The Way That Lester Would Protect Me With Every Ounce Of His Being If I Was His, Keeps Me Awake At Night

The way that Lester would protect me with every ounce of his being if I was his, keeps me awake at night I swear yall I am down bad for that little man

Lazy morning with Comte

Words: 516

Tags: scenario; morning cuddles; fluffy; no pronouns specified, but Comte calls you chérie; established relationship.

He’s been awake for a while now, but he wants to savor this peaceful moment with you. With his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped securely around you, he envelops you in his embrace, softly nuzzling his face into your hair from time to time.

Comte both feels and hears it when your breathing changes pace, meaning you’re waking up too. A soft yawn escapes your lips as you stretch, and your hand goes to his arm to loosen it from around your body, but he tightens his hold.

“Hm…?” you hum under your breath, turning your head to glance at your lover with a hint of confusion. “Well, bonjour,” you smile warmly as you realize he is awake.

“Bonjour, chérie,” he chuckles at the confusion on your face.

You turn the rest of your body to face him fully, giving him a peck on the lips. He holds you in place by the neck to give you a proper morning kiss, and you can’t help but giggle, warmth spreading through your heart.

“Have you been awake for long?”

“Not too long,” he replies, kissing your forehead.

“What time is it?” you mumble, propping yourself up on your elbow to glance at the clock. “It’s almost time to get up.”

“It is,” he replies, his arm gently guiding you back down onto the mattress and into his arms.

“I should get up already.”

“If you want to,” he smiles with such affection that his eyes crinkle.

“Yes,” you yawn, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand as you look at him with the same loving gaze he gives you. “This way, I can take my time getting ready before helping Sebas.”

“Of course.” He shifts his arm around you, adjusting his hold on your body.

You chuckle softly. “Comte?”

“Yes, chérie?” he entwines his legs with yours.

“Can I get up?”

He is still smiling at you, trying to disguise his true intentions of not letting you leave his arms so soon today.

“Excellent question,” he hums, pretending to ponder the answer. “Can you?” He peppers kisses on your face.

“Alright, I’ll stay,” you concede with a contented sigh, “But in a few minutes, it’s going to be an obligation, you know.”

“It never is,” he murmurs, trailing his kisses down your neck and nuzzling his face there. “I’m giving you the day off.”

“Comte,” you laugh softly as his lips tickle your skin. “I can’t do that.”

“I can.”

“I have lots of things to do with Sebastian. We’ll have a busy afternoon today.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll rest at least in the morning.”

He abruptly pulls you closer, causing your body to collide with his, and he tucks your face under his chin as a squeak escapes you. Comte laughs and kisses the top of your head, placing one hand on your head and the other on your back, rubbing relaxing circles with his fingertips while ensuring to keep you as close as possible.

You huff, knowing it’s a lost battle.

You end up taking the whole day off.

Taglist: @bicayaya @silverbladexyz @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest @chevcore @fang-and-feather

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Rating: Explicit || Word Count: ~900 Content Warnings: female anatomy, no pronouns for reader, possessive vibes, boss/employee, confessions (of lust), p in v sex, silco's pull-out game is WEAK

Masterlist || AO3 Link

beta reader: @silcoitus <3

“You know, when I said you needed– fuck– pussy, this wasn’t e-exactly what I had in mind.”

Silco ponders your statement over a handful of thrusts, hips drilling into the backs of your thighs hard enough so you know they’ll be sore come tomorrow.

He offers a coy little smirk that you can all but hear in his voice, “Do you want to stop?”

Gods, why would he even ask that question; who would want to stop? You don’t want to think about how good he is at fucking you, how godly his cock is. You don’t want to think about how every fuck before this pales in comparison to the precision and skill that Silco has. You don’t want to think about how divine it feels to be filled over and over by the bastard, but as he threatens to make you come rather quickly, these thoughts are all you can comprehend in your fuckdrunk mind.

You grit your teeth. “No.”

“Good,” he grunts, “I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

You hadn’t meant much with your off-handed comment in the first place. Sure, you don't mind the thought of fucking your boss, but it wasn’t quite how you planned your evening to go.

Silco was slumped over his desk, glaring down his bladed nose at a looming stack of papers. Your quips started out more modest, commenting on how he looked “like the living dead” and something about melting into the expensive mahogany of his desk.

“Do you perhaps have a solution?” He had groaned, a futile attempt to hasten your visit to his office.

That was when you said it–you need some pussy–and Silco went stiff, in both ways, as soon as the words left your mouth. He'd shot up out of his chair and you were ready to start running until his hand snapped out and snatched your wrist.

“Is that so?” You could see the way his tongue flicked behind his teeth, and how his eyes drank you in.

It was only a matter of time before you were bent over the desk and his cock was pushing into you.

“How long have you wanted this, sweetheart?” Silco’s voice is ragged with the depths of his pleasure, a sadistic rasp that echoes over and over in your fuckdrunk mind.

“Fuckin’, uhhnn…” you trail off in thought, lost in the rapture of a particularly good few thrusts that have your eyes rolling into your skull.

You can feel Silco's smug gaze raking hot over your backside, the press of him a questioning prod now. “Well?” He taunts you cruelly, leaning close to wind an arm around your middle and circle your clit, purring in your ear, “don’t be shy.”

“Oh, gods,” you sigh, “since that fucking interview.”

Your cheeks are hot with that confession. You hadn’t planned on fucking Silco, but you couldn’t deny you thought he was a good serving of dick when you met him. The way he carries himself, the manner in which he speaks to those below his level, the way he certainly looked over your body during that interview.

“Mmm, I remember that day,” he groans, “I even remember what you were wearing.”

You clench around him in surprise, your nails scratching against the wood of the desk as Silco settles for grinding his hips into your ass.

“Sheer tank top, and those coy little shorts.” Silco’s voice is still deep and rumbling as he fucks you, but it goes without saying he’s rather fond of this memory. “You were ready to give me a show if I didn’t want to hire you.”

His lips tease against your back, the edge of his smile nipping at your skin. “You had me tempted, but it was well worth the wait.”

He's right, you did underdress. So many employers had rejected you that week and you were fully prepared to suck dick for a job, or maybe more. But you can't let him have that.

“It was hot outside,” you retort, but your vocal chords abandon the firmness you had wanted, words melting around a whine. Silco leans back, rooting both his hands on your hips as he drills into you, working towards his climax.

“I don't care for the weather, you were mine the moment I hired you,” Silco hisses, delivering a quick pinch to the back of your thigh, “now touch yourself.”

You couldn't resist if you tried, already so close to your peak that denying yourself would be too much. Your fingers are on your clit in a matter of milliseconds, and your walls must clamp down tight when you do because Silco grunts, thrusts becoming arrhythmic.

With just a few swipes on your clit, your back is bowing, hips rocking against Silco as your climax spears through you. He fucks you through it, fingers bruising your hips and pulling you into each frantic snap against your backside.

Eventually Silco abandons your pleasure to work on his own, rutting into you until he buries himself as deep as he can get. A long groan accompanies his orgasm as his cock throbs against your walls, filling you until his release starts to leak out.

He collapses on top of you, nearly crushing you as he catches himself with a hand on the desk.

As he begins to soften inside of you, he laughs to himself.

“I suppose I did need that.”

time of year i remind every cane user to get an ice pick so you dont fall and die

Blood really doesn't taste that bad, at least mine doesn't (don't act like you have never put your bleeding finger in your mouth after you cut yourself or something) so I'd try it to see if it tasted any different.

Ok so. I have a question. If there was a full glass of human blood in front of you, and the was absolutely no health risk to drinking it, like, that's not ever a factor, how much of it do you think you would drink? Because I would at least take one solid gulp.

Karl Heisenberg who doesn’t know how to face his feelings and who is unfamiliar with domestic affection so instead of outright telling/showing you how he feels he brings random things to you as an offering, sort of like a cat.

“Heisenberg, what is this?” you ask, staring at what appears to be a roughly shaped swan, made entirely out of metal. to be fair, it looks more like a mutation of the bird but you don’t want to offend him.

“…” he gives you a dead stare and says absolutely nothing and just looks at you, waiting for you to pick it up and take it. once you do he just leaves the room and doesn’t bring it up ever again.

this is different than when he’s showing off his other creations to you because when he’s doing that he’s loudly parading around his factory as he gloats about his genius. but when he’s showing you something specifically made for you he’s dead fucking silent.