#a strong sweet smell of incense

[holygroundgone]

bed sharing is too stimulating, going on and on about his youthful high temperature and his scent, his unique scent, his male hormones

[just-spacetrash]

😶‍🌫️

[laligraves]

say you're sorry

priest!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2k summary: You ask Father Miller for forgiveness. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, mean!Joel, power imbalance (since Joel is a priest), some proofreading, reader has hair that Joel can grab, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, daddy kink, references to catholicism, oral (m! receiving), some gagging, spanking, lap sitting/riding, unprotected sex, creampie, some very light cum eating

a/n: this is a different priest joel and a different reader from my other priest fic :)

His office is big, airy, smelling of incense and cologne. Theology books and bibles in a few different languages are organized on the wooden shelves. A cross complete with a sorrowful looking Jesus hangs on the wall behind his desk. 

“These figs are divine,” Father Miller groans, “your mother gave me some cuttins’ but I’ve never been able to grow a tree myself.” 

He bites into the fruit and moans at the splash of sweet juice that soaks his tongue. 

“Here, take a bite,” he offers. 

His hands tighten in your hair and he pulls your mouth away from his spit-covered cock. You whimper at the loss but he shushes you with a stern bite, and you quickly comply.  

“Reminds me of somethin’ else that’s sweet,” he whispers as he watches your throat move in a swallow. 

“Please, daddy,” you moan, “I wasn’t done.” 

Father Miller gives you a soft pat on your cheek, trailing his fingers down to tug at the rosary that hangs between your breasts, before pushing your head back onto his cock. 

He spreads his knees wider in his desk chair. 

“What a beautiful way to ask for forgiveness. Figs and your mouth on my cock.” 

If his big dick wasn’t in your mouth, you’d cringe from embarrassment. Your own selfish and jealous actions led to his disappointment and your need to ask for forgiveness. 

“Envy is a sin. You choose to have these emotions and these moments of insecurities,” Father Miller murmurs in that tone that makes you squeeze your thighs. 

“When those thoughts begin, it’s your responsibility to come to confession. You have to talk to me so I can help.”

Father Miller does it again, yanking you back from his cock and tilting up your chin with his finger.

“Did you hear what I just said?” 

“Ye–yes–” 

“Repeat it to me,” he interrupts. 

“I need to–to ask you for help when I’m feeling jealous,” you choke out. 

His hand tightens in your hair and he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. You gag, tears pooling on your waterline from the burn in your throat. 

“Good girl.” 

You want to run your hands down his strong thighs and feel the clench of his muscles, but they’re bound behind your back with your soaked panties. Aside from the rosary, the panties around your wrists are the only clothes you wear. 

You massage your tongue on the thick vein that spans underneath his cock. Spit dribbles down your chin as he begins to move your head up and down. 

“Fuck, just like that, honey,” he groans. “Got such a perfect mouth.”

You moan at the praise. Honey, the name he’s reserved just for you. Even at bible study on Wednesdays and at Mass on Sundays, he’ll call you honey, no matter who's around. 

“Those other women who come here, they seek advice. I can’t turn them away.” 

You let the tears fall from your eyes, partly from the cock spearing down your throat and also from the fact that he’s right. It’s his responsibility to listen to his congregation. 

Even if you know the women stare at him with dreamy eyes and fantasize about his broad shoulders, Father Miller must give them individual attention. 

He clenches his teeth the moment your nose hits the curly hair at his base. You swallow and fight through the burn, sucking at the salty taste of his skin. You clench your thighs again, hoping for any type of stimulation. 

“Aww,” he coos, “what does my poor little sinner need?” 

You whimper on his cock, wanting to move your head away so you can tell him how much you want him, but his hand keeps you in place.

“Nothin’ to say?” he mocks, “You don’t want me to eat your little cunt, honey? Make you cum on my tongue? Just want to keep suckin’ daddy’s cock?” 

Slick drips from your pussy. Mean, mean, mean, you chant in your head. You’re sure you look like a pathetic mess; shivering and crying hard enough to ruin your makeup. 

Father Miller laughs and wipes the tears from your eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” 

You’re roughly pushed off, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick. You continue to sob as he yanks you up by your arms and bends you over his desk.  

“I said enough,” he snaps, landing a hard spank to your ass. “I won’t repeat myself.” 

Your shiver as your tits make contact with the cool surface of the desk. The rosary presses to your chest, indenting the soft skin.

“Such a beautiful cunt for a sinner,” he whispers. 

His hands massage your ass and he pulls apart your cheeks to stare at the puffy mess between your thighs. You try to move out of his grasp, embarrassed at how he can see every delicate inch of you, but he spanks you again. 

“Can’t seem to stay still,” he growls, “after everythin’ you’ve done, you still wanna disappoint me?” 

“N–no, daddy. I’m sorry, I’ll–I’ll stay still.” 

His leather shoe pushes on your ankle and you spread your thighs wide. He runs the tip of his length up your slit, ghosting over your sensitive button. You push your hips back and try to sink onto his cock, but he presses down on your lower back to keep you still. 

“Little sinner,” Father Miller scolds, “instead of trusting me, you accuse me of sleeping with other women. After the oath I gave to this church?” 

“I was wrong! I’m sorry,” you cry, hot tears rolling down and landing on the desk. 

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll help you repent. Count f’me.” 

He moves slightly to the side and uses a large hand to spank you hard on your right cheek. You yelp, immediately choking out a one before feeling his hand massage your other. 

You push up on your tiptoes, presenting your ass to him, hungry for his touch. He starts off soft, slow, squeezing the plump curve of your ass. His palm lands harsher and you welcome the sting of each slap, pushing back into him, heart beating faster with each number. 

Once he gets to fifteen, he lands it right on your pussy. You push up on the desk in surprise and try to beg for more, daddy, please–I’m so close. 

“No more, baby,” he coos, “did so well with your spankin’.” 

“Please, daddy,” you whimper, “please give me your cock. Please fuck me.” 

His hand tugs on your hair and he makes you stand to your full height. 

“This is punishment, honey,” he whispers in your ear, “you’re gonna have to work for my forgiveness.” 

You’re not sure what else he could possibly make you do but he spins you around and you watch as he sits down in his desk chair. 

“C’mere,” he growls. 

His hands wrap around your waist and you're pulled into his lap. You’re unbalanced, still unable to use your hands but he reaches around you to keep you steady.

With his other hand, he teases the fat tip to your entrance.

“You’re gonna ride me. Maybe after I’ll forgive ya’.” 

“Yes, yes,” you chant, slowly sinking down on his cock. 

His strong hands slide to grip your waist and his fingers dig into your soft skin. You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling with blurry eyes, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with each inch that’s stuffed inside of you. 

“That’s it, honey,” he murmurs, “take my cock, take it.” 

You can’t speak, can’t ask for more from your daddy. The angle is new, something you two have never tried before, a stretch that makes you dizzy and the air in your throat stutter. 

He helps you with the last few inches, praising you for having such a perfect cunt, feel so good wrapped around me–made just for me, honey. 

Father Miller gives you time to adjust, kissing your chin, nipping your neck, running his lips over the rosary that sways between your breasts. 

His tongue lashes over your nipples and he sucks as much of your tit as he can get, into his mouth. He’s mean, leaving indents of his teeth on your skin. It’s exactly what you want–what you need. 

He knows right when it’ll become too rough, too much for you, and he’ll kiss, swipe his tongue over the hurt, rain praises on your skin. 

The both of you fit awkwardly on the big chair but you make it work, digging your knees into the leather and bracketing his thighs to grind slowly in his lap.

“Look so pretty on my cock, honey.” 

He’s taken you from behind, bent over his desk with your hands clawing at the wood. He’s taken you in the tiny confessional, your body folded in half while he stares into your eyes as he finishes inside of you. 

Not like this, though. Not with your hands behind your back and his on your waist, helping you bounce and grind on him. 

You tremble in his hold, feel each kiss of his fat cockhead to the syrupy end of you. 

“Ne–need to c–cum,” you choke out, remembering you can use more than just whines and whimpers to talk. 

His cheeks are red, his hair is in disarray, and you notice sweat on his neck, peppering along his clerical collar. His thighs shift underneath you and he plants his feet more firmly on the ground. 

“Wantcha’ to cum on my cock,” he demands. 

Father Miller uses you like a toy, moving your body how he wants it, burning the memory of his cock into your pussy. His lips find yours in a sloppy kiss when you tilt forward, almost falling from how fast he’s using you. 

He’s so big, buried deep in your pussy, splitting you open. Your clit brushes on the curly hair at his base with each rock of his hips and you're there–cumming on Father Miller’s cock, opening your mouth in a silent scream while you shake in his hold. 

You soak his cock and the front of his dress pants with your slick. He’s groaning at each pulse and flutter of your pussy. Take it so well, honey he murmurs around your nipple. Milkin' my cock, baby. 

He moves you up once, twice, and keeps you pressed to him, spilling his seed in your cunt. Without even trying it knocks another orgasm from you, just as you were coming down from the first. 

Father Miller bites at your mouth, bringing up his hand to squeeze your neck and accept his kisses. His cock twitches slightly inside of you as he spills, marking you deep. 

He yanks off your panties and you immediately move your hands into his hair, tugging through the strands and pressing your body even closer to his. Your breathless, shivering in his hold from the two orgasms that were shocked out of your body. 

Just as quickly as it happens, he pushes you off of his lap. You land in a limp heap on the floor, eye level to his soaked cock. It’s covered in the both of you. 

“Give it a kiss, and say you’re sorry.” 

You happily follow his command, pressing a kiss to the tip, licking away the stickiness from your lips and give him a I’m so sorry, daddy. 

He smiles at you before reaching to take the rosary off from your neck and placing it in your hands. You stare up in confusion and watch as he rises to his full height. 

“Now, I want you to kneel here,” he says, grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging your naked body right in front of the cross, “and do two Hail Marys and three Our Fathers.” 

Your thighs shake from the exertion but you do as he says and kneel in perfect form. You bow your head in prayer and begin, hearing him zip up his dress pants and walk out of his office. His cum slowly drips out of your swollen pussy and onto the hardwood floor. 

[metranart]

“I can still smell her on you, you jerk.” Dabi snickered, caressing the skin of Hawk's collarbone with his scarred palm. There was an impregnate smell there... something sweet, like lingering flowers— Fairly quickly, he realized that the smell was originally and undoubtedly, YOURS.

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 13)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

Keigo didn't protest, didn’t even let a sound leave his throat despite the pain his body was in. He just allowed the villain to explore his mouth, his pierced tongue felt amazingly good as it danced fiercely against his bare tongue.

Dabi’s hands went down to grip his lower back and brought their bodies closer together. Keigo braced himself against his chest, babbling when the fire-user wasted no time and pressed his face into his jaw, licking, kissing, teasing him with teeth.

“What nonsense are you babbling, pigeon?” Dabi’s breathing was so raggedly it pained his own lungs. Hawks mumbled again.

“Louder-” the Todoroki commanded against the shell of his ear, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “—What’s that?”

“(Y/N).” The Hero was calling for you to Dabi’s amazement, it sounded so desperate and needy. “Baby bird, I want-I want my sweet girl-…. please~”

“You are sicker than I remembered,” Dabi sneered between kisses. "Or you already forgot, birdbrains?”

Keigo shifted under him. “Forget what?”

As he moved back to his neck, Dabi snickered gluing his face against the skin of Keigo’s neck to inhale sharply through his nose, and the remaining of your sweet scent stirred a diabolic frenzy in his gut.

“You assaulted this girl-....” he reminded him, “now calling her yours doesn't make it true—” 

“I—" Keigo choked on his next words, and soon felt Dabi’s hands fumbling with his belt, nimbly undoing it to then zip down his pants. 

“When you spread her thighs apart for you, well-” his large hand reached into his trousers pulling out his erect cock to caress it between his fingers, fascinated with the way the Blond's cheeks bloomed with heat. “-I really doubt she appreciated it as much as you did.”

“She understood! she did—… I couldn't control myself-... my rut response, she turned it on-… and” Hawks was growing anxious, and that send an energetic heat up Dabi’s spine. It was too easy to play with Keigo’s hormonal mind, especially when he was rutting so bad to have you, back. Doubt crawled over his skin.

“I can still smell her on you, you jerk.” Dabi said, caressing the skin of his collarbone with his scarred hand.

There was an impregnate smell when he took shallow breaths into his skin... something sweet, like lingering flowers, or fragrant incense— Fairly quickly, he realized that the smell was originally and undoubtedly, yours.

Dabi glared at him in puzzled amusement, as if the fact that your scent was so strong, and he could still smell it now, was outrageous. “—Did you even had the courtesy to pull out before cumming?”

“Shut up,” Hawks seethed quietly, teeth baring. “You are the least likely to ask that.” He sounded somehow offended by the mere question.

Worst of all, Dabi smirked, a wicked twist on his lips as he took another whiff of your lingering scent. You smelled damn good. Did this smell characterize you? He licked his lips thinking about how much it would intensify being face to face, Keigo didn’t like it one bit.

He recognized the wild look of violence on his face, and the lust shinning in his hazy eyes was anticipated. Nevertheless, the fat erection he felt pressing against his leg, wasn’t. Hawks stared wide-eyed as the sinking realization came over him.

“.... If you come a fucking inch close to her, I’m going to—”

The air was knocked out of his lungs, and with it, a nasty warning which Dabi shoved back into his lips with a toothy kiss.

“I don’t want you—” Hawks hissed between muffled smooches and Dabi clamped a too-warm hand over his mouth and pressed hard. Hawks stood still at the blazing heat and soon Dabi’s forehead pressed on his, feverish and sweaty. 

“You don’t want me, huh?” His eyes, like blue-burned coals, pierced into his golden pools of honey. Keigo could already smell the heat smoldering off of him. “You want her, don' cha? 

The flame-bender lost an unhinged, shaky breath. “Here she is, birdy.”

Dabi flipped him around violently and smashed his face into the dirty ground, his naked chest pressed to the hero's clothed back, hips drawn together, just the fabric of their trousers unplugging them apart. Dabi had twisted Keigo into a submissive stance where he was in control.

“Look at her!” One of his hands wrapped around Keigo’s jaw while the other snaked around his long, hard cock. “Look at her pretty face twisted by a grimace of pain-" Dabi forced him to look at the photos scattered on the ground. 

"No pain,” Hawk’s hand tugged at the one on his jaw, inadvertently digging into his staples. “That’s pure and raw pleasure....” Dabi was so turned on, he was dangerously insensitive to the hurt that bloomed on the back of his palm, “—my baby bird came so many times on my cock, I lost count.” 

Unthinking, Dabi squeezed at his engorged cock, wrenching himself impossibly closer against him. 

“It's the lies we tell ourselves what make us villains.”

The raven-haired mouthed against his ear, slowly starting to jack the Hero off, and Keigo mewled, deep and husky, only serving to inflame his arousal. The winged hero didn’t even know why his body started reacting the way it was, when he was noticeable enraged with the Todoroki. Even so, his whole frame rutted against his, seeking to bring friction for his aching cock.

“(Y/N)~” 

The blond called for you again, imagining that it was your hand hugging his swollen cock, your small and fragile hand increasing the speed on his thrusts, your tender palm synchronizing with the abrupt movement of his hips as he searched for his release. It was YOU jerking him off, willingly. YOU wanting to see him in pleasurable trance, raptured in thrill and joy. YOU, wanting him to spill himself all over your fingers. 

“Yes, baby bird! Fuck—” 

Dabi’s mouth went to his neck, but applied nor kisses nor bites. He just pressed against the skin and breathed in pants as he let himself be jack off by the euphoric rubbing of Hawk’s ass against his clothed erection. 

“Fuck,” the villain sputtered out angrily, disoriented, and his fingers warmed into his skin. Hawks moaned against his palm, both in pain and unbidden pleasure. “Does-Does it feels nice, birdbrains?” The Todoroki stuttered against his ear as his warm palm kept a calculated pumping motion over his shaft.

“It-It feels...-feels fu-.... fucking amazing, baby—MY baby bird.” The stuttering laughter on Touya’s chest was palpable against his back. 

“You, awfully amusing—delusional narcissist” Dabi chuckled out a sharp moan, and tilted Hawks’s chin up crashing his lips against his in a bruising tangle of saliva, solid tongue against solid tongue in an impish ballet of wills.

Dabi was doing things with his mouth that shouldn’t have been possible. It should have been illegal, no wonder why he was one of the most feared villains. The sensations, the velvety, experienced tongue, the piercings decorating it. All so functional and alive against his own mouth. 

Dabi Todoroki felt like you. Less tender and more abrasive, nevertheless, you were similar...both passionate creatures he ought to bow to. If he put you together in the same bed with him, it would undoubtedly be a night to remember and hold on to for the rest of his orchestrated existence.

“(Y/N), suck my tongue~” he begged, and the villain conceded all too happy. 

The lewd sound of his stapled fist pumping the Hero’s heated piece of meat made him hiss a low and dangerous curse against his lips. 

For some reason this intimate act of angry lust infused in allorgasmia tints was more fulfilling than when they'd fucked by nature's mere design. Hawks used to arrive urged and salivating, begging to be attended to during his rut, and Dabi just wanted a hot and ready hole to deposit his vast and excessive, load. It was a good deal. It never involved feelings or anything as fool as that. Just instinct, raw and frenetic.  

Dabi wanted more of that, he wanted Takami Keigo on the brink of insanity, unfortunately for the blond, the flaming villain knew by heart how to reach his perverse goal.

“—Wouldn't you rather, your baby bird,” Touya Todoroki started, he also knew how to tweet pretty as the birds did, he could play the right notes to disarray his victim’s feathers, “—to surrender her body for your use rather than taking initiative yourself, blondie?” 

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes! I want that... -so, SO bad!” Dabi laughed throatily at Keigo’s reaction. 

“You could be squeezing that perfect pair of tits together and sliding this fat, veiny cock between them,” his fist caressed the Blond's erection insistently, from head to base and back to head again, letting the pad of his thumb massage the mushroom tip in lazy, continuous motions until he felt the shivers quaking his whole frame, “rutting into her until you came inside her fertile womb, her gummy walls milking ‘till the last ounce of cum from your heavy and full, balls.” Dabi chuckled coarsely, “she, resigned to lie there and let you.”   

“FUCK, YES!” Takami Keigo blasted, his forehead glued to the photos on the floor, his only tie to you, his only source of comfort was you and only you. Those photos would help him get through the entire month.

Dabi utterly ignored his laughable clinginess. It had nothing to do with him, and instead, pushed for his own entertainment.

The fire-bender was only concerned with the heat. All that bristled his scarred skin was the butterfly-fluttering feeling of that blessed heat, that came from raw domination. All he could think of now was you, not even Keigo anymore.... YOU –the picture of Keigo's baby bird’s being fucked against a trash can would have to suffice this time.

Your lips parted in thunderstruck dazzlement, dry, and begging to be wetted by his pierced tongue– 

Yes! You ought to be touched appropriately, by a meaningful man, not a double agent-spy who didn't even know how to please you, properly.

There was a shaky commotion as Hawks came hard and plenty all over his stapled fingers, and then a needy curse that Dabi distantly recognized as Keigo's after-coital pleadings.

“Don’t let go—hold my cock inside your warm palm…” requested in lost fervor a flippant, Keigo. 

“As pathetically needy as ever—but I’ll buy…. Why?” Dabi mused, condescension taking an amusing upgrade in his voice. His quirk-induced palm, still holding him tight. 

“Because-Because I want to pretend that I am inside her-…” he declared without a trace of shame or embarrassment, “deep inside MY sweet and beautiful, baby bird. She´s so warm and perfect~” 

Hawks sounded delirious, no doubt still lost in the mist of orgasm, and that obvious vulnerability deflated Dabi's need to come, and inflated his need to seize the moment.

“So, she wasn´t just a spurt of the moment—” Keigo denied his head hard, almost offended by the insinuation. “She’s way too precious to me.”  

“Must be some rut thing of you, birdbrains” he conceded, slowly but concealingly milking the last drops out of Keigo’s now-flaccid cock, “you’re the only person I know who builds nests and woos his mate so devotedly—…in other words, the girl’s not special…more like just a whim of your beating and blinding, instinct, so to speak.” Dabi stated, matter-of-factly at the panting figure under his solid frame.

“She’s SPECIAL—specially created for me…” Keigo declared, his heaving lips pouting a little. Dabi chuckled, finally untangling his palm off his dormant cock. 

“You’re going to kill her with that monstrous cock you carry between your legs,” he smeared some ropey lines of cum between his forefinger and his thumb before continuing, “Your Hero name should be: Vlad, the Impaler—” 

Keigo huffed, unamused. 

“She’s built to take me in with no problem, I filled her so well last time… you could even see the shape of my cock inside her tummy, regardless, she was whole, just like that…” the blond sounded amazed, and Dabi thought to himself: sure, I saw it-...it’s printed on paper. Nevertheless, he kept those thoughts to himself. “—I’ve never been able to bottom down on someone like I did with her…” 

Instantly and almost fiercely, Hawks shrugged away from Dabi’s dominant touch, and the villain allowed it, playing perfectly the part of the understanding lover and the ‘good’ friend.

“…I still don’t understand how you didn’t send her to the hospital—” and there was when Keigo made the worst mistake of his entire life. 

“Her quirk.” He shared, flatly, slowly fixing his pants on his hips, buckling his leather belt as if he weren't revealing your biggest weapon. “She has the ability to cure anything, my baby bird has a very special quirk—similar to that of recovery girl.” The blond boasted very proudly, too distracted by the villain’s pampering attitude and his own endorphin-flooded brain to realize that he had doomed you. 

Dabi didn’t reply, and he merely grinned. One of those dangerous grins that characterized him. All tooth and sinfully, corrupt.

Dabi’s turquoise eyes gleamed with something akin thrill, beloved malice, the Hero just spatted what he inched to know… Just what he suspected. 

You were the key to his revenge. You would help him kill his father and end his filthy lineage. You would cure his body from the fire that afflicted him. You would allow him to become more powerful than anyone. You would be HIS…

COMING SOON PART 14....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story 🥵

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts

[lunnybunny12]

Stolas x wife reader (happy families)

(part 1)

Masterlist

Requests open

A Goetia party was always a talking point in hell. And for good reason. From kings to lowborns, everyone and anyone from the Goitias were invited.

The hall was practically dripping with wealth. Ladies draped with the finest silks and velvets, in floor-length gowns and sprinkled with jewels and gems. The gentlemen, groomed to perfection, wore luxurious suits with matching: shirts, hats, tailcoats and cloaks. The smell of the fine food, collected from all across the seven rings drifted through the air along with a strong smell of absynthe and incense.

It was a classy affair, at least you would've thought so if you weren't 5 years old. In your little bird brain, you hated these parties. Granted this was your first one but you couldn't imagine anything more boring. So far you have been: stepped on, pushed and pulled in all directions, danced and if you smiled any more your lips would fall apart.

Your mother, on the other hand, lived for them. When you were small your mother would always pawn you off to a babysitter so she could be at a party. Every year she would work for at least a month to prepare for the occasion.

Not a single feather was out of place that night. Her talons and beak were buffed and polished and there wasn't a spec of anything but elegance ( and annoyance) on her.

"(Y/N)! stop fidgeting you'll ruin my dress" she crowed, dragging you behind her.

"But Mama I-"

Your mother sent you a look that choked the words in your throat and bent down to dust off your dress.

"No buts. you be on your best behaviour. I won't have you embarrass me in front of a king"

Faster than you could comprehend, your mother composed herself and shoved you in front of her.

You slammed face-first into something. Tears were pooling at the corners of your eyes when a sweet voice said "Oh goodness, I'm sorry are you alright?

The boy in front of you was around your age maybe a year older. He was an inch or two taller than you and had 2 large, kind, red eyes that met yours.

"This is my daughter (Y/N). Isn't she just... Precious" your mother said pulling her face into the biggest smile you'd ever seen.

Your eyes travelled up to who she was talking to. The man toward over you and your mother. His blood-red eyes stared down at you like he was staring into your soul.

The owl grumbled to himself before planting a fake smile on his face.

"Isn't she darling? Allow me to introduce my son... uh. Fuck, what's your name?"

"Stolas, father."

"STOLAS! of course. My son, Prince Stolas."

The young owl lowered his head earning a slap.

"Don't bow to THAT one. They bow to us." The man hissed.

Your mother grabbed the back of your neck and forced you into a bow, making you slip and fall into Stolas, who caught you.

"(Y/N)!" your mother whispered sharply, tearing you away from Stolas and dragging you behind her.

The whole time you felt your mother's claws dig into your skin making you wince in pain.

Eventually, when your mother let you go you managed to sneak away and scurried to the first place you could find, under a table.

It wasn't the worst place to hide, the tablecloth draped down to the floor on all sides so you couldn't be seen. Through your misty eyes, you'd see shadows pass by. If you weren't so upset you'd actually enjoy your little nook.

"Hello?" someone hooted to you.

You immediately dried your face and tried to stand, hitting your head on the underside of the table.

You locked eyes with the young prince, who by this point was fully under the table with you, and fell face-first to the ground in embarrassment.

Stolas crawled to you with a slight giggle in his voice. "Are you ok?"

"Yes Your Highness I'm fine. My head hurts that's all." You mumbled into the carpet.

"Here let's get you to sit up. I can't really hear you."

Stolas could see that you were upset, your eyes were still puffy and your face was wet.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

You sniffled and fake smiled "Im alright Your Highness"

"Please call me Stolas" he lowered his head to a bow

[denpa-dere]

house arrest 1

afab!mc x mammon

description: NSFW, very fluffy, you are confined to your room for your own protection. But how long will that last when the only thing standing between you and your housemates is a door and some willpower? For Mammon, less than 24 hours.

warnings: Capital B breeding kink with talks of impregnation, afab reader with she/her pronouns, face sitting, dub con if you squint due to a misunderstanding. Mammon is a love sick fool for you.

|| Intro || Mammon || Asmo (mini) || Levi || Satan (mini) || Beel || Lucifer (mini) || Asmo || Belphie (mini) || Belphie || Barbatos (mini) || Satan || Diavolo (mini) ||

If there was anyone you could count on, it was Mammon.

Mammon, who was your first man.

Mammon, who was your partner in crime.

Mammon, who was practically crawling up the wall with need to be with you right now.

He pressed a pillow over his face and groaned into it. This was stupid. He felt stupid. You made him feel stupid. This morning, chaos swept through their home as soon as you rounded the corner. At first, you hadn’t noticed heads snapping one-by-one in your direction as you made your way to your usual spot at the table, serving yourself coffee whilst a dawning realization crept in amongst himself and his brothers.

When the atmosphere felt sufficiently suffocating, you looked up to find seven pairs of eyes boring holes into your skull. Mammon had wanted to scoop you up then and there, to hide you away in the safety of his room where you both could be alone he alone could protect you. 

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. His knuckles ached from the hole he had punched through the dining room wall in the ensuing scuffle. He didn't want to think about it. Lucifer had already let everyone off easy, seemingly too concerned with how to tactfully explain your absence to Lord Diavolo to string anyone up for fighting. Besides, it's not like Mammon was actually angry with anyone. Things just got out of hand.

He just didn't like how they were looking at you. That's all. 

Only he was allowed to look at you like that. 

Mammon chucked his pillow at the floor, but it didn't satisfy the irritation welling up in his gut. Every nerve in his body felt like it was screaming to be closer to you. He wondered if you could feel it, too. Surely, your bond with The Great Mammon was strong enough that you could sense his distress, right? You wanted him too, right? That's why you let this happen? 

It's not like there'd be any harm in checking on you. You were his responsibility, after all. You were his human! He'd be quick about it, he reasoned. One quick trip to make sure no one was bothering you and he'd be back before Lucifer even noticed he was missing. 

By the time he finished that thought, Mammon was already half way down the hall. 

___

You jumped when you heard rapping at your door. It wasn't like anyone in this house to knock. 

"Human, it's me," Mammon hissed. 

You cracked your bedroom door, poking your head out to briefly scan the hallway for interlopers. 

"Mamms, what are you doing here?" You asked in a harsh whisper and yanked him by the hand into your room, "Hurry before someone sees you!" 

Mammon stumbled. Normally, he might have snapped at you for acting like you could push him around, but it was difficult to form words when he felt like he had been plunged headfirst into a pool of your scent. He had secretly always liked your smell, soft and sweet and indescribably you. It had taken on a headier shade, one that sank into his brain like an incense. There was something else, too. His stomach churned- Lucifer had been here, recently. 

Of course he had. So, why did that piss him off? 

"Mammon, you alright?" You called to him, louder this time. You looked so fragile, he thought, arms wrapped around yourself protectively. Surrounded by demons itching to take you apart piece by piece, right down to your pretty little soul, and you were asking if he was okay?

No, he wasn't okay. He waved you off dismissively, anyway. Mammon stalked off over to your bed to create some distance. He took a seat at the edge and began to pick at a loose thread on your comforter. 

"I should be asking you that," He mumbled, face heating up. You began to close the gap between you two, arms still folded over your chest. The closer you stood, the quicker his resolve for an altruistic alibi crumbled, until you were right in front of him, cupping his face in your hands in that way that shot electric currents down his spine and out through his toes. The same way you did back when you kissed him for the first time, setting him on this confusing track in the first place. 

"It's just me, Mamms," You soothed, brushing your thumb over his cheek. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the swell of your stomach. The second-born grumbled something unintelligible and hoped you understood anyway.

A part of him foolishly hoped that visiting you would be enough to quell the terrible magnetic pull you had on him. Now, face pressed into the warm softness of your body, Mammon could admit he'd maybe let his greed lead him astray, again. 

His head felt cloudy. He nuzzled into your belly, nose pushing up the bottom of your shirt, and stared up at you with honey-blue eyes. You were so pretty, he thought, his pretty little human who waited so patiently for her man to come find her in her time of need. 

He wasn't thinking straight, letting his hands drift up and down your sides. It felt natural to hold you like this, to leave trails of goosebumps along your skin. A sensitive spot under your ribs drew a small whine from your throat and Mammon exhaled sharply. Don’t you know what noises like that do to him?

He tugged and you fell into his lap with a yelp. He was on you in an instant, nipping along your neck, hands up your shirt, nails scratching lightly down your back. Mammon rocked his hips against you, wanting you to feel just how hard you made him.

You sighed his name at the friction. The Avatar of Greed deigned not to answer, choosing to recline back against the headboard with you on top of him. 

“I don’t know if this is a good idea-” You weren’t given a chance to finish your concern.

He pulled at your shirt roughly, taking your bra off with it. He hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts and pulled them halfway down your thighs, pausing briefly to admire the wet patch spreading on your panties. Were you already so worked up for him? 

Mammon grabbed your hand, guiding it to the erection tenting in his pants. He moaned sweetly for you when your fingers grazed him. Please don’t stop now. You mercifully did not stop, instead deftly working to undo his fly and maneuver his bottoms off his hips. His heavy cock fell against his stomach, twitching and aching for attention. 

"C'mere, c'mere," He ushered you forward, gently guiding you, adjusting until you hovered over his face. He felt like he was losing his mind having you so close and couldn't resist placing a kiss on your pussy over your panties, groaning into the damp fabric.

You gasped, reaching for the headboard to steady yourself. Mammon crooked a finger into your underwear, pulling them to the side for better access. When you felt his hot breath ghost over your skin, you were already dripping. When he brought his lips to yours, you could have cried. He eased your weight onto him, drunk on your taste. 

"F-fuck, Mammon," You mewled. The hold he had on you rendered you powerless to do much more than roll your hips against his mouth. Each pass of his tongue through your folds teased something animalistic in him that at the best of times he'd be hopeless to describe. But he knew he needed you, and even this was beginning to not feel like enough. Determined to send you over the edge, the demon sucked on your clit and savored how you cried for him. 

That animalistic something in Mammon snapped like a rubberband. He couldn't wait anymore. Your body was begging to be bred and he was going to be the one to take care of you. You were putty in his hands when he moved to lay your back flat against the mattress. Wanting nothing between you, he quickly shrugged off his shirt, then fell forward to meet you in a needy kiss. 

A brief moment of lucidity flickered behind Mammon's eyes when you parted. Fuck, he loved you. He couldn't always say it, but he wanted everyone to know it. 

So, what could be more undeniable, he wondered, rubbing his cock against you, gathering the slick of your cunt, than making you swell with his child? A low growl rumbled in his chest when he pushed into you. You clung to him and he felt his heart burst. 

" 'll fuck you as many times as it takes," He slurred in your ear, "Fill you up again and again until…" Each word of his muddled thoughts was emphasized by a sharp snap of his hips against yours. He didn't understand why you had opted to choose him as your mate now, like this, but he was deliriously happy to give you what you wanted. As long as you kept looking at him like this, holding him like this, loving him like this, he'd give you anything. 

You writhed beneath him, one hand buried in his snowy hair, the other stroking his back, toying with his wings that fluttered with a mind of their own. This was the first time you had gone this far with him, but you could tell by how he pulsed and throbbed inside of you that he wasn't going to last.

"So good for me, treasure, you feel so good," Once he started babbling, Mammon found that he couldn't stop. His voice was low and intense in your ear, "Gonna' cum- feel so fucking good. Fuck, baby, please, I'm gonna cum, please, please-" 

Your velvety walls fluttered around him, causing his breath to hitch. He kissed you again urgently, tongue sliding against yours as he painted your insides white. He ground his hips against you, pushing his seed in deeper in the hopes it would stick. Mammon slowed, then parted from your kiss, a lewd string of saliva connecting you. 

The door clicked open. 

___

"Your shibari needs work."

Lucifer refused to look at you, tying off the ropes binding Mammon to the ceiling. 

"If you touch these ropes, you'll be who I practice on next," The first-born seethed. 

"Look on the bright side," You shrugged, "Only 5 more days to go."

"LEAVE."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Perfumery Vocabulary

Absolute - An extraction from a concrete using alcohol. The essential oil of scented flowers and other aromatic plant parts in its purest and most concentrated form. It is extremely expensive. A few important oils used in an absolute form are: geranium, lavender, lily, and rose.

Accord - A combination of a number of different scents which blend together to produce a new fragrance.

Agrestic - "Of the countryside"; odours of heather, forest depths, and the meadow.

Aldehydes - Aromatic chemicals isolated for the first time in the 19th century, but that also occur naturally. Certain aldehydes provide an increased diffusiveness, sparkle, and lift to perfumes, most famously in Chanel No. 5.

Almondy - Bittersweet, soft, and nutty scent.

Amber - An accord in perfumery that is supposed to recall the qualities of ambergris. It is often constructed with labdanum, Tolu balsam, or Peru balsam. Often an accord in Oriental perfumes.

Ambergris - A highly prized perfume ingredient consisting of the oxidized excretion from a sperm whale. It is rarely used in its natural form in perfumery because of its rarity, exorbitant cost, and concerns about sourcing ambergris from live whales rather than from shore-found ambergris. It’s said to have an earthy, sweet, tobacco, and pleasantly animalic scent. It primarily works to bring out other notes in perfumery rather than to impart a particular scent on its own.

Ambrein - The primary scented molecule in ambergris, isolated and used in perfumery. It’s warm, sweet, vanillic, and ambery, with facets of spice and tobacco.

Animalic - Describes fragrances with animal ingredients in natural or synthetic form, including civet, castoreum, musk, or ambergris. The voluptuous, erotic, and sometimes disturbing quality of animalic perfumes can register in an olfactory way, as something “dirty” or animal-smelling, or as a feeling, a mood, or a quality. Sometimes, it can be both.

Aromatic - Having a strong or distinctive smell.

B—E

Balance - A combination of different fragrance notes so adjusted in proportion to one another that none of the individual notes is more prominent than any of the others.

Balsamic - The resin from the bark of trees and shrubs (Peru, Tolu, styrax) that have a rich vanilla scent. Balsamic is a term used to describe perfumes with the soft, ambery aspects these resins impart.

Benzoin - A sweet, balsamic resin used in incense and as a base note in perfume for its vanillic scent and fixative properties. Also known as styrax because it comes from the bark of the styrax tree.

Bergamot - The essential oil from the peel of the nonedible Citrus aurantium fruit that looks like a small orange. Its sweetish, mellow lemony scent is a crucial top note in perfumery.

Calone - A synthetic “marine” note that is supposed to evoke the freshness of the ocean. It has a slight watermelon facet.

Camphoraceous - Describes a fresh, clean, medical fragrance.

Caramel - Sweet, rich, creamy, buttery scent.

Cardamom - An intensely aromatic, sweet spice from the ginger family, in the form of a pod filled with seeds.

Carnation - A smoky, sweet, and clove-like scent, the latter facet due to Eugenol, the primary component of clove.

Cassis - (or black currant bud) A sharp, fruity, almost cat-urine-like scented perfume note.

Cistus - (or Labdanum) A resin from the rockrose bush, traditionally gathered from goats’ beards as they fed on the plant. Labdanum is said to be the note closest to the scent of ambergris. Creamy, soft, vanillic.

Citrus - Fresh, light fragrance characteristic of citrus fruits, but also imitated synthetically.

Civet - In classical perfumery, the cream harvested from the anal gland of the mongoose-like civet animal, often described as cat like. Fecal-smelling when undiluted, civet “rounds” out other notes when used judiciously. Famous as an overdosed note in Guerlain’s Jicky (1889), it is considered one of the first abstract modern scents. Civet is primarily in synthetic form now.

Clove - An aromatic spice similar to cinnamon, but less sweet. Its primary component is Eugenol.

Coniferous - The fragrance note of pine, spruce, juniper and similar such trees, often used in men's fragrances.

Diffusive - A perfume whose fragrance quickly becomes apparent in the air surrounding the wearer.

Dry - The aromatic effect of perfume ingredients such as woods and mosses in contrast to sweet and warm fragrances.

Earthy - The subtle fragrance impression of earth or earth-mould which is found in certain essential oils such as vetiver and patchouli.

Equine - Notes of hay and leather.

F—M

Floral - The general fragrance of flowers.

Fruity - Citrus, berries, tropical, and other non-citrus fruit scents.

Fungal - Molds, yeast, and mushroom scents.

Green - General fragrance of grasses and green plant parts.

Harmony - A pleasing combination of fragrance notes.

Hayfield notes - Usually based on coumarin, which have an odour of new-mown hay.

Heavy - Denotes a fragrance in which the least volatile ingredients, such as mossy or animalic ones, are dominant, giving a very strong effect. Such fragrances are mostly used in chypre and oriental-type perfumes.

Herbaceous - The characteristic general fragrance of herbs and herbal medicines. Sage, rosemary and lavender are examples.

Honey - Used as an ingredient in early Arab perfumes and appears in later European ones (e.g., Honey Water). In modern perfumery a substance providing the sweet aromatic effect of honey and known as Honey (or Miel) is manufactured synthetically.

Indolic - The disquieting, ripe, animalic, and almost excremental facet of scents.

Leather - A perfume accord and category of perfume constructed from various notes, including birch tar, styrax, castoreum, and a variety of synthetic notes.

Light - Delicate, clean, and fresh-laundry scent.

Marine - Iodized scent.

Mellow - Soothing and calming scent.

Metallic - A fragrance reminiscent of metal, providing a clean, cool effect. Metallic notes are used in perfumes to assist in promoting an effect, not as main fragrances.

Minty - A fragrance reminiscent of mint, e.g., peppermint or spearmint. Such fragances are usually used to provide a special, fresh effect in a top note.

Mossy - The general odour of oils obtained from mosses and lichens.

Musk - Produced by the musk deer and excreted by the male during mating season. Musk deer were killed almost to extinction for their valuable musk glands, which were dried, and whose musk “seeds” were removed and steeped in alcohol to create tinctures for perfume. The scent of real musk is warm, with depth and a dark animalic aroma. Many synthetics now can mimic musk scent, but one of the most superior musk synthetics, nitro-musks, which were in Chanel No. 5 and countless other vintages, has been banned due to toxicity concerns. Musk can also be substituted with plant ingredients including ambrette seed and angelica.

Musty - Damp, earthy, or stale odor.

N—W

Narcotic - Exceptionally strong and heavy fragrances obtained from some flowers (e.g. jasmine and tuberose) and animalic ingredients, which need to be used with careful discretion in a perfume.

Ozonic - A perfume accord that attempts to create the smell of fresh air after a thunderstorm.

Peppery - Odour of pepper.

Powdery - Soft and clean scent.

Rich - Fragrances that have numerous layers, notes, and accords in all stages (top, mid, base), creating a multifaceted feel.

Rounded - The overall smoothness and fullness of a fragrance.

Sharp - A strong scent.

Smoky - The slight smell of smoke created in a perfume by certain oils such as Birch Tar Oil. It is used in men's fragrances to provide a leathery effect.

Spicy - Describes in general the distinctive fragrance of essential oils which have been obtained from spices.

Sweet - A sweet and rather sugar-like fragrance such as vanilla.

Tobacco - Fragrances resembling cured tobaccos, which are particularly popular in masculine toiletries.

Wintergreen - Has a very powerful and fresh, medicinal odour.

Woody - Fragrances reminiscent of wood. These fragrances are provided by wood oils, such as cedar, by essential oils from other plants having a wood-like aroma, such as patchouli, and by synthetics.

Sources: Perfume: The Art and Craft of Fragrance by Karen Gilbert ⚜ The Perfume Handbook by Nigel Groom ⚜ Scent & Subversion by Barbara Herman ⚜ Scent: A Natural History of Fragrance by Elise Vernon Pearlstine ⚜ Introduction to Perfumery by Tony Curtis & David G. Williams ⚜ The Big Book of Perfume

More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References ⚜ Describing Scent

[dreamerdeity]

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄 ('𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄)

*ೃ𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Il Dottore x Fem. Reader

*ೃ𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.2k

*ೃ𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Sleep deprived, overworked, a report requested by your Lord Harbinger. Just place it on his desk and leave–or take a nap on his luxurious leather couch before you do. What could go wrong? Well, a lot, apparently.

*ೃ𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT!!! Dead dove: do not eat. Somnophilia, non-con like straight up r*pe, subordinate x superior, scary delusional rationalizer-dottore, p in v, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, dottore thinks he's actually a nice guy, dottore is in fact just a creepy guy, dottore acts like a silly (like a psychopath), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! others, please proceed at your own risk!

*ೃ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Hi lovelies! I meant to post this yesterday but had some things to take care of so didn't get around to it. This is a request part of @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event. DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE WARNINGS!! If my shit gets flagged one more time I'm going to kms. anyway, I hope you all enjoy dottore being a literal psychopath. byee :3

KEIRA'S FUNDRAISING EVENT 🍉

You walk through the east wing of the Sumeruan Fatui Research Facility, your eyes heavy and your senses numb from lack of sleep. The only sound that rings through your ears is the faint clicking of your shoes against the rubber flooring. 

The strong scent of antiseptic has always fared excellently in keeping you awake, and you thank the archons for its potent presence in this sterilized hallway as your eyes scan over the various signs plastered on the walls. Il Dottore, Il Dottore, Il Dottore. What turn should you take? What sign bears the arrow to his private laboratory? Frankly, if it were up to you, you would've shoved the responsibility of delivering this report to Lord Dottore onto Mikhael, but he feared the harbinger even more than you did, so here you were, left to take one for the team while sleep deprived, cranky, nervous, and somewhat afraid all at once.

It was a bit of a long walk–marked by frustrated sighs and irritated mutters of disapproval at your own dull sense of direction–to Dottore's personal lab, and you weren't even sure he would be there. He's always been the most eccentric of the harbingers, which is then, relatively, extremely eccentric, and his work hours never conformed to normal people's. You round a corner and turn one last left, before a large fortified iron door faces you ever so imposingly, a towering frame that stands a solid ten feet above you, and you sigh in relief. "Il Dottore" painted in bright white slashes across the door, and you hesitantly stretch your hand out–to knock... or maybe to open the imposing slab of metal. A second passes, and as it turns out, you don't have to choose, because the door slides open automatically, a faint mechanical whirr resounding throughout the premises.

You stride in quickly. A sickeningly sweet scent permeates the air around you, the fragrance wafting off the incense sticks burning at the harbinger's desk. You fleetingly wonder how on earth he could stand the oppressively strong smell, but that doesn't matter right now. Dottore isn't here, you have the report in your hand, tucked neatly into a blue folder (Dottore insisted all papers delivered to him must be so in blue folders only. Not green, not yellow. Blue). All you had to do was set it on your Lord Harbinger's desk and get the hell out of here before he returned. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with intense heart palpitations as he questions you about one thing or the other, or goes on a philosophical rant that you didn't ask to hear while laughing manically as his terrifyingly sharp fangs glint under the white light.  Yup, no way. So, you set the folder onto the pristine oak desk, eyes still heavy and head pounding from your lack of sleep.

A soft breath of relief furls past your lips as soon as the folder hits the desk, and then, you try to turn on your heel and get out of here. Keyword: try, because just as you resign yourself to leaving, your gaze strays to the long, plush, brown leather sofa seated at the corner of the office-meets-laboratory. Fuck, that looks comfortable–no, what in the world were you thinking?! Get out, you mentally scream at yourself. 

Yet, the more logical part of your brain has shut down, and a tired sigh leaves you as you stumble over to the couch. Just a second. You're so, so sleepy. Just a second and then you'll leave, you think, and plop onto the cushions. Your mind is blank, and your limbs feel like they're weighed down by lead. You blink slowly, your body sinks into the soft leather. This sofa must have cost your entire annual salary, what with how comfortable it is. A faint moan bubbles up your throat at the feeling of being engulfed in softness like this, and your eyelids droop. Before you can register, you're slipping away, into the inescapable depths of sleep.

Out like a light. 

It could've been 10 minutes, it could've been an hour, or it could've been all day, but at some point, your name is called, and you're too deep into the recesses of unconsciousness to process it as a word. All it manifests as is a distant voice spinning around your head.

Dottore had trudged into his lab after a rather exhausting day of fieldwork, of examining poisonous flower samples on the outskirts of Avidya Forest with the diligence of the... scientist he was. The deep velvet of his voice uttered your name, and when he received no response, he hummed to himself. He continues to stand over you now, gazing down with the eyes of a predator and the smile of a fox

"Didn't see you there," he mutters to himself more than anything, because, from the looks of it, you're in slumber. His eyes observe the scene before him. The way your chest rises and falls rhythmically, the way your rosy lips are parted just a bit, and the way the moonlight filtering in through the windows catches on the curve of your cheekbones. The inviting sight before him has him licking his lips and adjusting the collar of his coat.

"How lovely..."

The inviting sight, because yes, that's what it was, you were inviting him to indulge, weren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, asleep on his couch, in his space, blouse unbuttoned once or twice at the top. You know what you're doing, aren't you? He's not the bad guy for just... taking the hint, if you will. His hands twitch at his sides, and his smile widens. You're sleeping, and if you saw the terrifyingly sinister grin on his face right now, you would've thanked the archons for sparing you its sight by letting it stretch upon his lips now that you are asleep, unable to see it.

As though he were debating whether to go about whatever evil he was about to, he crosses his arms over his chest, gaze locked on your form and brow furrowed in thought. He wasn't thinking about the depravity of his potential actions and the psychological harm they may cause you later on. No, no. He didn't have a conscience loud enough for that kind of thought to grace his mind. He was simply thinking about the logical implications. It was... unprofessional–to say the least–to grope your subordinates in their sleep, and should word get out about it, the Second Harbinger will never hear the end of it–especially not from Pantalone. It could jeopardize his relationship with all the investors who fund his research. It could also get him in a pickle with Arlecchino, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that crazy woman for at least the next century.

But it was dark outside. You were asleep, and he had the whole night to himself. It wasn't his fault, and if you were to awaken, well, it's not like you were going to tell. Oh, he'll make sure of that.

His decision is made, and without a single thread of doubt left in his mind, he crouches by your side, eyes locked on your slumbering face. The smile that stretches along his lips is one reserved for moments like these, for moments when he silently observes the unconscious features of those that fall into his predacious hands. There was always something about unconsciousness that stirred something in him. He was fascinated by the human brain, but he was also fascinated by the unadulterated powerlessness of an unconscious human. It gave him a power trip of sorts, knowing he was the lion and the slumbering were the deer. He chuckles to himself as his eyes fall upon the trail of drool at the corner of your lips, a sound so quiet and smooth that it could have melted butter.

"Don't worry, agent. I'll be... gentle," his words are spoken softly, yet they hold the same venom that his actions always do. They're meant for the both of you. "I won't hurt you."

He won't, will he?

Well, that was for him to know and for you to find out–should you awaken. His gloved hand, gentle but firm, snakes under your head and props it up, and his other hand is busy pushing the buttons of your blouse apart, one by one, until your raven-black bra meets his gaze. He breathes out in a soft exhale, a sound too tranquil for a man of his reputation, and his hand gently tips your face toward him. He meets your face halfway, scanning his sharp eyes over your sleeping features for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, though you can't feel it in your drowse. Slowly, almost like he was deliberately holding himself off, he lets his lips brush against yours, and then he tests the waters some more, giving them a light kiss. You subconsciously shift at the contact, but you're still asleep, and that's enough reassurance for him to go further, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. 

You taste like candy; sweet, soft, and addicting. You're an aphrodisiac, aren't you? He wonders, and his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, begging entrance, but it doesn't take. A soft, almost inaudible growl emanates from him, and the distant feel of his tongue has your breathing stuttering, a whimper bubbling up from your throat, but you don't wake, and that has his pants feeling a lot tighter than they were a few seconds ago.

"tsk," he grumbles against your lips. He's not sure if he wanted you asleep or awake right now. There was a thrill he felt in his veins when he teetered on the edge of danger like this, but there also seemed to be a thrill at the thought of having you awake for this, eyes wide in fear and lust all at once, soft implorations of "please let me go, Lord Dottore" falling from your lips like a mantra.

In the end, though, he'll have his way, and it doesn't matter what your state is. His tongue slips past your parted lips and invades the heat of your mouth, his sharpened canines grazing your tongue. His saliva, mixed with the residue of alcohol he had before heading back, drips down your chin and stains your blouse. If you were awake, you would've found the whole ordeal sloppy and wet, but since you weren't, all it felt like was warmth, and a foreign feeling, as his tongue prodded and probed your mouth. Your brows knit together, and a soft, unconscious moan escapes your lips, one that he greedily swallows. You're not so sure what's going on, still in a drowse that makes you think you're having some sort of insanely realistic wet dream. You hadn't slept in almost two days after all. Archons knew you weren't about to let anything wake you from your much-needed rest. 

Dottore retreats from your lips and pauses for a moment, eyes raking over your form as though his mind was scanning over all the choices of what to do to you next. 

"Ah," he says, like he was hit with a revolutionary idea. It wasn't so revolutionary, because the next thing that happens is the harbinger's hands finding their way to your chest, the cool leather of his gloves brushing against the bare patch of skin he revealed to himself when unbuttoning your blouse down three or four buttons. You shift again, and the movement has his fingers accidentally grazing over your bra-clad nipples. The sudden touch causes your body to arch and a low groan to rumble in the back of your throat. You were sensitive, he notes, and a grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

But you see, Dottore was getting bored of his self-inflicted abstinence. He did tell himself he had all night earlier, but come to think of it, he actually doesn't. He wants it fast and rough, and he wants it now. So, he lets his hand trail down for a moment, shamelessly shoving it into your pants and letting his fingers play with your pussy over your panties.

"H-hnngh!" You gasp in your sleep, and if you were awake, you'd be able to almost feel the smirk he wears as he continues, a finger pressing insistently at your clit, even if the fabric of your underwear is in the way.

"Oh? Do you like this then, agent?" he asks, and the words are an almost inaudible whisper. The question is rhetorical, after all. He doesn't give a flying fuck if you do like it, and he was talking himself through it more than he was you. 

Your head lolls to the side and a shaky breath leaves you. Your panties are subconsciously growing wet, an automatic bodily reaction to being touched here, and his finger doesn't relent. It's a good thing, however, that the friction of the thin fabric has you writhing, and the stimulation has him impatient, his fingers hastily moving to roughly pull your pants down, then to grip the fabric of your blouse, ripping it apart, buttons popping off the garment and onto the ground with soft clicks. The supple flesh of your torso is now exposed and open, and so are your eyes. It takes you a second to register what's going on. 

You're... lying on the sofa.

What time was it?

What are you doing here, exactly?

"W-what..." the words barely leave you, and suddenly, sleep has left you completely, the feeling of a heavy weight against your body taking its place, and the realization that a man is on top of you.

Your eyes snap open wider, and the first thing you see is Dottore's grinning, almost psychotic-looking eyes boring through you. 

"My Lord?!" you cry, and everything comes rushing back. You went to drop a report to the Lord Harbinger. You fell asleep on the couch in his laboratory.

"What are you doing?!" you demand as assertively as you can in a situation like this, but your voice shakes in fear despite your efforts.

"I could ask you the same question, agent," he hums, and his gloved fingers move to trail over the expanse of your breasts, fondling and groping with not a sliver of shame. "You were asleep when I came in, and so, I assumed, naturally, that you wanted me to do this. Why else would you have been so conveniently sprawled out on my couch, in the privacy of my lab, half-naked and vulnerable?"

"I-I didn't–I wasn't half naked," you try to defend yourself–with such a witless refutation too–but how could you possibly defend yourself? The harbinger was right. You were asleep on the couch in his private lab. Utterly disrespectful. And he caught you. Maybe this was karma–or just your luck. 

"Hush, now," he purrs, and his fingers slither behind your back to the band of your bra. You don't have time to react as the garment is pulled off you in one swift motion, tossed away and onto the floor, and then his hands are back on your tits, kneading the supple flesh, pinching your hardened nipples.

"My Lord–stop it, please," you plead, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you, the action shooting straight between your thighs, which clamp together as best as they can with Dottore straddling your waist with all his weight.

He was a scary man, Il Dottore, and even if he wasn't physically hurting you–for now–the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to scare the shit out of you. You were utterly, hopelessly, and vulnerably at his mercy, and the worst part is, you have a feeling that not a single person in this whole 8-story facility would stand up for you. Not a single Fatui subordinate would dare.

"Stop? Oh, darling! But we haven't even started," he laughs, like what you just suggested was utterly ridiculous, and a shudder runs down your body.

"You know," he hums, leaning closer and lowering his head to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. "You can scream–if you'd like. No one would hear." 

You have no time to retort, because Dottore's head dips to the valley of your breasts immediately, then his lips ghost over one of your nipples, swiftly taking the nub in his mouth. A sharp inhale rushes into your lungs, and a whimper threatens to spill from your throat. You're not quite sure if the feeling coursing through you is fear or lust or both, because it makes your stomach churn how good this actually feels. Your eyes are squeezed shut, and Dottore’s teeth graze the sensitive skin around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity between your legs, then his tongue flicks over the hardening peak.

"Mmh," the moan bubbles up from the very back of your throat. 

"Oh? So... still want me to stop now, agent?" he muses, mockingly, and his free hand is back at your pussy, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the soaked fabric. Your hips buck up, so he takes that as a sign to push the garment aside, a finger sliding between your wet lips.

"No, my Lord," you gasp, and you can't believe the words that come out of your own mouth. Dottore's hand doesn't stop, and his thumb presses down on your clit, and a breathy, whiny moan escapes you.

"See? This isn't so bad, now, is it?" he doesn't give you any warning before his fingers dip into your wet pussy, the intrusion causing you to jerk. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers. His sharp canines dig into his lower lip.

"Aren't you a good little whore. So pretty and obedient for your Lord Harbinger," Dottore purrs, and his thumb begins to move against your clit, while his fingers curl and press insistently at your walls. Your legs tremble, a string of moans falls from your lips, and if anyone told you just an hour ago that the Second Lord Harbinger Il Dottore was going to finger you in his lab, you would've laughed and asked who the fuck would say something like that.

Alas, Dottore wasn't a patient man, so it's no surprise that he doesn't finger you long enough before his hands pull away from you entirely, and he "tsks" impatiently to himself. He has to have you now. He's been so, so nice. Hasn't he? Kind enough to prep you for him instead of plunging himself into you from the get-go. If anything, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back for his thoughtfulness. 

Swiftly, his hands reach under your thighs, and with an alarming amount of ease, he yanks you down and away from the cushion that sprawled beneath your head. Then, he's settling between your legs. A soft whimper is torn from your throat when the cold, metal buckle of his belt grazes the inside of your thigh. You watch, helpless, as his hands make quick work of his pants, unzipping the black uniform, and pushing them down just far enough to pull his cock out. You can't help but gulp at the sight, and the wideness of your eyes makes Dottore laugh out an almost sadistic-sounding string of giggles. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he hums, the term of endearment spoken so condescendingly. "You'll take it well. Won't you?"

His words aren't a question. They're a statement. An absolute, undeniable fact. An order. You'll take it well, whether you want to or not, and the knowledge has you almost making a run for the door, but the thought leaves you as fast as it came.

Dottore doesn't wait for a response that won’t come, or a plea for him not to do this, not to force his cock into your tight heat, and you're not quite sure why, but you don't find yourself objecting, or trying to kick him away. Maybe you were curious. Maybe this was a materialization of one of your own depraved fantasies. Or maybe you were just scared he'd kill you if you resisted.if you made a run for the door like you fleetingly thought just now. 

His fingers curl around the base of his thick cock, fist then sliding up and down in a few experimental pumps. The tip presses at your entrance almost desperately, and he's pushing the head into your tightness before you can process. He's a big man. The stretch burns. It has a hiss tearing from the back of your throat, and a pained grimace twisting your features.

"Shh," Dottore murmurs, his other hand reaching up to caress the side of your face almost soothingly, the action a stark contrast to the harshness of his current actions.

"Good, good," he whispers, his voice is sickeningly smooth, as though he were genuinely consoling you.

Then, just like that, his hips snap forward, not giving you time to adjust as the entirety of his cock is engulfed in the warmth of your pussy. You're clamping down around him, and it has him groaning lowly in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut, the grip of his hands that are now on your hips tightening.

"Agent," he sighs, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your sides. It'll leave a mark there. A reminder.

You're not quite sure where the burning pain had gone. All that remains is an aching desire, a desperate need, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Your hands move, without a conscious command from your brain, and they rest on Dottore's shoulders, holding on tightly. The harbinger smiles down at you with sickening sweetness, no, not sweetness, mockery. Or maybe sweetness. God, you were a mess. Your mind was nothing but a blob of mush at this moment, and Dottore's hands shift to the underside of your knees, pushing your legs up and thrusting his cock even deeper at this new, utterly indecent angle. 

"My Lord!" the moan is punched out of you. His lips meet yours again, his sharp canines scraping over the sensitive flesh. Your hands slide to tangle into his hair, pulling and tugging at the soft blue strands. An almost whiny groan escapes the harbinger's throat at the action. His movements become more desperate. Fast and rough. So fast and rough you're scared you'll be split in two. The plush sofa under the two of you shakes and creaks. 

"So, so good," he whines, face contorted in pleasure, but as though he caught himself in his haze before it spiraled, his lips pull back into a domineering sneer. "Take it," he demands, and the words, combined with the obscene feeling of being filled to the brim, are enough to have your vision going white. You claw at Dottore's shoulders with desperate fervor. 

"L-Lord Harbinger. I think I'm going to–" 

"Do it," he commands with the struggle of a man on the brink of ecstasy, and he folds you even more. If you weren't agile–thanks to your agent training–you're sure you would've actually split into two by now. Back arching off the sofa, a string of incoherent, unintelligible moans escapes your throat. Your pussy clamps down around the thick cock stretching it, and a wave of pleasure courses through you, rendering your muscles numb.

The sight and feeling of you unraveling have Dottore following closely after, his movements becoming erratic and uncoordinated. It's a sight like never seen before; the normally ever so composed man crumbling like this, and then, he's spilling his hot cum into you, a guttural groan reverberating throughout his chest. He fills you to the brim until the warm white liquid leaks out of your aching pussy and stains the leather under you. 

A second passes, then two, then three, then a few seconds more. Dottore lets the head of his cock press against your insides one last time before pulling out. He sits back on his knees and regards you for a moment with an almost frightening calmness, and you open your mouth to try and say something, because why was he looking at you like you were nothing but the scum of the ground he walks on after literally cumming inside of you as some lover would?

"The couch will need some cleaning. I trust you can get that sorted tomorrow, agent?" He says finally with a cock of his head, voice level and calm as he climbs off of you and stands on his feet, tucking himself back into his pants as he nonchalantly hums a tune to himself, like this was just another day of fucking his subordinates in their sleep. And maybe it was; you didn’t know, but right now, you're still paralyzed in your spot, just staring at him, and so he turns to glance at you. "Get dressed. You're dismissed for today."

You can only gape, speechless, watching as Dottore turns his back to you once more and disappears into the microscopy workroom in his lab, a certain energized spring to his step.

What the fuck just happened?

The workroom's door closes behind him with a soft click, and he smiles to himself.

Ah, the thrill.

Now, it was time to get back to his research.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi yes hello help me I have a new fic idea for this picture

And it's giving me brainrot because I have too many wips and yet... I must write this ficlet. It's very soft. Friends to lovers.

Lexa owns a little holistic shop that always smells like incense and fresh herby plants. Fresh sprigs of flowers and dangley charms everywhere. Not quite "nature child/granola sister" vibes because it has too many sleek and modern details to it, but still very earthy and calming. Clean and fresh. It's tucked away in a sleepy little town along the coast that's just a short walk to a pier, so the fresh scent of the ocean's spray always mingles with all the perfumes of her shop.

Clarke moves there following the death of her father. Not running from anything, but more just trying to find herself in her new found peace. She's faced her own mortality and come out the other end understanding who she wants to be vs who she thought she should be. Exchanging her med school white coat for cable knit sweaters. Sneakers for deck shoes. Reading glasses for wayfarers.

Chaos for calm.

Which of course leads her right into Lexa's shop a few weeks into getting settled, deciding a new skin routine may be in order as well. Maybe a new lotion and a few handdipped candles to line her fancy new bath tub too, if the hand painted sign outside the shop is to be trusted.

Of course all chances at being the chill, solitary new girl in town who lives quietly and keeps to herself kind of fly right out the window when she hears the little ding of the bell overhead and looks up to see brilliant, soft green eyes already crinkled at the edges in a welcoming smile. Seeing all that sun kissed brown hair pulled back in a delicate crown of braids, the waterfall length of untamed curls falling over strong but slender shouders. Hearing that lyrical voice that's not at all chipper like she'd expect from someone peddling holistic wares. Instead it's soft and vibrant, more like too-warm honey that's been left out in the afternoon sun. Feminine but sure of itself as she merely bids a simple, "Hello, can I help you find anything in particular?"

All that chill is also nowhere to be seen when this freaking angel made of droplets of sunshine and chamomile takes it upon herself to squeeze a dollop of the lotion she'd been eyeing into Clarke's palm and start massaging it in with hands that are so fucking soft Clarke forgets how to breathe. Her intense eye contact as she gently explains the ingredients and why they're so good doesn't help either. Not that Clarke could be PAID to recite any of it, not having taken in a single damn syllable.

She could easily tell you the exact slope of the woman's eyelashes though. Could probably draw the freckle on her upper lip from memory too.

Of course Clarke would leave 2 bags and the shopowner's business card heavier, $70 lighter, and with absolutely no qualms about trading in at least part of her medical knowledge for giving this holistic stuff a try.

And that's it! That's all! Just a pretty girl who is maybe slightly nuts but beautiful and sweet who runs a little holistic beauty shop.

Nothing life altering or anything for Clarke, obviously.

Clarke being new and so in her head about everything and all the changes? It's just A Lot already on her plate. She doesn't have the space for anything else.

But... then there's just Lexa. So unassuming and mild and calming in her presence. Undemanding of Clarke's attention despite always seeming to have it. That slow fall into each other over too prolonged eye contact and friendly waves as Lexa glances at her through the arching windows of her shop, Clarke seeing those plump lips tug up into a grin that mouths an amused but unheard "Hi" as Clarke walks past for the third time that day.

Total coincidence.

But the friendship blooms just like the little plants and sprigs around Lexa's shop. Taking shape and growing as the season changes.

Passing glances and friendly waves turning to chance meetings and slipping away to sit on the bench at the end of the pier, splitting batches of seasoned fries and garlic aioli that Clarke has no idea where Lexa manages to put considering all her halter tops and sundresses that, whew, just leave not much to the imagination.

Walking through a local garden/woodsy path and talking aimlessly for hours as she watches Lexa collect little wildflowers and clovers along the way, stowing them in a satchel she keeps in her long flowy pants, only to drop by the shop the next afternoon and find that the tiny wood nymph-turned shopkeeper has braided her treasures from their outing into her hair that day.

Walks along the rocky beachside and lunches sat huddled together in the park. Lexa sharing how she got into her business and Clarke relaying her past in the medical world just to falter, only to breathe a sigh of relief at Lexa's lazy grin, "Don't worry, Dr. Griffin. I still believe in the power of penicillin."

Lexa showing Clarke where she makes her wares while standing far too close than what's necessary as she lets Clarke peruse everything. Always catching Clarke's gaze in her excitement at Lexa's creations, holding them with that soul-quieting smile of hers.

Clarke noticing how Lexa's scent changes slightly with the seasons because of course Lexa only works with fresh product. Noting how as the months get colder, she goes from airy, delicate lilac scents to heavier sage and sandlewood notes. Fresh pine, peppermint, and holly. Noticing how cute little painted toes trade in their freer sandles for more sensible uggs and the occasional snow boot, seeing how dresses and spaghetti straps get exchanged for cardigans and knitted sweaters big enough to juuust effortlessly slip off her shoulder...

(Still no bra)

(Not that she's... keeping track...)

Lexa is just so unexpected and so... not at all anything Clarke would've ever thought she'd be attracted to. Beyond just her stunning face that is, obviously. It's her personality. She's not someone Clarke can easily "put in a box". She's not quite a hippie, she's not exactly new agey, she's certainly not weak, but she's not overbearing. She's maybe a liiiittle bit nuts, but also so fuckin smart and not cocky about it at all. But absolutely is cocky about the silliest things, like being good at Scrabble and knowing how to fold a fitted sheet. (Again, liiiittle bit nuts.) She's kind, but not a pushover. Soft in ways Clarke can't even begin to fathom or calm her heart over, but so deceptively strong, both in body and spirit.

And she's quiet. Quiet and reserved in her perfectly Lexa way. Yet, when she does open up, there's so much there. So many layers to her, and every time Clarke thinks she's gotten to the bottom of the question mark that is "Lexa", there's a whole new labyrinth to uncover.

The connection between them expands and blooms and becomes something entirely its own. And it kind of just gradually dawns on her that Clarke has somehow managed to find her best friend in the entire world... and has promptly fallen in love with her.

Now.

If I wrote this obviously very short ficlet (😤), would anyone read it?

[iacon-daily]

Okay you know what, here’s what every major MTMTE character smells like (that I can think of, and not counting villains atm)

Rodimus - Burnt Orange Crush soda

Thunderclash - Think of any cologne. That’s what he smells like.

Drift - Vinegar covered up with so much incense that it gives you a headache

Ultra Magnus - Pear with hints of “”unscented”” lotion chemicals

Megatron - Gunpowder or lemongrass. I can’t decide.

Ravage - That new toy smell and cardboard

Ratchet - Very light juniper, burnt rubber, and WD-40

First Aid - Sour pink lemonade (On the job, just smells like lemon cleaner)

Velocity - Passionfruit with a bit of mango

Ambulon - Root beer or Dr. Pepper

Chromedome - Orange cleaner

Perceptor - The inside of an empty freezer besides ice cubes

Brainstorm - Sour green apple

Nautica - Berries and cream

Riptide - Silicone

Red Alert - Pine Sol

Blaster - Faint tootsie-Roll

Trailcutter - Fireball whisky

Rewind - Copper and maraschino cherries

Pipes - Vintage toy store / comic book store

Skids - Bratwurst with copious toppings

Anode and Lug - Distant smoke and wet rocks

Roller - Fruit punch caprisun

Cyclonus - Mothballs and cyprus

Tailgate - Overly sweet, stale, strawberry marshmallows

Whirl - Gunpowder and margaritas

Swerve - Gasoline

Ten - Alcohol markers being applied to paper

Nightbeat - Black coffee with hints of mocha

Sunstreaker - Boys locker room, AXE smell included

Bob - Basil

Fortress Maximus - Excessively strong catnip and herbs

Rung - Old. Just. Old. Musty.

Misfire - Every Mountain Dew flavor combined

Fulcrum - Bike shop

Krok - You know that smell when you go to a friend’s place? It’s that.

Crankcase - Smoke and rain

Spinister - Artificial lavender

Grimlock - Hot cooking oil

Nickel - Leather

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival boys as omegas and how they deal with their heat

Warnings: ABO, suggestive material with Olivine, drug use with Edmond and Rei

Yakumo

He needs a big nest. It's easier to take him back home because he already has an entire room set up for this. His heats are unfortunately long but as long as he has his nest it's okay. You will have to bring him anything he may need when he's in there because no force can get him out. Cuddle with him or not he's okay. He knows you love him because he's surrounded by your scent and those he cares about. He's not clingy or distant, he just wants to get through this without leaving his fluffy little room. He was extremely scared to let you into his nest the first time, but when he did finally let you in you realized that it was already covered with your shirts and jackets. He feels guilty about stealing your scented clothing but he is not giving it back. Not that you mind.

Edmond

The king has been suppling him with suppressors so he can do his job and not have to deal with his heat. Unfortunately being on suppressors for years is not healthy for someone. He was so scared when his suppressors didn't work because his body built a tolerance and he went through a full heat cycle for the first time. He becomes super sensitive during this time so he doesn't want any physical contact. He gets sensory overload easily but sit near him and he'll use you as a grounding force. Just let him touch you at his own pace so he doesn't get overwhelmed. He gets really timid and skittish during his heat, and he hates how it makes him feel. He appreciates how understanding you are during these times, but was scared at first because he didn't know how you would react.

Olivine

It's hard to smell when his heat is coming because he's always covered in incense. However when it hits, it hits hard. He doesn't want to worry anyone so he ignores his heat until he's in so much pain he collapses. Unfortunately there are plenty of people who want to take advantage of him so you need to be the first to find him if he does. He wants to bathe in your scent, so give him your shirt to wear and he's happy. He will ask you to help the church since he can't do his duties like this. Help the church to make him stop worrying but spend time with him too. Once he's in his nest he's not leaving until his cycle finishes. He loves your presence and when he's like this you can convince him to do pretty much anything, he kind of stops thinking. That makes it easy for you to just tell him to relax and let you take care of him.

Quincy

He smells so strong when his heat finally hits, and it smells so good! His scent is very musky and the pine sap undertones is the only hint of sweetness. He smells like an alpha even when he's in heat. His heats are not frequent and they don't last long, only about 2 days every few months. He used to just wander into the woods and come back after a few days preferring to handle it alone, but now that he has you (as the wonderful loving alpha you are) he loves snuggling up with you through his heat. His heat never bothered him much and it was really only his scent that gave him away. He loves having you with him though. He may get a little possessive during this time but he's mostly normal. If he wanted to he could just go about his life as normal, but he'd rather spend the time with you. He doesn't use a nest so you'll just be hanging out in his cabin mostly. He also becomes a little more open to PDA like hand holding.

Kuya

He is slightly more obnoxious than usual right before it starts, wanting to push you away because he hates not feeling in control. When he finally enters his heat he's a big pile of mush. He's also a lot more honest than he'd like. Gifts and other things make him really happy and he'll tell you just how much he loves you pampering him. Just don't bring it up after his heat is over because he'll deny it to the end. He also has no scent, so besides the personality shift you can't tell when he's in or out of his cycle. Technically he does have a floral scent, but it's so faint that unless you are right on top of him you can't even tell it's there. Sometimes when he's not in his heat he'll be a little mean in hopes that you'll bring him a present.

Blade

He recognizes the warning signs really early on and gets actually pretty excited about it. He loves curling up in the nest that you lovingly filled with soft and cute things for him. Somehow he became more cuddly than normal. His heat isn't that bad, it's just uncomfortable for him if you're not around. His scent turns super sweet like candy and is really strong. He doesn't really need the nest because his heat doesn't cause him too much discomfort, but there's no way he's missing out on an opportunity to be surrounded by you and other cute things.

Garu

He wants to be on top of you the entire time he's in heat, and I mean the entire time. You aren't allowed to even move without him whimpering like he's in pain. Not that you were going to leave but sometimes you just need to adjust. The easiest way to leave the nest (if you absolutely have to) is to pick him up and carry him with you. He'll have his face buried in your neck or chest the whole time. He isn't actually in any pain physically, but he gets extremely distressed if he can't feel you with him.

Karu

Anger. He tries to fight his heat and it just hurts him more. You are going to have to fight to get him into a nest, but once you do he is not leaving and neither are you. He's a strong independent boy that doesn't need an alpha! …But as long as you're here he might as well scent you. He wants to provide for you so if you smell his heat coming early you should encourage him to go hunting that way you won't have to, and he can feel like he is still taking care of you during his heat.

Dante

Stubborn idiot pushes through the pain of his heat. He doesn't have a very strong heat scent but that's because he wears a rare incense to mask it. He will go about his day as normal, fighting, training, being a good ruler, but he collapses into his nest the moment the sun sets. He doesn't like a big nest but he does want you by his side. Your scent helps relieve some of the pain that's built up during the day. If you try to pamper him with gifts he will probably get mad. He doesn't like being spoiled when he's in heat, but after he'll be fine with it. He can be nippy during this time but if he gets really aggressive he will apologize afterwards. You need to keep an eye on him during the day when he leaves to do his duties. There is no convincing him to stay inside during this time but you do your best to take care of him without interfering.

Rei

Oh he despises his heat. He is almost always sick when his heat hits, and it's entirely his own fault. He hates his heat cycle so much that he makes different drugs or blockers or suppressors to try and stop it. For someone who doesn't show much emotion normally he gets incredibly fired up around his heat. He does not want anybody anywhere near him during this time, despite needing the help. He hates that physical contact makes him feel good and that he finds your scent relaxing. He tries so hard to push you away but sometimes you just need to force him into a blanket so he doesn't make himself sicker. He is also going to be mad at you for a few days because it worked.

Eiden

It would be so cruel if he never experienced a heat cycle until he came to this world. Unfortunately for him that's what I'm going with. You smelled his heat coming only hours before it hit him. No one realized he was going to be an omega so no one had a nest prepared for him. If he's joined up with the clan members one of them could lend their nest. If not he spends the entire time acting as a weighted blanket, laying directly on top of you to take in your scent and warmth. This is the first time his head has felt fuzzy like this and it does scare him at first, but you're so patient and caring as you help him through his heat. You make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Aster

I know it's hard but please keep yourself covered when he's in heat. He gets more cuddly and it's adorable, but he also gets a lot more bitey. The first time you were with him during a heat he almost drank you dry. He thinks your scent is calming and delicious. Give him lots of scented shirts and you'll be okay. He does like cuddling with you but you just have to be mindful of how close you are to his mouth. You have to be careful when you're getting in or out of his nest because all the fabrics that fill it are incredibly expensive, and if you tear a single piece he is going to make you pay.

Morvay

Honestly he's so clingy and needy in general that it's hard to tell when he's actually in heat, or faking for attention because he knows you'll spoil him. Not that you don't spoil him anyway but he absolutely loves when all of your attention is on him during his heat. He becomes a little more greedy during his heat. His scent doesn't become stronger but it does become thicker. Like his scent lingers more and it feels like it sticks to you. You don't mind wearing his scent, and he loves when you smell like him and when he smells like you.

[ioniansunsets]

HOW DOES HEARTSTEEL SMELL LIKE

Kayn smells like Cigarette smoke and Sauvage Dior whatever popular cologne he can find. But his hair always smells like really sweet shampoo that somehow leaks into that horrendous mix of smoke and way too strong cologne. As you lean in close for a kiss, you can almost taste the smoke. Did he even smoke? Or was it that he loves talking to the other punk rockers that chill around after Pentakill's concert. You're not sure, you'll ask him after his lips leave yours.

Sett smells like the tm Ocean Spray, Ice Cool etc deodorant. Stereotypical man smell. He knows he sweats easily and does his best to keep any odor away! You've seen how he carries extra tees around, and even seen the wipes he keeps in his bag. But, if you hold him tight, you can still smell the soft downy scent of a simple softener wafting off his clothes. Trust him to try to smell clean and manly for you.

Yone smells like coffee mixed in with a green tea softener from his clothes and the very clear scent of cypress? Where did that come from? As you press your face into neck and his hair falls past your face as he leans down, you realize its incense from his room that settled in his hair. You nod, now understanding why sometimes he smells different, depends on what incense he burns while he meditates every morning then.

K'sante smells heavenly, a warm sage kind of scent mixed in with sandalwood. He always smells good, it eludes you how he can work out with Sett and still come out smelling so tasty. Only when you reach up to hold him close can you sniff out a fresh citrus off his skincare routine. When you ask he just shrugs, telling you he just uses good soaps and wipes.

Ezreal smells weird, but not in a bad way! It just always changes, he doesn't have one true smell to himself. Somedays he smells like flowers, somedays he smells like rain. Today, as he bounds up to hug you, giving you a kiss on your cheek, you smell a fancy vanilla wafting up. You think back to how you've never seen cologne in his room but instead rows of small tester perfumes that companies gifted him to review. Must be nice being an influencer.

Aphelios doesn't have a smell. You can smell the small hints of lavender softener Alune uses on his clothes, you can smell the plasticky scent of a new mask fresh out of its packaging, you can smell some hint of fruity hairdye off his hair but nothing that really screams Aphelios. Even when you lean in to kiss him, all you really smell and taste are the very soft hints of whatever scent his lipbalm has.

[filthgarbage86]

@xtravrgnoliveoil "I BEG OF YOU TO WRITE MORE OF EDDIE CALLING READER BUNNY IM BEGGING "

Ask and you shall recieve >:)

Context: Eddie had been trying to figure out which nickname to call you for a while and was trying out different ones. He noticed that some did make you blush a bit but recently at a party, he had called you one nickname that elicited an interesting response from you - bunny.

Here is part two, off of my first part here, you don't need to read the first part to enjoy this part!

CW/TW: Heavy Nickname use (bunny, princess, baby, etc but mostly highlighting bunny), lets be real it's just smutty smut smut, fluff so sweet it'll rot your teeth, very angst and a lil cringe, masturbating and getting caught by Eddie (gasp), both receiving, feminine pronoun use (good girl, pretty, sweet pea, etc.), riding d!ck, just general steam if you will or might.

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Ever since that party, you've been on edge.

"“hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?”

you liked it.

"“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

you don't know why but you need to hear him say that to you again. you had never felt something so deeply before but you wanted nothing more than just to be a good, playful bunny for him. That name made you feel warm and wanted and needed and you had never felt something more desired. You were luckily already at Eddie's trailor waiting for him to come back from band practice, getting fidgety from anticipation. What could you do? You wanted him to call you that again but you didn't want to be too needy or forward about your wants like that. It's embarrassing... isn't it?

You thought about what he said that night at the party. He mentioned "I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.” you shivered at the thought, the whisper of the memory creating tingling by your ear and neck. You were already so sensitive. You couldn't wait. You needed something.

You went to his room, put on one of his shirts, and laid in his bed with nothing else on. You just laid there and took in Eddie as much as you could in his absence. His room was messy but it wasn't horrible. He was very him. It smelled like old joints and cigarettes, incense, cologne, and something sweet. It was delicious and it was making you high off of the thought of Eddie. Wanting to be good for Eddie. Wanting Eddie.

You found yourself just thinking about him so much you started reaching downwards, slowly playing with yourself and soon enough you are a dirty little mess. you are soaking his sheets already, you know it but you can't help it. You keep thinking about him holding you close and whispering more in your ear. You're thinking abut how strong but gentle his grip on you is, how he can be so kind and firm at once. You were whimpering, moaning, begging for eddie. eddie.

Eddie had walked in about 5 minutes ago and heard some noise coming from his room. He had put down all his stuff and was determined to be as quiet as possible, hoping to god you didn't hear him. He's watching you struggling to get to that one spot deep inside of you, a spot only he could get to. You were near tears and begging under your breathe. "please eddie please please please... wanna be a good bunny. wanna be good. please. please. please."

Eddie growled. Oh my gods, you wanted him to find you like this. This wasn't just accidental, no. you were hoping that he would walk in on you and that he would find you looking like a the dirty, filthy, little bunny you are for him. And there was no way he was going to disappoint you.

"Yes princess, yes baby what is it, what do you need?"

He is on his knees beside the bed, swiveling your body around to the edge so that he was face to face with your cunt. He's pressing sweet, generous kisses into your legs, your knees, your thighs, his grip unrelenting. You're looking at him through hooded lids, your pupils engulfing your eyes, you were completely taken over by lust. You were in another headspace entirely. Normally, you'd be so embarrassed that Eddie found you like this but right now, you just needed him desperately.

"I want you Eddie, I want you so so so badly. Please please please" He places a sweet kiss on your clit before sucking so intently that it ignites you immediately. You're grabbing for his head and grasping handfuls of his hair and he moans into your cunt at the sensation. "Good bunny gooooood girl you're so so good for me holy shit" you moan, obscenely. There was that name again. You needed to hear it again. "wanna be good, wanna be a good... good.. good"

Eddie was sucking and licking like you were ice cream on a hot summer day, acting like you were the most delicious treat and added a finger and was slowly just pumping into you with ease. "You're being so good baby-"

You whine. Nonono, you were not baby. You felt like you were going to cry. Eddie stops. "What is it princess, what's wrong?" you start whining and squirming more. Eddie presses down onto your hips and stills you with one hand and caresses your head with the other. "Speak to me, y/n, what's wrong?" you're blushing and crying and oh you were being such a mess.

"I'm don't want to be baby. I want to be... to be.." "You're safe princess, talk to me. You want to be..."

You sit up on your elbows, look at him for a moment and take a deep breathe. This is Eddie after all, this is the man that is so sweet to you all the time and has never, ever made you feel less than or weird or unaccepted. You knew that you were safe to be this way with him. You take one more breathe before closing your eyes, moving up from the bed, getting on your knees, and placing your hands on his thighs. His breath hitches, then you open your eyes, big, wide, and blown.

"I want to be your good little bunny"

Oh. It's all over. Something inside of Eddie switches immediately. Holy shit, how could he not when you're looking at him like that? So eager to please. So ready to be good for him, filthy for him. He's about to ruin you. He stares back down at you and gives you a wide, toothy grin and lights up with a smirk in his eye again. He's gripping onto your chin and jaw, causing your mouth to gap a little. "Oh bunny, is that what you want? Is that why I found you here? Were you preparing yourself for me to come home and ruin you? You want me to use you? Want me to fuck you like the good little fuck bunny you are? You are so fucking pretty and sexy, holy shit-"

You're stargazed by this, nodding quickly at all his words, already feeling dumbed out a bit. You stick out your tongue just a little bit, trying to lick his sadly still clothed crotch, trying to entice him before he's hissing and forcing you to look up again. "Patience bunny, you still haven't told me what you want to do. How should I ruin you first?"

"Please can I suck your cock? Please, I promise I'll make you feel so good" Good god what did he do to deserve you? "You can suck me bunny, go ahead. Suck me really good and maybe I'll give you a reward"

You are rushing to get his belt unbuckled, zipper down, and you pull down his pants and boxers to reveal him and oh my gods you really were just so needy right now. It was hard and long and pink and just so pretty. Already slightly wet from precum from eating you out and all the dirty talk and you didn't want to make him wait any longer.

You take his length in one of your hands and start giving open mouth kissing and licking circles over his slit. He is hissing and bucking already, so sensitive. You were both a mess for each other. You take him inch by inch, covering him with saliva to the point where you're drooling. You're sucking him lazily and also with intention, making sure to visit his balls every now and then, sucking, licking, kissing every inch until he can't take it anymore. "Bunny I'm not going to last long if you keep doing this." "Please cum, oh my gods, please please please eddie I really want you to cum for me" "Oh my fuckin god you're so so so good to me, where do you want it" "In my mouth, in my-" He's groaning and shoving his dick back into you and you just brace yourself on his thighs. He isn't holding back anymore, abusing your mouth over and over and over until finally he's cumming hard and warm slick is running down your throat. He pulls out and opens your mouth to see his seed still all over your tongue. He leans in and kisses you intensely, tasting himself on your tongue. "Swallow bunny. Be a good bunny and swallow." You do. You look at him dazed until you're looking below you at the literal puddle you have below you.

"Oh my gods princess, look at you. You're soaked, what's got you so riled up? You just so desperate for me and my cock? You just want to be fucked so good? It's your turn bunny. On the bed. Now."

You stand up immediately and you want to be good, you really do, but you need him right now. You stand up and you push him back onto the bed and have him in a sat position upright. You swing your leg to where you're straddling him and you're hovering over his dick. You both take a moment to quietly moan at the contact, you know you just had him in your mouth but to be sitting on him had you remembering what you came here for. "I'm so sorry but I need you Eddie, I really really really need you. I want to be good but please, I'm going to go nuts if you don't fuck me right now" You're grabbing his half-hard cock and slowly just sitting and taking him in. Inch by inch, you drop further and further down and you're groaning on the way down, you're so full. He's so big that he fills you up just right with the perfect amount of light stretch. Normally it's a big uncomfortable but because you're so wet, you are immediately moving and rocking down into him.

"Holy Shit bunny, you're so fucking filthy and so greedy, you're so cock hungry you just take my cock because you know you're mine and my cock is yours. Take it bunny, take my cock. It's all yours."

You are bouncing and rocking and clinging onto him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and your whimpering and moaning, begging "yes yes yes please please please so good so fucking good oh my god please thank you" into his shoulder while he continues to give praise after praise. He's holding onto you around your waist, hugging you tight into him and giving you kisses on your shoulders, neck, and whispering to you. "Come on princess, I know you can do it, I know you can cum for me. Take me cock and give me your cum, do it. Cum all over me and be a good little bunny. My good filthy, desperate fuck bunny. Come on, bunny"

You are silently screaming, seizing even a bit from the white heated wave that washed over you. He is thrusting into you, holding onto you and talking you through your orgasm, until finally you go limp. He continues to hug you, securing you safely in his arms has he strokes your back lightly until you're back with him. "Hi sweetheart, welcome back to earth. are you okay?" "mmmhmm" you just keep your eyes closed and lean into him fully. You're exhausted, and you cannot believe you just did all of that. "Well you definitely earned your name. Holy shit, baby, you really do fuck like a bunny." You're blushing immediately and trying to hide in his chest. "nonono i didn't mean that in a bad way, princess. I think it's so hot and so so so sexy, you have no idea"

"You don't think it's weird?" "GOD no, holy shit, are you kidding me? I've never seen something more close to heaven than what you just showed me. I love calling you things that make you feel excited like that. You were so good for me, bunny"

You're blushing, you are fully pink and you just smile at him with a hum. You were good. You were his good bunny. And you were hoping to continue that in other ways too.

"What about you?" "Hmm?" "What do you want me to call you?" You barely notice it by the time you look up, but if you weren't mistaken, it was his turn to blush a little bit. "Well sweetheart, you're gonna have to figure that out yourself, just like I had to" Oh, this was going to be fun.

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Oh my gods that was so much longer than I thought that was going to be but it was worth it because it was SO much fun to write and it definitely got me feeling stuff too. Thank you so much for asking for more and my inbox/ask box is open now! If there are any other requests or ideas, please send them my way! I'm hoping to write a bit more if I can! I hope you enjoyed!

[ddarker-dreams]

each version of yan scaramouche throughout the years is ridiculously clinging in their own strange way. 

as kabukimono, the others at tatarasuna often joke that he follows you around like a duckling. there are practically stars in his eyes whenever you’re so much as mentioned, he’s absolutely smitten. his way of getting closer to you — and staying there — had a rather innocent origin. he just so happened to notice that you dote on him even more whenever he makes a mistake or seems to be struggling with ‘simple’ human tasks. at first, he really was having difficulty with things such as getting dressed and brushing his hair, but over time, he learned to conceal his progress so you would take the time to help him. 

the unknown feeling that blossomed in his chest whenever your fingers brushed or he was close enough to smell the incense on your clothes was divine. he’d come up with any excuse to remain by your side, leaning into his harmless image a little too much, albeit subconsciously. after all, you may not have been so willing to allow a man in your bed just because he claimed his nightmares were making it difficult for him to sleep... but because you think he’s so sweet and lacking any ulterior motive, you don’t even bat an eyelash, gladly opening up the futon for him to lay beside you. he just can’t help himself. there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you. 

as scaramouche, he has a simple and ineffective formula. keep the doors locked + be the only person you can have verbal interaction with = profit? (there is no profit to be had). you’re so sick of him but he’s there anyway. what makes matters worse is his audacity to act like he’s doing you a favor, spending a few hours of his busy day entertaining someone such as yourself. he says it that way too. word for word. with his nose in the air. you really can’t stand him. this method is what he prefers to utilize by far. sure, there might be some sour feelings on your side, yet it eliminates the risk of you leaving him altogether. he can withstand anything — your glares, the frequent cold shoulder treatment you give him — because it means you’re still there. 

for a person who comes off as greedy as he does, he’s surprisingly content with very little. the slivers of mostly negative attention you give are enough to sustain him, the same way a cactus can survive on very little water. if the balladeer had it his way, he’d always be in your vicinity, but unfortunately, he has constant work as a harbinger. which is why he leaves reminders of his existence on and around you to compensate for his absence. even if he can’t physically be with you, the lingering touches you feel and the marks you see make him impossible to forget. 

as the wanderer, he’s essentially jobless, allowing him twenty-four hours in the day to stick by your side. to make matters worse, the dendro archon herself came to you to ask for your cooperation. lesser lord kusanali has seen how taken with you he is, and after some observation, decides you’d be a good influence on the ‘reformed’ wanderer. lucky you. instead of following you around like a cute duckling, he’s more of a feral stray cat. you’ll ask him if he has anything better to do and he’ll shrug and say not really. trying to throw him off your trail is impossible as well, his ability to track you down is uncanny. he claims that he has a sixth sense for ‘sensing idiots’ every time he catches you. 

in his humble opinion, there’s just nothing more thrilling than seeing every side of you there is to see. he doesn’t want to miss a second. if he isn’t in the mood to chase after you and you try to run away, you’ll end up facing a gust strong enough to knock you off your feet. should he be in a good mood, he’ll catch you. if he isn’t, however... he’ll let you fall over and snicker over your misfortune. his antics to keep you close are mostly bearable, since he doesn’t freeload and offers a decent amount of help in your journeys, whether it be fighting off hoards of monsters or cooking meals. it becomes far more sinister if anyone tries to intrude on what he perceives to be your special relationship, though. 

[hellsburners]

scream his name

summary: forgive me for not being an actual priest pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: 18+ warning, sacrilege, sm/u/t, bjs and s3x a/n: i swear im writing for other characters i just had to put this out

masterlist | more matt murdock

He entered the confessional and rested his cane in the corner of the room. It was a small wooden box actually, a small crooked seat and a maroon curtain. It smelled like old wood and incense, Matt settled down and waited for the voice. 

On the other side of the booth a young seminarian was finishing up with wiping the wooden seats, making sure that the cubicle was nice and tidy. Before you could go out you heard someone enter the opposite booth. Your eyes widened, you weren't supposed to be administering confessions, those were reserved to ordained priests. 

“Father Cathal,” the voice said. It was a familiar voice, soft but deep, you always noted that he would enunciate every word perfectly. Father Cathal has been meeting with this man ever since Father Lantom passed a few years ago. They would often chat and administer confessions for the man. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Murdock but Father Cathal has been feeling ill lately, confessions are moved after mass this saturday,” you said, your voice shaking. You heard him mutter an oh. “And I’m afraid I’m not qualified to administer confessions, but if you want to I can offer some counsel. If anything worries you.” 

“You must be the seminarian Father Cathal is mentoring?” he said. 

“Yes, sorry if I was quick to call on your name it’s just that you frequent the church a lot.”

“I was raised catholic, the church has been my second home,” he uttered. His deep voice soothed you, any sense of panic was gone. You often wondered about him, how he worked as a defense attorney, and has been donating so much for the church. 

“So what bothers you Mr. Murdock?,” you felt your clerical collar tighten around your neck. 

“I’m a sinner.”

“I’m afraid we’re all sinners. From the beginning, man’s life has always been riddled with sin, just ask Adam,” you laughed. “That's why we are able to repent from our sins through this sacrament,” he laughs as well. 

At the other side of the booth Matt Murdock had loosened his tie, the top button already undone. He could hear his heart pounding. The reason why he frequents the church was not because of Father Cathal, or the sisters, not even the youth group he often helps around. He comes by the church everyday because of you. 

A smile would show in his face every time he heard your sweet voice. Calm and collected, soft and inviting. You were always near Father Cathal, Matt would notice the smell of your perfume mixed with church incense. He loved hearing you talk, offering service to the nuns and the other church staff. 

“Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet?” he said. 

You loosened your collar. “What do you mean by that Mr. Murdock?”

“Matt, just call me Matt.”

“Matt,” you corrected. He heard your heartbeat quicken, your body temperature rising. 

“God gave me someone, to—to like. But I don’t think I’m meant to feel this way about them.”

“By feel do you mean love?” you said. Your palms were wet at this point. You wondered how anyone could refuse attention from him. He was a kind and attractive man. 

“Love, lust, adoration,” his voice hitched. “I am too deep in this, I want to worship them.”

“Worship is a strong word Matt, God compels us to only worship him. To worship someone like a false god is against His word.”

“Pardon my language, but I yearn for them,” he said. “My body—it aches for him. I need your help brother.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Sweat drips down your nape, you could hear the guilt shouting at your head, but heat rises through your body, an ache forms in between your legs. You clutched your clerical collar, the mere sign of your covenant with God. 

“How can I help?” you uttered. 

“Kneel.”

Your eyes widened. What? You could hear shuffling from the other booth. The rings that held the curtain slinked to the side. “Just kneel, please,” there was something in his voice now, it was lower and more seductive. Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet? His voice echoed in your head.

Could the Lord have sent me the devil himself? 

You made the sign of the cross. Your thumb caressing your forehead, your stomach, your chest. The promise you made was wheying in, like a scale ready to fall on one side. You closed your eyes and knelt. 

You heard the booth door open. A looming shadow covering you. He had entered, his hand caressing your hair. His warm hand went to the side of your face down to your chin. He lifts your face up, your eyes open. The dim lights of the booth made his face blurry. A dark shadow over his eyes but his red lips glistening, like forbidden fruit. 

He bends down to your face, his lips meeting yours. Your cheeks were so warm, almost feverish. His hands went to your neck, gripping lightly. His tongue entered your mouth, you let your tongue meet his into union. A sacrilegious moan left your mouth. 

He was wearing a worn out blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone. You take the buckle of his belt and unclasped it, opening the button of his trousers after. As if opening a present on christmas day you pulled on the silver zipper. A bulge forming on his black boxers. 

You pulled on the soft fabric, your knuckles hitting his bare skin. You brought your lips to the base pulling on the garter to unsheathe his hardness. You presented your mouth as if receiving the sacrament of the eucharist. Mouth open, tongue out, your eyes half lidded directly looking at him. 

The hardness grew to a decent length, cut and the head pink already wet with pleasure. He takes the tip to your tongue, you engulf the head  with your lips. He lets out a groan, his hand goes to your nape, pushing you into his cock. 

The head hits the back of your throat, coating it with your saliva. You cough as he pulls his cock out. He caresses your face. He gestures for you to stand. As you stand he pulls you back to a kiss, his wet hardness hitting your trousers. You pulled off your clerical collar and left it on the seat. 

He takes your waist and rotates you around. You looked at the black wooden wall. He was leaving wet kisses in your ear as he unbuttoned your shirt. His other hand was palming your erection already hard and aching. 

You help him pull down your pants as well as your underwear. Your bare ass, cold against the night air. He caressed your ass and gave it a slap. You moaned, you swore people could have heard it. He kneels on the wooden floor, practically looking up to your body. He takes his tongue against your rear. The wet muscles played around your hole, preparing it for his cock. He places wet fingers inside you to stretch you out, he curls them, pleasure striking your whole body, your knees buckle. 

Your moans filled the small booth, the sounds made louder from the room’s size. He stands up and takes a condom out of his wallet. He puts it on his cock. He takes the wrapper and makes you bite on it. “God knows I want to hear you moan for me, but you need to stay quiet. If this falls from your mouth I’m leaving you like this,” his hand snaking across your ass. 

He places the tip to the rim of your rear. He pressed on the muscle, somewhat rejecting the tightness. He perseveres, the hardness sheathes into your body. You were now united, like a soul to a body. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, your jaw shaking from the pleasure. You could feel the condom wrapper slip. 

He thrusts into you, a hand to your neck. You moan through the wrapper, all muffled and croaking. His cock filled you so well tears started to form from your eyes. Before the seminary you had never been with a man. You always looked sinfully but never acted on it. But now, the devil in the form of a handsome man, devoured you in his flames. 

You recounted Dante’s version of the second circle, men and women devoured in strong tempest, blown around in circles. You could feel it now from his hips hitting into you. Like your body was in his control, swaying forward and back. Your hands gripped onto the wooden ledge on the booth, practically scratching. 

He grunts into your ear each thrust. Your teeth clench on the foil wrapper even harder, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth. His hands went under your shirt, toying with your nipples. Your hand went to your cock stroking it, it’s been so long since you’ve done it. You felt pleasure like never before. 

Fifteen minutes of continuous fucking ensued. Your jaw started to sore from the clenching, the same with your lower back and your knees. Matt’s lips were dripping with saliva and guttural moans, his cock on the brink of climax. 

He pulls out the wrapper from your mouth. He knew you were also near climax. “Let me hear it sweetheart, please let me hear it,” he groans to your ear. He twirls you around to carry you. Your arms and legs wrapped around his body. He pushed you into the wall, his cock continuosly fucking into you. Your lips met in a fevered kiss. 

He fucks a few more times into you until he cums, the two of your moaning into the kiss. Both your shirts were wet from your cum. Matt carries you as he sits down on the stool, your legs still straddling him. The two of you kiss even more, riding your high. 

“It’s you,” he said, as the two of you got dressed. “The person I was afraid to be with.” 

“I’ve committed a grave sin tonight,” you looked down to your feet. “But I’ve always felt like the mission was never truly meant to be,” he sat next to you, his hand caressing your back. “I actually planned on sending my letter of withdrawal tomorrow, so no harm done I guess.”

“Can I still ask you out?” the two of you chuckle, Matt pulling you in for a kiss.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[rottendollface]

Rum and Cigarettes.

Character: Gallagher.

Warnings: NSFW, female young reader, age gap (early 20 vs 52 y.o.), strangers to lovers, smoking, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, drunk sex, Gallagher acts kinda creepy, mention of post-sex sadness, 18+.

Art by: Leonardo AI.

He was standing on the balcony, naked, and the sparkle of a burning cigarette was illuminating a part of his lower face. What was he thinking about? You didn't know. 

Every muscle, every vein on his body reminded you of antique statues. He was shaped so perfectly it left you wondering which Aeon themself bestowed him with such a cosmic charm. And his pensive gaze… it all made your head spin.

Gallagher was an alcoholic, old enough to play as your father and careless enough not to promise women anything except one night stand, and you were just an IPC worker, who needed to keep an eye on him and lure out as much confidential information as you could. He smelled of tart alcohol, cheap cigarettes and cologne with woodsy notes and accords of amber, and incense; your skin smelled sweet with the mixed fragrance of black pepper, tuberose and orange blossom. 

You tried to recall the moment you gave up and played to your inner demons' benefit. Your body still felt light and warm from all the rum-based cocktails you were drinking for the whole evening. You were the only visitor; Gallagher felt more talkative than usual, so your senses were busy with listening to his chatter and smelling his smoldering cig. 

You felt something for him. His strong figure and mysterious persona made blood rush through your veins. It wasn't right, but you couldn't care less here, on Penacony, where all dreams were able to come true. You craved for him, and he craved for you, too. 

It was hard not to lay an eye on you: your class and magnificent appearance made you a desirable trophy for every man. His helpful hand didn't let your glass stay empty, and his eyes were wandering on your figure. Your features, your neck and your cleavage were his main interest. 

Word after word, and you found yourself playing with his hand, your eyes glistening with devilish treachery and your fingertips brushing the inner part of his forearm, tracing every deep-blue vein and scratching the skin with your nails, agonizingly slow. Gallagher kept himself collected, yet you could see his jaw working. He had a plan to give you so much alcohol so you would forget your own name and come to his apartment, but you seemed willing to do so without stimulating aid. 

In his old, cold, and lonely apartment, your presence was extraterrestrial. Gallagher kept your face in his hands, his warm mouth left kisses all across your cheeks and lips, as if you were the dearest person he had ever known in his entire life. You hugged his neck, your lips met his, involving Gallagher into a deep, passionate kiss. 

Your dress was thrown on the floor, and you were left in your underwear, laying in his bed. Gallagher lowered his grip to your waist; his fingers dug into your soft flesh. He was grinding his crotch against yours slowly. Gallagher didn't hurry to undress, as he was completely drowned in savoring your half-naked beauty. The difference between your young, supple body and his, adorned with aging, made his head spin at the realization that it was him to steal the moments of your youth and fervor. Gallagher was an old disgusting man, attracted to a girl twice younger his age.

Gallagher unclipped your bra, his hand cupped one of your breasts. He took your hard and pined nipple into his mouth to play with it. You reached your hand to the bulge on his pants, squeezing and stroking it. You could hear him sucking the air in loudly, and you smirked at his reaction. Sex with him was just like his persona – lazy and spontaneous. 

His mouth went back on your neck; he bit at your skin, scratching it with prickly stubble on his chin. Your pussy was pulsating and clenching around nothing, all the wetness that was leaking out your hole stained your panties and the fabric of his pants. Gallagher took a moment to pull your underwear down, his eager fingers found your clit and pressed on it gently, rubbing in a circular motion. You moaned at the touch, and he slipped them inside, penetrating you easily, as his fingers were already covered in your slick. Pushing them in gently, he left you begging for him.

You sat up to help him undress – you couldn't wait anymore, burning with desire. Your shaking fingers unbuttoned his costume, and Gallagher threw it down on the floor offhandedly. Gallagher made you lay down, his massive hands spread your legs apart and he pushed his erected leaking member inside you impudently, taking a fast and rough pace all of sudden. Gallagher squeezed your wrists with a free hand and put your hands above your head, bringing the element of submission to the intimacy. Listening to your heated breath and whimperings, feeling your body's response to his actions Gallagher couldn't keep his voice shut inside his throat, moaning hoarsely at the way your folds quivered on his dick. His pleased ego added Gallagher an extra pleasure: it was him to fuck you senseless, not your wealthy and vain co-workers. You could have every man in your bed, still you chose him. 

Compared to him, you were small in every aspect: Gallagher was older, taller, stronger and smarter than you. His big and gentle palms that were groping your body gave you an insane pleasure, as well as this unhealthy dynamic of your relationship added the flame to the lubricious frenzy, turning you into a brain dead doll for him. Gallagher let go of your hands, and you clinched to him as if he was your long-term lover, arched your back from the sense of his huge dick pounding into your sloppy pussy. You were close to climax, and Gallagher felt it, his hips rocking harder. He leaned to kiss you, so you hugged his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Your orgasm brought Gallagher closer, giving him a hard time not to cum inside your trembling core. He kept moving, prolonging your rapture, and almost had time to pull out of you. You felt his thick and hot cum spurting on your tummy; his heavy breathing scorched at your ear. 

Gallagher excused himself and left to bring napkins to help you clean up. You stayed in bed, catching your breath; then he left you once again, this time for a smoke break. It was the time for an awkward silence. Dear Aeons, what were you hoping for?

“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Gallagher finally said, putting cigarette out and leaving it in a can, full of butts.

You smiled.