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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months

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a darling and a virgin | f. odair

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summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

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secondbeatsongs · 1 year

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as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

#bi #bisexual #bisexuality #bi flag #bisexual flag #sbs rambles #graphic design is my passion #id in alt text #but #the ids are probably deeply unhelpful for the different variations of flags #in the alt text of the six flags all grouped together #I just put what method the purples were blended with #and then tried to describe them more in the paragraph below #but this is an inherently visual post #so if you're reading it with a screen reader I am sorry :(

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vetyr · 11 days

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hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

#answers to asks #illustration #art advice #art help #drawing #digital art

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luxaofhesperides · 2 months

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Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly.

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color.

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless.

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating.

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate.

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever.

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy.

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents.

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it.

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence.

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door.

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out.

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once.

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words.

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left.

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze.

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo.

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.”

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles.

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen.

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders.

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that.

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet.

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day.

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security.

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction.

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage.

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office.

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time.

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives.

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed.

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises.

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye.

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest.

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die.

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it.

He won’t let anyone take it from him.

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary.

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat.

Bruce reaches a hand out.

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him.

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away.

The orb in his hand moves.

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark.

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it.

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap.

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid.

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot.

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face.

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke.

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises.

If anyone can, it’s Batman.

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends.

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

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aeyumicore · 2 months

Text

☾ .⭒˚ the sixth of march ♡ rafayel birthday special

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, porn with very little plot

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 5.09k

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, semi-public bathroom sex, switch!raf, whiny!raf, semi-public sex, mirror sex, oral sex m!receiving, face/throat fucking, standing sex, hitting it from the back, creampies, cum swallowing, cum in panties, birthday sex, leaking cum in public, please let me know if i missed anything!

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: it’s our little fishy’s birthday! happy birthday rafayel! <3 short lil (lol 5k words short) smut for our precious raf’s birthday. idk why i always end up having raf x y/n sex be in the bathroom its purely coincidental LOL

please note that this is NOT based on his birthday event story OR the birthday event card. It might be somewhat similar but i wrote it entirely separately. If there’s any resemblance its purely coincidental, so don’t expect this fic to be accurate to the event!

as always pls enjoy :) also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

“bruschetta, miss?”

your head snaps to the politely smiling waiter in front of you, holding a tray of the most delicious glistening bread bites, topped with vibrant red cherry tomatoes and fresh green basil.

“no, thank you,” you decline politely, having had your fill of the endless lavish hors d'oeuvres at the birthday party you’d put together for rafayel. instead, you let your eyes wander back to the highly in-demand purple haired birthday boy across the sea of random people you didn't know, and honestly you weren’t sure rafayel knew them either.

you’d originally wanted something quaint and intimate for rafayel’s 25th birthday, but thanks to thomas it’d turned into a huge elaborate party with business partners, sponsors, and just so many important industry contacts. the guest list spun out of control so fast, until it became a full blown business event.

honestly, you felt so terrible. you knew this is not what rafayel wanted for his birthday, but he was being an incredibly good sport about it, making polite conversation with every single person that approached him. which was extremely unlike him, and that scared you even more. besides the brief embrace you’d shared when he’d arrived, you hadn't had the chance to spend any time with him tonight.

so, like you had the rest of the night, you stared at him from across the ballroom floor, admiring him from afar. he was so unfairly dashing in his white jacket adorned with a gold leafed lapel chain that matched the stars and moon that hung off his golden waist chain. his black tie hung loosely against his hard chest, contrasting beautifully against the shining white pearls on his lapel.

he’d picked out and gifted you a matching dress for you to wear, and had a driver deliver it to you this morning. it was nothing short of art itself, an extravagant golden a-line tulle evening gown with an expensive sequin and pearl applique that mirrored the starry night sky. the strapless sweetheart neckline pushed your cleavage up as the high slit exposed your bare legs, leaving you feeling beautiful and confident, something rafayel always knew how to do.

rafayel looks up from the undoubtedly very rich and important man he’d been talking to, and catches your stare from across the room. his lips don’t quirk, still caught in his conversation, but his eyes sparkle as they drink you in, the corners crinkling in their own little smile.

you grin back at him, raising the glass of champagne you’d been holding onto for the entire night, and taking a languid gulp. as you lower the glass, you purposely let a droplet drip down your chin, using your index finger to catch it and bringing it up to your tongue to lick it off.

even from yards away, you can see rafayel’s eyes darken and his neck bob with a gulp. you watch as he falters in his words, trying to steel himself back into his conversation. chuckling to yourself, you turn away from him to give a brief reprieve of your teasing.

the champagne lights your face ablaze, so you decide to run to the bathroom to touch up before your makeup starts melting off. you weave through the hordes of elegantly dressed guests, slightly in shock of how many people showed up to celebrate rafayel. or at least showed up to get in his good graces.

the banquet hall you’d booked was expensive and intricate, and the bathrooms were no different. as you slipped into the single unisex washroom you barely noticed as rafayel slipped in behind you before you could let the door shut fully.

you yelped in surprise as he followed you into the single stall bathroom, but the alarm dissipated when you realized it was him and not some random stranger.

“rafayel!” you reprimanded, pushing the door shut behind him so as to make sure no prying eyes caught the two of you, “what are you doing?!”

rafayel doesn’t respond, instead capturing you in his embrace, his hands settling around the small of your back as he pulls you tightly into his hard body.

“you shouldn’t tease me all night, it’s not very nice,” he hums, playing with a curled lock of hair against your cheek.

you feign innocence, eyes widening and head cocking to the side, “what am i doing?”

rafayel pouts, his cheeks rosy under the fluorescent bathroom lights, “it’s my birthday, you should be nicer to me.” he tucks the strand of hair he’d been playing with behind your ear.

“i haven’t gotten to see you, all night,” he sulks, his voice tinged with a sharp whine.

you can’t help but giggle at his childish behavior and tease him a bit, “but you were looking at me just earlier!”

he grumbles, thoroughly unamused, “you know that’s not what i mean.”

you sigh and let yourself melt into his hold, your arms wrapping around him in return, “i know, i’m sorry raf. this was supposed to be small, just you, me, and some friends. it got out of control so fast.”

he continues with his pouty tirade. “it’s my birthday,” he whines, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, “and i don’t even get to enjoy the only thing i want.”

he pulls away so he can admire you again, this time right before his hungry and waiting eyes like he should’ve been able to. his gaze devours every inch of you, from the exposed and flushed skin to the way the dress hugs your figure in all the right ways.

“i miss you,” he complains, eyes still drinking you in and hands tight against your waist.

“m’sorry raf,” you murmur, dusting his purple locks away from his eyes, “i missed you too.”

he sighs dramatically, “i don’t want to talk to any more of those old farts. especially when you look like this right across the room.”

“it’s a beautiful dress. i didn’t have the opportunity to thank you for it yet,” you mumble bashfully, suddenly nervous under his scrutinizing stare.

“i knew you would look exquisite in it,” he grumbles, “but i thought i would be able to spend my night admiring it on you. and off you.”

and though you can tell rafayel is half joking, you can’t help but feel bad that you’re partly to blame for him having to spend his birthday like this, with people who wanted his attention for their own personal selfish reasons.

“i’m sorry babe, it’ll be over soon. i’ll make it up to you, i promise!”

sighing deeply and theatrically again, “how will you make it up to me? i only get one birthday a year, you know?”

you get a mischievous and filthy idea. your hands travel from his back to his abdomen, pushing slightly to create space between your bodies. he eyes you curiously, but lets you continue. as your hands travel further south, undoing the intricate latch of his expensive belt, his eyes widen.

“h-hey! what are you doing?!”

as you get down onto your knees, pulling his pants down with you in your descent, you look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them earnestly, “my birthday boy is unhappy, and we can’t have that can we?” though the bathroom is spotless, the tiled floor likely cleaner than your own bathroom, you’re careful to bunch the beautiful gown up and hold it above your calves, as best as you can.

“i can just give you one of your birthday gifts right now,” you murmur, “but you’ll have to wait until we’re home to unwrap the rest.”

rafayel only gulps in response, his cheeks and earlobes slowly turning crimson as he’s left standing in just his briefs. mesmerized, you watch as his erection lifts against the restraint of his underwear, grasping the base with your fingers and reveling in the way he whimpers into the brisk bathroom air.

you rest your lips against the tent in his briefs, licking at his length against the clothing. he hisses, hands finding purchase in the sink behind him to ground himself against your teasing licks. you keep your eyes glued to his, batting your eyelashes as you take his cock out. as the cold clean air of the bathroom hits him, he sucks in another sharp breath, gripping the sink almost painfully.

rafayel has to remind himself how to breathe as he watches your beautiful eyes widen as you lick at the copious amounts of pre cum dripping down his length and onto his briefs.

“h-holy shit,” he wheezes out, throwing his head back as your tongue skillfully maneuvers over his glistening bulbous head, the skin pink and angry, demanding attention. you take him fully into your mouth, moaning at the taste of his slick filling your senses. rafayel whines and twitches at the vibrations of your mouth, trying desperately to keep from busting his load into your mouth right there.

you tease him dutifully, only letting his cock enter your mouth, not taking him into your throat just yet. a mess of whimpers and moans, rafayel holds himself back from forcing his length down into your warm and waiting throat, like you’d let him so many times before. the sight of you, all done up in the beautiful golden gown he’d personally picked for you, on your knees for him, drove him insane, but he wanted to be a good boy for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, beautiful sobs breaking out from his mouth, “you feel so g-good.”

your mouth bobs up and down earnestly at his praises, and he’s being so good for you you want to reward him. but your hands are busy holding up your dress from falling to the bathroom floor which makes it difficult for you to service his entire impressive length. so instead, you use one hand to bring each of his palms into your curled hair. luckily you’d worn your hair down in tousled waves so you were able to easily thread his fingers into them, urging him to grip onto you.

you hold his hand there until he gets the message of what you’re asking him to do, or rather giving him permission to do, and he hardens further with excitement. his fingers tighten at your scalp as he begins to fuck into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the feel of your thick lips against the veins of his cock.

“hah – you’re so good to me,” he pants, pelvis fervently hitting your mouth as you do your best to relax your throat and take him as deeply as possible. he continues to babble, “f-fuck feels so good baby, i-i can’t stop.” he handles you roughly, hands tight and pace unrelenting, but you absolutely love when he’s this demanding with you.

you moan at his words, feeling yourself dampen in your panties, trying to let the vibrations hit him when he’s as deep as possible. you use your tongue to stroke the vein on the underside of his shaft, wanting to see your birthday boy come undone just for you. he bucks excitedly into your mouth, absolutely lost in the way your mouth attempts to accommodate every inch of him.

“you take me so fucking well,” he whines, still fucking vigorously into your mouth, “your mouth was made for me to fuck, my perfect girl.”

rafayel’s vision blacks as you gulp around him, your throat constricting impossibly tight against his cock. the sounds of your guttural choking drive him to the edge, and when he looks down to see tears running down your gorgeous face and drool trailing down your chin, his erection lurches with the need to release deep down your throat.

“m’gonna cum baby,” he warns, “you can take it all right? you can, you will.”

you hum in response, and the vibrations send him over the edge. with his hands intertwined in your hair, rafayel lets out a strangled moan as he absolutely explodes into your waiting mouth.

you do your best not to choke on the sheer amount of cum he releases, the sweet-salty taste blinding all your senses. you lick his cock diligently, working him through his climax, and savoring every last drop of his essence.

he twitches with overstimulation inside your mouth, but still painfully hard. you release him and gasp for air, as stray rivulets of cum streak down your chin. rafayel bends down to lift you up off your knees, mesmerized by the fucked out look on your face, even though he’d only ravished your mouth.

“that was incredible, you are incredible. i wasn’t too rough was i?” he inspects your face carefully, wiping a tear off your cheek.

“you weren’t,” you reassured with a smile, turning to the mirror and sink behind him.

“is your birthday night slightly better now?” you tease, fixing your appearance in the mirror. you wash the spit and cum from your chin, and then dab carefully at the dark smudges of makeup smeared under your eyes.

“i want my other gift now,” rafayel mumbles, coming up behind you and moving your dress to the side so that the slit parts and exposes the back of your thighs.

“h-here?” you ask in disbelief, as if you didn’t just suck him off. but your risque streak had evaporated as fast as it had come, and now you quivered at the idea of having sex in this private, but still public, bathroom, with dozens of people outside likely looking for the artist himself.

“can i please?” he pouts, and you can see his begging eyes behind you in the mirror, “it’s still my birthday for another few hours.” his hands fiddle with your dress impatiently, but still waiting for your consent nonetheless. “and i was so good tonight, talking to those people all night when all i wanted was to be with you.”

your heart squeezes at his adorable pleas. you can’t deny the way the idea of rafayel taking you in this shared public space has you leaking. the hungry longing in his eyes, masked by the adorable puppy eyes, makes you cave. you nod gently, and rafayel’s instantly on his knees, burying himself under the tulle of your dress.

you can feel rafayel pausing with his face close to your heat. “raf?” you whisper, breathless with anticipation.

“when did you buy these?” you realize he’s admiring your panties, part of a set you’d bought to surprise him for his birthday. you’d nearly forgotten you wore it under your dress, wanting him to unwrap you like a present after the party.

“happy birthday rafayel,” you giggle weakly, his breath fanning over your cunt, making you squirm. the purple haired artist is speechless under you, staring at the intricate embroidered sea stars and shells that adorned the turquoise semi sheer mesh, making it look like you were naked save for the beautiful applique.

“you’re telling me you were wearing this under the dress?” you can tell rafayel was on the edge of going feral just by admiring the little knit shells against your most delicate region. you shivered thinking about how’d he’d act when he’d see the matching bra, hopefully later tonight. his words came out strained, as he tried his best to keep himself level.

“it’s your birthday, and i wrapped myself up nicely for you,” you murmur, as you lean over the sink with your hands gripping the sides, waiting for him to finally do something. you almost want to step back and shove yourself into him, but you do your best to remain patient, letting him admire every inch of your lace clad cunt.

he swears, finally snapping out of his trance, “fuck, i will take my time with you later. right now i j-just need you.” you hiss as his fingers finally glaze over your no doubt glistening folds, the cold air nipping at your exposed and sensitive area. he pulls the intricate lace off of you, stuffing it into his pockets so as to not let them touch the floor.

you cry out when his lips find your dripping cunt, devouring you from behind. his strong fingers grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart slightly to give him better access to his favorite dessert. like you yourself had earlier, he moans at the taste and his vibrations resonate straight to your g spot. your knees buckle at the pleasure, and you do your best to keep your moans muffled in case anyone was waiting outside the locked door.

rafayel fucks you with his tongue languidly, his hand reaching between your legs to rub at your throbbing nub. your eyes roll into your head, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, biting down to stop the scream from ripping out.

rafayel is unhappy with your muffled cries of ecstasy, wanting to hear you in full. he stands to his full height, leaving you whimpering at the loss of his warmth against your dripping pussy. he stands, incredibly tall behind you, leaning into your ear.

“you know i hate it when you hide your noises from me,” he whispers, lining up his hardened length against your hole, bending you over the sink.

“i-i don’t want anyone to h-hear,” you stutter, grinding yourself onto his cock, wanting to be filled.

rafayel rubs himself against you, gathering your slick and lathering it all over, “then i’ll just have to force them out of you, huh?” with that slight threat, he sheathes himself fully into you, you practically scream into your hand, except this time rafayel yanks your hand away, holding it behind your back firmly. your scream echoes against the walls of the bathroom, and you pray no one is outside the door. anyone within ten feet of the door would undoubtedly hear the lewd noises coming from inside the bathroom.

“let me hear you,” he purrs against your ear, thrusting slowly into your gummy walls. but still, you bite your lip, the idea of someone hearing you both mortifying and incredibly hot.

his thrusts are rough and demanding, making you bump into the cold surface of the sink. with rafayel’s other hand he grabs your chin between his fingers and holds it up so that your eyes level with the mirror in front of you.

“watch. watch me fuck you baby,” his voice is so charismatic you can’t help but obey him. your eyes meet his in the mirror, as you watch his face contort as he fucked into your womb. he smirks at you, hands leaving your face when he’s sure you won’t look away, to grip your waist. his large hands manhandled you so deliciously, using your body like a toy against his ravaging strokes.

watching rafayel’s cocky smile as he forced you to keep contact with his eyes through the mirror quickly drove you closer and closer to your climax, the excitement of it all unbearable. your moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the sounds of his pelvis hitting your ass deafening.

rafayel ravages you with the intent to make you absolutely lose your mind. he wants you to moan so loudly that you can’t restrain your cries of pleasure, so that anyone outside could hear exactly what he was doing to you.

“that’s my – haah –fucking girl,” he moans, hand smacking against the ripples of your ass bouncing against him. you yelp at the contact, the pain mixing deliciously with the endless ecstasy. your walls sucked him in repeatedly, squeezing every inch of his length, trying to milk him. “taking me so so well. hah – look at you, spoiling me for my birthday.”

his palm gently strikes your rear again, “i must be the luckiest damn man on this planet. in this galaxy.” he reaches to your front, rifling through all your layers of tulle to find your clit, rubbing the slick nub until tears leaked out of your eyes.

“r-raf, feels s-sooo good,” you slurred, leaning backwards so you could reach up for his hair as he gripped you from behind. your bare back slotted tightly against his chest and your fingers gripped into his soft purple hair, tugging roughly. you laid your messy hair into his chest, and he rested his chin in the crook of your shoulder and neck, and the two of you made eye contact in the mirror.

rafayel always put your pleasure above anything else, focussing on making you feel good before he even thought about himself. but your ecstasy was his pleasure. and so as he watched your face contort, eyes practically all whites, tongue lolling out of your beautiful lips, tears running down your face, his cock throbbed wanting to fill you to the absolute brim.

he was suddenly filled with the urge, the need to breed you. his woman, who’d dressed up just for him, in a set that was undoubtedly picked just to drive him insane. his love, who he spent the whole night admiring from across the room, when all he wanted for his birthday was to be with you. his girl, his everything, who’d spent weeks planning a whole night for him, even if it didn’t turn out the way he’d have wanted.

well that wasn’t entirely true. it actually did turn out exactly the way he’d wanted, with you a wet whimpering mess for him, his cock stuffed inside you while you begged for more. this was in fact exactly how he wanted to spend every second of his birthday, inside you.

“you’re – hah – all mine,” he slurred, drunk off your pussy, his thrusts becoming sloppier with each stroke, “i’m gonna cum in you tonight, ‘kay?”

you nod eagerly, watching his feral expression in the mirror. his brows crinkled adorably, with his lip gripped tightly in his teeth. “you’re gonna – fuuck – walk around the rest of the night with my cum leaking out of you, okay baby?”

you clench at his filthy words, knowing he’s dead serious. amidst the lust filled haze, you’re so fucked out that nothing sounds better than that. the idea of having to mingle with so many people while rafayel’s claim to you literally drips down your legs is just enough to have you crying out for him, completely uninhibited.there was no doubt anyone even remotely near the bathroom would’ve heard the way you wailed and moaned for him.

you catch rafayel’s satisfied smirk in the mirror as he takes you repeatedly from behind, eyes still glued to yours. the heat in his blue-purple orbs is palpable, almost threatening to devour you whole, and your grip tightens in his hair. you pull him impossibly closer, straining your neck painfully so you can turn and kiss him.

he leans in so you don’t have to bend too far backward, taking your lips passionately into his, even at this awkward angle. you slide your tongue into his mouth, wanting to take the teeniest bit of control as his cock burrowed its way into your stomach, claiming every inch of your gummy walls.

rafayel moaned at the feeling of your sweet tongue flickering against his, letting you explore his mouth. he was happy to relinquish control, even if only slightly, especially if it meant he could watch the way your face contorted at every little movement he made.

the mirror made things exponentially more erotic, the way he could see his girl blissed out in front of him, and admire every single angle and aspect of you taking him so beautifully. the way you could watch each other, watch the way your bodies made absolute art together.

as your tongues danced, your cunt clenched in anticipation, wanting desperately to release all over him.

“r-raf,” you pant, “m’so close.”

“m-me too love,” he ground into your ear, teeth gritting on the brink of pain, “gonna paint your beautiful little pussy ‘kay?”

you nod vigorously, eyes shutting as you feel the orgasm creeping up on you and igniting every nerve ending on fire. you gasp as you feel rafayel’s fingers gently grip your throat, squeezing just enough to have sparks ignite in your vision.

“watch,” he commanded forcefully, a rough demand you so rarely heard lacing his alluring musical voice, “need you to watch when i pump you full of my seed, okay love?”

you force your eyes to stay open, watching the primal expression on his face as his thrusts go deeper, harder. he forces himself into brushing harshly into your g spot, his free hand returning to rub ruthless circles onto your soaked clit.

you scream out when he touches you, every single point of contact an endless tsunami of pleasure. his eyes command yours, forcing you to watch every single thing he does to your body.

“god you’re so fucking beautiful, and you’re gonna – hah – look even more beautiful with my baby inside you.”

your eyes widen at his words, lust getting the better of your usually sound judgment as you clench uncontrollable around his throbbing cock. he hisses at the harsh squeeze.

“such a greedy girl,” he huffs breathlessly into your earlobe, nibbling down gently, “you want to be a mommy that bad? you’re trying to – hah fuck – squeeze it out of me?”

his words push you tumbling into your body numbing orgasm. you’re unable to hold back the scream that wrenches from deep in your throat, rafayel’s fingers still gripping forcefully.

“oh god, m’cumming raf, cumming so hard,” you wail, body fluttering around him uncontrollably and knees going weak. rafayel holds you steady so that you don’t crash into the floor as he continues to fuck into your body, so close to his own unraveling. he only grunts in response, losing himself in the tightness and warmth of your grip on him.

“please, please, please!” you beg, wanting him to give you everything he has. you’re still in the thick of your orgasm and you wracked with the absolute need to feel him all over your insides.

rafayel whimpers into your ear, getting wrapped up in the way you beg for him, “sh-shit y/n, if you keep s-squeezing like that i’m gonna –” he cuts himself with a torrid curse as your orgasm causes you to crush him inside of you.

“y-yes please. raf please. i need you s’bad,” you cry as he stares at you in the mirror, refusing to let go of eye contact. you’re desperate to feel him release inside you while you’re still in the midst of your own climax.

“o-okay love, anything for my needy little princess,” he groans out, before unleashing the most unholiest of swears, erection faltering inside you and trembling as it unloads completely.

rafayel grips you for dear life as he cums inside you, his load hot, thick, and unrelenting. his hand is still at your throat as he whimpers into your ear, his breath hot and warm on your skin. you watch the euphoria on his face as he continues to rock into you, his copious release already leaking out, dripping down your thighs.

you reel, feeling faint and short of breath, as you come down from your high, still leaning back into rafayel’s sturdy stature. his arms move to wrap securely around you, kissing the curve of your neck as his languid thrusts slow to a stop.

“you’re the best birthday present ever,” he murmurs, burying his face into your neck and inhaling your pheromones, absolutely drunk off of you. he removes himself from the warmth of your cunt, and you whimper as your combined release comes rushing down your thighs, your poor pussy just unable to hold the sheer amount of release rafayel had pumped into you.

you try your best to smooth your dress, grabbing some paper towels to wipe your thighs off. but rafayel stops you, his fingers gentle but firm against your wrist.

“what are you doing?” he’s smirking at you, so much mischievous light in his eyes. he fishes your panties out of his pocket and hands them to you expectantly.

“put them back on,” he grins at you, looking absolutely and devilishly handsome despite having just ravaged you thoroughly. you on the other hand looked like a mess, like you’d undoubtedly just been fucked.

you’re about to whine and complain, but you bite it back, wanting to please your birthday boy. sighing, you lift your dress, slowly slipping the panties back on. you wince as the fabric dampens, pushing the release back into your sopping cunt.

“let me see.” rafayel is on his knees in between your legs again before you know it, widening the slit of your gown. he admires you for a good ten seconds, before kissing your inner thighs and rising back to his feet.

“are you satisfied?” you tease, trying to shake off the discomfort between your legs.

“hmm…i guess you’re a little forgiven…'' he feigns being deep in thought, scratching his chin with his fingers, “i expect many more presents when i take you home tonight.”

you lean up on your tiptoes, even in your heels rafayel still towered over you, and brushed a gentle kiss to his lips. you giggle at the way even the softest kiss has his ears and cheeks turning deeply pink. “there will be many more presents for you waiting at home. of the naked variety.”

you thoroughly enjoy the way rafayel shys away from your eyes, the crimson on his face deepening. his excitement is evident by the way he has to readjust his dress pants, and he clears his throat trying to calm himself down.

“you’re going to regret that at home, sweetheart,” he grumbles.

“will i?” you can’t stop teasing him, your eyes glimmering with mischief as you whip around as gracefully as you can, slipping out of the bathroom and leaving him thoroughly frazzled behind you.

–

you spend the rest of the night trying to mingle with rafayel’s guests, and trying your best to ignore the way rafayel’s cosmic eyes track your every move. the way you feel like he can see right through your layers and layers of tulle, and see his milky white essence dripping slowly down your thighs.

he grins at you from across the room, raising his glass of champagne at you as he throws himself animatedly into conversation with his guests, with much more enthusiasm and vigor than he had previously all night. and when he did take you home that night, he absolutely did make you regret teasing him on his very own birthday, in ways that had you unable to walk the next day.

tag list: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 6 months

Text

Is it so hard to ask that sabo follow his dream he had when he was a kid? IS IT??????

Also, his boat was commissioned from Franky! And he did a great job :)

Design talk:

Im gonna start with just sharing his canon designs

Colors:

Something i want to call attention to is the blue and black in his design.

When he was young, Sabo wore his heart on his sleeve. He had a dream for himself and was taking steps to complete it. Likewise, that blue on his coat is on full display its bright and vibrant and saturated. But also theres that dark blue, almost black, thats underneath it thats being hidden by that coat, the pants, and his tattered cravat. Likewise again, Sabo is hiding his darker side. He has secrets he doesn’t want his brothers to know of and he lets his aspirations and relationships he has with them outshine his past.

In his present design, that blue that was representative of his dreams, is now the one being hidden. Its covered by a complete black coat, a representative of the darkness in his life that now is drives him. This color switch up is symbolic for how he’s put off his dreams and kept it locked up (belt), while choosing instead to pursue a life of darkness for the greater good.

Also, these pictures of young sabo and young adult sabo, you can visually see how less saturated it is. The blue is duller of the coat/undershirt and even more-so with the pants. You can see how he’s much less vibrant than how he was.

In my Post-Story idea, what happens leading up to it is that Sabo succeeds in taking down the world government and after he’s sure the world can move on without him, he goes sailing alone as a pirate to write a book about the world, like he’s always wanted to do. Also, Luffy returns his straw hat to shanks.

So in my design, sabo wears a vibrant blue coat again. He’s living his dream and has nothing holding him back from doing it. The black is still used, and its not being covered, but its on his pants and his gloves. He still has that darkness, but he doesn’t use it as protection or as something to hide, rather as something he moves forwards and progresses with. He will never forget what pain and hardship he went through and he’s not trying to. However, whats underneath all the layers is not darkness or dreams, and its not necessarily being hidden either, its light. Not BRIGHT, but light. Mellow and calm. The settled true nature of a healed man.

I took more colors from his child design than i did with his young adult (YA) one, too. I wanted to show how he’s reconnecting with his younger self by bringing them through to his Post-Story look!

Also, since his journal is his dream, it is blue, as well.

———

Items of Clothing:

In both of his canon designs, there is a sense of properness. A top hat, cravat, tailcoat, etc etc.. Its all properness. But more than that, its the idea of responsibility.

Whether he acts responsible or not isn’t what matters in his case, instead its that he wants to look responsible. He wants this because a) he was a little kid who wanted to grow up too fast and be taken seriously, and b) because he has an incredible amount of responsibility being the second in command of the revolutionary army.

To further prove that, I would like to point out his silly little cravat. I love his cravat. But how the hell is that practical for his line of work? Sabo is concerned with being practical, hence his baggy/movable pants and leather gloves. Additionally, just the waist/trench coat, belt, top hat combo would suffice for a proper looking person, but it’s taken excessively with the cravat. The cravat is purely for appearances.

Further symbolism with his cravat, i think, is that this appearance is visually choking him. Its wrapped tightly around his neck when he was a child and when he was most under control of a much higher power. However, when he’s a YA, it’s a lot looser. He’s got some agency, but he’s still being suffocated by responsibilities.

On with my design.

I took away his cravat. Im sorry but it is SYMBOLIC!!!!!!! He is not worried anymore with appearances, he is Free.

I took away his top hat but not his goggles, too. I think that after Luffy gives back the straw hat, Sabo forgoes his hat as well. In solidarity, maybe. If you think about it, the top hat isnt what makes his hat so special, its the goggles. So i got rid of the hat and kept The Goggs. Although it is sad that they are no longer Hatted, as that is one of the beautiful appeals of ASL, they are no longer ASL.

I wanted to keep aspects of his YA design, since even though it is very perforative, its still a style that he’s stuck with since childhood, so he’s gotta like it in some capacity. I just tried to make everything look a lot looser/open on him.

Lastly, i gave him a bit of a beard cuz i think he deserves it.

———

Alright! If you got this far, thanks so much for reading my insane ramblings!!!! I fr feel like this rn 👇

Visually, sabo’s design is not too complex, at least not when you look at him next to Ace, but theres a lot of depth to it. I didnt even think of half of these notes before i started typing this up, its just the more time i look at it, the more i noticed!

#my art #one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #asl brothers #one piece fan art #sabo the revolutionary #post story au

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dungeonpuppykai · 8 months

Note

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

3K notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 2 months

Text

snooze • portgas d. ace

your boyfriend can’t sleep unless you’re by his side..for many reasons.

sleepy/sonmo sex, hints of free use, modern au, black fem reader, early morning quickie, creampie, nipple play, teasing, him whimpering a lot :(, just some domestic, soft smut, pet names used

word count: 2.0K

📝: as you all can see, my brainrot for this man has become so god awful, I fear it will take a shovel to dig me out of these trenches. But I love it here! (also, the title is not based off of the song by any means.)

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

2:15AM…

night had long fell cast over the sky..faint inklings of stars littered the black backdrop as tiny white dots. The vibrant moon illuminating the entirety of the sleepless city as the daily bustle of blaring car horns and menial chatter has slowed to the sounds of a few cars either heading home or starting the day early. Through the window of the third story apartment where you resided..shined a single beam of light on two sleeping bodies. Entangled in the warmth of the sheets on the chilly winter night..underneath, limbs intertwined as you enjoyed the bliss of sweet slumber..

“Mmmph..”

faint mumbles arose as they vibrated against the crook of your neck. Your boyfriend’s face was nuzzled between the crevice of your neck as he shuffled around in his sleep. His muscular, inked up forearms coiled around your waist with his hands placed to your abdomen; holding you close to him. Nowhere else in the world that either of you would rather have been..it was paradise, an absolute dream..and for your doting, sweet man..he was enjoying it quite a bit! The friction of his lower half rubbing against your backside; gently rutting his hips into your plump flesh as to not ruffle too much but make you subtly aware of his intentions. Those hands eventually roamed from your waist and tummy to the top of your body, resting idly on your breasts. He seemed restless, for a better lack of terms. Although he probably slept more than the average person due to his narcolepsy, Ace did have his weaknesses. For example, he couldn’t be at peace unless you were plastered to his side. You were his comfort, his peace and he couldn’t function unless you were right there. But alas, it wasn’t the only reason he enjoyed lying next to you every night..it definitely had its other perks. Just like at that moment, where he was toiling with the lace on your short silk teddy. The one that barely even covered your ass as you walked away..the one that had his mind straying to less than savory thoughts when you were awake. It couldn’t be helped..your body was an absolute work of art that he could admire for hours on end and never grow tired. Neither one of your eyes were open; still far too exhausted to do so, but he’d slowly feel you up as you laid there quietly. Running his fingertips along the delicate portions of your skin, still muttering and eventually, leaving gentle pecks on your shoulder blade. “Baby…” the only thing he managed to get out before muttering against your neck once more.

Meanwhile, you could still feel his pelvis bumping against you..naturally, you didn't hesitate to meet him halfway. It was obvious that neither of you were going to truly be able to rest until you achieved your mutual goal. Because truth be told, when you couldn’t doze off the way you wanted or your body wanted craved more than just sleep to replenish it, there was only one way to quell that urge:

“..need you so bad..”

hell, it was all the more fun when you pretended to be fully asleep..giving him full fledged permission to use your body when he saw fit. Taking claim to it when he was ready. Sometimes, you loved it when he woke you up with his cock nestled deeply inside of you or vice versa, when your pretty little lips, wrapped around his shaft, drove him out of slumber. It was easy to surmise that he was going to take advantage of said consent..made things all the more sexier. Still mumbling, you’d begin to whine very faintly as you felt the covering of your top be pulled down and your nipples exposed to the cool air. They were erect and sensitive to the touch. Practically writhing each time he so much as even brushed them. By this time, you were also wiggling your hips and bogging yourself onto his crotch. It was clear that things were about to intensify and neither of you wanted to put a halt to this little charade either.

2:30AM…

“..you’re so wet, baby..this all f’r me?’ His words seem to have fallen on deaf ears but he could tell by your physical reaction, that wasn’t the case..you were clutching the sheets far too tight for someone that couldn’t feel a thing. You were only becoming more and more aroused by the minute..that silky slick coating his fingertips. Meanwhile, you could feel his bulge pressing against your cheeks..so swollen, it were as if he’d burst any minute. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me..” a faint chuckle rising among his deep voice, rattling off whilst he held you close. This man had talked you through many orgasms with that heavy tone of his and he knew how much you loved when he spoke to you all quietly like this. “That’s okay..I know what you need..” he was very much vocal and yet, he was still seemingly asleep. His eyes still shut!..but it wouldn’t remain that way for long because as Ace reached down to tug at his waistband, removing his cock from its confines, (y/n) very subtly hoisted your leg, assuring him that you wanted this just as badly..taking the hint, he’d clutch your waist and pull you towards him, smacking that tip to that warm, juicy slit of yours. Almost as if his senses were incredibly heightened..his mind constructing a roadmap of your beautiful body and no vision was needed. A giant smirk lay plastered across his face. He couldn’t wait to be inside of you.. “Let me have you, please..fuck..” that once deep voice becoming desperate and whimpering in a high pitched wail; that mushroom tip aching and leaking with the absolute need to be fill your hole. To take claim of your special spot only the way he knew how.. “..shit..” “..mmph!” Simultaneously reactions from each of you. It seemed that you could no longer maintain your silent charade and he could no longer fight those insatiable urges..and both of you were ready to fuck until your bodies truly tired out beyond repair. The kind that would undoubtedly put you right back to sleep..

2:40AM

sounds of clashing flesh ricocheted around the room, the clapping noises of his pelvis colliding with your heavy asscheeks as he pounded into you. A cusped hand stationed around your throat to keep you reigned in when you began to pull away from the strokes he was feeding your greedy cunt. Unable to quell his whiny cries because of the sensation. He’d never felt anything like it! So warm and silky..it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten you pregnant yet..constantly finding it hard to pull out once he was inside of you. Rutting into you like a pathetic pup rutting his pillow. A sheath of wetness forming from the constant thrusting..and his earlier teasing. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, baby..pussy’s so fucking good..” the sweet nothings rattled off into your ear with his dick nestled deep between your folds.. “..shit! Right there..so good..” heavy huffs breathing down your neck whilst he persisted. Pulling you even closer, Ace tilted your head back slightly to lace your jawline and throat with sloppy pecks. It was absolute bliss if you’ve ever felt it. “I love you..love you so fucking much, baby. Thank you for letting me wake you up like this..” a faint chuckle arising from between his moans. It was blatantly clear to see that he was enjoying this little early morning rendezvous more than you could imagine. “I love you—oh fuck!…’s too much..'' crying out with your hand smacking the mattress and clutching the sheets. Your legs shook violently and all you could do was withstand the sensation of that thick, throbbing cock bottoming out inside of you. Sometimes, it was a miracle if you could fit it all..he was so lengthy as well and you’d oftentimes find yourself begging him to take some out around the five inch mark. “Aw, baby..you’re so small. Just makes stretching you out all the more fun..” referencing not your body type, but rather that pretty pussy..regardless of how many times you two had sex, you still managed to wrap around and squeeze him to no end. Cream slathered all down the entrance and he would lean up to examine the mess, along with the ripple of your thick ass via the moonlight..

2:48AM

“F-fuck..gonna come, daddy..please!”

“Ooh, I love when you call me that..are you gonna let go f’r me, sweetheart?”

Still lying on your side with your leg hoisted high, he’d continue going..even teasing your clit to add to the euphoric feeling. Both of your eyes had peeled wide open and there was no halting this passionate round of love making. The name causes a throbbing sensation to rattle off inside of you as his cock twitches yet again.

“So let me see that pretty face when you do, baby. Come on, let it out—“ amid the resuming of his deep strokes, Ace would coddle your face in his palm, sweet talking you through that impending orgasm. Spinning your face around to meet his own. He was always such a kind and attentive lover. Making certain that you got yours long before his own. His true satisfaction lies in seeing you grip the sheets and call out his name. It didn’t take long before he was granted his wish and you were heaving as that orgasm came barreling out of that entrance and splattering his thighs as he fucked it out of you slowly. Emitting gentle streams with each thrust until you couldn’t spill another drop.

“Aww, good girl..good girl..you’re squirting. So fucking wet..I love it.”

you’d find yourself caught in another kiss shortly thereafter; passionately and slowly…but that wasn’t the end of this. He needed to keep going until he had nothing else left to offer..until you were filled to the brim with every last drop of him. “Nnnngh!..” “I know, pretty..I know..but you’re doing such a good job..I don’t wanna stop.” Growling and laughing in your ear as his strokes became a lot rougher and more sporadic. He was nearing his peak. That much was evident by the way his nails dug into the flesh of your hip. Met with the recoil of your thick ass each time. You were squeezing him so tight, he could barely withstand it. So with a couple more sharp, pounding thrusts, you’d find your boyfriend clutching onto your skin and drilling until you felt it all come to an abrupt halt.. “f..fuck!..hold still, baby. I’m so close—“ a mere few seconds later, you’d feel his movements cease but those hot, thick ropes of cum pouring into your womb. Filling you up with every ounce of his seed until he couldn’t go any further. Whimpering and crying out for you in the process. Begging you to let him breed you..and once he finished, Ace would remain inside of that tight cunt, stroking the side of your face and marking your temple with light kisses.

“That was perfect, sweetheart..”

“Yeah..thank you, baby..”

3:00AM

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hoshifighting · 3 months

Text

Anklet Adorned

Preview: "You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice dripping with arrogance as he resumes his relentless pace. "You like it when I fuck you so hard that even your anklet can't stay quiet." he refers to the charms from the anklet he made for you, making little noises continuously synchronized with his thrusts.

Warnings: Smut, hard slutty smutty hard awesome sex, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, degradation, praising, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, fingering, messy sex, sloppy, chocking, crying, aftercare, doggy style and etc.

Word Count: 3.7k

This smut was created through a request, thank you anon, I LOVED writing this one! (click here to be sent to the request)

Joshua, with his deft fingers and boundless imagination, had a passion for crafting bracelets. Be it beads or strings, he could weave magic with his hands, creating intricate designs that sparkled with personality.

Every day, Joshua would surprise you with a new bracelet, each one a unique masterpiece that told a story. He'd fill you with joy as he slipped it onto your wrist, his eyes gleaming with pride and love. From vibrant colors to delicate patterns, each bracelet was a reflection of his affection for you.

What made Joshua's gesture even more endearing was his knack for matching the bracelets to your outfits. No matter how last-minute your wardrobe choices were, he always managed to craft a bracelet that perfectly complemented your look. His dedication and attention to detail never ceased to amaze you.

One Friday evening, as you curled up on the couch watching a movie, Joshua sat beside you, his fingers busy at work with his latest bracelet creation. You watched him intently, admiring his skill and dedication as he meticulously threaded beads together, lost in his own little world of creativity.

But then, just when you least expected it, Joshua leaned over and gently slipped something around your ankle. Startled, you looked down to see a delicate anklet adorned with an array of pretty charms dangling from it. Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected surprise.

"Surprise," Joshua whispered, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he admired his handiwork.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood your heart. The anklet was exquisite, a perfect blend of elegance and whimsy, just like Joshua himself. Each charm seemed to hold a story of its own, and you couldn't wait to hear the tale behind this new creation.

Joshua adored the moments when your legs rested gently on his lap, your smooth skin inviting his touch. With tender affection, he would run his fingers along the length of your legs, reveling in the sensation of your warmth beneath his fingertips. But what captivated him most was the anklet adorning your ankle, its delicate charms dancing playfully against your skin.

As your legs lay draped across his lap, Joshua found himself mesmerized by the contrast of the anklet against your skin tone. The intricate charms seemed to come alive with each movement, casting dappled shadows across your legs as they swayed gently to the rhythm of your breathing.

"So, what do you want to do tonight, babe?" You ask.

"Hmm, I can think of a few ideas." Joshua trails his fingers along the curve of your thigh. "Well, we could keep watching this movie..." his hand ventures higher, teasingly brushing against the hem of your shorts, making you shiver at the touch, biting your lip.

"Or we could find something... more entertaining." you suggest, brushing your thighs together sensually, immediately capturing his attention.

A slow grin spreads across Joshua's lips as he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs huskily, grabbing your thighs harder.

You find yourself lost in the moment, your breath catching in your throat as Joshua's lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue dances against yours, igniting a fiery passion that courses through your veins.

Before you realize it, Joshua is already on top of you, his weight pressing you into the soft cushions of the couch. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guides your legs to wrap around his waist, drawing you closer to him in a fervent embrace.

His hand finds its way to your throat, applying a slight pressure that sends shivers down your spine. It's a delicate balance of pleasure and restraint, a silent communication of lust between the two of you.

As you melt into his touch, surrendering yourself to the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours and his hand on your throat, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your body.

Desperately, your hands roam over the hems of Joshua's clothing, driven by a need to feel every inch of his skin against yours. With eager fingers, you fumble with buttons and zippers, determined to strip away any barrier between you and Joshua.

Joshua chuckles at your needy antics, his eyes alight with amusement and desire as he watches you. Sensing your urgency, he reaches behind him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

The sight of his toned torso, bathed in the soft glow of the room, steals your breath away. Muscles ripple beneath smooth skin, evidence of his strength and vitality. You drink in the sight hungrily, your heart racing with anticipation as you marvel at the beauty before you.

With a low grow, Joshua leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roam over your body, as he undresses you with skillful hands. Garment after garment falls away, discarded to the floor in a heap of forgotten fabric.

Lowering his head to meet your dripping pussy, until his gaze meets yours, Joshua captures the expression of excitement in your eyes. He latches his mouth onto your cunt, and you melt on the cushions.

As Joshua's warm mouth works its magic on your cunt, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you can't help but surrender to the sensations washing over you. With each flick of his tongue and gentle suckle on your clit, he brings you to the brink of ecstasy, coaxing soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, you instinctively wrap your legs around his head, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the rapture of his touch. The charms of your anklet sway rhythmically against his back and he moans, as he feels the weight of your legs around him, Joshua's excitement grows, fueling his desire to please you even more. With a renewed sense of urgency, he redoubles his efforts.

His tongue slipped inside of your cunt, while he sucked you sloppy, you can feel the slick heat of your arousal dripping down your thighs.

As you feel the impending rush of your orgasm building to its peak, Joshua suddenly pulls his mouth away, leaving you panting and desperate for release. Your legs tremble around nothing, aching for the touch that was just tantalizingly close.

You whine in frustration, your body still thrumming with the echoes of pleasure, craving the exquisite release that eludes you. With a glistening chin and a cocky smirk, Joshua looks down at you, reveling in the sight of your desperate desire.

In moments like this, his softness gives way to a confident dominance, his cockiness taking charge as he watches you squirm and beg for more. He loves to see you in this state, your cries and pleads only fueling his desire to push you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, Joshua leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words of encouragement and promises of pleasure yet to come.

"You're so close, aren't you, babe?"

"S-so close!" You protest, your voice tinged with need.

"That's the point," Joshua counters, his tone dripping with confidence. "I want to make you beg for it."

You groan, the ache between your legs growing more intense with each passing second. "Please," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua's smirk widens, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you squirm beneath him. "That's it, baby," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. "Beg for me."

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please," you whisper again, your voice thick with desire. "I need you."

With a satisfied grin, Joshua leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss. "I know you do," he whispers huskily. "And I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Don't stop now Josh, please…"

Joshua's smirk widens, his confidence palpable as he revels in your neediness. "Oh, I won't stop, sweetheart," he murmurs, his tone dripping with promise. "Tell me how badly you want to come."

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal at his command. "I want it so bad," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Joshua, I need to come."

"That's better," he says, his hand trailing teasingly along your thigh. "But not yet. I want to see you beg a little more."

You whine in frustration, but there's no denying the thrill that courses through you at his words. Despite the ache of desire that burns within you, you find yourself craving his dominance, eager to submit to his every whim.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Joshua leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss. "You're so beautiful when you beg, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "I could watch you squirm all night."

Joshua tilts his head, his gaze fixed on the globs of arousal dripping from you. There's a hunger in his eyes, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reaches out, his fingers trailing through the slick wetness between your folds. You shiver at his touch, a low moan escaping your lips as he explores your arousal with a confident, knowing touch.

"You're so wet for me…" Despite the embarrassment that floods your cheeks, there's no denying the raw, primal thrill that courses through you at the sight of Joshua's arousal.

With a confident smirk, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from your ear. "You like it when I make you this wet, don't you?" he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You can't get enough of me, can you?"

As you lie there, too aroused to think, Joshua takes control with a firm yet gentle hand. With a deft movement, he turns you around, pressing your chest against the couch while raising your ass up for him to see. You whimper at the sudden change in position, your body trembling with anticipation and need.

"Look at you," he murmurs softly, his voice laced with desire and dominance. "All spread out for me like a good little slut."

His words cut through the haze of desire, sending a shiver down your spine as you feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal overwhelming your senses.

But even as you cry, you can't help but feel a sense of surrender wash over you, knowing that in this moment, Joshua's dominance is all-consuming. His soft degradation only serves to heighten your arousal, the delicate balance of pleasure and pain driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

As your tears wet the fabric of the couch beneath you, Joshua's expression softens, a hint of tenderness in his eyes as he coos at you. "That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice gentle against your ear. "Let it all out for me. You know I love it when you're so responsive."

As Joshua's tip teases your entrance, you can feel your core ache with longing, craving his touch with an intensity that consumes you. Every teasing brush against your slick folds sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, heightening your arousal to dizzying heights.

His words send a shiver down your spine, your core fluttering in anticipation as you feel him slowly entering you. The sensation of him stretching you open, inch by delicious inch, is almost too much to bear, but you revel in the exquisite pleasure that courses through your veins.

With each slow, deliberate thrust, Joshua pushes deeper into you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to the couch beneath you, lost in a haze of ecstasy. Your walls clench around him, eager to be filled with every inch of his length as you surrender yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

As Joshua fills you completely, you're so tight around him that he can hardly move, every inch of his length enveloped by the delicious warmth of your core. Joshua almost loses himself in the sensation, his breath hitching at the sheer intensity of your grip. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, a sight that only serves to fuel his desire further.

"You're so tight, baby," he murmurs, his voice laced with awe and desire as he continues to move within you. "I can barely move... but I love it. I love how you grip me, how you take me so eagerly."

With a hard thrust, Joshua elicits a little sound from you, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he drives into you with unbridled force. But it's not just your reaction that catches his attention—it's the tinkling sound of the anklet adorning your ankle, its charms dancing. With each powerful thrust, the anklet chimes, a sweet melody that fills the room with the rhythm of your pleasure.

"Hmm, what's this?" Joshua muses, his cocky smirk widening as he hears the anklet chime with each of his powerful thrusts. "You like that, don't you?" he says, his voice dripping with arrogance as he resumes his relentless pace. "You like it when I fuck you so hard that even your anklet can't stay quiet."

You can only moan in response, your body writhing beneath him as he continues to slam into you, hitting your g'spot with precision each time. The combination of his cocky demeanor and the relentless stimulation has you teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your moans of pleasure growing louder with each passing moment.

As the knot tightens in your stomach, signaling the imminent arrival of your climax, Joshua senses the impending release building within you. With each thrust, he can feel the tension mounting, your body quivering with the promise of ecstasy.

He glances down, his eyes widening as he notices the telltale sign of your impending orgasm—a white ring forming at the base of his cock where it meets your slick heat. It's a visual confirmation of your impending release, a signal that drives him to push you even further towards the edge.

"I can feel you getting close, baby," Joshua murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he continues to pound into you. "I want you to come for me. I want to feel you clenching around me as you lose yourself in pleasure."

And then, with a guttural cry of release, it happens—the knot in your stomach unravels, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body. Your walls clench around Joshua's cock, milking him for all he's worth as you ride out the waves of your climax.

With a primal hunger still burning in his eyes, Joshua shifts positions, laying you gently on your back. You gasp as the change in position heightens your anticipation, your body tingling with excitement as you await his next move.

Licking three of his fingers, Joshua smirks down at you before slowly sinking them inside of you. The sensation is electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you arch your back in response to the overwhelming sensitivity.

You moan softly as his fingers delve deeper, filling you completely and stretching you to your limits. The wet sounds of your arousal fill the air, mingling with the rhythmic swaying of the anklet adorning your ankle.

Your breath catches in your throat as Joshua curls all three of his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. With a high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you arch your back, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that threatens to consume you.

Joshua smirks triumphantly, his eyes alight with satisfaction as he watches you writhe beneath him, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure. He knows exactly how to push all your buttons, how to drive you wild with need, and he revels in the power he holds over you in this moment.

With one final, powerful thrust of his fingers, Joshua abuses your g'spot relentlessly, driving you over the edge into an explosive climax. You scream in ecstasy as the overwhelming pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing with the force of your release.

In an uncontrollable surge of pleasure, you squirt, your essence spraying out onto Joshua and the couch beneath you. The sensation is electrifying, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through every fiber of your being as you surrender yourself completely to the overwhelming bliss.

Joshua's eyes widen in surprise and delight as he feels you drenching him with your arousal. He revels in the feeling of your release, knowing that he's the one who pushed you to such dizzying heights of pleasure.

As Joshua feels the arousal surging through him at the sight of you squirting, a wicked idea forms in his mind. He can't help but wonder if you could do it again, this time around his cock. With a primal hunger burning in his eyes, he wastes no time in sliding his length inside you once more.

But as you feel him filling you effortlessly once again, you can't help but cry out, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation. "I-I can't take it," you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his size.

But Joshua is quick to reassure you, his voice soft but commanding. "Yes, you can, baby," he murmurs, his hands gentle yet firm as he guides you through the discomfort. "You can take it. Trust me."

Joshua's voice is a husky whisper as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good, baby," he murmurs, his words sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. "I can feel you stretching open for me again, taking me so eagerly."

Despite the mess of white cream coating your pussy, Joshua's cock throbs inside you, pulsing with desire as he continues to drive himself deeper into your clenching warmth. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensation.

With each movement, the tightness of your grip around him only serves to heighten Joshua's arousal, driving him to push you even further towards the edge of ecstasy. He revels in the feeling of your slick walls clenching around him, milking him for all he's worth as you both surrender yourselves completely to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

As the intensity of your pleasure peaks, your nails dig deliciously into Joshua's back, leaving marks of desire in their wake. His cock buried deep inside your cunt, you feel every inch of him pulsating with need, driving you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

With each thrust, the anklet around your ankle sounds ever louder, a symphony of pleasure that fills the room as you ride the waves of your climax. Joshua can only moan in response, his own desire reaching a fever pitch as he feels you tightening around him, your walls gripping him with a desperate hunger.

Feeling the spray of your arousal drenching him and the couch beneath you, Joshua's cock throbs with anticipation, the sensation only serving to heighten his arousal. He can't help but groan in pleasure as he feels you cumming around him again.

Your throat is already sore from the screams of ecstasy that have torn from your lips, your hair clinging to your face in sweaty tendrils as you ride out the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a guttural groan, Joshua releases himself inside of you, his hot seed filling you completely and adding to the mess already coating your pussy. The sensation of him pulsating within you sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body, driving you to the brink of oblivion once more, your vision turning completely black.

As your vision slowly returns, you find yourself enveloped in soft covers, the lingering haze of pleasure still clouding your mind. Confusion washes over you as you take in your surroundings, realizing that you're now clean and showered, the evidence of your passionate encounter with Joshua washed away.

Just as you begin to wonder how it all happened, Joshua appears suddenly in the doorway of the bedroom, a cloth draped casually over his shoulder. His eyes light up with a warm smile as he takes in the sight of you, peaceful and serene in the aftermath of sex.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he says with a gentle smile, crossing the room to sit beside you on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

You blink up at him, still trying to process everything that happened. "I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "What happened? How did I get here?"

Joshua's smile widens as he reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "I took care of you," he explains softly. "After... everything that happened, I wanted to make sure you were okay. So I cleaned you up, gave you a shower, and tucked you into bed."

You smile gratefully at Joshua, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at his tender care. "Thank you for taking care of me," you say softly, your voice filled with appreciation.

Joshua returns your smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Of course, baby," he replies, his voice gentle. "I'll always be here for you."

Then, he adds with a chuckle, "Oh, and I took care of the couch too. It's all clean now."

Your smile falters for a moment as you gasp, a wave of mortification washing over you as you realize what he's referring to. For a moment, you had forgotten about the mess you made on the couch in the heat of passion.

"Oh no," you exclaim, feeling embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot..."

You feel a rush of relief flood through you as Joshua cuts you off with a reassuring smile, his warm hand squeezing yours gently. "It's all okay," he reassures you, his voice filled with understanding and love.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for his understanding and support. "Thank you," you murmur, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you relax into his comforting embrace.

But then, Joshua's words catch you off guard, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as he adds, "And you know what?" he adds, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You looked so hot while you squirted."

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ohbother2 · 2 months

Note

hi i’m helluvapoison!! (also a side blog, so APPARENTLY i can’t send asks with it? rude, tumblr) anyways i wanted to say you’re amazing, phenominal, show stopping. i love your writing so. much.

i humbly request a nsfw lucifer/ reader (however you feel like formatting it) where he tries to cancel date night because reader looks too good, he’s gotta have em then and there. reader takes this and runs, spends the evening riling him up and maybe making him beg for it, if you could? i love sub luci but wanna give you creative freedome as much as possible

ok ok i hope you have a fantastic day buh bye and keep being amazing!

You're making me blush srsly

Also I absolutely loved this idea and couldn't help but immediately start planning a fic around it - I absolutely love how your mind works

This is kinda long, and is part 1 of 2 (sorry), but I personally much prefer the build up and think it needs enough time to really get going (wink wink) to make the pay off worth it

*ahem* not quite smut? It's toeing the line tbh - Minors DNI

Lucifer x f!reader - He Wants to Cancel Date Night

---

It wasn't a particularly significant day that Lucifer had chosen to designate your upcoming date, he had simply picked a random free day in his calendar, asked you if you were free, and then giddily instructed you to doll yourself up nice and be ready for 7pm to go out for dinner. He hadn't told you where you would be heading, but when Lucifer did decide to take you somewhere purposeful for a date, and not just take you for a leisurely stroll and a candle-lit picnic, he always went full-out, so you knew to dress to impress.

It had been a while since your last date night, the two of you often prioritising your time together and trying to organise something at least every two weeks. Due to both of your busy-ness with reconstructing Charlie's new hotel project after the last extermination, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones and muscles after a long day of construction, it had been a month since your last 'official' date.

Yourself and Lucifer had been dating for several years by now, but the early-stage giddiness remained, and you still loved impressing him when you dolled yourself up, and you honestly lived for his reactions when you wore something particularly nice. It had been a while since you had both indulged yourselves as a couple, and tonight, you wholly planned on blowing him away with what you decided to wear, and hopefully a lot more.

You had missed him a lot. Unbeknownst to you, he had missed you much more, and he himself had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready for tonight.

You currently sat at your vanity table, makeup and hair products strewn about its entire surface as you fixed up the finishing touches of your makeup in the large illuminated mirror attached to the desk. Your hair had been styled in an elegant updo, with curled strands of hair framing your face and caressing your rosy cheeks, not a strand out of place after the many hours you had spent perfecting the look. Your whole outfit had been coordinated purposefully, with the intention of wearing a ruby and gold jewellery set Lucifer had gifted you on your first anniversary, a favourite of yours, and a set which never failed to grab his attention. The elegant ruby pendant sat snug against your chest nestled amongst a gold chain, with a pair of ruby and gold earrings dangling from your ears to match. You adorned an equally vibrant ruby dress which cinched tightly at your waist and hugged your bust enticingly, clinging to your hips tightly and its hem digging lightly into your upper thigh. You pucker your rouge lips in the mirror, ensuring an even application as your bright eyes focussed intently, framed with smoky eyeliner and shimmering gold.

You stare at yourself contemplatively, scrutinising your appearance and tugging at a strap of your dress. You had no reason to be nervous, you were already dating the King of Hell, and he took every opportunity to show his devotion to you, but butterflies still swarmed in your stomach as you readied for the date, desperately wanting to impress him. In your eyes, Lucifer was a devastatingly handsome man, with the beauty of an angel despite his fallen status, able to sweep you off your feet with a disarming smile and his silky-smooth voice. He was an amazingly attentive and caring partner, and you could never ask for someone as understanding or perceptive, and god he really did still have the same effect on you, the butterflies only swarming more in your stomach as you thought about the blond man.

Speak of the devil: you jump lightly when you hear a gentle knock at your front door, and you give yourself one final glance in the mirror, a hand carding through a lock of loose hair before you respond.

"One second, Luci!" You call, prepared for him arriving a few minutes early, as he always did, standing from your seat and grabbing a small clutch-purse and a pair of gold heels from beside your bed as you hurry out into the hallway.

You place the items in your hands thoughtlessly on the staircase in the hallway, pausing before the door to straighten your dress, tugging the hem further down your thigh minimally and taking a deep breath before your hand lands on the doorknob. You swing the door open with a little too much enthusiasm, but the staggering smile that greets you has your worries subsiding as Lucifer beams at you, both of his hands rested atop his cane as he waits expectantly.

He had dressed himself incredibly well, a white suit with a burgundy shirt and pin-stripe burgundy waistcoat cinching at his unfairly trim waist, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique. He had abandoned his hat for the evening, and you feel your breath leave you at the way he had styled his blond locks away from his face, not a strand out of place and curling around his ears as he smiles oh-so-innocently, the apples of his cheeks rosy and pronounced with the way his grin stretched across his face.

Within his own mind, Lucifer was having an internal battle as his thoughts devolved to a jumbled and rather sinful mess at the sight that greeted him, your bright smile and rouge lips having his heart stammering in his chest as his fists enclose around his cane. You looked positively other-worldly, and the many compliments and greetings he had at the tip of his tongue die in his throat as his gaze flits up and down your body, not all that subtly. The dress left little to the imagination, and his gaze follows the long curve of your legs hotly, the shimmering stockings you wore seemingly accentuating your height. His gaze finally lands on the pendant nestled between your breasts, and a primal heat gathers in the hollow of his stomach when he immediately recognises it as the one he had bought you all those years ago. God, he loved when you wore his gifts, and he's even more ecstatic to see the matching earrings as his red gaze finally returns back to your face, a vision of beauty greeting him, looking far too happy to be in his presence as you smile lovingly.

"Angel, you look positively stunning." He immediately compliments you, bending at the waist and taking a hold of one of your hands in his gentle grasp, pressing a long, purposeful kiss against your knuckles, refusing to breaking eye-contact the entire time. You smile down at him, closing the door behind him as you comment.

"I love your new suit, it's unfair how handsome you are." He practically preens at the compliment, grinning at you as he leans against his cane, trying to make himself look as big and enticing as possible.

"I just need to grab some last minute things, if you wait in the living room I won't be long."

Ah yes, the date, he had nearly forgotten about that. You really did reduce him to a useless, thoughtless, mess. He hums as you walk past, eyes shamefully travelling down your torso as you walk away, not leaving your figure as you bend down to grab your heels and clutch from the staircase. Your dress really did leave little to the imagination, not that he had to imagine. He pulls his gaze away before you turn back around towards him, and he purposefully strides into your living room, pretending that he definitely was not just checking you out shamelessly, and that his throat definitely wasn't growing tighter and dryer with every second.

It had been so long since you both had been able to spend some much needed quality time together, usually spending your days around the habitants of the hotel as you worked, and then just returning home and collapsing into respective heaps after the many hours of labouring away to make Charlie's dream come true. He really was looking forward to this date, and he had been beyond ecstatic to be able to spend so many hours with you, and only you, after so long, but now that the time had finally arrived, he truthfully didn't want to leave these four walls.

Truthfully? He wanted to absolutely ruin the makeup and hairdo you had doubtlessly spent hours on, and he wanted to be out of his brand new suit as quickly as his hands would allow. He tries not to stare too openly when you enter the room, breathing in deeply at the strong smell of your newly sprayed perfume, watching with slitted eyes as you fuss around in a drawer, looking for something he didn't think you needed. He already knew it as soon as you had opened the door and knocked him back on his ass with that dazzling smile; he did not want to go on this date, he wanted you, and hopefully, you felt the same.

"I've missed you so much sweetheart." He practically purrs as he steps behind you, cane left leant against the back of the sofa as his hands land on either of your hips, chest pressed against your spine as he watches your reflection in the mirror hung above the side table. Your gaze flits up to meet his in the mirror, but your hands remain searching as you smile gently at him. You can see the way his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lilac-hued eyelids more visible than before as he stares into your own bright eyes intensely, and you immediately know where his mind had headed.

"I've missed you too, I'm so glad we've finally got a night to ourselves." You mutter, enjoying his warmth pressed along your back, tucking the little comb you had been searching for into your clutch. "You're not being subtle, I know that look."

"What look?" He questions coyly, and you can see his mischievous grin over your shoulder as he props his chin against you. "I'm simply in awe of your beauty." He presses a kiss against the column of your throat, and your head tilts to allow him to press another open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear. "And can you blame me?"

"Luci," You warn, turning in his grasp. His hands follow your movements, now resting against the small of your back as he grins at you, practically nose to nose. "we have a table booked."

"I'll re-book for another night, it's me, they'll fit us in whenever." He comments, prideful as ever. One of his hands comes up between your bodies to play with the ruby pendant nestled between your breasts, a finger running along the jewel and using the chain to pull you minimally closer.

"I've spent hours getting ready." You practically whisper, you can feel his breath fan across your neck as he studied the pendant.

"And you look absolutely ravishing," He purrs, eyes matching yours once again. "so this is all your fault really." He leans in for a proper kiss, but you turn your head so that his lips land against your cheek.

"You'll get my lipstick all over you for the dinner." You were finding it increasingly hard to tell him no, especially with the way his gaze heated across your face, sultry eyes enticing you invitingly.

"I don't mind." He hums, and you feel his grip tighten against your waist. "In fact, I think I'd love to be covered in your lipstick."

"What happened to the gentleman who was at my front door not only five minutes ago?"

"I am a gentleman!" He defends, smile quickly delving into something devilishly cheeky as he comments. "I'd return the favour, put your lipstick on me, darling, and there won't be an inch of you left uncovered."

You laugh to dispel the tension in your chest at the image, and how sinfully enticing that notion was. At the same time, Lucifer begins to laugh, commenting how 'gentlemanly' that action would be.

"You, are terrible." You push him away gently, and he follows your hands with a childish frown he doesn't even bother to conceal.

"If I ask nicely enough can we stay?" He leans back against the back of the sofa, puffing out his chest in the way he knew you loved. "I'm not a Saint, I don't think I can make it through a meal with you looking like this."

"Like what?" You ask deftly, enjoying toying with him as you begin fastening your heels.

"Like I could just eat you up." You immediately know what he's insinuating, and the point is only proven more with the way he cups his chin with his hand as he watches you, fingers placed purposefully either side of his lips. Anyone else wouldn't pick up on the concealed gesture, but you know him better, and you narrow your eyes at how hard he was chipping away at your resolve.

You had half a mind to just say yes, hike your dress up and have some fun right in the middle of your living room. But no, you had been looking forward to this meal for weeks, and you rather enjoyed the idea of toying with him throughout the meal - really, if he didn't want you to tease him all afternoon, he shouldn't have come across so desperate so quickly. You'd get your revenge for all this teasing, you definitely would, and it made it even better that you knew the thought wouldn't even be crossing his mind yet.

He grins to himself as he watches you closely, an idea forming in his head. "Let me help with your heels, at least."

"No." You comment quickly, beginning to tie the second golden heel.

"Wha- why?" He questions, sounding offended.

"Because I know you, and before I know it you'll be under my dress and we won't make it to our dinner."

"I can indulge in a little starter, I bet you're much more delicious-"

"Luci, you are-" Your words cut off at the shit-eating grin he adorned, clearly enjoying riling you up. "making this incredibly difficult."

"Is it working?" He all but sings, wiggling his brows as you step towards him, now a little taller than him with your heels fastened. He was having far too much fun at your expense, and you couldn't allow that. He looks up at you with a ridiculously fond smile, which only grows when your hands smooth the lapels of his blazer.

"Maybe." You hum, and you avoid his lips once again by pressing a single long kiss underneath the crook of his jaw, your left hand cradling the back of his neck to keep him in place. He sighs out a moan, relaxing back into the sofa and hands clenching against the fabric behind him, believing that his persuasions had finally won you over.

"Really?" He asks as you pull away from his throat, still tantalisingly close. Your eyes don't linger too long, but the bright red lipstick stain has you fighting away a grin at the achievement. And to think, he was none the wiser. He sounded so hopeful, and you nearly back out of your plan. But no, you were looking forward to this meal, and you were looking forward to making him suffer for the next few hours even more.

"No, now come on, we're late."

"What?" His voice immediately loses all of its confidence, a shattered whisper as he watched you with despondent eyes. You could see the way he deflated as you pull further away from him, beginning to head towards the door. His hands were still gripping the back of your sofa, but this time to keep him propped up at the devastating news. "Darling, that's evil. We can't leave now!"

"Patience, baby." You reprimand, and he pouts playfully to hide the disappointment in his chest. "Good things come to those who wait."

"Good things could be happening right now." He tries to reason, voice low as he tries to encourage you to change your mind. He was still propped against the sofa, and you hesitated at the doorway to the hallway, looking back at him with a torn look. You had made up your mind, however, and he wouldn't win so easily.

"Are you coming? Or am I attending our date alone?"

"Fine." He groans, picking up his cane and twirling it in his hands to try and distract himself as he follows after you, pausing in front of the mirror to check his appearance. He had spent a long time on himself, after all, and next to you he needed to look every bit the charming devil. He doesn't really intend to pay too much attention to himself, but the pronounced cherry-red lipstick stain pressed under the crook of his jaw in the unmistakeable form of your lips has him nearly snapping his cane in half as soon as he spots it.

"Sweetheart!" He calls immediately, voice an octave higher than it had been a moment before. You grin to yourself as you shrug on your sheer shawl, knowing he had seen your little gift. His head pokes around the doorway, and you can see how his eyes have widened to the size of saucer-plates as he hurries towards you, knuckles of his left hand white against his cane as he reaches for you. "You can't do that and then drag me to dinner." A hand reaches for you, but you're already opening the door with a laugh. "We're staying."

His hand misses you as you step outside, and he pauses at the front entrance, glowering down at you with a tight jaw and furrowed brows. He tries one final pathetic attempt. "I feel ill."

"You're a bad liar." You laugh, holding a hand out, waiting to take his arm expectantly, and you can see how he works his jaw as he realises he really had to go to this meal. "We've got all night to ourselves, you'll survive for a few more hours."

"I don't think I will with such a pretty thing on my arm." He mutters more to himself, but you still feel heat creeping to your cheeks at the compliment. Your resolve wins over, however, and Lucifer locks your door and pockets the key before offering out his arm, beginning to lead you towards an awaiting taxi. Oh, tonight would be fun, and the best part was, Lucifer had no idea how much fun you were about to have.

---

The drive to the restaurant had gone smoothly, and Lucifer had guided you to an incredibly elegant restaurant, far outside what you would attend by yourself, nestled deep within the centre of the Pride Ring where those with wealth and status liked to play and mingle. Lucifer had practically glowed with pride when you had openly gasped in the restaurant's foyer, and had kept his hand on the small of your back the entire journey to your table; a booth directly next to the inside balcony that looked over the lower two floors of the restaurant, with a great crystal chandelier hanging parallel.

Now, you both sat at opposite sides of the table with a menu each, a bottle of some expensive-sounding wine placed in the centre of the table and your glasses filled. Lucifer was happily chatting away, meanwhile you had been storming your mind to begin enacting your revenge.

"-I don't know why he's so stubborn about it! He's literally the embodiment of lust, how embarrassing can confessing feelings be after, after doing that." Lucifer pulls a face as he sets down his menu, wafting his hands about as he continues. "It's ridiculous! And after the way he treated me when I was panicking about asking to court you! That man is the biggest hypocrite in all of Hell, and I should know."

"He's probably just embarrassed, Luci." You hum, still looking over your own menu. "Sure he's the embodiment of lust, but being sexually attracted and emotionally involved are two completely different things."

"They've been sleeping together for years by now, surely someone must have let something slip during all those times. He's told me about everything they've done, despite me not even wanting to know, and they've done some, some absolutely-" He hesitates, searching for the correct word. "'questionable' things. I mean, you can't do all that and remain," A pause. "indifferent."

"Physical attraction is a lot more removed, I think." You comment, resting your menu against the table and looking over at him. "It's a lot easier to just be interested rather than involved, you're putting your heart on the line not just your pride. Like, as an example, we slept together way before we ever said 'I love you'."

"But I-" The blond's face pinches slightly, as if remembering something embarrassing. "I knew I loved you before we even got together, so that doesn't count."

"You didn't tell me though, that's the difference." You smile softly at him, heart swelling at the little confession. His sweetness really was making you rethink your plan for the evening, but then you remembered the way he had prepositioned you to skip starters altogether in the taxi in favour of something else, and your sympathy quickly dies. "If Ozzy actually says the words, Fizz could say no-"

"He won't, that man's even more obsessed than Ozzy." Lucifer slumps a little in his chair, looking at you hopelessly, as if you had all the answers to his dear friends' worries. "I don't know how much more of his pining I can take, I might have to confess for him at this rate."

Throughout the entire conversation, you had been slowly shimmying yourself lower in the booth you sat on, which was incredibly hard with the way the skirt of your dress tugged against the soft velvet fabric beneath you, trying not to accidentally flash yourself as you worked. Now that you were low enough down, but still looked as if you were sitting upright, you slowly reach your right leg out, uncrossing your legs to give yourself some extra reach. You nod along to Lucifer's lamenting, smiling distractedly as you search for his legs underneath the table with your own.

Finally, the tip of your heel brushes against a soft fabric, and your smile brightens for seemingly no reason as your foot hovers near Lucifer's ankle, tapping against it gently, once, twice. If he notices he doesn't indicate it, carrying on with his complaining, now having moved onto Fizz and away from Asmodeus. Your foot rests gently against his calf, pressing minimally into the light white fabric as you respond to him.

"And how long did it take you to confess to me, hm?" Your head tilts as you smily cheekily, and Lucifer pouts when he realises exactly what you were about to say. "If it's longer than whatever they've got going on, I think you deserve to be his confidante. I'm sure you put him through it yourself."

"I-" He sighs, unhappy with the reality. "But it's- it's so painful watching them! I think it pains me more because it's Asmodeus. If anyone in hell has the courage to do something like that, it's him."

Your foot inches higher, slowly, and you're now midway up his calf. He's still too enraptured in his own friends love life to realise.

"He's the embodiment of lust, not love. This is as far out of his comfort zone as anyone else."

Your foot continues to inch higher, and as Lucifer thinks with a slightly downturned lip, you heel presses inward towards his knee.

"I'd argue they go hand in hand! I don't see how-" He suddenly stops talking, eyes honing in on you and lip falling into a firm line. "What are you doing?" You continue to smile mindlessly, watching as he stares at you contemplatively, hands fiddling with his menu as he becomes startlingly aware of exactly how high your foot had managed to inch.

"Whatever do you mean?" You tilt your head innocently, foot inching upward again and resting on the inside of his calf, just below his knee. "Has the wine gotten to you already?"

You jest with a jovial smile, but Lucifer is staring at you as if he had just managed to crack the Rosetta Stone, skin paling under the warm glow of the candlelight, and mouth falling open slightly. Realisation of what this night would be hits him like a tidal wave, and he stares hopelessly as he finally understands your eagerness to come to the meal. His eyes were large and lightly panicked, and that panic only increases when your foot shifts higher, pressing into the side of his knee playfully.

"Y/N, sweetie, you can't be serious-" He sounded like a man who had just figured out he had been sentenced to deaths row, and he certainly looked as if he had just received the news. ''you- you told me later."

"I'm not doing anything!" You grin devilishly with your chin rested atop your interwoven hands, and in that moment Lucifer knew he was in for a world of trouble. He stares at you tensely, silently pleading with you to let him enjoy the meal in somewhat peace. It was hard enough looking at you, nevermind with your foot inching higher and higher and beginning to press pleasantly against the lowest part of his inner thigh. "So, do you think Fizz will confess first?"

"I think coming to this restaurant was a mistake."

"I'm really enjoying my time." You chirp around a laugh, grinning as he shifts in his seat, your foot beginning to rub against his inner thigh slowly, up and down, each caress inching higher and higher. "Relax. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself once the food arrives."

"I think I should've locked the door behind me when I arrived and kept you in the living room." He laments to himself, and you have to hide the way the comment has heat rushing up your neck. No, you were playing with him tonight, not the other way around. To prove a point, your foot presses harsher into his thigh, and you watch as he glances at his lap before settling his sight back on you.

"It really is a beautiful restaurant, and you booked a wonderful table, so secluded. Very romantic."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, I am."

The smile you send him has him nearly standing from the table, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the restaurant and into the nearest alleyway. It was a look that promised so much more than he had planned for this meal, and the fact that it was aimed at him had him sweating under his collar and regretting his teasing earlier in the night. He really was at your mercy, and he knew that you were aware of that, and that you had no intention of making this meal easy on him. He glowers at you from across the table, more upset with himself than you: he should've begged harder at your doorstep.

The waitress takes that moment to return with a smile and a writing pad, asking about starters and entrees and how you both were finding the wine. Lucifer goes to open his mouth to cancel the afternoon but you are two steps ahead, as always, ordering your meals with a sickeningly sweet smile and then redirecting your attention back to him, who now has to order food he doesn't even want for the sake of saving his image.

"-and I was wondering about the bourguignon, is it possible-" He nearly smashes his knee against the top of the table when you press the toe of your heel to the highest point of his inner thigh, grazing dangerously against his bulge and tugging his trouser material taut. He splutters for a moment, making a show of clearing his throat to hide his absolute shock, and clears his throat as he attempts to smile at the concerned waitress. "Ah, sorry, I'm a little under the weather but we've had this meal planned- anyway, could I please have that w-without-" His voice audibly warbles when you rock your foot slightly, pressing directly into the side of his bulge and continuing to watch the interaction with a grin. He has to clear his throat again. "without mushrooms please."

You continue to toe against his bulge as the waitress recites your orders back to you both, his hands clenching against the edge of the table as he attempts to nod along to whatever the waitress was saying. His hips attempt to shift away from your agonising touch, but you only stretch your leg further, pressing harsher and continuing to rock at that agonisingly slow pace.

"Excellent, thank you." He maintains his unsteady smile until the waitress is long gone, and then he's staring at you and breathing a little harshly as your foot continues to rub against him.

"Darling-"

"You look stressed, baby. Is something wrong?"

"Is this why you wanted to come to this meal? Just to toy with me?" He sounded like a woman scandalised, and something in his jaw twitches when you drag your foot back to the curve of his knee, before caressing as far in as you could reach.

"Depends, is it working?" You parrot back at him from earlier, and he takes a deep breath as he realises this was entirely his own fault.

"Of course it is."

"I thought you wanted to indulge yourself before our starters? Relax, indulge yourself."

"This-" His voice cracks again when you completely leave his thigh and toe directly against the centre of his problem, rocking up and down instead of side to side. His shoulders tense as his legs instinctively part at the contact, knees spreading slightly despite the agonised look he adorned. "isn't what I had in mind."

"Huh, this is exactly what I had in mind."

"Think about this," His breathing had become slightly harsher, and his hips twitched when your heel tugged the material of his trousers a little too tight, a dull pleasure slowly spreading that he was desperately trying to ignore. You laugh loudly at the desperate way he had already begun to plead, and to think, your starters hadn't even arrived yet. His voice drops as he whispers at you. "you want me walking out of here with ruined trousers? Because keep this up and keep looking at me that way and that's what's going to happen."

"I've barely done anything Luci." You shake your head feigning disappointment, foot stopping its ministrations and just resting right against his centre. "But don't worry, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I did."

"Punishment?" He whispers bewildered, leaning forward in his seat and across the table to emphasise his disbelief.

"You're too pretty to throw yourself at me before our meal and expect me to just get over it." You tut, grin widening as he continues to gawp. The rosy hue of the apple of his cheeks had darkened considerably after the compliment. Oh, this was too easy. "If I have to spend the rest of this night in," You pause, leaning forward and dropping your voice to whisper seductively. "ruined underwear," A pathetic little sound catches in his throat, and you grin wickedly as his hips twitch against you. "I think it's only fair I have some fun."

"We could've stayed, I could've taken care of you." He really did have the sweetest way of wording things. In reality, he was envisioning you pinned beneath him on the sofa as his tongue and fingers set to work, and he was growing increasingly infuriated that he wasn't doing just that right now.

"You've not even let me kiss you yet." He begins, a hand reaching out to caress yours across the table, and you tilt your head playfully when you feel his breath fan across your face. "Isn't that punishment enough?"

"And you won't if you don't start behaving." The way your voice had taken on an authoritative tone has heat climbing up the nape of his neck, and his fist clenches tighter against the fabric draped across the table. "How can you expect me to behave when there's such a handsome man pleading with me? You're the gentleman, you should woo me until a much more acceptable time in the evening. This is a date, after all, where's the gentleman who asked me to come here?"

"You killed him when he saw you wearing that sinful outfit."

"Pity, because he won't see what's underneath until he returns." Lucifer can feel himself twitch within his trousers and it takes a great degree of self control to stop a whine from leaving his dry throat. You really had no idea just how you were effecting him, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to try and get some air to the nape of his neck, he was surely going to combust soon.

You couldn't leave it there, and your fingers caress his own outstretched hand as you release the killing blow. "Understand?"

"God," He groans around a shuddering breath, pupils dilating as he shifts back in his seat. His trousers were growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the heavy weight of your foot against him made him startlingly aware of how little control he actually had. "yes."

"Good." You grin, completely unfazed by the entire conversation. Lucifer, however, had taken on a rather sickly complexion, with his cheeks and neck startlingly red against his pale pallor. You immediately steer the conversation in another direction when you notice the waitress heading towards your table with your starters, and the blond's despondent look as you begin chattering about something else has your ego inflating and satisfaction brewing in your chest. You were right, this was going to be a fun night.

---

You had let up with your teasing throughout the starters and the wait for the entrees, and Lucifer had returned to a far healthier appearance than before. He hadn't fully recovered, however, with his own imagination running off and assaulting his mind with downright sinful images as he tried to focus on his food and converse with you. Currently, he was rather lost in a fantasy of ducking under the table, pushing your underwear to the side, and actually eating something he craved, and not relenting until you had finished every scrap of food on your plate. He had had to shrug off his blazer, which now lay neatly folded next to him, and his burgundy shirt sleeves had rolled up to expose his forearms and try and get some cool air to his heated skin.

Yes, you had relented with your teasing, but you had given his mind all that he needed to have him thoroughly wrecked for the rest of the evening. He was doing a poor job of controlling his thoughts, and truthfully he didn't want to.

"Mmm." You hum, bringing the first forkful of your meal to your lips and humming as the flavour reached your tongue. "This is amazing, I don't think I've ever tasted anything better."

He watches with heavy eyes as you bring another forkful to your mouth, and his chest raises when you make direct eye contact with him as you moan again, a quiet little sound that no one else in the bustling restaurant would hear, but that he could pick up on like a gunshot through a forrest. He watches as you do the same again, and his forked tongue comes out to lick across his lips as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it as he thinks about the sounds he could entice from you if you just let him. This time, you hum slightly louder, making a show of playfully rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you close them, savouring the flavour on your tongue. Lucifer has to spread his legs under the table to make room for the half-hard bulge he'd been fostering that was now beginning to grow again. He loved you, but you were a cruel woman.

"Not hungry, Luci?" Your question was innocent enough, but all he could envision was throwing the plates to the side and dragging you on top of the table to have his way with you. Reputation be damned, he would do so if you gave him the nod.

"Positively starving." His voice was uncharacteristically low, not even sparing his food a glance. He hadn't even picked up his cutlery yet.

"Your meal looks great, I'm kind of jealous. If we ever come again I think I'd order that."

He wasn't paying attention to a thing you said, instead watching as your hands wrapped unusually around the top of your wine glass - a fancy looking tall slender intricately designed glass that emphasised the restaurant's heightened status - taking a negligent sip, and then placing it back down onto the table. You didn't place it down normally, however, and you watch Lucifer closely as your hand remains clenched around the glass, stroking all the way down to its base before tapping a polished nail against it. You can see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and you twist your wrist and hand around its base before letting it go.

"Everything okay, baby? If there's something wrong we can send it back."

"You," He takes a deep breath to compose himself, his nails digging into his palms as your foot resumes its gentle caresses against his inner thigh in some semblance of a comforting notion. "are something else, sweetheart."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"And I think you're going to kill me before I can ever ask for the bill."

"I'd hope not, I've been looking forward to dessert all day." You purr, foot once again resting in between his legs. His eyes nearly roll at the contact, and his fists clench tightly around the cutlery he had just picked up as his mind absolutely runs with the possibilities after your meal. "Something sweet, I think. Apple crumble, maybe?" His gaze snaps from the piece of meat he had just skewered with his fork to your dark gaze, the gold framing your eyes glinting enticingly and churning his stomach. "I think I'd rather just have the apple, really."

His hips involuntarily jolt towards the pressure of your heel against him, and the food he had brought halfway to his mouth is thoroughly forgotten as you grin at him from across the table, taking another sip of your wine.

"I-" He stammers, scrambling for the suave flirtatious version of the King of Hell as he tries to muster a response. "that can definitely be arranged, darling."

You smile as he finally begins eating his meal, seemingly intent on finishing it as quickly as possible, but that upturn of your rouge lips turns dangerous when you decide he was rushing this meal far too fast. This was an expensive restaurant with some of the finest foods in hell: he should savour it.

"Ah!" You yelp in surprise, your knife 'falling' from the table and clattering against the floor. "Sorry- you distracted me." You lie not that convincingly, but Lucifer is too distracted in his own mind and too prideful that his stumbling attempt at flirtation has you so flustered to question your behaviour.

You smile at him innocently as you lean down, commenting loudly about how you couldn't see the knife as you lower yourself completely from your seat onto your knees and under the table. You wait a moment, spotting the knife immediately and crawling over it as you reach for Lucifer's legs, your cheeks hurting with the size of the grin that stretched across your face. Both of your hands come to rest on both of his ankles, gripping them firmly as he jolts, pinning them apart as you hear his cutlery clatter from above you.

The darkness under the table is suddenly illuminated as he tugs the table cloth up, a pair of wide bright yellow eyes immediately gazing down at you as your fingers slowly travel up his shins.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He all but hisses, but his voice is high pitched and airy and resembles more of a desperate whine than a genuine question.

"Shh." Your hands rest on either or his knees, and you push them further apart as he gapes down at you. "Continue eating, I won't be long."

"No, no." He stammers, but his legs fall open easily. You can see his eyes jerk back up to survey the little entrance to your secluded booth, terrified of being caught. "Please, don't. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." You encourage, hands resting heavily on his inner thighs, feeling the heat of his legs from beneath the thin material. "All you have to do is sit pretty and be quiet. I've got the rest."

"I can't." And as if to prove his own point, a choked wet sound catches in his throat when you prop your cheek against his knee.

"You're right," You contemplate, and he breathes a sigh of relief that quickly withers in his throat when he sees that you have no intention of coming out from under the table. "you have to keep talking or someone might get suspicious. Tell me a story."

His mouth falls open in disbelief, but you tug the table cloth from his hands and push it up against his lap to fully hide what you were about to do. He stares doubtfully at the white tablecloth that hid you from view, fists clenching atop the table as he swiftly regrets ever trying to convince you to stay at your home.

"Sweetheart, please-"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me a story, so you better make it a quick one." He doesn't move for a moment, and neither do you, but your nails dig into his thighs when you hear him pick his cutlery back up with a tense sigh.

"I don't- God, I can't think with you-" He mutters quietly, voice hitching when your palms slide up, fingertips caressing his prominent bulge straining against the white cotton of his trousers. You press a kiss to his inner thigh, careful not to leave a lipstick stain behind, and you grin when he moans and spreads his legs, hips pushing closer to your searing touch.

"The hotel? I saw you arguing with Alastor earlier." You offer helpfully, a palm resting flat against the outline of his dick and fingers curling around him horrifyingly lightly. You twist your wrist slowly, featherlight touches caressing through the white fabric as your other hand snakes lower, cupping his balls and squeezing.

Another choking sound, and you can feel the way he sucks a deep breath into his lungs.

"Y-yes. He was being his usually horrid self-" You press a kiss against the tip of his bulge, and this time a whine heaves from his throat that he silences by biting into his fist, face twisting in pain as he breathes deeply. He pushes his hips towards you, and your hands grab either of his hips and pin him in place as your brows furrow disapprovingly.

"That's not very gentlemanly of you." You tut, and you know he hears you when a choked whimper reaches your ears. Above you, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, blond locks beginning to unravel from their neatly combed style as he steadily loses his composure that he had been clutching to all evening. You rest heavily against his thighs and hips, hands clenched into his belt loops and preventing him from shifting as you gather saliva on your tongue.

"Uh- He was moaning about some- some furnishing-" His voice cracks when you lean forward, licking a defined line straight across his length. He can't feel the wetness, but he knows exactly what you did.

"Honey, please-" He had stopped trying to barter with you altogether, plainly begging in that small voice you loved, breath hitching around every word.

"You've not finished your story."

"Ngh-" He groans to himself, panting and staring at his half eaten plate. It is then he realised your plate was completely empty, you didn't even need the goddamn knife. His shoulders and neck are impossibly tense, and his jaw aches with the way he clenches his teeth to stop any more sounds from spilling past his lips as one of your hands leaves his belt to cup his balls once again. "I-I don't want to talk about him while you're doing that."

You giggle to yourself from under the table. He loved the sound, but it was the furthest thing from innocent he had ever heard. "And who else would you rather talk about?"

"I don't." He practically whines, trying to lower his voice back to some degree of normality. "I want you. Please can we leave."

"Oh, no no." You shake your head with a laugh. "You think you've been good enough? You've been nothing less than a mess all evening, not gentlemanly at all."

Suddenly, his hands are gripping your wrists and yanking you from his beltloops, and you're about to tell him off before you hear another woman's voice chattering above you. You sigh to yourself, collecting the knife and beginning to crawl back into your own seat.

You sit back up with a gentle smile, fluffing your hair as the waitress glances at you, a perplexed smile on her face. "Sorry, I dropped my knife. I'm so clumsy it's terrible, isn't that right dear?"

Your gaze finally lands on Lucifer, and your chest expands in pride at how disheveled he looked. The familiar flaming heat had once again licked up his neck and cheeks, both of which were a startling red as he sucked deep breaths into his lungs. His shirt had become slightly wrinkled from the way that he had gripped at his tie, and some of his blond locks had fallen from their neat style. He was still an utter vision of sophistication and charm, but the frays at the edges were beginning to simmer inwards.

"Oh, honey," You feign surprise, but Lucifer's jaw works when he sees the utter lack of sympathy in your eyes. "maybe you really weren't lying earlier, you don't look well."

"I'm fine." He all but grits out, voice having lost some of that chipper charm it usually carried, a muscle in his jaw tense. "I was just saying how lovely the food has been and how I think we're done."

"Ah, yes. It really has been amazing." You smile at the waitress, who had begun clearing the plates away and piling them into her arms. Your gaze shifts back to Lucifer, and his brows furrow lightly in confusion at the sickly sweet smile you sent his way. "We were actually hoping to try some of your desserts? I think we decided on the apple crumble and the cherry roulade, right dear?"

If he hadn't been such a composed man, Lucifer may have started crying then and there. He felt as though the world had been tugged from under him and that he was falling into a baseless abyss, and the little composure that he had been clawing to his chest nearly tore in two as he realised he couldn't say no without looking like an absolutely terrible date. He stares at you with disbelief for a moment, brows raising as he tries to muster the courage to agree with you.

"Uh, yes. If you wouldn't mind that'd be great." He hands the waitress a side-dish, eyes looking incredibly watery all of a sudden. "Thank you."

With a nod and a comment about the time you'd both have to wait for the dessert, the waitress takes her leave, leaving yourself and Lucifer in deathly silence.

Lucifer was staring at you as if you'd just torn his heart from his chest and stomped on it right in front of him, with large wet eyes watching your hopelessly as you continued to sip from your glass of wine, smiling over at him with your rouge lips. For a moment, it looked as though he had stopped breathing altogether, but then his tongue wets his lips and he opens his mouth, a small sad dejected voice coming out.

"When you were talking about dessert-"

"Yes, the apple crumble, I can't wait to try it!" You chirp happily, and it takes all of your restraint not to laugh openly at the way his eyes fall down to his lap despondently. "What happened to your hand?"

His lips purse as he flexes his right hand atop the table, the unmistakeable mark of teeth red and glinting in the candlelight. You can see two prominent fang marks across his knuckle and thumb as you lean across the table, tiny droplets of blood having crusted along their surface. How you wished you could've seen him do that, you cross your legs tightly at the images conjured in your head. Truth be told, your own teasing was getting to you as well. From the looks of it though, Lucifer was crumbling much faster.

His desperate gaze lands on you. You knew what had happened to his hand.

You laugh, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry." He leans forward as he talks, and your eyes alight with something indistinguishable as he tries to appeal to your better nature. "You have no idea how sorry I am for earlier. I'll do anything- please can we take our desserts home? Sweetheart, please."

Your head tilts, faux confusion flashing across your gaze. "I appreciate the apology Luci, but I don't know what you're apologising for. I'm just carrying on what you started."

"I can't sit here for another moment." His voice had taken on that whiny pitch you loved, and your tongue wets your lips as both of his hands grasp one of your across the table. "Please can we go home."

"Of course," You hum, and he perks up in his seat before you begin talking again. "as soon as we've finished. I've been looking forward to this dessert all month. You've made it this long, one more course won't hurt."

His throat tightens painfully as he continues to grip your hand in his own grasp. The aching in his trousers was becoming unbearable, and to have you deny him after toying with him so openly gave him a sort of whiplash that had him nearly shoving his own hand down his trousers to just give himself some sort of release. He had been wanting since the moment he first saw you that night, and he was so close and yet so far from actually having you.

"Look, dessert's here now. Won't be long."

You both pull away as the waitress approaches, settling the two desserts in the centre of the table.

You immediately tug the apple crumble towards you with a grin, and Lucifer watches with the little self-restraint he had crumpling into an ashen heap as you immediately spoon a hefty helping of apple into your mouth, humming as you swallow. He doesn't even try to hide his thoughts anymore, eyes watching the column of your throat as you swallow, hands weekly pulling his own dessert unhappily towards himself.

"This really is an amazing restaurant Luci." You comment, leaning across the table and watching as he begins his own dessert, your own spoon dancing from your fingertips. "I'm so glad you brought me. In fact, I think this is my favourite date we're ever been on."

He hums at you, eyes squinting playfully as you continue to tease him.

"And you look so good, I can't lie you nearly won me over before we left my house, but I'm so glad I convinced you to come out. I've loved every minute."

You were being downright cruel, and the compliments went straight to the flaming heat in his boxers as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to give himself that tiny bit of friction he desperately craved. He tries to remain composed, despite his flaming cheeks and the sweat that beaded along his back and chest, resting his head on his left hand, munching slowly on the chocolate and cherry dessert. It really was an amazing restaurant, but he hardly remembered any of the food he had eaten, his thoughts and senses completely enraptured by you the entire evening.

"I would love to try your dessert though, it looks like you've ordered the better thing every course." He glances from his plate to you, confused at what you were insinuating. The last time you had spoken about dessert, he had been sorely mistaken, and so he sits, too apprehensive to really do anything for fear or disappointing himself.

You place your spoon down, leaning across the table and pushing your chest out tantalisingly, pearly white teeth visible as you smirk, a hand reaching forward and fingers curling around his collar. His eyes flicker between your sultry gaze and your heaving chest, and yet he remains rigid in his seat, absolutely terrified of raising his hopes.

"Darling-?" He questions softly as you tug him closer, following your hands with ease as your breath fans across his lips.

"Just a small taste."

And then your lips are on his and he openly groans into your mouth as you finally give him what he wants. His hands leave the table ledge to cradle your jaw, pulling you in closer as his lilac-hued eyelids close, tilting your head to give him better access as his brows furrow. Your tongue darts across his lips, and he invites you in willingly, another moan catching in his throat as you hungrily lick into his mouth, his tongue battling with yours as one of your hands clenches into the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull away all too soon, and he collapses back into his seat a red, panting, mess, lips glossy, gazing at you with disbelieving amber eyes, utterly and completely smitten. He watches you pick your own spoon back up from its place on the table.

"The cherry's nice, but I do think I prefer the apple."

As soon as you finish the last spoonful, Lucifer is calling the waitress over and requesting the bill, practically vibrating in his seat as you watch him leisurely. This had been one of your favourite dates, and you didn't intend on letting this be the end of your fun.

---

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