#he's so handsome and dignified

[rabuhiiro]

i haven't seen anyone speak about this anywhere (i think) so can we just take a moment to appreciate this whole card it's like a diamond in a gold mine does that make sense

i am so normal about this guys i am so normal about his expression the outfit his pose the the

[graviconscientia]

Darkleer brought me the sweetest thing last night, and I have genuinely been staring at it all day. ♥!!

[aria0fgold]

Whenever I see artists draw Owen sooooo prettily I'm like-- I get it now, I understand why Cain is the way that he is towards Owen now. And then I see artists draw Cain sooooo cool next and I'm also like-- I get it now too. I understand why Owen is such a mess towards this man now. Like, these two together is too much of a strong force for me.

[geddy-leesbian]

remembering I have to be up early tomorrow to take Jessie to the vet an hour away D:

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader

sorry for being inactive yall teehee just thought about this cute little idea and had to write it... also no sex just a little spicy lmk if yall want to see more of this guy 🤭

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

you did not expect it to rain during your forest hike today. anticipation to dive into the lush green unknown was quickly turned into a wet mess as your scrambled to find shelter, unsure of where you were even going as the gps signal got weaker deeper into the forest you ventured. much to your surprise, you soon came upon a quaint winding road. following it lead to an ancient-looking manor straight out of the victorian era. despite your brain recounting that this was how every horror movie started, you were desperate to be out of the cold, and soon rushed to the grand door to seek warmth. luckily, someone answered the door. a tall, lanky, ghost of a man, who quickly invited you in and fretted over the prospect of you catching a cold. he was a little odd, speaking in such a proper, olden manner, but he was lovely.

despite your initial protests of overstaying your welcome, he managed to convince you to stay for a week. he invited you to join him for dinner everyday, and it was through these meals that you found out quite a lot about him. one, his name was kliff (you swore his face turned red when you said he had a handsome name), and that he was a vampire who was at least a hundred years old (he stopped counting after the 120th year). the way he revealed it was kind of adorable, he was so reluctant at first.

"sooooo, kliff. you're a vampire, right?"

"goodness, whatever gave you that idea? i most certainly am not." his face said otherwise as his eyes darted everywhere around the room but your gaze, and the tip of his ears turned red.

"and you're gay, right?"

"now THAT is an accusation!" he replied indignantly, now fully flustered. "i, a dignified gentleman, would never engage in such sinful acts."

"but i saw you peeking at me showering yesterday. pervert." you were having the time of your life teasing this poor fossil.

he stood up from the dinner table and paced around the room. "i did no such thing." he mumbled, face somehow steaming even more than you thought was humanly possible. wait, but he wasn't a human. nevermind.

you spent most of your week exploring his manor, poking around the various dusty bookshelves and artifacts of an era long bygone. if there was one thing you picked up from your exploration, it was that kliff was awfully lonely. and had been for a long time. he didn't seem to have had any romantic partners, probably due to his sexuality, nor any pets to keep him company. you could infer this from his clingy nature, he was constantly in the shadows observing you, blending in seamlessly using his powers. he thought he was being slick, but really, he was a rather clumsy vampire. whenever you caught him, he would always act oblivious, and give you a sheepish grin, before scurrying away. it was quite cute, really. another thing was the fact that he never asked to drink from you. "it is quite alright. i sustain myself well enough through other means." was all he said when you asked him about it. mysterious. almost like he didn't dare to taint your skin with his fangs. you decided not to tell him about the fact that you were aware he watched you when you were asleep in the guest room, sometimes even daring to climb into bed silently with you and bask in your presence. he was a lonely soul, you figured. you could let him be delusional for a bit. you would leave after this week, anyway.

but that week passed quick, and with each day, kliff seemed to grow even more on edge, getting nervous whenever he was around you but never daring to speak what was on his mind. brooding around the house, watching you silently as you attempted to grow something in his dying garden... oh it was bad for him. but this came all to a head on your last day, when you bid your goodbyes and were one foot out the door, and he suddenly gathered the courage to say something.

kliff threw himself at you in one final, desperate plea. "please... please don't go...." his tone was so pitiful, you stopped in your tracks and looked at the way he's grabbing your wrist so tightly. "i... i.... if i may, i have one final request."

"you want to drink from me? honestly, i'm surprised you didn't ask earlier."

"no, no... it's not that. it's the opposite, really. may i... may i humbly request that you..." he stops mid sentence and breaks eye contact to look at the ground, voice so soft you could barely hear him. "bite me instead..."

"i beg your pardon?"

"i would like for you to leave a mark on me. as a reminder of your presence." his tone is slightly more confident now as he meets your eyes, centuries-old desire rekindled and burning within them. he falters a bit as he notices your lack of response. "....please?" he mumbles pathetically.

oh, poor baby. he's wanted a man to love him all his life. luckily for him, you found his desperation cute. you drop your bag and take his hand in yours.

"want me to take the lead?" you squeeze his hand, and he nods shyly.

"i would like nothing more."

you gently, but firmly pin him to the nearest wall, the ancient manor creaking under the pressure. it's kind of poetic, kliff thinks, as he wilts under your touch, it sounds like my house is congratulating me. you start off by peppering fleeting kisses all across his neck, admiring the small noises of pleasure he made everytime your lips came into contact with his skin. the fleeting touches turned into harsher bites, as you nibbled at his delicate skin, so fragile and untouched. it was just like he fantasized, and he was in heaven. he gripped onto the wall for support as he gasped at the new sensation, writhing around as you marked him, but your strong hands on his waist kept him steadily in place, a feeling he quickly learnt to enjoy. all those years he spent in solitude seemed to culminate to this moment, he'd never felt more intimate with anyone in his life. you stepped back to look at your handiwork and he immediately collapsed into your arms, a dark purple hickey prominently showing on his neck. he stared up at you lovingly, unable to really form thoughts. "please don't go...." was all he could mutter as you slowly swayed him back and forth, soothing his cold, beating heart.

"guess i'll see you next week, hm?" he's never been happier to hear those words in his long life.

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

[bisayawa]

freckles & blades & helping hands

✎___ husband!diluc × spouse!reader

✎___ a/n: domestic fluff (literally just a soft scene of diluc shaving his scruff), i aged diluc up a bit i think. use of the pet name honey. somewhat inspired by @/mmmairon's art of beefy, gentle, kind diluc :> 730~ words, not proofread; art by ary scheffer.

"do you need any help?"

legs swinging on the counter top, you lean in & stare, eyes glazing over the handsome lines of your husband's face on the mirror. he has a few crow's feet near his temples. whenever you point it out, he'll always say the wrinkles are evidence of you, you who make him smile & laugh & chuckle until his stomach hurts. it's evidence of a life laughter, he'd say.

the sharp stipple of the razor cuts through the silence.

"no, honey," he says, turning his head & angling the blade to the scruff on his jaw. "it's alright."

the words are spoken softly. it was jarring a few years ago, hearing words of buttercream & sweetness come from a man such as diluc, hulking, dignified, broad-shouldered, almost always with a dour expression on his face.

there was a handsomeness to the gloom before. the sharpness of brows, the bite of his frowns, the particular wrinkle when he scrunches his nose... but you have to admit, the allure is multiplied tenfold when he's all honeyed & dewy-eyed, softer than a cloud.

"i could do it for you, you know?"

his eyes never leave the mirror.

"i still don't understand this... fixation you have," he angles his face in an almost-quarter turn. "i'm just shaving, hon. it's no event you have to witness."

"of course, it is." you lean a little closer. "it's like an unveiling. my husband is showing his true face, one without scruff or stubble."

"an unveiling― ?" his shoulders shake & he puts down the razor for a few moments, small bouts of giggles floating through the room.

he rights himself.

"behave. i'm never gonna finished in time." his stern voice is all for show. he's smiling as he says the words.

a beat passes.

"but isn't it though? they'll finally see all your face. happy wrinkles & all."

he's struggling to fix his lip into a line, unable to stop it from curling into a smile. he's repeating your last few words, mouthing them out as he brings down the razor.

the silence after then is sweet, filled with curious looks towards his face filled with foam & other little chuckles.

"so..." your voice cuts through.

"so...?"

"could i do it for you?"

he taps the razor on the marble sink, shucking hair & foam off the blade.

"you don't know how..." another swipe of the razor.

"you could teach me." tap tap.

"i've..." swipe. "already started." tap

"just the basics." swipe. "an impromptu lesson, yeah? against the grain & all that?"

"it's with the grain, honey."

"right, yeah... i knew that... so are you gonna teach me?"

"hm..."

"oh? usually it's a big, disapproving hrrrnn..."

"you've catalogued my grousing?"

"yup yup, because i am a good spouse who tends to the needs of my husband."

he laughs at that, quietly. another wrinkle on his temple.

"alright, alright... here..."

he gives the razor, grasping it in your hand. he's gentle, careful, righting your hold of the blade.

"okay... here's how it should be..." he guides your hand towards his cheek, speaking in soft murmurs. "just like how my father taught me. listen."

he pulls down, a swipe against his face. hair & foam give way for his pale skin.

"there. let the blade do the work, honey. don't push too harshly."

he makes another swipe, his hand still guiding yours.

"here, just like this." swipe swipe swipe. "you wanna try?"

your small palm finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. brows furrow in concentration as the razor anticipates the next swipe.

"careful, honey, okay?" the warmth of his hand leaves. "i trust you."

shaking fingers steel themselves. the blade goes still before landing on the softness of his skin. it coasts across his jaw, cold metal kissing warm flesh. the line is carved against the shaving foam, no longer obscuring his face.

the swipe is finished. the trust was not betrayed. the result of your work is there upon the blade, as patches of coarse hair & crisp shaving foam.

"how was that?" you murmur.

"wonderful." he's staring into your eyes, not at the razor like you expected. "would you like to keep going?"

"yes, please." you poke at his newly shaven jaw. "i've never noticed your little freckle here."

"i have a few." he pinches your nose. "let's keep going. maybe we can find a few more."

[egophiliac]

How do you imagine Levan/Revan/ Mallenoa's husband?

Appearance, personality etc.

Revaan/Laverne/whatever-his-name-is's title sort of implies that he might be from a fantasy-Eastern country (they've established that in Twstland, 竜 = Eastern-style dragons, andドラゴン = Western-style dragons). and that's about as much as we know right now about...anything in regards to what he might look like. so I've been trying very hard not to form too much of a mental picture of him, because I'm still hoping we'll get to see him (or at least a silhouette)! ergo, in my head, he kind of looks like this:

so handsome. surely Malenoa fell in love at first glance.

I do think the funniest thing about what we've learned so far is that Malleus being kind of quiet and reserved and dignified...absolutely did not come from the Draconias. and he sure as heck did not learn it from Lilia. so he probably got a lot of that from his dad! the vibe I get from how Lilia talks about him is that he could be a bit of a prim little fancyboy sometimes, but was (mostly) willing to go along with his wife's zany antics out of love. he sounds sweet, honestly! I'm sorry he (maybe) died. :(

my favorite thing about Mal's parents is that Malenoa and Lilia's dynamic was "long-suffering guard and princess who has long been the cause of said suffering":

but then they would happily join forces in order to gang up on Revaan:

tl;dr Revaan was the straightman in Malenoa and Lilia's comedy act until it all ended horribly whoops

[samodivaa]

You Are Art

Request : College!Bucky x Artist!Reader where Bucky is a nude model partner for life drawing.

Warnings - smut, soft sex Words - 2.3k AN - Me personally, would draw Soldat. ;o

All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique—because one eye sees, the other feels. And the human form that you need to draw will include a physiological precondition that is indispensable—intoxication, lust. If you can say your feelings for him in words, there would be no reason to paint him—you wouldn't have asked him to be your model.

Bucky grows pale as death, he gazes into your eyes with a strange, wild, reproachful look as his lips tremble and vainly endeavors to form some words, then his mouth twisted into an incongruous smile. “Should I…undress now?” His face gave evidence of suffering. You are considerably amazed. “Yeah if you are comfortable? Does something worry you?” “I have scars” Bucky says all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightest appearance of joking, indeed, he seems strangely gloomy.

“There is no need to-”you say, seriously and with deference. 

Never judge a work of art by its defects―Washington Allston “I want to, I promised you”

He interrupts suddenly, with a look of weariness, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take a deep breath, to soothe with oxygen as the word rolls off his tongue. He is a handsome man, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He is always well dressed, and his clothes are always exquisite. Your conscience very soon informs you that is the proper narrative to tell. You met in the first semester, he is a business major looking to commission an artist for his project. You admit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of your life, the memory of that encounter comes prominently forward and reminds you that it lay long like a stone on your heart—ever since that, you stayed friends—it makes sense, doesn't it? For him to return the favor. There are a few seconds of dead silence before he goes to your small coach to undress. You eyes are flashing in a most unmistakable way, lips were all quiver as you observe his back muscles flexing. You try to speak, to reassure him, but can’t form words, a great weight seems to lie upon your breast, suffocating you. He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. You lick your lips, trying to quench the mental thirst for him—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. There is a frightened feeling, which makes him scowl and feel ashamed while removing his jacket and shirt until he is fully naked.

As you sit, your eyes turn to the blank canvas, squinting at it in the dwindling light, trying to concentrate. Then you gaze out the window, study the way snow clings to the spruce beside the building, and wonder how you will manage on your own once you have received your degree. With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he finally turns to face you. “So you just want me to sit here?” he whispers at last, drawing his breath with an effort, his nerves are terribly overstrained by now. He is sober, but the excitement of this chaotic situation—the strangest day of his life—has affected him so much that he was in a dazed, wild condition, which almost resembles drunkenness “Okay I will just sit here”

Bucky sits on the bar stool that is next to your canvas and his eyes fall upon yours, stop short, grow white as a sheet, and stares motionless, it is clear that his heart was beating painfully. He is gazing intently, but timidly, for a few seconds. Suddenly, as though bereft of his senses, he moves a bit, putting his hands on his tights. He knows that he won’t get hard—worry empties any dirty thoughts he might have. You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation. In spite of this scornful reflection of his current mental state, he is looking cheerful as though he is suddenly set free from the terrible burden of worry and he gazes round. “Just don’t move I need to start with the sketch” You crack your fingers nervously before picking up the piece of charcoal—you stare at him, mentally measuring the propositions which helps you with the composition and scale. As an artist, you dip your brush in your own soul, you paint him with love—but you love him beyond words, beyond paint. And you hope Bucky will feel that once he sees the finished art. “Just tell me when you need a break” “Yeah, okay” he answers firmly, after a brief pause. Your voice is positively reflecting a sort of radiance on his face. You think, staring at him deliberately, that it is just another life painting, simply that's his body, his face, that are his eyes, his nose, and yet at the same time, It's a miracle, it's an ecstasy. And your only concern is to capture his beauty. “It is turning out amazing” you continue, pursuing the whirling ideas that chases each other in your brain “You are art, Bucky” He feels a hammering in his head and a faint smile shows on his face. His eyes are riveted upon yours, at first reluctantly and, as it is, resentfully, and then more and more intently.

Why isn't he saying anything? Did you need to say that out loud? The one time you try to implement that you like him and… So you torture yourself, fretting with questions, and finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions are not new, but suddenly confronting you, they are old familiar aches—it grips and rends your heart—maybe he just sees you as a friend.

It tortures your heart and mind, clamoring insistently for an answer, but you don’t dare turn your eyes to him for several moments. Bucky’s heart is beating violently, and his brain is in turmoil. At that moment something seems to sting him; in an instant a complete revulsion of feeling comes over him. He suffers passively, realizing that his cock is getting hard, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it quickly. 

“Can we take a break now?”

“Of course” you are bewildered, and stare at him open-eyed. You spot it, you can’t miss such a big dick. He gets up and goes to sit on the couch, covering his private parts with his jacket. His thoughts stray aimlessly…he finds it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longs to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew.

“Things like that happen all the time, no need to be embarrassed. It is nature” Bucky ponders and rubs his forehead, strange to say, after long musing, a spontaneous and by chance, a fantastic idea comes to his mind—to be honest with you. “It is not because of nature” he says all at once, calmly, he has reached a final determination. That answer agitates you, but you keep uneasily seeking for some sinister significance. You get up, slowly moving closer to him, standing in front of his sitting form. Bucky looks at you, your yellow dress of some light silky material, but put on strangely awry, not properly hooked up, and torn open at the top of the skirt, full of colorful stains, close to the waist. You stare straight at him. For one instant, the look on your face, in your eyes, has him puzzled— then he recognizes it. Curiosity—you are shocked, stunned, or thrown into a maidenly fluster. You are curious, you want to hear more, searching his eyes, but couldn't read his thoughts beyond the fact that he is considering you, considering what to tell you. “It is because of you” He stills, but his confident smile doesn't waver.

There is no going back as he removes his jacket, inviting you to madness, to sit on his legs. The sight literally steals your breath. His defined body, his creaminess of his forehead and cheeks, and the determined line of his jaw, the soft vulnerability of his lips, slightly parted. You see the scars on his legs, but your gaze is more drawn to the long block stranding out from his pelvis.

The gorgeous curves of your body somehow delineated beneath taut fabric, his eyes wonder shamelessly to your pink lips simply begging to be kissed. Their shape is etched in his mind, he wants the taste to be imprinted on his senses. "Here? You want me to sit here, on your lap?" The word, weak though it is, accurately reflects your disbelief. Your legs feels suddenly heavy, drowsiness comes upon them.

"Right here. Right now.” 

At this time, the setting, his words and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly—it leaves a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system. You straddle him, knees dug into the couch beneath you, the solid columns of his thighs hard against your soft limbs. Bucky adjusts his hold as his hands slide about your waist, beneath your dress. You gasp desperately, clenching your hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep.

Then he lifts one hand, sliding one finger beneath your chin. 

Your sensitive skin comes alive to his touch. He tips your face up so that your eyes lock on his with heavy lids, watching flaring passion light your eyes. Sparks of pure innocence and want flashes in the depths as he gently kneads, then sends his fingers of his other hand to glide over your silken back. Desire heightens, needs escalates—and he is in no rush, you are too important to rush—conquering your senses and body is not all that he wants. He wants you forever and even though he doesn’t have the talent of art, he has the one of love.

He takes possession of your lips, your mouth. His hard lips move on your, and you soften, not just your lips, but every muscle. Slow heat washes through your body. When he pulls back, you swallow, and drag in a desperately needed breath. It is all pleasure, simple love—you become softer—he becomes harder, needy. The touch of his eyes, the touch of his hands. Art. As he is savoring you again, the softness of your mouth is his to enjoy, you feel his desire, the hard, throbbing length pressing against your panties. The softness of your thighs pressing firmly on both sides of his legs as you slowly grind against his cock and you can feel him attempting to buck his hips up to meet yours. The tension, pouring off him in waves, eases, just a little. He sighs, and rests his forehead on yours. Your innocence is addictive, entrancing.

Bucky shivers, eyes shut tight―he lets a low, wickedly teasing laugh. “I love you”

His lips brushes your in an inexpressibly tender caress. You kiss him, sliding your hands up, framing his face, so you can let him know―let him feel―your response to his words.

“Are you okay with doing it like this?”he murmurs, his tone deep. You gaze at his eyes, slowly nodding. "Good" The word is a feral purr then his hand slid lower, to lightly caress, with just the barest touch, the sensitive skin, moving the panties aside and rubbing his fingers along your folds, stroking and sliding slowly into you. Sweet pleasure washes through you, making you moan softly. His thumb presses your clit, moving in slow circles as two fingers slide deeper, finding the spot that makes you tremble. There it is.

“I want you inside me, please” The smile on his face, curving those fascinating lips―you are flushed yet so bold with words. He withdraws his fingers. You lift your hips as he tugs and shifts them until he is aligned, but you don’t wait as you sink on his cock to the hilt. A muffled groan escapes your lips as his length stretches your walls and you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, rocking slowly onto his cock, the head of it hitting your deepest places. Bucky’s hands travel to massage your breast, eliciting unexpected loud moans from you. His eyes locked on your face. “Don’t slow don’t, keep on riding me”

He states, his voice very low, it sends a most peculiar thrill through you, he grabs at your hips, impatiently thrusts up hard into your core, urging you to continue. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the small studio as you keep the moderate pace.

“I will come, Bucky” You keep on hitting your cervix as your trusts become harder, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking. An impossible pleasure goes through you, cumming violently, your throbbing walls milking his cock as he keeps on trusting through your orgasm, moaning before filling you up with his cum. 

“I think that sex is a form of art” You kiss him long and soft, and when you pull yourself away, you touch his mouth with your fingers. “I suggest you not to think more, Bucky”

[yandere-fetish]

Yandere Patient X Female Reader

Part One

warnings: disrespect, rude, slow burn

Yandere Patient is a highly dignified CEO on his way to one of his many companies from the vast countryside. He's reading the newspaper and catching up on the latest magazines, detailing the latest hot topics and debates. The indifferent expression paired with wire framed glasses only made his handsome face more attractive.

The driver comes to a stop at a stop sign while looking both ways. There's no one around. He turns right to drive towards the city.

Yandere Patient reaches for a small drink out of the mini fridge, then the car jerks.

*SKIIIRRRTT*

*CRASH*

Yandere Patient is knocked out as his legs are disfigured in a gory way. The pain was unbearable, but Yandere Patient was in no condition to feel the pain due to the concussion. His eyes flutter shut as the driver is crawling out the front seat, attempting to check on his master.

Yandere Patient scowls at his uncle's suggestion. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He doesn't need an extra person supervising the way he moves or watching his every breath.

Yandere Patient didn't need a babysitter. He's a damn grown man, for God's sake!

"They're not a babysitter. They would live in the servants quarters and tend to your needs. Just treat them like a maid. They would only aid you when you need them to—"

"*scowls* And I won't need them!"

"*sigh* Nephew, there's just some things you need to understand in life, mainly that there's no 'I' in 'team'. You cannot do everything by yourself."

"Tch. Watch me! *wheels away in his new wheelchair*"

"Jenna, *sighs and stares at a picture of his sister* what am I going to do with this kid?"

This is where you come in.

You show up at noon, ready to meet your newly appointed patient after hearing so many coworkers complain about how aggressive and snarky this patient has been since joining their agency as a client.

You really hadn't wanted to take this patient under your wing but since the agency was willing to fire anyone who didn't at least try, so you had to.

The sooner you come, the sooner you can leave.

So, here you are, standing on the doorstep of a luxurious mansion with a thirty-foot driveway. You'd never dream of living in a place such as this, let alone working in one.

Funny how you'd be doing both for a while.

When the door opens, you're greeted by a tall and broad-shouldered with a friendly smile. He welcomes you in while telling you, in detail, about his nephew's accident and his.. preferences.

At first, you're shocked and confused, but nonetheless you agree.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N) from True Home Care. It's nice to meet you, Mister—"

"*scowls and ignores you* I thought they sent the last one?"

"Now, now, nephew. She's come all the way here. The least you can do is try her out for a day."

"I told you and that cheap company that I don't need anyone's help! I'll be fine on my own!"

"Just give her a chance. I'm certain it'll work out this time—"

*glares at his uncle and wheels away*

"*sighs* I apologize, Mrs. (L/N). He's moody, as you can tell. He should come around with some coaxing."

"I.. I'm sure he's not very open to strangers. I'd feel uncomfortable opening my home to one, especially several. And it's Miss— I'm not married. *smiles*"

"You're not? *clicks his tongue at the thought of an idea* I apologize again. Let me show you to your room for the time being."

It's been a a week since you first arrived at Yandere Patient's home. You've quickly become used to your room that's the size of a living room with a comfy as fuck bed to go with it. The 65" TV was definitely a nice addition, and let's not get started on the en suite bathroom and the walk-in closet.

To say you were happy was an understatement.

Now, though, you had wished you were still in your comfy bed instead of in the kitchen, gathering Yandere Patient's favorite tea.

In the sitting room was Yandere Patient and his uncle. They were once again discussing your presence in the mansion, as if you weren't in the other room. The loud noises made you flinch from time to time, but you just reminded yourself that whatever happens will happen. You've done your job well and that's all that matters.

When you're finished with the tea, you serve Yandere Patient, silently keeping yourself to the side while the two argue again.

After the uncle strikes a nerve into Yandere Patient, he walks out of the house. Yandere Patient is so pissed that he slams his hands on the table, making the teacup jump. You flinch as Yandere Patient fists his hands, his muscular arms flexing in anger as he suddenly begins to try to stand.

You're too late; Yandere Patient is all ready on the floor. He slams his fists into the hardwood, bruising them severely.

You're careful to go to his side, helping him up. Yet, the moment you touch his arm, Yandere Patient automatically shoves you away from him with a scowl.

You end up running into a sharp, marble vase table with nothing on it, luckily.

"Get the hell out of here! You're not wanted, nor needed here!"

"*on the verge of tears* You know what? Fuck you!"

"*bewildered at your sudden back talk* What..?"

"You think I want to take care of some selfish, inconsiderate twenty-some year old brat who only calls his uncle when he has a problem? I'd rather lay on my back and give birth to a child to take care of instead of someone like you! If it wasn't for the high pay, I wouldn't even be here taking this damn abuse! I work damn hard everyday to make sure your needs are met, and what do I get in return? Verbally ridiculed and now physically abused! I don't give a mother fuck if you're rich, handsome, or have power; my job is to take care of you and to only take care of you! If I wanted to care for a whiny and stubborn man, I'd go online and get myself a boyfriend!"

*stares wide eyed at you as you're huffing from anger and pain*

"Now, let me help you get up and to the bath so that I can take a fucking break, Sir."

After wheeling him into the bathroom and helping him undress, Yandere Patient is extremely docile and quiet. There's no protest or stubbornness coming from him, much to your relief.

Yandere Patient, on the other hand, notices how you skim over his body but you don't linger anywhere at all. He frowns, not really understanding why. Looking away as both of you help Yandere Patient into his wide garden tub, you silently tend to his needs.

Yandere Patient apologizes, to which you scoff at but accept his apology.

It's silent while you're helping him dry off and get dressed. Even while you're wheeling him to his bed.

But when you begin to aid him into bed, Yandere Patient notices the bruise from earlier forming into a nasty one.

Since your scrubs were moving to reveal your skin when you bend at an angle, he could see how clearly he had hurt you. Something churns in his heart at the memory of pushing you out of anger, embarrassment, and frustration.

Yandere Patient doesn't realize what he's doing until he's gently touching the bruise on your side.

"*flinches while standing up* What are you doing?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you.."

"It's.. it's all right. I'm not bleeding so there's nothing to worry about."

"*furrows his brows* It's not okay. I went too far. Let me make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Sir. There's nothing you need to make up for."

"I insist. I'll treat you to a meal, or a day at the spa? Girls care about their skin, right?"

"*smiles* It's not necessary, Sir. Have a good night. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

*after you've left*

"I'll make it up to you, somehow.. someway."

Part Two?

[hijackalx]

Headcanons for Gale, Astarion, and Gortash: What are nicknames/petnames you can see them giving their lover and what would their lover call them in return?

ASTARION

GIVING: omgggg this dude will call you every petname in existence. he loves the sweet ones because he thinks you’re so STINKIN CUTE !!!!!! 👹 (yes he gets cute aggression). i think his all time favorite is ‘darling’ obvs, but he likes to switch it up for sure. like i can see him calling you ‘pumpkin’ or ‘sweet thing’. shit just throw ‘pookie’ in there too LMFAOO. he also likes to put ‘my’ or ‘little’ in front of them. or both. absolutely coos over you

RECEIVING: unfortunately he would throw up in his mouth if you called him the sickly sweet petnames he calls you LMAO i honestly feel like he’s the type to cringe if he’s called ANY petname 😹😹😹 but i do think he tolerates stuff like ‘dear’ or ‘honey’. also shortening his name to ‘star’ occasionally is alright with him. regardless of what you call him he appreciates the thought and thinks it’s kinda sweet, even if it does make him gag 😹💗

GALE

GIVING: he’s a sucker for the classier, more dignified petnames (picture him looking at astarion in horror after he calls you some shit like ‘snookums’). he prefers stuff like ‘beautiful’/‘handsome’— ‘my love’ or ‘my muse’ are good ones too. he has you on such a high pedestal and thinks you only deserve the most tasteful petnames. i feel like he can get kind of corny with it too though 💀 just more poetically. if he’s feeling creative he’ll probably call you something like ‘my light in the darkest night’ HELPPP 😭😭 he’s so sweet though give him a break 😹😹😹

RECEIVING: ‘handsome’ hands down. i don’t know what it is but i just know this is his favorite. maybe it has something to do with you reassuring him of how handsome he is lol. it also flusters him a little bit when you say it, he gets all bashful and goes “oh, stop it” while trying to hide his smile 😹💗 i think he also likes ‘babe’ too, it’s cute and casual but not goofy

GORTASH

GIVING: i feel like his favorite time to use petnames for you is when you’re in public or around other people. like to him it’s almost a means of showing ownership LMAO. of course ‘dear’ is one he really likes generally. he also lovessss to use ‘little’ or ‘my’ in front of them as a display of possessiveness or power; ‘my little dove’, ‘my dear girl/boy/one’. i don’t really see him having a huge roster of petnames honestly? he’s more of a physical touch or gift giving kind of guy 😹😹

RECEIVING: daddy I’M KIDDINGGG (no i’m not. yes i am. no i’m not) i don’t know if he really cares what you call him. he’s pretty chill with any nickname or petname. he doesn’t take it too seriously or just considers it as you being silly. ALTHOUGH i think if you call him something often enough he’ll grow fond of it— i know a lot of people like to call him ‘gorty’ and i think he would grow to really love that honestly ? 😹😹💗 it becomes special to him because that’s what you call him, not really because of the petname/nickname itself

[pedge-page]

#6 Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: NOT Hungry

can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: fluff, brief puking, Joel being an overreactive sensitive bitch

- - - -

Ever since your fourth date with Joel, where you spent the evening at his apartment, and he made you his homemade empanadas while you two discussed your favorite books and movies, you were hooked. Not just to the man who would eventually be your husband and baby daddy, but to his immaculate cooking as well.

So now, years later with a ring on your finger and both of your and Joel’s belly a little fuller—okay, yours a LOT fuller—you find yourself gawking at him, propped up on the kitchen island in a high chair you took 4 minutes to climb atop, feet swaying in the air, elbows resting on the granite countertop, palms holding your chin with beady heart eyes as Joel finishes plating his hot homemade dish for you.

“Blow on it, babe. It’s hot,” he warns, not too keen on having you burn your tongue again due to your impatience. He holds a fork out as you drag the plate in front of you.

“Yes you are, handsome.”

He shakes his head, not caring that he’s blushing hard. It’s not difficult for him to admit that having you gush over his cooking for years makes him extremely proud, excited, and even more in love with you.

You can’t tell if the gurgling, rumbling summersaults in your middle is the baby kicking or your stomach growling, neither of which bother you in the slightest as you splinter the hot shell, pausing to waft the steam of shredded chicken, glazed onions and corn, a hint of his secret secret secret ingredient (its a touch of sugar—but you don’t want him to know you know), and then—

You stop, fork held in front of your mouth like the Choo Choo train hit the breaks before it could dock with the station. And suddenly something doesn’t feel very pleasant, and your senses are off, strangely, for something that should be glorious and pleasurable consuming you is now —extremely unpleasant, almost—

You drop the fork with a clatter to the plate and b-line straight to the bathroom, barely bending to your knees to the tiled floor as you hurl your stomach into the basin. 

It only lasts for a few seconds, your stomach being relatively empty with no dinner having made its way down there. You wash your hands, and mouth, and then sadly waddle back into the kitchen.

“Um, Joel, I don’t think the baby likes them,” you say meekly, rubbing your hand over your belly who punches your ribcage with dignified agreement.

Joel looks at you, face plain, lips in a thin line with an unreadable expression. He calmly places the pan back on the stove, wiping his hand with the washcloth. The kitchen feels scarily quiet. Joel then puts both hands flat on the counter, holding himself up, gritting his teeth back and forth. He brings his eyes to you, with such a chilling seriousness that it sends you into shivers. 

“And might I ask who’s baby you got growing’ in there then?”

EXCUSE ME?

“Joel what—what the fuck—“

“Cuz no baby o’MINE would EVER dislike my empenadas. So I’ll ask you again, who’s baby do y’got growing inside you?”

“Are you fucking serious. Because the baby doesn’t like your greasy food, I’m suddenly a cheater?”

“I’m just sayin—“

“Fuck off Joel,” you seethe, not sure if you should be trembling in rage or laughter. “The baby. Doesn’t. Like. It. Grow up. The doctor said this could happen.”

Yeah, he was there, he knows, but Jesus, it was more plausible to believe his baby wouldn’t like collard greens or strawberry ice cream, not … his fabulous abuelas homemade receipt of empanadas that his wife has adored ever since she first tried it!

Joel pulls his hands off the counter, wringing them in shame with pouty lips. “M’sorry. That was—that was wrong o’me to way that. I don’t—I know you wouldn’t…”

He struggles to suppress the little sniffle under all that macho, and suddenly you’re paddling over to him, soothingly gliding your hand over the expanse of his muscled back, kissing his massive shoulder. 

“Awww, are you upset your baby doesn’t like them?”

“M’not upset,” he pouts unconvincingly. “Just—what if after you pop the kid, you still don’t like ‘em either? Then who am I gonna cook ‘em for?”

“Tommy?”

“Fuck that man-child. He can make his own shit.”

You giggle into his arm, nuzzling your face into his denim shirt. You inhale the smell of him, the mix of pine, wood and mint, a little bit of sweat, enough that its blocking the nauseating scent of the grease in the air and suddenly you feel a wave of calm wash over you, relaxed in his gentle embrace. 

You smile, carding your fingers through his and bringing his flat hand to the base of your tummy. 

“I promise: this baby is definitely yours. So calm now because Daddy’s scent is here to comfort her.”

Joel’s lips curl into a smile, welcoming the touch of warmth cradled by your rounded belly. “Still think it’s a girl?”

You cup his face, bringing him to you as you plant a loving kiss on the scruffy patch on his peppered cheek.

“I know it.”

- - - -

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[wholoveseggs]

Hey :) How about an idea like this: Elijah and Reader have been close friends. Almost like a couple minus the sex. Elijah opens up about his fear of being physically intimate with anyone because of his past history with women and his fear of falling in love and losing control. Reader shows him that there's nothing to be afraid of. Sweet, smutty, potentially biting ;)

Touch

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a dinner party with the Mikaelson family, you try to get Elijah to open up his heart to you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request darling @originals23, I love soft and sweet Elijah ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex, blowjob, biting, romantic as fuck, Elijah being so self-loathing...

Your friend Elijah was the whole package. Smart, witty, handsome, well-read, well-educated, and he dressed in clothes that could pay your rent. He was always so composed and dignified. You had no trouble understanding why a woman would fall for him; he was the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome.

But there was a deep sadness to him lurking underneath, accompanied by guilt and shame. You suspected that Elijah had been through something traumatic in his past, something that he couldn't bring himself to discuss. The most you ever got from him was that he had betrayed someone he had loved.

The two of you spent a lot of time together, taking walks through the city or going to plays. You loved hearing him talk about art, literature, philosophy. His deep, soothing voice made even the dullest subject come alive. You could spend hours with him, listening to him speak.

You wanted to be more than friends and you were putting out very clear signals for a while. He certainly wasn't a stupid man, so you didn't know what was holding him back. You figured he was either not interested in sex or he was scared to take things further.

He was always the perfect gentleman, even though you were pretty sure he was attracted to you. You had caught him glancing at you a few times, particularly when you were wearing something a bit revealing, and you saw his pupils dilate when he looked at your lips. There was always a tension between the two of you, which he was always careful to maintain at a friendly level.

It was getting a bit frustrating. He clearly liked you, so why didn't he just act on it? 

Elijah couldn't stop thinking about you. He had completely fallen for you, it was a rare and overwhelming feeling for him, and he was terrified of screwing things up. He had spent most of his life avoiding emotional attachment. He had his family, but no one outside of them. Until you came along.

You had managed to penetrate the cold walls that he had built around himself, and now he was in too deep. He couldn't stand the thought of losing you, so he tried to keep things at a platonic level. He was always careful not to let his hands linger on you, or his eyes stray. But sometimes it was so difficult to keep his desire in check.

But there you were, at a quiet dinner party with his family, wearing a red silk dress that clung to every curve of your body, looking like an angel, or a seductress, depending on your perspective. The neckline was low, showing off the top of your cleavage, and the hem was short, revealing the length of your legs. And it was tied in the back by these little strings, making it tight across your breasts. He couldn't stop thinking about undoing the strings and letting your breasts fall free.

The whole night he struggled to keep his eyes from wandering to you, his imagination from running wild. He couldn't stop thinking about how the silk would feel beneath his fingertips, the way your skin would feel, warm and soft against his hands, the sounds you would make as he took you apart, bit by bit.

But he had to ignore it all, you were a beautiful butterfly, and he didn't want to pluck your wings. He was determined to remain your friend and nothing more.

"Elijah darling, will you hand me that bottle of margaux?" Rebekah asked, nodding towards the wine rack.

Her words snapped him out of his daydream, and he reached for the bottle in question. He was pouring the wine into a glass for his sister when you spoke up.

"Can I have a glass too?" You asked, smiling at him.

He had been avoiding even looking at you all night and it hurt your feelings. You dressed up just for him, hoping that he would finally take the hint and realize that you were interested in him. He was always so composed, so restrained, but you had caught him looking at you several times and his gaze had been so intense, so heated, that it left you breathless. You were determined to take any opportunity to interact with him.

"Of course." He murmured, pouring the wine into a glass and handing it to you.

His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the glass, sending a spark through your body. Your eyes locked for a moment and the air between you was charged with tension. His lips parted slightly and his eyes darted to your mouth, a flash of heat passing over his face. You felt your pulse quicken and your breathing become shallow. It all happened so fast, but it made you hopeful that he might actually reciprocate your feelings.

"Thank you," you whispered, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip.

The wine was rich and sweet, and the liquid slipped down your throat easily. You closed your eyes, savoring the taste, before opening them again and meeting Elijah's gaze.

"How have you been? We haven't talked in a while." You asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I've been fine, just busy with work," he replied, his eyes drifting over to where his brother Klaus was seated next to Rebekah.

You felt a little bold from the wine and you placed your hand on his knee. "You seem a little tense. Are you sure everything is okay?"

He froze, his eyes darting down to your hand and back up to your face. You smiled reassuringly and squeezed his knee. Elijah hated when you did this, he didn't like to feel afraid, and the sensation of fear, of his body tensing up and his heart racing, it all brought back memories that he had spent years burying.

He cleared his throat, "Yes, I'm fine, I just have a lot on my mind."

You nodded, sensing his discomfort. You were used to his aloofness, but it had never bothered you before. You knew he was a reserved man and that he had a lot going on in his head. But now, with you, it felt different. Like he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance.

You turned to talk to Freya, trying not to let your disappointment show. You knew it was ridiculous to think that he would want you like you wanted him. He was your best friend and he probably didn't even think of you like that.

You looked around the table at everyone, you were the only one there that wasn't a Mikaelson or their partner. You were always welcomed like you were a part of the family, but tonight, it felt different. Everyone else was so happy, so in love, and you were alone.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room, the lights were dim and there was a roaring fire going in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room.

You sat on the sofa, next to Klaus, who was engrossed in a conversation with his brother Kol. You took another sip of wine and glanced around the room, watching as couples cuddled and kissed, enjoying the atmosphere.

Elijah walked in with some wood to add to the fire, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong, muscular arms. You could see the outline of his biceps through his shirt and you bit your lip, trying not to imagine how they would feel wrapped around you.

He leaned down to place a log on the fire, there was something so primally attractive about watching a man build a fire, and you found yourself imagining Elijah naked, his body covered in sweat, his muscles rippling as he worked.

Your heart began to race and your breathing quickened. You shifted on the couch, pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was building there.

Klaus got up and put a record on, the soft sultry tones of Nina Simone filed the room. You watched Klaus take Cami's hand and lead her to the middle of the room. He placed his hand on her hip, pulling her close to him, and they began to sway together, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The other couples followed suit, and soon the room was filled with music and laughter and the soft murmur of whispered words.

Your eyes wandered to Elijah, the only other one not dancing, and he was looking back at you. The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them look like pools of molten chocolate. You stood and crossed the room, offering your hand to him.

He hesitated, glancing at his siblings, all so lost in their own lovers, then back at you. "Will you dance with me, Elijah?"

He looked nervous and uncomfortable, but he nodded and took your hand. You led him to the middle of the room and placed your hand on his shoulder, interlacing the fingers of your other hand with his.

Elijah's heart was in his throat, the feeling of your body so close to his was overwhelming, and his mind was racing, trying to figure out what he should do next. You started swaying slowly, following the rhythm of the music. He felt stiff and awkward, not sure where to put his hands.

"You can touch me 'lijah," you whispered, placing his hand on the small of your back.

Your words sent a jolt of desire through him, his skin tingling where it made contact with yours. He swallowed hard, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. You were looking at him with your beautiful eyes, filled with trust and affection.

The air between you was heavy with tension, and he knew if he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he would do something he would regret. But he couldn't tear himself away from you, the magnetic pull between you was too strong.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and you leaned in closer, your lips almost touching his. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his body firm and warm beneath your touch.

"Tell me what's wrong," you asked softly, looking into his eyes.

He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper, "I can't."

"Yes, you can," you reassured him, stroking his cheek, "Just tell me, I won't judge."

He let out a long sigh and looked around at the others, each lost in their own little world. He couldn't do it, not here, not now.

Your heart broke at his unwillingness to open up to you and you could no longer stand to have him so close. You pulled away from him, and a flash of pain and confusion crossed his face.

"I need some air," you said, turning and walking out of the room.

Elijah watched you go, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He was frustrated and confused and he didn't know what to do. He knew he should follow you, talk to you, try to explain himself. But he was frozen in place, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision. In that moment he realized he had no choice, he could either wallow in his own misery and lose you or he could face his fears and hope you still wanted him.

He went outside, finding you standing under the stars, your arms wrapped around yourself, staring out into the night.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I didn't mean to upset you."

You turned to him, your eyes shining with tears, "I just want you to be honest with me, Elijah."

He stepped closer to you, reaching out and gently brushing a tear from your cheek. "I am afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid that if we take our relationship further, I'll lose control. That I'll hurt you," he admitted.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "You could never hurt me, Elijah."

He gave you a sad smile, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wish that were true."

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was struggling to find the words. You took his hand and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"Talk to me," you said softly.

He let out a long breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"Before I was turned, I met this woman, he name was Tatia," he began, his voice shaky, "she was my first love, and I would have made her my wife,"

"But you were turned vampire," you said softly, touching his arm.

"Yes," he sighed, his expression pained, "only a few days after I was reborn did I take her life,"

"Oh my god," you breathed, not able to imagine such a tragedy, "it wasn't your fault, Elijah, you had no control,"

"It is not so simple," he replied, looking away from you, "I..."

"It is that simple, I know your heart Elijah, and I know you would never intentionally hurt anyone you love," You interjected, placing your hand over his heart, feeling it beat steadily, and he covered your hand with his.

"I'm not a good man," he whispered, "I've done horrible things, hurt people, killed people."

You placed your other hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes. You could see the pain, the shame, the guilt, the weight of his sins drowning him.

"If you weren't a good man you wouldn't feel any shame," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "You're not a monster."

"I am," he insisted, his eyes welling up with tears, "I have snuffed out precious life, I've picked the wings off every beautiful butterfly that has landed on my hand," his voice cracked, and he turned his face away, unable to look at you.

You took his chin in your hand, turning his head back to face you. You could see the anguish in his eyes, the pain that he had carried with him for so long. He let you pull him close, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"There is light in you, Elijah," you said softly, "I can see it."

He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm a monster," he repeated, shaking his head, "I'm not worthy of your friendship, much less your love."

"That's not your choice to make," you said firmly, "only I get to decide who's worthy of my heart," you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips, "and I choose you."

He turned his head slightly, his lips grazing yours, and your breath caught in your throat. Your heart was racing, and your body was humming with anticipation.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, and he leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel the electricity flowing between you. You melted into his touch, his kiss igniting a fire within you.

Your hands traveled up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your mouth.

"My sweet Elijah," you murmured, tangling your fingers in his hair, "I've got you."

You felt his arms wrap around you, his fingers digging into your hips, and a thrill ran through you.

Elijah couldn't believe how good it felt to hold you like this, his body pressed against yours, your scent surrounding him, your lips against his. He was lost in the sensation, the pleasure of being so close to you, the way you made him feel, he had to have all of you.

"Come," he said softly, taking your hand and guiding you inside.

You followed him, your heart racing, the heat from his hand searing your skin. You didn't know what was going to happen, but you knew it was something special.

You climbed the stairs, your breathing ragged, anticipation coursing through your veins. He led you down the hallway and into his room.

The air was thick with tension, the energy between you palpable. You could see his shoulders were tense, his muscles coiled.

You could tell he was still conflicted, the war raging inside him. You wanted him to know that he was safe with you, that you could give him the love and affection he needed.

You undid the strings on your dress, letting the silk slip from your body, pooling at your feet. All you were left in was your panties, your breasts exposed to him.

He stared at you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in the sight of you. You reached out a hand to him, inviting him to touch you.

He slowly crossed the room, his eyes never leaving yours. He was drawn to you like a magnet, unable to resist the pull.

You placed your hands on his chest and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. Your fingers traced his skin, reveling in the feeling of him. You tugged his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor, your fingers exploring the planes of his stomach and chest.

"You are so handsome," you murmured, looking into his eyes.

He kissed you again, his lips parting as your tongue met his, and the passion between you ignited. Your hands went to his belt buckle, and you undid his trousers, sliding them down his hips and letting them fall to the floor.

He smiled softly, his hands going to the small of your back and pulling you in closer. You moaned at the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, and you rubbed your body against his, reveling in the sensation.

Elijah broke the kiss, backing you up towards the bed. Your legs hit the mattress, and you fell onto it, your hair spilling out around you. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. You bit your lip, the heat between your legs growing as you saw how much he wanted you.

He hummed in approval and bent over you, his lips traveling over the column of your throat. Your breath was coming in shallow pants as he nibbled and licked his way down your chest. He paused at your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and you gasped, arching your back.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as he worshiped your body with his mouth and hands. He worked his way lower, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles across your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, slowly peeling them down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

You spread your legs for him, your pussy on display, he kissed his way up your thigh, nibbling and licking the skin. His lips found your clit, and sucked on it gently, drawing small circles with the tip of his tongue.

Elijah had dreamed of being with you like this, of being the one to bring you pleasure. He was lost in the taste and feel of you, the tiny moans you were making spurring him on.

He eased two fingers inside of you, and you let out a gasp of pleasure. He slowly moved his fingers in and out, the pleasure building inside of you, the sensation making your toes curl.

You had assumed he would be good in bed, but this was a whole other level. He was clearly an expert with his hands and mouth, and he was intent on making you come undone.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body humming with pleasure, your heart pounding in your chest. When he let out a groan of pleasure you came apart, your pussy clenching around his fingers, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You fell back onto the bed, panting, your body limp and boneless. Elijah sat back, watching you as you recovered from your orgasm, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

You grinned at him, "You've been holding out on me."

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he said with a chuckle.

He lay down on the bed next to you and you got on your knees. He was looking up at you like he'd just won the lottery. You bent over him and began to trail kisses across his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his muscles.

You took his cock in your hand, stroking his hard length slowly, and you looked up at him. He looked so beautiful and vulnerable like this, his face relaxed, his lips parted, his eyes full of trust and affection.

You slowly slid your lips around his head and began to gently suck and lick, you saw his hips jerk, a moan escaping his lips. His fingers found their way into your hair, lightly caressing you as you took him further into your mouth.

You let your saliva gather, coating your mouth, the sweet tang of precum coating your tongue as you lapped at his slit. You slid your tongue down the underside of his shaft, your tongue fluttering against the soft, sensitive skin there.

He felt so good, the weight and warmth of him in your mouth, his hands in your hair. You could tell he was getting close, his breathing heavy, his muscles tight. You could taste the salty pre cum spilling out of him, his hips starting to rock. Always so sweet and restrained, always so careful with you.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending him over the edge. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he came in your mouth, his body tense as his release took him.

You gave little swallows, pulling all you could from him as he softened in your mouth. You looked up at him, your lips still toying with the head of his cock and he smiled softly, his hand coming up and wiping away a dribble of his cum.

Elijah could hardly believe you were in his bed, that he was with you like this, your mouth on his cock. You made him feel things he had never felt before, made him want to lose himself in you.

You placed a kiss on his lower abdomen and slowly moved up, straddling his hips. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue parting your lips as he explored your mouth. His hand trailed up your thigh to the curve of your ass and you pressed closer to him, your body flush against his.

Elijah was overjoyed that he was about to make love to you, his friend, the person he loved and trusted the most. You had been the only person he had ever opened up to about his past. The only one who had ever seen him so vulnerable. He never expected it would lead to this but he was glad it had.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing his skin. His hands explored the smooth curves of your body, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. You kissed along the curve of his jaw, his stubble tickling your lips.

"This feels nice, I like touching you," you murmured, smiling up at him, your heart full of affection for him.

"It do too," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hand moved down the outside of your thigh to your knee, drawing circles on the soft skin there. He moved your legs slightly, letting him take control, your heart raced with anticipation. He spread your legs a little more, his fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh, teasing you, leaving you wanting.

You bit your lip as you watched his hand move further up your thigh. You could feel the heat of him as his hand got closer to where you wanted him the most. He kissed you as his fingers gently grazed over your clit, and you moaned softly.

Your fingers trailed over his chest, teasing him in turn, as he continued to stroke you. The softness of his touch combined with his strength was a heady combination. 

"Elijah," you gasped, his fingers slipping into you.

He hummed in response, a deep, pleased rumble as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard, throbbing as he pleasured you. The air around you was thick with desire as the two of you gave in to your desire.

"Please," you breathed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

He smiled and removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, wrapping your legs around him, pulling you in closer. You took his cock in your hand and guided him into you, his length filling you slowly.

Your eyes met as he sank into you, his eyes full of adoration, the intimacy between you intense. His hands went to your hips and he slowly rocked you against him, your breasts pressing into his chest.

Soft, wet sounds filled the air as you began to move together, his hips pressing up into yours as you rolled your hips against him. You kissed his chest, licking and nibbling, making your way up to his throat, his stubble tickling your cheek as you left small love bites.

Your clit was rubbing against the base of his cock and you were starting to feel that sweet ache deep inside you as your pleasure started to build. He felt so good, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you close as you both rocked and grinded together.

His eyes were turning black, veins snaking under his skin and his fangs descended. Your blood was pounding through your veins and you were both breathing heavy. He was trying to fight it, not wanting you to see that side of him, he wanted to be gentle with you. He'd never let his guard down with anyone.

You were fascinated by it, the way he was starting to let go. The way you were getting to see him like this, so raw and vulnerable. You felt closer to him than you'd ever felt to anyone and it filled your heart with so much joy. You brought a hand up to trace the moving veins, feeling them throb under your fingers, the way the skin tightened around his eyes.

"It's okay, you don't have to hide," you said softly, cupping his face.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing. You felt his muscles relax and you felt a thrill go through you knowing that he was letting you in. You began to bounce slightly on his lap, taking his cock deep inside you.

He groaned as you tightened around him, the heat inside you growing. He held you close, his breathing ragged, your skin hot and slick as your bodies moved together. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and licked your throat.

Your head lolled back, baring your neck to him, the trust you felt for him made him feel a wave of affection for you. You could feel his fangs grazing your skin and you knew what he needed. You could feel the hunger coming from him.

You brought a hand to his head, holding him close, and you tilted your head further. You were offering yourself to him, offering to share in your most intimate moment with him, to feed him.

"It's okay baby, you can taste me," you murmured, stroking his hair.

He let out a growl as he sank his fangs into you, your sweet, coppery blood flooding his mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he held you against him, your bodies flush against one another, as he drank.

He felt a rush go through him, your blood invigorating him like a drug, filling his body with warmth and pleasure. The sweetness of you, the softness of your skin, the scent of your arousal filling his nose was making him lose all control.

In one swift movement he flipped you over, his weight on top of you, his hips never leaving yours as he pinned you beneath him. He was taking control, taking what he wanted, the look of pure bliss on your face making him fall further.

You spread your legs wider, your hands digging into the muscles of his back, and you ground yourself against him, the new position letting you take him in deeper. You felt his tongue trace the wound in your neck, the pleasure of him drinking from you making you moan.

Elijah pulled away, looking down at you. Your skin was flushed, your hair fanning out around your head, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his long, long life. He wanted to share everything with you, the dark and light, the pleasure and the pain. You were the person he loved the most and he wanted you to feel just how much he adored you, needed you.

He kissed you with an intense passion, pouring all of his love into you. He was done holding back, done denying himself of you. He'd loved you from afar, his desire for you growing. You had shown him a new kind of affection, a different way to see the world.

He gently bit down on his lip, sharing his blood with you. You were eager as you licked it away, savoring his taste. You felt him deep in your soul, your blood singing with pleasure. The intimacy of it, of sharing something so deeply personal, had your heart full to bursting.

The room was filled with the sound of your panting and moans, the wet sounds of your bodies coming together, and your hearts were beating in sync. He moved in a deep, steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze full of tenderness.

His hands traced up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps, before finding your wrists, he pinned them to the bed above your head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel how close he was, the muscles of his arms tight, his back tense as he tried to hold back his release.

He could feel it, the warmth deep in his core, the need to release building. He wanted you to come with him, to share in the pleasure with him. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in closer, your hands gripping his as he pinned you to the bed.

"Let go baby," you gasped, the words falling from your lips, the heat between your legs building to a peak.

His pace quickened and you were right there with him, the pressure inside you building to a peak as you teetered on the edge, and you let out a low moan as your pleasure crested and crashed through you, the orgasm rolling over you like a wave. You were both coming together, the sensation of being inside you as you clenched and trembled around his cock pushing him over the edge.

You rode it out, clinging to one another, lost in the sensation as the wave of pleasure ebbed and flowed through your bodies, his warmth spreading deep inside you, your blood pounding in your ears.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and he bit down again, sharing in your ecstasy, the sweetness of you flowing over his tongue, the way your body felt clenching and fluttering around his cock as he emptied himself inside of you, it was bliss.

He drank slowly, your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed close to his, the warmth of your release coating his cock. You were limp, exhausted in the most satisfying way, his cock softening inside of you, his breathing coming in shallow pants.

He pulled away and kissed the wound tenderly, sealing it up with the warmth of his tongue as he slowly lapped away the blood. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, the feel of his skin on yours so intimate and right.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice soft.

You turned his face to yours and you smiled. You leaned in and kissed him, softly at first, but you found yourself deepening the kiss. Your body responded to him immediately, desire beginning to simmer once more.

"I love you," you said softly against his lips, your eyes searching his.

You had always been afraid to tell him how you felt. You knew it might ruin what you had but you couldn't hold back. Not after this. Not after what had just happened. You knew the feeling was mutual, he loved you, he always had, and it made you so happy you could cry.

"I love you," he breathed, his eyes full of affection, and it made you melt.

"Can we stay just like this?" You asked, feeling a blush creep up your face, and he smiled and nodded.

He gathered you into his arms and laid back on the bed, pulling the comforter over you as you curled up against him, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. You were content to lay there, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your head as you lay wrapped in one another's arms.

Elijah could feel you dozing off as the night grew later. You were exhausted but content, and you wanted to stay with him, just like this, for as long as you could.

He had made many mistakes in his long life, he had hurt people, he had done terrible things. He never thought he would be able to have anything good like this in his life, he didn't feel like he deserved it. 

But as you slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn't help but think that he must be doing something right.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[shomixremix]

I miss Kaveh sm :(( so can i req kaveh with a reader who is inexperienced and is too nervous to ask something during their session?? (Bonus points if reader gets flustered easily)

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE ♡︎

this is my first ever reqs, i'm so excited!! thank you anon <33 i haven't yet met kaveh in game (i swear i explored fontaine and sumeru i just never got around to doing his story quest, or maybe i just didn't really notice him in the archon quest??), but all the more reason to do it!! he's such a cutie, i love him (and his relationship with alhaitham👀) so muchh

tags: kaveh, female! reader, smut, loss of virginity, first time, teasing

-> your first time with kaveh, who knows very well how flustered he makes you, and uses that to his advantage ♡︎

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

he had planned this for so long, and now it was finally happening. kaveh was going to fuck you.

he knew just how badly you wanted this - and how badly you couldn't say it. his sweet girlfriend, although the pride and joy of the akademiya, was always so sweet, so deliciously flustered and shy. you couldn't just voice your needs to him!

but kaveh wasn't dumb, in fact, it was quite the opposite. he very well noticed how you would squirm on his lap when the two of you would make out in his studio, how you'd softly sigh whenever his hands would accidentally brush your more sensitive spots, how you'd fiddle with your fingers nervously when you ask him for something so chaste and simple as a small kiss.

so, he took the matters into his own hands.

he basically bribed al haitham to get lost for a few hours, and have the place all to himself. the scribe very much so obliged, not very keen on hearing what goes on in kaveh's bedroom.

it wasn't as if you were uncomfortable under the blonde; he was your boyfriend, after all! even your vast vocabulary didn't have a word quite perfect enough to describe how you felt under him - flustered, perhaps?

"what's wrong, love?" he chirped as he kissed you, his chest discarded of the signature white shirt and his sunshine strands ruffled. his figure isn't particularly large and he is quite a lean man, yet you still felt quite intimidated as you were laid on his soft covers under him, your head nestled on the pillow against the headboard.

"n-nothing, kaveh, i just.." you just wanted more. more kisses, more touches, more love, more of him. all of him. yet, it felt too embarrassing to ask.

"you just, what?" he asks sweetly, a smug smile on his face. he knew exactly what you wanted, yet he very much enjoyed teasing the life out of you.

you mumble something into your chin, lowering your gaze and hiding your flushed face in his shoulder. the architect chuckles, kissing the tip of your ear softly.

"i cannot believe akademiya's most prized researcher is too nervous to ask her boyfriend for something..." he breathes out a soft laugh, "go on, baby. you know i'll do anything you ask. it's okay, y/n, it's just me"

just him? just the most handsome, most adorable, most butterfly-inducing scholar you've ever met?

"i.. um.." you stutter all over your words as you try to voice your wishes. "could you..?"

"i could most certainly" he grins widely, one hand soothing your side. "but i must say, i'm not quite sure what you mean, baby"

oh, how mean he was being, making you say all you wanted when he knew how embarrassed and shy you were!

only in his briefs, the architect slowly parts your soft thighs and nestles himself in between them, his growing erection coming in contact with your wettened panties.

"is this what you want, my love, heh? do you want me to take you? is that what you're trying to ask for, y/n?"

your face turns 50 shades darker and your voice seems to stop working as he asks such a lewd and suggestive question. the tips of your ears and your chest are burning with your blush, hot blood running straight to your head. you cover your face with your palms in an attempt to hide yourself from his very amused gaze.

you were a dignified researcher, someone known to not get lost in emotion and use their head to make logical conclusions to your studies. you have always been praised for your natural leadership skills, never being too proud or too shy to voice anything your research needed.

kaveh seemed to completely destroy all of that, reducing you to a blushing, flustered mess under him.

he didn't yet push your pretty, green panties aside and sink into you, and you were already flustered beyond belief!

"i.. i have never done this, before.." you admit, afraid your inexperience will turn the blonde away. instead, kaveh smiles softly, continuing to very slowly and very carefully grind onto you.

"heh, not a problem, love. i'll show you, hm? you just need to trust me and tell me what feels good. can you do that?"

you bite your lip to suppress a moan, nodding slowly.

one of his hands travels down your body, touching you as if you were made of the finest silk, finally slipping between your legs and coming in contact with the little piece of underwear you wore. he began to slowly rub circles on you through the panties, making shivers run down your back.

"mmph, kaveh.." a groan left your lips as he slowly teased you, his clothed member still snuggly placed between your plushy tighs.

"what do you want, love?"

your cheeks heat up to what seems to compare to the fires of natlan, your words betraying you. you can't help but nuzzle your face in his chest as he continues to rub all the right places, teasing you softly.

"kaveh, baby, please"

you beg for the slow and torturious ritual to finally be over, but deep in your heart you know it won't be - not until you tell him what you desire.

"please what, love? you need to tell me what you'd like so i can give it to you"

no words leave your mouth, too flustered to even speak. his hot gaze and even hotter touches and archons, his pretty face - it was all too much for you. entirely and utterly too much.

"don't be embarassed, baby. i just want to hear you say what you need. i promise i won't tease you more, i just want you comfortable" he reassures oh so sweetly, pressing a slight kiss to your forehead.

"want you, kaveh.." you slowly and very hesitantly say, "want you inside"

it's like a switch has been flipped in him, immediately descarding you off your underwear and leaving your pretty folds bare. his underwear is next, and soon, his tip is pressing into your wanting opening.

you moan out from the pleasure as he slowly thrusts, making sure to keep his pace slow and warm at first.

"mh, faster, please.." you softly beg into his ear, afraid that you'll get far to embarassed if you say those words any louder. however, kaveh chooses not to torture you and obeys your wish with a moan of his own.

unlike you, he's very vocal in bed, a complete stranger to shame.

"ahh, shit, love! feels so good, feels heavenly! you are, you are heaven sent, you know that, love? mhh, baby, so good!" he whines almost as his pace quickens, bringing a hand down to your sweet bundle of nerves.

"tell me what you need, y/n.. fuck, baby, ask for what you need!" he almost begs you to say those words, his crimson eyes full of desperation.

"i.. i need to come-! please, kaveh!" the moan you give him is a bit louder, experimenting how the words feel on your tounge. strangely, it isn't so shameful to ask something of him any longer.

he gives you what you need, blabbing and ranting through his own mutters and moans about how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how good you feel around him. soon, he's reaching his own high, almost not being able to pull out in time as his head fills with pure euphoria.

as you two cuddle after, you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and softly breathe: "kaveh?"

"yes, love?"

"could you next time.. do it in me?"

those words hit him like a pan across his head (and trust me, he knows what that feels like - he lives with al haitham, after all), as his dick almost instantly gets hard again. he pounces on top of you, a soft glimmer of lust in his eyes.

"your wish is my command"

[mybworlds]

Sex with stranger, one-shot

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: You, a beautiful stranger, an elevator.

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning tags: porn with lil plot, no use of Y/N, no outbreak, use of 'you', age difference not specified, smut, use of pet name, dirty talk, fingering, f & m masturbation, unprotected P in V, oral f receiving, if I miss smt please write me.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

It was the end of the second semester when you met him, the man who would fuel your wildest sexual fantasies, your obsession, your sociolinguistics teacher, Dr. Miller. Before you met him you were a young woman always hunched over your books, focused on finishing your course of study as soon as possible, always ready to commit to a thousand and one projects just to get the most credits that would allow you to finish as soon as possible, then one day in February your eyes fell on his figure and that's where it all went to hell.

You're at the little kiosk outside the campus with one of your many unfailing books, this time it's the turn of the sociolinguistics book, your next course and next exam. Everyone had told you you'd soon meet the most bastard professor in the campus, the one with the cold stare, with smirks which he seemed initially to want to seduce you and then sink you in later, with a strong presence and a strong southern accent. Some had been positively impressed at first sight only to call him an asshole on the exam, others had called him a big bastard and that was it. You were never afraid to be confronted with punctilious and penetrating-looking professors, you just had to study and know more than him and everything would be fine.

That morning, you anticipate on purpose, you want to get to class before everyone else, even before the famous Dr. Miller. Arriving at the lobby, you read on the small monitor about his lecture would be on the fourth floor in Lecture Hall F. So, you head for the elevator, press the little button to call it, and wait. You are flanked by a man whom you don't dignify with a glance, however, too focused on arriving early, getting there first, being called an excellent student even by this other professor.

The doors open, and you enter, followed by this man. The doors close and you take a long breath; you never liked elevators, but that morning you made an exception. Not even a minute later the cabin stops with a jolt, and you find yourself staggering against the wall, the lights inside flicker and you start to sweat.

"Oh no." you find yourself groaning as you close your eyes.

"Afraid of elevators, aren't ya?" a voice asks you. Only then you remember you are not alone; you look up and find yourself observing the man standing there with you. Powerful physique, white shirt turned up to the elbows, jacket folded over one arm, curious look, dark brown eyes.

"Never liked 'em," you answer him, opening the jacket to breathe.

"It's okay, little one, we'll be out soon." the man says with a strong southern accent.

Little one? No one has ever called you that-- not even your ex, you find yourself thinking about that jerk and how he had sleazily cheated on you with your best friend before you started college, you've had a hard time trusting men ever since. In fact, after him, relationships with men have always been one-night stands. You were in fact too burned.

"I like people like you who anticipate, everyone should be like that," the man comments again.

You take a long look at his face, he's a handsome man, "Thank you. I'm here to make a good impression and instead I'm going to be late and maybe the professor will even be mad at me because he'll probably say you have to use the stairs instead of the elevator before going to class." now you're talking off the cuff and before long the guy is likely to tell you to shut up because he doesn't care, but then again he does, why should he listen to you?

"I'm sure he'll understan'." he tells you, throwing you a long look from head to toe.

You had even dressed strangely well that morning, you had decided to wear a dark suit and loafers with a bit of a heel, anything to make a good impression. Instead, you now have this stranger's gaze devouring you.

You notice the glint in his eyes, the way he licks his lips, you are not stupid, you understand by now what goes on in men's heads. You know when someone wants you, and the man next to you is no exception.

"You wanna fuck me?" you ask him direct, approaching him lewdly.

The man approaches you, he's tall, he's broad, "Yes." he simply answers you by dropping his jacket at his feet and then bridging the distance between him and you.

He places his lips on yours slipping his tongue into your mouth, you immediately accept it returning the kiss letting a moan escape into his mouth, you place your hands on his chest feeling him mighty under your fingers as you feel his hands in your hair and push you not too gently against the elevator wall.

You are crushed between the wall and his body, but you don't complain about it. You delight in hearing the stranger almost growl into your mouth, as you feel him place his hands on your hips almost pushing you against him.

You take that gesture as an invitation to continue, you place your fingers on the edge of his pants, then with one hand caress his still-covered intimacy, and this time you hear clearly a growl coming from his throat.

He pulls his lips away from yours only to look into your eyes to read if there is any hesitancy in you, but you don’t stop, don’t desist, not now that your senses are completely enveloped by his strong presence. He then pounces on your neck, lapping it with kisses and gentle bites that send discharges of pure lust all along your body, while with his hands he pulls away the flaps of your jacket, opening it and sliding it down your shoulders.

"You're so soft, little girl," he tells you without stopping kissing your neck.

You slip your hand into his pants, feeling his growing erection against the palm of your hand, caressing it blissfully with that soft and hard feeling at the same time.

"Take 'em off." he orders you, and you obey, lowering both his pants and boxers together, freeing his massive erection.

"Fuck, you’re so big." you groan resuming stroking his intimacy.

He smiles as he unbuttons your shirt, "Hope you're ready, little girl," he tells you, sliding your shirt off as well before lapping at your neck, your collarbones of kisses alternating with licks and small bites.

"Can't wait for you to fill me," you tease him, abandoning his erection and running your hands through his curly hair and pressing his head against your chest.

He resumes kissing you, threading his hands through your hair as he rubs against you. When you started that day, you had no idea that you were going to have sex with a stranger, you usually have sex after at least some super alcohol, never sober.

He then runs his huge hands over your chest until he frees your breasts from the cups of your bra, "Fuck, you're perfect." he tells you before lapping one of your nipples between his lips and starting to suck it ravenously, while massaging the other one unceremoniously. You groan as you thread your hands through his hair, pushing his head against your chest and pulling a few strands of his hair as he licks a nipple.

You moan with your eyes closed and your head completely abandoned against the wall. You hear in the distance the elevator bell ringing, some voices saying it's still a half hour before you can get out; it's all muffled.

You feel him fumbling with the zipper of your skirt without leaving your chest, you help him as much as you can, totally lost under those precise touches that send discharges of pure lust throughout your body. He reserves the same care and lascivious caresses for your other breast as you press yourself against him, seeking further pleasure.

The skirt finally falls at your feet, you kick it off and then lower your underwear as well.

"Spread your legs, let me feel how aroused you are," the stranger says, turning his face away from your breasts and sliding one of his huge hands directly there, you are soaked. You groan when he unceremoniously slides two fingers inside you to the hilt, you drop your head against his shoulder as he rhythmically slides his fingers in and out. You see the stars behind your eyelids, it's beautiful.

"Come, little girl, I know you want it, come," he encourages you without stopping touching that magnificent spot inside you, you cling to him as you feel the orgasm sweep over you with great violence. He keeps stroking you until he feels you relax against him.

"You are so good." he tells you by bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking your nectar. Seeing that scene makes you aroused again, you bolt to the man's lips as he wraps you in his muscular arms making you feel so small in comparison, while you're stroking his erection again.

"I want to taste you," you tell him after a while, you are breathless but want to feel his huge erection on your tongue, you see him take a half step back giving you a chance to move and kneel in front of him. His erection towers in front of you and you find yourself moistening your lips, it's massive, you look at it through your eyelashes before tasting it with just the tip of your tongue in a quick bite. You see him close his eyes and breathe heavily through his nostrils, "You ready?" you ask, you see him nod and then you wrap it completely between your lips. You struggle to keep it all in your mouth, in fact you must help yourself with your hand in pumping his erection. His hands are in your hair, urging you to do more. It's wonderful to hear him moan and growl when you do something particularly good for him, you see him with his eyes closed and abandoned against the cockpit wall. His face is tense, and judging by the way he's gripping your hair, you're sure he's close.

"I want to come in your mouth," he moans.

"Come on, then." you encourage him, pushing his arousal away just enough so you can talk before resuming sucking and pumping until you feel streams of his hot seed in your mouth. Fuck, that's wonderful. You lick every drop of that nectar moaning yourself and hearing him moan discomposedly.

You look at him, "How d' you want me?" you ask without looking away from his eyes.

"On your knees, from behind," he replies, and fuck, that's your favorite position. You give him your back by getting on all fours, "I'm clean, but I have no condoms," he warns you.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean too," you reassure him, "I want you to come inside me," you add looking over your shoulder, you see him pump his erection a couple of times, then finally he lines it up against your intimacy and pushes against you, his erection slowly enters you almost giving you the sensation of opening you in two, it's so good, you feel him touching points inside you never reached until that moment.

Moaning abandoning your head forward breathlessly, you feel his hands at the height of your hips to hold you still, then you feel him rotate his hips a couple of times sending discharges of pure lust into you, and then you feel him moving back and forth, you don't know how much you'll be able to hold on, you've never been so overstimulated as you are at this moment. You feel his balls cackle against your buttocks with increasing force, a sign that he must be close too, as one of his hands descends between your legs, seeking your clit. His finger makes quick, precise, circular movements on that little bundle of nerves making you gasp and see stars. Your moans become more and more choked until you feel again clearly warm liquid of his seed inside you and then only your short breaths to fill the cockpit.

He comes out from inside you pulling away, you sit first and then stand. It was the best fucking you have had in your entire life. You dress in silence, saying nothing to each other. Now reality is back to what it was before, you always late to your first sociolinguistics class and the stranger-- you don't know where he's headed, but you don't care.

Someone tells you that a few minutes and the elevator will start up again.

"Hope to see you again," he says, "Maybe on campus."

"In the elevator, maybe, for a second round," you propose with a lascivious smile buttoning your jacket and hearing the man smile.

"Or maybe in the room at my place," he proposes.

Yes, why not.

The cockpit with a little jolt starts up again, you hope to arrive at least by the end of class, you think as you look at your watch. You look for a moment longer at the man whose name you didn't even ask, nor he yours, then the doors open and you both exit to the fourth floor.

"'m going this way," he says, you nod.

"I'm going that way, I have class. Hope my professor'll understand."

"He'll understand, you'll see," he reassures you.

You exchange one more glance and then he leaves, you see him run a hand through his hair, and then you turn your back on him and walk toward the classroom. This one is already full, but of the mysterious Dr. Miller no sign. The students all look terrified; you, on the other hand, feel relaxed and think that after the incredible morning you've had, nothing can shock you. You open your bag, pick up your book, notebook and pen ready to take notes, when the unbelievable happens: the stranger, the man you just fucked and fucked you, appears in the classroom, you widen your eyes upon seeing him and your mouth almost reaches the floor when you see him reach the desk, roll up his shirt sleeves and turn his gaze toward the class.

"Mornin', I'm Dr. Miller. Your sociolinguistics teacher." he says introducing himself and looking at you students, then his gaze falls on you "I'll be here for the entire second semester, my office door is always open."

Shit, you're screwed.

[daytaker]

Hi! I'd Like to request something for obey me. So MC is an Artist Like Semi realistic or so and then they draw the brothers and themself all together Like some Kind of Family Photo for maybe a sweet gesture to appriciat them, what would the reaction be?

First of all, that's adorable. Second of all, yes, absolutely.

Everyone

The immediate question on everyone's mind is where it should be put. The suggestions are fairly predictable. Beel wants it in the kitchen. Satan wants it in the library. Belphie wants it in the observatory. Asmo thinks it should go in his bathroom, and he acts amazed when his brothers disagree.

You'll probably be the one to suggest making some copies of it if they like it so much. That way they can all have one. The brothers all like this idea, so you head off to the Devildom equivalent of a FedEx store and make some quick copies for everybody.

Eventually, the original work will find pride of place above the fireplace, where everyone will get plenty of time to admire it, including guests. The brothers are all very proud to explain to them that they have a very close friend who's an artist, thank you, and they made that piece of artwork up there for them, for free, because they love them all so much. What do you mean it's too small for that big of a space? Clearly you don't understand art, they'll tell the guest. Satan smirks; Levi rolls his eyes; Asmo whispers something to Mammon and they both start snickering. Real mean girl energy.

Lucifer

It's proved to be more or less impossible to get a photograph with himself and all six of his brothers, so this is an immediate hit with him. Plus, you're in it, which makes it even more valuable. He wonders why he didn't commission a painted family portrait earlier. It just hadn't crossed his mind, he supposes.

He'll buy a very nice and expensive frame for the picture and have it professionally mounted on a backboard. Only a museum quality display will do.

He enjoys looking at the artwork now and then and mentally noting all the details he likes. You captured Mammon's smug smile perfectly, and somehow Levi looks happy, but still like himself. Of course, his favorite part of the picture (along with you, of course) is himself. He thinks he looks very dignified, and he appreciates that you placed him in the center; the true patriarch of the family. Besides that (though he wouldn't bring it up unprompted), he thinks you made him look very handsome, and he likes the idea that you see him that way.

Mammon

You put him next to you?! I mean, of course you did! He's your number one demon, right? Obviously he belongs right next to you! He'll point out his positioning in the picture to his brothers often enough that they've gotten past feeling annoyed about it and just tease him for simping so openly.

He thinks it looks a little bit like you're smiling at him in the picture. You're not. You're staring into the 'camera', just like everyone else. But he tells himself that. He has another copy of the picture made where he cropped out everyone besides the two of you. He keeps it in his sock drawer so he can pull it out when he's by himself and admire it. Lucifer has walked in on him lying on his back and holding it up, staring wistfully at the picture, often enough that he can tell by how quiet it is when Mammon is either sleeping or staring at that goddamn picture of his again.

Speaking of extra copies, he also made some more to try and sell at RAD, but, shockingly, cheap copies of a picture of someone else's family didn't sell well. Diavolo bought one though, as did Simeon. Yeah, maybe it wasn't exactly ethical to try and capitalize on your artwork, but, well, come on, he's in it, and you gave it to him, so that kind of makes him the owner of it, right...?

Leviathan

He's pretty sure he's not breathing right now. That's... That's how he looks? To you? He looks....amazing....!! Look at his smile! His jawline! His glossy hair! His cheeks, touched with color---!!! You must think he's... like....... Ugh, it's stupid, like, who even cares? Nobody, that's who. Nobody except him. He cares. And he wishes his stomach would settle down a little bit before lunch explodes onto the rug. So he'll just take his copy of the painting, clutch it to his chest, and giggle to himself as he slinks off to his room while everyone else stands admiring the painting on the mantlepiece.

Now, to really study this thing. He lies in his bathtub and squints at the painting. He realizes, to his dismay, that all his brothers look extra hot in this thing too. Hrmm... But, whatever! The important part is that he looks amazing! His eyes are shining, his skin looks healthy and smooth, and.... well.... he doesn't look like somebody it'd be weird for you to be into, maybe. Maybe? Possibly.

He's pretty shy around you for a few days after you give them all the picture. He's not really sure how he's supposed to react around someone who thinks he's... h....ha-ha....handsome...???? And not just that, but the look on his face! Does he make faces like that in real life? Does he make faces like that in front of you?

He spends a good chunk of time in front of the mirror trying to imitate the look from the painting, but he can't quite get it right. He always ends up crumbling into a pathetic, groaning, blushing little creep and fleeing the bathroom. He hates himself. But he can cheer himself up with the knowledge that you definitely don't hate him, right? How could you draw someone you hated looking like... like....?!?

Satan

Knowing Satan is someone who admires art in general, you were most nervous about him seeing it. He has a tendency to be fairly blunt and honest, and you really hoped he'd just appreciate the thought behind the picture without subjecting it to any kind of critical analysis.

But of course he did it anyway. He'd expressed his appreciation just like his brothers had when you first gave it to them, but you'd often see him standing in front of the fireplace staring up at the picture with a hand to his chin after that.

Satan's initial thought, after the excitement over the gift and how cute and nervous you looked giving it to them all, is that the composition of the piece, while not particularly original, has definite visual appeal. While he doesn't particularly enjoy Lucifer's position in the middle, he understands why you put him there, both artistically and psychologically. Lucifer dominates almost any group he's in with his annoyingly hefty self-confidence. His ego is smeared all over the picture, but that's not your fault. That's just Lucifer, being awful and ruining things, like he always does.

When he finally gives some attention to how he looks in the painting, he's pleasantly surprised. He looks refreshingly like himself, but also like he's meant to be there, with everybody else. He can also tell you spent some time on his eyes. They look lovely. If you ever want to paint them again, he'd be happy to model for you. What, shy all of a sudden?

Asmodeus

Well, obviously he's the real star of the artwork. It's as if he's glowing, washing out his brothers with his effervescent presence on the canvas! Clearly, you know your art. Never mind he's the only one who seems to quite see the picture in that way.

He has his copy of the painting framed and hung up in his bathroom, where he thought the original should have been put all along. Now he never feels like he's alone in the tub! Every once in a while, he'll talk to the artwork while he takes a bath. Just to amuse himself. But when you go back to the human world, 'every once in a while' becomes 'almost every day'.

He has a theory that if someone stares into the eyes of Painting Asmo too deeply for too long, they'll fall in love with him. The painting version of him, that is. He knows that's silly, so he keeps it to himself, but he can't stop himself from imagining you mesmerized by your own painting of him, bewitched by the very eyes you painted...

Beel

Honestly, Beel is just happy you made a picture including him, his brothers, and you. You put him right beside Belphie with an arm slung around his shoulders. He's smiling more in the picture than he normally does in real life, but that doesn't bother him at all. He wants to look happy in this kind of painting.

He taped his copy of the picture to the refrigerator door. Everyone appreciates this, not just Beel, though he definitely sees it the most often. After you go home, he says good morning to you every day when he first heads to the fridge. It's a nice way to feel like you're still around.

Belphie

Wow... He looks adorable here. And you didn't include him drooling like his brothers always do when they draw him. Though it really isn't fair to compare this to the "drawings" his brothers have made to make fun of each other. Idiots...

You put him right next to Beel. That makes him smile. And he looks...like he's happy to be there. Maybe not grinning like a doofus, but like this is his family, and he's pretty okay with it.

He keeps his copy of the picture taped to his bedpost so he can look at it whenever he feels lonely, especially after your year in the Devildom comes to an end.

[fiendishfables]

Camillo Carmine x Reader

General Headcanons (SFW + NSFW)

warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, mentions of biting, cursing

words: 1.4k+

a/n: this was a highly requested work, so enjoy and have fun with the little bonus at the end! This is not really an x reader, but it could be read as such, so oh well. Let me know your thoughts on Camillo's character, and/or if you'd like to see more of him in the near future &lt;3

SFW

✧˚ · . Camillo is basically like a big cat

✧˚ · . Tall motherfucker, standing at approximately 8,2

✧˚ · . The guy is very calm, silent, and sneaky all at once. If anything, he would make an excellent spy and has been offered positions before in that line of work

✧˚ · . Very independent; wont work for anybody but himself and is beyond stubborn

✧˚ · . He is a hardass, but underneath his tough, strong front, is an individual who is a giant kid at heart, who is so deeply loyal and giving that it hurts, and who takes all relationships he makes very seriously, as in he would gladly put his life on the line for someone he cares about; questioning his loyalty is the worst you can do

✧˚ · . Favorite colors consist of greys and purples of any shade; it always struck him as having more of an elegant, dancer sort of vibe, and the display of the colors usually help him to relax in times of distress. His whole bedroom is centered around that color palette and it hasn't been changed since he and Camilla have inherited the mansion

✧˚ · . On the subject of Camilla, he likes to annoy her. His real personality can start to be seen the more time he spends around his sister; they behave just like any normal pair of siblings would. The two have had a love hate relationship growing up and it still is that way, even if just a bit more watered down now. The two like to joke and hang around together every now and again when they aren't off busy with their own lives

✧˚ · . What a Carmine lacks in affection, they make up for in loyalty

✧˚ · . If you wanna talk about dancers, he is one. He loves dancing in his spare time and even uses the Carmine manor as a spot to host dancing lessons amongst sinners willing/wanting to learn

✧˚ · . His silvery pointed dancing shoes are like his literal children, and he always goes into a slight panic whenever he can't find them. They provide him with that sense of security, as dancing is a huge part of his life and he could never stand to be without it; they were also a gift from his mother

✧˚ · . Never likes to ask anyone for anything, especially not help. He likes to cover up his needs with smart-ass comments and handsome smirks that most can't stay mad at for too long

✧˚ · . Has been told he has a very punchable face

✧˚ · . His fangs make for a great, sarcastic smile; his face either consists of a frown or that signature smirk. He uses his fangs for a lot of things, including biting people when they get on his nerves

✧˚ · . Can totally play the piano; claims its a very calming and dignified instrument. He doesn't play it often but when he does, its a gift to anyone around to hear

✧˚ · . On the asexuality spectrum, identifying as demisexual and biromantic. It takes him a little longer than the average sinner to develop feelings for someone, let alone sexual feelings

✧˚ · . As stated before, his relationships are one of the most important things in his life and he handles them with great seriousness

✧˚ · . The epitome of that one secretive, mysterious, tall and mysterious stranger everyone wants to be friends with, but are too afraid to approach directly to ask

NSFW

✧˚ · . It's very difficult to get anything verbal out of this man when he's in the process of being intimate with someone, even if they're his s/o

✧˚ · . The most you can expect is some pleasured grunts, maybe some low groans if you're lucky

✧˚ · . It's not that he isn't enjoying whatever is being brought upon him, he is just one to closely guard his feelings and never really express them too vividly; yes that ends up following him into his sex life

✧˚ · . 9 times out of 10 he prefers to give pleasure rather than receive it

✧˚ · . Loves to degrade and use pet names with his partner; sweetheart, doll, slut, and whore tending to be some of his personal favorites to use

✧˚ · . Big on consent. If you are ever not comfortable with anything he proposes or is in the middle of doing to you, then he will stop instantly and get you anything you need. He may seem like an asshat sometimes, but he is a decent person (if that comes as such a shock)

✧˚ · . Into some form of pet play/leashes, no negotiation

✧˚ · . He always likes to be in control and rarely ever is the submissive one during intimacy.

✧˚ · . Will speak Spanish in bed, usually doing so in order to fluster his partner; it often gets him a positive response

✧˚ · . Being blindfolded is a big kink of his. As a dancer, he is used to having to be accustomed to other senses, so when they are heightened after his sight is temporarily taken from him, he will have a ball of a time

✧˚ · . One of his top favorite things is watching his partner ride him. Just the sight of his cock being sheathed inside your body over and over again as he watches you get off on his lap all on your own

✧˚ · . Dirty dancing is something he is much too fond of. The act of getting all worked up from dancing with one another, teasing each other all the while, then getting to fuck his partner into the ground, whispering praises to them about how well they danced with/for him; he is all too eager to teach you more of what he knows about the dancing world

✧˚ · . The little shit is one of the biggest teases you will ever meet. He honestly has a sex drive that's more so on the lower side and does not need sex as often as most sinners seem to

✧˚ · . But, be prepared when he does have the energy to pleasure you, for he is astounding at it.

✧˚ · . Kissing, biting, steamy makeout sessions, eating you out, fucking you raw; he can do it all and excel in the process

✧˚ · . His fangs usually come into play a lot during sex; a huge fan of biting and leaving marks on his partner to let others know that they have already been claimed

✧˚ · . Camillo is one of those demons you'd be lucky to have sex with. It's not even an egotistical thing, he's just not very sex-coded when it comes to relationships or really anything in general. He believes in a true connection with someone first before engaging in any sorts of those activities, hence his sexuality

✧˚ · . Sex with Camillo is always very serious and passionate. He never allows himself to be as vulnerable as he would be right now, so better to cherish it whilst it lasts

✧˚ · . It's almost like he picks one mate for life, then he's done looking, like some species do

✧˚ · . Thinking of it, when he really gets into action and the rare times he wants to have sex, he fucks like a wild animal. He does have his vanilla, gentle side where he will care for you nothing short of a husband, but if he has the chance or some pent up anger to release, you better prepare to go for multiple rounds of very rough sex

✧˚ · . To top things off, he does have a praise kink. It may be hard to pick up on at first, but if you praise him, let him know how good he's making you feel, he's a mess (at least internally). Nothing really gets him going more than knowing he is fulfilling his job as a partner; making you feel good in every aspect that he can. It gives him purpose and that's really all he needs when he's with his s/o

BONUS~

✧˚ · . One of Camillo's wildest fantasies is to have his lover cockwarming him whilst he plays a song for them on his piano. He can imagine struggling to not fumble over the keys, not let his fingers slip, as he feels you clench around him, biting his lip or your shoulder hard enough to draw blood in order to stifle any noises that may find their way past his lips. That vulnerability is something he knowingly holds sacred; you could potentially be the one to coax it out of him.