[spoilers for 3x09 episode preview!]
during the upcoming episode preview, there's a quick shot of Guillermo opening Nandor's coffin while he is asleep.
and even though Nandor's sleeping face looks so ghoulish, I'm gonna push right past that. but the framing of the shot is making me insane since it does remind me of like a prince charming awakening someone from a deep slumber.
anyway I wonder if we'll get yet another throwback from s2 “the collaboration,” where Guillermo sits on Nandor's stool to speak with him face to face. only this time, maybe he will speak more candidly since he thinks Nandor isn't there to interrupt him. but what if Nandor can hear him?
I don't think this is the time or place where Guillermo will speak on his romantic feelings for Nandor. but this might be an opportunity to at least reflect out loud on why he has stuck around all these years or share what Nandor's presence and his current absence mean to him. it could even be the simplicity of Guillermo telling him all the day to day minutiae that he is missing out on so that while gone, Nandor can still be included.
Guillermo may not know how long a super slumber can last -- so in his mind, what if he has to wait weeks, months, years before they can speak again? (they will soon but still! the drama of it all!)
the potential is truly limitless, and I am absolutely fishing for a Guillermo monologue. plus there's the comedic potential of Nandor waking up mid-monologue but then pretending to be in this super slumber while the camera zooms in on him blinking, just so he can hear where this is going.
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Kinktober Day 18: Recorded | Blackmail
☞. . . Maybe some implied dubcon?? Lucifer’s into it though, he’s just being normal prideful Lucifer
The camera is set on the tripod, a steady blinking light reflecting from the corner. Lucifer swallows thickly, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Hot shame eats at his chest, his face burning cherry red. You’ve got toys on the bed, waiting for their time to shine. He feels your finger tap his head and he opens his eyes. “Floor. Now.” Your pants are unbuttoned, loose on your hips. With a surge of humiliation, Lucifer lowers into his knees on the floor. “What a good obedient slut you are.”
It makes him flinch, how harshly you spit the words. The steady blinking of the camera light shines in his peripherals. And for a moment, Lucifer nearly comes to terms with the fact that he likes this. By the time he turns his head back, you’ve pushed down your pants, your cock hard and in his face. You grab his hair before he can back away, shoving his face into your thigh. The base of your dick smooshes against his lips, and Lucifer has to suppress a yelp of surprise.
“This is what you want, right?” The side of your dick rubs against his cheek. “I’ve seen you look at me, Lucifer. You stare right at my crotch when you think I’m not looking.”
Lucifer grabs at your hips with gloved fingers, lips pressed tight as your warm flesh slides across his face. “Th-that’s ridic-!” He nearly chokes when you push the head of your cock in his mouth, his lips wrapping around you in reflex. His eyes go wide, embarrassment building in his chest. And yet, he doesn’t pull away. He looks up at you with some kind of miserable face, yet he still keeps you on his tongue—wrapped up in his mouth. You fist the hair and the crown of his head, pushing him down just a little further.
He’s breathing heavy through his nose, fanning over your skin. He’s looking at you with meek fury in his eyes, and you’re reminded that this is the demon that tried to kill you twice. He could end your existence in a snap of his fingers—and yet he hasn’t pulled off of you. He’s kneeling there with your dick in his mouth purely because he likes it. He likes the hot shame in his core, he likes the blinking camera in his peripherals.
“All mighty Lucifer, on his knees like a little cockslut.” You snicker, thrusting forward and shoving down his throat. You can feel the way his throat tightens around you, the beginning of a gag that he struggles to suppress. You push his head down by his hair, then pull back up, repeating the process until he keeps it up on his own. “Mm, you know why I’m recording this?” To your absolute delight, Lucifer’s bobbing his head on his own, keeping a firm grip on your hips. He gives a stiff shake of his head, shaking his bangs. “Dumb boy. Hah, so I’ll have you wrapped around my finger.”
You flick his forehead, relishing the way his eyes squint as he flinches. “Or, wrapped around my dick, actually.”
Lucifer pulls off with a heavy gasp, glaring at you from below with the same ferocity as a kitten. “Y-you wouldn’t.” He rasps, seemingly catching on. “I would. Imagine,” you turn his head to the camera, where it’s lense can see his spit soaked face and plumped lips. “What people would say if they saw the Avatar of Pride himself acting like a whore.”
He bites down on his bottom lip, and against his own wishes, he’s tenting his trousers. “Oh? You like that? Look at you, getting hard over this.” You pull his head back, smacking your cock against his cheek. “Why don’t you put on a show, huh? Maybe if you’re good I won’t leak this.”
The demon below licks his lips, sparing another glance at the camera, and takes you into his mouth. He’s sucking harder, using his tongue. And after a few more moments, it’s abundantly clear he’s never sucked a dick in his (long) life. You roll your eyes. There’s nothing more of a turn off than poor head.
“You think you’d be good at this, Mr. ‘I’m good at everything’.” You grab the sides of his head, thrusting into his mouth. Your cock slides down his throat, the head popping through into that tight wet muscle. Lucifer gags, spasming around you violently. He powers through, tearing up as you take over, fucking his mouth to your own benefit.
Your laugh tapers off into a moan, skin tingling with every weak pawing of Lucifer’s hands on your hips and thighs. “That’s better.”
His breathing evens through his nose, quick little puffs of air you can feel every time his nose bumps against your pelvis. Lucifer can feel his throat straining with every weighty drag—and to his own horror or lust he’s unsure, he reaches his hand up and feels a bump in his throat. His rumbling groan alerts you to his state; how red his face is, the drool soaking his chin, how blown his pupils are.
You thrust in the same time he bobs down, thoroughly choking him further. His glamor drops an instant later, fueled by pure emotion and desire. His wings smack the camera off the tripod and have probably broken it. Oh well. You think. You’ll just have to make another film with him later on.
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