#crossroads dirt

[marigoldwitch]

Witchcraft | Dirt

There are tons of different dirt, from different places, that can all hold different energies and properties. Firstly, a lot of these are my own personal correspondences. So, if something doesn't resonate with you, don't worry just try to figure out what does. Hopefully this list will at least give you an idea of where to start or maybe help you think outside the box when it comes to this specific popular tool in witchcraft.

Graveyard or Cemetery Dirt

I feel as if this is probably one of the most popular dirt, that a lot of witches have experience using. This dirt is great for lots of different work like ancestral, spirit, protection, healing, and lucky are some of the most popular uses for this dirt. Some witches believe that graveyard dirt is only useful if it's collected from an actual grave. Personally, I believe any dirt collected from a graveyard (whether it be an actual grave or just somewhere on the property) can be just as powerful. If you're doing ancestral work, it's obviously suggested that you get dirt directly from an ancestor's grave. And it's advised that you don't take dirt from the grave of someone you don't know. And don't forget to always leave an offering, even if you don't take from any specific grave (and just take it from the property) still be sure to leave an offering for the spirits that rest there.

Here's another post I made about graveyard dirt alternatives

Church or Holy Dirt

I don't see this one talked about as often as other dirt, but I think church dirt can be a very powerful tool in spells and rituals related to cleansing, healing and protection. Depending on the type of church the dirt is collected from it can also be used for other purposes too. For example, I consider catholic church dirt to be most useful in workings related to keeping secrets or helping me undercover secrets. Church dirt is powerful because the grounds are believed to be "holy ground." Also, depending on how long the church has been there, the amount of energy that has built up over the years can contribute too. Of course, I would suggest doing your research on whatever church you're thinking about getting dirt from. Just because something is considered "holy" and old, doesn't mean it's good. Plenty of churches hold bad and dark energy too. So be mindful.

An alternative for church dirt could be altar or sacred space dirt. If you practice a lot outside, in a specific spot, the ground beneath you holds that energy too. In my opinion, I'd consider that to be holy or sacred energy.

Crossroads Dirt

A crossroads is an intersection of two or more roads. I kind of bend this definition just a little bit because finding a dirt road isn't always easy. Finding a dirt path however, those are easier to come by. So, I consider cross paths to hold similar energy and properties. This dirt is great for spells and rituals related to travel (specifically astral or spiritual traveling), decision making, and manifesting opportunities. There are a ton of interesting lore around crossroads too. Most popularly known (in western cultures) as a place to summon the devil or demons that one can make a deal with for riches, fame, health etc.

Forest or Woods Dirt

Commonly a place someone might go to escape, and sometimes even get lost, forest dirt (or dirt from the woods, or a heavily wooded area) would be great for spells and rituals associated with lost things, adventurous travel, and astral work.

Dirt From Your Home

This dirt is best used in spells or rituals that directly involve or affect your physical home. Protection and banishing mostly. It's a great way to represent your home and it's energy in spells and rituals too. If you live in an apartment home, or you live in a city, you can use your own house plant's dirt as an alternative. If you're planning on traveling, you can carry a little dirt from your home as a "return home safely" charm as well.

Garden Dirt

Surprisingly this dirt can be one of the hardest to get your hands on because not everyone just has a garden, they can scoop some dirt from. Also, most gardens usually are on private property. But if you can sneak a little bit of dirt from a park garden or community garden, without ruining anything or disturbing any of the plants in the garden, I say go for it. Garden dirt is great for manifesting, growing, fertility, and abundance. Be sure to leave an offering though.

I also consider indoor herb gardens to be garden dirt too, and I believe they hold the same energy. Or even if you just have a small balcony garden at your apartment or townhome, that counts too.

Bank Dirt

Hear me out, this dirt holds lots of energy related to money, luck, and finances. This dirt is powerful in spells related to these things too. A little bank dirt in a spells jar for financial stability is very powerful.

Railroad Dirt

This dirt is perfect for spells and rituals related to traveling, exploration, and new adventures.

Park Dirt

Perfect in spells and rituals associated with community and bounding. Local parks are known for being places that people can spend time together, go to community events, and build new friendships.

Courthouse, Jail, and Prison Dirt

This dirt is great for spells and rituals related to justices and protection. It could also be used in hexes for the same reasons.

Playground Dirt

Associated with innocence and wonder, this dirt would work great in workings related to childhood or your inner child work.

Hospital Dirt

Obviously, this dirt can be powerful in spells related to healing and health. Be really mindful of the type of hospital this dirt is from. The energy at a mental health facility is going to be different than at an ER or a maternity hospital. This could theoretically be used in cursing and hexing too. So keep that in mind as well.

School or Library Dirt

Great for spells and rituals associated with education and learning in general.

Why dirt though?

Dirt is most commonly used to represent the element Earth in witchcraft and magical practices. It's not only believed that dirt holds energy related to the earth element, but that dirt itself can absorb and hold onto the energy around it. It helps plants grow, which is why a lot of witches believe burying manifestation spells will help our spells work better and faster; it'll help our manifestation grow.

Since dirt is believed to absorb and hold onto energy, it makes since that dirt in specific locations would correspond with specific energies. If hundreds and thousands of people have used a specific location for one similar purpose those grounds would be overflowing with that energy. Bank = Money. Courthouse = Justice. Graveyard = Death or Spirits. Crossroads = Travel. Church = Sacred.

How do I collect dirt?

Be very mindful of where you're taking dirt from. Don't go digging through some random person's yard or garden for dirt lol. Don't forget to leave an offering, when necessary, too. I try to be as discreet as possible when I'm collecting dirt from a more crowded public place like a courthouse or bank. Other times it's a little easier to collect dirt without many weird stares, like in the woods, at an empty church, a graveyard, old railroad tracks etc. Make sure you have something to store your dirt in (a small jar or pouch) and be sure to properly label it when you get a chance.

So how do I use it?

There are so many different ways to actually incorporate dirt into your spells and rituals, that there is no possible way I would be able to list them all in one post. But get creative with it and don't be afraid to get your hands dirty. It's not just an ingredient for a spell jar!

I'll try my best to share different ways I've used dirt in my practice in a future post, that way I can hopefully give you some ideas on what you could do in your practice.

[conjuremanj]

Doing A Effective Road Opener With Little To No Supplies.

This is a lot much a road opener can do but it's a effective cleanser to help cleanse the things that may be blocking your road.

But what to do if you don't have or can't afford the supplies at that time?

What ever problems you may have like drinking to much, going out, clubbing to much, money problems, smoking to much etc, write all that down on some paper then burn it to ash.

Mix the ask with your crossroads dirt then burn a white candle on top of it. Then pray the 23rd Psalms afterwards throw it all away.

That's it. Simple to do with little to no supplies.

[aspelladay]

Ghost Sickness Spell (2)

Ghosts of those who died by violence are believed bale to roam and cause aggressive forms of “ghost sickness.” As diagnosed in traditional Mexican magical belief, ghost sickness is characterized by chills and excessive nervousness. The patient jumps at the slightest provocation. Ghost sickness may also be characterized by coma or the loss of the ability to speak.

The patient may be cured by rubbing the body with a live black hen. (The intent of the cure is not to kill the hen; if anything efforts are made to preserve the hen from harm, however many curers believe that exposure to ghost sickness may be too much for the hen and result in death or injury.) Patient and chicken should then undergo ritual fumigation using smoke derived by burning a combination of bay laurel leaves, frankincense, copal, and crossroads dirt. (Curers with Roman Catholic orientations would also include palm leaves blessed on Palm Sunday in this blend.)

(from The Element Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells by Judika Illes)

[hsundholm]

A Chinatown Mural II by Henrik Sundholm Via Flickr: A street corner in Chinatown, Singapore.

[neverpeace]

the harlow tags

[themodernwitchsguide]

altars for greek gods

this post includes hades, persephone, artemis, apollo, aphrodite, hermes, and hekate. for part 2 including zeus, hera, poseidon, hestia, hephaestus, dionysus, ares, demeter, and athena click here.

keep in mind that typical offerings to any god includes meat, wine, grain (specifically barley), honey, and incense (myrrh and frankincense would be period appropriate), but i'm listing some specific offerings that can be given if you'd like

colors can be used for candles, banners, decor, whatever you want

HADES

Colors: black, red, and white for association with death. purple and metallics for association with riches/wealth

Offerings: mint, asphodel, white poplar, pomegranate, coffee, cinnamon, elm, money, chocolate

Crystals: gemstones, black crystals (obsidian, black tourmaline, smokey quartz, etc.), pyrite, hematite, labradorite

Animals: black ram, owl, serpent, Cerberus

PERSEPHONE

Colors: purple, pink, yellow, green for association with springtime. black and metallics for association with Hades. white for purity.

Offerings: pomegranate, flowers, grains, asphodel, lavender, rosemary

Crystals: amethyst, gemstones, moss/tree agate, milk quartz, jade, lepidolite

Animals: deer, ram, bat, talking birds (including parrots)

APHRODITE

Colors: red and pink for love/sexuality. white and blue for association with the ocean. gold for association with, well, gold.

Offerings: roses, chocolate, shells, myrrh, gold

Crystals: rose quartz, pearl, emerald, opal, aquamarine, rhodonite, rhodochrosite, ocean jasper, morganite

Animals: swan, dove, hare

ARTEMIS

Colors: white, blue, black, and grey for association with the heavens. brown and green for association with nature/the hunt.

Offerings: moon shaped foods, frankincense, cypress, mugwort, amaranth

Crystals: morganite, moonstone, aventurine, selenite, celestite, moss/tree agate, amethyst, quartz (specific dendritic), labradorite

Animals: deer, wolf, wild boar

APOLLO

Colors: yellow, white, and blue for association with the heavens. red, orange, and pink for healing. purple and green for the Oracle

Offerings: sun shaped foods, bay leaves, laurel, cypress, playing music, poetry

Crystals: sunstone, amber, calcite (specifically honey and yellow), quartz (specifically rutilated or clear), rose quartz

Animals: cow, snake, hawk, crow/raven, cicada, swan

HERMES

Colors: green and gold for money/luck. white and brown for travels.

Offerings: money, crocus/saffron, strawberries

Crystals: jade, malachite, fluorite, pyrite, lapis lazuli, citrine, alexandrite

Animals: tortoise, ram

HEKATE

Colors: purple, blue, and green for magic. red and black for association with underworld

Offerings: garlic, saffron, crossroad dirt, black salt, ashes, sage, cedar, yew

Crystals: labradorite, obsidian, hematite, black tourmaline, amethyst, bloodstone, serpentine, lepidolite

Animals: wolf, boar, serpent, lion, horse, cow

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (AU) — Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Porn with minuscule plot, if you will | beta'd by @planet-marz1 & @beskarandblasters.

Word Count & Warnings: 6k | 18+, fem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation, if i missed anything let me know!

Heaven forbid you end up in a situation like this.

No, literally. Heaven specifically forbids it.

You’ve done the research, the hours and hours of scavenging online in search of the proper offerings, the right way to to complete this…ritual.

It’s foreign and completely out of your element.

As if anyone was familiar with this, beside the defunct group of people that completed these rituals for entertainment but were very swiftly ran out of town, though you’re sure they lay dormant somewhere.

You weren’t sure if any of them were attempting to summon demons to make deals with either, but here you were.

Standing at a dark and lonely crossroads in your hometown, on your knees, begging for anyone to answer your pleas.

Not prayers—nothing like that. 

You check and double-check the carefully drawn sigils, recounting the incantation in your head to make sure you said it right, knowing that everything you buried in the small dirt pile in the ground was what was required. Even ripped off the cross necklace your father had gifted you as a child and threw it in a nearby field, not wanting to take any chances.

Maybe this was pointless, hoping on a whim that all those stories were true, that there were other forces at play. Good or evil, it didn’t matter.

Your naivety was showing, the blade held tightly in your left hand was shaking and you thought maybe…just a small drop, maybe it would help.

And you’re almost breaking skin when there’s a solid woosh behind you, the cold draft goosebumping your bare skin, knowing this dress was a mistake, once pristine and white now matted with spatterings of dirt and filth.

“Oh my,” The voice singsongs low from over your shoulder, “now, what is this?”

The knife clatters to the ground loudly.

You chance a glimpse over your shoulder, expression meek and fearful as you take in the man before you.

That’s what he was.

All man, nothing like what you’ve been told to believe. No horns, no wings, no overtowering presence to send you running in the opposite direction. Nothing like the stories you’ve heard as a child.

And he’s rightfully beautiful—clearly defined edges to his jaw, a stature that felt both threatening and comforting, he held himself high, a proper posture that had to have been learned. Taught. Drilled and instilled into his outwardly behavior. He smiles wide, bright and shining teeth behind plush lips and a nose that screamed god-like but you knew he was anything but. 

“Speak up, now,” He taunts, voice gravelly and thick, whether it is a forced dialect or not, you hear no flaws—he sounds familiar, looks familiar, and you feel it all may be a ruse, but you don’t question it, “busy night and I’m not being paid to have my time wasted on curious little vermin like you.”

Oh, there it was.

Still, you found yourself nervous as you spoke, suddenly forgetting all rational thinking or why you were even here, scrambling before him. 

His footsteps are warning sounds against the pavement as he approaches you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before he waits, expectantly, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across his face. 

“Tick tock,” He warns, “why did you summon me, sweetheart?”

The endearment feels odd and misplaced, but it still has your insides turning in a way they shouldn’t.

“I—uh,” Your voice is feeble, unsure, “do you—do you think I’m pretty?”

He looks genuinely confused, eyebrows shooting up slightly at your question.

He’s seen a lot, heard just about everything, but this was new. And from a beautiful, timid specimen like you, no less. 

“If you want me to say yes, I will.” He offers.

He would’ve agreed anyways—he might not typical most of the indulgences with the human race, but he wasn’t blind. 

“But, really,” Another gentle touch that you find yourself leaning into, like he could hear your own desperate desires spinning around in your mind, plucking them out carefully and storing them in his own, “why have you called me here?”

“I…don’t remember,” You admit softly, “I—I—“

It’s his unnerving presence that has robbed all rational thinking, as if summoning a devil was a good idea to begin with. But, he’s standing before you and suddenly you have nothing to offer, nothing proposition him with.

Because, really, what were you willing to trade your soul for? A better life? It was impossible.

He cups your face firmly, thumbs pressing into soft, supple flesh, and really—who was he to waste such a beautiful opportunity?

He’s used to older men—addicts, drunks, men who were nothing good for this world and did more harm than good. Still, a job was a job, taking souls was the easy part.

What followed was…much more intense.

He enjoys the reaction of the pathetic people on their knees, begging for any alternative—aside from the few who have seemed more than willing. He would never press the agreement, just a solid—

“Well, enjoy your pathetic little life then.” And disappears, no flare or show.

His time wasn’t to be wasted.

Yet, here he was, tending to the sad sight of you.

“Why are you upset?” He ponders softly, feeling your body thrum beneath his fingertips, the pulse of your heart quickening. “You’ve called me here for a reason.”

“I—hate living like this,” You admit quietly, “my father, he has these values, rules, I don’t want to—I don’t understand them. He constantly compares me to other women, berates me and criticizes how I dress, how I look.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s sifting through the rolodex in his brain, but even just a touch against your skin and he can absorb every precious memory stored away in your mind.

“Your daddy,” He grins, “religious type, huh?”

“He’s..a priest.” You admit.

Jackpot.

 “And—and he’s horrible. He—he cheated, back when my mom was still alive. She—she died a few years ago, drunk driver. But—I just—”

He feels a desire to make you better, ease this pain.

But, there are a few stipulations.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “I think I may be able to help.”

You close your eyes in relief, taking a deep breath through your nose.

Suddenly his lips are brushing against your ear and it ignites a fire inside your body, a feeling that was new and strange, exhilarating too.

“First, how ‘bout you call me Joel.” He offers, “I go by that up here.”

Right. Up here. Not down in hell.

You fight your curiosity and nod.

“Oh—okay, Joel?” You repeat curiously.

“Perfect.” He smiles, pulling back to look at you.

He feels he might be reprimanded for the idea brewing in his head.

Like, the king of hell might have a bone to pick with him. But, he was his best—there was no wrong that Joel could commit. Plus, he was feeling a little selfish. 

Someone so easily influenced, willing—who was he to pass on this opportunity?

“You’re unhappy with your life?” He inquires to confirm, planting the seed in your mind.

“Yes, very much.” You speak quietly, licking your lips briefly and catching the way Joel’s eyes track it, his own lips parting slightly.

It’s almost hard to believe that this was just a skin, that whatever was underneath had to be much more intimidating and terrifying, but you focus on his face, fearful that if you let your mind wander you might end up a sobbing mess. 

“And you would like me to make it…better?”

You nod subtly, a quick jerky movement that Joel would’ve missed had he not been paying apt attention to you.

You had potential. He could see it in your expression, pliable—teachable. It was the perfect concoction. 

“That’s a mighty big ask, sweetheart.” Joel counters, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Please…please, I don’t know what else to do—”

Joel shushes you comfortingly, one of the hands holding your cheek slowly moves to the back of your head, cradling it.

“Well, I could kill your daddy,” Joel offers, “but…really, that’s no fun.”

You stay silent. The idea wasn’t totally deranged, as much as you hated your father. But, you can feel Joel on the precipice of another offer, something you fear you won’t be able to resist.

“Or, you come with me.” Joel offers, a malicious grin growing across his face, “And I can make that pathetic little life so much better.”

Your eyes search his face frantically for any signs of deceit, but they show nothing but the truth.

He wants you. He wants to have you, tuck you under his metaphorical wings and make you one of his own—and you find yourself nodding before you allow your thoughts to wander or doubt to seep in.

“I—I will, please.” You beg, “Just—how does this…work?”

Oh, you poor thing.

“Well—”

“Just a kiss, right?” You wander curiously, hands fisting into the lapels of his suit—the gaudy uniform he was forced to wear when he was on earth, quite a shame.

His pointer finger traces the delicate lines of your face, his thumb rubbing against the tip of your nose, down the cupid’s bow of your lip, before pulling gently at your bottom lip, the plump flesh snapping back into its previous position.

“Not…exactly.” He responds, “This deal requires more. A solid connection.”

“So…” The words linger in the air like a suffocating blanket of mystery.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Joel asks bluntly, your eyes widening in response.

“Um—” You hesitate briefly, “Not…no, not really.”

Well. That was a first.

“Not really?” Joel questions your wording, silently asking you to elaborate. 

It was his own curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Just..some touching.” You offer blandly, “Over—over the clothes, you know?”

Yeah. Of course. 

You were talking about your sexual inexperience to a demon who had half the mind to claim you where you stood, but here he was, curious. He couldn’t explain the intrigue he had for you, but the moment he set eyes on you, he’d had plans.

Joel offers a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, your eyes closing briefly as he moves in.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Joel reassures, “When I’m finished, you won’t feel so clueless.”

And with a deft snap of his fingers, you’re plunged into darkness.

-

You’re thankful Joel is there to catch you, knees buckling as you transverse through the planes of existence—it’s the only thing you can assume as your surroundings change in an instant.

You weren’t in the middle of nowhere Texas anymore, rather a room filled with dark, leather furniture and amenities you were almost positive Joel had no use for. No chains or torture devices like you might’ve assumed. Just a low light room that could’ve doubled as an open-floor apartment.

This must be where deals are sealed, eyeing the litany of different surfaces Joel would probably plan to consume you over, suddenly feeling completely out of your mind for taking his offer.

He senses your panic, his touch an odd comfort as he whispers, “Don’t worry, you have some leverage here.”

Even if he was lying, you relaxed slightly.

“This deal is…different.” The word feels like a ruse, but he can't find another way to explain.

“It’s not just your soul, but all of it.” He runs a hand down your face, chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts before continuing his way down, calloused fingers playing with the hem of your suddenly pristine, white dress.

No dirt or grime found, it was like the old dress had been snatched away and replaced with a new one.

“You stay here, with me.” Joel explains. “You work for me, with me.”

You stay silent, listening to his offer.

“And you will be mine.”

There it was.

“So…a partnership?” You surmise, feeling his wandering fingertips splay along your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

“Mmm,” He hums thoughtfully, “more like a mentorship.”

You nod, quickly understanding.

“There’s so much I can teach you,” Joel explains, “That I will teach you.”

His hand gropes your ass suddenly, pulling a gasp from your chest. His nostrils flare at your reaction, teeth bared under his sullen expression.

“Are you ready to offer yourself over to me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah—yes.” You reply, strengthening your resolve and answer clearly.

Joel smirks devilishly—which, in retrospect, yeah. It makes sense. But, there’s a true evil behind his eyes that you’ve yet to witness and had your insides stirring with intrigue. 

Unlike most, he was planning to take his time with you.

-

You expect things to progress with intensity, but they don’t.

Joel graciously guides you toward the couch in the room, taking a seat in the middle before guiding your legs over his lap, allowing you to take a proper seat and relax, his hands exploring exposed skin, fingertips rubbing at the thin strap of your dress snug against your shoulder and drags it down slowly, tracing his fingers along the line of your shoulder.

“Can I…ask you something?” You hesitate to speak, eyes closed as you tilt your head to the side, feeling his finger tips dig into your skin as his hand wraps around the side of your neck, his other hand busy discovering what lies beneath, performing a similar action with the strap until your dress falls to your waist, exposing your breasts.

He runs a careful fingering over your nipple, the bud hardening underneath his touch, before his eyes, and he thinks it may be the most heavenly thing he’s witnessed so far, given his course of work.

“Go on.” He responds, distracted, leaning forward to latch his mouth to your clavicle, the wet heat of his tongue pressed deliciously against your skin.

“Is this—is this you?” You ask innocently, allowing yourself a bold touch to his face, delicate fingers follow the angular parts of his face until you find your hands seeking the softness of his curls, moaning softly as his mouth ravishes your skin and bites hungrily, but playfully. “Is this your…natural form?”

Curiosity was natural. And it wasn’t the first time he’s been asked if the skin he wears is his own.

The answer is fairly simple.

“No,” He responds, “but, I prefer this. It’s much more—appealing than the other. More approachable.”

“O-Oh,” You sigh, his hands disregarding your breasts to squeeze at your waist, dragging your hips forward to feel his hardening cock underneath you, confined to his slacks but very persistent. If your soul wasn’t already gone, it definitely left your body then, “um…another question?”

Joel chuckles, toothy smile shining up at you as he watches your eyes dilate with pleasure, knowing you were enjoying this. He nods again.

“The, uh, guy—how do you—”

“Are you wondering how I came to acquire this skin?” He finishes for you.

You nod slightly, hearing the faintness of his zipper as he lifts you slightly, enough to shift his slacks down his hips to relieve some of the pressure.

“I’m really not supposed to talk about deals,” Joel drones on, but he knows he’s going to tell you anyways, “but—he was a desperate man, begging me to bring his young daughter back to life. Unfortunately, the boss has a strict policy on resurrections,” He explains, like it’s all merely a simple transaction, though to him it was, “so, he begged me to kill him instead.”

“And you did?”

Joel nods, the distinct rip of fabric as he splits your dress in half and discards it, leaving you naked aside from the thin fabric of underwear that held snug on your hips.

“Sort of. Didn’t seem fair that he went to waste,” He shrugs, “and while he doesn’t occupy this body anymore and I didn’t take his soul, I do occupy the vessel for as long as I please or until I find something better.”

Though, he’s grown fond of this disguise. Taking on his likeness and name, it made deals far more easier when people were willing to approach him. His quota are up, he was rising in the ranks, it was all looking up for him.

Normally, you’d feel the urge to hide yourself away, terrified at being gawked at so openly, but there’s a hunger behind Joel’s gaze that feeds your ego and desire, unadulterated lust behind his eyelids.

“You sucked a cock before?” He asks crudely, but then he’s tipping your chin up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and you can’t offer anything but the truth.

If you had lied he would’ve known in a second.

You shake your head, allowing the slow slide of his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, pulling your face forward with the leverage and your lips close around the digit instinctively.

“Sweetheart, have you even seen one before?”

There’s a lingering silence that confirms his suspicions.

“Get on your knees,” He offers, spreading his legs until he can pull his slacks off entirely, removing his jacket haphazardly, leaving him in a crisp white button up, tie still secured tightly around his neck—“Go on.”

You found yourself staring, moving obediently as he guides you to the floor, lips hung open slightly as you can feel your tastebuds yearning for a taste of him. It’s mouth-watering, really. 

His arms are spread over the back of the couch and he’s waiting, looking at you expectantly.

“Gotta lot to teach you, honey,” He tells you, “better if you learn with a hands on approach—go on and take a peek.”

You shift on wobbly knees, pulling at the waistband of his underwear—it is far from anything you’ve imagined or expected, full in girth and weight as his cock bobs heavily against his stomach, a small string of precum staining his shirt in the process. You can’t help the way your lips part, almost imagining the stretch as you’d force it to fit in your mouth.

God, would it even fit?

And the thought of it inside of you—terrifying, but still exhilarating. 

You’re doing the mental math in your head, tilting your head curiously as your brow scrunches in thought. Eight, bordering on nine inches and all thick and uncut, and well-trimmed at the base. But, the part that makes you bite your lip hard enough you can taste blood is the way he rolls his balls tenderly in his palm, almost as mouth-watering to you as the sight of his cock.

Joel knows fascination when he sees it, unrestrained and every so curious. 

He’s never encountered a virgin before, not like you. He’s dealt with inexperienced, bad etiquette, but never someone so hopelessly clueless. And yet, still so willing to learn.

You were sent to him, he thinks. Rather than he to you. There was no other way this would end.

You were his now, even without knowing.

And truthfully, that was fine with you.

Joel grins lazily, the hands fondling his balls slowly moving to his shaft, wrapping around his own girth and down his shaft in a motion that has your eyes drawing to the pink, weeping head.

“Give me your hand.” Joel instructs, extending his free hand to you and encircling his fingers around your wrist to replace his own grip, nothing in comparison to what his large hands could cover.

Testingly, you copy his motions as you squeeze your grip around his cock and mimic a slow up and down motion on his shaft, watching as the foreskin swallows the tip and then pulling back as you feel bold, pressing your tongue against the slit and lapping up the heady taste of him.

It shouldn’t feel like this. This was sinful.

“Hey, hey,” He coos, voice softening as he leans in, hand wrapping around the front of your neck and pushing you back slightly, “don’t get ahead of yourself there, darlin’.”

“I thought—”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, saliva spreading against the fleshy tissue and he chuckles.

“You want a taste?” He asks, earning a confirming nod from you. “Open your mouth.”

And rather than allowing you his cock, he gathers a small amount of saliva in his mouth and squeezes your own mouth open by your cheeks, spitting directly into your waiting mouth, eyes widening in disbelief. 

You were missing out on. So. Fucking. Much.

“Close and swallow,” He tells you, waiting until you listen, which doesn’t take much push on his part, noticing how obedient you were from the moment he approached you, “already listenin’ so well, sweetheart.”

He releases the tight hold on your face and slumps back into his previous position, cock held firmly in his hands as he taps them against your slack lips, nose flaring slightly as your tongue slips out, lapping at the tip gently. Swirling around the head carefully as you spread your lips, letting him feed his cock slowly into your mouth, slow enough to allow you time to adjust. Gain your bearings.

He’s being gentle, for now—he wants to push your limits. You can feel it, the way he’s restraining himself as his free hand squeezes the cushion beneath him, blunt nails scratching the fabric. 

Suddenly, you remember you have hands, feeling them lay numb and useless at your side you quickly gain your bearings and replace his hand with a soft shove and he can see your confidence grow with every solid inch you take. The soft, velvetiness of his dick so welcoming in your mouth, nudging at the back of your throat as you breath sharply pushing until it strings, eyes watering. You pull back with a soft gasp, Joel’s eyes following your movement, drawn to you with an inability to look away, and the faint string of spit that connects your lips to his head still is enough to have him cumming right there, if he wanted.

But, he wanted to savor this. To devour and take.

He gives you a subtle nod of encouragement as you return your lips to his shaft, dragging a long line from root to tip with your tongue before swirling around the tip gently and forcing him into your mouth in one go and out, again. Again. Again. Until your jaw aches with a pain that is welcomed and he seems to take notice—a solid hand cradling your jaw as he rubs at the sore spot with a gentle touch, so juxtaposed to the man he should be.

The man he was. He was holding back, for your sake.

“Can’t believe you’ve never sucked cock before,” He drones on, chin tilted down as he looked upon you, wide eyes staring back, “you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

You shake your head honestly, mouth still stuck firmly around him as you bow your head slowly, letting him guide you further down again, stopping only when you feel the urge to gag to then trail your tongue down his sack, the heaviness of his balls weighing against your tongue, allowing the process to repeat several times until he’s satisfied, a sharp hiss through his teeth as he pulls you off roughly, hand fisting into your hair.

‘C’mere,” He mumbles, guiding you a little too harshly into his lap, groaning at the sting as he pulls you taught, lips pressing together in a messy, tireless exchange. You couldn’t even call it a kiss, just tongue and teeth and heated noises as you explore each other curiously, noting how intoxicating it felt to kiss him—the hint that maybe there was something about him that casted a spell on you, not just his charming looks and personality. It’s almost impossible to believe you were minutes away from sharing a bed with the one thing your father used to tell you to fear for your life.

And here you were, ready to toss your soul over for a fix to your life.

But, if Joel was willing to catch you, there was nothing that would stop you.

-

Joel guides you to the bed with a practiced precision, letting you fall gently as he loosens his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, sharp movements, shrugging it down his shoulders—alas, allow you an unobscured view of beautiful, tan skin and imperfections. A reminder that this body was once human, that it had lived. You rise slightly, pressing up on your palms as you reach out a hesitant hand to press against his chest, the soft scratch of your nails against his stomach causing him to tense slightly, catching your wrist tightly, stalling your movements.

“Now, I could be nice about this,” Joel begins, “prep you right and let you come around my fingers first,” You perk up slightly, struggling against his hold as you felt the need to disobey, to touch him just once more, “that what you want?”

You nod hesitantly, earning an inquisitive look from Joel.

“Sweetheart, tell me you’ve touched yourself before?” 

He’d snap if you said no—it might actually break him.

“Of course.” You reply quickly, offering a fiendish smirk.

He laughs lowly at your unabashed honesty, releasing your wrist to trade for a finger under your chin, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Show me.” He purrs, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

His hands follow the slope of your legs as you lean back against the plush pillows, helping the spread of your thighs with the back of his hand, taking in the sight of you with fresh eyes, in all your untouched glory. Cunt glistening with a need that has been growing and growing since he first touched you, folds dripping with a slick wetness as you spread your fingers down your core and applying a gentle pressure to your clit that was welcoming, safe. It was a feeling you were familiar with. 

But, Joel doesn’t want that. 

He allows a few minutes, uninterrupted, selfishly admiring the sight of you. Head thrown back, fingers working away tirelessly as they traded between dipping inside of you for that yearned feeling of pressure, to be filled, before sliding back up to your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were panting, threateningly his name hung at the back of your throat, unable to find the courage to look at him this deep in your own seek of pleasure and release.

His fingers trace but never stray to close, they stretch your limits by edging the seams of your thighs but never to the point where it breaks your concentration, but somewhere between the almost sigh of his name and his quick ascent onto the mattress as it dips slightly, his fingers are replacing your own with a deep, thankful moan.

“Joel,” You finally sigh, “oh—that’s—”

“Better?”

“So much,” You whine, “So much bigger, fuck—”

“Dirty,” He clicks his tongue, “kiss all the boys around town with that mouth?”

“Maybe,” You shrug innocently, “but—fuck—never let them fuck me, Joel.”

Joel nods knowingly as one finger becomes two, sensitive hole fluttering around his fingers and squeezing, greedy. He knows it is going to be a tight fit, difficult, but not impossible. You rest your full weight into the bed, giving up the attempt to stay upright and fight for some leverage here—it was useless with his fingers inside of you, working you over like he’s known your body for years, every touch overlapping the next and driving you mad, feeling your body shake as you neared the edge, ready to jump off and into his arms, knowing he would catch you.

But, he wasn’t going to allow that.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

 He can sense it before you do, so in tune with your body. He grips your thighs suddenly, settling them over his hips as he leaned on his calves, pressing the head of his cock near your entrance teasingly, watching as you tensed around nothing, void of his fingers too. 

“Can’t waste the opportunity of your first time without my cock being stuffed inside you when you come,” There’s another gentle, teasing press as he slots himself more securely against your body, face cradled in his free hand as he rubs the apple of your cheek tenderly, “right?”

You nod, leaning into his touch as he pushes inside in one slow, persistent push of his hips, feeling your body shake underneath his touch, cunt already squeezing him needly, greedily pulling him in and begging for more. More. More.

He grunts softly when he’s fully sheathed inside you, settling his hands in the dips of your waist, thumbs pressed against your stomach as he pulls out to the tip, allowing another slow drag of his hips, mostly for show. 

He’s being kind. Too nice. And you don’t need that right now.

Joel laughs louder than you’re expecting, startled as he tosses his head back, picking up his pace slightly as he pistons his hips in a sharper, pointed roll. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Deeper and deeper each time. 

God, was he reading your fucking mind?

“You humans are a curious species,” He comments, “So greedy, so hateful, but there are—huh, special little beings like you.” The veins in his neck bulge as he switches positions suddenly, leaving you half folded under his willful, pliable hands, his arms barricading you in as the pace was nearing unbearable, just teetering on the edge. You yelped at the sudden change, quickly dissolving into a litany of moans as he could see the switch in your expression as he hit that special, spongy spot inside of you. “So fucking perfect.”

A glorious thing the human body was, indeed. 

“Think—think I might just have to ask my boss for a decade off,” He jokes half-heartedly, and given the context you could laugh, but you’re only slightly sure he’s joking, “keeping this pretty little pussy all to myself and fuck you until you don’t remember a damn thing.”

You don’t have words, sounds—not even a thought. The press of his cock at your cervix almost mind-numbing as you clawed at his skin, flawed but indestructible when he occupied it. 

“Not even that sweet name of yours,” He whispers it delicately in your ear, realizing that you had never properly introduced yourself but somehow he knew, “you were made for me, you know?”

Like a prophecy, destined to be fulfilled.

“Any path,” He stops briefly, voice shaky as he feels himself nearing his own end, “it would’ve led to this, sweetheart. To me.”

There’s a soft switch of something over your head, his face contorting slightly in pain as you watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes, before he’s bringing his bloody palm to your mouth.

“Wo-Woah, what—” You panic, the crimson liquid dripping down his palm slowly.

“Shhh, shhh,” He soothes, “Trust me.”

He knows you’ll take his word for it, already nodding with a surety as he raises his hand to your mouth, but he continues to talk, allowing you the reassuring words you crave.

“This bonds you to me,” He explains, “Seals the deal—no more shitty life, no more weak, poor soul to keep you tied there,” You feel the hot rush of liquid as it pours into your mouth, like a surge of power as it seeps into your tastebuds, like the strongest drug known to mankind as it filtered through your body, made you felt as if you could do anything, “it’s you—just me and you now.”

His eyes roll back as you suction your lips around the inside of his palm, moaning out a deep and strangled, “Fuuuuck—”

You’re greedy with the blood, fingers digging into his forearm as you drank hungrily, face messy with the thick liquid when he finally pulls away, leaving you in a state of dissociated euphoria. 

Floating. 

You feel the entire room fade, shifting behind him as he does the same to your own palm, a quicker and precise knick as he trades a small amount in favor of the copious amount you took from him, selfishly. 

It was intimate, too intimate. An intensity behind his eyes as they flashed a sudden shade of black as he consumed you, before quickly shifting back to their normal state, warm pools of dark honey, darkened with desire. He notices you staring at him, wandering eyes.

“Do I scare you?” He asks lowly, melting with your soft, pathetic whines.

“Nonono,” You mumble weakly, squeezing desperately around his cock, “never.”

He rests his forehead against your own, a few gentle rocks of his hips and it’s forcing you both over the precipice with little effort, guttural gasps into stale air, face mushed together as you clung to one another and panted, feeling the warmth flood between your legs as he came with a strong, forceful snap of his hips.

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, “that was—”

The room is still spinning, your mind running on a high.

“Your blood—I think it’s—” 

You can’t get the words out, his cock slipping out of you gently as he shifts, falling on the bed beside you. He grabs your wrist carefully, dragging slow fingertips up your arm, each touch like an electrical current against your skin.

“Powerful shit, isn’t it?” He chuckles softly.

You nod deftly, turning to look at him.

He looks so…normal. Like, had you met the real Joel back home, this was him.

Maybe it still was, you could never truly know.

“What…what happens now?” You ask hesitantly, “Am I—am I dead?”

Joel comforts you with a soft touch, fingers brushing your cheek as he turns you, pulls you into his chest as he follows suit and cuddles against you, still exploring your body with wandering touches, feeling every nerve-ending breathe a new life into your body.

So, not dead? You definitely didn’t feel like it.

“No,” Joel assures you, “‘Least, not really. Soulless, yes. But, your mind is still there.”

“O—okay.” You still weren’t sure what that meant.

“Memories will fade overtime,” Joel continues, “But here—with me, you’ll have leverage. Power.”

Joel traces his fingers along your chin and brings your eyes to his, “You’ll learn, I promise.” He assures, “Just a little bit of patience.”

You nod understandingly, leaning into the comforting touch he provides.

“But, in the meantime,” Joel’s eyes trace the length of your body, “there’s a lot more I can teach you, sweetheart. If you’re willing to learn.”

Luckily, you were more than willing. A wicked grin stretching across your face, and he knows then that he made the perfect choice, fate or not. This was forever.

[yandere-sins]

Not to be the monsterfucker y'all know and love but I was running around, clearing the map today a bit while I was waiting for a visitor and I found these absolute UNITS of skeletons (They are called Death Shepherds):

Like HELLO???? I don't even mean that sexually but WHY ARE THEY SO FREAKIN' HOT???? (Sorry for the crap resolution on the first pic, I forgot screenshot's existed and used my phone, but then I remembered.)

Also they were HUGE BOYS (yes, plural, there were 2. Like Gale certainly has BJ height at most next to them, they were MASSIVE CHUNKS OF SKELETON AND ARMOR!!) compared to everyone else, even my Dragonborn Tav, and they kept reanimating the ghouls (which weren't as pretty), so I told my friend who was obviously appalled by how infatuated I was with the skeletons really tickled my inspiration for them, and I was thinking...

Yandere skeletons that are just your scary dog privilege, protection squad.

(And no, we are not sexualizing this time, this is not Sans Undertale.)

You should have died that day you met them, but without any apparent reason, they didn't attack you. They just watch you with their holes for eyes, ever so slightly creeping closer. It's not until the ghouls sticking around them notice you that you get into grave danger. You see those hungry, violent creatures charge at you, their claws scraping over stone and dirt as they come for your life, when, suddenly, the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air and then flesh fills the crossroad where your unfortunate encounter takes place.

The scream ripping from your throat gets stuck as the head of the ghoul that attacked you rolls up to your feet, a now bloody sword lowering again as you hear the other ghouls whimper—whimper!—before they take off the other way. Instead, the two skeletons stalk closer, their armor rattling as if they were still living, breathing beings going off to war. Instead, one bends down, inspecting you with soulless eyes, its hand coming up to cup your cheek as if concerned with the horror etched into your face.

There's no getting rid of them. After standing around for what feels like ages, you are as confused as you are increasingly in a hurry to get away. Once you take enough steps away to turn your back to them without fearing being struck down, you make a mad dash for your life, running until your thighs burn and lungs beg for a moment to breathe—only to hear their armor rattle behind you.

Honestly, purely from a travel companion point of view, you cannot ask for anyone better. They are swift and skilled in battle, scaring away anyone who dares to come close to you, and incredibly low maintenance, as they don't need food or shelter, really. But they aren't mindless goons either, and that's where things get crazy.

Because one night, they decide they deserve cuddles for all the good they do.

As if being watched by the darkness in their eye sockets while you sleep isn't bad enough, you feel the hard armor press to your back one night, an arm—clothed but mere bones—wrapping around you from behind, face nestling into the nape of your neck. You can kind of come to terms with them trotting behind you all day, never saying anything, never leaving your side. You might even be thankful for their help when they keep robbers and goblins at bay and you out of any harm's way. Hell, you let them watch you do anything like eat, sleep, and—despite feeling unwarranted shame rake its claws down your body—bathe. But this was getting out of hand.

It could have been okay if it had only been a moment, but learning that these creatures sought out contact this intimate freaks you out. And it's never just a moment of putting their souls at ease, no. Because no matter how much you wriggle, they won't let go of you, their scraggy fingers digging into your flesh. You'll have to wait for them to switch if you want to try and escape, leaving everything behind to make a run for it in the middle of the night. But in stark contrast to you, who ran into the darkness without the time to collect things, they have all their belongings on them if they pick up their swords, and they can run endlessly without worrying about aches and stamina, catching up to you quickly. You'll just hang your head and be escorted back to camp when you decide to stop panicking, only for them to take the opportunity to rearrange and occupy both sides of your bedroll as they please once you want to lay down for another sleepless night.

It's not like you can get rid of them. You can't take them both on and if one falls, the other will just bring it back to life in an endless circle. You saw it before; no doubt it will happen again. Even if you talk to them, ask them questions, or shoo them away, they don't budge and cannot answer, getting into motion again only if you do. The most they ever give you to indicate their thoughts is laying their head to the side as if they don't understand you. Or admire you. Or stare at you adoringly. Who knows.

Things turn from bad to worse when you decide to end your adventure and return home. The stares you receive when you enter the city you live in with your hulking, undead companions are mortifying. Some people faint on the spot; others scream. And the two try to fight anyone trying to squeeze past them, seeing them as possible enemies to you. They made sure your life will never be the same. Neither friends nor family can get close to you, and no one dares to talk with you, trade, or even look your way. These two are creating a life where you'll be separated from anyone but them, and you begin to doubt they are doing it unintentionally. You'll never be able to free yourself unless you find a group that manages to actually kill them both.

But then again, as you stare at the night sky, stars twinkling above you, you can't help but feel bad for the two boney companions hugging you and resting their hard heads on your chest. The same ones that are so scarily indifferent, yet swift and merciless in a fight, straight out of a horror story with blood splattered on their white faces and swords in hand. Yet, they pick up flowers for you on the way or clean your equipment while you're asleep, hunting food for you and preparing it so you can cook and eat it right away. They are like needy puppies, putting their heads on top of yours while you read the map or admire the scenery, or hold onto your sleeve as you walk through a dark cave so you don't get lost. Clearly, they have some lingering sentiment, searching for warmth and affection from you. There's nowhere for you to run or hide, as they have all the time and strength to go after you. Maybe you shouldn't have given them names, shouldn't have treated them kindly when you started to travel together. But all these regrets come now when it's already too late.

Because they will let nothing and no one take you from them, no matter who or what they have to fight, just so they can have you all to themselves.

Their pretty, little, alive darling with a heart that races so fast whenever they do anything, be it scare or love you. 

__________________

Bonus points for you somehow dying despite their efforts (traps and magic are a bitch to avoid), so they keep reviving you, and they either... 

a.) succeed, and now you owe them your life and have to live with the knowledge of what it's like to die and that they'll most likely keep reviving you, even if you die of old age. So you'll suffer eternally with them.

b.) don't succeed, and can't accept/don't understand you're dead, so they carry your body around, trying to show you all the pretty things they learned you like as you slowly decay in their arms until you are a mere skeleton like them, so they lay you to rest in a grave with them, coming alive only when someone tries to rob your grave before returning to slumber next to you. You three won't even be apart in death.

Like, sorry guys, that's my emotional support yandere skeleton beloved ♥

[beastofburdenxo]

Deal of A Lifetime

Tommy's new wife has a terrible accident. He makes a deal that could change everything.

MINORS DNI 2.1k words Tags: Language, face fucking, oral sex, degradation, unsafe sex, P in V sex, cream pie, slight dom/sub vibes, slight dacryphilia, multiple orgasms

“I’m sorry Tommy.” Polly’s words rang out like a bell in his head. “There was a terrible accident. She was hit by a car crossing the street to go to work. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Tommy dropped to his knees cursing any deity listening to his cries. “I told her Polly; I told her not to go in today. I knew something bad was going to happen, I just knew it. I can’t lose another wife; I just can’t do it.” A few years back his first wife was shot and killed in front of him, and now this. It’s almost like a cruel prank the universe has put on Thomas Shelby. He can only be happy for a little while until everything comes crashing down. She was his saving grace in his personal storm called life, and now possibly she may be called away. Tommy stood up, a mixture of sadness and pure rage in his heart. “I must go to her Polly. Maybe I can call her back to me.” He goes outside with almost a physical storm cloud over his head. The people of the town know to stay away, not even to give their condolences. The first person stupid enough to come up to him is liable to be shot. Tommy almost wishes someone would; so, he would have something to take his anger out on.  

He storms through the hospital doors, demanding to see his angel on earth. “Where is she?!” Tommy roars to no one in particular. “So help me God, where the fuck is she?!” A timid nurse takes him to her, and it is a grim sight indeed. She is lying in the hospital bed, with bandages on much of her body. She is unconscious, pain meds running through her damaged system. “It’s not looking good Tom,” Arthur comes up behind him, hand on his shoulder. “She has lost a lot of blood; Doctor’s say it’s touch and go. Most of her body is damaged in some way.” Tommy’s knees got weak at this news. “I want the driver found and cut on the spot; I don’t care who sees.” He enters her room. She looks so fragile and weak lying there. “Tommy’s here angel, I’m right here.” He gently grabs her hand. “Stay with me love, please, I need you.” With no one else around, he starts to cry. “I told you to stay home didn’t I, eh? So stubborn you are.” Tommy leans down to put his face in the crook of her neck, and just sobs. Begging and pleading with her and anything or anyone listening to stay with him. “I need you, love. Please. I love you so much, I can’t be left alone again. You are my everything, you know that? I do this all for you, fuck everyone else. I need you with me.”  

Night falls, and there is no improvement. Eventually, the nurses kick Tommy out and he is forced to leave her. Threatening them was no use. Anger surfaces again in place of despair as he proceeds to punch the brick building until red leaves his vision. He slumps down against the building, face in his bloody beat-up hands. He knows what he must do. Opinions of the family be damned. Against better judgment, Tommy Shelby must go to the crossroads. He’s heard of the crossroad demon all his life. He never had much use for one until now. He knew the payment in return would be high, possibly even his tattered soul, but it was worth it in his eyes. Five minutes till midnight he stands at the crossroad, small wooden box in hand. Inside is a picture of the one he is doing this for, and a lock of his hair. Tommy digs a small hole and buries it, a small offering to call the demon. For good measure he cuts the palm of his hand and trickles his blood over the mound of dirt. And now Tommy waits. He checks his pocket watch; it is midnight on the dot. “Alright, you demon where are you? I left the offering. I know you can’t resist the smell of blood.”  

Tommy hears footsteps. “Actually, it’s the smell of desperation that we can’t resist. The blood is just an added bonus.”  A woman; or what used to be a woman now stands before him. Tall and graceful looking, with deep amber skin. She was quite beautiful, but Tommy knew it was just a vessel. The inside was rotten as could be. “Ahh, Tommy Shelby. The devil of Small Heath. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice was intoxicating, running up his spine almost causing a tremor. “Cut the shit, demon. You know why I am here; I want to make a deal.”  The demon slowly walks closer to Tommy. “Is that right? What could I possibly do for big bad Tommy Shelby? Not tall enough, are you? Trade your soul to feel like more of a man?” She finds this very funny, and she begins to giggle. Tommy’s patience is running thin. “This isn’t about me you bitch. It's my wife. She's in the hospital and it’s not looking good. Please help her.” She stops giggling. She blinks and her eyes are now solid black. Demon eyes. “Oh, poor baby. Tommy’s flavor of the month is going to die, oh no! Only a demon like me can save her.” Her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s in it for me? Your soul? That pathetic thing isn’t worth trading for. You have taken almost as much lives as me.” Tommy drops to his knees. “Please, I have money. I have gold. I have cocaine. Please name your price.” An evil grin crawls across the demon’s face. “Well, well, I have Tommy Shelby on his knees. She must be important for you to grovel. This is quite a pretty sight. Are you going to start crying too?”  

The demon reaches down and tugs at his hair, making him look at her in her midnight eyes. “I could leave you be with your love for ten years. Then send my hell hounds after you to take you back where you belong. Make you watch her cry for you until she moves on. Have you watch as another man claims her as his own. Would you like that? She would still be alive to break your heart over and over again.” Tears form in Tommy’s eyes at the thought of her forgetting him. But she would be alive, and that’s all he ever wanted. “You say you have gold, money, and cocaine. Is your body on the table as well?” Tommy’s eyes grow big. “Are you asking to use my vessel? Possess me?” She shoves him to the ground using her unnatural strength. She straddles him, pinning him to the spot. “Well, I'll certainly be using you. You’ll be begging me to possess you before it’s over. The pleasure will be just too much for your mortal vessel.” She bends down and licks the side of his face, making him cringe. “You nasty bitch!” Tommy snarls, “This is serious and you're using the situation to get laid?!” She runs her hands along his body, “What can I say? When the opportunity presents itself, you’ve got to take it. Besides, it’s the only thing I miss about being mortal. The hot nasty sex. That’s one thing you pathetic humans get right.”  

She pulls down the top of her dress, exposing her large breasts to Tommy. He turns his head, willing his body to not betray him. “Look at me Tommy.” She purrs seductively wiling him to fall prey to her. “Look at this beautiful body. Don’t you want this? I see inside you Tommy; I see your weakness. You love a willing woman, don’t you?” She slowly starts to grind against him, demanding that he participate in her sick game. “You’re not a real woman demon!” Tommy protests. “You’re using some poor vessel to disguise yourself. You are far from human you evil whore!” This angers the demon, and she slaps him across the face. “This is how it will be Tommy, give yourself up or little wifey dies. Got it? Now seal the deal with a kiss.” Tommy takes a shaky breath, knowing there is no way out now. He started this whole thing, he summoned her. Now it’s time to pay up to save his wife. He angrily grabs her face and kisses her with all he has. The deal has been made. “Now was that so hard Tommy?” The demon asks, as her hand reaches down to undo his pants. “Ahh, now here’s something that is hard.” Her hand contacts flesh and finds what she is looking for.  

She slowly pulls his cock out, her eyes returning to human form. “Well, well, so rumors about you are true huh?” Tommy sits up, fed up with her mouth. He grabs the sides of her head and forces himself in her mouth. “Shut the fuck up demon. You wanted me so badly, well here the hell it is. Choke on it.” She easily slides down to the base, taking every inch of him down her throat. He growls at how well she takes him. His wife can’t even do that. “Can’t speak now, can you? Just some fucking peace and quiet with a human cock down your throat.” Tommy continues to use her throat like a toy, berating her with every stroke. “Even a demon needs a man to put her in her place huh? Still some holes that need to be filled, soul or not.” Now it is the demons turn to be sick of his shit. She grabs his hips and throws him off her. She moves faster than the blink of an eye and has him on his back again. “I only let you do that to me. I could have broken your neck, you worthless sack of shit. You are my toy to do as I see fit. Now serve your purpose and shut your mouth before I change my mind you cock with legs.” Before he can form a rebuttal, she sinks down on him in one swift motion. She may be dead inside, but she is still very warm around him. Drawing him in her web. Tommy’s mind goes blank, too drunk on her to feel angry anymore. She tilts her head back in pleasure. “Yes Tommy, this is definitely your purpose. Just a brainless hole filler, aren’t you?” She looks down at his drunken face. “Can’t even form a response, it’s like you’ve never been fucked before.” She grabs his face, “Look at me when I fuck you, Tommy. It’s just what you need, to be reminded where you belong. Underneath. Me. Servicing. Me.” Thrusting hard with every word. As much as he hates this, her words make him fall apart with a cry inside her. A woman has never spoken to him like this before and his body can’t get enough of it. 

He comes inside the demon, his whole-body trembling. “Oh no Tommy, was that too much for you?” The demon feigns compassion. “Looks like we’ll have to go again, see if you can get it right this time.” Tommy tries to tell her no, that he is too sensitive. She starts up again, ignoring his pleas for a small break at least. His body ignores him too, he’s hard as iron ready to be used again. Tommy bites his lip, trying to hold in the whimpers of sensitivity turning into pleasure. “Let me hear those pathetic whimpers, Tommy. Be good for me, yeah? Be a good cock for me?”  She rides him on the hard ground with all she has, and Tommy can’t take much more. “Yes, yes, I'll be a good cock for you. Yes, please come, please come, yes, I'll be good.” Tommy is blabbering, not even sure he is making sense. He doesn't know if she is really that good, or if she's just using her magic on him. He honestly doesn't care. She is just so good that his mind is melting. “Good boy, Tommy. Good boy. I'm going to come so hard; you are such a good toy for me to use, aren’t you?” Without any further warning, the demon milks him with supernatural strength, making tears fall down Tommy’s face. Her orgasm causes her eyes to blacken again as she looks down at her human toy, crying and spent with pleasure as it’s her turn to tremble and shake. Coming down from her release, she strokes his overwhelmed face. “You know, you are so pretty when you cry. I’d go again if I didn’t think it would kill you. Maybe next time.” She stands up like nothing happened between them, fixing her dress. “Your wife is awake; you might want to fix yourself up and go see her. Consider the debt paid, until I want more that is. You will be seeing me again dear Tommy.” The demon disappears into the dark, leaving Tommy wondering if the debt will be until he dies naturally, or until she kills him. 

[supercap2319]

Ikaris x male reader (Greek Mythology Au)

You knew about Ikaris, son of Apollo, by your mistress, Hecate. He was a famous Demigod. Maybe not as famous as Heracles or Achilles, but still famous nonetheless. While other heroes had super strength or invincibility thanks to the Styx, Ikaris had the power to shoot the sun from his eyes.

Hecate said it was a rare gift and if he used it well, Ikaris could prove to be a force for good to Gods, or their enemy. You hoped it was the former. Would be a shame if someone as handsome and as powerful as he would turn out to be an enemy to all of Greece.

You stayed with mistress Hecate in order to control this magic that you possessed that she called ‘the ability to manipulate reality as you wished.’ You didn't care to manipulate reality. This was the job of the Gods, but you did long for love and companionship. Little did you know that you were going to get exactly what you wished for on the night Hecate left to tend to matters elsewhere.

On the night of her leave you had remained in her temple, keeping the hearth warm as you heard the sounds of footsteps of someone. He was dressed in a blue and gold garment that was draped over his chest, but you could still see a trail of hair on his muscular chest. He was even more handsome than you imagined he'd be.

“Forgive my late night intrusion, but I must seek counsel with mistress Hecate.” Ikaris said.

“And why do you seek counsel with my mistress, noble warrior?” You asked.

“I seek her advice on how to defeat a monster that cannot be hurt by the weapons of man. I need her wisdom on what path I should take.”

You walked towards him and away from the hearth as you motioned him to join you in sitting down as you offered him a goblet of wine to drink. “My mistress is the Goddess of crossroads, but she can't tell you which road to take, Lord Ikaris. That is a path you must discover for yourself.”

Ikaris took a drink of the wine and nodded his head. “I suppose you're right. This is the first time that I've felt at a loss. This creature, this lion, is unbeatable.” Ikaris said.

“Have you not tried your power of the sun?” You asked. “It is a very powerful gift. I'm surprised that you had to ask for such guidance.”

“I suppose I just wanted someone to talk to. To believe in me when others have not.”

“Well, for what it's worth my Lord, I do believe in you.” You smiled at him.

Ikaris smiled back. “You are too kind.” He reached out and took your hand into his and kissed it. “Thank you. I shall take my leave now, but I shall return within a day's time.”

“I look forward to it.” You said.

You watched him go underneath the shine of the moon and stars.

Within a day's time, Ikaris returned covered in dirt and blood, but he wore a smile on his face and he wore the golden pelt of the lion on his shoulders. He walked towards you and bowed. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. For I could never have defeated the lion without your guidance. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Y/N.” You say.

“Well, Y/N. These are for your mistress.” He reached into his chiton and revealed the claws of the lion. “And this… is for you.” He slowly walked towards you and pulled you close before kissing you on the lips.

[theblackdahliaemporium]

Dealing In Death: A Quick Guide To Death Magick

On the surface that might sound kind of scary, even downright evil, but I assure you it’s the farthest thing from. In this blog I will attempt to give you an in-site into the basics of death work. Please know that every witch does things their own unique way, so for the purposes of this work I will be trying to explain things in as unified a fashion as I can. This is intended to essentially be a starting point to bounce off of.

«~ • ~»

• Death Energy •

Death energy, simply put is energy called from death and death symbols. It’s about stillness, endings, and the deconstructing and reconstructing processes. It’s about using what’s in the past to fertilize what’s new and grow something that has purpose in the next step of your life. It’s about the acceptance of inevitability and what we can’t change to bring about what we can. Many practitioners call on death energy in everyday spell work the same way you would any other energy. In that sense it’s not to different from life energy.

«~ • ~»

• Cemetery Work •

For a lot of death witches, doing work in a cemetery or graveyard is a must, although there are those that don’t, a great deal more either do or will do when they get the chance. Lots goes into this type of work though and a thorough study on the subject should be done before pursuing this type of magick. However, some key points to remember are to always be respectful, obey the laws and rules of your land regarding the resting places, and listen to what the dead tell you.

It’s very important to recognize that there are always going to be practitioners that have their own unique rules on this subject, but the best way to know if the dead favor something or not is to ask them. What rules you inevitably believe should revolve around what the dead are comfortable with. That said, some of these rules are shared amongst practitioners. I have compiled a list below with some of them. Remember, this is very basic and what a practitioner adds or changes is up to them.

Typically these are the oldest spirits in the cemetery and are in charge of maintaining order. Most offerings include things like coins, drink, bread, or apples.

It’s important to let the spirits know what your intentions are. Will you be doing magick at the crossroads, magick at a grave, or foraging? The gatekeeper should let you know through energy what is acceptable. Remember each Cemetery is different and has different rules over all.

Gifts on a grave belong to the spirit dwelling there. It’s okay to pick up things like trash, or moldy flowers in still water but, rocks, dried or fresh flowers, feathers, etc should be left alone.

Try not to walk near the headstone of a grave (you’re walking on their body. Try to stay near the feet and always say excuse me politely if you have to step on it), always ask for a spirits help never demand it, and always bring them an offering as a thank you.

If you’re gathering dirt, sticks, or plants from a cemetery, even if it’s not on a grave, and you get a feeling like you shouldn’t touch it, then don’t. Spirits will always let you know what they want to keep. Obey that or it’s theft.

Being polite and thanking your hosts is always a must in general and can bring good energies between you and the dead. Especially if you intend on going back to work at that Cemetery.

«~ • ~»

• Necromancy •

Another common staple amongst death workers and arguably one of the most misunderstood practices. Simply put, this practice is divination with the dead. It’s all about connecting to and asking the dead for answers from the beyond. Lots of that used to be done in the cemetery and as a result many wild and fantastic rumors about zombie creation were formed, but that’s far from the truth. There were indeed many radical understandings within the practices history however but as science matured so did the knowledge on what this practice actually was.

While necromancy is still done in cemeteries even today, it’s not a must. Calling fourth a spirit can be done a number of ways and will definitely alter and change based on the witch. Some working maybe more cultural than others, and some may be more complex. The uniqueness of these practices can number well into the double digits and is always interesting to learn. Some of the most common spirit summoning techniques (aside from going directly to someone’s grave) are the spirit board, a mirror, and the pendulum. As for how these spirits are called, that too can differ from witch to witch. Most often though, it can involve candles or crystals as an energy source, a personal item or favored item like food, and/or the spirits name. It can be as simple as physically calling out to the abyss, beckoning the spirit forward or as elaborate a ritual as calling in the four directional guardians or a guide to lead them to you.

Regardless of how it’s done, it’s always a good rule of thumb to be respectful to them. Don’t demand from them, ask instead, and offer gratitude and an offering when you end the session.

«~ • ~»

• Deity and Spirit Guides •

Lots of death workers may worship deity just like any other practitioner. However the deity they are generally more drawn to are often either associated with the underworld or a psychopomp, like Osiris, Hades, Anubis, or Hecate. However they may also be a deity tide in some way to the personification of death, much like Thanatos.

Even if the witch chooses not to utilize deity they can still conjure up spiritual guides of some sort. These guides can be something as common as ancestral spirits or even animal spirits. Most common animal guides often have some death association and symbolism to them. So animals like Black cats, bats, vultures, owls, crows and ravens are quite popular.

«~ • ~»

• Bones & Body Parts •

Its not uncommon to see bones on the altars of death witches. Many beliefs around these tools and what they represent circulate within the community. For some specific animal bones it’s believed you can use that animal spirit and energy. Other beliefs revolve not around the animal itself but rather the type of bone, as each one has its own unique symbolism attached to it. The possibilities are near limitless and for most death practitioners they are a very necessary tool within the craft. Some practitioners even collect additional things like insect exoskeletons, animal skins, and preserved body parts like a rabbits foot.

DISCLAIMER! People should be made aware that it’s always encouraged for all materials to be ethnically sourced. Any form of unlawful collection or cruelty is frowned upon and not condoned within the community.

«~ • ~»

• Conclusion •

As started above, these are just some of the basics of death work within the pagan community and serves as a starting point to bounce off of. It’s very important to do your own research and come to your own conclusions regarding this craft and always remember to obey your local laws. Death work can be very fulfilling but not when it’s done under illegal circumstances.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

A Little Helping Hand

A LITTLE HELPING HAND | Azriel x Fem!Fairy!Reader 

SUMMARY: Azriel is hunting down a rogue band of Illyrian warriors – but when their tracks seemingly vanish, he gets a helping hand from a small resident of the forest.

WARNINGS: Not much, mentions of getting a cold, Azriel is low-key a flirt

WORDS: 1.2k

Azriel had been hunting the rogue Illyrian group for two days now. He was far into the woods of the Illyrian mountains, and the cold was harsh against his body. Snow peppered the ground and trees, but sparsely, with not enough to hold footprints, an easy way for the shadowsinger to find them.

But Azriel was a spymaster, and did not need footprints in the snow to find his prey. He could smell their scents that they’d tried to hide with the pine needles in the trees above them, and he could see places where dirt and pebbles had been disturbed, even if only slightly. His shadows whispered to him as he tracked down the Illyrians, telling him where to look, where the disruptions of the peace of the forest lay.

Azriel prayed to the Mother that he would find the rogue soldiers quickly. It was cold and miserable, and he felt the irritating feeling of a blocked nose coming on. He should be back in Velaris in front of a fire, reading a book and getting better. He knew Rhys and Feyre would wrap him up in a blanket and force-feed him soup as soon as he came home sick, and they would fuss over him every second of the day. And while Azriel would complain about being fussed over… he would deal with it. Because when they fussed over him, it showed him that they loved him.

A rustling in the bushes behind him caused him to whip around, Truth Teller already in his grasp. He sank into a defensive position, watching as the bush stayed silent, the green leaves unnaturally still. Azriel’s nostrils flared as he tried to scent whatever was in the bush. The shrub was too small to be hiding an Illyrian warrior, so it had to be an animal of some sort. His shadows revealed nothing, so he slowly turned away from the bush and continued on his hunt.

The Illyrian warriors knew how to cover their tracks, and maybe someone less skilled than Azriel would have had trouble finding them. But Azriel had been spymaster under the rule of two High Lords, and had acquired centuries worth of knowledge and skill.

Azriel reached a crossroads where the tracks suddenly disappeared. The warriors’ scent vanished, as did the small disturbances along the path. Azriel paused in his tracks, puzzled. How had that happened? The track was there only a minute ago… Azriel stepped back, one step, two steps, and sure enough, he could scent the males again. But he took two steps forward, and they were gone.

Azriel stared at the ground, his shadows whispering in his ear. They couldn’t find much, and they were just as perplexed as he was.

“They went that way.”

Azriel spun around to face the small voice, Truth Teller gripped in his hand, but nothing was there except trees and bushes. But he had heard something…

The bush rustled and Azriel watched it as something small and glowing exited the safety of the leaves. It took him a moment, but he recognised it as a fairy, the creature only a little bit bigger than his thumb. You wore clothes made from leaves with fluffy cuffs, maybe created from an animal’s fur.

Fairies were extremely rare, and often confused with pixies. They were small, fae-like creatures, with similarities ranging from their pointed ears and elongated limbs. Two key differences between the fairies and the fae were, of course, their size, and their iridescent wings. While they appeared fragile, a fairy’s wings were actually quite resilient.

Your eyes were glued to Azriel’s blade, so he slowly sheathed it. Fairies didn’t tend to be violent, but one could never be sure. That was why he kept Truth Teller within easy reach, and his siphons glowed slightly.

“They went that way,” you repeated, pointing with a small hand. “The rogue warriors.”

Azriel raised a brow at you. “How do you know I was hunting them?”

You began to glow, and Azriel realised it was the fairy form of blushing. You looked anywhere but at him, and wrung your hands. “I was… I was following you.”

“And why is that?” Azriel inquired.

Most of the time, if someone had admitted to following him, Truth Teller would be pressed against their throat and Azriel would order them to inform him of why. But you seemed innocent, and Azriel was simply curious.

You rose from the bush, your wings fluttering fast enough that they almost became invisible, and hovered near Azriel’s hand.

“Your gems are pretty,” you complimented, not answering Azriel’s question and fluttering closer. “May I touch them?”

Azriel hesitated before answering. Was this maybe some sort of trick? You seemed very comfortable with him, but why? Had the rogue soldiers somehow orchestrated this?

“You may,” Azriel responded slowly.

You flew closer and reached out, your small fingers brushing against the cobalt of his siphons. They glowed brightly where you made contact, and you smiled dazzlingly at the sight. You flew up in order to be in line with Azriel’s eyes, and smiled again.

“My name is Y/n,” you informed him, holding out a hand.

“Azriel,” the shadowsinger replied, reaching out and allowing you to shake his finger. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

You glowed again, brighter than last time, and flittered backwards. Azriel wasn’t sure why he was making you so flustered, but something in him enjoyed it immensely. Azriel waited for you to answer, raising an eyebrow and watching you stumble over your words.

“I – uh… well, your gems were shiny, and I like shiny things,” you got out, and Azriel grinned lazily at you, causing your fluttering wings to stutter, dropping you an inch before you regained your flight.

While Azriel would have loved to talk to you for longer, make you glow brighter and get your wings to skip a few more beats, he had a job to do. The longer he stayed here with you, the further away the Illyrian brutes got.

“Which way did you say the Illyrians went?” Azriel inquired.

Your smile dropped slightly in disappointment, but it was gone after a second as you pointed to one of the many trees. 

“They climbed the trees,” you provided. “They knew they couldn’t fly, because someone might see them or hear their wing-beats, so they decided to jump between the trees.”

Azriel looked closely at the branches that you had gestured to, but he couldn’t see anything. Nothing to suggest that what you were saying was true. He couldn’t even scent the males.

“How do you know this?” Azriel questioned.

You cocked your small head at him. “The trees told me.”

“The trees?” Azriel echoed, and you nodded.

“Don’t you hear their song?” you asked. “Don’t you hear them singing to each other, hear the branches offering a rhythm as they creak and the leaves adding a melody as the wind rushes through them?”

“Unfortunately not,” Azriel hummed, looking at the trees in question. “But thank you for your help, Y/n.”

You beamed as he said your name, and Azriel felt some amount of pride that he had been able to make your face light up like that.

“You are welcome, Azriel,” you twinkled. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“As do I,” the shadowsinger replied.

You hesitated a moment before flying forward and kissing Azriel on the nose, the feeling a soft brush against his skin. Against his will, Azriel felt his cheeks heat up a bit, and you smiled at him one last time before turning around and sailing away on a pine-scented wind. Azriel’s gaze followed you until you disappeared from his sight, and a small smile bloomed on his mouth.

AZRIEL TAGLIST:  @ruleroftides​

[aspelladay]

Law Please Come Soon Spell

[Sometimes the problem is not the presence of authority but its absence. Perhaps someone close to you is engaged in activities that are dangerous and should be stopped. Perhaps it would be better for call concerned if someone’s activities were brought to the attention of the authorities. Although the obvious response is to call the police or inform the appropriate authorities, if only anonymously, magic spells acknowledge the complexities of human situations. Perhaps it’s not as simple or safe as just making a phone call. This following spell purports to draw legal attention toward your target without, providing your spell casting isn’t witnessed, drawing attention toward you.]

A handful of dirt from the actual area that the police need to investigate is required, whether this is the target of your spell’s residence or place of business or other.

In addition, you’ll need a handful of graveyard dirt and a handful of dirt from each of the following places: a crossroads, a prison, a courthouse, and four different police stations. If the Graveyard Dust does not actually contain dirt, obtain a handful of dirt from a cemetery as well.

Blend all the dirt together in a bowl.

Use a black seven-day candle or burn each of seven individual black candles daily.

Carve and dress the candle with a Commanding Oil and San Cipriano Oil.

Stand the candle within the bowl of dirt and burn it.

On the eighth day, when the candle(s) have completely burnt down, sprinkle the remnants of the wax, together with the dirt, onto the targeted individual’s property.

(from The Element Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells by Judika Illes)

[nyxshadowhawk]

Hellenic Gods Fact Sheets and Hymns: Hecate

Other Names: Trivia, Brimo

Epithets: Anassa eneroi  (queen of those below), Aidonaia (lady of the Underworld), Amibousa (she who changes), Atalus (tender, delicate), Borborophorba (she who feeds on filth), Brimo (angry, terrifying), Despoina (mistress), Eileithyia (of childbirth), Enodia (of the roads), Epaine (dread), Euplokamos (bright-tressed), Khthonia (of the Underworld), Kleidouchos (keeper of the keys), Kourotrophos (protector of children), Krokopelos (saffron-robed), Liparokredemnos (bright-coiffed), Nycteria (nocturnal; of the night), Nyctipolos (night-wandering), Perseis (destroyer/ daughter of Perses), Phosphoros (light bearer), Propolos (guide), Propylaia (the one before the gate), Scylacagetis (leader of dogs), Soteira (savior), Trikephalos (three-headed/of the crossroads), Trimorphos (three-formed), Trioditis (of the three ways), Trivia (of the three ways).

Domains: Witchcraft, magic, necromancy, ghosts, nightmares, death, initiation, the crossroads, gateways, passage between worlds, and the night.

Appearance: [My UPG] A tall (over 6’) woman, neither young nor old, with waist-length black hair, pale skin, prominent cheekbones, a heavy jaw, and intense green eyes. She is usually dressed in black folds molded into a simple dress or robes. She has a severe expression and an intimidating presence. She speaks with a low voice.

Sacred Days and Festivals: Eleusinia (22 Metageitnion). Nemoralia (August 13th-15th). Deipnon, last day of each (lunar) month.

Symbols/Attributes: Torches, keys, daggers, strophalos (iynx wheel)

Sacred Animals: Dog, polecat, serpent, horse, frog.

Sacred Plants: Yew, cypress, garlic, willow, hazel, black poplar, aconite, belladonna, dittany, mandrake, hemlock, asphodel

Elemental Affinity: Darkness, light, fire

Planet: Moon

Colors: Black, saffron, silver.

Crystals: Black onyx, hematite, obsidian, black tourmaline, moonstone, smoky quartz, agate, amethyst.

Incense: Myrrh, almond, cypress, camphor, saffron, mugwort, pomegranate.

Tarot Cards: The High Priestess, The Moon, Death

Retinue: Empousai, ghosts of the dead, dogs, Lampades (torch-bearing underworld nymphs)

Associated People: Witches (and other magic-users), the dead

Offerings: Bread, eggs, honey, garlic, menstrual blood, graveyard dirt.

Syncretized With: Artemis, Diana, Persephone, Eileithyia, Selene, Nephthys, Ereshkigal, Nicnevin, Heqet

Hymns to Hecate

Orphic Hymn to Hecate

Hekate Enodia, Trivia, lovely dame, Of earthly, watery, and celestial frame, Sepulchral, in a saffron veil arrayed, Pleased with dark ghosts that wander through the shade; Daughter of Perses, solitary goddess, hail! The world’s key-bearer, never doomed to fail; In stags rejoicing, huntress, nightly seen, And drawn by bulls, unconquerable, monstrous queen; Leader, Nymphe, nurse, on mountains wandering, Hear the suppliants who with holy rites thy power revere, And to the herdsman with a favoring mind draw near.

Hecate’s Hymn to Herself

I come, a virgin of varied forms, wandering through the heavens, bull-faced, three-headed, ruthless, with golden arrows; chaste Phoebe bringing light to mortals, Eileithyia; bearing the three synthemata [sacred signs] of a triple nature.  In the Aether I appear in fiery forms and in the air I sit in a silver chariot, Earth reins in my black brood of puppies.

(From Porphyry’s lost commentary on the Chaldean Oracles, preserved by Eusebius of Caesaria in Praeparatio Evangelica. According to Porphyry, this hymn was composed by Hecate herself.)

Magical Invocation to Hecate

Approach, you of the netherworld, of earth, of heaven, Bombo! You by the wayside, at the crossroads, light-bearer, night-wanderer, Enemy of light, friend and companion of night, Rejoicing in the howl of dogs and in crimson gore, Lurking among the corpses and the tombs of lifeless dust, Lusting for blood, bringing terror to mortals, Grim one, Ogress [Mormo], Moon – you of many forms, May you come gracious to our sacrificial rites!

(Preserved in Refutation to All Heresies by Hippolytus)

Invocation to Hecate from PGM IV 2708-84

Come, giant Hecate, Dione’s guard, O Persia [daughter of Perses], Baubo Phroune, dart-shooter, Unconquered Lydian, the one untamed, Sired nobly, torch-bearing, guide, who bends down Proud necks, Kore, hear, you who’ve parted / gates Of steel unbreakable. O Artemis, Who, too, were once protectress, mighty one, Mistress, who burst forth from the earth, dog-leader, All-tamer, crossroad goddess, triple-headed, Bringer of light, august / virgin, I call you Fawn-slayer, crafty, O infernal one, And many-formed. Come, Hekate, goddess Of three ways, who with your fire-breathing phantoms Have been allotted dreaded roads and harsh / Enchantments, Hekate I call you

[…]

O Hekate of many names, O Virgin, Kore, Goddess, come, I ask, O guard and shelter of the threshing floor Persephone, O triple-headed goddess, Who walk on fire, cow-eyed BOUORPHORBE PANPHORBA PHORBARA AKITOPHI ERESHKIGAL / NEBOUTOSOUALETH Beside the doors, PYPYLEDEDEZO And gate-breaker; Come Hekate, of firey Counsel, I call you to my sacred chants.

[weird-an]

There is a crossroad just outside Hawkins, where corn grows so high it's hidden from anybody's view.

Blood runs down Billy's temple and his head pounds like Neil didn't stop hitting him. Neil who found his Mandate magazine and went fucking crazy.

Billy can't go back. Billy can't go back or he's going to get fucking killed. By his own father. He had never seen Neil so angry - and Neil has always been angry, but not like that.

He has thought about it for a while. It's just some make belief, some hocus pocus, but Billy needs a miracle. He doesn't wear shoes and pebbles tear his holey socks apart. He just grabbed the box and ran.

It's eerily silent. Almost midnight - he thinks. He doesn't have a watch. He digs through the ground with his bare hands. He buries the blue box he stole from Max in the hole. It's a jewelry box she never uses. He has gotten a bit of dirt from the local graveyard, a cat bone from a school's exhibit and an ugly photo from his last school in California where he had to smile while his back was still aching.

A fat drop of crimson blood drips on his fake smile. He wipes his forehead, before he can remember that his hands are dirty.

He stands up. Nothing happens.

It's a cold night. His breath forms little clouds, floating into the night. The moon is gone, waiting to get reborn. An endless circle of birth and death.

"What a surprise." Steve Harrington stands behind him. Same as usual, wearing a pastel blue and pink polo shirt and his ever perfect hair fluffy and only slicked back a little.

"Billy Hargrove needing help?" he scoffs - and it's almost as if they were on the court and not on a crossroad, about to make a deal. "Wanting to gift me his soul?"

There's a red shine in his eyes, but more in the way that it seems like a reflection.

"You're a... demon?" Billy asks. Maybe that's some stupid prank. Maybe that's an explanation why Harrington is so unearthly pretty. "And you're going to High School?"

And sucking at it, is something he doesn't add, but he knows how many classes Harrington is failing. Tommy won't shut up about it. He would have rather expected Hagan to be a fucking demon and not Harrington who now gives him a goofy grin.

"Oh, well..." Harrington says. "Let's say I made a deal a few years ago and then I unfortunately died early."

There's a headline Neil had read out loud to them before they moved here. About a girl, Barb Holland, being thought dead for three weeks - and then rising from the dead, ringing at her parent's door like she just went out to buy some milk.

"God has blessed this place," Neil had said. Apparently Hawkins is about as cursed as Billy feared it is.

"Enough about me." Harrington tilts his head. "What do you want?"

To live, to be free pops into Billy's mind, bright and colorful like a rainbow.

Billy thought about it a lot. First he thought he wanted his dad dead. So that he can never touch him again, so that he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. But if Neil dies, he doesn't have a father or a mother.

The thought is a dark shadow, making him sick.

"I want him to stop hurting me," he says instead. It won't heal the scars, it won't unbreak his bones, it won't make it forgotten, but maybe more bearable. It's what he wanted when he was five, when he turned ten, what he wants to today and what he always wished for whenever saw other people blowing out the candles on their birthday cakes.

Harrington's eyes flicker to Billy's bloody mullet and his dirty socks.

"You need to tell me his name," he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I'm just a demon, not a mindreader."

"My dad," Billy grits out. "Neil.. Hargrove."

There is pity crossing Harrington's face, something he has always been afraid of, but it's gone within seconds, maybe only been a shadow and gets replaced with a red glow, irises more crimson than hazel now.

"Let's seal the deal." Harrington smiles, teeth shining white. "You know how we do it, right? Your soul for me doing you a favor."

Billy heard the stories. Billy didn't expect to become a part of them. Billy doesn't think he has a soul and if he does, it can hardly be worth anything.

Harrington smells like expensive aftershave and smoke.

Billy presses a kiss on Harrington's soft lips. It's a rush, a relief. He feels something shift, something clicking into space.

Harrington laughs into the kiss. "The deal is already done, Hargrove."

Which means Billy's soul is Harrington's now and Neil won't ever hurt him again. The blood on his temple dries. The cut on his scalp stopped throbbing, there's only a faint sting reminding Billy of its existence. He feels like he just jumped into the ocean on a hot summer's day.

He licks across Harrington's mouth, hungry for more.

"Greed and lust are sins, Billy." It almost sounds like a compliment.

Billy's throat turns dry and he wants to pull away, humiliation burning away the cool calm that has begun to spread inside his chest.

It's just a deal - and that's closed now.

Harrington tugs on his bottom lip, sharp pain joining the sweet sensation.

"If you ever feel like sinning, come and find me," Harrington purrs -

and then he's gone. Billy stands on the road, lips tingling, still smelling Harrington's aftershave on him.

He walks home. It's one of these nights when spring is about to fade, summer's heat lurking around the corner. Still cold, but not that he's shivering.

Cherry Lane is deserted, a few lights flickering when Billy comes home. The door is open. He doesn't hear Neil shouting at the TV.

He washes the blood off his face and goes to bed. He wonders if he can dream without a soul. He wonders if it's working. His lips burn and he still feels Harrington's mouth on his.

[cowpokeomens]

Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact. 

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok. 

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink. 

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it. 

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again. 

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen. 

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?” 

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted. 

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea. 

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at- 

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly. 

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.” 

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if. 

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later 

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower. 

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him. 

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion. 

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.” 

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain. 

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.” 

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands. 

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer. 

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?” 

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.” 

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone. 

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine. 

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark. 

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working. 

So maybe this would. 

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly. 

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp. 

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?” 

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing. 

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt. 

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident. 

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours. 

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously. 

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately. 

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated. 

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense. 

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.” 

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact. 

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.” 

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper. 

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices. 

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin. 

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic. 

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you. 

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed. 

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets. 

 You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded. 

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said. 

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him. 

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you. 

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct. 

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though. 

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in. 

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing. 

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you. 

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible. 

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch. 

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you. 

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.