#his sinful voice and the the scent of roses

[notyourkindofhoodoo]

William's VA........

[comatosebunny09]

hair down | sylus

warnings: female anatomy described, bodily fluids, p-in-v, rough sex, mirror things, praise, explicit language, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol now playing: hair down [ ft. kendrick lamar ] - sir notes: there is no excuse for this. thank you for reading anyway, lovely.

You had asked for it hard on a whim.

Hot, furtive, and rough—his forte.

Maybe the sea breeze and the margaritas were getting to your head.

His lips curving into sin, he set down his book and peeled off his glasses. Fixed you with a simmering gaze before prowling towards you like something beastly, backing you deeper into your bungalow.

Who was he to deny his precious little love?

Besides, he likes you this way—leaking, pliant, obedient. With soft whimpers kissing the sea-salted air as he drills into the swollen heat of your pussy from behind.

You’re so pretty. So, so cute and so good for him. You deserve everything. He’ll reward you handsomely—give you a nice bath with those bath bombs you like, rose petals, and scented candles. All the works for his pretty baby after he’s done painting your insides milky white.

His grip borders bruising. Fingers dig pretty grooves into the meat of your hips. He catches sight of your reflection beneath curtained lashes and water-slicked hair. Can’t help how his stomach coils at the sight, his lips parting with wet panting.

You look so cute like this, your hand braced against the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. The other struggles to keep you upright over the dresser—it’s so wobbly.

You’re on your tippy toes, fighting to take him. And take him you do, like a good little princess. Doing that sad puppy face with your lip tucked between your teeth and your brows drawn together in the inner corners.

Fucking hell.

Your gazes interlock for the briefest of seconds, and you need not utter a single word when you reach back to encircle his wrist.

He takes the initiative to fuck into you harder. And his hips snap so sharply, the clopping of skin intermingles with the symphony of ocean waves and seagulls playing outside your bungalow.

“Oh fu-oh fuck!”

You don’t curse often, but he decides he quite likes the sound of it. Enjoys the way your voice alternates between muted squeaks and sticky pants of his name. And your pussy makes the lewdest sounds while he fucks you.

He smirks at your intertwined reflections. Huffs a sound whilst shoving two slender fingers into your mouth, and your tongue instinctively seeks the taste of them. He tugs the inside of your cheek to the side, not once sacrificing his pace. And you look even prettier this way.

The sight of you drooling and crossing your eyes makes his dick twitch inside you. He batters against your cervix, and your legs shake, struggling to keep you afloat.

“Nasty. Naughty. Filthy,” Sylus huffs between each pump, making your pussy quake around him.

He knows what his voice does to you. How the tenor of it makes you weak-kneed and brainless. How his praise makes you feral. He lathers it on thick, much like the viscous ring of cream you’ve adorned his cock with.

“Can’t even speak, can you? Too busy taking me. So good. So deep.”

Your eyes roll back in bliss, and your mouth curves into an enraptured smile around his fingers. You attempt to speak, but your words come out all garbled and wet. Wet like your pussy, sucking him in so eagerly.

He makes a note to whisk you away to remote parts of the world more often, if only to feel you pulsing around him like this again.

cater 2 u | masterlist | international

[pearlymel]

reader touching herself while thinking about sunday? u decide what happens after

Summary: What happens when your boyfriend catches you having a little bit of fun without him? One, he'll teach you how to do it properly, and two, you'll reward him in return.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, afab! reader, early-relationship, fingering, slight nipple play, ōral (m! receiving), cūm swallowing.

Notes: wrote this with one hand btw

Dinner. Wine. Slow music.

It was the perfect date after you both have recently agreed to get together, who could ever resist someone as charming as him? The ever gentleman man, always taking his time with you, and his hand placements whenever he holds you or kisses you? The absolute cherry on top.

What about his scent? Aeons, his scent was stuck on your head the entire night ever since he embraced you, the way his wings would flutter everytime you got too close, especially when you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and how his ears would visibly get red.

The mental image of his flustered like that doesn't even make you realise that it got you slipping your panties off, your fingers messily toying with your clit in fast circles, a whine eliciting straight from your throat and onto the pillow when you inch one finger inside, but it's not enough—you need more, you need more of his scent, more of the way his gloved fingers trailed smoothly up your skin.

"Oh, fuck..." Your body shudders at the sinful thought, your lips quivering, you don't know if you want to stop or to keep going, was it bad that you want to sit on his pretty face now?

You thought he would take his time in the bathroom. Poor you, you couldn't even wait until he finished, he just had to come back and witness you in this pathetic state.

Sunday gripped the doorframe tightly, his nails digging into the wood as his eyes were glued to your fingers, to the way your chest rose and fell. He couldn't help but feel the heat pooling in his groin, the sight of you struggling to reach orgasm has him dizzy.

The minute you feel a set of arms envelope around you, you gasp and freeze, you were so caught red handed that it was embarrassing.

“I'm sor—” but he doesn't let you finish before he's shushing you, your back pressed against his chest, one hand around your breast and the other caressing your thigh up smoothly until he was able to hike your dress higher to expose more of you, more of what he's missing out.

“couldn’t wait till i was finished?” he whispered, clicking his tongue before taking your thigh and prying your legs open, “spread them apart for me.” Your legs are immediately open for him, his voice angelic, a contrast to the way he pulls his glove off his hand using his teeth, leaving it discarded on the bed.

Your lips parted when his fingers start to slowly gather your slick, trailing over your folds, feeling your slit, teasing and playing with you before slipping one finger inside.

He groans at the wetness that greeted him, his finger thrusting in and out of you, slowly at first, taking his time finding a pace while his other hand rolled your hardened nipple that peeked out of your dress, pinching it then soothing it with a gentle roll with his thumb, the stimulation only making your body arch against him as you try rocking your hips to match his measured pace.

You squirm when he abruptly adds another finger, filling you, stretching you, and you whine out in pleasure when Sunday curled his fingers, pressing against your spongy spot repeatedly, his thumb soon joins in and rubs your clit in circular motions.

It's like his fingers were making out with your pussy.

The room was soon filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, your moans, the loud squelches and wet slap of his fingers altogether. He could feel your cunt clenching down around him, the signs of your impending orgasm.

When his fingers starts ramming inside you to help you reach your release, you cry out with your head thrown back against his shoulder, which makes his free hand leave your nipple to wrap it gently around your neck, keeping you in place.

He could see you bite your lip, your eyes clenched shut, your body writhing beneath him. “You deserve to cum, angel. It's been a long day.” Sunday murmurs next to your neck, and another press on your swollen nub is what makes you whimper loudly, eyes rolling back as you grab onto him.

He smiles when he sees the haze in your eyes, your body relaxing in his arms after being satisfied from the release you've been aching to have.

When you slowly come back to your senses, and now you are suddenly all too aware of how hard he was the whole time, and you could feel it rubbing right below your ass.

“Sunday—”

“do you need to rest now?”

“No.” as you clear your throat, you turn around and are met with his captivating gaze. Your hand instinctively reaches closer, drawn to his wings. Slowly, your fingers brush against the feathers, and his wings immediately flutter in response, there's the response you will always be excited to see.

With tenderness, your lips press a gentle kiss against the feathers, and you feel the slight shudder that runs through him, your other hand meanwhile runs down to unzip his pants swiftly, to free his cock out of the tight confinements.

“You don’t have to—” and you're the one shushing him this time by pressing your lips against his for a chaste kiss.

“I want to please you.” You tell him in a low tone, another peck making it's way to his lips once again, “please?”

The minute he nods, you press his chest back down and he leans back on his elbows before you inch your face lower to lift his shirt slightly just enough to reveal his v-line, just for you to teasingly pepper his skin with soft kisses only for him to make his wings flutter in response.

Your hands work on taking his pants off, and he lifts his hips to help you slide them off with ease. Sunday's eyes never left yours, even when you were eye-level with his throbbing cock, the head already flushed and glistening with pre-cum.

his hand wraps around the base of his shaft, guiding it towards your awaiting lips, “open,” he commands gently, and he lets out a hiss when you start by flattening your tongue at the tip, licking the salty pre-cum off before wrapping your lips around him, the sensation only made his coke twitch in anticipation, his hips instinctively rocking forward.

Your mouth was warm, soft, heavenly.

“H-hah, don't tease me,” Sunday’s lips parted at the feeling of your tongue repeatedly circling around his tip then massaging at the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. 

You then start bobbing your head up and down, making him whimper above you as he shuts his eyes tightly.

It was a mistake to even re open his eyes, his eyes locked on your mouth, your cheeks hollowing out as sucked like it was the sweetest treat ever. He could feel the tension building in his body, his orgasm near, and he reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair.

Your throat constricted around his cock, and he tries keeping his moans low every time you start gagging and choking.

“W-waitwait—” Sunday was gone the minute your hands started fondling with his balls, and he thrusts abruptly into your mouth until warm, white ropes of cum erupted from the tip of his cock, harsh gasps leaving his throat, followed by his trembling wings as his hips continued thrusting sloppily until you pulled out after swallowing every drop. His tip glistening with the residue of your saliva, and your lips with his seed.

You both are now shyly looking away from eachother, soft breaths and silence coming from both of you.

You're the first one to move, wrapping your arms around his waist and collapsing right on top of him. Sunday welcomes you in, his own arms finding their way around you before kissing the top of your head.

"I want to sit on your face next time." You murmur your fantasy to him out loud, and his eyes widened before his wings made the move to cover his flushed face, making you laugh at his adorableness.

[bumblesimagines]

Prayer

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader Summary: Alicent finds herself unable to escape her desire for a new face in court.

AHEM.

~~~

Her long, forest-green gown dragged along the cold floor, picking up the dust-caked along the stones. Her hands remained curled around each other in front of her, her head held high as she approached her typical prayer area. Those in the sept bowed to her and scurried away once she passed them, for the last thing they wanted was to disrupt the Dowager Queen's prayer time. It reminded her of the loneliness that plagued her, looming over her like a dark storm cloud. She'd been a lonely child, a lonely mother, a lonely queen. Nobody truly understood her, nor did they bother trying. 

With a soft sigh, she carefully lowered herself down onto her knees and lit one of the many candles, careful not to get hot wax on herself or the sleeve of her gown. Alicent swallowed and spared a glance around her. Ser Criston and another knight stood by the entrance where she'd entered and two handmaidens lingered by them. Enough distance for her to speak of her sins without worry of rumors spreading. Alicent turned back to the candles and stared at the flames, her fingers lacing together. 

Alicent had many things to feel guilty about; her unsalvageable friendship with Rhaenyra, her crumbling relationship with her own children, the pain in which her husband had been in for much time before passing, the self-pity that filled her veins whenever she looked upon her daughter. She thought about it all constantly. But the thing that'd led her to seek out the Seven that day... had not been among the things she truly felt guilty about. Sure, there'd been a prickle of guilt, but primarily felt because of her husband who hadn't passed that long ago. 

Her eyes fluttered shut and she bowed her head, whispering her apologies into the quiet, chilly air filling the sept. She apologized to Rhaenyra for failing her, to her children for being thrusted into duty before they could mourn their father, and to Viserys for not being there in his final moments. But her voice faltered when she thought of him. Her fingers squeezed tightly around each other as heat enveloped her face and traveled down the rest of her body, making her itch for a quick return to the castle so she could plunge herself in a bath. 

The Small Council's newest Master of Ships: (Y/N) Roxton, younger brother to Jon Roxton the Bold. Alicent had been uneasy the day he'd arrived at King's Landing with his devilish eyes and smirky mouth but Aegon had been delighted with him when they met, cementing his spot amongst the council despite merely being a few years older than Aegon and by far the youngest council member they'd thus yet had. Alicent attempted to keep her worries in check but they soon soothed when (Y/N) proved to be rather well-mannered despite the bloody reputation he and his brother had garnered throughout the years, although his youth showed through his flirtatious nature. 

Alicent found the attention pleasing, surprisingly enough. Her father had deprived her of the chance of a love-filled marriage and King Viserys had hardly given her the attention she would've wanted from a husband as he only paid her attention to fulfil his own desires. She enjoyed the flirting, even if she dismissed him with shakes of her head or gentle scolding, but the smile that toyed on her lips only led him to continue. Dreams plagued her sleep and bitter jealousy began filling her veins whenever she noticed him flirting with someone else. 

Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply, the heavy scent of smoke and incense filling her senses. Despite how badly she fought against the thoughts circulating her mind. She was a devoted woman of the Seven who ought to still be mourning her husband instead of thinking of such impurities. Alicent rose unsteadily to her feet and turned swiftly, retreating from the sept and toward the awaiting carriage. She refused to meet the eyes of her handmaidens as they returned to the castle and ignored Ser Criston's questioning stare when she entered the castle and moved down the halls until she stopped before the doors to his bedchambers. 

"(Y/N) and I will be discussing some pressing matters at hand, Ser Criston. I do not wish to be interrupted." She told her Sworn Shield. Ser Criston's lips pressed into a thin line, head bobbing in a small nod before he opened the door, letting her step inside before shutting it and standing guard outside. 

(Y/N) lifted his gaze from a letter in hand, nursing a cup of wine in the other. "Your Grace," His lips curled pleasantly. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" 

"I must... speak with you about... things."

"Things? There are many things we could speak of, Your Grace. You'll have to be more specific." (Y/N) grinned at her and a heat bubbled in her stomach. She cleared her throat and strode across the room, managing to keep her composure under his piercing stare. Her eyes slid around the tidy room, the only sign of mess coming in the form of a table with papers scattered across it. Plans for new ships and other things Alicent had little interest in. 

"I believe you know." She spoke gently once she stopped at his side, trailing her stare away from the papers and raising it to look at him. He huffed a quiet laugh and finished what was left of his wine, his lips darting out to swipe over his lips. (Y/N) raised his hand toward her face, calloused fingers brushing over the soft skin of her cheek. His knuckles bumped against her earring, fingers dipping slightly into her auburn hair and curling, palm pressed to her cheek. 

There was a sweet warmth to his touch that had Alicent leaning into his hand, relishing the idea of being touched so gently for the first time in a long while. Her eyes fluttered shut when his head leaned toward hers, their lips locking together and sending a jolt down her spine. Her hands raised, planting themselves against his chest and curling around the fabric to pull him closer. She sighed softly against the kiss, her parted lips giving him leeway to explore uncharted territory. Her skin flushed immediately, only pulling away to release a soft gasp and take in some air when he effortlessly raised her up and onto the table. 

She felt giddy again, pleased as she used to be back when she and Rhaenyra would spend every waking moment together. Her heart hammered in her chest, both nervous and thrilled. Finally, she could take matters into her own hands. Finally, she could choose who she wanted to be with without someone else deciding for her. Alicent gently pulled him back in, rolling her eyes at the snicker he released before pressing their lips together again. His fingers balled up the fabric of her skirt and tugged it upwards past her knees until it pooled at her lap. The cool air nipped at the exposed skin and Alicent resisted the instinct to tug the fabric back down, her mind drifting elsewhere when his hand grasped the flesh of her thighs and squeezed. 

"How long until someone requires our presence?" He murmured against her. 

"We have plenty of time."

So there Alicent remained in his bedchambers; Ser Criston stationed outside dismissing any maids and such who wished to enter for whatever reason.

Much time had passed, nearly a full hour, but there she remained, her long loose curls sticking to her glistening, sweat-covered skin. Her dress had long been abandoned on the floor by the bed, discarded rapidly before it could be torn to shreds. His arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, keeping her flush against his bare chest and pressed down on his lap. Her nails dug into his shoulder, her hazy mind attempting to catch up while her body recovered, her hips and sticky thighs aching.

She'd have to drink moon tea, the rational part of her realized, but she merely slumped against him.

A breathy squeak escaped her when he moved them, her back meeting the silk sheets beneath. He chuckled into her throat, teeth dragging lightly across her skin and making her shudder against him. (Y/N) leaned back with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not finished with you yet, My Queen."

[rafescorpsebride]

Preachers daughter

Seeing a pretty girl sends Joel over the edge. Despite the obvious reasons of why he’s not a Godly man.

Joel miller x fem reader.

CW: perv acts, stalking behavior, dark Joel, blasphemy, choking, oral fem receiving and unprotected sex. Age gap but reader is my age.

Joel miller never expected to step foot into a church ever again. His sins bled through any source of purity. But here he was, listening to his pounding heart as he looked at you. His sweet little girl wearing pretty clothes in this destroyed world. One that he had a hand in destroying.

You listened so attentively to your father, the preacher as he went through the sermon. Joel wanted to splay you on the seat you were in, bury his face in-between your legs and make everyone see him destroy you.

Joel shifted uncomfortably as his hardened dick throbbed in his jeans. It was painful but he would suffer anything for you. For his patience paying off when he finally had you.

Not only were you the daughter of a minister, you were his next door neighbor’s in this restored village. He wasn’t proud of his actions but he couldn’t help it.

Joel almost felt like a young boy again, sneaking into your room while you were out. Smelling panties he snatched from your hamper. Feeling the lace between his rough fingers. You smelled just as sweet. Tasted better than candy.

He pocketed a few, took a sample of a scent you wore. He just needed to be close to you at all times. The pair he favorited were covered in cherries, a nickname that he let slip a few times passing you by.

Joel swallowed, moistening his dry mouth as he bowed his head in prayer. But his dark eyes still remained on you. Your pretty hands pressed in contrition. Every Sunday you and your father had a meal together. But Joel needed to find a way to get close to you. To pull you away from everyone.

He waited. He waited for hours as the last remaining members left and you stayed studying. Pouring over scripture and he stood. Joel approached you, listening to the quiet plea you sounded to God in prayer. His rough calloused hand softly set on your shoulder and you turned.

Your kind eyes looked up at him and he nearly melted.

“I have a confession.” His deep voice was groggy from staying silent and you rose immediately. Such a sweet girl.

He caught your elbow as you moved to walk to the confessional booth. Joel clicked his tongue, savoring the scent of your perfume.

He followed you, his footsteps heavy as he admired the way your ass moved. As soon as you stopped, booth to your right, Joel pressed you against the wall.

He traced his nose against your jaw, groaning softly as you inhaled. Joel hooked his finger inside the cross around your neck.

“Pity you worship God over me. We will have to fix that, princess.” He pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, his facial hair tickling your skin as he moved his mouth. You instinctively opened for him and he licked at your tongue before sucking your lower lip.

“Mr. Miller-“ You whispered but he growled. Joel lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and he opened a door. The room was empty as he walked towards an empty space. His kisses needy as he lowered you on the ground.

“I need to fuck you but first I need to taste that pretty pussy. Been craving your flavor.” He moaned as he peeled off your panties. Joel inhaled the smell from between your thighs.

“You’re so wet from a messy kiss? Now, I gotta sample how sweet you are.” He lowered himself down, teasing you by kissing around your center, enjoying you breathing hard. Your fingers buried in his waves as he licked a thick stripe against your clit.

Joel moaned deeply and held your hips as he circled his tongue, enjoy every drop around his mouth as he moved his head. He licked your entrance, making sure to pay attention to your sweet spots as you whimpered. His hands moved to grope your tits.

You writhed against his jaw as he sucked your clit, enjoying every second he got of you and he felt you shaking.

You came hard and tried to move away. But Joel kept you in place as he devoured you, licking and sucking. You made noises letting him know you were at the brink of tears. He slowly worked himself up, kissing your stomach, chest and neck.

The dark room still allowed your cross to illuminate and Joel smirked.

“You’re gonna be on your hands and knees for me. Not God. He’s gonna know exactly who’s made you a pathetic whore.” Joel flipped you over, slapping your ass as you squealed and he yanked off his pants.

He wrapped his belt around your neck, not pulling tight enough to hurt but enough to keep you still. “Don’t worry, doll. I promise I won’t break you too hard.”

Joel thrusted into you, grunting at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him and he was balls deep. You were a drooling, moaning mess as he loved the way you tried to remain upright.

“You are mine. You’re my little pet to fuck, taste and own. I see the way you flash your little fuck me eyes. You think I’m stupid? I’ve played this game longer than you’ve been alive.” Joel grabbed your shoulder and pulled out to watch his dick pull out of you. He slammed it back in and you were slurring.

Joel prided himself on lasting a good amount of time but he could tell you were close by the way your cunt pulsed around him. A good church girl being nothing but a cock slut.

Within a few more seconds, he felt you grow impossibly wetter and cream all over him. You whined and Joel spread you open further. He slammed into you more times and spilled into you. Ropes of cum coating your insides and dripped onto the floor.

He let out shuttered breaths and pulled you up. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing kisses to your neck. “I hope you start praying for more energy, baby.”

@hauntedfawnn @rafesheaven @cherrygirlfriend @rafesangelita @stillwjk-channie-lixie @marchsfreakshow

[pyxxiestyxx]

Rosebud

Ryan sighed, leaning against the door to his room. He had been locking himself in here the past few days now, though he knew the weed could easily enter whenever she wanted. Hell, she could probably rip the damn door off its hinges if she needed to. Still, an ounce of comfort was better than nothing.

He slowly slid to the floor, holding Sinna close. The weed had given it to him when he had woken up, a large plush cinnamon roll about a foot and a half in diameter. She had told him that the plush was his to have and hold and name, and he had quickly grown close to the thing. Every time he squeezed it, it released this really nice puff of citrus scent that reminded him of home on Remula, to the point that he had even begun talking to it.

He was definitely a little concerned about his mental state when it started talking back, though.

"Hey Sin, um…am I…am I going to be okay?" He couldn't help but blush a little as he held the plush out, seeing the cute simplistic smiley face on the side of the roll.

"Absolutely, dear! Why, what's wrong?" The voice he pictured was a cute one, very feminine and soothing.

"I…its just…between what happened at class today, and how Luca…how Violet has already accepted her place as a…as a floret…I'm just scared that I'm going to be next, you know? I don't want to be a floret!"

"Awww, but honey bun…you'd make a precious little girl for your Owner!" Ryan blushed at that, shaking his head rapidly but not replying. For some reason, the plush insisted that Ryan was actually a trans woman, like Violet. Which…which was…not what he wanted, nononono definitely not nope nu uh.

"Do you mind if I use that name we talked about, dear? I loved it sooooo much, and it was sooooo cute so see your smile~" He shrugged, looking away and biting his lip, so Sinna continued, "My little Roooooose~"

Rose…Ryan blushed, hiding his face in Sinna at the mention. "ofdgbnokmsfkoghmno."

"Rooooosey poseeeey, its okay. Its okay to be scared. But your Owner loves you lots and lots, and she won't never ever ever let you forget it. Why don't you talk to her a little?" A burst of orange scent around them, and she relaxed…he relaxed?

…she relaxed.

"I…okay. Um…where are you then?" Rose knew who had been talking to her, she wasn't that dumb. But the pretending had helped, in a way. Talking to Sinna the cinnamon roll was a lot easier than talking to Sinaforte the Owner, Second Bloom.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Rose slid out of the way as the lock clicked open, and the door swung inward. Sin smiled down at her, holding the microphone that let her speak through the plushie.

"Let's chat then, Rosie."

[warping-realities]

Alpha Scent 

Hank wasn’t exactly thrilled. When his uncle said there was a job opening for the young guy fresh off the farm in the big city, Hank figured it’d be in the accounting or admin side of his company. What he never expected was that his uncle would have him start working as just another grunt laborer. Like he was one of the many immigrants he hired every day for that kind of job, and not his sister’s eldest son. His dad had warned him that his brother-in-law was one of those liberals who’d rather hire foreigners than a true-blood American. Even though Hank was from a small city in Mississippi and wasn’t exactly allergic to hard work, he thought this would be his shot to start a career in the business world, maybe even inherit his uncle’s company someday.

The only reason he hadn’t packed up and headed back to the small town near Columbus was because he was still holding out hope. His uncle had been cold ever since he showed up, looking at Hank like he was some unwanted guest. Hank only found out why later: his mom’s brother was a big-time fag. That should’ve been enough for Hank to turn tail and head back home. He was freaked out just thinking about what his father would say if he knew Hank was living under the same roof as a sodomite. But he hadn’t driven all the way out to this liberal, left-wing pit that was California to quit that easily. He had threatened to spill the beans about his uncle to his mom, the pious and super-religious Hank grandma. Even though his uncle was living in sin in Los Angeles, he had the old lady fooled, pretending to be a righteous man. At first, his uncle was shocked, then cursed Hank out, but in the end, he gave in, knowing he had no way out.

“Alright, Hank, I’m gonna give you a job you don’t deserve, but first, I need you to do one last thing for one of my most important clients in Beverly Hills: Lee Yutao.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Yeah, someone like you wouldn’t know Mr. Lee. He’s a famous perfumer, used to work for top designer brands, now runs his own niche perfume company. The man is a total recluse, barely leaves his house. He spends all his free time taking care of the gardens at his various mansions around the world.”

“Sounds pretty gay.”

“Yeah, but this is one gay guy you don’t wanna mess with, especially if you wanna keep your job.”

So there Hank was, standing in front of Lee Yutao’s massive mansion on top of Beverly Hills, wondering how someone could end up with something that big just by mixing scents. Didn’t seem fair, especially since it was some damn Chinese guy, taking what he felt should be American land. He thought that to himself, ignoring the fact that his great-grandfather had come to America just over 80 years ago, fleeing a collapsing Germany during World War II.

As he walked up to the gate, a metallic voice spoke to him through a hidden intercom.

“You’re late,” said the voice, speaking perfect English, but with a slight accent Hank couldn’t place.

“I’m here, aren’t I? You gonna let me in or what?”

“Head to the garden near the pool. Your job today is to organize the stones by the rose garden. And under no circumstances are you to touch any of the flowers.”

“Yeah, as if I need more work than I already got…” Hank muttered.

“Did you say something?”

“Just point me in the right direction,” Hank replied, as the huge gate opened and he stepped onto the property, full of himself but completely unaware he was walking right into the jaws of something way dangerous than he imagined.

Following the metallic voice’s instructions, Hank made his way into the massive garden and got to work. He knew there were cameras hidden in the bushes, so he gave it his all, even though he was pissed. His performance here was crucial to his future plans.

By the afternoon, he was ahead of schedule, still fuming about being stuck there but careful not to touch the precious flowers. Not because he cared about what the client wanted, but because he suspected there was a limit to how much his uncle would tolerate before he snapped and spilled the beans about his lifestyle. That’s when something really weird happened. While taking a quick break, a breeze hit him, carrying a strange smell—nothing like the roses around him. It was a heavy, almost animalistic scent, something Hank had never smelled before.

“What the hell is that?” He said out loud, dropping the shovel but getting no response. The smell wasn’t just messing with his nose—it was throwing off all his other senses. He followed the scent to a particular bush. There, among the roses, was a flower that looked no different from the rest, except it was the source of that odd odor.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Hank asked again, but if the metallic voice heard him, it chose to ignore him. Hank figured it didn’t matter—he had a job to finish, and he was getting out of there. But for some weird reason, his body was pushing him forward. Why was he doing something he was told not to do? Why did he grab the flower and bring his face close to it? The scent hit him like a truck, intoxicating and overwhelming. He quickly pulled back, feeling dizzy, but it didn’t help. The smell was on him—inside his nose, on his skin, all over him.

“I need to get this off me… I need to get it off…” he mumbled. That’s when the voice spoke again.

“I warned you not to touch them, but I understand. The temptation is real. If you want to get rid of my scent, follow the rose path to the pool.”

Dazed and confused, Hank didn’t even think about disobeying the voice. He staggered through the garden, now feeling like every flower was giving off that same smell, the smell that made him want to give in to pure, uncontrollable lust. It took everything he had not to stop right there and give in to his urges. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the pool, and without even thinking, he dove in. He thought the water would wash the smell—and the desire—away. But when he came up for air and stood, the smell was back.

“This can’t be…” Hank muttered, trying to splash water on his face, but it didn’t work. The metallic voice spoke again.

“Perfect! Full immersion guarantees the effect. Now, come to the main house. It’s time for us to have a more… in-depth conversation.”Hank, barely holding on, followed the voice’s instructions and made his way to the house.

Every step felt like a struggle as the desire still coursed through him. The house was huge and luxurious, decorated with such a refined taste that Hank, lost in confusion couldn’t even appreciate it. Each slow step down the hall felt like a personal torture.

“You’re almost there, boy,” the voice said. “Turn right at the end of the hall and enter the master suite.”

Hank stumbled toward a massive oil painting at the end of the hall, depicting an imposing Asian man, dressed like an ancient warrior with his chest exposed. This must’ve been the guy behind all of this, Hank thought—the owner of the mansion, Lee Yutao. Inside his clouded mind, Hank tried to feel anger toward the guy. But as another wave of that strange scent hit him, all the anger was swallowed up by an overwhelming urge. He wanted to be with that man. He needed to feel him, to touch him, to have him inside him…

Realizing what he was thinking, Hank’s last shred of self-awareness melted away, replaced by absolute terror. What the hell would he do when he met this man, who was presumably behind the big wooden door now opening in front of him?

To Hank's relief and disappointment, the gigantic room was empty. He stood in the doorway, waiting for further orders like a total doofus.

“Come on in, take a seat on the bed, and just chill. More instructions are coming up soon.”

The bed was actually this massive setup that could’ve filled an entire room in a regular-sized house. Hank plopped down right in the middle of it, his still-wet skin soaking the silky black sheets. In front of him was a TV monitor so huge it looked like a movie screen. As his lust-fogged brain struggled to figure out what was going on, the giant screen lit up in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. The constant swirl of colors made whatever little conscious thought Hank had left turn into mush. As drool dripped from the corner of his mouth and his eyes rolled back, a face emerged amidst the colorful chaos.

“Hey there, Hank. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but the pleasure will come for both of us. But not before some… enhancements. Your uncle and I have history together, and what you tried to do to him is just unacceptable. That’s why I’m pretty comfortable with what’s about to happen. If everything goes smoothly and I have enough faith in my work to believe it’ll, we’ll have one less awful creature in the world and one more real human being.” The Asian guy with striking features could’ve been talking to the walls, Hank’s reaction was so minimal. Even though a part of him was screaming in despair in the back of his intoxicated mind, it wasn’t enough to pull him out of the stupor he was in.

“Since I was really young, I’ve been totally into all kinds of scents, mixing them up to create something unique and fresh. I traveled the world testing different fragrances and essences; my work got recognized, and fame followed. But I got so caught up in my relentless quest for the perfect scent that I pushed my personal life to the back burner, becoming more introverted and isolated. When I finally decided I’d had enough of being alone and wanted to find the right person, a long string of disappointments followed. The people I got involved with were mostly after my fame or my cash, and the few who were genuinely into me loved the public figure and not the real me. This made me shut myself off from society; it seemed like I’d never find anyone who could pull me out of my shell.

That’s when I had this idea: if I can create the perfect scent, then I can also create the perfect partner. I just needed a base to work from, and thanks to your nasty behavior towards your uncle, I got what I needed. Goodbye, Hank!”

“…impossible…” Hank managed to mumble before being hit by a wave of Yutao’s perfume and collapsing onto the comfy sheets of the giant bed, while the man’s voice recited words that his brain couldn’t consciously grasp but that worked to completely change who Hank Zimmer was.

“…it all started during the tests for the recording of my next perfume commercial…”

Hank felt something solid beneath him, way different from the soft mattress he had just sunk into. He felt way more alert than just moments ago. Opening his eyes, he found himself in another place; there were lights aimed at him, tons of them, along with a bunch of people milling around behind them. The taste of tobacco dominated his taste buds, and he felt both more compact and heavier. He looked down and saw a muscular, tanned body that was definitely not his. What the hell is going on? he thought, but any attempt to verbalize something was blocked. Even though he was more awake, he had no control over his own body.

“Cut! Great job, Han! Awesome! I think you’re the perfect choice to be the face of Alpha Scent. But first, we need Mr. Lee’s approval. The final say is his.”

“Of course, I’m just really grateful for the opportunity.” Hank found himself responding in a smooth, melodic voice, even a bit delicate, while getting rid of the disgusting cigarette used in the recording. “When will I find out the result?”

“Oh, Mr. Lee himself will get in touch if you’re approved. He insists.”Hank was immersed in doubts, he didn't know what was happening, but just hearing Lee Yutao's name made him tremble.

The image dissolved, and Hank once again felt the softness of a mattress beneath him. He was lying on a bed that seemed way too small for his muscular, compact body. His fingers were typing away quickly on a smartphone.

“…I can definitely show you more… but there’s gonna be a price!” He typed with his hand without even thinking about it, then moved the phone and sent a provocative pic of his powerful exposed legs.

“Whoa, whoa, Mr. Zhang Hanqian, I thought the fact that I picked you to be the face of my masterpiece would be payment enough.” That was the response from who could only be Lee Yutao.

“I never mix business with pleasure, Mr. Lee; the price I’m asking for is different. Few have had the chance to see you in person, and to get all this here, the payment is a date.”The man sharing Hank's body tiped before sitting in the modest apartment room and sending a recorded video in front of the mirror to the man he was trying to seduce.

That was Hank's chance to see who he was sharing his consciousness with, and what he saw made him scream at the top of his lungs, even though no one could hear. Sitting in a comfy chair in front of the mirror, completely naked, was a young Asian man, whom he guessed was probably Chinese, with his knowledge about other races which was inversely proportional to the anger he felt towards immigrants. A rage that peaked in that moment, mixed with a giant despair. He was stuck in the body of a flamboyant man whore who was trying to seduce another man at that moment.

“Okay, boy, you had my curiosity, now you have my attention. I’m in the Amazon researching the aroma of priprioca for a new fragrance, I’ll be back in California at the end of the month. Be ready; you’ll need more than a sculpted body to turn my attention into real interest.”

Once again, Hank felt everything dissolve around him, only to find himself in a totally different place. This time, he was lying on a cushioned surface, wearing nothing but swim trunks, with the summer sun shining on his body while a cool breeze partially relieved the heat of the day. He was in some kind of resort, strangely empty except for his own figure. Unlike before, now he could feel the anxiety of that other guy, Han, as if the barrier between them was getting thinner. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something he had been waiting for was about to happen in the next few moments. That’s when Hank saw scared the guy from the gigantic painting in the mansion approaching, while Han, in turn, was enjoying the sight of the figure in front of him. He wanted to meet Yutao for his art, talent, and fortune, but now he was genuinely interested in the man before him, a dude with an impressive physique, walking with the confidence of someone who had the world at his feet.

“You got a tattoo,” Lee Yutao remarked, eyeing Han's bicep with a deep voice, but unlike what Han expected, there was a hint of insecurity in it.

“I’ve got more in hidden spots if you wanna see,” Han replied, reveling in the sight of one of the most powerful guys in the industry blushing, his confidence slipping away. That was unexpected; Lee Yutao had seemed way more assertive in their messages. But apparently, the teasing had the desired effect.

“How about we head up to my suite and you show me everything you can do… boy.” Yutao replied with more confidence, making Han smile with satisfaction while Hank was horrified at the prospect of what could happen.

He was still worried when everything dissolved and solidified around him again.

He was out of breath, heart racing, as if he’d just been hit hard, and yet a feeling of tired pleasure washed over him to the point where he couldn’t help but smile.

They were both Hank and Han experiencing this, and it freaked Hank out, causing his smile to fade, which didn’t go unnoticed by the person next to him.

“Han, babe, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Han replied, glancing at where Yutao was lying. “Your big cock just took my breath away.” He added, making them both laugh.

“Man, you say stuff that throws me off. Even after all these months, no matter how confident I think am, you totally disarm me.”

“I think you need someone to keep you on your toes.”

“Maybe…” Yutao replied as the room dissolved into smoke and Hank found himself in a different place again. He was in a luxurious bathroom, maybe in that same first resort; he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The only thing he could make out was Han, once again holding the phone, recording a video for someone. Probably Yutao. Hank felt curious about where that conversation was headed.

“Miss me, babe? When am I gonna see you? It doesn’t make sense for you to keep sending me these gifts if you’re not here with me!” Han said with a teasing look.

Just then, a reply to the video came in. “I’ll send my private jet to pick you up right now! Talk to you in Phi Phi.” Han lit up with joy, and Hank, even reluctantly, shared the feeling as everything around him once again reshaped. What hit him first was the smell of the ocean, brought by the beach breeze while he feel the sand under his feet.

“I can’t believe you were too shy to go shirtless at the beach. What’s the point of having a hot body like that if you’re not gonna show it off?”

“I work on my body for me, Han, not to flaunt it for everyone else!”

“That doesn’t make any sense; nobody looks like that if they don’t wanna be admired!”

“Oh, I want to be admired, just not by everyone, only by the right guy!”

“Hmm, and what does it take to be the right guy, Mr. Lee?”

“I still don’t totally know, but I’d bet that you’re on the right track!”

“Can I know what I’m doing right then?”

“I can’t say for sure; I just feel like I can be myself with you…”

“Oh, it’s because I’m so disarming, huh?”

“Could be…”

“Great, then let’s disarm you a bit more!” Han said, grabbing Yutao's phone and opening Instagram.

“What are you doing, Han?”

“Babe, you can keep playing the tough guy, you can wear me out in bed, but you can’t post a single pic on Instagram? You know what you really need? Someone with initiative by your side!”

“And that would be you?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to be disarming? Well, I’m gonna be!” Han replied, sliding his sunglasses down his nose and striking a pose for a selfie.

“You look ridiculous!” Yutao said, laughing.

“Babe, when you’re as hot as we are, who cares? But it’s your call.” Han shot back, handing the phone back to the other guy. After a thoughtful pause, Yutao got into position and took his first Instagram pic, revealing his face behind the brand for the first time, next to the young model posing.

Hank didn’t try to intervene at any point, maybe because he finally accepted that he was just a passenger in this body. But deep down, the barrier between him and Han was slowly crumbling, and he felt what the other felt, something very different from what he was used to. Han was into Yutao, sure, in a physical way, which strangely didn’t bother Hank as much anymore. But the interest was more than just physical; initially, it was about the mysterious figure of the man, the power he exuded, and his wealth—things Hank could understand in his greedy mind. However, at some point, the interest shifted to the person himself, the shy man trying to play the dominant alpha who quickly fell for Han’s tricks, who could leave him speechless with just a few words, even if he later surrendered to pleasure.

Not knowing how to deal with those contradictions, he felt reality reshape around him.

He was sitting on a comfy couch, his own hand covering his eyes. Once again, with his chest and legs bare.

“Go ahead and look, Han, babe!” It was Yutao’s voice. And both Han and Hank felt a wave of happiness hit them at the sight of the ring the other man offered.

“Han, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You made me realize I don’t have to act like someone I’m not to get what I want. You push me out of my comfort zone, you challenge me with every word, you disarm me, and I love you for that and everything else. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Han and Hank said in unison, the barrier between them finally dissolving as in a luxurious mansion bedroom, lying on a gigantic bed, Hank’s restless body underwent the transformation his mind had already accepted.

It all started with a shrinking of a few inches, bringing him down from a respectable 6'1" to a more modest 5'7", while his sun-burned white skin picked up a naturally golden hue, accentuated by hours spent tanning by the pool completely nude. His facial features became more delicate, with characteristics that would forever define him as someone of Asian descent, while his blond hair turned a raven black. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the young man let out a sleepy sigh; then the real transformation began. His chest was replaced by a pair of well-defined muscles tits ready to be sucked by his lover. Below that, a well-toned abdomen formed, with eight bricks of pure meat. As his upper body developed a V-shape, his lower body also went through significant changes; enormous muscles formed in his calves and especially in his thighs, making it impossible for him to walk without the characteristic sway that only someone with tree-trunk-thick legs learns to master. Unlike the rest of his body, his feet became more delicate and smaller, with nails as well-groomed as a rich vain woman. But the feet weren’t the only thing shrinking; the massive member that was Hank’s pride shrank down to a modest size while his butts expanded, ready for ready to be pounded by Yutao's powerful thighs while his massive cock vigorously hit Han's prostate.

As Yutao’s plan unfolded, the man himself approached the bed he shared with his husband and partner for life.

“Where have you been, babe? I need you now!” Han said, making his voice heard for the first time in those walls, while Yutao felt the presence that had brought forth the perfect man for him, experiencing an afternoon of love that would just be the first of many to come. As Han surrendered to pleasure, so did Hank, the distinction between the two already nonexistent.

Hours later, in the next morning, the couple took advantage of their workout session in the professional gym they had at home to snap a selfie for social media.

After spending the whole session feeling a specific aroma mixed with his partner’s scent, Yutao couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you wearing Alpha Scent while working out?”

“I’m the face of the fragrance, babe; it’s my duty to wear it on any occasion.”

“I know, but you’re well aware that the version I have at home is the real deal. If someone who isn’t one of us smells it, I don’t know what the consequences could be.”

“Afraid someone else might show up and steal me away? That’s impossible, babe; I’m completely yours. But I really do wonder what would happen in that case…”

“Don’t get any wild ideas, Han…”

“I thought you were with me precisely just because of wild cideas.”

“I’m with you because I love you. But now you reminded me of something. We need some help with the house!”

“Hey, you know I don’t mind taking care of you and our home. I love being a devoted trophy boy.”

“Babe, you’re so much more than that, and even though you gave up your modeling career for me, you’ve made us one of the biggest digital influencer couples out there. So, as much as I love tending to the garden while you cook and take care of the house, we can’t do this without some help.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s hire some people and find someone capable of managing our homes when you’re busy.”

“And who’s going to do that as well as I do?” Han asked playfully.

“Nobody, babe, nobody. But a friend of mine is gonna send his brother-in-law over in the next few days. The guy’s a complete waste of human meat, but he’s the perfect test subject for what the new version of Alpha can do. Now let’s snap that selfie already; I’m dying to enjoy our time together in the best way, fucking your ass!”

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝑀𝐼𝒮𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒮𝒮-𝐹𝒜𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐸 𝑀𝒜𝒴𝐻𝐸𝒲

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 A priest, and a woman seeking guidance are drawn to each other despite the forbidden nature of their attraction. Their passionate affair unfolds in secret, filled with guilt and longing. Despite knowing the consequences, they cannot resist their desires.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

Father Charlie was a man of the cloth, revered for his compassion, his wisdom, and his unwavering dedication to the flock he had been entrusted with. His congregation saw him as a beacon of hope, a rock of stability in the tumultuous sea of life's trials and tribulations. But unbeknownst to them, the good father had a secret a secret that would soon come to light and change everything.

You, a beautiful and enigmatic woman with a penchant for the forbidden, had stumbled upon this secret quite by accident. You had come to the rectory seeking solace from your own tumultuous life, seeking guidance from the man who had helped so many find peace. Little did you know that the moment your eyes met Father Charlie's, a spark of desire had been ignited a desire that neither of you could extinguish, no matter how hard you tried to resist.

For weeks, the tension had been building. Each time Father Charlie offered you his counsel, his eyes lingered just a fraction longer than was appropriate, and you felt the heat of his gaze even through the confessional's thick velvet curtain. You had felt a strange pull towards him, something that transcended the spiritual and ventured into the realm of the carnally profane. It was as if the very air around you was charged with a silent, unspoken promise of passionate release.

And so it was that one fateful evening, as the shadows grew long and the last vestige of daylight clung to the stained glass windows, you found yourself standing before the heavy oak door to Father Charlie's private chambers. Your heart raced as your hand hovered over the brass doorknob, the weight of your decision pressing down upon your very soul. With trembling fingers, you pushed the door open, revealing the man you had come to both crave and fear.

Father Charlie looked up from his ancient, leather-bound tome, his eyes widening in surprise before quickly narrowing with a mix of desire and guilt. The candles on his desk flickered, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room, and you could see the struggle playing out across his handsome features. He knew he should ask you to leave, to protect both of your souls from the sin that lurked in the shadows of his desires. But the temptation was too great, the connection between you too powerful.

As you stepped into the room, he rose from his chair, his priestly garments rustling softly. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the line between holy man and passionate lover grew blurry. The room was filled with the scent of aged parchment, incense, and something undeniably human desire.

With a voice that was barely a whisper, he spoke your name, the sound of it a declaration of his longing. You closed the distance between you, your eyes locked onto his, and you knew that there was no turning back. The attraction was irresistible, the allure of the forbidden too strong to resist.

Father Charlie reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You felt his pulse quicken beneath your fingertips, a silent confession of his own tumultuous thoughts. He led you to a chair, the soft velvet cushion beckoning you closer.

"I shouldn't," he murmured, his voice a hoarse rasp of self-torment.

"But you want to," you replied, your voice equally soft, equally needy.

The silence stretched out, pregnant with the weight of their unspoken desires. And then, with a groan that was equal parts agony and surrender, Father Charlie pulled you into his embrace.

As Father Charlie's arms closed around you, his warmth and the faint scent of incense mingled with your own perfume, creating a heady aroma that intoxicated your senses. His embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions roiling within him. His breath was hot against your neck as he whispered a prayer for strength, his lips brushing the soft skin just below your ear. You leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body, and the barrier between you began to crumble.

"Forgive me," he breathed, his words a plea to both you and the heavens above.

"For what?" you whispered back, your heart racing as you felt his hands begin to explore the contours of your body.

"For being a man," he replied, his voice thick with desire.

The confessional had been the stage for countless confessions, but none as raw and intimate as the one that played out now between you and Father Charlie. His hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips searched for yours, and when they finally met, it was with a passion that neither of you had ever experienced before. The kiss was deep, urgent, and filled with the hunger of a love that had been denied for too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body responding to his touch, his taste. His hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair, as he deepened the kiss, exploring every inch of your willing mouth. Your own hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his robes. The weight of his desire was palpable, a silent testament to the depth of his need for you.

With a sudden sureness, he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was a reflection of his own passion. You nodded, a silent affirmation that you were ready to cross this line together. The room seemed to spin as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the nearby bed, the candlelight casting a warm, seductive glow across the aged bedspread.

The weight of his body settled over yours, and his kisses grew more urgent as he worked to rid himself of his clerical vestments. With trembling hands, you helped him, feeling the urgency in every movement. The fabric fell away, revealing the firm planes of his chest, and you gasped at the sight of him, so different from the man you had known behind the confessional screen.

Father Charlie paused, his eyes searching yours, seeking reassurance. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"More than I've ever been," you replied, your voice equally low and filled with need.

He took a deep breath and leaned in, his mouth tracing a fiery path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. "Then let us find salvation in each other," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, unable to form words as his hands began to unbutton your blouse. Each button released with a soft click, the sound echoing through the room like a series of small surrenders. His thumbs brushed the bare skin of your chest, sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched into his touch, eager for more.

The bed creaked slightly as he laid you back, his body hovering over yours, the heat from his skin searing into you. His hands paused at the last button, and you could see the war raging within him duty and desire, heaven and hell, the sacred and the profane. With one final, decisive move, he parted your blouse, revealing the soft mounds of your breasts, the nipples tight and begging for his touch.

He leaned down, his mouth capturing one nipple, his tongue flicking against it. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching, pressing yourself further into his mouth. His hand slid down your torso, his fingers deftly unhooking your skirt, his eyes never leaving yours.

And as the fabric pooled around your waist, exposing your most intimate secrets to the candlelight, you whispered, "Take me, Father. I'm yours." His eyes darkened, the final veneer of resistance shattering as he claimed your mouth once more, his kisses now filled with the desperation of a man who had been denied for far too long.

"Say it again," he rasped, his voice a mix of reverence and lust. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," you repeated, your voice a breathy moan, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

With a groan, Father Charlie kissed his way down your body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He paused at the apex of your thighs, looking up at you with a question in his eyes. You nodded, biting your lower lip, and he took it as the invitation it was. His kisses grew more urgent, his tongue exploring the sensitive flesh beneath your panties, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with each pass.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of awe.

"And you're so wicked," you teased, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, as he slid your panties aside, exposing your slick folds to the warm air of the room. His mouth descended, and you gasped as his tongue found your clit, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. The pleasure was almost unbearable, and you writhed beneath him, your hips rising to meet his eager ministrations.

"Father," you moaned, the word a plea as much as an endearment. "Please, don't stop."

"Never," he promised, his voice muffled against your skin. "I'll never stop, not when you taste so sweet."

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as he feasted on you, his tongue delving into your warmth, his teeth nipping gently at your sensitive flesh. Each touch sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you knew you were close to the edge.

"I need you," you panted, the words torn from your throat as your orgasm built. "I need all of you."

He looked up, his eyes smoldering with a need that mirrored your own. "Then take me," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the clasp. The anticipation was unbearable, the tension coiled tight as a spring. And as the final barrier between you fell away, revealing his hard length, you felt the room spin around you. The air was thick with desire, the candlelight casting an ethereal glow on the scene unfolding before you.

You straddled him, his heat and hardness pressing against your soaked center, and you paused, savoring the moment before you slid down, taking him inch by inch. His eyes never left yours, and as you took all of him inside you, the connection was complete. The line between sin and salvation blurred as you began to move, your bodies joined in a dance as old as time itself.

Father Charlie's eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze a silent question. "Tell me what you need," he demanded, his voice a gruff whisper.

"You," you moaned, your voice a mix of need and want. "I need all of you, Father."

The words hung in the air, heavy with lust and longing. He groaned, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips, guiding you to move faster, deeper. The friction between your bodies grew slicker with each stroke, and the sounds of your passion filled the room, echoing off the high ceilings and thick, velvet drapes.

"You're mine," he growled, his eyes dark with possession. "Mine to worship, mine to cherish."

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a ragged affirmation. "I belong to you."

You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his chest, your lips finding his in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. "And you belong to me," you whispered against his mouth.

Father Charlie's grip tightened, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "Always," he murmured, the word a vow.

The rhythm grew more frantic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, driven by a need that was both divine and carnally sinful. The room was alive with the sound of your shared passion, the candles casting a flickering light across your entwined forms.

"Fuck me," you whispered, the words a sweet blasphemy that only served to drive him wilder.

"Oh, my sweet," he murmured, his voice a benediction of sin. "I will fuck you until you scream my name."

With that, he rolled you onto your back, his body covering yours, his weight a delicious pressure that made you arch into him. His thrusts grew more demanding, each one hitting a spot deep inside that made your eyes roll back in your head. You could feel yourself approaching the brink of ecstasy, and you knew that Father Charlie was right there with you.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. You dug your nails into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer. "Fuck me," you gasped again, the words a chant that matched the rhythm of his hips.

And as the world around you shattered into a million pieces of pure, white hot pleasure, you did indeed scream his name, your voice echoing through the sacred space of his chamber, a testament to the power of love that dared to flourish in the darkest of places. The story pauses here, leaving the reader craving the culmination of their passionate union, the ultimate surrender to their shared desire.

Father Charlie's strokes grew erratic, his breathing ragged, as he felt his own release approaching. His eyes never left yours, as if by holding your gaze, he could somehow anchor himself to the reality of this moment to the woman who had unleashed a tempest of passion within him.

"Forgive me," he murmured, his voice a mix of reverence and desperation, as he pushed into you one last time, the tension in his body a silent confession of his own impending climax.

"There's nothing to forgive," you whispered back, your voice filled with the sweet agony of pleasure. "We're just two lost souls finding each other."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his flesh as you held on tight. Father Charlie groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, as he reached his peak, filling you with his essence. The room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, beating in sync with the rhythm of your love.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, he collapsed onto you, his weight a comforting warmth as the reality of what they had done settled over both of you like a velvet shroud. "What have we done?" he murmured, his voice filled with awe and dread.

"We've found something beautiful in the forbidden," you replied, stroking his sweat-dampened hair. "Something that no one else can ever understand."

The candles flickered, casting shadows across the room, as the two of you lay there, tangled in the bedsheets and in each other's arms. The story of Father Charlie Mayhew and his mistress, a tale of passion and sin, was only just beginning, and the consequences of their actions would ripple through the very fabric of the community that had once held them in such high regard. But for now, in the stillness of the night, all that mattered was the undeniable connection that had brought them together in this most holy of unions.

Father Charlie kissed your forehead gently, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and relief. "I never wanted this," he whispered, his voice filled with the weight of his words. "But I can't deny that I need it."

You nodded, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. "Neither did I," you confessed, your voice barely a murmur. "But here we are."

The silence grew heavy, the only sound the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was a reminder of the time that was slipping away, of the lives that were forever changed by this one, fateful encounter.

"We can't do this again," he said, his voice filled with a sadness that mirrored the look in his eyes. "It's not right."

But even as he spoke the words, you both knew they were a lie. The bond that had formed between you was too strong, too all consuming to be broken by guilt or fear. This was a hunger that would not be sated by a single encounter. It was a craving that would demand to be fed, a thirst that could not be quenched by the waters of regret.

The next time you would meet, it would be with a newfound urgency, a desperation that came from knowing that their time together was limited, that their love was a fleeting thing that could be snatched away at any moment. But for now, as the candles burned low and the shadows grew long, you lay in the warm embrace of your forbidden lover, the world outside the confines of the rectory forgotten, if only for a little while.

Father Charlie pulled you closer, his hand tracing the curve of your hip, his touch gentle despite the fierceness of your lovemaking. "We'll find a way," he murmured against your skin. "Somehow, we'll find a way."

You nodded, your breath warm against his neck. "We have to," you said, your voice filled with a determination that belied the tremble in your body. "We can't just walk away from this."

The candles continued to flicker, their flames dancing in the dark corners of the room, as Father Charlie held you close, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. In that moment, as the walls of his sanctum closed in around them, you realized that there was no going back. The line had been crossed, and there was no retreat, no confession that could ever erase the sin that had been committed here tonight.

Father Charlie's breathing grew steady, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. But your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the weight of your actions pressing down on you like a heavy burden. You lay there, your heart racing, trying to reconcile the woman you had been with the woman you had become. The silence of the night was a stark contrast to the tumult in your soul, a silent witness to the tumultuous journey that lay ahead.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting a pale light through the stained glass windows, you slipped from the bed, careful not to wake him. Dressing quickly, you paused to look back at the man who had captured your heart, his features softened by the gentle glow. The urge to crawl back into the warmth of his arms was almost unbearable, but you knew that you couldn't stay. Not yet. The world outside waited, with all its judgments and expectations, and you had to face it alone.

With one final, lingering glance, you turned away, the coolness of the floorboards a stark contrast to the heat of the bed you were leaving behind. As you made your way to the door, you took one last, deep breath of the scent that lingered in the air the scent of incense and desire, of a love that defied the very nature of the world around you.

As you stepped into the hallway, the grandfather clock chimed the hour, the sound echoing through the stillness like a solemn bell tolling for the end of innocence. You paused, your hand on the doorknob, the metal cool and unyielding beneath your trembling fingers. What had started as a quest for guidance had become a descent into temptation, and you were now irrevocably lost. With a heavy heart, you turned the knob and stepped into the night, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

The cobblestone path beneath your feet was cold and unforgiving as you made your way back to your own life, the life you had left behind for just a few stolen hours. You knew that the whispers would start soon enough, the glances of suspicion and the whispers of scandal that would follow you wherever you went. But for now, all that mattered was the memory of Father Charlie's touch, the sound of his voice as he whispered sweet blasphemies against your skin.

The story of your illicit love affair with Father Charlie Mayhew was far from over. It was just beginning, a tale that would unfold in the shadows of the very church that had brought you together. Each meeting would be fraught with danger, each touch a silent declaration of your love and your shared fate.

The air was crisp and cool as you stepped into the moonlit night, the stars above a silent witness to the tumultuous emotions that surged within you. As you walked away from the rectory, you couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Would it be the day you were found out? Or the day you finally gave in to the siren call of the forbidden, letting your love for Father Charlie consume you completely? Only time would tell, but one thing was for certain: you were in too deep to ever turn back now.

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝙎𝙖-𝙏𝙤-𝙍𝙪

CHARACTER— yandere!gojo x fem!reader CONTENTS— yandere themes, stalking, hidden camera bear thingy, slight angst? IDKK gojo is just gross asf, noncon, intoxicated!reader, worshipping kink, DELUSIONALL‼️‼️‼️, slight fingering idk, sex yuh A/N— enjoy this masterpiece I wrote months ago (I no longer have the ability to write as good as I did) kinda weird but I literally had this dream a few days ago of a guy kidnapping me and bruising my ass with his initials 💀💀 scary asf and I remembered it hurts like a bitch anyway I have an exam later on so wish me luck 🤩 (repost)

The lustre of his eyes glimmered against the reflection of the screen, his face turning rubicund was evidence of the blood rushing underneath his cheeks. Sweat flecked across his palms, marginally soiling his pants when he rubbed his hands on them.

Your eyes stared straight into his, and he thought your orbs must be of millions of blended colours for them to glint in iridescent. The sliver of rays from the screen pierced his irises, and he swore the sight of you must be cleansing his soul.

He sucked his lips as you played with the toy bunny’s hands, and a smile reached your face before you pressed the soft toy into your chest, clutching it in your arms as you sighed something. Something that started with Sa and ended with Ru. His mind must be playing tricks on him, right? It couldn’t be that—

Then there it comes again, the cadence of your voice, the shape of your lips, and his name that you whispered. Sa-To-Ru.

The Sa whose eyes would only trail behind your wake, the To that breathed just for the air that you exhaled, and the Ru that didn’t believe God lives in heaven, because there was you, his Goddess that walked the Earth amongst the sinful humanity.

Satoru. He thought he had never loved his name even more than that moment.

But he found himself wrong—oh so wrong.

You sounded even more euphonious sprawled out before him, intoxicated with alcohol on your tongue and in your veins—not a clue about where you are and what’s going on. All you could gather was the familiar mop of silver in your foggy sight, and how the world seemed to be on vertigo.

The bits and pieces of recollections you could grasp onto in your besotted state were the hours spent drinking bottles of liquor, giggling at the charming jokes and teases from Gojo. Then the clashes of teeth and his hands on your chest, the long ride up an elevator, and stumbling onto a bed that smelled like him.

“My name…” he panted when his head rose from your jugular—marked and claimed through teeth and tongue. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressing his lips against your jaw as he took in a drag of your ambrosial scent, long fingers pumping in and out of your squeezing cunt.

You frowned, moaning into the torrid air that bubbled around the two of you and arching your back when an orgasm tumbled through, warmth pervading through your core when pleasure glitched over your body like static.

His name doesn’t read past your lips, but your groan of pleasure was enough for him to render him halcyon. Lining his painfully pulsing head to your slick entrance, the dilatory push of his fat tip into your folds made a cry ripple through both of your throats. In you he found warmth that tasted like divinity; the forbidden fruit between the thighs of his Goddess.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that your grip would tempt an orgasm in him to soil your quim with his load. His thumb drew circles upon your clit, trying to mitigate the tight clench of your cunt in the wake of your previous orgasm.

Your muscles finally relaxed in a few rubs, and he let his length ease into you, your hole still pulsing and spasming as his cock filled your insides. Gojo’s chest fluttered with rapture as he groaned for your name, almost as if he was trying to have you look at him, fully sober instead of laying crumpled on his bed.

But you don’t, your eyes remained still shut, and only the little whimpers and cries that fell off the edges of your lips denoted your senses still awake yet torpor from the inebriation.

“Please, look at me?”

You groaned when he benignly lifted your jaw, his sense of deify for you felt through his cold fingertips before his lips meld into yours. Your mouth lax open, letting his tongue taste the heaven off of yours and swallow your saliva of ambrosia down his throat.

When he withdrew from your face with a dense cloud over your heads, he found the hues of your orbs peering into his summer’s blue sky, your eyelashes fanning the heat over his cheeks. His heart jumped and paced, and he was sure you could hear his heartbeat. Could you?

“Satoru…?” you whispered. The tang of liquor blazing strongly in your system, but you still managed to recognise him. “Wha–Where are we? And wha—”

You were cut off from your words when his lips crashed into yours, and his hips began pistoning in and out of you, your moans jumbled between your dancing mouths before sizzling in the hot air. Your walls tightened around his girth as he pumped deep into you, his cock throbbing and threatening ejaculation, but he would rather abnegate himself from pleasure if you hadn’t succumbed to it.

Every stroke of his swollen head against the bump of your g-spot made you gasp and cry with the stimulation, palms desperately attempting to push the weight of the male off, but it simply came to piteous futility.

At his last stroke, your squirting cunt squeezed his cock tight and wet his pelvis, and his load began filling your inside to the brim, thick spurts of cum shooting at your cervix as you screamed his name.

The Sa who you could taste on your tongue, the To who swore you’re the lone fire to his loins, and the Ru who promised to never let your divinity step a single foot out of his door—your temple, to walk the earth soiled by sinning humans.

Satoru—the priest to your Holiness.

[ddongtsan]

Tell Me You Don't Want This - Han Dongmin

Taesan x fem. reader

Note: I just know that he would be perfect (yes, I know, more than he already is, it's impossible) if he were my boyfriend 🥹🥹.

Warning: Friends to Lovers, drabble, fluff.

The night was warm, heavy, and suffocating, but the tension inside your apartment had nothing to do with the summer air outside.

Taesan was sprawled out on your couch like he owned the place, one leg stretched out lazily and the other bent, his arm resting casually on the back of the sofa.

That signature smirk played on his lips — the kind that knew exactly what it was doing to you — and his gaze told you he was enjoying every second of it.

"You’re way too comfortable for someone who doesn’t live here." You remarked, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him.

Dongmin looked up slowly, taking his time like he always did.

"And you’re way too annoyed for someone who left their door open" he shot back, his voice low, gravelly, and teasing.

You rolled your eyes.

"I’m not annoyed. I’m just trying to figure out what you want."

His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked onto yours.

"Oh, you know what I want" he murmured, gaze flicking briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. "You just don’t want to admit it."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let it show.

"I don’t know anything." You countered, trying — and failing — to sound unaffected.

"Really?" His voice dipped even lower, and he rose to his feet, moving toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his gaze never wavering as he closed the space between you. "Because it seems to me like you’re… curious."

"Curious about what?" you shot back, your voice quieter now as the air between you seemed to grow heavier.

The black cat stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes holding yours hostage while the tip of his tongue ran slowly over his lower lip, almost like he was considering his next move.

"About what I can do" he said softly.

The twist in your stomach was immediate, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but it was pointless.

"You’re so full of yourself." You muttered, though the words lacked bite.

He chuckled, stepping closer, until your breathing hitched and your skin prickled with awareness. His face was just inches from yours now, close enough that his breath tickled your lips.

"Am I?" he whispered, his voice a husky tease. "Or am I just telling the truth?"

The silence stretched between you, unbearably thick.

You could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne clouding your senses.

He lifted one hand slowly, his fingers tracing along your jawline, the touch light enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"I should punch you!" He murmured suddenly.

You blinked, confused. "What?"

Taesan smiled again, his thumb brushing softly along the line of your chin, his touch deliberate and calculated.

"A punch" he repeated, voice low and sinful. "Right on the mouth."

Your breath caught.

"With your mouth?" you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk widened as he leaned closer — so close that his lips grazed yours, the barest hint of a kiss that left you breathless.

"Yeah," he whispered, the single word dripping with promise. "Softly."

The kiss that followed was slow, almost torturous, like he wanted to savor every moment.

His lips moved against yours deliberately, leaving you no room to think, no chance to pull away.

One of his hands slipped to your waist, fingers curling possessively around you as he pulled you closer, eliminating what little space remained between your bodies.

When he finally pulled back — just enough for his eyes to meet yours — his smirk was back, satisfied and self-assured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered:

"So? Are you going to tell me to stop now?"

You swallowed hard, your hands still pressed against his chest.

"You’re insufferable." You murmured, voice unsteady.

Han chuckled, the sound low and smug, his lips grazing the skin near your neck before he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again.

"And you love me that way."

"I don’t!" You shot back, but the words sounded weak, even to you.

He tilted his head, leaning in once more until his mouth hovered just over yours.

"Then tell me to stop." He challenged, his voice a whisper, his gaze locked on yours. "Tell me you don’t want this."

You didn’t say anything.

And Taesan knew the answer.

His lips were on yours again, deeper this time, as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

From the way he kissed you — deliberate, confident, and hungry — it was clear he had no intention of stopping.

And you had no intention of asking him to.

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Bird - Part 2

Masterlist here

Word count: 2,065 Part 1

Synopsis: you nursed back to health and injured raven that was found in the canopy of your cottage. The raven was a shifted Avariel fae, a creature of myth and legend, and the new lord of Kuraigana. He is extremely smitten with you, and doesn't know the adequate customs to court you. All he knows and feels is you are his mate, and he wants you.

Themes: fae!Mihawk x human!reader, raven!Mihawk x f!reader (can be read as gn, no gendered terms used).

Notes: prompts based on this ask by 🪶 Anon. Header picture made by me using OPLA's Yoru and doctored stock images. We're leaning in on a bit of hybrid au stuff. Mihawk is a winged, elf-like creature that can shift into a raven and human form - but he is most comfortable being a winged humanoid with dark feathers and talon-like fingernails.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

It wasn't quite the grandiose hallways and intricate ornamentation you had experienced once upon long ago. The high keep was, for all other words considered, gloomy. The light was dull, the curtains barely parted, and the lengthy leading carpet had begun to fray at the edges from ill-maintenance and neglect over the years.

The single room in the entire manor that caused your heart to flutter was the one you had reminisced with your pretty bird at your inherited cottage. The gallery was in full bloom, the curtains clipped and dusted with a place for everything, and everything in its place.

A large amassment of individuals were wandering and chattering within the halls, eyeglasses drawn up their faces and assessing the finery with criticism in their snarls. The group which were invited to the grand premier of the reopening were some that you had not seen prior, and many local dignitaries you had dealings with in your cottage.

You assumed you were here as a civilian observer, like some of the others, to give the new lord of Kuraigana a reputation of hospitality and humility. Truth be told, you did not care you were to be used as a ruse. All that seemed to matter was finding that one painting you recounted from the days of your youth.

Spotting a long since forgotten painting of your childhood, you felt the wonderment warm and swell in your chest as soon as you laid eyes on it. Your land, your hometown, a field of wildflowers shrouding your familial home with two figures sitting on a hanging swing off on a hollowed willow tree. The figure on the swing was looking up, just as a winged creature with a humanoid face was smiling down.

This was the picture you imagined when you spoke with the wounded raven in your cottage. There was something in the way the two subjects looked at each other, their hearts swelling in their eyes, as joy was depicted on their lips. Two creatures from different worlds just as captivated with the other as the other was with them.

As you leaned in closer to the image, you felt a presence behind you with their dark shadow cascading your form with their silhouette.

“Do you enjoy this one, then?” their vocal cadence was difficult to read, but their presence felt intimidating. You turned to face the figure, and curtseyed low to them with your eyes fallen to the ground.

“This painting holds meaning for me, yes, sir,” you rise from your curtsey, keeping your gaze held firmly to their dark, leather boots as you rose back to full stature. They stepped forward in a single stride, puncturing your border of personal comfort and towering over you.

“Can you explain it to me, so as to grant me a greater understanding of such a piece?” their voice purred down at you. The scent of their cologne felt familiar to you, as did the subtle pattern in their flowing cloak over their shoulders.

Softly floating your gaze to their features, you hovered over their unique, angular facial hair and bit back your nerves.

“The prior lord of this house was known for his admiration and appreciation for the fae-folk,” you spoke, attempting to maintain your calm demeanor while feeling intimidated by the man towering over you, “Many seem to enjoy the fables and tales of old. Hearing the joy of a world far from our own, whether written on written paper or depicted on canvas, is an accessible binding that draws people of all creed and color together.”

You float your eyes up to meet his, the amber hue of his gaze piercing you like a blade and seeming to goad you into speaking more on the subject.

“And the fae?” his challenging tone almost made you recoil, but you held your ground and attempted to avoid his gaze as he spoke down his nose at you, “Do they not frighten you?”

“Truth be told, sir,” you quickly bobbed a polite curtsey as you continued, “I feel I do not have enough experience on the matter to fear them.” You turn back to the painting, focussing on the gaze of the young Avariel beaming down at their human counterpart on the swing, “I appreciate them from afar, but I am yet to truly meet one.” The man hums in deep thought, slowly turning their own attention back to the painting while sitting in silence beside you.

After several moments of studying the painting, you turn to your guest and curtsey once more to the individual with a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I fear it's getting rather late for me, sir. I best be getting home and tending to my homestead,” you nod to the sun beginning to fall behind the swirling landscape of curling mountains, “It is a lengthy trek home.”

“You arrived here on foot?” his voice seemed to be taken aback, “Do you not have horses, or some mule to pull a carriage? A cart with two goats, a saddle for a swine-?” You broke his train of thought with a soft, melodical giggle. He halted his words, listening to your laugh and slowly offering his own alongside it.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stifle your soft laugh, slowly biting back any further humor in your tone, “Some of us more common people can not afford the luxury to own such things. This is the furthest I've ventured of late, and I do wish to make it back before nightfall.”

Before you had the opportunity to flee from his sights, he swooped down and claimed your arm in the crook of his left elbow and held you there while slowly whispering down at you.

“You will allow me to escort you from the gallery and towards the door,” he was firm in his tone, but his poised elegance seemed to put you at ease. As he began to take a step to walk with you, he froze in place as you spoke to him.

“I feel like there should be a ‘please’ in there somewhere,” you offer him a nervous giggle and gently nod your head to him, “I don't think you have a right to lord over me like some cruel tyrant, sir…?” you trailed off, attempting to meet his gaze.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a look that seemed somewhat familiar to you, but foreign atop his features. His amber eyes seemed to hold a challenge within them as the corner of his lip ticked up.

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” he offered you freely, raising his right hand to circle over your knuckles clasping his left elbow, “And, would you please allow me to escort you from the gallery towards the door?”

Something between a squeak and a gasp caught itself within your throat as you failed to find the words to respond to him with. The man at your side was the mysterious host you were curious about, and you had been conversing with him so openly you didn't spare a thought as to whom he was.

As he lead you silently through the quiet halls towards the door, he gently coaxed you through the threshold and gracefully spun you to face him within the archway. He stooped down towards you, and gently reached up to preen at a fallen strand of your hair to tuck it behind your ear.

“Should you need to borrow a horse, I would gladly provide you with one from my stables,” he uttered, gently caressing the crown of your head and scanning over your features without meeting your eyes. “I have a few to choose from, alongside a personal carriage or cart should you ever need one.” He finally met your eyes, looking down at you as your gaze was intense with eyes wide and in shock.

The lord of Kuraigana was shuffling your hair with such familiarity, it immediately drew up and rose every alarm in your mind. Why was he doing this? What motivation would he have to press his hands into you, and toy with you in such a way? You were a commoner amongst a den of lords and ladies, why you?

“I have no formal training in cart rearing, my lord,” you nodded your head to bob your hair from his clutches, “Nor do I desire to have you part with a horse on my behalf.” Stepping away, his hand hovers where contact was priorly met against your skin and hair. “Thank you for your hospitality, this is where I take my leave from you, my lord.”

Bowing in a low curtsey, you chose to walk from him without waiting a further dismissal from him due to the fluster his intimidating aura rose to you. As soon as you were out of sight, you breathed out a sigh of relief and gazed up into the first light of purple stars greeting the pastel purples and pinks over Kuraigana.

“I am such a fool.”

Both yours and Mihawk’s lips shared the same sentiment, feeling truly imbicilic in the interaction you had with one another not moments ago. For you, your embarrassment came from speaking so freely about childhood fantasies to the man who lords over you. For Mihawk, it was another aspect entirely.

“My mate hates me,” he whispered to the walls of his keep, “My mate fears me and recoils from my touch.” He gazed down at his hands, witnessing the first release of talons protruding from his fingertips in response to holding a human-passing form for so long.

As soon as he left your cottage once he was healed, he was attempting to find a way to welcome you into his home. While he understood that humans have kindness for one another in times of need, and compassion for injured animals, at the first offence of aid from you in his raven form, he knew it was you. You were his, and he was yours.

He needed you, craved you to know how desperately he wanted you in his high keep. The understanding on the intricacies of human clourtships was sadly lacking in his regard, but he knew he needed to try to win you over.

If you were an avarial, a changeling, or a shifter of the fae folk like he was, he knew he could express his desires and make his wanting known by preening and grooming you. He would nest for you, fill it with your scent matched with his, and welcome you into it while nestled against one another. Should he wish to make the match permanent, which he considered the notion the moment you began to converse with him as a man, he would dance for you to showcase his skills as a reveered fighter and exceptional provider.

Witnessing the fluster on your face at the moment he attempted to groom you left him feeling deflated and dejected. The rejection of his mate, the one he sorely wanted for himself, had him frustrated and desiring to know if you truly were rejecting him, or if this was an action lost in the courtship discorse of fae folk and humans.

He would never be able to get close to you as the lord of Kuraigana, your lord and ruler over your land. He would absolutely not desire for you to see him in his radiant glory, as half-shifted into his more comfortable form as a winged humanoid. He was assured you would turn from him in fear.

But as a raven? You liked him as a raven. You praised him as a raven. You scratched his chin, offered him meat, and spoke to him as a raven. He could listen to you as a raven. As your raven: your pretty bird.

Giving his shoulders a gentle shimmy, his cloak sprung to life and revealed his darkened wings as his form began to shrink into his smaller avarian form. The golden hue of his watchful eyes remained as intense as they searched for you on the pathway leading to your cottage.

He needed to know. Were you interested in such a courtship with a beast like him, or were you simply one of the kinder varieties of mortals? He shook his wings to take flight, his intense gaze was fixed on your form as the soft sunset became a gentle dusk and faded into a blue, cloudless night.

[doumadono]

Hello, princess!

Since Sinful Sunday is here and its been a while from my last time spawing in your inbox... YOUR WOLF IS HERE 🐺💎🩵

As we all know: dragons are often showed with two 🍆 so...

I can't stop but think about our beloved Iudex of Fontaine, just giving his lovely assistant a good duble stuffing into her tiny cunt. With him whispering soft and dirty stuff into her ear while his hand just caressing the bulge he caused in her belly

:3 HAPPY SINFUL SUNDAYS EVERYONE

SINFUL SUNDAY

A/N: well, well, my babygirl! Why is it that your requests always turn out to be the real brain-busters, huh!? But hey, tackling Neuvilette in dragon form was a blast 😏 I'm hoping I did well, so go easy on me, will ya?

Neuvilette loathed this monthly occurrence. While not a regular happening, his heats sporadically struck after each interlunar interval. This left him in an intense state of longing, coupled with a rather sour mood, given the frustration of unmet desires. Throughout this period, he confined himself to his chambers, enduring the discomfort until the fervor and accompanying torment subsided.

During his heats, Neuvilette found solace in transforming into a dragon. It made resisting the temptation to copulate with every woman in his path a whole lot easier for him.

For extended hours, he'd find solace in grinding his hips against his pillows and sheets, attempting to alleviate the persistent discomfort of his arousal that created a painful knot within his groin. The effectiveness varied — sometimes it brought relief, and other times, it offered no respite whatsoever.

With a wide yawn revealing numerous long teeth, a colossal head adorned in pale blue frills lifted itself. The snake-like body, embellished in iridescent scales, boasted a chest adorned with a mane of transparent fur. Enormous, clawed fists rhythmically clenched and relaxed as the dragon effortlessly rose to his feet, a massive tail gracefully swinging in its wake. The creature's dark blue eyes blinked open, while his nostrils expanded to welcome a fresh scent of human into his awareness.

His thin lips curled as the hydro dragon shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the expansive chamber where he rested, emitting a loud sniff. The scent conveyed the presence of a woman – fairly young and with other unspoken needs. His eyes narrowed into glowing slits as he navigated the corner of his bedroom, spotting the silhouette by his desk diligently assembling documents. Another quick sniff and a subtle grin played on his lips - he recognized the familiar scent. It was Y/N, one of his most reliable assistants, apparently delivering another set of documents for his signature.

Brave or foolish, maybe a bit of both, stepping into this place during this time of the month, the dragon mused to himself with a deep rumble in his voice.

The dragon glided closer with cautious steps, his sinuous body gracefully twisting around you.

Unaware of his approach, you continued to hum a gentle melody under your breath. A sudden awareness dawned as you perceived a looming shadow. Startled, you raised your head and attempted to wriggle away. "Monsieur Neuvilette!" you exclaimed, hand over your chest. "Good gracious, you startled me! I had no idea you were in your chamber, monsieur."

"Please, be calm," the dragon murmured in a soothing tone, "I have no wish to harm you, dearest Y/N."

"I… didn't know I would wake you up, I didn't want to disturb your peace," you stammered after an uneasy pause, your eyes unwavering. The marvel at the sight of Neuvilette was twofold – a mix of awe and a hint of fear regarding his possible reaction to your intrusion. Indeed, Neuvilette was a magnificent creature! The glisten of his smooth blueish-white scales, the cascade of a silky white mane adorning his head, and the kindness reflected in his dark marine blue eyes were as breathtaking as the legends and paintings had portrayed.

"Solitude suits me, indeed," the dragon replied, his nostrils subtly flaring. "Especially during my heats. But I assume you've brought me some crucial documents, haven't you, my dearest?"

His thick tail coiled gently around your legs, offering a comforting warmth that eased your tension. "Y-Yes, monsieur. They need to be signed by tomorrow… Can I somehow repay for bothering you and waking you up, monsieur?" you asked, your words slipping out before careful consideration.

In those immense eyes, you observed a dance of emotions. The dragon appeared to ponder, deeply inhaling the air as his head lifted, pointing towards the ceiling. "I suppose… there is a way you could serve me, my dearest Y/N. But fear not, it demands no great effort on your part — only a willingnes."

"What do you mean, monsieur Neuvilette?" you inquired, tilting your head slightly. The tail encircling your legs tightened, a hint of your tension causing the massive creature to pause.

Neuvilette brought his face inches from yours, his voice carrying a gentle plea. "What I seek from you is your willingness to share this night with me, my dearest. Will you, just for tonight, play the role of my mate?"

In an instant, all color drained from your face. Your mouth opened, yet no words found their way out, and the dragon drew you closer to his shredded, scaled chest in response.

"You need not fear any harm," the dragon reassured, once again delicately sniffing you as during the initial examination. "I shall be gentle. My kind has mated with humans in the past. I assure you," a claw gently lifted your chin while another stroked your throat, "this night will leave you with naught but a delightful memory."

With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes, and as you reopened them, your pants were neatly folded on the floor. Your white shirt and underclothes soon joined them as you undressed, your heart pounding within your chest.

The dragon's lips curled into a fanged smile, and a long tongue emerged, briefly caressing your cheek. It was warm and slick, yet not unpleasant. "Wonderful," the dragon bemurmured, observing your nervous smile. Once more, the tongue glided over your cheek, this time lingering for a longer moment. "It's been ages since I've had the fortune of a human woman in my bed, especially one as lovely as yourself, dearest Y/N."

"Thank you," you whispered, a blush gracing your features as you briefly shielded your bare breasts with folded arms.

He nudged your side with his snout, a signal for you to venture deeper into the chamber, a cue you promptly followed.

He gestured for you to recline on a king-sized bed, dressed in deep cobalt sheets and adorned with pristine white pillows. Without hesitation, you complied, gently pressing your thighs together and allowing your hands to gracefully depart from your chest.

Soon, Neuvilette's nose and mouth roamed across your form, exploring with snuffs, licks, and playful nips in various places.

Already tantalized by the affectionate gestures, your arousal heightened as the dragon shifted to all fours, hovering over your naked form. You observed something stout emerging from behind his muscular hind legs, a few drops of thick fluid trailing from it as he leaned forward. The dragon now stood over his claim, a half-open mouth revealing a tongue, and marine blue eyes narrowing in a moment of intensity.

"Ah, the agony of not enjoying this every night," the dragon rumbled, your fingers tracing his shaft. It matched the length of your forearm and doubled in girth, pulsating with an enticing energy beneath the soft moonlight streaming through the chamber's ceiling window. Imagining it nestled between your thighs, your core tightened and grew moist in response.

But then, a peculiar sensation gripped you. Casting him a questioning glance, the dragon responded with a knowing smile.

"Indeed, my dearest Y/N, the legends harbored a kernel of truth. Dragons do possess two cocks."

Swiftly, you rested on one elbow, your gaze naturally drawn between his muscular hind legs. A deep blush painted your cheeks as you discovered yet another erect member, pulsating with equal fervor as the first.

Neuvilette's warm tongue traced delicately along the valley between your breasts. "Do you like what you see, my dearest?"

"Yes, monsieur, I just never thought…" you murmured, your lips barely moving.

Swiftly adopting a stance akin to the dragon looming overhead, you took a calming breath and shut your eyes after getting on all fours on the bed.

The outsized dragon pressed his yet-turgid shafts against the expanse of your soft thighs, emitting a low moan as his jaws hovered threateningly over your bare shoulder, teeth grazing without leaving a trace. In a prolonged hiss, the dragon murmured, "How shall I claim you, my dearest? With gentle tenderness or the full extent of my might? Whichever way you wish it, so shall it be."

"I'll take whatever you've got, monsieur Neuvilette," you replied, casting a bold glance over your shoulder at the pulsating dicks.

Their tips were now slick with a dense, creamy fluid, and a shiver ran through you as they glided between your thighs, offering a preview of the impending encounter.

A couple more deep, resonant breaths, a hefty grunt, and the first dragon's shaft eased halfway in your waiting, already drenched slit.

Your eyes instinctively closed, a gasp escaping you, not from pain, but from the unexpected heat emanating from his dick. It felt as though all the dragon's potent warmth converged right there, in his throbbing, large shaft. Every slight motion was accompanied by loud, wet sounds, the dragon adjusting his position with his nose hovering close to the pillow on your right. He harnessed his strength in his hind legs, delivering a forceful thrust that had you crying out for more.

"O-Oh! Goodness gracious! How's that even possible? That you fit in?!!"

Neuvilette chuckled softly, his voice taking on a guttural quality as he quickened his thrusting pace. "You see, my dearest Y/N, I've mentioned before that my kind has mated with humans. How did you think that was possible if you, females, wouldn't be able to accommodate our shafts?"

Each successive thrust grew more potent, propelling additional lengths of the deep blue, rigid flesh into your dripping pussy from behind. The viscous fluid flowed generously out of your abused core, trailing down your parted legs while the shaft pulsated relentlessly, gaining intensity with each beat, akin to a powerful heartbeat.

In an instant, a loud squeak escaped your lips as you sensed a more insistent pressure against your occupied entrance. Glancing over your shoulder, your expression paled at the sight of Neuvilette attempting to maneuver his other dick in. "Neuvilette! You're going to tear me apart!" you gasped, your eyes welling up with the nearly overwhelming pleasure he was already bestowing upon you as his thick cock rubbed along all of your sweet spots.

"Ease up, my dearest Y/N," Neuvilette murmured, smoothly almost fully withdrawing his first shaft before seamlessly layering the second one atop the first and slowly pushing back into you.

Your hands surrendered as he executed the forceful thrust, and the initial stretch proved excruciating. It felt like a searing burn in those first moments, leaving you growling and panting uncontrollably, tears straining your flushed cheeks pressed hardly into the mattress.

"There, there, relax, and you'll manage," Neuvilette coaxed in the gentlest tone he could summon. "Stop tightening up, try to ease your pelvis. Yes, just like that," he praised as you eventually succeeded in relaxing your muscles enough for him to bottom out.

The dragon's tail lifted off the bed, and Neuvilette let out a growl followed by a resounding roar. Heat surged within him as his powerful thrusts, almost forceful enough to break the small human form nestled between his colossal legs, intensified.

Gasping for breath, you'd already experienced a shattering climax and teetered on the brink of another. Your entire body dripped with sweat, and drool hung from your parted lips. The pleasure unleashed by this formidable dragon surpassed anything you could have audaciously imagined. "Neuvilette!" your voice rasped as you cum for another time; your inner walls spasmed uncontrollably around his throbbing, painfully hard shafts.

With one last, hard push, Neuvilette pressed you firmly onto the mattress, grasping the meat of your stuck out ass. A gush of heated, sticky cum erupted from his throbbing dicks, followed by a second, and ultimately a gentler third wave, marking the hydro dragon's descent into exhaustion after intense sex, his breaths now feeble and hurried.

Beneath him, you lay in a state of bliss, your entire body shaking and tingling. Your sticky pussy radiated warmth, and the powerful twinges and aftershocks of an already remarkable climaxes created an unforgettable sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced in your entire life.

"Thank you, my dearest Y/N," Neuvilette whispered, and you nodded. "Thank you for helping me shake off the tension that's been hanging around for days," he admitted, lying on the bed next to you. He casually draped his long tail over your legs while you reclined beside him on your back.

Then, impulsively playful, you rolled to your side and planted a quick kiss on his bluish snout.

The dragon chuckled, his resonant voice emanating from his robust chest. "Aren't you the cutest assistant, my dearest Y/N?" he mused, yawning widely, revealing rows of perfectly sharp fangs.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. "Neuvilette…"

The dragon's dark eyes found yours, and he nodded, granting you permission to speak.

"Would you… I mean, forgive me for the strange question, but maybe next time your heat occurs, perhaps you would need some help too?" you asked shyly, your cheeks turning beet red.

His marine-blue irises shimmered with tenderness as he hummed, contemplating your words. "Little Y/N," he smiled, drawing closer and resting his snout on your naked belly, his gaze meeting your flushed face. "I'll be honored to accept aid from the only one I trust the most." He sniffed and grinned, casting a sly glance toward your glistening mound on his left. "I adore your scent," he confessed, casually bestowing a few gentle licks upon your folds glistening with mixed releases with his warm, extended tongue. "And you taste absolutely delicious, my dearest. Oh, my, my, I'll struggle to wait for the next heat to savor your essence once more, to assert my claim on you. Perhaps then, I'll allow you a glimpse of my human form, in all its vulnerable splendor."

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 11 - Mistle-Hoe

Lucifer x Reader (Third Person POV) Summary: After a lavish night out for Christmas dinner, Lucifer has another surprise under his sleeve. Or rather, on his tail. Warnings: Oral sex, semi-public sex, cum, use of nicknames (ducky, dove, my king) in sexual context, etc. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @morganr26

The night was a symphony of winter—soft snowflakes danced in the air, and the streets of Hell’s downtown glimmered with crimson lights strung from wrought-iron lampposts. Y/N adjusted her maroon dress as she stepped into the extravagant restaurant Lucifer had chosen. Their first Christmas together. No small feat, mind you, and it was already becoming clear that tonight would perfect.

The dress hugged her figure in all the right ways, and the sheer confidence it gave her didn’t go unnoticed. Paired with a set of simple but elegant beige hells, Lucifer’s golden eyes gleamed with mischief and appreciation; flickering over her as if committing every detail to memory.

“You look stunning, dove ” he purred, offering his arm. “Though I must say, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else tonight.”

Y/N smirked. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”  

The waiter greeted Lucifer with a bow so deep it bordered on theatrical, leading them to a private balcony. Perks of dating the King one would suppose. The table was adorned with black candles and ruby-red roses, their fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of snow and spice wafting from the kitchen.  

Dinner was an indulgent affair—succulent meats, rich wines, and an array of desserts that seemed designed for seduction. But as the meal went on, it wasn’t the food that held Lucifer’s attention. His gaze lingered on Y/N, his smirk growing every time her laugh tinkled like bells in the night air. She had given him his confidence back after Lillith’s disappearance, taking years of solitude and hovel and turning it into a year full of joy and love. For that he was eternally grateful.

“You’re staring,” she teased, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin. Eyes glinting down in a bashful display. 

“Can you blame me? You’re just so beautiful when you laugh” he quipped, leaning closer.  

As the night winded down, they stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the view. The icy air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and Lucifer, ever the gentleman, draped his jacket over her shoulders. Albiet a touch clumsily, hands ghosting over her shoulders in a way that almost made his knees buckle, but that was for him to know only. 

“You’re awfully sweet for someone who’s supposed to be the very scary King of Hell” she said, wrapping herself in his warmth.  

“Ah, but sweetness can be just as sinful when applied correctly,” he replied, his tail swishing playfully behind him.  

Then, with the devilish charm he wielded so effortlessly, Lucifer unfurled his long, pointed tail. Hanging from the tip was a sprig of mistletoe, glittering with enchanted frost. He arched it above their heads, his smile equal parts playful and seductive.  

“Would you look at that? What strange timing,” he said, feigning innocence. “It seems tradition demands a kiss.”  

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms. “You just happened to have mistletoe ready?”  

“Dove, I’m nothing if not prepared,” he said smoothly.  

She stepped closer, the warmth of his presence drawing her in despite the chill in the air. “Well then, who am I to break tradition?”  

Her lips met his in a kiss that was soft but searing, a perfect blend of tenderness and fire. Lucifer’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer as if staking his claim. When they finally parted, his golden eyes glowed brighter, his grin impossibly wide.  

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.  

Y/N chuckled, brushing a stray snowflake from his hair. “Merry Christmas, Luci.”  

Leaning back in, Y/N’s palm caressed Lucifer’s cheek with a gentle tenderness that took the King off guard though it did not deter him. His tail wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest. Her body now pressed against him in a heated entanglement of heat and passion, lips locked and hands roaming desparetly grabbing onto anything they could get. Lucifer’s tongue swiped across Y/N’s bottom lip, a plea for a needed access. Granting the request, tongues engaged in an impassioned battle for dominance. 

Pulling away, though only for a moment, Lucifer lips trailed their vigorious assualt on Y/N’s neck. Trailing hot open-mouthed kisses to the soft and supple flesh of her neck, down to her collarbone; his hands slowly peeling her dress down from her shoulders. 

“Luci—we are in public,” Her voice came out in rapid pants, hands coming to curl themselves in Lucifer’s locks. 

“Don’t worry, no one can see us up here, dove.” 

The balcony was high on the fifth floor, shrouded in darkness and low candle light. Out of sight of any prying eyes but close enough to the toe the line of danger. Continuing to pursue his goal, his fingers pulled and allowed the fabric of Y/N’s dress to pool at her feet. Pinning her against the edge of the stone wall, eyes roaming hungrily across her form. 

“No underwear, ducky? Bold move—“

“Only for you, my king.” 

Letting out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan, Lucifer dragged his knuckle over her dripping slit. Marveling at how her body reacted to him, each moan and buck of her hips into his hand, Lucifer was nothing short of mezmerized by his girlfriend’s perfect figure. Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly on her clit, delving as deep as his tongue would allow. Gripping the wall behind her, eyes shut in blissfull ectasy. 

Biting her lip, attempting to quiet herself, the only thing heard was the pornographic amount of slurping from the now kneeling King of Hell. Taking her lack of noise as a challenge, Lucifer would never admit to using magic to make his tongue larger to increase her pleasure. Greedily sucking at every drop that spilled from her now puffy cunt.  Not even seconds later did her release hit her like a tidal wave and ropes of cum now soaked Lucifer’s face, still lapping and working her through her high. 

Pulling away after a moment, Lucifer looked up at Y/N with dark and blown eyes. Taking in her disheveled form, the way her hair framed her face now shrouded in desire that he caused. And as the snow fell around them, the Prince of Darkness held his queen beneath a winter sky that seemed to burn just for them.  

[prodbymaui]

My Kind Of Love — 이민형.

spit in my mouth while you turn me on

PAIRING: mark lee x reader

GENRE: the idol

WORD COUNT: 1.5k words

WARNINGS: ice play, oral sex, spit kink, cum eating, slight voyeurism (ig?)

SYNOPSIS: You had an extra time after your photoshoot. What's a more worth it way of spending it other than visiting your favorite producer, Mark?

A/N: inspired by one of 'the idol' scenes where lily wears a red robe and somewhat seduces abel. enjoy reading!

SONG: One Of The Girls by The Weeknd, Jennie, Lily Rose-Depp

A click, and the pleasantly smooth sensual melody begins to fill the entirety of the recording room. Mark hums, nodding his head in the flow of the beat, elbow resting on the armchair as his forefinger ghosts over his lips. His fingers taps against the table, mind running as he searches for parts to improve.

Not even finished listening to the verse that he just worked on, Mark's hand hovers above the keyboard once again, quickly adjusting and adding what he thought the song lacks.

This needs a few more layers, Mark thinks. So he slides his chair to the other side of the table where the mic settles and closes his eyes, there he harmonizes with his own voice, layering a mellow adlib underneath the sharp yet slow rap. 

Just as Mark opens his eyes, the door opens without much of a knock, and turning around, he meets a vixen clad in red silk robe, a mesh black tights with black suspenders attached to what Mark likes to think is a sinful lace panties in the same color.

There's no way in saying Mark doesn't enjoy the view that he is blessed with. His eyes rakes down your figure, coming back up to meet your lustful gaze. The corner of your lips curves just a little before you take steps towards the man. His legs spread to have you in between as though instinctively, hands itching so much that he couldn't help but to grab your waist, squeezing just enough to feel your body heat seep through the silk fabric.

Water droplets fall onto Mark's skin, it is just then that he notices the glass of whiskey you're holding. ''Drinking alcohol late at night, huh. Tell me, darling,'' Mark leans back. ''What got you prancing around the company with just a thin piece of clothing to cover those nipples?''

You sip once more, holding Mark's stare for a few seconds before licking the liquor that sits on top of your lips' skin. ''Was doing a photoshoot for my new album– decided to pay my favorite producer a visit before changing. I just had a hunch he'd like to see me in this.''

Your words elicit a scoffy chuckle from Mark. He stands up. ''Favorite producer, hmm?'' His palm travels down and stops when it reaches your ass cheek, gripping lightly.

While Mark's other arm circles your waist, he noses your neck, closing his eyes as Mark allows himself to get drunk on your scent, kissing the pathway your throat creates. Pulling you closer, Mark nips your skin occasionally whilst he makes way to your jaw, soon connecting his lips with yours.

Mark swiftly delves his tongue in your mouth, sucking as you offer him your own. If words are to be chosen to describe the kiss, it'll be slow, sensual, and sultry. Just like the song that plays from the speakers surrounding the two of you.

Abruptly yet effortlessly, Mark spins your position and gives you a little push, pinning you down now that you're sitting on the chair. One of his legs separates your thighs apart, welcoming himself between you. Distracted from the way Mark delivers pleasure just from having his mouth on yours alone, you didn't notice how Mark steals the glass out of your hand and places it behind you, out of danger but is enough for him to reach it as well.

Suddenly, a freezing palm comes in contact with the back of your neck. Flinching, you whimper at the cold, tugging Mark's shirt. Instead of taking his hand off, he pulls away from the kiss, not without licking the string of saliva first. In contrast to the icy palm, a warm one rubs your side soothingly, it then nudges your robe away, revealing your nipples.

A sigh leaves your lips, fingers brushing through Mark's locks as you feed him more of your hard buds. Mark growls in satisfaction. Catching it between his teeth, pulling lightly, tweaking it with his fingers and sucking before licking the faint pain away. He does the same to the twin, spitting on it only to lick it away after biting it a few more.

''God, I fucking love your nipples. So fucking sexy. So pretty– always ready for me whenever. If I want to suck on them the whole day, you'll let me, right baby?''

''Yes– Haah– yes, lick them all you want. Ahh..''

Thinking you'll finally get his cock as Mark hums lowly, pecking each of your nipples, you fiddle with his belt. But Mark pins you to the chair again, kissing your forehead as he stretches his arm behind you.

''It's getting hot in here, darling. Would you mind a little raise in the temperature?'' Your eyes fall on the cubes of ice that melts inside the glass, you look up at Mark. One look and you know this is a way to ask consent. To ask you if you're down to try a new thing. Without hesitation, you nod.

Mark tilts his head to the side. ''Words, love. I need your words.''

''Yes, please..''

He brushes strands of hair off your face. 

''Good girl.''

Gulping the last sips of whiskey, Mark gives your lips one last swipe of tongue, letting you taste the alcohol. Pressing the glass on your inner thigh, shivers shoot up your spine. You bite your lower lip to endure the cold, toes curling as Mark spreads the icy droplets along your stomach up to your neck. Your eyes are closed, anticipating Mark's next move when you jerk in your seat, hand enclosing around Mark's wrist as you whimper, opening your eyes to see him tracing the line between your pussy cheeks with a cube.

''Fuck, really..? Not wearing a fucking underwear while a bunch of people watches you pose in front of the camera? What if they saw this, baby? Imagine the fucking headlines,'' Mark chuckles. ''A rising pop idol foregoes wearing panties during a photoshoot because they are desperate for someone to fuck them. How would your fans react to their lovely artist acting like a whore, my love? Would they like it as much as I do?''

Mark nudges your legs open, and as you do, the ice dips and lands exactly where your pulsating clit awaits. ''Fuck..'' You sigh.

''Yeah?'' 

Getting on his knees, Mark situates his face in front of your soaked core. He plays with the cube a little more until it melts completely and eases the cold with the warmth of his mouth. Mark laps and sucks, slurping your juices as he buries himself in your pussy, grunting on how your walls clench around his pink muscle.

Soon, his fingers join his tongue. Curling and prodding at your spot that sends your back arching, hands gripping the armchairs as you let your lewd moans bounce off the walls of the recording room. When Mark deems you're stretched enough, he pulls away and tugs his pants down enough to release his cock, tip in angry red shade.

Resting one leg on the armchair while pulling the other over his shoulder, Mark slides home. Groaning as your hot walls impressively engulfs his girthy cock like no other. Once he's deep and snug, Mark picks up a maddening pace, not giving you time to adjust nor get used to his size.

''A-ah! Ah ah ah! Mark– slow down… You're so big–... s-so big–!'' Your face scrunches up; eyebrows meeting, eyes shut tight, mouth open.

''I am, darling. And you love it.''

Your arms underneath Mark's, landing on his back. As Mark angles his hips and jabs at your spot, your eyes cross and your nails instinctively try to draw red lines along Mark's back but his shirt prevents it from happening. So instead, you opt for grabbing a handful of the fabric, tugging them as your hips unconsciously bucks to meet Mark's thrust.

The chair creates a continuous squeaking sound, continuously thudding as it bumps against the soundboard. Mark reaches to hold the back of the chair, spreading your wider. He renders his thrusts deep and hard, an action that slacks your jaw which allows drools to roll out past your lips and to your chin. Mark leans forward, spitting on your willing mouth before licking the strings of saliva and connecting your lips together. It cannot even be considered as a kiss because it is all panting and moaning against each other's mouth.

''Right there! I-I'm gonna cum.. fuck, Mark, I'm gonna cum! Shit– Mark! Ugh fuuuuck..'' Together with the drawn out curse is your eyes rolling to the back of your eyes, walls clamping down on Mark's cock as a white cream forms a ring around him.

The sight of you coming while moaning his name, Mark pistons his hips violently as he lets lust take over his mind and body. His thrusts becomes erratic and vigorous, and with an encouragement of words from you, Mark fills you up to the brim, his legs embarrasingly shaking as though he was the one who got fucked and not the one who s.

As Mark pulls out, he curses under his breath at the sight of his cum spilling out of your pussy. If that isn't the hottest fucking thing. You know what makes this hottest shit even hotter? Scooping his cum, feeding it to you while he fishes out a yet to melt ice and kisses the shit out of you, sharing the whole serve of the mixture of his cum and yours.

A/N: wrote this in an attempt to get out of slump so I apologize if it's not as good as my other fics. hope you enjoyed, nonetheless! share your thoughts?

[lynnerdo]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Chapter 1 - Introduction Chapter 2 - Beginnings are such delicate times Chapter 3 - Eclipse Chapter 4 - A Time of Quiet Between the Storms Chapter 5 - Harkonnen Arena Chapter 6 - Water of life Chapter 7 - Each man is a little war Chapter 8 - Spice

***

The lush and deep forests near the castle brings many memories to you. Soon your life might look completely different, should Feyd reconsider marriage. You hope he pulls through, in more ways than one. Walking in the crisp fresh air of the trees makes you realise your feelings might be developing in more than just infatuation. Your heart sank when you saw Feyd collapse last night. It felt heavy to breathe just thinking about what would have happened if he died. But not only that, you felt as if Feyd would be an interesting partner. His personality very different from the men who you had known all your life. He showed a different kind of devotion, almost obsession over you. You admit it made you quiver a little bit every time he stared you down, a biological reaction, you assured yourself.

You think it’s sinful to admit that when he had you cornered in the halls, hand pulling your hair, you also felt your body react to that. It was the first time a man didn’t tiptoe around you, someone who saw you on an equal line, someone who didn’t feel the need to behave otherwise because of your stature. You understand why your mother didn’t think a Bene Gesserit training would be something for you. You lacked the self-control and discipline, just now acknowledging how your body responded to violence like that. You continue walking in the forest, blushing heavily thinking about him. You can’t seem to snap out of the feeling of his breathe on your lips, his face so close, and then feeling the solid form of his body as you dragged him back. He truly is remarkable.

*

Feyd keeps inquiring the staff when you will be back, obsessively so. He doesn’t look desperate, but some of the people in the castle would describe him as a loyal dog waiting for their master to return. He had no patience whatsoever. He felt a lot fitter already, a burning sensation lingering in his muscles, but the medical staff reassured him he would be fine in a few days. He had heard everything that happened last night, how you grunted as you pulled his body all the way back to the castle, how you demanded them to save him, using any way possible, even if it meant breaking the law. You showed a devotion to him he wasn’t used to. Even his servants didn’t seem to care that much and were just acting out of fear. Whilst there was some fear in your voice last night, it wasn’t caused by him, it was a fear of losing him.

He went back to his quarters to get a much-needed bath and to sit in his own thoughts for now. He wasn’t allowed to let himself get so entrapped by her, it showed a certain weakness that Harkonnen didn’t take kindly to. He felt his worries wash off him as he entered the bathroom however, the same enchanting scent he smelled coming from the garden last night, now enveloping him. ‘Caladian rose’ it was called. And he noticed how it smelled like her. He recalled the way he trapped her between the wall and himself the day before, when he got a whiff of her perfume, how his hand smelled like her.

It drove him crazy; his hands went down into the water. He kept seeing your face as he softly stroked his full length. The scent of the bath adding to the feeling, it was like you were taking over his mind, all he could think of was you. He imagined how good you would look if you were in the bath here with him, your soft body writhing next to him, your hands on his chest, his face, his cock. His strokes were getting harder and faster at this point. He wanted nothing more but to taste you, lick your skin and claim your lips, to make you cry out his name, over and over. He came hard at the thought of you sitting on top of him, asking for more. He saw stars and realised you didn’t need to be trained like a Bene Gesserit, for you were already controlling his mind and body without it.

*

You eventually find the herb you were looking for and cut it with the blade Feyd gave you. It’s funny how a weapon made for killing was now being used for essentially gardening. You weren’t going to tell him that the first thing you used it on was a plant however, that’s just disrespectful.

As you make your way back to the castle, it’s already the late afternoon. It seemed like the search took longer than you wanted to, and you were needing a bath of your own. You felt sweaty, musky and assumed mentally drained after the events of last night. It would also help to calm down your muscles a little bit more. Feyd was a heavy man, and you were not used to dragging heavy men around. That was something Duncan hadn’t taught you yet.

You go to your quarters and let a bath run, you add some salts and Caladian rose essential oils. You hadn’t seen any staff members or servants in your walk back, but you also feared for any news coming from Feyd. You sort of assume he was strong enough to fight through the toxins, certainly with your blood going through him. But a small fear lingered. It would be better if you could see him tonight.

*

You eventually got out of the bath, to your own disappointment. A staff member had knocked on your door, telling you dinner would be starting soon. As you got out, you decide on wearing a pale purple dress, with cut-outs on your shoulders. It shaped around your body nicely and was extremely soft. As you moved towards the dining hall, it flowed behind you in the light of the setting sun.

As you entered the dining hall you stopped in your tracks. Feyd was standing near one of the bigger windows, looking outside towards the ocean. As he heard the door close behind you, he turned around. He was wearing something more casual as well, see through vest with a deep V-neck, showing off his perfectly shaped torso. It was tightened softly on his hip and a soft black pant underneath. His skin glistening in the direct sunlight it received. You made your way towards him, still in disbelief that he’s already up and running. His gaze softened once he saw you, whatever his thoughts were, they fell away.

“My Lady Atreides,” he purred as you got closer to him.

You smiled at him, for the first time it felt genuine as well. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, reminding himself to not listen to his instinct to kiss you right there and then. You reached over to touch him however, grazing his arm softly.

“How- When did you awaken?”, you stumble, softly rubbing your thumb against his arm.

He looked down at your hand and then back at you. You misinterpreted his meaning and let go of him. He countered by grabbing your hand back, softly playing with it. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, as you got hotter with every soft movement he did.

“I think I have my Lady to thank for that,” he said as he pulled your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, never taking his eyes off yours.

He seemed like a proper gentleman just now, but you knew something was off. The glint in his eye and the way he smirked after reminding you that he was still Feyd. You didn’t seem to mind however, whatever he might be thinking about. You felt flattered and had to admit you loved it when he swooned over you like this. He was direct with his intentions; you knew where you stood with him.

As you two were standing there, the door opened once more. Your father and mother entered with an indescribable emotion set on their faces. By now, you assume word had spread already. You left out a soft ‘ugh’, and Feyd picked up on it. He let go of your hand and cupped your cheek softly. He brushed over your almost faded scar, as he licked him lips. How seductive, you thought. “Calm down darling, they won’t punish you if we get married,” he spoke.

There it was again, that word that caused all of this in the first place. He knew what he said, as he smiled a bit more venomous than he should have. You were stumbling to realise what he said about marriage, however. He saw your conflicting thoughts on your face and realised the words he spoke. A bit stifled at his lack of self-control, he let go of your cheek and made his way towards the table. He let his emotions slip a little too soon for his liking.

You’re staring out of the window, trying to process what had just transpired. As you turned around and sat down in front of him, you smiled a little bit, the inevitable dreaded conversation with your father could wait for now. You didn’t have the heart to look at Feyd’s face throughout dinner but shot a few glances to his body. He was remarkable, the epitome of a Greek god. You recall standing next to him and smelling Caladian rose on him. He could have taken a bath without any oils, but the fact that he didn’t, sent you into overdrive. This man was slowly taking over your every thought.

*

After dinner, your father proposes a toast in celebration of Feyd’s recovery, since not a lot of men have lived through meeting a white king cobra and living to tell the tale. You assumed Feyd would still be in a lot of pain on the inside, feeling a burning sensation every time he took a breath. You give the herbs to a staff member and ask her to prepare some tea. It’s the least you could do to help him feel more soothed.

As alcohol flows, you indulge in some of it as well. It soothes your inner thoughts and calms you down after the events that transpired. As the staff member returns, you muster up the courage to ask Feyd to follow you. You go out of the dining hall towards one of the balconies nearby. Feyd follows you promptly, wondering what you were going to say. You hand him over the tea, already cooled down a bit, and he takes the cup.

“What is this?” he questions you, smelling the cup and frowning at it. You chuckle at his reaction, “it’s just some tea, I went out to get fresh herbs, it helps with the feeling of dying,” you assume to know how he is feeling with that. He looks up at you, puzzled “I feel great,” he smirks.

You take a few seconds before you realise, he’s joking with you.

“Just drink it, even for you this can’t be enjoyable anymore,” you say as you slightly roll your eyes and turn to lean on the balcony railing.

The setup reminding you of the moment you shared with him back on Giedi Prime.

He listens and drinks it all in one go, it tastes a bit foul to his liking, like drinking grass or something. You laugh at his slight repulsion and let him have your glass of wine.

“Here, wash it away with this,” you say as he takes the glass and brushes your fingers with his softly.

He sips, and you see him return to his normal self. You smile softly at him as he gives you back your glass. You take a big sip out of the glass to wash down your creeping emotions. It makes you a bit numb and tingles within your body, but it’s a welcome treat. Feyd is staring at your face, trying to read your emotions at this point, you had been quiet all night. He decides to speak up.

“Lady Atreides, I have to thank you,” he starts, “not only did you save my life last night, you also went against the laws of your people to do so,” he continues as he takes your free hand, “you show a devotion to a cause much like we Harkonnen do, and for that I think you would be a worthy wife for me”.

You’re flattered, but his words seem to be a bit flat, very formal in a way. You had hoped his emotions to be a little bit stronger by now, but at least he wasn’t against marriage anymore. Even if it was for ulterior motives. He saw the struggle on your face, and wanted to shoot himself in the foot, he realised the words he spoke were extremely impersonal.

Ever the diplomat, you responded properly.

“I did what I had to do, I don’t think it would be labelled as an accident should you have died from poisoning, after my assassination attempt on Giedi Prime.”

You spoke with a little bit more sass when you mentioned that the people of his planet wanted to murder you, the alcohol probably giving you a bit more confidence tonight. He narrowed his eyes at you for a few seconds as you stared him down. Your face obviously not amused at his dryness. You turn away under his scorching look and revert your eyes towards the ocean. The moon casting a soft pale light on top of it. You felt his stare linger on you and wondered why both of you were so bad at communicating with each other.

You didn’t expect him to give you a heartfelt poem or anything, but to see him so devoid of emotions made you a little bit annoyed. You had just committed a crime for him, and all he could utter was “thanks, politically speaking we’d be great together”. What an asshole. That’s when you felt him lean towards you on the balcony, a hand trailing your shoulder softly. He had that dangerous quality about him, where you forgave him almost instantly whenever he touched you. You almost felt deprived every time he didn’t.

He trailed your shoulder and took his fingers further down the length of your arm, as if trying to soothe you. In a weird way it was working, you turn towards him as you see him staring back at you, his expression soft. His hand goes back up and onto your cheek, softly swiping at the scar.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight,” he confesses.

Your heart skips several beats at his intimacy. He looks you up and down and takes a deep breath before returning to your face. He notices your cheeks have a colour to them now, maybe it came from the alcohol, but he wants to believe that his words were the culprit. He comes closer to you, and you let him. You turn your body towards him, feeling completely engulfed in his actions.

“If you’ll have me, will you marry me?” he softly speaks, as his other hand snakes around your waist.

He could probably hear your heartbeat at this point, you felt like you were melting into his touch. He felt so warm against your body, so perfectly moulded. You put your glass of wine down and place your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, calm and controlled. For every time people warned you of this man, you have seen him in a different light more than often. He didn’t strike fear inside of you anymore, more so desire and a heavy need of wanting to be his.

As you open your mouth to speak, you get interrupted by a staff member telling you your father wants to speak with you. The moment is completely ruined, anxiety striking your face and Feyd notices. He lets you go but takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his face. He kisses it softly, never letting his eyes leave yours.

“I will await your answer, darling.” He lets you go, and you blush even more than before.

As the staff member guides you towards your father, she speaks some words of encouragement, but to be honest, at this point all you can think of is Feyd. He had just confessed his feelings in a strange way, it felt like he wanted to clear up that he also chose you, and not because of some political agreement. Having to listen to your father now felt like torture, for your night would only become worse.

*

As you entered his quarters he was standing at the window, in deep thought. You sighed and wanted to just get this over with.

“Father, you called?”, you snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned around and looked at you fondly.

You were perplexed, you fully expected him to give you a lecture, but his face was saying otherwise.

“My dear daughter, you truly are some mastermind, aren’t you,” he went to hug you. “What makes you say that father?”, you truly did not understand. “You, saving the Na-Baron, forcing him to marry you in the process, brilliant.” He looked at you filled with pride, but you also realised he completely misunderstood your intentions. “Dad, I’m not forcing anyone, I did what felt right at that moment, had I not, then House Harkonnen would be launching an attack on us as we speak. It was never my intention to force Feyd,” you sounded desperate to make him understand that you were not scheming, but you actually thought Feyd was going to be a good partner.

He looked at you puzzled, like he couldn’t understand what you were implying.

“You meant to save him?” he questioned you. “Yes!” you exclaimed. “Why? This man attacked you on your first day of meeting,” he tried to reason with you. “Because I like him!” you almost shouted.

Your confession falling silent in his room, his face contorting into some form of disbelief. He was trying to understand how someone like you would potentially fall in love with someone like Feyd-Rautha. You sighed and looked away from him.

“I didn’t just break the law because I saw a political advantage. A man I like was dying in front of me, I only did what my heart forced me to do.”

You sounded a bit desperate, to be understood and not judged at this point. Your father noticed your shift in body language, he had made you feel uncomfortable. To his regret, he never married your mother, so he understands what it meant to feel the desperate need to get married to someone you loved.

He hugged you and reassured you it’d all be fine. He released you after a while and spoke.

“The law states that only spouses or family members can aid in the giving of blood. Your mother was against it because it’s not a true Bene Gesserit way, but I don’t care. Your happiness is more important than that,” he took your hands in his, “we will keep the secret for as long as we can, once you get married it doesn’t matter anymore,” he kisses you on your forehead.

Your father only wanted to protect you from the world you lived in, but Feyd also had to agree to keep this secret. Which in turn could be a more difficult task than you wanted it to be.

[srslyblvck]

── christmas miracle.,, kol mikaelson

pairing: kol mikaelson x fem!reader

synopsis: kol can never resist you, especially when you’re standing there, glowing like a perfect christmas miracle.

warnings: suggestive content

word count: 1.1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE AMBER GLOW OF the fireplace danced across the polished floorboards, its warmth a stark contrast to the wintry chill that whispered against the frosted windows. Outside, snow fell in a delicate cascade, covering the Mikaelson estate in a pristine white blanket. Inside, the soft scent of pine and spiced candles filled the air, mingling with the faint crackle of burning logs.

You stood before the mirror, the crimson fabric of your off-shoulder gown clinging to your frame in all the right ways. The bodice was snug, accentuating your figure, though the zipper at the back remained undone, leaving your shoulders and the curve of your spine bare. You worked to smooth the soft waves of your hair, your lips painted in the bold red hue of a winter rose.

The quiet click of the door barely registered over the soft hum of a Christmas melody drifting through the halls. But you felt his presence instantly—Kol's arrival always carried a charge, a magnetic energy that wrapped around you like the warmest embrace.

His voice, smooth and deep, broke the quiet. “Are you trying to kill me, darling? Standing there like a forbidden dream?”

You caught his reflection in the mirror, and your heart skipped at the sight. He was devastatingly handsome, as always, his dark suit impeccably tailored, with the faintest hint of green in his tie, a subtle nod to the season. His smirk was lazy, confident, and entirely sinful as his gaze roamed over you.

“Kol,” you said with a soft smile, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Stop staring and come help me. My zipper—”

“Say no more,” he interrupted, already closing the distance between you.

You turned, your back to him, the exposed skin of your shoulders tingling as his fingers brushed against you. He took his time, gathering the zipper between his fingers, and slowly, torturously, slid it upward. The gentle tug of fabric meeting skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp. “Though I must admit, I’m tempted to leave it undone.”

Before you could say anything, you felt the ghost of his lips against your shoulder, soft and warm. You shivered as he pressed another kiss there, then another, his path trailing toward the crook of your neck.

“Kol…” you say softly, but your voice trails off as his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear.

“You’re exquisite, you know that?” he whispers against your skin. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you gently against him. “Utterly intoxicating.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access as his kisses grow hungrier. The faint scrape of his teeth against your neck sends a thrill through you, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as he notices the way your breathing changes.

He spins you around effortlessly, his hands now framing your face. His gaze meets yours, dark and brimming with desire. Before you can say anything, his lips crash onto yours. The kiss is searing, claiming, and you melt into it. His hands find your waist again, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

Kol’s tongue brushes against your lips, and you part them willingly, your fingers threading into his hair. The world outside the room feels far away, and for a moment, nothing else matters but the taste of his lips, the warmth of his touch.

He guides you backward toward the bed, his kisses never faltering. When the back of your knees hits the edge, he pulls away just enough to whisper, “Do you know how hard it is to resist you in this dress?” His voice is low and husky, his lips brushing yours with every word.

As he leans you onto the bed, his hands beginning to explore, you press a hand to his chest, halting him. “Kol,” you say, your voice breathless but firm. “We’ll be late to the ball. Elijah will have our heads.”

He groaned dramatically, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Let him be furious. I’d much rather unwrap this particular gift than watch him scowl over hors d'oeuvres.”

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “The dress stays on, thank you very much.”

His eyes sparkled as he pulled back slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “For now,” he conceded, helping you to your feet.

As you adjusted your gown and reached for your shawl, Kol caught your wrist, his grin widening as he gestured to the mirror.

“You might want to fix your lipstick, darling,” he teased, nodding to your reflection. Sure enough, the vibrant red you had so carefully applied was now smudged, evidence of his kisses.

You huffed, shaking your head as you wiped at your lips. “This is your fault.”

“And yet, I feel no remorse,” he replied, feigning innocence even as he gestured to his own mouth. “But if you’re fixing yours, shouldn’t I get the same courtesy? Or are you planning to leave me wandering around with evidence of your seduction?”

Sure enough, a faint smudge of red lingered on the corner of his mouth. With a laugh, you leaned up and dabbed at it with your thumb.

Kol offers his arm with a theatrical bow. “Shall we, my darling?” he says, his smirk still firmly in place.

Rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile, you loop your arm through his. “Let’s go before we’re any later.”

The two of you step into the hall, Kol keeping his pace leisurely despite your insistence. Just as you descend the grand staircase, Elijah’s figure comes into view at the bottom, his expression already betraying his impatience.

“Ah, there you are,” Elijah says, his tone clipped but his voice ever so composed. “Fashionably late, as expected.” His sharp gaze lingers briefly on the both of you, as though he can read exactly what delayed you.

Kol doesn’t miss a beat, his smirk widening as he replies, “Well, brother, when you’re escorting the most stunning woman in the room, perfection takes time.”

Elijah arches a brow, unimpressed. “Perhaps next time, factor punctuality into your quest for perfection.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, nudging Kol lightly with your elbow. “We’re here now, 'Lijah. No harm done.”

Elijah straightens his cufflinks with a sigh. “Do try to refrain from drawing attention to yourselves—any more than usual, that is.” With that, he turns on his heel, his immaculate form retreating toward the ballroom.

Kol leans in close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “He’s just jealous he doesn’t look this good in lipstick.”

You stifle a laugh, swatting his arm. “Behave, Kol.”

“Never,” he replies, winking at you before leading you into the glittering room, his smirk promising he’s not done teasing you just yet.