#Wink if you agree

[statementlou]

The One Direction ones honestly, well there's two things… I have like certain songs that I like more than others in the One Direction stuff but then.. what's been a challenge at times is... let's just take maybe the cheesiest of our songs, right, let's just take a What Makes You Beautiful- you kinda have to do that as it was, I couldn't reinvent that and make it [huge air quotes] "cool," I don't really think it exists in a cool realm or something like that you know it's a slightly different thing

--Louis talking about maybe adding a different 1D song to the set for the upcoming tour leg

[pastelpaperplanes]

damn. ten more seconds and this dream Orion was gonna romance him Fabio novel style 😔😔

[marisatomay]

I think what’s extra appalling about this—beyond the fact that SNL held a candlelight vigil when Ukraine was attacked by Russia just for comparison—is that the host on an episode of SNL, in this case Timothee Chalamet, doesn’t just give a thumbs up to the sketches, the host (and their retinue of PR people and agents) and Lorne Michaels (with the approval of NBC) handpick the sketches from dozens presented to them which are then dress rehearsed and sometimes cut or altered if they don’t play well for the dress rehearsal audience. And this particular sketch was a digital short so it was filmed and edited and screened for presumably many, many people prior to the episode airing. The number of people who saw this concept, this sketch and approved it to air is astronomical. And it did air.

[jaarijani]

for @me-sploh-rada-imas here's the novi val clip from my POV in Amsterdam :)

[icarusredwings]

This is getting out of hand fr.

Hate to tell you guys, but NEWS FLASH going on random people's posts and telling them they're bad for enjoying a movie (in which you have NO proof they even paid for to see)

But you should because piracy is bad 😃 😉😉

Is NOT the way to get people to support your cause. Can't believe I have to say this, but you can enjoy content without supporting the producers. I thought we had this talk already about musicians? It applies to movies, too.

Anyway- I will gladly make my block list as long as a walgreens receipt (they already blocked me) especially if you're telling people they're bad for seeing a movie (for free)

And enjoying the movie. Nothing this person said had anything to do with Disney, just the deadpool movie and how it must be confusing for Wolverine to suddenly have a home. I could understand if they were trying to get people to subscribe to disney plus or something, but no. Nothing was said about disney. In fact, the only non deadpool related tag was "Marvel mcu," which is something the deadpool franchise is a part of.

I support Palestine, and I always have. I've posted about boycotting Disney before. This is not new. No, I do not share fundraisers very often unless they are clearly marked as vetted and real because of how many scams there are. If you put a go fund me in my asks, you better have proof it's real/vetted, or I will not repost it. I would feel personally responsible if one of my mutuals got their life ruined by a scam. I also do not repost mass copy and paste messages either UNLESS vetted w/ proof.

Tags.

[thebibi]

broke: dracula is the sexual liberator

bespoke: dracula, by interrupting two unions, is a sexual hinderer. makes a fianee dead, and a fiance almost dead and bedridden and his partner miserable. van helsing, whose presence fully revives the husband and infuses him with Volcanic Energy, which makes the wife so happy, is the actual liberator

this sounds like something Jack would say about his med school professor alright

[forgottencillian]

Lord Ormond | Cillian & Cassandra

The evening's blanket of dark was punctuated everywhere by burning torches, guttering and spurting by turns in the cruel winter wind. Cillian didn't consider himself particularly supersticious, but he a night like this couldn't help but bring his old Móraí's stories. On such a night, divine brothers dueled for supremacy, she'd say. Her voice -- gravelly with age -- would drop a decible or two, near-blind eyes narrowing as she leaned forward to make her point to the wide-eyed children gathered round her chair at the hearth. It had been a particularly popular tale with her, after all: the older she got, the more continously cold and so, it seemed, king winter was forever fixed firmly in her mind.

Cillian had been intended, he knew, to take the sleigh to the stables and then await the Malconaires' convenience with the other servants and, certainly, this would have been the safer route. Instead, however -- Cillian knew the Malcoanires' habits well enough by now to know without doubt that he hneed have little fear of them wishing to leave any time soon -- he'd crept to the hideyhole where he'd long since stored some of Lord Ormond's finery. Do nning this, he'd then slipped into the revelries, careful as always to avoid anyone who might recognize him.

Like many others, Lord Ormond had been one of the unfortunate souls to lose their lives in the battle for Astaira's freedom. With him had died a long and noble lineage, but Cillian was putting in some rather decided effort to take that House very much alive in the minds of others. Though, in truth, that was in no way his object in borrowing the young lord's name as his own.

Swooping in towards the food table -- Cillian was quite miserably famished -- he quickly liberated a piece of cake and, turning, came face to face with Cassandra Varmont.

Grinning, he swept a gallant bow. "Your Imperial Highness, well met." Straightening, he took her in and his smile deepened somewhat. "Your Higness -- may I just say how very well you look this evening?" In truth, she looked half an angel, her honey locks glowing golden in the firelight, her eyes and color bright from dancing. But, surprised as he was to have met with her so suddenly, he didn't quite possess the words to articulate that. "I suppose you must be enjoying this festive occasion very much? Difficult though it must be not to outshine your sister on her day."

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Dare I say it's actually be a bit of a disservice to Jason to say he's "pit mad"

[conherofrost]

I know in your head he’s ‘your man’

But I just gotta say…..

Hit in a Kimono🙂‍↕️🫠🫣🤤

((I’m referencing something here))

Hmm, can't say I've seen him bring one out, then again I haven't gotten a thorough look at his closet nor has there been an occasion that he'd need to wear one.

Still, some fancy new hypothetical outfit is an intriguing thought... Now, hand it over and let me alone with it, thanks.

[attractthecrows]

retconning stroud out of the deep roads so i can shove laure amell and the hawke siblings and varric and anders all into the same little camp. they would all have such a bad time

[viovio]

why YOU (YES YOU‼️) should vote for warren (he/it, 17) in @failboy-oc-tournament !!!!!

1. dresses like a kingdom hearts character

2. barely lives and only scrapes by in hopes to redeem himself of his past sins🥰

3. regularly gets annoyed by boy detective and the world's nosiest middle aged funnywoman

4. really fucking good at math but with his own made-up formulas only he understands

5. Myers own little errand boy they want to die to death. committed perjury (not his fault)

8. neurodivergent and a minor. makes acquaintance with the only other kid his age and a month later would die for them

9. freezes up at any smalltalk and tells people to kill themselves as a goodbye

[bpmiranda]

Honey |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: small town recluse!logan, dbf!logan, taboo themes, sunshine!reader, f!reader, cheating (kind of), fingering, intercourse, cum in mouth, daddy!logan, sub!reader, the convenience of a snow storm

The only time Logan had to interact with other people was when he visited the family owned store at the end of his road, which still sat about five miles from his cabin. Ideally, Logan would like to avoid going out in general, but he could make this one exception - for her.

Just seeing her made his aches and pains melt away. That sweet, bright smile beaming at him whenever he came in behind the sound of the door bell ringing. Her eyes lighting up at the sight of him as she called sweetly, “Dad, Mr. Logan’s here!” while giving him a tight hug which he was happy to return.

Logan had saved Y/N’s dad in a car accident, nothing major, but it meant the world to her and her father. They were probably the people he was closest to in his life right now. “How’re you doin’, honey?” Logan asked as she had begun to gather the staple items he usually came in for every two weeks.

“I’m okay,” She smiled, setting his items carefully in a brown paper bag and he looked at her curiously, noting a hint of worry. “I’m still waiting to hear back from college.” She admitted, folding her arms on the counter top and sighing. “I’m a little stressed out.”

“I’m sure it won’t be long now,” Logan smiled, leaning onto the counter, closer to her, the scent of honey and vanilla that he associated with her invigorating his senses. “You’re a smart girl, they’d be lucky to take you.”

Y/N blushed and then her dad came out from the stock room with a grin. “Isn’t she?” He agreed with a proud grin, shaking Logan’s hand and patting him on the shoulder. “How are you, dear friend?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Just picking up some supplies. You got anymore honey jars in?” Logan asked, tapping the counter lightly as he shot Y/N a wink before following her dad to the pantry aisle.

It felt incredibly inappropriate for Y/N to have this crush on an older man, but she couldn’t help the way he made her belly float with butterflies. The way he smiled at her always made her blush and she swore he felt something in return. She knew Logan to be a reserved type, keeping himself nestled in the mountains away from everyone, yet he’d always make the drive down when he knew they offered house calls. Maybe, possibly, he felt something too.

“Sweetheart, your friend Adam is outside.” Her dad said, drawing her out of her thoughts as he returned to the counter with Logan and more items to be checked out. “I’ll ring this up, go ahead.” He ushered and she nodded, smiling politely at Logan as she excused herself.

“The boyfriend?” Logan asked, watching from inside as the boy pulled her into a hug.

“If you wanna call it that, don’t know if they’ll last through college.” Her dad chuckled as he packed the remaining items into bags. “Y/N’s on the fence about him. He’s a good kid though, bright future ahead of them both.” Logan only nodded, his eyes glued on the young couple.

Y/N had tried to call it off between them because she knew they would be going to different colleges and she didn’t know how well a long distance relationship would work. Adam was quite insistent, however, that they could and should make it work. “Hi baby,” He greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Just came by to check on you.” He smiled, sitting against the hood of his car as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Thanks,” She smiled, looking over into the store and spotting Logan’s eyes boring into her. “You heard back from anywhere yet?” She asked, trying to focus on their conversation.

“Not yet, it’s still early.” Adam cleared his throat and he reached out to take her by the hip and bring her into him. “There’s still time for us.”

Keeping her arms crossed as he tried to look her in the eyes, she sighed, “Adam, please.” Her ears caught the faint ring of the store door and she looked up to see Logan loading up his truck, a cigar in his mouth. His eyes met hers and he seemed to be watching her intently. “Not right now.” She told the heartbroken boy who was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“Why not?” Adam asked, holding her cheek in his hand and Y/N shook her head, pushing his arms away from her and taking a step back. Adam sighed and nodded, scratching the back of his head and standing up straight. “Okay, I get it. I’m pushing you too much.”

“You’re not.” Y/N felt bad that she was so distracted, more focused on the way Logan loaded up the chopped wood into the bed of his truck than the pleas of the boy asking for her to take him back. “I just think we had a really good two years, but we’re not on the same page anymore.”

“I love you.” Adam frowned.

Y/N gave him a pitiful look and she shook her head. “You don’t. You’re just comfortable with me. We’re still young, and chances are we aren’t going to get married anyway.”

“How can you be sure?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t be wanting a break up if I were in love, Adam.” Y/N said with an apologetic look. The young boy went to counter her argument, but jumped slightly at the sound of Logan’s tailgate slamming shut. They both looked over at him and Logan waved at Y/N. “See you, Mr. Logan!” She called with a smile as they watched him start his truck and drive off into the mountains.

“That guy is odd.” Adam commented and she gave him a pointed look.

“That guy saved my dad’s life.” She said with an eye roll. “I think we’ve caught up now, Adam. Please take some time and consider a break. I think it’d be good for us.” She told him before heading back into the warmth of her dad’s store, greeted with a sympathetic smile. “Next time, I’m sending you out to talk to him.” She joked, making her dad laugh.

“No, thanks, sweetheart.”

The day she got her acceptance letter from college was the best day of her life for two reasons: first, she was officially a college student and second, that was the day her dad sent her to Logan’s cabin to drop off an order he had called in - honey jars and cigars. “Don’t forget your coat!” Her dad called after her as she was leaving. “It’s supposed to start snowing tonight.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t an awfully long drive to Logan’s cabin. Unfortunately, it was much more inclined than she had expected, deeper into the woods than she realized. When his cabin came into view and it began snowing, she was relieved to have at least made it there safely.

At the sound of the old truck pulling into his property, Logan greeted her at the door and invited her in out of the cold, pulling the door shut behind her against the heavy winds. “Didn’t think you’d be coming up.” He commented as he took the bag from her and set it on the kitchen table.

“The store was pretty busy,” She said with a smile as she looked around the cabin while shaking her coat off. Logan hung it on the coat rack and then gazed at her brown overall dress under which she was wearing a white long-sleeve. “You know, with the storm coming everyone wants to be prepared tonight.”

“I can imagine.” Logan said, watching her take it upon herself to look around his little home. Her body was shivering slightly, skirt of her dress swaying above her knees with every step, her legs covered in thin, dark tights running into her brown, lace up boots. Her hair was cascading over her shoulders and it flipped as she turned to him with a bright smile. “I like this,” She said, pointing at a wooden werewolf figurine sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. “He’s cute.”

“Sure is.” Logan teased, focusing on unpacking the jars of honey and cigars. Y/N walked back over to him and watched him set the various jars in the cupboards.

“You like honey.” She commented, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as he turned around and leaned against his cabinets to stare at her. “You buy a lot of it.”

After Logan had miraculously saved her dad from that car accident in these very mountains, they thanked him with a basket of goodies and invited him to have dinner with them. Y/N was a big sweet tooth back then which Logan noticed and she had offered him a spoonful of honey for his coffee. Before she had time to react, Logan had slowly reached over and wiped a dribble of honey from her bottom lip, brought his thumb into his mouth, and kept his eyes locked on hers as he licked it clean. “It is good,” He had said, using his wet thumb to wipe off the remaining smudge of honey on her lips. “Thanks, honey.” It had become a consistent item in his pantry from that moment.

“I like your honey.” He clarified, though it wasn’t necessary as she knew he didn’t shop anywhere else but her father’s store.

Y/N forced down the lump in her throat and she pointed to the cigars. “Are those essential for a snowstorm?” She asked, walking closer to him with that kind smile that filled him with reason.

Logan rubbed his jaw pensively, the scent of her growing heavy the longer she stood in his cabin. Honey, coffee, that vanilla hand lotion she carried in her bag. She was warmth, and there was a storm coming. “Not much to do up here by myself.”

“Why are you by yourself?” She asked, sitting on the kitchen table across from where he stood, her legs swinging ever so slightly as she laid her hands flat on the tabletop on either side of her.

“Why do you want to break up with your boyfriend?” He dodged her question, watching her with a predatory stare as she sat so calmly in his home, alone with him, miles from everyone else.

Y/N shook her head with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I asked first.”

Logan chuckled as he pushed off the cabinets and took two steps towards her, closing the space between them, looking down at her intriguingly. “For safety.” He said with his hands aching at his sides.

“Yours?” She smirked, unable to imagine a man like him capable of being harmed by anyone else. His smirk told her she was right in assuming so.

“Yours.” Y/N shivered, not from the cold, but from the look he gave her as he leaned down and his nose nuzzled against hers. “Do you want to leave him for me?” He asked, his voice low as if he were promising not to tell anyone if it was true and she found herself nodding up at him with big eyes. His musk was intoxicating, her feet stopped swinging as he had stepped between them, and his hands laid flat on the table behind her. Her hands shakily smoothed up his toned abdomen, feeling every muscle through his flannel as she drew in a slow breath through parted lips. Their eyes were locked and she bit her lip anxiously. “You don’t want me, honey.”

“I do.” She whispered, begged.

Logan moistened his lips and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, confirming that she did in fact want him. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Logan,” She groaned softly, brows furrowed in frustration, not wanting to talk about anyone else, anything else that might deter him from this. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

An eyebrow raised in amusement and his nose lightly dragged across her cheek and her jaw, his lips pressed a small kiss to the pulse on her neck. “Does he know that?”

Y/N sighed, exasperated as her small fingers began working the buttons on his flannel to reveal his white t-shirt underneath. “He’s bad at taking hints,” She said, smiling as he chuckled into her neck. “Which is one of the reasons I’m breaking up with him.” She said pointedly and he laughed as he pulled away from her to see that sweet smile of hers.

“I hear you, baby.” Logan smirked, bringing his index finger underneath her chin and staring intensely into her eyes. “You know what you’re asking?” She nodded quickly, pushing his flannel off his shoulders and he shook it off before grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her hard. Y/N moaned against his lips, holding fistfuls of his t-shirt as they made out on his kitchen table. Logan groaned at the taste of her lips, the taste of her tongue as she let him invade her mouth, her moans wanton with urgency.

And right on cue, the phone rang.

“Who the hell?” Logan growled in frustration and Y/N pouted, wiping her lip as he pulled away to answer the call. “Yeah?” Logan’s eyes met hers and he nodded. “Yeah, she made it, she’s here.” Y/N’s mouth dropped slightly as she realized she had completely forgotten about her dad. Logan glanced outside through the kitchen window. “It’s coming down pretty rough. Want her to wait it out? I can make sure she gets down the mountain all right.” Logan was watching her as she sat breathless in his kitchen and he smirked. “Not at all, pal. It’s the least I could do.” He walked over to her and pointed to the phone. “Yep, she’s right here.”

Y/N took the phone and looked at Logan as she sweetly said, “Hi daddy!” He chuckled quietly and she almost moaned as his large hands smoothed down her thighs.

“Hey, sweetheart, I want you to wait the storm out with Logan, okay? It’s just nasty out here and I don’t want to risk you being in an accident.” Her dad said over the phone.

“Sure, dad! I don’t mind.” Y/N said with a smile as she felt Logan’s hard cock press into her knee while they held eye contact.

“Alright, dear, give me a call when it’s clear enough to head back.”

“Will do! Love you, dad!” She said, tilting her head to the side as Logan peppered kisses along her shoulder and neck.

“Love you, sweetheart.”

The moment the call ended, Logan snatched the phone from her and slammed it down on the table, wrapped his arms around her, tangled his fingers in her hair, and kissed her roughly. “All alone now.” He murmured, making her breathless with want as she untucked his t-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands up his abdomen.

“Logan,” She pleaded, tugging on his shirt and he let her pull it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor just before he knelt down between her knees and looked at her for final reassurance before he lifted the skirt of her dress. “Yes, please.” She choked out and he smirked while tearing a hole into her tights, moving her panties aside and touching her gently. “Oh, fuck.” She trembled as his fingers moved through her folds, traced her opening slowly, collecting her arousal on his fingers to lick it off.

“Mm,” Logan moaned, watching her bite her lip at the sight. “Like honey.” He said before kissing her thighs and focusing his attention on her pulsing cunt. His tongue moved through her, drooling against her as he tasted her and felt her drip for him. Y/N let her head hang back in pleasure, her fingernails scratching his scalp as she fisted tufts of his thick hair, using him to balance herself on the edge of the table.

“Fuck, Logan!” She gasped as he sucked on her clit and tongued his way into her core, groaning and mumbling into her about how good she tasted and how much he needed this. His hands held one thigh open and the other over his shoulder, caressing it softly as the chunky heel of her boot dug into his back in a way that he thoroughly enjoyed. The vibrations of his voice and groans sent her over the edge. “Oh, my God!” Her body tensed as the feeling of pleasure overcame her and she let out a high-pitched whine, hunching over slightly as she came quicker than ever before.

“You taste so damn good.” Logan said as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself, making her moan as his fingers continued petting at her sensitive clit. “So needy,” He chuckled as she grabbed a hold of his wrist and rolled her clit into his palm. “Barely letting me do anything.” Her cheeks burned from embarrassment, but she didn’t care, she just wanted to feel him. Her lips pressed to his neck, nipping lightly at his skin which made him hum in approval, his free hand tense on the table as he held himself up while letting her use his palm to seek her second release.

“Oh, oh!” She cried as she came again, shaking and clenching her thighs tightly around his hand while he managed to slip two fingers into her and overstimulate her. “Ah, fuck, Logan!” She cried out, one hand pushing on his chest and the other trying to get his hand out from between her legs. Logan pressed his free hand into the small of her back, holding her close to him as he dragged out her orgasm and she fell limp against him.

“Is that all you can take, honey?” Logan chuckled with a dark look in his eyes. Y/N bit her lip and she shook her head. His lips captured hers in a kiss, his hands palming over the fat of her hips and ass as he moved her further onto the edge of the table.

“Give me more, daddy.” She breathed out as they had pulled apart, running her hands over his warm, toned chest and stopping at his belt buckle. “Please.”

Logan kissed her forehead and he undid his belt, lowered his jeans enough to pull his hard cock out, and she let out a throaty moan at the sight of him so heavy and thick. “Since you asked so nicely.” He teased, collecting her arousal for lubricant with the head of his cock. Y/N shuddered at the feeling, his swollen head prodding into her, bullying his way through her narrow walls with a low growl emitting from his throat. As she braced herself with her hands pressed firmly into his broad back, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and held the table down with his other hand to keep it from toppling over as he pounded into her.

Y/N cried out for him, called his name, barely able to string a full sentence together as he fucked her hard and slow. “Oh, daddy! It - ah - can’t ta - ugh - fuck!” Her body molded into his, let him fuck into her without protest, he loved how responsive she was to him.

“Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?” Logan asked cockily as he watched her eyes roll back into her head and she shook it with a shudder, her orgasm already slowly gushing out of her as he repeatedly pounded into that spot. “Can’t even talk, can you, honey?” He chuckled, kissing her neck and her jaw as he chased his own release.

His back muscles spasmed underneath her palms as his cock throbbed warningly inside her and he picked up his pace to have her cry out until he could feel her walls contracting with the force of a final orgasm and he pulled out. Y/N was suddenly brought down onto her knees and Logan squeezed her cheeks together as he fed his cock to her. “Mm,” She moaned around his dick, letting him slide as deep as possible down her throat and his load shot out in thick spurts. Logan swore and groaned, throwing his head back as he held onto her head with both hands, keeping himself stuffed in her gullet until he was drained and she had swallowed all of him. “Fuck.” She gasped as he slid out of her and let her go.

Logan was breathless as he adjusted his pants and grabbed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he helped her onto her feet, sitting her down at the table with a serious look on his face. “You alright?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, still trembling, but that trademark bright smile of hers unwavering. Logan scoffed and grinned, shaking his head before kissing her forehead and pulling on his t-shirt.

They made some coffee and talked about her starting college, his plans of apparently taking a trip to the United States soon. They were getting to know each other more intimately on his couch as they waited for the storm to pass and when it did, she found herself disappointed. “Mm,” She moaned in protest as he pulled his lips away from hers, his tongue leaving her mouth empty. “Not yet.”

With a smile, Logan patted her thigh and gently moved her legs off his lap as he stood up, disappointed himself. “Time to get you back to your dad.” Logan said as he pulled on his coat and handed Y/N hers.

“Will you still be here when I come back from college?” She asked as he walked her out to her truck.

Logan smiled down at her, noticed her nose quickly becoming red from the cold, her body shivering again, and he remembered the rip he made in her tights. “I sure plan to be,” He said as he kissed her softly and she beamed up at him when they pulled away. “Let’s get you home, honey.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

A moment of silence for Adam🫢

Honey II

Honey III

Masterlist

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

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[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[tojirights]

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

[daisynik7]

When Nanami gets jealous, he gets mean. 

One day, you’re checking out at your favorite bakery, chatting with one of the new employees you just met the other day. Nanami stands beside you, already eyeing the poor guy suspiciously, sliding his arm around your waist, as if to make it even more apparent that the two of you are together. Still, this goes unnoticed; the man says something flirty, along the lines of I made this bread special for you today, I hope you enjoy it. He seals his fate by giving you a brazen wink, and you’re surprised that Nanami manages to keep his cool, though you can feel him tense up next to you. Before he can say anything, you pay quickly, grabbing your baked goods, fleeing the scene with your husband fuming silently in tow. 

The following week, when you suggest going to the same bakery the next morning for breakfast, Nanami is especially enthusiastic when he agrees. It doesn’t strike you as odd, until later that night. 

You’re cuddling in bed, and as usual, you both start getting handsy with each other. He slips beneath your top, flicking his thumbs against your perked nipples. His mouth grazes your neck, licking at your pulse points. You giggle, ticklish at the sensation, but then he nips at your skin with his teeth, immediately sucking on the spot hard. You whine his name, squirming at the sting. “Nanami!” 

“What is it, sweetheart?” His mouth is hot on your ear, one hand trailing down between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your panties. “You don’t like it?”

You do, of course, so you say, “I do like it. Just…no hickies. We’re seeing people tomorrow.” You’re referring to your friends, who you’re meeting for dinner. But Nanami has someone else in mind. 

“But that’s exactly why I want to,” he growls, sucking on your neck again, making his mark on you. “Everyone is going to know you’re mine.”

And how can you deny him when he’s being so fucking naughty right now, slipping his fingers inside you, grinding his body against yours, leaving more love bites on your neck and across your collarbone. When he gets on top of you, folding you into a mating press, pounding his cock in and out of your sloppy cunt, you can’t help but notice his gaze flitting to the hickies he’s left on your skin. His pace increases, marveling at his pretty little slut imprinted by his kisses.

Even that is not enough. No, he has to mark you up in every way possible. After he fucks you into three orgasms, clit swollen and rubbed raw by his thumb, he’s ready to bust. He pulls out of you abruptly, dropping your legs back onto the bed, crawling up to straddle your chest. He strokes his cock in his fist as you watch him, moans pouring out of your drooling mouth, hungry for it. It doesn’t take much longer for him to shoot his load onto you, painting your love bites in his pearly white cum.

The next morning at the bakery, you greet the employee, Nanami beside you with a small grin on his face. It takes a minute of idle chit-chat for the man to notice, pointing at his own neck to ask, “Are those...?”

Before you can answer, your husband slides his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, smirking at the employee. “Ah, well, I made these special for you last night, I hope you enjoy it.” Nanami gives you a loud smooch on the cheek, grabs the pastries, and leads you out the door, leaving the man too stunned to speak and you with your face buried in your hands, mortified.