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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion.

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality.

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it.

“Hey.”

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?”

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said.

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard.

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs.

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.”

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar.

However —

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up.

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly.

“That’s new.” He said.

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

“Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground.

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself.

“Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably! It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…”

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened.

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery.

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few.

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive.

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been.

He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you.

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels.

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch.

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind.

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe.

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze.

“Fuck.” He croaked.

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh.

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back.

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes.

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest.

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly.

“If you insist, princess.”

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder.

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach.

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor.

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

—

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs.

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined.

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching.

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again.

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming.

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm.

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly.

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers.

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach.

Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin.

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly.

—

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break.

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.”

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze.

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.”

The woman sighs.

“You might not always.”

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek.

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep.

“What’s that from?” You rasped.

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear.

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before.

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.”

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind.

“Hey!”

***

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mannequinreligi0n · 3 months

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How The DMC Boys Eat Out

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

WARNINGS: NSFW! - oral (female receiving)

WORD COUNT: ~150 per person

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

DANTE

Dante’s a busy man but what does he always make time for? Dessert. Though it’s not often you get dedicated alone time, Dante has made it a habit to at least reward you for sticking by his side as often as possible. This usually has you seated atop his desk, hands grasping at bills and work permits, as he sits before you in his beaten leather chair. Hungry and eager, he’ll kitten-lick at your hole ensuring that he’s tasting every single drop of arousal that leaks out. Dante’s a pleaser at heart, meaning he’ll go til his jaw locks or you yank him off of you. But until that point, he’ll make sure to mutter praise and sweet nothings in your heat, making you twitch and squirm. When he’s not holding your hips down, he’ll switch off between pumping digits or his tongue into you, knowing the right combination to make anyone unlucky enough to be at the agency hear you cry out his name til you lose all capability of intelligent speak.

“So wet - just for me, sugarplum. M’gonna make sure you can’t walk after this.”

VERGIL

Unlike his twin, Vergil appreciates more calculated encounters, rather than spontaneous ones. Ambience is very important to him; he’ll make sure that everything leading up to the moment is just right. Candles, wine, and soft sonatas playing in the background - all leading up to get you seated above him, thighs nearly squeezing his head into the mattress. The crude act of face-sitting is made into a poetic one when Vergil is under you. Methodical tongue movements and cherry lips sucking the life out of you make your hands grip the headboard with unbeknownst strength. Calloused hands will knead into your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm your jolting above him. Vergil has spent years mastering the art of patience and playing the long-game. He’ll make sure to draw out every single second til your legs give out. Aftercare is a biggie for him, holding you to his chest and praising your behavior to calm your pounding heart.

“Don’t mock me, little one. When I say sit, I mean sit.”

NERO

Nero is the happy-medium of the trio. Whether it’s quickies in the van or the good ol’ ‘wined and dined’, he’ll make sure that you are his number one priority. If there’s one thing Nero loves, though, it’s getting to stay in bed with you on his day off. Tired kisses and slow petting will eventually lead to Nero disappearing under the covers to take post between your legs. Inside the cocoon of blankets, Nero will lazily drag his fingers over your sensitive folds before anchoring his mouth to your bud. Gentle flicks of his tongue timing to the pump of his two fingers buried in you to the knuckle. Intermittently, his mouth will detach from you and trail kisses along your inner thighs and navel, whispering how good you taste and how much he loves you. He won’t emerge from his hideout until you’ve came - peeking out of the covers to kiss you sweetly, the taste of yourself prominent on his lips.

“There you go, let it out. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

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viennacherries · 2 months

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Prompt suggestion <3 Rolan/Tav NSFW. Tav really likes it when Rolan speaks to her in infernal. She doesn’t understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact that it turns her on. He starts to notice her subtle reactions to when he curses or something in infernal. Which leads to bedroom shenanigans lol. My username is the same on A03 ^^

this has taken me a minute, mostly because i had to spend some time literally making up the infernal language for the purpose of this fic LMAO. if you're interested in my process it's in the end notes on ao3.

i changed the prompt a little though; rolan doesnt notice because he's very silly and keeps failing the perception check. lia notices immediently.

NSFW read on ao3 here

~~~

The first time Tav hears Rolan speak infernal, she doesn't even register it as a word. It slips past his tongue and it's all consonants and noises that she's not sure she could emulate properly with her non-tiefling tongue.

"Zurgan." He mutters it under his breath as he drops a pile of books.

Her quill stops midair where she's busy writing up an inventory of magical items they've found. With everyone else busy or gone from the city, she offered to help Rolan with organising the tower. It's been a nightmare, frankly. The previous tower master (she wont do him the privilege of speaking his name, the bastard) had apparently spent the last who-knows-how-many years stuffing things into random shelves and boxes.

She frowns as she tries to repeat the word, "Zu- Zurgan? What's that mean?"

Rolan jumps, clearly having forgotten she's in the room, "not zurgan, zurgan. It means- well, I don't know if it translates literally to common. It's... an expletive, I suppose ."

She laughs, "so it means 'fuck'?"

He huffs, and rolls his eyes, "I suppose that's a close enough approximation, yes."

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"Well," his brow is furrowed as he thinks, "I suppose I try not to, really. It's not becoming."

Tav snorts at that, "Gods, how old are you, 150? Besides, how is swearing in tiefling any different?"

"The language is called infernal, you uncultured swine. I'm a tiefling, I speak infernal."

"You speak something alright. Usually a crock of shi-"

"What did I say about it not being becoming, hm?"

She rolls her eyes at him, "so sorry, Master Rolan, please accept my humblest of apologies for disgracing your presence in such a regard."

He rolls his eyes at her, but she hears him snort and sees the quirk of his lip. "I suppose as far as apologies go, that one will suffice."

~~~

Several weeks later, Cal shouts through the door to the study where they're cataloguing evocation books, "Rolan! Lia and I are heading to the market, do you want us to pick up more of the wine you like?"

He laughs, which is rare enough in itself, and leans out the door to reply.

"Fazit drakon'ziz orum?!"

She hears Cal's responding cackle from down the hallway. "alright, alright, little drakon'ziz. I'll get 2 bottles, 'cos I love you."

When Rolan comes back in, chuckling to himself, Tav doesn't say anything. She wants to ask what it means, but she's... distracted.

Something about the way the words sound when he says them is... enticing. She's not sure if she could repeat them without butchering them, but even if she could she's sure they wouldn't sound as delicious as when they come from him. It's something about the rich tone to his voice, which she's always liked, coupled with the harsher edge it takes on when he speaks the foreign language.

Gods, she's been spending far too much time with him,

She clears her throat, "drakon'ziz?"

Rolan turns to her, still smiling, " drakon'ziz , but close. It means dragon."

His lopsided smile, aimed at her, coupled with the gruffness of the unknown word, is a little bit intoxicating.

"What about the rest of what you said? Fa- Fazit something?"

"'Fazit drakon'ziz orum?' It means 'does a dragon want gold?' It's a tiefling saying, basically means 'yes, obviously.' It just sounds better in infernal."

Tav agrees. It sounds rather lovely in infernal, in fact.

When Tav doesn't reply, he raises an eyebrow, "I could try and teach you some? Infernal, that is. If you'd be interested. Tell me something you want to be able to say, I'll try and teach you how to say it."

She thinks for a moment.

"What if I want to call someone a shit-head?"

He barks out a laugh as he rolls his eyes, "of course you'd just want to know how to insult people. I think the closest translation would be uzterku'zereb. That means 'shit-for-brains'."

Despite the small jolt her stomach gives as he utters the phrase, she starts cackling. "That's even better!"

~~~

It's been about a month and a half since they started cataloguing everything in the tower, and it's basically become a nightly occurrence that Tav stays for dinner with them. Rolan has finally sat down at the dining table, after bringing all the dishes and cutlery through, and right as he hits the chair there's a sheepish voice from beside him.

"... Rolan~" It's Lia, in a singsong voice, and he huffs.

"What do you want?" It's a question, but it sounds more like an admonishment.

"How could you?! Assuming I want something from you. My beloved big brother. I look up to you so much. Also I left my drink in the sitting room."

You and Callum both laugh, and he makes a very dramatic show of pushing his chair back out with a huge sigh.

"You're such a..." He flails for a moment, as if the word in common has escaped him, "an uztanatez. Next time, you're getting it yourself."

She laughs, "My dear brother, I would fall on my sword for you."

"Mhm." He grumbles, " gladiz zurzum kuluz ..."

Cal nearly falls out of his chair laughing as Rolan trudges from the room, and Lia has a grin on her face from successfully riling him up and getting what she wanted.

Tav is blushing.

"What did he say?" She feels hesitant to bring attention to herself when she knows she's bright red, but she's also too nosy for her own good.

Lia looks at her and opens her mouth to answer, but pauses as she takes in Tav's face. Cal, blissfully, doesn't notice.

"Well the first bit was him calling her a suck up," he laughs through his explanation, "and the second bit was him telling her exactly where she could shove her sword."

She laughs, and thanks him for telling her. Lia is still looking at her. Her face warms more.

"What?"

"Hm." Lia smiles in a way that looks slightly threatening; the way Tav imagines a shark would smile at a seal before taking a huge chunk out of it. "Nothing, really. Only, you weren't that flushed before Rolan spoke in infernal. Got a thing for the devil's tongue, have you Tav?"

Cal furrows his eyebrows in confusion, before his eyes widen and his mouth drops in an 'o' of understanding.

She's about to deny it but she can feel that she's even redder now, so instead she buries her face in her hands. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare say anything!"

"Say anything about what?" Of course Rolan would walk back in now. He places Lia's cup in front of her and turns to Tav expectantly, but Lia speaks before she can.

"Tav is just embarrassed because she didn't understand what you said, she felt left out."

His face breaks into a look of confusion, "You shouldn't be embarrassed by that, Tav, you don't speak the language. Uztanatez-" Tav sucks in a breath, and Lia snorts, "means 'bootlicker'. Gladiz zurzum kuluz means... well... 'shove your sword up your rear'."

Cal and Lia are both sporting shit eating grins. Tav thinks now is a good time to pick a God and pray.

~~~

" Pulch'zer."

He says it as she walks through the door to the study one morning.

"Sorry, repeat that?"

His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep crimson colour. She's never seen him blush before, or at least she's never noticed because of his skin's natural shade.

"Sorry I was just..." He averts his gaze, looking back at the paperwork he's working on, "I was just thinking out loud..."

She chuckles lightly. "Ah, that text will be kicking your ass then. Pulch'zer. What does it mean?"

He looks up at her again. His eyes lock with hers.

"You're close, it's not pulch'zer, it's pulch'zer . You have to put more emphasis on the 'Z' sound."

Gods, she needs to stop asking. He always ends up correcting her, and she always ends up going bright pink. He pronounces the words more precisely when he's teaching her how to say them, it drives her insane.

"Pulch- Pulch? Pulch'zer."

He chuckles, stands and walks over to her. "You're close, but now you're putting too much emphasis on it." He's only an arms length away from her now. " Pulch'zer ."

She gulps. He needs to stop repeating it.

"P- Pulch'zer." She can't tear her eyes away from him, she stares right into his gaze as she repeats it. He sucks a small breath in, so small it's barely noticeable.

"Yes. Very good."

There's a pause.

"So. What does it mean?"

He's flushing again. "It... Well. It..."

She raises an eyebrow, "that bad huh?"

"... it means 'beautiful'."

Tav's face twists in confusion. "What about your book is beaut-"

Rolan surges forward and plants his lips on hers. She gasps into it, the rest of her words swallowed by her inhale and his tongue. She sinks into it. His hands fall onto her waist, and he uses them to drag her closer, pulling the whole length of his body against hers. When he pulls away it feels far too soon, but in his defence he's breathless. He only leans his chest away, his hips still against hers.

"I wasn't talking about the book."

The look in his eyes is vulnerable in a way she's never seen him before. As though he desperately wants her to understand, and yet is terrified that she will. Like he's scared to fracture whatever comfortable thing they've fallen into together.

"Well..." She takes a deep breath, rests a hand on his chest. "Then I'd like you to know that I think you're very pulch'zer."

He sucks in through his teeth and lets out a single disbelieving laugh. "That sounds ridiculously good when you say it, you know."

She snorts, dismissive, "please, it's far better when you say it. I love when you speak infernal."

He stares at her.

She feels her eyes bug out of her head as what she said hits her. "I mean! Not that- I don't mean that like-"

"You love it? What does that mean?"

She can feel the heat in her face. Suddenly everywhere he's touching her is too much, she needs to fall through the floor to a new realm and start her life over with a fake name.

"I don't- I didn't mean-"

As she fumbles over her words, Rolan's face starts to lift into an understanding smirk. "Oh. I see. You love it."

He leans forward towards her, and his lips brush her ear.

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq ?"

She shudders, "Rolan, I have no idea what you're saying."

He chuckles lowly against the shell of her ear. " Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko ."

Gods, it's torturous. He's dropped his voice an octave, giving the already heavy words an even more gravelled tone. Her breath is coming out in pants and she whines. The way it's affecting her is ridiculous.

He doesn't stop, " morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi ."

"Rolan, please."

He grins against her, and she feels his length pressing against her body through his robes. " Quid plaket, dilekt'miz ?"

" Rolan , common tongue, please . I want to know what you're saying."

"I said 'please what?'"

Tav huffs in irritation, "I don't know."

He brings his lips up to brush hers, smiling against her as she tries to pull him closer.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat and nods.

"Mhm. Ask me nicely."

The noise she lets out is embarrassing, a high pitched whine that she couldn't stop if she tried, but she feels his breath against her lips as he exhales in excitement.

"Kiss me, Rolan. Please."

His smile is wide against her, "as you wish, pulch'zer."

When he kisses her, his lips are gentle against hers. Soft and pliant, eager but restrained. When he parts them slowly, she responds in kind and finds his tongue with hers, and he rewards her with a deep, sensual moan from low in his throat. His lips are warm and soft, his mouth tastes of spearmint, his breath flows through her. She feels her small-clothes growing damp.

As he deepens the kiss his movements grow more insistent, more intense, and he squeezes her hips as he grinds her into him. She moans in response and the noise flips a switch in him. All of a sudden his lips are frantic, the kiss turning messy and needy, and his hands are running up and down her body as thought they don't know where to settle.

He pulls back enough to speak, his breath dancing along her lips, his voice barely above a whisper. " Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne ."

Tav moans, long and slow as the words rush over her skin, "Gods, Rolan. I wish I knew what you were saying. Fuck ."

He chuckles quietly, "perhaps I'll teach you Comprehend Languages. Then again... Forzit adv'illi."

She groans. "Rolan, please ."

He grins, grinding his length against her, "please, what?"

The huff she lets out is impatient, "you know what."

His mouth traces the shell of her ear again and she shivers. "Perhaps. But tell me anyway."

She groans, "please fuck me, Rolan."

He needs no further invitation. Rolan undresses them both rapidly, swift and efficient just as he treats his work, and they're both bare before each-other in a few moments.

When he looks over her, sweeping his eyes across her form, he lets out a low noise of appreciation. "Hells, Tav, you're beautiful."

She feels nervous, all of a sudden, bare before him, but she smiles despite it. "So are you."

He's back on her, trailing his lips along her throat and collarbone, leaving teasing bites and grazes with his canines. She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him but she doesn't care. She can feel his length pressed against her stomach, can feel the grooves of the door on her back, and she's absolutely aching with need.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable?" His questions make her chest ache with a different kind of need to the one pulsing through her core.

"Yes, Rolan. Please, for the love of- fuck me against this door."

His moan in response to her words is loud and wanton. " Hells , Tav. Lift your leg for me."

She does, and he grabs under her knee, lifting it up so it wraps around his hip, the heel of her foot against the base of his tail while her other foot stays planted against the floor. His other hand comes between them, grips the base of his cock and rubs it against her folds. She throws her head back as she keens, and at the same time he lets out a groan closer to a growl.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Is- This is still okay? You want this?" His voice wavers with lust.

Hearing him curse is almost as incredible as hearing him speak infernal. "Yes , Gods if you don't-"

He's sliding himself into her before she can finish her threat, and the rest of her words fizzle out into a high pitched moan as she throws her head back. His length is ridged and she can feel every notch as it slides into her. He works his way into her slowly, thrusting only an inch at a time until his pelvis comes to rest against hers, and he folds over to rest his forehead against her shoulder.

His first half of his sentence is muttered, the second half directed at her, "Tam strikta , fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz."

"I'm ready, please, fuck me."

He silences his own moan by clamping his mouth over the meat between her neck and shoulder, and begins thrusting shallowly. The slide of him inside her, the ridges on his shaft dragging against her walls, has her tightening her leg around his waist and dragging him closer. He grunts through his mouthful of her skin and starts to pick up his pace, until he's thrusting hard and fast into her.

She's a mess, and she knows it, but it doesn't matter. She's digging her heel into his ass and arching her hips away from the door to get closer to him, head thrown back and eyes wrenched shut. It's too much, but it's not enough. She grabs his hand that isn't holding her knee up and places it round the back of her other thigh. He's a quick study as always, taking a firm hold on the back of her leg and hoisting her other leg up around him, so she's held up against the door by just his weight against her and his bruising grip. It changes the angle, he drives deeper into her, and they both moan in tandem.

He's speaking again, infernal dialect spilling from him freely into her skin, " Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne ." He speaks the words with a reverence that that has her keening, clenching around him.

"Rolan, I'm so close, fuck don't stop."

He shakes his head, thrusts into her harder, "Hells, I won't, Tav. I won't, I won't, adv'illi, adv'illi -"

The utterance of more quiet infernal words against her tips her over the edge, and she finds her release around him. His movements become stuttered, desperate, " Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam."

He follows her over the precipice and empties himself inside her. She tightens her hold on him with her legs and kisses his neck as his hips twitch through his release, and as he stills they both try to find breath against each-other's skin.

"Gods, Tav." His voice is hoarse, "you- that was- I-"

She chuckles, which makes her walls clench and his hips stutter as he gasps at the feeling. "That was amazing, Rolan. What... Um. What were you saying?"

She pulls away to look at him, and his face is incredibly red. His freckles are barely visible through the violent blush. "Oh, um. Nothing- Nothing, really. Nothing important. Just... babbling. You know."

She laughs, slowly lowering her legs to the ground, both shuddering as he pulls himself from her. He mutters a quick incantation and they're both clean.

"You're going to have to teach me Comprehend Languages, now. I'm far too nosy to leave it at that."

"Hm. We'll see."

~~~

Translations:

"Tibiz plazet link'zon mezoq?" ("You like when I speak to you in my native tongue?")

"Zedzit'n, nul'umne? Zede illizquit diko." ("But you don't care, do you? It's not about what I say.")

"Morentez me'zam? Notzo'illi." ("Moaning for me already? Aren't I lucky.")

Quid plaket, dilekt'miz?" ("Please what, my beloved?")(he lies and tells her it means "please what?")

"Nezkiz quid'mih fakiaz. Volui'illi tamd'umne." ("You have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you for so long.")

"Then again... Forzit adv'illi." ("Then again... Perhaps I won't.")

"Tam strikta, fuck. Ita infek'tum strikta. Tell me when you're ready, dilekt'miz." ("So wet, fuck. So tight and wet. Tell me when you're ready, my beloved.")

"Nezkiz. Nezkiz quam di'tez vellem. Quamdiu korpuz tuum'kontraz petivi. Vid'tez habzeq. Miz'tib animez'umne." ("You have no idea. You have no idea how long I've wanted you. How long I've craved your body against mine. I have dreamt of having you like this. My soul burns for you.")

"adv'illi" ("I won't.")

"Tez amorez. Tez amorez taz'multo. Perfik'miz. Amaz, amaz, num'quam latuz dezeraz. Morent'illi anim defendam." ("I love you. I love you so much. You complete me. Please, please never leave my side. I would protect you to my dying breath.")

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 tav #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #holy rolan empire #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii

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audible-smiles · 6 months

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eating salmon: an explanation

lox: thin cuts of salmon (traditionally the fatty belly meat) dry cured with salt, but not smoked. this results in a delicate texture and a very salty taste. lox originated in Scandinavia as a method of preserving fish prior to refrigeration, but the American English word is derived from Yiddish because Jewish delis in New York first popularized it as a bagel topping. since lox is a type of uncooked fish, it is not recommended for pregnant people, immunocompromised people, or seniors, due to the risk of contamination with listeria.

cold-smoked salmon: thin cuts of salmon brined (with less salt than lox) and then smoked below 90 degrees Fahrenheit. results in the same silky texture but a milder, more palatable taste. often called "Nova lox", referring to Nova Scotia but denoting a method of preparation rather than the fish's origin. this is usually what modern Americans are referring to when they use the term "lox". cold-smoking reduces but does not eliminate the risk of listeria.

hot-smoked salmon: salmon brined quickly and then smoked above 120 degrees Fahrenheit. results in a flaky, jerky-liked texture, a hard shiny surface, and a smoky flavor. (as a West-coaster, this is my preferred style!) hot-smoking eliminates listeria during the cooking process, but salmon can be recontaminated during the processing/packaging process if the facility is not sanitary. (really, this is true of all foods- vegetables, dairy products, etc).

salmon candy: a traditional Pacific Northwest hot-smoked salmon recipe where the brine is sweetened with brown sugar, and the smoked fish is glazed with a sauce containing birch or maple syrup.

salmon jerky: cured salmon hot-smoked for longer than usual or processed in a dehydrator until it is tough and chewy.

gravlax: a traditional Scandinavian raw salmon recipe where the brine contains sugar and dill. historically buried in the ground and lightly fermented. sometimes it is still pressed to give it a dense texture.

kippered salmon: thicker cuts of brined salmon hot-smoked above 150 degrees Fahrenheit. results in a texture similar to baked salmon.

salmon sushi/sashimi: completely raw fresh salmon. this didn't exist in traditional Japanese cuisine, where salmon was always cooked, possibly because the local wild salmon had a high burden of parasitic worms (anasakis nematodes). Norwegian fish sellers convinced them to try farmed Atlantic salmon raw in the 80s, and it really took off.

poached salmon: salmon cooked on the stove while submerged in liquid (often white wine with lemon). results in a moist, soft, cooked fish with a pale color. can be bland without sauce.

baked salmon: salmon cooked in an oven, often wrapped in aluminum foil with seasonings to retain moisture and flavor. can result in perfect, flaky fish (as long as you don't overcook it).

dishwasher salmon: look, sometimes white people wrap salmon in aluminum foil like they're going to bake it and then poach it in their dishwasher instead. this can work but is stupid because the temperature dishwashers run at isn't standardized, so you have control over the process and it's easy to over or undercook.

pan-fried salmon: salmon cooked in oil on a stovetop. I've never done this and frankly it sounds wrong, but I bet it makes the skin crunchy.

broiled salmon: salmon cooked under a broiler. as with all broiled foods, you will have to stare at it the whole time or it will burn to a crisp while your back is turned. results in a caramelized exterior.

grilled salmon: to grill salmon people often put it on a Western redcedar plank pre-soaked in water, which supposedly infuses the salmon with a smoky, aromatic flavor while it cooks. I've seen the technique variously credited to the Haida, the Salish, and the Chinook. it seems to be a modern variation of the traditional "salmon on a stick" style of slow-cooking salmon by spearing it on branches and leaning it over the coals of an above-ground pit fire.

deep-fried salmon: this sounds absolutely awful but I simply cannot stop thinking about it

#found this post in my drafts #from when I spent two hours #looking up lox etc #MONTHS ago

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bixbiboom · 4 months

Text

Sam’s gas can tonight is a running list of his New Year Resolutions, each written in a separate sheet that he periodically tore off to reveal the next one. The five we saw tonight were:

File down teeth

Quit (being so) smoking (hot)

Find a decent bottle of greater-than-$150 wine

Make more time for TikTok time!!!!!

Run a half-half-half-half-marathon

Incidentally, a 6.25% marathon is 1.6375 miles.

Happy New Year, everybody!

#sam riegel #sam's gas can #critical role #cr spoilers #cr c3e081

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es-draws · 3 months

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what is the dream weight gain scenario for you? it could be solo, with a partner, over a long period of time or a one off event.

My ultimate fantasy is having my partner become completely obsessed with wanting me to fatten her up. And her begging me to see how big I can make her in the next 3 months.

She's at her smallest, with her lean hourglass figure and flat, firm tummy. She weighs and measures herself, whining about how small she is, practically drooling at the thought of watching the numbers creep higher. And then she asks me to feed her as much as she can take.

I dote on her 24/7. I cook her delicious meals and surround her with delectable snacks of every type. She eats them all, eagerly and greedily, making sure to always leave her plate empty. She learns to stuff herself to the brim, stretching and growing her stomach, making sure that every day she can fit just a little bit more than before.

She becomes addicted to growing even more. She asks me to stock up on heavy cream and begs me to feed it to her. She pleads for me to tilt the carton to her lips and leave it there until she's swallowed every drop. She wines and hiccups, moaning as I rub her overfilled belly. She asks if I can feel how taut her stomach is, how much she's filled it for me. She asks if she's been a good girl for eating like such a good piggy.

I don't notice the changes, at least at first. She wakes each morning with her tummy round and bulging, still full from the previous days' meals, only to immediately begin filling it once again. But soon enough they start to show.

Her hips begin to widen. Her thighs grow thicker. Her chest starts to overfill her bras. A crease forms at her waist, the first inkling of a newly-formed roll. But slowly, her firm, round belly begins to soften. I begin to feel a plush, supple layer of fat under my fingertips. Her stomach begins to bounce and jiggle with every move. Thick love handles begin to bulge from overtop her outgrown underwear. She grows quickly, until the truth can no longer be denied. She's gotten chubby.

She gains 10 pounds in the first week, and 7 pounds the next. By the end of the first month she's already pushing 150 pounds.

She can no longer button her pants, so she abandons them completely. I watch her strut around in her overstretched underwear, shirts riding up her rounded belly, continuing to snack in absolute bliss. She pinches and squeezes her newfound fat, jiggling her tummy proudly as if to tease me. She tells me the sight of her chubby body only makes her more turned on, and that only makes her want to eat more.

By now the deadline no longer matters. She has become hopelessly addicted to making herself fatter. She never wants this bliss to end. And as I watch her grow bigger and bigger, in endless ecstasy with each added pound, I realize I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

#wrote this in response to a reddit post #es-answers #es-writes

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feyreswaterybowels · 3 months

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Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are Azriel’s mate of 150 years. Your home used to be Velaris until your sister mysteriously disappeared 60 years ago without a trace and it’s been your life’s mission to find her. That is until one day you’re back in Velaris for the first time in years to meet the new high lady and you get your first clue as to where your sister may be after all these years.

Warnings: mentions of missing child, mentions of death in child birth, implied sexual content.

Part 1 ↓

“Wait, Azriel has a mate?” Feyre gawked at her mate, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“How did I not know this? I thought he was interested in Mor?”

“Azriel and Morrigan do have a strong love for one another. But not in a romantic sense. Azriel as been mated to (Y/N) for little over 150 years.” Rhys confirms, with a grin

“How come I haven’t met her yet?” Feyre asks, her interest peaked at this mysterious woman that’s never been mentioned to her—confused when her mate's grin falters.

“(Y/N) comes and goes. It’s hard for her to stay in one place for to long. When her and Azriel first mated he was around for a long time, a valuable member of the inner circle. About 60 years ago her younger sister went missing, she just disappeared one day. Little Sarah, was just a mere 16 years old—much younger than all of us. We never found her,” Rhys pauses, taking a deep breath. “(Y/N) can’t let it go. She won’t stay here long before she has to go back out and we let her go and just hope she’ll return home with her sister one day.”

“Oh, gods,” Feyre gasps, knowing if it were her sisters she would never stop looking either. “I can’t say I blame her. But 60 years? (Y/N) still has hope her sister is out there?”

That is silent, his eyes flicking down to the floor and Feyre feel a tug on their bond. A sad thing and she frowns.

“You all think she is?” She asks and Rhy sighs

“Honestly? I don’t know. I feel like anything is possibly until we know otherwise. Best case scenario she’s found and returned home. Worst case scenario we find out she’s…gone and we avenge her death in any way we can.”

“You all must have really loved her?” Feyre breaths, grasping her mate's hand.

“(Y/N)’s mother died giving birth to little Sarah. (Y/N) and Azriel raised her here in the House of Wind—we all did. When she was lost…it was devastating. We searched endlessly for years before we had to make the decision to stop. (Y/N) stopped for 3 years and stayed here with Azriel but she soon became restless. She needed answers about her sister and she couldn’t find them here. It was a hard day when she decided to leave. Azriel almost went with her but she talked him out of it, telling him he needed to stay here. He sees her more than we do of course, he’ll travel to her when he can. She only pops in here once in a blue moon, I think it’s too painful for her to come home to where she raised that child and not have her here.” Rhys explains, emotional and sympathetic. The loss of a friend and a child had to have been hard on them all.

“I hope to meet her one day, she seems lovely,” Feyre offers, and Rhys violet eyes meet hers lovingly.

“You two will be quick friends, just like you and Mor,” Rhys grins, and Feyre makes it a mental point to talk to Azriel—to check in on her friend knowing the situation he’s in is not an easy one to deal with.

——————————

2 Weeks Later

I slid through the shadows of the familiar halls I knew so well. I could hear voices and laughter drifting down the corridors and smirked to myself. Everyone was here, perfect. I looked up winnowing myself into the rafters, tucking my wings tightly and letting my body shift further into the shadows as it moved closer and closer to them.

Five people sitting around a dining table—only one missing. Food and wine scattered about as they talked and laughed. I grinned, lifting my shield just enough to let the shadows and house know someone was here before concealing myself completely again, watching as the three males at the table instantly became alerted to the presence of an unknown guest.

Mutterings of someone being in the house started and I laughed to myself jumping to another rafter. I half lifted my shield again, jumping to another rafter, all heads snapping above. Continuing until I was above one specific Illyrian before dropping down—gasps and shouts echoed around the room as I landed on his shoulders, shadows trying to wiggle past my shield to fight off the threat before I completely lifted it. Grinning down at my mate as I crouched on his shoulders.

“Long time no see,” I told him sweetly, bending down to kiss him.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed, reaching around to grab me and pull me into his arms.

Those shouts and exclamations turned into ones of my name and I laughed as my family gathered around prying me away from Azriel so they could get hugs of their own.

“You always did like to make a dramatic entrance,” Rhys grinned and I laughed as I hugged him, the second to last person standing around me.

I turned my attention to the female standing next to him hugging her as well, knowing exactly who she was.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Feyre,” I said, pulling back to look between her and Rhy. “I’ve heard so much about you from Az. I’m honored to finally meet you. I apologize for waiting so long to officially meet you.”

I take a step back, letting my mate envelop me in his arms once again.

“Oh, no apologies necessary, I’m glad you’re here now,” Feyre smiled warmly—her energy warm and inviting. “Will you be joining us?”

“Only for a bit before I drag my mate away,” I grinned up at him, the others around us laughing.

“I might drag you away first,” He growled, shadows tangling around us making me laugh.

The others snickered and made lewd jokes as they dispersed back towards the table.

My chair next to Azriel’s was waiting for me. I sit and his shadows twirl around me lovingly as he fixes a plate for me—a glass of wine appearing in front of me at the snap of Rhy’s fingers. I grin at him happily snatching the glass up and downing half of it in a large sip.

The night is wonderful, I’m seated next to Rhy who’s at the head of the table, Feyre on his other side and directly in front of me. I enjoy getting to know her—Rhy’s mate. They fit together so well. I enjoy catching up with cassian and Mor, oh how I missed her. I was endlessly happy to be back with my family.

———————

The Next Day

I woke up before the sun rose. I didn’t sleep much the night before. After Azriel and I dragged one another out of the dining room and to our shared quarters we made love over and over again to make up for time spent apart.

I had missed him so much. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, how he would stroke my wings, his scent, the way his shadows would caress my body as he slowly took me apart with his mouth and fingers before filling me up and our silent communication—a bond only mated pairs know. It was always the perfect feeling, being with him after so long.

I couldn’t sleep though, I hadn’t slept well in this house in decades. So, I got up and dressed, kissed Azriel’s forehead and headed out into the dim hallway. I made my way to the training deck, I needed to burn off some of my pent up energy—to my surprise Feyre was standing there, hands wrapped and a few strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

“High Lady,” I grinned as our eyes met, a pretty smile spreading across her own lips—she really was as beautiful as everyone said.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake,” She says, pushing the hair off of her forehead.

“I don’t sleep well here,” I shrug and she nods, a look of understanding in her eyes that lets me know she knows why.

“Would you care for a morning spar?” She asks, gesturing to the opening.

“Oh hell yeah,” I nod excitedly.

We spar for hours. She’s good. I can tell she was trained by the boys—but I was able to teach her a few moves of my own. She caught on quick too—putting me on my ass only after a few tries of each move.

We bantered back and forth, playful jabs of sarcasm. It was nice. I used to love sparring with Mor, too…back when I was around long enough to actually train with her that is.

“Do you yield, high lady?” I sneer mockingly, dagger pressed under her chin as I straddle her chest, knees on her elbows pinning her effectively.

I’m keenly aware when there’s a presence of another but I don’t let it distract me, my attention focused on the woman under me.

“No,” She grunts, bucking hard enough to throw me off, sending the dagger tumbling from my hand. She’s on top of me then, forearm pressed against my throat. “Do you yield, (Y/N)?”

I tap the ground three times watching her grin form before she slides off of me, sitting to my left, both of us breathless. I let my eyes find him then, standing there arms across his chest looking gorgeous in the early morning sun—I can’t help but smile at him.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Feyre says with a knowing smirk, pushing up and heading inside past Azriel with a smirk in his direction, too.

As soon as we’re alone he’s on me. Hands, mouth and shadows on every inch of skin he can get to. It wasn’t the worst way to finish off the morning.

Breaking apart only when Rhys called us inside, an urgency in his voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.

An urgency that had every instinct in my body on alert.

#so excited for this series #what is so urgent for Rhys to speak with them?#Feyre and y/n are the best together #acotar #acomaf #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #shadow dance

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