#Satan craves your soul…

[gunkbaby]

‘Shuu’s great…when he redeems himself.’

you are a coward and god will judge you adequately when he greets you at the pearly gates

[rae-writes]

colored lenses

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw under the cut

synopsis : they say the eyes are the doorway to ones soul, and if that’s the case, yours must be intertwined with his, no?

a/n : nooo, asmo’s part was not rushed, I don’t know what you’re talking about-

Lucifer 

He’d seen a flash of it before- a quick glimmer of midnight blue in your eyes before it was gone

He never thought anything of it though, not until he saw it fully 

Diavolo had been going over everyone’s midterm grades and was congratulating you on your scores 

Lucifer noticed your typical polite smile as you waved off his praise, but his eyes were trained on how your hues lit up bright, prideful blue 

It made his mouth go dry; he was in awe

Subtlety, he’ll begin complimenting you more on the things you do so he can see that riveting shock of color

Mammon

On rare occasions do your eyes flash his pretty yellow, but the first time he saw it sent him reeling 

The two of you were having a gaming competition with Levi and you’d finished first. “W-what?! Alright, best 3 out of 4! Winner gets a prize!” 

Mammon was about to refuse, knowing he didn’t stand a chance at Devilkart if Levi was playing, but-

“Hell yeah, you’re on!” Grinning determinedly, your eyes flickered with golden yellow 

The second born almost passed away on the spot

He might’ve gotten a bit more greedy seeing the sin on you, and fuck, did you look like a gem with it 

Levi

Levi saw your eyes flash the colors of his brothers’ power from time to time, but given his sin, he didn’t mind the lack of seeing his own

He didn’t know how thrilling it could be though

You two had been out in town when he got stopped by a very flirty demon. He was too busy trying to get out of the conversation— he didn’t even realize…

When he glanced over at you for help, his body heated considerably at the sight of your eyes flashing a toxic orange 

If he wasn’t so familiar with the sin he’d be sweating, but you make it look heavenly 

Envy might not be a good feeling, but it’s a good look on you

Satan

The fourth born had felt your rage rise and simmer many times before

Being able to physically see it was a whole other experience he didn’t know he needed in life

Another rowdy night at the dinner table- typical - but you had a migraine and had asked the boys to stop five times now

It’s safe to say you were a bit pissed, and Satan knew it. When he glanced up, though, all thoughts of scolding his brothers went away 

You sat there with your jaw clenched, eyes twinkling with wrath green. It was gorgeous. 

Satan finds himself craving the look of his wrath on you, however he wouldn’t want his sin to trouble you too often

Asmo ; suggestive

Ohh when he discovered this little addition to having a pact with them, Asmo dreamed about seeing it every night (and got a little jealous when he saw his brothers’ colors instead)

He just needed to practice a little patience though

Upon Diavolo’s insistence, the student council was treated to drinks at the fall, and Asmo was already a little buzzed when he dragged you to dance 

Body grinding against yours, he turned towards you in hopes of stealing a kiss- only to see a shock of pink in your irises

Heat shot through Asmo immediately; he couldn’t keep his hands to himself after that

More, more, more! Asmo adores seeing his sin on you and he doesn’t mind begging for it either

Beel

There were many times when he thought he saw a peak of red in your eyes as the two of you got food, but he always brushed it off as a trick of the lighting 

It was only until you had to skip breakfast and lunch one day did Beel realize ‘oh’

You were leaning against him as you walked to Hell’s Kitchen, grumbling and complaining loudly

At Beel’s offer to carry you, you glanced up pitifully, showing the red hue bleeding into the color of your eyes

His own eyes widened, cheeks beginning to flush a deep pink

While he never wants you to go hungry, he doesn’t mind admitting that seeing his red on you is pleasing

Belphie 

Soft waves of purple inside sleep riddled eyes were something Belphie saw often and loved every time he did 

The first time was special, though. Right after you’d come back to the Devildom the first time, saddled in his arms after so long of him not having you 

Sleepy you and even sleepier Belphie, but he wasn’t too out of it to miss the gentle light of purple 

He was confused at first, but the familiar color shocked him awake and his heart nearly beat out of his chest 

Sloth. His sloth. Showing up in you like it was the most natural thing in the 3 realms. He liked it better on you. 

Even more than before, Belphie begs to sleep or nap with you— he needs to see it happen again and again

nsfw ver.

Lucifer 

Tensions high and adrenaline running through your and his veins like lightning 

Diavolo was due to come for a meeting in no more than 10 minutes

You knew that. Lucifer knew that. Yet you were still on your knees, tongue swirling around the head of his cock while you peered up at him through your lashes 

His head was thrown back, eyes clenched, trying to compose himself— you didn’t like that. You wanted his attention. 

Humming, you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his thigh, fighting back a grin when his head snapped up

Ruby hues narrowed down at you, ready to scold when the words died in his throat 

The color of your irises had been completely taken over by his blue, shining with pride at the situation you had him in 

Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to moan, he chose to growl instead and thrust into your mouth sharply, smirking when the blue shone brighter at the taste of his cum

“Proud to be mine, Mc?” 

Mammon

“Harder!” 

Mammon gasped, hips following your order smoothly, “H-hah..what has gotten into you today?”

You whined as you pulled him closer, choosing not to answer in favor of burying your face in his neck 

The moment he had walked through the door, you were all over him, begging and pleading to have him (which he’d never say no to) 

“Mc-“ he tugged your head back by your hair, a sharp moan instantly following when he saw your eyes; shimmering greed in the form of yellow 

Picking up the pace, Mammon held your head up by your jaw, demanding you keep your pretty eyes on him 

Murmurs of ‘mine’ and ‘’s pretty f’me’ left him as he filled you up, watching the yellow flash gold

“Again. Wan’ more, Mammon- more of you.”

His own greed flared, making your pact burn pleasantly, “That’s right, Mc, show me your greed.”

Levi

You wanted Levi’s attention and you wanted it now but he was too caught up in the new official Ruri-Chan illustrations (with special outfits too)

Glaring at his back, you could feel magic pooling in your irises 

“Levi.” Without waiting for a response, you yank his chair back and fiddle with his pants, “Give me attention.” 

“Mc-!” He gaped as you took his cock in your hands, tail whipping out to wrap around your waist when you sheathed him fully inside 

His eyes shot up to meet yours, wanting to ask what all this was about, when the air practically left him 

There you were, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted, and eyes still glaring down at him- only this time they were orange 

Levi whined loudly, hips involuntarily raising you up before he settled back down again, keen on letting you fuck him however you pleased 

And fuck him you did, one hand tangling in his hair while the other rested against the base of his neck, hips not stopping their movements even after he’d already spilled inside you

“Quell my envy, Levi.”

Satan

You and Satan had gotten into a small dispute, but the feel of his anger coursing through your pact made you angry

Arms wrapped around your waist, lithe fingers gripping your hips hesitantly, but firmly, “I apologize. Shall we take some time to cool off?” 

“I think we can cool each other off.” You glanced up with newly green hues, eyes narrowing involuntarily

Satan’s lips parted and he immediately grabbed you up and pressed you against one of the bookshelves, fiddling with your clothes until he was lined up and pressing into you 

He set a hard, furious pace instantly, “How is it that you manage to be the one that calms me down and makes me so mad I can’t think, hm?” 

You did nothing but tug at his blonde locks, bright green becoming darker as the seconds pass

And despite loving the neon color on you, Satan can’t help but coo at the sight of it fading— all because of him fucking it out of you

“Kiss.” 

His own wrath faded down to nothing, lips covering yours softly as he held you close while you both finished together. “Calm the savage beast, yeah?”

Asmo

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme see it- please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? Show it to me.” 

Asmo curled his fingers up just right, sending your body lurching in its chair and your eyes shooting open wide 

“There it is…” alluring pink encased your irises, sending Azzy’s eyes flashing pink in return 

Gasping, your eyes darted around until they landed on the self-satisfied expression your lover wore— you grinned

The phantom feeling of fingers pushing inside him made Asmo squeal, jumping up from his spot in surprise 

With eyes now glowing a neon shade, you stared down at him while bucking your hips, “What’s the matter? Why’d you stop- was feeling so good.” 

He gaped- you were using magic to mimic touching him. “Naughty~” 

The two of you refused to let up until he’d came all over your lower half and your cum covered his fingers— and both your eyes were literally glowing

“Not done yet, darling~ let’s see if the pink can drown out the whites of your eyes too~” 

Beel

“Mmph— hey…” Beel frowned, visibly deflating when you pushed his head out from between your legs, “‘m hungry…”

You kept pushing until he was flat on his back, “Me too.” 

Heat shot straight to his cock- which you were pawing at- from the look you gave him; your irises were red

And he didn’t fully understand right away, not even when you settled on top of his face while also wrapping your lips around him 

“w’nna taste y’too.” 

Beel complied eagerly though, burying his face back in his spot while he tried not to thrust his hips 

Only when you began quickening your ministrations with a muffled “give it t’me, beelie, ‘m hungry— wan’ it, wan’ y’r cum” did he click the pieces together 

And though he tried not to, his hips stutter and thrust up, following your lead until he’s filling your mouth

Practically in awe at the way you don’t waste a drop, his sin cracks through his body- sending it flaring up in your own. “Again. ‘M still hungry, Mc..don’t you want more too?” 

Belphie

Choked whines echoed in the attic, turning into embarrassed stuttering when you suddenly shifted and slid into his lap sluggishly 

“Why didn’t you just ask for-“ you paused to yawn, “-help?” peering down at him with a purple glow, your hand replaced his on his cock

Belphie was basically speechless, watching you tiredly jerk him off before shuffling, working on getting your clothes out of the way

“W-wait! You don’t have to- ah!” 

You sunk down comfortably, rocking back and forth at a leisure pace while stifling another yawn. “Help, please.” 

His hips began moving before you could even say ‘please’, hands trailing under your shirt

“‘S good to me, my favorite human, makes me feel s’good—“ Belphie broke off with a moan, clamping his eyes shut at the embarrassing ‘ah, ah, ah’s that were leaving his mouth

The slow buildup was setting both your senses on fire, but you stopped him from moving faster (making him whine louder). “Slow, Bel…’m tired.”

[hoeforhao]

RED AND CREAM ✨️🧨🎈🩸Wonwoo Oneshot

pairing : military official wonwoo × fem!reader

genre : pwp, pure smut

warnings : mention of blood, unprotected sex ( wrap it up guys ) , creampie, abusive talks, minors DNI

author's note : so umm I kind of wrote this smut for someone but then thought why not post it with wonwoo in mind. Bear with the he(s) pls.

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As he stood there looking at her with dark clouded eyes with his hair all messed up from the intense fight, blood dripping down his knuckles onto his black boots, she saw the devil in him. The devil staring at her, telling her that he has finally came for his daughter. That he has finally found his worthy offspring to spread his bloodied rays into the world.

Stepping close to him, she looks into his red burning eyes as if she's gonna light him up on fire that very moment, as if she's going to draw out those popping veins in his eyes with her red nails.

Pushing his legs apart with hers she stands between them with her black heels on while her hands take his fist in hers and gently swipe off the blood off of them with her fingers and put them into her craving mouth, gently sucking onto them as if giving him the temptation of how she would treat his dick so good yet so rough between her cavities.

All this time her knees move up and down his already tightening up crotch, sometimes pushing it a bit too hard earning muffled up moans from him. Because he's a man. He cannot show how weak and needy his woman is making him feel now. Being done with sucking off all of his enemy's blood and injecting it into her system, her hands now move upto his neck to hold it tight and firm in place while her lips curve up into a satanic smile.

She quickly brings her mouth up to the bone protruding so prominent out of his neck and instantly plants her teeth onto the skin, pulling it with her canines making tears swell up in his eyes from the intense sting.

"If you thought I'll let his blood infuse into kine and make me impure, you're so wrong honey. I'll make sure that yours takes control on his and completely overpowers him. I want to see you overpower each and every individual on the face of this planet and be at the very top" and with that she bites into his skin at animalistic force and draws out blood like a vampire feasting on its meal after ages. As if a blood thirsty demon got the first taste of vanilla sweet blood burning with rage finally on her lips, all the while he cannot touch her or do anything to her because he was pinned down.

But she very well knew that she would be overturned in a minute if he truly tried for it. Having had enough of his woman being a brat he finally engulfed her legs by his and pushed her down onto the floor. He stood tall before her, while she lay on the cold marble with a sinister smirk knowing quite well what was coming next.

Bending down to her level the very first instinct he had was to rip off ever piece of clothing from her body, making her completely naked infront of the beast that was now to feast on the vulnerable little prey infront of him. Having his legs placed on both sides of her shaking ones, he took her lips in his. And no it was not a gentle kiss at all. It was a hungry, desperate one. One to prove how he will always have the upper hand over her, how she will just be a playtoy under him.

While his teeth pulled onto her lower lips, popping the slender veins there making blood drip down the corner of her mouth, his hands played with her boobs. More appropriately abused them. His nails drew deep and sharp around her supple jiggly skin, leaving behind deep rooted tracks of his invasion onto her body and soul and mind.

Shifting from her lips, he now focuses on slapping the living shit out of her breasts, earning constant pleas of mercy from her, knowing that the undertone in them was nothing but her asking for more brutality.

When he's finally done abusing her chest, leaving it all red with his hand prints, as if something turns in him and he gently places his mouth on her nipples and suckles onto it like a child feeding on his mother. But oh well isn't his entire persona deceiving? While his mouth work like a complete gentleman around her mounds, his fingers find her throbbing clit and aggressively rubs it's like it's some sort of enemy he needs slain down.

Her eyes rolled from the intense pain and pleasure that her body was feeling at the same time. She licks off her own blood from her mouth and slightly pushes up her head as if to see what is happening to her bare body, only to find that it's a red hill down there. Every part of her skin is burning aflame. And in that very painful moment, he quickly unzips the tent in his pants and brings out his rock hard dick to now graze up and down her sloppy cunt.

Never giving her the pleasure to feel him inside her, while she claws out his toned back, he slaps the tip of his dick onto her throbbing pussy and sometimes teases her hole with it by pressing it a bit down and taking it out immediately. Not being able to take the torment anymore she takes things into her hand and harshly slaps him across the face.

That was his last string. How dare a bitch have the audacity to slap a man like him. And with that he presses himself in her in seconds without any warning, without giving her the time to even adjust to him.

"You wanted it so bad you whore hmm? How you like daddy's dick tearing up your walls into shreds now huh" he runts into her soft delicate hole like a complete animal gone feral, like a tiger getting a good meat after days.

He could see tears rolling down her eyes onto the floor from his intense thrusts, him completely ruining her pussy for the new few days so that she remembers he is who she belongs to, every inch of her body belongs to him and is only for him to ravish and eat and feast on.

With one more push down her cunt, he feels his high riding him as he releases all his anger, frustration into her, making his cum ooze out of her swelled up walls, mixed with some traces of blood from the intense abuse.

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. So, dear readers, I must say I didn’t expect to write more than one chapter for this fanfic. But here we are now at the third chapter. I’d love to know if you’d like more chapters or if you’re satisfied so far. Depending on how this chapter performs, I’ll bring you more sinful priest content. I’ve also been considering the possibility of writing another fanfic featuring Dr. Charlie Mayhew (those who follow Grotesquerie may already know him). If you’re interested, feel free to comment. Thank you to everyone who reads my fic. See you soon!

Content Warning: This chapter contains adult language as well as adult content.

TWO FOUR

THREE

"Free yourself from Father Mayhew, demon. There is nothing more pathetic than being emotionally involved with a mere sinful mortal. Kill him, soon." The message arrives in a self-destructing letter, signed by the dark master, as if it were meant to intimidate you. You let out a laugh, dismissing the threat with a wave of your hand. You’ll part with your priest when you choose, not even Satan himself will sway your decision. The warm water envelops you, fragrant bubbles rising around you as you sip your wine, savoring the luxurious moment. It’s a reminder of your power, of the pleasures you can indulge in. As the warmth seeps into your bones, you can’t help but think of Father Mayhew, his struggles, and the delicious chaos you’ve woven into his life. This game has only just begun.

Until his voice fills the space, your priest is calling out for you. “Forgive me, Father, but I wish to continue sinning. I miss the demonic essence of the sinful creature that invades my mind every morning and night. I will not deceive you; I want that demon for myself, just as I fear that I no longer belong to my Blessed God, but rather to her. She has infected me, like a disease. She inhabits my skin, as if she seeks to dominate me. If it is your will, quench the thirst I have for her lips. Erase the memory of her skin against mine, but I implore you, Almighty God, bring her back to me.” You’ve avoided him for days since your last encounter, as it should be. Otherwise, it would seem like you are taking his side, sparing him from the consequences of his desires. The game continues, and you revel in the anticipation of his next move. Each prayer, each desperate plea only deepens your resolve, drawing you back into his world. The tension between sin and devotion creates a thrilling dynamic that you can’t ignore.

Suddenly, the taste of alcohol in your wine no longer intoxicates you. You crave the taste of him on your lips. He is not the only one feeling sick; you sense that he is infecting you as well. Resisting temptation is becoming nearly impossible. You step out of the bath, hair still damp, contemplating your next move. A red dress lies on your bed, paired with matching heels on the floor of your room. It is time to go and make a confession.

You slip into the dress, feeling the fabric hug your form perfectly, and the heels elevate your presence, transforming you into a vision of temptation. The mirror reflects a figure that embodies both allure and danger, a demon ready to weave her spell once more. You arrive at the church abruptly, using your powers to teleport to the entrance of the sacred space. The familiar scent of incense and polished wood surrounds you as you step inside, the heavy doors closing silently behind you.

The priest Mayhew stands before the altar, clad in leather pants that leave his butt exposed, as if he has emerged from the depths of the most sinful fantasy. He wears a sheer lace nightgown that accentuates his form, embodying an alluring mix of innocence and decadence. As he extinguishes the flickering candles, there is an air of temptation surrounding him, making the scene both captivating and provocative.

He hears the thunderous sound of the doors closing behind you, turning to look at you as if he’s about to melt under your gaze. A sly smile plays on your lips as you approach him slowly, without uttering a word. With each step you take toward him, he seems to lose his breath, anticipation palpable in the air. "Are you really here?" he whispers as you come to stand before him, his hand gripping the candle snuffer tightly.

You gaze at him from head to toe, using your powers to reignite all the candles once more. "The way you’re speaking, it sounds like you've been hallucinating about me, Father Mayhew," you say, bringing your face closer to his to murmur, "I prefer the flames lit, if you don't mind." Then, you gently take the candle snuffer from his trembling hands.

"I feared you’d never return, that I'd lost the chance to…" Father Mayhew begins, though he trails off, seeming entranced by your scent as he closes his eyes, breathing you in deeply. You toss the candle snuffer into a distant corner of the church, feeling the candlelight’s warmth casting a glow over your skin. "So much fear that you resorted to prayer to bring me closer?" you say, your words nearly brushing his lips. His eyes open, meeting yours, as if filled with something unsaid, struggling to form the words he dares not speak.

"I didn’t know who else to turn to, to have you near again. And talking to God is… well, what I do best, so I thought it was worth a try," Father Mayhew says, a trace of a seductive smile on his lips, unable to hide his excitement.

"Are you aware that your request was never heard by your God, but rather by a far lower realm? That's why I'm here." Your gaze remains serious as he processes this revelation, realization dawning in his eyes. His expression, rich with guilt and desire, compels you to place your hands on his face, your thumbs tracing the edges of his lips, soft against his skin. His eyes drift shut as he leans into your touch, surrendering to the moment.

"I feel as though, to see you again, I’d set this place ablaze until nothing but ashes remained, demon. I wasn’t joking when I said you were infecting me," Father Mayhew’s voice is low, gravelly, as though he desperately wants you to understand his sincerity. When he opens his eyes, it’s as if he’s allowing you to glimpse the turmoil inside him, a fragile resolve on the brink of surrender. You lean towards him, licking between his lips.

"Let me be your faith, your cure; I promise, Father, I’ll show you how serving a darker purpose can be… fulfilling," you murmur, brushing a brief, enticing kiss over his lips. His eyelids flutter weakly, as if each blink is his attempt to convince himself this is real. Suddenly, you feel his strong arm around your waist, drawing you close until you're pressed against him, his breath warm and heavy against your neck. The sweet scent of him fills your senses, leaving no doubt of his surrender as he pulls you into this forbidden embrace.

"Take me as yours, sinner. Possess me, demon. I've wanted to know what it is to belong to you since the moment you set foot in my church," Father Mayhew breathes, closing the distance between you with no hesitation. His lips find yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue tracing over yours as if to claim you entirely, the intensity of his need nearly overwhelming. It’s as if, in this moment, he truly believes you both could merge into one, the heat of it igniting between you in an almost unbearable way. You're almost impatient, you need to feel him. It seems for a moment that he understands this, as he He lifts you up with his arms, you leaning on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips still against yours as he carries you to one of the church benches. He sits down, positioning you on his lap. His hands make their way inside your dress, and yes, he holds your ass firmly.

"Father, I have sinned. I believe there is a suitable punishment for me so that I may be forgiven." You speak in a sly way as if to provoke him, seeing Father Mayhew's eyes darker, with a slight air of perversion. He grabs your ass tightly, moaning close to your ear as your pussy rubs lightly under his cock. You pull his hand towards you, removing it from your ass, and licking two of his fingers. You taste Father Mayhew's fingers while keeping your gaze fixed on him. You then guide his fingers inside your pussy. As soon as his cold fingers enter you, you let out a moan, still holding his hand to go deeper into your pussy.

"Tell me what punishment you think is appropriate for a nefarious sinner like you. Show repentance and you will be forgiven,"Father Mayhew is sticking his fingers deep inside you, who were slowly losing your sanity. Sometimes you rolled over Father Mayhew's fingers hoping to feel him even deeper inside you. The speed at which his fingers were fucking you was supernatural, you could feel how hard Father Mayhew's cock was getting just from you bouncing under his fingers. His available hand was helping you with the movements, helping you arch your body more while holding your waist. Your hands at that moment were wrapped around his shoulders, almost grabbing his neck. At some point when his fingers entered faster, you almost let out a groan, pulling Father Mayhew's hair back, leaving his neck arched in front of you. You reached down to the exposed area of his neck and took hold of it, biting down hard as Father Mayhew continued to finger fuck you. He let out a low moan that sounded like he was enjoying the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

In an erotic way, he murmurs "You can taste my blood and satisfy all my desires, demon." It's like he's giving himself more and more to you, which makes you even more horny for him. Bobbing up and down on his fingers with an animalistic ferocity, you feel Father Mayhew's skin cut into your mouth as you sink your teeth into his neck. The sweet taste of his blood fills your mouth, at times like these, you wish you were a vampire and drank all the warm blood of your sweet Father Mayhew.

"Father Mayhew, if I could explain to you what it feels like to take you in this way, rest assured, all the demons would be lining up to taste it." You say pushing yourself even harder against Father Mayhew's fingers until he begins to gently massage your clit while fingering you. You find yourself moaning out countless curse words as you hold onto Father Mayhew until you cum all over his fingers. Your satisfaction is so great that you immediately capture his lips with yours in a breathtaking kiss. For a moment it seems like you're battling to see who can leave the other breathless. His tongue exploring every part of your mouth while his fingers are still buried in your pussy. The taste of his blood that was in your mouth becoming predominant, making the kiss even wilder. As soon as his lips leave yours, you feel a desperation for more. He removes his fingers from inside you and, keeping his gaze fixed on you, licks his fingers covered in your cum.

"You may be a demonic creature but you taste heavenly, demon." He murmurs close to your ear as he finishes tasting you. You hold his face in your hands and then give him a kiss, more calmly. You pull yourself out of his lap between kisses, heading towards the lit candles. Father Mayhew quickly removes his garment, throwing his clothes on the church floor. You slowly walk towards him with the candle in your hands, feeling the heat of it warming your hand. He is naked, with an erect cock.

"You know, Father Mayhew, one of the best parts about being involved with a demon is the countless ways you can explore new experiences," you whisper, settling into your Father Mayhew's lap. Since you came to church without panties, as soon as you sit on him, his cock enters your wet pussy, almost sliding inside it. You both moan from the delicious sensation of feeling each other.

"Let's see if you like this one..." You say, giving him a long kiss, feeling him completely surrendered to you. Holding the lit candle under his neck, as the candle melts, burning Father Mayhew's skin, you hear him let out a pained grunt. He lifts his face towards you, holding tightly onto your waist as he feels the pain. You're enjoying yourself, but as soon as the candle melts once more, you run your tongue over the parts of his body that the candle hurt. He shivers at the sensation of your tongue moving from his neck to his chest but seems relieved when the pain subsides.

"You will be the death of me, demon." Father Mayhew speaks and then kisses you aggressively, as if he is thirsty for your lips. He bites your lip as he kisses you, as if he wants to return the pain you caused him in such an erotic way. You then grind under his cock, making him throw his head back with the pleasure of feeling his cock entering your pussy even further. It's delicious to see him lost in lust, so you start to move up and down on his cock. He holds his arms around your waist as if he is holding you to him while you ride his cock almost madly. His moans make you almost overflow with pleasure as you ride his cock like you're riding a horse. Father Mayhew at one point removes his hands from your waist and tears your dress with his hands, right at the neckline. Your breasts are on display, which seems to be his goal. He puts his hands around your breasts, pinching the tips of your nipples. You let out a drawn-out moan as you feel his cock filling you and the delicious sensation of his hands stimulating your breasts. His lips begin to bite one of your breasts, sometimes biting the nipple, sometimes sucking. The feeling of his tongue on your skin is devilishly delicious, his soft lips delighting in your breasts, while he starts licking the other breast while stimulating the other with his fingers. The rhythm of your bouncing on his cock increases as you feel yourself coming again and you want to give Father Mayhew the same feeling. Your pussy is taking Father Mayhew's cock so well that it doesn't take long before you both cum, moaning loudly as his cum finally fills you. For a second you both stare at each other, breathless and surrendered to each other. He smirks as he stands up from the church pew, his cock still inside you, carrying you with him.

"Blow out the candles, demon," he whispers close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Using your powers, you blow out the candles, only for Father Mayhew to throw the candles along with other religious items that were under a table onto the floor.

"What are you doing, Father Mayhew?" you ask, genuinely wondering what he wants. He rests your ass on the table, using it as support to then put his cock in you, with more precision. He slowly thrusts his cock into your pussy while holding your legs so you don't fall. His nails scratching all the way from your feet to your thighs. You grip his hair tightly, pulling it back as Father Mayhew begins to pick up speed in his thrusts.

"I'm giving you reasons not to take so long to come back, memorable memories to keep you tied to me." He says, looking at you, while he thrusts his cock into your pussy without mercy. You then hold Father Mayhew's ass as you feel your orgasm come, feeling him fuck you so good. Father Mayhew's cock enters you deep in one swift motion and you cum, squeezing his ass hard. Your legs are already weak even though you are not human, your body behaves like a human body. Still, you wrap your legs around Father Mayhew's waist as if urging him to finish what he started. He captures your lips with his as he thrusts his cock into you two more times before cumming while still kissing you. Then he rests his head on your shoulder, clearly exhausted. And for a moment it's like you're between heaven and hell. He desecrating the sacred environment and breaking celibacy, you ignoring hell's orders to capture his soul.

[gravehags]

let the devil in

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: OH THEY FUCKIN, PinV, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, improper timing of satanic prayer, lots of ooey gooey feelings, secondo being a real one, stelline the rat makes a brief return, sister imperator being unsettling as shit

Words: 6,803

Summary: You have just about had enough of dancing around one another. It's now or never.

a/n: bro writing this had me shaking THIS IS IT, THE BIG ONE god i hope it lives up to my hype

The remainder of your time off passes without incident - for better and for worse. 

Copia has been lovely - a perfect gentleman - but as much as you appreciate his sweet words and his kind heart, you’re left wondering why he hasn’t made any…advances towards you. When your kisses turn heated he shies away and you don’t pursue the issue, wondering if you’re just coming on too strong. Wondering if he regrets the evening you spent together on New Years Eve. You try not to let it get to you but every night you lie awake, staring up at the ceiling worried that he has regrets. Part of you - the part that sees the sincerity in his eyes when he dotes on you, the logical part - tells you that he’s just being cautious. The other part of you…well. That little parasite is constantly in your ear telling you he’s just being kind - too kind to rip the bandaid off and break it off with you. Back and forth these two sides play tug of war and you’re the one left to suffer in silence. And it’s not just your mind that suffers but your body. Your body aches for him, your fingers frantically pressing against your clit in a poor imitation of the curve of his cock. You crave his touch and are filled with sadness as you watch the bruises his fingers left on your thighs yellow and fade. You want to bring your concerns up to him but the fear that the awful little parasite in you has been right all along keeps your mouth shut. So you let him court you - bring you more flowers (dark red peonies this time, you dried the roses he gave you the moment they began to wilt and now the bundle hangs from your bedroom mirror), hold your hand on your daily walks, eat by your side - and hope that through sheer force of will he seeks out your embrace once more. You’re almost relieved when you start back at work again, able to keep your hands and mind busy with something other than your unsettling thoughts and anxiety-fraught fledgling relationship.

–

Copia feels as if he’s going mad.

Not from you, never from you but…his desire for you. The way his body and his mind relive the feel of your cunt pressed up against him, the heat and wet pushing against his clothed cock. He clenches his fist and shifts in his office chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He’s trying his best - his very best - to be good and sweet and docile for you. To treat you like he wants to, like he knows you deserve. But his want for you is all-consuming, dogging him day and night, in your presence and without it. He wants your body - wants to corrupt your body - true, but more than that he wants…you. Hungers for your soul, your love. Wants to crawl inside your veins and make a home in your heart. He’s told you he loves you, true, but would the extent of it scare you off? He’s torn by wanting to confess the darkest parts of his passion to you and keeping you at a safe distance, like a porcelain doll on a shelf. New Year's Eve left him reeling, dizzy even as he slept beside you that night and you curled into him. You’re so good to him - far better than he deserves - and he can feel the lust radiating off of you whenever your kisses become heated. The devil whispers for him to let go, let you untether that beast inside him that he tries so hard to muzzle. The chain that holds him back weakens day by day, every moment you give him that look from across the couch or the dinner table he’s closer to ruin.

Which leads him to today. 

You’ve popped by his office on your lunch break, standing by the windows and holding his hands in yours. 

“Come over to my place tonight?”

He’s about to answer when there’s a knock on the door and it swings open. When he sees Secondo standing there he drops your hands as if burned and takes a step away from you.

“Mi scusi, I’ve interrupted something,” Secondo turns to leave but Copia calls out.

“No, no. Eh, nothing interrupted. She was just leaving - weren’t you, signorina?”

He immediately regrets his choice of words when he sees you jolt as if slapped at the cold tone of his voice and the return of your old title. Secondo’s sharp gaze flicks back and forth between you and him but he remains silent.

“Y-yeah. Okay. Sorry, Secondo. Goodbye, Cardinal.”

Ouch. He deserves that. As does he deserve the way you leave and shut the door behind you without a second glance back to him. Anxiety sinks heavy in his stomach as he lowers himself to slump on the end of his desk. He nearly forgets his fratello is there when the imposing papa clears his throat.

“Che cazzo, stronzo?” he barks, making Copia wince and fold in on himself. He’s not sure if it’s wiser to play dumb or fess up to his feelings but judging by the steely look in Secondo’s eye, he’ll take nothing less but the truth.

“It’s…a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” Secondo snarls, stalking over to him and jabbing him in the chest with a long finger. “You’re being chicken shit, aren’t you?”

Leave it to Secondo to suss out the reality of the situation in a heartbeat. Copia shifts himself out of poking distance and rounds the desk to collapse in his chair.

“I…eh…sì.”

Secondo crosses his arms and stares down at him imperiously.

Copia reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose, unsure of how much detail to give him. Judging from the look on Secondo’s face, he wants to hear all of it.

“So we…got together. The night of the Yule gathering. I walked her back to her rooms and we… eh…made out along the way. We got to her place and she invited me in and I…I wanted to treat her as she deserves, sì? Flowers, dates, chocolates, the whole shebang. So I told her that. Then she–”

His voice cracks and he clears his throat, the mere memory of the incident enough to rile him up.

“She tells me she’s a virgin. A virgin, Secondo. Sathanas, I nearly grabbed her and had her in the damn hallway.”

Secondo makes a noise, his eyebrows rocketing up. He’s clearly not unmoved by this information either.

“So after that I…I try my best - my fucking best - to keep my composure. And maledetto inferno she did not make it easy, the little minx. And then I asked her out on a date. Our first. We went to Lucia’s on New Year’s Eve - came back, opened a bottle of champagne and well. Things escalated.”

“Did you…?”

“No,” Copia says hastily, “I mean…we didn’t do nothing but she remains ah…intact. Since then I-I don’t know what to do. The way she looks at me, the way she kisses me, touches me…”

“Fratello,” Secondo says, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle, “forgive me but I’m not seeing the problem with a beautiful, young virgin desiring you.”

“No, no, no, that’s not it,” Copia says, “it’s not what she wants that scares me…it’s what I want. Secondo, I love her more than anything, desire her more than anything but…I’m afraid if she sees the extent of my passion, my obsession with her I’ll…I’ll drive her away. Like everyone else, sì? So I restrain myself at every turn.”

Secondo nods, quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“Copia, have you considered telling her any of this? That perhaps maybe sharing your fears with her - someone who loves you very deeply in return - will help alleviate your angst? Not to mention you’re probably driving the poor girl mad with lust, vecchio cane.”

Copia snorts and Secondo smiles.

“You two were so blind for so long, unwilling to see the feelings you had for one another when to everyone else it was obvious. She was made for you, and you for her. I’ve seen you chase after a few people over the years, fratello, and you looked at none of them the way you look at her. So tell her. Show her, for fuck’s sake. You know full well how many in this abbey would kill to be in your position, huh? Terzo, for one, which is why this stays between us, sì? You need to make your move before he catches wind of her…condition.”

Copia nods vigorously, heaving a deep sigh and tipping his head against the back of his chair.

“Grazie, Secondo. For listening, as you always have.”

Secondo nods solemnly before pushing himself off the wall and making to leave.

“W-why did you come in originally?” Copia asks.

Secondo shrugs and winks his white eye.

“Brotherly intuition. Ciao, Copia.”

With a little wave the papa is gone and Copia sighs.

He’d come see you tonight. It was now or never.

–

You make sure to stay out of Copia’s way the remainder of the day, more confused than angry. When he’s with you he’s hot and cold - professing his love but ultimately shying away from your touch - and when you’re around others, well. With Terzo he’s possessive, with Secondo he’s jumpy. What is going on in that head of his? Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ve already made your mind up to go to him tonight and sort things out. He’s got confession duty until eight which gives you plenty of time to…prepare. A shiver runs through your body at the implication that if you play your cards right, tonight could be the night. Perhaps…you look at the small bundle of keys on the lanyard around your neck, sorting through them to find a specific one. He gave you the key to his rooms last week. Perhaps he would be more ah…pliant…to your desires were you to simply be…waiting for him. You giggle, actually giggle aloud, in your empty office. He’s not going to know what hit him.

You’re distracted the rest of the day, head filled with plans and scenarios, and you move through your tasks mechanically. When Sister Imperator drops by to give you a heads up about another painting she bought at auction she gives you a curious look. She’s been kind of weird around you since after the break - looking at you shiftily during meetings - and you’d be unsettled by it were your head not already filled with other things. When she turns to leave your office, she casually tosses “why don’t you take the rest of the day, hmm?” over her shoulder. You sputter, baffled as to how she seemed to know, and she turns around to give you a tight smirk before leaving with her red stilettos tapping on the marble. You’re holding your breath watching her retreat down the hall and you look at your watch.

3:21 PM

You’ve got hours but there’s a lot you have to cram in before then. First to head to the dining hall and wolf down a meal, then to Primo for a restock of your…meds, then to your quarters to shower and figure out what you’re going to wear. 

Better get going.

By the time you finish your tasks and return to your quarters, it’s 5:36 PM. You were waylaid by a group of siblings after you left Primo’s greenhouse who politely asked you to help them take pictures for the Ministry’s social media account. Dropping your keys and phone on the side table, you strip and leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom. Your shower is swift but you still make sure to use your best smelling products. You go through your skincare routine and step out to look at the clock next to your bed.

6:17 PM

Shit. You feel like you're pushing it and you’re glad you ultimately decided not to wash your hair tonight. Padding out into your bedroom, you open your drawers and rifle through them. You wanted something that gave the impression you were…his for the taking. Something soft and well…virginal. When you pull a knee length cream colored silk nightgown out of your pajama drawer you make a loud noise of appreciation. A little wrinkled, maybe, but you doubt he would care. Tossing your towel on your bed you pull the slip over your head, shivering at the touch of the cool material. Your eyes travel to the top of your dresser and you spot your perfume - the one you know he loves - and give yourself a few spritzes before touching his gold grucifix on your collarbone. That should do it. But now you have to get from your quarters to his and somehow you think doing so in a thin nightgown isn’t the wisest decision so you grab your robe and wrap it snugly around you. Stepping into your slippers you walk out of your room and grab your phone and key, taking a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

The journey up the two floors to Copia’s quarters passes without incident, unless you count the siblings who saw your attire and gave you funny looks. Your hands are shaking - actually shaking - as you reach his door and unlock it, stepping inside. It’s dark.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for the switch. When you manage to locate it and flip it on, the room is bathed in a soft yellow glow. His quarters are nice - not that yours are a dump, by any means - but the level of decorative detail has you inspecting every corner of his living space. Looking around you remove your robe and set it on a chair by the door. When you hear a few squeaks you shuffle over to the large rat cage in the corner, cooing at the little faces peering up at you. Stelline stands on her hind legs, nose snuffling in your direction.

“Hello, little loves,” you murmur, “I’ve got to be nosy for a second so you stay put, okay?”

When Stelline lets out a particularly loud squeak it makes you laugh so loud you clap your hand to your mouth. Before any more objections can be made you head to the other side of the room, past the wall of leaded glass windows, and through a doorway on the left. A small kitchen. Cute. Which means the other doorway leads…your heart thuds as you approach the darkened alcove and turn on yet another light switch. 

Copia’s bedroom.

It feels forbidden to be in this space and you step in cautiously, expecting at any moment to get busted for breaking and entering. It’s a decent size room - bigger than yours - with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. There’s an empty fireplace on the left and a large dresser, as well as a high backed chair. There’s a doorway which undoubtedly leads to his bathroom and…there it is. A large four-poster bed with dark red hangings and matching covers. You swallow thickly, stepping over to it. This could be it, you think, running your hands over the duvet. This could be the place where y—wait, what’s that?

There’s a scrap of black peeking out from under his pillow and curious, you reach for it. When you pull the item out, your jaw drops.

Those. Those are yours. Your…

“That little pervert!” you crow, veins flooded with warmth at the thought of what he did with your underwear. Your dirty underwear. Filthy man…filthy delicious man. Well who are you to deprive him of his simple pleasures, you think as you stuff the garment back under the pillow. Should everything go right tonight you’ll tease him about it…afterwards. Shaking your head you look down at your phone.

7:21 PM

Still got about forty minutes to kill, assuming confession doesn’t go over. Suddenly you’re kicking yourself for rushing all day and walk over to the chair to plop down. Hopefully a little time on your phone will pass the minutes.

You’re on your…how many games of solitaire was this?...when you hear the distinct sound of a key in a lock. You can feel the blood drain from your face as you set your phone aside and grip the arms of the chair. When he enters and shuts the door behind him, making his weird little noises, you can’t help but smile. 

“Buonasera, i miei bambini!”

You can hear him scoot over to his rats, sighing deeply. He talks to them for a few moments before his footfalls begin to approach where you are. He’s got his biretta in hand as he spots you and stands frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.

“Hey,” you say, slowly rising out of the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak, too distracted by your outfit.

“Cara…” he breathes, setting his biretta down on his dresser, “I-I was going to come to you tonight.”

“Hmm, well,” you shrug, “beat you to it.”

There’s a ringing silence between the two of you, your heart thundering against your ribs. You take a step towards him.

“Copia, you don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to…have to hide from me. I love you. You know that.”

“Sì,” he whispers, “but do you know how much I love you? How I would do anything for you - to you - if you let me? Dolcezza I–”

“So what if I let you?” you ask, taking another step towards him. “What if I want you to? What if I’ve always wanted you to? What if you’re the only one I’ve ever–” you take two more steps towards him until you’re a breath apart, “--wanted to?”

He exhales shakily, breath stirring the hairs around your face.

“I’m giving you permission, Copia,” you breathe, “I want you to take, and take, and take from me until I have nothing left to give. I’m yours, my love. I’m–”

You don’t finish your declaration - don’t get a chance. Copia lunges at you like an animal, wrapping his arms around you drawing you snug against his chest with his lips pressed against yours. He’s never kissed you like this before - like a starving man - lips and teeth and tongue mingling with yours and peppered with groans and growls. He’s holding you so tight he squeezes the breath from your lungs as he nips at your throat, ravenous.

“Mine,” he growls, “amata mia. I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.”

When he licks along your carotid you gasp, and gently push at him.

“Let me undress you,” you breathe as you pant, “please Copia I want to see you.”

Copia pauses and pulls away to rest his forehead against yours before nodding. When he takes a step away from you, you mourn the warmth of his body.

“Go on, amore mio,” he murmurs.

“I-I don’t know where to start,” you confess with a smile. He offers his hands out to you.

“Here.”

This act alone is far more intimate than anything the two of you have done before. You know how he is about his hands and when you reach for them your own shake. Your fingers slide up the palm and wrist, taking the zipper and pulling. Gently, you ease each finger out of its sheath and pull the leather away. His hand is…beautiful. Large, freckled - like the rest of him - with a dusting of fine brown hair and–

“What happened?” you ask quietly, index finger tentatively brushing against the scar tissue in the center. “Copia is that–”

“Sì,” he answers simply and you reach for his other hand to repeat the process. You want to know, want to ask why but stay silent and save your curiosity for another time. Once the other one is bare you take them both in your hands and look at him.

“Beautiful,” you say softly, keeping your eyes on his as you raise each palm to your lips and place a firm, lingering kiss at the center. Some of the raw hunger leaves his eyes - replaced with utter adoration.

“What’s next?”

“This,” he points to his grucifix. It takes you a minute of peering at his pellegrina before you see where the bejeweled accessory is hooked. Delicately you detach it and set it on the dresser.

“Next?”

“My fascia,” Copia whispers, gesturing to his belt. When you loosen it from his waist, the long red material sliding through your hands, he watches you intently. You fold the garment up neatly and set it aside.

“Cassock?” you ask.

He nods, guiding your fingers to his neck. Each button feels like an eternity and by the time you reach his waist he can sense your quiet frustration.

“We can cheat with this one,” he murmurs, grabbing the sides and inching them up his body before pulling the garment over his head. When the red wool falls in a pile on the floor, you regard it fondly.

“I don’t know if I can wait any longer, amore,” he says, standing before you in his clerical shirt, suspenders, and trousers.

“One last thing, please,” you say before darting away and into the bathroom. You rummage around in the linen closet for a moment before pulling out a rag and turning on the sink. When you return to him with the soaked cloth he looks perplexed until you raise it to his face.

“If I’m going to see you naked,” you say, gently wiping away the paint on his right eye, “I want all of you naked.”

He chuckles, hands behind his back as you remove every bit of the Cardinal you can find. When you finish, he takes the rag from you and tosses it to the floor.

“On the bed, amata,” there’s a darkness, a self-assuredness in his tone that would feel almost foreign to you if you hadn’t heard it first on New Year’s Eve. It makes a shiver run down your spine as you step over to his bed. He follows, toeing off his shoes and reaching down to remove his socks, mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk as you clamber onto the red duvet. He pauses at the foot of the bed and slides his suspenders off his shoulders so they hang by his sides before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his clerical shirt to expose a pale sternum covered in more fine brown hair. You blink up at him before taking a deep breath, sitting up on your knees, and pulling the nightgown over your head. The garment falls to the rug in a whisper and there you are. Bare. Your heart is in your throat as you lean backwards against the pillows, presenting yourself to him.

Copia doesn’t look hungry anymore. 

He looks feral.

When he presses his knee on the bed and slowly begins to crawl towards you, your breathing comes in pants. He urges your legs apart, spreading you open for him and eyeing the thatch of curls at the juncture of your thighs before situating himself between your knees.

“Dolcezza,” he growls, bare hands ghosting over your hips without actually touching you, “will you join me in prayer?” 

Your mouth falls open.

“N-now?” His eyes fall to the heaving of your breasts as you continue to take ragged breaths. The drag of his gaze along every dip and swell of your body makes your face heat up.

“Sì, amore mio. For when else am I to give thanks to Sathanas for this most blessed gift? What better place than right–” he touches your knees, making you jump, “--here?” His hands slide up your thighs as he shuffles forward to loom over you, breath dancing with yours. Mismatched eyes bore into yours, the corner of his lips curled slightly in a wicked smile.

You nod.

“Unholy Father,” he begins before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss is unhurried, decadent even, and when his tongue slides hotly along yours you whimper into his mouth. The chuckle that reverberates into you has your body arching into his, eager for his touch. You think he’s about to do just that when he pulls away, a lewd string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

“Today I give thanks for this–” he inhales deep through his nose “--glorious favor you have bestowed upon me, a most faithful son.”

He lowers himself towards you once more, to press open-mouthed kisses along your throat. With some hesitancy, you bring your hand up to his head and drag your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. His tongue traces a path across your clavicle - briefly pausing to kiss the gold grucifix that rests there - and continues down your sternum. 

“For what greater honor–” he pauses to suck at the swell of your breast, “--can you provide than an eager–” his lips drag torturously close to where you need him, “--willing–” his tongue darts out to graze the taut bud, “sweet–” he hovers over your nipple, eyes trained up on yours, and his hot breath makes you shiver, “--virgin.” When he finally, finally lowers his lips to slip the hardened bud into his mouth you let out a keening moan. He sucks hungrily, teeth teasing at it and tongue soothing the catch of bone on flesh. 

“Copia, fuck,” you breathe, fingers buried in his hair to cradle him against you, “mmm just like that. Just like that, love.”

He rewards the endearment by bringing his hand up to your other breast and cupping the soft flesh in his large palm. When his thumb brushes over your nipple your hips buck again, and you can feel him smile against your skin. He wetly pulls off of you and you let out an undignified whimper at the loss.

“I have her heart,” he says, and you’re wildly confused for a moment before it dawns on you that he’s not done praying. The realization makes your head fall back against his pillows, your tongue sliding out to wet your lips. He’s abandoned your breasts now and has slid further down, hands on your waist. 

“I have her mind,” he places a soft kiss to the curve of your belly once - and again - before sliding down even further.

“Her soul–” he kisses the underside of your stomach once more, his mustache tickling you, “--I’m working on—“ 

When he glances up at you with a grin you smile back, deliriously enchanted, “--and her body…” 

His breath stirs the curls between your legs and your heart pounds. “...Is now mine.” The low, almost sinister tone of his voice makes you gasp, knowing full well what comes next. 

“Nema.”

“N-nema.”

He bows his head in reverence and taking his thumbs, spreads you open and drags his tongue through your slick folds. The sensation sends a shockwave through you, your back arching off the mattress as you squirm.

“Copia!”

His hands fly to your hips, gripping and kneading the flesh as he continues to work his tongue against you. He’s content to lap at your entrance for a couple of minutes before dragging the muscle upwards slightly and–oh. When he curves the flat of his tongue along your swollen clit he really has to hold you down. Your fingers cling to the silvered brown strands on his head, holding him against you and through your lowered lids you can see his hips minutely grinding against the mattress. You’re laughing, high and breathy, as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you, better than your fingers or any vibrator. When he moans into your cunt, fingers digging into your flesh you gasp.

“Fuck, my love, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, Copia please.”

He grins against you, mouth returning to gather the slick at your entrance and the tip of his long, large nose grinding against your clit. The sensation is overwhelming as your body thrashes and, you think deliriously, he’s definitely going to leave marks with how firmly he’s holding you. When he pulls away from you - no doubt to catch his breath - he leans up on his elbows a little and gives you a wolfish grin. 

“Dolcezza, what a sacrifice you make. Ave Sathanas.”

You laugh, grinning down at him as he returns to his task. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, again and again, you know it’s over. You’re babbling nonsense, sweet little words of praise at your lover, as you feel that familiar wave begin to crest inside you.

“Copia, oh fuck Copia I’m so close honey.”

He hums around you, hips continuing to rut into the duvet as he devours you. When you no longer have the ability to form words, you moan, higher and higher as you grip his hair and the covers. He pulls away slightly, making you cry out in desperation but when he returns he gently nudges the tip of his finger inside you. It’s not enough to make any real impact but the knowledge that he’s simply toying with you as you thrash below him has you letting out breathy, hysterical laughter.

“So good for your Cardinal,” he pants, and when you meet his gaze you can feel yourself clenching around his finger. “So tight for me and I haven’t even filled you yet. Tell me - did you use your own fingers while thinking of me?”

“Copia pl–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chastises, licking his lips. “I won’t give you what you want until you answer me, amore mio.”

You’ve only seen glimpses of this side of him before - hints at what lurked below the surface but now that you’re being fully exposed to this Copia - self-assured and smug in his power - your hunger for him increases tenfold.

“Yes, I-I did.”

“How many?”

He asks the question with all the casualness of asking for the price of apples at the farmer’s market.

“D-depends. Sometimes two. Sometimes thre–ah!”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s easing a second finger into you, stretching you open.

“My fingers are much bigger than yours, amore,” he says as he begins to slide himself in knuckle deep. “We’ll start with two today to eh, warm you up, sì? Would you like that?”

He’s right - his fingers are a lot bigger than yours and when he pauses to gently crook them inside you your jaw falls open in a desperate moan.

“Y-yes. Yes! Fuck, Copia just like that. Please, my love, please.”

“You beg so prettily for me, dolcezza,” he growls, lowering his face to your cunt once more, “keep going.”

The sounds he draws out of you as he licks and sucks and fucks his fingers into you are unlike any you’ve made before. Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you wonder if people passing by in the hallway can hear you but that only makes your hips buck into his touch even harder. You do as he asks and begs, promising him anything, anything as long as he doesn’t stop, please don’t stop. When you finally come apart, your muscles burn and you scream his name - fuck now you know someone heard that - as he presses against that sweet spot inside you. You don’t even notice him removing his mouth and pulling back so he can watch your face contort as you pant and sweat against his pillows. Your vision has gone blurry as you stare at the canopy above you, only somewhat aware of him sliding his fingers out of you and pulling back. You look up at him, sitting on his haunches looking both smug and full of affection, as he licks at the mess on his hand.

“C’mere,” you say, crooking a finger at him. He obliges with a smile, and when his face approaches yours you grab him by the back of the head and pull him in for a slow, wet kiss. 

“Mm–like the taste of yourself, ragazza mia? Filthy thing.”

You can feel his cock nudging you through his pants and you grind upwards against him. He growls into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t finish me before I get started, amata,” he purrs, leaning down to run his tongue along your jaw.

You laugh.

“That wasn’t you getting started?” you marvel, and he pulls back to give you a lewd wink. “Take these off, my love. I want to see all of you.”

He nods, sliding backwards off the bed to stand. You watch him intently as he finishes unbuttoning and untucking his clerical shirt before unfastening his pants and sliding them and his underwear down to step out of them. He’s…gorgeous. You always knew he was but seeing him like this - bare and freckled, the brown hair on his body abundant - you sigh. Something dreamy and romantic sits on your tongue until your eyes travel to the juncture of his thighs and your mouth runs dry. He crawls on his hands and knees towards you, settling in between your legs and stroking his thick, reddened cock.

“You, eh. You like it?”

You nod dumbly, unable to form anything coherent. His body is clearer now in this light - he’s got a scar on the right side of his abdomen and on his left pectoral you see–

“A tattoo?!” you splutter loudly. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face drops as he lets go of his cock and it bobs in front of him.

“Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?”

The ridiculousness of the whole situation hits you at once - the two of you nude, you being a virgin, him with his tattoo, both of you in this fucking Satanic abbey - and you tilt your head back and laugh. He growls and throws himself forward, caging you in underneath him.

“I show you my cock and you laugh?” he chastises you, mustache twitching as he fights back a smile. “Have some dignity, piccola vergine mia.”

Your laughter dies and you take in the flushed face of the man above you, strands of hair falling into his eyes. 

“I love you.”

His eyes get misty, as do yours, as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Amata mia, dolcezza mia, vita mia, tutto mio. Ti amo. Per sempre.”

He leans down and places a sweet, soft kiss on your cheek before nuzzling into it.

“Are you ready?”

You cup his jaw and run your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Have your wicked way with me, Cardinale,” you smile, your hips shifting up against his. The drag of his wet cock against the heat of you makes him groan.

“Diavoletta mia,” he growls, leaning back and taking himself in hand. You spread your legs wider, still soaked from your earlier activities, and present yourself to him. When his cockhead prods at your entrance, you jump and his eyes fly to yours for confirmation. You nod and gently, slowly, he pushes himself in. There’s no pain, only pressure, as he slides in, his breathing ragged in an effort to maintain control. When he bottoms out, your bodies flush to one another, you pant up at him.

“Y-you okay?” he stammers, clearly trying his hardest to restrain himself. You watch a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“Copia,” your voice is calmer than it’s been all evening, “don’t hold back.”

You feel his arms wobble on either side of you at your words as he slides nearly all the way out of you and pushes back in. He repeats the action, each thrust gaining more force than the last. The feel of him stretching you is divine, hypnotic, and watching him slowly come apart above you even more so. He’s moaning desperately with each slide of his cock, his eyes frantically searching yours.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

When you experimentally clench around him he whines, his hands seeking yours to entwine your fingers. He fucks into you a little harder, little deeper with a shift of his hips, making you arch your back and press your breasts against him.

“S-so good,” he whimpers, “so tight, amore. So–ah–sweet for me, always.”

All you can do is moan in response as he jerks against you. You’re full - so deliciously full of him - and wildly you wonder how you went this long without him. This man that you adored so deeply - who adored you back - who always cared, always listened. You can feel tears prick the corners of your eyes and you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist as tight as you possibly can. His movements are limited now by your actions but you don’t care - all you care about is keeping the two of you joined as close as possible.

“Amore, amore, amore,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. Despite his thrusts no longer being quite as deep, they are no less forceful.

“Thank you,” you manage to eke out, “thank you. Vita mia. Mondo mio. You’re perfect.”

He chuffs out a noise between a sob and a pant, clearly moved by your use of language. The snap of his hips picks up and you can feel that pressure building inside of you once more. 

“Copia,” you whimper, “Copia I’m close, I’m so close, don’t stop. Please, my love.”

His fingers tighten in yours, palms slick with sweat and you feel yourself falling, falling. Your cunt spasms around him as his thrusts become wild, erratic and you feel wave upon wave of pleasure spreading from your core through your limbs and into your fingertips. It’s different from your usual orgasms - less violent, less frantic - but no less intense. You can feel the tears sliding down into your hair as you buck up against him, desperate to wring out every last moment of the feeling.

“Cara,” Copia’s voice is hoarse, “I’m–I’m going–”

“Let go. Show me how much you love me, Copia.”

Your command is all the permission he needs and lets out a low, broken moan of your name as his hips spasm into yours and you feel his seed pulse inside of you. Idly, you think about how glad you are that you visited Primo before this. You look up at the man on top of you and reach up to push his hair out of his eyes. His eyes are bright, white eye glowing, as he shakes and struggles to hold himself up. Gently, you ease him to the side, making sure to keep the two of you joined as he collapses next to you. You’re simply not ready to let go yet. The two of you tremble in each other’s arms, content to bathe in the heavy emotion. Your tears have dried and now a calm washes over you.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers raking through Copia’s sweaty hair. He’s watching you carefully - every dart of your eyes and twitch of your cheeks - as if he’s anticipating something.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “So was that, eh. Satisfactory?”

You snort and tug lightly at his hair.

“I think I can now say I’ve been thoroughly and successfully ravished, Cardinal. This must be quite a feather in your cap. You’ve made your Unholy Father proud.”

Now it’s his turn to snort.

“Just be thankful no one else found out about your, eh, former condition. You’d have had clergy and siblings and ghouls all lined up for you.”

“Oh,” you begin with a not-so-innocent tone, “so that’s why you romanced me, huh? Wanted first dibs?”

“Cara, no,” Copia says, deadly serious all of a sudden, “this isn’t–I would never–”

You laugh, dragging your fingers through his chest hair.

“My love, it’s been almost a year, I thought you’d be used to my stupid jokes by now.”

“Ah!” he rolls his eyes and waves at you dismissively, making you laugh even harder.

You finally have to separate, his softened cock sliding out of you as you push backwards. When you try to swing your legs over the bed and stand a hand wraps around your bicep and hauls you back down to bounce on the mattress.

“And where do you think you’re going, signorina?”

“Well I was gonna go pee and then–”

Quick as a cat, he rolls onto you, grinning down at you.

“Bellezza mia,” he purrs, “I hope you didn’t make plans for the next few days. We have, eh, lots of time to make up for. And you,” he leans down and runs his tongue over your pulse point, feeling it thunder against your skin, “have so much to learn.”

When the two of you text Sister Imperator with suspiciously matching illnesses the next morning, she smiles to herself. 

All in Lucifer’s plan.

[hazbinshusk]

Hi! I love your writing SO much. Your Blitzø works make my day. I was wondering if you could do 30, 36 and 37 with blitzø for the kids prompt list? I saw that these weren’t requested and something in my soul REALLY needs Blitz in these scenarios. No rush btw, love you and keep up the good work!

prompt #36: a kiss to the shoulder.

“Such a needy bitch,” Blitzø practically coos as though its praise, his hands smoothing down over the swell of your hips. He tugs you closer, and the movement pushes his cock deeper into your squeezing, eager cunt. You gasp as it hits a sweet spot, your back almost flush against his chest. “Feel so fuckin’ good…”

He has the two of you kneeling on the bed, your hands braced on the headboard as he thrusts into you in long, slow thrusts that only serve to tease you. You want it rougher, harder, and he knows it… and that’s exactly what the bastard’s taking it slow.

He wants you to beg.

Blitzø moans, low in his throat, as you push your hips back and flex your pussy around him, rewarding you by wrapping an arm around your hips and tucking his hand up between your thighs. He teases two fingers over your clit, and you him breathe a self-satisfied smirk as you jerk against him.

“Satan, fuck…” you sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. Blitzø practically purrs in response, his lips finding your throat. He teases over the column of your neck with his lips and tongue, and when his teeth graze over your pulse point you turn your head to bring your mouth to his.

Blitzø kisses you fervently, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He groans when you reach back to clutch at his thigh, your fingers sliding along the sensitive skin above the back of his knee. You swear he shudders against you, his tail winding around your waist possessively.

The move makes everything feel… different somehow; both in a way you don’t want to address and a way that makes you crave him so much more. Your hands find your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples, grinding your hips back against his.

“So fuckin’ desperate,” Blitzø mutters against your lips with a smile, kissing you again before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuckin’ love it… love it, love it, love… fuck…”

Blitzø pushes you down onto your hands and knees, thrusting into your roughly enough that you almost collapse into the pillows. You moan, breath catching with every thrust, and the imp continues playing with your clit at a torturous pace. His claws clutch at your hip and your hair, balling the locks around his fist and jerking your head back. You feel his tongue tease along the curve of your lower back, the points of his fangs scratching at your spine.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, so low you almost don’t hear it. “Want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Want you to fuckin’ soak me, baby…”

“Fuck, Blitz,” you whine, eyes squeezed closed. When he wraps your tail around his palm and squeezes the base of it you cum, and you do collapse onto the mattress as your orgasm rocks through you. Blitzø keeps fucking you, the only acknowledgement he makes to your whimpering a broken, cruel snicker. “Please… fuck, Blitz, I can’t… fuck!”

He lets himself flop down on top of you, boneless after he cums, laughing breathlessly when you grunt in complaint. “Unholy shit that was awesome.”

You giggle into the pillow your cheek in smooshed against, shaking your head. “We were supposed to be at work an hour ago.”

“Totally worth it,” Blitzø replies, and you feel him shrug against your back. He pats your ass playfully, and you swat at him with your tail. “Cheeky ass bitch.”

“Mmm… enough pillow talk.” you mumble. “I need to catch my breath.”

He snickers again, and you’re surprised to feel his lips press soft kisses along your bare shoulder.

“Fine,” he sighs, bumping his forehead against the spot he just kissed. “Should probably go make sure M&M aren’t fuckin’ in the office anyway.”

“Oh, yeah.” you eye-roll, smiling to yourself when he kisses your shoulder again. “’Cause they're the ones who can’t keep it in their pants.”

“Watch it, slut,” he teases affectionately, and you jerk beneath him as he slides his cock slowly out of your still-sensitive cunt. “Hate to have to teach ya a lesson ‘bout bein’ a smartass.”

“Shudder the thought.”

Blitzø grins wickedly, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to roll onto your back. He spreads your thighs apart, tugging you down against his cock again. “Right. You asked for it.”

Your laugh breaks off with a cry as he thrusts into you once more.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[belphegorey]

⌜tutelage, satan⌟ all he could teach you was rage ships ⎯⎯ satan x afab!reader tropes ⎯⎯ fingering, rivalry, biting, slight blood mentions

His touch set fire to your skin. Energy pulsed in your veins with his every glance. Throbbing in your head turned to harsh pounding with every passing second. The throbbing ache in your head returned without fail each day you saw him.

“Are all humans stupid or are you simply a special case?”

“Go fuck yourself,”

Satan. He was an incubus for your rage. Constantly probing at your problems, your intellect, your demeanour — your species too, of course — before feasting on your soul. A shark, watching the newest swimmer dangle their delicious body in the water.

Even for the personification of wrath, he was infuriating. Your fingernails had left permanent indents in your palm from the fists you always held. Lines had formed along your face from your constant glares. Your voice grew hoarse each day from the shouting.

And yet, whenever his lips made works of art along your thighs, you craved more. The fire he created on your skin was an aphrodisiac. The wicked grin he wore made your mind burn red and your cunt drip sweet honey. The poetry he spilled, even when they insulted you, unlocked the passage to your body’s inferno.

And only Satan had the key. An infuriating ouroboros cycle.

“There is a reason I was asked to teach you, kitten. You’re just too dumb on your own.”

“And yet I managed to get results just as good as yours without your tutelage.”

The ache in your back was a spark of delicious agony. Countless books indented your spine. Your actions held zero hesitation despite your words. His actions showed nothing but eagerness and his words agreed. You’d grown used to his rage-inducing contradictions.

The cold air on your body felt like burning fires. His fingers drew the art of Van Gogh on your skin. Dark runes and symbols, a beautiful night sky, his touch turned your body to canvas. Torn fabric were your petals as you bloomed along the oak table.

“It’s a waste. I know what you truly are. Look how you went along with what I command. You should simply serve as my pet.”

“We both know that is what you want. You wouldn’t get any of your work done if I was there calling you… what, exactly? Master?”

His teeth brought blood to the surface of your skin, hot and burning as it pooled on your collarbone. Your fingers found their place in his hair. Passion fumed in your loins and you pulled on his head. His quick grunt made you smile in victory.

The intrusion of his fingers inside of you halted your mind. The honey that Satan teased you over each day dripped down his knuckles. Squelching echoed in the library, your hushed moans joining in harmony. The ammunition loaded into his arsenal, you could feel the smugness in his lack of words.

If not for the bulge against your thigh, you would think it was nothing more than fuel for his already throbbing ego. His fingers curled and you contorted to his will. Whimpers broke through the seal of your teeth in your lips. The books in your spine turned blissful pain into an erotic pleasure.

“So loud tonight, kitten. Could it be you want everyone to finally know who it is you crave?”

“No one is going to find out about this.”

The hateful grip on your waist tightened in strength. Your eyes fluttered shut in the throws of the pleasure. All your senses — it all echoed him. Even without seeing him, his image was burning behind your eyelids. His cologne, a warmth of familiarity tied with dusty books, had your heart thumping.

All you could feel was him. His touch. His hair. His lips. His teeth. The fingers within your walls thrusted deep within. Slow. His torture was evil. You desired more, you desired the fire that only Satan could offer. He knew it. He could sense it. He ate at it like the proper demon he was.

“Say it. Relinquish your illusions and beg.”

“Please Master, I need you.”

The smirk he wore burned the skin of your neck. Your eyes dressed in tears as his fingers graced you with what you needed. He reached the places your fingers could never graze. Your thighs parted further for his approval, and he returned to the area where he stood each night. A horrific cycle that you adored repeating.

You felt his erection between your legs, pressed against his magic hand. Panting tangled with whimpers left you, your walls tight around his fingers keeping them warm. Kitten. He repeated it. You were no one’s pet, especially his. Yet, when the name was whispered you couldn’t help the mewl that played. A good pet. A good toy.

“Do it again. Do it for your master.”

“Nngh,”

Your high was near. He must sense it building in your desperation. The fingers creating your lust moved faster, deeper. The intent was delicious. You grasped at his soft hair, tugging and moaning in need.

A puppet. You were his puppet and he tugged perfectly on your strings.

When it came, your crescendo bounded between the library walls as slick desire pooled down his fingers. The touch of his hand on your hip, still burning red, was gentle as your body shuddered beneath him. That was the part that confused you most. Wrath, pure rage personified, being protective and almost soft. It never lasted long. Not long enough to properly change your mind.

“Now get up and write your essay, neither of us want to be here any longer than we have to.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Satan.”

© belphegorey 2024 ⌜18+ banner from @/cafekitsune thank you <3⌟

[obeythebutler]

Welcome to the Devildom. It is your first time here and things might seem scary and confusing, but it is not so. You have been chosen for this exchange programme, and we believe you are a suitable candidate. Please refer to this pamphlet for guidelines in this realm, and you will have a wonderful stay here, rest assured if you follow the rules. You do not need any clothes or other items, for you will be provided with them.

(Part 2 House of Lamentation)

The Devildom is still acclimating to angels and humans, and given their different biologies and habits, several modifications have been made to the environment. Nature has been humanised as much as it would allow us, but we are still in the process of learning and understanding each other, so please, be patient if any mishaps do occur.

You are prohibited from being outdoors in the Devildom unless accompanied by one of the seven Avatars. Failure to do so may result in unexpected consequences. That being said, take care to be polite to the Seven Lords. Your transgressions may be forgiven once, but do not offend them twice.

Please note to not mention the name 'Lilith', 'Fall' or 'War' in front of any of the brothers, angels or the Prince. You are an exchange student, nothing more here. Know your place.

Most of the locations here are safe to visit, but they have their own rules to be followed, which you will find in the programme overleaf we have provided. The Mausoleum is not to be visited alone. It is a place that is hostile to humans, and the animals there are not tame. Keeping in mind the previous point, do not look into the eyes of the snake at the entrance for more than a minute. You may find yourself to be in a place you were not earlier.

Do not go into Siren Beach. Leviathan has released Lotan into the sea, and the sirens are craving human prey. If you must visit a beach to get your dose of vitamin D that is necessary for you, you may ask Lord Diavolo for the Sun's rays to shine upon you briefly. The warmth of it feels like forgiveness

Create pacts at your own discretion. Your soul is irresistible to demons, and you may be tempted into acquiring power, but remember where you are and where mortals end up once they die. The gates of the Celestial Realm may close in on you, and whom does your soul belong to you now?

Your shadow may seem like it is shifting, or has too many hands or legs for a human. Ignore it, as it is only your psyche adapting to the Devildom. Nothing more, nothing less.

If your preconscious tells you that something is wrong, it probably is. Ask the brothers for help, and let them handle the situation. Be quiet and thankful. Humans are adept at sensing danger, it seems.

The House of Lamentation holds many secrets. It is for your own safety that you do not roam about into forbidden rooms. There may be red paint spilled in rooms or claw marks indented into stone, it is only the felines which Satan likes to care for. The red is one of the many spilled cans of paint, pay it no heed.

Your chest may feel heavy in the Underground Tomb, if you find yourself there. It is a sacred place, hence it is imperative that you pay your respects to the girl etched on the stone. She was the catalyst for history to deem worthy to be remembered.

Do not misplace your D.D.D. It has been enchanted with spells, but you never know who might be snooping. Intruders are not be treated kindly, right?

If you hear heavy footsteps anywhere in the Tomb, or barking, call for Lucifer in its presence. It will know and obey him.

It is sacrosanct to attend annual events in the Devildom, like the Night Lantern Parade, and the birthday of our Prince. Pay your respects and ignore what you dislike. Do not ask the Prince why his claws have grown sharper, or why it is your second year here when you were supposed to be home

Beware of Solomon. Yes, he has been here before, and he is human. But the sheep that survive amongst demons do not remain the same.

Do not lie in the Devildom. No matter where you are, honesty is a virtue. Plus, we have ways to find out if you are lying. The consequences may not be pleasant.

Take care to not sneak out and get lost. If you find yourself in the lower layers of the Devildom, please hide immediately and call for the brothers. Do not talk to the creature that asks you for conversation, because you will be grateful that you did not when it rises on two legs and sheds its skin.

Do not attempt to make contact with a figure sleeping on the slab of gold. You may be drawn to it, but resist and leave. You were not supposed to witness this, and you do not want to attract the wrath of others.

Repent for your sins in front of the angels if you desire to. They are His envoys, and you may find it benefitting you. But do not anger the older angel, and take care to not offend the younger one. Do not confess your sins to demons, watch out for broken halos and leering smiles.

If you find yourself having memories of places or events when they have not occurred before, ignore it. Your sense of time is simply warped. Ignore the phantom pains in your neck, or the dread that fills you when you see the attic.

Remember that the seventh brother is in the human world, not in the Devildom. Ignore any voices, they are only mimics. Do not go where the eldest denies you entry.

Look into the mirror everyday and observe your reflection. Remind yourself that humans have two hands and two legs and two eyes. Angels have halos, demons do not. Halo means angel broken halo means fallen and oh god there are so many eyes angels do not look like that

Please refer to the next page for site-specific rules! If there are any questions, please contact Lord Diavolo or Lord Lucifer. Remember be a good little lamb!

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

100% projecting here but here me out

AFAB Dewdrop below;

Dewdrop, in the main chapel, on his knees before the communal altar to Lord Satan.

It's a new moon, and to kick off the cycle, he's set up a simple but heartfelt ritual; masturbating before the altar, offering his flesh and carnal lust as the offering.

Dewdrop, bringing with him his favorite toy, a monster dick he likes to imagine would be something similar to his Lord. He brings candles, incense, flower petals, a blanket and pillow because he plans on sleeping there as well.

His ritual is simplistic enough: he lights the candles, the myrrh, and cleans his toy despite it already being clean. He likes to show that he's taking the proper steps and not just some random toy he's dug out.

He places the candles, a deep maroon for this ritual, in a large enough circle that he has ample room to lay down if he so chooses. The incense burns just outside the perimeter, filling the area in lovely smoke.

He's wet before he even begins, already worked up and excited beforehand at the thought of his personal ritual.

"Dear Lord Lucifer, hear my prayer. Father Satan, I humbly intrigue to you the gift of my flesh and the carnal desire of lust. I offer unto you my love, my heart, my body mind and soul, and the juices of my desire for you. I give to you my carnal lust and devotion, each orgasm, an offering only to you. Lord Satan, accept my offering, in your name I pray. NemA."

He plants the monster dildo on the marbled tile below, sitting back on his heels, simply admiring the thing. It was dark blue, purple, and magenta. Girthy and long, a knot in the middle that burned going down. It was perfect.

The fire ghoul stands, undressing slowly, making sure each article is folded on the pew behind him before continuing. When he's completely naked, the emptiness and cool air makes his shiver, both in chill and anticipation.

He kneels back down and presses his forehead to the ground, giving thanks and speaking appreciatively, praying to the Dark Lord once again. This time, it was a moment of tenderness, vulnerability, not often seen in the older Fire ghoul. There were very few who saw this side of him, and the one who he trusted completely in heard and cherished each prayer.

Now, despite being practically soaked with anticipation, he knew he couldn't take the dildo on his own. He pulled a small tube of lube out of his bag and poured a generous amount in his hand and on the toy.

Safe in his circle of lit candles, he lines the toy up with his entrance, a low groan as the head enters. The girth alone is impressive, but it's nothing he's never been able to take before. He tilts his head back, slowly impaling himself, a breathy moan leaving him. His hands snake up his sides, hot to the touch, and envisions his Dark Lord instead of his own flesh.

He moans as he lowers himself once again, the knot in the center stretching him out. The fire ghoul lets his imagination take over, fantasizes that it's the Dark Lord teasing his nipples, twisting and pulling, cupping his small breast and massaging them just how he likes.

He imagines Lord Satan behind him, cradling him and easing him down.

'Breath in deep, remember, Droplet...'

Dewdrop does as instructed, breathing in deep and relaxing, a borderline feminine moan escaping him as his cunt swallows the knot.

'Now take a moment, don't rush, or you'll hurt yourself' The voice instructs.

"Fuck...!" Dewdrop hisses, feeling the head of the dildo kiss his cervix. It was so deep, almost too deep, but exactly what he craved. His head lolled, long golden waves cascading down his back. A beautiful offering, the perfect image of lust, love, and trust.

In the back of his mind, he was grateful that he'd brought along a blanket and pillow, the haziness of masturbating already catching up to him. He was always so sleepy when he came, and he knew for a fact that he was pulling more than one orgasm from his body tonight.

[vampyrehouseofallard]

When Satan knocks on your door all you have to do is open it.

You begin to feel that slight restlessness, like a lack that asks you to be satisfied. It's not anxiety or agitation, nothing that can make you uncomfortable or that can make you feel bad. On the contrary. Satan's call is sweet, seductive, a desire that makes you feel immediately alive, full of energy and power, free from any rule; even before you have begun to fulfill it.

Your body begins to quiver, your soul desires only Him, your mind cannot devote itself to anything other than lust, sin, perversion. Your imagination activates, your cock starts pulsing, you slowly regain contact with your darkness. That part of you that society forces you to keep hidden now wants to emerge. You want to be completely yourself, with all your forbidden desires and your most hidden cravings. Suddenly you feel the irrepressible urge to indulge your instincts, all your instincts, even those that perhaps, in the past, you were ashamed to have.

Who has the right to tell you how you should be? Who has the right to manipulate your mind to the point of making you ashamed of your own thoughts and desires? Why did you allow him? Do you still want to be a slave to that false and hypocritical moralism that feeds the mask of the “good boy” that you feel compelled to wear and that is suffocating you more and more?

When you learn to listen to the voice of Satan the answer to these questions becomes easy is obvious: no one has the right to tell you who and how you should be! No one should have power over your life but yourself!

That's why you feel that answering His call is the only thing to do.

You can do it. And you know it.

Now let Satan in, his energy, his strength. Let your darkness emerge and accept it, love it, indulge it. It's part of you. A very important part. Stop “mutilizing yourself” and let yourself live in fullness and freedom. Everything you are has a right to exist. Become ONE with Satan, for Satan and in Satan.

You feel the irrepressible desire to take the cock in your hand. Do it, wherever you are.

You feel the irrepressible desire for depravity. Grow it, wherever you are.

You feel the irrepressible desire to fall into His arms. Invoke it, wherever you are.

Satan is the way to unlimited pleasure and enjoyment.

Satan is the way to freedom and full self-achieving.

Satan is the way to get the strength and energy you deserve.

Walk the way of Satan brother! Let's go through it together!

Hail Satan!

Hail Satan!

Hail Satan!

Source: attendthesabbath.com

38 notes

[fickleminder]

crawl to the in-between (part 4/?)

First | Prev

…I have no excuse. Thank you @nope-viaa-h and @whatever-fanfics for kicking my muse into gear.

Satan cushions your fall when Solomon’s portal spits the three of you out in the middle of what seems like a forest clearing. The second you hit the ground, you shove yourself off of the demon with more force than necessary, shaking with anger and nerves.

"Will somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on?" You almost shout, your voice on the verge of breaking. You can't get Mammon's face out of your mind, the look he had given you before the portal whisked you away. It was as though he was saying goodbye.

"…It's complicated," Solomon finally sighs. "We don't have time—"

"Then uncomplicate it and make it quick!" You snap.

"That Halloween with the cursed masks." Satan stands up and grabs your hand, pulling you to start walking. "The ones that made us crave your soul. That's who we really are."

Solomon immediately brings up the rear, making sure you're protected front and back. "When first creating the Devildom, Diavolo separated every denizen into two halves: the demons you see everyday on the streets, and their innate corruption that drives them to Damn everything they touch."

"It was the only way the Celestial Realm would even consider the idea of an exchange program. All that corruption had to be—"

"—contained," you whisper in realization. "So then Mammon and Lucifer…"

"If they find you, they will not hesitate to consume your soul. Levi too, probably."

"We're sorry. We never wanted you to see us like this." Satan's grip tightens. "You'll be safe in the human realm—"

"Are you sure about that?"

The deep voice freezes you all in place, and it is only then that you realize just how silent the forest actually is. There are no birds calling, no rustling leaves, only the clip-clop of hooves approaching as a dark figure emerges from the shadows.

It's Lucifer, yet at the same time it isn't. He's in his demon form, but with an extra pair of eyes and wings practically dripping with black ooze. Peeking out of them are tens— no, hundreds of tiny bird skulls, staring straight at you like a macabre peacock's tail.

The sludge unicorn he's standing next to gives a wet neigh, and then all hell breaks loose.

Solomon yanks you backwards as Satan is charged at and tackled by his corrupted half. You see flashes of green going off as the demon desperately tries to protect himself from getting assimilated, but the sorcerer drags you away before you can even think of helping.

"But Satan—!"

"It's too late, I'm sor—"

A blast of magic collides into Solomon and sends him flying, but the barrier he conjures over you at the last second saves you from being grazed by the attack.

"Solomon!" You cry when you realize that he isn't getting up. Black goo traps your feet in place, preventing you from running. "Lucifer, STAY!"

But the pact order doesn't work.

"Our love…" Not-Lucifer reaches for you and your vision goes dark.

[that-hippie-user]

i pride myself in degeneracy, like an angel proud to plummet, and with a golden joy in my heart i say to you i have officially hit my lowest.

OnO so like.... did you know that if you hyperfocus on hypnosis strongly enough, you can hypnotize yourself in your sleep?

it happens very rarely for me but... yeah, it happened last night

and my brain just... did exactly what i craved, so much so i wish it was STILL in control.

half asleep in the dead of night, i felt like my nono squares were coated in pure silver. no sensation in my princess tower or the hills beyond. i was completely without the ability for pleasure sensations down there.

and... HOLY FUUF IT WAS AMAZING

@w@ YES YES YES YES YES

i wanted to be a nullo for so long, but this goes beyond that! my big girl privileges were stolen from me by my Dream Mistress!

my pleasure sense gone, my parts rendered worthless, unable even to enjoy being USED.

🤤 i now realize my deepest wish, what i want more than anything in this world.

i wanna be a virgin for the rest of my LIFE

i want my princess parts removed. X3 that much was a given as a nullo, but now its set in stone. THAT BEANIS GOTTA GO GIRL!!!

🤤 and i wanna be kept in diapers forever~ never again will a drop of my happy milk touch ANYTHING but my pampies~

>:3 no body shall press against mine without padding to keep me safe from their unwanted parts~ i'm embracing my desire to be a kinky Asexual dork whose ONLY interest is her fetishes

and the best part? ;3 dis is a secwet from yur Baby Luna. Nullos are a real thing in the real world. they part of the Body Modification Community, tho sometimes they also Trans.

X3 and i've heard personal testimony from AMAB Nullos... >:3 DAT YEW CAN STILL MAKE DA HAPPY MILK EVEN WITH NO PARTS!!!!

X3 yew dont neeeeeeeed them~ yew can still enjoy da rubrub no problem!

🤤 i even read an article about a cis guy who was one who found it ENHANCED his s*x life.

UwU but im not gonna have one of thooooooooooose~ cuz iiiiiiiiiiim gonna use my diapees like a good girl!!!

@w@ and now if yull excuse me, im gonna show devotion to the Mistress in my Dreams with a mantra!

good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls stay in diapees, good girls dont touch themselves, good girls satuabf shdkebjshsjsbsjsbsjsbsijsjsj

( UwU i pwomise my Dream Mistress i shall never again touch between my leggies unless i got da diapee on. i promise my body will never be used without crinkly protection. i promise to get rid of my worthless boygirl parts that were never mine anyway. i am owned mind body and soul by my fetish. i symbolically sign this contract in blood. :3 Hail Satan i guess, hehe. Atheist sacrilege for da win!!!)

[devildom-moss]

Roses for You (8)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Eight Roses - Diavolo

Word Count: +900

Gratitude / Support

“MC,” Diavolo greeted you at the castle door with a huge puppy-energy grin, “come on in.”

“Oh, Diavolo, where’s Barbatos? Doesn’t he usually answer the door?”

“He’s at the market with Simeon. Besides, aren’t you happy to see me?” A pout sat on Diavolo’s lips.

“Of course, I am. I came here because you asked me to; of course, I was looking forward to seeing you. I was just a bit surprised, that’s all.”

Diavolo took your hands in both of his and flashed that sweet, princely smile of his. “Allow me to surprise you again. Will you come to my room with me?”

He awaited the slight nod of your head as if he thought rejection was a possibility. At times, it was unfair that Diavolo’s personality and his status made him so difficult to say “no” to. Fortunately for you, what Diavolo craved – second only to his desire for peace between the three realms – was your happiness. It was easy to indulge him without a second thought. Even though you had no clue what awaited you behind his bedroom door – although given the rose antics of late, you had some clue – you trusted Diavolo entirely.

When you got to his door, Diavolo turned and asked you to close your eyes. You obliged, and with one hand firmly on your back, Diavolo guided you safely into the room. His touch left you slowly with a small squeeze to your side: a signal for you to stand still. The absence was followed by the soft thud of the door closing behind you and some indeterminate noises.

“Should I be concerned?” you asked the entire room, certain that Diavolo was somewhere in there with you.

“Open your eyes, MC.”

Diavolo was on one knee before you, holding out a bouquet of eight roses – four peach and four lavender – in a black anatomical heart vase. As he looked up at you, the sweetness in his gaze was overwhelming – like light brown sugar and honey. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared back, trapped in that sweetness.

A blush grew on Diavolo’s cheeks, suddenly flustered by your speechlessness. His confidence faltered momentarily, and he wondered if the message was unclear. Perhaps you would appreciate the words from his lips more than soft petals and pale colors. Without a second more of hesitation, he spoke: “I’m certain I’ve made it clear how much I adore you by now, but I need you to understand something else: I’m indefinitely grateful to you. All your hard work and support is more than I could have hoped for. You’ve brought so much joy into my life, and I need you to stay by my side. I know I have ambitious goals, and you’re often put in difficult situations because of me, but I couldn’t do this without you. Your presence only encourages me. You’ve charmed me – body and soul – and I’m eternally thankful for all of it. So, thank you, and please let me support you, too.”

Eight roses symbolized his gratitude and support. Peach was also a sign of thanks and appreciation, strengthening the message. Lavender signified his enchantment. Perhaps four of each color implied the lasting, steady nature of those feelings. All of it was stemming up from the heart. You meant so much to the future King of the Devildom. As loved as you were, in that moment, to be appreciated so deeply was worth more than any love you had known before. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill.

Diavolo noticed and got to his feet, quickly engulfing you in his arms. He held you securely, and that was all you needed to allow a few tears to drip onto his shoulders. In a feeble voice, you whispered against his body, “Thank you.”

“That’s my line,” Diavolo teased and pulled away. He gave you a smile before placing a kiss on your right cheek. Then, the left. He kissed the corner just below your left eye, savoring the precious sight of you closing that eye and scrunching your nose up at him. He did the same on the other side. He kissed your forehead, the bridge of your nose, both corners of your lips, and finally, once all the anticipation had boiled up, and you were grinning, Diavolo placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

When you kissed him back, you returned the sweetness and intensity tenfold – so much so that Diavolo nearly dropped the vase in his hand from surprise. He chuckled against your kiss. I’m supposed to be the one surprising you, he thought.

Without warning, Diavolo lifted you up with one arm. Startled by the sudden movement, you wrapped yourself around him. He walked you towards his bed where he promptly set the vase down on his bedside table. His newly free hand supported your back firmly. You expected him to set you down, too, but he continued to hold you up.

Carefully, you pulled away from him slightly. There was a mischievous look on his face. “Diavolo?”

“We still have a while before Barbatos returns.” Diavolo smirked, running his tongue along one of his canine teeth.

“And?” you teased, knowing full well what that glint in his eyes implied.

Diavolo set you down softly at the edge of the bed and sank to his knees at your feet. He stared up at you through his lashes. One of his hands ran up your leg and squeezed the top of your thigh gently. “Let me give you a reason to feel grateful, too.”

Lucifer (1) | Mammon (2) | Leviathan (3) | Satan (4) | Asmodeus (5) | Beelzebub (6) | Belphegor (7) | Barbatos (9) | Luke (10) | Simeon (11) | Solomon (12) | Thirteen (13) | Raphael (14) | Mephistopheles (15)

A/N: Woo. We're half-way through, now. I wasn't even sure I was going to get over 500 words with this, and it's somehow the longest one so far. I got really into it. I low-key got too into character and cried on behalf of MC. But I can cry really easily if I just get into character. Oops. Hope you enjoy it~

[m2jay]

Soul Touch [Ford x OC]

Here's a little preview of what's in the story. Thanks to the release of "The Book of Bill" and the dating sim game "Swooning Over Stans," I think it was time for me to contribute to the Gravity Falls fandom and write a fanfic. Here's a part of it:

◬◬Bill's POV◬◬

"A X O L O T L! My time has come to burn! I invoke the ancient power that I may return."

        To think that using the last of my powers in Stanley's mind would lead me to this. That damn con artist is really going to get it this time. As I invoked the strength I had left inside, I managed to survive within the cosmos life other deities are able to do. Banished to a realm amongst the stars, I was met with the AXOLOTL. Though soothing of a presence, it's not my style.

        I crave chaos and destruction, one that leaves me with a good laugh. Seeing the terror amongst humans is absolutely amusing, and it's fun to see how far they'll go for their own selfish desires. They live in a meaningless way. There's nothing good about the world they fight so hard to go on in. Why do they fight so hard for a life that just ultimately has so much struggle in the end? Having infinite power is where it's really at. They're all too stupid to understand.

        The party had stopped. Time was dead and meaning had no meaning. Existence was upside-down and I reigned supreme briefly. I had it all. 

        Everything was in my grasp, even ol' Fordsy too. The fact that I was outsmarted by his lesser half is an absolute embarrassment to my existence. It's not fair, and I will get him back, along with the whole damn Pines family. They will get what's coming to them once I get out.

        I've been locked away in Theraprism in Dimension #5150. It's a neutral zone that's outside of time. If I were stronger, I'd have destroyed this useless place. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not in order to get out of here.

        I had many crimes against reality against me. I've done memory laundering, breaking and entering the fabric of space-time, chrono-infanti-regicide, multilevel  marketing, psychic torture, the "2nd-Dimension Incident," and Weirdmageddon. Personally, I don't think this is all that bad to keep me locked up in one of the highest wellness centers of space and time.

        People don't change, not even GODS. Wanna know how to get out of a mental ward, kid? It's faking it. You tell them what they want to hear. You mask everything. Don't be your true self. Trust no one.

        My power isn't as strong as the AXOLOTL, but I still got it. I've managed to fabricate a book that will go out into the Pine's family's dimension. I call it "The Book of Bill." Pretty clever, right? It's pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

        If anything, of all gods, why am I here? Isn't there some Christian entity or something that went against the God or whatever. If anything, why not blame all my atrocities on that guy, huh? Don't a lot of people do that anyways to get away with things? I mean seriously, I'm not the embodiment of bad itself or anything. Let's blame it on that Satan guy. There's so many dimensional timelines, I can't be the ONLY BEING THIS BAD HERE! 

        I can't lose my cool completely here. Heck, not even at all. I need to keep up the façade in order to get out. That's right, and I'll be out here soon. I just know it. My all-seeing eye is still capable of looking through the abundant paths people can take. I see the last opportunity and will take it for myself. 

        Sixer, you're in for something that cannot be fixed. I'll make sure you regret not taking my hand to rule dimensions and travel across galaxies at my side. When I get my hands on you again, I will turn you back into a gold statue that'll be erected onto my record player, forever in a musical dance that spins. You'll be sorry.

        As for your good for nothing brother, there's an end for him that I am counting on. Just you wait, Stanley. Punching my eye and breaking my body in the mind space will be the last time you'll ever lay your mortal hands on me.

        I need to smear my mind blank. The SEA ANGEL of the Theraprism is here. Oh, how she's easy to manipulate. I guess it's why you can consider the gal an angel. It's a shame for her, really, because she's so easy to manipulate. The way she thinks I'm actually changing is HILARIOUS! What a shame for them for when their time comes. They'll all see.

        "Bill Cipher, good stars!" The dim-witted SEA ANGEL greeted happily.

        "Yes, good stars! Haha.." I greeted. 'Haha..'

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

Links to the fanfics will be listed here so far:

Wattpad

Quotev

[artthemasquerade]

Save your soul

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again! You hear me? You're mine, not the demons! I won't let you destroy humanity again!"

Sooo the idea for this picture was that I was feeling like making some unhinged Ryokira but with Akira being the unhinged one this time! Akira having been driven mad by the time loops decides that if he cannot defeat Satan then he'll do everything in his power to keep his wayward lover from destroying humanity again and that means practically chaining Ryo to his side! Ryo is partly frightened by his lover's possessiveness over him, he doesn't know what's gotten into Akira and knows he should try to run far away from him but yet all this attention was something he's had always craved from Akira...

Btw if you like what you see and want a commission drop me a direct message on tumblr, instagram, a note on deviantart or artistree https://artistree.io/missn11

[my-own-walker]

im so sorry it wouldn't let me answer you abt the tate langdon ask, pre death please and thank u

I Can't Handle Change

note: it's been so long since i wrote anything tate. this should be fun!!

summary: pre-death tate gets comfort from the reader after a fight with his mom 🥺

warnings: sad angsty tate, kissing lol,

+++

Little things wore Tate down over time.

He once told me that he spent a whole afternoon picking fresh lilacs and daffodils out of his mother's garden, arranging them into the prettiest bouquet for her. He was 11. If you truly let that sink in, it's astounding that an 11-year-old boy was sweet enough to do that for his mom. Her response to the gesture was to shout at him about ruining all the hard work she'd put into the gardening.

She threw the handmade bunch into the trash right in front of him. Held his head straight to make him watch and all. The pretty purple and yellow petals crashed down into the can with a thunk.

Their relationship didn't change. Especially when Larry came into their lives. Constance was an interesting woman. She was in no way fit to mother the children she birthed. Her narcissistic tendencies drew her to do things to the children that made them resent her. It seemed she resented them right back.

Tate and Constance were constantly at war with each other over the whole Larry thing. He didn't know what he wanted, but it for sure wasn't a new dad. Nothing could truly fill the void inside of him. If anything, his mother and Larry were working in tandem to dig even more out of his soul, shoveling heaps of it out of him and discarding it right before his eyes. Just like Constance did with the flowers.

When I came along things changed for Tate. We met in school. I'd spend afternoons at his place. Somewhere along the way we started dating. He possessed this all-encompassing love within him. Since he was a child, its tendrils reached out, longing for someone to latch onto to disseminate the intense feeling. He was a lover, but also the child of someone with no room for real love in her life.

I embraced his need for connection. His intensity. Tate was emotional and strong-willed. The love he gave me was the warm embrace that you crave on winter's coldest nights. It was slippery quicksand, pulling me in with no regard for my control.

She hated me, Constance. She didn't like my presence. My effect on her 'beautiful boy.' It was a game of cat and mouse. She didn't want his love, but she wanted him to keep trying. The thrill of rejecting him intoxicated her. When I came into Tate's life, he stopped trying to connect with her. He finally found someone that would accept him.

On a rainy day in November, Constance and Tate went at it again. She expressed her intent to keep Larry in his life.

'He's your new father and you have to DEAL with it!' she screamed.

Larry watched from the corner as she slapped Tate across his face. The coward didn't even say a word. No mother should be hitting her son. Instead, Larry wore a smirk so devilish he could be a minion of Satan, for all anyone knew.

Tate didn't even say a word. He stormed out of the door and straight in the direction of my house. I lived two miles away. He trudged all that way in the pouring rain. When he arrived at my doorstep, he was soaked right through to the skin, shivering from the cold. He broke down on my front porch. Body-wracking sobs left his lips as he crouched down into a ball. I pulled him up by his armpits and guided him inside.

When we got to my room, I immediately stripped him of all his wet clothes and gave him some of the stuff I had stolen from his room. A sweater, some loose-fitting jeans, and a cardigan. I wrapped him in the layers, shushing him as he cried through the process. He collapsed into a heap on top of my duvet cover, face in his hands. Still shivering, he let out another heart-wrenching sob.

I hurried over to the bed and wrapped him in my embrace. His head rested on my chest and his body rested in between my legs. I sat up against the headboard, running my fingers through his hair, letting him cry it out. After some time, his cries became softer.

'Nothing I do is ever good enough,' Tate sniffed.

'You know that's not true,' I tutted. 'You are good enough.'

'No,' he whined, 'With her. In her eyes.' I knew he meant his mother. I didn't even have to ask.

'What happened, love?' I asked softly.

'It's just that ugly motherfucker again,' he sighed. 'She keeps saying he's my dad. She wants me to call him dad.' I stared off for a second not sure what to say. I kissed the top of his head.

'You shouldn't have to call him that,' I decided. He sobbed loudly again.

'She hit me, Y/N.'

I gasped and grabbed his head, turning it to make him look at me. And there it was, clear as day. A welt forming over his eye. I couldn't believe I didn't notice it earlier.

'I ignore him now. I don't insult him. I stay away. But now she wants me to call him dad,' he cried. 'Nothing I do is ever good enough. She knows I can't handle change.'

'Oh, baby. I am so sorry,' I whispered. Looking into his glassy eyes, I saw a brokenness I had never seen before. She went too far, as she always did. I kissed the tip of his nose. 'I'm sure that feels great, huh?' I half-laughed, sardonically, running my thumb gently over his swollen face.

His hand reached up and wiped my cheek. I didn't even realize I had started crying, too. I loved him so much and hated to see him hurting.

'Please, don't worry about me,' I said softly. 'I just cry when you cry. I'm a big dork.'

'I love you so much, Y/N,' he rasped.

'I love you more,' I replied. He sat up more so his face was level with mine. Leaning in, he kissed me delicately. He always kissed me so tenderly, his soft lips caressing mine so beautifully. Tate truly meant his kisses. They had intentions behind them. It was his way of saying 'thank you,' or 'I love you.' None of his kisses were meaningless.

The tenderness dissolved into a passion. We had this insatiable need to be closer to one another. We stayed like this for what felt like forever. Kissing in our mutual bliss. His ever-present need to give love and be loved in return was being fulfilled.

And with that, the broken parts of him began to heal again.

+++

Quickie but a goodie! Thank you for this request. I like writing Tate. He's a moody lil boy.