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asirensrage · 2 years ago

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Cursed - Hanma Shuji Oneshot

Title: Cursed Rating: Explicit Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Hanma Shuji x Kanae (undescribed oc) Warnings: Sex. Threats (well the threat of setting someone on fire). Swearing. Drinking. Smoking. Slight choking. Slight possessiveness? Word count: 5942 Summary: Kanae hates clubs but a chance meeting on the patio might change her mind...or at least make up for the disaster the night is turning into.

Notes: Unbeta'd. Originally I had planned for this to be Ran, but Hanma took over as I was writing it. I was inspired to finish the club scene I started writing by the anons who complained about writing "sex with cartoon people". Nothing like spite to inspire smut lol. I wasn't planning on naming the character but things got confusing with other unnamed characters hahaha. Also, I've never written Hanma before (except in a long fic I'm working on that's unshared). Regardless, I hope you like it.

She hates clubs.

They’re packed with too many people, the drinks are overpriced and someone is always touching you. It’s never anyone you want either, it's always the creepiest men who seem to emerge from the cracks in the walls to infest the dance floor. And yet…Kanae’s here.

She wishes she was in bed. It’s 10:30 at night and they manage to get in without waiting too long because they had been put on a guest list by a friend of a friend. Apparently, her cousin is the DJ for the night. Kanae didn't entirely believe her, but she doesn’t have to wait in line for hours so she isn't complaining. Especially when she is dressed in an outfit she didn't even get to choose. She bit her tongue and kept her remarks to herself though. It is Kira’s friend’s birthday and Kira picked out the skirt and top Kanae’s in. That didn't mean she could stop herself from fidgeting and trying to ensure her ass isn't showing every time she moves.

"A couple hours," she mutters as she follows the group to the bar. "Just a couple hours and I can go home." Someone hot and far too sweaty leans into her. She grimaces and shoves them away, picking up her pace and wiping off the remains of their perspiration. Gross.

"What do you want to drink?" Kira shouts at her when she finally gets the bartender's attention.

"Vodka tonic!" It's an easy drink and one that no one will really notice when she switches it for water later. Kanae won't have to deal with them realizing she’s not drinking as much. It's not ideal but she prefers someone keep their wits about them and make sure they all get home safely.

She sips at it when it's handed to her, passing over some money as she takes it. It's probably not enough based on the vibe of the place but Kira doesn't say anything. If she needs to pay more, they’ll deal with it another day. Now isn't the time, especially when they can barely hear each other over the thump of the bass.

Once everyone has their drinks, she’s shuffled to the dance floor. She’s not close to the others and finds herself on the outskirts of the group as they dance. Whatever. It’s fine. She closes her eyes and loses herself in the music. The bass vibrates through the air and she practically feels it replace her heartbeat. Regardless of who she’s here with, at least she can dance.

She enjoys it, smiling at the others and letting herself relax to the music…until someone’s hand touches her waist. It’s not uncommon, especially in a place like this when she lets herself relax, but it’s not welcome. She turns to get a look at the person touching her, removing their hand and shaking her head. She thinks she can hear someone laughing behind her, but she ignores it, making sure the man doesn’t touch her again. He tries, but after she pushes him back, he retreats.

She turns back to the group she’s with. A couple of them have disappeared, including Kira, and she’s left with strangers she recognizes from the group. They smile, but they mostly focus on dancing with each other, shifting subtly to exclude her. She’s not sure if they mean it or not, she doesn’t know them well enough to judge, but she takes the hint anyway. She leaves, heading for the bathroom, or at least outside to get some air. Whichever she finds first. She keeps an eye out for Kira but the mesh of bodies pressing together mixed with the strobe lighting makes it near impossible to make anyone out at this level.

The bouncer at the door tells her if she leaves, she has to wait in line again, but that there’s an outside patio back the way she came. She considers leaving, but she should at least find Kira and make another appearance. At least while Kira’s still sober enough to remember her being there.

“Thanks,” she tells the bouncer and heads back inside.

She just needs a minute.

A minute to herself before she dives back in trying to find her friend again and being faced with the girls they came with. It’s nothing against Kira, but the group has turned out to be a bunch of bitches.

Kanae managed to find them again by sheer luck, shoving her way to them back on the dance floor. Kira hugged her tightly before swaying with her, trying to get her to dance. She stumbled, still unused to the heels she was forced in with the additional weight and force of Kira, and bumped into one of the birthday girl’s friends. Kanae apologized for it and the girl smiled back and waved her off. Not even a minute passed before the same girl bumped back into her, this time spilling part of her drink on her. Luckily it missed most of her outfit, splashing mainly on her shoes, but the smile on her face was clearly fake and her friend next to her laughed.

Kanae took a deep breath, trying to stay calm before she left for the bathroom to clean herself up. It didn’t take too long. One of the strangers in the line offered her a couple of napkins from her purse and told her there was seating on the same patio the bouncer told her about. It’s a sad state if the strangers in line at the bathroom were nicer than the people she came with. She gave the girl a smile and thanked her for the napkins before making her way outside.

Which is where she is now.

She’s not exactly hiding, even if she’s sitting on one of the benches alone and fairly certain that none of the others know where she is. Her phone is silent so it’s not like anyone is looking for her yet. She ignores the few others on the patio, taking the time to carefully wipe off any of the remaining liquid from her feet and shoes while trying to make sure she’s not accidentally flashing someone.

“What a bitch,” she mutters.

“The shoe?”

Kanae looks up at the voice. One of the people who had been here when she walked in is standing before her. He seems incredibly tall but she’s sitting and bent over so she’s not inclined to fully believe her eyes. He is handsome, even if he’s smoking and looking a little overdressed in a suit. Who wears a suit to a club?

“Yes,” she says, completely deadpan. “You know how it is, put on a cursed shoe and have to deal with it trying to bleed on you.”

He grins, not at all put off by her attitude. A small breeze blows, cooling the sweat that’s still on her skin and wafting over the smoke of his cigarette and the scent of his cologne. It’s a strange mix but not a bad one. “Did you know it was cursed before you wore it?”

She stares at him, unsure if he’s completely serious or actually willing to play along with her. “You know what?” she says, slipping her heel back on and putting her foot down. “I didn’t. You see, the first one I put on was fine, but the second? Cursed.”

“Did you buy them from a witch?”

“They were a gift actually. Should have been the first warning sign.”

He laughs at that before crouching down so that he’s at her eye level. His hair is a mix of blond and black, styled to the side. “So what really happened? It’s too clean to actually be blood.”

“It’s still early,” she mutters, thinking of the girl who purposefully spilt her drink.

“It is,” he agrees.

Kanae meets his eyes which seem to shine in the low light. There’s something dangerous about him. She can’t place it, but there’s a warning sign blaring in the back of her mind telling her she should tell him she’s not interested. It might be the tattoos she can make out now that he’s closer or the long earring that hangs off of one ear. She bites at her lip, considering if she wants to answer him. She shouldn’t, but in the last five minutes he’s been more interesting than the rest of the night put together, and honestly, she’d rather have this excuse than have to go back inside. Maybe she should just go home.

“Well?” he asks again, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Someone spilt a drink,” she admits.

“On purpose?”

“Depends.”

He’s trying not to smile, but he raises his eyebrows waiting for her to elaborate. “On?”

“Whether I believe her apology or smile.” She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment, feeling the way the bass vibrates through the floor. She opens them when she feels the man in front of her move. He stands back up on his feet before sitting down next to her. His thigh presses into hers as he turns to face her. “Was it your drink?”

“No. Hers.”

“Was she jealous?”

“Of what? My two left feet?”

“Thought you were cursed.”

“I am. Unfamiliar heels, an outfit I didn’t choose and a birthday for a friend who’s not even mine? Sounds like a curse to me.”

“Hmm,” he leans a little closer as he flicks his cigarette away. “Want me to break it?”

“And how are you going to do that? A kiss?”

He grins. “Do you want one? Or do you want revenge?”

“Revenge?” She blinks, suddenly far more interested. “How would I get revenge?”

“With me.” He stands and offers one of his hands. “Come.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I resist?” she drawls, taking the time to fix her shoes out of spite. She looks up at him. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.”

“Neither have you.”

She presses her lips together, weighing her options, but the desire to find out what type of revenge he meant wins. She takes his hand.

“Good,” he nods. He easily lifts her to her feet, nearly sending her stumbling forward into him. His arm wraps around her waist, steadying her. He is definitely taller than her, even in her heels. “Careful.”

“Maybe you should be more gentle.”

“Not my style,” he tells her. He moves, keeping a hand on the small of her back as he guides her back inside. He laughs as he watches her nose scrunch up at the wall of noise that greets them as he opens the door.

“I have to find them!” Kanae yells, trying to get him to hear her. He motions for her to follow him, leading her up a slightly hidden set of stairs that were blocked by a guard. The guard lets them pass, nodding to the man guiding her. She frowns but follows.

At the top of the stairs is what can be considered a VIP area. It’s large and open but somehow slightly quieter, the music dimmed by the glass that sections them off from the main club. She wonders how she didn’t see it when she was looking around as they first arrived. There are others in the area and they seem to perk up as she’s walked in.

“What do you want to drink,” he asks, leaning down so his lips are by her ear.

“Vodka tonic,” she says, already planning on not drinking it.

“Go find your friends,” he motions to the window. He leaves her, greeting others and heading to an area she assumes is where they get their drinks.

She ignores it, walking towards the window. The people look smaller and it’s almost impossible to catch sight of her friends except for the way the dress the birthday girl wore manages to sparkle in the light. They don’t even seem to notice that she’s gone. Figures. She should have left Kira to attend by herself.

A hand touches her waist and she turns to see the man standing there, offering her the drink. It looks and smells like a vodka tonic, but she’s not that stupid. She pretends to take a sip.

“Thanks.”

He looks like he knows but he doesn’t press. “Find them?”

“There,” she points out the birthday girl. “See the sparkly dress? Just to the left of the bar and about five people away from it? She’s the birthday girl. There are maybe five of them plus Kira.”

“Kira?”

“My friend. She’s the one who asked me to come. She’s the blond next to the birthday girl.”

“Who dumped the drink on you?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know her name. She had short hair, like to her chin?” she motions to it. “Blue dress.”

He nods before motioning to someone. She turns to look but her attention is redirected to the man beside her as he reaches out to touch her chin and turn her back to him. “Eyes on me.”

“Or what? Another curse?”

He grins at that. “You ever consider your luck? First a curse and now me?”

“Why? Are you the villain?”

“Not to you.”

Her eyebrows rise at that turn of phrase. “Still don’t know your name.”

He leans down, mouth pressing against the corner of hers, a mockery of a kiss. “Shuji. Hanma Shuji. You’ll want to remember it.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me yours.”

She gives it, watching the way his lips move as he repeats it back. She kind of wants to make him say it over again. His eyes seem darker in this light, but she’s not sure if it’s the room or the promises that fill it.

“Oi!” Their attention is pulled from each other by the voice that calls out. “You gonna introduce us?” One of the others in the room is standing, looking toward them. He’s not as tall as Hanma but his grin is just as sharp.

“No,” Hanma says. “But she has friends.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them friends,” she mutters more to herself than anything.

His grip on her waist tightens as she hears familiar voices chattering and getting louder. That was fast. He turns her towards the entrance and she follows, letting herself sink in further against him as the group she came here with is escorted in.

“There’s the bitch,” he murmurs in her ear as they all arrive. She snorts and instantly covers her mouth, trying not to laugh. The other girls look around impressed but Kira manages to see her first and breaks away to come towards her.

“Hey! I was looking for you!”

Kanae raises her eyebrows. “You were?”

“Yeah, they said you went to the bathroom.” Kira nods back to the others who are giggling and trying to look like they belong. “Looks like you got off track.”

She grins at that because Kira, for all her obliviousness when it comes to her friend groups, is still a good friend and one of the few people who gives her the same snark back. “Just a bit. I went out to the patio and ended up meeting Hanma. He brought me here.” She nods at the man next to her who still hasn’t let go.

“Couldn’t let her hide and leave, now could I?”

Kira looks at him, slightly suspicious. “Leave?”

“Yes,” he says. “Said a friend dropped a drink on her. Ruined her night.”

“I didn’t say that!”

He yanks her into him, causing her to stumble. “No? Wasn’t that why I found you wiping off your heels?”

“Stop causing problems,” she says, scowling at him.

He leans down and grins. “I haven’t even started yet.”

Kanae’s saved from responding when the rest of the group seems to realize she’s there and close with one of the men in the room. The other men haven’t come near yet, sitting together and watching the events of this group of women encroaching on their space.

“We thought you left,” the birthday girl says as they reach them.

“No, not yet.”

“I stole her. Sorry,” Hanma says, not sounding apologetic at all. “How are you enjoying the club?”

“It’s wonderful,” the girl who spilt the drink on Kanae says, smiling widely at him. “It’s one of my favourite clubs. My cousin’s DJing tonight.”

Oh, Kanae thinks. So it was her that got them on the guest list. Of course it was.

“That right?” Hanma asks, letting go of her to pull out another cigarette. He smirks at the expression on Kanae’s face but it doesn’t stop him from lighting it. “Hold this for me.” He hands her his lighter.

She frowns but takes it, hand wrapping around the cool metal.

He looks back at the women she came here with. “You girls want something to drink?” He leaves when they agree and she finds herself quickly surrounded by Kira and her friends.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s hot! Where did you meet?”

“Do you know who he is?”

The last question captures her attention. “What?”

It’s the birthday girl who asked, looking surprisingly serious for the moment. Kira looks just as confused as she is.

“He’s the–”

“Here you are!” she’s cut off by his return. He motions for a waitress who followed him to hand out shots. “I got shots, hope you don’t mind, to celebrate. It’s your birthday, right?” he motions to the birthday girl. She looks surprised that he knows but nods as she takes it. They’re handed out to everyone and the girls all cheers and wish the girl a happy birthday.

Kanae uses the moment to set down the vodka tonic she’s not drinking but takes the shot and follows along. It burns the back of her throat and she regrets it as soon as it settles in her stomach. She hands back the shot glass to the waitress, but the woman doesn’t leave once she has them all. Hanma takes the last glass on the tray before motioning her to go. It’s larger than even her vodka tonic.

His eyes meet hers as he stands behind the group and her mouth drops open as she watches him raise the glass…and pour it on the head of the girl with the DJ cousin. The one who faked accidentally stumbling to spill her drink.

The girl screeches and turns towards him. “What the fuck? Why did you do that?” Some of the other men are laughing but Hanma has yet to take his eyes off of her.

“Go ahead,” he nods towards Kanae. “Light her up.”

“What?”

The girl bursts into tears and Kanae’s suddenly very aware of the warning the birthday girl was trying to give her, the same warning she ignored on the patio. The lighter in her hand feels ten times heavier with the expectation of his words.

She doesn’t look away from him though, cataloguing everything she knows in the back of her mind as she crosses her arms. “Inside?” she asks, slightly incredulously. “That’s a terrible idea. She’d run and catch everything else on fire.”

His gaze burns into her as he moves forward, the group of girls parting as if they can’t get away fast enough. Kanae’s vaguely aware of the way they basically flee the area, and how the other men look towards Hanma but don’t stop them. Only Kira remains, hovering at the stairs, uncertain whether or not to leave her. “That your only concern?”

“It’s one of them. A spilled drink isn’t enough to warrant setting someone on fire.”

“No?” He sounds a little breathless as he gets close, his chest nearly touching hers. “What is?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Never had the urge before.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Kanae agrees.

He leans down as his hand slips to the back of her neck. He tilts her head up to meet him, mouth slanting across hers, as his other arm loops around her waist and pulls her into him. She kisses him back. It’s easy with the way his hands grip her, holding her in place against him. The kiss deepens and she can taste the alcohol and smoke on his tongue.

His hand moves lower. Her breath hitches at the feeling of his fingers brushing the edge of her skirt, sliding under until she grabs his wrist to stop him from going higher.

“Hmm?” He pulls back just enough to lay warm and wet kisses against her neck. It’s almost enough to distract her but her grip tightens when his hand tries to move again.

“Not here.”

He nips at her throat. “Fine.” His eyes meet hers as he moves back and she lets go when his hand finally moves from under her skirt. He doesn’t stop touching her. Instead, he moves to wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her back towards the stairs. Kira is gone. She barely gets a chance to think about where they went because she’s ushered out a door she definitely didn’t see before. It leads to a back entrance where there’s a car waiting.

She knows this is a bad idea. Especially after what happened upstairs, but the way his hand stays on her, his body continuing to brush against hers, drives all rational thought out.

She barely has a moment to settle herself in the backseat before he’s sliding in next to her. The only reason his legs aren’t cramped is because of the way the car is laid out, meant to provide more space in the back. He grabs her before she can find her seatbelt, pulling her with ease onto his lap.

Her skirt rides up as she straddles him but he doesn’t give her a chance to think about it. Instead, his mouth is on hers again. His hand slides up the back of her shirt, warm against her skin as he presses her closer.

His other hand tightens around the back of her neck, as though he can control the kiss and keep her there. He kisses her like he’s threatening to devour her, to consume everything that she has while making it worth her while. It’s easy to lose herself in it, to forget the way he wanted her to set someone on fire because they spilled a drink on her. The promise of revenge, of humiliating someone who was purposefully cruel to her, makes the taste of him addicting. How rare is it to have someone who can keep up with her, to help her even if it’s in an unconventional way? The thought of it helps her choose to rock her hips against his, to chase the pleasure that sparks down her spine.

His grip tightens, thumb on her neck digging into her pulse point. The strength of his hands is enough to make her shiver. His hand on her back moves lower, guiding her to rock against him. She can feel him hardening under her, even in his suit. She moves one of her hands to grip the lapel of his jacket and the other digs into his hair. He groans into her mouth, bucking up against her. She whines in return. It’s not enough.

The car stops.

Neither of them notice, not with the way he’s trying to burn himself into her, how she’s trying to press closer to chase herself off of a precipice. It’s only when the driver knocks that they pull apart.

Kanae tries to catch her breath. He shifts, moving her off of his lap and adjusting himself before checking to see if she’s slightly presentable. She pulls her skirt back down, aware of the way he’s watching her, before nodding. He gets out first, offering her a hand. She takes it, allowing him to pull her up with ease before his hand is back on her. The warmth of it seeps through her clothes to her skin.

She’s led past more security to an elevator. The doors barely even close before he’s kissing her again. Her back is pushed against the cool marble as he presses himself into her. She feels impossibly small but she’s not threatened. Not even when his teeth nip at her lips before moving across her cheek and down her neck. He sucks and bites at her skin, soothing the burn with his tongue before doing it again. She thinks he’s trying to mark her, not that he needs to. It’s not as though she’s about to forget this night. Still, her hand is back in his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. His thigh moves between her legs and he pulls her closer to him until she’s almost perched on his leg. She can’t stop herself from rocking against it, searching for the delicious friction she knows it can provide.

The elevator door opens. She doesn’t get a chance to move. He lifts her, hand on her thigh and guides her to wrap her legs around his waist. He kisses her again.

She doesn’t know how they get into his apartment. Lights come on as he walks through, hand on her ass and still carrying her with ease, but her focus is only on the man still kissing her. She breaks it to scrape her teeth against his jaw, enjoying the way he falters slightly.

“Fuck,” he mutters before finally letting her go. Her body drags against his until her feet are on the floor. His hands are pulling at her shirt, lifting it above her head and throwing it off to the side. Her bra follows just as fast. He cups her breasts, thumbs brushing against her nipples like he’s done it a thousand times before. She bites back the moan, watching as his eyes seem to darken further.

“On the bed,” he nods towards her. She glances back, taking in the large bed that’s made and how it sits with the headboard pressed up against the wall. It’s neat and organized, completely contrasting the chaos she knows he inhabits. Kanae takes the chance to unzip her skirt, letting it fall and she kicks off her heels before she sits on the edge of the bed.

Hanma has already tossed his suit jacket on a chair and she finds herself fascinated by the way that he moves. The shirt is unbuttoned, showing the muscles she felt when she was pressed against him. It’s different to see it though.

He grins as his eyes meet hers, realizing she’s watching him. He kicks off his pants once they’re undone and she finds herself scrambling back on the bed as he stalks forward once naked. His hand, the one tattooed with punishment, grabs her ankle and yanks, pulling her back towards him.

“Not running from me now, are ya?”

“Where would I go?” she asks softly. He leans forward until she’s lying back on the bed and he’s above her, holding himself up with one arm.

“Where indeed?”

The hand on her ankle trails up her leg, callused fingers scraping against soft skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. She keeps her eyes on him, slightly breathless as his fingers reach her inner thigh. The anticipation is killing her. Amusement glints in his eyes because he pulls back, moving his hand to her hip and sliding it up. It feels encompassing and yet not enough.

“Are you going to touch me?” she asks, trying to bite back the way she wants more.

“I am touching you.” He lowers himself, pressing closer against her. The weight of him is comfortable but not enough. She opens her legs, hooking one around his waist to guide him closer. “Want more, princess?”

“Well if you can’t handle it, I can take care of myself.”

He laughs at that before the hand that was tracing nonsensical patterns against her skin holds her throat and his grip tightens. “Careful what you say to me, princess. Might take you up on that. You want me to take care of you?”

She nods, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her. He’s not hurting her, but the point is made.

“Ask me, baby. Beg.”

“Please,” she sounds breathless, but he’s rocking his hips against hers in a slow torturous motion. “Please, Hanma.”

“Gotta say my name, Princess. Do it right.”

“Shuji, please.”

“Hmm?” he leans down, nose brushing against her cheek. “Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, Shuji. Fuck me.”

He kisses her hard. Her hands run over his shoulders, holding him close as he presses closer. When they break for air, as she kisses his cheek, his jaw, anything she can reach, he nips at her neck again before shifting and going lower.

Her breath catches in her throat at the feeling of his mouth encompassing a nipple. He drags his teeth over it before soothing it with his tongue. Her hand grips the back of his head to keep him there. His hand moves between her legs, trying to slip under her underwear before getting frustrated. She feels the way it pulls before hearing the rip and realizing what he’s done.

“Hey!” her protest is diverted as he sucks hard. It turns into a whine, and the thought of her destroyed underwear is quickly shoved to the back of her mind when his fingers move between her legs. He shifts to give himself more room, pressing forward until he finds her clit. Her head falls back and she loses herself to the sensation of his mouth and hands.

He presses his fingers into her, curling them, moving and adding another until she’s gripping his hair, her stomach tightens and she finds herself thrown off the edge into an orgasm. It’s the fastest that it’s hit and it leaves her breathless and almost in shock.

Shuji moves back, taking the time to observe her. “That good?” He asks, grinning at her. She stares at him for a moment, confused at the way he seems to enjoy watching her fall apart.

“Just a bit,” she breathes.

“We’re not done.” He moves and pulls her with him until he’s lying on his back and she’s straddling his waist. “Well?” his hands rest on her hips. “Show me what you want.”

He’s almost insufferable but she can’t help but appreciate the way he makes his demands. She leans forward, kissing him gently before pulling back before he can deepen it again. “Condom?”

He nods towards the nightstand and she tries not to roll her eyes at the fact that he has them stored there. How many other girls has he taken home? She shoves the thought out of her mind. It’s none of her business and it’s not like she’s sticking around to care.

It takes a bit of maneuvering and she has to tear open the wrapper with her teeth, but she enjoys the way he groans as she rolls the condom on. She readjusts herself before pressing herself onto him. His grip tightens almost painfully and he swears under his breath. She has to remind herself to breathe as she sinks down. It’s a small kindness, she realizes, to let her adjust to him in this position.

“Fuck,” she mutters. She rocks her hips slowly, revelling in the feeling of being so full, of knowing that he’s breaking because of her. It makes her moan seeing how he’s trying to hold back. She starts to chase the tension that is building back up. It’s too slow.

He agrees because in moments, his hands are gripping her again, forcing her on her back before his arm is hooked under her leg and he’s pushing in again. His pace is steady but quick, he kisses her, demanding her attention even as her eyes close to the feeling of him. Her orgasm is fast approaching and all she can do is reach for him, trying to hold herself steady. Her nails dig hard into his skin but he doesn’t tell her to stop.

“So fucking good,” he says, leaning forward to push her legs closer to her chest. “Knew you would be.” She bites at his lip for that and he laughs before kissing her. She tastes blood but his pace increases and he moves until his fingers press against her clit.

His touch is rough but the tension breaks and she tries not to scream, especially as it’s drawn out as he keeps going. His thrusts quicken, chasing his own release. One of his hands finds its way back to her throat. He holds her there, fingers pressing into the sides. Her eyelids flutter, the feeling increasing the remnants of her orgasm until his hand moves to the back of her neck and pulls her up so he can kiss her again.

He groans into her mouth, hips stuttering against hers as he finally reaches his peak. He pulls back, just enough that his mouth is barely an inch away and they’re breathing each other’s air as they both try to catch their breaths. Her body feels as though it’s been electrified, sparks running under her skin where he still touches her.

He slowly releases her leg, setting it back down, his hand running over it lightly before he pulls out. She feels the loss of him instantly, half wanting him back and half aware that she is exhausted. It’ll hit all at once. She knows that.

She tries to force herself to sit up as he gets up and disposes of the condom. She mentally wonders what it would cost to get a taxi back. She has to contact Kira and find out if she made it home safely.

“Here,” a wet cloth smacks her in the face.

She grabs it, scowling at the man who stands before her, unashamed in his nakedness. It’s awkward now that it’s over. It always is. “You didn’t have to throw it.”

“You should have caught it.”

She decides not to comment back on that and instead takes the opportunity to clean herself up. She moves to the edge of the bed but before she can start, Shuji kneels before her and takes the cloth. She stares in stunned satisfaction as he carefully wipes up the remnants of their sex. It makes her breath catch with how sensitive she is. He throws it back towards the bathroom and stands.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

“Why?”

She tried not to look exasperated. “So I can call a cab and check on my friend.”

He laughs softly before he bends down so his face is in front of hers. “Who said we were done? Get up. I’ll pull off the top sheet and then you’re getting into the bed.”

“I am?”

“That’s right, princess. I told you, I’m not done with you.” He pulls her up and she looks up at him. She’s shorter without her heels and now he seems impossibly tall. He yanks the top layer off of the bed before pulling back the rest and nodding toward her. She turns towards it, looking at the way his bed now seems to suit him before wondering if she really wants to do this.

A sharp sting on her ass makes her yelp as he smacks it.

“Get in, Kanae,” he orders.

She scowls but does. The sheets are softer than anything she has at home.

He climbs in after her, pulling the sheets back up to cover them. His arm wraps around her and pulls her close. “Rest. You’ll need it.”

“Yes sir,” she mutters sarcastically, already sinking into her exhaustion. She’s warm and comfortable. Whatever she wakes up to is tomorrow’s problem. Not today’s.

“Hmm, could get used to that,” he teases.

“Not a chance.”

“We’ll see.”

oc taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

#spite smut #ridea acts out of spite #tokyo revengers oc #hanma x oc #hanma shuji x oc #tokyo revengers fic #hanma shuji oneshot

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multi-fandom-imagine · 6 months ago

Note

I have a naughty thought floating in my head.

Just imagine when you and Lucanis are doing 'adult' activities when his control over Spite slips and Spite takes over.

Your normally gentle lover is suddenly rough and groping at your plush thighs and tits. He's whispering filthy things in your ear about how he always has to watch, but now it's his turn.

Just a filthy thought in my head.

A/N: YOU LET THAT THOUGHT RUN FREE AND GIVE ME MORE.

Lucanis does it best to control Spite during the times whenever you two become intimate.

He knew you control himself, you did take down a god after all.

But he knew it would happen sooner or later even though he wished it would be much later. Lucanis knew of Spites desires for you, feelings....if things like him could even feel that way.

Lucanis knew he should have been more careful, should have drank more coffee since this was your anniversary after all but all it took was one moment, one small lite crack that Spite could slip through as the man made love to you.

A cry leaving left your lips, your hands pinned above your head as Spite gripped your lips tightly. Hips snapping into yours, leg hiked upon his waist as he roughly fucked you. He couldn't get enough, he wanted more.

More...more...more!

Your skin soft, he had to memorize this, memorize every inch of your skin, every blemish, every scare, he will remember.

"Sitting back...watching. No more! No more." Spite whispered in your ears as he hiked up your thigh more, slipping deeper in your warmth, your walls squeezing so deliciously around his shaft.

Giving your plush thighs a squeeze, his hands moved up your chest giving your breasts a squeeze as he let his thumb rub your nipple.

"Mine! Mine!" Spite muttered as he continued his thrusts. "I will fill you! Breed you! Make you mine."

Biting your lip, you let out another cry as you did your best to match his thrusts. Moans spilling from your lips, bed creaking, your mind in a fog.

It felt good, too good and in the back of your mind you were thinking of ways to convince Lucanis to share you with the spirit.

But right now you were going to enjoy this.

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joelsdagger · 1 year ago

Text

talking body || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3 | tlou is created by a zionist and tlou2 is based on the Israeli occupation on Palestine, this article expands on that info. pls visit these links to help.

pairing: joel miller x curvy f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

word count: 7.5k (dear god)

summary: joel doesn’t hesitate to show you just how crazy he is about you. content warnings: jackson era, canon divergent, established relationship, unspecified age gap, (joel is late 50’s/pushing 60 & reader is whatever age you like her to be), fatphobic/misogynistic comments from a male oc, mentions of body insecurities, a little bit of jealousy (from reader), [internal] angst (feelings of guilt & shame), reader wears a form–fitting dress, joel gets handsy, body worship, pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby, pretty girl), brief vaginal fingering, biting, body marking, praise kink, sprinkle of degradation, 1 pussy slap, dirty talk (or as kat put it; joel miller and that FUCKING MOUTH), oral sex (f receiving), mild ass play, unprotected piv, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, possessive!joel, pussy pronouns, creampie, fluff, joel just being such a sweetheart but also an absolute menace UGH, game!joel or show!joel, reader is curvy and can be interpreted as being mid/plus sized, but other than that no other physical descriptions of reader and no use of y/n.

a/n: this is completely self indulgent and i love doing shit out of spite so naturally i wrote this cuz of all the shit i’ve been seeing these past few weeks. also, this is me pushing the agenda that game!joel is a hips guy and show!joel is an ass guy, so i mixed a little bit of both in here bc i can. to everyone with thick thighs, squishy bellies, big tits, hip dips, and every thing in between i see you, i love you (so does joel), and he would fuck your brains out, he told me himself :3 thank you to my loves @skrunkly-scrimblo & @phoeberidgers for being my second and third eyes & helping my indecisive ass with the visuals (and for always putting up with me) ily both sm <3 | dividers by @saradika-graphics

oh! masterlist is coming in a few days (i’m sorry, i’ve been putting it off)

Joel’s still sitting at the table with Tommy and Maria when Dina cuts into your path as you approach the bar, you were getting refills for your table. Dina drags you along behind her to the open space where a few other Jackson residents are dancing, she points out that you still haven’t delivered on your promise to dance with her. You playfully roll your eyes as she tugs you along, you don’t really mind, you’re the type to drink and dance the night away whenever you and Joel joined your fellow Jackson residents at The Tipsy Bison, letting out all the stress and worries that had built up from days prior and tonight was one of those nights, you endured a long, shitty, fucking week.

One dance had turned into two which turned into three and very quickly you felt the overwhelming sense of heat from the lights and the alcohol running through your system warming up your body an ungodly amount. It didn’t help that the short, tight dress you were wearing was beginning to ride up your thighs and the thin fabric on your stomach clinging to your sticky skin as sweat started to pool in places you didn’t quite like.

You take advantage of the song coming to an end and spin out of the dance before someone ropes you back in, tugging the hemline of your dress down while you make your way to the bar to finally order refills for your table. As you wait for the bartender to come out from the back, you turn around to watch the rest of Jackson’s residents while they drink, dance, and laugh through the night, a smile tugs on your lips as you briefly spot Dina now dragging Ellie to the small open space. You continue glancing over the room, it was busier than usual though still expected, gatherings during the fall and winter months tended to occur more often, the cold weather gives people a reason to spend more time indoors, alcohol and loud music helps keep bodies warm and memories faded away. Nights like these are needed in Jackson.

Your gaze eventually lands on your table, seeing a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman standing in front of Joel, you know exactly who it is…Esther. You’re not surprised, she’s been after Joel for years, completely disregarding your relationship with him. You don’t blame her, Joel’s one hell of a man but you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach when you see a smile on his face as he cracks a laugh at her joke, she playfully smacks his arm in return and you avert your eyes to scan the crowd once again.

You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, Joel’s a gentleman, always polite and charming, he plays along as to not embarrass her.

So why does it bother you?

You feel stupid, again you can’t blame her, but then your eyes trail down her body, she’s got a few years on you but she doesn’t look it. From what you can tell, her body has remained the same since the day you met her.

Yours, on the other hand, has slightly changed to a noticeable degree, as you settled into Jackson as well as your relationship with Joel. Your breasts spill over the cups of a few older bras, you have a softer tummy that protrudes out in form–fitting clothes like right now and your thighs and ass fill your jeans out a bit more. It’s a dull feeling now, not really paying it any mind anymore, you were more aware of it at first, but occasionally, moments like this remind you of the changes in your body.

His body has deliciously changed with age; his hair now suitably silver, though the gray patches of hair spanning across his chest and down his belly don’t quite match the hair on his scalp. When he lifts his arms just enough his soft belly peeks out, perfectly protruding just above the waistband of his jeans. He’s insecure about it, his age more apparent when you’re beside him, not that he’d ever really admit that to you, but you picked up on it pretty quickly when he started opting for loose fitting button downs and jeans, but he clearly still has an effect on women.

With you it’s just….different.

Feeling the heat of a stare on you and knowing who it’s from, you glance back at Joel, your gaze landing on his face again, you can see his face more clearly now, Esther’s still talking to him, yet his attention isn’t on her, his eyes are trained on you and you’re met with an expression of hunger on his face. His eyes steadily rake down your body, feasting on the tight material clinging to your sticky skin, they pause and for a fleeting moment he fixates on your exposed thighs, his eyes trail back up to your chest, and as he lifts up the glass of whiskey he’s been nursing to his mouth, you catch his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a long sip of his whiskey.

The faint buzz from the alcohol emboldens you and you wink back at him.

No longer giving those feelings a second thought you turn back around and try to wave down the bartender.

“Another round, please.”

“Sure thing, sweets.”

He turns away to grab your drinks, your ears perk up when you hear someone say your name, you turn your head towards the voice, noticing a few men sitting at the edge of the bar. You recognize one of them, a younger man, who happened to be your old patrol partner and your last fling.

Naturally, you eavesdrop on their conversation. Matt’s back is to you when you hear it.

“She’s not in her prime, you should’ve seen her a few years ago,” he sneers.

His words pierce through you, you know exactly what he’s getting at, it stings even when you know it shouldn’t, it festers.

A man you’re not familiar with, probably the newbie, stands further away, he opens his mouth to speak but you can’t hear what he’s saying, the music is too loud and you have to fight the urge to look directly at him so you can read his lips, but he says something that earns a few snickers out of the men surrounding him.

The shame coils and pulls taut in your stomach, twisting, pulling, scraping so tight it makes you dizzy and nauseous.

You don’t even realize your drinks had been placed on the bartop in front of you, Matt’s irritating voice cuts in and holds your attention, “Can’t believe a man like Joel is still with her. No real man can fuck women who look like that and enjoy it,” he says simply.

The shame turns to rage and your blood boils, you feel your cheeks heating up as anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, the blinding rage looms over you and your feet move without thinking. You begin to step forward but for the second time that night your movements are interrupted, you hear her voice before she’s in front of you.

“You ditched us to grab drinks and yet we never got them,” Maria teases.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” you look away from the group of men and back at Maria, flashing her a smile, a little forced.

“Figured. Joel’s been eyeing you while you were dancing, I told him to join you but we both know he prefers admiring you,” she says, redrawing your attention by tilting her head into your line of sight.

She beckons you with a jerk of her head, “C’mon, your man gets grumpy when you’re away,” she says with a comforting smile. As the two of you grab the whiskey filled glasses, she hooks her arm through yours and walks you back to the table.

Joel pulls open your chair next to him, you sit down and silently hand him his whiskey, the anger fizzling out as soon as you’re beside him though the knot of shame still tight in the pit of your stomach. He senses something is off immediately, your behavior wildly different than twenty or so minutes before.

“Thanks, baby,” he says as he watches you intently.

“Mhm.”

You nod, shooting him a glance before averting your eyes back to a small group of residents dancing.

Tommy turns his head to ask Maria about the new patrol schedules for the upcoming week, Joel sees it as a window of opportunity, a distraction, so he throws his arm around you and tucks you into his side, just enough for you to smell the whiskey on him, he settles his palm on your stomach, his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your belly through your tight dress, “You okay, darlin’?” he whispers, his whiskey–warm breath against your ear.

“Yup. Just tired,” you say dismissively, trying to keep your voice light, hoping it doesn’t sound as pinched as your throat feels. You press a chaste kiss to the flecks of silver on his temple, attempting to sooth his worries, while internally trying to convince yourself that you’re not giving those assholes too much power over their words, even though you have, it gnaws at you so much it makes your bones itch beneath your skin.

He catches the deceit in your voice but he drops the subject, knowing not to pry in this moment, “Alright, we'll finish these and head home,” he kisses your forehead before he turns his attention back towards the conversation.

—

Joel kept on his word, the two of you leaving the gathering once you knocked back the rest of your drinks. However, finishing off your drinks meant the two of you were in a tipsy state and Joel’s insatiable when he’s got alcohol buzzing in his system. As soon as he closes the bedroom door behind him, he instantly pins you up against the door and presses his lips to yours, his mouth swallowing yours while his hands run greedily all over your body, grabbing and squeezing every part of you.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he says while he nuzzles his head in the deep groove of your cleavage, he nips lightly before leaving open–mouthed kisses to the exposed skin, his big hands come up to cup your breasts, your nipples peaked and hard beneath the thin fabrics of your dress and your bra.

“Fuck–” your whimper is cut off when Joel drags his lips back up to connect with yours, you hum as you taste his flavour, all oak and masculine and campfire like with a hint of spice from the whiskey. He moans as he licks his tongue into your mouth, one hand squeezes the weight of your breast while the other glides around to your back, pulling you closer. Joel always gets like this after a few drinks; it’s always heady, needy, sloppy like it is now. He kisses you with so much want and desire it makes your brain all foggy and your skin flare, forgetting the moment that threw off your mood.

That is until Joel’s hands make their way down your front, palming your tummy softly, one hand reaches under the hem of your short dress to cup your mound and the memory claws its way back to the surface, Matt’s words echo in your mind.

You tear your lips away from his and plaster on a tight smile, knowing your eyes will give you away, you stare at the scar across his nose, “Not tonight, baby,” you whisper, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek and tucking a silver curl behind his ear.

Though Joel Miller, as always, is on high alert, always studying the people around him, it’s all he’s ever known in his role of a protector. He learnt and memorized all your tells within weeks of knowing you, he doesn’t need to see your eyes to catch on, he senses the hint of sadness in the hushed tone of your voice, the same one he clocked earlier at The Tipsy Bison, he knows you’re holding back.

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”

You brush past him, walking away and sitting on the bed, “Nothing, I’m fine, I’m just tired,” you say a little too hurriedly, your voice too syrupy-sweet. That’s the third thing that’s tipped him off tonight. He follows you tentatively, sitting beside you placing his hands on your knees and guiding you to face him.

He assesses your face and sighs, “We’re not gonna do that. You’ve been real quiet and distant most of the night. Darlin’, talk to me,” he hooks a finger underneath your chin and gently tilts your face upwards, forcing you to look at him.

You shrug heavily, feeling stupid for letting their words sour your mood, but worse for thinking the same about yourself, when you should be grateful. Living, breathing, existing is a privilege, one that not everyone gets, something you and Joel are too familiar with, yet here you are letting dumb comments from even dumber men upset you. The same knot in your stomach from earlier pulls taut once again.

You rip your eyes away from Joel’s, not able to bring yourself to face the troubled look in his eyes. “It's just embarrassing, and I’m ashamed that I let things still get to me,” you admit defeatedly, your voice barely audible.

“Baby,” he tugs gently on your chin again, “Look at me,” he murmured.

You blink up at him, forcing yourself to look at him, tears pricking in your eyes when you see the worry line appearing in between his brows and the hues of concern in his eyes once again. He reaches up to gently cradle your face, the contact sends you over the edge and a tear cascades down your cheek, his calloused thumb swipes it away, the turmoil clear as day in his eyes, you hate that you’re the reason for the pained expression on his face.

“Tell me,” he implored, his voice pinched as he spoke.

You can feel the walls of your throat constricting and the rapid thump of your pulse right below your jaw as you swallow tightly. Just hearing the hurt in his voice should stop you, should make you drop the whole thing. You think about leaving Matt’s name out of it, just by mentioning that Matt was the one reaffirming your deep-seated insecurities will upset him alone, Joel’s hated the guy since the day he found out you fucked him but leaving his name out of it feels like you're protecting him.

That coupled with the look of worry on his face, knowing his compulsive need to do right by you but he can’t if you don’t let him, coaxes you to tell him everything.

Biting the bullet and bracing yourself for impact, you take a deep breath.

“You know that guy, Matt, that I used to….” you trail off quietly, biting your lip.

His lips downturn into a soft frown and yet he doesn’t respond, just gives you a firm nod.

You avoid his gaze, picking at the loose skin around your nail, Joel notices and grabs your hands in his. Your eyes stay transfixed on your lap, you sigh deeply, “He said, a man like you shouldn’t be with someone like me, said he doesn’t know how you can fuck me and enjoy it,” another tear spills down your cheek, recounting each of his words feels like hard punches to the gut. “And then seeing Esther hitting on you again, even though everyone knows we’re together–I know I shouldn’t let it get to me but I can’t help how I feel sometimes,” your voice quavering as you ramble admittedly.

You peer up at him under watery lashes and for a second you can practically see him fighting the urge of storming out of the house and heading back to The Tipsy Bison to find the bastard, you can see it in the flash of anger that spreads across his features, in the twitch of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils as he takes in a sharp breath.

Instead, he exhales, “Darlin’, there ain’t nothing wrong with you,” he dips his head down so his eyes meet yours, you shrug again.

“Stop that. You’re perfect honey,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice as he runs his hand along your upper thighs, now exposed as your dress rolled up from your position on the bed.

“I get it darlin’, hell one good look in the mirror n’ I wonder how a pretty thing like yourself could want an old man like me,” he huffs a quiet chuckle.

You shake your head immediately, “Joel–”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you need remindin’,” he interjects you, “I have no problem remindin’ you,” he asserts softly, his fingers still tracing up and down your thigh.

You frown, “I know you don’t Joel, it’s just,” you sigh a shuddering breath, feeling that familiar pang of guilt in your chest, now regretting opening up to him. The heavy stones of guilt and shame weighing you down, threatening to swallow you whole. The last thing he needed was you burdening him with your insecurities, you know him, he’ll dwell on this for days to come, checking in when he feels you pulling away.

“Lemme show you, baby,” he says while softly grabbing your hands, prying them away from your middle.

“No, Joel–” you began to protest.

“Need to see my beautiful girl,” he encourages you gently, his hands roam down and pause right below the hem of your dress but he awaits your permission.

You nod softly and lie back against the headboard, you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the skirt of your dress, shoving up the soft, red material over your waist, revealing your soft, pillowy silhouette.

He hovers over you as he takes his time palming the slopes of your curves, his big hands grab two handfuls of your breasts and squeezes them tightly, lifting the weight of them up and dropping his head down to nip at each breast, then letting them fall and marveling at the bounce of your tits. His hands find your hips, he’s sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

He grips your hips more firmly, almost like you’ll disappear before him if he doesn’t, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, “My sexy girl, fuckin’ can’t get enough of you,” he says lowly, his breath hot against your skin, you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. His mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button, the coarse scruff tickles your skin and you can’t help the giggle it elicits from you.

He pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, “You drive me crazy, you know that, baby?” He whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

Your glassy eyes meet his as your hand comes up to cup his cheek, “I’m pretty crazy about you too, handsome,” you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. He kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, “Turn around for me sweetheart, go on, all fours, need to see all of you,” he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

You do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight. “Good girl,” he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. You playfully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass and he whistles lowly.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, “N’all for me.”

His fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit, “There's my girl. Always so fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” You hum softly in response.

The tip of his middle finger pushes past your outer lips and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the whimper you let out. You’re already so wet, you’re always so wet and willing for him. It should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it’s him and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly…every single time.

You risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it’s a mindless, habitual thing for him, like he’s sneaking a taste of his meal before he digs into it. His hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the opaque wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

Your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, “Eyes forward, sweetheart.” You tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms– so pliant and needy for him–he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

His hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds, “Look at that, she’s so pretty baby. She’s droolin’ down your pretty legs,” his voice low and deep.

His words make your pussy throb, you can’t help the whine you let out, “Joel, please.”

“Please what, pretty girl, use your words,” he commands, his fingers still languidly messaging through your puffy lips, smearing your arousal all over his fingers.

“I need you, please do anything, please,” you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

But still, not enough for Joel. A loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

He tuts, “You want my cock that bad, baby, I wanna hear you say it.”

Bastard.

“Joel please, I want your cock. I want it,” you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

“Okay, alright, baby, s’all I wanted to hear,” he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “I just need to taste her first,” he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, his knees creaking as he kneels on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. He tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

You shiver, you’re aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

Joel’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

Joel seems to have heard it and that’s all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

You push your hips back into his face causing the tip of his nose to nuzzle into your asshole, you feel him hum in approval at your entrance. Suddenly, nothing else matters; the thick fog of insecurity, the crippling shame and guilt sitting heavy in your chest; it all melts away as a fresh wave of sensation courses through you by the warmth of his mouth on your cunt.

This was always his favorite part, seeking pleasure in you because it brings you pleasure, always doing what makes you feel good. To spread you open before him, having a perfect view of your alluring holes in front of him, just begging for him to devour away (and fill you up). He can spend hours on his knees between your legs and he has, slipping further and further elsewhere as he indulges in you, his lips relishing away at the altar in your hips.

A pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you’re squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. He doesn’t go easy on you like he usually does. He fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he’d never get the chance again. The vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he’s the one on his knees.

You can feel him push his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it, then he moves to swirl the tip of his tongue tightly against your puffy clit, “Oh god, Joel, fuck,” you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. You start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

He flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

With his mouth still latched onto your throbbing cunt, he keeps going.

“Fuck, Joel, I can’t–” it’s too much and you’re too weak, a trembling mess on the mattress, so you attempt to close your legs but the strong grip he has on your thighs doesn’t allow you to move, it only goads him further.

He licks a thick, languid stripe through your heat all the way up until his tongue prods at the tight ring of muscle, again, your legs threaten to close but the firm grip of his hands keeps you wide open for him, he swirls his tongue in a tight circle around your puckered rim, “Joel–” your gasp is cut off by his white, hot mouth taking its place right back on your clit, not giving you any time to recover.

The tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds–you don’t really know at this point–you feel the pressure building in your belly and it’s growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. His tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

A choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

Milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear the popping of his knees coupled with a grunt behind you as he stands up. He leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

Joel positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “I love all of ya, baby, but this right here,” he grips more firmly at the flesh on your hips again, “Fuck– these kill me,” he mumbles, almost entirely to himself.

“Joel, please, I need you inside me,” you beg and shiver in his grasp.

He stays quiet behind you, too enticed by the sight of your weeping pussy in front of him. You think you can hear the metallic clink of his belt as it drops to the floor and the buzz of the zipper of his jeans coming undone, the sounds make you clench around emptiness, Joel catches sight of it, a lustful groan slips out of him, a guttural sound from deep within his chest. You’re always so needy, so eager to be full of him and he’ll never get enough of it.

He keeps one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around his cock as he swipes it once through your folds, wetting his dick with your arousal, earning a quiet whimper from you at the sudden contact. He draws his hips back slightly and finally notches the wide head of his cock into with your awaiting hole, groaning in unison as his tip stretches you open, “Christ, always so fuckin’ tight,” spitting through his teeth.

His other hand moves to your hip to hold you in place as he sinks into you with one languid, long thrust, sliding himself in as deep as he can, he feels his tip hit resistance and his breath hitches in his throat, he stills for a moment, enthralled at the sight of his cock nestled in at the very end of you, completely bottomed out in your dripping cunt, “Fuck–there you go, pussy’s suckin’ me right in, sweetheart. This perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grits as the grip he has on your hips tightens, his fingertips digging into the soft tenderness of your hips.

One of his hands sneaks its way to your front and he grabs your breast beneath the neckline of your dress, he kneads it and pinches your nipple between his calloused fingers, then he pulls the neckline down along with your bra, freeing your breasts from the constricting cups, he palms them roughly before leaving them to sway, all bare and heavy, “Look so goddamn perfect bent over for me like this, I wanted to fuck you in this slutty dress all night, fuckin’ couldn’t get it outta my head,” he pants heavily, his hand returns to grip your hip as he begins rocking his hips forward, “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

You curse lowly as you shift to deepen the arch in your back–you need to feel him closer–you straighten your arms out in front of you, your hands latch on to the edge of the mattress, your chest now pressed to your thighs and hiking your ass higher in the air for him, changing the angle as your body folds in on itself and earning a low groan from Joel, a sound that rumbles deep in his throat, “Sweet Jesus, that’s good, just like that baby, always so good f’me,” he’s babbling under his breath. The palm of his other hand finds the small of your back, “Tell me how it feels,” Joel grits, his voice thick and breathy as his thrusts pick up the pace.

“F–feels so good, Joel,” you sob, and it’s true, every time feels like the first time even after all these years; he had bent you over, pressed his large hand between your shoulder blades, kicked apart your legs with his knees and when his hand found the base of your neck, he pressed your face into the wooden floorboards and stretched you open, fucking you with ruthless abandon, using your body to get himself off, dulling the agonizing memories and unspeakable horrors that had forced his hand. His unforgiving pace, your face scraping along the hardwood floor, his brutal thrusts that kept your cunt sore for days on end, none of that mattered to you, in a way you were using him too, your insides just desperate and aching to be filled and all you could do was take it, your body completely succumbing to him and accepting his girth, ‘s like you were made for me, his breath hot and heavy as the words buzzed in the shell of your ear.

His deep voice breaks through the loop of ecstasy, redrawing your attention to the moment, “Takin’ my cock so well, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good, she’s so good to me,” he grits, both of his hands now keeping a bruising grip on your hips as he drives your hips back to meet his, pulling you back onto his cock, the slapping of his hips against the plush of your ass echoes loudly in the room. You press your face into the sheets as your moans grow louder while he drives his cock in and out of you, “Those men…’f they had a woman like you…fuck–they don’t deserve that,” Joel rambles gruffly in between his harsh, unrelenting thrusts, “We’ll show ‘em how a real man fucks his girl, I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em, I’ll show ‘em.”

Oh god. Sparks ignite a fire that roils low in your belly, you’ll never get used to how talkative he is while he loses himself in you.

“Oh–fuck, Joel, don’t stop, don’t stop,” your words come out choked, the flow of air to your lungs suspended as he punches himself into you, your fingers dig into the mattress in attempt to anchor yourself.

“I know, baby, I know, just take it,” he hisses through his teeth. “This tight pussy only made to take my cock, ain’t that right?”

His words are swallowed up by the obscene squelches of your cunt as it grips his cock while he slams into you. When he doesn’t get a response from you he lands a firm slap to your ass, this time with more force, your skin tingles beneath his hand, “Yes, Joel—fuck—yes–yes,” you moan breathlessly, completely lost in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

“‘S’right, she’s mine, all fuckin’ mine,” Joel snarls, his thrusts grow more aggressive, you fist the sheets beneath you–the possessiveness in his words, the firm grip on your hips pulling you back to fuck you onto his cock–slowly, you can feel the fire in your belly making its way to curl around the base of your spine.

He tightens his grip on your hips once again, you can feel his fingernails digging into your soft skin, you crane your neck to peer behind you, spotting the small indents beneath his fingertips forming on your hips, leaving more evidence of himself on your body. You know they’ll be there in the morning. A low, breathy moan slips between your lips at the thought. Your hooded eyes flicker up to his face, he looks wrecked; his gray curls cling to his forehead as a sheen of sweat covers his skin, his cheeks flushed a shade of cherry red that extends down to his neck and tanned chest, his pupils are blown out so wide they’re almost black, locked in on his length going in and out of your drippy cunt. His eyes flicker up to watch the ripple of your ass as he pummels his cock into you and it drives him over the edge.

You didn’t think he could get more relentless, yet somehow he does.

He releases the firm grip he has on your hips and slides his hands to your ass cheeks, he glides his hands over the curve of your ass and again, he brings one palm down in a harsh slap, you make a muffled sound against the sheets. His fingers span over the globe of your ass, palming your ass cheeks and grabbing them tightly, squeezing the tender flesh, he groans loudly as he pulls them apart further, splitting you open even more for him, fucking you deeper, all you can do is whimper into the mattress.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect, so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasps, his chest heaves as ragged, throaty moans escape him. Unable to stop himself, he squeezes down on your ass cheeks with more vigor as he unravels and pounds into you relentlessly, his thrusts brutal against you and the tip of his cock now punching your cervix.

You clench around him, a sign that you're close, and he reaches around your front, he presses his fingers into your very sensitive, very swollen clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you to the edge of your release.

The lick of heat sneaks its way up your spine, dispersing itself along your nerves, setting your skin on fire, “Shit, Joel, m’gonna come,” you gasp, your voice all cracked and your breath ragged, unable to breathe as your lungs search desperately for respite, a low static buzz begins to ring in your ears.

Somewhere distant in the endless loop of euphoric haze you hear his voice, deep and rough, “Come for me, need to feel this slutty pussy come on my cock.” A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, your eyes slip closed as your walls flutter and gush around him, your clit sore and throbbing beneath his fingers, your body convulsing in aftershocks as your orgasm erupts and smothers you entirely.

“There you go, attagirl, my perfect girl, comin’ all over my cock,” he talks you through the trance of your pleasure. Your pussy clenches down around his length again, bringing him to his own release and he pants, “Baby, need you to turn over—shit, m’gonna–”

In an attempt to bring yourself up on your shaky arms, you push your hips back into his, Joel hisses through his teeth in response. His hands fly to your hips, steadying himself–shitshitshit–he loses his rhythm as his own orgasm rips right through him, his thick cock pulsing and spasming inside your messy, used cunt, his frame shuddering behind you as he spills inside you. You reach an arm back behind you, grasping onto a hand that’s glued to your hip, his fingers intertwine with yours without hesitation, desperately grounding himself as he groans painfully, long and drawn out while he fucks the last of his seed into the deepest parts of you, filling you to the brim.

His entire form gives out, falling forward over you, pressing his entire weight into yours, the two of you collapse onto the bed, he drops his forehead, damp with sweat, to your back as his body goes limp over you. He exhales heavily, his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, he presses a tender kiss to the nape of your neck while his hands find your hips again, quivering as he pulls his sensitive cock out of your wasted pussy with a loud grunt, earning a lewd, wet sound once he completely pulls his length out.

Joel sits up and leans back, his hands grab your legs keeping you spread open for him, he gawks at the flutter and clench of your leaking hole as his white milky spend drools out of you and he groans, “Oh fuck me, that’s a pretty sight right there, my girl’s fucked all full o’me.”

“Shut up,” you huff a quiet laugh and shut your legs, he lays a playful slap to your ass, eliciting a tiny squeal from you. Joel stands up and strides off to the bathroom while you crawl up the bed, laying your head against the pillows, the sound of running water in the background as your eyes slip closed, sinking into the blissful haze of the afterglow.

You feel his presence returning, he wraps his hands around your knees and pulls apart your legs, spreading you wide once more and he freezes, “Fuck,” you hear him groan above you. You open your eyes, hazy and hooded, to find him standing between your legs with nothing on but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, no underwear, a wet rag in hand, mesmerized by the slow flow of his cum dribbling out of your hole.

He’s completely forgotten what the hell he’s supposed to be doing.

“Do you need me to do it,” you tease with a small smile, a devious glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, “Keep bein’ smart with me n’ I’ll stuff that pretty mouth of yours,” he quips.

You grin at him while he drags the damp cloth through your swollen sex. He taps the side of your arm lightly and you sit up, his hands grab at the material bunched around your waistline, as you lift your arms up in the air, he pulls the fabric over your head and your body shimmies its way out of it. His eyes never leave yours as his large hands reach around your back to unhook your bra, pulling the straps from your shoulders, leaving you bare as he scrunches up your clothes and the messy rag soaked in your combined releases and returns to the bathroom. You lie back down again and slip beneath the covers, the back of your head resting on one of his pillows.

Joel saunters back into the room, “Scoot,” he motions with his hand and you do, he slides in beside you and pulls the blankets up to cover your middle. As expected, he tugs you closer to him, tucking you into his side, you instantly hoist one of your legs over the top of his strong thighs, one of your hands rests over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heart beneath your hand.

As the thick haze fades, your lips part, your voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you,” your fingers gliding over the patch of gray hair spanning across his chest, following the trail down the soft swell of his belly while his fingers softly trace down the slope of your side, fingertips following the curve of your body beneath the blankets.

He presses his lips to the top of your head and he whispers, “I’ll fuck you like that every night f’it means showin’ you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

Your lips twitch, a hint of a smirk on your face as you press your face into his chest and hum, “Just admit you’re a dirty old man, will you?”

Joel laughs lightly but doesn’t deny it, he peers down at you with nothing but adoration and a genuine smile, “Never said I wasn’t, baby, n’ don’t act like you don’t love it.”

‘I do, and I love you,” you bring your hand up to scratch his gray beard before tilting your head up to his and press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, tasting the flavor of your pussy on his tongue, you hum into his mouth, all dazed and content.

“I love you, honey,” his other hand drags gently along the crown of your head, his thumb resting on your cheek, stroking it as he brushes his nose along your cheek. You can feel his lips turn up into a smile against your skin, “Maybe, I need to get ourselves some rings, that oughta keep ‘em away.”

You smack him lightly on his chest, “You think you’re real funny don’t you?”

He laughs, loud and deep, his perfect soft, pudgy belly jiggling beneath your knee, his fingers grazing down your back, “M’just sayin’, s’an option.”

You chuckle. “Whatever you say, Miller.”

thanks for reading xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #jackson!joel x f!reader #noelle does things out of spite!#noelle's workshop

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conchcronch · 5 months ago

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My Turn

WC: 2816

Pairing: Spite x Fem!Rook

Summary: Lucanis accidentally fell asleep which leads Spite to take over when you come to spend the evening together.

Warnings: a little bit DUB CON but it gets cleared up towards the end.

A/N: PLEASE send me prompts for Lucanis and Spite x Rook, I’m obsessed.

The lack of a moon and stars in the Fade had unsettled you since your first night at the Lighthouse. The sky was lit as though there were some sort of light source but you could never find one as you walked from the main building out to the farthest room at the end of the courtyard. What had originally been your dining hall had been taken over by the Crow, feeling most at comfort in the dank pantry, not something you could fully understand but you also had no intention of questioning it more then you already had.

The door was unlocked, the fire lit in between the two wolf statues. Your partner was not leaning against the mantle as you had expected, but the flickering of candles through the pantry/bedroom door quickly hinted at where he likely was. You noticed freshly brewed coffee, two mugs set out, anticipating your arrival. You cleared the distance from the door to the counter in the small, dark kitchen. Taking your time prepping the coffee, leaving his black so he could taste the flavor notes of this particular blend, but pouring a decent amount of milk in your mug, the thought of leaving yours black made you grimace.

With mugs of coffee in hand you walked past the fireplace, the warmth wrapping around your legs making the cold of the back bedroom all the more jarring. His back was to you, the candle light flickering, distorting his shadow as it danced across the wall. “I brought you coffee, it might be a little cold, but I can warm it up if you want.” You took a quick sip of yours as you held his outstretched, his back still to you.

“Not now” a wave of his hand made you cock an eyebrow but put the mug down on a small shelf nevertheless. You leaned your back against the sturdy oak shelving, sipping your coffee as you tried to output enough fire magic from your palm to warm the ceramic mug rather then ignite it. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable despite being slightly out of character for him. Ever since the blighted dragon attacked Tarviso he had been different, the sight of such a beast in a town that he and his family were fighting so hard to save must have proved to him just how delicate it really was.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, his hand under his chin, toying with his beard as he so often did when deep in thought. “Neve is still gone” the silence had stretched on much too long for your liking, your anxiety gnawing at you as you watched him. You were hoping he’d reassure you, tell you you had no choice but to make the impossible call, to thank you for choosing his city over her’s. But instead he just stood there, silent, unmoving. “I’m worried she might not come back, Bellara says she will, but honestly I’m not sure I would if I were her.” You tipped your head further back, the last mouthful of coffee warming your throat as you put your mug on the shelf next to his. “Lucanis,” He didn’t budge at the use of his name, his shoulders barely even moving as he breathed. You stepped closer to him, your hand out in front of you to touch his shoulder. “If now’s not a good time I ca-“ He felt cooler to the touch, even through the layers of his shirt and vest, it was as though his body was giving off no heat.

“Smells like waterlily.” The voice was his, but not entirely. His accent was present but the pitch off, the tone heightened. You tensed, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next. Finally the body of your partner turned, his eyes glowing purple as you’ve seen only a handful of times before.

“Spite” The name feels sharp in your mouth, your tone giving away your hesitation. He leaned forward, sniffing you closer and you remained glued in place. He stepped forward, close enough you could wrap your arms around him if you really wanted to. You can feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, his face was so close to your skin you swear you could feel his lips against you for the briefest of seconds.

“You came to us for pleasure” You felt your face flush, of course it wasn’t your only intention, but you certainly weren’t going to turn it down if one thing led to another, but your relationship was still fairly new, and despite your longing for a physical component you weren’t intending to push those boundaries. But for your desires to be so bluntly outed there was a wave of embarrassment that washed over you.

“Let me talk to Lucanis.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest but not missing the way the demon’s purple eyes dragged down your form.

“It’s my turn with you.” You couldn't deny how impressed you were at Spite’s fairly calm demeanor, after listening to many of Lucanis’ one sided conversations with the demon you had expected him to be bordering on feral when speaking directly to him.

”Spite, I want to talk to Lucanis.” You added a bit more force to your tone, hoping the demon would grow tired of your insistence and go back to wherever it is he resides when Lucanis is in control. But when you felt hands on your hips, tugging you against the body you so desperately craved it took you a beat before you were struggling against the grip.

His lips were on your neck, lapping more than kissing. Groaning as he did so, every lick finishing with a gravelly moan, his hips rutting against your side as his hands balled the cotton of your shirt. “sp-pite- fuck” You tried to convince yourself to push away from him, but your longing for the Crow was fogging your brain. You could feel your core pulse, his tongue working wonders along your sensitive neck and the slightly distorted moans were making it difficult to resist.

“Spite” You tried to say but it ended up coming out as a whine rather than a demand, receiving what could only be referred to as a purr instead of a hum.

“Can smell how wet you are, Rook” The way he purred your name forced you to swallow a moan. Before you were able to even notice him walking you backwards, your back was against the stone wall of his makeshift bedroom. His fingers trying to unbutton the top clasp of your navy casual shirt, bought from a Crow vendor Lucanis had brought you to not that long ago. His patience lasted about as long as it took you to blink before he ripped the garment open, buttons falling to the ground around your feet.

Before you could chastise him about the now ruined shirt, the words died in your throat the moment his hands were on your bare waist. His blunt, well manicured nails dug into your skin, as he pressed your body against the wall, his lips finally on yours.

This wasn’t the first kiss you and Lucanis would have shared, but it certainly was the most heated. Every kiss with Lucanis had stopped before it went anywhere, his lips pulling away as soon as you tried to deepen it, never giving a reason but always retreating afterwards. But the way Spite kissed you, the way his tongue invaded your mouth, marking what you knew he’d refer to as his territory. You were trapped between him and the wall, his hands slipped down from your waist until he could roughly grab your ass, keeping your hips against his as he rutted against you, moans and grunts flowing from his mouth every time it wasn’t covered by your own lips.

“Had to…” He spoke into your mouth, his words fading as though he forgot he was even speaking “had to watch him. Watch him kiss you. Terribly.”

“Spite” you tried to sound as though his sentence offended, but it ended up coming out far more breathy than intended.

“Could smell you. Can always smell you. I always tell him. Tell him you want this. But he never listens to me.” He’s back to your neck, lapping at your skin, dragging his tongue down to your collarbones, his hands kneading the fat of your ass.

”Spite, I think- ah- I think it’s Lucanis’ turn.” Spite laughed against you, biting at your collar hard enough you weren’t sure if he had drawn blood or not.

“He’ll stop.” His mouth sank lower, nipping at the tops of your breast, “I know you don’t want to stop. Can smell it.”

“Spite, please.” Reluctantly he pulled away from your chest, your eyes meeting his glowing purple sockets, and somehow you could have sworn you saw his expression soften for a fraction of a second. You reached forward, cupping his cheek as you had done countless times to Lucanis, hoping the demon found the same comfort in it that the Crow did. He pressed his cheek into your palm,

“Will I get. Another turn?” You couldn’t resist nodding, finding yourself thinking how cute he was, despite the fact he was still pressing you against a wall and had torn your shirt in two.

You watched the demon blink, his purple eyes closing and reopening with black pupils, brows furrowed in confusion as he stared into your eyes, blinking a few times as though he was trying to clear sleep from his vision. Lucanis’ breath quickened, immediately trying to assess the situation that he had just woken up in. “Did he hurt you?!” His tone was dripping in anxiety as he stepped away from you, your hand falling from his cheek as he hurriedly looked around.

His eyes moved down your body then back up, pausing before repeating the same thing, slower this time. The tips of his ears burned red as he realized what had happened as he unknowingly slept. “Mierda” He looked down at the buttons that lay around your feet.

It was impossible to not notice how he was straining against his slacks, his eyes everywhere but your gaze. “I-I sho- I should go” You wanted to stop him, grab him by the wrist before he was out of reach, but your mind was still foggy with lust and craving more of what Spite had been giving you, but this time you wanted to feel Lucanis’ lips against you.

You stood there for what felt like an hour but you knew it couldn’t have been that long, leaning back against the wall behind you, hoping the cool stone would help clear your thoughts and bring back some reason.

By the time you went to go find the Crow, the sky surrounding the Lighthouse had shifted to black, the pieces of debris still floating around the buildings as though it were as normal as clouds in the sky. As you climbed the rickety stairs that led to the top of the dining hall you glanced around the courtyard, trying to see if any of your companions were out. You expected to see Emmrick on the balcony of the main house where he so often went at night, taking note of the ethers in the Fade. But tonight there wasn’t a soul outside apart from you, Lucanis and Spite.

He stood at the far side of the roof, bent over the railing, his head hung down so his forehead was resting against his arm. No matter how quietly you approached him, he always knew you were there. You could tell he knew by the way his body stiffened, his shoulders tensing and his head moving so he was looking out over the courtyard.

He needed time, time to figure out what had just happened, how far things had gone, time for his unexpected erection to go away, and time away from your intoxicating scent. But of course you were coming up the wooden steps not long after him.

He tried to pull himself together, locking his eyes on the back of the wolf statue in the middle of the courtyard, the cool ‘night’ air was the only thing that was keeping his cheeks from turning pink again. You stood beside him silently, leaning over the edge of the building, taking in the view of the Lighthouse.

You could feel how uncertain he was, his hands clenched the railing, his posture even straighter than normal as he pretended like he was taking in the sights just as you were. The breeze reminded you of your open shirt, which you tried to hold close with one hand while the other pushed through your bangs in an attempt to ease your uncertainty. “I’m not sure what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, desperate to break the silence that stretched between the two of you.

“Then why say anything.”

“Because I’m worried if I don’t start talking, you might never speak to me again.” You hazarded a look at him from the corner of your eye, hoping to gauge his reaction to some extent, but it remained stoic.

The silence stretched on until the sky darkened even more, the colour the same shade of blue as the Crows’ armor when you first laid eyes on him. You fidgeted anxiously, changing positions over and over again as the time passed, until you had your back to the railing, head up looking for any kind of star above you. “I should have been more careful.” It almost sounded like the words were meant for himself rather than you, as though he were reprimanding himself.

“Why?”

“He could have hurt you…I…I could have hurt you.” You couldn’t stop the little scoff that slipped out, turning to look at him with a smile across your lips, meeting his eyes for the first time since Spite had relinquished control. “Is now really the time to laugh?”

“If you think I couldn’t take you in a fight, you’re sorely mistaken, Crow.” You watched his eyebrow raise, the corner of his mouth following, but only slightly.

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“I don’t know,” You sidestepped, bringing your shoulders closer so you could nudge against him “Why, is it working?”

“This is serious, Rook.” He turned to face you, his hand on his hip as he shifted his weight. “I let my guard down, and you…he forced himself on you.”

“That’s the thing,” You stood up straight, turning to look at him fully while you rubbed at the back of your neck, knowing that the next thing out of your mouth had the potential to end your relationship before it had really started. “He didn’t force himself on me, he more…initiated it, I guess.” You watched his eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what you were saying. “I could have pushed him away if I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t?” There was an underlying disgust in his voice, as though the thought of being with him was so vile he couldn’t even pretend to understand.

“I didn’t.” The silence left as heavy as the weight of the world that seemed to live on your shoulders. He broke what little eye contact you had held, shifting his weight as he put more of his weight on the railing, his hair slipping from behind his ear.

“Why didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, if there had been even a bit of a breeze, you may have missed his question all together.

“Because I wanted it.” You watched his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening so you could see his teeth grind. “But I wanted it from you.”

“From me?” You couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped from your lips at his clearly, surprised tone.

”Lucanis,” You leaned against the small wall, one hand on the railing the other perched on your hip. “This can’t possibly come as a surprise.” He looked over at you, cheeks just a hint of pink.

“I just- I didn’t know you wanted…that.” He dropped his eyes again but not before dragging along the sliver of bare skin he could see between the seams of your torn shirt.

And to think he had touched you, kissed you, dragged his hands down your bare skin, and didn’t get to enjoy even an ounce of it.

“Consider this your formal announcement that, Lucanis-“ You stepped closer to him, waiting a beat before he too straightened, turning to face you so you could press your forehead to his. “I desperately want exactly what Spite was doing. But I want to try it with you.” The only response you received was a low hum that you felt rubble from his chest and into yours as he grabbed your waist and tugged you against him.

#dragon age veilguard #dragon age lucanis #dragon age rook #lucanis romance #lucanis x reader #lucanis x rook #datv lucanis #da4 lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #spite dellamorte #dragon age smut #lucanis smut

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dearmisshoney · 1 month ago

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learnt this little trick from ari. you're safe, anonnie! 🙏

now, now, about a malfoy! reader?? hmmm 👀

"listen, theodore. i don't want our friendship to end ."

he knew draco was serious when he addresses his long-time friend by his full name.

"i value you, of course. but she is my sister, mate. i can't just–" he was stammering, at a loss of words when it came to expressing how much he actually cared about his younger sibling.

"i get it, draco. your father made it absolutely clear yesterday." theo interrupted his little crisis, raising his palm in front of his face to stop draco's ramble.

his talk with your father did not go well. it was a disaster, really! and he was still obviously displeased with the outcomes, by the way he was constantly averting his gaze, or how he found himself rolling his eyes in annoyance with every remembrance of yesterday's attics.

"don't approach my daughter again, ruffian. i will make you regret it!" theo repeated the words old malfoy told him, going as far as imitating his acid voice.

"he was a bit rude but–"

"you don't have to worry! i know what i have to do." theo dropped his palm on draco's shoulder in a reassuring manner and gave him a knowing look.

he was giving you up.

and that's how they parted ways, both parties now assured that this entanglement between you and theo was done.

or was it?

bing.

dolcezza: qickie in the janitor closet?

your message lit up his phone screen mere minutes after his talk with draco in the university's courtyard.

with a smug smile on his face, he swiped on the notification and swiftly tapped out a response:

be there in 5.

#~ 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 #brother's bsf!theo #malfoy!reader #he would never give you up #he would leave extra marks on you just to spite them #🍦 anon #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #x reader #smut

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earthfire-75 · 6 months ago

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Demons have needs too

Genre: Dragon Age Veilguard

Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Rook de Riva, Spite x Rook , Spite!Lucanis, female!Rook, Named Rook, otherwise, non descript

Warnings: smut, just smut PWP , knife play?, no blood, demon possession, dub-con

Notes: purple italics are Spite's thoughts/speaking

Wherein we wonder if Spite isn't actually a Desire demon...

Luna sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Heading into the kitchen, she found Lucanus’ coffee maker next to the stove. She smiled to herself, making herself a cup and a fried egg sandwich for breakfast, then she would head to the training room, where she would also likely find Lucanis. She leaned against the doorway as she watched him, jumping a little when he spoke without looking at her.

“You are improving, my friend. I almost did not hear you.”

Friend? Not friend. Want!

She hid the sadness she felt at his use of friend. She desires so much more than his friendship, had since the last time they had seen each other. But she had only been a teenager then. Now, seeing him again, she knows what she feels isn't infatuation. There is a sexual tension that comes with their sparring, however, and she needs to be careful. She's certain Lucanis Dellamorte is neither ready for any sort of romance yet, nor interested in her that way to begin with.

“Almost only counts in playing horseshoes,” she teased.

“And hand grenades. Or so I ‘ve heard.”

Lucanis turned around, finally facing the girl…no, woman…entertaining the training room. He remembers the teenager he last met years ago. She was beautiful then, but now? Now she made his heart race and his cock twitch, for Makers sake. Now he both looked forward to and dreaded their sparring. The sexual tension it brought…he wanted to …do things to her...

Fuck her, the demon supplied in a whisper. Make her ours! Spite breathed in deep. Smells like…lavender dipped in honey.

Lucanis, for his part, does his best to ignore the demon, giving Luna a smile that's meant to be reassuring as he withdraws his daggers from their sheaths. “Ready for our sparring session, my Moon?” It's a slip, one he deliberately does not acknowledge, in hopes that she missed it. But of course she does not. Still, Luna says nothing, refusing to believe he meant it in the way her heart wishes he did.

* *

He had her pinned against the wall, hands above her head, his dagger pressed firmly against the hollow of her throat. His eyes were ablaze with something she dare not name and something more sinister as he started her down.

Fuck her! The demon was worked up now, more difficult to ignore.

Pretty. Pretty tits, pretty pussy.

Never kissed, never touched

Wants, needs, aches. Aches for us!

The demon tightens their grip on Luna’s wrists. Their eyes drop to her breasts, sliding the blade from her throat down to the first button of her shirt.

We want, we need.

Throb, pulse, ache. Ache for her!

“Lucanis?”

A deep growl - Take, claim, taste, fuck!

Ours! All ours! Fuck her or we will!

At the first sign of hesitation, Spite growls in frustration, shoving Lucanis' consciousness to the side, but not down. The demon wanted its host to remember this.

“We want to see those pretty tits.” The voice that came out of Lucanis was not entirely his own and Luna swallowed around something stuck in her throat as the hand holding his dagger flicked, sending the first button flying. The second and third aren't far behind as Luna's breasts rise and fall heavily.

“Pretty Moon. We won’t hurt you. Well, maybe a little, but we think you'll like.,” the demon spoke as it continued to flick away at the remaining buttons. “But we won't deny ourselves anymore. We want you wrapped around our cock. Not our fist.”

The blade slides back up, between her breasts, cuts through the lacings of her bra, then uses it to move the shirt away from her breasts, exposing them completely. They circle her left breast with the dagger, spiraling closer and closer to Luna's tightening nipple.

“Such lovely, perfect tits.” Spite takes her nipple between its teeth, rolling it until pleasure borders pain.

“We want to tell you, but Lucanis is a coward. Big scary assassin can't tell the pretty how much we want to feel her tits, suck her nipples and ram our cock into her dripping cunt over and over until she's screaming our name, drunk on the absolute fucking we’ll l give her.”

The demon takes the blade to her right breast, offering up the same treatment as its twin. “But no, he leaves that for me to do. So We'll tell you every dirty thing we want to do to you.”

Luna hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop herself from squirming, squeezing her thighs together, arching her breasts forward and moaning as her nipples hardened and her pussy pulsed with desire. The demon breathed in deep, taking in her scent and picking up on her sweet arousal. It dropped their eyes to her still covered bottom half. With the dagger still in hand, the demon cut the ties holding Luna's pants up and watched them fall to her ankles before swiftly and carefully cutting off her panties at the hips.

It slides the blade up her thigh from knee to apex, watching goosebumps form all over her skin, making her nipples tighten even more and a gush of desire floods her. The demon gathers some on the blade carefully, as if gathering something precious. “ We want to taste you,” it whispers before licking her gathered juices from the blade, slow and sensual.

“To fuck you with our tongue and fingers. To fill your dripping, aching cunt in every way you’ll let him…Let us.”

The demon drops the dagger, lifting Lucanis' hand to cup her breast, lowering his head and swirling his tongue around her npple, nipping at the sensitive bud just to hear her cry out, to make another gush of arousal slide down the insides of her thighs.

“We've wanted you like this the longest. Every time we've sparred together, we’ve imagined fucking you into the wall after. Your tits bouncing in our face, your aching cunt squeezing tight around our equally aching cock.” It finally pressed their cock into her thigh as he kicked her legs apart, making her fuck their leg as she feels just how hard they are.

“We’ve imagined bending you over the kitchen table, our hand twisted in your hair, fucking you senseless from behind, not caring who might walk in and see it. Imagined tying you to your bed, legs spread as far apart as possible, arms above your head as you are now, helpless, dripping, begging as blade and tongue trace the shape of your perfect body, especially your tits. Maker, we really love your tits…then we bury our fingers deep into your cunt until you scream out your first and second orgasms. And then, of you’re a really good girl, we fuck your cunt with our cock.” It pressed said cock harder into her thigh to punctuate the point.

It shifted their hips just enough to be right next to her apex and began dry humping. The hand cupping her breast now pinching and pulling at her nipple. It swirled their tongue around the opposite nipple before closing their lips around the hard bud and sucking. The action made Luna moan and her hips jerk. “Please,” she begged, “Lucanis, please…”

“Shhhh, little Moon. Lucanis is…present enough. Point of no return, Pretty. Let us take care of you, let us fuck you, little Moon. Let us…” Frustratingly, the demon found it's host had more influence on them than they thought. They couldn't just fuck her like they wanted. Not without permission.

“Yes!” She couldn't take anymore teasing. Tears stung her eyes thinking her weakness now damned them both, but her hips begged the demon to take her, to fuck her in the ways it described. In a moment she felt the heaviness of his cock before it was teasing at her entrance and sliding all too easily into her, stretching her, filling her.

It did not ease the aching, but heightened it, her cries of pleasure/pain growing louder with each thrust. The demon growls, releasing her wrists to grip her hips in both hands, practically bouncing her on their cock, manipulating how she squeezes around it. She has to grip their shoulders to hold herself up.

“Please…” Luna angles herself to lean back a bit. “I need…” She feels them reach between her legs, thumb finding her clit and rubbing hard, rough circles into it and her pitch becomes higher as she now fucks herself on their cock.

They watch, in awe of her even as they chase their own orgasm. Indeed her breasts bounce, her face twisted in pleasure, sacred and profane all at once. A final thrust of their hips and she screamed out their name as predicted. But their own release comes with a whimper as they bury their head into the crook of her neck.

“You could bring us to our knees, little Moon. You could bring a demon to its knees…”

#lucanis dellamorte #spite #dav4 #dragon age veilguard #Lucanis dellamorte x rook #spite x rook #smut #welcome to my monsterfucker dumpster fire

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coffeeanddaggers · 4 months ago

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POSSESSIVE LUCANIS/SPITE IS EVERYTHING TO ME

(Little NSFW crumb at the end)

Lucanis is totally more subtle with his possession of THEIR Rook.

Lucanis' hand going to rest on the others lower back when they are at a party, his thumb lightly stroking over the spot to remind the other he is there.

Making sure to tuck hair behind his loves ear or fix the others clothes in front of the offending and TO FUCKING CLOSE party trying to catch the Pretty eyes of rook, and if he is really upset use his fingers to guide the other chin over to look at him and only him while asking some simple like if they want a drink or a dance and ignoring anyone else's there.

SPITE IS FERAL

Rook barely has time to speak before Spite has them pulled behind a pillar or into a room and next thing they know Spite has their pants off and is between their legs, legs up on the demons shoulders and Rook having to cover their mouth or bite their gloved knuckles to keep their moans and shouts muffles as Spite devours them. Lucanis finishing where the demon started, his brown eyes almost black and hungry, his hands gripping shaking thighs.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age veilguard #nico de riva #datv #rookanis #the demon of vyrantium #lucanis #possessive Spite #possessive Lucanis #shameless smut #nico would be a mess #nico de riva x Lucanis Dellamorte #anyone draw my rook like this with the new first talon lol?#yall dont have to #unless 😏😜

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ficandkaboodle · 4 months ago

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The Stroke of Midnight (Copia x Fem!Reader) - NSFW

A/N: Veteran smut-writers, y'all deserve a hillside of marigolds and picnics complete with pasta and endless breadsticks 🫡 (Seriously, though, thank you to all who've put up with me on this beast. It put me on life-support just long enough to finish it in time! Y'all deserve the pasta picnic and some cookie boxes with dope-ass cookies) It’s my first attempt at non-blurb smut so you’ve been warned… Banner Credit Goes to @saradika-graphics! Word Count: 5897. Shoot dang, almost made it to 5900! CW: Reader and Copia are buzzed so expect many, many references to alcohol and its consumption. And you know what happens when Copia gets buzzed . . .👀 So on that note . . . MDNI for sexy times while intoxicated!

Shady business and unfeasible expectations be damned (or perhaps blessed): the Satanic Church knew how to throw an actually good New Years Eve party. Of course, it would've been given enough if it relied solely on the expectation that alcohol flowed like water. But no: They went the extra mile and actually included food. Not dinky little cocktail wienies and room temperature hors d'oeuvres – honest to Beelzebub food!

Now that was a commitment to making sure everyone in the congregation was having a good time, in your opinion. Everywhere you looked, there was some form of excitement: Siblings dancing; Clergy members opening party crackers while drunkenly cackling at the curse of glitter they'd inflicted on each other; ghouls challenging each other to shot-downing competitions; and everything in-between.

In short, it was a beautiful bacchanalia with which to welcome another year of spreading the Old One's word.

The only thing that could make it actual perfection, though? Perhaps if your boyfriend of a month and a half were actually by your side. Or, at the very least, within eye shot!

You weren't entirely shocked that he'd disappeared. Being Frater Imperator, it was only an expectation that he might get pulled away for some ass-kissing from residential and visiting eminences alike. But it had been almost half an hour, and your own friends had wandered off to makeout or have other types of fun with their own significant others at this point.

Far be it from you to consider yourself clingy – you liked your independence. But . . . Okay, maybe some sappy part of you still lingered inside, coloring your thoughts and expectations. Specifically, they were colored with the same black and pink of Copia's lips.

Part of you wondered what cheesy holiday romcom you were trying to replicate, holding out for something as cliche as a kiss on New Years. You’d even gotten dolled up in a cutesy mini dress like one you’d probably see in such a sappy flick!

But then again, Lilith and Eve sinned so that man could be born and kiss the way that he did. Deadline aside, getting one at anytime tonight would be the perfect assurance that you were truly entering a brand new era of your life.

So . . . It was probably understandable that you may have looked a little pouty to the sober-enough onlooker. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking a sip of the cocktail you'd been nursing in order to pacify yourself. By now, you were starting to realize a burning hum in your ears and cheeks as the alcohol began to seep into your blood.

You were beginning to contemplate giving in and venturing to the snack table for some garlic-dipped pita chips (you'd been staring longingly at them since you first arrived, only holding off because of the coveted Kiss), when –

There! Finally! You knew that jacket! It's hard not to, considering it was a glittery gold. It caught so much light that it was frankly a wonder how you hadn't found his gilded disco ball ass sooner. Especially given how . . . awkward his movements are. Uneven, always moving too far left, then too far right before barely uprighting and –

Oh. Oh no.

At one point, he stumbled to a wobbly stop, head cocking and eyes squinting before flying open wide.

A smile grew on Copia’s face as his arms flew up in front of him, hollering out a notably slurred, "There she iiiisssss! Amore mio, la mia vita, la mia mela – " He paused to make a singular yet violent hiccup. "Mela alla cannelaaaaa!!"

You met him halfway in his path towards you, worried that he might collapse on the marble floor if you didn't at least try to catch him. Copia wasn't an especially heavy person but in his drunken state, he seemed to disregard the courtesy of not foisting his entire self onto you. Instead, he was far too focused on hugging you close, mushing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Ahhh, topina. I -hic- missed you!" Your nose wrinkled as a waft of a powerful alcohol flowed down to your nose. You had a bit of a buzz going yourself but at least you had a cute little cocktail to thank for it. Judging by your burning olefactories, Copia was on some of the harder stuff.

"I – ugh – I missed you, too," you responded carefully. It was an awkward act to try and balance the remainder of your drink while also getting Copia to balance flat on his own two feet but you somehow managed. Call that a New Year’s Eve Miracle. "Geez, what happened to you?"

You may as well have told a corny little joke with how he giggled.

"Some Clergy members gave me some shots of rum from Ja -hic-maica! Coconuts!" You couldn't tell what he was laughing at now: The fun time he was having, or the look of horror on your face. Harder stuff indeed.

Now you had an important decision to make: Either you found a seat, prayed that he sat still long enough for you to build up a plate of fried and greasy foods for him to sober up on; or you played the part of the boring old partner and marched him to his chambers for an early evening (well, as early as 11:18pm could be considered).

You heard a sigh slither into the middle of your thoughts as Copia's arms wrapped around you once more, nudging you back into him. The threat of him putting his weight back on you was enough for you to come to a quick decision: Sober him up just enough to where he could take ten steps without the threat of collapse, then take him to bed. With how he was standing, there was just no way you were going to be able to make your way to the other side of the Great Hall, never mind the other side of the building.

You felt confident with your choice just by the journey to a free chair and table alone.

"Okay, oookay," you grunted as you tried to angle his rump into the seat. Copia let out a disappointed sound too young for someone of his age as you gently de-tangled yourself from his embrace. Inconveniences aside, you had to fight back the desire to coo at how adorable he was being. Copia was always affectionate with you, but it appeared that alcohol added a whole different layer to that.

"Don't worry, Caro " you softly assured. "I'm just going to get you a little something to nosh on, okay? I'll be right back. But only if you stay put, alright? If you leave – even if it's just to go find me – I won't be able to find you. So can you be a good boy and do that for me? Stay put?"

When you saw his expression collapse into a somber pout, you wondered if perhaps he found your tone patronizing. Judging by the sulky "fine" he uttered, however, it was apparent that he was more upset by the fact you couldn't be fused at the hip forever.

You could work with that. It wouldn't be long anyway. Even when you returned with a flimsy red paper plate covered in tortilla chips, a scoop of veggie lo mein, and two egg rolls, you could tell that the look of joy on his face was only meant for you. He would've disregarded the little spread entirely and latched himself back on you if you didn't take the time to place both it and a cup of water before him with the gentle instruction that he tuck in.

"Carefully," you were sure to add. A tipsy gait was bad enough; if he ate himself sick, you'd be even further out of your depth than you were already beginning to feel.

To your relief, he listened, proceeding to nibble on an egg roll's crunchy wrapping. Good. Now all you had to do was sit and wait for his system to clear up a bit. Your back and feet cried with relief as you plopped yourself down on the seat next to him – your first and only real mistake of the evening.

In hindsight, you would compare it to being like a living lava lamp. Maybe there was some science to it or whatever, but you were becoming increasingly unable to apply logic. All you knew was that the longer you sat, the warmer your face began to feel and the more bubbly your brain seemed to become. The flare of alcohol was rising inside of you like a hot river, flowing upwards, into your chest, into your cheeks, and into your brain. You could practically feel your sensibilities flickering like a lightbulb threatening to go out.

Crap. Curse that cute cocktail, it had betrayed you after all! Your eyes fluttered as though that would do literally anything for you besides make you look frazzled.

"Wha’s the matter, Schricchio?" Copia sounded only slightly less slurred, though the fact that he was able to pin your shift in demeanor after only an egg roll and a half stood as a good sign. All the more reason for you to remain firm and stand your ground against the liquid possession threatening to take over your senses.

Copia needed you to be the sober one here, even if he didn't really know it. You shook your head and nudged your cocktail further away from the both of you.

"Bad aftertaste is starting to hit," you claimed. A part of you mourned that you would have to abandon it so soon. The dull pain was slightly remedied when Copia wordlessly offered you a bite from the remainder of his fried treat. It was nice to know that there were some things about Copia that not even alcohol could change.

"Are you mad at me?"

He sounded quiet. The sounds of the party grew softer and softer as you both walked further from the Great Hall. On occasion, you'd pass a couple making out or a Sister of Sin drunkenly sobbing over her phone while her equally sloshed friends warned her against texting "him" back.

Otherwise, though, most of the Abbey's residents and attendees were either back where the action was happening, or making some action happen in their rooms. Which was where you, as a Sibling yourself, would probably be heading to once you got Copia situated in his own quarters. As sweet on you as he was, your relationship was still new; you didn't feel it was right to impose and spend the night without his permission.

And even if you had it, you'd have to second guess if it was a situation where anyone was being taken advantage of. He seemed slightly better than he did nearly half an hour ago, no longer launching himself on top of you in an unsuccessful effort to fuse. Even his balance seemed somewhat improved. However, the rum was clearly still in his system, making his cheeks and nose run red and his sensitivities run tender.

That was probably why he sounded so nervous and shy when he'd asked you his strange question.

You knew he couldn't see the confusion on your face, not when he was trailing behind you, but you nonetheless wore it. "No? Why would you think that?"

You probably weren't convincing, given that you barely turned to glance back at him, but you needed to keep your purposeful stride going. Evidently, Copia had a better handle of his alcohol than you did, seeing as the bit of egg roll you'd eaten did virtually nothing for you.

If you broke the intense concentration it was taking for you to avoid wobbling, your barely concealed cover would be blown – and you'd probably faceplant and force a buzzed old man to drag you off somewhere to hide your shame. He’d probably throw out his back and then you’d both enter the new year with wounded bodies and wounded pride.

Copia worried his bottom lip. "For getting silly. And for making us leave the party early."

You nearly scoffed with amusement. Did he really think that that would be all it took to upset you? The poor dear, so darling and worried even when on the brink of being absolutely sauced.

You sighed, the fruity smell of your cocktail fluttering back at you. "Issa New Year's party, Co: Everyone is drunk."

Including me, you thought with guilt. You winced as you realized a bit of slur was beginning to drip into your speech but carried on. "But I dun really care about everyone; I care about you. And a little while ago, I was worried our dear Frater was going to get himself hurt, y'know?"

"I know . . ." he mumbled. The hushed tone of his voice implied a guilt of his own, and it hurt your heart to hear him like that.

You knew good and well that Copia's onstage persona was more confident and bombastic than who he really was offstage. But to see him question or be uncertain about something still tugged a saddening chord inside you. And the alcohol no doubt made it worse . . .

Fuck it. Your conviction to maintain speed was tossed out the nearest window as you slowed your pace until you were right alongside your glittery guy.

"Hey." You entwined your fingers with his, flesh meeting warm leather. At fifty-something years-old, Copia wore the expression of a young child experiencing the wonder of their crush talking to them. Even in your fizzling state, you adored it and hoped you'd remember it forever.

"I mean it."

You gave his hand an affirming squeeze. "I was worried about you, y'know?" The cocktail told you to lean in and burrow against his arm, and you found yourself obliging. The sequins of his coat weren't the most welcoming texture, but the fact that they were on him made them 100 times more bearable to you.

"I wan' take care of you . . . 'Cause you're mine." Welp. There went the goal of trying to bite back your slurring. But Copia didn't seem to mind. Far from it, if his response was anything to go by, in fact.

Returning the gentle squeeze, he sighed dreamily. "You're so nice . . ."

You lightly giggled either from the cocktail further encroaching your senses or from feeling your partner press a small kiss to your hair. "You're not so bad yourself, Frater."

You felt him nuzzle his nose against the spot a kiss had previously been place, then a flutter of a deep inhale and respective exhale. "'Smell nice, too . . ." You almost wanted to make a sarcastic comment about how sure, the residual smells of debauchery from the party definitely made for an intoxicating bouquet. But as his hand released yours, only to wander to your waist, you couldn't help but feel that might've actually been apt in this moment.

A gasp popped from your lips, followed by a light squeal of delight and ticklishness as he gave the tender flesh a teasing squeeze. Your reflexive wiggling only stopped when his other hand crept further up your back. As he drew your bodies closer, you couldn't help but notice how his personal heat felt . . . more intense. Even in the drafty halls of the old structure, Copia was more than enough to set your cheeks on fire.

Well, that, and the intoxication wafting from him.

The gleam of his left eye pierced through the darkness like the stare of a predator on prey. And even in the haze of euphoria, there was a steadiness in them that made sure to lock in on you and only you.

"You feel nice . . ." The low rumble of his voice made a shudder run through you.

Oh, yeah: That Jamaican rum was still there. And no amount of food or water was going to hold it back from taking control of your Copia. Like a devil lying in wait, it struck at the perfect time: A barely-lit corridor, no Siblings or Ghouls or Clergy patrolling, far enough away so that the sounds of the party were just barely above a loud whisper.

Even a more sober you wouldn't have stood a chance. Petrified with lust and intrigue, you were the perfect kill. The rough kiss he pressed to your lips came easily, and you could only welcome it with a heady moan.

The tastes of cocktails and hard rum mingled together between your tongues, overpowering any other taste including your own. In your increasingly buzzed state, you were beginning to understand why perhaps Copia bothered to drink more than one shot of rum: At least when coming from him, it tasted diabolically divine.

A soft whimper for more filled the space between your separated lips, then muffled and obliged when they wetly reunited once more.

Uncoordinated and stumbling footsteps echoed through the corridor as you felt Copia gently but insistingly ushering you backwards until your back found purchase against the wall of an alcove.

There was a stark juxtaposition in that moment, where the cold and uneven stone biting into your bare back urged you even closer against the burning, soft hold of your beloved. The contrast had a dizzying effect, and you weren't sure which temperature made your nipples pebble beneath your clothing more as you released a trembling sigh.

Your thighs twitched out of reflex but that was all the rum demon needed to secure yet another opportunity to take and take. A low, spicy, coconut-scented moan was coupled with gloved hands removing themselves from the curve of your waist and back before returning to your body – with one traveling upwards to your chest and its twin sloping downward to grip at the meat of your hip.

In the short time you'd been an official couple, Copia had made many things clear: That he was the sort to treasure the one he loved, and that he had a fondness for breasts of all shapes and sizes had been but a few of them. And given how he gently cupped yours, relishing in its weight and warmth against his palm, it was apparent that this held even through the haze of inebriation. Not even the ambitions of the rum could blind him to the want of cherishing your body.

If he'd only remained fondling you, you would have been plenty happy. Both parties were enjoying themselves as Copia's thumb glided back and forth over your nipple as though it had found a new toy to play with; and the bead itself seemed to crave his stimulation even through the material of your dress, bending to his touch and tickling your senses.

But with a hardening grip, you were reminded of where his other hand had gone. It pinned your hip as close to the wall as possible, not allowing for even the slightest wriggle away.

"Amore." A single word made uneven by laborious panting. But even then, you knew what he intended: He needed you to stay put, to not move an inch. All the easier for him to position his hips against yours.

Even though your dress made the contact somewhat awkward, Copia's reaction portrayed utter bliss. It was just enough for his hardening dick to become aware of even the slightest softness of your mound. That was all it took for his head to tilt back to release a sound that combined a whine of pleasure with a groan of hunger.

He gave the connection a tentative movement, pressing himself against a slot only the barrier of clothing prevented him from fully entering. The friction proved to be all he needed to give your warmth a few more, testing thrusts before giving way to more frequent, eager, and harder ones.

When his hardness finally found the tenderness of your awakening clit (as evidenced by the full-body jolt and hiccuped, "Oh!" you gave), he knew he'd finally found the angle he wanted.

In the nanoseconds between his hips pulling back and rushing forward, you found yourself just sober enough to remember something. You had never paid mind to because it appeared to just be rumors from ghouls and slander from the Ministry's former director.

But as Copia's hips began to dig into yours, accompanied by hot pants that fanned against your face, you had confirmation: The Frater, when just drunk enough, loved a good frottage.

You squeaked with warm delight as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, forcing your abdomens closer as your lower bodies began to meld together in one humping blur. He, of course, accepted the embrace, shakily endearing you as "Schricchina" as your cute little noises continued.

What probably had once housed something as insignificant as a potted plant was quickly becoming the world’s smallest shrine to lust. The liturgy came in the form of whimpers and moans, your prayers coming from slurred utterings of "please"s and "fuck"s and garbled Italian he had yet to teach you the meanings of.

When it wasn't being attacked with sloppy, tonguing kisses, your mouth hung open, puffing out small pants and tiny "oh"s. You didn't care how you must have looked as drool threatened to fall from your lips; all you cared about was getting Copia to nudge at your swelling clit again and again and again and so on until you grew tired. (Which, of course, would be never.)

The glittery sequins of his jacket bit into your fingers as they gripped against his back and shoulders, but you felt none of it. Nor did you feel the grit of the alcove wall against your back as Copia's feverish movements caused your body to rock against it.

If it wasn't the feel of his hands squeezing and playing with you; his mouth nipping and sucking and licking at whatever flesh he could reach; or the enthusiastic thrust of his dick searching for your wet warmth, then you weren't physically or mentally able to pay it any mind.

Copia himself didn't seem to know what to do with himself; caught in a stupor of his own desires, he wanted to do it all, taste it all, and feel it all. His forehead would press against the junction of your neck, only for him to raise almost immediately so that he could carve his teeth there before applying wet suckles there to salve the reddening spot. His hands would leave their positions, only to instantly regret it and miss the bounce of your breast and the twitching of your hips with every thrust he gave.

He was delirious in a concoction of his own drunkenness, lust, and greed, and he only wanted it more. Unfortunately, this current position, with how your dress lay over your thighs, wasn't going to cut it! A growl rumbled from deep within his heaving chest as he roughly gripped your thigh before hoisting it up to rest against his hip. Your body would have slipped from the position if not for his own thick thigh coming up to seat half your jiggling ass against.

The change in positioning was awkward only for the amount of time it took for him to assure you were situated into place. Otherwise? The blast of pleasure was immediate. With your thighs now properly spread, so, too, did your lips, causing your wetness an easier escape to be collected by your panties. Every thrust against them smeared your slick and created a sticky sound that only seemed to spur Copia on once he realized it lay beneath the rustling of your clothing and your collective noises.

Gritting his teeth did nothing to sharpen the oozing, rasping purrs of "Yes"s. The mantra almost sounded as though he were even thanking you; for what, you were in no headspace to determine. All you knew (or cared to know) was that the feelings were mutual.

"A-Amore," he managed to wantonly string together. "A-are you cl-close? You gonna cum with me?"

His voice had gone husky by now, but even the roughened edges couldn’t take away from how pleading he sounded. The effect it had on you was almost shameful as you could feel your walls clenching, grasping desperately for a dick that wasn’t even inside it yet. A moan, the loudest you’d uttered yet, burst forward from your awaiting lips.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please! Right there, Co, right there –!!" All you could do was murmur mindlessly, begging, pleading for him to just. Keep. Going. There! And ever the dutiful lover, your Frater was more than happy to oblige.

Through eyes fluttering through wave after wave of sensation, you could make out how your lover’s expression began to tighten. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth wore into his kiss-swollen lip. It was as though he were concentrating. And judging by the increase in tempo and form, he very well may have been.

Thrusts that had been straight forward until now began to curve and rotate, not at all unlike the effortless hip movements he would perform during his frontman days. The devilish thrusts that just watching footage of would send your pussy salivating and craving him. Feeling them on you, experiencing how direct they were, how thoroughly they hit all the sweet spots on such a small target –

You could've broken into sobs with how good the friction felt. How every streak of his cock left a trail of blissful fire lapping at your needy little clit. Your hips would trail after his own, desperately trying to mimic his movements and catch each rut his body applied to yours.

Your breaths pitched higher and higher as words melted into incoherent, single syllable sounds. If any more direction for what you needed to get off were required, you would have to fight to give them form. It was perhaps by sheer luck (or the interference of Asmodeus himself) that all Copia needed was to listen to your whimpers, your screeches that only vaguely resembled cries for more, and note how your hands struggled to commit to one place to know precisely what his good girl needed.

You'd long since stopped caring who all heard you – all that mattered was that you came, even if it was only on Copia's clothed cock. And you would have only been able to hear the sounds of your dry humping session, if not for the collective sounds of the Abbey raising in unison.

It rippled from back where the party was at, came from behind muffled doors, was cried out into the night from the rooftops outside:

"TWENTY . . . NINETEEN . . . EIGHTEEN . . . SEVENTEEN . . ."

The numbers were sharp and sobering. The countdown! The New Year!

"C-Copia," you gulped. You tried to reorient your grasp on the man but the continued rolling of his hips made doing so difficult. Your body continued to bounce, threatening your semblance of mind. Worse still, your body continued to gobble up every sensation and threatened to render you no better than a dumb animal once more.

"Copia, the countdown – " You could feel your thighs beginning to quiver, your stomach beginning to do that telltale clench. Your clit popped demandingly as your petals fluttered in their mess. Without thinking, your hand flew to the back of Copia’s head and snagged at the hair.

The shriek this man made! Not only that, but the hold he had on you: Your tugging had clearly registered to his poor brain that this was a demand – he had to go all out. N o w.

". . . ELEVEN . . . TEN! NINE!"

"C-Cara, amore mio, tesoro mio," he practically choked before his words dissolved into a puddle of Italian and English and a third language you couldn't place. The final time he regained any semblance of coherency, it was only to demand one thing:

"Cum."

It was not rugged in any sense. It was husky, rickety. Desperate. For you and only you.

The leg that had been hoisted instinctively curled around Copia’s tensing backside in an effort to pull him in close and keep him in place. His hips stilled in a frozen thrust, tiny quakes shaking between the both of you in the spot you connected most. A white-hot flood overtook his senses, robbing him of the ability to even utter of moan of completion.

But for you, you still experienced everything in one overwhelming blanket: Stars and fireworks unlike those you'd ever seen on New Years flooded your vision. The final rut of his cock striking against your tender nub was all you could feel shocking your entire body, tingling your fingers and toes to the point of numbness. All you could smell was Copia's cologne mingling with the perfume you'd no doubt mostly sweat away. All you could taste was, yet again, the addicting taste you and Copia had created, as his tongue once again swirled into your mouth with an animalistic groan.

And all you heard was a cluttered chorus:

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

The whistling and booming of fireworks roared into the night as distant sounds of cheers and party horns and pots banging pans went off.

They weren't even the first thing you noticed as the waves of your orgasm began to ebb. In fact, even as the familiar sounds and smells of the new year began to wisp into the hallway from windows and passageways alike, all that filled your senses was . . . Copia.

The feel of his warm body slouching against yours, the impact of his orgasm rattling him weary. It was welcoming compared to the sloshed mess he’d been earlier; he hovered as much as himself above you as possible, as though putting his full weight on you in such a state might break you. You noted how his aftershocks caused his hips to reflexively twitch, as though even while overstimulated, his cock still longed to be with you. He grunted softly, quietly every time. The cute little noises and reactions tickled your own sensitive arousal, making your aftershocks vibrate your shivering thighs.

Perhaps egg rolls and party foods weren't what was necessary to sober either party up; perhaps a good old orgasm was exactly what you both needed.

The unfortunate cost, however, was that you now realized the position you both were in. Thank Satan nobody had been in the hallway at any given time. Otherwise, they would've been treated to the image of their dear old Frater Imperator madly humping away in an alcove, cumming at the stroke of midnight, then separating from a fierce tonguing while leaving a strand of spit between both his lips and the lips of his lover.

. . . Wait.

You gulped down some air, trying to even out your still heaving breast. You'd gotten your New Year's Kiss! Sure, it wasn’t the cute, romantic Hallmark movie-style you’d always imagined. But clearly your imagination sucked because this was legions better than anything you could have ever concocted! The absurdity of it all managed to make it through the still evaporating fuzz of your mind. You couldn't help but giggle breathlessly, causing your tired old man to look at you nervously.

"W-what? Is – Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his sobering up giving way to nerves and insecurity.

You tried to catch your breath to form the right words, but Copia couldn't help but babble on even through burning lungs.

"I'm so sorry! I – I was being stupid and horny and – "

"H-happy," you paused to gulp, "new year. Amore mio."

You inhaled just enough to soothe your lungs before leaning in for a kiss. It had much less tongue than most of the ones you'd shared this evening, but it was filled with passion regardless.

You didn't see how his eyes widened with shock, given that your own drooped shut, but you could feel how he quickly got over it just in time to return it. He even trailed after your lips as they separated. You would have gladly met him halfway once more, but you really needed to breathe. Even if the once crisp air had since turned hot and stinking of alcohol and sweat. And faintly of slick.

. . . Y’all really needed to get out of this nook.

You grunted lightly as you moved your thigh down from its perch over Copia's own. While the position had been blissful in the moment, you knew you were probably going to need to sleep on a heating pad tonight. But even before that . . . you were going to need a shower. The slick in your panties was cooling fast in the chilly January air, creating an uncomfortable feeling that squished against your thighs with every movement. Really, a bath was more preferable for such a mess but the communal bathrooms offered no such option.

You winced as you realized how wobbly you now stood even with the wall of the alcove supporting you from falling backwards. That shower was going to be difficult . . .

"U-uh." Your eyes flew up to a now sheepish-looking Copia. The redness on his face and ears no longer came from the rum demon possessing him, but clearly from that cute, almost schoolboyish nature he tended to have whenever it concerned you.

". . . Yes?"

"W-well. If it's okay with you, I – The Imperator Suite!" He paused, realizing he'd probably been a bit too loud. "I mean. The Imperator Suite: It – there is a bathtub. It’s really nice. Gets the best water and. And seeing as we both – Er, I made us both a mess, I think it's only fair if . . . If – And only if you're okay with it – If you'd like to maybe clean up . . . with . . . me? And then we can relax and cuddle and . . . "

His voice trailed. He cringed. Eyes screwing shut and all. As though he hadn't just dry humped the bejesus out of you in a hallway where you could've easily been caught.

Damn this adorable man.

You hummed adoringly as you placed a hand to his warm cheek, prompting him to look at your post-orgasmic haze.

"I would really like that, Frater," you assured.

You could have collapsed right then and there was his gloved hand overtook your own in a loving hold before bringing it to his lips for its own kiss.

No, really. You absolutely could have: The final wisps of sexual adrenaline had begun to give dissipate, leaving the full aches and pains of grinding at such an awkward angle (and with your back pressed against a stone wall, no less) to truly kick in. Copia, too, for all that limber hip action was worth, began to feel a dull soreness heat up in the bones.

It was going to be a long trek to the Imperator Suite, you both realized.

But between the hisses of discomfort from wet undergarments, the quiet "ouch"s, and assurances of how he had a stash of Tylenol back in his nightstand drawer, you were still glad for the experience.

Hand in hand, you weren't hobbling into the new year alone.

#the band ghost #copia x reader #the band ghost x reader #papa emeritus x reader #copia x female reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia imperator x reader #frater imperator x reader #frater imperator #frater imperator x female reader #uh so...ta-da? *awkward pose*#*the cops take the opportunity to cuff my hands* Aw man :(#i can't say i wrote smut. but i can say that i tried #it should also be mentioned that New Years Day is on a Wednesday. aka...HUMP DAY!!!!!!#anyway: happy new year! I know this year won't likely be easy but that's all the more reason to carry on out of spite!#where your independence like a crown. bewitch someone in the moonlight. never walk alone. and all that spooky jazz!!!!!

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asirensrage · 2 years ago

Note

3 or 12 for the yandere smut prompts. Murder husband or established couple, please. ❤️

Okay, so I need you to forgive me because I legit couldn't decide on who fit this best. It might be Billy and Grace though because I could see those two pulling something like this. Or! Billy and Isa. I listened to "Love is a Bitch" by Two Feet while writing the smut lol and I really like these two lines in this one shot.

Oh well, regardless, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for participating!

Pairing: Billy Russo x Undescribed female character Rating: Explicit Warnings: suggested kidnapping. Unprotected sex. Unbeta'd ;)

To say she had better days was an understatement.

Waking up in a room she doesn’t remember falling asleep in was the initial warning sign. Granted it was a big one, but it was the first clue that something was wrong. Thankfully, the door is unlocked and she isn’t about to stick around to find out.

The hallway is empty and she creeps out slowly, listening carefully as she leaves. The hall is dark enough that she needs to keep a hand on a wall to help find her way. It’s then that she realizes her cell phone is gone. Whatever. That’s a problem for later. Right now, she needs to escape.

Footsteps sound down the hall, making her freeze. She waits until she hears him open the door she just left and takes the chance to duck into the next door she touches. Thankfully it’s empty and she presses her ear to the door, holding her breath as she listens.

“Sweetheart!” Billy’s voice echoes down the hall. “I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Come on out. I promise it’s not what it seems.”

She doesn’t believe that for a second. She knows that voice. She slept with him last night, letting him buy her a drink before taking her home. It was clearly a mistake. One she wouldn’t make again.

She waits until he heads down the hall, opening another door. She takes the chance to leave the room she’s in and makes her way further down the hall before hiding again in another room when she hears him come back into the hall.

“I guess we’re playing then.”

The game continues.

He gets close a couple of times but the place is a maze and she’s not entirely sure she’s not lost. It doesn’t matter. As long as he stays behind, and she gets out, she’ll win. She just needs to make sure he doesn’t find her first.

“How many fucking doors does this place have?” she mutters to herself.

“I hear you,” he calls out.

She ignores the taunt.

“Come on, sweetheart. Haven’t I promised I would take care of you?”

She doesn’t remember that.

“Haven’t I made you feel good? Let me continue. Let me show you everything I can offer you.”

It’s tempting. She knows by his tone that he’s serious and she remembers the last night they were together. Still, it’s not enough to stop her.

She thinks she’s getting close to the end. She has to be.

One of the doors is locked and the doorknob rattles when she tries it. There’s no light shining underneath so she moves on, praying it’s not nighttime outside and she didn’t notice. There’s a door at the end of the hall. She hears him getting closer and she takes the chance. She runs.

Footsteps pound on the ground behind her. Her fingers wrap around the doorknob as she shoulders it open. Light spills into the hallway, silhouetting her. Before she can move further, a hand closes around her mouth as an arm loops around her waist, yanking her back. The door closes in front of her.

Lips press to her ear as he whispers, “Found you.”

She shivers at the feeling. “I almost made it.”

“Almost,” he agrees before pressing his lips to her neck. He kisses the skin softly. “Ready to come back?”

“If I say no?”

“I guess I’ll have to convince you…” He turns her, pushing her back against the wall. His lips are on hers, kissing her deeply. Her arms move, wrapping around his neck and drawing him closer. She likes him like this, even if it’s a game neither of them should be playing.

His kisses are desperate, as though he suspects that given the chance she really will leave, that she’ll get tired of him. She doesn’t think that will ever happen.

She scrapes her nails gently against the nape of his neck and he pulls away from her just enough so he can brush his lips against her cheek before kissing a path down hers.

Her breath hitches as he presses closer, providing her with more warmth than she thought possible. She didn’t realize she had been so cold until now. His hands slide under her shirt and she closes her eyes, leaning back as she focuses on the feeling. He leaves goosebumps in his wake and her stomach flutters at the promises she knows he’ll keep.

When he kneels before her, helping her out of her clothes, he looks up like he’s ready to worship. She can barely see him in the dark, but there’s just enough light from the crack of the door to illuminate his devotion.

Her hands dig into his hair when he guides one of her legs to rest on his shoulder. He holds her weight, keeping her steady, even as he buries his face between her legs. She reaches a crescendo under his familiar touch with startling ease. He’s tasted her a thousand times and every one he feasts as though it’s his first.

Billy keeps her standing when her legs threaten to give out on her as she breaks, murmuring praises against her skin. He moves slowly, standing back to his feet and kisses her again. And again.

“Gonna let me treat you right?” he asks softly.

“You already do.”

He laughs at that, a low chuckle that makes her stomach clench. “Let me feel you.”

She doesn’t bother answering, not with words. She unbuttons his pants, pushing them down and freeing him before hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him close. She eases his way in with a guidance that burns both of them in its familiarity. No matter how many times she’s felt him, it never gets old.

He holds her against the wall, keeping her pressed back on it with every thrust. She clings to him, nails digging into his back as she tries to hold herself up, to keep pace with him. He overwhelms her though. He always does.

His hands press bruises into her skin as she draws blood from his. Their kisses are hungry and desperate as they turn relentless in their pursuit of their pleasure.

She bites on his neck, trying to keep herself from crying out when she reaches the brink and is thrown into her orgasm.

He swears as his grip tightens and his pace increases. The overstimulation turns nearly painful before his hips stutter and he presses her tighter against the wall, as though he’s trying to etch himself into her skin. They both struggle to catch their breaths.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice quiet in the dark.

“Yeah,” she answers, smiling softly. He pulls out before lowering her slowly to the ground. “Where did you find this place?”

“A friend of a friend. You weren’t too scared waking up alone, were you?”

“A little but once I heard your voice, I knew what it was.”

His hand brush back her hair, one curling at the back of her neck as he kisses her again. “Have I told you how much I love your trust in me?”

“As often as I tell you I love our games.”

Billy laughs at that. “You really thought this was all just a game? Darling, my love for you goes far deeper than you could even imagine.”

“Good.”

#ridea acts out of spite #spite smut #billy russo x oc #billy russo oneshot #vixenofcourse

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hawkinshorror94 · 5 months ago

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The Wager of Pleasure

Lucania DellamortexPlus!sized RookxSpite

“Smells like Peaches and metal. You are coward Lucanis” Spite hisses as he moves around Rook who is none the wiser to his presence so close to her. Spite’s purple eyes shot over to Lucanis who had his hands clenched in his lap. “I will take her if you are too afraid”

“Meirda, can you not Spite” Lucanis grumbles at the demon as he tries to focus on Rook putting away her market haul. Since falling head over heels with their appointed leader Lucanis found it hard to ignore her. Her smile that was only meant for him, her small gestures of adoration, but Spite noticed the more physical things. How nice her ass looked in those tight little leather shorts she wore, or how the jewels of her tunic fell perfectly in the valley between her large breasts. On more than one occasion Spite had expressed wanting to feel what her plush belly felt like pinched between his rough fingers or her soft hips might feel with his fingers dug into them.

“What is he saying?” She asked as she turned to Lucanis, a bottle of tequila in her hands, the last thing on her list. Lucanis shifted on the edge of his cot unsure of what to say, he didn’t think she’d want to hear that Spite wanted her to slam her against the wall and take her when Lucanis hadn’t even had the courage to kiss her.

“You don’t want to know.” He murmurs pinching the bridge of his nose, she laughs handing him the bottle.

“That bad?” She asks as she watches him pull out the cork on the bottle with a well sharpened knife. Lucanis shakes his head and doesn’t answer, handing the bottle back to her. The tequila inside smells sharp and the first drink burns all the way down to her bare toes.

“You want her. You won't take her.” Spite mumbles pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. Spite was almost tired of the way they looked longingly into one another’s eyes, almost. Except when they were focusing on one another Spite could touch her softly, like that of a butterfly, her cheek, her back. Just enough to send goosebumps down her arms, conditioning her to feel good feelings when she was around Lucanis. “Drink more, get drunk.” He whispers softly into Lucanis’s ear, all he needed was for him to slip up to let him out.

“She feels so soft” Spite murmured as he watched Lucanis pin her to the cot, the empty bottle rolling away from open hand. Lucanis focused on how her skin felt, how warm and soft it was against his calloused hands. She smelled like Peaches, Coconuts and metal, like Spite had said. His lips were pressing to her warm skin, he wanted to taste her, the tequila clouding his judgement. Allowing him to feel what he wanted to feel, no thoughts just her and Spite of course.

“I want. My turn.” Spite snapped at Lucanis as he watched the man lick the soft skin of her belly. Lucanis grumbled at the demon who was kneeled by the cot watching, Lucanis could see the demon palming himself over his pants and it sent a tingle down to his own stiff cock. Lucanis tried to ignore Spite and focus on the absolute goddess before him; if he died today, he hoped he could worship her for the rest of eternity. His face buried between her plush thighs, tasting the sweet ichor that flowed there. He undid her fancy Lords bra, it clanked as it hit the stone floor of the pantry and he was back to looking at the two delicious tits he had uncovered. They felt so soft and warm in his calloused hands as he squeezed, watching as the puckered flesh of her nipples tensed.

“Perfect. Taste them fool.” Spite murmured as he watched Lucanis squeeze the puckered nipples in between deft fingers. Spite watched her face, her lip caught between her bottom teeth and how her pupils were blown wide. Following Spite’s instructions he dips his head down to a nipple, taking it between his teeth and nipping at it gently, listening to the sweetest fucking whine leave her lips. He moved to the next nipple giving it the same treatment as the first, but he felt cool air blowing on his cheek. Spite was blowing lightly against the nipple not in Lucanis’s mouth, watching the nipple retighten and Rook whine louder this time. Brown eyes met purple ones for a moment and an unspoken agreement was made.

Lucanis moves back up to Rook’s neck, his hands pinning her wrists above her head, his brown eyes meeting hers for a moment before he pressed his lips back to hers. Their kiss is sloppy from the tequila and the pure desire coursing through them both. She moaned into his mouth as he let go of her wrists, but they stayed pinned above her head with cool invisible fingers.

“Spite.” She murmured against Lucanis’s lips when he finally left her mouth for air. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of the man and the demon working alongside to pleasure her. Lucanis’s knee slots between her legs grinding into her little leather shorts, his lips ghosting the column of her throat feeling her pulse and low whines.

“She likes that. Her cunt smells delicious” Spite groans as he holds her wrists watching Lucanis take his sweet time down her body. Even her wrists were soft and Spite couldn’t help but press a cool kiss to the inside of them. When Spite looked up again Lucanis was working her out of those little shorts that cupped her fat ass so deliciously. Spite burned on the inside like fire, he let go of her wrist so he could move closer to her soaking cunt. Lucanis’s fingers were carding through the curl’s of her slickened cunt.

“Stop teasing” Spite murmurs his large hand splayed out over her warm belly, it tenses under his cool fingers or it was because Lucanis had finally slipped his fingers into her soaked folds, collecting all the sweet juices there and bringing them to his mouth. She tasted like cream and he moaned around his own slickened fingers.

“You taste divine.” He murmurs as he dips into her cunt with two long, lithe fingers, fingers hooking to hit that spongy little spot inside of her. She cries out his name and he leans down using his nose to rub against that little sensitive bud of nerves. Her fingers were dug into his dark hair pulling on it as she pulled him closer to her heat. When he hears her moans pitch up and octave, Lucanis sucks at her clit, his fingers moving with a quickened pace. Spite presses lightly on her lower belly and he can feel Lucanis’s fingers in her and it makes his cock throb with need.

The sound of Lucanis’s name sounds like prayers as he drags an orgasm from her, his fingers and tongue working to quickly overstimulate her. She was begging, pleading for him to fuck her but all he could think about was how her soft thighs quivered around his head, how the lewd sounds of her soaked cunt were, how good she tasted on his tongue.

“Please Lucanis, inside.” Her words were broken as she clawed him away from her cunt. He finally obliged, Spite finally slinking away into Lucanis so he can feel the relief he needs as well. Lucanis feels as though he might choke as he slips into her velvety walls.

“So fucking good.” Spite sighs inside his head as he bottoms out in her, Lucanis focuses on her face. As he lifts one of her thighs and pulls it higher on her belly, pulling almost all the way out before slipping back in, a tortuous speed that has them teetering on the edge of ecstasy or insanity.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He murmurs into her ear as his hips pick up pace and her fingers dig into her back. “Under me spread out like this.” Lucanis moans into her ear as he feels her clench around him. “Let go” He murmurs it once, twice before he hears her cry out, her legs tightening around him pulling him in deeper as he works her through it.

He has his face nuzzled into her neck, losing himself as his hips begin to stutter in her, his cock spilling off into her already soaked cunt. He closes his eyes for just a minute to calm his beating heart. He just drifts for a moment, a moment too long. As Rook’s eyes look up to meet what she thought would be the large brown eyes of Lucanis she is instead met by Spite’s purple ones.

“My Turn”

If you into freaky stuff come back for the second part. Because you know Spite is a fucking freak. Also if someone can think of a better name do tell because I could not think of one

#dragon age the veilguard #spite dragon age #lucanis x reader #lucanis x rook #lucanis x rook smut #lucanis x rook x spite #lucanis dellamorte #plus!sized Rook x Lucanis

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vrystalius · 29 days ago

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Note: This was plaguing my brain don’t mind me

( NSFW/Smut, Angst, gn!reader )

Lucanis cries the first time the first time was fully sheathed inside of you.

He’s not sobbing or breaking down, just silent tears travelling down his cheek as bottoms out fully inside you. Your hooded eyes looking at him, your lips deliciously morphing into an ‘O’, your hand holding his as he takes his time to admire every scar on your skin, his eyes drinking in the godly sight beneath him.

Even if his vision got a little blurry.

Waves of pleasure hit him over and over again as he takes in the ethereal sight beneath him, his eyes glossing over every inch of your body so this memory can burn into his brain for eternity and bury other ones he tries to forget. You are the only thing Lucanis wants to remember, the only thing he wants to ever think about.

This is all too much for him. Your gorgeous body writhing beneath him, slick skin against skin, both of you bare for the other. Lucanis felt exposed in a way, but it felt good. It felt right.

You were always so patient and kind to him despite his title as Demon of Vyrantium, him being an abomination, just a kill for hire, you always treated him with humanity. Something Lucanis hasn’t felt many times.

He denied himself the fantasy of you possibly liking him the way the liked you. You flirted with him and gifted him the wyvern dagger, check up on him regularly, but how would someone like you be interested in him?

But after you disappeared into the Fade, after every attempt at finding you, every time Emmrich and Bellara failed again to locate you, with every cup of coffee chugged down his throat and with every minute he spends longer on the green couch in your bedroom his mind was more and more plagued by regrets.

Why didn’t he lean in for the kiss, why was he never brave enough to risk it all, why wasn’t he the one trapped in the Fade? Why you? Why, why, why?

Oh how much he loves you, good you are to him. How can he possibly live on without you, without you making him feel like a foolish boy crushing on a girl, nothing more than a simple person and not an abomination, first Talon, mage killer and whatever other titles were pushed onto him.

Lucanis buried his face in your neck to hide his humiliating crying face since he was still completely inside you. His hands steadily wrap around your waist to pull you even closer than you already are, his lips finding your skin over and over again to remind himself you are here, you are with him.

Your hand cupping his face to lift him away from your shoulder grounds him in reality, your hooded eyes and quivering smile making him feel like he’s about to cum without a single thrust.

“M-Mierda. I love you. I love you so much…”

You’re too good for him. That is why Lucanis cries during his first time with you. And it’s kind of sexy.

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fandomsfordays21 · 3 months ago

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Got into a fight with my bigoted uncle earlier and then came home and immediately started reading Ultrakill smut out of spite because gay (often transgender depending on the fic) angel getting dominated is exactly the kind of thing I enjoy that I know would cause him to pop a blood vessel instantly upon hearing the premise. Fuck you Uncle Trump Supporter let's see how your lack of basic biology knowledge fairs against this.

#shitpost #ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #yes it was #gabv1el #i admit without shame #i hold grudges #spite #i despise the man but hes grandmas baby boy so i gotta deal with him #his poor wife #actually mentally ill #fanfiction #god i love fanfiction #smut #ao3 fanfic #ao3 smut #lgbtq community #queer spite

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conchcronch · 2 months ago

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Ours

WC: 6607

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook x Spite

Summary: You and Lucanis have some time to yourselves for the first time, and there’s an incantation you’ve been working on. One thing leads to another and you have both Lucanis and Spite giving into your every want.

A/N: oh boooooy that was a long time coming!! Some background, Rook is a Mourn Watch mage, but the Mourn Watch part is only very briefly mentioned so it’s certainly not important to the plot (what little there is). Also just need to get this out of my system, Lucanis calls Rook ‘dove’ because as in mourning dove, sorry not sorry.

His lips were everywhere you needed them. Trailing down your cheek to your neck as he unbuttoned your navy shirt at a near snail-like pace. He took immense joy from watching you squirm in his lap, your hips unconsciously grinding against him as you pressed your forehead to the top of his head, a whine slipping from your lips. “My sweet, you really need to learn patience, it’s a virtue.” You could hear the smirk on his lips as he intentionally dragged the tip of his index finger along your bare skin as he separated another button from your shirt, still only half way down the garment.

“Luca” You breath in his shampoo, your hands gripping the back of his shirt as he laughed at you. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me.”

“Not without a contract I’m not.” His dark chuckle nearly forced a whine from your lips, your hands balling the back of his shirt, knowing he’d chastise you about it when he was forced to work the wrinkles out of the fabric afterwards. The last button slipped from its hole and you nearly cried, the relief of feeling his hands slide up your bare stomach seemed to be unrivaled, although that was likely your desperation speaking. You straighten out, moving your hands from around his neck towards the laces that made up your bra, the tips of your fingers barely making contact with the ties before you heard the click of his tongue at you. “No patience and incapable of following instructions, it’s a wonder you made it in any faction, let alone the Watchers.” He moved his hands from your waist, taking a wrist in either hand and guiding them behind your back, linking your fingers together. “Now, if they move before I give you permission, we’ll be having a very different discussion, understand?” You nod, clenching your fingers together as you feel his hands pull away, the tips of his fingers gliding along the waist of your casual pants, knowing they weren’t going to be on much longer. “Gooood” he purred “Now come here” One hand on your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks lightly as he guided your lips to his, quickly catching you in an intimate kiss.

No matter how many times you kissed, he always managed to take your breath away. Despite the fact he swore up and down that his experience was minimal it never seemed like it. His hands always knew where to grab, how to hold you, his tongue always gliding along your’s as though you were merely an extension of himself. You wanted to reach forward, run your fingers through his beard and tilt his head just a bit more, but you were trying your best to follow his instructions. Your hips moved against his bulge as his hands slid down your body, his fingers tracing over every hill and valley between your neck and your hips, mentally noting every scar, cellulite and stretch mark, every piece of you that you would normally not want lingered upon, he wanted to make sure he memorized it.

He moved his head in such a way that forced your lips to part from his, pressing his forehead against yours so you didn’t immediately try to resume to kiss, a huff of breath and a small smile played across his lips when you tried for the briefest of seconds. You knew you were being especially needy, which wasn’t something you ever categorized yourself as, but with him it was different. You had tried to be subtle in the beginning, casually flirting with him and praying to the Maker that he would pick up what you were putting down. There was a point in this venture that you were sure he wasn’t interested. That every compliment he yelled during battle, every cup of coffee he made for you, every late night you spent talking, that it was all just platonic. It wasn’t until he told you that you played too close to the edge that you knew he had just been fighting to keep his feelings smothered. But now that you had him where you so desperately needed, you wanted him to get on with it, to put his dexterous fingers to good use rather than taking his sweet time, breaking you down until you were begging the Maker for him. It had taken so much to get him here, just getting him to kiss you had felt like so much effort, but when it finally happened you realized it was worth all the work.

“My love” You blinked, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I’m concerned…” his voice faded off but you didn’t need him to finish it for you to know what he meant.

“About Spite.”

“He’s fighting me” His hands moved to your waist, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin.

“What does he want?” You pulled back, sitting up but keeping your hands joined behind your back.

“You.” For a split second his eyes glowed purple, his voice turning into a smooth growl before Lucanis groaned, shaking his head and gaining control once again.

“I thought he had calmed down?” You wanted to cup his cheek, pepper kisses along his jaw in an attempt to help him relax, but you resisted.

“He has, in most situations. But with you, he’s as feral as before.” You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, a slightly cocky smile sneaking onto your lips. “Don’t look so smug, Rook, what happens if I can’t control him?”

“Does he want to kill me?”

“What- No of course not!” You shrugged.

”Maime me?”

“You know what he wants to do.” Lucanis was growing irritated with this line of questioning, knowing you well enough to know that you lacked a sufficient amount of concern surrounding his demon counterpart.

“Then why fight it?”

“Because he could still hurt you, or he could take over fully and-“ You leaned forward again, pressing your forehead to his.

”Emmrich has been helping me with something.” You paused, giving him the space to interject if he so chose. “I can’t do it passively like him, but I think I could hear him if I can get the incantation right.” There was a beat where you watched his brow furrow, clearly turning the idea over in his head, viewing it from all angles before finally replaying with a question.

“How long have you been working on this?” His eyebrow quirked up, his tone a lot more relaxed than you expected.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You couldn’t resist pressing your lips to his, and he didn’t fight it, smiling into the kiss before parting his lips so he could run his tongue along yours.

“Will you be able to see him?” He asked, pulling his lips away from yours, much quicker than you would have liked.

“Emmrich said I certainly would be able to hear him, and he did find reference that there have been accounts that in rare situations casters have been able to see spirits but I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.”

“Mierda” Slipped out under his breath just loud enough for you to catch it, making you raise your brow inquizically.

“What?”

”Spite is…excited.” You could feel him throb underneath you, and in return you rolled your hips against him.

“I’ll need to use my hands.”

“Go ahead.” You separated your hands for the first time since he had guided them together, bringing them in front of you and cracking your knuckles in preparation.

You closed your eyes, taking a couple deep breaths trying to force your attention away from the man beneath you, trying to ignore the way his warmth radiated through your thighs, the way he smelled, the twitching between his legs. But as the incantation began to slip lowly from your lips, your hands moving in gestures you had practiced night after night with the guidance of the resident Necromancer who had taken you under his wing long before joining the party. You could feel the magic flow from the tips of your fingers, wrapping around you.

You had practiced this spell with Emmrich many times, however the only spirit you could really hear was Manfred, but Spite felt so different. Manfred’s sense of curiosity had filled you, you had shared in the burst of enjoyment he felt while examining a dragon tooth Taash had thoughtfully given to him in an attempt to face their discomfort around the skeleton, but when you completed the spell all you felt was raw, burning arousal. If felt like your entire body was ablaze, your skin too tight for your form, and the only way to get any relief would be through rolling your hips against the man below you.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear the freeze haze that so often followed necromancy spells, as you looked around the room, disappointed when you saw no change “Did it work?” Lucanis’ hand cupped your cheek, bringing your attention back down to him.

”I’m not really sure, is he talking to you?”

“For once, no.” You sighed, somehow that seemed like something the demon would do.

“I think I feel his emotions though. So I guess it worked partially, just not how I hoped.”

“My condolences.” You laughed, trying to mask your disappointment. “We don’t need him, my dove. Is one of me not enough for you?” You could tell by the smile on his lips he didn’t really mean it, drawing you down for another kiss, his other hand tugging at the laces of your bra, working it undone with ease. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his beard as you moved his head to tilt back just a bit more as you ground your hips against him. His fingers guided the laces through the holes of the garment until he pulled it completely away, the bra slipping down and off your body.

“Your hands.”

“Ah s-sorry.” You spoke into the kiss distracted by the way his soft hands moved slowly up towards your chest and letting your wrists be pulled behind your back. Your core was throbbing, grinding against his bulge was no longer enough fiction to keep your highented arousal at bay. “Lucanis” You whined into the kiss.

“Yes, my dove?”

“I need something more.” You could feel him smile against you, a small laugh.

“How about I fuck you. Until you beg me to. Stop.” You moaned at his words,

”Maker yes.” Lucanis stiffened against you, his muscles tensing.

“You can-“ You felt Lucanis’ hand on your sternum, pushing you back so he could look at you, his eyes wide, almost frantic. ”You can hear him.” It wasn’t a question, it was almost an accusation.

“I thought you said that.”

”Do you really think that’s something I would say?” You couldn’t deny it seemed out of place from the Crow but in your arousal fogged state you weren’t about to question it.

Before you were able to come up with a witty retort, a voice stopped you “Come on. She wants. Us.” You could have sworn he was speaking directly into your ear, you could even feel breath on your cheek. You could feel hands on your back, but they lacked any sort of heat, if anything they swallowed the natural heat you were giving off.

“If this is too much for you, can you end the spell?” His tone was positively dripping in concern.

”I don’t need to.”

”That’s not what I asked.”

”Yes, if I need to, I can.”

“She. Won’t.” You looked down to see grey hands outlined in purple glow wrapping around your waist, the weird coolness making you suck a breath in. “Take Her. Pants. Off.”

“Spite.” Lucanis growled, as though he was reminding him of manners that you were sure the spirit lacked.

“Lucanis, please.”

“I-“ You watched his eyes go from you to the demon you knew was behind you. “If you don’t listen, this is over.” His words weren’t directed at you, but at the creature behind you.

“Deal.” You felt lips ghost over your shoulder, his hands moving from your stomach up to grab both of your breasts as you felt a tinge of pain forcing a startled yip from your lips before a shaky moan as the his spectral fingers worked your nipples the way you desperately wanted Lucanis to. “She wants. More.” You nodded, wishing you could lean your head back onto his shoulder but knowing you would find nothing solid to rest against.

“Please Luca.” Your words came out as a sigh that morphed into a moan when you felt a second, much warmer set of hands run down your sides. The pads of his fingers pressed into your skin, following the curves of your body until he was blocked by the waist of your navy pants, the buckles seemed even more restrictive in this particular situation. You expected him to take his time, as he had been this entire evening, but his hands barely lingered on the buckles before he started pulling at the leather straps until he was finally able to pop the buttons of your pants open. A curse slipped from his lips at the sight of your bare skin beneath your trousers, something that normally would have made you smirk however you were far to preoccupied by the demon’s ministrations to notice.

You couldn't’ stop your hips from grinding against his straining cock, the feeling of your pants now loosely moving along your folds as you rut against him. “If you don’t. I will.” Spite hissed, pulling his lips off your neck much to your frustration.

“You will not.” His hands grabbed your hips, fingers pressing into the meat of your still covered ass, pushing against you, silently urging you to stand up. As you stood up, Spite stepped back, his hands slipping off of your chest, giving you a chance to turn towards him with the intention of arguing with the demon only to be shoved backwards and onto the couch.

Both men thought to themselves, and each other, how you were a sight to behold. Naked from the waist up, nipples pebbled and slightly red from Spite’s rough handling, trousers unbuttoned and open enough that the very beginning of your slit was just visible. But as you sat, pushed back on the couch looking up at two sets of eyes, one blazing purple, the other chocolatey brown you could feel your slick gather even more, your pants feeling even more stifling then before.

As though he could read your mind, Lucanis’ hands grabbed either side of your pants, pulling them down your legs almost as slowly as he had unbuttoned your shirt, which felt like eons ago. Where you expected to feel shyness at this being the first time you had been entirely naked in front of your partner, you only felt desperation. Your legs widening when you expected to be clenching them shut, as though not only your mind was begging for him, but your body too.

The sight of Lucanis slowly lowering himself to his knees, his hands pushing your knees wider apart to accommodate his broad shoulders was enough to drag a long moan from your lips. Just before you felt his soft lips make contact with your folds you briefly made eye contact, his brow soft and his eyes filled with nothing but undying love. You leaned your head back against the soft crushed velvet of your couch, one hand naturally running through his long hair while the other pushing through your own.

“Your taste.” Spite’s voice came from above you, you could feel his breath on your lips, breathing in a scent that was so distinctly not Lucanis, spiced rooibos with a burnt mahogany and clove undertone. “Is like. Nothing. We’ve tasted before.” He groaned, the feeling of his face pressed into your hairline, his nose breathing in your scent was the only sound your body could really register, aside from the occasional moan that slipped from Lucanis’ mouth only to be swallowed by your cunt.

What the Crow’s tongue lacked in skill, he made up for with his dexterous fingers. Often covered by thick leather gloves, his hands had been shockingly soft when you had first felt them, not thinking you’d get to experience them pressing into your tight walls anytime soon. He ran his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick along them before you could feel the tip of his middle finger begin to press into your entrance. Although it had been a minute since you had had anyone between your legs, you were far from unfamiliar with pleasure as of late, often ending your long adventuring days with your hands between your thighs and face in a pillow after having been teased and denied by the Crow. The feeling of someone else’s hands moving along your thighs, between your folds, inside you, it was so much more enthralling. Although his familiarity with your body was nothing close to that of your own, he was managing to pull moan after moan from you with every come hither of his finger, quickly adding a second.

“Smells of. Sex. Of salt. Of. Of waterlily.” Spite moaned into your hair, the hand that wasn’t knotted in the Crow’s hair was near clawing at the velvet of the couch, your hips canting up anytime Lucanis tried to pull away from you, even for the briefest of moments to draw in a shaky and overexcited breath.

“My dove” he pulled away from you, his fingers still inside of you, working you open as he added a third finger, his eyes glued to where you two were joined. He waited patiently for you to open your eyes, Spite moaning in your ear as he held your hair against his nose. As you drew your head off the back of the couch, slowly opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “How am I doing?” With all three fingers he pressed against the wall of your cunt, gliding over a particularly spongy section of nerve endings that made your hips buck and a long moan lurch from your lips. He seemed just as surprised as you, but that surprise quickly morphed into unbridled attraction, he could have sworn up and down that you had never looked as stunning as you did in this exact moment. Your hair pulled away from your face, neck and shoulders thanks to Spite, your face and chest flushed, your breasts rising and falling quickly as you tried desperately to catch your breath and you eyes holding onto his gaze as though it were a lifeline.

“Good.”

“Good. Won’t make her. Cum.” Spite growled out from behind you, towards the man on his knees.

“What can I do?” You couldn’t resist reaching out to him, running your other hand through his hair and around to his face, moving your thumb through his soft and well kept beard.

”If you- fuck” his fingers continued albeit at a slower pace, the tips of his index fingers pressing into your spongy bundle of nerves just enough to make your mind go blank. He noticed the way your hips bucked every time, his eyes going between your lust drunk expression and your cunt which was fully on display for him.

“How’s this, my dove?” He pressed his fingers higher, giving your g spot a more firm pressure that almost made you weep.

“Can you- Maker- Just g-go back” he pulled his fingers back, thinking the adjustment he had made was wrong but the frustrated growl you let out let him know that it was very much the opposite. “N-no fuck- s-sorry no” his fingers were pressing even harder into your spongy insides, rubbing back and forth along the nerve endings in a way that was making it difficult to piece words together. So, instead of trying to explain what you needed from him, you moved the hand that was toying with his beard up to his crown before pushing down and forcing his face back into your cunt. You could feel him smile against you for the briefest of seconds before his tongue was sliding between your folds and up to flick at your clit.

Part of you prayed Emmrich wasn’t in his room, knowing you shared a wall with the Necromancer, and if you were this incapable of containing your sounds now, you had no idea how you’d be as the night progressed. You tried your best to make a mental note to ask Lucanis to help you prepare a special dessert for the mage as an unspoken apology for this night, and all moving forward. You seemingly lost control over the words leaving your mouth, the only thing you were sure of was that they were all praising the Crow between your thighs. “J-just like t-that Luca” Spite still gripped your hair in a tight fist against his nose, moaning directly in your ear as his free hand slipped over your shoulder to pull at your breast more.

Your mounting orgasm was building quickly, with every flick of the Crow’s tongue, his very consistent and constant strokes of your insides and the groans you could feel against you, you knew you weren’t long for this. It wasn’t until a particularly hard flick of his tongue against your clit that you begged for more of exactly that. And he was nothing if not a good study, following your directions to a T.

It only took four firm flicks of his tongue against your clit before the grip you had on his long hair tightened, pressing him further into your core as you cried out, his name the only word on your lips.

You had always been on the quicker side of coming down after an orgasm, often needing to stay decently aware of your surroundings in the Necropolis, but today was different. It was as though every ounce of energy you had was taken from you, your bones felt heavy, your muscles weak and your cunt pulsing. You had barely noticed that Lucanis had pulled away from you, pressing chaste kisses to the insides of your limp thighs, his hands gripping the meat of your legs as he did so. Spite was still behind you, clearly trying his best to mimic what his counterpart was doing, but where Lucanis was chaste and slow, Spite was still hot and needy, his teeth grazing your neck with every kiss.

You wanted to say something, make a quip, but your brain was completely blank. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew if you closed them, you’d be down for the count. The siren call of sleep was even more appealing when Lucanis shifted and sat next to you on the forest green couch, his arm sliding along the back and across your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I never thought I’d see something more beautiful then when you’re mid battle.” You laughed, voice a little raspy.

”Please don’t tell me I look better when I cum then when I fight.” You looked up at him, still keeping your ear pressed to his chest to listen to his slightly heightened heart beat.

“I would never say something like that.” Lucanis chided, smiling down at you. “You certainly look less intimidating.”

“I’ll have to try to look scarier the next time you make me cum then.” There was a beat of comfortable silence between the three of you, Spite nowhere to be seen, but you could still feel him, feel his raging arousal and desire. But, as you laid with your head on his breast, listening to his heart beat in his chest, you couldn’t help but stare down at his tented slacks, the slightest hint of a damp spot where the tip strained against the fabric.

There you sat, letting the moment stretch on as you waited for the perfect moment to earn yourself a surprised moan from your partner, a sound that despite never having heard before, you knew it would be good. “You smell different.” You sat up, pulling away from his chest and drawing his attention towards you, his gaze turning to meet yours so you could fully see his reaction when you made your move.

“Ah, it’s new. Do you like it? I wasn’t sure about it at first, but Viago recommended it.” You leaned in close, pressing your nose to his pulse point, inhaling the musky scent, allowing yourself to run your lips along his soft skin.

“I do, it’s…” Running your lips along his sensitive skin quickly turned to you nipping at it, sucking the flesh into your mouth and toying with it between your front teeth. “It smells like…” You couldn’t place it, the more you smelt it the harder it seemed to pick out the notes.

“Vetiver and amber” a voice rang in your head, the same way your inner monologue often did, but the tone was different, rougher.

“That’s exactly it.” You let your lips tickle against him as you answered the voice, barely aware that it didn’t come from the man you were sniffing.

“Rook,” The way he said you nickname wasn’t intended to get your attention, instead it was as though he was praying. This was your moment, sliding your hand along the outside of his thigh until you could feel the height of his arousal, your palm moving up his tented pants. His head tipped back, giving you more access to his neck as you pressed into him, feeling how hard he was beneath his layers of clothes. You could tell he was trying to swallow his moans, clearly still aware of where you were and the fact that at any moment either of you may be called upon.

“Let me make you feel good.” You whispered, pressing a kiss just under his ear, only gaining a broken moan in response. You moved to pull away, intending to slip down between his knees but the second you tried to back away, his hand caught you, fingers balling your open shirt.

“I need you, close to me.” His eyes were only open for long enough to get the sentence out before your hand was rubbing him through his pants forcing his eyelids to droop closed. “Meirda just like that.” You had barely touched him, only really pressing your hand into his bulge.

“Shh let me just-“ You unbuttoned the fly of his pants, thrilled to see a lack of anything underneath, making it much easier to pull his cock free from it’s prison. Your hand wrapped around it with a familiarity you really shouldn’t have, but something about the way he reacted to your touch made it feel as though you had done this thousands of times with him. A broken whimper wiggled its way from his throat, his head limp against the back of the couch as you took your time worshipping his cock.

Every time you worked him from base to tip his hips would buck, silently begging you to keep going, as though he had been in situations where things had ended prematurely. “I’m not going anywhere” you whispered, pressing kisses along his built thighs, breathing in his musk as you did so. There was enough precum to work down him, creating enough lubrication for a rather lewd sound to bounce off the aquarium glass. “More. More. More.” A voice from nowhere begged, giving you enough indication that it was time to step things up, knowing the spirit was not that of patience.

With much disappointment you released his cock, earning yourself a whine from above you and a string of curses from all around you. Your hands moved to his shirt buttons, parting them with a muted sense of urgency, not wanting to appear too needy, even if you were. With his vest and dress shirt open you couldn’t resist running your hands up his chest, starting at his firm stomach to his pecs which were dusted in black hair, before resting your hands on his shoulders. When you brought your lips to his neck again your chests were pressed flush together, taking his heat as though it were yours. “Luca” You began moving, hauling a leg over his lap so you could straddle him, feeling his cock tease at your folds while you got situated.

“Rook” his voice reminded you of when he had drank a bit too much, unburdened by self consciousness, free to enjoy the moment. In those moments he would stare at you from across a room, longing written across his expression but forcing himself, even in his most inebriated state to hold back. But not now, now he was entirely bare to you. His hands rested on your waist, his warmth radiating through you, his grip only tightening when you began moving your hips, teasing his cock as it slid between your folds but never sinking into you.

“Killing. Me!” A breathy groan came from behind you, Spite’s hands finding their way to your hips, applying enough pressure to get his desire across but not enough that you would be forced to move. That was possibly the most self restraint you had ever seen Spite have.

“Please Rook.” The crow’s hips bucked, managing to press his cock head into your hole for a moment before falling back.

“I never thought I’d see the Demon of Vyrantium in such a state.” With one hand on his chest to hold yourself up, you reached your free hand and ran it through his mussed hair.

“You’re the first.” His voice was rough, his accent thicker.

“Enough talk.” The spirit’s grip on your hips tightened and it was in that moment that you decided the spirit was right. You relaxed your thighs and allowed him to push you down. And as though it were planned, all three voices rang out in unison as you sank down onto Lucanis.

Without even realizing it, you were leaning against Spite’s heat sucking body. His form was holding you up, something you hadn’t expected, his ghostly lips pressing along your shoulder and onto your neck, his canines dragging along your skin as he moved. “Move.” You slowly bucked your hips, rolling them in as close to circles as you could manage. The man in front of you was struggling against the urge to pinch his eyes closed, desperate to watch the way you moved on top of him.

As you picked up your pace, your partner’s cries grew in volume, his hips sputtering to meet your’s. His hands which were still on your waist tugged you forward, and you allowed yourself to be moved with only a growl from the form behind you. Lucanis caught your lips, moaning as you kissed. “Muévete por mi”. His husky voice rang in your ear, and although you hadn’t a clue what he said, the way he pulled your hips up gave you an inclination. You broke the kiss, breathing becoming difficult as your breaths were more shallow. Your forehead pressed to his shoulder, your body allowing him to move you in any way he, and Spite pleased.

With your knees on the crushed velvet cushions and Lucanis’ hands moving your hips up and down you could feel Spite’s hands all over your ass, pressing his nails into your meat as he watched the way you greedily pulled your partner into you.

“Close already?!” The words weren’t meant for you, but were said seconds before you felt what you assume to be Spite’s tongue running up along your spine, moans rumbling against you.

“Callarse la bocca-ah mierda!” Having only been able to understand one word from that exchange you had no idea what was said, but you knew from the way he spat the words, it wasn’t meant for you. His Crow’s hands tightened on you, moving you in rougher and quicker bounces.

“Can you,” You paused, feeling breath that you knew wasn’t there against your neck, spectral hands wrapping around your waist, palms on your belly. You pushed yourself up, using Lucanis’ shoulders for support so you could feel the body of the spirit behind you. “Can you feel everything that Lucanis can?” The heatless hands ran over your skin, lips moving from just behind your ear down to your shoulder, fangs pressing against where your neck met shoulder. You rolled your hips, as if emphasizing your question when no one answered.

“I can. Feel you. Not the same as when. I’m in. Control.” His lips moved against your skin, his grip changing as he finished his sentence.

“It still feels good though, right?” If Lucanis weren’t so lust drunk you knew he would groan, irritated that you were ensuring that his parasitic other self was also enjoying himself.

“Feels. Amazing.” His hands moved to your waist, feeling the exact same as Lucanis’ hands that were still holding onto your hips.

“Luca-ah” his hand reached out to you, cupping your cheek and guiding you down to him.

“My love” his voice was thick with lust. You held the hand that was on your cheek, pulling it away from your face and bringing it down between you two. Pressing it to your breast before slowly pushing it down, allowing him to take his time so you could savour the warmth of his palm before it finally got where you needed it the most. You pressed his thumb against the crest of your labia, the firmness of his digit giving you so much more stimulation than you needed to get there with him.

“M-Maker y-yes” the words flowed out of you the same way breath does. You pulled yourself up, arching your back so you could support yourself on his knees as you picked up the pace of your hips. The sound of skin on skin was dwarfed only by the moans that were ripped from the Crow’s lungs. One hand still held to your lower belly, while the other held your hips as though he was worried you’d fall.

“Ya-a casi llego” unable to translate from his native tongue his words came out with no thought.

“He’s close.” You could feel the words against your nape. As you fucked yourself on him you also bucked your hips up, rutting against his thumb, getting more and more desperate as you got closer.

“Fuck fuck Luca!” Your orgasm washed over you with the same force of an Antaam charging into you. Your body tensed, feeling the way his cock hit as deep into you as possible before a warmth filled you, his hips thrusting up, fucking his seed deeper.

You slumped forward, your forehead against his shoulder as the pulses of pleasure tapered off, your breathing hard to catch and exhaustion pulling at your lids. It seemed Lucanis was in the same boat, his chest rising and falling as quickly as it had during the battle at Weisshaupt, his hands moving to wrap around you.

The room finally fell silent, both of you enjoying being held by the other. You could feel his seed begin to seep out around his cock that was still nestled in your cunt, and just when you were about to haul yourself off of his lap his grip turned iron, pushing you back onto his cock. That’s when you noticed it, the smell of rooibos and mahogany filled your nose that was pressed against his neck. “My. Turn.” You pulled back, seeing chocolate eyes turned glowing amethyst.

His hands were on your hips, your back to the velvet couch before you could comprehend it. He pulled your leg around his waist, while pushing the other off the edge of the couch. It felt like his hands were everywhere, groping at the meat of your thighs, tugging at your overly sensitive nipples, spreading your lips so he could get the perfect view of Lucanis’ cum drizzling from your well fucked cunt. “Spite.” You moaned, reaching out to him, wanting to feel his borrowed lips on yours, knowing a kiss with him would be so different from his other self.

There was a flash of surprise across his face when your hands cupped his face, allowing himself to be drawn into you. It almost seemed as though he hadn’t expected to be wanted in this way. When your lips let its almost as though he stuttered, unsure of what to do before the taste of you was enough to send him into a feral state once more.

The kiss was mostly teeth and tongue, Spite growling into your mouth as his hands kneaded your chest, thumbs pressing into your nipples. “Need. You.”

“You have me.” The words were barely audible over the sounds of the spirit as he bucked his hips, not penetrating you but rather sliding his cock through your folds. You reached between your bodies until you could grab his cock, feeling your slick coating his member already. It didn’t take much to guide the head to your hole, slipping it in almost as soon as he felt your warmth. Your moans were almost tangled together, not just your’s and the spirit’s but also Lucanis’. Once Spite started there was no slowing him, every thrust rattled the couch, the sound of flesh smacking was almost as loud as his grunts. With one hand on your thigh, holding it around his waist and the other supporting your head, fist full of your hair he fucked into you with all his force. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as though it were his last moments on this plane. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it with every thrust, doing your best to hold on.

“Want you. To. Cum.” The overstimulation was almost enough to get you there, the way his whole body was moving yours, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by him after having been lovingly fucked moments before. But when you managed to pull your hand out of his hair and snake it between your two sticky bodies to rub at your clit, you knew you weren’t going to last long. Knowing the sensation would be too much if you pressed directly to the bundle of nerves, you opted instead to press your index and middle finger on either side of your clit, rubbing the bud between them in time with his stuttering thrusts.

“Spite” at the sound of his name he moved his head, pressing his nose to the side of your neck instead of your shoulder, his tongue lapping at your skin, catching your flesh between his teeth every so often. “I’m so close.” You were nearly crying, the overstimulation sending a buzz through your body that was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

“Cum for us.” Their voices were mingled together, gravelly demon and honey sweet Crow, partners.

You couldn’t be sure if it was the way your cunt squeezed when you came that sent Spite over the edge or the warmth that flooded you for the second time that evening that forced you into your own world shattering orgasm. Your back arched off the couch as his hips slammed into you, fucked both of their seed deeper into you.

His body was limp on top of you, his full weight blanketing you as both of you tried to recover from that experience. Your body was sticky, skin buzzing, breath impossible to catch and the weight of your partner wasn’t helping but brought a kind of comfort you hadn’t experienced.

Slowly, his body shifted, moving so he was able to push himself up and look into your eyes. “Ours” amethyst light faded to earth brown pupils, brows softening as a sigh left his lips. The confusion that was so often written across Lucanis’ face after being taken over by Spite wasn’t there, there was only a soft smile as he ran his thumb along your cheek. “Ours.” His voice was rough but entirely his, and the kiss he pressed to your chapped lips only served to emphasize his point.

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