#black shiny wallpaper

[besthomegallery-blog]

Black Shiny Wallpapers for Desktop Backgrounds

Allpicts.in – Hello everybody! Today I would like to share my best collection of black shiny wallpapers. You can get and download all the wallpapers for your collection. Feel free to choose your favorite image and set it as your desktop background. Whether in fashion, design, or personal branding, black exudes confidence and allure. Black as a favorite shade is said to represent a strong-willed…

[rae-writes]

An Angel...

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon)

wc : 1.k

warnings : simping bois, humor, some sprinkled suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you (though that’s nothing new)

a/n : this audio scratches an itch in my brain and I needed to do something with it

angel ver. 

<Asmodeus> GUYS!!!  YOU HAVE TO WATCH THIS!!!! NOW!!!!! LIKE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

[attachment sent]

Casually clicking on the video file, his interest peaked immediately when he saw you. Clad in your RAD uniform, you were positioned in frame a couple steps back. 

“Who are you?” 

He watched you slowly stalk forward with a smile on your face; it was both reassuring and off putting. Only someone like him would be able to notice. 

“An angel…”

You held out your hand towards the camera gently, as if beckoning someone closer. 

“What’s your name?”

The transition was fast— smooth. In an instant, your hand came up and grabbed the phone, like you were choking someone, causing the frame to shake. 

“Satan.”

Once the shaking transition stopped, with your hand still in its previous position, his mouth dropped. You had completely transformed yourself into what he assumed is your version of their demon form. 

Realistic black sheep horns protruded from your head, curling backwards around your ear and ending at your middle jaw. There were light purple extensions added here and there, blending with your hair perfectly. Your free hand had come up to splay over your malicious grin- showing off the fangs you’d added and the sharpness of your new nails. The outfit you wore was revealing- black with shiny accents and shiner jewelry - easily showing the intricate marks you’d drawn over the exposed skin. 

[8 people saved a video attachment] 

Lucifer

His stupidly handsome face forms the most obnoxious smug smirk imaginable 

Don’t get me wrong, he was absolutely flustered. On the inside. 

On the outside though, he radiated pride and smugness 

Like ‘yeah. That’s my Mc. mine. Eat it.’ 

Not that he would ever speak those words. Totally not

Was he also slightly bugged that Asmo seemed to be the only one who had access to this video? Sure. 

Was he gonna make sure his brothers, Diavolo, and Barbatos deleted this from everything they owned? Of course. 

But first, he’s gotta get you to dress up like that for him in person 

Mammon

Mans was astonished. Eyebrows had shot through the heavens, mouth was dropped down to sea floor level, cheeks were a blazing inferno— he was in awe 

First thought : ‘HELL YEAH, MC, YA LOOK HOT!’ 

Second thought : ‘WAIT HOLD UP, THE OTHERS ARE SEEIN THIS TOO-‘ 

Really though, Mammon is just so in awe at how gorgeous you looked 

especially in that gold he knows he bought you

Immediately takes a screenshot of you in that getup and makes it his home screen wallpaper

Then he texts you, begging demanding you dress up like that again because he wants to make videos with you in his demon form too!

I mean, if he doesn’t get to have his hands all over you and his mouth on you like that, how will anyone get the message you’re only for him?

Levi

Someone call the equivalent of 911 for the Devildom, Levi might just be coding 

Actually- don’t even worry about it, he’s just a big puddle on the floor! No worries! 

He. Is. FLUSTERED! Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it really- 

Levi can't breathe, can’t talk, can’t even wave his hands around frantically to express his lost words

Irl version of a windows restart. 

But as soon as he does reboot, he’s doing his best impression of Oprah into his pillow with how high pitched he’s screaming 

Would love to take a picture with you in that outfit while he’s in his demon form or have you sit on him 

He’ll send you a bunch of emojis in show of his approval but his normal skin tone still isn’t visible under the blush for hours

Satan

Smug as fuck about the audio itself. Definitely silently bragging

Aside from that, Satan is absolutely willing to kneel for you in that outfit 

He’s studied with you on seductive speechcraft but this? He was not ready

Has to take a minute to get his bearings together and to wipe that blush off his face

Satan’s actually pretty speechless for a good 30 minutes 

Not that he’d let you know. He will, however, be telling you how fucking good you looked

Wants to ask if you’ll walk around town with him in his demon form too so everyone can see 

Power couple ™— Take that Lucifer 

Asmo

Azzy is on his knees in an instant- pliant and ready for you to fucking step all over him 

The moment he saw the video he was liking, favoriting, commenting, saving, sharing- everything 

He’d suggested something similar for you to do in the past but you just. 

You went light years beyond what he was expecting the outcome to be and he is here for it 

#1 supporter and immediately is coming up with different- sexier -outfits for you to wear

Will ask, beg if he has to, if you’d come have a photo shoot with him (surprisingly he mainly wants to take photos of just you) 

Admitting to anyone who listens that your beauty is absolutely on par with his 

On his way to your room right this instant- but only after he shares the video with the others 

Beel

Choked. 

You’d think he hadn’t ate in years with how much he was drooling but no

He was just looking at you in that outfit. Which he thought was amazing. 

You are easily the most delicious thing he’s ever laid eyes on (“Gorgeous too…”) and he can’t wait to tell you to your face 

Wonders if you’d have a tail or wings if you really did have a demon form 

Wants to ask Diavolo if there’s magic to make you a real, temporary demon form to find out

Please come to one of his Fangol games dressed like that. He’d promise to win for the rest of the season- and succeed

Overall flustered with his cute blush present, but unlike Satan or Levi, he doesn’t mind showing you 

Belphie

Two words : “holy. fuck.” or alternatively : “fuck. me.”

He is sprinting- yes, sprinting- throughout the fucking house and barreling straight through your door

On his knees faster than Asmo was and is ready at light speed to crawl at your feet and wrap his arms around your leg 

All of his usual curt expressions are thrown out the window without a care in the world

No pure thoughts behind those doe eyes. Not a single one. 

Convinces you to let him take a picture from underneath you while you’re choking him to put as his lock screen because he needed it

Will not be letting you go for the next 24 hours or longer

Fakes innocence like a pro when the others accuse him of hogging you to himself (“they are mine” he snips, even though you have the metaphorical leash right now)

Barbatos 

Mmmmmm, the silent simping is strong in this one

He was simultaneously so fucking ready and so very much not ready for that

Does not know what to do with himself for the next 2-7 business days

Had to put down shit he was cleaning multiple times before he broke something (because you actually broke him)

Straight up doesn’t even ask to show up in your room this time, he just does and immediately beelines to shove his face into your neck 

No, his ears are not red. I believe you might be color blind Mc…

Won’t outright admit how badly you affected him- he just lets out a small ‘you look lovely’ like yeah, Barb? Just lovely? 

Please wear this to the next formal event you attend to watch him lose his cool for split second intervals all night

Diavolo 

If he didn’t have millennia of training on composure, he’d been screaming as loud as Levi 

Instead he settles for slamming his hand on his desk like that meme Asmo showed him 

Concerning his butler a bit, but Diavolo is a proud simp- he ADMITS it

Please come sit on him. Let HIM sit on YOU, for all he cares

You look so good?? What the fuck?? Marry him?? (<<exact texts he sends you)

Tries to find ways to give you a real demon form before getting scolded

Volunteers whole heartedly to let Asmo take pictures of both of you while you’re dressed like that

Ring, ring, Lucifer, he’s coming over ASAP, don’t be alarmed when he shows up at the door

Bonus : 

Solomon

Fuck this man is so down bad for you

I mean, he knew that before but this is just something else, Mc, what have you done to him? 

Knows you’re still human but god does he crave having your pact mark seared into his body (it’s a guilty pleasure of his)

Maybe you’ll just create one and tattoo it on anyway

No second thoughts, teleports to your room immediately to yank you into a kiss

Door is locked- Solomon refuses to let the brothers snatch you away from him rn

Please get on top of him and show him how real your fake fangs and nails feel

Will actually beg without a fight

Simeon

Thinks he should not find this as attractive as he does but the heat flooding through his body disagrees

Gets so hot and flustered, it would be concerning if he wasn’t an actual angel 

Drinks a whole ass cup of water in less than 2 seconds 

Personification of ‘hold my mf halo’ as he makes his way to your place once he calms down a bit

Yes, he’ll take pictures with you with his wings on display and yes, he may or may not be into this (and if you start a little roleplay with him? He’s ascending.)

Don’t tease and make fun of him, he can’t help it! He’s not trying to blush- though he isn’t trying to hide it either

Lies through his teeth without hesitation when he gets questioned about the faint lines on his shoulders 

Heaven’s filthiest angel, on brand

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ CRAWL ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

SYNOPSIS: If there is anything about the Devil, it’s that he always keeps his promises. The problem is, he’s mad that you seemed to have forgotten his promise. Crawling for the Devil is the least of your problems.

PAIRING: devil!yjh x reader (afab)

GENRE: fantasy | smut, pwp

TAGS: featuring: sub!ksy, artist!xmh, housemate!jww | auditory voyeurism, pegging (m receiving), fingering, hickies, face sitting, oral + face fucking (m receiving), tail play, degradation, crawling, spanking, swallowing, toys, manhandling, pnv

WC: 5.2k

A/N: hello! currently working on my thesis so writing this was a way to blow off steam. I also wasn't going to write another devil!jeonghan fic so thank you to @whenyourenothere for convincing me! this can be read as a standalone fic or a part two of red horn. special s/o to @junkissed for helping me figure out the tags for this fic bc there's a lot <33 - nu ♡ | tagging: @jjeongddol

himbocoups's masterlist

It is a rusty metallic foldable chair that you sit on that squeaks and creaks even with the slightest movement. You try to readjust your posture — definitely not sure if you should sit up straight with your back against the dusty chair or with your hands folded neatly on the edge of the devil’s table in front of you. In fact, you’re not sure whether or not you are supposed to touch the devil’s office desk, so you choose to lead with the prior option. And the metal chair reacts, drawing out a long and uncomfortable creeeeak as you shift your weight backward. 

Maybe you were just lucky last time, led by the Devil to believe that maybe you were worthy of being somebody special in this vast world. In this underworld where the universe’s menagerie of creatures visit with last hopes of finding a solution, you are finally coming to a conclusion that you’re only but a speck of dust in a world that knows no bounds. 

The small office room feels humid and stuffy; its previously supposedly beige wallpapers are now a darker shade of brown that peels in large patches to reveal dirty and white painted-over bricks. Splotches of mold line the edges of the patches, and you find yourself wishing that mold spores aren’t a thing that exists in Hell. But it’s Hell, and anybody who dealt with mold before knows that the process of treating mold is basically hell. The navy colored carpet looks old and worn out. Several flat and black pieces of gum stick to it, already dried and surprisingly shiny in color. 

On the desk and pushed to the corner is an old and vintage PC, the kind with the square monitors and the back that protrudes outwards. You can feel the heat from the computer console blow against your skin and leave a faint burnt metallic scent in its wake. Not sure what to do or if you’re supposed to do anything, you sit in silence as the devil behind the computer screen slowly types and moves his mouse on top of his mousepad to fill out the information he has in the giant manilla folder spread out in front of him. 

You retract your lips inwards and bite the gummy and smooth underside of your lips while you stare at the stack of business cards pointed toward you. Craig. His name is Craig with no last name. Demon. So you’re wrong. He’s neither a devil nor is he the Devil with a capital “D” whom you were previously introduced to. He’s just office worker Craig, the demon you were assigned today. 

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He asks you while lifting his mouse from the mousepad before setting it back down to readjust the roller ball underneath. Not once does he turn to look at you or make eye contact with you.

“A little,” you reply feeling awkward and a bit burdened by the question for almost no reason at all. 

He nods his head while tracing his long and crooked finger against a line on the stack of papers in front of him before typing in the data in his computer. He sniffs and snorts his phlegm while clearing his throat. It was just small talk; there is no way an office worker in Hell would care about your wellbeing. You find yourself wondering if central cooling is a thing in Hell while trying to peek at the contents of your surprisingly large folder with no avail.

This room, this office worker, this situation…none of this is the same as the beautiful and luxurious office space you imagined stepping in for the second time. Long gone is the plush gray Persian rug and the mahogany desk that belongs to the owner himself. And your large file that is spread out before the demon you’re assigned, you cannot help but think about the event or even events that could have possibly added to the flimsy pieces of paper the Devil flipped through when he first met you. And the thought of Craig reading your file only causes your face to heat up in embarrassment. 

“Um.” You force yourself to break the awkward silence. “May I use the restroom before we start? You still haven’t asked me what I’m here for, and I think I accidentally came under the assumption that I would be assigned to the same person. I’ll be quick in case you need me immediately.” 

“Down the hall,” the demon mumbles while hunching his back to allow himself to squint closely at the screen in front of him. 

Picking yourself up from your seat, you basically fling yourself out of the office while thinking about the fresh air that awaits you in the hallway. No thoughts about the demon nor suspicions regarding the fact that the demon didn’t really point you towards a particular route to the restroom floated in your mind. Coming here was a mistake, and you are willing to face any repercussions for walking out of a meeting with a demon if it means having to save yourself from the embarrassment of having that demon read your file regarding your previous request with the Devil. 

However, what awaits you on the other side of the door isn’t the hallway from which you entered the office you were in. Instead, you find yourself in an oddly familiar bedroom. Light navy blue floor-length curtains cover the window with their original pleats from when it was first purchased about a year ago still intact. Pushed against the window is the full-sized bed with the orange-stained wooden headboard and the mess of frost blue blankets haphazardly strewn on the mattress. The soft and rotund tiger plush lays threateningly close to the edge of the bed, able to be toppled over even with the slightest movement on the mattress. 

The owner of this bedroom is in the middle of it all. Kwon Soonyoung kneels on his bed with his legs spread and his ass up. He already looks so fucked out. His left cheek is pressed against his mattress while he looks back at you with his hands tied behind his back. The position he’s in doesn’t seem comfortable at all, but his expressions, demeanor, and soft whimpers coming out of his mouth digress. 

“Please,” he practically begs you from his pitiful position. You can see how his lean thighs tremble while he struggles against his restraints. He wails with such desperation, “I want it. I want it so badly,” so much that it almost sounds as if he is going to cry from your lack of action. 

You don’t realize it until now, but an object manifests itself in your hands. A thick and ribbed silicone dildo, one that you’re too familiar with, is being stroked by you unconsciously. You feel the girth of it and how the lube it’s coated with prepares the toy for insertion. 

Then comes the teasing. You find the words naturally flowing out of your mouth: “Conciseness in your language, Soonie. What is it that you want?”

But the thing is, you know what comes next. You know what his response is as you slowly make your way over to him.

“Peg me. I’m ready,” he gasps while a tiny translucent pearl gathers at the tip of his dangling cock. “Blow my back out.”

You already know exactly how many times you will yourself to slap his ass to prep him before his legs give in. You already know how lewdly he would gasp as you insert the tip of the toy, how he would bury his face in his blankets as he moans out loud. You find yourself repeating actions as if being controlled by a machine, yet you don’t hate it. You’re magically stuck in a limbo between reality and déjà vu, presently recreating the past. 

You feel his walls sucking in the toy, taking it in so well. Like a special switch in an escape room, once you grab onto his aching cock to stroke him while you peg him, the scene immediately switches.

Naked and in the middle of a studio apartment that reeks of paint fumes and essential oils, you look at yourself through the standing mirror in front of you. Despite the fan blowing in the background and the apartment windows propped open, you don’t feel cold at all. Instead, your skin pricks with heat as the sensation of arousal gathers itself at your core and spreads to the tips of your fingers. Beneath you is a mop of platinum blonde hair of the artist who sits by your feet. 

Xu Minghao gently grabs you by the waist so that he can angle you so that you can get a better view of his artwork on your body. You remember that with him, you always felt safe and appreciated. He traces his slender finger along the length of your thigh, bringing it up to your ass. He makes you feel valuable through your soreness, the entirety of your right ass cheek covered in his carefully placed hickies. Your pussy throbs with eagerness, waiting to be filled before all of the juices run dry. 

“My work of art,” he mumbles before he brings his lips to your ass cheek. In the open space where the bruises connect, he bites it with his teeth and swirls the flesh in between his teeth with his tongue. His left hand makes its way to your opening, thumbing the smooth nub that immediately makes your knees buckle. So he positions himself behind you, strongly wrapping his long right arm around your legs to keep you steady as he nips and sucks while he takes your time to circle your clit before he finally slips his finger in your core as if the action is like second nature to him. 

Pleasure builds in your soul and makes your body scream with pleasure as Minghao meticulously massages your inner walls, stroking and tapping your spongy insides as you writhe in his arm. He adds another finger, filling you up and building your high, scissoring you while you moan his name as your liquid drips down his fingers and collects in his palm. 

“Done,” he breathes as he shifts his body so that he sits between your open legs. You can feel how his warm breath hits your skin as he speaks with his lips nearly on your cunt, “Flower on your ass. Sweet and puffy rose sitting on my face.”

Before you can re-experience all of what it felt like to sit on Minghao’s face like a chair, you find yourself in another room. This time, you’re in your own place in the room next to yours. From the placement of the desk to how the bed is pushed against the corner of the room, flush against the wall, the layout of this room directly mirrors your own. There are a lot more notecard art prints taped to the wall than you last remembered. The LED lights built into his mechanical keyboard softly pulses as it switches colors. And there is the all too familiar smell of his laundry detergent and dryer sheets that fills his room — he had just unloaded his laundry from the dryer, but didn’t have time to fold his clothes as they still sit in the laundry basket placed in front of his closet. 

You’re not sure if you’re allowed to be here at all. It’s not often that you find yourself in Jeon Wonwoo’s bedroom, but when you do, you’re usually near the threshold of his door. And to be sitting on his plush gray sheets, you think it feels too intrusive. Still, you’re not sure if you should move from your comfortable position despite the fact that you’re not close enough to him to enter his bedroom just to chill without him present. And the worst of all, you’re pretty sure you’re still soaked from your previous encounter with Minghao. And that you’re still definitely in hell because there is no way you would ever allow yourself to feel this close to coming on Wonwoo’s bedsheets without his permission. 

Two soft knocks on the door diverts your attention to the closed door. 

“Yn,” Wonwoo's deep and tender voice calls your name from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay? I’m coming in.”

The thing is, this occurrence with Wonwoo had never happened before. You’re stuck in a scenario far different from the other two. So, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when you saw him walk through his bedroom door. Instead of the tall and built housemate that you sometimes find yourself secretly fawning over, is the sinister yet charming man you haven’t seen in ages. 

Yoon Jeonghan steps into your housemate’s bedroom with the irresistible charm of his while flaunting an oversized black t-shirt whose sleeves almost touch his elbows. The Devil is here, and he knows everything that you’ve been hiding from him.

He slams the door behind him and takes long and fast paced strides toward the bed until his figure towers over you. And the Devil himself smirks as he purposely leans down until his bangs dangle in front of his forehead and your entire upper body is pressed against Wonwoo’s sheets. His right hand presses into the space next to your left shoulder as he looks down at you with a pitiful look on his face. 

“What?” He almost scoffs at you in his beautiful light and airy voice. “You didn’t once stop to think that maybe all of this was my doing? That you would relive your memories with who was it? Kwon Soonyoung and Xu Minghao? You’re more fucking stupid than I remembered. Were you fucked too hard by Seungcheol that you lost a few braincells? Or was it with Joshua when you accidentally hit your head too many times against the inside of his car door?”

He cocks his head to the side as he grabs your chin with his left hand. Cold to the touch, this miniscule action has you struggling to catch your breath. He tilts your head left and right as if to carefully inspect what is his. 

“My pet,” he coos while letting go of your chin. Where his cool fingertips touched your skin now pricks with burning heat. And he takes his time to kneel on the bed while still hovering over your body. “This is the bedroom of the guy you get off to? You don’t think I know about how often you touch yourself while he fucks the people he brings over to this bedroom? And now you’re horny again? You want to fuck on the bed of the guy you want so deep in your gut?”

As stupid as you are, you find yourself shell shocked and in awe at the Devil on top of you so much that you unconsciously nod in agreement to every single humiliatingly detailed sentence that comes out of his mouth. The topic isn’t about Jeonghan and you, but the sexual tension established between the two of you knocks on your pussy and makes your mouth go dry. Fuck, maybe he is right. Fucking other men over the span of time since you last saw Jeonghan could never amount to what you felt when you were fucked by the Devil. Lost in your delusions, you could only get off to what you couldn’t have. And when the world’s most untouchable creature is currently so close to you that the collar of his black tee hangs so low that you can peek through the hole to see the expanse of his lean body, the warning signals your brain is desperately trying to send you are unfortunately dispelled by the eagerness of wanting to take a second dip. 

“How much do you want me?” 

“Enough,” you reply while staring straight into his eyes.

He wastes no time by pulling out his cock from his sweats as you sit up from your previous position. Cold and hard are the two adjectives you can use to describe the feeling of him tracing his cock along your open lips. But he won’t let you touch him. He won’t let you kiss him. He lets you starve as your eyes flitter between his cock on your mouth and his deceivingly beautiful face as he pumps his cock. And he taps his member on your lips, telling you to open your mouth wider. And you can feel him slip himself through the hole you made, how the veins on the underside feel against the smooth and warm inner part of your lips. You’re hungry. Starving. Basically wishing that he’ll let you close your mouth around him and suck him to the point you’re reminded that he had no soul to begin with. 

So when he commands you to suck, you do as he says. You lick the tip, wetting and coating it with your saliva. Swirling your tongue around the length, you warm up the member in your mouth as more of his salty taste coats your tongue. Then you close your lips around him in a perfect “O” while shifting yourself on your knees so you can take him better. 

You suck, hollowing your cheeks while gliding your mouth along his length. God, how you bend so easily for him. Your eyelids flutter as you continue to take him along his curved length. And moan while your mouth is plugged, a muffled moan of ecstasy when you feel him twitch while sandwiched between your lips. To make matters worse, whenever you look up at him as you edge yourself to take him in further, you see that he looks perfectly composed. 

“Wider, slut,” he tells you while pumping what you can’t take. His hand is on your jaw again, and he squeezes your jaw between his long fingers so that it stays open. Your pool of saliva escapes the corners of your lips and trails along your chin before it drops on Wonwoo’s sheets. And he fucks himself in your mouth by manually moving your head along his length, barely giving you enough time to flatten your tongue against the whole of his length. He pushes his length into your mouth and groans when you gag. 

He fucks your mouth to find satisfaction and get off on your uncomfortableness, watching you moan while struggling to keep up with his pace. His hand leaves your jaw and attaches itself to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair as he uses it to swing your head back and forth like the ping pong ball attached to a paddle toy. The two of you know that the rate in which he fucks your mouth is too much for you, yet you find pleasure in being used by the higher being while he fucks your mouth to the sounds of you struggling against his cock and the wet smack of your lips when you spit him out after he comes. You swallow what you have and hurriedly wipe the liquid white off your chin and lips. You watch him tearfully as he finishes with his cock in his hand and his seed on the bedsheets and your thighs. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you stutter as his angry red length bounces in front of your teary eyes. You want to lean in again to put him between your lips before he can punish you. You want him to call you names and make you feel bad about yourself. You want him to pump himself while he looks at you attacking the slit on his tip like how you want him to eat you out. You want to swirl your tongue around the spongy smooth surface before using the tip of your tongue to dig into the area in which his precum emits. 

Your thighs rub together to ease the unsatisfied throb of your core. You need stimulation from him in any way. Just a kiss. A touch. Anything from Jeonghan would probably edge you to completion, but he doesn’t want to help you. And you don’t want to give up this opportunity with him.  

“I’m s-sorry Jeonghan. Jeonghan, I’m sorry. Please…,” you plead as you watch him look down on you with a face of disappointment. You want to physically reach out to him to tell him you’ll do better, to tell him to give you another chance. But you see him take a few steps backwards and you’re sent into a state of frenzied lust and panic. You’ve never been so desperate to please, to complete a request from a man. You’re so deluded by the Devil that it feels as if your entire world will end if you don't please him or hold yourself up to his standards. 

Gone is the man who called you his Angel the first time he met you. In front of you is the Devil who willfully draws you in, who has you stumbling off of your housemate’s bed just so that you can crawl your way over to him in your blissful haze. The more Yoon Jeonghan steps backwards, the more your vision tunnels on his body as you crawl across the bedroom floor, not caring about how uncomfortable the hardwood floor is underneath your palms and your knees. 

When you come to your senses, you realize that it’s a different kind of hardwood underneath your body. Your naked body is displayed on all fours on Jeonghan’s large mahogany office desk like an object on display. You don’t even remember if you had your clothes on in the first place. But it feels as if the Devil suddenly wanted to bring one of the several trinkets he has displayed along his office wall to play with at his desk. You were confident that you could show him how much you’ve changed since you last saw him. Yet he has a way of proving how wrong you are. You’re no match for the Devil, and he intends to keep it that way. And in a way, to be displayed in front of him, it makes you feel as if you’re one of his prized possessions. 

Your eyes watch him as he circles around his desk while he looks you up and down. He’s no longer in his t-shirt and sweats, but in a classic white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black tailored slacks. Golden and thin-wired circular glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. Protruding from the top of his head are his red horns. And this time, the long and forked tail that he previously kept hidden swishes behind his back. He brings the length of his long tail up to his left hand before tightly coiling it around the palm of his right hand like a long red rope. And one look from him through his glasses, a satisfying smirk and an arched brow, you know that you’re done for.

He takes the tip of his tail and traces it along your naked body, causing your body to jolt and shudder in response. He uses it like a teacher’s pointing stick, the tip running smoothly along the curvature of your body. He’s purposely toying with you, watching you try not to squirm every time he traces his tail anywhere near your glistening cunt. 

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He jests while planting himself at the edge of his desk behind your ass. It hits you that you heard this question before, and only now do you realize that the Devil has been playing with you all along. You feel him trace his tail along your cunt, letting a prong trace along your folds as if it were his finger. 

“Fuck!” you gasp out loud. “That was you?”

You feel the stinging pain on your ass after you hear the crisp slap ring into the air. Your stomach tightens as your pussy clenches in response.

“Shut the fuck up Yn,” he grunts. “Cumsluts can’t talk.”

You moan when you feel his tail go underneath a fold, causing your thighs to go weak. But he pulls his tail away from your core to tap it against your outer thigh. Hold yourself up, the action seems to say. So you gather your strength to maintain your position, ignoring the soreness in your knees and the fact that he’s been with you ever since you stepped into “Craig’s” office. When you spread your thighs, your sensitive cunt opens up like a flower in bloom, warm and wet against the stale office air. Jeonghan doesn’t ravish its beauty like how Minghao often does. He doesn’t want to. 

Although your forearms are tired and your thighs burn from exhaustion, your pussy pulsates like it’s its own living entity — full of life and eager to be filled. Right now, only Jeonghan can grant these conditions. And you’re willing to wait even if your horniness drives you mad. 

He firmly grabs your ass, angling it so that your glistening pussy is in full view. 

“From this point on, I’m going to make you scream my name like a requiem made for angels.” He forcefully pulls your ass back so that it’s pressed against his stomach while he leans over your figure so that his mouth is near your left ear. “I’ll ruin you if you try to crawl away. But I’d like to see you try.”

You’re pretty sure you already soaked his shirt in the place where your core was pressed against the fabric. It amazes you how he easily flips your body so that you’re laying flat on his desk with your legs propped up against the wood. Any further back, you would be in a mating press. 

You wonder if he can read your mind, how much you want to ride him up and down his length and for him to coat you so much that you’re left with soft and silken skin. Even if he tied your hands behind your back, you would still go on your knees to unbuckle his belt with your teeth. 

He’s been sensing your urgency since you summoned him. Looking at your sopping cunt and dragging the tip of his tail along your clit, he decides to ease the heat in your stomach by slowly pushing his tail into your core. You moan in response as you slowly adjust to its size, feeling everything from the way it fills your walls to the way it is as smooth as a glass dildo. You shudder at the way he pulls it out of you for a mere second before pushing it back into you, causing your stomach to twitch and your thighs to close around his hand.

He leaves his tail in you while he pries your thigh apart. 

“What’s the use in thinking about mounting my cock if you can’t even keep your legs open? What’s an ego if you can’t even embody it correctly?” he mocks you before bringing down the hand that once held his tail against your heat. The impact feels as hot as the way your arousal burns. You cry out in elated pleasure; one convulsion is enough to push the tail halfway out of you. “Useless excuse of a human,” he laughs at you before grunting as he pushes his tail back inside, twisting it as he plunges it in and out of you. “You’re all talk, yet you bend at the thought of me.” 

Cock-deprived, you clench around his tail as you gasp for air. Your pussy sucks the tail in and refuses to let go, making you mewl for Jeonghan to fuck you hard while he thrusts his tail in and out of you. “Nn-nh. Jeonghan! Ah- Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Use me.” You squeal and moan out loud as your high builds at an incredible speed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back arches off the desk and you feel as if you’re levitating. “I’m gonna come.” 

“Come.”

You cream at his command, coating his instrument in a thick and white sheen. Your stomach folds inwards as you whimper from the pleasure. He pulls his tail out of you while coaxing more out of you by lightly tapping your nub as you convulse. Overstimulated, you come another time, babbling his name and telling him how good you feel as you squirt against his slender fingers. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “You made a mess on my table only from my tail. What’s going to happen when you take my cock? You’ve already folded yourself into a fucking fetal positon, Yn.” 

You can feel your liquid drip from your pussy to your ass before it pools on the table underneath you. You feel so relieved and relaxed from your high, but there is still this insatiable need for the Devil to fuck you.

When he does, his cock fills you and squeezes you dry. His head rubs against the top of your walls while his veins work like a ribbed toy — adding more pleasure than you have ever experienced. Fingers digging into your thighs, he pulls out and slams back into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You want to scream out his name as you clench around his length, sucking him in and never wanting to let go. But the image in front of you is a sight to behold, leaving you breathless as you watch it unfold.

You watch him through your half-lidded eyes, the scene of him as he throws his head back. You can see the way he swallows your cum that coats the tail he sucks in his mouth, how his Adam’s apple bobs when the liquid travels down his throat. You’re nothing but an instrument for his pleasure, and he sure knows how to show it. 

He bucks his length into you so that it kisses the deepest parts of you, causing you to gasp and quake in your stomach. And he keeps it there with his legs pressed against your ass and the underside of your thighs. Slowly grinding against you, he revels in how you choke from the size of him and how you clench and unclench as if you’re struggling to hold on. 

He pops the tail out of his mouth, a long string of saliva like a web between the tip of his prong and his tongue. He looks like a character from a lewd illustration, so beautiful yet so deadly. And you find yourself into another dimension as he thrusts further into you, grunting as he watches you scream for him.

“Fuck!,” you scream as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re going to tear me apart.”

“Gonna,” he grunts between every thrust, increasing his pace with every word. “Make. You. Feel. Everything.” 

Your entire body trembles with pleasure, your breathing erratic. He continues to thrust into you, talking with his sweet tongue about how your slick and puffy pussy drives him insane. 

“There’s nobody in this world who can fuck like I do,” he reminds you. “Now squeeze me hard as I cum in you. We’re going to be making a new type of liquid.”

Copyright © 2023 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.

[byeolbeloved]

Make me forget -choi san

pairings 》 mafia!san x reader

genre 》 mafia!au, smut, angst, tiny fluff, forbidden love

warnings 》 mention of guns/violence/blood/abuse, cheating (not on reader,) sexual content, MINORS DO NOT READ

summary 》 choi san was a cold, feared mafia boss who knew nothing outside the world of gore and killing. Thats when he met you, the girl who showed him love. But what stands in his way between having you to himself is his arranged marriage. That still does not stop his feelings for you.

Everyone feared San.

Apart from him being in the Choi family- one of the biggest mafia family trees in the world, San was a nightmare. His reputation was filthy ever since he was young. He trashed anywhere he’d step foot at, petrified whoever he spoke to and spat on his victims lifeless bodies after smothering their blood onto the walls- all with an emotionless look on his face.

But San feared you.

He feared you because of how lovable you were. How easy you smiled to people. How you’d drop anything you were doing to help people. How you cried at other people's pains. But most importantly. He feared how you weren’t scared of him. He knew if he were to ever pull a gun to your head, which god dammit he would pull it to his after, you’d smile at him. That smile that made his black heart excited. The only smile he could smile back to. The only time he smiled.

It was moments like these where he’d realise, although he has seen all the horror and gore of the world, he knew nothing about living.

Laying you down on your baby pink bed sheets, throwing some plushies that got in the way off the bed for you to pick up later. Your bright bedroom. Your simple quiet life contrasted his. His life of screams and gunshots. He liked it. He loved it. Because with you he felt like a man able to feel. Able to love.

He didn’t think it was possible for a human being to be this cute. The way you whimpered at his nibbles and breath on your neck. Your back arched, full body touching his when he played with your nipples. Your trembling hands gliding his back when he connected his lips to yours.

Cute was never in San’s vocabulary. But ever since that day he saw you at the cafe, serving pancakes to a customer with a bright smile, holding your belly as you lightly giggled, he used that word for the first time in his life. “Cute.”

His legs moved on their own. His hand pushed the door open on its own. Suddenly there you were right in front of him, the same smile on your face as you asked what he wanted to order. Although now, he could see the way your cheeks puffed up with a light blush, your nose scrunched when thinking about what to make him when he told you to order for him, the way your eyes sparkled. So shiny he could see his reflection through them.

His dirty, filthy, monstrous reflection.

But that was far from what you thought of him, after you handed him a cappuccino with a cat drawn on the foam with cocoa powder. “No need to act tough, I know you think it’s cute too” you told him with a giggle. And yes. He thought it was very cute. He thought you were cute. You wouldn’t think a man dressed in an all black, gelled back hair, tough build with sharp facial features could be in a cafe with pink wallpapers and flowers decorated on the walls. But for the next 4 weeks, San came to your cafe everyday. Ordered the same things. Sat at the same table. He’d stay until closing time and you two chatted anytime you weren’t preoccupied with other customers or cleaning up. He was surprisingly very charming and funny considering his dark visuals. You naturally felt comfortable with him which led you to venting about anything and everything to him. Whether it was about how you think mint chocolate is underrated or how complicated your love life is. He listened to everything. Soon later he started dropping you off at your house. Always walking you up to your apartment and occasionally giving you a kiss goodnight on your forehead.

San was never this slow with anyone. He could get any girl he wanted just from eye contact. But with you, he wanted to be proper. He wanted to feel you slowly, afraid he might break you from how fragile you were. He wanted all of you. But there was something that got in his way from that.

San was a married man.

“Did she…. Did she do this to you?” you said with a horrified expression, afraid to touch the burn mark on his back. San sighed sitting up from the bed facing you. “Y/N… it’s nothing, I’m okay” he gilded his thumb across your swollen bottom lip from your makeout session a minute ago. “San, look at your back! You barely got any skin left!” you lightly raise your voice in concern. “You’re not going back to that house. You can’t let her do these things to you San, you can’t!”

Park Seoyoon. Daughter of Mr.Park- one of the most feared Mafia leaders in the game. She was a fox. Elegant on the outside. Everyone loved her because she was so beautiful and bubbly. Her pale-milky skin stood out from her dark black hair. She was tall and slim. Her face was next-level beauty- although also 50% cosmetic. Everyone thought of her as the perfect wife. But under that mask she was nothing but a sly manipulator and abuser who got whatever she wanted.

Their fathers arranged their marriage for money and power. Which is why they are so respected as a couple in the mafia world.

San hated her. Despised her. She’d bring home multiple guys throughout the day. She threw water at her servants. Her voice was obnoxiously loud and annoying.

The beginning stages of their marriage Seoyoon tried her best at seducing San. Only to get ignored by him so she did everything to ruin his life. She knew he could not fight back at her, because one word to daddy and San would be dead meat.

First it was teasing- hooking up with his friends and purposely getting herself into trouble. Then verbal abuse- which didn’t do much to him since San never reacted to harsh words so it quickly turned physical. Her tantrums included throwing plates in his way but this time was too far when she threw boiling hot water at him neglecting whatever she said she wanted.

“I want to help you Sannie…” you felt helpless seeing him come home with bruises you couldn’t stop him from getting.

“You’re doing enough Y/N, being in my arms is enough baby” he pulled you from your waist to move closer to his body, never breaking eye contact with you he tangled his hand into your hair. He has you on his lap now slowly grinding your bodies on one another.

“W-wanna make you feel good” your voice was above a whisper, gently gliding your nails on the back of his neck sending shivers down his spine.

“Make me forget Y/N… Make me forget her and show me you’re mine” he says before clashing his lips onto yours, not roughly but passionately with hunger, as if he has been starved from your touch for decades.

Clothes were off in seconds. Both of your body heat grinding on each other could start a fire. A fire that will destroy the world. Destroy this world for not allowing you two to write your story. For not allowing him to hold your hand out in public and show you off to all his friends. For not allowing you to show him off. For not allowing you to plan your kids names and whose eyes they’re going to have. San could burn the world for you. Maybe it would be better for you two. Maybe you could finally do the things you wanted to do.

That fire could turn the world into the sun after you slowly slide yourself on him. Adjusting to his length you rest your forehead on his and whisper “Use me San… I w-wanna be yours in every way…c-claim me.”

Without another word he pushes you up, only to guide you down again causing your whole body to shudder. This goes on till he’s now thrusting into you from below, grunting at every thrust.

Your body rocks at every thrust, holding onto his shoulder for support, hair bouncing as he moves the strands from out of your face, looking at you with nothing but pure love in contrast to the lustful movements he’s doing beneath you.

“You’re so good to me Y/N fuck mine. mine. all mine yea I don’t deserve you like this fuck”

He doesn’t mean it. San has never felt insecure in his life. But part of him hurts knowing he can’t be a normal lover to you. It hurts him that he can’t live a normal life with you- because his life is far from normal. You’ve told him many times in the past how you don’t care. You like the way things are between you two. Because you love him and that's enough for you. But part of him can’t believe he could ever be loved.

“I love you San” you manage to get out between moans. His pace is now rough, fast, hard. Your walls are clenching onto him. Afraid he’ll slip out. Afraid he’ll go. Afraid it’ll end. But he holds you. He pulls you closer to his chest, face in the crook of your neck as he bites down.

“I love you my Y/N”

[copiumsstuff]

Hero! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Villain! Reader

warning! violence, smut, dubcon/noncon.

you have been warned.

Imagine! Being a villanous little demon in the dark forest, loyal to your creator and savior the demon king.

Wearing skimpy lingerie, sharp stilettos, laces, nails, everything. You live in the small corner of the dark forest in your little manor, being served by your evil minions. You constantly torment the nearby village, sending your minions to burn and destroy houses.

Everything was perfect, and then he arrived. The hero and savior, Simon Riley or his loyal followers call him 'Ghost'. A big, meaty man, taller than any human male you have ever seen. He wears thick heavy metal armor, a massive shiny sword and a black mask covering his mouth and nose, his eyes the only thing visible.

During one of your usual raids at the village. You were happily burning a house when suddenly a minion beside you falls dead, decapitated. Turning around and you faced him, a hero from one of the human kingdoms you have grown to despised, Ghost.

You recognized him, a new hero quickly rising in the ranks and defeating other powerful demons. But you weren't afraid of him, you were ready to get rid of that pest. Or maybe enslave him and make him join your harem, it would be a shame to kill such a sexy man.

You laugh at his face, confidently yapping about your power and evil plans. He was a silent man, just staring at you as you blabber about villanous things. Finally you attack him, throwing a dark energy ball at him. It hits him square at the chest as he did nothing but stand there and stare at you. Smoke covered where he stood and you laugh to yourself about the foolish hero, shame he died so easily.

Suddenly he dashes through the smoke and grabbed you by your throat. Just like that, you were defeated. Your minions all slain by a swift slash of his sword, then he burned your manor with villagers chanting happily at ruins of your home, and then he held you prisoner in his home.

Your prison was strange. Walls with intricate wallpaper, soft carpeted floor, a fluffy big bed in the middle of the room and a big window that had a beautiful view of the garden. You had a magical shackle on your leg that disabled your powers and limit your reach. Only being able to barely touch the glass window. Your provocative clothing switched with flowy pastel nightgowns and fluffy bunny slippers.

You hated it, you felt like a fool, a joke. When Ghost finally entered your prison, he didn't have any armor on. Wearing a simple black long sleeve shirt and brown pants. His simple outfit made his muscles and veins more visible, almost making you forget your anger for the man.

You snap out of your trance, you scream at him, yelling profanities, demanding for your freedom and throwing pillows at his face.

Next thing you know, he angrily pushed your face down on the soft mattress, ass up in the air and his thick cock stretching your pussy as he drills you into the bed.

He smacks your ass, pulling your head back by your hair and he grunted to your ear. "Get used to this you cheeky little slut, this is your new life now. " He grunts, his balls slapping at your ass as he thrusted angrily into you.

Saliva dripped out of your mouth, eyes rolling back to your head. He made you feel so amazing your brain turned to mush, unable to fight him. You could only moan from the pleasure and pain, claw the sheets and cum on his cock as he fucks you with intensity and never ending energy.

Maybe being his prisoner isn't so bad after all.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What do you think of this designer renovation? It's an 1890 home in Hudson, NY. I think I like it, especially the wallpaper and color. The house itself is square and plain, so I think that the updates fit it. 3bds, 3ba, $1.145m. I posted it before, so it's been on the market a while, and it's finally got a pending sale. However, Zillow feels that the price is too high- the Zestimate is $1,078,800.

The designer gave the entrance hall sophisticated paint choices and modern lighting.

Small sitting room off the main hall has an original fireplace painted black. Hate that light fixture, though. The original floors were all painted black.

Pocket doors open to a second sitting room.

She put a little wood burning stove in the corner. Cute. I'm getting moody vibes from this decor.

Small dining room has the popular blue leaf-patterned wallpaper. I saw a video the other day about painting old wood- a woman painted all of the wood walls in a family room, a la HGTV. The video showed how she could've kept the wood and what she could've done to update the room with decor. It was interesting.

The kitchen was given a remodel, keeping the original small footprint. They got a large island in, and some nice shaker cabinetry, but that cooktop w/o exhaust is really gonna mess up those shiny lights overhead.

Back room was fitted with a storage piece.

Nice guest powder room.

Refinishing the wood stairs and coating them in polyurethane would've been more durable than paint. They're going to need some sort of preservative or stair treads.

Cute bedroom.

Bath reno. Not bad.

This room has a nice little alcove and was made into a TV room.

Bedrooms are small - a cloud mural on the feature wall gives it a little feel of openness.

Love the pale pink tree pattern on this wallpaper.

Small vintage bath. Like the heat grate in the wall.

The 3rd level rail was left original. I'm assuming that this is the attic. They don't show it.

Wrap around porch and modern deck on the back.

Fenced in yard. Not sure if that parking space belongs to the house, but it looks like it does. 5,662 sq ft lot

[moralesmilesanhour]

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission: 

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did. 

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face. 

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation. 

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’. 

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register. 

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration. 

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap. 

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully. 

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?” 

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness? 

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register. 

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” 

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet. 

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

-

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap. 

-

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it. 

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown. 

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

You tap your nails on the table, thinking. 

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too. 

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face. 

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother. 

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

[somedaythesun]

TS2 Maxis-Match Lingerie Store Set

Hello, I'm still alive! I had to take a long break from Simming, but I've finally finished this collection and wanted to release it.

Reintroducing Bella's Secret lingerie store set by RetailSims! Now available in sweet pink or spicy black motifs. Featuring more objects than you'll know what to do with :D

There are four Maxis-match sets in this collection: the K&B lingerie set (3 colors), a new bra mesh using the Freetime sewing machine dress textures (6 colors!), the K&B camisole set (3 colors), and the Basegame slip nighties (4 colors).

For the mannequins and the furniture, I wanted to capture that high-gloss look that a lot of lingerie stores use, and I discovered that the perfect in-game texture was…the grand piano?? So all the display objects are repo'd to that object and come in either glossy black or white (or whatever other recolors you may have). The velvet panels are either pink or red and are recolorable.

The shelving unit is actually three distinct pieces: a panty/bra counter with 15(!) slots you can fill, a double row wall display rack (15 slots), and a single row wall display rack for longer hanging items (8 slots). These live in Surfaces > Shelves for §241.

All of the hanging items can be hung on your Sim's wall for decoration, but they are also aligned to perfectly slot into the wall racks. I personally find it relaxing to fill up the display cabinets, and you can mix and match to your heart's content! You'll find all the clothing in General > Dressers for §18.

I also made some objects to sit on the countertops or in the drawers. Everything is repo'd to a parent object to reduce file sizes, so if you're interested in recoloring the lingerie, check the filenames for the PARENT objects and you'll be able to make your own varieties.

Lastly, I recreated RetailSims's shop sign, but this time in Simlish. I did my best to keep the polycount as low as possible, but be warned it's still high poly. It spans 6 tiles and is EXTREMELY shiny. Comes in black or white! Found in Deco > Wall for §800

I highly recommend you get RetailSims's original wallpapers (archive link to the dead site is here). All original idea credit goes to RetailSims, I just fell in love with their set years ago and wanted to refresh it to match the game's original aesthetics.

Download

I may need to disappear offline for another lengthy break, but I'll stick around for a few days after I post this to check for any problems, so let me know if anything isn't working your game. Enjoy!

[biteofcherry]

Shiny Trinket

Heart of Ruby Masterlist

part of Ruby Garden series

Dom!Ari Levinson x submissive female reader

summary: Don't ever think that your Dom doesn't take your opinions into consideration. Ari's about to thoroughly review your small suggestion about the Ruby Garden club's interior.

warnings: Dom/sub dynamics; bdsm; Dom!Ari Levinson; power imbalance; safe, sane and consensual; established relationship; mild bondage; use of sex toys; explicit s**ual content; very light objectification;

word count: 3.6k

In response to the pleading I wrote something with Dom!Ari to start the weekend. So grab a drink, don't drink it while reading, but hydrate afterwards as aftercare is important even for readers 😂

Head resting on Ari's shoulder, you mindlessly play with the button of his partly-open shirt as your gaze trails across the space. Soft timbre of Ari's voice as your Dom talks to another member is soothing enough that you let your thoughts simply wander.

Dark tones on the walls, which at first sight may look like simple black paint, are in fact a velvety wallpaper encrusted with decorative swirls. BDSM equipment in red leather and old-wood styled designs is mixed with black, French-style furniture; like the curved dresser which drawers are filled with small fun implements, from nipple clamps to gags.

Ornamental iron hanging from the ceilings in various spots around the club serves as rafters to which poor bottoms can be cuffed. The chandeliers, most in red or reddish-gold, a decorative echo of old French districts.

No wonder Ari feels here so at ease. Not only because he owns the place, but because he made it a much kinkier, lush reflection of the New Orleans, which used to be his home. 

You like the quite luxurious feel of the Ruby Garden, with the enticing shades of black and titular red, wood and upholstery that sometimes make you fantasize about past century brothels or private clubs where kink started to bloom amongst bohemian passions.

But there's something missing. At least according to your eye.

"It could use some sparkles," you mutter under your breath, not fully aware you said it out loud.

Ari's legs beneath you jerk up slightly, nudging you as he tilts his head and glances at you.

"Hmm? What were you saying, mon Chérie?" He asks.

Ari never loses his focus on you, even if he's engaged in a conversation with someone else, his instincts are always zeroed in on you.

It's endearing, but sometimes also scary. Especially in moments when you'd rather not have your Dom sense you're about to get into trouble.

"Nothing important," you shrug. "Just that something shiny could be added to the club's interior."

"What?" Ari arches a single brow, now fully looking at you.

"Hey, I find the club very chic and stylish," you playfully tug on the collar of Ari's shirt, "but even with the addition of red it's still mostly masculine. A few shiny trinkets here or there could level it up."

Okay, so maybe you like sparkling things a bit.

Maybe a lot.

Maybe the vanity at your place is stacked with four jewelry boxes that beside your usually worn jewelry contain lots of broken strings of colorful beads, which you didn't have a heart to throw away because they were so pretty and shiny.

"Shiny decorations?" At first Ari looks at you as if you lost your mind, but his eyes slowly darken as he deliberates on something.

You tilt yourself back warily, as much as Ari's heavy arm securing your back allows. You don't trust that look on his face, when his features harden and evil kind of mischief ignites in his blue eyes.

When he gives you that look, it usually means you're about to suffer his wicked ways.

"I think I have to seriously consider such a proposition." Ari hums, tracing his fingertips down your arm.

He gently takes your fingers in his and lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles like a gentleman. Reminding you of the movie vampires you once compared him to, saying he had that southern charm blinding his victim into compliance so that he could rip her apart and leave her body in the bayou.

Ari had laughed then; rich and genuine amusement that carried through his apartment and made your heart flutter in happiness.

Then he'd tied you to a reupholstered Bergere chair and wrecked you to a point that you prayed for being dumped dead in the bayou.

So now that he's dropping into his charming deception again, your heart jumps in reasonable fear. And your pussy clenches.

"Stand up for me, Chérie." He helps you up on your feet, moving along with you, until he's towering over you.

"Remove your clothing, please." Though he's polite, you know it wasn't a request, but an order.

One you don't have much trouble complying, despite there always being that first wave of embarrassment when you undressed fully in the club, since there were always curious eyes around you.

"Wrists, please."

It's an instinct, to place your hand in Ari's grip without hesitation. Even if you're wary of his creative type of evil, you trust him deeply.

Ari's leather cuffs are already in place, always put on before you enter the club floor. Now he links them together, binding your hands. Then he lifts your arms above your head.

Your eyes follow the line of Ari's arms as he stretches them - one hand holding your bound wrists, while the other reaches for a chain hanging from the rafters above.

Uh-oh.

He chains you in place, pulling you up 'till you're balancing on the balls of your feet.

Ari tenderly runs his fingertips along your arms and down your sides, reminding you of his presence and care, despite having just thrown you off balance.

"A second, if you please." He smiles at you, but it's not really reassuring. Not at the moment when you see the wicked hunger gleaming in his eyes.

Ari sways you gently, chuckling when you squeak as your feet slide across the floor.

He moves past you, walking a few steps away. You can hear amused huffs coming from the few people who are around, including the Master with whom Ari was speaking before.

You try focusing on the sounds of what your Dom may be preparing, but the mixture of the club's noises drowns out the quiet slide of a drawer being pulled open.

Ari doesn't take long, but enough for you to start stewing in images running wild.

There's always an element of surprise (to not say shock) when being with Ari. No matter how many details you talk over before starting some scenes, your Master always twists it up and makes your head spin.

He stands in front of you again, steadying your body with a hand on your hip. He lets his gaze roam over you; slowly, so that you feel the burning attention rousing each part of your body.

"I'm always open to suggestions," he says, squeezing your flesh, "so I'll happily consider the option of adding more sparkling elements to the interior."

"But I'd rather keep with the color scheme, okay?" He asks you, as if he was really talking about simple interior design.

You know he's not. You can practically see the cogs in his devious mind twirling rapidly, creating a plan of your demise to the tune of his evil laugh.

You swallow nervously, nodding your head hesitantly.

Then Ari takes something out of his pocket and your eyes widen.

The chain that dangles on his finger isn't long. It has three red, crystal hearts placed evenly across it. And a pair of biting as fuck nipple clamps - each on one end.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" You shake your head, scrambling away as far as your chain allows, which isn't far.

Ari sighs.

He takes one step to the side. Then lands a slap on your ass so solid, that the crack of it echoes through the club and the painful sting makes you jump forward with a shriek.

Rough fingers squeeze your chin harshly when Ari faces you again. his eyes hold a reprimand that's a hair away from punishment.

"Nipple clamps are not on your hard limits list." He reminds you. "Or has that changed?"

"N-no, Sir," you want to cast your eyes down, but with the way Ari's holding your chin you're forced to withstand the eye contact.

"Do you perhaps need to safeword?"

Though his voice is a low graze of displeasure, you know it's at your antics, because Ari is always - absolutely always - serious about consent and safewords.

"No, Sir," you don't hesitate in your answer, even though you know it's sealing your fate.

"Are you in the yellow range? Do we need to pause and talk?"

He would. Immediately. If you hinted at actual discomfort beyond what you could take for your Master.

But you were nowhere near that stage. You were simply fussy and maybe the tiniest bit bratty, which meant you were getting yourself in even more trouble.

"No, Sir," you grumble in defeat.

"Ah, so you're being whiny just for the sake of it?" Ari releases your chin, but his fingers curl instead around the back of your neck as he steps so close to you that his clothes graze your naked skin.

"I don't like nipple clamps!" You blurt out, unable to stop the petulance from spilling.

"Tough." Ari shrugs. "Because I like putting them on you."

"I like how you squeak when I attach them," he murmurs, running his fingertips under the swell of your breasts. "How you pant as you breathe through the pain for me."

"I love how wet you get from them," he pinches your nipples, at the same time capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your yip melts on Ari's tongue, dispersing into a moan the longer he holds your nipples between his fingers.

You'd tell him it's not the clamps themselves that do it to you, but the fact Ari makes you suffer them. Also because his voice, warm and raspy, is like prelude to sex itself and you would get wet and needy from his talk alone.

But any coherent thought leaves your brain when Ari's mouth descends down your neck and onto your breasts. He cups each in his big hands, squeezing. Then his mouth is on one of your nipples, sucking and tormenting it into a stiff point.

He lavishes the other tit with the same voracious attention, tugging on the stiffened peak with his teeth, before releasing it.

Straightening up, Ari holds your gaze as he rubs your poor, tortured nipples with his fingers, wiping away excess of his own saliva, so that the clamps would hold on better.

And then he's attaching the first one; impish glee lighting up his eyes at your hiss.

By the time he secures the other clamp, adjusting the tightness, you're trying to steady your ragged breath and not close your thighs, because your folds are getting puffy and wet.

"See? Shiny." Ari mocks you, flicking one of the crystal hearts hanging from the thin chain attaching both clamps.

The impact, however minimal, tugs on your nipples, sending another zap straight to your core.

"But I think, if we're going for a proper shiny ornament to decorate my club-" Ari's mouth curves in a smirk as he reaches into his pocket once again- "it needs to be opulent."

He lifts his hand up and the first thing that you see is a red crystal heart between his fingers.

Ari turns his palm up and a wave of heat washes over you. A butt plug. Very reasonable in size, but it doesn't change the fact you're still squirmy and shy when your Dom initiates anal play.

You almost caused him a laughing hiccup when you tried to talk your way out of it, by blurting out it's unhygienic.

In moments like that, when you knew Ari was going to push against your resistance, you considered moving everything into a hard limit list. Though Ari had the skill to use kissing alone as a damn torment.

You curse under your breath when Ari moves to stand behind you and kicks your feet wider apart. You catch a small audience glancing your way, quickly shifting your own gaze to the floor.

There's a snick of a bottle being open and then Ari's finger slides between your buttcheeks, smearing a dollop of lube around your rim.

The plug is coated in lube as well, easing its way inside.

Your breath quickens, a whimper spilling on your lips when Ari pushes the toy in.

"Push back, Chérie. That's it," he encourages you.

While his voice is soft and the hand steadying your hip is reassuring, the pressure against your tightest hole is merciless.

“There you go,” Ari forces the whole thing in, tracing the heart-shaped securing end with his finger. “So pretty and sparkly.” 

He pats your ass lightly, rounding you again. A glint of recognition in his eyes tells you that he's acutely aware that you’re settling into every sensation, every part of the scene that’s unfolding. 

Ari knows your body is throbbing with growing need, that you’re focusing on the feeling of your nipples being crushed and your ass being stretched; as well on the helplessness of being bound and naked in front of him. In front of other people, too. And he knows being at his mercy (while also deeply certain of remaining in his care) tops your arousal. 

Your gaze is a little dazed already as you look up at him, a blissed sigh leaving your lips when Ari’s touch marks your body.

He’s tracing lines along your sides, moving closer to caress your back and then up your arms. He draws patterns with his fingertips, then squeezes your ass with both hands. 

Breath hitches in your lungs as Ari crouches down, his hot breath tickling your belly while his large hands grip your thighs. 

For a long moment nothing happens, just Ari keeping his mouth an inch from your wet core as he slides his hands up and down your legs, each time moving them a little higher, a little further between your thighs. 

When his tongue flicks against your clit, your whole body jerks with sensation. The chain clinks, your feet scrambling against the floor, and the heart-shaped weights on the nipple clamps tug harsher. 

“Shh,” Ari coos, wrapping his arms around your thighs to help you steady. 

He works wicked eights on your swelling nub, his tongue putting spells that drive you surely to the edge, but keep away from finishing your torment. 

When he pulls back, you have half a mind to glare at him. The fact he doesn’t immediately retaliate with a swat to your clit only increases your worry. Turns you on even more, as well. 

Ari reaches into his pocket once again. It takes your glazed eyes a few seconds to make out the glint of the implement within his palm. Similar to a minimalistic, curved brooch, with a single red, crystal heart. 

“Oh God, Sir.” You nearly weep, tugging on the chain binding your hands. “Please no, Sir, please, please.”

Ari doesn’t show an ounce of irritation this time, he’s too smug about drawing reactions from your body. Though you are certain that the clit clamp he has prepared for you is for his own amusement, not your own pleasure.  

“Color?” He simply asks, referring to the traffic color system that’s the classic and most basic form of stating your state when in a bdsm scene.

You whine again, because you can’t lie to him and because you’re not even distressed. 

“Green,” you admit, pouting.

You try tilting your ass back, moving your sensitive parts away from the wicked Master with his stupid implements of evil. A smack on the back of your thigh has you yelping and scooting back forward. You earn another slap for glaring. 

“FuckjesusohgodSirfuck-” you babble, eyes screwing shut as Ari pinches your puffy folds together and clamps them.

Your engorged clit is fully exposed in the tear-shaped hole, its sides squeezing it only a tad lighter than the torture devices do your nipples. The heart shaped crystal falls right atop your exposed clit and you know it will bump it with every move. 

Sucking in a breath, you press your lips together and still your body. If you won’t move a single muscle then it will be alright. 

Moderately alright, since you’re suffering already, but better than the-

Your mouth falls open on a cry and your whole body jolts when Ari pats your clit with an open hand. 

Your core burns, walls fluttering rapidly. Your ass clenches too, which in turn leads to a dirty reminder that it's stretched around a plug. Movement causes the chain between nipple clamps to sway, tugging on your abused peaks. 

The heat inside you grows, blood rushing through you and buzzing in your head. 

Lips parted, as moan after moan trickles out, you fall deeper into sensations spreading through your body. Your mind gets a little cloudy, shutting out everything that isn’t connected to your body.

Ari’s touch becomes a beacon, drawing your attention to wherever he points. Light strokes of his hands, instead of soothing your body, escalate the madness. His mouth joins the torment, kisses and bites overloading your senses. 

You keen loudly when he brushes the back of his hand against your trapped, swollen folds. You don’t even register the hum of delight from your audience when Ari taps the crystal over your clit and it bounces, making you cry out.

“Who would’ve thought that a shiny trinket is so whiny?” Ari mocks.

You, amusing him further, whine again, your head lolling forward. 

Ari’s fingers push between your lips, coarse pads rubbing against your tongue. He drives two, then three, almost to the back of your throat. Then withdraws them, a string of saliva stretching between your mouth and his fingers. 

He brings his wet fingers to your clit again, circling it oh so slowly, then flicking the crystal over and over again. 

He gives you short reprieve, enough for the pulsing in your clit to marginally subside. Enough that when he finally takes the damn clamp off, you don’t come immediately from the sheer return of blood to your sensitive parts.

You’re nearly panting and doing your best to keep your legs spread, because if you closed your thighs an inch, it surely would be a stimulation enough you’d orgasm.

Which, actually, is tempting as hell…

You don’t get to try it, however. Ari is pushing between your thighs; pants undone and cock sheathed. 

He grips one of your legs below the knee and pulls it up, wrapping it around his hip. Bending his legs slightly, Ari guides the head of his cock into your pussy. Standing still for a moment, he moves his now free hand to grip your ass and then plunges in one, swift stroke.

The stretch is maddening enough to have you push up on your tiptoes, but Ari drives in to the hilt, sinking himself so deeply that your oversensitive clit crushes into his pelvis.

You come with a scream, body convulsing in pleasure so high it’s almost painful. 

Ari holds you through it, a vein in his neck pulsing as he forces himself to stay still and not fuck into the clenching heat of your cunt. 

When you slump forward, head resting in the crook of Ari’s neck, he teases loud enough for your hazy brain to register and for your audience to hear:

“So much trouble with shiny trinkets. You poke it and it immediately breaks apart.” 

Your incoherent mewl against his neck makes Ari huff a laugh. 

He kisses your shoulder softly then starts moving. He keeps the few first thrusts slow, finding the best angle for his own pleasure. Then steadily increases the pace and the force. 

You start responding, as each push jolts your body and the embers of arousal ignite into flames again. The clamps on your nipples are still attached, pulling on your peaks with each roll of Ari’s hips. His hand on your ass angles, long digits resting atop the crystal of the anal plug and tapping it repeatedly. 

“Oh! Ohh!” Your head tilts back, cheek squishing into your outstretched arm. 

Ari tugs on the butt plug, cock driving into you harder. Among the fizz in your head, you can hear faint jingling - of the chains on the rafter, of the chain swaying between your tits, of the buckle in Ari’s belt. 

There’s also the pitiful babble coming from your own mouth: begging and prayers, all at once. 

Ari’s grunts elicit a special type of pleasure, a certain fulfillment at knowing your Dom is satisfied. That you give him this pleasure. For a submissive like you it’s a gratification greater than your own orgasm. 

Though you sure love the shattering climax that Ari rips from you when he rams into your pussy at a particular angle.

The squeeze of your walls topples him over soon after you. The feelings of his cock twitching inside you makes you sigh in contentment. It always does, whether he finishes in one of your holes, or in your hand. 

You don’t fully register the tenderly spoken “I’ve got you, mon amour,” when Ari slides out of you a few heartbeats later. 

It’s the rush of blood returning to your nipples after he takes off the clamps, that shakes you out of daze. The zap of pain surges to your core in a twisted ripple. 

Ari rubs your nipples gently, easing the ache. Kisses each tip. 

He eases out the plug from your hole, then gathers all the toys into a small zip-lock bag to take it cleaning later. One strong arm around your middle, Ari uses his other hand to unchain you. There’s no stumbling as you sink boneless into his arms, Ari's an expert in catching and holding you. 

With your head resting against Ari’s chest when he sits down on a small sofa, after wrapping you in a soft blanket, you focus on the pounding of his heart beneath your ear and don’t hear the passing comment of one of the Masters about it being a fun idea to have someone be made into a trinket once a week. 

Ari doesn’t mind this type of recurring decoration at the club. 

As for the kind of shiny trinkets you liked, Ari decides on buying you a few sun catchers to hang in the windows, so you could chase the shards of rainbow scattered on the floor and walls.   

[lady-ashfade]

A blacked out night.

Kaz brekker x fem!reader

Plot: The night before was unknown, your memory forgetting the most of it. You awaken with many questions on your mind, until you get to the big question. One he has answers to.

Spoilers below in the warnings

Warning: Small angst, like the tiniest bit, fluff, so sweet and loving, be prepared to just want to curl up into a ball of happiness. Kaz is a bit oc, but in this he and you have gone through a lot together. And yes, he is okay with your touch- And more but Shh.

Throbbing, the pain that pulsed through your head and into your neck. Head feeling the crushing pain as your eyes blurred, sensitive to the light hitting them. You shifted in the bed underneath you and sat up, you looked around the room and caught a glimpse of the things around you.

The decks, the piles of paper, the sheets underneath you and the blanket on you. The wallpaper, the dark flooring with scratches, the clothes the dripped around. This was not your room. Panic and confusion flashed through you as you couldn’t remember what had happen the night before, and why you were here.

You checked your body and saw your clothes half way on, your garments still on a shirt that was not yours. “Oh..” it final down on you who’s room you were in. The dark surroundings, the smell that you always oddly carved, and how you had been in this room before. It was your boss’s, Kaz brekker. Well you two had more to add to the relationship bar, you two were together and agreed on such.

Had the two of you spend the night together? Had you gone farther then before? It made your stomach turn. As you reach your hand up to rub your eyes you caught a glimpse of something shiny that hit the sunlight making it twinkle. “Fuck” it was a red gemmed ring on your wedding finger. It was for sure a wedding ring.

Quickly you looked around for your own clothes and threw them on as fast as you could to go get some answers. Your body screamed at you in pain but you ignored it, a hangover can wait. You thought back to the closet memory you had of last night. You were drinking at the bar after the club closed and drinking with your friends, then to where it was just you and kaz left. The last thing you could remember was his lips on yours, pressed on the cold alleyway wall as you two held each other closely. The two of you taking steps with each other in the dark, going somewhere.

Touching your lips as you thought about it. You paid no attention to the person walking through the door behind you, not until they started to speak. “Good to see you’re up.” Jumping around at the voice of your lover. Heart beating faster as you look at him and wonder filled you. His eyes looked at you, low but soft and he looked tired and drained.

He too knew the questions you had on your mind, “Sit down.” He demanded. You looked at the tray in his hands that had a tea pot and cups on it, you sighed and took a seat back on the bed. In his chest, roared the vibration of his heartbeat. He was afraid-terrified at how you would react and he never felt like that, unless it was about you. He moved over to the table and placed the tray down and poured a cup in silence.

You were inching to find out and you had no patience and you deserved that. You could be married, you could have had the best night of your life and not remember it. “Kaz I need you to be honest with me, what happened last night.” He pulled back and took the cup in his hands. He looked at the ground as he walked over to you, pushing out the teacup towards you.

“Drink.” Again he was avoiding your eyes and questions. “Did we get married?” You asked as you grabbed the cup and set it down. He hesitated and thought of what to say, if he should lie or tell the truth. His throat dried and he didn’t have the courage to look at your face. You watched him move his hand to take off his glove, his pale skin showing itself. You looked at his fingers as soon as it was off your heart stopped for good, missing a beat that made itself catch up.

A golden band.

Looking at him with worry in your eyes that he was angry at you for this. He wanted to take things as slow as possible. You two never talked about marriage. Yes, the two of you had come a long way that you slowly took away his armor, him breaking you down to know everything about you. But this, this was surely more then what he wanted. “I’m sorry.” Glossy eyes you whispered an apology.

His head finally moving up to look at you, his mind searching for a reason you would be sorry. This situation was definitely made by the both of you, in a intoxicated state of mind, but non the less a action the both of you agreed on. “And for what?” His uncovered hand reach up to your chin to hold it up as you weep. He hated to see your cheeks wet with tears and how your body tripped and that sob that left your throat. He loathed the sight.

“You didn’t want this, kaz. I know you don’t and yet here it is, probably my fault.” You cried and pushed your head away from his hand to hold it with your own. His eyes fluttered and for some reason a soft smile curled up in the a smile, how could you possibly think that? But he understood, very well. You heard him shuffle and sit down next to you with a small groan. “And how could you know that?” He asked as he pulled your hands away from your face.

His clothed hand turning your head to him and whipped the tears from your cheek. You opened your eyes and looked at him through the tears and lashes stuck together. “We’ve never talked about it. You never seemed like the type to think of such a thing, I mean why would you-” his hand cupped the side of your face and his thumb ran down your lips to make you stop talking.

“Why would I want to marry you? Well, there are many reasons I could say. How you could make a man weak at the knees with just a smile, your eyes that sparkle when you get the slightest bit of excitement. How you always care for others and listen to every word i say, or another’s.” His other hand reached to grab your hand in his.

“Then there’s how you make me feel, the emotion I didn’t think I was capable of having. How your soft touches make me feel, how you were willing to be with me. How just the thought of you is forever stuck in my mind. The lips I get to kiss every day, the way I get to hold you.” He leans closer as you stare at him with widen eyes, “The way I crave you with whole being. It is only you I want, my darling, y/n.”

Your head only focusing on his words with the same feeling you had when he first told you he felt the same. Cloud nine was just the thought of him. “So, you’re not mad?” He huffed in amusement at your question. One that seemed useless to ask. “No, I’m not mad.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and over the ring on your finger.

Relief washed over your body, letting go of the unbearable pressure. “How do you think we got the rings?” He watched your eyes go big again with realization, he was loving it. “Did you plan this?” You yelled in disbelief. “Well, no. But I think drunk me wouldn’t wait.” You look at his features over and over trying to match up everything.

“I had the ring already, I must have proposed to you with it. Leading to us going down to the altar, where I seem to have gotten mine.” You opened your mouth to say something but you struggled for a minute. He watched you suspiciously as you seemed to stop working. After a minute he blinked in confusion at your sudden outburst of laughter.

“I can’t believe this, kaz brekker got blackout drunk married.” You joked and leaned back onto the bed. “That’s what you take away from this?” He raised a brow at you, you nodded. “The others wouldn’t believe this.” He dropped his head in defeat. “They already know.” And with his words you laughed harder. Honestly it was funny but you were feeling overwhelmed, nervous and so much more at once that it just came out.

“I have the papers with me, even wasted me knows how to take care of things.” You kept on laughing and just let yourself go for a moment, until your mind pulled itself together.

He let out a surprise gasp as you pulled him down to you, his body next to you as your arm pulled him closer. “I can’t believe you’re a romantic, oh how you wow me.” You kissed his cheek and face all over. He rolled his eyes playfully, “Don’t you dare tease me.” You pulled back and glare at him. “I can do as I like to my husband.” The title made his mind run. Your lips speaking those words to him, no sound of disgust or anger. He felt happiness like no other.

“Then, I shall do as I like to my wife.” His hand placed itself on your waist. Taking a turn to raise your brow at him in question but he just looked back with a smirk and pressed his lips against yours. The first real kiss of your marriage, sober and sweet. You giggled against his lips and cupped his cheek, his hand now wrapping around your waist pulling you closer. His lips melt with yours perfectly, just as they always did.

“Boss, we need you down here.” A knock on the door and voice of Jesper broke the two of you apart. Kaz groaned and glared at the door but you only laughed at how pissed he was. “Come in, Jesper.” Kaz turned to you with a glare but you ignored him as Jesper walked in. A wide smile on his face and he placed his hands on his waist, “Congratulations, let me be the first too-”

“Don’t.” Kaz barked and Jesper nodded but his smile never leaving. “Then there’s a problem down stairs, and I don’t want to stop the love making-” this time kaz stood up with his cane and your friend took the hint to cool it down. Kaz glared at him and didn’t say anything, Jesper backed up with a apologetic smile and out into the hallways.

You giggled and stood up, “We better get going. Our kind of life doesn’t stop of married people.” He hummed in agreement at your statement. As you took a step you were pulled back and smothered in a kiss. His arms gripped around you tightly and his kiss more rough then the last. He hated being interrupted and especially when it was with you.

“This is not over.” You blushed and smiled as he walked away from you. The pink dust on his cheeks you knew he had and how he walked away trying to make it look he was not affectionate. But you knew deep down that he was, because you knew your husband well.

[kometqh]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧

Fives x F!Reader x Echo Pt. 1 After the events of the Citadel, Fives is forced to embark on a journey - inform people of Echo's passing. Fives knew his brother like the inside of his pocket, but who knew Echo had been hiding a gem all this time? Certainly not Fives. Word Count: 2886 Warnings: Echo's death, swearing, sad Fives, alcohol consumption A/N: I'm missing fives because he didn't get enough screen time and it's called 'The Clone Wars' for a reason :c

"I'm sorry," His voice carried a certain lightness to it, spinning in your ear canal like a pearly white feather on a windy, gloomy day. Though his words, oh his words, they pierced through your heart like a rusty dagger, the bitter metal permeating through the organ like a chartreuse, acidic poison. "There was nothing we could do to save him."

You were always afraid that one day, after a long, dreadful mission, he just wouldn't be back.

No matter how many times your best friend reassured you, that fear just lingered somewhere deep within your subconscious, sharpening its' shiny black talons, awaiting the day it could re-emerge into your heart.

Fives swallowed harshly, counting down the number of awfully loud heartbeats echoing in his head. He could feel a tension headache rising as he eyed you wearily, ready to offer comfort if you were to start crying, or having a go at him.

Your lack of response worried him. It was like you knew as soon as the door opened, his fist stuck in mid-air as the gears turned in his head. By the time he had gone over the pleasantries and the uncomfortable silence, your eyes had seemingly lost their spark, your face paled in the early sunshine of the Coruscantian morning, and your voice lost that high-pitched note to it when you spoke.

And now, here he was, his neck feeling awfully warm, his gut twisting as he thought of every whichever way to escape this hellhole. He hadn't even had the time to mourn his brothers death, yet alone truly understand it and now he had to go making rounds to people, informing them of it?

The Republic was cruel, and shitty, and full of shit and-

"H-How did he..?" His gaze was laser focused on his hands, the tension in his shoulders worsening as he looked up from his lap. You had unshed tears trudging the edges of your waterline, your eyelashes already wet from having to blink away thick, hopeless tears.

The green of the wallpaper that peered round the corner seemed much more inviting to look at than your eyes were, Fives thought. The colour was that of pine trees, lighter swirls of white decorating the expanse of the wall behind you. It used to be Echo's favourite colour. His brother always said how it brought joy for him to see that dreaded colour, how it always made him feel hopeful in an otherwise unsure battle. Fives, even though having made fun of Echo for being such a sap, had also secretly shared the same opinion.

But now all he felt when he saw the colour was disgust, nausea, and worst of all, guilt.

"Fives..?" Your voice gently lulled him out of his thoughts, like a lighthouse at sea, calling out to his ship, and his eyes widened as he realised you had reached your hand over to his, your thumb rubbing at his armoured forearm. Kriff, he didn't even take his bloody armour off.

His lips opened and closed, his eyelashes fluttering as Fives tried to map his way around, trying to find the right words to say.

Eventually, he settled on a fairly common pair.

"I-I'm sorry," He winced at the shakiness of his voice, scrunching his eyes shut. How the hell was he supposed to say it? For some odd reason, you were the one comforting him, rather than the other way around. What kind of soldier was he? What kind of man was he?

"He.. He died heroically," His voice was soft, trembling. Fives couldn't bring himself to speak any louder, afraid that the deeply buried emotions in his chest would come crashing down, like waves against a rocky shore, "He was the bravest man on that battlefield, ready and willing to do anything to complete the mission. He was so.. He was so inspiring. What happened next.. I- I couldn't get to him.. in time." He took in a shallow, shaky breath, forcing his eyes shut as tears began to prickle at his eyes.

"I couldn't save him."

"Fives it's-"

"The droid blasted the ship just as he reached the entrance and I wanted to help him, to get him out of there, but someone screamed my name and all I remember is seeing his body fly, and his helmet drop at my feet. I wish it were me instead of-"

"He would never forgive himself for that and you know it." Your voice tore through his tangent, sharp, snappy and cold as ice. It was as if you had thrown cold water in his face. You knew Echo, you knew he would never let his brother sacrifice himself for him, "He was a good soldier and he died as one." You whispered, peering down at the man seated in your small, pale yellow kitchen.

The wrinkles on his forehead and the tired bags under his eyes told you everything. He desperately needed a safe place, and some well deserved rest.

Has he even had the time to process Echo's death? You truly doubted it just by seeing his reluctance, the difficulty he felt of talking about this. As though it was the first time.

You couldn't let Fives go back to the GAR. Not in this condition, not yet. You were afraid he would simply shut down if he were surrounded by countless faces and voices, similar and the same as Echo's. He would have constant nightmares, constant night terrors, constant guilt.

But what about you? What about your time alone, your time to process the news of your best friends death?

That wasn't your priority right now, you could wallow in the bubbling feelings of grief and despair after you've taken care of his brother, his twin.

Taking in a deep breath, you kneeled beside Fives, placing a reassuring hand on his thigh.

"Stay here for the night. You can be gone by morning and we never have to talk of this again." You offered, squeezing his thigh to get his attention. You could tell by the way his eyes widened that he wasn't expecting such an offer, and by the quick downturn of his lips, that he was about to reject it.

"It's not for my comfort, it's for your own," You interjected, determination seeping from each word you said, "I- I don't think you'll be able to sleep there-" You paused, getting up from the floor with a huff, "Here's the plan; I'll draw you a bath, make you some food and then you can go sleep in my room, how's that?" You asked, leaning against the countertop behind you.

A few moments of silence passed, Fives completely stunned and speechless. Where was Echo hiding this.. t-this gem? He had never met such a compassionate woman, person, ever.

All he was familiar with were the one night stands with numerous different women he'd met at 79s. Did Echo meet you there too? Were you really just friends?

Shaking his head, Fives stood up from his seat, looking, no, glaring at that stupidly green wallpaper behind you. At that grisly irritating reminder of hope. Of Echo. "I-I couldn't take such a-advantage of your kindness, ma'am. I appreciate it, but I'll be fine." He stated.

A frown replaced the hopefulness on your face as you noticed the awful change in his demeanour. You weren't talking to Fives, the man, anymore. No, you were talking to Fives the ARC Trooper, CT-5555. You could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed, how his gaze hardened, how his chest puffed up and his shoulders stood to attention.

He's just like Echo.

Neither men preferred to face the difficulty of opening up to others, you noted. But whilst Echo would stutter and refuse, Fives completely shut down, solidified into a steel-strong soldier. But neither of them seemed to like accepting help, whether it be from a friend or a stranger.

Funny.

They truly were like twins, born of the same strand of DNA, or whatever the Kaminoans did, you thought.

With a heavy, disapproving sigh, you gave a slight nod of your head.

It seemed to surprise Fives, as you noticed that momentarily, miniscule raise of his thick brows. He definitely wanted you to be more pushy, but you had learned from Echo that that often led to nowhere.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? Anyone else to inform?" Your voice was soft when it reached his ears, and a defeated expression rested on your face. Since you wouldn't need to take care of Fives, your mind felt at ease enough to let in the new, yet still familiar feelings.

It took him a moment to respond, his throat having gone completely dry.

"Just a couple of friends, really. You were number one on that list so.. I- I guess I'll leave you to it." He half muttered, looking up at you. The kitchens' yellowy dandelion wallpaper behind your frame did very little to brighten up your features. Instead, it seemed to dull them, deep shadows were casted over your features as you frowned.

"Are you sure? You can stay longer if you'd like-"

"No! No, it's okay. Really. I'm on a tight schedule anyway, y'know, ARC Trooper things and all that." Fives insisted as he finally rose from his seat, rubbing his nape with one hand awkwardly.

This was his chance to get out of there, to escape the stuffy, small kitchen. It was like a rainy cloud had settled itself over your shoulders, and he wanted to be gone by the time it began to pour.

"Alright. I won't keep you here any longer. I-I'm sure you've wasted enough time here already." You muttered out as you followed suit, rising from your seat, albeit slower than Fives. 

Did you want to be alone? You weren't too sure. Some of your focus was still locked onto the man before you, worry gnawing away at your conscious. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." You followed up, rounding the rectangular, wooden table seated in the middle of your small kitchen.

Echo used to always nag at you, complaining it was too short for tall people like him. Interestingly enough, Fives had no intention of mentioning the height of the table.

Although Echo had told you many stories about Fives and the Domino Squad, it felt like the two had switched personalities. Your Echo seemed to behave more like Fives when around you, and Fives behaved more like Echo from the stories. 

Your arms were crossed over your chest as you led Fives to the door, and you caught a peek of his expression as you quickly peered over your shoulder. 

He seemed to tower over you as you bid your goodbyes, thanking him for coming all this way, and wishing for him to stay safe and get well. Your chest felt heavier as you unlocked the door, moving aside, observing him as he stepped out.

The dull greyness of the corridor outside did nothing but crumble any resolve that may have lingered within his chest. 

A lone, glaringly white light bulb flickered from time to time, doing very little to actually brighten up the space. It also seemed to wash out Fives' features, make his sun-kissed skin look paler, his eyes more somber, his frown look deadlier.

If anyone were to come by him, they'd tremble on the spot.

The corners of his lips seemed to twitch, just slightly, as he thought over what to say. What do you say to someone you're not sure you'll see again?

Your vocie beat him to is as you bid a short, yet comforting goodbye.

That was it then.

He waved you goodbye as he descended down the stairs, his gaze locking with yours one last time before he disappeared behind the concrete railing.

The distant sound of a hum accompanied your thoughts, the electrical cables working hard to provide light to that narrow corridor, becoming background noise to your running thoughts.

Would he be okay?

Maybe you should have given him your comm number, in case he'd wanna reach out. It was too late though, as his figure had already disappeared down the long staircase, the warmth of his gloved hands still lingering on yours.

The loud boom of the music bounced of the walls of 79s, and Fives' head. It was like a headache that just kept on going, and Fives was refusing to take pain meds, nullifiers. He didn't want the pain to stop. It was the only thing that kept him awake, aware, attentive to the fact that this was reality.

Many of his brothers had died; Domino Squad to be specific. Their deaths were all too sudden, just like Echo's. But he got past them, keeping his brothers memory alive on each and every mission he was sent to. But through all that, he had Echo by his side. And now, Echo was gone. 

How was he meant to get over his death? 

How was he meant to carry on?

How many of his brothers had gone through the same situation, lost their closest friends? Were forced to continue on into battle as though nothing had happened? Were they really, truly that expendable? Did they not mean anything to the Republic? To the Jedi?

Fives wasn't just a number. Echo wasn't just a number. Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait weren't just numbers. They were men, they were men with feelings and they were men who were filled with hopes and dreams for their futures. 

Echo wasn't just a number.

He suppressed a sob as he leaned forward, reaching for another shot glass, the pinkish liquid sparkled in the dim lights of 79s. 

Usually, he took his shots with pride. 

And now? Now he took them with shame, slamming the clear glass onto the table as he roughly wiped at his eyes. God. It burned so bad. But it also eased the pain, bit by bit until all he felt was fire burning through his lungs, and dizziness tugging at his vision. 

He couldn't go back to the GAR in this state. But who cared? He and the 501st had come back, completely and utterly wasted, many times too many. And nobody even batted an eyelash. On Kamino they'd get a thorough discplining, maybe even a smack on the back of the head. 

He was sure the old geezers back there would be more than happy to hand his ass back to him.

Kriff it, he thought.

One more shot.

The liquid burned, the taste smacking at his tastebuds like a blaster to the back of his head.

Another.

It went on for long enough for the barman to stop him, shaking his head disapprovingly at the trooper.

Getting up from his seat, Fives wished the liquid tasted as good as it looked. He thanked the barman and made his way to the exit. 

Where was he going? 

He wasn't sure. He just knew he needed to move. Or rather stumble.

Waking up to loud banging on your front door certainly wasn't your preferred method, but it was definitely an effective one.

"Kriffing hell, what time is it?" You mumbled, rubbing the sleep crust from your tired eyes. The old, digital clock on your bedside table read 0300, in big, bold neon green numbers, casting a gentle green glow on the otherwise pitch-black room.

Your heart pounded wildly, almost as harshly as whatever idiot was pounding on your door at bloody 3AM in the morning.

You already had a hard day, falling into your bedsheets just moments after Fives had left, thick, shiny tears quickly staining the soft material of your duvet a shade darker for the foreseeable future.

"Who do you think you are-" Your voice harshly cut through as you ripped your front door open, leaning forwards, just narrowly missing a black, gloved fist to your face. Your frown quickly dropped as you noticed the idiot behind the awful disruption, and your anger seemed to evaporate into thin air. "Fives?"

As he looked up, the sight of his honey-gold eyes and tear streaked face, had your heart dropping in an instant.

The sound of humming electricity above your head filled the silent hallway, mimicking the white noise inside of Fives's head as his drunken mind tried to scramble up some words.

The smell of strong vodka and whatever else invaded your senses, you couldn't help how fast your hand flew to cover your nose.

"Y/n..- I-I'm sorry-" He hiccupped, pressing one arm onto your doorframe, his figure towering over you. "I couldn't- I couldn't save him, he's dead. He's dead because of me!" Fives gasped out, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears pooled at his waterline.

"What? No no no!" You exclaimed, quickly opening your arms for him to fall into. "Shh, come on, it's okay." You whispered, easing him into your apartment with slow steps. You shut the door behind, seating him down on your sofa before you went back to lock your front door.

His sobs and hiccupped breaths filled the still silence of your small, colourful apartment. Rubbing at your sore eyes, you quickly fetched a glass of water for him before kneeling at his side.

"Here, drink this," You lifted the glass to his lips, letting him take slow sips, "Slowly, you'll feel sick."

You watched him carefully, taking the water away as he gasped out. Your sofa looked too small for the trooper, his frame easily taking up over almost half of the space. A grunt escaped his lips, and panic flooded you. 

This way going to be a long night..

[robinsboobshoes]

❝ MEETING ROBIN BUCKLEY. ❞

↳ In which you flirt through your mutual friend, Steve.

Everything is all vividly coloured, with neon-coloured lights, water fountains, crowded tables and various children's rides, like the carousel and the Indiana Flyer. People are packing everywhere, all with brightly lit expressions stretching across their faces, following along with family and friends in huddles. The town of Hawkins is already a hellhole, with or without a new mall, and nothing can possibly change that.

Your eyes darted around, hoping to find the potential ice-cream shop you'd heard about. Your search quickly ends, once you see a brightly coloured store, with a red lettering sign reading: Scoops Ahoy!

You got to the store with unexpected difficulties, after pushing countless people out of the way and getting some foul words and looks in return. Already, you can hear some outstandingly cheesy sailor music playing loudly, making your nose scrunch up in disgust.

The interior is somehow worse. The walls are covered with blue, red and white striped wallpaper while seating booths are placed around the ice-cream parlour, red leathered and shiny. It was quite shocking to you that it was almost empty, since, Starcourt Mall had just opened. Logically, wouldn't people crowd around an ice-cream parlour on a summer morning?

You walked up to the counter to find Steve, a tall teenager your age, with styled hair and an ego too large for anyone to handle. You hit your hand on the bell that's on the corner of the front counter, causing Steve to bring his attention back to reality, rather than dozing off in his thoughts mid-task.

“Ahoy!” Steve greets from the register, not bothering to look up from whatever he had been occupied by.

“Wow, this place really complements the look." You taunted, smirking, when he finally spots you. The sailor theme is rather hilarious.

“Y/n?” Steve smiled, leaning on the counter as he takes you in, “What’re you doing here so early? My shift doesn't finish for hours.”

“I needed to kill some time,” You shrug, “I thought I'd pay my favourite sailor a visit.”

Steve puffs, opening his mouth to respond. But, before he can say anything, another voice pipes up from around the corner. It's raspy, laced with sarcasm.

“He’s only your favourite sailor because you haven’t met me yet," At the hatch behind Steve is a tall girl with broad shoulders, a tall figure and a careless posture. She has her hands placed on the further counter, while she starts twirling a black ring around her middle finger. She has black bracelets and a watch on one wrist, a spiked bracelet on the opposite. Both hands are painted with black nail polish, which shine in the light, presumably because they are newly painted. She was, like Steve, also dressed in a ridiculous uniform, which she somehow made look attractive. “I promise I’m much better company.”

“Well, you certainly look better in the uniform.” You look her up and down, chuckling, as she returns a flirtatious grin.

Steve looks pathetic as he starts running a hand down the front of his ludicrous smock, “I think I make this thing work pretty well for me.”

The girl scoffs, wide-eyed, “The loser board says otherwise, Dingus.” She calls, pointing at the whiteboard that's propping up next to her. The board is split in two: one side had, "You Rule!" written above it, and, the opposite side, "You Suck!". With no surprises, The 'You Rule!' side has no marks below it, whereas the other has a large amount of five drawn on.

You laugh at this, fingers tapping against the glass of the countertop, as you look at the board, then back to her, “Things can only go downhill when he’s forced to use words.”

She laughs with you briefly, then taps her name badge with her finger, "I'm Robin, in case you didn't know. Robin Buckley."

You raise your left eyebrow, "I do recall being in most of your classes, y'know. Just because I hang around with Steve doesn't mean I'm a complete moron."

Steve pouts from where he stands, arms crossing defiantly over his chest, “This is not a duo I'm here for at all. I think we should have a rule that you two are not allowed within thirty feet of each other."

“You always try to keep me away from the pretty ones." You roll your eyes, lips set into a smirk as she watch Robin’s cheeks turn a dark shade of strawberry red. For someone with such a tough attitude, she sure was easy to fluster.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “—I hate fighting for your attention. You make me feel like a fool when around ladies with you.”

“I'm sorry," You shrug your shoulders, "Must be a weakness of mine.” You breath a laugh once more, glancing over at Robin, who was already staring.

“Are you flirting with me through Steve right now?" Robin starts shaking her head in disbelief, "Is that what’s happening? — Because, if you are, I’m disappointed in myself that it’s working.”

Steve swiftly turns to you, “My charms have rubbed off on her! She's like a charm-sucking vampire. She’s the reason I can’t get any girls.” He rants, pausing with wide eyes as if he’d came to some great realization, “It all makes sense now...”

“The only thing I’ve gotten from being around you is brain damage.” You respond, with a playful eye roll.

Robin purses her lips and places a hand to her hip, feeling a surge of confidence, "If you want to ever flirt without proxy..." She pulls a black pen from her pocket, then holds out one of her soft hands to take one of yours. You slide yours into her palm without hesitation, both of you sharing a smile.

She quickly finishes scribbling her phone number to the back your hand, her warm fingers brushing across your skin. You feel a small shiver briefly down your spine, throwing you slightly off guard. Robin stands back with a pleased smile, "Call me?"

You smile softly, nodding your head, "Consider it already done."

first fic here, kiiinda nervous... (is the robin fandom even still active here on tumblr?)

interactions are appreciated! 🫶🏻

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ CRAWL (PREVIEW) ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

SYNOPSIS: If there is anything about the Devil, it’s that he always keeps his promises. The problem is, he’s mad that you seemed to have forgotten his promise.

PAIRING: devil!yjh x reader (afab)

GENRE: fantasy | smut, pwp

PREVIEW TAGS: featuring: sub!ksy, artist!xmh, housemate!jww | auditory voyeurism mention, pegging (m receiving), fingering, hickies, face sitting mention

PREVIEW WC: 2.1k

FIC WC: estimated 5-7k

MESSAGE FROM NU: hello! long time no see. i've been building this one for a while, so i'm so excited to share this preview with you all. this can be read as a standalone fic or a sequel to red horn. info regarding taglist and posting date at the end of the fic. take care and see you soon - nu ♡

FINAL FIC HERE

himbocoups's masterlist

It is a rusty metallic foldable chair that you sit on that squeaks and creaks even with the slightest movement. You try to readjust your posture — definitely not sure if you should sit up straight with your back against the dusty chair or with your hands folded neatly on the edge of the devil’s table in front of you. In fact, you’re not sure whether or not you are supposed to touch the devil’s office desk, so you choose to lead with the prior option. And the metal chair reacts, drawing out a long and uncomfortable creeeeak as you shift your weight backward. 

Maybe you were just lucky last time, led by the Devil to believe that maybe you were worthy of being somebody special in this vast world. In this underworld where the universe’s menagerie of creatures visit with last hopes of finding a solution, you are finally coming to a conclusion that you’re only but a speck of dust in a world that knows no bounds. 

The small office room feels humid and stuffy; its previously supposedly beige wallpapers are now a darker shade of brown that peels in large patches to reveal dirty and white painted-over bricks. Splotches of mold line the edges of the patches, and you find yourself wishing that mold spores aren’t a thing that exists in Hell. But it’s Hell, and anybody who dealt with mold before knows that the process of treating mold is basically hell. The navy colored carpet looks old and worn out. Several flat and black pieces of gum stick to it, already dried and surprisingly shiny in color. 

On the desk and pushed to the corner is an old and vintage PC, the kind with the square monitors and the back that protrudes outwards. You can feel the heat from the computer console blow against your skin and leave a faint burnt metallic scent in its wake. Not sure what to do or if you’re supposed to do anything, you sit in silence as the devil behind the computer screen slowly types and moves his mouse on top of his mousepad to fill out the information he has in the giant manilla folder spread out in front of him. 

You retract your lips inwards and bite the gummy and smooth underside of your lips while you stare at the stack of business cards pointed toward you. Craig. His name is Craig with no last name. Demon. So you’re wrong. He’s neither a devil nor is he the Devil with a capital “D” whom you were previously introduced to. He’s just office worker Craig, the demon you were assigned today. 

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He asks you while lifting his mouse from the mousepad before setting it back down to readjust the roller ball underneath. Not once does he turn to look at you or make eye contact with you.

“A little,” you reply feeling awkward and a bit burdened by the question for almost no reason at all. 

He nods his head while tracing his long and crooked finger against a line on the stack of papers in front of him before typing in the data in his computer. He sniffs and snorts his phlegm while clearing his throat. It was just small talk; there is no way an office worker in Hell would care about your wellbeing. You find yourself wondering if central cooling is a thing in Hell while trying to peek at the contents of your surprisingly large folder with no avail.

This room, this office worker, this situation…none of this is the same as the beautiful and luxurious office space you imagined stepping in for the second time. Long gone is the plush gray Persian rug and the mahogany desk that belongs to the owner himself. And your large file that is spread out before the demon you’re assigned, you cannot help but think about the event or even events that could have possibly added to the flimsy pieces of paper the Devil flipped through when he first met you. And the thought of Craig reading your file only causes your face to heat up in embarrassment. 

“Um.” You force yourself to break the awkward silence. “May I use the restroom before we start? You still haven’t asked me what I’m here for, and I think I accidentally came under the assumption that I would be assigned to the same person. I’ll be quick in case you need me immediately.” 

“Down the hall,” the demon mumbles while hunching his back to allow himself to squint closely at the screen in front of him. 

Picking yourself up from your seat, you basically fling yourself out of the office while thinking about the fresh air that awaits you in the hallway. No thoughts about the demon nor suspicions regarding the fact that the demon didn’t really point you towards a particular route to the restroom floated in your mind. Coming here was a mistake, and you are willing to face any repercussions for walking out of a meeting with a demon if it means having to save yourself from the embarrassment of having that demon read your file regarding your previous request with the Devil. 

However, what awaits you on the other side of the door isn’t the hallway from which you entered the office you were in. Instead, you find yourself in an oddly familiar bedroom. Light navy blue floor-length curtains cover the window with their original pleats from when it was first purchased about a year ago still intact. Pushed against the window is the full-sized bed with the orange-stained wooden headboard and the mess of frost blue blankets haphazardly strewn on the mattress. The soft and rotund tiger plush lays threateningly close to the edge of the bed, able to be toppled over even with the slightest movement on the mattress. 

The owner of this bedroom is in the middle of it all. Kwon Soonyoung kneels on his bed with his legs spread and his ass up. He already looks so fucked out. His left cheek is pressed against his mattress while he looks back at you with his hands tied behind his back. The position he’s in doesn’t seem comfortable at all, but his expressions, demeanor, and soft whimpers coming out of his mouth digress. 

“Please,” he practically begs you from his pitiful position. You can see how his lean thighs tremble while he struggles against his restraints. He wails with such desperation, “I want it. I want it so badly,” so much that it almost sounds as if he is going to cry from your lack of action. 

You don’t realize it until now, but an object manifests itself in your hands. A thick and ribbed silicone dildo, one that you’re too familiar with, is being stroked by you unconsciously. You feel the girth of it and how the lube prepares the toy for insertion. Then comes the teasing. You find the words naturally flowing out of your mouth: “Conciseness in your language, Soonie. What is it that you want?”

But the thing is, you know what comes next. You know what his response is as you slowly make your way over to him.

“Peg me. I’m ready,” he gasps while a tiny translucent pearl gathers at the tip of his dangling cock. “Blow my back out.”

You already know exactly how many times you will yourself to slap his ass to prep him before his legs give in. You already know how lewdly he would gasp as you insert the tip of the toy, how he would bury his face in his blankets as he moans out loud. You find yourself repeating actions as if being controlled by a machine, yet you don’t hate it. You’re magically stuck in a limbo between reality and déjà vu, presently recreating the past. 

You feel his walls sucking in the toy, taking it in so well. Like a special switch in an escape room, once you grab onto his aching cock to stroke him while you peg him, the scene immediately switches. 

Naked and in the middle of a studio apartment that reeks of paint fumes and essential oils, you look at yourself through the standing mirror in front of you. Despite the fan blowing in the background and his window propped open, you don’t feel cold at all. Instead, your skin pricks with heat as the sensation of arousal gathers itself at your core and spreads to the tips of your fingers. Beneath you is a mop of platinum blonde hair of the artist who sits by your feet. 

Xu Minghao gently grabs you by the waist so that he can angle you so that you can get a better view of his artwork on your body. You remember that with him, you always felt safe and appreciated. He traces his slender finger along the length of your thigh, bringing it up to your ass. He makes you feel valuable through your soreness, the entirety of your right ass cheek covered in his carefully placed hickies. Your pussy throbs with eagerness, waiting to be filled before all of the juices run dry. 

“My work of art,” he mumbles before he brings his lips to your ass. In the open space where the bruises connect, he bites it with his teeth and swirls the flesh in between his teeth with his tongue. His left hand makes its way to your opening, thumbing the smooth nub that immediately makes your knees buckle. So he positions himself behind you, strongly wrapping his long right arm around your legs to keep you steady as he nips and sucks while he takes your time to circle your clit before he finally slips his finger in your core as if the action is like second nature to him. 

Pleasure builds in your soul and makes your body scream with pleasure as Minghao meticulously massages your inner walls, stroking and tapping your spongy insides as you writhe in his arm. He adds another finger, filling you up and building your high, scissoring you while you moan his name as your liquid drips down his fingers and collects in his palm. 

“Done,” he breathes as he shifts his body so that he sits between your open legs. You can feel how his warm breath hits your skin as he speaks with his lips nearly on your cunt, “Flower on your ass. Sweet and puffy rose sitting on my face.”

Before you can re-experience what it felt like to sit on Minghao’s face like a chair, you find yourself in another room. This time, you’re in your own place in the room next to yours. From the placement of the desk to how the bed is pushed against the corner of the room, flush against the wall, the layout of this room directly mirrors your own. There are a lot more notecard art prints taped to the wall than you last remembered. The LED lights built into his mechanical keyboard softly pulses as it switches colors. And there is the all too familiar smell of his laundry detergent and dryer sheets that fills his room — he had just unloaded his laundry from the dryer, but didn’t have time to fold his clothes as they still sit in the laundry basket placed in front of his closet. 

You’re not sure if you’re allowed to be here at all. It’s not often that you find yourself in Jeon Wonwoo’s bedroom, but when you do, you’re usually near the threshold of his door. And to be sitting on his plush gray sheets, you think it feels too intrusive. Still, you’re not sure if you should move from your comfortable position despite the fact that you’re not close enough to him to enter his bedroom just to chill without him present. And the worst of all, you’re pretty sure you’re still soaked from your previous encounter with Minghao. And that you’re still definitely in hell because there is no way you would ever allow yourself to feel this close to coming on Wonwoo’s bedsheets without his permission. 

Two soft knocks on the door diverts your attention to the closed door. 

“Yn,” Wonwoo's deep and tender voice calls your name from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay? I’m coming in.”

The thing is, this occurrence with Wonwoo had never happened before. You’re stuck in a scenario far different from the other two. So, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when you saw him walk through his bedroom door. Instead of the tall and built housemate that you sometimes find yourself secretly fawning over, is the sinister yet charming man you haven’t seen in ages. 

Yoon Jeonghan steps into your housemate’s bedroom with the irresistible charm of his while flaunting an oversized black t-shirt whose sleeves almost touch his elbows. The Devil is here, and he knows everything that you’ve been hiding from him.

END OF PREVIEW // FIC OUT DECEMBER 2ND // TAGLIST OPEN

Copyright © 2023 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.

[agentkellz]

“It had a pink dust ruffle on the bed, sort of taffeta. Actually, it was borderline

fuschia, not pink. And he had a pink-and-white flowered bedspread and pink-and-white flowered wallpaper. And a dark pink telephone and pink stuffed animals everywhere. And pictures of like, angels,

on the wall. Back then, even the clothes he wore were pink—shiny-pink satin shiny shirts, or pink-trimmed black shirts. Actually, his room looked like something his fans would have wanted

themselves. Audubon Drive—”

Excerpt From

Elvis and the Memphis Mafia

Alanna Nash

[xmy-love-to-youx]

Late nights

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Summary: It's just another late night of work, your exhausted and want to return to the comfort of your home but what if Leon has other ideas?

Warning: 🔥smut🔥

It's just another night with the DSO. It's normal to work late nights. The dragging of days and dreadful nights is all part of the job. The large amounts of paperwork that has to be done, the extreme and deadly missions, the blood, sweat and tears, the injuries acquired. The exhaustion.

But just walking in the mall, hearing the laughter of children, the smiles of the adults talking, blissfully unaware of the monsters being created. The smell of flowers, the lifes that are spared. Seeing life makes it worth it, makes all the pain worth it.

But at the moment I want to drown myself in hot chocolate or wine and watching movies but instead I'm stuck at work.

It's a warm summer night, the dark night is littered with stars, the moon stood proud in the sky. It's much quieter at night, there's not much people walking around at this time of the night.

I picked up my phone and checked the time. My phone wakes up and immediately comes to life, showing my bright lockscreen wallpaper, the picture brings a smile to my face.

"12:47" I sigh and look at the moon one last time "Guess I better head home"

I grabbed my belongs and left my office, a yawn escapes my lips.

A certain blonde makes himself coffee at the counter. His back towards me. My eyes runs down from his head to ass. I mean who can deny him. His eye candy and women fall for him left right and center. Women try their best to end up in bed with him but to him, his too busy with paperwork and missions to worry about sleeping with women, especially the women from the same agency as him.

His blonde hair is always so shiny and looks very soft, I'm convinced he never had a bad hair day before and on missions his hair stays the same. I'm jealous. His broad shoulders and muscular arms hides behind his black shirt, the same shirt who wraps around his upper body so perfectly, showing just enough to make a girl fall to her knees. Then there's the jeans his wearing... One word. Cake. His got cake and it drives me crazy. Ugh. In all ways his perfect! Especially when those baby blue eyes are looking at me, makes me want to melt each time.

Yes, this is man is indeed, Leon Kennedy. High ranking agent and his got the president on his side so it makes him very special.

"Goodnight Kennedy" I walked past him. I way too tired to stay and chat.

"Oh Y/N wait! I need to ask you something important" Leon turns his attention to me.

Once again, his eyes stare into mine and once again I want to melt. His gaze are always intense and that is what makes me want to stare into his eyes for hours.

"Well. What's up?" I asked and turned to face him.

"I know you are tired but I need you to sign one last thing then you can home" He states casually.

I sigh and follow him to his office, the sound of our footsteps echoes through the hallway. My mind aimlessly wanders and before I know it I'm in his office but the atmosphere feels different. It feels heavy.

Leon closes the door behind him and stays in the shadows of his office, the only source of light is the light coming from the windows in his office which barely shines enough light to see what's in his office.

"Leon?" I asked.

My anxiety spikes. Leon is quiet and his footsteps silent. I'm paralyzed unable to move, my rapid heart beats drum in my ears.

I knew he was behind me by the smell of his musky cologne and the warmth of his hands on my hips. His body pressed against mine. I could the heat radiating from his body, this hands moves upwards my body in a slow and teasing manner, his cologne fills my lungs, I'm getting drunk off his touch, heat and smell. I feel the heat pool in between my legs and couldn't help but squeeze my legs tightly together to get some sort of friction.

"Someone's getting excited" his breath fans my ear and I left out a whimper.

"Patience Y/N" he speaks again, his voice deeper than normal and it contained something dangerous. Lust.

"Damnit Leon" I curse under my breath and try to contain my breathing but I'm failing.

His lips easily found my neck and places gentle kisses, my mind goes blank. As he kisses my neck, his beard scratches against me and sends electricity to the already pulsating heat in between my legs.

I raise my hand and reach behind me, my fingers immediately tangles in his soft hair and I gently nudge his face towards mine, our lips engage in a intense kiss. The kind of kiss you wish never ended, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. The passion is evident in the kiss, our tongues collide in a passionate dance and a soft groan leaves us both.

His hands slips under my shirt and cups my breast and a moan leaves my lips as I slowly pull my lips away his. Instantly I miss the feeling of his lips but I desperately need air. The rough pads of his fingers massages my breast and I lean my head backwards against his chest. His lips attacks my neck once again and I'm lost in pleasure.

His fingers ghost over my skin and slides down into my panties.

I gasped once I felt his fingers touch my heat, it felt so good that I felt like my legs were about to give in. His fingers circles my sensitive bud, teasing me.

"Leon. Please..." I rocked my hips against his hand, trying to get some sort of friction.

Before I could react he bent me over his desk. Papers were sent flying off his desk and the cool oak soothes my burning skin.

Leon's fingers did quick work at removing my jeans and it pools at my ankles along with my panties. The cold air hits my heat and I let out a whimper. My legs shakes with anticipation and it makes me realize that it's been a while since I've done it.

Behind me, I could hear the buckle of Leon's jeans rattle and the sound of his zip fly down. My mind races and I'm getting excited.

"You'll take it like a good girl, yes?" he grabs a hand full of my hair and roughly turns my head so I can face him.

The moonlight falls on his face, his hair hangs loose, his once baby blue eyes turned dark with lust.

Before I could respond, I felt his thick head stab at my entrance, a moan left my lips

"I've been waiting for this moment for so long" his hand holds my hips as his guides himself into me.

I gasp at the delicious stretch, he fills me up perfectly, my walls clenches around him like a vice causing him to hiss.

"You're gripping my so tight" a growl erupts from his throat.

Leon rocks his hips into me and a gasp leaves our lips. My eyes tear up at the feeling, the electricity that flows through my veins. Leon's grip on my hips tightens, there'll be marks tomorrow but we didn't care. Leon's thrusts increases and a moan leaves his lips, his eyes staring at where his cock disappears into me, his eyes darkens when he sees his cock coated with my essence. It drives him crazy and he starts pounding into me. The feeling of his head hitting against my cervix sends me into overdrive, the knot in my stomach tightens and tightens until it snapped and my high comes crashing down on me, my vision has spots that enlarges and my eyes grew heavy and slowly closes.

Until...

I felt hot ropes of cum shoot deep into my. Thick hot heavy ropes. My eyes shoots up and looks up at Leon with shock "Leon?"

A dark smirk plays on his lips as he empties himself out inside of me, I felt full and my mind goes blank again.

"That's it. Now be a good girl and keep my cum inside you, maybe, you'll be carrying something special" he leans over me and pushes himself deeper into me, forcing his cum deeper.

A pathetic whine escapes my lips.

"Something special that we created might grow inside you" he gently bites my earlobe.

I'm too tired and his words didn't register to me at the time...

...But...

He was right. Something special started growing inside me not long after that. His eyes twinkle as he watches me expand and grow with his baby.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Nicely decorated 1912 Greek Revival in Irvington, NY. 8bds, 12ba, $12M. I like the porch tile.

What a lovely entrance hall. Looks like a shiny original floor and a museum style entrance.

Beautiful sun room with doors to the patio.

I like the black, white, & red theme. This is some classy dining room.

Big sunny windows, gorgeous shiny wood inlaid floors and doors to the garden. Kitchen dining and family room share an open space.

The kitchen is lovely. Everything is impeccably maintained and so bright and cheery.

So many sitting areas. This is a more formal choice.

The gloss paint on these walls makes it look like red patent leather, or it could be wallpaper.

Here's a sophisticated seating area. Love the stairs.

This is beautiful. A small display room.

The primary bedroom looks kind of like Hollywood Regency.

Gorgeous bath. Love the fireplace.

I like the black dressing room.

One of the smaller bedrooms. Very nice.

This one is nice, too.

Another sitting room.

Sleek black kitchenette off this room and it looks like the next room is a home gym.

Now this is cool- an indoor black pool. How beautiful the gardens look outside the windows.

Gorgeous striped canopy over a very large terrace. The grounds are perfectly maintained.

How pretty the pool looks lit up at night.

The 11.99 Acre property is on the banks of the Tappan Zee off of the Hudson River.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/41-N-Broadway-Irvington-NY-10533/33023676_zpid/