#red-headed temptress

[jksprincess10]

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife || Marcus Acacius x reader x Emperor Geta

Summary: Emperor Geta surprises you, his paramour, with General Acacius, and he's not very happy about it.

CW: Love confessions, dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, feelings, unprotected p in v, cucking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, violence, threats, knives, creampies, faking orgasms, name calling (whore), pet names (lamb, dove), oral (f and m receiving), crying kink, spitting, angst.

*there will most likely be more parts

(2.8k wordS)

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Falling in love made you reckless.

General Acacius stood behind your door, and you ushered him in, looking around and making sure you were truly alone. You would usually meet elsewhere, far from the roman palace, but you could no longer wait. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and you brought him down to your lips. Slowly, he moved away to scan your face. His brows were furrowed, his eyes, searching for your emotions with worry.

“Are you well?” His voice was raspy, tired from ordering around his soldiers.

“I needed to see you, to talk to you.”

“It seems to me that your intentions are elsewhere.” He chuckled and settled on your unmade bed, creating an indent where he was sitting. It is true that your room was mostly used for other activities.

You looked at his powerful legs, at how his white and gold embroidered tunic sat on his strong body.

“Marcus…” You sat beside him, even though you truly wanted to be on top of him. “I am not sure if we can keep this arrangement going without you knowing…” He turned towards you and took your hands in his, dwarfing yours. His palms were rough, callused by holding weapons and fighting. His silence encouraged you to speak. He was never the one to rush you or speak over you. “I love you, Marcus. I don’t think I can be our Emperor’s toy anymore. I want to leave with you. I beg for your mercy.”

“My dove…” One of his hand tugs on your jaw and you look up at his kind, brown eyes. “I wish I could promise you such a thing. But… I love you. And I feel so foolish.”

“Then, let us enjoy the time we have.” You tugged on him and kissed him feverishly. It was an uncoordinated dance, all teeth and tongues and no softness, due to the emergency lighting up the fires in your bodies. You laid down on your burgundy blanket, pulling him down with you. Your head rested against your gold embroidered pillow as you waited for his reaction when he pulled away from you.

Your body spoke his language, and he looked down at you with hungry eyes. He took off your linen toga and drank you in, the naked curves of your body hypnotizing.

“Temptress… it feels like you were sculpted by the Gods themselves.” Marcus whispers almost painfully after taking off your undergarments. He was a weak man.

Your felt your cheeks heating up, and you bit down on your lip. You tugged on his clothes, and he obliged, undressing completely for your viewing pleasure. His shoulders were large, his throat, inviting. The upper part of his chest was taut and strong, some of the tan skin scarred. His gut was softer, more typical of a man in his late 40s. He was no emperor, but you wanted to worship every inch of him.

“And you… are everything.” You breathed.

Marcus moved down your body, leaving kisses and licks here and there until his face settled between your thighs.

The heavy doors creaked, until they flew open. You gasped as you covered yourself with a part of the blanket, while Marcus, bare, turned around.

Standing against the now closed doors was the emperor himself. His eyes were wild and his lips, tight with anger.

“What do we have here? Are you bedding my paramour, General? Or do my eyes deceive me?” Geta’s tone was eerily calm compared to his expression. He sat in a wooden chair near your bed, upholstered with fine red silk. He looked regal with his toga picta in colors matching Marcus’s attire, and his golden laurel wreath at his brow.

You looked down at Marcus with a warning.

“I am the one who pursued him, my lord.” You lied effortlessly.

General Acacius’s eyes were closed, his fists, clenched.

“Is this the truth, General? How long has this affair been going on? Do not deceit me now.”

In his white hands, he played with a small knife like it was a toy and not a tool of violence.

“I am as responsible as she is, my lord. It has been happening for six months.”

“I am hurt, truly to see where your priorities lie. I thought you were different. But all men are weak in the face of beauty. And you... my dear.” His gaze seemed to pierce through you like the knife he held. “You are a whore.”

You bowed down your head, ashamed.

Geta seemed to think for a moment, the tip of his knife resting against his lip as he looked at you, and then at Marcus.

“So? Do not stop on my account. Entertain me. Marcus, if you pleasure her well, I will disregard this little incident. But if you’re as pathetic as you look right now in bed…” Rising, he moves closer, letting the blade of his knife rest against Marcus’s throat. The General stayed still. “I will gut both of you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Marcus swallowed difficultly against the blade. Satisfied, Geta smirked and pushed the chair closer to have a better view, before sitting down. The knife sat on his lap, a constant reminder of the danger.

General Acacius settled between your open thighs again, and this time, you felt truly exposed. Emperor Geta watched you like a hawk. You tried to relax your body against the pillows, you closed your eyes even though you felt observed, and you concentrated on the sensations. Marcus licked through your folds, tentatively, softly. Your fingers tangled in his greying curls to soothe him, and it did; his shoulders relaxing under your thighs. He licked from your hole to your clit, concentrating the tip of his tongue there, putting pressure, before lapping energetically.

“She usually moans when I do this to her.” Geta commented and shrugged. “Give her more, General.”

Marcus’ lips latched onto your clit, alternating between licking and sucking as you let out shy moans. You were weary of being watched and judged on your performance.

“Give. Her. More. General.” Geta repeated in a clipped tone. “Treat her like the whore she is.”

Without waiting, two of Marcus’ digits entered your hole, crossing the path of pleasure and pain. You wailed and moved a bit in discomfort. The Emperor, who did not know the difference smiled in satisfaction.

Your lover’s lips left your bundle of nerves to kiss your thigh in apology. You grabbed onto his curls again and brought him back to your core, pleading for him to make you come even though your mind was entirely elsewhere.

His big hazel eyes looked up at you in worry as he sucked on your clit, his fingers moving slowly.

“I will be fine.” You mouthed to him.

He made a come-hitter motion with his digits as he pulled them almost all the way out, then in. His tongue still worked on your core. You tried to detach yourself from the situation, but maybe, just this once, you could pretend to orgasm. You gave your best performance, moaning and shaking under his ministrations.

Marcus’ inquisitive eyes could see through your lies. If this was truly the last time, he wanted it to be real. But he had little control over this situation.

“Let us see if you can do better with your cock, General. Or else I might have to take over.” Geta threatened as he looked at him with a terrifying smile.

Marcus hid his jealousy well. The emperor got on his feet and hovered near the bed as he watched Acacius guiding the tip of his cock through your folds. His movements were stiff, uncertain.

“Take me like he is not here.” You whispered in the shell of his ear, before biting down on his lobe to encourage him. Marcus grunted, in pleasure and in frustration as he filled you up inch by inch. He was big, and you would usually need more time to be able to take him properly, but time was not on your side anymore.

Geta sat back down and watched, a predatory glint in his eye. His traitorous body dared to be aroused in the face of your pleasure, a tent forming in his robes. His hand tightened on his knife as he resisted to touch himself, his ego bruised.

When Marcus’ hips were flush with yours, he stopped for a few seconds, letting you adjust to him. You nodded to spur him on. His rough hands held your thighs open for him as he started moving slowly, but powerfully. His lips explored your arched torso, licking the fat of a breast, taking a hardened nipple in the warmth of his mouth to nip and suck at it. He still wanted the experience to be enjoyable for you.

Geta mimicked a yawn, and Marcus looked at him with angry eyes and tight lips. At this time, Marcus wanted to kill him. Even if he was supposed to bow to his childish whims, he fantasized to see his head fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck her like you mean it, Marcus.”

The general manhandled you into a new position, facing away from him and your behind up in the air. You pushed your ass against him, begging for more.

“You seem to be enjoying it even though you refuse to admit it, my lord.” Marcus responded as he looked down at Geta’s lap in disgust.

Emperor Geta’s cheeks reddened and for once, he was silent. Your lover guided his cock through your folds and filled you to the hilt. This new position let you focus on your pleasure. Marcus snapped his hips fast and hard, making you gasp as he hit the deepest parts of you.

“Touch yourself, dove.” He whispered in your ear as he bent over your back to get a look at your face.

“Y-yes.” Your fingers came down your body to circle your clit as Marcus kept fucking you roughly. You liked the beast hiding inside of him, the warrior with a bruised ego who wanted to prove himself. You could hear his groans; you could feel how he was still holding back until both you and the Emperor were satisfied.

Geta was up again, dangerously close, knife still in view. He pulled on the strands of your hair to make you look up at him, your expression contorted with true pleasure, your mouth hanging open and your eyes glazed over.

“That’s it. Beautiful.” The Emperor’s eyes were heavy with lust.

For once, he seemed satisfied.

“Open your traitorous mouth.” He ordered and you did, while Marcus hit your g-spot again and again, and while your clumsily caressed yourself. Geta’s spit landed in your mouth.

“Swallow. There it is. Good girl. Now you remember who you belong too.” He caressed your cheek with the back of the blade, and Marcus slowed, conscious of the weapon on your cheek.

The knife grazed your skin, leaving drops of crimson in its wake. But thankfully, that was the only injury. The knife was pulled away, and instead, Geta’s dry lips were on yours. His tongue swallowed your moans as Marcus hips snapped violently against your ass, sending waves of pleasure through you. You were only an instrument to their pleasure, a means to an end.

Geta’s lips left yours, but his gaze never truly left them.

“You may finish now.”

Your movements faltered as you gushed around Marcus’ cock. You hated how the presence of the two men now made you even wetter. But you were encouraged by lust and hate. Marcus’ seed filled you up as he groaned one last time, with a final snap of his hips.

“I still think your performance needs… improvement. And I am not done punishing you, General. So please, sit back and watch.” Geta said as he motioned for Marcus to move away from the bed. You heard a soft apology from your lover, you felt a kiss in your sweaty hair. And the General obeyed, sitting on the chair the Emperor had used earlier to watch them. His knuckles were white from holding on the chair too tightly.

Geta’s picta fell to the floor, and you felt like the fabric, your body discarded on the bed without love and care. Geta’s hands, soft like a man’s who hadn’t worked in a day, turned you around and pushed you to the floor. You scrambled to your knees in front of the bed, where he had sat bare for you, his red, leaking cock presented to your mouth like a present.

“Suck. Now.” Your hand wrapped around the base, and you obediently pulled his length into your mouth. He wasn’t as difficult as Marcus to take, but still you wanted to imagine it was your lover instead. You sucked from the base up, licking his tip, tasting the salt and the soap on his skin. You dared a glance at Marcus. He watched, but he seemed elsewhere, dissociating.

“Does she please you like this, General?” The Emperor asked mockingly as he grabbed on to the back of your head, pushing himself deeper as you gagged.

“Only when she wants it. I would never force her hand. I am no monster, I am merciful.” Marcus responded in a clipped, dangerous tone as he came back to reality.

“Truly? I would have expected more from a man who is a monster on the battlefield. A man who can take on three easily.”

You swallowed around Geta and tried to please him as much as you could, sucking, hollowing your cheeks how he liked. And finally, that reduced him to silence, only letting out moans. You didn’t dare looking back at your lover. You were still scared for your life.

The Emperor grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you off him as you looked up at him with eyes wet with worry.

“You know where I want to plant my seed, little lamb.” He snarled, and sat back on your pillows, a cocky grin on his lips as he stared at the General.   “Look at him while you ride my cock.” He ordered as you scrambled to your feet. You positioned yourself on his lap, and he wrapped his arm around your breasts, keeping you near him.

Since the Emperor could not see your expression, you let your tears roam free. Acacius kept still, Geta could not see the empathy in his eyes. He would destroy them.

Aided by your wetness and Marcus’ spend, Geta entered your walls easily. He held you still as thrusted up roughly, and you felt the dig of his teeth in your shoulder, that would surely leave a mark. When he went to bite your cheek, he felt the saltiness of your tears on his tongue. He turned your head at an impossible angle that strained your neck and licked your cheeks clean. You hid your disgust.

“Don’t cry, little lamb. It only makes me want to fuck you even harder.”

“I apologize, my lord.” It came out as a whine when he started fucking up into you roughly.

“I want you to come on my cock while he watches.” It was no suggestion, but an order, that he snarled as he looked at his struggling General. You nodded and used the pads of two of your fingers to draw tight circles on your clit. With one of his hands, Geta kept your head turned to Marcus, so you could look at him while you touched yourself and with a twist of shame, you let yourself find your pleasure, gushing around Geta’s cock.

Geta kept fucking you through your orgasm, his rhythm faltering when he also came, filling you with his seed.

“Good job, my sweet lamb. You did so well for your Emperor.” Geta praised as he pushed you off him, and you landed on your stomach, hiding your face in your soft blankets. You vaguely felt fingers going through your slit, which made you yelp weakly from how swollen your cunt was.

“I can admit she tastes delicious with both of our seeds, General.” Geta said as he got off the bed, licking his fingers clean.  “Now now, you have entertained me enough, and I will spare you. For now.”

The Emperor left, leaving the ornate doors open behind him. Marcus put his clothes back on, and you felt his calloused hand on your lower back. You were so desperate for his touch, for his arms holding you as you wept.

“I will send a servant to prepare a warm bath for you. I apologize, but I cannot afford to stay. For your safety.”  

You didn’t even look at him, only when he left, you lifted your head you could see how he had taken his usual posture, back straight and proud.  You implored the Gods silently to put him on your path again.

[aunt-bridget]

More sissy fantasies explored with Aunt Sandra.

Lean CD Kristen couldn’t wait to slip into her slutty, shiny dress and writhe around in her sheer nylons, juggling her fake tits in the process. She even decided to be a spicy redhead for the evening, such as her kinky lust overtook her sensibilities.

When Sandra suggested some light bondage, the throbbing in Kristen’s panties indicated her thoughts and before long a glossy black tape gag was plastered in place….we have to match, don’t we girls?

The armbinder was a little uncomfortable and our red headed temptress just started to whine her uncertainty about this latest development. The gleaming latex hood quelled any further dispute, with Sandra firmly in control.

Kristen’s senses were now completely deprived with yet more bonds added to her long legs. The d ring on the armbinder was taut as it hooked onto the ankle strap and our sissy was neatly packaged up on the bed. The skintight hood and gag kept the squeals nicely dampened and Sandra retired to one of the chairs to admire her handiwork.

Perhaps the hitachi will be given an outing later, just so Kristen can really know what it’s like to be a bound sissy cumslut.

I mean, dress for the job you want?

[godihatethiswebsite]

18+ – The 141 take bets on No Nut November

CW: alcohol, breeding kink, cam girl, edging, slight Ghoap

Frothy pints drip condensation onto tacky laminate in the back corner of the local pub. Four men glance around at their companions with self assured smirks, so sure it’s them going home with the generous wad of cash piled high in the middle of the table.

Only one of them is right.

John 'breeding kink' Price is the first to lose No Nut November, rutting into the pillow wedged beneath his hips less than a week in with a feral primality driven towards a singular instinctual purpose. Desperate grunts and growls muffled by soft plaid sheets mimic tender flesh trapped between drooling canines. All those years of self-discipline don't mean shit once he eyes a pretty young thing wobbling down the aisles of the shop with a basket full of formula and a ripe round belly – swollen, heavy, fixed to pop. Fertile.

Simon is the next to drop outta the race, earbuds keeping the siren songbird all to himself in the paper thin confines of his rustling tent; the shy dove with her dark flushed cheeks and whimpering mewls who posts on Thursday nights to get herself through university making his rifle-calloused palm keep pace with the sparkly battery-powered rabbit lewdly shlicking between her folds, the 'top donator' headline flashing victorious on his screen keeping her chanting his name with each shuddering orgasm. 

Kyle nearly makes it the whole month – stupidly proud of himself for it too. Stumbling out of the barracks last year at 3am wearing the evidence of the vampire he'd brought back from the bar (watch still stuck on Bogota time) having cut his chances off real quick. This year is gonna be different. Pure determination; a marksman’s precision. No more slip-ups. Too bad his cousin's stag night rolls around three days before December, the charming temptress spinning her seductive web in neon stilettos leading his intoxicated form behind a beaded gossamer curtain, a couple hundred poorer and his heartbeat in his pants.

Fast forward to the back of the pub.

A pair of twinned groans concede defeat to the youngest sergeant, muttered insults barked without bite into the dark malty liquid of their drinks with half hearted regrets at being bested. Yet while the other two may relent in their failed endeavors, the chastised clicking of a tongue stops Kyle’s outstretched hand from collecting his winnings.

Stunned eyes shoot towards the uncharacteristically chatterless Scotsman across the table. After all, no one ever suspects Johnny. Why would they? Big dumb mutt always flapping his gob, chasing after anything on two legs that’ll give him the time of day. The least serious member of the unit with a nose for mischief and a taste for easy women. Poor pup just can’t help it if he has trouble keeping his leaky red rocket to himself. There’s no point in even entertaining the idea really.

But that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Ever since basic – when he was just some punk kid from the outskirts of Glasgow spouting too many words with too much nonchalance. Mentally writing him off as anything but the squadron’s class clown. Counting him out before he’s even had a chance to tap in. 

They forget he’s one of them sometimes; honed, sharpened, regimented to perfection. A sniper’s focus mixed with advanced pyrotechnic chemistry. Analytical interest bottled in an understimulated mind. There’s a stubbornness in his veins that begs for a challenge – that thrives in the environment of other people’s miscalculations. 

Think he can’t do it? Watch him surpass expectations. Tell him not to cum for a month? Fucking bet. Thanks for the hefty sum sitting fat in his wallet. Tough luck boys. Next round’s on me.

Besides, it’s not like the other members know about the long nights spent with his head tipped back against the headboard fisting his angry red cock, edging himself for glorious hour after hour to relieve the stress of a hard fought mission. 

Well, except Simon that is…

Masterlist

[jymwahuwu]

ik you don’t do au’s but i like the idea of sunday being like this metaphorical angel vibe he’s got going on with his character design. what about a darling who’s the opposite? a sinful, demonic-like temptress who actively defies all kinds of order and harmony

Devil! reader x Sunday, that’s a perfect pairing dynamic! I’ve written about it a little bit before. Little devil! reader will be thoroughly educated 😌💖

cw: non-consensual spanking, discipline, humiliation, yandere

The planet you live on is a depraved hedonistic planet. Everyone is enjoying their best life, committing crimes, and preaching against harmony and order. The most obvious physical features are that you have a pair of black/dark red horns on your head, a pair of little devil wings folded up and nestled around your waist, and a tail with heart-shaped barbs on your butt. You have committed 7 crimes in a short time at Penocony…

Sunday noticed you and you could irritate him with just a few words. You're acting like a brat (in his opinion). You shrugged, looking uncaring and impatient, mocking him and questioning the Aeons. And your clothes are so immoral and obscene…

He narrowed his eyes and looked you up and down, observing the choker on your neck, the tank top that exposed your breasts, the unacceptably short miniskirt, and the raised heart-shaped tail.

You rolled your eyes and turned around, but Sunday grabbed your arm.

…

…………

"Stop!! What the hell you bastard!!" You cried bitterly on his lap, kicking your legs. The eye shadow was washed away and messed up by tears, and the lipstick was smeared all the way to my chin.

The skirt and panties were neatly folded and put away, and the choker on the neck was removed. The tail that can block the ruthless attacks has been tied up with the rope of harmonious power, and the hairbrush is raining down on your butt (the hairbrush was found in your bag), leaving swelling and pain. "Hypocrisy! Despicable…ahhhh…! Don't spank!!"

After the spanking, Sunday sends you to social services to "make amends" and "improve" your morals and character. You sob and clean the rides, cook for the kids, put away the books…and paddle again after each failed escape. You don’t dare anymore. Sunday looked at the results of "education" with satisfaction- you were wearing an apron, swearing, and the devil's tail was still clamped.

Mark of Shame- a reminder that now you have to be a good devil.

[thedenerts]

love isn't red ; it's blue

Hi! This is my first fic on Logan Howlett. Not very good with english but i hope you guys would enjoy reading and if you want to see more please, do ask me ! ^^

dofp LOGAN X FEM!READER

tags: MDNI 18+, bad parenting, fingering, logan and reader are married, reader is in their 30s

word count: 1445

notes; if there's any bad english grammar, i mind you that english is NOT my first language

The night came by too quickly; Logan washed what was left off the little dishes by the sink. He watched as you and Hera (your first born daughter) talking on the patio. He stared at the mother of 2 who hasn’t aged a day since they had met. Your hair wild as a gyspsy’s, and body clothed in a simple shirt dress. You looked over your shoulder and smiled; Logan’s heart skipped a beat. You, yourself don’t even know what you had done to him after all these years. Logan felt his pants tighten at the sight of your black and silver lace bra through the white material. His thought process was broken by a loud grunt behind him, his hazel eyes met Hank’s. Hank had a smirk across his blue furry coat ass face (i intended to write down like this).

“Been awhile huh?” Hank asked, catching Logan’s sexual tension. Logan rubbed his face with his wet hands, turning away from his hairy blue friend. He grabbed the beer Hank offered, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, Mateo, he's definitely my son, alright...but damn," he grunted, taking a sip. "Every time Y/N and I try to get a moment alone, that kid senses it and wakes his little ass up." He slammed his palm on the counter, frustration evident. “Tonight, I’ma put some beer in his milk and keep him asleep all night long" Logan grinned at himself while Hank laughed at his friend’s irritation.

Logan's ears perked up as he heard Hera's yawn and Mateo getting fussy, signalling bedtime. Hank, noticing the situation, slapped Logan's back and exited the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. You were pulled by Hera, who forcefully tugged on your arm while cradling Mateo in the other. Before you could reach the stairs with Hera, Logan stops you by standing in front. “What’s the matter, Lo?” You asked with a soft chuckled “Oh, nothing, I was wondering if I could take over and handle that little monster of ours while you’re off to shower huh?” Logan replied as he picked up Mateo up away from your arm and cradles him in his. You raised a brow at him, feeling a bit sceptical but took the chances as you continue to make your way up with Hera.

Logan waved you a goodnight then looks down at his son’s drooling face. “Hey there bub, I’m not gonna let you ruin me and your momma’s time tonight. Not on my watch.” He cooed at the now smiling baby who was playing with Logan’s mutton chaffs. His tiny hands playing with Logan’s facial hair is almost too adorable to handle as Logan makes his way back into the kitchen. Unscrewing off the cap of the baby bottle, Logan put a few drops of diluted beer into Mateo’s milk and fed him up. He looks up at the time and noticed that it was almost nine p.m. Cradling Mateo in his arms while feeding him the diluted milk, Logan makes his way to Mateo’s room and gently sets him down in his crib. Letting the bottle beside him in case if Mateo gets cranky again.

Hurriedly, Logan makes his way to the master bedroom where you both shared. Hera, who was already sleeping in her other room, unbothered with what noise that will be occurring next. Logan enters the bedroom and waits anxiously as he sat down at the edge of the bed. His eyes clouded over with lust and deep desires when he saw you in a black almost see through that night shirt of yours. He whistles lowly when you smiled at him through your reflection, he approached his temptress nice and slow, hands on your hips before roaming that sweet sweet curve body of yours. Logan brought up his hand behind your head before placing kisses on your lips then to your shoulders while his other hand on your hips, pulling closer to his body. Your breath hitches, your (insert your hair colour) sprawled across his back as you threw you head back, allowing him more access. You felt a burning sensation in your lower belly.

Logan growled lowly, moving the both of you towards a large California king black oak bed. He laid you onto the red sheets, adoring your body with more kisses and soft touches. He spread your legs wide apart and settled in between them. “I missed this…I missed you, darlin’” He groaned with his eyes looking down at you with pure desire, pulling away your panties down and throwing aside as his hands now reaching your now wet sex; you moaned softly. Logan smirked at the sight of you arching your head back telling him that you wanted more. You rolled your eyes at the back of your head as Logan inserted two of his fingers into your wet sex. Your fingers intertwined within the silk sheets of the bed. Logan tries his best to restrain himself as best he could, but as he caught sight of your body begging for more…he withdrew his fingers out, removing off his clothes and pants and threw it aside.

You panted heavily, trying your best to lift your head up, eyes looking down to where Logan's shaft comes out leaking with pre-cum. Logan positions himself between your now spread legs, he looks down at you on the bed, biting his lower lip slightly, his heart racing as he smirks. Seeing you all flustered and panting to his magic touch…makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “It’s your fault, you know…looking all mighty fine under that night dress of yours, darlin’”. His hand gripping on your hip, tightening while the other bracing against the bed. His voice, rough and ragged as he plunged into you. With that; you let out a strangled moan, your hips slightly raised by Logan’s thrusts. His hand that was bracing against the bed slides under your night dress, then bra and removing it so that his only restrictions is your beautiful body.

As soon as they were on the floor beside his clothes, Logan then returned one hand back to your moist area and the other on your breasts. You moan even louder than before almost begging for more. “You like that, honey? Huh? You like how I’m gonna fill you up real nice and good?” He continues to pound you harder than before, his voice coming out with heavy grunts and moans; You clutched onto his arms as Logan groaned, filling you up. Logan moves with such pace in and out, building up your moans until they were his name. “Please…Lo…I’m gonna come…” you moaned loudly, arching your back causing you to cry out with pleasure. Logan’s primal instinct kicked as he could feel you tightening around him; “Fuck…darlin’! You’re so tight” he said. Your body turning into deep red blush from cheeks to hips. You couldn’t think or said anything except moans and cries from his thrust; hitting your spot every time. You met his already deep thrusts with your hips moving down as he went up.

Logan growled, grabbing your hips and kissing you roughly as your climax hits hard. You came undone on his thick throbbing cock, sweat dripping from both of you but Logan… he wasn’t done. Instead. He withdrew and lifted you on your hands and knees. You didn’t have time to react, so without second to waste, he re-entered. You threw your head back as your body taking every inch of him. Pushing your bottom closer, Logan took your submission and grab ahold of your hips once more; thrusting at full speed. You feel another climax coming quickly. Logan’s hands moved up to your spine, stroking as he finally released his hot seed into you as you let yourself go for a second time. Logan moaned deeply and flops down on top of you before rolling to the other side of the bed. Logan, his arms wraps around you, holding you close against his chest, feeling your body nuzzling into his, his own strength beginning to return. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding in his chest. "You okay, darlin’? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You shake your head then smiled, laying your head on his chest with your finger playing on his chest.

Both you and Logan laughed before Mateo stirs awake, crying for attention. Logan groans, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess someone’s awake. Better go check him out” You chuckled softly at him and nodded.

[the-mortuary-witch]

ASMODEUS

WHO IS HE?

Also known as Ashmodai, Asmodeus, Asmody, Asmoday; appears as a Great King 'Asmoday' in the Ars Goetia, where he is said to have a seal in gold and is listed as number thirty-two according to respective rank. He "is strong, powerful and appears with three heads; the first is like a bull, the second like a man, and the third like a ram or a goat; the tail of a serpent, and from his mouth issue flames of fire." Also, he sits upon an infernal dragon, holds a lance with a banner, and amongst the Legions of Amaymon, Asmoday governs seventy two legions of Spirits.

Asmodeus is one of the “seven princes of hell,” a demon whose wickedness is matched only by his talent. He specializes in spreading lust, and he doesn’t just prey on common people. Kings, queens, and even divine beings have been affected by his touch!

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: a strong and attractive young man with shoulder-length black hair, fiery orange-yellow eyes (like burning embers), black draconic wings, and ram horns. When angered, his hair catches in flames and burns to become short, blazing like embers. His horns become more prominent, and his eyes become even more fiery. He goes into battle with a staff or sword commonly, but sometimes with a mace. The dragon he is sometimes seen riding is a trusted friend of his from ages past. He can also appear as a bull or ram, which are aspects of his. His traditional art which shows him as having three heads is simply a symbolization of this. 

Personality: Asmodeus is tremendously strong at heart and holds a great deal of wisdom and passion. Overall, he has a very resilient and noble attitude, and is also connected to lust and domination, as he indulges in sexual pleasures. Asmodeus enjoys luxury and sensuality, but can also be very dark and serious when needed, and can become quickly impatient with those who earn his disfavour. He can also feel war-like at times, but in a way that is similar to heroism. But his darker side, however, is called Asmodai, who is one of the most destructive and terrifying of all the demons.

Asmodeus is a master of emotions and knows how to rapidly gain favour by playing to the emotions of crowds, masses, or even single persons. He doesn’t have to lie, he simply uses emotional reasoning to appeal to peoples’ hearts in order to be convincing. He tends to be very kind-hearted, loyal, passionate, and steadfast. 

Symbols: upside down red pentagram, cards, snake, crown, scorpion, seal of Asmodeus, money, the element air, and gambling

King/God of: demons, lust, passion, sex, valour, inner-strength, knowledge, craftsmanship, and the pursuit of power.

Culture: Demonic and Jewish

Plants and trees: rose, mint, sunflower, blackthorn tree, mandrake root, belladonna, nightshade, yew tree, lavender, poppy, cypress tree, jasmine, and snakewood tree

Crystals: leopards skin jasper, carnelian, peridot, ruby, cinnabar, black tourmaline, red jasper, and garnet

Animals: bull, snake, scorpion, ram, cats, and rooster

Incense: frankincense, rose, vanilla, cinnamon, and dragons blood

Practices: sex magick, healing (especially from sexual trauma), curses and hexes, protection, banishing negativity, and relationship magick

Colours: red, black, yellow, and silver

Numbers: 32 and 3

Zodiac: Aquarius

Tarot: The Devil, King Of Wands, and 6 Of Swords

Planet: Venus

Days: Friday the 13th, full moons, Valentine’s Day, Beltane, and Litha

Parents: Agrat bat Mahlat and King David

Siblings: N/A

Partner: Bensozia, Lilith, Sarah (the daughter of Raguel), and possibly many other demons and spirits

Children: N/A

MISC:

• Lust and carnal desires: Asmodeus is said to have great power over matters of lust and sexuality, and is often depicted as a seducer and temptress.

• Love and passion: he is believed to be able to stir up powerful emotions of love and passion in humans, leading them astray from their true path.

• Sexuality and physicality: Asmodeus is associated with the physical realm and is said to have great understanding and influence over the physical body.

• Material wealth and luxury: sometimes portrayed as a being of great material wealth and luxury, and is often depicted surrounded by opulence and excess.

• Power and authority: Asmodeus is a high-ranking demon in the hierarchy of hell, and is believed to have significant power and influence over humans and other supernatural creatures.

•’Use of seductive and manipulative techniques: Asmodeus is known for using charm, persuasion, and deception to achieve his goals and manipulate others.

FACTS ABOUT ASMODEUS:

• He HATES water, shellfish, seafood (especially fish), complaining, and pettiness.

• Known for his gambling or being over gambling.

• He is also associated with music, battles, and vengeance.

• He rules over the gambling houses of Hell and can bestow luck in gambling and loves to play poker and blackjack in the astral with his practitioners.

• Can be invoked to help with justice or vengeance spells.

• He dislikes birds, but likes cats.

HOW TO INVOKE ASMODEUS:

When working with Asmodeus, it’s important to approach him with respect and caution. Remember that he is a powerful demon and should be treated as such. Be open to receiving his gifts of passion, sex, valour, inner-strength, and more, but also be prepared for his darker side. If you’re looking to connect with Asmodeus on a deeper level, try meditating with his enn (Ayen avage aloren Asmoday aken) or creating a sigil in his honor. And always remember to thank him for his gifts and offerings.

Here are some additional tips for working with Asmodeus:

• Build a relationship: Like any deity, building a relationship with Asmodeus takes time and effort. Try making regular offerings or dedicating a space in your home to him. You can also try researching more about his history and lore to deepen your connection with him.

• Focus on inner strength: Asmodeus is known for his rulerships of inner strength, which can come in handy when facing obstacles or challenges in life. Try working with him to cultivate this quality within yourself, and remember to thank him for his guidance.

• Use protection spells: Asmodeus can also be called upon for protection, especially in matters of the heart. Try creating a protection spell or talisman with his sigil to ward off negativity and attract positive energy.

• Connect with sexuality: Asmodeus is strongly connected to sexuality, making him a great deity to work with for matters of the heart and relationships. Try connecting with him through sexual energy or using his energy to enhance your own passion and desires.

• Always show respect: When working with Asmodeus, it’s important to always show respect and approach him with caution. He is a powerful demon, and should be treated with the reverence and respect that he deserves.

Another fun way to work with Asmodeus is to create a vision board that reflects his rulerships. Cut out pictures and phrases that represent passion, sex, valour, and inner-strength, and arrange them on a board or piece of paper. Place this vision board on your altar or carry it with you as a reminder of the gifts you’re seeking from Asmodeus.

PRAYER FOR ASMODEUS:

"Oh mighty King Asmodeus, ruler of the underworld and master of the infernal realms, I call upon you in this moment. I beseech thee to draw near and manifest your presence before me.By your divine power and authority, I seek your guidance, protection, and assistance in the matters that concern me.”

“I acknowledge your greatness and offer my respect and devotion to you.Hail Asmodeus, King of the Fire and Ruler of the Underworld!"

SIGNS THAT ASMODEUS IS CALLING YOU:

• He shows up in your dreams.

• Shows up as the King of Wands when using tarot cards.

• Feeling of being watched or accompanied by a supernatural presence when alone.

• Seeing or drawing toward animals associated with him (bulls, snakes, scorpions, rams, cats, and/or roosters).

• Unusual dreams or vivid visions, often involving themes of love, lust, or sensuality.

• Experiencing feelings of intense desire, passion, seductive, or sexual energy (in my personal experience).

• Feeling a sense of connection or communication with a supernatural entity or presence, especially during meditations or rituals.

• A sudden need or desire to explore darker or taboo aspects of your personality or desires.

• Feeling a stronger connection to the elements of fire or earth.

• Observing unusual synchronicities or patterns in your life that remind you of him.

OFFERINGS:

• Sexual acts.

• Roses.

• Cards.

• Frankincense.

• Dice.

• Food and drinks: pineapple, oat meat, alcohol (red wine, spiced rum, and whiskey), spicy food, lemons, limes, chestnuts, honey, chocolate, and natural made lemonade

• Bull, ram, or narwhal horns.

• Sunflowers.

• Black or red candles.

• Shadow work.

• Carnelians.

• Axes.

• Maces.

• Ornate swords.

• Money.

• Cinnamon scented candles, incense, perfume, (anything cinnamon scented overall).

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

• Participating in activities that he may appreciate, such as creative pursuits, sexual expression, or pursuits of power and control.

• Boundary work.

• Leaving offerings such as wine, herbs, or flowers on his altar.

• Engaging in acts of passion and pleasure.

• Working towards personal goals and desires related to sexuality, power, and success.

• Singing and overall talking to him.

• Making a meal in his name.

• Shadow work.

• Knowing how to stand up for yourself.

• Learning to stand up for others.

• Lighting a candle or incense in honour of Him.

• Coming to terms with your sexuality.

• Body worship.

[callme-darling]

i can’t stop thinking about all the pretty noises vincent would make while you give him a handjob :(

he works so hard, and does so well to take car of you, it’s only fair to repay him every once in a while, no?

it’d take you a bit, but once you finally coax his back against the headboard, god he wouldn’t even try to keep himself quiet. not when your pretty eyes are watching him so tenderly as your soft palm works the length of his hard shaft.

a bead of precum would leak onto your hand and he’d sigh so breathily when you bring it to your lips, tongue teasing the faint trail before licking a stripe across your palm. god, he could still feel the warmth of your saliva when it finally comes back to squeeze around his cock.

“merde…” he’d whisper, voice hoarse and eyes lidded.

you’d move to straddle his legs, arching your back slightly to pop your chest in his inviting gaze. your hand would continue it’s languid rhythm stroking him as his patience slowly melts away, head falling back against the wall.

your lips would meet his neck, warm as they kissed his pulse point. a low groan would tickle your ear when your teeth nip little red bites across sensitive flesh.

few words would be exchanged, but the way vincent would gently lift his hips in time with the squeezing of your hand was all you needed to know he was growing needier. panting like a dog against your hair, he fought the urge to cover your smaller hand with his own and take control.

a breathy chuckle slipped through your lips, a shiver running down his spine. “you’re being so good, vince… do you like this?”

he mentally cursed himself for falling for such a temptress. his lidded eyes blinked as they focused on you. your cheeks were flushed with a heat that no doubt reflected his own needy expression.

“if you don’t kiss me, i swear i..” he murmured, lips barely brushing yours, his eyes flicking to your own. the heady look in his eyes had you softly biting the flesh of your lower lip.

“you’ll what?” you challenged with a whisper, voice lilting in a juxtaposed excitement and nervousness.

vincent licked his lips, tip of his tongue ghosting over your upper lip. “i’ll remind you it’s not very nice to tease.”

“oh, but that’s my favorite part,” you pause, eyes aglow with mischief. your hand slides up his length, earning a shaky breath from the man under you. your palm squeezes firmly, thumb teasing the slit of his leaking tip. “it’s your favorite part too, isn’t it, vincent?” you make a show of whining his name, catching the way his chest heaves with the effort of controlling himself.

“you better finish what you started, ma cherie.” the sweet petname sounded absolutely dangerous paired with his raspy tone.

your other hand finds his right arm. your nails trace across the muscles of his shoulder before cupping the curve of his neck. he’s already leaning into you when your lips meet. it’s a needy melding of tongues and spit as he groans into your mouth with every twitch of his dick in your hand.

fuck, and when he comes, it’s so much. he’s got so much pent up frustrations from being overworked but too exhausted to take care of himself. so when he finally lets go, it paints his stomach and your hand in a pretty trail of translucent white. he’d pant softly, chest and ears flushed bright red as his still hard dick twitches when you use his come to pump his length excruciatingly slow.

his hips twitch, fingers wrapping around your wrist to halt your movements. “fuck- wait-“ he whispers through gritted teeth.

your own kiss bitten lips would only smile softly down at him before sitting on his thighs, effectively pinning his hips to the mattress. “it’s okay, baby, i’m not done yet.” you plant a chaste kiss to his lips as he catches his breath, “you work so hard, i’ll help you turn off that brain of yours,” you feel the grip on your wrist weaken. “mhm.. give me another one, yeah?”

[quona]

i have brought her laughing (to my quietly dreaming garden) ------------------------------ The scene: A smoky, velvet-lined speakeasy smudged carelessly somewhere in the pocket of a roaring, glittered New York City, 1924, nighttime. Prohibition is on, but the law books never really dissuade anyone from getting a drink, not if they know where to go. It sure as Hell doesn't stop Crowley from taking her Angel out for a drink, because Aziraphale wanted one. And hey, it's the jazz age, Crowley knows where to get weed again.

This painting is one half of a collaboration I did with my dear friend @thescholarlystrumpet, who wrote a fantastic companion piece on AO3 (Rated M, mind the drug use tag).

“I got something else to liven up your final night in town. If you’re feeling a little… daring.” Crowley looked sidelong at Aziraphale and arched one penciled-on brow. Aziraphale wiggled happily and slid off the stool to sidle closer, until her head was practically on the Demon’s bare shoulder. “Do tell.”  Crowley tried not to shiver as she could feel the Angel’s breath against her heated skin, smell the heady potpourri of perfume, wine, and a pinch of ethereal sweat, taste it on her (currently unforked) tongue. She held up the expertly rolled joint between two fingers accented by red painted talons. “It’s been a very long time, I think, since we really… indulged.” Turning her head just so, nearly nose to nose with her friend. “Don’t you think we’ve earned it?” “Why, you wicked temptress,” Aziraphale murmured, her voice low and slightly breathless, sly smile belying any hint of admonishment. 

full size and detail shots after the jump

[ur-mousey]

Time Moves ~

-Yand!True Form! Sukuna Ryomen x Disciple! F!Reader-

Part two

summary Sukuna demands attention from his out of breath disciple for leaving him alone. 2.2k warning mature, smut, possessive themes, mentions of bondage/imprisonment, pussy-eating, dub-con.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A god lay in wait. His legs spread out. His head rested on the palm of his hand, staring down at his angry red-tipped cock, which pulsed for the cruel mouth of his beloved disciple. He dug his elbow further into his thigh to resist pounding his shaft into the nearest cunt. Animal or women. His other three arms found purchase elsewhere among cool cobblestones to distract from the heat in his chest.

These trips of hers get longer and longer, he thought to himself.

With other disciples, he didn't care for their comings and goings. His little pet, however, he needed to hold her down by a leash. Maybe it's because she's the only one at his side.

Sukuna Ryomen, the God of Curses, was the first to cultivate spite, revenge, and war among the human race. But, he was needed more whenever your hands were held in a prayer nowadays. He was aware that the village below held wavering faith -they hardly believed at all. Trades such as merchants and high-end seamstresses gain riches far faster than that of a war mongrel. And it is true that as a God of War, he has been weakened due to this time of peace. 

It disgusted him to no end. The smoke below was no longer a symbol of families' homes ravished by flames or hunkered-down soldiers in a state of panic while children died tortuously around them. However, it meant that a family feast on a bounty of saccharine pastries baked in the oven.

Years ago, you had begged to venture through the festival roads. One month drew into the next, and each day was the same ordeal to both parties contempt.

Sukukna denied you the pleasure whereas you gave. On your knees, you would whisper his name like the temptress who trained you long ago. You handed out kitten licks and hollowed mouth sucks, coaxing his pre-cum to splash your tongue. Then you would offer your ass in preparation for his impending orgasm. Until one day, he surrendered to your devilish demands.

Once a year, he had promised to allow you to venture away from the shrine to partake in the New Year festivities. However, this god could lie. He broke that promise quicker than he did you.

The first year, you left and returned with a basket filled past the brim with mundane sweets. Most of which you had forgotten existed: red bean buns, daifuku, and a plethora more that Sukuna had cared little for. He had scolded you for the lack of satiating meat in your haul. "I desired other things. Why not accompany me next year? There were all sorts of skewers," You whispered into his ear with a playful bite.

"If only I could go without lifting a leg," Sukuna waved off.

That time, you sank to your knees, looking up at him. "My God, is there a way I could convince you by next year? I offer you the first pick of the desserts."

So he took his favorite one. Your first year out of his sight bared its weight on your thighs. He discarded the bought goods across the floor. You had been gone merely three hours. However, Sukuna could not lift his head from your heat. Your saltiness kept his tongue pushed deep into her sopping hole.

Your feeble arms pushed against Sukuna, who has strapped you down at your waist. He knew that you were crying profusely. He wanted you to break down more upon his tongue. 

Your nails drew blood from his shoulder blades as he held your legs wide. You had struggled to kick out at his thighs. Now, they twitched at the bite of his teeth on your clit. Sukuna would have chuckled at the pleas you made to unlock your neck. But, the collar that secured you to the floor fit you so snug. You were his perfect pet. 

He sucked in between your flesh, tasting you over and over again to never forget that you were perfectly made for his sinful desires. 

He overreacted. Ten days were spent in his personal heaven. And Sukuna couldn't tell if she enjoyed it herself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your salvation is at the top of the mountain where your God resides. At least, that's what you had told yourself at the base of those stone steps.

When you were staring up into the endless sky. When you could feel the trees wave and the birds sing blessings upon your journey. Now, all within your heart was the sound of ringing, the pumping of blood which aided in the spasm of your muscles. How much longer?

You thought you hated making the trip down in fear of toppling over, but it was the climb up that made you appreciate the respite of the poor village. It felt more humane talking to the workers below than doing endless cardio.

But days like these were rare. The villagers do not recognize you anymore, nor do you recognize them. Every day spent in the village are new faces and you are just a humble stranger. You doubt that whatever family you had left out there would know it is you.

Time moves differently on the mountain. 

Your body felt like it would fall apart at the seams. Your bag was filled to the brim with food: savory meats, dried jerky, and sweets galore. You looked at the upcoming archway that marked the journey as being a third over with. The pillars hold familiarity fore this was as far as your God allowed you to step off of the immediate property. You can see the works of your crafted talisman plastered on every vertical surface. It’s maddening. Black ink smeared upon crimson parchment. Sukuna had glared at your work but he shrugged and let you be. That was long ago when humans gathered for his harem. You were the only left.

You knew that your God lied to you. Yearly visits to the mortal world easily showed you that more time has gone by. Today, a girl named Yumi worked at your favorite stall selling pastry goods. But the year before, it was the newly wedded Hiragashi couple. You remembered the young wife brimming with light, belly round and ready to pop. And you remembered how the husband begged his wife to sit while he handled the bustling night market. When you asked about the two, Yumi sighed, "They are my parents."

Hiragashi Yumi was that baby yet to be born, now she stood before you in her twenties. Her parents are significantly older when you're not.

Time moves differently on the mountain.

What were you to do? Your God wouldn't want to hear any of your plight. You doubt that this is a matter he would allow you to fight for.

He'd taunt you. He'd ask if it even matters when at the end of the day, you got to take the excursion. But, it terrifies you that you cannot tell the difference between a year and twenty.

You had to let it go. 

You had taken the moment to set down your bag. The pillar felt like stone against your forehead. It was obviously made out of stone and the realization slammed into your pounding head. It's hard and grainy like time. You realized there were no memories before you laid eyes on your God. You try to calm your breath. Did you even have a family or a childhood? When did life begin for you? Will your life ever end or will it be determined by your God?

Vines coiled up the stone pillar, its leaves brushed against your flushed cheeks. You watched them grow each day. Water droplets slid from them to you, on you cheek. A cause from the earlier drizzle, you presume. It made you wonder if it was safe to cry. After speaking to Yumi, you admitted that you wanted nothing more than the comfort of home. Despite knowing better, there is nothing for you outside of the arms of your God.

"Pet, why the long face." Your body went rigid and you shot your head up the path. The moon shows half its face to the world. And like the moon, your God sat encased primarily in shadows. His eyes showed bright vermillion. 

"My God, why have you come this far from the shrine?" You panted through the coils in your chest. You quickly gathered yourself to the best of your abilities. First, you start by kicking off your hard-to-walk-in sandals. Then you shimmed your hair from its tight bun, allowing the terraces to flow. The black rose pin that held the style together, you placed behind your ear. Lastly, you make work of the kimono. You had pestered your God to help tuck and tie to perfection. Now, it’s folded fabric that you set on top of your traveling pack. 

You stood straight to be beheld. "Here, I bare myself to you." You do not own undergarments, you don't remember a time in which you would have. You bowed till you were sure that your whole body felt flatted into the mountain's steps. "My God."

"Come," Your God beckoned. "Drop the God." 

"Yes Sukuna," You huffed out. "Shall I bring you any food or dessert? The night market was more lively than the last! I could hardly handle the long lines. And I thought we would have more fun watching the fireworks from within the courtyard."

"Quit yapping and come. I couldn't care less for mortal foods."

You make your ascent up the remaining steps separating you two. "Aw, I guess that I'm the only mortal food you'll eat." You let out a giggle through the racing questions. "I hope that you know that you are getting my stuff from below, it has been quite tedious for this mortal to make it this far."

Sukuna looked up into your eyes. You have made it in between his parted legs. You swayed there for a little bit before assuming your kneeling position. Your finger grazed Sukuna's hair before using his shoulder to brace your knees when hitting the slab below. Back straight. Bum placed directly over heel. And, your hands cling to each elbow behind your back in a straight line. "Bold to order me around."

"It was a suggestion."

"A hell of one." Sukuna placed his finger under your lips "Your chin should be lifted. Do you need a reminder? And where should your eyes be?"

"Retraining won’t be necessary." You lifted your chest higher to prove the point as you focused on Sukuna's manhood. His white robe left little to the imagination especially since he never ties it properly. His tattoos frame his sculpted abs and draw the eyes to his glorious v-line. And it's only if you don't do a double take of the smirking mouth protruding from the middle of his stomach. You are used to it and you have been more than aquatinted to how perverted it makes you feel. 

"The long face, pet?" Your nickname was held off long enough to feel somewhat like an afterthought or an attack on your ego.

You sighed, "At the market... This girl I met was twenty, but when I met her last year, she wasn't born yet. I had talked to her parents."

You dared look up into Sukuna's four eyes, searching from one to the other which all stared back at you. "Oh pet, are you mad?"

"Should I be?"

"Why no, pet," Sukuna whispered. He bowed his head to rest his forehead against yours, coated in a film of sweat. "I could make you forget the thoughts running in your dumb head. You are a pet that only needs to know of her master." He scraped a finger behind your ear, taking the black rose pin and with his other hand, he swept your hair back to his liking. "But, if you are mad, I will allow you to pierce me with this. Hold out your hand."

You did as told. Now the metallic warmth of the pin weighed heavy on your conscious. "I don't wish to hurt you. And if I do this, you'll punish me."

"I lied. Pierce me for all I care. You are mad like me.” His blazed eyes hunger for the fear in yours “Your punishment will be a light one."

You shook your head, "No! No no no. I want to let this go! Let's enjoy the food and the fireworks. Please!" Before you could yank your arm away, your God gripped tight enough to bruise. With full awareness, you watched as Sukuna used your hand to shove the pin repeatedly into his chest.

At first, the skin doesn't break. Your hand throbbed from the forced handle you had to take. Your arms ached all over as you tried pulling away from the slashing. Screaming felt foreign but not unheard of coming from your throat. Moments like theses caused your mind to wonder. Were those cries even yours or someone else's? A spectator could be in the woods regarding the nakedness of your skin.

They could be the one screaming. The spectator has front-row seats to view the enormous stomach mouth gulp down blood. Or they were the one fighting, not you, to get away from Your God.

"Su-uuh kuna! Wh- why, why! Why are you doing this!?" You bellowed through gritted teeth, smacking against his chest. 

"What did I even do wrong?" You felt the crash of your lungs. You felt the heaviness of your knees losing balance on the pavement which caused you to smack into Sukuna's right thigh. Your face felt hot. "I can't be mad! I don't have the right!" You shook your head, whipping hair everywhere. Snot ran down to your lips as you kept screaming. "I don't care if you lied! Why should I! I'm nothing more than a pet who would be nothing without their god!"

Sukuna squeezed your hand as he pushed the sharp pin in one last time before ripping your arms away. You fell backwards. catching yourself on the step below you. Your main find at last year's market, the black rose pin, looked dimmed when coated in blood. It stuck out of your God's chest where it rises and falls to the normal beat of his lungs. Whatever compelled you to buy the article of jewelry made you gag into your hands.

"Pet, I hate these excursions of yours. You know that."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo!

Happy New Years

[tellmeallaboutit]

Raphael/F!Tav: belle de jour

Summary: Raphael obsesses over his sleeping Archduchess wife.

Rating: Mature / Explicit

Trigger warnings: somnophilia (and therefore dub-con), obsessive thoughts, paranoia, power-lust, jealousy, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship, dark Raphael.

Wanted, wanted: little mouse. 

Hair: blonde. Lips: scarlet.

Where is she hiding in his house? 

Why are you hiding, darling? (*)

****

There she lay.

There she lay, his temptress: face down, her hair unbraided, her body naked but for the lace of her knickers, on their enormous four-poster bed.

There he stood.

There he stood at the door, rapt. The red pillow, the excessive, creamy silk pillow she lay on was so soft and deep that her face was almost hidden, but he could still see the high curve of her cheek, her small flushed ear. There was something innocent about the way her legs were splayed, childlike about the way her hands were tucked under her breasts.

Her innocence is nothing but a sweet little lie, and this sweet little thing doth lie, oh doth she lie.

His Archduchess lay there, passive, soft, his belle de jour, his sleeping beauty. A delicate snore escapes her lips. Such a perfectly mortal thing, a defenseless thing, an irresistible bait. 

His Archduchess is elsewhere, in realms where he is barred from entry. Scarcely anything escapes his control now; yet her dreams are her sanctuary. He watches her inhale and exhale in slumber's grasp, he notes the rhythmic ebb and flow of her lush bosom's rise and fall.

Her eroticism is his oblivion.

Her skin, oh her skin, is pure liquid silk and it's so soft to touch and utterly void of even the smallest blemish. He yearns to see this vixen flayed bloody raw to strip her perfect skin of its tyrannical hold over him.

He kneels before her splayed legs like a suppliant, but it's futile to beg for mercy from her: for she, his Archduchess, is bereft of mercy – her cruelty dwarfs his own.

He touches the satin fabric of her undergarments which are dampened by her desire. “What do you dream about, mouse?", he asks, his fangs nibbling the tender terrain of her thighs. "Whom do you dream about?". 

She remains silent, ever the tease, ever the provocateur, and he feels a rush of desire which is almost painful.

Who could she possibly be dreaming about that would cause the wet stain on that beige satin, that nymph harlot of his?

He kneels and he pulls away her knickers to probe her, and his tongue encounters her wetness, thick and syrupy - she is in the middle of her lunar cycle. His body jolts at this realization and aching need - she is fertile - she commands him to perform his duties.

More sons, strong, powerful hellspawns, more sons to pit against each other, to ensure the survival of only the ones who prove their mettle, to ensure his legacy for eons to come. Daughters bring naught but a handful of cubs, his sons will have thousands of women swell for them.

Her eyes flicker half-open and all he can see is the stark white. 

“Raphael?” she asks in her dream, as if not sure; and why is she not? Who else does the vixen expect to lay between her legs in their bedroom?

He lullabies her with his soporific enchantment, not ready to part with the power that is being her voyeur and violator.

“Sleep, my darling wife”, he hushes, and her face softens and her lips part and she tosses her head back and lets a small, child-like whimper. 

He showers his sleeping beauty with lascivious caresses, the skin of her thighs gooseflesh under his fingertips. He is generous with his attention, tasting her juices as if they hold the secret to who occupies her thoughts, as if his tongue could coax the truth from her. 

She whimpers and moans but betrays nothing, her lips and mind sealed. 

She need not tell; he has a vast imagination.

He imagines catching her in flagranti with his own brother, their bodies obscenely knotted, her small hands grabbing his spiral horns and her slim ankles forming a vice around Valefar’s back. He imagines: her crying out vulgarities, his brother flicking his tail in delight. 

Oh, that whore of Babylon, that Messalina, Circe, Jezebel, oh, his bane and downfall, hiding behind her veneer of porcelain skin and rose-tinted nipples and the scent of honeydew.

Wildly, he pursues the shadow of her infidelity. He positions her supine and unfurls her under his weight. Her transgressions, so vivid in his imagination, make a savage out of him.

He imagines how he decapitates his brother before her very eyes and stakes claim on her beside the still-warm corpse. Oh, would she whine and sob and garble apologies and plead for mercy, oh, would he give her none.

He sheaths himself inside of her, in this silky soft scabbard, which is his right, and she gasps and winces and she utters a soft ‘ow!‘, and he tastes the pang of pain off her lips, her Boticellian pink lips, the color of raw rose.

His claws tug at her skin, marring her, and this is his right too. Tears form in the corners of her eyes, and oh! such tears she has! never before had he seen tears of that size and brilliance. His tongue pilfers them from her skin, to which she responds with a slight toss of her head.

He punishes her for the phantoms of any other that might have haunted her golden-tressed little head, and her lax and defenseless body shakes with the cadence of her chastisement.

Many dream of pressing their weight onto her, oh, of that he has no doubt. Other devils covet her, and rightly so; let them squirm in the throes of envy and desire, let them gag on their impotence, and let them watch, for they will never have her because she is his and only his. 

She dares not dream of any other. She dares not think of any other. She dares not look. She dares not dream…

Oh, but she does, the little serpent, the viper. What does she do when he does not look? He recalls his father's frayed lips whispering too near her round little ear as Mephistopheles dubs her his cherished daughter-in-law, and she musters a forced smile. He remembers her overdone laugh at Mammon’s tasteless jest, eyes darting. What does she hide, what does she plot? 

He thrusts her open, he lays her bare, his fingers and tongue and manhood know naught the limits of his possession, and yet the only truth his interrogation elicits are her soft moans.

Oh how cruel she is to him! Always has been. Mocking him even when asleep with that La Gioconda smile of hers. Man covets; woman is coveted. This is a woman's singular yet significant edge. Woman knows of her power and will abuse it given the opportunity.

After all, what's power for if not to abuse? 

He seizes her by the wrists and tries to kiss her, but she tilts her head to the side and his lips meet only her cheekbone. He stares into her soul taking in her lust, pride, ambition; but her soul is not his; it's hers.

Yet.

"I adore you, my little mouse", he breathes into her sleeping face. These insipid, cliche, mortal words mean nothing but he wants to taste them and they taste bitter. He thinks surely now, she would snap out of reverie just to open her lips into a scornful laugh at his confession. 

But no, she sleeps, an expression of capricious boredom on her languid features, her cheeks flushed from his kisses.

She will use this weakness against him. The others will too, those others who always wanted to see him fail, ever since birth. All those others waiting for their turn to mock him, cheering for his downfall.

Weakness is a contagious disease, the most contagious of all diseases. Let it inside his Layer, his domain and his marriage and watch them crumble and bury him underneath.

His Archduchess despises weakness, and so she must, or she wouldn’t be his Archduchess. She cannot know of any of his weaknesses, and she will not. The failures on the Eastern Blood War Front, the rebellions, the debt chokehold Mammon has on him, the legions who still pledge their allegiance more readily to his father than to him.

She cannot know that or... his fears.

What fears?

He has none. He fears not. He, the Archdevil of Avernus, is feared. He claimed his power, he took his thrones, he forced the first Layer to his knees; he needs but to maintain it, to control it, to…

Never let her go.

She will never dare to leave him. She knows that. There is just one escape from him and that is death.

“Do you know that, mouse?”, he says, his thrusts underscoring his question, his hands around her alabaster neck.

She stirs. She moans. He hushes; she should sleep. So he could tell her all the things he shouldn't.

If only he would just have more power. More souls under his command, more treasures in his coffers, more armies marching at his beck and call, more layers of Hells—these are what he needs to truly possess her.

Power is the only thing women ever respect, mortal or not. He's seen this tale play out a thousand times; they chatter of love but only kneel before the mighty. Should a stronger contender emerge, should he exhibit any frailty, they...

No. No. She will never leave him. Nobody can give her what he can.

He feels her walls flutter around him and he knows: she bewitched him.That's why her sweat, her tears, her juices taste so divine, that’s why he is hopelessly shackled to what is between her thighs. She bewitched him to try to weaken him and…

She. Will. Pay. For. It.

"You are becoming a heel, son", he hears his father's acidic voice; he hears it always, every day, a never-ending reminder of his shortcomings. "Let her taste your whip, let her taste it daily, or she will make you a slave to hers”.

The old coot is right. He ordered her to get his firstborn back in their house; and she made her little face, and she pleaded “you promised, Raphael, please, you promised”, and what did he say?

Nothing. He is becoming a heel, a wretched lovesick fool.

He let her get away with too much. What hasn't he given her? The Archduchess swims in riches, his beautiful, passionate, cruel, and despotic mistress who wantonly changes her whims every passing day.

His most prized possession, the crown jewel of his hoard, and yet this treasure thirsts for more of her own.

Women.

They never have quite enough, no matter how much you give them. Glasia sits on piles of gemstones, Fiera has her own temples upon temples of souls, Baalphegor got an entire plane as her tribute. Yet, is their thirst ever quenched? 

Never. There is always another man who could give them more. He needs to compete with everyone, every single day, and he needs to make sure his Archduchess has more today than there was yesterday, so she would never, ever... He dances to the tune of the infernal chant, the empty promise of infinite growth: more, more, more.

He needs more from her too, and he takes more, hips grinding with a savage rhythm, forcing his wife down into the mattress.

You can only hurt those you love, and they are the only ones who can truly hurt you back.

His thoughts wander to her whip, he thirsts for her strike, longing for her to lay pain upon him, longing for his Venus in Furs to mark him as her captive, to see the passion flare in her sharp blue eyes as she raises her unforgiving hand. Oh, cruel thing, cruel, capricious thing, his little mouse. 

Pain is their shared delicacy, both of them the finest of gourmets, and they spoon-feed it to each other every night.

He unleashes the hot poison of his loins into her and her toes twitch, her mouth agape, and there's a strand of saliva down her chin and that too he claims as his own. His thumb rubs her between the legs until he sees right through her body to watch her womb contract; once, twice, thrice, the little ripples through her body, and he is satisfied with her satisfaction. 

He is more charitable than he thinks.

He draws his tongue across her damp brow and whispers words of love that would never see the light of the day. She's already basking in admiration and flattery; no need to slake her insatiable ego any further.

The Archduchess sighs and curls away from him, knees to her chest, leaving him to stare at the cleft of her buttocks and her slit moist with his seed.

She will wake up come morning with a dull ache between her legs and might even have the audacity to reprimand him for his nightly fervor but he knows, he knows, ever since the first day he made her his own: 

She loves it. 

(*)  A play on the poem "Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze" by V. Nabokov.

The still is from the movie "Sleeping Beauty", 2011.

[upsidedownmvnson]

temptation vol 2 | eddie munson

vol 2 of temptation

warnings: dangerous driving, teasing, intentional seduction, so much talk of sex, teasing teasING, pervy at some points

barely edited

a/n: im not sorry, engage for part 3 ;)

You stood in the mirror looking at the skirt. It was a nice skirt. It was short, white and pleated, resting on your thigh in a way that made you feel confident. Especially knowing how it made Eddie feel. He hand his hand on your thigh the entire drive home. And you knew exactly what it meant to wear it on your date with him.

You were basically screaming "Eddie Munson! I want you to fuck me!"

And really you were. You wanted him so bad, and you knew he wanted you. So waiting any longer was unnecessary suffering. And if you went just one more day without Eddie bending you over and taking you, well, you were going to explode.

You wore long white socks with little blue bows on each one, and a blue shirt tucked into the skirt. You thought you looked great, and you really did.

There was a knock at your door, and you rushed to the door to get it. Eddie was obviously the one on the other side, hiding behind a bouquet of flowers. When he moved the flowers and took a second to look at you, he bit his lip.

"We should go," he said, grinning at you. "I'd love to buy you dinner tonight and if we don't leave immediately that's not going to happen."

"Dinner can wait," you shrugged, reaching out for the flower. You set the flowers on the small table by the door, and looked over your shoulder at him. "If you want to come inside."

"No, no, no, temptress. You are a lady and you shall be wined and dined, and then I'll get you into bed. But first," he scooped up your hand, and brought it to his lips with a sly smile. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "Let me take you to dinner."

You smiled as he led you to his van, his hand still holding yours. He opened the van door for you, bowing dramatically before you get in. You curtsied at him, grabbing the corners of your skirt to bring it up more, leaving very little to the imagination. Cheeks a bright shade of red, Eddie knocked the skirt out of your grip, looking around and holding the material by your thighs.

"You little minx, get in the van."

"Yes sir," you said, pouty lip making it anything but innocent. He closed his door behind you, shaking his head. You were going to drive him crazy over dinner and you both knew it.

You watched him as he shuffled around the front of the van to get in, he winked at you when he caught your stare through the window.

"Like what you see?" he asked, climbing into the van and starting it up.

"So much," you said, leaning on console to get a little closer. "What about you?"

"I like it so much that if I look at you too long I'll have to pull over and you know it," he said, reaching across to put a hand on your thigh. His fingers were rough and warm over your skin, while his rings were still cool. "All dolled up like this for me?"

You blushed, your earlier confidence fading a bit as Eddie leaned into it. He looked over you for one second longer before making a happy noise and driving away. His grip never moved, he kept a tight grip on your thigh during the short drive.

Inside the diner was nothing too fancy, perfect place for a burger and milkshake. You knew it wouldn't be anything fancy, and just being here with him was perfect.

Eddie grabbed your hand, leading you to a booth. You two slid in across from each other, looking at the little menu right away.

"I'm getting waffles," you said, "with strawberries and cream."

"Of course you are," he laughed, deciding on a burger for himself. "You know, you really do look beautiful, as always, m'lady."

"And you look just as handsome as always," you said, flashing him a sweet smile. The diner was unusually slow for a Saturday, it was really a great luck day for Eddie. There were only two other full tables.

The food didn't take long at all, and after delivering it, the waitress went outside for a smoke break.

"Aren't we supposed to make small talk now?" you asked, leaning forward towards the table a bit. Eddie was looking down at your chest, head in another dimension.

"Small talk is for people who don't already know the other person," Eddie said, breaking his gaze and eating some fries. "I know you."

"Do you know me?"

"Oh baby, I know everything."

He didn't know everything. He didn't know that under table you were squirming in that skirt he likes so much. But this was different than last time, now it was your shirt that he had a view down. But this time, you did it on purpose. You shuffled your arms a bit, making sure you were putting on an innocent show for him. He said nothing.

"I know your favourite movie, how you take your coffee, what kind of music you listen to." He rattled on, "and I know that you care about me, more than anybody ever really has except for like, a really long time. And I know that you are probably the kindest, most beautiful person on this earth. Who deserves the absolute best." Eddie grinned, not being able to hold a serious tune. "Which is me, of course."

"I think you're secretly a softie in there," you said, gathering up a forkful on strawberries with whip cream on it. You were going make him feel as desperate for you that you were for him.

"It's not really a secret, but I do save it all for you." Eddie smile. "That's not a joke."

You smiled softly at the sweetness Eddie has been displaying. You knew he would be the perfect gentleman, but it was just so nice to revel in the moment. You and him, finally making things happen after months of pining over each other.

You bit the strawberry off the fork in a way you knew would make the whip cream fall, and land directly on your cleavage.

"Ugh, sorry. I'm just so messy today," you mused, maintaining an innocent and composed posture.

You used your fingers to try and wipe it off, but just smudged it a little worse. You put the fork back on your plate, and sucked a finger into your mouth slowly, using the other hand to wipe it up a little more. Eddie was staring at you like you were the sun, slack jawed and squinting slightly like he couldn't believe it.

You dragged your finger out slowly, popping the next one in your mouth to lick the whip cream off. You were looking down at your chest, feeling pretty confident that it was working, and looked up at him. He was watching you intently. You let that finger drag passed your lips as well.

"What is it?" you asked, your fake sweetness fooled him, and he shuffled in his seat, not looking away from the sight in front of him for a second.

"There's still some..." he trailed off his sentence and just kind of gestured to his own chest wildly.

"Oh," you said, looking down again, you made sure to move your hair to give him the best view. You grabbed some napkins from beside you, and placed a couple extra right by the edge of the table. Those were part two of the plan. You wiped the cream off your chest, and then knocked the napkin behind you with your elbow.

"Oh my god," you laughed, "I'm the worst today."

Eddie said nothing, just watched as you spun around in the booth and put a knee on the seat to bend around the back of the booth and grab the napkins off the floor. It was a bit of a stretch, but worth it when you heard Eddie groan on the other side of the table. Your skirt was riding way up, giving Eddie a peak of your ass, just a little bit, and the baby blue panties you were wearing.

Eddie looked around the room, people were so wrapped up in themselves they didn't see you two. Eddie reached over, landing a hard smack against your ass cheek. It was loud but no one looked. You made a little noise at the pain and the sound, quickly shooting back up straight again. Eddie was smirking.

Your panties were intentionally the same shade as the shirt, so while Eddie looked at you, all he could think about was your panties.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked, grabbing your hand from across the table. "Baby, I need you."

"You're supposed to dine me," you said, crossing your arms and pouting.

"Then eat," he said, inching your plate closer to you. He slipped over to your side of the booth, and you resisted the urge to kiss him right there. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and the other, reached over to rest on your thigh. He kept an eye on the other patrons over his shoulder.

"Eddie," you whispered, hesitating with the bite of food you had.

"It's okay," he said, voice sweet and comforting, "I've got you."

What was less sweet, was the wandering hand making it's way painfully slowly up your thigh. No one has ever done anything slower than Eddie dragging his hand.

"Okay, you're right I'm not hungry."

"Baby," he cooed, "you gotta eat. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't make sure you were totally satisfied..."

"I didn't know you were my boyfriend," you whispered, taking another bite of food.

"Not right now, but by tomorrow I'm sure." He grinned, his confidence making you ache for him even more.

"You can take me home," you said, grabbing a messy forkful of food and eating it, letting the syrup and whip cream stain your lips. You licked it off slowly, and Eddie shuffled in his seat, but didn't break.

"C'mon baby girl," he mumbled, "just be patient. We've been waiting this long, what's ten more minutes?"

Ten more minutes and you might explode. No, ten more minutes and you'll definitely going to explode. How was he so come in this situation.

"Well, I'm not hungry anymore." You crossed your arms and leaned into him. He smirked, seeing you tuck into his hold.

"Okay, well that's all you had to say," he said, usual grin on his face. "Let's get out of here."

You guys left money on the table, letting the waitress know while she smoked her second, or third cigarette.

Eddie led you by the hand around the side of the van, opening the door for you like the secret gentleman he was. He got in after, starting the van and taking you back to the trailer.

Eddie had his hand on your thigh, and the contact was warm and comforting. But in your head, you begged him to move it higher. You needed the tension to be over now, you needed it to be replaced with pleasure and fun before you crumbled entirely. Eddie looked calm, happy even, as he drove the way to the park.

But really, all Eddie could think about was how stupid hot you looked, fucking him with your eyes and making little whining noises. And the squirming, he was starting to think you didn't know that you did it. Squirmed around in your seat when you want his attention. He wanted you to be all for him.

"Eddie," you whispered, reaching over to touch his neck, to trace mindless shapes under his ear. "Eddie, please."

"You are so needy," he mused, smiling to tease you a little bit. "Just for me though, I'll take care of you every day." He squeezed your thigh a little and you bit your lip.

"Just for you," you whispered, running your hands to the edge of your skirt. "It's all just for you baby," you cooed, flipping the edges of the skirt up.

It took a moment for Eddie to notice, but when he did he took his eyes off the road, focusing totally on you. He shook his head to clear himself of you, but he couldn't. He tried to keep his eyes on the road. But between the front of your blue panties, and his hand on your thigh, he was going to crash the car. He smacked the skirt out of your hands, gripping your upper thigh and holding the material down.

"Now I know you're doing it on purpose," Eddie mumbled, giving your thigh a squeeze. "You like driving me crazy."

"Well you like the ride," you answered flippantly, and he couldn't disagree. He liked this ride with you very much. But not just because of the painfully hard erection in his pants threatening to rip the seams of his pants, but also because he genuinely loved you. Morning, afternoon and night, you were always on his mind. He knew you felt the same. You guys just needed to fuck so you could love each other properly.

At the trailer, Eddie rushed you inside. You'd been there a million times, you didn't need a tour. He kissed you from the entrance to the bedroom, tripping occasionally on some random stuff on the floor. His hands were cupping your cheeks, trying to pull your closer than what was possible. He needed all of you, all the time.

You were already over the moon. Already overstimulated by the pure pleasure of having his hands on you. And his mouth. It was so soft and sweet, kissing you like meant something. He was kissing you like it was the most important thing happening in the world.

He made it to the bed, and let you drop to sit on it. You looked up at him so nicely, and he had to bite his finger to stop from unzipping his pants and helping himself to your mouth. But he didn't want that right now, he would probably blow his load just by seeing his cock in your mouth, after so many lonely nights imagining.

Maybe later though.

You pushed yourself back on the bed, and he crawled above you. Slowly pressing his body into yours. He mumbled, "you're so beautiful," before kissing you again, this time slow and more tender than you'd ever experienced with anyone else. "Can I be your boyfriend now?" he asked, grinning and pulling away.

"Yeah, I think I can make that work." You smiled, and he smiled too, happier than you knew. So happy he couldn't even keep kissing you because both of you were smiling so wide.

His hand trailed down your body, and the happy smiles faded when his fingers brushed across the skin of your hips. Eddie had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and you were just watching his beautiful features, wondering what he was thinking while he scanned over your body. You knew it was good, you could tell by the look of love in his eye and the raging boner pushing against your thigh.

Eddie cautiously slid the material of the shirt up, going slow enough to give you lots of time to reject him. But you wanted it off faster. You wanted the teasing to be over and his lips attached to every party of your chest and stomach. He pulled the shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. His hand quickly returned to the skin of his hip, as he wedged his leg under your thigh to get better wrapped around you.

Eddie was taking his sweet time. Treasuring every second of exploring your body. Wayne was supposed to be gone all night, so he thought he had the time. He kissed the skin of your shoulder, before working a line of small hickeys and kisses along your collarbone, cursing the bra strap in the line of the kisses, so he looped a finger through it and slid it off your shoulder, just out of the way. Your arms were wrapped around him, holding him in a loving way he's not sure he's ever felt.

He groaned when he looked at his work. They were surface hickeys, would be gone in no more than a day, but just the sight of his marks on your skin made his cock twitch. He ran a finger along the line, and looked up at your expectant eyes. He brought the same finger to your mouth, and dragged it along the bottom. You brought it into your mouth, sucking it slowly. He let it drag out slowly.

"You're a dirty little thing," he whispered. "My dirty little thing."

"I want to be your dirty little thing," you answered, sweetly. Shyly. Just the sound of those words on your tongue is something he'd never forget.

"You are, baby. You're doing so good, just let me take care of you," he whispered, closing in on you mouth again. He kissed you. His touch was sending fire through your stomach.

"Please take care of me," you whispered through kisses.

"No," Eddie whispered, shooting away from the kiss. "Oh no, no, no..." he saw your worried look and kissed you really quickly twice, "oh sorry baby, not you. You're so good, I'm gunna take care of you but I swear I heard..."

The front door of the trailer rattled, and Eddie kicked the bedroom shut quickly.

"A shirt," Eddie scrambled, "you need a shirt."

He threw the first one he grabbed at you, and you slipped it on. Eddie tucked himself into his belt and put on a sweater. He frowned when he looked at you, but you were smiling. He was just too fucking cute. You were still feeling the ache to jump into his arms, and let him throw you down to ravage you, but, what's another day? At least he was your boyfriend. He pulled you in by the elbow for another kiss, but his smile faded when he saw you had put on his Hellfire shirt.

"You need a different shirt," he said, looking away from you. "That one is..."

"Yours?"

"Distracting."

"Eddie?" Wayne called. "You here?" Wayne opened the door and stumbled a bit, but stopped when he saw you were both fully dressed. "Shit, sorry y/n. I'm not used to Eddie having girls over. I'll be more mindful of knocking."

"Thanks, Wayne." Eddie thumbs'd up his uncle subtly slipping in that he never had girls over before you. You laughed.

Wayne left the room after saying bye. Eddie pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms snugly around your shoulders, letting you totally bury yourself in his chest.

"Now what?" you asked, breathing him in. He smelled like summer, and weed.

"Wanna watch a movie with Wayne?"

TAGLIST: @81rain @tlclick73

[sugoi-writes]

Joyride - Alastor x Lucifer

Kinktober - Day IV (Car Sex)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

A/N - What a fucking HONOR it is to kick of Day 4 of this prompt with my lovely wives! If you haven't read the first few days, please do so! I'd love to thank @hazelfoureyes @synamartia @fraugwinska @macabr3-barbi3 and @minkdelovely for indulging in this insanity with me 🔥 Oh this will be FUN

Day I Day II Day III

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Old man yaoi, cursing, dirty talk, thirsty descriptions, Luci in a damn dress, riding/grinding/humping, handjob(kinda?), anal fingering/prep, banter, alcohol consumption, Bottom/Switch Alastor if you squint, edging mention, and... just straight up smut. This is car sex people. MDNI I SWEAR TO CHRIST... Have fun!

🔥VROOM VROOM🔥

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

When Alastor arrived at the rendezvous, he hadn't expected the limousine that awaited him. Or, perhaps he should have... This is the King of Hell, after all. The vehicle was an elegant, pristine white with accents of red and gold. Imagery of Eden's vices were lovingly etched into the metallic flourishes with a near-angelic precision. Lucifer’s fixations on apples and serpentine designs were not missed by the Radio Demon… He had to admit: it was a perfect chariot for the prideful ruler of Hell. A chariot he would soon share with him alone.

Alastor dismissed his cane with a flick of his wrist, hands eager to hold onto something else. When a long, pitch and ivory leg emerged from the car, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Alastor was rarely a victim of his carnal urges, but he felt the table shifting as he saw more and more of that delectable skin. 

Lucifer Morningstar emerged from the limo in his colors-- a deep, cherry red with golden accents. The opulent, delicate chains that dangled down his bare back could be seen in the tinted windows' reflection. Alastor fought the urge to clear his throat, feeling his pulse hammering away urgently. Has Lucifer always owned this dress?

The fallen angel, temptation incarnate, combed his blackened fingers through his far-too-slick hair. Much like the snake in the Garden of Eden, Lucifer's eyes were lidded with sin and desire. He knew exactly how he looked, relishing his partner's near sheepish reaction.

"You look dapper as always, Mr. Radio Demon,” he practically purred, addressing Alastor as an equal. The flustered sinner was hoping to get more intimate names to tumble from those lips soon enough. 

Alastor bows at the waist, taking Lucifer's hand into his own formally. He smiles before pressing the silken flesh to his lips. During this, he maintains his focus on Lucifer’s eyes, and not the valley between his pectorals. Arguably, it was a difficult task for the taller demon. 

"Your Majesty, you may call me Alastor tonight. I implore you to." For the moment, Alastor returns the playful, formal tone, knowing that his partner will find it amusing. As if on cue, Lucifer tilts his head curiously, his free hand stifling his chuckle. 

"What a change of pace... Something must have come over you," Lucifer supplied, sighing as Alastor starts a tender ascent up his arm. Alastor's lips didn't rest the entire journey, talking between his strategic kisses. 

"Well, 'Alastor' sounds far sweeter when you're wailing in ecstacy, Your Grace." Alastor's rebuttal was so brief, yet so devastating to the demon before him. As if Lucifer wasn't already mentally shredding his new, black blazer to ribbons…

Lucifer's breath stutters as Alastor's kisses carve sensual patterns up his neck, tempting the temptress to give in to a moan. Alastor forgot that they were in public with prying eyes, it seemed... 

A fist full of hair forces Alastor to halt in his tracks, a breathy reply ghosting his cheek. 

"Then you must call me Lucifer tonight, Al... I'd rather hear that than the list of royal bastardizations you've cooking up..." 

A wolfish grin presses against Lucifer's pulse, making the fallen angel's heart stir once more," As you wish, Lucifer." Alastor, ever the gentleman, untangles himself from the breathless devil swiftly. Immediately after, he swings the door of the limo open, gesturing towards the interior with a dramatic flare. 

"But please, do crawl in... Wouldn't want you to catch a cold from your... Interesting choice of garments." 

Lucifer snickers, revealing that his dress has not one, but two side slits. As he makes a show of crawling in, Alastor's eyes can't help their wandering to the devil’s pert rump," Only if you come crawling after me, Bambi Boy~" 

See, at this very moment, Alastor is a simple man. And he follows the requests of his Lord without hesitation. He is nothing if not an eager man; ready to please.

🩸🩸🩸

Alastor can't help marveling over the little things. Limos were a luxury rarely extended to people of lower classes, like himself. He and his mother were as low as they could be on Earth, humble and grateful for what they have. While he tried to not oogle at the niceties of the cab, he couldn't hide the interest that sparkled in his eyes.

A phone, with a direct line to the driver-- for emergencies, or requests to stop, one could assume. Conveniently, there was a sliding window, should the phone be obsolete. In all of their banter, Lucifer insisted that 'it’s basically soundproof'. Had Lucifer wanted to test that theory, Alastor wondered. 

Towards the front of the cabin, dozens of glasses for champagne and other spirits sat on a bar cart– conveniently built into the side of the vehicle. The center console just below the window acted as a cooler, stocked with lovely vintages and chasers (he even spotted a brandy bottle or two--how very thoughtful of the King...) 

The windows were tinted, of course, the seats a red, luxurious leather. And for comfort, the lights in the back were dimmed, bathing the pair in a low, sultry light. For all intents and purposes, this was the perfect set up to a steamy tryst… One that even the Radio Demon could see coming. Alastor was surrounded by wealth, comfort and good company... A combination he wasn't used to, but one he welcomed enthusiastically. 

Lucifer had been meeting him finger-to-finger with whiskey the entire drive, the two of them laughing and honking like a pair of geese at the smallest reference. Alastor hadn't remembered the last time he had this much fun and let loose, already feeling the delicious effects of his drinks settle in. He had to admit: the dingy hotel bar was a far cry from the back of Lucifer's limousine. He felt justified in spending his time so earnestly with him, and felt just as eager to pursue the tryst that crossed his mind more than once. 

Alastor felt light as a feather, and yet as hearty as molten lava. He was one of the few to get this luxury; one of the first outside of the Morningstar Family to grace the seats of Lucifer’s limousine. Alastor wanted to leave an impression… and who could blame him? This was just as much his limo as it was Lucifer’s, in his mind. This particular ride would be one the Lord of the Hells would never forget... A 'joyride', as he's heard it called before. And so, with many fingers of whiskey making his heart flutter, Alastor enacted his plan. 

He hadn't anticipated the road bump when he tried to lean over, his longer, spindly body colliding into Lucifer's suddenly. The latter had clipped his head on the way down, but still managed to keep his glass of whiskey aloft. A pained groan was shared between the two, before they settled into their new position. 

When Lucifer looked up to wide, near hysterical eyes, a grin stretched across his pale face mischievously. He let his hand rest against Alastor's broad chest, his other still dangling midair. 

"First time in a car, I reckon?" Lucifer needles boldly, feeling a leg press between his own. Alastor levels him with a hard stare, softened by the blush rapidly coloring his cheeks. 

"And if it was? Would you feel so honored?" Alastor bit back, his hands confidently caging Lucifer's head. Alastor did his best to keep his balance as the limo hopped and bobbed along, not missing the way that Lucifer's body rippled beneath him. He wanted to see those same ripples uninterrupted by the luxurious fabric on his skin...

"I would be flattered, yes! For saving something so special for me, Bambi~" 

"Please don't call me that--" 

Lucifer manages to pull his leg up, pressing it to Alastor's chest before kicking him off. He sends the startled demon flying onto his back, leaving him sputtering from shock. Thankfully, he didn't shred the ceiling with his antlers on his descent. However… he wasn't so lucky with the door, the very tips of his points sinking into the doorframe. 

Lucifer straddled Alastor's hips with his shimmering thighs, chugging the rest of his drink before slinging the empty glass away. Alastor flinched as it shattered right against the window that divided the cabin from the front, ears flat against his skull. Was he TRYING to get the driver's attention?!

"Why don't I show you how it's done then, hmm~? I'll give you the ride of your life~" Lucifer offers, mirroring Alastor's classic, amused head tilt. 

The sinner bit his lip, suppressing the groan building in his throat. The prospect was one he wasn't disinterested in… He struggled as Lucifer settled over his groin, grinding his soft hind against his lap. It appeared he wasn't the only one struggling to 'keep it in his pants'... Err, dress? 

Alastor's hands grasp Luci's waist possessively, resisting the urge to bring him harder against his growing cock. 

"H-Have it your way," Alastor scoffs, head rolling back as Lucifer's rocking becomes a harsh bounce– accursed speed bumps! And curse the car door! 

Alastor’s antlers created deep gouges into the frame, rendering him completely still. In this position, he is quite vulnerable, his tail wagging subconsciously under his body. And yet, the element of being ‘trapped’ somehow made the heat in his cheeks travel straight to his cock. 

“ ‘You sure you want it my way~?” Lucifer teased, bringing his hips in a tight circle. This act alone had Alastor keening, biting his lip to silence himself. Of course I do, Alastor thought.

“Just get on with it, before I change my mind!” He jabs, knowing damn well that Lucifer saw straight through him. Lucifer grins as he braces a hand against the ceiling, the other fiddling with Alastor's trousers. "With pleasure, Alastor~" 

Alastor could hardly conceal his desire, the booze unraveling his resolve to be stoic or guarded. His cock throbbed at the use of his name in such a sensual context, aching to be freed.

Lucifer unclasps Alastor's belt with ease, tongue running across his pointed teeth greedily. Even as the vehicle rocked about, Lucifer hardly swayed. Instead, he used the unpredictability as a reason to press his body closer. The Radio Demon sighed with relief when his cock was released, his flushed, heated tip already damp with precum. 

Lucifer whistles lewdly at the sight, looking to Alastor with a cocky smirk,” Absolutely divine…” the former angel mused, leaving Alastor unable to form a coherent thought. 

When Lucifer resettles over his lap, Alastor is struck with a startling realization: no underwear. Not a single fucking thing to keep Lucifer concealed. Had Lucifer simply willed it away, or had he been garment-less this entire time? The prospect made Alastor buck up into Lucifer, a breathy sigh fumbling from his lips.

“Such an eager boy… I'll be sure to reward my little doe soon enough~” 

Alastor hardly had a moment to think before Lucifer's cock pressed to his. Thereafter, a warm hand wrapped firmly around both shafts. Alastor jolts, gasping as his partner moves against him. Lucifer keeps his hand ridgid with a delicious, all consuming pressure, watching his favorite sinner tremble below him. Experimentally, Lucifer begins to stroke the both of them, getting the Radio Demon to sigh and relax. The large hands holding Lucifer's waist act as an anchor, despite Alastor’s desire to move. His hips begin rocking languidly to watch Lucifer's pace, seeking even more friction than the bit provided by him. A shared, wanton moan hangs in the air, both sinners feeling their hearts quicken. 

Lucifer glides against the Radio Demon faster, the bumps in the road making his pace haphazard but heavenly," S-See? Told you I'd show-- you-- aaaaah good time~ Aaahn!" 

Alastor wasn't up for refuting the statement, especially when he was focusing on staying quiet," Are you quite certain we c-cahh-- hah-- c-can't be heard, cher?" 

Lucifer laughs breathlessly, grinning," Let him hear... The driver could use the change in pace-!! Hah!!!" 

Alastor grinds harsher against Lucifer’s cock, claws threatening to rip his dress for the horrendous suggestion.

"Sh-Shut your maw... This is too--nnn-- too lewd-- What if he reported this? What would the papers s-say?" 

Lucifer mewls as he tightens his grasp, eyes threatening to roll back as his hips move with Alastor's effortlessly," Nnnngh-- uhh, lucky demon~?" He quips, laughing breathlessly as Alastor smacks his thigh. The quake that travels through his skin has Alastor craning his head back, a hand flying to the car door to keep his antlers from sinking further in. 

"Sh-Shit!" was his only reply, ears pinned back as Lucifer began rocking with intent, the precum produced by their members making the glide unbearably wet and smooth. His hand, now stationary, focused on keeping the pressure tight and warm; a perfect hole for them to slide into.

Lucifer's lopsided grin portrays his ecstacy, the sweat clinging to his forehead making a heated descent down his temple. 

"At a loss for words, huh~?" He teased, his hips swiveling lecherously. The grunt he's rewarded with is just as telling, his partner's eyes slamming shut from the bliss. Lucifer doesn't seem to care, bringing his hips forward in a rapid succession of thrusts. 

"I should make you cum like this, y'know... Make us paint these dull seats with your cum--" Lucifer croaks, feeling a finger teasing the tight rim of his ass. 

"I'd rather have it here," Alastor groaned," Pl-Please-- this is is torture," Alastor gasps, feeling Lucifer's cock kick against his own at the idea. Begrudgingly, Lucifer couldn’t argue with that, knowing that he's essentially edging the two of them at the same time. 

"Nnnn, you're no fun~" Lucifer muses, letting go of their cocks for a moment," But you better make it worth my while, Bambi~" 

Alastor smirks, brows raised," I've never heard complaints..." He retorted, mentally finishing his sentence: not from you, at least.

🩸🩸🩸

When Lucifer allowed Alastor to stretch and probe his ass, he switched arms, the one formerly bracing the ceiling falling to Alastor's hip. He arched his back as harshly as he could, offering his ass to his partner easily. The stimulation from behind made his hips buck, cock absentmindedly grinding against Alastor's. The faster and wider the Radio Demon’s fingers fucked, the harsher Lucifer's hips moved to meet them. Alastor panted below Lucifer, eyes nearly crossed as the pleasure kept building higher and higher. His hot breath made the heat in Lucifer's cheeks feel mild, the Demon King cursing through clenched teeth. He marveled at the sight of Alastor's mouth hanging open, Lucifer leaning over to get a better view of the debauched look. 

"Mmm~ Is my doe going to cum~?" Lucifer moans, his tongue swiping across his mouth, as if coaxing him to kiss him. Alastor flinched, his brow hardening," This buck-- hah-- is about to shut you up--" Alastor yaps, yanking Lucifer down by the neck. He heard the familiar slapping and squelching of his hand hastily fucking into Lucifer's ass, kissing the squirming demon desperately to hide another mewl. He wasn't the only one struggling not to cum.

As Alastor continued to feverishly kiss him, he teased Lucifer between each disconnect. A tongue sliding across his lip, a gentle nip just to the right of his mouth… anything to make Lucifer sigh and pant again. The temptee just became the tempter!

"I should have you cum like this... You're a quivering mess from just my hands--" 

"A-And your cock-- G-Good God!" Lucifer sung, drooling from the dual stimulation. Alastor chuckles darkly, leaning up to capture Lucifer's neck with a gentle bite," It's just the two of us down here, cher~,” he admonishes, regaining some of his footing with the other demon. 

Lucifer practically squeaks as Alastor finds his prostate, the bullying internally amplifying his impending orgasm. Close. Lucifer was getting extremely close, and it was plain as day to the other sinner.

"Cum for me," Alastor pleaded,"C-Cum for me, please-- so this buck can fuck you properly." 

The triggering phrase was all it took for Lucifer to lose himself to the white-hot madness, his head thrown back in rapture. His hips didn't stop even as Alastor's fingers slowed down, his vision blurred with hot tears. When he felt the press of Alastor's cock to his wanting hole instead of his fingers, he bit back a wail of overstimulation. 

"F-Fuck... We may be late for the reservation-- nnnnghh– Alastor, listen to me!" 

The Radio Demon’s static fills the air, a conniving laugh haunting the heavy air of the cabin. 

"I intend to hold my end of things: I'm going to fuck you properly. Dinner be damned when something this delicious is in my lap--" 

When Lucifer wailed Alastor's name, fully impaled on his member, Alastor couldn't help calling out to his lover in tandem. Their bodies melded together once more, their original plans a distant memory in their lust-driven minds. 

Bottom Banner made by the lovely @synamartia 🔥

[nexionswild]

IN WHICH MANEATER!reader admits their feelings for the van der linde boys. [p.1] [p.2]

includes: arthur ∿ john ∿ dutch ∿ hosea ∿ javier ∿ micah.

content warning: none, pure fluff, no pronouns [GN], some fem!words [“minx” “temptress”]

a/n: first headcanons in a while! personality may not be as accurate but eh, do what you will !!

✦ ﹒ arthur morgan

you.. what?

arthur doesn’t believe in being remotely worthy of any romantic interests, he always thought you were out of his league. needless to say, it’s a pretty loving yet interesting surprise. he even comes as far as questioning your tastes in men.

but of course, he doesn’t say no, and god knows what would happen to his mental state if he ever dismissed your feelings.

by the time your confession came out, he’d admit that he loved admiring you from a distance, seeing how you swayed men with your charms and wits. it was always fascinating for him in a weird way. he can’t quite put it in words, but by simply observing you, he could feel things.

“alright, alright … i’ll take the goddamn minx’s hand, but don’tcha go cryin’ on Grimshaw’s dress if ya’ startin’ to regret yer decision, understand?”

obviously, he’s so grateful to have you under his wing now. it’s almost like a dream he’ll never want to wake up from, it’s a blessing, even.

although arthur still doubt how long you’ll stay with him, due to his bad experience during his first relationships with some women, he’s trying to be optimistic about the way it will turn out.

he doesn’t have much to say or do, except awkwardly appreciating your presence and the way all of your attention shifted onto him, but he’s not a slacker in this relationship, hell no.

you’re constantly victim of his tease, and often gets to be his main focus every now and then. being a natural gentleman, he doesn’t mind offering you help during your missions. and his treatment gets especially more overwhelming after a task that includes seducing a feller for information. he’d like to say that he’s not the jealous type, he understands you’re just doing your job, but god. he should be the only man that gets to hear all of these sweet words.

✦ ﹒ john marston

completely and utterly baffled. him? you and him? together?

“why?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. he regrets it.

when you explained it’s really by the way he behaves with you, the way he’s gentle and soft for you, always slacking around until he gets to work when you ask him to from dutch’s part, that’s where he realizes, he really didn’t made any efforts to try and keep his feelings away from you. he is embarrassed.

lord knows how red his face was when you admitted that he may be one of the most tender man you’ve ever came across from the millions of other ones you had to seduce for survival, to think he was one in a million, in a way, you made him feel special.

he could only hide his lips with the back of his hand as he reluctantly tried to look at you, in which he desperately can’t. and while you await his answer, his heart keeps beating faster and faster, he worries you may even hear the sound of his heartbeat from where you are.

eventually, after a long moment of awkward, peaceful silence, with the sounds of birds and winds clearing the void of noises your head, john eventually grumbled a little “yeah, i guess i like you too.”

he can’t believe that he managed to get into a relationship with someone as charismatic as you, knowing he absolutely has zero charms. but this reality doesn’t apply to you, it seems. with the way you shower him in compliments and constantly pampering him with kisses ever since your confession, it makes it hard to believe that he wouldn’t be a man of interest.

in return, he’d quietly shove all of his love and affection by pulling you into a simple hug or enticing you to join their partying when the gang suddenly pops out the alcohol and plays music for some event. he’s a fun man when he tries to be, otherwise, it’s really just long, and silent moments of adoration as he hugs and cuddles you from behind.

before he even got together with you, he was already a little frustrated with the men you had to engage with for the sake of the mission, but now that you’re his, his frustration is even worse.

“you better try and come up with som’ other plans, regarding [y/n] dutch.”

✦ ﹒ dutch van der linde

“of course, i’ll love you forever.”

he’ll tease you about your feelings, dutch already grew a reputation amongst women for his ability to entertain with just talks and conversations. he even swayed men to like him for being friendly. after all, why do you think he knows and have contacts with so many people?

admittedly, dutch secretly loved it when you confessed to him. there’s something about you initiating it that sparks a bigger interest in you. you were a pretty thing to look at, a painting in exposition for a museum. of course he had his eyes on you for a long while ever since you joined.

he only puts you in those (insufferable) tasks to see you in action, and boy, was he impressed with the way you’d easily wrap those creeps, men and women alike, around your finger so quickly. not only were you useful for the gang, but you proved you’re more worthy than those petty missions.

he’ll never admit how he would also punish himself watching you whisper those sweet-nothings into their ear, only hosea knew the kind of face he would make when you did your job.

surprisingly committed and devoted into this relationship, you honestly expected something lacking. i mean, the way he treated molly should’ve trigger those red flags, but there’s something about him that you couldn’t quite touch on, that was so annoyingly attractive. and that devotion never faded away, you always kept him entertain in some wicked way, god knows what kind of poison you have for him to be so hooked on you.

he’d always slide his hand around your waist, tracing the edge of your body with his fingers as he looked down on you. and the way you gracefully accepted his touch only made him want to crave for more, he wants more of your subtle validation every time he shares an intimate moment with you. you’re his elixir, and he will never stop getting sick if it means consuming you more and more.

don’t expect this relationship to end. he will never let go of you. ever.

good luck trying to contribute to the gang and do your job, because dutch will never stop fucking up your work for the simple fact that he should be the only one who gets to experience your seduction.

“i should seriously come up with different plans now that you’re mine.”

✦ ﹒ hosea matthews

it took hosea some convincing to let him know that you were serious about your feelings, he always took everything under a sarcastic joke, until he realizes you actually mean it, his smile drops as he’s processing the information.

hosea is aware he’s not as devilishly handsome as dutch, he thinks of himself as a boring old man who likes novels and wisdom. to think you, a young and seductive temptress, in love with him? he doesn’t know how to eat that in a whole.

that is probably the first time you ever seen him that nervous, but the way he plays it out as a joke was still endearing, but annoying, at the same time.

“who forced you? i swear, i won’t be mad if ya’ just told me, y’know?”

when he finally accepts the fact that you’re really interested, hosea couldn’t help but smile again. he’s a jokester, seriously, what do you see in that guy? he makes you laugh. (nudge nudge, wink wink) and the sheer fact that he made you bend over (not in that way)mon your tummy as you try to suppress your laughter into quiet snorts so many times was just charming, in your opinion. and impressive as well. no men made you laugh like that before.

you couldn’t care less if he was too old or too modest, he was the perfect amount of gentleman. he’s been loyal to you like some kind of butler, and it was just so lovely to see him act like such a domestic husband when you ask nothing from him, and it was even more funny to see him quietly appreciating your flirtatious remarks before you got together.

now that you are in a relationship, your teasing has gotten even worse, and hosea desperately tries to keep up with you but you always left him in long flustered silences before he cracks another joke to try and change the topic. but he doesn’t leave you do all the talk, when you need comforting words after a mission, he’s here. and he’s the perfect man for encouragement and motivation.

he understands that it must be hard to always be a man’s attention, and he couldn’t be any more proud of you for trying to play your part for the sake of the gang. he doesn’t care about the comments you have to use towards these men for information, he knows whatever you do or say, he’s the only one you love, and you’re the only one he loves.

“you’re just.. perfect.”

✦ ﹒ javier escuella

you’ve never seen him so. happily. flustered.

he doesn’t want to show this side to you, he’s a scary outlaw who knows how to handle a knife, guns and such. but you made his heart flutter, how is he supposed to react to your feelings in a way that wouldn’t miserably damage his image as a brave yet intimidating gunman?

being generally polite and soft-spoken, you couldn’t hear him literally grumbling in spanish under his breath, not like you could understand him anyways, he was talking too fast in your opinion.

“ay.. dios mío. i don’t know how to say it. but, i really..”

he can’t afford to look you in the eyes, you’re so beautiful and precious. you’re no saint and that, he shamefully loves it, so much. no amount of words can describe how he loves seeing you talking your way out of conflict with those honey words. and because of that, you’ll only ever hear his confession in spanish before he pulls you in an embrace, which told you that he’ll happily stay by your side if that’s what you want.

it frustrates you that he’ll only talk about his feelings in his native language, that’s his mother tongue, and as much as you love to hear his love words in spanish, you also want to know what that means. you want to hear those words clear and loud, and javier can’t help but chuckle at your desperation. it was adorable. he didn’t know you had that side for him; being cute. usually, he would only see you tempting men and women, or constantly hearing your teases.

seeing you pout just made him want to speak spanish more often, he savors everything you offer him. and there couldn’t be anything more delicious than your new expressions, he especially loves it when you blush for him, because it came to a point where hearing his mexican rants was.. weirdly attractive.

“te quiero mucho, querida.”

✦ ﹒ micah bell

WHAT? you had all the men in the world and out of everything, you chose him? him???

he doesn’t understand you, he really doesn’t. he’s been here, shaming all of your good graces and degrading you into oblivion since your sole purpose here is “to pretend to be a sexworker” and you like him?

fine. he may have been under your spell as well, i mean, you’re attractive. he knows that you are, why else would dutch set you up in dirty work like that? — but he have way too much pride, and if you think he’ll apologize for his behavior or told you about how he felt about you, safe to say: don’t get your hopes up.

not only is he straight up puzzled, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he’s been craving for you this whole time, he was just in denial. he had too much confidence and pride to admit that he’d ever fall in love with someone like you, i mean, he’s been acting like this for so many years, what makes you different from the others? why was your attention so important to him? you’re nothing but some whore, right? or so he thought.

“fine.. but don’t get yer’ hopes up, pretty girl. just cuz’ i’m blessin’ you with my last name don’t mean anythin’. got that, sweetheart?’

he’s lying. you know he is. blessing you with his last name? is he expecting you to stay until marriage?

not that you mind, since you’re crazy enough to develop feelings for him. and he’s crazy enough to make you want this marriage.

ever since that day, micah has been noticeably more attentive towards you, both by hearing out your adventures and by touch. you wouldn’t notice him scooting closer and closer whenever you talked, you wouldn’t notice the way his head cocked to the side as his hand slid up your waist, tracing the frame of your body before reaching your shoulder and firmly grabbing it, pulling you closer to him. you only noticed when you felt his breath tickling your chin.

oh, he enjoys having an effect on you. all those months, he’d seen you play your way with people in sexual nonsense. he never liked how you got all the attention, or that you were focus on anyone else but him for that matter, but now he’s got you just where he wants you to be, right beneath him.

he loves to see you get quiet when he’s close.

“well? don’tcha keep me waitin’ pretty girl, better talk or waste my time.”

[leebix]

Roommate’s

P: Roommate hyunjin X F.reader

G. Smut

W. Cussing, clothe fingering, Dom Hyunjin, Sub reader, Hard core, nudes, kinda perv hyunjin, teasing hyunjin, O.F. reader, Pet name. (Bunny, good girl, love, etc.)

A/n: Hi! I’m back sorry it took a while just needed a small plot for the story, hope you enjoy my small story’s, should I continue writing? anyways In joy my story! >.<🤍 @ithinkibetteractfast

~*~

you're both sitting in your room, alone.. Hyunjin is your roommate, you’re both in the dorms but he suddenly steals your phone and starts looking through your photos..

“Hmm, what's this~” he says showing you your phone, with a picture of your nudes on the screen.. your face blushed red as you snatched your phone away “t-thats.. none of your business..”

“intresting, why would you be taking those for, hm?~” he teased, as he smirked, your roommate looking at you with a weird look.. he looks almost possesive, wanting to know who you took those photos for, but still being playful with you..

_____ looked at him with a shocked looked “well I thought I looked hot in my body….” _____ said as you looked away from her phone and turn it off and put it away from him hyunjin.

Hyunjin grinned mischievously, his eyes lingering on you. "Oh, trust me, you do look hot, ____," he said, leaning closer to you. "But I'm more curious about who you took those pictures for. Were they for someone special?" He chuckled, his tone filled with both playfulness and possessiveness.

He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your skin. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, but I can't make any promises about the thoughts running through my head right now." His voice dropped to a low whisper, causing a tingling sensation to run down your spine.

____ lay down on the bed on her stomach as you turn on her phone and started going threw your Instagram, ____ sight “I Post that in Twitter for my fans….” You bite lip

Hyunjin eyes widened in surprise as you nonchalantly mentioned posting the nude photo on Twitter. His gaze shifted from your face to your body, now sprawled enticingly on the bed. His playful demeanor shifted, his possessiveness taking over.

He walked over to the bed, his steps deliberate and purposeful. He sat down beside you, his fingers tracing a lazy pattern on your bare thigh. "____, my sweet girl," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "You're teasing me, aren't you? Flaunting your beauty for all to see, but deep down, you want it to be me who gets to savor every inch of you."

His fingers continued to trace higher up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. "Tell me, ____, do you want everyone to see what's only meant for my eyes? Those luscious curves, those tempting lips... Do you crave their hungry gazes, or is it me who you desire? Be honest with me, my little temptress."

____ looked at the boy with a sweet smile acting innocent towards the boy “mhhm I don’t know what your talking about” ____ said as you see the boy hand getting closer to her inner thigh as she bites her lips.

Hyunjin eyes narrowed, seeing through your innocent act. He could sense your desire, your hidden longing, and it only fueled his own arousal. He moved his hand even closer, his fingertips now brushing against the delicate skin of your inner thigh.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, ____," he growled softly, his voice laced with a hint of a warning. "Don't play coy with me, darling. I can see the hunger in your eyes, the way you're biting your lip. It's a dangerous game you're playing."

His fingers continued their slow, torturous journey, inching closer to your core. His gaze never wavered from your eyes, his dominant persona taking over completely. "You want me to touch you, don't you? To drive you wild with pleasure. But you'll have to beg for it, my sweet girl. Beg me to make you feel good."

_____ didn’t know what to do, ___ just looked him and nodding your head feeling your words I stick in your throat as his fingers get really close to you core.

Hyunjin could sense your hesitation, your need conflicting with your uncertainty. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as his fingers hovered just above your core.

"Open up to me, ____," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Let go of your inhibitions and surrender to your desires. I can give you the pleasure you crave, but you have to trust me."

With that, his fingers dipped lower, lightly grazing against your sensitive folds. He teased you, drawing circles and tracing patterns, building the anticipation within you. His touch was light, almost feather-like, but you could feel the intensity growing with each passing second.

"Are you ready to beg for my touch, my sweet girl?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. "To give in to the pleasure only I can provide?"

You looked at your roommate with a pure look not saying anything you making your thigh tight together feelings his fingers with your black shorts, as you breath is heavily moving up and down your chest looking at him as you bite your lip not knowing what to say to him.

Hyunjin watched you closely, observing the way your body reacted to his touch, the way your thighs unconsciously tightened together. He could see the desire etched in your eyes, the struggle for control within you. His own arousal grew, pushing him to push you further, to make you succumb to your desires.

He moved closer to you, his face mere inches away from yours. His hot breath fanned against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. With a low, seductive tone, he spoke again, his voice filled with both dominance and a hint of desperation.

"Let go, ____" he whispered, his thumb lightly circling your clothed nub. "You want this, don't you? The pleasure, the connection between us? Don't fight it anymore. Just give in love."

With gentle yet firm pressure, he pressed his thumb harder against your clothed bud, wanting to see your resolve crumble, wanting you to beg for the release that only he could grant.

You whimper at the feeling of his slim fingers on your clothes nub, you really wanted, you slowly parted your legs to let him feel you right breathing heavily at this moment your chest moving up and down as you felt yourself getting wetter threw your panties “plea-please” you whimper your eyes have close of the small pleasure he’s giving you arching your back just a little throwing your head back

Hyunjin could feel the pulsating desire emanating from you, the way you willingly parted your legs just enough for him to access your heated core. A victorious grin spread across his face as he saw you succumb to your own longing.

He applied more pressure with his thumb, circling it skillfully against your clothed nub. He could feel the dampness through your panties, evidence of your arousal. Your whimper and plea for more only fueled the fire within him, his own desire growing more intense.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're so responsive, ____. Just imagine what it'll be like when I touch you properly, when I make you come undone under my fingertips."

With that, he increased the speed and pressure, his thumb working your sensitive bud with skill and precision. He relished in the sight of you arching your back and throwing your head back, lost in the pleasure he was providing.

"Feel the pleasure, bunny " he urged, his voice laced with desire. "Let it consume you completely. Give yourself over to me."

all what you could do was whimper at his words making her even wetter moaning in pleasure of you cloth nub was getting pleasure, ____ was breathing heavily your long silky black hair falling behind you as you close’s her eyes.

Hyunjin continued to work your clothed nub, the pace increasing along with the intensity of your moans. He watched you closely, taking in every sound, every movement, every reaction as you surrendered to the pleasure.

His fingers teased and toyed with you, skillfully rubbing and applying pressure to your sensitive bud. He could feel the wetness seeping through your panties, evidence of just how aroused you were. The sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure only fueled his desire further.

"Open your eyes, bunny," he commanded softly, his voice filled with authority. "Look at me as you come undone. Watch as I make you lose control."

He wanted to see your eyes, to witness every moment of your pleasure. With his free hand, he gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his gaze even as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your clothed nub.

"Let go, my sweet girl," he breathed, his voice laced with a mixture of tenderness and dominance. "No holding back. Give me everything."

You opened your eyes slowly at hyunjin as the pleasure is hitting you, being a moaning mess underneath him feeling yourself wanting to cum

Hyunjin was captivated by the sight of your eyes, glazed over with desire and pleasure. The way you looked at him as you surrendered to the sensations coursing through your body pushed him to the edge of his own restraint. He could feel himself growing harder, the need to claim you becoming almost overwhelming.

He intensified his touch, his skilled fingers working your clothed nub with an almost unyielding pace. He wanted to push you to the brink, to make you lose control entirely. He could sense your impending release, the way your moans grew louder and more desperate.

"Let go, love," he urged, his voice husky with need. "Cum for me, beautiful. Give in to the pleasure and let yourself be consumed by it."

With his words, he applied one final surge of pressure, his thumb rubbing firmly against your clothed bud. He wanted to drive you over the edge, to bring you to the peak of bliss.

You moaned loudly almost hitting your climax as he still rubbed your clothe nub has your arms are behide you giving you support to stay sitting down, you got on of you legs up to the bed as you felt yourself cumming, you moaned loudly tears falling down your eyes looking at him as you was cumming on your now wet panties you had on, breathing heavily your chest moving as you breaths

Hyunjin watched intently as you reached your peak, your moans filling the room along with the sound of your labored breaths. The sight of your climax, the way your body trembled with pleasure, was utterly intoxicating to him. He felt a surge of possessiveness and triumph, knowing that he was the one who brought you to such heights of bliss.

He continued to stimulate you through your orgasm, his touch steady and unwavering, your pleasure becoming his own. He wanted to savor every moment of your release, witnessing your vulnerability and surrender.

As your moans subsided and tears streamed down your face, he leaned in close, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and adoration. "You were absolutely breathtaking, my sweet girl," he said softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "You're mine, ___, body and soul. And I promise, I will always make you feel this pleasure. No one else will ever touch you like this, only me."

He gently kissed your forehead, his affectionate gesture a stark contrast to the intensity that just washed over you. "Rest for now, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "There's so much more I want to give you."

[dreaisgrayte]

Temptress

His hands were big, almost bigger than your chest. It was surprising the first time you looked at them, really looked at them. He was just sitting there, hand splayed out behind him to support his lean as he chatted with surrounding friends. His fingers added to the length, but the way the muscles made his hand look like a piece of art was something you’d never noticed about anyone else. Then, he’d glance over at you staring at his hands, curiosity getting the better of him. He noticed the way your eyes were half lidded, almost as if you were in a daze. 

“Y/n?” He felt his mouth say your name, but he didn’t mean to say it so loud. Now everyone was staring at the two of you. Your attention was now on his eyes, how vibrant they looked in the sun. A mix of red and yellow haze. 

“Yes?” You smile innocently, like you weren’t just thinking mostly devious thoughts about your friend’s hands. He glances at the small crowd and then back to you. 

“Would you like to come with me to get some snacks for everyone?” He gets up to stand, stretching out his arms in front of you. Was he always this built? 

“Uhh…” Your brain stops working as he smiles at you, a smile that lit up places that weren’t usually supposed to feel this way. “Sure…” You finally reply. His smile grows as he starts to walk toward the inner hallways of the building. You follow silently behind him, observing the way his stride was longer than yours. He suddenly stops and you nearly walk into his back. 

“Y/n.” He states firmly, turning to look at you. You’re confused now. What could he want?

“Yes?” You watch as he lifts his hand in front of your face. 

“Why were you staring at my hands so much?” He questions. You blink, then blink again. Huh? He noticed? Fuck.

“Well, uh, heh.” You glance to either side, wondering if you should just book it away from him. He almost seems to sense what you’re thinking of because he closes the distance between you. “What are you-?”

“I bet you I can take a guess.” He whispers. You furrow your brows, shaking your head slightly. He couldn’t possibly-no, he can’t know what you were thinking of. Right? You laugh awkwardly, trying to cover up how hot your body was getting. 

“You don’t need to do that-”

“You, y/n, are very vulgar.” He studies his fingers one by one and then moves his middle and ring finger down, meeting your gaze over his knuckles. A small gasp escapes your lips. “Do you want to tell me specifics, or should I make up my own story?” He smirks, stepping even closer to you. 

“Kyojuro…” At first you want to deny him the pleasure, but did you also want to deny yourself? “Meet me at my place later, then I’ll tell you exactly what to do.” 

“As you wish, temptress.”

[kingofthe-egirls]

ARCTIC: LAW x Y/N

brothel au

(cw: sw, brothel, reader is a new prostitute, sex, fingering, stripping, daddy kink, princess pet name)

(a/n: i've never written anything for law! sooo i'm curious to see how this one will turn out lol)

Songs: "Glances" by Fırat Durak

words: 1.9k

"So, are you new here?" The snow leopard of a man sits across from you, idly stirring his tea. Long fingers decorated with black-ink tattoos hold the silver spoon delicately. You nod your head.

"Just s-started," you admit, knotting your hands in your lap. You two are seated inside one of the brothel's VIP booths: lined with silver wallpaper that glitters with pink-rose lamps. There's a low, lacquered table in between you and the captain of the Heart Pirates.

You smooth the kimono's silk fabric over your lap, adjusting in your seat. The long sleeves get in your way, sort of, as you reach forward to pour yourself a cup of tea. The china teapot rattles a little, in your hands. Trafalgar Law raises an eyebrow. His eyes are so chilling.

"Show me what you can do," he suggests, leaning forward with a leering grin. His grey eyes sparkle, just slightly, but you've yet to be warmed by them. You twist your lips.

"I-I can play the shamisen," you start, stirring cream into your own porcelain teacup. Flowers decorate the inner rim. "I've also learned fan dances, literature, poetry readings, if you'd like," you list your skills off on your fingers. He watches you, his lithe body still. He's draped over his seat, long arms extending across the back of the plush, velvet banquette. You perk up, "Oh! I also do flower arrangements," you smile. The warlord tilts his head.

"Is that it?"

Your cheeks flush, your bottom lip burning a little on the too-hot tea. Steam fills your senses, and you cough. He laughs, and you hurriedly set the teacup down. "N-no, that's not all! I've been trained like any geisha," you flick your hair over your shoulder, the locks brushing against embroidered silk. "In all manner of entertainment," you lift your chin haughtily. You drum your fingers against the side of the teacup, waiting for it to cool down. Law leans forward, hands steepled with his elbows resting on pointed knees.

"Is that so?"

****

Now, you brush aside the warlord's dark hair from his face. You're sitting on his lap, now, still enclosed in the private booth. A heavy velvet curtains hides you from the rest of the brothel: dampening the sounds of music and dancing from outside. His hat is next to him on the seat. You wonder if it's soft to touch.

He scratches his jaw against your face. "What would you like me to call you, ah?" He smiles a bit, crooked and devilish. Although, now that your legs are straddling his thighs, and the denim presses up sharp and scratchy into your heat, he's starting to look a little bit warmer now. A faint blush tinges his cheeks as you spread your hands across his chest. His button down shirt is open halfway to his navel, and you slide your fingertips along the muscles planes of his chest. You trace the tattoo with your index finger. His blush deepens.

"Y/N."

He twitches an eyebrow, "Very pretty, Y/N. Mind if I call you princess, too?" His hand wraps slowly around your hip, oh so slightly bringing you closer to him. You feel warmth pool between your legs. You hope he can feel it, as you grin. You lace your hands around the back of his neck, greedily drinking in the lustful haze you see forming in his slate grey eyes. They flutter shut as you scratch through the soft hairs at the base of his neck, long lashes brushing his cheeks. You lean down to place a gentle kiss on one, and then the other. He lets out a shaky sigh, and you giggle (you can't help it, temptress that you are).

"Princess works for me, Doctor."

He gleams bright red at that, and you laugh outright. He shifts, sliding his gaze away as his hands tighten around your waist. You soften the glow of embarrassment, leaning in to trace soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck. His facial hair scritches against your skin, and you nuzzle into him a bit. "I can kiss ya for free, y'know."

He huffs at your teasing, and fishes into his back pocket for his wallet. You squeal a little, getting shifted on his lap as he adjusts to holding you with one, lithe arm. You lean into the strength of him, letting your weight relax against his hold. His long hands curl into the fabric knotted at your waist. He tugs a little, at the strings.

"Can I take this off?" His breath is warm, and fuzzy on your cheeks. You graze your lips against his, feeling his breath flutter beneath you. Quietly, you nod. You nip at his earlobe, naming your prices for the services you offer. He hums, nodding along.

After he pays you, you stand up. You sit back on the coffee table in front of him, just barely far away enough for him to get a look at all of you. You tease him, playing with the collar of your kimono. Slowly, you strip for him. He gazes at you silently, assessing your form with clinical accuracy as you undress. His hand goes to palm his cock through his jeans. You smirk, kicking a foot as you lean back to play with your tits. You roll a nipple between your finger and thumb, and Law groans. He crooks two fingers at you, rasping the command: "Come."

You slide over to straddle him again, retaking your rightful place on the throne. "Gladly," you whisper, kissing his neck. He traces his steady fingers up the expanse of your back, now fully bare for him.

"You're gorgeous," he moans, rocking his hips up into you, gently. You smile, blush dusting your own cheeks, now. He swipes a thumb across your bottom lip. He presses into your mouth, and you gladly take him. You suck his thumb, twirling the tip of your tongue around his finger pad. He groans, appreciatively. "Good girl."

"Hah," you shudder, pressing down into his hardness faster. He's rocking you back and forth on his clothed cock, both hands gripping the fat of your hips. You bite your lip. "I like that, Doctor."

He grins.

"Good girl," he repeats, "Now take this cock for me, hm?" He raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod. He reaches between you to unzip his jeans, and you pull back far enough to let him get undressed. His toned, tanned figure is revealed to you in its fullness: lit up with ambers and pinks beneath the banquette's lights.

You marvel at the tattoos snaking around his muscled forearms, stretching around languid hands as he leans back. He loosely fists his cock: something hard and strong and unbelievably breathtaking. You lower yourself back onto his lap, letting his tip poke at your entrance.

"Mm," you whine, sensitive, "S'big."

Law groans, and sinks you down further onto his aching cock. He bucks up once, twice. You whimper, stretched out, and try to take it best you can. "S-Slower," you whine, fluttering your hands around his neck. He coos, shushing you softly.

"Sorry, love," he licks his own fingers, before reaching down to spiral softly at your clit. You moan, furrow between your eyebrows disappearing at the pleasure. "How's that? All better now?"

You nod, eyes squeezed shut. He lets you take the rest of him at your own pace, muttering encouragements and praises while he fingers your clit. Butterflies have started to trail down your spine by now, and heat is shaking your upper thighs. "Mmph, feels good, daddy."

He chuckles at the nickname, and strokes his fingers down your back lovingly. He lets his hands rest warm on your lower back, sinking down in his seat so he can help you fuck yourself down onto his cock. He meets your rolling hips with steady, shallow thrusts of his own.

"Say my name, princess," he shushes you as you whimper and whine on his throbbing cock. (His length is...well. You've never felt this stretched out before.)

"Law," you whisper fondly, making eye contact as you cup his cheek in your palm. You thumb at his bottom lip, before leaning in to claim it in another kiss. Your lips brush softly, as he starts to speed up. Your breath hitches in your throat, and mumbled praises start to fall out, all "good, daddy, fuck darling, it feels so good, Law--," and on and on as he fucks you.

He shoots sparks straight into your abdomen, and you curse. "Shit, Law--," you bite your bottom lip, hands raking through his hair wildly, "M'gonna cum--,"

And your back bows forward, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he rocks you through an orgasm. It shimmers down your spine and through your toes, and you gasp in a lungful of air. He smells like sea salt and spearmint. You mouth at his jawline. "Please don't stop," you beg. He grunts in response, face heated and sweaty as you press kisses into his hairline. His mouth goes straight to your tits, licking and sucking all around your sensitive nipples. His hands are gripping you tightly, now wound around your back as he pummels into your from below. His jaw clenches tight, and he groans.

"Fucking shit, princess," he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he ruts and ruts endlessly into your core. Another orgasm builds behind your navel, and you squirm. He feels you clench around him, and something wicked flashes behind his eyes. "Cum for me, slut," he gives you a harsh grin, squeezing at your nipple. He rolls it between finger and thumb, and you gasp. "Daddy wants to feel you cum."

"Fuck!" You squeal, rushing forward to wrap both arms around his neck. You bury your face in his hair, and breathe in. He smells like pine. "Harder, just like that, yeah--!"

Your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth opens in an "O" with the silent weight of your release. Law grunts, speeding his hips to a jackhammer pace, and follows you into bliss seconds after.

"Shit, princess," he groans, emptying himself so deliciously inside you. His spend and your slick slide down between you, leaking onto his lap and the couch beneath you. Oh well, you think, I'll clean that up later.

Law strokes your hair, letting your head rest on his chest. You hum, eyes closed as you enjoy the afterglow. He had been a sweet lover, surprisingly. Not so frozen after all, you think, smiling to yourself.

"All good?" He asks, leaning down to catch your eyes. You stare up at him, hazy, and nod. He takes your face in one hand, leading you back up to kiss his swollen lips. You make a happy, sing-song noise in the back of your throat. He twitches a smile against your lips.

"All good," you affirm, pulling yourself off him for now. He groans at the loss of contact, and you grin. You turn to the coffee table behind you, slowly bending down to pick up your kimono. You shrug it over your shoulders loosely, letting it fall open around you. You eye him, with a grin. You pick up his forgotten teacup, and hand it to him.

"Seconds, Doctor Law?"

His fingers brush over yours as he takes the teacup from your hand. He arches an eyebrow as he takes a long, loud sip.

"If you insist."

****