#i know you want view but there is a space for everyone if you want to become a big influencer just use multiple platform

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[midnight-mourning]

Vessel for Your Good Intent

Okay the art's going to be late(r) BUT, enjoy this little thingy I've whipped up for you all. A little peak into one of the au's i'm keeping locked up in the drafts, hope you enjoy! Last one of @divinit3a's January Cafe Prompts

Words Chosen: serpetine, gold, pacts & deals, shapeshifter, precious

Word Count: 1715

"Make a deal with me."

You glance up from your book for a moment, over to the empty mirror. Feeling shy today, apparently. 

You chuckle, looking back down to continue reading. "I've already made a deal with you. Several, if I recall."

"Make another." He drawls, somewhere beside you now. If you had to guess, in the reflection of the clock sitting beside you.

"Why? I have no need for it at the moment." You peek up to see if you can catch him, but the clock holds nothing. "I take it you are then, was that last offering not enough for you? Feeling a bit peckish, love?" 

The tinge of a smirk grows on your face in that moment as the silence lengthens. He never did like it when you used his nicknames back at him. You go to stir your tea, only for a hand to grasp your wrist as you jump. Right. Silver. Reflective as anything else. 

Your surprise slips into annoyance, if only to help hide the racing of your heart a bit better. 

His words are a hiss in your ear now, sharp, a warning. "I don't rely on you, pet. This is just for fun fun fun, you know that."

"Just making sure." He releases you, slipping back into the shadows before you can catch a true glimpse, as usual. 

You reach for your tea again and take a sip, assuming the conversation is done with. 

"I meant it as an opportunity for you." In front of you, from the tea cup's reflection, startlingly you into almost spilling and making a fool of yourself. 

You frown now, staring directly at the small silhouette on the side of your cup. "Again, why? Business is good, my health is fine, what could you have that I'd want?" You wait a moment, then add. "Right at this moment." Given how your previous wording was received, you can tell he's being more particular today, and you have to be a bit more cautious. 

Not that you already weren't with his previous proposition. 

"Because I know you want more, and I'm in the mood to offer it." The small, shadowed figure shrugs. The ray-like projections from his head flit back and forth.

You tsk, setting the cup back now. "Well, I don't. You know that. I would have made a better deal if that was the case."

"That's the best part, though." Back to the mirror, the pale visage of his face sits in the corner, grin unwavering as ever. "You don't even have to give much at all. Practically a steal steal steal, just for you!"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch~"

You snort. "There's always a catch. Always."

The smile turns to a frown, then, a small grin. "Let me weave a story for you."

Your eyes widen. "No, you know I don't like it when—" Too late, his hands are over your eyes and your world is smothered in darkness. 

"Don't worry, I think you'll like this one."

"You say that every time..." You mutter. 

Just a quiet chuckle in response as the darkness starts to shift, lighten, become a scene. 

You've yet to get used to seeing yourself in an outside view like this. You're in your shop, hard at work organizing herbs and other ingredients. It's quiet, peaceful, but tiresome work. A shift. 

Now, you're in a larger space, grander, standing behind the counter as customers pour in and out of the busy location. You give directives to your full team of employees, who answer each order with obedient nods and words of acknowledgement. You're respected, admired for your work. People take pride in being able to visit your shop and buy your products. 

Another shift, a lavish party in some grand parlor, no, now a ballroom. You're the star of the evening, no one else can compare. Everyone there holds you in high regard, they're entranced. The gold and silver throughout the room cannot compare to your own radiance. 

Shift again, a surrounding of gold. Coins and treasures, you realize after a moment. All of yours, more than you can dream, more than you'll ever need. You have nothing to want for. 

Another. You're in your kitchen. It takes a moment to realize you're no longer watching, but living this one. There's the sound of feet pitter-pattering hurriedly down the stairs, a few children suddenly appearing and rushing past you with an exchange of giggles. Ready for breakfast and their days to start. 

As you face the stove again, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a face burying into the side of your neck to press a kiss there. Some murmured apology you can't quite catch as your hand reaches up to grip one of the arms. The person, man, chuckles, releasing you to spin the two of you into a dance, humming a tune that's familiar and not at the same time. 

The children from before laugh from the other side of the room, sounding further off than that. You have everything you could ever want. Fame, fortune, notoriety, a family, someone who loves you—

"That's enough." You whisper, finally looking up into the golden eyes of the man. Serpentine. Out of place on his otherwise human appearance. "I thought I told you to stay out of my head."

The eyes widen, the smile on his face slipping. "I was just—it wasn't meant like that."

"It certainly seemed like it." You step back, crossing your arms over your chest as a poor attempt to shelter yourself. 

He frowns now, seeming to be thinking as he too, steps back. Leaning against the opposite counter. 

With his focus elsewhere, it all seems to freeze. Even the air itself seems to pause. 

He glances back to you after a moment. "Pacts, deals, bargains, they're... the typical way to be able to express ou-my, desires. They're the only way, for that matter." That last bit is muttered, softer than should be possible for a demon. And yet.

"You could try just saying them outright." You offer with a quiet huff. "Though what more you could possibly want beyond my being, I'm more than just curious about."

He stands upright then, eyes wide. He nods, finger wagging as he takes a step towards you. "There, you've said it there. That's what I want. You. All of you. Whatever you'll let me have. I'll take it." 

"I already told you I have no need for—" You halt as your heart jumps to your throat, words dying as suddenly he takes your hand and brings it to his face, cradling it against his cheek. 

"Not like that. Not how you're thinking. More than that, you mean more than that. Precious. Irreplaceable. Let me prove it. Please." He falls to his knees, gripping your hand for dear life. The scene around you ripples. "Please just, make a deal with me. Please."

You can only stare down at him with a sense of horror and utter disbelief. "I think that's enough pretending, Shapeshifter. You've made your point. You don't need to wound my pride any further."

You knew that if enough time passed between deals a demon would become desperate, but this was absurd, even for the game he was playing. To be down on his knees, practically begging you, the little human bound to him and not vice versa, it was one hell of a way to toy with you. 

"This isn't a matter of pride." The grip on your hand tightens, the scene wobbles dangerously. His next words are seething. "Is it so hard to believe I'm speaking with a sense of genuinity?" 

You look around for anything to pull you out of this fantasy entirely, relying on your words for the moment to keep the tension from falling. "Of course it is! You didn't just ask me that, did you? After all you've done? After what you've—" You find what you've been searching for, the weight of the small bottle heavy in your pocket. You grip it with your free hand, pushing the cork out with your thumb. 

"I, you're not, but I don't, this isn't..." He can't seem to find the words, but it's the, utter devastation in his tone that makes you hesitate then. 

You keep the bottle in your hand, looking down at him with a hardened gaze. "Can you say, with absolute certainty. That anything you've said to me is completely and entirely genuine? That you’ve meant it wholeheartedly, with no ill-intent?"

A moment. You give him just a moment. 

For you think if you gave him anything more you'd hear a response you can't handle. 

You rip the bottle from your pocket and splash the water over him, the effect is near instant. He hisses as steam rises from his form, now cowering against the pain as the scene starts to collapse in on itself. You need to be quick. 

The half-empty bottle smashes to the ground, and you kneel in front of him, picking up one of the broken pieces.

He catches on instantaneously. "Wait, don't—" 

You use it to prick your finger, hovering it above his ever-changing form. Switching between the illusion and reality. 

It takes a moment, but finally, a few drops fall down onto him, and he stabilizes with a gasp. 

The fantasy collapses completely and you suddenly find yourself back in your chair, having to take deep breaths to center yourself again. Once you do so, your eyes dart around the room, looking into each reflective surface. 

Not the mirror, not the clock, not the spoon, not the cup. A flash of fear wells up in you, you don't dwell on it. Come on, where—

"That stung." You turn. 

The window. 

You don't hide your relief, shoulders sagging. "That was the point."

You watch the faint shadowed form, faint, but only because of the light streaming in. Not wavering, not weak. 

"Thank you." He states, disappearing without another word. 

You wait a moment, and realize that he's actually gone this time. 

For now. 

You sit back in the chair, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. Then you pause, pulling your hand back to examine it. 

No mark. Not even the hint of a scar. 

You don't know what to make of that. 

And that's all you get for now, back into the drafts it goes, had a lot of fun writing for these prompts, can't wait to see what comes next :)

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist

[ranwan-love]

Channeled Messages from Ma Saraswati

Hi everyone!! On occasion of Vasant Panchami i decided to do this reading. Usually this auspicious day dedicated to Goddess Saraswati,marking the arrival of spring and honoring the Goddess of wisdom, knowledge, music, and arts.✨🌻🍀

Even if you don't worship her i truly wish you all would be able to connect with concious of creativity, knowledge,art, music, and passion. I also set an intention by end of this reading all of stuck energy from you people goes away and is replaced by spring and blessings. 💚🍀🌱✨

If you are going to buy me coffee so thank you in advance! (Opps! It's potatoes)

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and pick the pile you feel most attracted too.

Pile one

Cards: Chariot, Hanged man, Page of wands, Two of swords/cups

Okay so this pile might be of my creators especially musician because I keep hearing "there are people who wait for your music". This thought/affirmation can be used for just starting or being yourself to manifest even greater audience. But first you need to start,like take action and then let it be. Don't think like it didn't go instantly viral or something rather just let it be there. Your music will find it's Lover at right time. It's like the feeling of actually just being in love with process of making your art instead of being in anxious state waiting for some outcome. Your music is important for someone so just do it. Like on Chariot card I see the figure looking satisfied with a sense of calmness and yet proud of himself. So make music for your satisfaction instead of standards you have been subjecting yourself too. Go for something new too. Maybe you don't have to try finding completely new topic or something. Rather see the existing thing from a new perspective. I know so many artists worry over the fact that ow it's already done by someone else but maybe it's not done by you, from your perspective? Maybe the audience love that specific genre so they need more perspective in that genre only. Like if I have to summarise I would say try something which is already popular but add new perspective to it. If you have any idea in mind try working on it because it might feel like small anxious beginning but there is definitely involvement of some higher source, could be your ancestor or your own past life efforts. This idea will take you on long journey in future.

Okay, so it was supposed to be two of swords but I end up reading it as two of cups. It can be a cautionary remark. It's like if you get compliment with a sense of critic. Take it with good heart because at end how you view those comments will definately affect you. You can take it as mutual exchange where they are helping you to improve or other way around. So double check yourself how you will be looking at things or these interactions.

Pile Two

Cards: Eight of swords (j with 6 of wands),Two of cups, The Lovers, Seven of swords

Lol somehow this pile always get an extra card it's like they have so much to hear but than i go into deep silence. I want to ask do you watch too many readings, it's as if there's something going on in your head like always but you need to drop it because you have beautiful potential to connect yourself with pure silence and bliss. There could be some evident phone addiction. It's like stop feeding yourself anything you see. Take a break, create space for new wisdom to flow. There are very high chances you might be feeling stuck, overwhelmed and no where to go. So come back to yourself sit with yourself sit with your peace. There's so much potential of union. Union! You might ask what union? Union of you and your higher self who will guide you throughout this road less taken. There's so much success and collaboration on this road aka journey. You might meet people alike you. Just know that, like always remember your soul tribe and your true work will only bring peace to you. The Chances of deceit could be early eliminated by just trusting your inner knowing. If you think according to what your intuition says then all those finger critics will eventually manifest into sweet fruit for you! Because your guides and your higher self are looking after you.

This pile have really strong psychic abilities or atleast intuition themselves so trust it!!

Pile Three

Cards: Knight of Pentacles, Nine of wands, Magician, Fool

Hi my dear pile of powerful people full of potential but serial procastinators. How have you been doing while pretending that you are awfully stuck while knowing exactly what to do ? See i get your fear of slow results but maybe, maybe you should consider that things which take time are more stable, like castles are not built in a day RIGHT???? Like on serious note stop acting confused there are no shortcuts just start it. Get used to process because the potential, rewards, fame, money it hold is insane. Like stop staying in your comfort zone because your goal seems way too big. Like trust me no one is going to save you there not even your guides because you are being stuck by your own will. Start a new journey with belief that yes it's huge it's overwhelming but you are guided along your way. I don't know it reminds me of footprints in sand. Check it out.

Like my pile three you people are walking magicians. You have everything you need to bring this vision dream into fruition. Stop tricking yourself because you know it, i know it, we all know it that you got what's needed so simply start okay. Like i won't lie but there's so much resistance here while moving forward. But at same time my bro it's not external but you, it's fucking internal. You need to trust yourself and take steps ahead! Best of luck for that if not?? You are free to complaint for longer period in same position . Just keep in mind blame will be only yours not God.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If you feel like giving suggestions for collective future readings, dm me. I would love to do it.

For paid personal readings:

[beelzecxi]

“Drank, drank I been drinking, I hit you up when I’m faded”

Obey me Lucifer x amab reader! Nsfw! Fem aligned dni! Mdni! Top reader! Drunk Lucifer! Light sub/dom dynamic! Lucifer is a masochist! Reader is not a sadist! Sub Lucifer!

Concept: Lucifer get drunk and horny!! W.c 1.4

A/n: I wrote something like this awhile ago, then it got deleted cuz I got a new phone.. （−＿−；）

P.s never have intercourse with an intoxicated person, this is just a story about a fictional character. You should never copulate wity someone under the influence, thank you.

"Sweetheart, you need to relax," you laugh, placing your hands on the demon's waist and squeezing as you lean away from his feeble attempts at kissing you. "Let me kiss you," he whines, his desperation peaking, "please." He pouts, licking his lips as he stares at you.

You smirk, leaning into the demon's space, "Luci, you're so adorable when you're drunk" You tease, pecking his lips, "You're usually all worked up, held up in that office of yours." You continue, once again pecking his lips, grinning when he whines. "Got so worked up, you had to turn to alcohol" you sigh, leaning back against the bed frame.

"You know instead of getting drunk you can just come to me," you mutter, slipping your hands under his shirt, kissing along his neck as he whimpers into your ear. "I'd take care of you, l'd make sure all of your stress goes away. All you have to do is ask" You say, smirking against his skin when he starts to roll his hip.

"Ah, Ah, Ah." You tsk, tightening your grip on his waist,

"None of that now dear," you scold, leaning away from his neck, "if you want me to help you, you'll have to ask" you reaffirm, tilting your head as you look at him "Come on ask," You tempt, no better than a demon yourself, "Ask me to take all of the stress away. Ask me to take care of you. " You continue, rubbing circles on his waist with your thumbs.

"Please," he hiccups, his speech slurred from the alcohol,

"please take care of me, please" He begs, hands clutching at your sweat pants, you smirk pushing him down on the bed before climbing over him, "That's all you had to say baby, get rid of our clothes, yeah?" You ask, though it's more like a demand, either way Lucifer listens, getting rid of the barriers preventing him from feeling your skin on his.

"You're so pretty sweetheart," you praise, spreading his legs to get a better view of him, enjoying the sound of him whining at the slightest touch, before grazing your fingers up his shaft grinning when he instantly bucks up into your touch desperate for more.

"Now, now Luci, be a good boy for me and stay still." You scold, slapping his inner thigh.

"M-master!" He yelps, runting his hips, in an effort to get you to hit him again.

"Stay still or I won't touch you at all," you threaten staring deep down into his eyes. He whines, frantically, worried that you might actually stop. You won't, after all it's not everyday you get to have someone as powerful as Lucifer, someone who almost everyone in devildom was afraid of.

You hummed softly, squeezing his thighs before bringing your hand back to his cock. Wrapping your hand around his base, jerking it, once, twice, then once again. "So, tell me Luci, do you want me to ride or fuck you? It's up to you really," you say, squeezing his base, "either way you won't be able to cum until I say so." You tell him trailing your fingers down to his hole, adding a slight bit of pressure tutting when he starts to whine and push back on your fingers. “So what will it be sweetheart?” You queried, leaning down to peck the corner of his lips as he continued to whine and whimper.

“Fuck me! Fuck me please! I-I want it s-so bad master, please, please,plea-” he chokes, groaning when you remove your fingers from his hole, “Suck.” You demand, putting three of your fingers in front of his mouth, “conjure up some lube too please, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” You ask, tapping at his chin “‘s okay, I want to hurt” he mumbles before sucking your fingers into his mouth, moaning happily at having his mouth filled. “Oh?” You mumbled, slightly concerned. Pulling back slightly, jumping when Lucifer wrapped his hand around your wrist, moaning like a porn star, sucking your fingers like it was a cock instead, trying to get your fingers as deep as they can go. “Alright luci that’s enough” you say, pulling your fingers from his mouth, chuckling when he whines and tries to follow them.

“Alright calm down,” you say, spreading his thighs to get a better view of his hole. “Woah” you whistle, putting your spit-slick fingers to his hole, “look at this pretty thing,” you awe, pushing one of your fingers inside, thrusting it in and out before adding another one, “Your hole is so pretty luci.” You praise, pushing the final finger in after scissoring him open for a while. “Master~” he whines rolling his hips back against your fingers, “master, please fuck me, please” he slurs, half delirious from the alcohol and pleasure. “Getting to that,” you say, pulling your pants down.

“Spread em’” you order, slapping the demon's inner thigh, smiling when he moans and squirms before doing what he’s told, whining like bitch in heat. “Master!” He whines, his voice is adorably high pitched as he hiccups and rolls his hips before remembering he’s supposed to be a good little demon if he wants to get fucked.

“Lube Luci,” you tell him, praising him when a small bottle of it appears right in your hand. “Ready for the real fun to begin sweetheart?” You ask, squirting some of the lube into your hand and spread it over your cock. Grinning when the demon nods frantically, spreading his legs wider to tempt you into just taking him right then and there.

For extra safety precautions, not willing to tear something in the demon even if that is what he wants, you squirt a little bit of lube into the demon’s hole, enough so that it stings but nothing will tear, before sticking your fingers inside to spread it around. “Deep breaths,” you say, lining your cock up to the demon's hole, smirking down at him before pushing inside, grinning at the instant whine that leaves the demon lord.

“There we go,” you huff as you bottom up, looking at the panting demon below you, “are you okay luci?” You ask, placing your hands on the demon's waist. “You look a little red.” You tease, leaning down to nip at his left nipple, smiling when he immediately arches his chest into your mouth. “Master, move please” he whimpers, clutching at the nap of your neck, “want you to fuck me hard and rough, please, I want it to hurt” he whines, his sharp nails digging into your scalp. You merely hum, swirling your tongue around his nipple before pulling away with a nip. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry sweetheart,” you reassure him, pulling your hips back before giving him exactly what he wanted, a hard and rough fucking.

He moaned loudly when you thrusted back into him, clutching at you like a lifeline as you nailed into him “Master-” he choked out, wanting to beg for more but to overcome with the pleasure of being filled and stretched so well. He wanted oh so badly to feel the thick head of your cock crush his prostate, and it was so close to doing so if you could just go a little be deeper, you’d be right there, right where you belong- and as if you could hear his thoughts you slid your hand under his right leg, hiking it up your waist. And then you were right there, right on his prostate.

“Ah, there it is,” you hummed when Luci yelped into your ear, frantically rolling his hips to meet your thrust. “Right there right there,” he whines frantic with pleasure, “gonna cum, please let me cum,” he begs, his body jerking. “Please say I can cum,” he whines, trying his hardest to wait until you give him permission, “cum.” You order, your thrusts never slowing, not even when the demon jerks with the force of his orgasm.

“You’re a demon so you can last a lot longer right Luci?” You ask, wrapping your hand around his cock, he nobs whimpering as you start to jerk his sensitive cock. “That’s nice. I was worried we’d have end our night here. But we can keep going right sweetheart?” You ask, playing with the sensitive head of his cock “y-yeah” he hiccups, thrusting his cock into your hand, moaning when you slap his thigh with your spare hand. “We talked about this luci,” you scold, slowing down the speed of your thrusts, “I’m sorry, please don’t stop,” he begs, squeezing tightly around your cock to prevent you from pulling out. “Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere,” you say, leaning down to bite at his neck.

“After all, the night’s just begun.”

[infiniterealms]

Infinite Realms: A Danny Phantom Remix Event

Remixing time!

Hello everyone! I'm very excited to announce that the time for remixing is upon us!

The initial twelve fics will be posted over the next day or so, and I will add them to this pinned post as they're up.

What is a Remix?

Have you ever read an amazing fic and wanted to have a go at it yourself, but felt too shy or like you’d be doing something wrong? Have you ever seen the Two Cakes comic and wistfully remembered a oneshot someone wrote that you wish you could continue? Do you want to show an author you love their work to the point of your own creation, but you don’t know how to make fanart?

This is your opportunity to give something new a try!

When you remix a fanfiction, you write a piece based directly off the fic. There are many ways to do this, and the ones accepted in this event are as follows.

POV Flip - Retelling the same events from a different character's point of view.

Role Reversal - Swapping the roles of two key characters. An example would be remixing a fic where Valerie hunts Danny, by turning Valerie into the hunted and Danny into the hunter in your version.

Sequel/Prequel - The events leading up to or following the fic. This should overlap with either the first or last scene of the original.

Genre Change - Changing the fic to a different genre. An example could be changing a modern day canon setting to medieval fantasy or to a space opera.

For Want of a Nail - One small detail at the beginning of fic is changed, causing things to happen differently.

One Crucial Detail - Focus on what you think is the most important detail of the fic for a character’s point of view, and let everything else fall away.

Guidelines for Remixing

There are no sign ups or restrictions on who can participate. All skill levels are welcome!

For this event, we will be doing gen fics only. This is to create a space where everyone can enjoy the pieces regardless of shipping preferences. Potential future iterations of this event may include a shipping option.

Other types of remixes are okay if the author of the oneshot specifies that in their fic description.

Three things cannot be changed - who the characters are, the basic setting, and the basic plot.

Please keep your pieces rated T and under, and use all appropriate trigger warnings.

No direct plagiarism - you need to write things in your own words for the fic to be included in the collection. It’s okay to quote some dialogue or a key sentence or two, especially if you’re writing overlapping scenes, but your fic should mostly be your own words.

In the spirit of the event, crossovers should be avoided unless the author specifically states on their fic that they would be okay with them. In future years we may introduce a crossover category, but for now, avoiding crossovers makes your pieces more accessible to everyone in the fandom.

This event is designed for writers. However, if artists wish to participate, then they can also feel free to do so. Pictures will be reblogged to the @infiniterealms tumblr, and should follow the same posting requirements as written fics (listed later in this post).

There is no limit to how many pieces anyone writes.

There are no word count restrictions.

The event officially ends on the last day of February, but I hope you all enjoy learning more about remixing thanks to this event and maybe give it a try again in the future!

Posting Requirements

To have your remix featured on this blog and/or included in the ao3 collection, please...

...for tumblr posts

Mention the @infiniterealms blog

Use the hashtags Infinite Realms and Danny Phantom

@ the author of the original piece

Link the original piece at the start of your post

...for ao3 uploads

Tag your fic with Infinite Realms

Add your fic to the Infinite Realms Remix 2025 collection at this link

When uploading your fic, tick the checkbox that says "This work is a remix, a translation, a podfic, or was inspired by another work" and fill in the relevant information

Initial Fics to Remix

Will be updated as they're posted! All 12 should be up by the end of February 1st, so watch this space.

On the Line by @lexiepiper

Bitter and Heavy Truths by @haleswallows

Touring Babel by @princessfanonanona

LOST! do not approach, may bite by @lavendarlily

down and down and down we go by @camels-pen

Time and Time and Time Again by @coyotecrackers

First Contact by @hannahmanderr

Foreworn by @jackdraw-spwrite

nervous by @five-rivers

oh, mental breakdown, we're really in it now 😔 by @oofouchstovehot

Please check the notes on the fics before you remix them, as some authors have also stated a few preferences. Thank you!

[gryphis-eyes]

Why do I only see astrology post on the pick a card tag 🤨

[violentlyexplosive]

it's always so funny to me when i get a new follower and they have shit like "proship DNI!!11!1!1" in their bio or pinned post. like brother my blog is not a safe space for you (neither is the entirety of the real world, but I don't think you people are ready for that conversation. on account of being probably 12 years old. cus that's what you're acting like.)

"censorship is bad" should not be a radical take in the year 2024. stop trying to sanitise the internet into some uber-puritan, ultra-virtuous, squeaky clean space. like what are you, catholic? i beg of you- grow up.

[theexorcistiii]

I digitized my true stories vhs u can watch it on google drive here if u haven’t seen it please watch it right now it’s the most important movie ever!!!!!!!

Also here’s my whole vhs uploads folder for you to keep an eye on there’s only 1 other thing in it rn but I’m working on digitizing as many of my tapes as I can today ^_^

[housederiva]

Your art is FANTASTIC and the random observations/polls/interjections you make have really helped to fuel the DA fandom in positive ways! Which it definitely needed after Veilguard's release, lmao. It's always a pleasure to see you on my dashboard!

That's very kind of you to say oh my gosh thank you so much. I'm just bumbling around and every once in a while I say something people think is worth sharing, and I like sharing what other folks feel/make too! I'm glad I'm a not too much of an annoyance xx

I think my favorite thing about having this blog is the notes I see on other peoples posts I rb, it’s nice seeing all sweet things get things sent an artist way or conversations/theories carried on in a rb chain

It’s a big ol show n tell and it’s a wonderful reprieve from my normal day to be able to see other folks stuff too ✨

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Of my 2% capacity to be attracted to anyone, my type is like 90% women, 5% pretty men and 5% men you would swear are super fucking manly, and never questioned being straight and cis, but are now suddenly *stressed* that they can't figure out why their attraction to me [fully socially interpreted as a woman and labelled that way up until relatively recently] feels incredibly fucking gay

[noa-ciharu]

Not to sound mean but I genuinely can't understand how can someone id as aroace and straight/gay/bi on top. I understand if it's aspec or idk just aro or just ace but aroace + something else? That's pretty much contradictory. What's even the point of aroace label then?

[rotisseries]

everyone debates about elmike like oh they're the best of friends no they would never hang out on their own they don't even know each other, when the true answer, much like everything else about them, is that there is so so much and also nothing at all

[shiryawashere]

you ever miss your comfort character so bad you gotta go outside about it

[seiya-starsniper]

.

[thanatika]

low-coherency rambling in the tags

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]