen in action, but one that if they did, you'd definitely get in a lot of trouble from. At least it always seemed to work.

So that's how you found yourself slowly fucking the other, not at all causing any pain, and although you'd expect the cold metal table would still inflicted just a little, you had taken the precaution to place something soft under the other to ensure that he couldn't get what he wanted. This was torture, even if in the eyes of others (not that they'd ever get to see this sight) it'd be much better, but no, it wasn't. You were well aware that the other wished for it to be harsh, having picked up on it earlier (the sick bastard), so you did the complete opposite. You weren't exactly used to it, but it was a last ditch effort.

So yeah thanks for reading whatever the hell that was :)

Idk how to continue it.

- ⨂ (I swear if that symbol has already been taken)

No no dude this is so good! SOrry it took me a lil while to respond lol, but you got my brain worms going brrrrrr so I'm just continuing it :Dd.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, Vladimir Makarov x male reader, short ficlet

You are so getting discharged for this.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask under your breath, voice husky and raw. You grip his hip gently, your other hand keeping his tied wrists pinned to the scratchy blanket covering the cold table. "All that snark, all those insults," You slowly grind your hips, cock lazily scrapping against his walls and making him groan. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's not like he can talk with his tie gagging him. It's the softest material you had on hand, and it works to ensure Makarov doesn't bite you or himself. You're smart, despite him thinking on the contrary, more than the gruff animals that had captured him. No, you're clever. Clever enough to realize bloodshed and pain are not the stones that pave Makarov's road to hell.

Makarov trembles beneath you, teeth clenching on the fabric, desperate to get his lip between his teeth so he could bite it raw. He can't. Hell he can barely stifle the groans and moans, chest heaving to swallow the sound before it can stumble past his open mouth when your head grinds down on his prostate. Drool runs down his chin, precum leaking on his belly where his cock is trapped between your belies.

He wants to curse you out, wants to get his hands around your throat and squeeze until you choke on your own blood. But he only manages a small grunt, tear blurred eyes glaring up at you. His legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your back.

A lick of pain races up your spine, but you don't fall for it, languidly rolling your hips. You'd taken your time to stretch him out with what you had, prepping him thoroughly even when he'd trashed and tried to kick you. You're glad you did, now Makarov can't ignore the stretch of his hole, your massive cock moulding his insides to your shape. It's just raw unadulterated feeling, please assaulting his mind whenever you bottom out and your cock bulges his stomach without any pain; so sweet it's sickening to him.

He'd kick himself at how the disgustingly sweet pleasure has his cock twitching, body winding tight as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. But his mind is starting to go numb, the hate he feels shrouded by the nearing edge of bliss. He nearly seizes off the table when you wrap your calloused hand around the base of his cock, squeezing until he's just at the cusp of pain.

"Nu-uh." You growl and stop, cock twitching deep inside him. Leaning down to press gentle kisses across his throat that burn him like acid. "You're not getting off easy." You growl, kissing the corner of his lip. "Not until you give me what I need." You look at him expectantly.

He bares his teeth, swinging his head to try and headbutt you, but you pull your head just at the right time.

"Have it your way." Your grip relaxes, starting to jerk him off at the same pace of your languidly rolling hips. His head rolls back, his best attempt at a hateful sound escaping him when his head rests on the soft blanket. He hates it, tries to struggle as best he can but it's fruitless as you just hold him down, forcing him to just take it, to just suffer this gentle torture.

You may be discharged for this. But fuck, you'll make him suffer before you are.

[moonselune]

Hey! Could you write something about jealous Gale, Wyll and Astarion, please? 💕 (Thank you!!)

jealous jealous boyyyyyyy I loved this so muchhhhhhh jealous prompts just make my brain go brrrrrr

Gale:

You had always admired Gale's prowess with magic. His spells were elegant, his incantations precise. Yet, on this particular day, as you walked through the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a different mage approached you, offering to teach you a new spell.

"Allow me," the mage said smoothly, his eyes lingering on you with more interest than was purely professional.

You hesitated, intrigued by the promise of new knowledge. Gale, walking beside you, stiffened noticeably. His jaw clenched as he watched the mage perform a simple cantrip, showing off a minor illusion with a flourish.

After the mage walked away, leaving you with a scroll and a promise to meet again, Gale turned to you, his eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. "Why would you need someone else to teach you magic?" he asked, his voice tight.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tucked the scroll into your pack. "Gale, my love, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. It's just… I know your capabilities and it’s insulting to see someone else presume to teach you as if you were an amateur." He huffed, crossing his arms defensively. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"You know you're the only teacher I could ever have," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving to hover over his ear. "Your lessons are much more intimate and attentive."

His tense posture relaxed slightly, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as a small blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Very well, then," he said, his tone warming as he pulled you to his side, a hand snaking around your waist, "I have a few new spells in mind that I think you’ll find quite invigorating"

Wyll:

The vibrant melodies of a bard's lute filled the air as you walked through the marketplace. The bard's eyes lit up when he saw you, and he began to serenade you with a heartfelt tune. Before you knew it, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, stood nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the bard's antics. The bard spun you around gracefully, and for a moment, you were caught up in the music and the joy of the dance. But just as the bard pulled you closer, Wyll stepped in, intercepting the dance with a fluid, graceful motion.

"May I cut in?" Wyll asked, his voice polite but firm, not waiting for an answer as he took your hand and led you away from the bard.

You smiled up at him, amused by the possessive edge in his movements. "Wyll, are you jealous?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jealous? No, no. Gentlemen don't get jealous."

You pretended to believe him, nodding solemnly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm glad I have such a composed and unaffected partner."

Wyll smiled, spinning you around before pulling you close again. "Just remember who your real dance partner is," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning.

You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his lips, but to your surprise he dipped you over his leg and deepened it. Kissing you passionately before lifting you back up. You giggled and pressed your face to his chest in slight embarrassment, trying to hide your rosy red cheeks. He laughed and put a hand on your back, definitely not sending a glare to the bard who had seen the whole thing.

Astarion:

Astarion had always been charmingly possessive, but today his jealousy was more biting. As you spoke with an attractive merchant, Astarion's eyes darkened with jealousy. Later, when you returned to him, he greeted you with a cold, cutting remark.

"Enjoying your time with every attractive stranger who crosses your path?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Or are we just so deperate for attention that we will take any measly means of it."

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. He had been acting like this all afternoon and you had had enough. "What is your problem, Astarion? Why are you being so foul?"

Instead of answering, he turned away, his shoulders tense. You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stormed off, your heart heavy with hurt. You walked a few metres outside of camp, Scratch diligently following you, and sat on a fallen tree. Scratch put his head in your lap as you stroked him for comfort.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you. Astarion appeared, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of remorse. Scratch let out a low growl, the dog being rather attached to you and sensing how this was going to play out.

You didn't look at him, just remained petting Scratch and looking out into the forest. "What do you want Astarion, or are you just here to shame me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness and trembled with an emotion he was unfamiliar with - guilt? Shame? "I was out of line."

You stopped petting Scratch and turned to him, your eyes searching his. He looked downtrodden and overall quite pathetic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. "Why do you do this, Astarion? Why do you push me away when you're jealous?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and he walked to you, dropping to his knees. Scratch eyed him with slight irritation as he pushed him out of his spot, but he soon became distracted by a squirrel that ran across the path and he left the two of you to it.

"It's because I care about you more than I care to admit. The thought of losing you to someone else.... it.. it.. terrifies me. Please, I can't lose you" Astarion begged, as he held your hands in your lap, looking up at you with wet red eyes.

You softened, leaning towards him, brushing a strand of his pale curled locks behind his ear. "You won't lose me, Astarion. But you need to trust me."

He nodded, resting his head in your lap. "I know. I promise I'll try to be better. Just… don't ever leave me."

You combed your fingers through his hair, a small smile on your lips as you felt the sincerity in his words. "I won't. Not ever."

my hands slipped and I accidentally made Astarion's a bit angsty - or should I say Ass-starion, am I right.?... I'll leave now.. - Seluney xoxox

[rodolfoparras]

Hellu! I just wanna say i really like your work, bacuse it makes my brain go brrrrrr. Hope to see more of your works but please do take breaks and dont force yourself yo do anything. <3

- 🦈 (yes im the same anon at Thegnomelord)

(Ps: I may of sugested this to gnome, but chewtoy price. He sit, reader chews, on any and all chub. <3)

Hello sugar!! Thank you so much for your sweet words and I’ll def make sure to not over work myself thank you so much for looking out for me!! 🥹

Cw: 18+, possessiveness, markings, dadbod price, spanking,

But also now I’m thinking about dad bod!Price laying sprawled out on the bed, or head buried in the pillows with his fat ass in the air, and sinking your teeth into the supple skin, leaving marks all over it or even having him splayed out on your lap, your big palm rubbing circles on his bare ass, while he tries to stay completely still, only letting out a squeak of surprise when your palm lands down on his cheek. After every slap, you’ll drag a thumb along the cleft of his ass, up to his puckered rim, just taunting the muscle till he’s begging you to just do something, won’t even care if you take time to prep him just wants to feel your fingers curling inside him

Or thinking about fucking him into the mattress while biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet, leaving marks on the supple skin, that you can almost feel through the shirt he’s wearing. He’ll be sitting in a meeting or just in the mess hall eating when you’ll come up to him fingers squeezing his sore shoulder. He drops the fork in his hands or stops talking completely, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep any whines and whimpers from escaping him, blood’s pooling to the lower half of his body as thoughts from last night occupy his mind

Or being obsessed with the pudge of his hips, digging your fingers into them as you’re fucking him just to see your fingerprints on the pale skin, sinking your teeth into his skin while laying between his thighs teasing his sopping wet cunt, watching him huffing and puffing, all teary eyed begging you just to eat him out

[akanemnon]

IT'S MY NOODLE I love him so 💕

Some gift art for @akanemnon of their character Krämer!!! Thank you again for letting me draw him, such a really really cool character design. [Also this time I copy pasted his name so my phone wouldn't autocorrect lol again im so sorry ;-;]

[deepestnightcolor]

Just imagine Elliot ranting to his friend (Reader) how he just can‘t really put the scene from his mind onto paper, the reader of course would love to help him…

turns out the scene was about a beautiful woman masturbating, that lands her on Elliots bed with him telling her how to touch herself (to get it as accurate as possible of course) with him so close to her, watching and analyzing her every movement while he takes notes for his story

(You can add as much to it as you want)

ᴀ/ɴ: Okay, anon, wow. What is your BRAIN! I drooled a little over this, honestly. And I was SO excited to write this. I hope I hit the right spots with this, because hehehe. Had my head go brrrrrr. Thank you so much for your time and attention and your willingness to request! <3

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Elliott (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2007 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: alcohol consumption, masturbation, making out, being watched while masturbating, finger fucking, teasing, pining.

☾ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ ☽

Usually, Elliott tried to avoid talking about his writing on Fridays. The reason for that was simple: Fridays were spent with you in the saloon and needed to be honoured.

This Friday was different, though. Something was bothering Elliott, and even though he tried not to show it, he did show it. On accident, of course. A dramatic sigh left his lips, wettened by the beer he was sipping, eyes looking out of the window wistfully. His whole body language screamed “HELP ME OVERCOME THIS WRITING PROBLEM”, and you just weren’t one to let your friends suffer.

“What is it, Elliott?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the table so you could take a closer look at the author. “It’s nothing,” he sighed, voice filled to the brim with drama and expiration. “You sure?” “Yesss, everything is finnnnneeee.” The stretched-out “fine” ended in a drawn-out sigh, hazel eyes looking up at you, just begging for you to ask again. You sipped your own drink, eyebrow cocked at him. “You suuuuuuureeeee?” “I mean, it’s Friday...,” Elliott began, his lips now pushed forward in a cute little pout, “I don’t talk about my writing on Fridays.” “And if I tell you that it really is fine?” “Well…Maybe I would be able to make an exception then,” he murmured, adding a quiver to your lower lip. Oh, Elliott. So cute, so dramatic, lying it on thick for you today.

“Alright, it really is fine for you to tell me about you-“ “There is this scene I am struggling with,” he quickly began, scared you could change your mind faster than he could get his words out, “and I think you would be the perfect aid.” You hummed, licking your lips clean from the stickiness of the alcohol. “Is that so? And what is that scene about?”

The shimmer of mischief in Elliott’s eyes should have worried you, even more so when it was combined with him lowering his voice to a hushed whisper, telling you how he needed to tell you at his shed. It wouldn’t work here, you see, confidential information would be shared with ears that shouldn’t yet hear it. So of course you agreed, following your friend to his home without even a seed of doubt planted in your mind. “You want what?” You asked, disbelief drenching your voice. “I know, I know, it must sound absolutely ridiculous, yet you must consider! I am stuck on this scene, and I could use a beautiful muse like you!” “So, and just to be clear I heard you right, you want me to masturbate in front of you!” Elliott gave you this awkward, pleading grin, head cocked to the side: “Uh…Yes. Though it would be professional, I promise! No words will be shed about this – I just… I just really could use it for my book.” His hands clasped together as if he was silently begging you, and yet again he pulled his face into that cute little pout. “Pretty please…It is one of the last elements of my book and I-“ “Fine.” Surprise flashed over Elliott’s face, and really, you yourself were surprised. Both of you had expected that it would have taken a lot more to convince you, yet who was Elliott to complain? “Great, great! Thank you so, so much, darling! How about you lay down and get comfortable already, and I will just get my pen and paper.” “You will take notes about this?” “Why, yes!” Well, that had answered it, hadn’t it?

You took a deep, shaky breath as you began to take off your top, the little skirt that you had thrown on for the saloon. After a moment of hesitation, you even discarded the bra that had been holding your tits up, allowing them to bounce free. With a glance in Elliott’s direction, you allowed yourself to slowly find a spot on his mattress, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. It would have been a complete and utter lie if you had tried to say that this didn’t begin to turn you on; lying almost naked in your friend’s bed, surrounded by his smell. About to be watched by him. Goosebumps arose on your skin, your clit twitching gently at the thought. You had always found Elliott handsome, but he had always seemed to keep his distance; most often hiding himself behind his manuscripts. This…was incredibly raw and open.

The sound of a chair’s legs scratching along the ground caught your attention. Elliot’s flustered face appeared in your field of vision, leading you to blush as well.

“You look…stunning,” he whispered. There was no dramatics in his voice, no exaggeration. Only that sweet, honest compliment. You gave him a smile, biting down on your lower lip. He had taken off his coat by now and rolled up his sleeve; his hair tied back in a top knot. He looked absolutely delicious himself, the way he started to write his notes. Hazel eyes taking you in completely, just to scribble something down on the paper. He had lit up a candle on the nightstand, the flickering flame accenting his sharp features in a way that made you want to drag him onto the bed with you, but instead, you slowly let your fingers slip down your neck, to your breast. The movement caught Elliott’s attention, and you could feel his gaze following the dance of your fingertips. You, on the other hand, shamelessly focused your attention on him. Being watched like this had a thrill to it that you hadn’t expected, but now fucking loved. Your thumb was now caressing your own nipple gently, mind wandering to the thoughts ofhow it would feel if Elliott was the one doing it. The goosebumps that appeared in your skin weren’t solely because of the pleasure you felt from teasing your nipples, but also because you believed Elliott’s hands on you would feel much better.

He scribbled something down again as your hand travelled down further, catching the hem of your panties. You lifted your hips, slowly sliding them off your hips. Your lower lip was bitten as you felt the air brush your cunt, and the throw of your panties towards Elliott definitely wasn’t an accident.

His eyes lingered on your cunt as it was exposed, taking it in with a deep inhale. He wrote something down, then scribbled over it, running a palm through his hair while shifting on his seat. “Oh, yes,” you whispered as your thumb caught your clit, giving the bundle gentle flicks of your thumb. Elliott swallowed thickly, his feather scratching the paper in a newfound frantic. You pressed your feet in the mattress and spread your legs wider, your eyes slipping shut as the gentle waves of pleasure washed over you. You had only just started, but feeling Elliott stare at you like this…Yoba, it made you wet. As if to prove it to him, you allowed a single digit to run through your folds, only to suck it into your mouth. The low groan coming from next to you caught your attention, yet when you looked, Elliott was fixated on the paper, feather just barely able to follow all the words that were supposed to spill out of it.

You slowly allowed your hand to pick up the journey along the curves of your body again, slowly stroking up and down your thighs with quivering fingers. You knew a pair of hazel eyes were following each and every touch, and you easily began to rub your clit again. More warmed up than the first time, you let a moan of pleasure leave your lips, not even opening your eyes when you heard Elliott shift on his chair, his hot breath hitting your skin soon after. “Mhhh,” you cooed, arching your back in a little just for show, dipping a finger into your cunt, your perverted mind wishing it was the author’s dick instead.

The quivering gasp next to you was the first thing that caught your attention. Looking over at the man, you could see that his hand was placed firmly in his lap, eyes wide. “What’s wrong, Elliott? Got a little hard there?” You whispered. Pride that your looks turned him on so much filled you, making you add another finger. The brunet grunted, shifting in his seat again under the pretence of getting more comfortable, but the lustful expression gave him away.

“You just look so luscious,” he breathed, his hand now wrapping around his shaft through his pants with barely an ounce of shame. “So pretty for me,” he added, willing himself to at least pretend to write down some more notes.

You didn’t really care about that, your eyes were now solely focused on his hard dick, just barely hidden behind his hand. Fucking yourself with your fingers, you whimpered his name, causing his attention to snap towards you.

You were close, you could feel the orgasm building up beneath your touch, but you just…you just needed a little more. “Elliott, kiss me? Fuck, please,” you whispered, a high-pitched moan leaving your mouth as you circled your clit again. Elliott’s lips pressed against yours in a captivating kiss; teeth clattering against teeth, tongues battling for dominance. Even though you had just asked him for a kiss, his hands automatically began to roam, finding your clit with ease and replacing your thumb there. Him rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves while his tongue licked over yours sent shocks of pleasure up your spine, leaving your brain light and empty. In all honesty, Elliott couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips sloppily and greedily humped against your thigh while he rubbed your clit, sucking on your tongue with a tenderness you had expected from him, but also with greed that made your heat throb.

“El- Gonna-“

He didn’t let you finish the sentence, too busy to fill your mouth with his tongue again, his humping growing faster against your leg. The squeal that left you made him moan lowly, rubbing the bundle of nerves despite your orgasm already being torn out of you.

Your free hand reached for Elliott’s hair, tugging the long strands as you moaned, your body spasming at the feeling of your orgasm recking through you. Not even the tug caused Elliott to show any signs of mercy, his thumb steadily kept up its circling, with him only pulling away from the kiss to watch you shiver and squirm beneath his late touch.

“Elliott!” You cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his fingers enter your sensitive gushing cunt, the grin on his face almost diabolic. “Are you going to cum a second time, my muse? It would be great for my story,” he whispered to you, working his finger into you while his thumb was still tracing patterns on your clit. His lips peppered gentle kisses upon your chest, making your heart thump against your ribcage.

“Elliott, can’t, oh, Yoba!” You tried to hold on to his wrist, but his merciless treatment of your slit didn’t even falter. “El! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your body squirmed away and drew closer, like the tides at the beach, but in the end, he still pushed you over the edge. With a quivering cry you released, your hips snapping up to get the author’s finger knuckle deep within you, your legs spreading and snapping close – it was as if your body was malfunctioning.

As your back met the mattress, Elliott’s fingers on you began slowing down. Gentle kisses were casted upon your skin, attempting to calm you down. Your hand was still buried in Elliott’s hair as he came down next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. In the bliss of two orgasms, you rolled around and slowly snuggled into his side, pressing your face into his chest.

“You know,” you whispered after a while, voice still hoarse, “I think your book really needs a sex scene…And I know just the muses.”

[artdcnaldson]

looove the patrick’s sister au where art is super mean to her but hear me out im having thoughts and behaving in ways

im gonna emoji sign this if i may just in case you’d like to enable me

alt au where patricks sister is just super super mean and unapologetic like patrick. think sarah michelle gellar in cruel intentions kinda. like fully a bitch and she has a craaazy corruption kink with repressed art

like mayyybee patrick mentioned art wanting to save himself for marriage or smth like that to her and her brain goes brrrrrr i need to defile him… maybe everytime arts at their house she’ll like flirt with him unabashedly… suck on lollipops while looking him in the eye… rub her ass against him pretending to reach for things… and her just having so much fun when he gets all red and flustered and hard :(

idk just some thoughts

- 🐚 (if its available)

This made me need to take a walk. Had to crack open a cold Diet Coke to address this.

But yeah :(( art comes to stay with you and Patrick a lot for summers and holidays since, y’know, he can’t exactly stay at his grandmother’s nursing home.

You and Patrick have lived in the pool house forever— pool house is actually a stupid name for it. It’s a guest house, two full bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a whole loft upstairs. It’s obscene how fucking rich you two are.

And he gets so squirmy when he’s around you and Patrick, but even more when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s been staying up in the loft, pads down the stairs after a lazy, midday nap. And it’s just you on the couch, watching a movie. It’s dark, maybe he slept later than he thought he did.

“Where’s Pat?”

You shrug, pat the sofa beside you. He sits, but leaves an entire cushion between the two of you. “I think he’s fucking the neighbor. The one with the cute curly hair.” Art flushes, ducks his head. You smile, showing off pretty teeth. “Aw… I’m sorry, should I have said he’s making love to the neighbor?”

“Shut up,” he mutters. He’s pink to the tips of his ears.

It’s interesting, you think, that he told Patrick he’s saving himself. It’s sweet, very… admirable. But it’s such a fucking waste. He looks so yummy in his flannel pajama pants and grey tank top that shows off his muscles.

“So, you’re a virgin?” You ask, turning to face him. His eyes go wide before his face twists in annoyance. He splutters out weak— what did Pat say— That’s none of your business— you’re so out of line— but you interrupt. “No need to be shy about it, Art. I think it’s… very cute you want to wait until your wedding night. I’m sure you’ll have a really riveting time figuring out where it goes.”

“Shut up.” It’s the second time he’s said it that night. He really needs to work on his comebacks.

“I can give you a hint,” you say with a grin, scooting across the empty cushion until your knees touch. “There are two main holes down there, and it’s the one that gets all slick and wet when she’s turned on.” He clenches his jaw, looks away.

You laugh and sit back, only slightly. “Aren’t you going to thank me for the tip?”

He turns back, eyes narrowed. “You’re not very funny.”

“Was I joking?” You trail a finger up his arm, give him a crooked smile. “Really, Art, it’s sweet. Maybe I should’ve saved my virginity for a nicer boy instead of losing it in the golf cart shed at the country club.”

He stammers. “You— you could always—“ he can’t even meet your gaze, it’s too humiliating. The smug expression you wear pins him in place. “Start now. Promise to not have sex anymore, not until it’s with someone you love. It’s— it’s more special that way.”

You stick out your bottom lip. “You think I deserve special?” You ask softly. He shivers as your fingers trace swirls onto his chest. “That I need candles and rose petals and soft jazz music when someone stuffs me full of their cock?”

It’s too precious. Too good. His cheeks flame and he sits back. He stands suddenly, doesn’t even look at you as he marches back upstairs. You grin and listen to the sound of the shower turning on upstairs.

You wait until you hear the scrape of the shower curtain closing to pad upstairs and sit outside of the door. A smug grin spreads across your lips at the sound of him jerking off.

All whiny, poorly muffled moans, the slick sound of him beating his dick. All, ah! ah! ah! oh, fuck! god— fuck! You can tell when he cums based on how pitchy and whiny he gets, and the way you hear his head knock against the tile.

You fight the urge to let him know you heard, instead you slip back downstairs. When he comes down, you’ve switched the movie, act like you’d never left at all. You can see the guilt in his expression, like he knew he’d done something bad.

God, he’d be so easy.