#nsfw;; the flames of hell

[malevolent-fairy]

Anonymous asked;  ‘ Perhaps it would be quite lovely to worship you as you deserve so right, my queen. From the tips of your toes up to you delightfully sinful eyes, kissed and caressed. I think you'd taste delicious, pleasuring you like you deserve, admiring every curve and line and even if you aren't satisfied, I'd happily allow yourself to state your hunger unto me. ~ Signed with nothing but an X ’ for Anonymously (or not) send sexual fantasies your muse has had about mine 💣🧡💦

“-?!” NO SHE ISN’T FLUSTERED. She clears her throat ELEGANTLY and EVILLY.

“Hm. Quite a wicked fantasy... I am pleased to hear such things.” She tucks the note away in her pocket. For later. Uses. ... But not before she gave the letter a sniff and smiled confidently. Wonder why it smells like...

Salt Water.~

[forgivenpunishment]

Vash's tongue laving over his fingers, his lips sealing around them... both sensations immediately send his other hand to his needy cock. Just... just a couple of strokes. Not... nothing more than that. Even if the whine he lets out sounds pathetic when he lets himself go...

Well, he plans on solving that problem as soon as possible.

"Good, eh? Fuck..." Wolfwood removes his fingers from the precious lips surrounding them, then wipes them on his thigh. He gives Vash a kiss before placing him back on the bed so he can set pillows up for him. One for his head, one for his arms... that should be enough, right?

His whisper falters when he can take a look at his debauched boyfriend. God, has he ruined this angel. Vash is an absolute mess. They both are. He's not sure how he looks, but Vash is covered in purple and red marks, a big bite mark around his remaining nipple, and his hole is wide open, swollen lips eager to swallow him whole once again.

"Alright beautiful, let's get you turned around so you can give me one more," he kisses along the blond's jawline as his hands lift and twist him onto his hands and knees. Knowing that Vash could hardly support himself just sitting down, Wolfwood does most of the physical support by holding him up—then he lines himself up from behind. His aching length thuds lightly against Vash's slit, promising to finish soon.

He grinds against the blond's ass—just a little bit, just a tease. Wolfwood digs little circles into Vash's waist with his thumbs, then folds his torso over to reach the Plant's ear, "Ready? Just one more, then we can clean up and pass out~"

It really was kinda gross, he couldn't lie... Vash assumed that was his fault, since his biology was a lot more alien and little unpredictable, and he almost didn't wanna know what would happen if they were to leave their mess to dry while they slept. Wolfwood's thighs and cock were coated in the stuff, a strange, milky sheen that filled the air with musky sweetness now that he'd been uncorked-- what if it... h-hardened or something overnight? Turned into a thick, hard coating that had to be scraped off; wouldn't that inspire horror instead of--

... ah, wait, there's his anxiety and self-loathing again, he found 'em; the booze must be starting to wear off.

Never fear, though, as an ample distraction from that line of thinking would come in the form of Wolfwood bringing up a slick-soaked finger up for a taste of them both-- and Vash's stomach did a funny little flip in response; his heart rate picked up; his pupils dilated despite the glow both in and around them.

That... should not be hot. Shouldn't make his mouth water, but goddamn, it does--

He let him open his mouth like that, no complaints or questions, and closed his lips around the long, thick digits with a hum. The taste was... well, it was bizarre. The texture was just a little thicker than honey and just as sweet, even tinged with salt and sweat... Vash had no idea if he actually liked the taste or not, but he hummed again as he lavished the undertaker's fingers with his tongue; gently curling over, around and between them so he could lap up every drop of their essence that had been offered.

Yeah, no, strange or not, what Wolfwood had done had been extremely attractive. The blond opened his mouth after a few moments and pulled back a ways so he was free to offer an answer, between shuddering, heavy breaths; face flushed a deep, ruddy red.

"Good..."

[helluvapoison]

Feelings

imagine being another fallen angel and experiencing lust for the first time

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

18+ only, minors DNI

warning: nsfw but no smut, slight but unintentional corruption kink,

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Unlike the other emotions, this one crept up on you slowly. It lied in wait most of the time, only revealing itself around Lucifer. Truthfully the feeling came so infrequently that you didn’t think to worry about it, forgot about it even. Then his hand would linger on your waist or he missed your cheek, placing a kiss on your neck and a tiny flame ignited deep inside you. You accepted his stammered apologies but the feeling did not.

The warmth itself was uncomfortable solely for the reason of being new, it never hurt! Not like this.

“I think I’m hurting again.”

The calmness of your voice shouldn’t have alarmed him but Lucifer jumped to action before you finished talking, worried eyes scanning you over as they always did. Without hesitation, he took your hand when you were close enough and sat next to you on the couch. Little did he know his touch on your knee scorched you.

“Where is it this time, darling?”

“Here,” You unabashedly gestured over your stomach.

Lucifer’s voice pitcher higher, cooing,“Hungry? I can have Alfredo whip you up—“

“We don’t need to bother Alfonzo. I’m not hungry.”

His brows pinched together in confusion.

“But you said..?”

“Here.”

You enveloped his wrist and guided it up your thigh. About an inch away, where the warmth bloomed stronger with his touch, as if drawing him near, Lucifer snatched his hand away. His pupils shrunk to slits, wings audibly popping out as he jumped. His fingers that had almost grazed you had stretched and closed taught, remaining a fist.

“Oh! Oh! Oh shit.”

His reaction pulled a downright pitiful expression from you. Lucifer drew in a deep breath, calming himself and folding his feathers away. Awkwardly, a different kind than what you were used to regarding him, he sat back down. You couldn’t not notice how far he sat from you, how he folded his hands in his lap and refused to make eye contact. Hell hadn’t made a liar of you yet; you were hurt by this.

“I-I don’t think I can help you with this one, sweetheart,” Lucifer swallowed thickly, curling a finger into his collar and tugging on it, “I-I-I don’t even think I gave Charlie ‘the talk’! That wouldn’t be…”

You tried to be patient, stars did you try, but while he took his time you were being burnt alive from the inside out! You knew you needed something from him and he was unfailingly the answer. Lucifer had never denied you before, outright or not.

“You said you felt everything down here,” You pointed out.

Leaning in on your hands, you tilted your head and searched for what he refused to share. His face blushed brighter and harder than before. Embarrassment wasn’t right. It almost looked as if he was praying for an escape.

“You’re ashamed?”

Lucifer blew a raspberry, crimson slits darting all around, deliberately avoiding where you sat, “No! Nope, no shame over here!”

If not him… then perhaps it was you? Could you drive the King of Hell to shame? Surely not, how arrogant of you to even dream of it. Yet the question rolled off your tongue before you could stop it.

“Have I done som—“

With a jolt he sits up rigid and serious, desperately trying to keep what little distance remained. You were a breath away, staring into his eyes with such adoration it made your problem that much harder to ignore.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. This—This is just… I can’t be the one to help you with this.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help.

He did. Desperately so. Disgustingly so.

He could sink his claws and teeth into you right fucking now and make you feel better— better than better! It was heart stopping, the idea that he could be the one to show you what pleasure is like actually made him breathless. Fuck, how he wanted to see how your face when he brought you to your peak. Your moans would be a symphony to behold, his name on your lips would be his new favorite song. The thought of being your first and only clouded his mind with desire.

He would claim you truly if you’d have him. And the look in your eyes told him you would.

But would it be right? Lucifer’s had plenty of experience, he’s not worried about disappointing you— however you regretting him afterwards? It might kill him.

“But I want you to,” The sincerity in your voice sent his heart racing, “It only happens around you—“

“You—“ Lucifer chuckled nervously, shaking his head, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Briefly, you shot him a warning glare before softening your expression. You cautiously grabbed his hips, slowly so he could deny you if he really wanted. (Never again.)

“I know what I’m feeling. I know you’re responsible.”You counter slyly, maneuvering him into your lap, “I know I don’t want it to go away.”

Lucifer swallowed hard on nothing, staring obviously at your lips as you spoke with lidded eyes.

“I thoug-thought you said it hurt.” He choked.

“I’m starting to understand why. I need you—“ His breath hitched when you ground up against him, holding him firmly in place to feel his hard on, “—to do something about it.”

Clutching your shirt like his life depends on it, he whines. You’re putting his restraint to the test.

And he’s about to fail.

“Please? You’re always so good at making me feel better when I’m hurting, Luci.”

[gamblersdoll]

nsfw, implied masturbation, p in v, semi mean bakugou. pro hero bakugou! spit and choking.

it does sometimes suck not having a pro hero line job, always having to be home alone and wait for you boyfriend, dynamite, come home.

this time was harder, since it was your ovulation time around that month. the week before your dreadful period and you needed him. he was supposed to be at some mission in another country, you werent so sure when he would be home.

and those urges were back, rougher and harder than ever since you were all alone..

so you did what was best, right? sliding your right hand down your panties and curling your fingers into your sensitive and swollen g-spot, and a left hand on your tit, it begging for attention since you havent had sexual relations in about two weeks.

it felt good to finally feel something inside you, until your ring notifications came and—

shit, hes home!?

‘baby?’ he shouts out, you hear his gauntlets drop against the door as you scramble to find your clothes, rushing down stairs to greet him.

“how was the mission?” you chuckle, him leaving sloppy kisses all over your cheek and kissing your lips. “did it go as planned?”

“only some minor events, but it went well. hell, it s cause i was there.” he boasts, planting you back down and looking over to the stove. “what’cha cookin’?” he asks, patting a hand on your butt as he sits on the couch.

“some rice and peas, oxtails too. had a craving.” you mumble, it wasnt much of a lie, but a good cover up. he grunts in response, momentarily looking at the tv and then plopping his head back to look at you.

the fuck?

his eyes widen, looking at your frame in just a t-shirt and panties. that wouldn’t normally make him hot and bothered, but the obvious thing did: the white creamy slick in between your legs, and the small evidence on the lower of your asscheek.

he grins, canines barred and he walks to you, hugging you from behind and watches you stir the pot of the gravy covered oxtails. the silence was comforting, his hands rubbing up and down your throat and hips.

“so, did it feel good?” he asks, whispering the question into your ear and still watching your hands.

“did what feel good?” you reply, not paying it much mind.

“you obviously had some fun with your cunt, couldnt even do a simple thing of cleaning up.”

you eat your words, heart beating in a cold sweat and swallowing thickly. “dont get shy now, princess.” he chuckles, taking a hand and slipping it past your panties, a finger intruding into your hole. “shi— this was fuckin’ recent? yer’ still fucking leaking.”

“kat—“ you try, him placing a hand on your throat and tilting your head back to look up at him.

“did it feel good?” he asks again, his hard on pressing between your cheeks and a grin still on his face. you nod, heat forming on your face and ears. “yeah? how many times did the slut cum?” he cooed, bumping his hips into yours slowly.

“i.. didnt get the chance to.” you mumble, reminiscing on you being so close to having that big ‘o’ before he came home and barged himself in.

he sucks his teeth, “oh, really? did i disrupt you?” he cooed again, finger hooking around the waist band and then yanking them down. “poor baby, ill make it up to you.” as he said while he turns down the stove flames to a simmering heat.

he whips you around to the island instead, having you still look up to him from behind. his hand travels behind, pressing into your still leaking hole from the back and curling up into your spot. “now where was that g-spot.. hmm,” he pretended to wonder, feigning confusion. “here?” he curls again, chuckling when you suck in a breath and moan. “oh yeah, it is right there.”

your legs try to close, but his hero boots spread them apart in one swift motion and bending you slightly over the island table. “does that feel good?” he asks softly, causing you to tear up and nod. “yeah? oh, i can tell.”

you choke on your tears, barely can keep your eyes open to look him in the eye. “i–i’m going to cum..” you moan, breath hitching when he speeds up the pace. “ im cumming, im cumming–“ you cry, legs shaking and eyes crossing. your mouth drops into a ‘o’, then your voice works again.

“mm, there ya go..” he mumbles, watching your eyes and kissing your lips. by this time, he’d already had pulled his cock out, it slightly pressing against that other puckered hole moments ago. “you need more than my fingers, i know.”

he did, knowing how much of a needy person you are when in need of cock.

his tip slips in, then he pulls it back out in a tease. “fuck, cant just bottom out so soon, huh?” he teases, tapping his heavy cock onto your plump ass.

“please, katsuki.” you whine, pressing your ass against the heavy balls he hadnt emptied in weeks. he groans, kissing your head and finally, fucking finally, slipping himself in.

and it was like his cock just knew where your g-spot was, because it was already there.

his hand, thats been on your throat this whole time, squeezes just a bit and feels how it expands and shrinks when you moan his name, or moan how good he makes you feel. “yeah? tell me how good this feels.” he growled out, a needy growl since he hasnt cum in the weeks you havent. “how long have you been craving this cock?” he mocks, prying your mouth open with his thumb and spitting in your dark, wet cavern.

you swallow greedily, breathing heavy when his thrusts slow down and he focuses on a slow pace, kissing your bruised and tender lips in a passionate need.

and that only draws out his kids into your womb, a breathy exhale from his nose and a spasming cock inside your walls. “took it so good, baby.” he whispered against your lips, leaning back to check on the food youd made. “luckily we didnt burn the food.”

[angelicjackles]

— Gotta earn it.

cw: fem!reader, established reader, nothing but smut. cockwarming in bed mild dom!sam - nsfw. 700ish words a/n: this is just a small drabble, not a full fic. more of a tester fic to find my bearings than anything else!

It was quiet day within the bunker, with you and Sam in your shared bedroom, door firmly closed sealing the pair of you off from the rest of the world in your own little sanctuary. There was nothing to be done today, no hunting or research. As Dean would say you guys were having ‘a snow day,’ so naturally Dean had disappeared off somewhere, Cas was nowhere to be found, no worries about interruptions.

Which is precisely how you found yourself in this predicament, in bed together with some random movie playing on the TV—Sam may have been watching it, but you had other priorities. 

Namely, the fact that you were in his lap while he was buried balls deep in your tight heat.

Neither of you had gotten dressed yet, hell hadn’t left the room yet, so the pile of combined clothes resided on the floor next to the bed where they’d been discarded last night. His warm skin against yours was delicious, he was like a walking talking heater, always so warm and inviting; just like your pussy was so warm and inviting around his cock. 

But he wouldn’t fuck you, nor was he letting you fuck yourself, so you had to sit there cockwarming him as the movie played in the background.

His long, calloused fingertips caressing absentmindedly against your upper thighs, his chin resting comfortably against the top of your head while he watched the movie with genuine interest. He didn’t seem to realise that his little light touches in this current situation was like pouring gasoline on an open flame, pooling heat low in the pit of your stomach.

Without thinking about it you shifted in his lap, maybe just to readjust or maybe to try and entice him into touching you better, the result of which had the head of his cock brushing against your cervix, your walls fluttering around his length as a soft whimper tumbled out of your mouth.

Groaning quietly, his hand left your thigh and landed a sharp slap against your clit, making you cry out softly. “What’d I tell you, honey?” He asked in a low hum, but his lilted tone of voice made it clear he was searching for an actual answer.

“Sammy...” Came your pathetic little plea, rocking your hips into his hand in search of friction. Smack. You let out the prettiest gasp, biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying out in frustrated pleasure. “Uh-uh, what’d I tell you?” He urged again, the other hand that was still on your thigh leaving to curl around your bare hip and hold you still in case you tried again. “Not to move, but—” you didn’t get a chance to finish that complaint before his thumb circled over your clit a few times, making you moan gently, but his hand on your hip kept you from bucking into that touch, forced to just feel that delicious touch. 

“There you go, you gotta earn your orgasm, baby,” he praised in a soft coo, pleased to hear your protests die on your lips. Could always count on his girl being his good little slut.

His fingers momentarily stilled on your clit, making you huff and pout at the loss. “Are you gonna be a good girl and sit still?” he asked in that low, soothing voice. “Or do you want to get off?” 

It wasn’t a threat. It was a choice, one he was leaving to you.

“...I’ll be good.” You mumbled far too quickly, as if getting off was even an option you’d consider. That wasn’t what you wanted, you’d rather have something than nothing. It was just torturous to feel his thick cock buried inside you when you couldn’t enjoy it to its full potential.

A smile curled at the corners of Sam’s mouth, making his eyes soften in the process. “That’s what I thought,” his fingers gave a few extra little circles of your needy clit just to show how pleased he was by your answer, he could have sworn he heard a breathy little murmur of ‘fuck’ slip past your lips, before both of his hands drifted back to their original position on your thighs.

Dropping his head back against the headboard, a soft sigh left his mouth, eyes flickering back to the TV screen, fingers resting stationary on the tops of your soft thighs as his attention returned back to the movie, his cock twitching inside you.

“Be good ‘til the end of the movie and I’ll take good care of all your needy little holes, sweetheart.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

Back From Hell

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end

Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.

Word Count: 3156

 Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered. 

                  In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?” 

                  You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.

                  “Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.

                  You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.” 

                  The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal. 

                  “Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”

                  In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you. 

                  In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”

                  “Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.

                  A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.” 

                  He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.” 

                  The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread. 

                  The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.

                  “Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.” 

                  A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”

                  “What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.

                  “You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.” 

                  When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were. 

                  “That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?” 

                  With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”

                  Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred. 

                  When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life. 

                  After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration. 

                  A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point. 

                  “Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.

                  “Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”

                  The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.

                  “I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?” 

                  “I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”

                  “That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”

                  The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”

                  Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.

                  You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”

                  With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before. 

                  You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”

                  Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.

                  “I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.

                  “That’s alright. Have a good one.” 

                  Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either. 

                  Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.

                  You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.

                  Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?” 

                  The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.

                  Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?” 

                  “Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you. 

                  “I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?” 

                  Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?” 

                  Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.

                  “Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!” 

                  Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way. 

                  “I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”

                  “Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.

                  From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow. 

                  You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that. 

                  “Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.             

                  Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more. 

                  “Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!” 

                  You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything. 

                  “Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.

                  He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.

                  You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.” 

                  Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it. 

                  With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?” 

                  While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first. 

                  Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.

                  “It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”

                  “I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”

                  You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.” 

                  “Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real. 

                  “Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!” 

                  The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.

                  “We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.” 

                  You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock. 

                  Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.

                  You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence. 

                  Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.

                  “You’re fine.” You said softly.

                  With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.

                  He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?” 

                  “I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.” 

                  Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.” 

                  From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.

                  “You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.

                  “Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.” 

                  Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.

                  “I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”

                  “I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”

                  “I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”

                  “Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.

                  The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.

                  “Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”

                  You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.

                  “No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.” 

                  Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.” 

                  “I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.”                  It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.

[dewdropdinosaur]

White Gold Glitters Too

ALASTOR x READER SMUT Summary: Lucifer takes too much of a liking to Alastor's wife and he seeks to claim her and prove his dominance. Fucking her for Lucifer to hear sounds like a good option. Warnings: NSFW/18+. MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Oral Sex, Reader has a Vagina, Heavy Sex, C*m, Implied P in V Sex, Jealous Fucking, Mention of Restraints, Tentacles I have never written smut before...so I am sorry. REQUESTS OPEN

Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel, was known for his charismatic yet enigmatic presence. He ruled over his domain with a devilish grin and a penchant for blood. But beneath his charming facade lay a heart that beat fiercely for one person: his beloved wife, Y/N.

Y/N was the epitome of grace and beauty, with a kindness that melted even the most hardened of souls. She had captured Alastor's heart as soon as they had entered through the doors of the hotel, and he would do anything to keep her by his side. Having been newly wed, Alastor’s possessive nature seemed to rear its head often when it came to his bride. 

However, trouble brewed when Lucifer, the fallen angel and hellish king himself, began to take an seeming interest in Y/N. His smooth words and suave demeanor drew her attention, much to Alastor's dismay. Alastor’s confidence was shaken when Lucifer Morningstar began to show a keen interest in Y/N. Despite her loyalty to Alastor, Lucifer's suave demeanor and irresistible charisma stirred a jealousy deep within Alastor's demonic heart.

It has begun innocently enough, with Lucifer's smooth compliments and flirtatious gestures towards Y/N whenever they crossed paths. Then it turned to a hand atop hers or brushing hair out of her face while she worked on fixing up the hotel. At first, Alastor attempted to suppress his jealousy, masking his feelings with his trademark grin and witty remarks. But as Lucifer's advances towards Y/N became more pronounced, Alastor's facade began to crack.

One fateful evening, as the flames of Hell danced in the distance, Alastor found himself unable to contain his simmering jealousy any longer. He watched from a distance as Lucifer flirted shamelessly with Y/N, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

His once cheerful demeanor turned dark as he became increasingly passive-aggressive, making evil eyes at the short king(yes my dears, narrators can make a joke occasionally.) But still, Lucifer persisted in his advances, seemingly unfazed by Alastor's silent warnings. Y/N, momentarily stepping away at Charlie’s call for some assistance, left the two men alone in the lobby. 

“Well, well, if it isn't the charming Lucifer. Quite the show you're putting on tonight”

Lucifer smirked, “Ah, Alastor, always a pleasure to see you. And might I say, your wife looks positively radiant this evening. You picked a good one.”

Alastor forced a smile, a natural habit of his that was wearing on him. “Why, thank you, Lucifer. She does tend to have that effect, doesn't she? Though I must say, your interest in her appearance is unexpected.”

“Oh, Alastor, there's no harm in appreciating beauty when it's right in front of you. And your wife is truly a sight to behold.” Lucifer leaned closer, using his elbow to nudge Alastor in the ribs playfully; unaware of the brewing violence in the red demon before him. Or maybe he did know and elected to ignore it. Lucifer did get terribly bored. 

Alastor spoke firmly through clenched teeth “Indeed, she is. But I must warn you, Lucifer, my patience wears thin when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Just engaging in some harmless conversation. Does that bother you?

“Of course, how silly of me to assume otherwise.” Both men quipped back and forth so sarcastically it could've been considered the eight deadly sin. 

Returning from aiding the princess, Y/N resumed her place by Alastor’s side and back into the conversation. Unable to contain his jealousy any longer, Alastor put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and looked towards Y/N with a forced smile plastered on his face. "Darling, would you care for a stroll?" he offered, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

Y/N, oblivious to the turmoil raging within her husband, nodded with a smile and waved goodbye to Lucifer. As they walked through the dimly lit corridors of Hell, Alastor's mind seethed with anger and resentment. 

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Alastor halted abruptly and turned to face Y/N. "Tell me, my dear, what is it about Lucifer that captivates you so?" he demanded, his words laced with bitterness.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in Alastor's demeanor. "Alastor, what are you talking about? Lucifer is just being friendly," she protested, confusion etched on her face.

"Friendly? Yes, that's one way to put it. Though, his friendliness seems rather... focused, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N glanced at Alastor, sensing the tension in his voice. She attempted to defuse the situation with a reassuring smile.

Y/N: "Alastor, there's no need to worry. You know where my heart lies."

Alastor's smile tightened, his grip on Y/N's hand becoming just a tad too firm.

Alastor: "Of course, my dear. I'm well aware. But it's amusing, isn't it? How Lucifer seems to find you so... intriguing."

Y/N shot Alastor a puzzled look, sensing the underlying resentment in his words.

"Alastor, you're being awfully aggressive. Is something bothering you?"

Alastor's grin widened, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Lucifer.

Alastor: "Bothering me? Not at all, my dear. Just finding it fascinating how Lucifer can't seem to keep his eyes off you. Quite the dilemma, wouldn't you agree?

Alastor refused to be swayed by her words. With a fierce determination, he pulled Y/N flush to his chest and pushed her back against the wall, his grip possessive and demanding. Peering down into her eyes, his own glowed with a dark green hue. 

"I'll show you who the better man is, my dear," he growled, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity as he slammed his lips to capture hers. Moaning into the kiss, Y/N slowly brought her hands up to find themselves tangled in Alastor’s red locks. 

Trailing his hand up to her waist, Alastor gave it a tight squeeze that made his wife squeak. Chuckling at the reaction, both their lips remained interlocked for what seemed an eternity. Deciding she had enough teasing, Y/N grabbed hold of Alastor’s cane and used its shadows to transport them to their shared bedroom. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king sized bed and laid down on the red silken sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, Y/N wasted no time in relocking her lips back to her husband's. 

Nimble fingers traced up her waist, tugging softly on the waistband of her shorts before suddenly ripping them off of her body. Exposed to the cool air, Y/N let out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan as Alastor traced a knuckle up her clothed core. 

“Darling, tsk tsk. We haven’t even begun and you are drenching my fingers through these clothes.” Continuing to drag his finger across her pantie-clad slit, Alastor mumbled the words into the base of her neck. 

“Stop–fuck–stop teasing Al.”

“Oh but dear, that’s half the fun.” Despite his words, he obliged her request by removing the offending garment from her body.​​ Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering white gold slick that painted her hole. 

“Gorgeous darling, glittering gorgeous.” Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly here and there while delving as deep as his tongue would allow(he would not admit to using magic to make it longer), Y/N let out wanton moans and lewd hisses of pleasure. Gripping the sheets beneath her as her eyes remained shut in ecstasy. To make matters worse, or better depending on who you ask, Alastor inserted his finger into her while continuing to feast. He could see her holding back some of her noises, desperate to control her lust.

"Darling, do not hide from me."

"But normally you don't want people to hear--"

"That does not apply today. Let all of Hell and that filthy king know you are mine."

Stretching her open, he added another finger; scissoring her wide. Y/n’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body involuntarily shifted away from the overstimulating assault. Taking his other hand, Alastor placed it on her hip and held her in place. 

“Unless you would like to be restrained, I insist you remain in place.” Perking up at the thought, Y/N gulped. Being restrained by Alastor’s slick tentacles, forcing her legs open so he could do as he pleased; letting him use them to fill every hole piqued her interest. Perhaps for another time. 

The thoughts and stimulation from Alastor’s mouth and his fingers nearly had her cumming, mumbling incoherently for just a bit more to push her over the edge. Smirking, Alastor brought a third finger into her hole, its walls squeezing onto him for dear life. Using his thumb to rub against her clit, the stimulation was bearing nearly too much. 

“Go on Y/N. Tell me….tell me how I can only make you feel this good. That even the King of Hell couldn’t make you cum just from his fingers.”

That’s what did it, Y/N felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Alastor’s name. Surely, the whole hotel had heard her by now. Just as Alastor wanted. Cum now coated his fingers and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses and she saw stars. 

Drawing his fingers slowly out of her and bringing them to his lips, Alastor sucked on the white gold juices. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with arousal. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged her in on the bed and she could feel his growing bulge against her thighs, Alastor whispered darkly. 

“Now dear, feel like letting Lucifer know how good round two is about to feel?”

[malevolent-fairy]

Anonymous asked; kink: face sitting from Guess My Muse’s Kinks

“... Yes...”

[nvirskies]

it's getting hot in here - c. la rue

warnings: reader is like half-naked? just no shirt on is all but reader is wearing a sports bra, nothing sexual just like a tad suggestive?, clarisse is a gay mess, kinda ooc clarisse, i know next to nothing about blacksmithing please hang in there with me, fem reader, no use of y/n, self-conscious reader, not beta read

summary: clarisse goes to pick up a custom order dagger from the forge when she's met with an unexpected sight.

hephaestus!daughter!reader x clarisse la rue

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @lvrue @azrielsdiary @b0ok-lover @star-girl69 @petitegavotte

from this post !

a/n: tbh might make this a multi part thing, at least a second part. also, so sorry this took so long to finish- i got sidetracked with a couple other things irl. hope you enjoy! men, nsfw, non-sapphics, 16- / 19+ dni

It was no secret the kids of Cabin 9 ran a side business to make some extra cash. It was pretty lucrative, given that there would always be a line of demigods waiting to have their weapon(s) of choice customized. Custom engravings, patterns cast into handles, ergonomic handpiece add-ons, and so much more. Name it, and it would be done for the right price, forged with impeccable quality.

And that was how Clarisse La Rue found herself heading to the forge just east of the strawberry fields with a thin paper in one hand and a small bag of golden drachmas in the other. The edges of the slip were just barely singed, and the writing on it looked nearly incomprehensible to many eyes, scribbled notes of her order confirmation and gods only knew what else. It didn’t matter to her, she just needed it to get her dagger and go.

Crowds parted for her like the Red Sea, once-lively conversations coming to a grinding halt as she walked straight through crowds and groups with nothing more than a glare and a sharp look in any general direction. 

In no time at all, the familiar sounds of machinery clanking, fire hissing and crackling, and hammers striking metal filled the air. It was the forge, the singular place where one could guarantee there would be at least one child of Hephaestus in there at all hours of the day. 

She pushed open the heavy metal door, swinging it wide open soundlessly despite its obvious weight. And what a sight she was greeted with. You were there alone, hunched over a piece of blisteringly hot metal, pounding away at it with a hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other.

Something about you entranced her. 

She didn’t know if it was the way your hair was pulled into a low ponytail, some loose strands clinging to the sides of your face, the way you subconsciously bit your lip as you focused completely on the red-hot metal in front of you. Or perhaps, it was the way your muscles rippled in the dim firelight as you struck the metal again and again, a thin sheen of sweat covering the exposed portions of your skin from both the heat and the exertion. 

Maybe it was a combination or something else entirely. 

As she gazed at you, a light blush dusted her cheeks as she came to the realization that you weren’t wearing much while working. The heat of the forge had led you to forgo wearing a shirt entirely, said shirt reduced to a tiny, crumpled gray bundle of fabric in the corner of the room. You were left wearing a sports bra, dusted with ash and soot and a pair of baggy sweatpants resting just above your hips.

It wasn’t as if Clarisse had never seen people dressed in less before. Hell, she’d seen her own fair amount of skin for various reasons. But this time, it seemed different. The slip of paper and bag of coins in her hands were forgotten momentarily as she simply stared at you from the doorway.

The way the dim light of the roaring furnace illuminated you from behind gave you an almost ethereal glow, the edges of the flames flickering around your moving silhouette. 

She could see the muscles in your arm and shoulder tensing and relaxing with every ever-so-precise swing of the hammer, and she found herself silently watching you work from the doorway. 

Ultimately, it was the soft clinking coming from the bag of drachmas Clarisse held in her hand that drew your attention away from the project in front of you. Your head snapped up, tense and a tad startled from the sudden sound, having been so zoned into your work that you hadn’t noticed her presence. 

The hammer in your hand dropped to the metal workbench with a loud clang, the sound reverberating throughout the forge, ripping Clarisse from the glossed-over, hazy look in her eyes as she watched you move just moments ago, having been completely and utterly under your spell.

“Shit-!” you exclaimed, jumping slightly and wincing at the harsh sound, eyes widening further as you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed far too casual compared to how she normally treated campers, especially given her outward distaste towards children of Hephaestus. 

And all of a sudden, you’re all too aware of your lack of a shirt and your cheeks flare with an embarrassed bright red flush.

Flushed the same color as the heated metal in front of you, Clarisse noted absentmindedly. It wasn’t a look she didn’t like. But of course, she would never admit that. The big, bad Clarisse La Rue flustered over something as insignificant as muscles on a girl? Impossible.

Her attention is drawn back to you, observing as you scurry to the other side of the room to grab your stashed-away shirt, slipping the loose grey fabric over your body, any and all views of the muscles she had seen just moments prior completely disappearing in a matter of seconds.

After having taken a few calming breaths, you steeled yourself for a barrage of snarky remarks that you were sure would come spewing out of the Ares cabin counselor’s mouth like acid out of the myrmeke’s mouths, but they never came.

Instead, you’re greeted with the sight of a Clarisse who seemed to be a bit flustered? Her eyes didn’t meet yours for a moment before she straightened herself out. Before your very eyes, you watched her cool and collected facade slip over her like a mask, and that trademark smirk of hers tugged at the corners of her lips.

“I’m here to pick up an order, under my name,” she remarks, holding up the bag of drachmas and thin slip of paper in an outstretched hand. Her gaze seemed like it was scrutinizing everything about your appearance from the baggy grey shirt that hung loosely over your frame to the soot just barely smudged on your forehead. Whether it was a good or bad look you had no idea, subconsciously shrinking into the shadows of the dimly lit forge.

“Right, right, La Rue…” you trail off nervously, scanning the room for the rack that held completed orders and leafing through the tags attached to each object. “La Rue, La Rue, La Rue, where is it-?” you muse to yourself, repeating her last name in a hushed tone until the sight of it comes into view. The dagger she had ordered was at the edge of the table, with the request for a heavyweight handle and an etching of her initials into the butt of it.

Normally, Clarisse would have found your behavior annoying if it were coming from anyone else, but oddly enough, she quite liked the way her last name rolled off your tongue. It felt almost natural, too natural. Quickly, she brushed away the lingering thoughts about how you had looked almost god-like with the flame from the roaring furnace glowing behind you, the thoughts of what your skin would feel like under her hands. 

After a beat of silence, you grabbed said dagger, placed a little ball of clay over its razor-sharp tip, and slipped it into a small drawstring bag, pulling it closed. 

“That’ll be five golden drachmas, La Rue, or fifteen silver ones. Whatever works for you” you say as you hand her the bag, other hand outstretched for the paper she held and to take the coins. She dropped the five golden coins in your palm and grabbed the bag to turn on her heel and walk out without another word.

Or so you thought.

“Thanks for the weapon. I’ll see you around, pretty girl.”

[tenjikufag]

I really need a sub Dabi x male reader Imagine that reader has a Tartaglia-type form and he transforms during the battle, thinking that he scared Dabi with it, but this only manifests dirty thoughts in his head. Nsfw please (sorry if it's too much 😭🙏) P.s I watched the new season and it's soooo good 😩

Short Fuse.

Dabi x Hero!MaleReader

-smut, dirty thoughts, rough sex, DOM!READER, sub!Dabi, size difference, dubious consent(?), knife mention, crying, slight degradation

-thank you for the request. I haven’t caught up with the anime yet but I’ve been reading the manga and wowie.. but I hope this is what you wanted or meant, wasn’t sure if you wanted villain or not..

The League of Villains surrounded you and your fellow heroes, you’d been stuck with their flame quirk user and it put you at a standstill.

You held a typical hydro quirk, one that allows weapons to manifest from water alone and gave you the ability to cause on land tidal waves and seismic ripples with underground water reserves.

But, even with the upper hand you’d become exhausted because of the power of Dabi’s quirk; being able to turn all the water that surrounded you to nothing but steam that would burn those around who hadn’t trained to succeed in such a scorching environment.

“Say hero, why don’t ya give up already. All your friends are dyin’ around you.. can’t you help them?”

He was right, but the way he chuckled ignited a new surge of energy.

You would surely fall into his hands if you pushed your quirk any further without using.. that side of your quirk.

A secondary trait wasn’t common but it’s what you had. It wasn’t a flattering trait and you’d been told to keep it under wraps.. it could be viewed as a villainous quirk. That’s what you were told at least.

It was scary. Terrifying even, one that you’d imagine a villain to have.

It would be a shock factor, hopefully, and this was life or death for you and the others..

Inhaling deeply, you allowed for the electric currents caused by water and the seismic rifts to fester in your body. It hurt, and you would have hell to pay physically for doing so.

Screaming loudly you charged at the patched male, before he could burn you to a crisp you quickly used him as a launching pad and tossed yourself into the air above him. He fell to his knees and quickly whipped around with his hand out to let a burst of flames out.

His eyes widened, the large form creating a dooming shadow over him and shading the blazing sun from him.

Dabi shook in excitement, you’d grown twice maybe triple the size you were, violet tinted black armour covered your body and a feathery collar to top it off.

The single eye in the center of the new mask pointed its gaze down to him.. before he could fully comprehend the sight he was sent flying from a sudden shock of electricity.

Grunting, he went to try and hit you again but was only pile-drived through the terrain. Even through the terrain and pain, he felt himself heat up from the grasp you had on him..

You were so big.. your hands easily wrapping around his waist and the power you exuded.. he was excited.

“Ugh.. quite the form ya got there..”

He pathetically laid under you, pinned by your weight and with his shirt shredded to bits he was almost exposed to you. The tightness in his pants was keeping him from moving further..

Dabi couldn’t help the perverted thoughts he had, scanning you as you loomed over him..

Did everything grow? Was this just armour or is everything huge now.. he could see your neck through a gap in the armour, feeling himself drool a little at the sight of your shiny sweat.

How would it taste? How would you taste? Were you salty, sweet, pungent.. maybe even savoury? Was there an underlying musk or was it overwhelmingly musky and manly.. the idea of tasting even a lick of your sweat made him cross his legs even if he was held under a deadly grip.

You took his silence and halted movement as fear, he only stared up at you with wide eyes and his body was stiff and rigid in your grip. The swirling in your stomach festered while his bright eyes stared, you heard the cameras flashing and people scream around you. Even in such a fierce battle the cameras were always on, there were still onlookers who stood too stubborn to leave- claiming you’d save them even if they stayed.

“No more moves, Dabi?”

Dabi gulped, swallowing his excess saliva and the lump in his throat bobbed.. he didn’t want you to let go of him or leave and he needed to find a way to keep you near him.

Raising his hand, he reached out towards your face.. instinctively you flinched away and shoved your hand further into his abdomen; making him wheeze out from the pressure.

Before you could question or do anything further, he blasted a large burst of flames into your face- the heat making you collapse along with the fumes taking every ounce of air from your lungs.

Dabi expected you to fall on top of him, ready for the impact of all your weight ontop of him but you managed to fall to the side.. smirking, he greedily took in the image of you lurched over and grinned while he watched you shrink. Before the smoke and flames could clear he grabbed you and took off.

You were bigger and buffer than him before, with him carrying you the size difference in your normal form was still enough to keep up his excitement.. your hand that laid over his shoulder was almost twice the size of his.. did you really finish shrinking or were you naturally this big? He shuddered, thinking of all the things you could do to him if he wasn’t so sly and greedy. He always got what he wanted, and he wanted you.

—

He brought you to a hidden area, not that far away from the actual fight but far enough that it would be considered an evacuated zone.

You came to almost as soon as he dropped you to the ground, and he smiled deviously while you blinked away the pain- trying to stand only to stumble around without finding your footing.

“Havent you found yourself in a fun scenario, hero?”

Looking up, you caught the bright eyes of Dabi, he sat on a chair with his legs crossed.. you went to attack but only fell to clutch your side.

The after effects from your secondary trait kicking in, your thoughts no longer all that self preserving or even coherent.

“Gotta say.. that form you took out there. I’d love to know more about it.”

Wincing, you sat down on the ground.. staring up at the man who looked like he would eat you alive..

“W..what do you mean?”

He chuckled, smoothly moving to sit infront of you- running a finger up your neck and only lightly grazing before you slapped his hand away. The finger glistened with a thin veil of your sweat, silence halted in your throat as you watched his pierced tongue lick and suck on the finger..

“You’re so big.. does that go for the rest of you?”

Going to crawl on his hands and knees, he inches closer to you- his arousal growing as he smelled you.

It wasn’t unpleasant, your faint odour covered by a cologne smell and the scents mixed only furthered his thoughts. You didn’t dare move, unsure what he was actually trying to do but the way he took in deep breathes right by your neck.. it made you gulp and want to.. you weren’t sure what you were going to do.

“It would be so fun to play with you in that form.. have you ever tried it? Do ya think anyone could even take you without being torn in half?”

“What the hell? What are you saying?!”

He pulled away with a frown, lowering himself to your thighs and only hovering above them.

“You saying it’s never been a thought? Cmon.. most people would kill to have someone as large as you tear them up..”

Your breathe hitched, blush coming over your face.. the realization hit you. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared of your form back there.. he was.. aroused?

“You’re not scared? My quirk didn’t scare you?!”

Dabi chuckled, taking in and reading your body language, deciding to run his hands across your thighs and up to flutter over your waist.

“I’m a villain, it takes a lot to scare me and I would never be scared of some hero.. I can tell you’re weak and won’t be able to get away from me..”

Licking his lips, his eyes trailed up to yours as he laid his cheek on your plush thigh

“Why don’t you have some fun? Push your quirk to the limit, let me see how big you really are..”

He couldn’t help it, the need, the want, for you to fuck him silly- tear him to shreds, it ached and throbbed inside of him.

You stared down at him, it had been a thought of yours but.. it was never an idea that you’d sleep with a villain!

—

Sweat, musk, a thick fragrance filled the room. It reeked in the best ways- it smelled like sex and desperation. It smelled like sin.

A hero and villain fucking each other as if it was still a life or death battle, aggressive moans and screams emptied themselves between each wall in attempts to fight their ways outside.

Dabi laid with his face pressed against the ground, tongue hanging out of his mouth while he panted like a dog. His free forming moans and whining sounding strangled from his throat.

“Such a filthy fucking villain.. where is your pride? What’s all.. this for?”

His eyes rolled back into his head, the degrading insinuations of your words bounced around his head. A life where he only stood by to be a toy for a hero would truly be a scandalous turn of events- imagine that?! All his hard work to get where he is, all the hardships, the reputation he built.. only to be dummied down to nothing but a slut for a hero..

Every buck of your hips left even less of his pride and self worth- god you were big. It felt so full. Your dick was almost in his guts and rearranging his intestines- he swore!

“What’s that? Got something to say? Let me hear it, tell me with your big boy words.”

His lip quivered, knowing he couldn’t speak through his own sounds he resorted to writhing under you.

“That’s what I thought.”

You pulled out, letting go of his waist and sitting back. Dabi looked behind him, seeing you catching your breathe and pumping yourself.

“Get over here. Now.”

With legs like jelly, he moved to pathetically crawl towards you and sit in your lap.

“Ride it.”

With a weak nod his hand reached around to fill himself up again. With tears in his eyes he tried to bounce himself- only to have his legs tremble under him and threaten to give out.

Nothing he did satisfied how you fucked him. But, his protesting whines fell on deaf ears- the look in your eyes burnt at his skin.

He needed more.

Tears started to pour from his bright eyes, with a smirk you used your quirk on his tears and made a small and razor sharp blade from the sweet liquid.

It went to his throat and pricked his skin, his sensitive scarred skin being nicked made him cry harder.

“Finish yourself, I’m getting bored.”

With a choked sob, he bounced with every drop of energy he had.. all the exhaustion from being abused by the fight and by your dick catching up far too quickly- he wasn’t done! It just wasn’t enough time but through it all he made himself cum. The gooey liquid hitting his chest and shooting just underneath his own chin.

��How pathetic. Disappointing. Can’t be a good villain and can’t even be a good fuck!”

Your hand came up and shoved his face away harshly, forcing him to fall back and get pinned by you once again- the small blade threatening his jugular once more as you laid atop of him.

“Now, I need to get myself taken care of since you wasted my time.”

With a rough thrust, your full length intruded his tight hole and hit against his gummy walls.. every thrust was deep and harsh. Dabi could only lay under you weakly and let you have your way with his body.

He wasn’t scared by your form, he was scared of you. How could a hero be this mean in sex? What a filthy and unhero-like mouth you had.. what a filthy and lewd body you had.

The time you spent abusing his body wasn’t even a tangible thought that he couldn’t comprehend- he felt like it’d been years and his body wanted to give up so badly. When he felt the hot load of cum shoot across his stomach he let out a shuttering breathe- his ass already clenching around nothing.

He needed to keep you somehow.. he needed to see you at your best if this was you tired and aching..

“And yeah, to answer you question.. it all grows. Don’t think you could handle it though, even if you are such a slut.”

With a weak smirk, he watched you leave him alone in all his shame- the faint smell of you left on his skin and making him want to try you again.

With a final shred of energy, he used a finger to pick up your cum on his stomach and shoving it down his throat.

It made every dirty thought he had resurface.. you tasted amazing. He needed more. He’d find you alone again, and show you he isn’t this weak and could please you more, he could impress you.

He wanted a hero to ruin him, and it needed to be you.

[another-lost-mc]

Your First Kiss Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Smutty Smooches Content warnings: Pining demons, anxiety/insecurity, mostly fluff and suggestive comments. Some cursing. Certain demons are a bit, uhh...steamier than others.

LUCIFER

The fireplace in Lucifer's private study crackles nearby. He feels warm from the flames, the bottle of Demonus you've been sharing, and your body curled against his.

A comfortable silence falls over you both, and it's natural for his gaze to seek yours. Your eyes are dark, and it's not a trick of the light when he sees your eyes dart down to his mouth.

Your face starts to move closer to his, and the only thing louder than the cursed record playing is the thrum of anticipation and desire that sets his nerves ablaze.

He's imagined this moment longer than he'll ever admit. He's been waiting for a sign that you wanted to go down this path with him, no matter where it leads. Now that he knows what you want, it's too late to turn back now.

Your hand rests on his chest and he can feel your touch through the layers between you - the clothes he wears, and the walls he’s put up to deter those unworthy of him.

He closes his eyes to savor the experience of kissing you for the first time. Your taste makes him lightheaded, and it's more irresistible than the finest vintage of Demonus.

He follows your lead at first, slotting his lips perfectly against yours and enjoying the sensation of your lips moving gently against his own.

When you put a little more heat into the kiss - your tongue tentatively swiping against the seam of his lips as you move your body closer to his - he cradles the back of your head and slides his other hand down to your waist. He pulls you against him and let's a groan rumble in his chest, undeniable proof of his desire and it encourages you to give him more.

It feels like all you've been through together has brought both of you to this moment, and he's been patient long enough. He takes lead of the kiss, his buried feelings for you spilling from his lips to yours, while his passion consumes you both.

MAMMON

Mammon is caught off-guard by your first kiss.

He looked away in embarrassment after telling you, in a very complicated, round-about way, that you meant the world to him.

He pretended to look at something in the distance, but his cheeks were warm. He had to resist the urge not to look at you again, to pretend that you're not the flame he's constantly drawn to.

His feelings for you are overwhelming sometimes. You're just so fucking amazing, and all his - even if you don't realize it yet.

But Mammon is like an open book to you; you know how he feels, how he's always felt about you.

When he looks at you again, he's startled when your face is suddenly so close to his.

You lean forward and give him a kiss - it's quick, and it's not perfect - but he gets the hint of what you're trying to tell him: You mean the world to me, too.

He sputters about how you shouldn't go around surprising demons like that, and he almost thinks the kiss is supposed to be a joke, but he knows that's not true. It can't be, not when you're looking at him like he hung the moon, and your smile is wide and hopeful.

The happiness in his chest threatens to bubble over, and he knows he'll never forget this moment.

Fuck it. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you back in for another kiss. It's still not perfect - you're both smiling so it's a bit clumsy, and your teeth clack together.

He wants more of you - he'll always want more. He wants to pull you close and hold your body against his, and he wants to plunder your mouth with his tongue, but not now. Not here.

He nips your bottom lip before he reluctantly pulls away, and he practically drags you back home to continue this in private.

LEVIATHAN

Levi didn't see the big deal about giving you the collectible game figure you wanted - so why the hell did you lean over and kiss him?!

It was over almost as soon as it began, a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth after you thanked him.

You're too focused on your new toy to notice Levi short-circuiting beside you on the sofa in his room.

His breathing is a bit erratic, and he rubs his sweaty palms on the denim of his jeans.

His throat is scratchy and dry all of a sudden, but licking his lips doesn't help - especially not when he tastes the evidence of your kiss: the sweet, sticky residue from the bag of candies you shared earlier.

He crosses his legs until he can discretely pull a pillow into his lap to hide the growing bulge between his legs.

You're talking excitedly about something, but he can't make out the words - his mind is still reeling from the implications of why you kissed him.

The kiss couldn't have been an accident - you leaned over on purpose, and he felt your chest press against his arm so your lips could reach his.

He thinks that maybe it was a joke at first, or some sort of tease, but he looks at you closely. Your eyes are a bit brighter, and your cheeks are a tinge darker than usual. You keep glancing at him shyly from the corner of your eyes.

He doesn't realize how long he's been freaking out until you ask him if he's alright.

He didn’t notice you spoke to him at first: he was too busy staring at you and your soft, candy-sweetened lips, trying to figure out what he's ever done to deserve you.

He swallows nervously and braces himself when he looks into your eyes properly. "Can we—can we do that again?"

SATAN

Satan’s first thought when you kiss him is that he wishes he had the nerve to kiss you first.

He likes inviting you to his room to read together - his room is lit brightly enough so that you don’t have to strain your human eyes to read the pages of your book.

However, there’s something alluring about the way candlelight and shadow play across your features. It distracts him from the book in his hands as he stares at you fondly instead.

You’re sitting side-by-side on his bed, which he prefers: the scent of the fragrance you wear lingers on his bedding, and sometimes he can still smell you when he goes to sleep.

You thank him for something - lending you one of his rare edition books, something he probably wouldn’t do for anyone else - and you kiss his cheek.

It’s such a sweet, innocent gesture but it still makes his body grow hot. It's not like the raging inferno of his anger, but more like a molten wave of affection that sweeps through him.

He’s not nervous now that he has permission to touch you, and one kiss is not going to be enough to satisfy him.

He cups your cheek and brushes the skin gently with his thumb. You bite your lip to stifle a bashful grin, and he can’t help but press his smile against your own.

His other hand finds yours on his sheets between your bodies, and he nearly whimpers into the kiss when you lace your fingers with his.

Your other hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder and you lean your body closer to his. Perhaps if he were overcome with desire he would wrap his arms around you and pull you down onto the bed.

He doesn’t want to ruin this; he decides this moment is perfect enough. You trade soft, sweet kisses in the cozy haven of his room, where time stands still and only your love remains.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus wants to kiss you desperately, but he doesn't want you to think you're just another passing fancy in his long list of ex-lovers. He feels like he has a lot to prove to you.

He can't charm his way into your heart, and he knows you want him to be honest and genuine with you.

When he admits that he loves you - more than he's loved anyone before, possibly even more than he loves himself - the cravings begin.

He craves your company, and your touch, and your kiss and your body. He craves you. But he promises himself he won't rush things, and he won't pressure you.

He wanted to go shopping - and buy you something, of course - when some idiot demon on a motorcycle nearly ran you over while you crossed the street together. Asmo wrapped his arms around you and held you close while he cursed the demon who kept driving.

He pulled you into an alley off the main street so he could check on you privately. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you? I promise, if I ever see them again, I'm going to—mmph!"

Asmo looked concerned when he examined you for injuries, but he didn't expect you to grab his shirt collar and pull his lips down to yours.

He makes a surprised noise against your lips, then he moans when he realizes you're finally kissing him, and he can't fucking believe it.

His hands roam your body - your shoulders, your back, your hips - and he pulls you even closer as the kiss grows more heated. He can't help it, but neither can you, apparently - adrenaline is a helluva drug.

His kiss is hot and frenzied and desperate, and he feels drunk off your taste, and your lips are so soft, and his nerves tingle every time your tongue glides against his own.

You pull away first, gasping for air even as Asmo tries to chase your mouth because he doesn't want to stop.

His lip gloss feels tacky and it's smeared across his lips and chin. Your mouth is messy too, and your cheeks are flushed, and the way you're staring at him is so fucking hot.

He suddenly decides he's not in the mood to go shopping anymore - but he leads you home by the hand and promises he still has plans to spoil you tonight.

BEELZEBUB

When you're friends, you let Beel pick leftovers off your plate, or you cook him an extra large portion of food. When you start dating, he cares less about food and cares more about other things he'd like to share with you.

He's not distracted by the food on your plate, but the way you moan when you eat something especially tasty, or the way your lips shine after you wet them with your tongue, and he wonders what kissing you will be like too.

Every time sauce or cream clings to the corners of your mouth, he wants to lick your lips clean for you.

He tries to be patient and wait for you to kiss him first. Sometimes you look at him like you're ravenous for him in a way he's never seen before, but he's never been good at self-control when he's starving.

One night he sneaks to the kitchen for a late-night snack, but you're already there. You're leaning against the counter, eating ice cream straight out of the tub, and you freeze guiltily when you realize you've been caught.

Beel's stunned by the sight of you in your pajamas, hidden mostly in shadow with a spoon dangling from your lips when you start to sputter excuses.

He can see that there's a dribble of ice cream, just there, above your lip—

He takes the tub and spoon from you gently - and you smile, because you think he wants to share because he likes that flavour - but you gasp against his lips when he leans down and kisses you.

His lips are soft when they move against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his own.

Once the lingering sweetness is gone, all he can taste is you. You taste even better.

He freezes when he realizes what he's doing, and he pulls his hands away from your waist like he's been burned. He starts to apologize, and your face is flushed and he thinks you're upset, but then you ask him to kiss you again.

Oh fuck, you're going to be awful for his self-control.

He kisses you again, and again, and again. He whispers broken praise about how good you taste and how amazing you are between hot, opened mouth kisses against your lips.

When you break the kiss with a pleased sigh, his lips drag along your jaw. He wants more.

You're bracketed between his arms and he's crowding you against the counter. The drawer handle digging painfully into your back forces you to gently push him away.

He knows he's staring at you, and he might be drooling a little now too, but he can't help it.

You feed him the rest of the half-melted ice cream - it would be a waste not to - and lead him from the kitchen to your bedroom, where you can continue things more comfortably.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie is still groggy from sleep when he drapes an arm over your waist. You're both laying in his bed in the attic, and as much as he wants to fall back to sleep, his eyes blink open instead.

You're still sleeping, and your nose makes a cute little whistling noise when you breathe. You're so adorable.

He doesn't consider himself to be the romantic type, but you bring that out in him sometimes. In the dimly lit attic, the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling give you an almost ethereal, whimsical glow.

You look so peaceful when you sleep. Beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing—

He scoots a bit closer to you, and he's not sure the blankets covering you both are the reason why he suddenly feels so warm.

You're pouting in your sleep, and you murmur quietly too, and he wonders what you're dreaming about tonight.

He always feels so cozy spending time with you like this, even though you're still asleep. It gives him a chance to think about you, and the things he wishes he had the nerve to do when you're awake.

His head is resting on the pillow beside you, and he brushes his nose against yours. He smiles when you scrunch your nose in your sleep.

He kisses your forehead and cheek next - what isn't smooshed into the pillow, anyway. He peppers kisses along your skin, and he thinks about all the things he likes about you, and the things he wants to do together, and the things he'd like to do for you.

His quick kiss against your lips is impulsive. He's wanted to kiss you for so long, but since you're asleep you'll never know—

He panics when your eyes blink open and meet his.

You stare at each other. He's ready to tell you that whatever you think you felt was just a dream, but then a smile blooms across your face.

He tries to shuffle back from you, but you shuffle forward. He gives up when he's nearly falling off the mattress trying to put some distance from you, and you simply raise an eyebrow as if to ask, "What are you going to do now?"

“Nothing happened,” he says lamely, and the lie sounds as obvious as it feels rolling off his tongue.

“That’s a shame, I was having a nice dream that some handsome demon kissed me.” You roll over and sigh dramatically, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning.

“Handsome, huh?” He follows you - because he’s powerless not to - and leans on his elbow so he can look down at your cute, pouting face. “And how do I compare?"

You reach up and cup his cheek, and he can't resist the urge to nuzzle into your touch. "Nothing compares to you." The sincerity in your voice makes his throat tighten, and his cheeks are on fire, and what is he supposed to say to that?

You grin at him, and your eyes are soft and full of love for him and him alone.

He's determined to kiss that cheeky smile off your face. He lowers his head to yours and kisses you again - properly this time - and hums happily when you move your lips against his like you wanted this as much as he did.

[phyrestartr]

Their Burning Bodies Keep Us Warm (1/2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.4k #NSFW, top!Sukuna, bottom!Reader, ABO dynamics, cannibalism, mentions of sex trafficking, mentions of cults, questionable relationship, suggested Stockholm syndrome, post-apocalypse, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, drama, gore, typical zombie shite, not rlly edited kekw SORRY

tags: @flowersatwork @tr4nniez @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9

You ran. Even when your lungs tore apart, your legs burned to ash, your mind split and ruptured, you ran. 

The destination was simple: anywhere. Anywhere away from the hell hole you'd been swept up into–a camp full of soldiers getting hopeful little bugs stuck in a honeypot with promises of safety and a life well-lived despite the end of the world. A colony. A chance to stop hoping to simply survive. 

But that wasn't what happened. You and so many others were victims of a breeding ring–a puppy mill, so to speak. One where those able to bear young were forced to. One where a hivemind fooled the naive into thinking this was all for the ultimate goal of repopulation, for a chance to reclaim the world should the infected finally fall.

Yet humans, as smart and powerful as the hive claimed, had already lost once, and now twice as they lit their humanity ablaze for the greater evil of satisfying twisted desires under the guise of necessity. You couldn't take it anymore. 

So, you ran. 

Then, you saw a light. Just faintly. It whispered promises of warmth in the cold deadness of Winter's night; you couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

But that meant someone was inside, too, which could be a blessing or a curse–if they found you, sidling up to the house, listening for signs of life or unlife, they could turn you in to the men chasing you; on the other hand, you might find a friend. A companion. A safe person to sleep by at night. To eat with. To talk to. That'd be nice. 

Your daydreams shattered when the voices of those soldiers echoed in the empty streets of the town you'd found yourself in. You peeked from your perch by the front door of the house, and ducked out of view when you saw two bobbing lights flicking and scanning over the snow. 

Shit, shit, shit. You swallowed thickly, trying to thick through the frost biting you and the snow melting on your bare arms. What were the odds they'd be able to follow your scent? All the way down to the spot where you hid beneath the front steps? It was hard to track another when it was raining, so snow had to be the same, right? So why were they coming closer and closer, why were their voices becoming hushed and their words rushed, why were they–

The door above you slammed open with the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand, hoping the boom coupled with your stalker's shocked, angry barking (just one voice?) stifled whatever pathetic squawk you garbled out. 

It must've. Because the person--the man--standing on the weather-worn deck above you laughed, and stepped down the creaky stairs with heavy, lazy steps before following that soldier's voice. 

Go, go, go. You forced yourself to move, pushing yourself up the steps under the cover of barked threats and the outbreak of a fight. You thought men like that stuck together. That they'd help each other out with delivering omegas back to one another. That they'd invite him to join their diabolic cult–especially when the thick scent of alpha filled your lungs.

You swallowed thickly, your inner omega going wild with curiosity and wonder and a need to curl up in the musk and laze in it all day, but your petrified self picked up the slack and kept you in motion, kept you scrambling for a place to hide. Staying the night was the plan–you wouldn't be able to survive outside, not like this. Not with a t-shirt, worn joggers and runners being your only defense against the cold. 

What happens in the morning? He'd no doubt catch your scent. He'd no doubt realize he had an unwelcome guest. What would he do with you? What would he do to you? 

“I don't care,” You breathed as you jammed yourself into the darkness of a bedroom closet and burrowed into whatever lay on the floor. “I don't care.”

And that was true; being a slave to one was better than being a slave to many. 

–

His eyes shone red.

You weren't sure if you woke in the night to find the demon. You didn't know if your dreamscape simply enjoyed tormenting you. But the burns left by that searing, glowing gaze were real. 

He stood there. Features melded with shadow. Body engulfing the snowy light of night. Staring down at you. Quiet. Still. Inhuman. 

Only your shaky breathing filled the thick, damp void of silence his presence brought. What were you supposed to do? What were you supposed to–

He closed the closet doors, and his lumbering footsteps sauntered away.

–

When morning came, the stranger was not so willing to leave you alone. 

You thought you were being quite crafty, quite sneaky with how you planned on escaping; you waited for sounds of his to stop in a far-off room, then you donned yourself in whatever gear and warm clothes you could find in the closet, and then you carefully, so so so carefully, opened the closet doors and–

“Leaving already, little omega?” A deep, playful voice taunted from the doorway of the room, just out of sight; if you pushed the doors all the way open, you'd see the man standing in the doorway to the left. 

But your hands fumbled alongside your heart. Your voice died in your throat. 

You were caught.

A large hand gripped the side of the closet door and pulled it open. You stumbled backwards, heart shattering from its frosted paralysis to jump into overdrive. 

Because the man, the alpha standing before you, was unlike anything you'd seen before. 

He was tall. His shoulders stretched wide and, judging from the strain of his shirt, his build was formidable and downright predatory. Muscle shifted and adjusted under an expanse of gilded skin everytime the beast moved, changing from looming over you to leaning against the doorframe. Maybe in an attempt to make himself smaller. More likely because of his cocky laziness. 

The smirk plastered on his face bore the same arrogance, too. As did the care in brushing back his hair and actually looking presentable in the guts of a fucking apocalypse. But maybe he relished in the anarchy. You could only assume so much from tattoos marking his skin and the mirth gleaming in hellborne eyes. 

“Go on,” the man drawled, hooking a thumb into his belt, bringing your attention to the thick knife strapped to his side, “Let's hear your pretty voice.” 

“I wasn't gonna stay,” you choked out, and the demon in front of you smiled wider. “I just–I saw your light, and–” 

“And you walked on in without even knocking.” He sighed and shook his head. “Kids these days.” 

“M'not a fucking kid,” You bit out, surprising the both of you with your venom. You thought you'd lost it long ago, but maybe not. 

The man laughed, showing off his brutal, jagged canines. You swore you saw red staining them. 

“You've got some bite, huh? Like that in a bitch.” He stepped closer, and you tried to meld into the wall of clothes behind you, but failed to escape the calloused hand that grabbed you by the jaw and forced your head up, down and around as he inspected you like a piece of meat.

You tried to pull away, tried to turn your head to break free from his grasp. “Don't fucking touch me–”

“Hah. This how you tried to get those alphas off of you?” He taunted, grinning at your sudden wide-eyed stare. “No wonder they used you up like a–” 

You headbutted him and kneed him in the dick before pushing past him and running. Your head pounded thanks to your stupid opener, but at least it worked. Now, you just had to get out of the damn house and–

“OMEGA.” 

–and escape from the devil chasing you. 

His growling voice ripped through your skull like a chainsaw revving to life as you threw yourself down the stairs and out the front door. You slipped and slid, nearly falling and breaking your fucking neck on the porch, but you caught yourself and made a break for the street as the thundering of footsteps clamoured after you. 

Churned snow painted in sour shades of rusted red greeted you. You could almost envision the struggle, the stabbing, the warmth bleeding from their bodies as they died for their selfish desires. It chilled you, gave you pause–and that's where you fucked up. 

The horizon reeled and spun when a heavy body crashed into you and pinned you to the ground. You gasped, straining to catch the breath that'd been punched from your lungs, failing to stop the burning in your chest as your face froze against the pavement. 

“Wily little cunt, huh?” The stranger breathed, rage and amusement fighting through his words. “You bring that much fight to the sack, omega? Hey?” 

You tried to rip free or push him off or something as he taunted you, but you couldn't. You were trapped. Again. Again.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “I'd rather fucking die than–”

You froze. The slow, stuttering shamble of footsteps pricked your ears before low, ungodly moaning and wheezing rattled through the streets. The noise was quiet, but so loud to a frightened deer. 

“Lookit that,” your captor whispered, leaning down to your ear, “Guess God heard your prayer.”

Your heart hammered. “Get off, get off.” Your voice quaked and broke as you thrashed beneath him. “Please.” 

“Thought you said you'd rather die.” His knee ground into your back and you bit back a yelp. 

“Please.” The diabolic gasping came closer, became more frantic as the thing saw you. You couldn't see it, but they always got so fucking excited and loud when they saw fresh, living meat. You knew it was coming. 

“Ah-ah, can't let you go. Your buddy won't be able to catch up and end things for ya.” The stranger cackled something hideous and unnerving. “That'd be a right fucking shame.” 

“Let me up,” You begged.

“Not yet.”

It got closer.

“Please!” 

“No.” 

Just a metre away, now.

“I'll stay.” 

The scent of alphan approval washed over you.

“Good pet.”

You were pulled up and off the snowy ground with ease as soon as you submitted. You even vaguely saw the man kick the undead back with ease, sending it toppling over into the snow and stuck on its back like a helpless turtle. Its motor functions were shot in this weather. It probably wouldn't be getting up for a while. 

You wondered if you were going to suffer the same fate: stuck on your back, unable to move, at the mercy of a sick freak you accidentally met while running away from other lunatics. You were doomed. But at least you were alive. At least you'd be warm.

The pink-haired menace locked up the door before throwing you down onto the couch with little grace. You would have been more mad if the purring roil of the fireplace didn't breathe warm gusts of comfort over you. And, well, you weren't being dragged into a bedroom and tied down. Not yet, at least. 

The make matters worse, the man didn't really say much. Just closed the blinds and ensured the entrances and windows were secured while you sat still and quiet, patient lest you suffer a worse fate. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder before returning to the task at hand. “If I wanted to kill your sorry ass, I woulda done it last night,” he said into the quiet of the room. 

You remembered those eyes staring down at you. How inhuman and evil they were. How much fear they bred in you. And now, you had to accept how real that was. 

He sat down on the coffee table in front of you and leaned towards you, resting his elbows on his knees, holding your gaze with his own. 

“Here's what's gonna happen,” he said, low and dangerous. “I'm gonna let you stay. Real nice of me, yeah? I'll give you food, water. Keep you warm, keep you safe from all the bullshit going on outside. Sounds good, doesn't it?” 

You looked over his face, brows furrowed, heart pounding so loud you almost couldn't hear him. But you nodded for fear of what he'd do otherwise. 

He smiled, satisfied. “Good. And in return,” he started, letting a hand slip up to your knee, “You'll make like a good little whore and keep my bed warm. Fair deal, don't you think?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you had a choice, anyway.

–

Sex with the man–Sukuna, as you’d come to learn–wasn’t the worst thing imaginable; for one, he had some level of patience and tact when it came to stretching and lubing you up for your occasional “duties,” which put him in your “good book” right away (Christ, your standards had fallen so low). 

Secondly, he didn’t make you participate. He’d command you in the same way each time (“face down, ass up, don't bite”), and he'd have his way with you. He never made you kiss him. Never demanded you speak. Never bullied you. He seemed like he just wanted to stuff his cock somewhere warm and forget about the world for a bit.

And you didn't really mind it. Sometimes. you almost looked forward to it. Sometimes, you let little noises escape when he railed you into the bed with reckless abandon. Sometimes, you wanted his hands on you just a little longer. 

Because when he wasn't fucking you, he might disappear out of the blue and leave you all alone, only to return a week later with supplies and clothes, unperishable goods and other random odds and ends he found along the way. Once, he even found a retro game store and scooped up an endless supply of gameboy advance and colour games and consoles. Another time, he carried home a bag full of weather-worn books. 

What'll it be today? You wondered when you caught sight of the man wandering back up the steps. He cursed under his breath as he messed with the lock for an eternity, and you took the opportunity to scurry away from the living room to put some distance between the two of you just in case; at this point, you didn't expect him to hurt you, but wild animals were unpredictable, even when seemingly domesticated.

“Fuckin' shit-ass door,” Sukuna grumbled as he nudged it open before kicking it closed and locking up. “Need to fix that shit.” 

You peered down at him from your perch halfway up the stairs and watched him saunter around, heavy boots clunking on the floors you just washed as he looked around. You had to wonder who the hell had taught him shoes inside was okay. 

“Where the fuck is that little bitch,” he mumbled, walking out of your line of sight. He traipsed through the bottom floor thoroughly before walking past the stairs again, pausing, rewinding, and meeting your patient statre. “The fuck are you doing?”

I don't want you to bite me; I don't know if you'll randomly kill me if you're in a bad mood; I don't trust you like that, all ran through your head, but none felt like a good option to admit to. So, you shrugged.

Sukuna sighed, loud and laced with an aggravated growl. “Downstairs. Now. Need you to do something.” 

Your brows furrowed slightly. Normally, you weren't asked to do much. The sudden command had your skin itching. 

“Now.” 

“Coming.” You tried to control the quivering of your legs on your descent to him, and just prayed he didn't notice. 

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes and a bit of a sneer before he leaned over, sniffing for your scent, circling around you a few times, and finally rubbing his wrist against your neck to half-heartedly re-mark you. 

You cleared your throat. “Is that it?” 

Sukuna scoffed and turned away, grabbing the medical bag from the kitchen cabinet and dumping it on the counter. “You know how to sew, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah. I can sew.” You approached warily as he gestured you closer. 

“Hah. Good to know you're not completely fucking useless.” He sat down heavily onto a bar stool and shrugged off his jacket and shirt before turning his back to you; a long, jagged gash marred his skin with trails of dark, gooey ichor and scarlett smears. Whatever had happened was serious.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, scrambling to look through the medical bag to find something, anything, that seemed like it'd help. You found some essentials: gauze, tape, bandages, antibiotic cream, disinfectant wipes. But you'd definitely need more than a few dinky wipes to deal with his back.

You felt his eyes on you as you puttered around the kitchen, grabbing this and that and some other things before returning to his side with salt, bottled water, and booze in-hand. 

Sukuna quirked a brow. “The fuck is all that for?” 

You jumped a bit when his voice interrupted your whirling thoughts. “I–gonna, um, try to make some kinda…saline. To clean it.” You cleared your throat again and set the mostly-empty bottle of sake by him. “That's for…y'know.”

“Loud and clear,” Sukuna sighed, dreading what was to come, and took a long, long drink from the bottle.

You pursed your lips and nodded to yourself before starting to mix the salt and water together in the bottle. You weren't sure what the ratio should be, but you figured there wasn't necessarily a limit, not when you were lacking isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. You'd be sure to mention it to him next time he went out. 

“So. This'll…suck,” you warned, voice nervous and weak. 

Sukuna sighed again. Took a swig again. Then ripped his belt from his waist, folded it a few times, and bit down. 

He gave you an unenthused thumbs-up, and you found the nerve to jab a hole in the plastic bottle cap before spraying your makeshift saline solution against the wound. 

You nearly shit yourself as Sukuna growled with the force of a jet turbine. Faintly, you heard the creaking groan of leather crackle from his mouth as his teeth sank in deep. His canines probably already pierced through the material. 

“I know,” you whispered, actually feeling badly for the animal keeping you prisoner. “I know.”

You took your time cleaning the wound out, being sure to remove any sort of gravel or shrapnel embedded into his flesh. Luckily, the gash looked worse than it actually ended up being. It bled a lot, but it didn't cut all the way through to his ribs or beyond. Talk about lucky. 

When a majority of his trembling and snarling ebbed, you hazarded the question: “So…how’d this happen?” 

Sukuna groaned, and you almost smiled. “Fell off a fucking roof. Hit a sign on the way down.” 

You cringed at the thought. “Well. It's…not that bad.” You drenched the wound with another round of salt water before patting it dry.

“Yeah? Then no stitches,” he half-declared, half-asked. 

You gave his back a pitying look before reaching for the needle. Sukuna scoffed and muttered colourful obscenities when he saw your fingers snatch up the tool before disappearing behind him again. 

“Fuck me.”

“Sorry,” you offered softly, trying not to laugh. 

You saw his knee bounce in trepidation as you wiped his skin and the needle down with those cute little towelettes. You kinda felt bad for him. Healthcare in the apocalypse was a bit lacklustre.

As carefully as you could, you pushed the needle through his skin, and tried not to gag at the obscene feeling. The sound of his fist hitting the countertop helped ground you, though, and helped keep you on task stitch, after stitch, after stitch, after–

You set aside the tools and cleaned off your trembling, crimson-stained hands as best as you could before applying whatever ointment you could under gauze, and finally bandaging his torso up. Sukuna's eyes followed you, but you couldn't bear to look at him, quietly afraid of what he might do if your unsteady gaze met his; but that wasn't acceptable, judging by how he grabbed your arm and stopped you from turning away to clean up the mess. 

You looked at him, then, eyes laser-focused. Every shift pumped your veins with ice. Every flick of his attention sent electricity down your spine. Every silent word his lips failed to commit to filled you with dread. 

“Thanks,” he said. And he let go. 

[perrywrites]

I really want a part 4 of "asking 'Can you… Can you hold my hand?' during your first time together" With Rin, Rensuke and Sae plsssss

Thank you!

OMG... YES... My hero hubby how could I ever forget about him 😭😭😭

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 4;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and Part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Rin, Sae, Kunigami 

Rin: he hovers above you, his much larger form eclipsing your trembling body, his eyes as intense as ever as he soaks in your vulnerable position. You don’t know, do you, how long he’s been waiting for this? Not to fuck you, but to make love to you, like this? Have you beneath him like this, all vulnerable, an intimate sight, see you in a way no one else ever has and never will - he’ll make sure of it. Because, after all, Itoshi Rin doesn’t give away his heart easily, he never meant to give it away at all, but then you came along and turned him into a man that would fall apart if you decided you didn’t want him anymore. There was no way he was going to let you go now, his weakness and his only balm. So, he indulges in you, instead, pouring all of his passion into his kisses, he knows exactly how to make you weak, soaking in your whimpers as you weakly hold onto him. That’s right, he’s your anchor, rely on him, hold onto him, because he’s going to make you fall apart right now under him, and he’ll be the one to piece you back together, hold you in his arms. It’ll always be him. He’ll keep on proving it, his hands pulling your legs apart as he nestles inbetween them, his grip now firm on your doughy thighs. He suppresses a groan as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on it teasingly - don’t get cuter, dammit, do you want him to become even more impatient than he already is? With a low growl, he grabs onto one of your hands, pinning your wrist down - and you whimper at this, shyly avoiding his eyes as you make that cute little request of him. His pretty eyes widen just the tiniest bit, heart stuttering in his chest, and a profound longing for you fills him even though you’re right there. And he wonders, if you knew, just exactly how crazy you make him? More than anything else? He scoffs, but it’s weak, and he reaches his hand out to yours, his grasp gentle but firm as he interlocks your fingers together. “... You’re such an idiot.” But his words lack any bite as he leans his head back in towards you to capture your lips. You don’t know how desperate you make him, do you? How badly he yearns for you? He needs you, dammit, but hell would freeze over before he’d ever admit that. For now, he’ll just take you to heaven and back, make you cry out his name, and have you keep looking up at him with those dazed starry eyes. He can only ever be satisfied if he makes you as crazy for him as he is for you, because that might be the only way he can ensure you don’t leave him for someone else. Please, don’t leave, please. He’ll fall apart. You don’t understand how much you mean to him. 

Sae: he has you pinned beneath him, ready to be defiled by him, as he looks on at your form with a seemingly impassive gaze, but you can tell his eyes are softer - and definitely teasing. You can tell he’s amused by you - and he is, he so is. He finds the way you tremble beneath him, the flush of your body deepening, the dewiness of your eyes, all of it to be so fascinating. He adores the sweet sounds he can elicit from your lips with ease, smirking lightly at how sensitive he has you over his touch. You’re all nervous and shy, like a bunny, and something about that both melts his heart (though he would rather die than admit that) and strokes a very depraved flame within his psyche. Seeing you like this, all shy, large doe-eyes, so pure and innocent, all of it makes him want to absolutely ruin you on his cock. Make you cry, sob, and then beg for him as he fucks you up. Something about the idea that taking your first time will make you belong to him in a way no man can ever overwrite heats him up in a way he just can’t explain to you - or to anyone else, really. It’s when he positions himself over you with his darkened eyes that you blurt out something that momentarily catches Sae off guard. He raises an eyebrow, and then he chuckles softly, in that low hoarse voice of his, before he leans in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. “... You’re such a brat,” he mumbles against your skin, dragging his lips over to nibble on your ear. The pride, and hunger, in his chest grows at your sweet whine, and he slowly interlaces your fingers together, giving you what you want with fond exasperation. You’re his responsibility after all, so he’ll take care of you then, make you full on his cock and teach you there’s no man out there better for you than he is. After all, you’ve already tainted him with your colour, so it’s only fair if he gets to taint you in return, right? 

Kunigami: he’s so careful with you, ever the gentleman, treating you like you’re delicate, a flower, or porcelain, or something even more fragile. But, you’re not a flower, or porcelain, you’re a person, with warm soft flesh, and each time he touches you, you shiver and react - whining for him, whining for more. He’s so troubled, each sweet sound that leaves you makes his mind hazy, makes his eyes darken. His rough hands ghost over your body, and squeeze firmly but oh so gently, he’s so careful, so please, for the love of dear god stop being so tempting. Because - because he can feel his self-restraint slipping in the way he grips your hips a little too hard, eager to revel in and satisfy himself through you, and that’s no good. He presses a slightly rough kiss against your lips, drinking in your sounds and muffling them as much as he can. It’s no good, dammit. Don’t be so sweet-sounding, please, don’t look up at him all adoringly, lashline wet as you call out his name like that. You don’t know half the filth in his mind, how badly he wants to defile you and corrupt you, he’s embarrassed by it, honestly. He can feel his head grow fuzzy, cock twitching painfully. The longer he delays this, the less confident he becomes about his self-control, so he hoarsely asks you if you’re ready before positioning himself. And then he freezes when you shyly ask him to hold your hand. How are you this adorable, fuck? He smiles at you reassuringly, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he reaches out for your hand. How is someone so sweet like you letting him take your first time? He’s so in love with you, fuck. He’s so glad you trust him this much, that you’re letting him be the man in your life. He’ll be so gentle with you, fuck, no matter how badly he wants to pound into you, he’ll treat you right, so right. He’ll make sure you never regret him or your first time, ever, after all this night is about both you and him. Defiling you be damned, he’ll love you, and he’ll love you so right, dammit. You’re the love of his life, don’t worry, he promises to keep you safe and cherish you forever.

[highdefhoetry]

a clash of sword and flame.

cw: nsfw!!! mmf, competitive threesome, penetration (penis in vagina), doggy style, missionary, blow job/facefucking, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampies, spanking, hair pulling, praise, body worship, fingersucking, fingering, g-spot stimulation, multiple orgasms, biting/marking, possessive zoro, pussydrunk sanji

summary: zoro and sanji find out you've been fucking them both. a competition ensues, with you smack dab in the middle.

You were in trouble. Big trouble. And no amount of sweet talking or sugar coating could get you out of this situation. 

Your eyes dart back and forth between your two furious crew mates - Sanji, who was half naked in bed next to you, clutching the white sheets in tight fists, and Zoro, fully clothed and standing in front of the closed door with his arms crossed and his face twisted into a scowl. Both looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, silently fuming as a thick and palpable tension wafted through the air. 

It was a well kept secret. Or so you thought. Only Nami and Robin were privy to your midnight visits to the kitchen and your early morning calls to the crow’s nest. You had made sure of that. There was no reason anyone else on the crew needed to know that you were secretly fucking two of your crewmates. Hell would break loose, knowing how intense the rivalry was between those two. 

But even the best kept secrets eventually came to light. And the consequence of your sex-driven decisions was staring you right in the face.

“Tch... you can’t be serious…” the swordsman sneered, shooting daggers at the blonde. “I can’t believe you fell for the shitty cook’s bullshit.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Sanji stumbles to his feet while struggling to pull up his briefs, his erection still visible through the white fabric. 

“She's smarter than that,” Zoro storms towards him until they’re both neck and neck. “She knows she can do better than a perverted cook who can't keep it in his pants.”

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me?!”

“I don’t think I’m better than you. I know I am.”

This is bad. Really bad. The two of them always bicker and argue, but they might actually kill each other this time if you don’t do something about it. You pull the thin bed sheets up to your chest, hiding your nude form underneath, and stand up to try and get between them. You created this mess, you had to at least try to stop it from escalating any further.

“Guys, don’t fight…” you try to reason with them, but your words go unheard as their argument continues.

“At least I know how to treat a lady! A brute like you has no concept of chivalry or romance!”

“I don’t need any damn chivalry,” a smirk creeps up Zoro’s face, twisting his expression into one of manic rage. “And I don’t need to smooth talk a woman to get laid.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Sanji’s voice falls, the quiet tone a stark contrast to the previous screaming and yelling. He tears his eyes away from Zoro and looks at you with both passion and scorn in his gaze. It breaks your heart, seeing him this way. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

But strangely, it doesn’t last. Something shifts in his gaze, encompassing his body as he breaks away from the argument.

He returns to the bed, gently taking your fingers and leaving soft kisses from the back of your hand and up the rest of your arm. It happens so fast you don’t have time to protest, succumbing to his embrace as he wraps his arm around the small of your back. His soft hands glide across your skin, caressing every sensitive nerve with the most delicate touch he can muster. A fluttered moan escapes when his lips reach your neck and shoulders. You close your eyes, then open them again when you feel Zoro’s sharp glare boring into you. He watches on in shock, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“A beautiful lady like her needs to be worshiped properly… something an ape like you could never do,” Sanji’s sweet words flutter in your ears, making you shiver as he leaves a trail of soft kisses across your skin. “Ma chérie, tu n'as pas besoin d'un imbécile comme lui.”

Zoro mutters something about “stupid fancy French bullshit” as you try to suppress your moans, melting at the praise Sanji is showering over you. It’s what you love most about fucking him; he treats you like a goddess, devoting himself entirely to your pleasure. You truly feel like he’s become your lover, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in this moment.

But you’re suddenly reminded of the other’s presence when you’re pulled toward the other side of the bed and into a strong pair of arms. Zoro holds you tightly, muscles bulging as he wraps himself around your frame. He’s shirtless, and his black pants are laying on the ground beside the bed, leaving him in his boxers. You feel his erection press against your back and instinctively rub your ass against it. Just how he likes.

“You’re not doing it right,” he grunts, glaring at a shocked-looking Sanji while he pushes you onto your stomach. You start to say something, but you’re silenced when his rough, calloused hands take hold of your thighs and spread them out, pulling your hips back onto his while his tip pushes into your hole.

You cry out when his cock starts pumping inside you, slamming into your walls at an incredible pace. Your teeth sink into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure as the swordsman fucks you deeply, passionately, right in front of the cook. He grunts quietly, letting out short, labored breaths while enjoying the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft.

“She’s not some… delicate little flower…” he grumbles in between strokes. “You need… to fuck her… properly…”

It was rough and intense, as it always was when you fucked Zoro. But you couldn’t get enough of it. You loved the way he’d manhandle you, tossing you around like a doll into whatever position he wanted. You’d melt when he told you how tight you were, how fucking good it felt to be inside you, how you had the best ass in the Grand Line. He spanks you a couple times, grinning when he hears the surprised little noises you make from the unexpected impact. His fingers run through your hair, then grasp a clump of your locks before pulling back tightly. Your head moves back, forcing you to look Sanji in the eyes as he watches Zoro fuck you into a dizzying headspace. He gawks at you wide-eyed, cheeks pink and cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth.

“Sanji…!” you gasp, earning another spank from Zoro.

“You’re mine, got it?” he sneers into your ear, tugging your hair a little harder. “Say it nice and loud so the shitty cook can hear it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Good. Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out, feeling Zoro’s cock throb inside you. He speeds up, the steady pumping turning into a wild, frenzied rhythm that is so intense you start seeing stars. Then finally, he explodes inside you, filling your hole with comforting warmth. You can feel him throbbing as he holds your hips, making sure he’s emptied every drop of cum inside you. Making sure Sanji knows who you belong to.

You lay down on your stomach, skin damp with sweat and flushed with heat. But you don’t get to rest for long. You’re pulled into another firm pair of arms that flip you onto your back, forcing you to look your French lover in the eyes despite your guilty conscience telling you to hide. Your eyes dart away, but when a gentle hand takes your chin and pulls it towards him, you bashfully meet his gaze. You expected anger, sadness, resentment… but all you see reflected in those eyes is worry and concern. 

“Ma cœur…” he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, cradling your cheek in his other hand. “Are you alright? Did that idiot hurt you?”

He runs a hand down your chest, flicking your nipples before caressing the soft, supple skin underneath. He gently gropes your breast, coaxing moans and other little sounds from your parted lips before running down your stomach and between your thighs. His fingers play with your clit, teasing it by massaging the hood of your clit. Your moans become louder, your body becomes more desperate for release. Sanji pushes a finger inside you, despite your hole still slick with Zoro’s cum, and curls against your walls until you erupt in an intense orgasm that causes your legs to shake. Zoro had brought you to the peak, but Sanji had pushed you over the edge.

Your cry of pleasure is so loud it makes your throat feel hoarse. Satisfied, Sanji smirks and pulls down his white briefs. It was his turn now. He enters you slowly, carefully, and calmly, asking every now and then, “Does it feel good? Am I going too fast? Are you alright, ma amour?” 

You nod and spread your legs, inviting him in.

His strokes are longer, deeper, more controlled. His dick pulsates within you, the slight curve of his shaft hitting your walls perfectly and spurring you towards another orgasm. He holds your legs at his sides, gazing deeply into your eyes without tearing them away for a moment. You’ve never felt so seen, so vulnerable. You almost forget there’s another person there with you.

It’s not long before you cum again, this time a little harder than before. Sanji cums shortly after, having kept himself in control until this moment. Ladies always came first. That was something he lived by, a motto that made sex with him all the more satisfying. You smile up at him, mirroring back the affectionate grin he’s giving you from above. He fills you with his own cum, pumping into you a few more times as if he was trying to shove his own seed past Zoro’s. He wasn’t going to let the swordsman one-up him. It was his own way of claiming you. 

You’re only given a small respite before the next round. A strong pair of hands grips your ankles and yanks you towards the other side of the bed. Zoro locks eyes with you, brows furrowed in displeasure as he takes in your blissed out expression. He leans forward and kisses you intensely, biting your lower lip while his tongue presses against yours. His teeth sink into your neck, leaving bite marks down to your collar bones prominent enough to see. He’s mid-bite when Sanji crawls on top and pushes him off. The blonde looks pissed as he notes the marks on your skin.

“You’re like a damn animal!” he yells, once again butting heads with the surly swordsman. “This is no way to treat a lady!”

“She likes it, you moron!” Zoro spits back, forehead pressed against Sanji’s. 

“Guys, please…!” You try to placate them, but it only ends with each man taking hold of your hands and pinning them down on the bed next to you.

“I made her cum, twice,” Sanji notes while planting his lips onto your wrist. “How many times did she cum with you, mosshead? Oh, right. Zero.”

“I can make her cum just fine, curlybrow,” Zoro sneers, lacing his rough fingers with yours while nipping at your neck. 

“Oh, yeah?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk.

You feel another pair of fingers push inside your hole and dig into your walls, seeking out the ribbed spot he knows will make you scream. It doesn’t take long for him to find it, and within seconds you’ve reached another climax, an orgasm brought about by his expert hands and the steady way he’s pumping them inside you. He pulls them out and sticks them in your mouth, letting you suck the cum off his chapped skin. You see him smile as he watches your lips encompass his hands. Focused entirely on the feel of his fingers in your mouth, you shudder when you suddenly feel a soft, wet tongue lapping at your clit. And when you look down, you see a mop of blonde hair in between your legs, Sanji’s soft hands holding each of your thighs. He eats you out, his lips kissing and licking every part of your mound. His tongue darts in between your folds, circles around your clit, tastes the entrance of your hole and the puffy lips around it. Still dripping with both sets of cum, he licks that up too, tasting the sweet mixture of you and his arch rival. 

You arch your back and throw back your head, giving him further access to you. He buries his face in your pussy, inhaling the scent while eating you fervently, as if you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted. But as you’re enjoying yourself, something forces your lips apart and shoves itself inside your mouth. The taste of dick and sweat fills your senses. Instinctively, your lips wrap around Zoro’s shaft and take in his massive cock, lips sliding up and down before letting your tongue linger on his tip. The swordsman groans with every soft movement, carefully pumping in and out of your mouth and speeding up only when he’s sure you’re ready to deep throat him. You open your jaw wider, signaling that you’re ready, and within moments he cradles both of your cheeks in hand and fucks into your mouth with ferver. 

The next orgasm shocks your system, sending electric waves through every nerve. You cry out hoarsely, high pitched notes warbling through the air that are muffled by the thick cock in your mouth. The taste of salty cum fills your senses as Zoro finishes; the warmth slides down your throat when you swallow it whole. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath. Sanji tears himself away from your pussy, looking at you with a completely blissed out expression before collapsing beside you. The swordsman lays at your other side, squishing you between the two men on a bed that’s only just big enough for the three of you. 

“...Stupid shitty cook…” Zoro grumbles, pulling you into his chest. You can feel his racing heartbeat as your skin presses against his, sticky with sweat and other fluids. He glares at the blonde, who’s finally coming to his senses enough to argue with him again.

“Damn mosshead…” Sanji returns his scowl before grabbing your arm and pulling you against him. His heart is pound against his chest, a steady beat beneath flushed red skin. 

You look over at Sanji, then back at a now snoozing Zoro who still has his arms wrapped around your waist, clinging to you possessively. You hear quiet snoring from behind, and look to see that Sanji has fallen asleep, as well. 

You wondered what this meant for the three of you, if you’d wake up to another round of bickering or if the two of them had come to some sort of silent conclusion. Your own heart races as you consider the future, a selfish part of you hoping this wasn’t just a one time thing despite knowing the trouble it had caused. 

When your own eyelids start to close, you decide that the matter can wait until morning. You’re exhausted, and it would take more than the promise of treasure to tear you away from the two men you loved most in this world.

[noobsoconfusing]

‘domesticated dawg’.. domestic!hamzah

contains reader insert! and nsfw kinda at the end

- for his whole damn life, everything hamzah wanted was a home

- sure, he had one before, but to be honest, it was just a house. no meaning behind it other than his family living there with him.

- so when he eventually moved out, loneliness began hitting like a truck..

- he found himself alone. constantly trying to fit into everything mandy and martin did, but he understood his friends also wanted privacy

- although hamzah wished he could just live with his friends, everything seemed funner with them. mandy was nice, always sharing martin with him, letting him interrupt their conversations to add comments, making jokes about whatever and they even had a group chat!

- but still, that life was not his, it was martin’s. it was mandy’s. not hamzah’s.

- god, he so craved a relationship as beautiful as his friends. it made him so sad knowing that the only girl he pulled ever was in elementary school :(

- so when you stumbled upon his hectic life, he knew he was NOT letting u go. ever. never ever.

- and mother of god, you were just so so so perfect? how could you? like, for real, he asks himself everyday what the hell did he ever do to deserve such a beautiful human by his side

- as the relationship develops, he finds himself doing stuff he only dreamed about

- he enjoys every single little thing you guys do together, cherishes every moment with you, even when you’re not around he keeps your id picture in his wallet

- makes sure you don’t have to move a finger!!!

- dishes? he does em! the bed? he makes it! clean the cats litterbox? on it!

- sometimes you wake up to the faint smell of something burning, and you’ve gotten used to it by now it’s even comforting .

“sweetheart….” he’d whisper not to disturb your peaceful slumber, however the noisy rattling of the dishes and the blender going off earlier had you already awake.

“hmm?” you murmured slowly opening your eyes, his big eyes stared at you like a squished bug, it made you giggle how eager he was to serve breakfast in bed.

“you are never gonna believe what i just prepared!” he excitedly said.

you smiled, sometimes hamzah was like an excited toddler showing you everything he did or found.

“so like, last night i was on facebook and found this super cool french toast recipe and tried to make it today for you but uh… we didn’t have eggs… or bread.” he paused and you tilted your head. “so i also tried to make pancakes with water and the mix but uh.. you never really showed me how to lower the flame so uh, they’re bricks now…” he nervously scratched his head

he was so cute, or so you thought.

“it’s okay, hamzah, what did you make then?” you asked, invested heavily. he always managed to surprise you somehow.

quickly, he got up the bed where he was straddling you, and ran to the counter where he had left the plate.

“anyway, cereal!” he smiled so big waiting for your reaction of approval.

“wooooow! my favourite!” you smiled too.

“i know right!”

- hamzah tries SO hard to please you :(

- actually tries to spend every single hour of the day with you, due to his job he finds himself being at martin’s often, so he brings you with him each time!

- late night editing with him, where you two are just snuggled together under the covers, hamzah has his blue light glasses on, and you think, man, what a sight to see!

- hamzah actually thinks you guys are married..

- not to be intense or anything, but to him, being with you means for life. you guys are going serious. no escaping from this man now. no backing down now.

- you and the cats are his little family. he has found a home in you and is willing to keep it forever <3

- every moment with you counts to him.

- in the mornings you two brush your teeth together, sometimes he spits toothpaste on your hand to make you mad, which doesn’t really work because you do the same to him and then it all ends in a laughing fit

- HE HAS NO SENSE OF PRIVACY T_T

- you could be taking a shower and he’s right outside of the shower curtain taking a shit and talking about whatever was on his mind

- when you’re using the bathroom he would burst the door open to grab something he left inside, unapologetically look at you and smile innocently

- since your little house –apartment– is rather small, whenever you use the kitchen together he has to constantly guide you around in order to not bump into each other

- grabs your waist to prevent you from slipping if he spills milk or water..

- literally just an excuse to touch you, though.

- sometimes you’re cooking and he just sneaks behind you to give you a back hug. rests his chin on top of your head and stays there for a while

- needs you constantly ngl

- if there’s something wrong with the house, such as a leak or a burnt bulb, he would try his best to fix it himself to prove you he’s capable of everything

- usually ends badly and you have to call someone else to fix it but hey! he tried!

- since you both are not very extroverted, house dates are perfect.

- movie nights under the dim lights of the apartment that lead to make out sessions..

“h-hold…” you tried to say between sloppy kisses being planted on your neck. “hold on!” you laughed out loud when the hickey he was giving you tickled your collarbone.

“mhmm, why?” you could feel his warm breath as he murmured against your skin.

“movie…”

“rather do you, though.” he replied.

- ordering take out that just ends up on hamzah and you racing to see who can eat more

- he loves to see you wearing his clothes <3 like, it actually makes him physically happy and super fucking proud

- loves how his hoodies are undeniably big on you, and how his shirts falls down to your thighs, covering you up so perfectly. knowing you enjoy wearing his clothes just makes him realise how much you both need each other pretty much always

- hamzah has mentioned –to you– before his desire to actually grow your family a bit more, no more cats though, no dogs either. a baby, maybe. or two. three?

- and he was super blunt and serious about it, also. like he was being DEAD SERIOUS. he loves you, dude. this man is a family man.

“we are very serious, right?” he asked you out of the blue.

“yeah, of course.” you replied looking at his direction. the bed sheets covered his body so you could only see his face peeking out. it was funny.

“no but like, im super serious about you, about us… i love you a lot and i feel so deeply about you, is that alright? do you not feel weird about me? like, do you actually like me or…?” he rambled, and you knew how self conscious he could get sometimes ;(

“hamzah, i am so very serious about us too, i love being with you, why would you doubt that?” it made you sad, but you had to constantly reassure him.

he leaned in to kiss you, so soft and desperate at the same time, like he was trying not to break down.

“serious, right?” he asked again as he broke the kiss

“yeah, very serious, hamzah.”

a moment of silence. he played with your hair, then subtly touched your face in the dark, tracing your features.

“okay but speaking super fucking seriously, i wanna impregnate you and i wanna raise our children and live until we’re super fucking old, that alright?”

he deadpanned. and you never felt so loved, even if his ways were… odd. you knew he cared, and you did too!

“yeah. that alright.”

- morning sex hits hard w hamzah btw. so when you’re still tired and wanna be together you opt for this one as an excuse to get up until the evening

- this man needs you so much that he actually for real wants to merge your souls together

- but as he cannot do that yet, he settles for your bodies..

- sometimes when he’s working he just :( needs you and your warmth and your embrace and your presence and you you you you

- he’s obsessed with you to say the least

- yeah so cockwarming.. where he just begs for it, and you cant say no to that wet dog face :c though you know he wont even last a minute without moving cuz he’s needy like that.

- his hands are grasping at your waist for mercy, keeping you down and linked to his own body. he tries his best to keep still, though you wouldn’t mind if he actually started thrusting

- loves how warm you’re always :c it’s almost embarrassing how pathetic this man is for you

“mmm, im… oh, god! f-fuck, im sorry, can i…?” he whimpers, his eyes shut and his work long forgotten on the desk

and god, yeah. you need it too. he’s been inside for what felt like fucking hours. you were just as needy and desperate but didn’t wanna say anything :(

“yeah j-just…yeah..” you managed to say, your face buried in his neck, inhaling his cologne.

it was so damn intoxicating, you felt so drunk on him.

- big on aftercare. he wants to make you comfortable and loved, which yeah you feel like that around him. tho he also needs aftercare from you sometimes..

- hamzah thinks, you found him to save him. save him from his loneliness, his misfortune, everything. he is so glad that you exist and decide to share your existence with him.

- hamzah now doesn’t have to look for a home in other places. he doesn’t have to look out for love, for company somewhere else. he has you, you’re his home now. now and forever

- you’re a home that’s not taken. a home that’s not temporary. a home that waits for him everyday. a home that provides love and care. a home that he doesn’t feel he’s intruding..

- a home he doesn’t wanna run away from. not ever

>_<

down bad for this kinda hamzah bruv anyway hope some1 likes dis

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐋. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him with a raised eyebrow while your lips quirk up into a smile.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: hazbin hotel | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lucifer morningstar/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 2.57k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, dom reader, dom fem reader, sub lucifer, bottom lucifer, manipulative reader ( i have awoken an obsession in writing them i’m afraid ), reader is longtime friends with alastor, mentions of alastor, reader is ‘the seamstress’ overlord, lucifer crawls across the floor like once? maybe twice, oral ( fem receiving ), begging, brief master kink, whining, some degradation, praise kink, lucifer is 100% being a Good Boy, leg humping, self-inflicted overstimulation, and he WHIMPERS, crying, lucifer’s just a needy lil guy tbh.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: i have fallen into a rabbit hole </3 | 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃!— @mrskreideprinz. @p-ersus. @herohibiscus. @vampcubus.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Breathy whines and whimpers echo through the dimly lit room, the flickering flame of candles catching on the deep red wine in the glass you’re holding with your non-dominant hand. The other is currently being lavished with needy, borderline worshipful kisses, your wrist tightly gripped by the man you’d had wrapped around your pinkie finger for the last five or so years. After being abandoned by his beloved wife and his sweet little daughter, he had been a mess — a mess a long-standing overlord like yourself had been quick to clean up and turn into something else, something more. Playing the concerned friend with ‘hidden feelings’ had been more than easy ( whether or not those falsified feelings had festered into something real was for you to know, and for you to know only ), and you’d had him eating out of your hand faster than even you had expected. After only two years he’d removed Lilith’s ring, and a month after that he’d begged for yours, which of course you’d accepted. You’d helped run the kingdom in his name ever since while he lavished you with attention and tended to his silly little hobbies. Your empire had expanded from a simple series of shops in every Ring that clothed the upper class to a behind-the-scenes Queen of the nation; typically you’d have celebrated with your oldest friend, but he’d disappeared after a tie-up with the Media Demon, and you’d not heard from or of him since. Briefly you’d worried he’d succumbed to his injuries, but then waved them away; little could injure Alastor, and no mobilized television screen would be able to kill him. Once he needed your services as his only tailor again he’d return, and you could demand and receive answers from him then. Until that time, your time was split between all of Hell, the whims of Rosie, and of course the dim-witted desperate King you called your own. 

Alastor would be proud, if not envious, of the web you’d weaved across Pride, if you did say so yourself. 

With one leg you push Lucifer away, planting the ball of one of your feet against his bare chest and making him fall back onto his calves, kneeling before you just as he belonged. He whines at the loss of skin contact when you withdraw your foot, but you ignore him, pondering; honestly he’d been far too easy to shape, so much so that it was almost disappointing at first, but his resolve and desperation to please had been more than entertaining. Every moment he kept by your side made your power grow, and considering the abandonment issues that ran rampant like poison beneath his skin, eating away at his brain and filling him with anxiety, that meant you were never alone for more than a few hours. If you weren’t steadily growing stronger, you’d have questioned if the clinginess were at all worth it. 

“Please — Please, let me… Please…” The soft whimpers from the floor in front of you catch your attention instantly, and you gaze down at the mess of a man before you. His hair — typically so well-managed — hangs messily over his eyes, and his wings flare out behind him, the massive feathered limbs twitching every now and then as he holds himself back from touching you without permission; the kissing had been reward enough for the necklace he’d surprised you with at breakfast, even if he wanted more. To get more, he had to earn it. 

“Do you know any words other than ‘please’?” you ask, amused by the sight of the puddle of an angel before you as well as his vastly shrunken vocabulary. He’s on his knees before you, eyes wanting and voice thick as he begs, and it does nothing but feed the raging warmth in your lower abdomen. In control though you may be, the King of Hell would get what he wanted before the night was through; after all, how could you deny someone who was being such a good boy?

“I know whatever words you want me to say,” he promises in a whine, “What do you want me to say? To ask? I’ll do it, I promise.” You know he will; when has he ever not done what you ask? Never. 

“You’ll be good?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you sip your wine, and he whimpers and nods, hands fisting and unfisting around nothing as he continues fighting the urges to grip at you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. You fight off the urge to laugh; he was just so pathetic, you couldn’t help but feel fond of him. There was just something about sorry men on their knees that did it for you every time, and the King of Hell was no exception.

“S-So good,” he moans shakily, his pupils dilating as you crook a finger in his direction as the smallest invitation. He crawls on all fours closer to you before leaning his head against the warm skin of the inside of your thigh, nuzzling against you before hiding his eyes against it. “I will, I — I…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think — exactly how you liked him. His breathing is picking up, getting heavier than before — he’s getting all worked up, and you haven’t even properly touched him yet. 

You cross your legs tightly, displacing him, and a questioning noise falls from his lips. “Mmm… Ask me for permission,” you purr, and you watch his pupils slowly dilate and his eyes fill with a fresh surge of want. 

“F-Fuck, okay — C-Can I? Please, can I?” he asks, a pleading tone in his voice that has you clenching around nothing. 

“Can you what?” you ask, turning to study your fingernails lazily after taking your last drink of wine, putting the glass on the table next to where you were sitting. He lets out a noise of complaint, demanding your attention be put back on him, and you acquiesce easily; you could certainly give in to one or two of his requests, wordless or otherwise, considering he’d be begging to bury himself in your cunt before the night was out. 

He trembles, barely holding himself back from descending upon you like a starved man would a meal. “Can I touch you? I want to taste you, wanna make you feel good, please—“

You narrow your eyes and fight off the smile making the corners of your lips twitch; you can’t smile yet, it would ruin all the fun. “Who are you asking, Lucifer?” 

“Fuck. Fuck. Master, I’m-!” he whimpers, and you raise an eyebrow in silence, watching as he bites down hard on his bottom lip before asking, “Please, Master, can I lick your pussy?”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Hmmm…” you squint slowly at him, as if pondering the thought for the sole sake of teasing him, and he plants a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee before looking up at you, asking silently for the permission he felt he needed. 

“Please?” he begs again, and you smile finally, watching the way his ruby eyes light up with barely-contained excitement. 

“It’s alright with me,” you purr softly, uncrossing and spreading your legs for him. He lunges forward, curling his forearms under the backs of your thighs and burying his face in your cunt immediately. He’s sloppy as he eats you out, drooling from the taste and excitement, and you sigh happily as you relax into the couch cushions. The man was ever-so-talented with his tongue, you’d discovered years ago, and his favorite hobby was to lie between your legs as often and long as you would let him — and oh, would you let him. All he wanted to do was please you, to ensure your comfort and make sure you never wanted to leave him, and a while your pity for him turned into a soft fondness that urged you to acquiesce to some of his more romanticized fancies, which was why the two of you had had a lovely dinner tonight before you’d led him by his red tie to your shared bedroom. 

“Fuck,” you groan, letting your head fall back at the same time as you close your eyes and bury your free hand in his feather-soft hair, drawing him deeper into your core and coaxing a moan from him at the sensation of his hair being pulled a little. “That’s it, sweet boy — more tongue, just a little more… What a good boy you are…” 

Your hips roll up into his learned tongue at the same time that you catch your own bottom lip between your teeth and grab at one of your breasts lazily, kneading it in time with each swirl of his tongue against you. A shaky string of words into your cunt that you faintly recognize as whiny pleas for you to love him and stay with him forever only stimulate you more, the vibrations making your hips jump up. A small bump against your leg goes ignored the first time, as well as the second, but the third catches your attention and you open your eyes and look down to see him grinding against your leg like a dog. Bullying him crosses your mind, and you are nothing but a slave to your own whims in the bedroom, so you do. 

“What a pathetic fucking man!” you laugh, startling him out of his focus on your cunt and cumming against your leg, and he blinks up at you with wide eyes. He never stops lapping at your cunt, and you scoff meanly. “Humping my leg like some mutt, how unfitting of a king. You’re so desperate to get off that you can’t even wait for the opportunity to use my cunt like a real man — but at least you’re good with your tongue, aren’t you?”

Lucifer whines out a moan into you as he nods an affirmative, and you laugh again, this time more breathily. “You like that, don’t you?” you ask mockingly, tugging at his messy hair just enough for it to sting a little. He whimpers into your core, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes. “The mockery, the harsh words, me being mean — and the praise. Can’t make up your mind on what you want more can you?” A shrill whine is your only response as he nips at your swollen clit, and your hips buck up into his face as you moan, “Mmm, you just want to get cunt-drunk, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” he agrees, thrusting hard against you and lapping up every drop of slick you had to offer him. He was talented when it came to slipping back and forth between focusing on smothering your clit with attention and dipping his tongue into your wanting hole, and it took all your inner strength not to lose face and wrap your thighs around his head. 

“Please,” he says, voice slurred with desire, “Please, more — Love more, let me have more, I want more-!”

“More?” you ask mockingly, clenching around nothing as his long tongue circles your clit, and he moans into you desperately enough that the vibrations nearly force a whimper of your own from you lips.  “G-Go ahead and ride my leg,” you say shakily, grinning down at him patronizingly as he immediately starts grinding down on you hard. “And cum whenever you want — after all, you’re just my dumb little pussy-whipped pretty boy~”

He lets out a shrill cry, thrusting against your leg hard as he bites and sucks at your cunt and cums all over your calf, moaning and crying with tears running down his face. Shrill cries fall from your lips as you stop bothering to hold them back; he was already getting sloppy in the ways you liked him best, him hearing you call out for him would only further your shared desire. 

“What do we say?” you ask, keening as he sucks at you greedily, and he lets out a stilted cry of his own. 

“Thank you!” he gasps, continuing to roll his cock against you and hiccuping through tears at the overstimulation he’s forcing upon himself as smaller spurts of cum rush from his cock and coat your skin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, moving your hand from his hair to gently caress his face, and he lets out a shaky sob as he nuzzles into your hand. You lay your head back, content to doze as he comes down from his own particular high while clinging to you. 

“Love you,” he whispers quietly, and you hum softly back at him in response, wordlessly sharing the feeling. “So much. So, so much, more than anyone…” You let him babble mindlessly, knowing how fond he was of doing so, and listen in silence while watching him with a deep fondness sparkling in your eyes. After about a half hour or so he slows his chatter to a stop, beginning to play with your fingers and nibble at his lips, clearly wanting something. 

“What is it, Lucifer?” you ask lazily, petting his head gently, and he lets out wordless whine that makes you raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

He’s quiet for a moment, for some reason unsure of himself, before he finally voices his desire. “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him smugly while your lips quirk up into a smile. 

“More?” you ask mockingly, then scoff and cross your legs, cutting him off from what he desired most, a surprised unintentional chirp falling from his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know if you deserve it…” And so begin the waterworks.

Lucifer bursts into tears, overstimulated and wanting and needy, all while being denied of the only thing he wants. He was a man lost in a vast desert and you were the small spring he stumbled upon after days — after tasting you the first time all those years ago, once in a night was never enough. You’re just being mean to bully him like you always do now, and he knows it. 

Your cum glistens on his lips and chin, and his tongue darts out to lick it up without thinking, sending a surge of heat rushing through your core. “But — But I was good!” he argues shakily through his tears, “Please, I just want — want to make you feel good, ‘nd I wanna feel good too…”

You gaze down at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on it harshly to ground yourself; God, he’s fucking cute. So needy and desperate, his face coated in your cum… 

You smile and spread your legs again, fighting off the urge to laugh at the way his feathers fluff up and he starts trembling in excitement. He’s always been an insatiable little thing, and you should have known better than to start to doze off after he’d achieved just his first orgasm — besides, you can handle him! This was your King after all, and you know him like you know your own mind. What’s a half dozen or more orgasms before the night is out? You could always sleep past noon if you really wanted, and it wasn’t as if he’d be leaving you anytime soon. 

“Then go ahead, Your Majesty,” you purr softly, watching the way his pupils nearly swallow up his irises entirely at the rumble in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.