#you devil

[critter-of-habit]

More of my ♀️ Avengers 'What If...?'/AU because someone reminded me Hawkeye and Black Widow have that fight 👀

[indouloureux]

hey augie i'm in a mood tonight.

that mood is cockwarming with steve after he fucks you so ALL his cum stays in you,,, (bc that motherfucker has the biggest breeding kink known to man so he would go absolutely feral over the notion,,,)

and he just spoons you all night and the comfort of feeling so full lulls you to sleep while he keeps one arm firmly on your waist to keep you from wriggling around too much in your sleep bc its already a struggle for him not to fill you with even more of his cum just being inside of you

(idk what came over me sorry<3)

-jorj👻

jooooOOOOOOOOOOOORJJJJJUH WHY WOULD U DO THIS TO ME YOU-YOU-YOU WHORE I-

okay okay so like

as the haze of your climax lulls you back to the ground after steve has fucked you to cloud nine, you blink slowly. ever so slowly, your eyelashes grazing the sweaty skin of your plump cheeks until you muster up all your energy to snap your eyes wide open.

steve, the bush on his chest sticky with sweat and his hair all disheveled with your blissful pulling, hovers over you with his forearms on either side of your head. his large hands caress your cheeks, thumbs wiping the tears off the corner of your eyes and he smiles pulpy at you.

you feel his cock soften inside your gummy, sensitive walls. you feel something drip down to your joint thighs to the sheets, making your skin sticky. your tired hands reach up to cup his neck, your thumbs running along his flushed jawline.

and and and and— "gonna keep my cock in you, honey. gon' have to keep my cum inside you until tomorrow. make sure you're full of me."

"mm, but we're all sticky, stevie."

but he rolls you over to your side and you let him, ignoring how sticky you both are and just wrap his arms around you with his legs tangled with yours and his dick deep inside. you just know your insides are painted white than a deep fleshy pink, subconsciously clenching around his cock that make the both of you moan.

you're definitely gonna be pregnant tomorrow but it's 🥰steve🥰

[slutfortheeclaymore]

ANDREW!!! Cheeky bugger! 😛😂😭🫠

[patchodraws]

mike flanagan you can’t keep getting away with thissss 😭😭😭

[bitchlessdino]

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE CHAN WHORE💃🏻🫶🏼❤️💦🥳🥂🍾

YOU HEATHEN SGHDHFHFJFHDHBDJD

I HAVE SOME CHOICE WORDS FOR YOU but I’ll leave it at I love you AND THAT YHERES A SPECIAL PLACE IN THE UNDERWORLD FOR DEMONS LIKE YOU

[distantpagesandpapercuts]

"What if they kissed?" :)

By no mere accident, Kira had once again found herself on the receiving end of The Relentless Stare. Dead lights. They were like Dead Lights.

And as she walked through Goodneighbor, he followed. Even into the Third Rail, he followed. Kira hardly took notice as they’d been talking. Well, he was asking her questions and she was doing most of the talking. It never occurred to her that it was purposefully so. That Gabban was a very good listener.

It was after her work day, the clinic was closed and she felt like a drink. Something to perhaps stave off the Med-X craving that never went away. Sipping on said drink now, he’d asked her something. Something a bit personal, something that easily slipped from her mouth with the help of liquor.

“I wish I felt something. Anything besides existential loneliness. I’ve- I’ve never really had anyone ask me about… well. Me.” There’s something terrible about it. The way her lip trembles and her eyes sort of vacate. At least back home there was a sense of belonging. A sense of being known. Here? What did she have? Besides the toil? It truly devastated her. Broke her heart to look at him watching her. Embarrassed to have said anything like that in front of a stranger. He looks at her, perhaps with sympathy. Though she had a tendency to confuse it with pity.

When he did finally speak, he gave admission to feeling similarly at some points. Loneliness.

Kira can’t tell if he’s humoring her.

But that was besides the point now. He’d asked about her, genuinely. Without it being small talk. Gabban saw her.

She presses a small kiss to his cheek, leaving an imprint of lipstick on his face. “Thank you.”

It was all she could manage before taking leave of her seat, intending to leave him behind.

@meadowlarksabove

[onebadnoodle]

★ DEVIL & ANGEL FOOD CAKE ☆

[gamemakerm]

why is @were--ralph tagged on every werewolf post. How do you get a notorious reputation for being a werewolf fucker on the werewolf fucker website

[shhhhimwatchingthis]

You want to know why Inigo Montoya remains such an iconic and beloved character even 35 years after the Princess Bride came out?

It's because he's one of the few characters in fiction who has a story where he has dedicated his life to revenge, his whole motivation is about getting revenge....and he gets it! and then he isn't empty or despairing! he doesn't regret it! he's totally satisfied!

because so many stories about revenge or rage are about characters "seeing the futility of their actions" or learning "their desire for revenge has only made them the monsters they hated" FUCK THAT.

Inigo Montoya kills the man who kills his father, is allowed to live in the narrative after and be happy about it and it is so satisfying. it's fantastic. it's iconic.

let more characters rage against the world, bring it down with bloodied hands, and let them be FUCKING RIGHT about it. Let them celebrate their success with sharp grins, and let them live happy, full lives where they always remain proud/fulfilled for what they've done

[lynxgriffin]

A Deal With The Devil

So lately I’ve been thinking that maybe this is how it all went down on Kris’s end!

Happy Halloween and Happy Anniversary, Deltarune! 

EDIT: There’s also a short follow-up comic: Some Self Reflection

[devourable]

yandere church boy x gn bottom reader smut ;; semi public/risky, sacrilege, religious imagery mentions (takes place in a church broom closet during service), unintentional edging

it was a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught yet. how many times have you ended up like this just this week alone?

despite abraham's attempts to keep you quiet, clasping his hands around your mouth and keeping his own whiny moans just soft enough that only you could hear them, he just couldn't keep himself from ramming into you. every thrust was so hard that it rattled the door you were pressed up against — anyone in the hall outside of the closet would easily figure out what was going on inside.

"you feel so good," abe whimpered in your ear, "s-so soft— oh, god..."

your breath hitched when he pulled you backwards and thrusted into you harder. thank god the sound of the choir picked up just then — abe's hands could do little to muffle your cries. he was way too deep, it felt like he was in your stomach at this angle! but your pushing at his hips did nothing to stop him from fucking into you even harder.

so many people, so nearby, just a few meters down the hall. the thought of getting caught fluttered through your mind. what would they think of of you, getting fucked by the pastor's boy when *** was surely watching?

abe's incoherent whimpering interrupted your thoughts. he was trying to say something to you, and though the words were unclear, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

so you expected it when his thrusts came to a disappointing stop, his hands slipping from your mouth to grasp and plant your hips against his own. you felt his cock twitching in you, just as desperate for release as you were, despite abe's unwillingness to let himself have it.

you let out a whine of protest as he stammered out his apologies, planting messy kisses along your neck and shoulder. you knew he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied, but... how many times would he do this before you actually got to cum?

luckily, you didn't have time to wonder. within moments of stopping, abe was pulling you back against him and moving his hips again, the feeling of him fucking you again while you were already so sensitive driving thought from your mind.

[sweetfirebird]

I just read something about some fanfic readers on TikTok, mostly younger ones, are against AO3 because it doesn't recommend fic to them. As in, it doesn't track them and auto-feed them content using an algorithm.

I am sure it's not every younger fanfiction-reading nerd. But....

The generational divide between old internet and new internet users is so stark sometimes. Like. That younger people don't remember the individual fanfiction websites days... okay. I get that. Some of them weren't even born and time is time and it moves on. It's fine.

But to grow up with an internet where you do not get a choice, or not much of a choice, except to be fed content? Oh wow that's a yikes I've never thought about before.

Yeah, there's some filter capabilities but companies override that all the time with subtle little changes. Youtube recommends stuff constantly (often conservative videos even to me who has no history of watching or liking that shit). Twitter and Facebook got rid of chronological posts and even when you try to get rid of suggested posts, they come back. Instagram is basically all ads now. And then TikTok literally doesn't even ask you to search (and as I recall, their search function sucks), and you can like videos to change what you see *a little* but ultimately the algorithm will lead you wherever it wants.

That's so sad to grow up with that. Choice and searching and relying on your judgment and the recommendations of people you like... those are good things.

I am not like "oh those youths!" here. I am "fuck these corporations!" here. Look at this shit. It's not a rec list from someone you like and trust--it's what corporate has decided you should like. And a lot of these kids have not known anything else. That's scary and infuriating.

[heartscrypt]

disney japan let me on your design team i promise i can be so normal

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Yandere! Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[talesfromthecrypts]

No one is good or bad, but if you want, I'm the bad one.

Possession (1981) dir. Andrzej Żuławski