#being a human being with thoughts and feelings should be more than enough to earn compassion

[actual-corpse]

A sincere Fuck You and an Unmerry Christmas and Unhappy New Year fuckbag.

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. lucifer x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི daddy kink. prbly excessive use of princess/little girl/human. size kink. praise. nipple sucking. fingering. possessive luci. unedited as usual. wc ꒱ 6k ﾉ 18+

note . . ᘏ⑅ᘏ ﾉ i dunno if this is even a repost anymore bcuz the original fic was only 2k words :c . . i also thought I wasn’t cwazy abt luci anymore but boy . . wus i wrong. i still luv him dearly. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys. thankuuu ^_^

lucifer could never understand why humans, beings fettered by something as meaningless as mortality, could possess the ties to control and bind demons.

how such frail bodies of small messes, succumbing to sicknesses, phobias, and other little weirds are able to form pacts with such powerful creatures

it’s a polarizing thought that he’s never challenged or sought to change. he understands them for what they are. arguably worse than demons, and he wants nothing to do with them. they are violent, weak, and fickle, and somehow—in the irony of it all—the universe plays a trick on him.

he lowered his defenses and foolishly got ahead of himself. he was unlike his brothers; he didn’t need love or companionship, and yet, of all the powerful beings and creatures, it’s a human that turned him into something unrecognizable.

it was faceless, sneaking up on him, and he was unable to remedy it as he slowly felt it consume him whole.

a bond was webbed between the two of you, and he’s certain, frighteningly so, that nothing could break it.

granted, that level of trust surely didn’t form overnight, as you proved to be quite troublesome. you were used to peeking your nose where it didn’t belong and going into places mortals should never be, making his job more difficult, but still, he trusts you.

with six younger demon brothers and a human to look after, discord became frequent. secrets wrapped tightly were easily unveiled just from your existence in devildom.

he kept a mental checklist of all your wrongdoings, and now your invasion of his heart was another.

his heart.

nothing but proof of his existence, only meant to pump blood and oxygen, has now expanded far too much to fit within his ribcage. it was suffocating.

it made room for a different kind of love, for someone else, and he didn’t think it was possible. he became spoiled by your affections.

he yearned so much for you that he was convinced that his carnage and sadism might have withered. at least, that's what he thought, only to realize it’s been tucked away in a cavity that you simultaneously filled.

he’s unfortunately reminded that it never really went anywhere. he’s respected and feared by all, and yet it wasn’t enough to deter his brothers from causing any mishaps, especially one in particular.

♡ . . ♡

it’s dinner when lucifer decides to strike.

chatter and the smell of only the best food in devildom fill the room. he almost feels bad for souring the joyful atmosphere—almost, but as always, there's an impending conflict that would render him irritable for the rest of the night.

he sits at the head of the table as the eldest brother and strongest demon, earning everyone's stare from the shift in the atmosphere. you and his brothers could sense that he wasn’t going to make a meager announcement. lucifer moves slowly, careful to prevent any of his heedless anger from slipping through.

he looks at everyone in the room, but his gaze lingers on you a bit longer.

“forgive me for interrupting dinner, but it’s come to my attention that someone here has stolen something valuable of mine.” his voice is deep, stern, and accusing. it echoes in the candle-lit hall.

“my credit card.”

maybe it's his sadistic streak, but he knew asking that question was ultimately trivial. he knows which of his brothers is guilty; you all did.

there’s only one demon dumb and desperate enough to steal from lucifer of all people, and while the perpetrator was obvious, it didn’t make anyone any less anxious.

the avatar of pride is infamous for his punishments, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end. when anything goes amiss, they must answer to him, and you were no exception to that rule.

you point your manicured finger at mammon, and his expression morphs into utter terror. he yelps at your tattling, already plotting at least three different ways to make his escape.

“oh my,” asmo laughs.

belphie yawns obnoxiously, unamused by the series of events. it was just another typical night in the house of lamentation; nothing should surprise anyone, and still, lucifer let a troubled sigh escape.

mammon throws a fit of indignation, as if his culpability wasn’t already obvious.

tossing his hands in the air, he whines, “damn it. why’d ya’ have to tell?” he slides down the seat of the chair, trying to avoid lucifer’s angered stare as much as possible.

you don’t think to reply, almost even rolling your eyes at him. everyone knows it’s him, and like the well-behaved girl you are, you figure it makes no sense to drag out the inevitable.

but when everyone’s eyes settle on you in curiosity, you slouch in your chair and blush at the sudden attention. you feel nervous, like you made a blunder of some sort.

they expectantly await your answer, but you don't have one.

“s-sorry, mammon,” you squeak out.

your hands in between your thighs and fidget under their stares.

you couldn’t, at least not confidently, admit that lucifer has you wrapped around his finger. he expects far too much of you, and you couldn’t possibly ruin that because of mammon, but that didn’t lessen the slight guilt from easing in.

“don’t apologize,” lucifer says, bolstering his voice—his attempt at scolding mammon while reassuring you.

“it’s not up to her to entertain your lies. perhaps if you weren’t always up to no good, she wouldn’t have to confess to your wrongdoings,” he lectures.

he sneers at him, and you watch as the younger demon slinks back further. “you’re the second oldest. act like it.”

mammon huffs.

“ahhh, lucifer, you’re no fun.”

admittedly, the brothers would get away with a lot more if it weren’t for your honesty.

make no mistake, they all love you dearly, but the troublemakers couldn’t tolerate your obedience when it comes to lucifer.

when he asked you who ate all the food satan prepared for breakfast the next day, you didn’t hesitate to say it was beel. when he asks you who wrote ‘lucifer sucks :p’ on his wall, you don’t stutter to inform him of satan’s and belphie’s not-so-secretive plan of his tormentation.

anything he wants, anything he asks, you obey. that was just the nature of your relationship.

after mammon realizes pouting won’t get him out of trouble with lucifer, he goes back to eating, and the others follow suit. soon the lively atmosphere returned, but you felt rather self-conscious.

you looked over at lucifer in the hope of finding something that you're weren't sure of yet, only to see that he was already staring at you. you nibble on your spoon, suddenly feeling bare from his lowered gaze.

there is a sense of security that you crave. his look of approval serves as a reminder of why you’re faithful to him. it was rewarding to know that your loyalty didn’t go unnoticed.

you look away quickly to hide your flusteredness by sipping on your tea, but the sweet taste of earl gray isn’t enough to distract you.

dinner begins to slow and wrap up. one by one, everyone bids their goodbyes. mammon is the first to depart, knowing he’d need as much of a head start as possible. when you finish the remainder of your dinner, you get up to leave as well.

you think about how to spend the rest of your evening, and your mind wanders to cramped thighs and ruined pillows.

you grow heated by the memory of previous nights. you touched yourself too many times to count after constantly witnessing lucifer’s disheveled state after his long day of reprimanding.

you stuffed your cunt with your fingers nightly, trying to mimic the feeling of something much larger. it was difficult to commit such acts quietly in a home full of creatures with nearly perfect hearing, and still, you wonder what fantasy will tether you tonight.

maybe the one when he fucks you in diavolo’s office, or your personal favorite, he punishes you.

you fantasize about him pulling up your dainty dress to put you over his lap and spank your plump ass until cum soaks your thighs, but tonight, you don’t have to conjure up anything.

lucifer stops you in the middle of your daydream. grabbing your wrist gently, he catches you by surprise.

you clumsily turn. frazzled eyes meet unwavering carmines. you’re almost certain he could hear the thump beating between your legs.

the prideful demon pulls you close, forcing your bodies to collide and connect like missing pieces. his breath is warm against your ear.

“would you like to come by my chambers later tonight?”

you look up to search his face, wondering if there’s even a sign of doubt. after countless days and nights and all sorts of muddled feelings between sheets, there is a part of you that can’t truly accept that he sought you.

one of the most eligible bachelors in all of devildom, known for his fearsomeness, is holding you like you were glass, asking for your company.

you soak in his expression, and it’s nothing less than firm and impenetrable, and it's then that you realize it was not a question. he was not asking.

struck with a whirlwind of desire from that revelation, you nod weakly, but the demon only shakes his head in response.

“words, my little human.”

your head tilts on its axis only for a moment. your chest had to be wide open, bearing your insides to him. the effect he had on you must have been that obvious. you’re a puddle.

was it normal to feel the static every time he was around, after every word he spoke?

you feel hazy, but also a small sense of relief that you no longer have to question if he still wants you. you’ve exhausted your fingers and toys, and finally, what you have been needlessly craving would be fulfilled in a room only a few doors down. his gaze flickers to your lips, and they shine with promise.

you mustered up all the courage you had left.

“yes, i would love to come by later.”

you’re amazed that it didn’t come out as wobbly as you anticipated. you’ve gotten better at pretending, you suppose.

lucifer gives you a sweet smile. he’s pleased with your answer, and butterflies erupt in your full belly.

his gloved hand then completely engulfs yours to bring it to his lips. not once breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckle before he departs. a hopeless romantic.

he sets out to find mammon, and that gives you enough time to prepare.

you stalk up the stairs, declining levi’s invitation for a night of competitive gaming pitifully on the way. you’ll make it up to him next time.

by ushering yourself into your room, you act immediately. you don’t spend too long getting ready. a steaming, hot shower would suffice. you wash up with a bar of gentle soap, then follow through with too many to-count spritzes of perfume and faint-smelling lotion.

white with pastel pink trim.

your night clothes are simple and short enough to keep him on his toes. you look over at yourself in the mirror.

when did you become so daring ? you didn’t know. maybe asmo’s tips on charm and seduction were finally rubbing off on you. you wonder what his reaction would be if you told him you were using them on his brother. maybe he already knew.

you turn off your light and open your door. you peek down the hall.

it’s silent and empty, just as you predicted.

quietly, you shut the door, cursing to yourself when you hear the faint cry of the rusty hinges. your trek down to his room was anxiety-inducing, but in a good way. you feel refreshed, your body is more than ready, and you’re excited.

you hoped no one would drop by unexpectedly. beel would most likely wake up in the middle of the night for a snack, but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of lucifer’s room. not that it mattered anyway.

it wasn’t really a secret—not that those lasted with you around—but it would be. . . awkward. you’d much rather not have to deal with anyone overhearing all the naughty things you’ll beg him to do.

you stop your train of thought when you reach the end of the hallway. you’re in front of his door, and you sway from your heels to your tippy toes. the fluttery ache in your chest was making you skittish.

you take a breath to compose yourself, and then you knock with three light taps.

“come in”

it takes a good chunk of your strength to open his heavy door, but you appreciate the time it grants you. it gives you the space to calm yourself down and ease your prickly nerves.

when you enter, you let your eyes wander around the room first. nothing but books, old records, and silhouettes of things you couldn’t make out in the dark. you walk in and find him leaning against his unusually messy desk.

there's soft light from the lamp that hugs his frame and illuminates his coat discarded on the nearby dresser.

he fiddles with the strap of his gloves, giving you a small smile at the sight of your presence.

“you don’t have to knock, my love.”

he allows his gaze to explore, drinking in the outfit you picked out specifically for him. already, his trousers are suffocating and distracting him, but he’s quick to recover.

you bite your lip out of habit under his lustful stare.

“i know, but i wanted to just in case you were busy . . .”

there’s an amused huff.

his long legs carry him over to where you stand swiftly. his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“sweet girl.” and the way it skirts the edge of sensuality could make you melt. “even if i am, feel free to steal me away,” he whispers.

you swallow down a moan at the thought. maybe one day he'll eat those words.

his hand trails from your face to the nape of your neck and pauses.

“you washed your hair,” he observes.

you shake your head.

“it got a little wet in the shower so I’m just letting it air dry for a bit, luci.”

you pull at a wet strand and watch it dutifully bounce back in place. “ i was too lazy to dry it.“

he watches the notion with careful eyes. you wanted to giggle at how serious he looked.

“i wish you would’ve asked me to help you. i don’t want you getting a cold.”

you smile at his sincerity. you realized very early on that lucifer enjoyed tending to you. he likes consistency and being depended on.

‘it’s for your own well-being,’ he says, but you think he likes to have a pretty girl to fuss over

you offer him a small pout. “i did think about it, but i assumed you were still scolding mammon. i didn’t want to bother you.”

“besides.” you turn away, “i don’t think he wants to see me right now”

already, you’re embarrassed by the thought of facing mammon again. flustered, you recall tonight’s dinner and the look on their faces. you are definitely going to avoid them at school tomorrow.

you slouch, "he totally hates me.”

you say it half-heartedly, but lucifer looks at you with seriousness.

he softly grabs you by your chin. “don’t speak like that. he doesn’t hate you—none of us do, and i’m not sure we are capable of harboring such thoughts.”

you smile. “i dunno. i’m pretty sure you guys hated my guts when i first came.” you chuckle, thinking he’d at least join in, but he frowns. his heavy hand strokes the top of your head in an affectionate rhythm.

“we had our differences, and i was far too harsh. that i know.”

there’s a faraway look in his eye, and you know there’s a silent storm forming. you reach out to cup his cheek, and he melts into your touch.

“i never hated you,” he says.

you knew that your actions played a part in straining the early stages of your relationship. you also had to come to terms that not only lucifer, but multiple brothers harbored resentment towards humans,

its not a perfect story, but everything about this was completely unconventional. you’re just a woman who somehow found herself stuck in an attempt at other-worldly diplomacy, now sandwiched between the trying relationships of seven powerful demons.

things are rocky, but it’s the happiest you’ve ever been.

“i was only teasing, luci. i'm not mad or scared anymore.”

the hand you rested on his cheeks gets gripped by his larger ones, and he kisses your palm fondly.

“besides, i think we both know i wasn’t completely innocent.”

he takes a deep inhale.

“still, i think about how things were before.” he recalls the past in disdain; he blames his pride and then himself.

“my brothers and i . . . we are devoted to you, and we have the pacts to prove it.”

it’s a provocation you’re still not entirely used to. you had 7 demons who offered themselves to you, and the proof is imprinted on their skin.

in the human world, you’re everything and nothing at the same time. feelings of loneliness and insecurity that are far too loud and are still not enough to matter. you realized everyone lived selfishly, and your heart wasn’t hardened enough to follow suit.

lucifer's thoughts about humans didn’t change, despite his proximity to you. talks of your life as a young girl only cemented his thinking.

you were far too perfect for humans, too devious for angels, and too innocent for demons.

you were an entity on your own, and scarily he worshiped you. all of you.

he’d never tire of sinking his cock into your wet cunt, filling you with his seed, and hearing those saccharine moans that fall from glossed lips. he was ravenous, but you truly didn’t know the extent of it.

“my brothers care for you deeply, as do i, but you must know.” his eyes seem darker and much more predatory, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. like a bunny trapped in a hunter's cage, your doe eyes double in size and tremors rattle through your frame.

“you’re mine alone. your mind and body belong to only me.”

lucifer is well aware that six other cocks competed for your attention. a crass choice of words, but nothing less than true. they vied for the human girl, with nearly everyone wrapped around her dainty fingers. you are a color in the world shrouded in sisyphean darkness.

his lips part on your skin. “they can touch and taste you because i allow it.”

rough hands pull up your skirt, and he grabs a handful of your ass. “this . . . this is all mine.”

you make sure to turn and give your butt a little wiggle. it's more than a sultry gesture, and lucifer thinks a human so docile posing erotically might be the one thing to kill him.

how do you make soiled underwear look so pretty and enticing? there’s a possessive streak, a soft darkness that opens its curtains upon your presence. it peers over his shoulder, urging him to devour you. to pick at your remains until he’s consumed you.

“you're beautiful,” he groans. he inches close to you, and you think your lips are going to meet halfway, but he kisses your forehead.

then, your eyelids, your nose, and the side of your mouth, you look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t budge when you try to squirm.

lucifer steps back and leads you to his chair. he settles into the squeaky leather until his back is comfortably cushioned.

he pats his firm lap.

“come.”

you know he’s holding back. his muscles ripple beneath you, he slouches farther into his chair, his legs spread to give his groin space to freely twitch against the slackness of his pants, and it only invites you

you struggle to decide where to sit. his knee or over his lap, both very promising positions, but he decides for you. he pulls your hip so your cunt is nestled right up against his cock. you sigh breathily, already your brain turning to mush.

“i didn’t even touch you, and you’re already making such a mess, sweet girl.”

the angle you tilt your head hides your expression, but from the flutter of your lashes and the purses of your lips, he knows you’ve grown shy.

"you kissed me,”

your sweet tone and your faint aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine make his cock stir.

“is that why you’re so worked up? just from my kiss?”

not even on the lips—not yet at least, and you’ve already wetted the fabric with your sticky arousal.

“what will happen when daddy touches right here?”

it’s a feathery graze against your protruding bud. his knuckles nudge the seat of the moist cotton, right where the white turned nearly transparent against your swollen cunt.

“it aches, doesn’t it?”

slender fingers slip under the band teasingly. he studies the subtle twitch of your hole, pumping a stream of glossy slick.

“do you want me to make it go away, hm? do you want daddy to make it better?”

you nod, a broken moan falling from your trembling lips.

“ i wantmore daddy.”

you spread your legs wider, hoping he’d be more generous with his caress.

“soon, my love.”

his hands trail from your pants to your stomach to your shoulders.

his hands rub your stomach and under your breast, settling right on your hip. you know he is hyper-aware of the thin fabric separating his cock from your heat.

even in his lap, he’s taller than you, but only by a few inches. his eyes are low and hazy.

“i wish to take my time with you.”

his thumb trails over your nipple.

“you have no idea how much i missed you.”

his other fingers pull at the other nipple.

you’ve felt those same digits on your neck, in your mouth, curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, and now between your thighs

he begins to grope at your exposed flesh. he admires how supple they appear, and he has to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into them.

your body never falters, and it responds so well to his hot and addicting touch. lucifer tries not to tease you; after all, he is rewarding you, but the little sounds and pants that leave your lips almost make him rethink.

your skirt is wrinkled, and he flips it at your hip, and your entire bottom half is almost fully exposed. your bare legs are on display, and so is your clothed mound. he mumbles sweet praises into the side of your breast while tracing the outline of your pussy through your pants with his finger.

you pull him away from your chest to kiss him, and lucifer has to remember that you’re human. that your small and pouty mouth, which struggles to swallow, is as fragile as the rest of you. palms splayed about on your back remind him he can mold you.

his hands are in a constant of motion, tugging and squeezing at your flesh. it feels like he’s in awe of every part of your body no matter how it differs from his. his touches are messy and yet controlled. they search you in subtle restraint, fearful that they’ll hurt you.

you’ve never been touched this way. to have someone want you so desperately— to possess you almost. his hands are burning you and you feel on top of the world.

you moan at his caress and feel heat rush through your body. if it weren’t for the lack of air in his lungs, he’d never pull away but eventually he does. lucifer experimentally probes your clit and looks up at your face to admire your expression.

“do you like that?” he whispers. you bite your lip, and your voice raises in pitch, “mhm.”

lucifer smirks to himself and kisses your nipple. “what did i say about words, little one?”

he stops his ministrations on your cunt and licks at your areola teasingly. he settles the tip of his tongue on your heated bud, flicking it, sending a shiver down your spine.

“is my good girl acting up?.”

“n-no, daddy, never.”

between each breath, he plants open-mouthed kisses across your chest.

“i hope so. i would hate to have to punish you.”

he sucks diligently and roughly. his tongue aggressively strokes your nipple, addicted to how it feels in his mouth. he closes his eyes and continues his assault on your chest.

your soft cries filled his room, and the feeling of your teat on the surface of his wet muscles pleased him. the aforementioned headache was long gone because the plushness of your body took over his mind and soul.

you may feel an indescribable urge to obey him, but he's just as much under your spell as you’re under his. he’s the embodiment of pride, but he’s not against admitting that you invade every inch of him. you don’t know it yet, but anything you ask of him, he will deliver. he wonders if you could hear his heart thrumming against his chest.

you’re naked, but he feels equally as exposed.

he continues sucking on one breast, his other hand busied itself, rubbing the neglected one. you arch into his touch, your tit spilling out of his hand. the weight of it feels secure in his large palm.

the stimulation has you unruly within his embrace. one minute, your hips are still from his flicks at your pussy, and then it jerks up, wanting more from his skilled and wandering hands.

lucifer likes this side of you, desperate and unashamed of how you wanted him to use your body.

you’re so sensitive that any subtle movement sends pressure to your clit. every time you whimper, especially loudly, he's quick to praise you.

“such lovely noises. i bet you’d do anything to please me, hm?” he hums.

you remember his earlier warning eager to be on your best behavior. “yes, daddy.”

it was hard to verbalize but you were at his mercy. anything for his approval, anything for his praise, you’d do it, especially if it meant you’d get rewarded like this.

he then pulls up your soaked panties, and you gasp at the sudden gesture. they stretch across the surface of your wet pussy, and they snap from his brute strength. the break in the fabric spanking your cunt.

“what a pretty thing.”

he tosses your ripped panties to the floor, ruining your perfect set. but he’d buy you another.

“i just want to be your good girl,” you say, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.

“you’re always my good girl. isn’t that right?”

you nod and feel happiness bloom.

“the best girl for daddy,” lucifer sensually encourages.

at this rate, you’re dizzy and drunk on his intoxicating words and erotic touch. you’re babbling, and lucifer finds it endearing.

you whine when he finally takes his gloved finger and rubs slow and tight circles on your slippery bud. “dada—.” you cry especially loud.

“i know, i know,” he shushes.

you felt relief consume you at the friction of his gloves on your trembling cunny. he continues to rub and fiddle with it until you’re forced to bury your mewls into the crook of his neck.

he takes another finger and presses down on your twitchy button, and you flinch at the sudden burst of pleasure.

he knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows how to make you fall apart. his finger continues to work on your sensitive nub, and you gradually begin to soak his lap with your arousal.

he drags his fingers over your labia and grazes over your desperate hole.

within a few strokes, he plunges two fingers into your heat. he watches you push your tits into his face from the pleasure that forces the arch in your back. and he takes a deep inhale. your pussy greedily latches onto his fingers, and you’re practically fucking his hand.

“you look so delicious in my lap. such a beautiful sight, and it's reserved for only me.”

the depth of his voice sends shudders through your body

he loved how his fingers slid right in. it felt like your pussy was made to take what he gave you. his big fingers fervently stroke your insides, and your legs shake.

just watching your tiny hole stretch to the width of his fingers threatened his self-control. he wanted to fill you with something much bigger, and he’d know you would take it because you're his precious girl.

he wants to see your cunt wrapped around his heavy cock, but he’d settle for now.

just seeing you so pliant in his arms from his tongue lapping at your breast and his large fingers was enough for him.

you drip all over his wrist, and it darkens his gloves.

lucifer’s fingers rub every soft ridge, and your cunt is more than happy for it. the wetness, the squelch, the tightness—it’s overwhelming for you. you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

"i'm going to cum, daddy. please." you don’t know what you're begging for, but whatever he was willing to do, you needed it now.

lucifer knows you’re close—very close. you’ve nearly gone stiff, and you’re shaking against him. your toes are curled, and your first is clutched.

“oh, is this princess’ pussy going to make a mess?” he coaxes. you open your mouth, moaning, and lucifer leans down. your foreheads are touching, and you unabashedly mewl, your minty breath fanning his face. “is she going to cream for me?”

you feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. lucifer only increases the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunny. he becomes more brutal, only wanting you to be within his arms as his only goal.

he’s so close to you that your lashes touch his skin. sweat simmers on your chest, and he sucks on your now bruised bottom lip from all your biting.

with two fingers still buried inside you, stroking your walls, he presses his thumb to your clit once more.

“that’s it, it’s pretty girl.”

you felt it coming; you had ample time, and you tried to keep yourself contained, but the force was still too unbearable. you had no idea how much he was holding back.

“i’m so much bigger than you. so much stronger, and you’re so little, princess.” he chuckles in a state of disbelief.

“and you’re not even scared.”

“you’re too trusting, but i suppose that’s why i love you so much. daddy’s brave little girl.”

like a lick of lightning, lucifer feels his desire threaten to snap. his human—his sweet mess full of little weirds, kind eyes, and a soft mouth was going to make him lose himself. he's growling like a beast with every chant of his name.

“daddydaddydaddy —hiccup— love you lots, b-but. i-i can’t think anymore. can’t take it.”

drool collects on the side of your mouth.

“i know it’s a lot for you right now, but you’re doing so well, princess.”

he re-adjusts your body on his lap. “just think about daddy and his fingers.”

the appendages stretching your cunt pull out briefly.

“look at that precious pussy.”

he spreads your labia watching the uneasy throb of your hole that begged to be stuffed.

lucifer wants to mount you, but he remembers what he is when he can smell the blood pumping through veins and the feeling of your heartbeat under the tips of his fingers.

he needs to treat you like a prized dolly to dress up, to kiss, and to fuck.

you don’t need to think; he knows what’s best, and he wants to keep you on a shelf for his own use.

you made him a beast, luring him into darkness, but he was never good at hiding. he felt like he was defiling you. you were truly an entity different from anything he’s ever known. sweet as brown sugar, and he’s tainting you.

still, the thrust of his arms grows stronger. nothing but the milky, wet sounds of your drenched cunt

“your little pussy is crying. you can let go for me.”

your hearts swell with another wave of heat. the sweet babbles of you wanting to reciprocate his love die on your tongue when your body stills. you toss your head back with a pretty wail nearing your crescendo. noisily, his fingers pump your pussy with trickles of wetness spurting out.

your hips jolt forward and erratically hump the heel of his palm, hoping to reach your end much sooner.

“m right there, —!”

he's going to make you cum hard. everything from the sound of his voice to his rough fingers to the shape of his cock could make you cream. his skill never fails you, always leaving you nearly boneless. you’re always going to come crawling back for more, without a doubt.

lucifer feels your walls pulsate around him, warning him of your impending orgasm, and it strokes his ego.

“daddyyyy,” you pant deliriously. his thumb drags at your clit repeatedly and with the sensation of your insides being drained, you sob. you’re too loud, but you can't remain silent any longer.

lucifer kisses your forehead to soothe you, and with a slight pinch of your throbbing cunt, you erupt in the middle of his embrace. the dam finally breaks, and your pussy convulses angrily like it's trying to push his fingers out.

“thaaaaat’s it, baby. daddy is so proud of you.”

he increases his pace, draining you of all the cum your cunny could pump out. until your knees buckle around his wrists.

your chest expands, desperate for more air. your head is fogging up, and you’re exhausted. your limbs are strewn across the demon, lacking complete strength.

lucifer lets you cool off from your high, and he slips his fingers out of you. without hesitation, he buries them into his mouth. the taste of you fills his taste buds to utter satisfaction. you're delicious, sweet and sour, and addicting. he would inject the very essence of you into his veins if he could. but maybe he's already hooked on you; that would explain his racing mind filled with thoughts of only you.

this demon that he’s become terrifies him, but he doesn't want to change. his family and his precious human are all he needs.

he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you. your back is now pressed into his chest, eyes closed blissfully. lucifer tucks your head under his chin, and you rest safely in his hold.

he silently admires the number he did on your body and feels the familiar feeling of pride bursts within him. he looks at your beautiful face, your puffy nipples, and used pussy and he feels gratified fulfillment engulf him.

“perfect human,” he mumbles.

he graces you with another kiss on your heated skin.

“my obedient little girl.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 6

masterpost

“Have you experienced events that could be described as fatal?” Danny read from his notebook. Before Jason could answer he continued, “Do you know the name and species of all your progenitors? Have you ever wondered if you are-” 

Jason held a hand up to ask for silence. He was in the zone on a training module that Barbie had sent to the whole team. He was not going to get any more shit from fucking Tim and Stephanie about being an out of touch old man like Bruce who ran code directly from the 90s.

Danny cut himself off to wait. Without looking up, Jason could see some kind of bouncing movement that had to be Danny fidgeting. “You’re early,” Jason eventually said. He shut the program that he’d been running and then blinked his full attention over to his date. “It’s not- is it 5 already?��� He blinked away the gumminess in his eyes and checked the time. 

Danny flushed a little green. His freckles glowed a little whiter in contrast. “No, it’s 4:30,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, left work a little early.” He floated up and then abruptly over into a flip. Like an antsy mermaid. Jason leaned back and watched, fascinated by how easy movement looked on Danny. It was the way he’d used to see Dick, but now he knew how hard Dick’s easy mobility was earned.

“You don’t feel gravity at all, do you?” He confirmed, envious and charmed. 

“Uhh.. Can’t say that I do,” Danny admitted. He shrugged. “Not like this, anyway. I do in my human body, obviously.”

“Is that literally-” Jason cut himself off with a mortified flush. Holy shit. You can’t just ask someone if they have a magical transformation into their own corpse. Insensitive much?

Danny gave him a knowing look but gracefully ignored the question. “Anyway. Do you remember what I asked earlier?” He cocked his head to the side and full body wiggled. “I had Frostbite help me write them out. Undead health isn’t really my area, but he knows everything that’s ever been known, which is pretty cool.”

“Uh…” Jason thought back. “I told you when we were eating that I died once,” he reminded Danny with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s an easy yes.”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know how serious you were or if you were describing something extremely short term like needing afib or something longer term-”

“Dead, buried, in the ground for months,” Jason admitted. “Presumably rotted, but I came back to myself with living human physiology, if extremely damaged from what killed me.” It was really gross to think about. It was also impossible to totally avoid. There should have been no coming back from all the blood drying up and shit.

Danny stared at him with an open mouth for a few seconds. Long enough that Jason fidgeted, uncomfortable.

“That’s the most metal shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Danny said reverentially. “That’s so nasty, man. You rotted? Does this make me more of a necrophiliac than you?”

Jason choked on his own spit.

Danny did another flip.

“My parents were definitely human,” Jason managed, voice strangled. Best to get this back on topic. “I know for sure. I’ve met them both.”

Danny blew a raspberry. “It’s not always obvious,” he pointed out 

“Anything that would show up on Batman’s DNA analysis can be ruled out,” Jason corrected himself. “And neither of them had any non-human capabilities. Died from things that a Tamaraean or Kryptonian would be able to get out of.” 

“...Oddly specific species mentions,” Danny said. A line formed between his brows. His toes touched down to earth and he crossed his arms. “You… I wasn’t thinking of that type of non-human.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that, you touched Wolf.”

“And a Kryptonisn wouldn’t be able to?” Jason asked a bit dryly. He didn’t understand the logic.

“Not unless they were really juicy with death,” Danny said in a weirdly mellow tone for such a disgusting sentence.

Jason gagged a little. He couldn’t help it. Oh, christ. Yeah, bodies got wet and shit after a while, but characterizing that as juicy? That was out of line.

“Not like- not like that!” Danny fluttered his hands at Jason, torn between horror and cackling. “I don’t mean like, dead and rotting. I mean dead and reanimated with ectoplasm. Souped with the sweet nectar of the afterlife. Wolf is a ghost, man.” He snickered.

“Wolf is a ghost,” Jason repeated.

Danny frowned. “Wolf,” he said. “Not Wolf.”

“What?” They sounded the same.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Danny said, saying the name the exact same way that Jason had been. “It’s Wolf, not Wolf.”

Jason stared at him warily. “...Spell it for me.”

“W-U-L-F,”  Danny rattled.

Ah. Ok. Jason took that onboard. “Wulf is a ghost,” he said again. “And therefore I ought not be able to touch him. I can touch you.”

“Like this? For sure.” Danny went through his flashbang light-show and shook out his newly black hair. “I’m a physical being. In my ghost form, I can consciously let you touch me. But Wulf was actively in the Ghost Zone when you hit him. You put your hand into the Ghost Zone and smacked him. The living have ghostly properties in the Ghost Zone. He’s tangible there but you should have been intangible.”

“...Maybe I’m a ghost?” Jason posited, cocking his head slightly as he said it. Danny was the expert. “I never found any answer for why I just woke up in my grave one day.”

“You just woke up?” Danny repeated, delighted. He put his hands on his face, breathed into them heavily, and then ran both hands through his hair. “That’s sick. That’s fucking sick, man. Did you have to dig yourself out like a zombie?”

…Did Danny think this was like, hot, and not disturbing? “Tore off my fingernails on the coffin splinters,” Jason confirmed, fascinated with what a little freak this guy was. Danny’s pupil dilated at the words. Jason could almost have been offended because that shit was traumatic, but hey. 

If he really thought about it. It was sick as fuck.

“I think yes, by the way,” Jason decided. He waited for Danny to give him a questioning look  before he elaborated. “You’re a monsterfucker, my guy. I’m attracted to you, but not because you’re dead. Whereas you’re clearly into the fact that I’m a dead guy.” 

Danny opened his mouth. He shut it. He put a hand over his mouth. “Huh,” he said. “Huh.” His brow furrowed. “If I said it was scientific curiosity and that passion for death runs in my family- no, I hear it.” He flapped a hand at Jason to cut off the laugh he couldn’t stop. “Hush. Okay. Fine.” He stood up a little straighter. “I’m a necrophiliac and I’m proud.”

A window banged shut in the kitchen and there was a clatter as someone’s shitty little brother fell into the sink.

“...Hi, Duke!” Danny called.

Jason put his hand over his face.

“Hi, Danny!” Duke called back, voice choked. “Good to hear from you, man.”

“You can’t fucking be here!” Jason said between his fingers. “I have plans, you shitty Zebra mussel.”

Danny looked at him.

“...What?” Duke asked. He came into the room to frown at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. “New Zealand mud snail.” They still didn’t get it. “Spotted lantern fly.” 

Blank stares.

“Fucksake,” said Jason. “I’m calling you an invasive species.”

Danny laughed. Duke made a loud pffft sound and unlocked his phone. He held it up and showed them the screen. “Would the New Zealand zebra lantern fly have this?” He triumphantly brandished his phone screen, which was a screenshot of his chat with Jason where he’d confirmed that he had permission to come over.

“New Zealand zebra lantern fly,” Jason repeated, vexed as fuck. “You know damn well-”

“It checks out, boss,” Danny reported, leaning back from Duke’s phone. “Looks like he’s allowed in. Let ‘im use your TV while we go out.”

“Yeah, let me use your TV while you go on a date,” Duke echoed, clearly enjoying this a lot.

“...I’ll get my coat,” Jason said sullenly. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Danny told Duke.

Jason stalked away into his bedroom, wondering when he’d lost the plot to his own life.

[mrsparrasblog]

Barracks Baby

Summary: After sleeping with four of your fellow teammates, you need to navigate through pregnancy and finding out who the Baby Daddy is

You should have listened to your mother, was all you thought when you looked at that bloody positive stick in your hand. Your mother always said, "Don’t whore around; you’re going to end up pregnant and unwed. Keep your virginity until marriage," blah blah blah.

What your mom didn’t tell you were the effects of living on a military base. You wouldn’t call yourself a barracks bunny—you only slept with four guys; there must be more to it for earning that title. And who could judge you? Everyone would if they could. These four men were everything every other man lacked on earth. No one could make you cum as many times as John could, no one could make you feel so stupid like Simon could, no one was as pretty and nice as Kyle—fucking him in any other position than missionary would be a crime against humanity—and no one had as much stamina as Johnny; he could go for at least six rounds, shove a protein bar between your pouty lips, and go four more.

You weren’t sure what to do. That was a lie—you always wanted kids, just not like this, not in this situation, without knowing who the baby daddy is, being employed by the military, and best of all, being broke. Of course, you could call your best friend Conny; she would always support you with the baby, but even she couldn’t help you break the news to the boys.

Your mother would probably kill you—no, she wouldn’t, but she would tell you all about eating liver sprinkled with fish oil, quitting your job, and getting into a relationship with that loser Mark you once dated. He would still take you after being knocked up, but how could you return to that after having these four guys?

You needed to tell them; you knew it. There was no other way around this situation. Maybe one of them would step up. You were sure if it was Price's baby, he would support you mentally and financially, though your military career would be destroyed. Simon would be a different story; he hated kids—or at least that’s what you thought. He never wanted them, never anything more than a fling. Johnny would be the safest choice; he would take care of you, step up, marry you, and make you a cute housewife in the Highlands. No more working sounded good right now to you. Kyle was a wildcard; he would support you—he was a good guy—but he never spoke about kids. He could either love them or hate them.

You stood up; it was enough time sitting on the toilet and overthinking. You walked outside, gripping the stick tightly and holding it against your stomach, trying to hide it from the rookies walking past you. They had too much fun; if you were with Simon right now, you’d make them run laps for smiling. Rookies aren’t there to be happy; they are there to suffer. Fuck, you’re going to be a terrible mom, you thought. You treated rookies badly, you forgot to feed your hamster once, and you’re only good at shooting and fucking—what will you teach this kid? The anxiety inside of you only grew bigger with every passing second.

You reached the meeting room, sat down, and sighed as you took out your phone, scrolling until you found the Group chat 141 + Hot Stuff. You remembered how Johnny changed it after you joined and how the Lt. threw a fit over it.

You: Important things to discuss, please come to the meeting room, now.

Daddy <3: Everything okay?

Emo Boy: Affirmative

Pretty Boy: Can I finish the set?

Bubbles: It’s 7 am, I’m not coming

You: NOW

With that, everyone agreed. You weren’t sure how to break the news. "Hey, I’m pregnant; it might be any one of you. Surprise, Daddy!" wasn’t a good idea. Leaving the pregnancy test out on the table as if it were a loaded gun wasn’t a good idea either. Well, you had to admit it was like a round of Russian roulette, just more deadly.

Simon was the first to join. He looked at you as if he knew but kept his mouth shut. After a few minutes, everyone was sitting at the table, looking at you in confusion. You never called a meeting; it would be uncalled for as a Sergeant anyway.

"Why are we here, Bonnie?" Soap destroyed the silence you had hidden yourself in.

You could talk now, explain it, or say anything to make it sound better, but all you could say was a miserable, "I’m pregnant."

Shocked expressions would be an understatement. John tugged on his beard, Johnny lost the color from his face, Kyle looked as if he were a teenager caught past curfew, and Simon’s expression was unreadable to you.

"I’m not sure who the father is among you four," the second bomb went off.

"How could that happen?" was all Johnny said.

"Yes, how could that happen," you spat out sarcastically.

"Babe, please let me cum inside, need you raw." "Let Daddy breed you, Sweetheart, need you all full for me." "The condom broke again, Bonnie." "I’ll pull out, love." Yes, how could that have happened?

"I’m out of this shit," Ghost’s words cut deeper than a knife as he stood up and left without another word. By your luck, he was probably the Dad.

"My mother is going to kill me."

"You’re 28, Gaz, no one’s going to kill you. You’re not a bloody teenager anymore."Price spoke in a stern voice.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I’ll give you financial support if it is mine or if you want to get rid of it," when you thought Ghost's words hurt, then Price killed you. He made you on the edge of breaking down—correction, you broke down. The tears in your eyes already streamed down your cheeks; damn hormones. Price looked at you in guilt. He wanted to speak up, but Johnny went first.

"That’s fucking great news, Bonnie. If it’s mine, oh God, I always wanted a wee bairn. Think of him looking like me, or getting twins—the MacTavish genes are pretty strong. We’re getting a wee lad, probably a 10-pounder like me."

Ten pounds—that’s a whole ass turkey. You didn’t even get the chance to excuse yourself before you ran outside, throwing up again. "Fuck, what did I get myself into?"

[xythlia]

CHOKE ON MY DEVOTION

› alucard x f!reader

› idk if anyone will even see this but i NEED him idc how stupid it makes me look I gotta fuck this man my life depends on it!!

warnings : mdni. mentions of blood and violence. thigh riding. finger sucking. spit. teasing. a lil angst if u squint in the beginning. degradation ish

"Are you afraid?"

The thunderous rhythm of your heart would betray you but it wasn't pounding through your entire body out of fear, no, it was his intense closeness to you. The way he was all consuming in front of your senses and easily overpowering what little will you had as you stood with your back pressed to the frigid brick wall.

"No." you whisper to the dark, feeling his fingers glide along your jaw with something akin to tenderness.

"Perhaps you should be," he mused, coming into brief focus in your eyesight. Not for the first time you wished human sight wasn't so abysmal compared to a vampires, you bet he was beautiful in the tar black shadow of the manor basement.

It was always like this, this bizarrely passionate insistence that you needed to view him as a beast and your equally spirited push back that no matter how hard he might try that particular point of view wasn't one you'd share. It's not that the bloodshed or violence didn't matter, it was very much a core part of his being but rather that it didn't overshadow everything else that existed in him. No matter how hard he tried to push you away for seeing it.

You recall words you'd heard before regarding him.

A sobbing child that had lost everything.

Wordlessly you shift sideways, away from him and turn to make your way back out of the basement. All you'd needed to do was deliver blood bags, a task that usually fell to you since he enjoyed making other manor employees nearly die of cardiac arrest for the trouble, terrorizing them with various tricks and near psychological warfare. Not that you minded much though, it was an excuse to spend even five minutes alone together.

At first you thought he hated you, detested your presence because each time you'd end up near each other he was far more cold to you than even his baseline treatment of others. Only after being up late one night after a mission that had been a particular bloodbath, tipsy bordering on drunk as you snuck out onto the rooftop that you'd spoken freely to him and he to you. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline, or maybe he felt comfortable with the assurance that in an inebriated state you'd remember less.

He was wrong of course, when it came to him you couldn't help but remember everything in painful detail.

Something vaguely noncorporeal latched onto your wrist before you could make any further move to leave, giving you pause as you glanced down. A tendril of shadow, barely there but enough to almost anchor you in place. Of course he's too proud to tell you to stay, it brings a small smile to your face.

Silently you let it lead you back to him, standing in front of the ornate chair that served as the only piece of furniture in the carnivorous space outside the coffin you were sure was somewhere outside your field of vision with crossed arms once the tendril let go.

"I almost have to respect your insistence," he said, clearly taking in the defiance of your posture as amusing.

"What? Do you want me to call you dog and beast?" You didn't mean for it to come out so testy but his purposefully confusing behavior grated on your nerves. "If I didn't know better I'd say you have a thing for degradation."

That earns you a real laugh, making warmth seep inside your chest. Before you can comprehend it you're in his lap, making you gasp softly in surprise as a sharper, more embarrassed heat floods through your body.

Daydreaming about straddling him and actually doing it are two very, very different things.

"Your stubbornness is unfortunately alluring," he purrs against the shell of your ear, sending phantom fingers down your spine as you stiffen in his light hold. There was an oddly placed note of melancholy in his voice however, despite the intimate position you were in. He didn't give you much time to ruminate on it though.

Alucard was painstakingly mindful of his teeth, much sharper than your own, as his mouth found yours to keep you speechless. It wasn't a difficult task, and your mouth opened eagerly against each swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip. He tasted heady, faintly metallic and it made your hips involuntarily grind down against him.

His fingers dug into your sides, one hand sliding upward to cradle the back of your head as the kiss devolved into a mess of teeth and tongues, bursting with desperation that practically clung to your skin. His other hand only urged the movement of your hips, grinning wickedly against your mouth as your whines reached a louder pitch.

Deftly he maneuvered you into straddling his thigh, clearly enjoying the way your eyes screwed shut feeling him flex the muscles in his leg and push upward, grinding against your clothed cunt.

"You look cute when you're trying not to cum," he teased. It made a high-pitched groan tumble from your lips but before you could utter a word back his ungloved fingers were sliding against your tongue.

Your body didn't even need to do any work, his other hand kept your hips moving at a harsh pace against his leg that made heat pool inside your belly and made your brain feel like it was suddenly made of tv static. If you had any wherewithal maybe you would've felt more ashamed of the position you were in, his fingers jammed in your mouth as your tongue worked spit over them, that same spit sliding from the corners of your mouth to drip against your chest, and the way he had you grinding on his thigh like an obscene toy.

You always thought you were so clever when it came to hiding your feelings for him but knew the moment you laid eyes on him. You didn't stiffen with fear or apprehension, no it was desire that made you turn your eyes away each time. It was such an adorably human trait, to be almost embarrassed for getting caught wanting.

None of that embarrassment was on display now, his hand barely had to guide your movements anymore and the way you sucked on his fingers went beyond pornographic. It made arousal burn in his lungs like a harsh drag from a cigarette, seeing how shamelessly you chased your own end and listening to every salacious moan and whine bounce off the shadows around you two.

Your leg muscles were screaming against the repetitive movement, your breathing coming in short gasps around his fingers and your rhythm fell off into sloppy halfhearted jerks as you felt the pressure inside your gut burst like a dam, the friction against your clit reaching its crescendo.

You grabbed his forearm in a white knuckle grip as you whined and spasmed in his lap, moaning and panting as the orgasm crested over you. Slowly your senses return, and the ache in your legs isn't strong enough to detract from how painfully aware you are of the spit coating your skin and of his smug smile as his fingers stroke along the back of your neck.

"If I had to say, I'd think you enjoy being degraded."

His deep timbre laugh makes you jerk your head to the side, refusing to look in those burgundy eyes.

[motherraid]

Rewards

((Sebek x Reader))

I'd JUST realized that I did not post this the way I intended to.... After a month of it just sitting in the void...

Kind of a part 2 to this?

(Sebek x Afab!Reader // Embarrassing ways of describing Afab!Reader parts >- >;;; // C*ckwarming // Kinda vanilla sex tbh // Overstimulation,, just a tad bit // Studying // But not actually studying // Basically just a more fleshed out version of the previous ask // Rambles shall hereby never be proofread no matter how desperately they need to be I am MUCH too lazy)

This was NOT the way to study. At least, this wasn't what you had thought you'd be doing when sweet innocent Sebek told Lilia that you both would be in his room "studying."

After witnessing you acting a fool with those irritating, skittle haired friends of yours DURING CLASS, he'd concluded that you need to work on your obedience and focus on your lessons. So, he'd decided to help you the only way your tiny, primitive, human brain could understand.

You're not even allowed to look at him. Only after you finish your work will you finally be "rewarded," and you can't cheat your way out of this. Every time you try to bounce even slightly, grind against him, or moan into his ear, he'll pull out of you and leave you clenching air, dryly stating that maybe you're beyond helping and the "session" should end here. Which leads you to beg him for another chance. This continues until you straighten up, pick up your pencil, and focus on your homework placed in front of you. He won't break. No reward for no work.

You could practically feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. In normal circumstances, this would be uncomfortable. Stressful, even. However, it's safe to say his behavior in this particular situation is more than understandable. After all, you're the one sat comfortably in his warm lap, with his even warmer dick nestled deep inside of you.

He starts off with his chest against your back, voice stern and commanding. When he'd point to the equations on your worksheet, criticizing every error you would make, his voice would rumble in his throat and bob his Adam's apple against your shoulder.

If the fact that he was buried deep into your pretty cunt wasn't enough to melt you alive at that point, then the close proximity would. From your thighs squished tight against his, to your back, where your heart would hammer against his sternum and encourage his to pound in tandem, and especially the warmth of your back, he seemed to like the state he'd put you in. He'd be reminded of it every time you'd clench around his cock. Whether on purpose or accident, both would earn you a smack on the thigh. He'd hiss a sharp reprimand through clenched teeth and try his best to disguise his shaky, pleasured sigh as a huff of aggravation.

Then, his resolve seemed impeccable. He was so laser focused onto the paper and almost never entertained your incessant whining. You didn't even dare try to plead with him, or else you'd be scolded, and he'd drag out your "study session" even longer.

But now, half an hour later, he didn't seem as strict as before. Whether his leniency is because he's decided to have some mercy on you, or because he's finding it rather hard to keep himself together, he leans back in the chair and tells you to finish the last three problems on your own since you're doing so well. And even now, you're still not allowed to look back at him. Every time you'd try, he'd grab your chin and pull your gaze back to your paper. Even a bit of your attention would make the tendon on the underside of his cock flex, and you can feel that bulge shift deep in your belly. He has to keep himself from snapping somehow.

You'd swear he was using magic on you in some way because every twitch in his muscles would light up your nerves like sparks. A shiver shakes a small whimper from your lips, and a deep grunt from his as he rolls his head against the back of the chair. His hands, instead of being wrapped around your waist, pointing out flaws and errors on your paper, or delivering a sharp smack to your thigh, were gripping the seat for dear life.

He may be a bit irrational, but he was damn sure smart enough to know that if his hands find their way to your body again, he'd crush you tight to his chest and stand up so he could properly bend you over the desk and satisfy his aching cock. But he couldn't. Not until you were finished. He can't reward you before you've earned it. Then you'd never learn, and you would never take him seriously (and what a great sentiment! Strange way of acting on it, but great sentiment nonetheless ig).

At this point, he could excuse your shifting to get more comfortable and even your occasional whining, mostly because it's been so long, and you probably feel the exact same amount of agony he must be feeling. But when you buck your hips or grind your ass into his lap to relieve some of the pressure in your core, then you've gone too far.

His legs tense underneath you, and just when you think he might break and finally let go of this silly idea, another loud smack strikes your thigh, and red skin is made redder like a toddler getting spanked.

"Don't. Test. Me." He hisses.

You don't need to look back at him to know he's scowling at you. His eyes glare daggers at the back of your head as you lock in to finish your last question. He hears your hand scribbling against the desk, damn near burning holes in the paper and, to be honest, he preens a little knowing that your revived dedication for studying is a product of his "teaching". But was this really so hard to do in the first place? Maybe you two could have actually been having fun instead of being stuck in a chair for an hour.

You rejoice internally when you can finally tap him and croak out, "Finished."

Sebek pulls himself back upward and rests his head on your shoulder once more, his hand cozying against your thigh and gently rubbing against your sore skin (a silent apology). He nods and hums in approval, and you can feel a mix of pride and suspense blooming in your heart. As his eyes scan over the last question at an achingly slow pace, you feel tears welling in your eyes when he slides his hand inside your thigh upwards towards your crotch. Finally, some relief....

SMACK!

"Wrong," Sebek sighs, "Didn't I tell you before that you have to pay attention to your negative numbers? You threw off your whole equation."

He grabs your pencil and erases your incorrect attempt and demands you try again. He ignores your sobs, both from that painful slap and the fact that, at this point, it's been a whole hour and you haven't cum ONCE. It stings deep in his chest to hear you so upset, but you can't be rewarded yet. You're so close. Sebek can't break because this is genuinely all for you. He just wants to help you become the best student you can be. He knows you can achieve it, so if he has to sit here all day with you, then he will. Because he loves you that much.

There is no forbearance for your second attempt, either. Your marks are promptly erased, not even a minute after he looks it over. When he tsks and shakes his head, you feel like you're dying. He does sigh and gently wipe the tears from your eyes, but your cunt is sobbing as well, drenching his aching cock that you still swallow entirely. You soak the green, well trimmed hair at his base, and it dribbles down his balls, painful and all too ready to burst.

Sebek rests against the chair once more to keep you from leaning back into him. This prevents him from becoming too tempted to say "fuck it" to his plan and all his hard work and take you immediately. Now he gives you encouraging words, mumbling soft "I love you's", under his breath and, "Doing.. So well..."

"Keep going.."

"So close..."

The third time Sebek leans over and checks your work, he nods and slams his hands onto the table so hard your pencil goes flying. He shoots up from his chair, causing you to fall forward onto the black wood. You can't push yourself back up because a hand clamps down on the back of your neck and forces your head to rest against your worksheet. The slow drag of his cock as it slides out to the tip is the only warning he gives you before he immediately slams back into you. The force of his hips causes the table to jut out under your weight, and before it can even fully bounce back to normal he's already drilling his cock deep into you, sending the table flying forwards again, and again, and again. Sebek throws his head back and let's out a deep guttral moan as if he'd been waiting his entire life to finally stuff your pretty cunt.

His pace is relentless, and neither of you lasts longer than a few minutes. All the waiting and no relief built pressure deep inside the both of you that needed to be out. He folds over you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest as he babbles on and on.

"Your reward..." He groans deep into your ear as he smushes a sloppy kiss against your lobe. "Do you like it? You get the privilege of carrying our hatchlings. Enjoy it, love."

That's your breaking point. You crumple in his hold, and his arms crushing your body into his as he fucks into you is the only thing currently keeping you from slipping off the table. Lord knows your now weak knees aren't helping any. Drool drags across your chin and smears directly against your worksheet. He went on and on, praising your patience and resolve, and telling you how happy he is to have a partner like you, but you'd barely registered anything he'd said after calling you "love."

You both fail to realize that, one, you might be a tad bit too loud for his dormmates and, two, now Lilia might be more than aware than ever that you two aren't actually "studying". Especially when you scream and cum hard on his cock, gripping the table edge for dear life as your orgasm rips through your body.

You're barely able to move, so you allow Sebek to use you like a fleshlight until he finishes himself (not long after you). His hips stutter and jerk frantically at first before he shoots, hot and deep into your core. Then, his instincts spurs him further; gentle, shallow grinding against your ass that leaves him shuddering.

Tears prick his eyes as he collapses on top of you, squishing your drool stained face against your currently damp and drool covered paper. The rest of his cum comes in spurts, and his hips tremble against your ass as he pushes himself as far as he can possibly reach into your pussy (which, given his size, means he's pretty cramped in there).

Once he pulls out, it takes a while for him to finally relax into your body. He breathes in huffs while one hand lightly rubs circles on your hip, and the other carefully stuffs his cum back inside of you. As much as he can manage while not looking, anyway. It's a bit overstimulating with him basically fingering you lazily after you just came, but you're too tired to do anything about it.

And after some time has passed, when he finally lifts his head to see your zoned out and thoroughly pleased expression, he smiles to himself.

See? You can focus on your work. You just need a little encouragement and a nice reward.

This blog revolves around Dead dove content.

If you're not okay with seeing that, this is fine! I just don't wanna hear about it, mkay?♡ Some people come here for this type of content, so you see something you don't like, just keep scrolling, dude. And if there's absolutely nothing dead dove about the current post, then don't tread my Tumblr and get all shocked when you see nasty stuff. Okay? Alright, thanks. :)

[monochromatic-heartzz]

Man. I am in a roll lately.

I've been having so much Sampo on the brain but let's discuss a stupid concept i thought up. This probably won't be long dw. (<- Future Heart here, hi. I lied.)

Could 5 Star Sampo be a Preservation unit?

Now. I know what some of you are thinking. "Preservation!? It doesn't fit him! He should be a very strong dps or an irreplaceable support! Why preservation????" And to that i say, maybe he should be.

But. It's just... i've talked about this in a post before but it was a very short jokey thing that was the first time i'd done an analysis in a while.

Belobog. The planet where its people follow the preservation. They want to preserve humanity and civilization. So they fight to survive, just enough until the Astral Express gives their assistance and they can be free from the pain the Stellaron has given them.

Well, you know, there's a biiit of an outlier in the Belobog cast. And it's, as you know, our old Sampo Koski, Masked Fool who came here to help drive the plot forward. He follows the path of Elation, as all Masked Fools do, and as far as we're concerned there should be no connection with him and the Preservation, and no indication that his views align with it.

WRONG!!!!! Masquerade Duet. Sparkle guesses that the reason Sampo wants his mask back is because of a catastrophe in Jarilo-VI, and judging by his reaction and later words, she hit the nail square on the head.

So?

That's. Kinda it? He wants to preserve the civilization in Jarilo-VI, and all the work he put would be undone if this catastrophe were to happen without interference. All the work he put into helping preserve humanity in this planet. Mmm does anyone remember what happened to an outsider who helped preserve civilization on Belobo- Fire trailblazer.

Yes. It's because they are the protagonist. And they will get every playable path one day, but. Canonically, they become a pathstrider after their views and feelings align with the path.

Let's be real, Sampo loves Belobog. Pretty evident from context clues and dialogue even outside of it. He clearly helped preserve it, though it was from the sidelines and really nothing major.

So. How would he earn being a preservation path thingy?

The catastrophe in Jarilo-VI. His mask.

Gang. I think we found our way.

And yes. Gameplay paths don't equal canon lore paths, we've known for a while. But sometimes narratively ingame paths can be used to deepen a character in one way or another, even if its not stated.

Even though it would be a bummer if he got his big 5 star form and it was a preservation unit. I think it sounds sweet. After probably helping it so much, it would be a nice way to say "Yeah this is more his home than Epsilon ever would be, he has the will of the preservation to show it!!"

I do not know. I am. Once again: spitballing. Don't take this too seriously we have nothing about this guy and im working hard on not crying because i see no new content of him.

This is definitely not a hill i would ever die on. But i rarely see people talking about him being a preservation unit, and i wanted to show the idea a little love

[sakuranbo-s]

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠, 𝑢ℎ𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒, 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑏 𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 ( 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ).

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!

You should've known better than to have disobeyed Neuvillette's orders. How difficult were they, really? Just stay inside the Palais Mermonia during his work hours and follow him there or home when he goes, too. Has he not already spoiled you with all the riches he's earned during his centuries alive? With every single sweet Fontaine and even other nations had to offer?

So why did you run off while he was occupied? What could be so compelling about the outside world that you felt the need to explore behind his back, as if he would deny you the chance to see what held your curiosity so deeply? Sure, he wouldn't let you go alone, but was it such a drag to have him, the Iudex of Fontaine, by your side? He'd keep you safe from any creature or human to try and harm you, from anyone who tried to even look at you for a second too long.

But instead, you had to disrespect him and his time, those people awaiting their trial processes, waiting for their sentence of life or death, all because you were childish and irresponsible. So is it not fitting for him to have you squirming atop his lap, your stomach atop his thighs?

"Enough," he states firmly, and you immediately stop moving, not wanting to make him seethe with more anger than what's evident in his voice and the tight grip he has on your wrist. The velvet of his glove used to feel so soft and comforting when he would caress you with it, but now it feels like sandpaper being dug into your skin. "Do you not think you deserve punishment for what you've done? Must I confer with the Oratrice?"

Would it even be ethical to let the Oratrice decide on such a trivial, unofficial matter?

"No, sir... I deserve whatever punishment you see fit, but I..." a small pout juts out from your lower lip, "I'm scared is all..."

And you have every right to be when he starts to pull the hem of your skirt up to reveal your stocking-covered legs, letting the thin layer of nylon also get pulled down the long expanse of your lower limbs, though he doesn't care about how expensive or delicate they are as he lets them rip by the time they meet your knees. The only thing that covers your dignity is a pair of lacy panties that he picked out for you to wear earlier that morning, and even those are crassly bunched and lowered to tangle with your torn stockings at your calves.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you ran off." There's no warning before his hand slams down on your plump ass. Instantly, he knows that he won't get a satisfying sound or slap with his gloves on and he lets his teeth grab hold of a tip before pulling his head back until the velvet is off, freeing his palm and fingers to grab and toss the accessory beside him on the sofa. "And perhaps you'll remember this the next time you attempt to escape."

Neuvillette's hand rains down on your behind over and over until you can feel a burning sensation when his palm isn't even on you. Tears well up on your waterline, pooling at the corners of your eyes and as much as you don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it hurts and you're so damn sorry for what you did, you can't help but sniffle and turn your head away from him, wiping at your wet eyes with the back of your hand.

"Had enough, darling? Ready to apologise?" His smooth palm is running along your skin to give you a soothing feeling, though it doesn't make your soreness any better.

For a moment, you grit your teeth in defiance, but when you feel his hand leave your ass, you panic and turn your gaze to meet his beautiful eyes, shaking your head frantically. "No, no, no.. I'm so sorry, sir! I'll never run away again, I-I promise, p-please..." Now the glistening dewdrops fall down your cheeks in crocodile tears and your breathing gets harder to control. You must look so pathetic right now, and that must be why Neuvillette wipes the tears from one side with his thumb as he caresses your cheek.

"See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?" You nod along in agreement and he has to hold back a smile when you look so damn adorable — he's still supposed to be punishing you. "No more hits, but you do need a lasting impression to keep you from making the same mistake, no?"

He's... not wrong; if he lets you off easy, you'll think that you're able to take punishment without regret next time, but the spanking was so demeaning and painful, there's no way you'd think of breaking his rules again for a while.

Still, his hands part your legs a bit with a simple spread of his fingers and you shudder as a soft fingertip slides up your folds, licking up the dew that formed there and using it to tease the clenched hole in the back. No, not there—

"Relax, sweetheart. I'm not that cruel." Once upon a time, you asked for ample warning in advance if he wanted to do anal and he seems keen on honouring your request as his hand peels away from you to reach for something a bit away—

Something cold and solid is pressed against your petals and you gasp as he slides it upward towards your clit where he grinds down a bit harshly, making you squirm once more. "M-Monsieur— What—" You're gasping for air now and you turn back to see the black pole of his cane in the air behind you. His cane?

The thought has you humiliated beyond belief and your tears start to fall down your cheeks again as you whimper, defeated. It isn't as bad of a punishment as what could be, but it's just so degrading to have your most intimate parts played with like this, and he knows that.

The slightly dented surface of his cane becomes more noticeable as he slides it down so your clit and entrance are both being pushed against by the expensive, indestructible metal.

"Apologise properly." His words are so cutting and he only presses harder as he glares down at you, and what choice do you have other than to obey?

"I-I'm so sorry, sir. I p-promise I'll never, ever disobey you again. Ever! I'll do—" a breathless gasp escapes your lips, "do anything bad again.. Please... I'll stay beside you all day, every single day!" Your voice is higher pitched now, desperate to get away and grind for more all at once, and he sees the dissonance in your body.

"Good girl," he murmurs softly, finally ridding you of the torturous cane against you to replace it with his hand. Two deft fingers move to dip inside of you, stretching you open as he lets his thumb toy with the second entrance again, much to your dismay, but your resolve to frown amidst being worked to orgasm is much too entertaining. His digits work faster, pushing closer to reach that sweet spot inside of you, and a smirk crawls up his features as he whispers, "Come for me, sweet girl."

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Castiel!Imagine: Having to share a bed

He's just so cute I can't even you guys!!

Content/Warnings: Fluff, Winchester Reader, Gender neutral Reader

Ever since he has fallen it became harder for him to travel without getting caught by another angel. The last time he teleported somewhere there were three of his brothers waiting to take him away. So for now he was bound to go around the earth like humans do, by car. It was terribly slow and he had voiced that before, but that had only earned him a scolding from Dean who warned him not to critique his car again.

So now he had to share the backseat with the youngest Winchester. But you seemingly noticed that he was dissatisfied and bored with the situation, so you attempted to introduce him to some human games to pass the time.

You first tried to do that game were you call out when you saw a car of a certain color, but quickly disbanded that attempt as he was aware of every car on the road heading their way and therefore had an unfair advantage.

At some point Dean was tired listening to you so he blasted some music in the car, making the two in the front seat practically unable to hear what you were saying. It was so loud though that you also had problems understanding anything that was being said.

So when you spoke you started to lean in and talk to him closer to his ear. He blinked in surprise when you did that because he could hear you perfectly well, but he didn't bother to tell you that. It wasn't like he minded you coming closer to him.

At some point you ended up just talking, and he noticed that you sat closer to him on the backseat so you didn't have to lean towards him as much. Your thighs were lightly touching, and he noticed the heat that radiated from your body. He could feel things like these more prominently than a human would.

Your eyes gleamed in the dim lights of the Impala when you turned to look at him and smiled. He quietly observed you and the way the lights would flicker over your face. It was pretty.

"Castiel, do angels dream?"

He shook his head. "No. We don't require sleep so we don't dream. But I suppose.. we could, when we are taking up a body."

You hummed, "Then maybe you should try it tonight? Aren't you interested in what dreams you would have?"

He rose his brows and nodded hesitantly. "It would certainly do no harm to try.."

As night completely took over Dean decided that you were heading to the next motel. As you unloaded the car of your bags your brothers were heading to the Reception to book two rooms since you told them that Castiel would attempt to sleep as well now.

Usually one of you just slept on the couch but since Castiel would be sleeping as well tonight they got you two a room as well.

When Sam handed you the keys you were blushing a little. When you made the suggestion you didn't consider.. that he would be sleeping in the same room as you..

You cleared your throat and awkwardly smiled at him as you two went to your room. When you opened the door tho you were met with an even bigger surprise- There was only one bed.

You cursed under your breath, did they try to tease you? Or was that an attempt to set you up with each other?

"Is something the problem?" Castiel asked and slightly tilted his head to the side as he observed you with a seemingly increased tension to you.

"Ah! No, not at all I'm just.. surprised that there's only one bed."

You wondered if you could just ask for another room at the reception, but then again it wasn't like you desperately wanted to stay away from Castiel.. on the contrary. The thought of sharing a bed with him.. it made your heart beat fast enough that one might mistake it for the early signs of an heart attack.

The only thing holding you back was just the massive, and I mean absolutely massive embarrassment of going for that. Should you just do it? It wasn't like something would happen between you..

Castiel nodded and wandered over to the bed, plopping down and looking for a place to put his hands. "So I just close my eyes yes?"

You couldn't help but laugh and shook your head, "Cas what are you doing? Are you just gonna leave on your shoes and everything? You're not even covering yourself with the blanket."

It was amusing how he was so.. stuck up and yet so oblivious. It was kinda cute.

He sat up and frowned in confusion. "How many layers am I supposed to put away?"

That made you blush again, and a breath got stuck in your throat. You never thought that Castiel would ask you how far to undress himself.

"U-Um that is up to you. You need to be comfortable."

"But I want to recreate what a human would do so I have the ideal chances of dreaming."

You took a deep breath and put off your shoes, desperately rummaging through your back for your Pyjamas so you didn't have to look at him while you were saying this.

"I mean, some men wear pants and no shirt, some do the opposite and some sleep in their underwear." You explained and got out your own pajamas before looking at him again. He seemed to be thinking deeply about it, like you just gave him a complicated math equation.

"Decide what you're gonna go for while I'm in the bathroom." You offered, and left to brush your teeth and change into your pajamas. While you were brushing your teeth you couldn't help but imagine.. what would he be wearing when you came out? What would he look like if.. he choose the latter?

The strength it took to go through that door again was greater than the bravery you would have needed to face Forty Vampires.

When you came in again Castiel was wearing his pants and a buttoned down shirt. He rolled his sleeves up and put his tie on the nightstand. When he caught you standing in the door he turned around to look at you.

For a moment he just observed you. "It is interesting to see you in this attire." He said, "How do I look?"

You smiled and swallowed a SCREAM because fuck how could he be this.. you know?! "You look great."

You climbed into the opposite site of the bed and put the cover over yourself, smiling encouragingly at Castiel who stood by and hasn't moved yet. "All you gotta do is close your eyes, make yourself comfortable in any way you can, and then just wait for sleep to take over. Don't try to think, if you think too much you won't be able to sleep."

He nodded and climbed into the bed as well, laying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling. You chuckled and laid down as well, facing him. He turned his head to look at you, "What's so funny?"

You bit your lip, "You look so stiff it's almost cute."

Wait, did you say cute? Damn- why couldn't you just shut your mouth? But Castiel swallowed when he heard that. That was absolutely the least he has expected. He was an Angel of the Lord. He was a powerful entity, older than time itself so the last thing he expected to be called was.. cute.

You turned off the light and the sheets rustled as you made yourself comfortable. "Sleep well Castiel. Tell me what you dreamt.."

"Sleep well Y/n.." He answered and closed his eyes...

Some hours passed, he heard you turn around a few times but your breathing was steady and indicated that you were asleep. He couldn't quite do the same.. it was harder than expected. He was probably focusing so much on sleeping that he couldn't.

You said that he should make himself comfortable in any way necessary.. he gazed at you through the dark and scooped closer to you, so close that your back was touching his chest. He breathed in and put his arm around you. This was really more comfortable. It was even nicer than in the car when your thighs touched.

He nestled his head into the pillow and closed his eyes, only to open them again soon when he felt you moving back against him. It had something affectionate to it, the way you further pushed yourself into his arms. Did that mean that you liked it?

Castiel sighed deeply and felt himself relax. Was it just this human body that craved this warmth? This close proximity to others? It would be an easier explanation for what he was feeling but he knew that it wasn't true. Because he didn't need anything else a human might need, the best example right there being sleep.

Somehow, the angel eventually drifted off to sleep as well and kept on holding you closely.

You didn't remember when you last slept that well. You yawned and cuddled closer to what you imagined to be bedding or something.. when you opened your eyes though you could see the reason why you has such a great night.

Because once you opened your eyes you looked right into a sleeping angels face. His breath gently fanned over your face and you couldn't help but smile despite the growing embarrassment that crawled up your cheeks. He.. cuddled you? You wondered if he did that on purpose or subconsciously. Either way.. it meant something to you that wether asleep or not he chose to come closer to you.

You bit your lip, feeling tempted to gently touch his face. You stopped, knowing that he would awake quickly since he didn't need sleep to begin with.

He now had his experience with sleeping, did that mean that he checked that off and wouldn't do it again? The thought made you a bit sad, so instead of waking him you decided to close your eyes again and enjoy this as long as it lasts..

what you weren't aware of was that Castiel was awake for a while already, but chose to relax a little bit longer. He had absolutely noticed you wakening up, and was about to open his eyes again.. when you surprisingly just cuddled further into his arms and closed your eyes again.

He was confused and gazed at you for a moment. Castiel smiled a little, even if It was just brief, and settled to rest his head on top of yours. He wondered if you would share your bed with him more often?

YO COMMENT OK 👌 Everyone who comments gets a hug

[robotsandjunk]

In honour of pride month do you have any sexuality and BDSM hcs for the tfp Decepticons?

So I had to have a bit of a think about this one because in my personal view of Cybertronians sexuality isn’t as easily defined as it is for humans for various reasons but I’ll put down what I think they’d be in human terms since it’s an interesting thought experiment. I also went literal on the BDSM headcanon part since this’ll be such a big post

Megatron - Gay

He’s a dom top, he would be a switch in the top/bottom sense but he has some weird hang ups because of the gladiator pits, so connects submissions to loosing and all the consequences that come with that. It would take him a while to get through all that but he’s not the kinda guy to do deep introspection

He prefers holding his partners down rather than any sort of bondage, he also prefers partners that ‘put up a fight’ so to speak. He thinks dominance is something that should be earned so he needs to have a partner who could at least stand up to him

He’s kinda weird about interface in general

Soundwave - Demisexual

He’s a switch but likes to fight to determine the positions. These fights can be actual physical fights but he usually only does that with Megatron (it’s a bit more playful with other partners)

He’s a fan of bondage and will usually use his data cables to hold his partner. He’s not so much into being tied up himself though, it makes him feel trapped

He’s not really much of a sadist of masochist but doesn’t mind being a bit rough here and there

Starscream - Gay

Dom bottom, he likes things his way. That’s it

He’s not big on bondage, he’s never enjoyed being held or tied down but doesn’t mind tying his partner up on the odd occasion

Starscreams definitely got a slight sadistic streak, usually in small ways like a small pinch or a corrective tap with a cane. He can be a little bit of a masochist but there’d need to be a massive amount of trust before he’d even consider it, and he’s not a particularly trusting bot so he doesn’t indulge it often

Shockwave - Pan

Shockwaves a switch and bottom I’d say, but he has a lot of opinions on what’s going on and how things are done either way

He likes bondage for certain scenes it just depends on what he’s experimenting with that week, he’s got some nice equipment for it though everything’s very sturdy

He’s a bit of a sadist and masochist in the sense he he likes seeing how far a frame can be pushed and he finds the different reactions different bots have fascinating

Knockout - Gay

He’s a dom switch and just a little bit bossy in bed in general

He likes bondage but more in an artistic sense, so he more does it for aesthetic purposes rather than to actually restrain his partner. He has equipment that’s complement near any frame and paint job

He can be a bit of sadist but only to a small degree, he does enough repairs in his day job after all. He’s not a masochist in the slightest he’d barely tolerate his paint getting scuffed let alone any actual scratches

Breakdown - Bi

He’s a switch all around and is pretty go with the flow when it comes to interface in general

He’s so-so on bondage he’d never go out of his way to do it but he’s happy to discuss it with a partner

Breakdowns neither a sadist or masochist, he’s there for a good time and pain doesn’t constitute a good time to him (He’s also aware that he’s a big strong guy so even when he’s trying to be gentle that could still be a bit heavy handed for some)

Dreadwing - Pan

He’s a switch top but would probably fall more under the service top category he enjoys looking after his partners

Dreadwings not big into bondage, flight frames tend to get claustrophobic easily and being tied up exacerbates that. He doesn’t do bondage on partners either just because he can’t get his head around it being enjoyable

He’s not really a sadist or masochist he thinks violence of any kind should be kept to battle (not that he’s judgmental towards bots who are into it it’s just not his thing)

Airachnid - Lesbian

Airachnids a dom top and a mean one at that, she has high expectations of her partners and is very quick to correct mistakes

She a big fan of bondage and the kind she does is very artful. Usually its suspension bondage with the ropes tied in a very elegant manner that hides how sturdy they are

I think she’d definitely be a sadist, you’ve got to correct unruly subs one way or another. I’m genuinely not sure if she’d be a masochist or not, probably not but there’s always the possibility

[amymbona]

i feel like after mermaid reader’s last encounter with patrick she starts collecting shiny human stuff she finds pretty (which in reality are literally just forks, small pieces of smashed beer bottles, normal and useless stuff like that) but shes so proud of finding them and she lines them up for patrick and the next time she sees him she points at the stuff and then to patrick as if shes giving those to him as a gift 😭

That's so cute actually :(((((

You really don't know to communicate with humans, considering all your life, you've been thought that they are dangerous and you should avoid them. But this guy... He is different. You can feel it, somewhere deep down, that he's not the stereotypical human you've been warned about. After all, he didn't attempt to hurt or kill you, did he?

The more you think about him, the more you wish he'd visit you more often. You wish to see his face again, to hear him talk even though you don't understand a single thing he says. You're sure the two of you don't need to speak, that you're somehow able to understand each other. There is a certain connection between the two of you.

And to prove that, to show him - Patrick is his name, if you remember correctly - you skim through the sandy bottoms and collect everything that strikes your eye. You lay out the little shiny possessions onto the edge of the wooden pier, hoping the creamy pearls, seashells, shards of glass and few golden coins could be considered good enough of a gift.

Patrick comes late in the evening, as if he was afraid seeing you during the day. You see him from where you're lurking between the waves, hoping to catch his reaction. But rather than being stunned by the shiny beauties you laid out for him, Patrick is gazing into the water, seemingly looking for you. As if whatever you've collected for him doesn't matter at all. That's how he reacts?

"Are you here somewhere?" his voice rings through the cove. So he's really here to see you?

It's almost funny, you think, that this man would come here just to catch a glimpse of your tail, to see you swim underwater and earn your attention. It's silly. And it sounds a bit unreal to you, considering the things you know about humans. And that is when it strikes you, that perhaps it's a game of manipulation. What if he's planning to lure you in and then capture you?

You've been told a lot about what humans do to mermaids - how they keep them out of water to inspect their physical traits, how they cut off their fins and tails, and then torture them only for information about their treasures. The sudden realisation that Patrick could be one of those brings tears to your eyes. You're here, collecting little presents for him, even though he could be here just to kill you.

"C'mon, little mermaid, I know you're here." he calls out once again, looking out for you, "I wanna see you again!"

But this time, you don't show yourself. In the sudden fit of fright, you can't bring yourself to reveal yourself to him. Not this time. So instead you swim away, the motions of your tail causing the water to splash and bringing Patrick's attention to you.

"Hey! Don't leave! Come back to me!" he sounds almost desperate, calling for your attention, for your presence. What has gotten over you? Why are you suddenly swimming away?

[sshadowritestoriess]

HELLOOOO im in love with the way you write our beloved rama 😭

i just wanted to know ur hcs about him beginning to realize he feels more about the reader than just friendship and/or how he deals with the first buds of sinful thoughts about their dear human friend? 👀

HI tysm!! Ramattra definitely has my attention hahaha. Sorry this is so long!! I just like writing 😂

Ramattra realizing his feelings

Earning his friendship was a hard enough task on his own. He never made that easy for you, or for anyone of flesh and blood

As much hatred as he has for humanity, he doesn’t outright assume all humans are evil. He understands there is still good in its kind, it’s just a matter of knowing who he is safe to drop his guard around when having more acute interactions

And this is a process he has the utmost forbearance for. As long as a person can express patience with him, then he is more than willing to allow himself to be understood by a human peer

You were probably one of the most respectful humans he had personally interacted with. Your kindness made for a strong first impression, especially in the way you had greeted him as any other person, looked upon him with no surprise in your eyes as if he had just been anyone else. Not a killer. Not a terrorist.

Still, for the ongoing weeks he kept his distance the more he had found himself in the same room as you, assuming his same process of determining whether your behavior was a front or not.

He was as kind to you as you were to him, which made things a little confusing on your end. You weren’t oblivious— you know who he is, and such a name as Ramattra came with a complex reputation. He’s certain he began addressing you as a ‘friend’ the moment you’d inquired why people thought him as ‘cold’

“You’ve been real nice to me,” you’d said, mirth in your tone, “I’m not just getting special treatment, am I?”

It wasn’t the first lighthearted joke you’d made in his presence, but it was the first he’d laughed at. He knew it wasn’t a question that needed answering, and so he didn’t. You were smart enough to assume the reason for rumor

Quickly, you both became close. (Well, ‘quick’ being you set the record for “fastest human to earn Ramattra’s trust”. It took fourteen weeks, but neither of you were counting.)

He was content to admit he admired you, respect drastically outweighing his contempt for what you were. It felt nice, to see you through blurred lines— he felt he finally understood, for just a moment, the bond that his brothers back at the monastery were trying to protect

But the more Ramattra grew to know you, the more he shared about himself. Which, tends to be a normal exchange between friends, certainly. Of the others he would dare call ‘friends’ before you, this wasn’t out of the ordinary

Yet when he would speak too much about himself with you, he felt shame. Embarrassment. He would wonder to himself at times if he should have shared certain things, and worried of your opinion

It made him pull back for a while, and was relieved you remained as patient as you’d always been. You made sure he was fine and he’d kindly dismissed you, to which you respectfully backed off and simply told him you were here if he needed

But… then when he was given the space he asked for, he became somewhat angry with himself. Now he just missed you, but felt so under pressure to be in your presence. It was frustrating.

You knew whatever problem he was facing had to be because of you, since he had told you just a few days ago that he preferred a little distance for now— but here he sat across the room from you, scrolling through lists of weaponry concepts to decide on what to work on next, inquiring your opinion of colors, of all things.

There came a day that Ramattra had a run in with a particularly violent human gang, of whom he’d shown little mercy for after they dealt the first strike— he should have swung the moment one of the strangers drawled about wearing his face as a trophy, “-after I reduce ya to nuts-n-bolts,” they’d said. A pitiful drop of confidence quickly lost into the newly reddened asphalt of the nearest alley

You caught him marching down a corridor, and it finally hit Ramattra like a truck when you’d approached him to make sure he was fine

He didn’t bleed red, you knew this. And something in him clicked when you immediately assumed him the victim, placing careful hands on his chest as you observed him for damage

Oh, he liked you. A lot. Had any other person of flesh approached him, he would have demanded solitude with a killing accusatory tone, a wordless threat of violence if his needs were not met.

But you had came to him, and he was more than relieved that you had. Just seeing you again, he realized why he hadn’t hit his attackers first.

“Are you attempting to domesticate me?” He had blurted, watching you curl your hand into the hem of your shirt and wipe the blood from his fingers. He takes in your baffled expression with a hidden affection- and yet again, feeling awkward for such a poor joke with little context. He fought himself on whether to explain, but decided better of it.

Understanding then why he felt so drawn to you, he felt somewhat justified in why he additionally felt like such a fool in your presence.

He hadn’t intended to feel this way about you, it couldn’t be helped. You hit many marks that he found objectively attractive.

He would spend the next few days observing you to thoroughly analyze his feelings toward you— to which you felt like a specimen being studied with how he kept tossing prolonged stares in your direction

He didn’t mean to appear like a creep, and he ended up feeling so much worse when you finally confronted his “quiet ogling”

“I— I was not,” he’d say defensively, and relaxed quickly when you laughed. “You are merely a fascinating subject to observe, is it so offensive that I watch?”

“Are you calling me pretty?”

“No.” He quickly bites, then immediately froze as he regretting saying it so harshly. He doubles back, “But, I do not mean—“ a pause, “You are fine as you are. But that is not what I was saying.”

Ogling. He was ashamed to find himself doing just that so soon after the amused accusation

The way you smirk before telling a joke, he’d mishear your jest when he was so focused on the way your mouth moved, and imagined running his thumb over your lips

When he’d find you closer to morning, he loved to catch you stretching your arms above your head. Your shirt would ride upward and reveal a bit of your navel while your upper half trembled into the stretch. He wanted to put his hands there, too.

He stole an opportunity to knead at your shoulder once when you complained about being sore from a prior activity, everting inside him lurching with humiliation when you settled comfortably into his lap.

An innocent gesture, sat between his legs while you accepted his kindness— though a deceptive offer, for he had just wanted a reason to have you this close.

He stared hard at your neck, gaze dropping to peer beneath your collar. It was dreadful. But he wouldn’t restrain himself, entirely glad he had a stationary face.

He’d pull at the cables of his mane when he was by himself, shaking his head and his fists at himself for this unrighteous behavior. Being away from you was worse, left alone with unrestrained thoughts of the things he could do to you

And oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

But you were a friend. A human. He was an omnic, and certainly not one built for… that kind of activity.

But then again, he was not made with life in mind, either. As far as he saw it, he could do whatever he wanted with the privilege of having agency

And that has resulted in relieving himself of these indecent thoughts when he shut himself into his quarters, blessed with the ability to create vivid images of what you would look like beneath him.

These solemn hours of the night should be reserved for meditation, and pondering his next move. But now he’s been reduced to touching himself with you in mind, pulling at delicate wires that were not meant to be tempered with.

Imagining you there. Evoking hypothetical risk by trusting you with his body.

But he hadn’t even made his feelings known to you yet. Hell, he couldn’t imagine a situation where he would without it complicating everything, or making you distant.

He knew he was the least likely candidate to end up in a cross-species relationship. So for now, he’d just relish in your friendship

And if ever you hint at wanting to take things a step further, you would find Ramattra quite eager to advance.

[riaki]

PHEW okay. rn im working on a yoshida fic but i completely spitballed and went off the rails ...... so um. might be a while before that comes out, so take some (many) thoughts and drabbles of weird stalker boy instead !! yoshida hirofumi x reader

@twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat take this for yoshi fluff n some mild angst.. for now......

i feel like yoshida would definitely be the kinda guy to give his all in keeping it together; especially with his position as student council president (that he's only half-committed to, really) topped off with his life in the private sector of devil hunting, his image is extremely important to him. not because he has a huge ego or is self-obsessed, but he knows that a lot of people look up to him and rely on him. that being said, he's (probably, yoshida lore when) only human, and he's bound to struggle and wrestle with the workload he's chained to, and it can often get the best of his emotions and stress him out.

so a little word of encouragement here, a sweet 'washed your dishes and your clothes cus i saw you were busy' there would be everything he needs to spur himself on even if he's exhausted; hearing the phrase "i'm proud of you." from your mouth in your sweet, sweet voice? makes it all worth it. 

all considered, he doesn't want you to do too much for him; he never lets you pay for your shared meals or drive the two of you home, BUT you should give it your all in trying anyway! acts of service for him seem subtle, but they really mean the world to him when you try so hard to lighten his burden. he thinks it's the most endearing thing on the planet. on the days he lacks the energy to even utter a small mumble of protest, he'll let you take the wheel- but those days are rare, so capitalize on the opportunity! being a gentleman is tiring, so make him coffee (not black) instead of letting him buy the headache-inducing cans of sickeningly sweet caffeine from the vending machines outside his apartment when you rise early enough to; let him fall asleep in your lap and gently play with his hair while you handle a homework assignment for him or two. bonus points if he wakes up to something sweet or savory made by those hands of yours that he loves to hold so much; do that, and he might just dream of marrying you the next time he indulges in an afternoon nap in the confines of your arms. 

(and when you hold him to your chest and whisper sweet nothings into his ears on the days he's earned further affection from you? it makes him feel like he's being granted a visit from the heavens, though hell knows he'll never make it up there. but, if he thinks he's being honest, it doesn't matter to him- not when you're right in front of him, a taste of divinity. not when you're gently tracing each slope and ridge in the shape of his left ear, thumb tenderly prodding at the soft skin between the cold metal piercings on his ear. it's like you're mapping out just this minuscule section of his body, and he's found himself praying to whatever's out there that you'll always be here to give him this; that one day, you'll have ran your fingers over every inch of him, memorizing the intricacies of the very bones in his body.)

to me, his primary love language would definitely be quality time- more so for him than you (but he still hopes you enjoy it enough to indulge him. makes him feel like a kid in a candy store with free reign over his monthly allowance.) meaningful talks with you and silly fun banter is all he needs to take his mind off the stresses currently throwing him for a loop and let loose a little. that’s one of the reasons why he fell so head over heels for you— you make it a little easier to breath whenever you’re around him. also... he loves the look on your face whenever he surprises you with gifts, so count on an uninvited bouquet of flowers in some varying hue of your eye color, or surprise boxes of jewelry- that is, if he can afford it. if not, he'll take you out when the weather is pleasant enough and you're in the mood for a cup of boba or an evening out in the nearest shopping district, browsing the warmly lit stands as the chatter of people bustling by fills your ears and he holds onto your hands in the simple pretext of not wanting you to get lost as he buys every mouth-watering festival food you lay your eyes on without hesitation. maybe he'll even treat you to a quick stop at a standing ramen restaurant- and if you're too tired to support yourself on your own two legs, he has no problem carrying you. after all, with his private devil hunting, you both know he's more than capable of that. and so, rest-assured you’ll return home on those gleeful days with full stomaches, bags n boxes full of sticky dango and fresh glistening apples the shades of a red autumn, and giddy smiles coupled with painted strawberry blush that dusts your cheeks and stains your ears. and if, throughout that entire vivid night of fireworks and sweet n savory scents drifting from stalls and the treats in the hands of vivacious children, you happen to get some crumbs or powder on your cheeks, he's more than happy to wipe it away with an affectionate thumb and earnest smile— or even lean in for a taste straight from your flushed skin.

on the topic of his side job in the private sector, though- yoshida prefers to keep you as far away as possible from the side of his life that's three feet deep and counting in missions at the Bureau. and of course, he takes no pleasure in lying to your face, especially when he realizes that you realize the half-assed mutters that fall from his lips don't answer the questions you demand answers to. 

he knows it's a necessity, though. so he never tells you the truth when it comes to this matter. 

but you can only see the tip of the iceberg of cold, guilty pain that washes over him when he watches your trust in him slip like you're loosing your footing; the excuses he spins that you don't buy and the way he feels like he's being scrutinized beneath your burning gaze as your eyes rove over the rough cuts on his arms and the blooming purple bruise on his jaw that you know isn't a love mark (or at least, you hope so. your mind won’t let you consider the possibility.) makes him feel guiltier than ever. on every other occasion, he never shies away from your gaze; for one, he’s well aware of how attractive he is, but all the compliments and shy confessions he’s ever received feel minuscule when you look at him like he’s your world, so loving that it seems to make the sun shine an inkling brighter and the birds outside his window sing a little sweeter amongst the symphony of nature. but on less pleasant occasions, when it feels like you’re appraising him— no. not just him. appraising his words, weighing them on a golden scale that’s supposed to be unbiased towards the truth, but your heart can’t take the strain when you consider the possibility of him lying to you, and he feels more distant from you every time you look at him in a way that makes him want to shrink away and shut himself up from your prying eyes that he knows are only well-intentioned— which is all the more reason why he falters under the weight of them.

but it’s not like he’d ever tell you that, though. so really, it’s up to you to decide how you act; to probe him and risk a few unintentionally harsh words aimed in your direction in the hopes of confronting the issue head-on before it’s too late, or simply sit back and let it fester until it’s grown out of control and manifests into a hurtful argument for both parties. miscommunication is the enemy to your relationship :(

that being said, yoshida is a bit of a control freak. when things don’t go the meticulous way he’s planned them out, he starts to loose his cool pretty easily, stressing his pretty head off about this and that, biting on his lip and curling a hand into his dark hair. really, though, it’s a simple fix— he tends to get overwhelmed easily only when it comes to things like this, n so all you have to do is tear him away from whatever’s preoccupying him and hold him, soothe his nerves by running your hands through his hair and rubbing gentle circles into his back. like i said, acts of service are really meaningful to him, esp w his line of work— makes him feel all fuzzy on the inside, like there’s a cluster of stars in his chest, his heart stuttering like a broken engine and a bouquet of lilies flowering in his stomach, petals clogging his throat and making it impossible for him to voice his gratitude. and so, after he calms down, he’ll take your hand and pepper little kisses on your knuckles until you ask him to stop with a bright smile and a laugh that sounds like the trickling melody of a running spring water stream.

but that’s an if, though. yoshida might not always manage to calm down— and sometimes his frustration will get the better of him. it might be difficult to manage; he’s so composed and collected for the most part that the meticulous patience required to deal with his boiling vexation might be unfamiliar to you, so it’ll be a bumpy slope. so try to be understanding in the case that he ever snaps at you, and know that he never means to hurt someone as important to him as you. give him time, and he’ll come around. <3

[nonranghaes]

heads up! mentions of a past abusive relationship (for reader). this should really go on wooahaes but i'm too lazy to format it rn and i need sleep so take this ig??? i might repost over there some other time....

there's things that are unfair about having a boyfriend like vernon. you think one of them is how pretty he can look when he's sleeping.

of course, he's still human. he ends up with messy hair, and sometimes he drools, and there's about a thousand other things you can list off about him when he sleeps... but he's still your boyfriend. and thus, every little 'flaw' he has is something you consider pretty on him. he would (and will, when he's in a sappy enough mood) say the exact same about you, to be fair. he shifts a little in his sleep, stretching and reaching for you.

you still remember overhearing him talk to his mom the morning after you slept in the same bed as him for the first time. it'd literally only been sleeping, but you heard him quietly say 'they trust me a lot,' to her while on the phone. he'd been unpacking breakfast. when she asked about it, he merely said "they fell asleep next to me. they've never done that before. i think... i think they trust me," in that pensive way, like he's thinking more than he's actually saying.

(i do, you told him later. trust you. i think i love you, too. and it'd been what made him say that he loves you for the first time--something he didn't expect to hear back without that 'i think' to protect yourself. you said it to him a few weeks later, and he teared up--although he'll always deny it when you bring it up now.)

"you're staring again." he pulls you out of your thoughts with ease, and his eyes meet yours in the low light. "what's wrong?"

you saw today's date. some birthdays never leave you, and that's true of the person who hurt you. the person you only told vernon about a few months ago in full, although he knew of the person's existence before then. you remember what that person said to you, too. that you didn't need anyone else aside from them...

"nothing," you say, and it's a half-lie. it'll bother you a little more, but you don't want to have this talk now. not when you're already starting to drift off, safe in his presence. vernon's good at protecting you from ugly feelings that settle into your bones like an unwanted guest. "we'll talk later, honey."

he gives you a uncertain look. "you only call me honey when you're upset."

(it's a mutual thing: he calls you either by your name or a casual dude any other time, and baby and babe and love of my life whenever he's trying to avoid a topic temporarily. the two of you communicate: vernon's good at making you feel safe in that, too.)

"right," you say. "we'll talk in the morning... homie."

it earns a crackling snort from him, and he smiles that cute gummy smile as he hides his face for a moment. "ah, really... god, you're such a dork sometimes, i swear."

"a dork who landed you," you always remind him. yet when his eyes meet yours a moment later, you feel something warm in your chest that washes away that ugly feeling all too easily. you reach out, holding his face. "i think... i won."

"you won?"

"you love me," you say. "my friends love me... i'm loved," you say quietly, and the feeling still feels a little foreign. you are loved, you repeat mentally for a moment: because they see you as you, not the broken mess you feel you are. "so i won."

vernon gets it soon enough, and he nods. "you won," he says quietly. "i'm glad you're here... homie."

you crack up, too, and he quietly laughs at his own little moment with you. his laugh and his smile always make you giggle, too, and he pulls you in to kiss you happily.

"i love you," he mumbles against your lips, "i love you, i love you, i love you--" and he keeps planting kisses against against and around your lips to punctuate every repeat of the phrase, before he draws back, satisfied after being struck with the need to be overly sappy. "alright?"

gone is that bitter feeling that once flashed through your veins and settled into your bones. all you feel now is love, soft and sweet, as you're so openly reminded that you're not alone. that the two of you shoulder these problems together. you won, you think, because you are alive and being loved and learning to love wholeheartedly again.

"yeah," you settle in to sleep, planning to keep to your promise of talking come morning. "i love you, too, you big sap."

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 7/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

TW: Su!cidal ideation

Finally some RadioApple aljsdlajls 

VERY SHORT but

RADIOAPPLE!!!!

I hope you guys like this.

IF THERE ARE ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS, FORGIVE ME.

------------------------------------------

It's about to rain.

Rain wasn't uncommon in Hell, but it wasn't that common either. It's mostly acid rain that comes down- another punishment from The Almighty. As if Falling wasn't enough. As if watching over his biggest failure wasn't enough.

It's beautiful to look at, though. Lucifer likes to think that the rain in hell is his Father's and siblings' tears. Sure helped him feel less lonely to delude himself that he is missed.

The Sin of Pride. He still doesn't get why he is that.

What other sin have I done other than love, Father?

Lucifer nurses a glass of apple Beelzejuice by his mouth. He's sitting on the counter of his personal mini-bar as he looks past the open balcony. A voice cuts through his thoughts.

Alastor: Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon~

The king of hell didn't even bother to turn his head at the sudden appearance of the radio demon. Alastor didn't seem to take offense to being ignored, only moving around the bar to make his own drink.

Lucifer doesn't really drink but he likes to mix up stuff every now and then. The process makes him feel like he's back in Eden making-

He shakes his head. Nope, not gonna go there.

Alastor finishes making his drink- a whiskey on the rocks- and joins Lucifer in overlooking the skies.

Lucifer: I'm really tired, Alastor. I think I have been for a long time.

Lucifer downs the drink and brings up his infected hand. Alastor stays quiet beside him, emitting a low static.

Lucifer: You know, I didn't actually know if it wouldn't kill me. I just saw that dead demon pig and moved without thinking. Just one touch and maybe I would... 

A cold feeling upon his fingertips snaps him back. Alastor hands him a drink which makes him raise an eyebrow but he takes the drink nonetheless.

Lucifer: Cider?

Alastor: Apple~

Lucifer: What? You think these are drunken words?

Alastor: I think.. that you've had enough for tonight, my dear.

Lucifer: I had one glass.

Alastor: Of the Prince of Gluttony's strongest. 

Lucifer scoffs.

Lucifer: Touche. But I can't get drunk.

He says, earning a hum from Alastor.

Alastor: Drunk in your own demons. Ha!

Lucifer: Ugh. That was such a shit pun.

Alastor: Made you smile, have I not, my Majesty?

Huh. Will you look at that? Lucifer did have a small smile but Alastor was sporting that irritating grin of his so he didn't dignify him with an answer.

Quiet again.

Normally, Lucifer would awkwardly rant about this and that just to fill the suffocating silence. The first few hours after the fall - before the Sins and everything else- it was just silence. The only sound that could be heard in the vast darkness was his and Lilith's pained breathing.

After his Lily leaves, he punishes himself by isolation. Just him, alone. Like how it should have been. He damned humanity. He damned Lilith. Now, he damned his most precious daughter.

He thought he would never find peace in silence again.

That is, until a certain radio demon.

Lucifer would never admit it, but that first time they met- the banter, the singing, the one-upping- it was the most alive he felt in more than 10,000 years.

Sure, Alastor was a raging asshole that was using his daughter to piss him off and he wanted nothing more than to permanently kill the guy.

Oh, who was he kidding, the bastard still does that.

But... somehow, along the way, they became (dare he say) good friends. Recently, he feels like they transitioned into something more. The constant touches, the domestic moments in the kitchen, that kiss.

When he's with Alastor, he forgets why he even hated the silence.

He sees that Alastor didn't make another drink.

Lucifer: Drunk already?

Alastor smiles- one of his rare genuine smiles that Lucifer only sees when they are alone- and walks in front of him. The demon stands in between Lucifer's legs that were slightly swinging.

Alastor puts his hands on the counter, caging the king of hell on either side.

Their faces move on their own. Coming closer until their lips were barely touching.

Alastor: With your company? Always.

Then finally, their lips touch one another's. Lucifer never thought he's experience this kind of intimacy again after Lilith.

The kiss was slow, but deep- they could feel each other's passion. One of Lucifer's hands finds its way to Alastor's hair to pull him closer.

The moment couldn't be longer. Alastor pulls away first but places a hand on his king's waist.

Alastor: Don't stay away for too long in your venture, little apple.

He places a small kiss on Lucifer's hand. The smaller gives the other a teasing smile.

Lucifer: What? You'll miss me?

The overlord only smirks.

Alastor: Dearly.. my Lucifer~

With that Alastor left, leaving Lucifer with himself again. He stares at the Morningstar portrait, focusing on his daughter's smiling face.

He'll make this right.

Lucifer: For Charlie.

----------------------------------------------

What to look forward for in Part 8:

Charlie and Lucifer will finally talk before he leaves.

[natsuki208]

So This is How it All Ends….

They finally made it to the end of the bridge. The moment of where the demon must take the soul of his child has arrived. But… was it all worth it?

Based on an artpiece by @moneyisthebestlawyerinh3ll :(

———

Darkness.

That’s all Ciel can see. Nothing but the pitch black surrounding him, accompanied by the soft, ghostly sounds of swishing water. He feels light rocking back and forth and wood underneath his body - all of this means he’s currently in a rowboat.

He wakes up, one eye opens to see a sea of fog and mist, and in the middle of an ocean it appears. Still feeling a bit woozy, he looks around with nothing interesting to focus on… but there is one other figure on the boat with him. A tall man dressed in black, jet black hair and red eyes that are all too familiar to the young boy, rowing the boat with ease as he stares and smiles down at him.

Of course, only his butler Sebastian Michaelis would be doing such a thing; who else?

“Master, I see you have awoken.” He softly acknowledges.

He seems very calm for whatever reason, for which got Ciel to sit up and look around the sea some more.

“Where is this? Where are we?” Ciel asks, composedly.

“You wish to know?”

“Why else did I ask?”

Ciel pauses. He doesn’t care to know anymore, for some unknown thought is telling him that it doesn’t matter now… and he listens.

He glances around the water surrounding their transport, but there’s something peculiar about it - as if it’s something very familiar within. Over in the distance, he can see the day of when he was a small child being lifted up by Sebastian, back when he called him his father, and closer to him is the day when he witnessed his Aunt Red’s death not too long ago. Many more images displayed the events throughout his past 13 years; now they float on through the fog disappearing as they appeared.

Sebastian explains they are part of his cinematic record, apparently it came along to greet Ciel in what will be his final moments. His child goes on to say in such a relaxed, unbothered tone:

“I see. This is my life, this is how I lived. But… I’m dead now.”

Sebastian can’t bare to show his sadness on his face nor in his voice; so he replies as calmly as possible.

“No, not yet. Your death will come to claim you soon enough, Master. And I shall be here until the end.”

If only he could be more satisfied than he should be. To think not too long ago (for his ageing that is) Sebastian was just like any other demon whom would carelessly devour any human soul that he acquires, all to fulfil his undying hunger. But this one tiny human boy was enough to change him. Throughout these 13 years he did nothing but show compassion, teach and took good care of Ciel’s health more than any human he’s ever met. He feels proud to have earned the title of ‘Papa’ and to call the young boy his own child.

Even if Ciel eventually learned the truth, and grew to hate him for lying all those years and formed a contract, he’s still very dear to the demon whom raised him. Sebastian remains sad however; especially when looking directly at the emptiness within his child’s eyes. To think his little bluebird no longer cares that his life’s about to end too soon, no feelings for what his life could be once he grows up, nor for the servants and friends he’s leaving behind, and even worse… the young Lady Elizabeth who loves him deeply and now she’ll be left alone with her grief on wondering why he left her.

At this moment, a distant sounds calls for Sebastian. He turns his head to face the water and there’s something that gets him to gasp quietly. One part of the record plays the night where he saved the little infant Ciel from the raging housefire, the night when he saw that innocent face for the first time, those teal sapphires stared up at him as his tears went away, it brought a genuine smile to the demon.

Such a minor memory which Ciel doesn’t even remember but means so much more to Sebastian. He stares at the scene before it can float away and disappear into the fog forever - leaving but a miserable frown upon his face which Ciel notices.

“What are you looking at?” He asks annoyingly.

Sebastian’s goes back to focus on the depressed shell that his little one had grown into. He cannot bring himself to tell him, he will not like it. For it is part of their contract for Sebastian to never be referred as his father again; and it shall remain that way. Besides, one duty of being a parent is to put your child’s wants and needs over your own as he learned. So he simply answers with a fake smile:

“Nothing.”

-

They finally made it, to an unknown island far away from any shore, with no trace of any other human in sight. This place is destined to be Ciel Phantomhive’s resting place.

The boat is left by the sand, the demon walks along into the forest, carrying his child in his arms as Ciel claimed to be too tired to walk himself. Sebastian recalls always carrying him like this before, but of course, it’s the way he always did ever since he was a baby. He’d held him close to his chest, Ciel’s head rested on his father’s shoulder and Sebastian would rub soothing circles on his back until he fell asleep. A fitting callback for Ciel will be put to sleep one final time.

They come across an old stone bench in the middle of some ruins; this seems like the perfect spot for their trail to end. Sebastian whispers next to his child’s ear, wanting to keep the situation tranquil.

“We’re here, Master.”

Nothing is said while Sebastian (reluctant to do so at first) gently lays his child down on the stone, only after there’s a relatively good distance between the two did he speak.

“So this is how it all ends….”

Ciel takes one last look around before facing back towards Sebastian, his face directly saying to the demon that he’s accepted his fate, but has Sebastian?

No, of course not. He’s grown to love his boy, to the point where he doesn’t consider this to be right anymore. But he can’t go against orders of the contract either, it’s in his nature, and there’s no turning back the clock anymore. What has been done is now done and here they are. Once again his thought process is broken by one question Ciel had left about the so-called payment.

“So will it hurt?” There’s slight worry in this tone, and Sebastian knows it.

“It will a bit, I’m sorry.” Sebastian speaks in a fatherly way in hopes to calm him. “I will make sure to be gentle-”

“No.” Ciel interrupts once more. “Be as brutal as you want. Push the pain into me, it’s proof I had a life worth living.”

He doesn’t say anything. Only surprise plasters on his face. What else can he say at this point? Other than to give in to his child’s final request. So he smiles… and bows.

“Indeed, my lord.”

Everything is now sealed. With that one last sentence, Ciel is at ease.

Sebastian gets back up, stands in front of his child, removes the eyepatch which covered the seal, and glances once more at Ciel’s other eye. He feels sad, but cannot show it. He feels unwilling, but cannot show it. He feels the need to take Ciel back to their home, to tuck him into bed after such a tiring night, but cannot do so.

Ciel will not appreciate the tardiness, nor the sentiments of their past father-and-son bond, so Sebastian pushes it all to the back of his mind… and let those hideous instincts take over.

Red glowing eyes, pointed front teeth, and the darkened breath of the demonic man he once called family… that’s the last image Ciel ever does see.

Just as he thought… a monster.

…

…

Silence.

That’s all Sebastian can hear. Nothing but the cold air surrounding him, accompanied by the bitter flavour stuck inside his mouth.

The demon opens his eyes only to see the literal empty shell lying on the stone. The body of what was once a cheerful yet shy little boy is now drooping its head to the side like an inanimate puppet, its eyes are fully closed and he knows they’ll never open up again.

What does he do now? He cannot make himself move from this spot, he just continues to stare at the lifeless body in front of him. He feels his eyes widen, his hands and arms trembling, and his breath shaking as he breathes. Those hands reach out again to feel the coldness on the boy’s cheeks; colder than artic ice it felt. Rather quick for a living being that just lost his soul.

Sebastian didn’t know what to think as many different thoughts rampage through his mind. Only now does he give in that he could’ve done something to prevent this:

Telling him ‘This is wrong. You still have a life worth living, my son.’, bringing him back to the manor even if he kicked and screamed, anything!

But it’s all over now. The boy he called his family is gone. His stomach may be full, but his life is again empty.

Sebastian sits down on the stone and picks up the body, cradling it in his arms just like the old days, he holds it close tightly just to keep his child’s soul connected to his body in some way. All of the emotions he kept bottled up for the last hour have come loose: sadness, worry and regret.

He’ll never see that little smile or hear that little laugh or even the scowl of annoyance ever again; and it was all because of him.

One last thought ran through his head during all the grief and it’s the one last thing he can do for him now. One final lullaby as he rocks the corpse back and forth.

…Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques. Dormez-vous? *hic* Dormez-vous? Sonnez - matines… sonnez les *hic* matines. Ding… dang… dong. Ding… dang….. dong.