thedcvilherself

[thedcvilherself]

AYO EDEBIRI Photographed by Luca Guadagnino for W’s Directors Issue (Feb 13, 2025)

[thedcvilherself]

every day I spend all my time at work excited to get home and finally knock out my drafts and every day I get home and stare at my laptop and manage nothing beyond a few sentences. please, brain, make it make sense. 😭

[thedcvilherself]

her voice, her touch — they're gentle, almost dreamlike, an entity that's beckoning him from a dark abyss and into her tranquil light. there's a good reason prakash wasn't actively employed by anyone other than himself, a reason why he had to sell his pieces rather than being on a payroll that guided him onto his next story. he was too obsessive, too involved, too reckless; willing to do whatever it took to get to the answers he was seeking. it'd gotten him hurt before and it's clear now, trapped beneath the warmth of his current leading lady, that he hadn't learned any lessons. "please..." a near inaudible whisper, begging the gods to drown out her words, to pull him back out of her magnetic orbit. but it's like she's peering into his soul and giving him the very thing he didn't even know he needed. those fingers take claim of his dark locks, draw a trembling exhale from his lungs, force widened pupils onto her face. "mommy." it leaves him on a quick exhale as she shifts in closer; as she reminds him of her power, of her womanliness. prakash's own body has gone rigid, frozen, either in fear of her or himself. he's unable to move, to look away, lost in those endless chocolate orbs of hers as- "m-mommy..." he utters it again, unprompted — like a plea.

the way he seemed to shrink in on himself in an instant was sweet, endearing, even, but such bashfulness would have to be trained out of him if he was ever to be worthy of her continued attention. there was nothing for him to be ashamed of, anyway— even the parts of himself he felt the need to conceal, those that he thought painted him in an unfavorable light were worth embracing, and lux was determined to help him do so. "aww..." she cooed, lips turning down in an exaggerate pout as she released his throat, only to bring her hand around and begin softly petting his loose curls. "where do you think you're going, you little baby? we're not done here..." though her voice remained soft and comforting, her grip on his hair tightened, yanking on the locks at the back of his head to force his head back as she gazed down at him, shifting on his lap so their hips were pressed flush together. "say it again. now."

[thedcvilherself]

"competition?" well, now she's just offended. "be so for real, river. do you think i have competition?" as if. parisa was a good damn blessing onto every place and life she entered — and here he was, foolishly squandering what little interest she had in him. did she actually desire commitment? no. what a disgusting thought. the last thing parisa would ever do is give the entirety of herself to anyone, let alone a musician. that didn't mean he was supposed to be willingly spending his time with someone else. "i don't understand how you're trying to pin this on me right now. i flew out here," for free. courtesy of daddy's jet. "to surprise you and you're too busy spending your evening fucking whatever fresh out of puberty, floozy fan of yours wore a skimpy enough outfit and battered her fuck-me lashes, to even give me the time of day." she finally rises, practically stomping across the room to fling open the wardrobe doors, gathering an armful of clothes and tossing them onto the sheets in a dramatic show that said she was going to depart — but not before a wicked smile shifts her pouty features, that gaze seeming to finally properly lock onto him. "do you think she'll cry when she hears the news? that it's my womb growing a little baby river and not hers?"

"yes! are you trying to ruin my image so you won't have any competition?" like it or not, having a baby on the way wouldn't stop him from having random girls blowing up his dms— hell, it might even make him seem more desirable to some women. her attempt to tank his chances with any other woman may not have been successful, but it did succeed in drawing his attention, both in a positive and negative way. it was irritating, no doubt, and more than a little unhinged, but there was something about her need to claim him somehow that river couldn't help but find attractive, in its own weird way. "bored? you were bored?" he repeated, both his tone and his expression incredulous. "you've gotta be fucking with me... this is what you do when you're bored? you've never heard of watching a movie? reading a book?"

[thedcvilherself]

[thedcvilherself]

ELLIE BAMBER as ELORA DANAN WILLOW (2022-) || 1x08 "Children of the Wyrm"

[thedcvilherself]

ELLIE  BAMBER . via  instagram .

[thedcvilherself]

anyone with sense would know what she is; that carefully perfected hair and makeup, those pastel heels clicking against the cement with each confident step, the woolen trench coat drawn shut in order to conceal an outfit reserved for her companion's eyes. it's not hard to see. no sensible, beautiful, young girl would be walking alone at this time of night — especially in a neighborhood such as this. but fear doesn't seem to reside within odette, an awareness in the back of her mind that she might just be the safest being person out here. she was someone favored, treasured, not to be touched — unless one had first acquired her services. her company seems harder yet to miss, even as human as he appears; tall, broad, handsome. he's imposing in stature even if not in personality. her blue orbs examine as he straightens his posture, attempts to gather himself, appearing almost perplexed by her arrival. "i did." a voice gentle as the smile that eases it's way onto her face, the femme slowing to a stop before him, reaffirming that this (that she) was real rather than disregarding his apprehension as silly. "i know others have scared-" be it from him, his kind, or this type of work as a whole. "but i assure you i'm not frightened so easily." surely it said something about odette; her insatiable curiosity and fascination with these inhuman beings, with their lives and desires and capabilities. she tended not to linger much on that. "i would love to, tyrnus." without hesitation, she turns, extends her arm in encouragement for him to loop his own through it, to lead the way. "shall we? it is quite nippy out here in the open."

open to: f. muse: tyrnus. monster. a.lan r.itchson fc. plot: based on this post. it's up to you how experienced/inexperienced she is. also, if you're not comfortable with her being a s*x worker, it can be someone he's been talking to on a f*tish website for h.umans x m.onsters, and they've both decided to meet up and maybe finally indulge in some fantasies... do not like this starter.

a sketchy street was hardly a cause for concern for someone of his size but it didn't stop tyrnus' bronze-tinged eyes darting to the corner every time he heard approaching footsteps. after the first handful of side-eyeing strangers passed, he considered heading home, not wanting to be caught dead lingering in a human district by a peer that might recognize him. in this specific place, at this very hour, everybody would know there was only one thing someone of his kind would be lurking around for. but too pent up to give up, desperate for some release after slaving away at his office job for weeks, male's feet remained planted in place. ❝ you came. ❞ male visibly perked up to the sight of his target walking up, eager stare washing over her form but mind cast in a stupor that this was actually going to happen. everything that tyrnus fantasized about in the privacy of his own home, all the disgusting thoughts that he kept under strict lock and key, could very well be made a reality tonight. ❝ i thought you might— ❞ cleared his throat, shaking his head to dismiss the accusation now that it was no longer relevant, ❝ i did what you said and got us a room nearby. that's if you still want to...? ❞

[thedcvilherself]

she'd anticipated the story she'd overheard to be false, or perhaps merely hoped it to be so; that the man who'd torn choice and any sliver of normality from her life was living a humble existence. a life where he cared for and guided lost, parched souls. it wasn't that she was under any delusion that their paths would never cross again in the eternity that life he had chosen for them — only that he would be the same. gethin had long ago proven he wasn't someone interested in changing for the better, that he wasn't a man revered by the lips that spoke of him. though, how kind; that he had granted her a morsel of satisfaction in the expression that transformed his face when that front door had opened, a look that said she wasn't the only one that hadn't anticipated their little reunion. she's already begun traveling away from him by the time he speaks — and maybe that's a good thing. maybe it's for both of their best interests that he can't see the way her features twist with wry amusement at his hospitality. at this sudden, steady control that she'd never seen within him. "family?" and at times such as this, even dalia wishes she had better control, but she doesn't. was never taught. a girl already acidic before her life had been turned on it's head with no guidance on how to process the damage done. it's no surprise that a scoff escapes her lips as trails closer to the open flames, wondering what purpose they serve in a home full of undead beings. "no, no, you're right, gethin. it would be just awful of me, wouldn't it?" only then does she stop, casting those practically black orbs back in his direction. "disrupting your life."

open to: f. muse: gethin. vampire. o.scar i.saac fc. plot: based on this very long and rambling post of mine. connection: the first vampire he sired. they could have had a strictly platonic relationship, or they could have had a romantic one where he was toxic and manipulative, hence your muse's sense of anger and/or hurt. i am also open to them having had a connection when they were humans, so feel free to make it t.boo or anything else. do not like this starter.

after all that time, there she stood. no different to the day he turned her and the very same as the day she finally walked away from him. even though it had been near a century since they parted ways, it did not matter to gethin. all he knew was that every day since he had turned a new leaf and approached life anew, he thought of her often and fondly. never had a mistake haunted him more, not just because he so easily stole away her breath and only offered her thirst in exchange, but because her infant years of immortality had been unstable in his care. it was no wonder she had left, but it was a surprise she had returned. ❝ you're welcome to stay. ❞ the fireplace crackled as he stepped further into the main room of the manor, shutting the door behind him as a sign to the other residents that this conversation was private. dark eyes, warm and worried, fall upon the other, a pained smile tugging at his lips. ❝ there's a spare bedroom that you can have as long as you want, no questions asked. ❞ except one but it doesn't leave his mouth. ❝ all i request is that you don't bring any trouble to our door. my family — ❞ teeth grit as gethin quickly realised his mistake, sighing deeply before starting again, ❝ this community has worked hard to live a quiet and fruitful life here together. i don't want that disrupted. ❞

[thedcvilherself]

she was never supposed to save him. relieving pain and sickness from those who needed it most? yes. but to play god? to take so much of that suffering in order to bring him back from the brink of death? no. it was dangerous. it was beyond what she was meant to do. yet, as she'd sat there, watching as he faded away on that hospital bed, she hadn't been able to stop herself. oakley had placed her hands upon his skin and took and took and took, until she felt indisposed in a way she'd never experienced before. now? now everything felt — off. she couldn't define it, couldn't shake it as she before had so easily done, couldn't even locate the source of the suffering. yet the entire house felt like a boiling pot threatening to blow. she glances over her shoulder in confusion, unaware of how lost she'd been in her own head til he spoke. she notes his words, notes they're wrong, but is too clouded by the energy that she can't focus on such a simple mistake now. soft features crinkle as he reaches for his head, for the wound that should have never healed, for the pain she'd desperately tried to save him from. it has her focus pinpointed, so much so that she neglects to acknowledge the hunger in his eyes, the telling mistake he'd made mere seconds before. instead, delicate fingers repeating his actions, lifting to trail over his forehead, to see if she could help. "are you okay?"

open to: f. muse: jackson gray. possessed human. a.rchie r.enaux fc. plot: based on the trope of 'came back wrong'. maybe jackson got into a traumatic accident and momentarily died but somehow was brought back by medics. maybe your muse was the one who k*lled him and decided to bring him back (p.ractical m.agic style). or maybe he never died at all but was away on a job and whatever he found out there didn't want to let him go. regardless of the reason, something is wearing his skin and playing house with your muse. connection: lover, wife, sister, ex, best friend, and anything else that works. t*boo or platonic connections welcome. your muse can be a human, witch, whatever. do not like this starter.

the stirring scent of perfume permeated this place they called home, clawing at the edges of a fragmented memory but failing to offer a credible answer to the familiarity coursing through him. deciding to follow his nose to her bedroom, jackson rested stocky figure against the door frame, impossibly dark gaze fixed on the one pottering around in the silkiest slip of a dress. ❝ you're wearing my favourite. ❞ wrong. the error of his words struck him as soon as they were voiced aloud, and judging by the dubiety that flashed there upon her features, she had caught it too. ❝ second favourite. ❞ with an intentionally weighted exhale, his weak touch rose to trace down along the still healing wound that meandered across his forehead. ❝ sorry, i... i think my head's still a little f*cked up. ❞ false grimace before he shifted to stand tall, closing the gap between them as eager eyes etched over her form. ❝ are you wearing that for me? ❞

[thedcvilherself]

they'd never been blessed, far from it, but fortunate. her mother had gotten pregnant too young, abandoned both by a man full of false promises and a family who scorned her decision. she'd always done her best, fought for the best future for them both. they'd struggled, yes — but they'd always had each other. now her mother was happy — blissfully so. she was a woman in love, finally ridden of financial burdens, in a house she could comfortably call home, at ease and filled with a joy tallulah hadn't before seen. it was beautiful. it was why she'd kept her mouth shut — why she'd continue to do so. not just about the fox of the past, but of the present. she'd silently taken his abuse throughout school and here she was, taking it again. those pretty features crinkle, a humph of dissatisfaction muffled by his manhood when he smacks her rounded cheeks. it was never enough to just reach his climax. no, he gets off on this; on demeaning and shaming her, on reminding her that he was and always would be above her. she'd thought he'd grow bored of it, but it seemed he was only getting more outlandish, more emboldened. his 'evening' blowjobs had became more than just a nightly ritual, the clothes she was allowed to wear in his presence becoming less and less, the toy he'd shoved inside her that morning a ceaseless reminder of her position with him and now? now the threat to actually fuck her ass? if he was anyone else, tallulah might doubt the words, but fox? fox was not to be skepticized.

she can only imagine how she looks; skin flushed, dark locks mussed, eye makeup surely having begun to run from sweat and wettening eyes — now he's smearing her own saliva across her face, more of which is continuing to pool with each thrust of his toned hips. she doesn't care about his happiness, not really — but right now, she has to. his happiness meant his silence; meant their parents got to continue their marital bliss, meant maybe he wouldn't try and claim one of her other holes. so she obliges, like a good girl, turns her face further towards his lap, allows that meaty length to plunge deeper into her throat as the soft, wet gags echo through the family home.

his dad had a habit of dating losers, the type of assholes who'd make him pay for dinner and steal a fifty from his wallet after sucking him off. tallulah's mother was admittedly the best of the bunch, so far as fox could tell she didn't steal from him or fuck other men and honestly that was good enough for fox. plus there was an added bonus — tallulah herself. the years had definitely been kind to her, tits he'd die to push around his cock and a mouth he just knew would be perfect around him. of course he remembered her, the little stick of a girl he'd pushed around in school, letting the cheerleaders spread rumours about her when he felt vindictive enough, a gangbang here and there, a train in the football player's locker room ; fox had helped spread every one of them around the student body. imagine his shock when he stumbled upon an actual secret of hers, naughty girl helping people pass tests they were too dumb to study for. believing she was sneaky enough to not get caught was in his mind worthy of the blackmail he'd forced her in to. "don't get sloppy, slut." homme's palm smacks against her cheek, groan working its way up his throat. "better have that toy inside you or i'm gonna fuck your ass after you make me cum." they had a whole week of this, of fox being able to take his desperate step-sister wherever and whenever he wanted. fingers dip to her chin, wiping some of that drool onto his digits before smearing it across her cheek and jawline. "fuckin' choke, lulah. wanna keep me happy, don't you?"

[thedcvilherself]

he pauses, blinks. it's a rare thing for connor to be caught off guard, but that's exactly what the woman's chosen descriptor for the younger party manage to do. it wasn't that she was wrong, flaunting both her physical assets and money was exactly what koda loved to do — it's that those words should have been coming from his lips, not her step-mothers. "kinda a fucked up way to talk about your kid, don't you think?" though his lack of upset shows he's not exactly the picturesque boyfriend she'd likely made him out to be either. though it'd be on them for ever buying that crock of shit. "that's how she introduced me, isn't it?" not a yes, not a no. he certainly has no interest in proclaiming he's dating koda, but he's not exactly keen on having the cops called on him either. "why? she bringing some board short, tan chino wearing motherfuckers by when i'm not around or something?" not that he cared. he hadn't touched koda — okay, not true. he'd knotted his fingers into her hair a time or two and let her warm mouth act as payment when it suited his day. but connor had no long term interest in anybody blonde bimbos who's only thought was of spending daddy's money. "fuuck." he actually laughs at that. husband running back to mrs. number one, or in this case number two, while the pretty updated version was left at home? what was the point exactly? though the woman seems none to beat up about, cementing his opinion of her being a trophy wife as well as her next words do. that's why she had spark. "well..." his hand, calloused and dirty and littered with tattoos, finally snatches the luxury glass he had no rightful business touching — that perhaps she had no rightful business touching. "you can take the whore from the corner but..." and when he turns back to her and once again gives her a once over; this time it's slower, more purposeful, before his gaze finds her own and he smirks. "fucking waste, don't you think?" calculated steps draw him closer, keeping the item in his grasp rather than offering it out. "plucking up a tight bodied little skank off the street and making her a housewife just to leave her sitting around? i mean...we both know desperate little things like you know how to work hard for it." and clearly she had; that's why she was sitting so fucking pretty right now. such wasn't his trajectory. "all due respect..." gently, he presses the cool glass to the exposed skin of her chest. "and i do respect the hustle..." without welcome, he moves in so that the warmth of his body is palpable, the scent of him surely infiltrating her nostrils, his eyes peering down at her. "i ain't any fucking prize. especially not for some spoiled, blonde tramp."

her life was perfect ... aside from koda. that idiotic girl that evidently valued what was between her legs than anything else. did people really not know the value of a dollar anymore? daniela had bled and sweat to get here, to spend endless days relaxing and dressing in the finest clothes. all koda did was come out of her slutty mother's cunt and cry. "same", femme breathes, heart hammering at the sight of a stranger in her kitchen. so much for a calm saturday night. "yes, her. you know, the blonde girl with either her ass or tits out all the time? wears too much gucci?" if this man really was her boyfriend he'd undoubtedly snitch to the girl, but daniela honestly couldn't care less. she'd successfully remained married for five years, she got half if they divorced — so maybe her tongue was a little looser these days. "hm, really?" brows knit together as she studies him, really takes him in. damn. "are you her boyfriend? you're not her usual type of prey, normally they wear board shorts or tan fucking chinos." even the word tastes disgusting, a wrinkle of her nose to accompany the dislike. but, now he was here the least he could do was fetch daniela her favorite wine --- the fucker she calls a husband always left the glasses too high. "i'm not a corner whore, drinking from the bottle was something i did a long time ago", and sometimes daniela wishes she was still that girl, utterly carefree and giving a middle finger to the entire world. the trophy wife comment makes her laugh, as does the remark about her appearance, silk robe skimming her upper thighs and barely belted at her waist. "he's actually fucking his ex, wife number two. or at least trying considering he can barely get it up these days without porn playing in the background." hues roll, hand making a grabbing motion for the stranger to hurry the hell up. "and who exactly are you? aside from being koda's newest pastime of course — planning on becoming a trophy husband?" and there it is, the retaliation for his kind mention of her own trophy status.

[thedcvilherself]

Fuck it cropped horrendously

[thedcvilherself]

♡ MOLLY GORDON elle's hollywood rising

[thedcvilherself]

MOLLY GORDON in Venice, Italy for Miu Miu Women's Tales at the 81st Venice Film Festival photographed by Emilio Madrid (September 1, 2024)

[thedcvilherself]

oh, he's done it this time. prakash shouldn't even be here; not in the same room as her, not with her atop his lap, and certainly not with his mouth melting against hers. for a moment he'd forgotten — well he'd forgotten everything; why he was at the event, why he'd sought her out, the fact that he was supposed to be doing a job, looking for the answers to his story and not finding out what her lips tasted like. he'd forgotten all rationale to the point that- "n-no..." those dark orbs flash to her and then, just as quickly, drop. the male is suddenly shifting uncomfortably, suddenly coming to his senses, realizing what had just escaped him. was the heat on? why was the room suddenly suddenly like a boiler? why was her touch searing? "sorry, no, i didn't...i should go."

𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫: mascs 21+ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡: source 𝔴𝔥𝔬: lux laurie, she/her, 27, bisexual, dominant, it girl/heiress/model/murderess pinterest

one little word had lux stopping in her tracks in an instant, wrapping a dainty hand around their neck to keep them in place and prevent them from leaning back in for another kiss while she studied them with a keen eye. "what was that?" she could tell it had slipped out by mistake, and their ensuing reaction told her they felt somewhat embarrassed by it, but she wasn't about to let them get away with it that easily— not when it had stirred up such a strong physical response within her. "don't be shy, darling... say it again."

[thedcvilherself]

"accomplish?" for some reason, it's only the last question that seems to phase the femme, parisa glancing up from her phone screen with features warped by shock and amusement. "oh mon dieu. you men are sooo dramatic." like river didn't have every reason to be pissed with her, like she hadn't gone out of her way to be an absolute nuisance. though perhaps if he had spent last night with her as she'd requested, they wouldn't be in this situation. "there was nothing to accomplish, river. i was bored." a nonchalant shrug as her attention drifts back to the device in hand, one that was still chiming with the notifications that were so generously granting her the attention she'd been desiring.

𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫: fems 21+ (partner, fwb, ex, etc) 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡: source 𝔴𝔥𝔬: river ransome, he/him, 21, heterosexual, switch, musician

"are you insane? why would you dm every girl i follow and tell them you're pregnant with my child?" jealousy, most likely, but if they were really that sensitive, they were with the wrong person. projecting an aura of sexual availability was a main component of his public image, perhaps one of his main selling points as an artist, and he couldn't have someone going around trying to taint his reputation for no reason. "what would that accomplish?"