#in a perfect world i could silk press my own hair

[hopefully-saturn]

just washed my hair with my new hair products AND gave myself a blowout! love this for me, but also i desperately need a trim 😵‍💫 i would do it myself but my mom has psyched me out soo i made an appointment instead 

[atsulovee]

✧ ─ · · KINKTOBER DAY TWO !! · · ─ ✧

To Thee, My Eternal Love

Knife play - Vampire!Dazai x Fem!Reader ➻❥ content warnings: blood, threat of bodily harm and mutilation, implied kidnapping, slight yandere!dazai, period typical misogyny (early 1800s), mentioned abuse. ➻❥ word count: 2.2k ➻❥ notes: this one specifically made me glad i put a 3.5k cap on my word count for kinktober lol. i kept catching myself getting way too wordsy so i had to cut a lot of unneeded stuff.

"The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome."

“To thee, my eternal love,

Even from so far, I hear the lovely beat of your heart, the alluring race of your pulse. Each night as I wake, your beating heart is all I care to listen for. I have not seen the sun in centuries, nor heard the call of morning roosters, but when the heat of your blood is my replacement, I find I do not mind. 

My beautiful mortal darling, as ephemeral as the petals of a spring flower. I, they call a vampire, a forager of blood, but it is beauty that I seek. Under the cover of darkness, near the churchyard, was when I found you. A muse, an angel, sitting at a grave. So young, so beautiful. I just could not bear letting your beauty be marred and restrained by the common village folk. I knew then you walked in a murky world- one that no one else could understand. You’re far too slight for such burdens. I would carry the world for you, slaughter villages, burn down whomever you ask. It was time to strike, for love could not wait. You fought, and you cried, relieved to be rid of mortal plights. 

I am not the monster you wish to believe I am. My undead heart has not beat in centuries- however, when I am with you, I feel the faintest tremors of a pulse. I’ll live a long time yet, my dear, and I could not bear an eternity without you. The day you die will be the day I’m destined to wander this world more helpless and alone than I have ever been. I’ll call your name to the moon at night, knowing there will be no answer.

And that is why I must never let you pass on from this world. 

Your Darling, Dearest, Dead, Osamu Dazai.”

. . .

To be the perfect doll is to be quiet, docile, and moldable. To be a wife is to be the same. A delicate puppet on silk strings, meant to be taken care of, meant to bend to every will and whim of their man. 

Cursed with your womb, you are all but a fully autonomous person in the eyes of the masses. A woman in the early 1800s has one duty to her family- marry young and above your social standing. Never step a foot out of line and never pull at your own strings. 

You were his- irrevocably, incredibly, dangerously his. Dazai had long made sure of that. 

His hand clasps your own and pins it above your head, a silent command from him to listen as you lie on the satin sheets. In a flurry, your hair splayed across the bed like a halo as blood red light filled the room. To Dazai, you were the light of heaven he was destined to never see. A gift from a God that despised him- perhaps to make up for His transgressions. 

Dazai’s deep, steady breaths puffed against your neck, even as his narrow hips pressed flush against yours. “My darling…” He sighs, never once blinking. Dazai couldn’t stand the idea of taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Each moment, each minute, each hour was so special, so precious. Each second that Dazai dared to spend not gazing upon your beauty was a second wasted. You were human still. And you could so easily leave him, slipping away into eternity.

His hips stilled against yours, the tip of his cock gently kissing your cervix. “My darling.” Dazai nearly whines, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours just so his lips could gently kiss at your pulse point. Your blood was warm, much like the sun he had not seen in decades, and it was sweet just like the food he could no longer taste. “I adore you.”

Dazai was always a desperate, pitiful man. One who longed for things greater than him and shrunk away when his wishes were fulfilled. But you, his dearest human, was one thing he could never shy away from. 

You were lonely tucked away in his home, but you were safe. There was so much beyond his walls that could harm a human and you were simply not allowed to die by anyone’s hand but his own. 

His cold hand drags up your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and up to your chest. You were so warm, Dazai laughed weakly against your neck as he listened to the heavy beat of your heart. He had no need for you to reciprocate his devotions so long as you stayed alive.

“I adore you, my love. You know that.” Dazai resists the urge to sink his fangs into your exposed neck, pulling himself away to stare at the flush on your cheeks. “I haven't felt such joy in either of my lives- undead or otherwise.” He savored every whine and cry that fell from your colored lips as he slammed his hips in and out of your tight hole. 

His nails bit and tore into your skin, letting droplets of your blood stain the sheets below. You hiccuped and cried every night when he took you to bed, but you no longer fight like you once had. It was a pity, really. Dazai thought you looked especially cute as you kicked and squirmed, trying to fight an inhuman being away. 

You tilt your head to the side, sniffling as Dazai holds you by your hips, forcing you to feel every thick inch as he plunges into you with an obscenely wet noise. Your strangled gasp meshes into a hiss as he punches the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

“Look at me.” Dazai whispers, grabbing your chin and pulling your face towards him. His voice is soft and sweet, a gentle breeze against your lips. But his smile is wide and his grip is bruising. When you fail to raise your eyes, he pulls your hips towards him harshly, forcing you to feel his cock in your stomach. “I will not ask you again.” It’s only when you feel the familiar blade of his dagger pressing against your throat that you dare look at him. 

Crimson light spills into the room like it was a flood. The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome. In the light, his brown eyes seem to glow mahogany. A horrible, horrible gaze as you don’t dare avert your eyes again.

After a moment, as he studies the look on your face, the resignation, Dazai smiles though he does not lower his blade. “There we go. I missed those pretty eyes, my love. I don’t like when you ignore me.”

As Dazai starts to move his hips once more, he drags his blade down from your throat to in between your breasts and down your sternum.

“You do know why I must keep you here, right?” He begins. “It’s not because I’m cruel and enjoy watching you suffer. There is just so much in the world that could harm you.” Dazai’s pelvis kisses yours each time he pulls out just to stuff you full once again. His thrusts are merciless and rough, one hand planted firmly on your hip, pulling you down on his cock each time he rams it in as the other points his dagger at your heart. “Just as easily as I keep you alive, I could kill you. Isn’t that terrifying?”

His voice is eerily calm and steady, even as wet squelches, gasps, and hisses fill the air. Each thrust muddies your thoughts, filling your mind with nothing but the dopamine of pleasure. It was hard to think, much less hate the man in front of you when he fucked in a way no human could. Then, he sinks the knife into your chest just slightly, enough to split the skin and let small streaks of red make their way down your skin. 

Instinctively, you squirm and whine, desperate to move away as your mind screamed danger but his dagger did not move. It felt like each shuddering inhale and hiccuping exhale would only drive the silver blade further into your chest.

“Calm down.” He mutters, moving the blade from the shallow wound as Dazai leaned down to lie his forehead against yours. He dragged it down your stomach, stopping just above where your womb would rest. “I have no intention to kill you, and you know that. If I had, I would’ve done so long ago. What poor excuse of a husband would ever murder such a darling wife?”

You knew, had learned months ago, what a monster your husband really was. You had made one attempt at escape and you knew to never try such a thing again. Dazai was cruel and vicious with his victims- the poor, innocent people he fed from, but he was so much worse with his love. 

His smile pulled tight as he looked down at you. He had intentions of giving you a second chance only once, if his beloved dared to defy him once more… The night would end with your shared bed soaked in blood as your corpses held one another.

Stakes don’t kill vampires, he had told you that night as he dabbed at the wounds he had inflicted upon you, bloody and weeping. That’s just a silly story that weak humans came up with to make themselves feel stronger. However, silver- something so pure and holy, is just the thing to do the trick. 

“You’re sick.” Your voice wobbles, thick and cracking as your eyes glare up at his. “The only reason you haven’t killed me is because I’m cattle to you.”

“Is that so?” He smiles, stabbing the dagger into the pillow next to your head. Dazai huffs with effort, gritting his teeth, letting his fangs click and clash together as he works open your cunt. “Will you do it, then? Will you try to kill your shepherd? This is the only chance you’ll ever get, darling.”

You spat at him, face flushed red in a way his no longer could, despite the drool wetting your bruised lips. Your rich blood mixed with sweat, streaking down your chest- the mounds bouncing as Dazai grinned.

“Just look at you…” He croons, hand that once held the dagger coming to grip your chin once more. His hand held you with such force, you could see the way his arms flexed. Your once soft skin was marred and littered with blacks, purples, and yellows- with puncture marks from when he had not felt like finding another victim to terrorize. “So precious. I should carve out your womb. No human man would ever want you, then. Even if by some chance of fate, you escape from my clutches, there is not a single person on this earth that will ever consider having you know that you’ve been defiled by me.”

“You’re vile.” You hiss, voice weak and strained. You wanted nothing more than to push your captor away, to reject his advances but such luxuries were fantasy so long as you wanted to live. You clasp your hand over your mouth as Dazai delivers a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, shutting you up. 

Dazai groans, his hand falling away as his desperate thrusts speed up. “I know.” He drawls, “I know. And that’s why I want you. Why I need you.” Dazai pants into your ear, the hot breath contrasting sharply to his cold skin- the chill running down your spine and pushing you closer to him. “Because I’m vile and you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He groans, rolling his hips into yours inch by inch, with the depravity and viciousness of a beast. Desperation ached inside of his bones like a disease, burning and boiling with each thought of you. Dazai loved you so much, he wanted to keep you to himself forever. Wanted to kill you to preserve your memory. Wanted to turn you to make sure he’ll never be alone again. 

As you tilted your head back, walls fluttering around him, he takes his place with his lips on your neck once more. Gently, as he had done a thousand times before, his fangs punctured the delicate flesh. Warm, rich blood pooled into his mouth- only a single drop escaping him. 

Dazai’s thrusts speed up as he gasps, pulling back with bloodied lips. He could barely control himself on the best of days, he’d drain you in but a moment. Each movement made Dazai crave more, the lava pooling in his gut addictive and sweet.

It felt like his cock was molding its shape in your core, truly claiming you as his in the most vile, animalistic way. Everything felt raw, sensitive to the touch. You could barely think, barely breathe with how thoroughly the vampire was drilling your aching cunt. Overwhelmed tears drip off your flushed cheeks as your own incisor threatens to split your lip.

“I need you by my side, my love.” Dazai sighs, kissing down from your temple until he finds the still pulsing wound on your neck. “And so, I must never let you pass on.”

Once more, his fangs find their way into your neck and once more do you feel the gentle cold taking over your body.

➛ wanna join my kinktober taglist?

➛ tags!! @null-zero-0 @ghostedwriting @Sinfulthoughtsposts @oforphicintent @kiironyx @seasonaldeii @rainsoakedsun @sakui1 @meowimacow

[izzymissii]

Alcina x FemReader HCS SFW/ (kinda) NSFW

found this on my drafts from some months ago

 ❤ Her love language is devotion, demonstrated in the way she anticipates your every need. From ensuring your favorite wine is always on hand to draping her luxurious coat over your shoulders on chilly evenings, she takes pride in caring for you”

 ❤ Alcina adores the chase, relishing every flustered glance and stolen moment of tension. But when you finally surrender, she takes her time, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face and saying, “You’re mine now, draga mea, body and soul.”

 ❤ Despite her dominant nature, she has a soft spot for pampering you. She’ll press a kiss to the back of your hand and ask with a mischievous smile, “Do you enjoy being spoiled, my little treasure? Because I intend to do so endlessly.”

❤ Seeing you wear anything she’s gifted—especially her pearls or one of her luxurious robes—makes her chest swell with pride. She’ll pull you close and purr, “You look exquisite. Almost too tempting for your own good.”

❤ Her romantic gestures are grand and deliberate: a hand-written letter sealed with her crest, a bouquet of rare flowers from her garden, or a candlelit dinner in her opulent dining hall, where she watches you with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

❤ Her kisses are intoxicating, slow and lingering, as if savoring every second. Afterward, she brushes her thumb across your swollen lips and purrs, “You wear my love so beautifully, my darling.”

❤ She never misses an opportunity to remind you how deeply you are loved. “You are my heart,” she says one night, her voice as soft as the silk of her dress. “And I would burn the world to keep you safe.”

❤  Even her jealousy is seductive, her eyes narrowing as she pulls you closer and murmurs, “Do not forget who you belong to, dragă mea. I’ll remind you, if necessary.”

NSFW

❤ The bedroom is where her dominance shines most brightly, her every movement deliberate and commanding. “Lie back,” she instructs, her crimson lips curving into a slow smile. “Let me show you how a goddess loves

❤ She delights in your flustered reactions, her sharp eyes watching every twitch of your lips or flush of your cheeks. “Ah, there it is,” she teases, her sultry tone wrapping around you like velvet. “The look that tells me you’re utterly helpless under my gaze.”

❤ Alcina loves to hear you moan her name. She’ll tease you endlessly, her mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony until you’re crying out, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she says, “That’s it, my love. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

❤ She’s insatiable when it comes to you, often waking you in the middle of the night with her lips trailing down your body. “I couldn’t wait until morning,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with need.

❤ Alcina dominance is never cruel, but she loves pushing you to your limits. “One more,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear. “You can give me one more, can’t you, my darling?

 ❤ Alcina takes immense pleasure in watching you squirm under her touch. She’ll run her gloved hand between your legs, her voice low and sultry as she asks, “You’re already this wet for me? How delightfully needy.”

 ❤  Her bite isn’t just for show. She loves leaving marks on your neck, shoulders, and thighs, whispering against your skin, “I want everyone to see you’re mine.”

 ❤ Alcina control is absolute; even when you try to take charge, she effortlessly flips you back beneath her, pinning your wrists with one hand as she smirks. “Did you think you could dominate me, little one? How adorable.”

❤ Afterward, she takes great pride in tending to you. She’ll pull you into her arms, her fingers gently stroking your hair as she whispers, “You’re so perfect, my treasure. Rest now—you’ve pleased me immensely.”

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

04 Grooming

Zhongli x Reader / SFW fluff / Established relationship / The two of you are living together / Grooming (noun): the care of a body and its physical appearance

Every time you watch Zhongli get ready for work, you can't help but admire the effort and care he puts into his appearance. From the layered suit and tie to his polished shoes, he was the very image of a distinguished gentleman. It was impossible to come across your beloved and not be left with an impression. His every detail was intentional, almost to an unbearable degree, so you'd understand how some may see him as pretentious or overly-coiffed. Not everyone could appreciate a well-groomed man of Zhongli's sort. He does quite literally take twice as long as you do to get ready, hence why you have the leisure to admire him.

"You know, when I first met you, I really couldn't stand you." You confessed as you watched him run a comb through his long silken strands.

"Oh, is that so?" He chuckled, gathering his hair in one hand and fastening it with his usual cor lapis hair ornament.

"I thought, how could a man be so perfect? Like every strand of his hair is in the right place. Four layers of clothing, but I can still see that tiny waist. Cufflinks, lapel pin, gem encrusted gloves, rings, earring, all of these accessories, yet none of them look out of place. It's absolutely disgusting."

"I've grown easy on your eyes, I see." He hummed in response.

Zhongli stood in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving away a bit of growth on his chin, following with a thin layer of aftershave. Before he retired his previous vessel and stepped into this mortal body, he had never had to bother with facial hair. Now that he had adjusted to the daily upkeep, he found it rather calming. You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around him, resting your cheek against his back. He applied a bit of cologne to his neck and wrists, the scent tranquil and reserved, just like he was. You inhaled deeply, taking in whiffs of qingxin, silk flowers, and Sandbearer wood.

After soaking him in for a few seconds, you unwrapped your arms to allow Zhongli to finish getting dressed. His suit ensemble was just as complicated as the day you met him. Both you and Zhongli enjoyed taking your time on things, peeling back layers slowly, fastening buttons one at a time, taking long moonlit strolls, and smelling the roses along the way. For you, he was a meticulously wrapped gift and each morning, he spent time and care preparing himself so that he could present his very best to the world. You certainly enjoyed unwrapping that gift as well when night falls. Something about Zhongli being all wrapped up up like a rice dumpling makes him even more enticing to you.

"Here, use mine." You reached up and spread some of the moisturizer you were dabbing onto your own face into Zhongli's cheeks when you saw him repeatedly press the pump nozzle on his bottle to no avail.

Aside from his immaculate attire, the retired archon also prided himself in taking good care of his current human vessel. You often talked about your own skincare, leading to him owning a few staples of his own. His skin was pretty flawless as is, so you didn't feel the need to introduce him to too many kinds of products. His morning routine didn't need to get any longer than it already was!

Once his face was moisturized and protected from the sun, it was time for the last touch. In Liyue, there is a tradition that when painting a dragon, an artist waits until the very end to paint the eyes. That simple stroke brings it to life.

"Can I do it?" You ask eagerly, earning you an appreciative look from your beloved.

"My pleasure, darling."

He handed you the red eyeliner brush, closing his eyes to allow you to apply it for him. You've never asked him why it was a part of his morning routine, but you were sure he would have an interesting story to tell for it, just like his single tassel earring and the pin on his lapel. That was who he was, a man of many stories.

After finishing breakfast, the two of you parted ways at the door, going separate directions for your respective workplaces.

"Wait, you forgot something!" You gave him a playful glare just before he could leave.

"I have?" He always made sure he left the house with everything so his confusion was predictable.

You reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, to which he gladly received when he realized you were only joking about him leaving something behind. Of course, if he could he would put you in his pocket and take you with him, but since you had your own work to attend to, he would have to settle for a kiss.

"Take care of yourself, dear. I shall see you tonight." He smiled as he reached out to help you tame a particularly frisky strand of hair on the top of your head.

[howdoyousleep3]

Looking back and reflecting through prayer and journaling, Steve realizes it was his fault. 

The long looks that could have easily been interpreted as yearning, the unsuitable timing of said looks, the tone in his voice when he knew for a fact it was Bucky on the other side of the confessional and he did nothing to shift said tone of his voice to a more appropriate one.

It’s his fault and he’s admitted it. He’s spent his evenings praying—begging— for forgiveness, spent his nights on his knees until they’ve been left bruised, ruined the pages of his Bible from the tears he’s wept over it. 

None of it has come close to quelling the consuming feelings he has for Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky Barnes has ruined his goddamn life. He’s made Steve question his purpose, his past, his life, his future. 

Everything. He’s ruined it all. 

But Christ, Steve can’t stay away. 

The feeling he receives from being the reason such a beautiful being cries from pleasure or otherwise make him feel like—

Like God. 

Like God.  

Steve was horrified when Bucky dropped to his knees in front of him in his office that fateful evening, couldn’t believe his eyes when Bucky began to weep and grab at the obvious bulge at his crotch and fist at his hair. 

“I don’t know what to do, Father. It hurts. It has to be a punishment for the things I can’t stop thinking about. Please, help me. Please…” 

Steve may have been possessed. 

When he reached for Bucky, out of his own mind and unable to grasp reality or his purpose, he knew the moment his fingertips came in contact with the moist skin of Bucky’s cheek he was about to enter into a world of inevitable and eternal damnation. 

“Tell me where it hurts, son. Tell me what you think about.”

An entire life dedicated to God couldn’t stop his own traitorous cock growing so full, so painfully fast that he nearly doubled over when Bucky uttered the words— 

“I can’t stop thinking about y-you, Father.”

And then Bucky had shuffled forward on his knees, letting out a pitiful noise with each jerky movement, and pressed the bulge of his crotch against Steve’s shin, through his robe.

Lucifer was described as beautiful, the seal of perfection. He was an angel before he was cast out. 

Bucky is Steve’s personal Lucifer. 

“I want to know everything you think about. You kneel here and tell me. I will help you, my son.” 

Steve had never heard such filth, such utterly disgusting filth:

“I can’t look at you without getting hard. I look at you and I want to let you inside of my body, want to put you in my mouth. I come to service and look at you and listen to you and get so hard I have to go to the bathroom to…to touch myself. I’ve never done anything, nothing– I swear I’m a good boy. But I look at you and I want to be so so bad, Father. What am I supposed to do? How do I…do I stop feeling this way?” 

It was seeing the young man’s tears that made Steve feel the most arousal, he realized. Not that Bucky was sobbing as he spoke and practically humping Steve’s leg; it was the tears. How beautiful he was when he wept before Steve, on his knees.

Steve reached for his rosary the moment he came back to his body enough to realize he too was hard. 

“You must repent, Bucky,” he heard himself say, tone hushed and reverent. “You must ask for forgiveness.” 

And God damn him, God damn him, he closed his eyes as he laid his hand in Bucky’s hair, softer than silk, and whispered, “You must give into temptation to be forgiven in full…” 

Steve never stood a chance against being faced with his own temptation.

Neither did Bucky, it seemed.

Weeping while he rubbed his erection against Steve’s leg was nothing compared to weeping with his mouth stretched lewdly around Steve’s cock.

Steve had not once felt pleasure like this in his life, had never come close to experiencing something of such bliss. Feeling the inside of Bucky’s mouth, his tongue, was otherworldly.

His pleasure growing tenfold hearing and watching Bucky struggle to take him, to suck on him, made him question whether or not he was made for a secular life instead.

Steve prayed for their two souls anyway. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son…” 

Bucky sobbed and sputtered, gagged and sucked, whimpered and sniffled.

“...has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins…”

When Bucky’s hands came up to grasp Steve’s hips, when he leaned forward to shove Steve further into his mouth as if he were starving and desperate, Steve fisted the hand that held onto the rosary into his hair, holding Bucky in place as his hips took on a mind of their own.

“...through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace…” 

Bucky’s sobs blended with moans as Steve fucked his mouth, noise so sweet Steve closed his eyes once more to memorize the noise of it.

“...and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…” 

Steve’s last bit of self-control was used to not let out a ferocious groan as he came down Bucky’s throat, teeth gritted as he forced Bucky’s mouth further down on his cock, until he felt Bucky’s tongue on his balls. 

“Amen…” 

It pulled Steve back to reality, that amen. He shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, pushed him back and away from his still-twitching cock, from his trembling body. 

The sight of a dizzy and hungry Bucky, mouth slick with cum and lips and cheeks cherry red, rubbing pathetically at his crotch from the outside of his pants while crying out, “Amen! Amen!” as he obviously came in his pants on the floor of Steve’s office is an image that will be branded in Steve’s brain until the day he sees the pearly gates. 

That’s if this doesn’t send him to Hell instead.

Bucky leaned down then, pants wet and still sniffling, and pressed his lips against Steve’s shoes. His feet. 

“Thank you, Father. Thank you…” 

Steve was indeed going to hell. 

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 18 - Body Worship

Kink: Body Worship

Pairing: F!Reader x F!Gorgon

Other Kinks: Yandere, Cunnilingus

Warnings: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Slight Infantilization

Word Count: 1499 words

Kinktober Masterlist

You had come looking for your brother.

Petrina didn’t recognize the name you shouted as you boldly wandered into her cave, arms trembling under the weight of your lantern. Or maybe it was from fear, knowing you were entering the monster’s den, the monster who had most definitely killed your brother.

It was the first time Petrina felt guilty for her deeds. Not for him, of course, the boy was a foolish thing looking for glory, practically begging to be turned into stone. But seeing the big tears at the corner of your eyes, the way you desperately searched for his face in the sea of statue'd corpses, it tugged at her heartstrings.

How you were related to such a boorish man was another sign that the gods were cruel; that they’d bless your parents with yourself, shining and jewel-like, and then saddle such a treasure with an absolute idiot of a brother. You didn’t deserve such a fate, even if your caring heart convinced yourself otherwise.

Beautiful women with big hearts were stomped down in this world, by people just like your brother. They were ripped to shreds and eaten alive, tossed into monstrous pits and left to rot, names slandered across tongues and history.

Petrina was doing a favor, taking you for herself. You were in the only place in the world free from the cruelties of gods, men, and monsters alike. You could be safe, her perfect gemstone.

“Your skin is like silk.” Petra kisses at the inside of your wrist, cradling your palm against her cheek. It’s calloused from years of farm work, yet the texture feels fine against her scaly skin. “No, like honey. Sweet-” She kisses at the juncture of your elbow, “-And decadent.” She kisses your shoulder, ignores the way your breath hitches and your face jerks away. The snakes of her hair lean up to flicker their tongue on your cheek, taste the sweat their mistress tastes in her mouth. Your forehead scrunches up as they move to pepper your nose, eyes still closed despite the blindfold you wear. Good, it's better to be safe than sorry. She couldn’t lose her precious jewel right when she got her.

Petrina’s mouth dances across your collarbone, her fangs begging to sink in and gnaw on the flesh, taste if it’s as sweet as your sweat. But she can’t, mustn't defile this sweet creature. She has hurt so many for so long, but you she will treasure.

Your chiton falls so beautiful off your figure and Petrina almost regrets having to rip it off of you. But the reward of your bare body pressed against hers is worth the defiling. She has collected so many fine things over the years, she has plenty for you to wear and lavish in. For now, she licks and sucks down your breasts and stomach, nuzzles her face into the perfect flesh before her. Her snakes do the same, goosebumps trailing down as they feather their own kisses across your body. You jerk when one flicks across your nipple, senses heightened and nerves taut like a bowstring. 

“Aaah.” Petrina flicks out her tongue, so close to your center that your essence’s scent hangs in the air. Her mouth waters at the fragrance, burrowing her face into your bushy mound. Her snakes bundle and tangle together, all desperate for a taste as well.

“P-please.” Your gentle voice whispers, just as cute as the first time she heard it. 

“Please what, my dear?” Petrina uses the tiniest of force, digging her nails into your thighs to force your legs to spread. Your voice raspy, you plead some more.

“Not t-there. I’ve never…I mean-”

“Untouched, undefiled.” Petrina takes another deep whiff. “What does your virgin pussy taste like?”

Her snakes act as a guard and push out your legs, just a threat of their fangs as they mouth at your plush thighs. Petrinas long fingers slide up between your pussy lips, spreading them wide for the very first time. The sight of your fluttering hole has her cooing.

“Already you leak sweet nectar for me.” Petrina splays her fingers, watches your wetness web between her digits. Her long tongue curls round the two digits. Both her and her snakes shudder.

“Better than Olympus’ finest ambrosia.” Petrina smacks her lips, returning back to the main source. She licks up the length of your cunt, drinking in the taste and the whimpered moans that escape through your lips. Your button throbs underneath her tongue, pulsing with blood. Petrina’s lips circle and suck.

“A-ah!” Your hips beckoning into her face, pressed her deeper into the sweet scent of Elysium. She draws a circle around your clit, her snakes flexing as your thighs try to shut close, forcing them open. It’s simply your inexperience, Petrina rationalizes, you’ll realize soon that all she’s doing is showing you her love.

Her long nails, perfect for carving stone, are delicate as the prod against your fluttering hole. She doesn’t want to hurt you, knows how delicate a virginal pussy can be. But it will feel good in the end, she’ll bring you dizzying pleasure. It’s what you deserve, all the comforts life can offer.

She stays sucking on your clit, slow and methodical, making sure to not overstimulate the poor bundle of nerves. With her snakes keeping your thighs open, one hand creeping up your stomach while the other spreads open your pussy lips. So warm, so wet.

You whimper when she grapes at your breasts, nipples hardening as she rolls them under her thumb. She’d love to suck on them more, lay her head between them and hear your beating heart. For now, playing with them will have to do; her mouth has other priorities.

Her pointer and index finally venture deeper, pushing past your clenching walls and into your pussy. She moves at a snail's pace, glad to see you do not bleed at the intrusion. It’s just two fingers but if the way you clench and writhe are any indication, any fullness is wholly unfamiliar.

“Aa-ah! What are you-”

“Shh, my love. I only want to make you feel good.” She would normally relish in your melodic voice, but she knows you're struggling with the stupid lessons you were taught growing up. That the only thing that could possibly be between your legs was a man and his cock. You don’t yet know how good just some fingers could feel.

There’s a squelch as her palm hits your pussy, fingers now seated all the way to the knuckle. The moans you let out when she scissors her fingers outward are heavenly, gummy walls trembling against the foreign pressure. Her rough fingertips search for the spongy pad inside of you, lips curling into a smirk when she finds it, your whole body shaking.

“Hnng!” You bite your bottom lip, the shame of your own pleasure deep within you. Petrina will pull that out of you soon enough.

With her target found, she begins thrusting her fingers. Slow at her first, like her tongue, but quickening as your walls begin to loosen. As more and more slick covers her knuckles, her tongue soon matches its pace, drawing tight little circles on your clit and sucking hard. The hand on your breasts pinches the nipple, knowing that a little pain only heightens the sensation.

“Gods!” You finally scream, tummy clenching as the knot gets pulled taut. It’s all so overwhelming, a rapid barrage of new sensations. 

“Such an honor to bring you here, my treasure.” Petrina pants between her sucks, now pressing the flat of her tongue on to your button. “To help you reach these heights. To help you come undone.”

Your moans have become breathy, practically panting as your heartbeat pounds like a drum. Something is coming, some tidal wave you can’t help but be pulled under.

“I-m-I’m-!”

Petrina’s arm burns but she never falters, watches the slick splatter against her palm as she fingers you. They are strong and dextrous, expertly tending to the fire that is your climax.

“Let it come, jewel. Let yourself come.”

That is your undoing, the simple command snapping that taut bowstring like scissors. Your back arches as you cum against Petrinas mouth and palm, oozing juices down her jaw. Her snakes go wild, fighting for tastes of the sticky trails, flickering expectant tongues against your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks.

Petrina lets you ride out the high on her face, letting you collapse on the bed in a slump. It can be exhausting coming that intensely, especially for someone like her treasure.

You don’t flinch when she kisses the side of your face, when her snakes leave their own little kisses across your chest and neck. You take long, slow breaths. You seemed to have fallen asleep.

Petrina lays there, watching you for hours as you rest. The light of the moon shines on your sweaty body, a perfect picture of beauty.

“Sweet dreams, my treasure.”

[cressidagrey]

The Starlight Princess - Chapter 7

Summary: 

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings: 

Definetly NSFW...Seren gets her teeth into Azriel

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel was not sure what he had done to deserve this. 

Deserve the feeling of Seren’s mind against his, her feelings bleeding all over him, because her mental shields were in tatters, and she was desperate, half out of her mind with her love and need for him. 

He had no idea what he had done to deserve her loving him either. Absolutely no clue. He had tortured people, killed others…he had done more than one dark and evil deed in his time in this world…and still….and still he had been….he had been given her. Given Seren. 

Seren in all her beautiful glory. 

Her skin slid against his like the most expensive silk he had ever touched…soft and warm and smooth and just a few shades lighter than his own…her body shuddering underneath the touch of his ruined hands…not with terror but with pleasure…

Every pleasure-filled moan he wrung from her when he pressed his lips against every patch of her skin he could reach, the way her body leaned against his, fitting against him like a missing puzzle piece…

The first time…their first time… instincts had overridden everything. He had been so rough with her, so demanding…had put bruises on her skin where he had gripped, a bright purple mark against her neck where he had bitten her…Nothing like what she deserved. She deserved to be worshipped like a goddess, not to be thrown onto the ground and…

*I loved it,* she cut him off, once again, before he could end that thought. *I loved it, Azriel.* She did say the truth, he could feel that. But still…

He had wanted her first time to be something…He would have wanted to make her shiver with pleasure before he even laid a single finger on her…he would have wanted to stretch her out on his bed and bury his face between her thighs and make her scream his name…hear her lose her carefully constructed composure until she begged for him…

And instead, it had been…

*Perfect,* she said drily. *It was absolutely perfect.* He sighed in response. 

She turned onto her back, tugging him into place between her legs…long, silky smooth legs, wrapping around his hips and he couldn’t help but groan when she pulled him right against her centre…dripping with her wetness and burning with need. 

It was all he needed to feel, hardening immediately. Azriel pushed his hips forward, slowly entering her, waiting for any noise of pain or discomfort, but nothing of that sort came from Seren.

Nothing. 

Just a long drawn out moan of pleasure, her hands holding onto his broad back and he hissed at the feeling of her surrounding him….like oiled silk, slick with her need…gripping him so incredibly tightly, the walls of her cunt fluttering around him, as the walls of her mind fluttered against his. 

*My mate. Mine,* she cooed into his mind and he groaned, dropping his head against her shoulder as he pressed even deeper into her. Slow strokes, even…he didn’t want to hurt her again, he didn’t…

He wasn’t sure how long he could even keep it up, because the feeling of pleasure in her mind was enough to nearly drag him over that cliff with her…but at least it only took a few thrusts before Seren’s body tightened around his, a long drawn out moan…

Already? Thanks to the cauldron. He let himself fall with her, spilling himself with a groan. 

A climax a far cry from the near animalistic nature of before…this was sweeter, far softer, even if it was just as good. 

Long fingernails ran through his hair as he collapsed on top of her, scratching his scalp and he moaned in pleasure, feeling how sated and content Seren was for just the moment. 

Then her amusement as she recounted the thought she had caught from him before he had let himself come. Already? Thanks to the cauldron. He growled in displeasure, making her body start shaking with her giggles. 

The most beautiful sound in the whole wide world as far as he was concerned. 

Azriel rolled off her, inelegantly, her head curling itself up against his shoulder, her catching one hand of his in hers and intertwining their fingers. 

*I think I shall like our marriage bed,* Seren commented contently, making him press a kiss against her temple. There was so much swirling around in his head at that, the easy acceptance of her being married to him, that she liked the pleasure they found in each other…that she wanted to do it again…all the things he could do to her, that he hadn’t yet gotten to do…

Azriel was so lost in that…in the bliss of holding her and that she was content and happy and…That he nearly didn’t catch the person crossing his ward boundary. Not until it was already too late. 

“Azriel?” 

It was all Mor needed to say and seconds later, he was lunging across the bed to tackle Seren, because otherwise she would probably rip out her cousin’s throat. 

At least she seemed very much intent on it, her mind an utter mess of aggression and possessiveness and love and desperation and anger.

To Seren, Mor was a threat. A threat to him and to them and she should be nowhere near them, as far as Seren was concerned. 

And such a threat should definitely been shown that Seren wasn’t to be trifled with. Her mind was intent on making it very clear to Mor what Seren thought about her intrusion into their house, their bedroom. 

He did his best to hold her back, even against the elbow she landed into his ribs, the nails that were gouging against his arms as he tried to bind them to her. 

“Seren! Seren, that’s Mor!” he snapped but the only thing he got in response was a snarl. 

Magic sparked in her skin and he ground his teeth against the sharp pain of it stinging against him, the shadows coming to help him, as she fought against his hold of her. Doing his best to restrain her, because he was quite sure that he would have already lost if he didn’t have them. 

Every instinct in him was screaming at him to let her go and let her defend him. 

“Mine!” Seren growled. Mine. Mine. Mine. “My Mate!” she bit out and Mor watched the whole spectacle wide-eyed, a smile slowly growing over her face, tears in her eyes. 

“You… Rhys is going to kill you, Az,” she finally chortled. 

That choice of nickname clearly was the wrong one, because Seren growled in response, snapping her teeth in Mor’s direction. 

That was all the warning he got as she chomped down onto his neck in response, making him curse as she held on, drawing blood and staring down Mor, violet eyes threatening her to say another word. 

“Fuck, Seren,” he wheezed out. Fuck, that hurt. 

“I am not going to take him from you,” Mor promised Seren quickly, and Seren just snarled, teeth still buried in his neck. 

*I want to see her try,* she growled in her mind, making him sigh. 

“I’ll leave you to it?” Mor offered and he just nodded, straining, her teeth still lodged against his neck, there where everybody could see. 

“I think that’s for the best,” he forced out. 

*Do not talk to that floozy!* Any other circumstance it would have made him laugh, that self-righteous fury bleeding from Seren, that mind-numbing jealousy, her growling. 

“I’ll try and keep Rhys off your back for the night at least,” Mor said as a parting shot. “Have fun!”

Seren just growled. *Mine. Mine. My Mate. Mine.* 

Still attached to his neck. 

Mor closed the door and he held very still until he could feel her having left completely. 

*Are you going to let me go?* he asked her with a sigh but she just growled once again. 

*No? You know, some things could get quite difficult to do with your teeth in my neck,* he considered in his mind. *There is no way you could kiss me like this,* he teased her. 

That seemed to bring her up short. 

*You could let go of my neck, and I’ll kiss you properly, Princess,* he cajoled her gently. 

Still no reaction. 

*I am your mate,* he tried next, gently. *I am yours.* 

That did the trick. She detached her teeth but still, she clung to him. 

*It’s alright, I am yours, Princess. It’s alright. Nothing you need to worry about,* he soothed her softly. 

No more growling. 

Now her body shuddered as she nearly tried to crawl into him, tried to get as close to him as she physically could, draped over him and he could feel her shudder again, her mind an utter mess. 

Instincts and the mating frenzy and her trauma and the fact that she had been imprisoned as a pond for centuries…all of it was fighting inside her.  A powder keg waiting to explode. 

And there was nothing he could do other than hold her as tightly he could as she pressed her face against the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to ground her own instincts and failing horribly. 

“Shhhh,” he shushed her something as he could feel the first scalding hot tears against his shoulder. “It’s alright, Princess,” he whispered. “We’ll make you feel better.”

Even when he didn’t know how yet. 

*I need you.*

*You have me,* he promised her fiercely. *You have had me for the last 3 centuries, Seren.*

Anything else? It had been an escape from his grief for her. It had been him trying and failing to get over the Starlight Princess currently wrapped in his arms. 

*I love you,* he whispered into her mind, his hands gently and slowly smoothing over her sides, doing his best to ground her. Doing his best to give her something else to focus on…the here and now. *I love you.*

She lifted her head and he caught his lips with hers…pressing his tongue into her mouth and feeling her shudder against him before she started to kiss him back. 

Azriel slowly started to push every good feeling he had at that moment at her, his love, his adoration…his want…his need…and she responded, her body relaxing, her kisses turning languid…want slowly turning into need as she lifted up on her knees and then slowly…slowly sank back down onto him, wet and tight and perfect. 

If sex turned out to be the thing that was making this easier for her, he would more than willingly oblige his mate. 

*Still think that you shall like our marriage bed?* he teased her as he watched her…By the cauldron, she was gorgeous as she rose and then sank back down onto his cock, her back arching…pitch black hair fell down to her waist in thick waves, and her mouth opened into a perfect O as the noises of her pleasure fell from it…A pair of small rose tipped breasts high on her frame, the dip of her waist and then flaring into her hips…She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. 

*Yes,* she answered with a drawn-out sigh, her mind calming, all she was focused on their joint pleasure…her movements were slow…unhurried. *You’ll buy me a ring?* she checked, nearly idly, and he caught one of her nipples between his fingers, tweaking it gently…getting another moan from her. 

*Whatever you want,* he couldn’t help himself but coo at her. Whatever she wanted. Whenever she wanted. 

She wanted a ring? He would get her whatever ring she desired. Did she want to get married? He would find a priestess and drag Seren there as soon as he could. She wanted to see the world before they settled down? They would go and visit the continent and he would let her drag him all over the city if that was what she desired. 

Whatever she wanted. 

The only thing Azriel wanted…the only thing Azriel wanted was to be with her. To see her happy and flourishing and be gloriously alive. 

He had gotten a second chance at being with her. Who else could say that about the person they loved? Nobody. 

He was so lucky that regardless of what else would happen…he had the chance to hold her and be with her and tell her how much he loved her when he had never gotten to say that before because the circumstances had been against both of them. But now? Now it didn’t matter anymore. 

Her mind seemingly hummed with pleasure…*Maybe amethyst,* she agreed, flicking through a mental collection of jewellery she had seen in her life…settling on something sparkly and pretty. 

Whatever she wanted. He would mine that fucking stone himself if it made her happy…if it made her shudder with pleasure as she did now as she worked herself down onto his cock, her small body so impossibly tight and wet around him that it was becoming impossible to think straight. 

He slipped a hand to where they were joined, finding that bundle of nerves…practically begging for his attention as he circled it with his finger…her body shuddered around his once again. 

*Come for me, Princess.*

And she did. 

[moonmaiden1996]

Ok but like....accidently pulling Dionysius' hair during sex and realising both of you realising that's his kink....???

Just YESSSSS!!!!! While I think he is the kinkist God ever I also think he is the softest.

Please let me know hat you think and send any requests I am getting back into writing and need some inspiration.

Read below at your own peril

Your lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss, each second stretching into infinity as the world around you fades away. His hand cradles your face, thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw, pulling you closer with every tender stroke. The warmth of your breaths mingles, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him deeper into the kiss as if you could lose yourselves in this perfect moment. The kiss, once soft and tentative, grows bolder, more reverent—every movement a silent vow.

“I love you,” he groans, his voice thick with desire, as his lips travel down your neck, worshiping your skin with a hunger that makes you tremble. Dionysus continues his descent, his lips brushing against your skin like a prayer, savoring every inch of your body as though worshiping something sacred. He pauses at the little bud that draws a breathy sigh from your lips, his tongue curling expertly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. His upper body presses firmly against your hips, pinning you to the bed as they stutter beneath him, a mix of soft pleasure and rising passion.

“Dionysus, please,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “It’s okay, my light, I’ve got you,” he purrs, his voice like silk as he moves with deliberate tenderness, his touch both soothing and consuming, unraveling you with every stroke.

“I love.... I love you,” Dionysus pants against your skin, his breath hot as his mouth suckles at your sweetness, pulling you deeper into the blissful haze.

Frustration builds like a fire, nipping at your senses. You’re so close—close enough that your stomach quivers, muscles clenching as the wave teeters on the edge of release.

“Never leave me,” he pleads, his voice raw with need. “I need you. I want you like this every day.” He moans softly, tugging at your thigh as his hand trails upward, finding your weeping center that gladly accepts his nimble fingers.

“Dio... argh,” you cry out, your moan echoing off the walls as you arch into him. His touch is molten, searing, and all-consuming, spreading through you like wildfire, threatening to break you apart. Your body pulses with pleasure, waves of it crashing over you as you surrender completely to the burning intensity of his embrace.

But it’s not enough. Every time you teeter on the edge, ready to fall into bliss, he pulls away—pleasure always just out of reach, elusive and maddening. Your frustration swells with each denied release, your body trembling, craving more, desperate for that final push over the brink.

“I love you,” he rumbles, his voice thick as he pulls his mouth away, leaving a soft kiss on your trembling thigh.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling as your fingers clutch at the pillow, knuckles white from the desperate grip you've held on to for what feels like an eternity. Your hands abandon their hold, sliding into his ebony locks, tugging gently, urging him to end the sweet torment. A guttural growl escapes him, vibrating against your skin, primal and raw. His breath is hot as he lingers, teasing the line between pleasure and torment, the tension building until it feels unbearable. Every nerve in your body is ablaze with anticipation, your senses overwhelmed by his nearness. His eyes flick up at you, dark and smoldering like hot coals, locking with yours in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Do. That. Again,” he commands, his voice dripping with desire, his gaze burning into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

Tentatively, you tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your core. His breath hitches for a moment, but then he purrs, "Harder." Obeying, you yank harder at his locks, and with that, his tongue dives deeper, exploring the depths of your core with renewed intensity. Each pull on his hair draws a gruff grunt from his throat, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. His hips grind desperately against the bed, his rhythm in perfect sync with your every shudder, as if the pleasure he's giving you feeds his own insatiable hunger.

With one final plunge of his tongue, your body shatters, pleasure spiraling through you like a tidal wave. Whimpers and screams tear from your lips, filling the air of your shared bedroom as you are sent careening over the edge, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy. You're drowning in his touch, consumed completely by the bliss that crashes through you.

This orgasm is different. It is hurried, frenzied—not the soft release that Dionysus pulls from you. Finally, your soul seems to return to your body, breathless and trembling as you come back to yourself. Your eyes fall to him—your god. His gaze is ravenous and wild, staring up at you with a hunger that hasn’t been sated. Your fingers remain tangled in his thick locks, and his mouth glistens with the evidence of your release. His body is taut, muscles rippling with need, and beneath him, his length stands proud, bobbing slightly, glistening in the dim light of the room, his own release shimmering on his skin, dripping onto the silken sheet. The air between you crackles with electricity, thick and charged.

He moves fast. In an instant, your still-spasming core shrieks in both protest and pleasure as his thick girth fills you completely. The sudden intrusion overwhelms your senses, your eyes rolling back in your head as the tip of him nudges against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep within you. The shockwave through your body is so powerful that pleasure and pain meld together into an intoxicating blend that sets every inch of you on fire. “Do that again,” he growls, his voice low and rough with desire, as he drives into you with a force that makes the room spin. Each thrust is powerful, an unmistakable demand that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. “Pull my hair… fuck, baby girl, you feel amazing,” he purrs, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he positions himself between your thighs, the heat radiating between you both nearly unbearable.

“Please,” his voice breaks with raw need, desperation lacing his words. You feel a primal instinct ignite within you as your fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard enough to elicit a deep, reverberating moan from him. It’s a sound that vibrates through your entire body, blending with the rhythm of his movements, a powerful melody of passion and urgency.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Gone is the soft, devoted lover who whispered sweet nothings in your ear; in his place stands a frantic god of lust, a creature lost in the throes of desire. His body moves with a hunger that drives him deeper inside you, each thrust igniting flames of ecstasy that threaten to consume you both. “Harder,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, but it cuts through the thick air of the room. He responds immediately, snapping his hips forward with renewed vigor, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your core, tightening your fingers in his hair.

His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in as he holds you in place, the intensity in his gaze turning molten as he watches you unravel beneath him. There’s a wildness in his eyes, a raw need that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re incredible,” he mutters as he burrows into your shoulder, mumbling affection into your skin, his voice thick with lust, each word dripping with devotion as he loses himself in you completely.

With each pull of his hair, a surge of power rushes through you, a tantalizing blend of dominance and submission that ignites the fire building within. You find yourself completely at his mercy, yet simultaneously commanding his every movement. He’s driven by your whims; every twist of your fingers, every scrape of your nails against his scalp propels him forward, urging him deeper into you.

The pleasure within you mounts, a wave rising higher and higher, threatening to crest and crash over you both. It’s a delicious build-up, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. He leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, tongues dancing wildly together, the taste of raw desire mingling with desperate gasps for breath. “Don’t stop,” you urge, your voice a seductive blend of command and plea, dripping with urgency. His response is a low growl, primal and deep, a promise to fulfill your every desire and lose himself completely in you.

As he thrusts harder, you cling to him, your body arching in perfect harmony with his rhythm, wanting more, needing more. Every gasp, every moan becomes a part of the air around you, thick with longing. You cling to him, your body arching, wanting more, needing more, as the world fades away, leaving just the two of you.

[abilouwrites]

GODDESS

Pro hero! K. Bakugo

I ❤️ laufey

It happens each time, but I fall for it each time. That he truly loves me, love through the soft glances, lingering touches and sleepless nights intertwined. His hands brushing through my hair as my chest presses against his. His stubble scratches against the bareness of my neck. A soft groan emits itself from him, “do you have to leave so soon?” I ask, I hear him huff as we split apart.

“Yeah. It’s the job” I hear him groan as he stands. He’s covered in scars. Some small some large, but there’s one; a large jagged edge that goes from the base of his ribs to his pelvis. It spreads and shrinks as he moves. Walking himself to my bathroom as I slowly check my phone before I get up and walk to my fridge. I find a shirt, lazily thrown on the ground. It’s mine, the pink silk button up. I button it up and open my fridge.

I leave for work before I see him again.

It happens more often than I like, that post concert haze. Silky dress and hair curled to perfection, it’s true that I look like something out of this world. That I look like a goddess in that light, I’m not surprised he took me home, nor am I that he left. When he saw the frizzy hair and tired eyes.

I go to the studio as I always do, guilty as always. Guilty of everything, of how my friends hair was ruined by the wind, but most of all I feel guilty of him. How I treated him, how that night was supposed to end. How maybe I did deceive him, how I’m not the beautiful creature he thinks I am. Surrounded by lights and violins, chellos and wind instruments. When the sun rises I am human again, with puffy cheeks and crazy hair.

I went from Goddess to Human in a night. I’ve risen, jumping to the light. Grasping at the sun, and somehow. In my naivety I grasped onto him. I let him in only for him to bring me down again. My anger fueled by his own, I let him shoot me down. Like a shooting star, somehow; I found myself letting him drain the life out of me.

I found myself waiting for his text, as I sit on the couch; every notification could be been his. Slowly sucking the soul out of me, out of my passion and my work. Waiting every minute for him, just a simple night out and I’m perfecting my makeup to be his goddess, to be the perfect one for him. The one the media doesn’t criticize; the one who’s past relationships get leaked over the media.

But now his number is blocked, and I finally let him go. I’m a goddess on stage but I’m not his. And in the confines of my home, the plant littered, messy apartment I’ve called my own, I’m no goddess. I may be one on stage. But alone.. alone. Im no goddess.

[jakeforsakeher]

The Weight

Inspired by the song “The Weight” by Amber Run

Jake x Reader // Word Count: ~3k

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ readers only.  Soft, sweet morning sex with Jake.  Unprotected sex (please be safe when engaging in all sexual activities), mild discomfort due to penetrative sex.

A light wash of gray moonlight splashed in through the parted curtains and cast a hue of white silver on the soft curves of her body.  The state of rest and vulnerability about her was for no one to see other than God himself - an angel fallen from heaven nestled tenderly in the arms of a man forgone of any divine status.  She stirred only a little when Jake cracked his eyes open, breaking the seal of sleep about him.

The soft patter of rain falling from the trusses onto the window panes would be enough to lull him back into his slumber if he were alone, but the tender presence of her kept him awake.  He moved only to allow the blood to flow back into his right arm, his left wrapped safely around her waist; hand pressed to the soft bare skin of her stomach.  A quiet sigh passed her parted lips and she wriggled herself deeper into the crook of his hold.  He felt the warmth from her body radiate into the palm of his hand and - for a fleeting moment - he was convinced he was holding the sun. 

A lifetime of bliss flashed through Jake’s mind.  If he could choose to be willfully enraptured by the woman in his arms for all eternity he would give up every one of life’s most tempting pleasures. 

And I wake up early

To watch you as you wake

He wanted to stop the universe in its motion forward in time and suspend it in thin air in their shared bedroom.  He wanted to commit the image of her in this way to memory for the rest of his Earth side existence.  The way the dust particles danced carefully around the glowing edges of her slightest points.  The way her hair laid gently at her shoulders.  The way the pulse of her heart beat in perfect rhythm with his own, his chest flush against her back.

It all felt primal - the urge to protect her and cherish her, hazing his mind with a mist of instinctual desire and lust.  He mindlessly traced his fingers up her abdomen, outlining her ribs, the swell of her breast, the soft expanse of her sternum, the junction between her neck and her collarbone.  She was as delicate as silk - as addicting as heroin.

Jake dipped his head down, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, even breath fanning hot over her.  She responded languidly to him, rolling gently along the waves of sleep.  He knew she would awake very soon, her eyelids fluttering and her eyebrows knit together creasing her otherwise perfect complexion.

“My love.”

The words were spoken as a coaxing command - a guiding light to bring her to consciousness.

And open your eyes

To the sound of the rain

“Jake?”

The musical timbre of her voice sent a flurry of goosebumps across his sun baked skin, the little hairs standing up on end.  She rolled over carefully, reaching up to wipe the fog away with the back of her hand.

“Good morning, angel,” he rasped, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.  Although it was hardly morning, the clock on the nightstand read a quarter after five.  But there was nowhere to be besides there and, even if there was a pressing commitment, Jake selfishly craved the hour before dawn to be with her.

She hummed in contentment, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  Jake noticed the faintest pink blush dance across her cheeks - watercolor in hue and strawberry sweet.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

Her heart burst into a million little butterflies that flushed through her veins at his praise.

A swelled rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance.  Instinctually, she moved her head into the curtained space between his hair and his neck, her arms grasping timidly at the broadness of his shoulders.  She wasn’t scared of anything when she was with Jake.  Everything about him felt like home, no matter what corner of the world they found themselves in.  

He smelled like home - charcoaled wood from the fireplace, honey amber body wash she bought him years ago that he never stopped repurchasing, mist that settled around the pine trees next to the house.  He sounded like home - a Jerry Lee Lewis record playing in the study, bare feet shuffling across the floor, his twangy old acoustic guitar his Dad gave him when he was five.  He felt like home - his grandmother’s old quilt that was slightly scratchy against the skin, but warm and safe wrapped around her, the wooden porch swing rocking with her smoothly that he built just for her the summer they moved in so she could read in the sunlight, his worn denim jacket that he swore he would never get rid of no matter how many holes were in it.

Jake pulled away just enough to resume kissing along her forehead, then on the highest point of her cheek before detouring to pop a surprise peck on the tip of her nose which elicited a giggle a little too shrill for the calmness of the atmosphere.  He didn’t truly care though.  Her laugh was his favorite sound in the world above any music that was ever borne from himself.

“Shh, let me love on you now.”

He hushed her with no real conviction though she quieted herself regardless. 

‘Cause I don’t want money

And I don’t want God

I just wanna live under

The weight of your love

“You always love on me, Jake,” she quipped, her voice nearly a whisper, as she allowed him to overtake her, falling back into the warm pillows.

Jake hummed in agreement and continued his swaddled descent along her body, the sheets moving fluidly against their skin.  He felt high off of the way she reacted to him.

“You are my muse,” he rasped against the delicate ridge of her hip bone.  “You are like heaven on Earth but it feels sinful to have you all to myself, right here.”

A moan escaped her at his praise and worship.  She could feel him everywhere - his large hands holding her to the Earth, his scruff scratching red against her, his arousal pressing firm against her thigh.  Jake nipped playfully at her right breast, teeth pressing into the soft expanse of her skin.  She sighed in pleasured content, allowing him to take what he needed and give what she deserved.

“Gonna go slow, baby.  Wanna feel you everywhere.”  He spoke it like a sacred promise against the hollow of her throat.  Buzzing with electricity, her mind and body matched the frequency of his as he moved between her parting legs.

She whined his name, high on the velvet feel of his hands preparing her for entry.  Jake pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and furrowed his brow as he gently worked her apart, fingers running deftly through her folds.  Out of the hundreds of times he learned her body, there were always small facets of knowledge to be gained.  The way her thigh twitched against his hip, the fluidity of her arousal coating his palm, the sweet chiming innocence in her whimpers under his guidance.

Jake led her on a journey with no true destination in sight.  It was meant to be felt, not finished.  It was meant to be savored, not devoured.

She simply lay beneath him, the weight of his love spreading quickly through her.  She was not concerned with pleasantries or showboating but simply rolled with the tide of pleasure he pulled her along.  Her hands fluttered loosely around her ribcage, fingertips tracing swirls much like the swirls Jake drew across her aching clit.  Through hooded eyes, she gazed down at him only to find his searing gaze burning back into her.  He felt her contract around nothing.

“Hold me while I cum,” she whispered to him.  Jake knew exactly what she meant.  It wasn’t out of a demanding sort of neediness, it was strictly borne from the innate, natural need to feel grounded and secure under his control.  She trusted him to lead her even when she wasn’t fully about herself.

Jake splayed out an up facing palm against the flesh protecting her womb for her to slot her desperate hand into.  His heart thrummed wildly in his chest as she writhed against the sheets, her body tumbling quickly over its peak.  He mimicked the circular shape of her lips as she came, her eyes rolling back in her head at the sight of him unraveling her.  A groan shamelessly climbed its way out of his throat as he witnessed her chest heave, labored breaths causing her breasts to bounce, her nipples hardening pointedly.  Jake leaned over her body to attach his mouth to her left, suckling the puckered pearl until his dick pounded in painful arousal.

And I’d rather go blind

And let my body go numb

Then to lose you

Or the weight of your love

“Y/N…”  Jake beckoned gently.  As she fought away the haze in her mind, he carefully removed his fingers from her sensitive center, allowing her time to rest.  He nuzzled his cheek into the crook of her shoulder, pressing hungry kisses anywhere his mouth touched.  She breathed a small sigh at the weight of him pressing against her front.  The contact alone began to rapidly reignite the fire in her belly.

“Jacob, I need you.”

Jake halted his assault on her collarbone, propping himself on his forearms to study her features.  At first, he was confused.  She had him, what more was there to desire?  What more was there to need from him?  What left did he possess that he could give her, fully, unabashedly?

“You have me, all of me.  I’m here.”

In the depths of his mind he knew.  It was what he sought most, yet would only give to her upon full certainty that she was willing to receive.  They were only made complete when wholly a part of each other.

She struggled with the inkling of doubt in her mind that she had asked for too much.  That she was taking without abandon.  A shame laden whine fell from her timidly as she willed with her eyes the intensity of her need.  Jake had her right where he wanted her.

“Shh, I need it too,”  he cooed reassuringly.  “I crave you deeply,”  he soothed her frantic thoughts.  “I- fuck…”

Jake was beginning to falter.  The build up blinding.  The pressure boiling to the surface threatening to burst at any moment.

He drew in a hissing breath as he made contact with her slick core.  The heaviness of him there reminded her of what was to follow.  Rolling her hips, she readied herself for him, grasping onto his broad shoulders for some semblance of tangible purchase.

Jake kept to his promise that it would be slow.  He pressed in tortuously languid, the size of him stretching her in the most familiar way.  As tears formed at the corners of her eyes upon burying himself to the hilt, he stilled, allowing the ecstatic pleasure its cue to take over.  Her lungs burned from the air she breathed, her muscles tightly wound and cocked to spring.

“Easy baby love, relax now,”  Jake encouraged her to vanquish her tension but a small part of him longed to follow his own advice.  Seeing her underneath him in such a way fed hungrily into the innate need to act on animalistic instinct. But he refrained for the time being as her moans bordered cries of pain.  “Are you hurting?”

She fought away the urge to be dishonest.  “A little, just be still, please Jake?”  Her voice pitched up two octaves cut into his ears like blades.  The last thing he wanted was their intimacy to garner pain.  The notion of it being caused by his own doing was unimaginable.  Jake cradled her head in his hand, pulling it gently aside to shower her cheekbone with feather light kisses.  He wanted her to know there was no hurry.  There was no rush to an end.  This was the feeling.

Eventually the sharp sting subsided into a dull radiating ache.  “Jacob…” she moaned, his full name beseeching her trembling lips once again.  Jake felt her pulling him in even deeper, his body shuddering forward.

“Y/N, I won’t hold on long in this way,”  he scrunched his eyes closed, sweat beading down the bridge of his nose.  She moved her hands to his abdomen feeling him flex out of restraint.  The silver chains around his neck dangled hypnotically in front of her, glistening in the moonlight.

“It’s okay, Jake,”  she encouraged him to begin his rhythmic pace, one that was sinfully delicious to taste.  “Take me there.”

Every movement, every sound, every push and pull, ebb and flow wrote the script of their own unique kind of love.  Nothing truly did exist outside of that bedroom.  The thunder and rain, the darkness before dawn, the moon hanging in her rightful place amongst the stars.  None of it was real.  To lose that feeling would be worse than death itself.  To chase it was a privilege that only life could offer.

The scent of his skin reeked of leftover cologne and sex.  A scent she committed to memory as his hair billowed around her face, encompassing her fully in him.  She was lost on the high of his drug, dazed and drunken off the way he fucked.

She felt the throb before his heeded warning.

“Gonna cum.”

He punctuated his declaration with a particularly rough motion, lips searing against hers in a gnashing kiss, his hand wrapped tightly around the base of her throat.  She didn’t expect to reach a second peak, thus, it crashed into her like a runaway train.  Jake rode out his own high through the vibration of hers all but stopping to feel the intensity at which she held him there.  The warmth of his release spilled out, running down her thigh, and onto the linens below.  She arched her back, the feeling of his hips sticky sweet to hers overwhelmingly apparent. 

“God damn…”  Jake cursed, letting himself fall tiredly onto her.  She welcomed him happily, tracing her fingers along the expanse of his back as he gradually softened inside.  Upon catching his breath, Jake moved to unsheathe himself though she hooked her leg around his back quickly to keep him in place.  Both of them groaned in unison at the oversensitivity but he complied, lying his cheek to her chest.

Flick hair from your shoulder

And sleep marks your face

Retreat to the covers

From the sound of the rain

Lightning illuminated the room, silhouetting their shadows onto the wall adjacent the bed.  She swept strands of his hair away from his neck to allow his body to cool, his cheeks flushed, his chest a cherry red.  In that moment she felt incredibly vulnerable.  Strung open and raw watching the man she cherished deeply hold her like his lifeline.  She was the buoy out in a raging sea that he clung desperately to, so as not to float away into uncertain oblivion.

He stirred, shifting to hover above her once more, a dopey grin stretched across his face.  Jake hummed in contentment at the love she held for him etched carefully into her features.  She hadn’t noticed the fresh tear that streaked its way down her cheek until he swiped it away with the calloused pad of his thumb.  Her breath caught sharply in her throat as she allowed herself to giggle.

“I am so lucky to have you, Jake,”  she confessed, crossing her arms over her bare chest in an attempt at modesty.  For what reason, she was befallen.  In light of the events proceeding, she felt the energy shift.  Jake was looking at her with all his attention, not driven by a state of lust.  Though, he frowned and gently coaxed her arms down to her sides.

“And I am the luckiest man in the world that I get to share this life with you, angel.”

As they parted, she whined at the loss of fullness between her.  Jake ventured off to retrieve a cloth and upon his return she watched the way his body effortlessly moved.  The way his arms fell comfortably at his sides, biceps containing a gentle strength that was markedly his, the way his hair laid perfectly atop his shoulders, the way the chains around his neck contrasted beautifully with his tanned chest.  He cleaned her carefully, touching her as if she were now made of porcelain glass.  It was a quietly intimate gesture to care for her in this way.  He took in the beauty of her body for what it was.  Not what it had been and not what it could be.  She was a woman of the Earth.  A divine being perfectly crafted for the world of her, not about her.

Tossing the discard aside, Jake pulled them under the covers, his arm wrapped securely back around her hips and his palm placed right under her navel against her stomach.  The warmth and glow about her still radiated into his hand burning a little hotter than it had previously.  His lips turned up into a smile as her body molded to his.

The storm outside continued to rage as he held her close.  She fell asleep long before him, her face shifting into a deep state of rest at the feeling of his chest rising and falling between her shoulder blades.  Though the sun wouldn’t likely show for the entirety of the day that lied ahead, Jake knew he could find it honey yellow and radiating from her.  He had everything he ever could desire, for there was no other place he’d rather be, than entangled safely in the intricacy of her love.

Flick hair from your shoulder

And sleep marks your face

Retreat to the covers

From the sound of the rain...

[theredofoctober]

Ouroboros— Dead Ringers Fic, PART ONE

Cross posted from AO3

Pairing: Beverly/Elliot, FF, twincest

Synopsis: Genevieve goes away to pursue a failing picture; in her absence, Elliot appears on Beverly's doorstep, and they become more intimate than they have ever been

TW/CW: incest, toxic relationships, cheating

Rear after the cut ✂️

Chapter One: Beverly

"Baby sister. Baby sister."

Elliot was at the front door, scratching like an awful, beautiful, persistent little dog, begging to come in. She knew Genevieve was away for work, though I didn't tell her; she might have read about the new film, somewhere, or merely sensed it, the way Elliot sometimes knows things I know without me ever needing to speak a word aloud, just as I know things she never says aloud, although she almost always does, with a vicious, savage, flesh-eating, all-consuming love.

We destroy each other, in proximity; we are like cursed Gods when we are apart, wretched, and hollow, and searing all we love down to ash and blackened bone for want of one another, for need of nothing else.

I am soft and yielding and brow-beaten in all things but my sister. I am soft, and I always yield to her. We eat each other like the snake that devours its own tail.

Like all perfect things, there is no end to us but to die.

"I can't let you in, Elliot," I said, although I had my face pressed to the wood of the door in craving for her touch on my cheek, and her smell in my lungs, and the silk of her dark, beautiful hair against me. "You have to understand. It's what's best for us."

"It's what's best for the actress!" snarled Elliot, from the other side of the door, and although the fury in her voice shook me I knew to my soul that she was right. "We need each other, Beverly. You might be put together, and subdued, and have all the proper fucking words, and know all the proper fucking faces to make, but as far as the world's concerned you're not good enough, and you're crumbling to pieces on the inside. I know you are. You're miserable, and I'm the only one that will ever make it better."

She was spiteful, and childish, and every word she spoke was undeniable.

"You're ill, Elliot," I mumbled, weakly. "We make each other worse. So very much worse."

From scratching my sister went immediately to knocking, so loud I began at once to fret what the neighbours would think.

"That's a lie!" Elliot called to me. "We're our best selves when we're together! Wild, and mad, and bright, and perfect. Everything we touch, and weep, and fucking shit turns to gold, and you know it. So let me in. I love you. Love you. Love you."

By then I was crying; I couldn't help it. I wanted to climb in bed with her between warm sheets and hold her so close that our bodies melted into one. But still I didn't let her in, knowing that if I did I'd fold beneath her like a sinner kneeling before God, and she's the one that sits in church as though she believes in it.

Does she believe it in? Wholeheartedly, sometimes, I think; at others, it's all a charade, a game, a balm for her guilt. Besides, it's difficult to truly believe in a deity when the only ones you trust are real are your sister, and yourself.

Yet I am no saint, lying to a room full of the bereaved when I am so sure that it is only myself that's really dying.

"You can't come in," I whispered, but my fingers were working at the catch on the door, poised for an excuse to be weak, to break, to drink full and descend, as I've always done, as I promised I never would again.

"You can't come in," I whispered.

Elliot shoved at the door, sensing, sharply, that I'd dispensed with the locks, that I no longer wanted to hold her at bay, that I could not bear another moment with this partition between us.

"I'm coming in," she said, "because you want me to come in."

She stood in the doorframe, a nightmare battled down into beauty.

Is it vain to think that my twin is beautiful, given that she has my face?

I remember the ignition of pleasure between my legs as Elliot clung to me, desperate, and pathetic, and beloved, her mouth hot and sudden on my neck as Genevieve sat awkward and hateful as a stone in the car, waiting for me.

The craving I had for Elliot then—her sweet, sweating, moaning, writhing body on mine, violent, and tender, and ferocious—was so strong that I could have inhaled my sister as she would some vile powder.

I could have eaten her as a starved man might a preacher's daughter, hungry to corrupt, as I was corrupted by the very thought of Elliot, the dream of her as Aphrodite before me.

We'd joked about fucking. Mocked strangers with it as though, within our sibling love, there had never been an opiate curiosity to taste skin and tongue and cunt of the other with the knowing, from fingertips in panting dark, that it was how we, ourselves, tasted.

Our love is a tangled, strangling, black-thorned forest of a thing in which we are all to each other.

We are one, one, one being, and any separate from us is an interloper, trespassing upon that which is only ours.

I had denied it so many times that I force myself to believe that I can ever love anyone as dearly as my sister, but I know—

I knew as I looked at her, this crazed genius, as jagged-edged and deliciously insane as Lucifer in the cunning skin of a woman, I knew that I could never love anyone as I did Elliot.

To love her was to love myself, and apart we simply did not truly exist.

"Baby sister," said Elliot, and stepped into the house—

Oh, Genevieve...

—and the door closed, a jarring bang caused by the poltergeist that was my sister, wonderful, and wicked, and mine.

"Elliot," I breathed, and my arms were around her, and hers were upon my face, soft, so soft, her lips on my brow, the corner of my eye, my mouth, and like so many petals I disintegrated into the hell and the heavenly ecstasy that was my twin.

[pinkvanillalace]

Mermaid Things...(pt. 1?)

So, I was sketching as one does and like I normally do I was sketching mermaids. So, I began thinking about cute little things mermaids would have or do. I am a firm lover of fantasy mermaids, so this is not realistic at ALL.

🧜🏻‍♀️Coral Hairclips! Like,, the claws some ppl put in their hair but coral. I feel like that would be such a cute little mermaid invention. Imagine a mermaid trying to,, idk,, heal a little baby seal and their hair getting in the way. The coral claw clip!!!! I also thought about a clam clip but the coral one feels cuter. ALSO!!! CORAL CURLERS.

🧜🏽‍♀️Clam Press. The underwater silk presses. Like that is such a cute idea right? Ever since I was little, I loved Barbie and I believe there's one where she pretends to work at a hair salon for some reason. So, I constantly am thinking of hair inventions it seems. ANYWAYS,, yes you take the clam, close it on the hair strand, and pull. In fictional perfect mermaid world, straight hair!

🧜🏼‍♀️Octopus/Squid hair dye? Imagine, a mermaid wants their hair dyed. I feel like there are probably a lot of ideas someone could come up with for how fictional fish ppl would change their hair, but my wrinkle-less brain isn't cut out for it. What it is cut out for is this. Take some ink from whatever Cephalopods and mix it with something of the desired color. For example, ink and purple coral. Grind up the coral and mix it with the ink. Hair Dye!

(A little off topic, I have this octopus character that works at a Spa and Salon and he is overworked, underpaid, has many children and is a single father. But he loves his job and he uses his own ink to make the dye. He is orange.)

🧜🏾‍♀️Seaweed Wrap. This one is so, so overused but I love it! A merperson wrapped in seaweed. The results? Shinier tail, softer skin, glowy skin, maybe more???

I will probably make more because trust me, I have more! But yeah let me know if anyone else has some better ideas or opinions. Love ya!❣️

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (37)

Series Master list

Satoru stifles a yawn as he scrolls through his phone. None of the houses so far fit what he is envisioning. He doesn't want much, just something with at least three bedrooms, a backyard, maybe a balcony, and a decent-sized kitchen wouldn't hurt. They could move to the Gojo estate, but eh- then they would have to deal with all the servants and noisy relatives, which would be a buzz kill. No privacy would just make him cranky.

"You coming?" Kagome asks. The silk robe clings to each dip of her curves, and for a moment he's tempted to ask for a round two. He really loves the color green on her, but she's staring at him with concern. Is it because he elected to kick off the rest of his clothes and chill on the couch naked? Oh yeah, she asked a question and he should probably answer.

"Only if you do," he replies, his lips tilting upward as he scrolls to the perfect house. At 180,000,000 Yen, the house is practically a steal. He'll have to make sure that the agent leaves out how much it costs until after they sign the paperwork. She would probably say that it is too much, even though money isn't an issue for him.

"Perv," she huffs out, turning on her heel.

"Be there in a sec!" He types in his information. Schedules a visit for tomorrow morning. A part of him is annoyed—well, pissed that the school was attacked. But a small part of him is also okay with having a couple of days off while the students recover. He and Gome-chan can look at a couple of houses and do some digging around about the Shikon jewel. He sets the phone down on the coffee table and heads to the master bath. "What's with all the bubbles?" He gives Kagome a lopsided smile, taking in how she's covered in bubbles with her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

"No reason."

"You dropped the container," he teases. A jolt of desire passes through him at her appraisal. He tells himself that he's stretching because his muscles need it, not because he's showing off. Even though it's so cute how flustered she gets.

"Noo." She sinks down lower as though some bubbles can hide her from him. He steps into the shower. The jets of water hit the stress in his shoulders, easing some of the tension away. For a moment, there's only the sound of running water hitting the shower floor and his own soft breathing. He doesn't towel himself off. Instead, he joins her in the bath, stepping in behind her. It's a snug fit with both of them, but it makes no difference. They could be in an onsen and he'd still drape himself over her.

"Glad you're feeling better." He wraps his arms around her waist, spreads his legs out, and pulls her in closer.

"I think the Shikon was trying to warn me."

"About that," he says, resting his chin on her head—messing up her bun even more. "You talk about it like it–"

"Has feelings? Yeah, even though it merged with me, the Shikon still feels as though it has its own mind." She places a soapy hand on his. "I feel it beat more when I'm around you. That curse with the patchwork face could touch the Jewel. I'm guessing because his thing is manipulating souls."

"He didn't go after you today. Possible that Naraku is pulling the strings." There are too many variables floating around that just do not sit right with him. Despite everyone's agreement to keep what happened today under wraps, Satoru would not put it past Gakuganji to spin some tale to the higher-ups about Kagome. It's actually surprising that he has yet to receive any summons back to the estate. He figured Naoya would have blabbed about him having a fiancé by now.

"Maybe. We don't know how long Naraku has been in this world. I thought he had found peace when we destroyed the Shikon in my world." She shifts, the water sloshes between them. A few stray bubbles cling to her. "Yakeru may give us some more answers without Yuji around."

"Smart. Anything revealed around Yuji, Sukuna will know about too." He presses a kiss behind her ear, breathing in the floral smell of the bubbles and freshness of her. "I made an appointment for tomorrow morning."

"Sounds ominous." She chuckles. Her fingers trace the infinity symbol into his hands. "Doctor's appointment?"

"It's for a house. Hoping that the house we see tomorrow is the one." He'd look at a dozen if he has to.

"What's wrong with the apartment?"

"Nothing. Figured we would want more room and a backyard for whenever Megumi and Buyo Jr come to visit." He strokes her stomach. It never ceases to amaze him how one so soft can house so much power. "And a bigger kitchen, and living room, and bedroom," he trails off.

"He does like Megumi. I know what your scheme is. You can't pull one over on me."

Satoru gasps. Him, pull a trick? "I do not scheme. I have only the purest of intentions."

"Now, I'm scared." Kagome shudders, shaking her head.

Perhaps he was too gentle with her earlier.

"Rude." He unwraps his arms from around her waist, trails his hands up and down her sides. He moves faster than necessary- any hesitation in his touch would give her an opening, and tickles her underneath her arms. She squeals as she tries to move away from him. Some of the water gets onto the floor. There're bubbles sticking to him now. He's drunk on her laughter and the weightlessness of being in the moment.

"I yield, I yield!" He pulls her closer to him, secures her arms because he knows her too.

"You can make it up to me," he says.

"Uh, you attacked me."

"Self-defense." He tilts his head down and tilts hers to the side. "One kiss."

"You don't even deserve one," she whispers but meets him for one, anyway. He never thought himself to be a romantic or anything sappy like that, but her lips are as soft as rose petals. Sometimes he has to stop himself and make sure he isn't flying from each breathless sigh that escapes from her lips. "Why do you really want to get a house?"

"I think it's pretty obvious that I want to build a life with you." He rubs his thumb along her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. "The apartment is fine, but it's something that I got way before you. I want something that's us. I even looked into buying a shrine, but the upkeep—" Kagome turns around and places a finger to his lips. Her legs go on either side of him until she's sitting on his lap. She moves her finger and cups his face, taking his breath away.

"You're the sweetest."

"Must be from all the chocolate I eat," he quips. "Kagome?"

"Satoru."

"You don't have to say it back," he says, his heart rate speeds up. His ears burn, which if she brings it up, he'll blame it on the steam rising from the bath. He laughs as he looks everywhere but at her. No fear, he reminds himself—the life of a sorcerer is too short to be ruled by such an emotion. And with everything going on, he does not want to live a life full of regrets. He meets her attentive gaze and lets out a shaky breath. "I love you. It's okay if you don't…" He blinks as she takes his hand and kisses each knuckle.

"You're silly," she replies, "to think for one moment that I don't love you too."

"Should I be worried?"

"Worried?"

"Yeah." Her skin glows a soft pink that's only visible to his six eyes. "That the Shikon loves me too."

"Guess that means you're stuck with me."

"Earlier, you said that you got rid of the one in your world. Why?"

"Well," she says, leaning back. "The demon inside the jewel wanted to be free. Long story short, a priestess named Midoriko and the souls of many demons created the jewel. It could grant power to anyone, but the only ones that could keep it pure were Kikyo and me. It was an unholy jewel. It tainted everyone else that tried to use it."

"This is just a theory, but I don't think this one is evil." He runs his hands down her spine. "We know that the only one that can control it is you. Naraku never made a move against me. He tried to sow seeds of doubt instead."

"He tried to turn me away from you as well," she murmurs. "I doubt he knows that the jewel wants you too."

"No, but if he can get in your head, he controls the Shikon." A flash of worry crosses her face. He places a kiss on each winkle. "Don't worry Gome-chan."

"Why? Because you're the strongest."

"Because you're mine."

[exnusquam]

Oh the dragon was beyond nervous, never doing anything like this before, much less on a shorter notice than he would like to admit. (Gods above was he glad he always made a habit to stash away a portion of his earnings to save for occasions such as this. Or how he managed to successfully repair and rig a Golurk to fly him wherever he needed to be within the region whenever he pleased. Or how he had connections to a very special vendor to even obtain the present he had set his eyes on for a while now.)

He bit his lower lip when he asked them to turn around and not look until he gave the go-ahead, wondering for a split second if he should've wrapped this after all, but instead he sighed and steeled his resolve. Yet another rare instance of Kyurem wanting to cut straight to the chase; he did not waste time with small talk when he had gifted Hestia their name either, after all.

With all the care in the world he ran his fingers through their hair as he began to untie their braid, gently undoing its silken strands until the cascade of midnight flowed freely from their shoulders. His hands continued over their arms as he made his way around to face them, trailing all the way down until he cupped their hands in his. Tenderly he placed a beautifully ornate hairpin into their palm and wrapped a matching silk ribbon around it, then softly squeezed to have them open their eyes.

The hairpin was an elegant depiction of Volcarona, its six resplendent wings fanning out and glistering in the light like the sun's rays. The ribbon, too, was in fact spun from the silk of a Larvesta, shimmering a brilliant orange-gold with all the warmth of a kindled flame.

"Happy White Day, my beloved lady Hestia. I am... not so great with holidays such as this, I must admit, but you deserve something special for all the warmth and love you've given me." His gentle smile came so easily, face flushed as it was. "Volcarona has been a sacred symbol of my home region since ancient times, embodying the sun and the light it provides. A perfect depiction of you and your namesake, Hestia, for you are the radiant sun to my frozen world, the comforting hearth to my secluded home."

Another squeeze, then Kyurem slowly brought their hand up and pressed their knuckles into his forehead, repaying the very same honoring gesture of his people that Hestia had previously provided him. A blessing, from one devoted god to another. "I love you, Hestia, more than words nor actions could ever convey, and thank you... for choosing to be by my side."

When the dragon had approached them over a gift he had gotten for them, Hestia had been caught offguard. Far too sheepish his mere presence made them feel, the fluttering emotion only helped all the more when he asked them to turn around and not look. What was he going to do? Of course they trusted him, but it still felt strange to... let someone so close, so personal. Letting Kyurem run the tips of his fingers so tenderly through the sea of midnight hair as he untied their intricate braid sent gentle shivers down their spine and spread faint goosebumps across their skin. Hestia couldn't help but lean into the dragon's touch, exhaling softly as their braid became more undone.

Their beloved trailed his hands along their arms as the Original One's hair flowed freely across their shoulders and back, framing their nearly flawless form like an obsidian shell. Golden eyes felt troubled to keep shut and remain patient, and with surprise and deep devotion they longed for his closeness as Kyurem cupped their hands and placed something inside. It felt like an item of metal, with a silken cloth attached - and when he spoke, Hestia finally opened their eyes and peered deeply into the dragon's, as though falling for the desire to drown in Kyurem's own golden irises. Finally they managed to tear away from his gaze, and look at the gift he'd bestowed upon them. A beautiful hairpin of a volcarona, masterfully crafted, and attached to a ribbon of larvesta silk. Hestia could feel their breath get stuck within their throat. They'd not, ever, expected such a wonderful and thoughtful gift.

When he pressed their knuckles against his forehead in the ancient gesture and finished his explanation, they could feel their face heat up with the sheer flusteredness he caused, albeit they'd not interrupt him. Hestia pulled their hands and his close to themself, before repeating the gesture of their own, following it up by kissing each of Kyurem's calloused knuckles tenderly, each kiss another promise of love and affection that needn't be spoken. They couldn't help but notice the slightest hint of tears welling up in the corners of their eyes, as their body knew not how else to cope with this overwhelming new feeling of love they felt for this dragon.

"I don't know how I deserve such a wonderful and thoughtful partner as you, my lovely Kyurem. You inspire such ... foreign, yet wonderful emotions inside of me that I had yet to uncover. Every interaction with you is like another beautiful adventure that I cannot wait to embark on." Their words were tinged with a shaky breath, unsteady from the overwhelming nature of their feelings, but what Hestia said was also spoken with a love and warmth so deep and primordial, it might as well have been the sun itself that proclaimed it's feelings for him.

The Original One withdrew their hands from Kyurem's, but only to reach backwards and gather their long rivers of hair together into a single bundle, before arranging it into a somewhat messy bun that would also have the rest that didn't fit continue to flow freely down their back, tying it all into place with the silken ribbon the dragon had gifted them. A soft exhale escaped their lips as they closed their eyes and eventually set the volcarona hairpin into the base of the messy bun. It's colorful adornments sparkled in the soft light that made it to the two gods, and the silken ribbon circled their tied hair almost like a halo.

When Hestia opened their eyes again and looked at Kyurem, smiling like he'd made them the happiest being in the known universe, they reached out to cup his cool hand within their palms, bringing him down a little, and eventually pressed their lips against his. A kiss, softer than any velvet or silk, warmer than any hearth or fire could ever be, and deeper than the pit within the Original One. When they broke their kiss, they remained only inches away, feeling his breath against theirs, as they whispered,

"I cannot believe you would choose me. I cannot believe I deserve such a splendiferous miracle. I cannot believe I deserve someone as beautiful and compassionate as you, my beloved dragon."

[alphastoworship]

Blake watched hungrily as the other got up and followed his instructions. It was like all of his wettest, dirtiest dreams about the other were all coming true but the reality of Caleb far exceeded any fictional version of him that Blake had been dreaming about for the last six months to get himself through the other's imposed celibacy on him. He moaned, starting to stroke himself slowly, his wet cock dripping Caleb's spit, his own precum and small droplets of sweat onto the floor as he did so, pleasuring himself as he watched Caleb's strip show- which was, without a doubt, the hottest fucking thing he'd ever had happen in his bedroom.

He growled as the other got on his bed, completely naked and he walked forward slowly, taking in every inch of the other's glorious, pale, feminine body. From that perfect, pink hole to his pretty pink pussy and then those delicate, fairy-like feet. If Blake were less of a man he would've cum then and there just from the sight of the other, decorated with his silk sheets and rose petals and gazing at him over his shoulder. Before Blake could speak again, Caleb started and he let the other boy talk as he moved his hands from his massive member to slowly starting to feel up Caleb's beautiful body.

"Only mine," he repeated softly in his low, gravelly, alpha voice, punctuating it with a soft spank to the other's pale rear- not enough to hurt, just enough to tingle, and with how light Caleb's skin was, it showed a feint pink outline of his hand print: a physical representation of his ownership over the other's body, mind and soul. He kept repeating it slowly, "Only mine ... All mine ... Mine ..." as he traced his lips down Caleb's spine, pressing kisses every few inches and continuing down lower and lower. When his mouth moved between the other's surprisingly fat cheeks, he stopped and let his tongue enjoy the taste of that perfect pink hole for a little bit before continuing further down until his lips and tongue found the folds of Caleb's pussy.

It was what he'd been lusting after for what felt like months - one of his biggest motivators to change his habits and step himself up and prove his worth to Caleb was for this right here: this pussy. He started eating the smaller boy out from behind, reaching a hand between his legs to massage his clit as he did so. Caleb tasted like honey, sweet yet musky, fruity but deep. It was the most delicious cunt he'd ever experienced- by far and without a doubt and it showed how much he loved it as he spent a good few minutes getting lost in it's taste and feel.

Finally, he couldn't wait any longer- his body wouldn't allow him to. He climbed up behind Caleb, sliding his cock between the other's legs and rubbing it up against his heat, moaning as he lifted the boy up off his arms so that he rose and up and Blake could hold him close, his chest pressed tightly against Caleb's back and he turned the lighter haired boy's face to meet his over his shoulder and kissed him tenderly, rutting his cock against the other's cunt as they kissed sweetly, one hand taking hold of one of Caleb's tits and the other fell to his waist. "Mine," he said softly, breaking the kiss into smaller kisses, "My baby girl, my faggot slave, my personal fucktoy ..." he murmured as he used the hand that had been at the other's waist to how line his cock up with Caleb's entrance, "My wife," he finished breathily, "You're gonna carry my seed. I'm gonna fuck you until you pass out and then I'm gonna keep fucking you until I do," he grinned, embracing the other in a deep, fiery kiss as he pushed his cock up inside the world's most glorious cunt.

Ever since he first laid eyes on the jock, since they’ve been dating for the last six months and ever since their relationship went from casual to serious, Caleb had dreamed of this moment. The little red head spent so many nights working up the most incredible orgasms over the man who occupied his mouth. He said so many nights reading the following books

“ The Power of Sex in Ancient Rome.”

“ The Sexual Practices of Ancient Egypt.”

“ In Bed in Ancient Greece.”

“ The Karma Sutra.”

He should have been focused on his studies. He should have been focused on excelling in his major. Ever since Caleb met Blake, his world changed. His priorities changed. He worked so hard to get to college all on his own. The boy had a difficult life and he never got a single hand out. He worked his ass off to get here, but ever since the quarterback and now heisman trophy owner came into his life unexpectedly, the red head’s life has never been the same. He didn’t care about college. All Caleb cared about was Blake.

Caleb proved that his late night reading sessions paid off. He proved that his loyalty and devotion was real. Most of all, Caleb proved that he wasn’t a prude. He proved that deep down, underneath that little cherub face and introverted personality, a sex crazed, cock worshipping slut was coming to the surface. The red head wanted to do this for so long. So many times, Caleb wanted to say fuck it and give Blake what he wanted. He couldn’t. He felt something different for the god like athlete. Something he never felt before. The freshman needed to see that the senior was willing to go the distance for him, and Blake did that and so much more. It was proof that Blake really was the man the little red head always dreamed about. So many lonely nights, Caleb dreamed about the day his prince would come and save him. He dreamed about having a man to call his husband. Deep down, Caleb knew he found that in Blake, and he wanted to thank and reward the jock by worshipping and glorifying his unbelievably god like shaft. It was throbbing and pulsating in his beautiful mouth.

Up and down. Up and down. Slowly but surely, Caleb took in an incredible amount of musky dick. The shaft was drenched in sweat, and the smell was potent, borderline pungent. Caleb didn't care. He loved it. Not only did he love it, he was going crazy for it and couldn’t get enough of it. That smell was literally setting his brain on fire, and he was loving every minute of it. All of his life, Caleb kept this side of himself locked away from the rest of the world. All his life, his father shamed him for how he was born, for being different from other boys, for being effeminiate and girly in nature. All of his life, Caleb tried to fight his urges to submit to men and quietly shame himself for his natural human needs. In Blake, Caleb found a man who cared about him for who he was, not what his father or brother wanted him to be. Dare he say it, Caleb felt that Blake even loved his submissive and feminine nature. That alone proved that Blake was the man he was looking for and the man Caleb needed, so the boy thanked him by worshipping his incredible dick. Not only dick Caleb worship it, slowly, the beautiful boy made his way to the very base of Blake’s shaft. Yes, Caleb proved to Blake that not only could he worship dick, not only did he enjoy it when it was foul, he could take it, every last inch of it into the depths of his pretty warm mouth. Right there, Caleb proved that he was wifey material.

The boy didn’t speak. His musical moans did it for him. Those beautiful, feminine moans filled the air and they proved that little Caleb was a dick crazy slut. He wasn’t a slut for any dick. He was a slut for Blake’s dick, and it wasn't because he was well endowed. Blake could have been tiny down there, and Caleb wouldn’t care. The boy loved the man, not his dick. Still, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every minute he dedicated to sucking that dick. Caleb didn’t blow, he sucked. No teeth and no gagging. Caleb proved that he was a true bottom and that he was born to be a submit. Looking upwards into Blake’s horny eyes, Caleb showed his boyfriend he was equally addicted to the power and magic of sex. He may be a virgin, but his need for dick was all encompassing and proved more powerful than his lack of experience. Experience didn't make the cock sucker; it was the act of submission and the act of providing a service that proved he was born to take care of a man's primitive urges and human needs. Cockworshipping was an instinct. It couldn’t be taught. That’s why Caleb proved in this very moment that he was special.

Up and down, up and down, Caleb didn’t stop. The boy sucked all of that cock and his moans exposed him for the slut that he was. He was loving every minute of it, and his girly squeals and feminine moans proved that. He had no idea that it was about to get even better. Looking upwards, Caleb could tell that he was doing his job. Blake was enjoying himself. Feeling that strong hand on his head, he heard the praise and positive reinforcement. That’s all he ever wanted. That’s when he felt that gentle grip on the back of his neck. He knew his boyfriend wanted to take over, and being the good sub that he was, the little sissy allowed his alpha of a partner to take control.

It was slow at first. Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but he trusted that the man who had occupied his mouth. Little Caleb let go and allow his alpha to fuck his mouth. It was slow at first. He heard the questions Blake asked him, but he didn't answer. He couldn’t. All he could do was moan in approval. Deep down, he instinctively knew that’s all that was needed of him. That’s when the athlete started to pick up the speed. Looking upwards, Caleb watched in awe as his boyfriend started to plow himself into the eighteen year old’s mouth. His alpha energy was undeniable. The red head watched his boyfriend with such intent. He could tell that topping, dominating, claiming and breeding came so naturally to him. Caleb had never seen anything so amazing. He never felt so aroused. The faster Blake went, the more Caleb's little opening soaked itself in it’s natural juices. Caleb never felt so turned on. So much so, as Blake worked his magic, Caleb slowly lifted his cheerleader crop top, exposing his chest. Caleb had the most beautiful pecs imaginable. They were creamy, supple and pink. Allowing Blake to plow, Caleb started to moan like the whore that he was. His eyeballs rolled into the back of his head as the red head started to grope, squeeze and tease his own man boobs. Caleb was starting to gag, he was only human. That was proof that the pleasure he felt was out of this world.

Just as the speed was reaching incredible levels, it slowly started to slow down. Blake soon pulled out, and when he did, Caleb gasped for air and started to pant. He couldn’t help it. It was only natural. Blake’s dick was unimaginably big, and worshipping it was enough to push anyone to within an inch of their sanity. Caleb was no different. Blake’s dick took Caleb’s breathe away, but that wasn’t the only thing Caleb wanted to taste. He threw his face deep in between Blake’s legs, right into his crotch and took in one good smell. That scent did it. It officially drew Caleb insane. He wanted more, he needed more, so he started to play with Blake’s testicles. They were so big, so smelly and they dangled like christmas ornaments. First Caleb kissed, worshipped and suckled on one testicle and then the other. Then he sucked both of them into his mouth like a vacuum cleaner. The boy was such a natural bottom bitch, and he was loving every minute of it. Coming up only for air, he felt Blake teasing him again with that dick he fell in love with. Caleb teased Blake right back by kissing and suckling on that delicious bell shaped head. He would have gone for round two, but the boy was given an order and it was his duty to do as he was told.

Doing what his alpha ordered him to do, Caleb made his way to Blake’s bed. However, before getting comfortable, the boy decided to tease Blake by slowly taking off his crop top, completely exposing his upper chest. He wasn’t done. After that, he turned around and slowly took off his short shorts, exposing his ridiculously large and supple round ass. Not only that, Caleb teased Blake with a little wet beaver shot. Caleb liked to tease, but he had six months of that. Blake had proven himself man enough to claim him, and Caleb was ready to give his all to hisboyfriend. No, his manfriend. Posing himself so naturally and beautifully, Caleb was now on all fours. His glorious and beautiful ass was exposed, showing off his best parts. His massive cheeks, his tight little asshole, his virginal pussy and the most beautiful and seductive feet an alpha man could ever want. Caleb looked so good over those silky sheets and rose pedals. He had such a beautiful body. It was all you can eat buffet, and it was all for Blake. He had many delicious dishes to choose from. Looking over his shoulder, Caleb gave Blake a seductive little stare and spoke in a sensuous and down right slutty little voice.

“ There’s a new field for you to dominate, Sir. You proved to me that your man enough to claim it. I want you to claim what’s yours. I need you to officially make me yours and only yours. I’m yours, Baby. All yours. Only yours.”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 || percy dolarhyde x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || the world's oldest profession attracts some of the West's oddest characters, and Percy is a strange bedfellow as much as he is a reliable regular. being a no-good, half-witted son-of-a-bitch, you really have no excuse for developing a bit of a crush on him while on the clock.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || smut (slightly dubious consent, overstimulation, unprotected sex, sex in the bath, and a clothed footjob lol), mild foot/stockings fetish, prostitution (reader works in a bathhouse), dom/sub dynamics (featuring switchy percy), angst, unrequited love (kinda?), percy is a dick (also known as: canon) but also he's just kinda emotionally constipated

A choked groan caught in Percy’s throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you intently.  “Sweetpea, c’mon— lemme touch ya, I’ll make you feel so good…”

You simply shook your head, continuing to rub the bulge in his trousers with your stocking-covered foot.  “I bet you could get off like this,” you challenged with a smirk.

“No, baby, please,” he panted, “not like this— I can make a mess in my pants at home, let me get inside ya while I’m here, please—”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” you purred.  “You’re pretty worked up and you’re still dressed— I’m still dressed.  Should I take these stockings off?”

“N-no,” he choked, “those are nice… you can keep ‘em on, if you wan’...”

You smiled proudly, not surprised by that response at all; he clearly had a thing for the silk, and you kept catching his eyes wandering to where the socks ended at your upper thighs with a lacy hem.  Your thin dress, fallen off your shoulder on one side to give him a good view of your tits, was perfect for the warm weather— even if it was so revealing that you’d be arrested for leaving the bathhouse without covering up more.

Percy was a regular, coming in three or four times a week to get his fix.  It being a bathhouse and all, you figured these last few months since he started seeing you were the cleanest he’d ever been in his life.  He still managed to dirty himself up quite a bit in between his visits, giving you plenty to do when you were scrubbing him down, washing his hair, rubbing his back and shoulders as he sighed and sank into the hot water.

Today was different.  Before you even got him stripped down for his bath, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.  He was just so fun to pick on, watching that cocky attitude falter was terribly satisfying.  You’d just gotten sick of his mocking, taunting demeanor and self-aggrandizing comments that never seemed to stop once you’d gotten him clean and he’d gotten you on all fours.  “Who’s got you screamin’ so loud, baby?  That’s right— nobody else fucks you this deep, I bet.  I’m your favorite customer, huh?  Always make this whore pussy come?”  That sort of thing.  It was hot, in its own way, but it could get annoying too.  You just wanted to make sure he knew that you still had all the control, even if he liked to play the big tough cowboy who takes what he wants; you knew that under that ego, he was just a sweet little boy looking for attention.  And he seemed to need your attention most.

“Baby,” he croaked when you pressed your heel up against his balls, making him shift in the chair.  “Are we even gonna get in the bath before you make me come?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you replied honestly.  “I think if you ask me real nice, I’ll run it for you soon.”

“Fuck, dunno if I can wait that long,” he breathed, hips moving up to rub his cock against your foot— the curve of your sole seemed to fit with the shape of his cock, and he let his head fall back in a gasp.  “Can’t I just fuck you now, and we can take a bath after?  I’m gonna get you dirty anyways.”

You chuckled at that, because it was true— he liked to come inside, as deep as he could, and watch it slowly seep out of you over the course of the next half hour before you eventually kicked him out.  

That goal was getting more and more distant as you kept stroking him with your foot— a little faster now.  He was panting by this point, and you smiled at the sight of his suppressed desperation.  He was getting close, and he could hardly stand it.  "Wait," he pleaded, "sweetpea— stop, not like this…"

His words resisted, but his hips moved of their own accord and rubbed up against you.  You could see the conflict on his face, his eyes shut tightly as his lack of self-control struggled against his greed for more.  Percy was never one for delayed gratification…

"Please, please," he croaked, "just stop and we can get in the bath— baby, can't take much more'a this…"

"I know," you hummed.

"Don't you wanna feel good too?" he bargained.  "I know you like how I fuck ya— ah, shit, m'so close, shit!"

"It's okay, baby, just come," you cooed encouragingly.  He hissed in a breath through his teeth, whimpering slightly, and you grinned as you felt his cock pulse against the arch of your foot.  "Mm, just like that…"

You could feel the wetness starting to soak through his pants and seep into your stocking, and you tickled his balls with your toes to make his moans get all high-pitched and whiny.

"Keep goin', honey," you purred.

Obviously, that was a bit redundant since he had no way to stop it; he bucked up against nothing as the stain on his pants grew and the bulge just under it flexed uncontrollably.  His eyes were shut and his head tossed back, so thankfully he didn't see you bite your lip at the sight.  The other girls didn't like Percy much, for his looks or attitude, so they always acted like you were a saint (or maybe a sinner being punished) for taking him on as a regular— but you thought he was pretty cute, especially like this, blushing and groaning and whimpering your name.

Finally, he seemed to finish up as he relaxed down into the chair with a long sigh.  "Good boy," you winked, and he shivered slightly before blinking his eyes open and looking at you again.

"Fuck was that for?" he asked hoarsely, catching his breath.

"I think you are getting a little too proud of how easy you make me come," you explained.  "Wanted to remind you that I'm still better at making you lose your cool."

"Well, no kidding," he hissed, "you sure know how to make your living, sweetpea.  I never said otherwise.  S'no reason to stop me from getting my money's worth outta you."

"Don't worry, baby, you're still gonna get your bath," you smiled, standing up.  "I'll wash your clothes for you while the water's getting warm— just so you don't have to put back on your pants with jism in them."

"Hm, figure you should," he agreed, standing up and taking off his vest before he started unbuttoning his shirt, "since it's your fault anyways."

"Oh, please," you rolled your eyes, getting the big basin-stove turned on to heat up the bathwater, "with how excitable you are, bet it happens to ya all the time."

"Does not!" he defended, petulant as ever.  "I never even did that to myself when I was a boy!  I always had the foresight to find a rag or something to spill into."

“You can’t even spell ‘foresight’,” you rolled your eyes.

“F-O-R-S-I-T,” he announced confidently.

“I stand corrected,” you sighed, dipping your fingers in the water and feeling it was just about where you wanted it.  “You’re so strong, Percy, would you lift this for me?”

“Sure thing, sweetpea,” he announced proudly, flexing his arms a bit before he picked up the bucket of hot water and poured it into the copper bathtub.  He took his boots and pants off next, rather eagerly; the second he was naked, he was slipping into the water with a sigh and you were gathering his clothes to toss into the wicker hamper for washing.

“I’ll be back when these are washed and hung out to dry, alright?” you explained as he sank lower under the water’s surface.

“Don’t take too long,” he breathed, leaning back and relaxing in the warmth.  Smiling to yourself, you carried the basket on your hip as you walked past the bed and slipped out the door back into the hallway.

It was louder out here, when you could hear other girls and clients, even the music downstairs was audible through the floor.  This was a pretty classy place, all things considered— there wasn’t nearly the ruckus you’d find in a normal whorehouse or saloon, those places were dirty in every sense of the word.  Not the bathhouse, though, this little oasis in the desert was about peace, cleanliness… and, of course, shameless prostitution, but it was still better than some other spots.  It certainly wasn’t the cheapest, either, and for a higher price you and your fellow good-time girls were held to a much higher standard.  You figured that was why a man like Percy, with more time and money than he knew what to do with, came out here: for a better product and a more luxurious experience.

Turning the corner in the hall, you stepped into one of the ‘backstage’ areas as they were often called— the places only employees of the bathhouse could go— where you found several women relaxing and talking with each other in between appointments, in various states of undress.  The room was steamy and lit with just one window, old silk curtains draped along the walls, and you glanced longingly at a bottle of gin; you didn’t like to drink on the job, but you made a mental note to come back for a finger or two later.

“Whose clothes are those?” another girl— a friend of yours, Sadie— asked as you walked by, but someone else answered before you.

“Don’t you know?” Margaret (or “Marge,” depending on your familiarity) interjected.  “She’s always got her regular at this time.”

“Oh,” Sadie rolled her eyes, knowing who your regular was, “poor thing— those clothes must be filthy.”

You dumped the contents of the hamper into a running sink, grimacing slightly as an immediate cloud of dirt and dust filled the water.

“Good Lord,” Sadie winced, “you’re sure that Dolarhyde boy isn’t a pig farmer?”

“No wonder he asked you to wash his clothes,” a newer girl called Belle, even though her real name was Phoebe, noticed.

“Oh, he didn’t ask me to,” you explained, “they just needed a wash after he made a mess in ‘em.”

A few of the girls in earshot giggled, and Marge scoffed.  “He seems the type,” she mumbled.

You snatched a bar of soap off of the counter and rubbed it between the clothes, dirty water turning a cloudy-white color from the suds and the scent of lavender filling the air.  “He won’t be mad when his clothes smell like flowers?” Belle wondered.

“Beats smelling like a fuckin’ stable,” you rolled your eyes.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” Marge cooed condescendingly at Belle, “you don’t know much about Percy yet.  He doesn’t get mad at her— doesn’t stay that way, at least.  She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

“Really?” Belle smiled, wistful as if she aspired to have a client like yours someday.  You wished you could warn her— it’s all fun and games when a client has an affection for you, until you start getting affections of your own— but you kept washing silently and just listened.

“Mm, he’s comin’ by here more and more just to see her, won’t settle for anyone else,” Marge explained.  “Well, maybe for a pretty young thing like you…”

You hated the twist in your heart when Marge said that, even though you didn’t really believe her.  Percy wouldn’t go for a girl like Belle, he needed someone with your experience— yes, she was pretty, but you and Percy had built such a rapport and you knew just what he liked, he said so himself all the time.  That couldn’t be replaced with just anything.

“More than half her salary is coming out of his pocket,” Marge continued as she nodded in your direction.  “That’s the thing— Madam will tell you it’s all about getting as many customers as you can, but really, if you can get one or two real loyal regulars, you’re set.”

“Wow,” Belle sighed, taking in all of Marge’s sage advice; you started to wring out Percy’s clothes, relieved that the water was finally running clear.  “So,” the young woman turned her attention to you, “how do you do it?  How do you get a client to fall in love with you?”

“Woah there,” you stammered out, “he’s not in love with me.  He’s just… comfortable with me, doesn’t wanna have to teach somebody new what he likes.  He can be particular.”

“Is he the bossy type?” she asked.

The image of Percy just a few minutes ago, succumbing to the pleasure you forced upon him, begging for relief and release, flashed in your mind.  “Uh,” you choked, “usually.”

“So what do I do, just try to be charming?” she pressed.

“Well, I suppose,” you shrugged, “and maybe ask them a lot about their lives and such— be a good listener.  Pretend it’s all very interesting.”

“Anything else?”

Stroke his hair while he falls asleep in your lap.  Avoid his personal questions because no one’s ever asked about you before and you don’t know what to say.  Listen to him ramble about his dreams and fears and all the places he wants to take you.  Let him kiss you sometimes because he asks so sweetly and you just can’t help yourself, even though you’re not supposed to.

“Don’t let them kiss you,” you heard yourself say, “ever.  If you don’t follow the rules, they won’t either.”

“Good idea,” Belle agreed.

“Sadie, if you hang these out to dry for me, I’ll make your bed after your next session,” you offered as you held the wet clothes out to her.

“That’s a done deal,” she smirked as she took them from you and started to walk away.

“Somewhere nice and sunny, want ‘em dry by the time he’s done,” you explained, calling out after her.  She nodded at you and left through the door to the outside, letting in a bright orange stream of sunlight on her way out.

Not one to leave Percy waiting too long, you returned to the hallway and passed by each door until you found your own— you had it painted with flowers, to help it stand out from all the others.  You were already smiling as you turned the handle and stepped inside, seeing Percy in the tub across the room, who opened his eyes and gave you a relaxed smile.

“Hurry up,” he complained playfully, “I’m gettin’ lonely in here.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, but bent down anyways to lift your skirt and start rolling your stockings down your legs.  You heard him hum quietly and knew he was watching you, so you made sure to let your thin dress slide off your shoulders nice and slow.  Most of the customers here wanted to see the ladies in finer wear— maybe to know that their money was going to good use— but Percy always liked you in underwear, thin cotton slips and loose corsets, stuff that fit right in with the bathhouse aesthetic.  It was a little ironic, but dressing this way for him made everything feel more intimate; yes, it’s silly, because how much more intimate can it get when you’re having sex with someone?  But this was different.  It made you feel like… well, you didn’t like to admit it, but it made you feel like a wife.  It was a state of undress that only a husband would see his wife in, while she was getting ready or maybe after she’d come home on a hot day and just needed to breathe.  You’d be in your slip and he’d lay in bed beside you, and sometimes you thought about what it would be like if he didn’t just call you “sweetpea,” but also “darling” and “honey” and “dear wife.”  A man like Percy wasn’t looking for a wife, though, and you weren’t sure what use he would have for one… but every once in a while you let yourself play pretend in your head for a while.

“Don’t tease me,” he pleaded as you lowered your dress more and more, and finally you let it drop to the floor as he groaned a little.  Bare to him and his hungry stare, you scampered across the room to hop in the tub with him; he didn’t make much room for you, happy to force you to entangle yourself with him so you could sink into the water.  

“Lean back,” you cooed, watching him smile and lay his head back until the water soaked his hair just up to his face.  He relaxed while you combed your fingers through his dusty-blonde locks, finding some soap nearby to lather into it.

“Oh, your fingers are so good,” he purred when you started to massage his scalp.

“Yeah?  I get that a lot,” you joked.  “Let’s let that soak for a while and I’ll wash your body, okay?”

“Alright,” he smirked, “my shoulders are real sore— make sure you get real deep, sweetpea…”

He groaned as you massaged more soap into his skin, digging your fingers into the muscle; you took a bit of your frustration out on him with how hard you rubbed, but he seemed to enjoy it if anything.

“Yeah, just like that,” he sighed, relaxing further into your arms.  “You’re so good to me…”

You smiled a little to yourself, moving your soapy hands down to his chest to lather up some suds there.  “You like this?” you asked softly.

He simply hummed to himself, and breathed through his teeth as you started to massage his arms.  He was actually pretty muscular, lean and taut, tanned from the relentless frontier sun…

As your eyes trailed down his body, his toned abdomen and hips, they settled on his cock— still hard, which it tended to be for a while after he came, even if he was down for the count until his next session.  You weren’t sure why, but you kept having all these great ideas to tease him today, and you couldn’t resist.

“You look real good, Percy,” you said, and he smiled wider.

“Yeah?” 

That cocky look dropped right off of his face when your fingers slid down his body and wrapped around his cock— soapy and slick, he shuddered as your grip slid smoothly over his shaft and the ridge of his sensitive head.  He looked up at you with a conflicted sort of stare as you smiled coyly down at him.  “I’m good with my fingers, huh?” you recalled.

“B-baby, wait,” he whimpered.

“Wait for what?” you sighed, lifting yourself up and suddenly straddling him— he looked equal parts hopeful and terrified as he looked up at you.  “I’ve been waitin’ for you for days, Percy, I need ya so bad— didn’t you say you were gonna make me feel good?  Nobody’s as good as you, baby, you know that.”

He bit his lip at the praise, but even all those compliments couldn’t fully soothe his hesitation when you began to guide him to press right up to your opening.  "Oh, fuck— sweetpea, hold on," he groaned, "I'm not quite recovered yet—"

"You're hard as a rock, that's good enough for me," you winked, sliding down onto his length as he gripped the sides of the tub hard enough to make you worry he'd dent the copper.  You bit your lip, insides clenching involuntarily— he always filled you so well, but you tried not to show how much it affected you.

"Ah, shit!" he yelped, grabbing your hips as you started to bounce up and down, sloshing the water around you both.  "Baby, what are you tryin' to do, kill me?"

"I'm just giving you what you were begging for before, you can take it," you dismissed, struggling slightly to keep track of what you were saying as you adjusted to the stretch.  "You always act so proud, talk about how you can fuck me for hours… what happened to that?"

"What happened is you made me come in my pants," he hissed, "and hopped on my dick a few minutes later while I'm still sore!  Fuck, sweetpea, it hurts…"

"Yeah?  I think you like it though," you grinned, sighing as your own pleasure started to build.  "It's not too much for you, is it?"

"Yes it is!" he whined, but you felt him starting to move his hips with yours— poor Percy, he just couldn't help himself.  "Ahh, sweetie, you're gonna be the death of me, I swear…"

"Just tell me to stop, and I'll stop," you promised.  "Just tell me to stop, honey— you're payin' after all, I'll do whatever you like.  Do you want me to stop?"

He swallowed thickly, eyes trained on your tits as you rode him fast and recklessly— and finally, he shook his head.  "N-no, fuck, don't stop," he groaned.

You laughed proudly, rocking your hips faster as he groaned.  "Didn't think so," you cooed.  "You like it too much, huh?"

He nodded and you giggled proudly, leaning down to grab the edge of the tub behind his head as you rode him faster.

Of course, that put your tits right in front of his face and, gasping and whining a bit, he slid his wet hands up your stomach to grope your chest.  You moaned softly as he kneaded your flesh with calloused fingers, moving your hips slower and with more precision until he let his head fall back with a groan.

“S-sweetpea,” he choked, “fuck, I missed this…”

You smiled to yourself; it had been almost a week since his last session, and for him that was like a month without water.  He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down into him, rutting his hips up into you until you were forced to just go limp and take it.  After all that bitching about not being able to go again so soon, he sure had gotten over it quickly…

Moaning louder, you pressed your face up to the side of his to keep yourself from slipping down into the water, and he held you even tighter until you worried he’d leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips.  Just to make you whimper, he gave you one particularly rough thrust, as deep as he could go, before he turned to whisper in your ear.

“You better get your ass up and get in that damn bed, woman,” he growled— though you felt him smiling, too.

You sat up and carefully slid off of him, climbing out of the tub and starting to reach for a towel before he tutted disapprovingly and gave you a correctional slap on the bottom.

“Don’t you want me to dry you off first?” you said.

“You know what I want— get in that bed,” he insisted, but he didn’t give you a chance, grabbing you and pushing you down onto the mattress instantly; both of you were dripping wet still, and he purred as your bodies slid together while he got on top of you.

He smiled down at you, that proud glimmer in his eye, as he placed your legs up on his shoulders and leaned down over you; when he slipped inside again, the angle forced his cock so deep that your back had to arch and your mouth fell open into a low moan— he watched your face carefully as he pushed himself to the very end of you.

“That’s my girl,” he purred, “takin’ it so good— still tight as ever, sweetpea…”

Each rock of his hips made you moan louder than the last— all the other girls thought you put on a show for him, but right now, it was all real.  He knew how to hit your spot just right, and he loved watching you fall apart under him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he taunted, and you nodded with a gasp.  “Your favorite customer’s gonna make you come real hard, baby…”

Sure, he was mostly just being cocky, but he wasn’t wrong— about being your favorite customer or about making you come.  You were closer than you should’ve been by now, but watching him make a mess of himself had you all worked up and then he got so aggressive… it was all very overwhelming.  Thankfully, from the sound of his hissing breaths in through his teeth, he was pretty close, too.  And he had even less of an excuse than you, having just come so recently!  But then again, it had been almost a week since you’d last seen him… and neither of you had come since then.

He chuckled when he shifted his hips and you whimpered loudly.  “Oh, is that the way you need it?  C’mon and say so, then.”

“I— I need it,” you choked, “I need you to fuck me just like that.”

“Yeah?” he egged you on, your fists gripped the sheets beneath you as he moved faster and rougher.  The pressure building inside you was sharp and tingly, almost too much to take, but it felt better and better as you gave into it.

“M’so close,” you gasped, “please don’t stop— ah!”

"Tell me whose you are," he grunted.

"Yours, Percy, all yours," you whined, digging your nails into the sheets so hard now that they were at risk of tearing.

"One more time," he groaned, "I'm gonna finish inside— say it one more time, baby—"

"I'm yours," you sobbed, finally feeling him push his hips against you as deep as possible and start to come.  He tossed his head back with a whine, the flex of his cock against your walls in time with his heavy pant; as he reached the end of it (it seemed to go on for a while), he sighed and dropped his head down, wet hair hanging loosely around his face.  You were about to ask if he enjoyed himself, but he suddenly kissed you— intense, yet relaxed, as he was still catching his breath.  You hummed against his lips and kissed him back, lifting your hands to hold his face gently.

Feeling him smile, you laughed quietly when he pulled back and blinked down at you.  Something about the way his cheeks were flushed— maybe from just the hot water, maybe from a little more— made his green eyes look even brighter, and you bit your lip.

“You know somethin’, sweetpea?” he breathed.  “You look prettiest just after I filled you up.”

He pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling with that dazed, joyfully-exhausted look on his face.  “You’ve told me that before,” you remembered.

“Well, I was right,” he chuckled breathlessly.  “Damn, you wear me out… I didn’t think I could go again after you played footsie with my family jewels—”

You snorted at the euphemism, feeling him snuggle up to you and bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Anybody else gonna see you today?" he asked in a mumble, smirking against your skin.  "You better wash all a'me out, or you're gonna have customers complaining about their favorite whore bein' all used up…"

It wasn’t until he said that that you realized you’d been in your little fantasy again, pretending you were Mrs. Dolarhyde and not another soiled dove with bills on the dresser.  You sighed and sat up on the edge of the bed, grabbing your robe from where it was draped over a lamp so you could slip it over your shoulders.

“Hey, my time’s not up yet, is it?” he pouted, reaching over to tickle your thigh with his fingertips.  “You don’t have to wash up until I leave, right?  Just lay here for a while, sweetpea—”

"Do you call me that to try to make me feel bad?" you interrupted, wishing instantly you could’ve just bit your tongue.  

“Call you what, ‘sweetpea’?”

“No,” you sighed, turning to face him again as he propped himself up on one elbow.  “You always say things like that after— call me a whore and all.  You shouldn't be judging me, I might be a whore but you're still quite the loyal fuckin' customer—"

"Woah, hey now," he soothed, raising his hands defensively.  "I'm not here to judge, I don't think bein' a whore is anything bad— I mean, shit, far as I see it you ladies are the heroes of the West.  Where would good-for-nothing bastards like me be without you?"

"Then what do you say it like that for?" you frowned.  "You get sweet on me, then you say something rude— and don't tell me you mean it as a compliment, because I can tell when you mean something as a compliment and when you're just trying to get me all confused…"

"Sweetpea," he breathed, reaching out and pulling you back down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you.  "It's not to confuse you.  It's me that's confused.  Sometimes…"

He sighed and started over, looking away as you blinked up at him expectantly.

"Sometimes, I forget what this is," he admitted with a little shrug, still not looking back at you.

"What is this?" you asked him earnestly, softly.

"It's… a business transaction," he decided.  "It's a professional and her client.  It's your job."

He looked at you, resting a hand on your waist, and your eyes stared up into his— a strange feeling swirled in your chest, something you remembered distantly as hope.  "What else could it be?" you whispered.

He sighed heavily, lifting one hand to your face to brush your damp hair out of the way.  "Nothin'," he answered, stroking your cheek with his thumb lightly.  "You know that as good as I do.  It couldn't be nothin' else but the way you make your money, and the way I spend mine."

You looked down with a little sigh, nodding.  “Yeah,” you agreed, “I do know.”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, and you settled into his arms as he held you close.  “Can I stay longer today?  I think I might fall asleep if you just let me hold you.”

“I have another appointment,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I’ll pay double,” he promised— it wasn’t an offer, he was telling you that he would stay and pay double afterwards, you knew because he was already sighing deeply and sinking into the pillow, moments from drifting off.

“Sleep tight, Percy,” you whispered as you laid your face on his shoulder— you wouldn’t fall asleep, but you could rest your eyes for a while… yeah, that’d be alright.