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#CHANGE MY MIND
lunadiluana · 2 days
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And if you call me at 4 am, too sad to even say hello, I will listen to your silence until you fall asleep. Unknown
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[P2] My Love, I Am Drinking PLeNTy of WAteR
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NSFW Lucifer x F!MC Spice Rating - 4/4 HOLY F*CK THAT'S HOT
[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]
I fully support Luci having a praise kink, full stop. :) @ourfinalisation the food is ready muahaha.
Wordcount: 2470
smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)
“It’s so hot in here,” he complains, still picking at his buttons and undoing them all out of order. It would help if you didn’t keep your fireplace lit all the time, you think as you help him take his vest off. “Mmm… aren’tchu hot too?” 
---
“...yes,” you reply honestly after a moment, almost unconsciously helping him out of his shirt to leave his chest exposed. 
“Then… let’s cuddle naked!” 
Oh good lord… you think, not quite sure how to respond to the innocent way he said that. Neither of you kept your hands off each other when the clothes were gone. But then you’d be taking advantage of a drunk. Though the only reason Lucifer would be upset about you doing that to him is that he wouldn't remember the experience. 
Of course, Lucifer’s jumping full-steam ahead as he takes your shirt off and presses his face into your belly as he hugs your lower abdomen.
“C’mere, MC… stop just standing there holding my mug like a pretty mannequin… Let me love you!” He pulls, and you half-stumble your way to half-sitting on him. He takes the mug from your fingers, sliding it open and taking a drink before he grimaces at you. “That is the most watery coffee I have ever tasted,” he says in the most grave tone of voice that you can’t help yourself from bursting out laughing. “You should be ashamed of yourself, MC; why are you laughing?” 
“You’re already wasted, Lucifer; I’m not giving you caffeine too,” you reply after you recover, belatedly realizing that his hands are shimmying your pants off you. He started this, you think before you unzip him, and, amused, watch him try to take his trousers off with you sitting on one of his thighs. 
“You’re mean,” he says as you laugh again. “You know I’m all…” He makes a vague gesture, and you smile as you obligingly help him undress the rest of the way. You worry your lip lightly as your eyes carelessly absorb him for a moment, half-fantasizing about absolutely wrecking him so that he wakes up embarrassed without even remembering why. No, MC, only if he pushes it. Still… naked cuddles. On his bed. Where we’ve had sex several times.
You don’t even get to the cuddling part because Lucifer had already pulled you on top of him, kissing you. You have the sudden and distinct suspicion that the conniving little shit had been actually planning to make love to you since the moment he came home. Yeah… come to think of it, the way he looked at you at the door was pretty close to his “I want to fuck you so bad right now” face. 
“MC… I wish you were always here,” he mumbles before he kisses up and down your neck. “Every time I think of you, I want to hug you, and then I get hard thinking about you, and then I feel bad when you’re not even there…” 
“I can’t be in here perpetually,” you joke, though he obviously takes it seriously. 
“You could if I tied you down,” he grumbles, nibbling on your collar. “Then I could do anything I want whenever I want.” He pauses before he groans and butts his head softly against your chest. “I’m sorry that I fantasize about that. I’m not an asshole that would use you and do bad things to you and, I just… want more of you…” You pet his head sympathetically, surprised by his consideration. 
“I fantasize about slightly concerning things too, Lucifer.” Some things I wish I had the ovaries to ask you to try with me. “So don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it if it’s a problem.” 
“You're so sweet… what’d I do to deserve you???” Lucifer squeezes you tight to him. “Can I thank you? Can I eat you out?” You decide to throw away how startled you are by the sudden offer. Oral from you? The person who rarely does it unless I (sexually) beg for it? You think I’d say no? 
Saying “yes” would quickly become a regret. But all in good time. 
As it turns out, Lucifer’s drunken stupor meant he was a lot more into making noise during sex, and that included while he was busy thrusting his tongue inside you. Not to mention when he was busy licking the hell out of your clit like it had something sweet and sticky on it. And there he was, flushed and naked between your legs, eagerly taking what seemed like mouthfuls of your slick and heartily groaning like it was his first meal in five years. 
You thought he wasn’t lucid enough to pleasure you with his fingers, which was why it was taking you a little bit of time to cum. Oh, how wrong you are. No, this fucker is playing with you. 
Which is why you’re so surprised when he starts giving both your clitoris and your eager pussy attention, nibbling and sucking and rubbing. Your orgasm at that point is very forthcoming. 
As is the one directly following it. 
“Lucifer,” you gasp, squeezing his hair in your hands. 
“Mmm… I’m not finished drinking my water~” the little shit teases into you, and you’re quickly learning that his desire to see you overstimulated is even more pronounced than usual. 
Which is why it was a mistake. Because you’re now on your fourth orgasm, and he didn’t seem like he was going to stop until he had destroyed your sanity. 
“Lucifer… please… can’t,” you try between gasps, and he kisses your thigh. 
“Just a little more? You’re so good for me; just let me do everything, okay? Just a little more… want you to like it.” He gives you another lick that practically sends stars to your eyes, looking up at you as you try in vain to squeeze your thighs closed. 
“Bad…Lucifer,” you mewl as he keeps giving your clit attention, his long fingers still nursing your ever-tightening insides. He stops, right as you were reaching another peak.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, not seeming to realize the fact that he’s edging you. “I wante’to see your face when your brain has nothing in it but me…” Didn’t you get that out of me the first time!?!?
“Lucifer, I’m already thinking just about you, so please let me finish…” 
“No, not that, I want to see your fucked out face. The way you drool and cry and stop being able to form a sentence.” Fucking hell, he’s remembering that? Now? “But I can’t?” Lucifer makes a face like a kicked puppy, making an x with two fingers, one of which was struggling to separate from a wet membrane attached to the other finger. 
“Goddammit, do whatever you want, just please!” You groan, covering your eyes and feeling your cheeks warm. You can practically feel him brighten as he dives back between your folds. Not long afterwards, your most intense orgasm makes you scream his name while you grip his hair frantically like you’re trying to shove him even closer than he already is. 
Calming down is almost an ordeal as he licks at your convulsing, needy hole that was currently spilling your release like it was water. 
“I think this is better than demonus,” he mumbles, probably to himself, but your ears catch it just fine. You really can’t tell whether he’s referring to your pleasure or messily drinking in your natural lubrication. Is this what he fantasized about without telling you? Getting on his knees and tongue-fucking you so hard that your entire body was left buzzing afterwards? “MC?”
“Wh… What?” you gasp, faintly realizing he’s finally risen from his position on the floor, his lips and the tip of his nose still shining. 
“Love you,” he says sweetly, kissing your lower stomach and almost making you convulse in the process. Especially because the rosy head of his cock is very much visible from between your knees. “Did you like my thank-you? You did, right? I was good, right?” He looks up at you like he wants to be petted, and you just can’t help yourself from fluffing his hair. He leans into your touch, letting out a satisfied, deep hum. You internally promised to tease him later for this. As payback. 
“Yes… you were good.” It seems like your praise just makes his cock stand up even taller, and you feel your insides twitch in response. You have your doubts that he can stay concentrated enough to keep it up, but God, you’re wishing he would. “I never knew you liked it this much whenever I praise you,” you tease him. 
“...maybe I have a kink for it.” Lucifer slurs. “Izzat a bad thing? Can I be a top with a praise kink?” 
“Of course, silly.” You ruffle his hair some more, just messing it up even further. There is certainly a quiet yet powerful satisfaction in knowing you’re the only one allowed to see him like this. To do this to him. “Everyone likes being praised for doing something well. Even you.”
Lucifer giggles a little and says, “How come you’re so wise when you’re less than a hundredth of my age?” 
You have to bite your tongue to avoid calling him an old man and killing his happy mood. He’s already insecure about that no matter how many times you told him that you didn’t care because he (and his brothers) never acted like, thought like, or looked like his age.
“You’re drunk, one, and two, you restrict yourself too much for the sake of your pride, so you don’t use that wonderful brain of yours.” 
“Mmm…” Lucifer kisses you, and for a moment you cringe at the taste of yourself before you get used to it. In another moment, your body is pressing harder into his lavishly soft bed as Lucifer’s hovers over you. “Fucking hell, I love you so much,” he mumbles before he dives back to your lips, the wet sounds of his kisses echoing through your ears. “Want you… Want to put it in… mn… what position do you want? Missionary? Please say missionary.” You must say, Lucifer’s flushed, hopeful expression is a sight to behold as he eagerly waits for your response. 
“Missionary is fine,” you reply with a soft grin as you rubbed his cheek. He pushes into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring it. “Come here.” 
“Cum where?” he asks, blinking at you with a dusting of pink on his ears. “I-I mean, it’s not a problem, I um… I would like that a lot actually…” Lucifer’s blush turns darker. “Wait… shit.” Lucifer buries his hot face in your chest. “...sorry.” 
“What are you apologizing for? That’s a normal mistake in this setting.” 
“No, I’m apologizing for the image that popped into my head.” 
“You don’t have to be shy; you can tell—” 
“MC, please, let this one just… stay in my head. It’s really bad.” 
“...I won’t press you right now because you’re making me impatient, but I’m going to find out later what kind of dirty shit is going through your m—Aghnnn!” 
Lucifer groans into your neck, softly panting as he shoves his last inch into you. He throbs against your walls, and you cling to his sweating back, softly digging your nails in from his size. 
“Don’t ask…” he mumbles, drawing himself out as he traces over your nipples, the pads of his fingers circling the hardening nubs. He snaps his hips forward again, leaving you gasping as stars flicker brightly in your eyes. “But… it made me really excited, so…” 
“Ughn ah…! Ahh!” you moan out, your voice abruptly starting to fail as Lucifer grips a tight hold of your hips and starts slamming himself into you over and over again. Your overstimulated clitoris seems to thrum with static, and it thrums harder when Lucifer presses close to messily kiss your neck. 
“Gh… Every time…” he groans, his voice strained. “Your pussy always sucks me in so hard… Hghn. it makes me feel like… I’ll lose it right away.” And as if he wants to prove himself wrong, he starts going at you faster, leaving you gasping and crying at the ceiling, speechless as you actively claw at his back.
Your clit, alongside the place deep inside you that loves Lucifer's thrusts, are receiving such great stimulation that you can barely say anything. All that comes from you are your incoherent whines and raspy croaks alongside the creaks of the bed and the lewd slurps of your soaking wet hole taking Lucifer in over and over again. 
And then, all movement ceases, leaving you looking up dumbly at his concerned face.
“MC? Are you okay?” he murmurs. “Am I hurting you?” God bless this sensitive dingbat, but fucking hell, why does he always stop at the worst damn time? 
“Hghhn… n…no,” you manage to moan out, your vision flickering with how tight your lower abdomen is. You just barely manage to urge him closer, squeezing him with your legs before he throws your ankles over his shoulders, his hands squeezing your thighs as he climbs back up to his earlier pace.
“MC,” Lucifer gasps, dropping his head down to yours, digging his neatly trimmed nails into you as he falters. “MC.” He kisses you again as your nails score scratches into his back that, if anything, just egg him on. “MC, going to… together… please…”
“Yes,” you cry out. “Lucifer…!” With your vision dyed a startlingly brilliant white, your body floating somewhere in the sky, attached only to the electrifying feeling of Lucifer’s body against yours, you’re left to soak it in while you try to get your bearings back. 
It’s as you’re calming down that you realize Lucifer is drowsily wrapping his arms around you, squeezing your sweaty bodies together in the center of his bed. He snuggles you, getting himself comfortable as he whispers half-broken sweet nothings in your ear. Just a moment later, and he falls sound asleep, his soft breathing falling on your flushed skin. 
“Well… I guess the shower can wait,” you croak as you nuzzle him, your own drowsiness sweeping over you in the warmth of Lucifer’s embrace. Not a bad reward for looking after his brothers while he’s gone… I can’t wait… to see his sleepy face in the morning…
Bonus:
Lucifer woke up first about six hours later, painfully hungover and not quite remembering why he was still inside you. Almost everything came back to him however when you explained to him what had happened, and he proceeded to apologize several times, his cheeks flaming red behind his hands. 
You later shared a bath together, Lucifer insisting that he should spoil you for behaving in such a “boorish and absolutely unacceptable manner unbefitting of a responsible demon.” He cleaned you up with meticulous care despite the fact that he was nursing a very stubborn case of morning wood.
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amandamadeathing · 2 days
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The Bad Batch seasons 1-2 is "Firefly" but in "Star Wars". Convince me otherwise. Would you Hunter Girlies mind if I drew him this outfit?
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invisiblewashboard · 2 months
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The fact that Tolkien realized he’d created inconsistency for LotR with the first published version of The Hobbit and then retconned it with the in universe explanation of “Bilbo is a liar,” is never going to stop being both equal parts brilliant and funny.
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immortalthings · 1 year
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I dare you - get me a Hyrule compendium on those things and I'll change my mind.
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justporo · 8 days
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Ascended Astarion would let himself get painted nude and then obnoxiously send these paintings to Tav, who left him - like the medieval fantasy version of an unsolicited dickpic.
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stratos-ane · 2 months
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hey, everybody, keith’s back!
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motivatedaily · 6 months
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lilybug-02 · 8 months
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Dark Fountains Causing the Apocalypse? ❌😒
Dark Fountains as a Metaphor for Global Warming? ✅👏
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dolphitos · 4 months
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Y'all I think Floyd is canonically a Rock Troll like-
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MAYBE IM LATE BUT LOOK AT HIS HAND DUDE, THATS A TOTAL🤘🏼 RIGHT THERE
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griffin-ktb · 9 months
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✨ Data Soriku >>> ✨
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maneausten · 2 months
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if you didn’t love him at his
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you don’t deserve him at his
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bzjohndory · 1 month
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JD or Floyd sketches cause I love them both?
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No one writes a guide on how to handle a child turning emo
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+bonus
OK. ADMITTEDLY THIS WAS ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT I JUST WANTED TO SEE JOHN DORY HAVING TO DEAL WITH THE FACT HE IS HIS BROTHERS’ ONLY GUARDIAN… like what do u do when all ur brothers want 6 presents for christmas like all their other classmates but ur tryna put food on the table
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queenie-ofthe-void · 2 months
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“Led Zeppelin? Never heard of them,” Steve lies, like a liar. Of course he’s heard of them, thinks maybe Hop’s mentioned them before. Doesn’t really know the band well, and probably definitely couldn’t name a song. But the comment serves its purpose, and the trap is set.
Eddie calls it the Zep Campaign. Every day they’ll listen to one album, and Steve will pick his favorite song from each. Eight days for eight albums. On the last day, they’ll narrow it down to one song to rule them all– because apparently even Led Zeppelin likes the Mordor books Dustin doesn’t shut up about. 
Each day, Steve struggles to pick a favorite. Day four isn’t bad– doesn’t mind a song that is actually called Rock and Roll, which is just a lazy title in his opinion– but they’re only half way through and the songs are all starting to sound the same. An endless stream of too-fast guitar melodies and weird, wobbly sounds he’s sure he’s never heard before. The vocals are his favorite part, but the lyrics are vague and confusing.
Long story short, he’s not a fan.
But this growing thing between him and this ridiculous metalhead is new, fragile. So if it’s important to Eddie, it’s important to Steve. 
“Stevie, we really don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie concedes. It’s day eight, the final album, and he thinks even Eddie might be desperate to listen to something different. “You’ve listened to every other album and honestly this one is the worst. They were all on drugs, and this isn’t even their sound ya know? Like it’s not even real metal.”
And honestly, Steve does know. He’s been listening to this band for eight days and yeah, all the songs sound the same. But these ones are different. Softer. He’s made it this far, and he’s nothing if not persistent for the people he loves.
Sprawled out on the floor next to the boy he likes, passing a fading joint back and forth, he thinks he can suffer a bit longer. 
“No Eds come on, we’re halfway through anyways. Just flip it over and we’ll smoke while we finish.” Eddie huffs a sigh, but Steve can see the slight uptick of his lips, reminding him of why he’s doing this. He flips the record and crawls back, presses himself flush up against Steve’s side.
The next song is long, too long to keep his attention. They burn down their joint and Steve leans heavily onto Eddie’s open chest. He gets lost staring at the vinyl art. A guy dressed in a fancy white suit sits alone in a dive bar, the only splash of color against a dull background. The bartender looks gruff, like the rest of the bar, making the man stand out even more. He wonders if that’s how he looks posted up at the Hideout during Eddie’s shows. Wonders if he looks just as out of place in Eddie’s life as this man does, even though he looks comfortable there too. 
Eddie shifts his arms around Steve, bringing him back to the present. The song has changed and Steve feels the slow melody wash over him.
“Wait,” Steve cries out, flailing up and out of Eddie’s arms as he registers the new song. It’s soft with a steady beat. It’s got synth-- the sound Eddie told him he likes in pop music. This song isn’t loud and chaotic like the rest. The voice is soothing and the lyrics are mostly simple enough. It’s different, and he can’t believe it but–
All of my love, all of my love
all of my love to you, oh
“This one. I like this song. Like actually like it.”
Eddie sits up and stares at him. He can see the dramatic shock and annoyance on Eddie’s face. But it’s doing nothing to hide his broad smile and shining eyes. 
“Steven. Stevie. Baby, sweetheart, this absolutely cannot be your favorite Zeppelin song. Out of all the songs on all the albums and all the hours of poetic melodies I’ve forced upon you, you choose the most non-Zep Zeppelin song.” Steve laughs sweetly as he watches Eddie fail to keep the glee out of his supposedly annoyed voice.
The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again
One voice is clear above the din
“This song isn’t even metall!" Eddie screeches. He rants and raves, waiving his arms as he regales Steve with all of the reasons he should absolutely not like this one particular song. He's shining with happiness, dial turned up to a hundred and it's all aimed at Steve. He can't help but to gaze back fondly, enraptured in the adorably obnoxious spectacle.
"It’s all synth, almost no guitar because Page didn’t even write this one! He wrote all of them except two songs, Stevie, and of course that’s the one you chose. No one who knows good music even likes this album. It’s not even metal music and honestly I almost didn’t show it to you, that’s how bad it is!” They're both giggling, leaning falling slowly into the other's space. Facing one another, their feet tangled together, Steve twists and pulls on Eddie's rings. Just to touch.
“Well, maybe that’s why I like it,” Steve snarks, taking his hand. “Plus it’s a love song.” Daring to reach out.
All of my love, all of my love, yes
All of my love to you
Eddie’s smile dims a bit, softens at the edges as he grows serious. “It’s not a love song Stevie, not like that.” He’s looking at Steve but he isn’t. Looking past him into the back of his thoughts. “The lead singer, he wrote it for his son. His kid died of some kind of bad illness while he was on tour. Didn’t make it back in time.”
He pauses, and Steve waits. Knows Eddie has more to say, hoping his patience will pay off. Eddie’s sight refocuses and he heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes glisten as they lock onto Steve.  
“My mom used to sing it all the time. While she was cooking, or putting me to bed, or pulling weeds in the garden. She’d sing it constantly. Hell, she didn’t even know all the words, but she’d still try and sing the interludes– ya know, the music between the lyrics.” He laughs lightly, a stray tear just barely hanging on. Steve tightens his grip around Eddie’s hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. A silent sign of gentle support and encouragement. 
“Sounds like a love song to me,” Steve whispers. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls Eddie into a tight hug. 
All of my love, all of my love, to you now
“A love song just for you, from both of us.”
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I've always headcanoned that Eddie loves Led Zeppelin, because he plays guitar and loves metal and reads Lord of the Rings so of course he would.
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adamprrishcycle · 1 year
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I support everything adam parrish does. Even the weird shit like sacrificing himself to a magic forest, scamming people for fake psychic readings even though he is in fact psychic and falling in love with an ancient, sentient horror who is stuck inside the body of an irish-american catholic teenager with a shaved head
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joshy-tomato · 7 months
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Thinking about how Furina and Neuvillette are besties, yet have total opposite behavior towards their bestie's SO (say, Arle and Wrio)
Furina with Wriolette: I like to think Furina approves of this relationship a lot. She wants Neuvillette to open up and see the beauty on the worst side of humanity, and Wrio, as a reformed criminal is the perfect person for that. Also, he's patient in dealing with Neuvi's emotional constipation and has a good intuition for what Neuvillette needs. The cherry on top, he's a good person, is brave, and respects the Melusines. Only the best for her bestie.
Neuvillette with Focacchino: The second Furina look away he's trying to assassinate Arlecchino. Diplomatic problems? Yeah, he'll get around that once the forth harbinger is six meters below ground.
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