Got A Doctors Note It Says I Have To Fuck That Old Man. Severely.

Nighttime Adventure (Erasermic dabble)

Okay! So I had a dream last night where the reader of @weebsinstash Ereasermic series felt so starved of affection that they couldn't fall asleep, and went over to their bedroom to snuggle - and of course when I woke up I just felt this ungodly need to write a little something based on it. 

The inspiration was there and I wasn't about to not capitalize on that opportunity. That being said here's a little dabble for you based on that scenario. 

Please note that this is literally the first time I’ve written something like this, so i’m unpracticed to say the least.

Nighttime Adventure

Your steps are slow and deliberate, trying to mask every noise emitted for the floorboard beneath you. You’re sure they can still hear you, they can hear every little sound in this blasted place. Though you were so sure just minutes before, you now feel your legs trembling with every step. Your feet feel like weights tied to you, like somewhere deep in your subconscious your own body is trying to stop you from what you’re about to do. Surely nothing good can come from it in the long run - but you can think about that now, you’re too caught up in the here and now. 

With your heartbeat blaring through your body, leaving a slight ringing in your ears, you finally reached their door. It looms over you, tall and foreboding. Behind it you can hear the two men uttering small whispers of concern and confusion, ready to spring out of bed at a moments notice. You can’t help the small snort that escapes you at the irony of the situation, after all this must be the first time their vigilance would not be necessary. 

As your hand make contact with the cold surface of the door, a slight shiver runs through you. The thought clears its way to the front of your mind; There was no turning back now, they knew you were standing there just as well as you did. If you tried turning back now to escape into the sanctity of your own room, they’d surely come right after you looking for answers as to your little nighttime adventure.

Taking a deep breath you begin to push the door open, it’s hinges screech loudly as if to beg you to stop, as it slowly slides open. You reflexively tilt your head to the side, eyes screwed shut. Maybe if you refuse to look then the reality of it all won't shift in just yet. But as you finally soak up your last bit of bravery you look up you see their dark forms looming in the distance. A heavy fog of uncertainty rolls over you, leaving you breathless. The silence among you is deafening as each of you wait for something, anything, to break it. 

Surly what comes next would change everything for the foreseeable future. You can’t do anything more than wish upon the stars that you’ve made the right decision...

Smoke Rings on Gold Frames (18+)

Heisenberg x reader smut

Here's Part One, and Part Two.

This is a part 3 to the small smut series this has turned into. Again, this makes me so happy that’s it’s getting so much love and attention! As always, finish your dinner before you get to your dessert! <3

Warning: It’s a smut! Dominating metal man, eating out, biting, mentions of wounds, praise, slight choking, mirror play, degration. Faint mention of lycan/Heisenberg. Look how much fun you two are having!

Summary: He saved you, yes, but Alcina still didn’t like the idea of that man getting anywhere near his precious daughter. You on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t get enough of you either. In fact, how desperate was he to have you under his grip again?

- - -

You flicked your wrist against the match box, watching the slim piece of wood spark before erupting into a small bright flame.

The match quickly went towards the metal basin of your antique brass incense burner, nestling inside to scorch the loose incense blend you piled inside. The thick, rich smoke of green sage mixed with your favorite dried flowers began to perfume the air, drowning you in a comfortable smoke. You closed the lid on the metal burner, sliding the container over towards the far end of your vanity table and proceeded to look at yourself through your vanity mirror.

You lit your incense burner on evenings you felt like you needed to be alone. Usually before bed, one or all of your sisters would come by for a visit, or the maids would attend to pick up dirty garments for washing or to bring you tea. Naturally, your sisters weren't fond of the smoke, even going as far as avoiding the hallway so they weren't troubled by it. You loved your sisters dearly, but sometimes you lit your incense on purpose, especially after learning that bugs don't like smoke.

As for the maids, if they smelled it, they'd know you weren't to be disturbed.

When you arrived home on that day, Mother was quick to send you towards a bath and have your brand new dress burned. You felt like you were in that bath for an hour or more, succumbed to the warm waters filled with bubbles, flowers and heavily scented bath oils. After a while of scrubbing, relaxing and daydreaming, you left when your fingers were pruny and the flowers in your bath were shriveled and dull of their color.

You remained in your room until dinner, passing the time by reading. Alcina had dinner sent to your room, along with a bottle of a brand new wine you've never heard of before.

She's been spoiling you more than usual these passed few days since, bringing you your favorite meals and desserts, and you knew it was because of the 'incident.'

Don't get her wrong, Alcina was in fact proud that you fought off the lycan to the best of your abilities, it's what she had you trained for. As reluctant as she was to admit, she was thankful that Heisenberg saved you, even though she had no idea of the full truth.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your gray silk nightwear to reveal your healing wounds. They were minor little punctures the size of faint bullet marks along your shoulders, and weren't deep at all. But Mother, as caring as she was, gave you healing salves and a tincture to treat them so they wouldn't get infected. You opened one of the tins, slowly applying the salve along your marks with gentle fingers. They looked to be healing well, and hopefully wouldn't leave any scarring.

Losing your concentration on yourself, you began to pick up the faint voice of your Mother from the main hall. The walls were fairly thick, and your bedroom was the farthest from the entrance of the castle. If you could hear your Mother from this distance, than her voice was raised and didn't sound too happy.

Quickly fixing your clothes, you grabbed the closest article of clothing to wrap around your body before leaving your room, heading towards the hall. Your fingers finished tying the straps of your robe when you heard another voice talking back to Alcina, and it was impossible to not recognize who it was.

"Boo!" Daniela's voice spooked you from your pace, the girl giggling as you turned around quickly to acknowledge her.

"Did I scare you? Did it work?" She continued asking, joining your side as she too was curious on what was going on.

"Shh!" Another voice, Cassandra, silenced the girl as she joined along, the trio stopping at the top balcony looking over the main corridor. Bela caught up last, keeping a black shawl over her head like a hood to see what was happening. Four heads looked down to their Mother, who was dressed in her formal attire, arguing with no one other than Heisenberg, his trench coat sparkling with meting snow.

"For the last time," Heisenberg puffed out a cloud of smoke, pulling his cigar from his mouth as he pointed up towards Alcina, "When the damn things learn that they're promised a sacrificial blood bath in a couple of days, they get riled up! They're dogs, for fuck's sake! Your kid is like a walking treat to them!"

"Don't speak of my daughter that way, you pig!" Alcina sneered with venom in her voice and a killer look in her eyes. He only shrugged it off, shifting his weight from one foot to another, all while balancing is hammer over his shoulders.

"Look, I can control them to an extent. They know when to stop and when to go, when to shake hands, where to piss an' all that. But with this event coming soon, they're getting excited for anything that breathes and bleeds. That's all the excuse I can give you."

Alcina wasn't too pleased with his words, but to a certain extent she could believe what he meant. It only frightened her more to keep you inside the castle, at least until the village purge were to pass.

"Fine," She exhaled, bringing her hands to her hips. "Alright, You've made your point. Now, you know where The Duke is, go finish your business with him and go-"

"Yeaaah," Heisenberg cut the woman off, a grin beginning to form on his face. "About that, It's snowin' really bad out there."

"And?" Alcina raised a brow.

"And," He continued, "It's piling up fast. You have to go to the church, yet my place is much, much farther."

Is this man serious???

Alcina wanted to clutch his throat right then and there. He wanted to stay in HER castle??? A dirty, disgusting man like him? Who does he think he is?

"You want to stay in my castle?" She questioned with utter shock.

"Just for tonight, you clearly have the room to fit one more."

"The only place for a man like you in my castle is on the roof hanging from the flagpole at the top of the tower!"

"I said INSIDE, woman! Its fucking freezing! Don't believe me? Want me to crack open a window to prove it?!"

"Stick him in the cellars, Mother!" Daniela chirped, all heads turning towards the red headed girl. "He can sleep with the rats and play with the maids!"

Her laughter quickly grew contagious with the rest of the girls, including you as you looked towards your heavily frowning mother and a smirking Heisenberg.

"That sounds even better," Heisenberg chuckled as he brought his cigar to his lips, meeting your gaze as he blew out a puff of smoke. "A nice, warm place that's dark and filled with livestock. You won't mind if I play with one pretty little lamb, right?"

"That's enough," Alcina ordered, causing your giggles to quiet down. She exhaled as if defeated after fighting her choices. As much as she wanted to reject him and throw him out to the snow, she felt as if she at least owed him a fair amount of debt. She didn't want to, but she'd feel selfish for doing otherwise.

"Just for tonight," Alcina raised a finger towards the man, "You will be gone before the sun rises, or I'll drag you out myself. Do you understand?"

"Tall and clear."

"Hmph,” Turning away from the man, she looked up towards her daughters, who had been leaning against the balcony rails with curious eyes.

“I’ll be leaving for the night girls, I’ll be back before morning.” Alcina announced, meaning she was leaving to the church to be with Mother Miranda. It happened once in a while, and when you asked why, she would mention something along the lines of special planning and ‘special meetings with the favorite child.’ Maybe it was to discuss the village purge.

It was a few hours since Mother left and you retreated to your room. It was pretty late, and after a couple hours of tossing and turning you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. You sat up in bed with an open book in your lap and half a glass of wine in your hand. The words on the page didn’t even interest you, nor did the wine do much to distract you from your thoughts.

Heisenberg was here. In the castle.

If he wasn’t here, you’d just allow your own thoughts to put you to sleep. But the fact he was here incredibly nearby, it made you pretty anxious. A part of you wanted to go down there in the cellars to find him, but you had a lot of maids down there who probably would never keep their mouths shut. Your sisters would question it too, but then again the fact that he was down there with all the maids...

Their was a knock at your door, stealing you away from your thoughts. You tossed your book aside, downing the rest of your wine before setting your glass down on your vanity next to your lightly smoking incense burner.

At first, you thought it was one of the maids coming to you for reasons unknown. But when you opened the door, the scent of scorched tobacco smoke immediately told you otherwise.

“Karl? What’re you doing up here?” You leaned against your door a little bit, seeing the way he immediately eyed you up and down, lingering on certain areas of your body.

“Mmm, looks like you’re finally taking my advice,” He began, a grin slowly forming on his face. “Wearin’ less clothes so you don’t hide that gorgeous body.”

You shook your head, looking away from the man as you stepped aside, gesturing him to walk in.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You closed the door, watching him slowly place his hammer down to the side without it making a loud thud.

“I followed the smell,” He responded, looking around at the decor in your bedroom. “Figured yours would smell the least of rotting blood and corpses the vampire bitch is known for.”

Your room was plain and simple, with the classic elegant spin that was in every other room in the castle. You kept it clean, minus the bed you were in before. The silk sheets were tussled, the fabrics in your favorite color.

“You know if someone found out you were in here, you’d be in a lot of trouble,” You spoke with a teasing tone, walking over to take off the shades from his face, along with his hat.

“I doubt that,” He chuckled, his eyes crinkled with amusement, “I might've threatened a couple of peepers, might've not. After all, I’m just a thirsty ol’ man looking for a tall glass of water.”

You held back a laugh as you placed said items down on your vanity, looking back to see his cigar nestled in his fingers. He watched you reach over and pluck it away, meeting his gaze as you slowly took a drag from said cigar, the embers glowing brighter than the candles that bathed your room in dim light.

“Well,” You blew out the smoke slowly, seeing the swirls evaporate as they got close to Karl’s face. “Did you find it?” You leaned over to put out the cigar inside your incense burner, feeling the floor slightly shift as he took a step closer to you.

“I’m lookin’ right at it,” Came his reply, his tone low and heavy with lust. “C’mere,” His gloved hand snuck around behind your neck, forcing a fierce kiss from you.

Your hands found a hold on his trench coat, yanking it off his shoulders while his hands plastered themselves on every inch of your skin. They found your breasts, squeezing them through the thin silk fabric. Abandoning your chest, they slid down your sides before squeezing the curves of your ass, holding you as close to him as possible. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth, chuckling a little before sucking the soft flesh.

“Mm,” As wonderful as this was, you had to break the kiss before his fingers could attempt to catch a firm hold on your sleepwear.

“Ah ah ah!” You shoved his hands off, forcing him to frown deeply.

“Sit down,” You motioned your head towards your bed, seeing Karl glance over it before frowning even more. “Really?”

“I said sit, Dog.” You ordered the man, even going as far as to shove him back. He caught himself this time, landing against your bed. He sat up properly, his frown replaced with a strong smile at your tone. It was cute watching you tell him what to do, but he didn’t voice it.

“I’m not having you rip up my clothes for a third time,” You proceeded to speak, staying where you were as you started to pull up the silk fabric of your gown in your hands, lifting it ever so slowly to pull off over your head.

“Yes Ma’am,” He responded slowly, watching you with intense eyes darkened with lust. It was your favorite look on him. You almost felt like you were standing top center at the church, with Karl as your only worshipper. He eyed every inch of your skin you exposed to him, relishing in the sight the second your garment fell to the ground. You stood in front of him with breasts bare, your nipples hard from the excitement.

You knew what Karl was waiting for, he didn’t try to hide it as he stared at your waist, seeing your fingers sliding along the edge of your panties. You hooked your thumbs around them and pulled them down slowly, hearing the man lightly groan when they fell to your feet, the material glistening from your wetness.

“Fuck, kitten,” He breathed, slowly pulling off his gloves and tossing them to the floor. He stood up from the bed, and while you were tempted to tell him to sit again, seeing the way he started to tug off his shirts made you silence yourself.

“That’s cute,” He started, his bare calloused hand running down your flank, making you slightly shiver, “Your little show. Very, very cute. But now it’s my turn.”

Oh? You tilted your head slightly in question.

He turned you around, making you face the large floor length mirror you kept against your wall near your closet. Bright gold metal lined the edges, giving it a rich elegant look you adored seeing, it was one of the many eye catchers in your room.

But now, you were staring at your own reflection as Karl stayed behind you, his hands traveling over your breasts again.

“I just adore these sessions of ours,” His voice rumbled in his chest against your back, watching as your attention was focused on his fingers teasing your slightly bruised nipples. “I never knew you had such a bite to your bark, (Y/n). To think their was such a freak hidden away in this pretty head of yours, it’s just another thing I’ve grown to like about you.”

He gave your nipples a rough pinch, making you jump and hiss with surprise while your back slightly arched. He shushed you almost instantly, taking away your hand before it even came close to his.

“Hurts, huh? Pain is such a fantastic way to waken up the senses, especially with the erotic type of pain.” His hands left your breasts and down to your hips, the tips of his fingers gliding ever so close to where you wanted them to be.

"You..." You spoke up again, making him halt his movements.

"What was that?"

"You talk too much." Was your response, making the man chuckle.

"Besides bein' a sexy freak, you're also such a fucking brat." One of his hands left your hips to cradle your jaw, securing your head forward to where you stared at yourself in the mirror.

His free fingers found your clit through your warm folds, making you emit a small whine as he teased you with slow, small circles.

"I wanna make you come (Y/n), but I also want you to watch yourself when I make you," Karl murmured in your ear before taking your earlobe in between his teeth, giving a small tug. He applied more pressure against your bud, increasing his pace slightly in a way that made your stomach press against his forearm that you held, your fingernails digging into his skin as not so subtle whines left your lips.

"F-fuck," You hissed, your head slightly moving in his grip as you couldn't help yourself to look down, seeing the warm light of your room reflect off the slick that gathered on Karl's rough fingers.

"So vulgar sweetheart," His grip quickly tightened on your jaw, fingers almost bruising your skin as he moved your head back to where it was before. "I didn't tell you to move. I'm not gonna repeat myself."

It wasn't long before he set a brutally fast pace, forcing more whines and whimpers to flood his ears. Your other hand gripped his other arm, finding leverage against him as your body shuddered, feeling like you were close to losing yourself. You couldn't help but curse this man in your head that he was so capable of making you feel this way, but oh did it feel so good.

"On second thought," Karl announced before his fingers completely abandoned your folds, forcing you to let out almost a fuming, irritated groan. You were seconds away from feeling your core burst, the lack of attention quickly filling with annoyance.

"What the hell??" You wanted to yell at the man as he stepped away, looking at you with nothing but a shit eating grin. He brought his two fingers to his lips, licking at the pads before sucking on them, humming as if he was tasting ambrosia.

"I had a change of thought," He hummed, holding you by your shoulders until your back fell against the bed, looming over your form. "You got to fill out your little fantasies, now its time to fill out mine."

Karl kissed you before you could say anything else. It continued for a moment before he cut it off, proceeding to pepper kisses down your neck and chest, paying quick attention to your breasts before trailing down your stomach. His beard lightly scratched along your skin the entire way, the man kneeling down in front of the bed to get towards his prize.

He spread you apart, leaving you to close your eyes out of quiet nervousness as he glared at your flower, perfectly glistening for him.

He closed the short distance, his tongue gliding along your entire pussy in one long swipe. The new contact was more than enough to make you whine at the sensation, making the man smile against your skin. He repeated the motion a second time, the tip of his tongue spending extra seconds on your clit, making your knees raise slightly as a small mew came from you.

Any hints at being gentle were banished as he started to eat you out like a starved man. His hands pinned your thighs in place, preventing you from closing them around his head, although the idea of it wasn't a bad one. His dexterous tongue left nothing untouched, licking against your clit repeatedly and sliding inside you, fucking you with his tongue alone. His facial hair even added a prickling sensation that only added onto the pleasure, intensifying even more when he brought his lips around your clit, suckling hard.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, your fingers tightly gripping your blankets as the sounds you made reached various broken octaves. This man didn't let up, even bringing two of his fingers inside you, curling upwards in a way that had your back arching almost instantly.

This was something Karl wanted for a long time: To be in complete control of your body and give you the ultimate sensation that any human would want, pure pleasure. He could take you to that state of euphoria, and do it over and over if he wanted to. Right now, he really wanted to take you there.

"C'mon," He muttered against you, making you raise your head to stare at him with half-lidded eyes. "Come for me babygirl."

His lips returned to sucking your clit again with a perfect thrust of his fingers, the built up pleasure snapping in your lower abdomen almost instantly. The hot white delicious relief spread throughout your body like a scorching wildfire, making you cry out while covering your mouth with your fingers to prevent being so loud, but it did little to nothing. Your other hand found itself tugging at Karl's hair, fingers tangling in his silvery locks as your hips rocked against his mouth, the man sucking every drop from your core for all it was worth.

"There you go sweetheart," He cooed when you settled down from the high, feeling the man kiss the inside of your thighs. He bit your skin a little at first, making you give an almost breathless giggle at what you believed was a tease.

His sharp teeth popped the skin of your inner thigh when he bit down again, your warm blood flooding his lips as he instantly sucked the wound, making you gasp and writhe from the pain. His hands secured your hips from thrashing away, your hand tugging at his hair as his tongue repeatedly brushed over your inflicted wound. You grew so focused over the panic, you got caught off guard when his fingers returned towards your folds again. You haven't fully recovered from your first orgasm, the sensation of his fingers making you whine much more louder than you wanted to.

"K-Karl," You gasped out, attempting to push his head away with your hand. "Karl stop! I can't-"

The man refused the push, emitting a low growl from deep in his throat that almost scared you, making you move your hand away from his head. His nails started digging into your skin, leaving angry red trails as his mouth abandoned your bite wound, quickly returning to your pussy without a second thought.

Your next orgasm felt forced, the pleasure more intensified with the stinging pain of overstimulation. It made you buck your hips against his mouth, your hands pulling against your sheets so hard you'd fear they would rip.

Karl removed his mouth as you came back down, giving your wound a final wipe of his tongue before chuckling.

"Now I know why these monsters insist on keepin' you, Everything about you is so sweet." He looked up at you almost glowing, feral eyes and a broad smile on his face, completely ignoring the fact that he bit you just to taste your blood and prove his point.

''And you call me a freak," You breathed out, watching as he stood up from the ground, pulling you closer to him by your legs. He scooped you up in his arms, proceeding to climb up in bed before laying you back down, your head nestled against your pillows.

"We're all freaks," He countered, looming over you as he undid his belt, "But you and I, We're both hand in hand in this twisted freak show."

He pushed inside you slowly, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt. To your overstimulated form, you couldn't help but feel a bit of pain while squeezing around his length. But like he had said before, or similar to his words, pain mixed with just the right amount of pleasure was an incredible sensation to feel.

Words were getting lost to your mind when he thrusted more into you, burying deeper and deeper into your core. His weight against you had you feeling caged underneath, his distinct scent filling your senses to the brim. You could've cared less if the world ended then and there, the pleasure growing quickly drowning out everything else that didn't matter, only you and him.

His pace quickened considerably, the sounds of skin slapping against skin mixed with your indescribable moans echoed through your entire room, sounding like music in Karl's ears. Your were a gorgeous sight to behold, your skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your eyes half open with pupils full blown out, clouded in pleasure. He felt your hands plastered along his back, leaving harsh scratches along his skin that provided him his own share of mixed pleasure and pain.

His hand found your jaw again, keeping a tight hold as you joined him in a rough, heated kiss. The taste of tobacco, your blood and your essence was a peculiar combination you never believed you'd ever get a chance to taste, but you weren't in the right mindset to complain, instead you moaned to indulge.

The tighter you clenched around him let him know you were close, forcing him to slow the pace he set, only to compensate for more hard, brutal thrusts. The bruising force of his hips sent you over the edge, your back arching off the bed to push against his chest as a muffled cry came from you, Karl keeping the kiss secured as his arm slipped under you, pulling you up from the bed while swallowing your cries.

He sat up in a kneeling position, both arms secured around your waist as he continued bucking his hips hard, chasing his own release as you were in the middle of yours.

He reached up to hold the back of your head, fingers grabbing a fistful of your hair. Your arms draped over his shoulders, locking your hands as you whined against his shoulder, your eyes open as you stared straight towards your gold lined mirror, seeing the way his muscles flexed with your red claw marks brightening the tan skin on his scarred back. His head rested in the crook of your neck, hearing him emit another dangerously low growl as he thrusts faltered, flooding your insides with a potent, hot warmth. Your shuddered against him, riding out both of your highs as you both held onto each other, completely breathless.

Karl's hand cradled the back of your head, both of your tired forms sitting in a comfortable silence. The longer the two of you stayed this way, the more exhaustion wrapped its thick tendrils around their victims. He laid you down, resting your head on your pillow. You almost refused to let him go, looking up at him with half lidded eyes no longer filled with lust, being completely replaced with a different emotion you were scared to voice, but Karl knew right away.

The man was screwed, because the way you looked at him was the same way he looked back at you.

Half-Full, Half-Empty - Chapter 5

Keep reading

-ˏˋmineˊˎ

｡･:*˚:✧｡

genre ; nsfw / +18

warnings ; nsfw, smut, vaginal fingering, hair-pulling, edging / orgasm denial, unprotected sex, jealous / rough sex, degradation, swearing, established relationship.

taglist ; @normiewrites​ @kingtamakimurder​ @briswriting​(they helped me), @brattyquirks​

.+☼☾✯꧂

[osamu dazai x fem!reader]

request ; Do you think you can write something about Dark Era!Dazai or ADA!Dazai being jealous and how he would remind his S/O who they ‘belong to’ pretty please? Also can it be NSFW?

ok so i’ll admit, this was rushed, it’s sloppy and not as good as my others. i’m sorry.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it wasn’t like dazai to be jealous.

he trusted you. he had shown the most vulnerable part of himself. white silky bandages covering his milky skin, soft brown curls shaping his face while a feeling of uneasiness overwhelm the weight in his stomach. those dark honey coloured eyes staring down at you with uncertainty while your soft fingers danced over his lithe form, slowly unravelling the material that covered his body ; hidden from the cruel world.

so why was he jealous now?

sounds of shuffling papers, the clack of keyboards and quiet chatter filled the agency. it sounded and smelt exactly like a usual workplace would, except if jealously had a smell, it would have a bitter aroma of burning chemicals.

your e/c glistened with joy as ranpo continued to ramble and boast about how “utterly amazing” he was. dazai watched from his desk, his chestnut eyes analytically observing every facial expression the pair of you made. 

dazai’s fingers twitched in annoyance as you giggled. dazai huffed softly and tried to focus back on his work, knowing that kunikida would yell at him about it…again.

“dazai-san?” atsushi’s meek voice sounded from beside him, dazai’ head turning slightly to face the grey-haired boy.

“hm?”

“if you don’t mind me asking…  why do you keep looking at ranpo-san and y/n-chan?” dazai’s eyes widened slightly. was he really that obvious?

“oh, no reason!” dazai quickly dismissed atsushi, giving him that bright smile he always did. “just interested in their conversation!”

“oh ok,” atsushi gave a small smile before quickly scurrying back off to his desk. dazai smirked as you briefly glanced at him, his eyes glistening with mischief. you turned back to ranpo as he whined your name, much to dazai’s displeasure.

the dull thud of dazai’s fingers hitting the oak wood table beneath him and the small melody he hummed did nothing to cure his everlasting boredom. the paperwork stared back at him, almost as if it was taunting him. he huffed, letting his eyes wander around the room until he felt his eyebrows raise at the sight he came across.

ranpo’s bright emerald eyes were staring directly at you, a smirk on his face as he watched you shake your head, a light pink blush warming your cheeks. Your hands reached up to cover your blush, a small shy smile tugging at your cheeks.

dazai felt his eye twitch, the feeling of jealousy swelling up in his stomach, boiling red and green while his lips tugged into a deep frown. deciding that he had enough of ranpo’s antics, dazai pushed himself up with his palms on the desk, walking over to you in long strides.

you shivered as you felt the warmth of dazai’s body pressed against your side, one arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him while a bittersweet smile stretched across dazai’s face. his fingers almost painfully dug into your side, making sure you knew that he was there.

“well what do you have here, m’lady?” he shamelessly winked at you, a groan leaving ranpo’s mouth at dazai’s antics. your heart lurched as you felt his fingers dig into your side, even more, his fake cheerful expression never wavering.

but, you knew better.

“we were just talking about stuff!“ you smiled up at dazai, making him look down at you curiously.   

”‘stuff’, hm?“ you nodded in response, hardly noticing how hard ranpo was staring at you. dazai did.

"dazaiii, do you know if we have any more snacks?” ranpo whined, interrupting dazai. “…besides y/n of course.”

ohohoh?

“I don’t know ranpo-san,” you almost shuddered at how vicious he sounded. “why don’t you go find out for once instead of leeching off everyone else, since you’re ‘so utterly great’?” 

the dark look covered over his eyes, his smile turning into the bitter smile that could make anyone quiver. he almost giggled when he saw you visibly swallow, either out of anticipation or nerves, you both didn’t know…

“dazai-san! get back to work, you idiot!”

Keep reading

thinkin about when doms go "hm?" at the end of their sentence and talk in that sickly sweet condescending tone, asking questions they know you can't answer because you're just too far gone to comprehend such difficult words, drool dripping down your chin and cum leaking from your used cunt as you shamelessly grind your hips in a silent plead for more because it's never enough for a needy whore like you, is it?

Yandere Mr Compress (Part 1?)

My first ever fanfiction, enjoy and please let me know if you want more! I may be continuing this.

TW Kidnapping

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It starts off very innocent. You’re walking back to your apartment after a long day at work and you find a bouquet of flowers sitting at your doorstep. Puzzled, but somewhat excited, you pick them up and take them inside, setting them on your kitchen counter. You check the card “Your beauty is like the waves of the ocean, relentless, wondrous, and potentially disastrous to a poor, lost soul like mine.” It isn’t signed. You could, of course, take this note the wrong way, how could beauty be disastrous? But you figure it just came from an especially stricken admirer. You haven’t had an admirer since high school, how could you not find it sweet? Smiling, you set the card to the side and arrange the flowers on your dinner table. It’s a nice gesture, you assure yourself.

A few days pass and you’re unconcerned about this “admirer”. In fact, it puts a little pep in your step, so to speak. So far, you’ve received the flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and of course the usual unsigned notes. Nothing too strange or alarming. But today was a little different. You come home to find a small red box waiting for you. You take it inside, eagerly rip it open, and find a gold necklace with a heart pendant. Your stomach drops a little. This is expensive. Not only that, but you were just eyeing it the other day, thinking about buying it for yourself for your birthday next week. But it’s not like anyone would have noticed that, right? Whoever the admirer is, he must have just seen it and figured it would be nice, right? You set it aside, pour yourself a glass of wine, and put it out of your mind.

The week passes without any more gifts. You’re a little disappointed, but also somewhat relieved. Maybe the admirer just lost interest. Anyway, it’s your birthday and you’re going out tonight, so you’re excited. You go on your usual lunch break to your usual coffee shop, order your usual cappuccino extra foam, and walk outside. You always take an alley back to work, it’s quick and it’s not even a dangerous area, there are heroes everywhere. You’re so absorbed in thinking about your work, the proposal is due today, you don’t even notice the man standing in the shadows with a Rorschach mask and yellow trench coat. But his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re not wearing it.”

You stop in your tracks. “E-excuse me?” you ask, without turning around.

“The necklace.”

Your heart stops.

“You haven’t worn it at all. I thought you’d like it. I saw you looking at it and smiling.”

Run. You have to run. Or call for a hero, just DO something. You open your mouth, but by the time you even think to scream for help, you’re breathing in a chemical-soaked rag. And you’re out.

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When you wake up, you have a headache. You don’t really remember what happened, did you have a bad dream? Did you end up going out with your friends? You look around for some water, aspirin… your phone? Anything? Your mind finally clears and you realize, this is not your room. The bed is huge, probably a king. The sheets are regal, red satin with a maroon fleur de lis pattern. Where the fuck are you? You begin to panic and try to get up, before realizing you’ve been tied to the dark, oak bed frame. Shit.

The events of earlier today begin to return to you. The coffee, the alleyway, the man. He was the one. The admirer. He WAS watching you. You look around frantically, looking for anything to cut the restraints. The room offers no solution. No way out. You can feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes as the bedroom door opens.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

You turn your head to meet the voice, a tall man wearing an orange button up shirt with a bolo tie, black vest, and black dress pants. Even after having the audacity to kidnap you, he still hides his face underneath a black balaclava mask.

“I do apologize for the restraints, but I’m afraid I just can not let you run off. Not when I’ve gone to all this trouble to acquire you.”

“Acquire me?” you spit. “What am I, a Picasso?”

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh, like you’re on stage at open mic night. “A Picasso? Oh dear, no, you are so much more beautiful than that.”

You blush, despite yourself, but continue to glare at the man. Who does he think he is? You don’t expect a real answer, but you do ask him, “Who are you?”

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” He says with a smile. He flourishes his hand down into a deep bow, “Some call me Mr. Compress, but you, my dear, may call me Atsuhiro.”

you kids are in trouble

sleepyhead | gale dekarios x afab!reader

(18+!!!) afab!reader. second person pov. literally just smut: oral (f receiving), piv, dirty talk, consensual somnophilia. gale lives to please as always

my first gale fic... this man has taken over my entire life.

2k words

Gale’s lips press against yours in the dark, gentle and coaxing. A push and pull. You blink blearily awake from slumber as his hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleep shift. His brown hair falls over the two of you like a curtain, shielding you from the terrors of the darkness.  

“Mm hello,” you purr against his lips. “What time is it?” You ask when he pulls back. He looks a bit wild, pupils blown wide, his eyes practically look black even in the dim candlelight. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze traveling over you, heated, like the air surrounding fire. He doesn’t answer. 

“Gale?” you repeat, warmth pooling in your belly at the pure desperation on his face. At the want curling in his eyes like a flame.

“It’s late,” he murmurs, voice rough, as though he’s parched. “Though I cannot stop thinking about you. I must…” he trails off, mind moving faster than his mouth can.

One thing you love about Gale is his ability to talk for seemingly hours on end with such eloquence and poetry. But when he’s like this…already hard against your thigh, slowly rutting his hips in circles, captured within pleasure, the words seem to leave him. You love it just as much, if not more. 

He leans in and runs his nose along your throat, breath ghosting over your skin. His teeth graze you, and his tongue follows, licking a stripe up your throat. You moan shakily, cunt clenching around nothing. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, though it’s more breath than substance. Your brain is already beginning to short circuit, especially when the hand on your waist travels down to your thigh, fingertips pressing into the muscle there. 

“You just looked so beautiful on the battlefield today… I tried to contain myself because we had so much to do, but… fuck,” he breathes this against your neck, desperate. He hardly ever uses such vulgar language. “I need you, love.” 

“So you really weren’t lying when you told me you were turned on by my fighting,” you say, surprised.

“I am a lot of things, darling, but a liar is not one of them.”

The sound of his inhale as he leans down to kiss you again sends more molten pleasure swirling through you. 

His hips press against yours, grinding against your clothed cunt in a steady rhythm. You moan into his mouth, your hands reaching up to clench at his sleep shirt stretched over his broad back. 

You’re still sleepy as his hand drifts to the hem of your shift. He slowly pulls it up your thighs, up over your breasts, revealing your undergarments. He paws at your waistband like a cat begging for food. You lift your hips so he can pull them down over your ass. He undoes the ties to your bralette and slides it off your shoulders. 

Gale kisses his way down your body, stopping to close his warm mouth over a nipple while his dexterous hand squeezes and tugs at the other. You moan lightly, pleasure easing through you. He hums appreciatively against your skin, and the vibrations travel pleasantly through you.

“Gale…” you half murmur half moan as he moves his mouth to your other nipple. “I can hardly stay awake…” You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The gentle chirping of the crickets outside your tent doesn’t help.

“Of course,” he says, leaning back. “We can stop.”

“No—no wait,” you stop him with a hand curled around his wrist. “You can keep going while I’m sleeping, I don’t mind.” 

His eyes darken, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. “Really? Are you quite sure?”

You nod with a sleepy smile and settle back comfortably. “Mhm.” 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

Your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing as you succumb to your exhaustion. Your limbs feel heavy, even as Gale continues his way down your body. 

“You’re so gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispers into your skin. His fingers curl into your thighs before he slowly pulls them apart, baring yourself to him.

He runs his hands appreciatively up and down your thighs, squeezing and kneading before hooking them over his shoulders.

Gale presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh before retreating. You feel his lips again a second later, just between your thigh and cunt, mere centimeters from where you’re wet and aching for him.

And then you feel his warm breath puffing against your core, and your body squirms impatiently. You peek an eye open to watch him.

He looks so handsome as he glances up at you, eyes soft, mouth twitched into a smirk. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

“I am,” you reply, closing your eyes again. “Just wanted to admire the view one last time.” 

He chuckles lowly, “Sweet dreams, darling.”

He doesn’t move for a while, and you find yourself drifting off in the stillness. Your breathing slows, your mind growing quiet as sleep takes over you.

---

The moment your breaths even out as your hands fall slack against your sides, Gale presses his face between your thighs. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick a long, hot stripe through your folds. You taste delicious on his tongue, and gods you’re so wet. You’re soaking his beard, and he’s hardly been between your thighs for longer than ten seconds.

He doesn’t care. You keep releasing cute little moans in your sleep as he takes you apart brick by brick. Or rather… lick by lick.

His hands grip your waist, keeping you close. Your hips buck involuntarily to meet his mouth, grinding against his face. Even in your sleep you’re seeking out pleasure from him. 

God forbid he won’t deliver.

He pulls back one of his hands to slide a finger into you. It goes easily. He adds another without any resistance. You’re so incredibly wet. He wants to remain between your thighs forever. Your sweet, slick arousal runs down his hand to his wrist, and he bends his head to lick it off. 

His hips rut against the floor of his tent, the act of eating you out so arousing to him he has to seek his own pleasure to mitigate the pain. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather see you cum over and over again before he ever does.

He slowly thrusts his fingers into you while mouthing at your clit, delighting in your shaky breaths and wanton moans. You look gorgeous, brows screwed together, sweat beading on your temple. You’re going to wake up soon, and damnit he’ll make sure it’s while you’re cumming.

---

Warmth kindles between your thighs, pleasure and arousal pooling deep in your belly, tingling in your toes and rising through you.

Sleep drifts away from you, hanging onto the recesses of your mind, but ultimately not strong enough against the building pleasure you feel. 

You chase the feeling, the promise of sweet release. Your surroundings slowly begin to materialize around you. The feeling of your bedroll clenched between your fingers, the undeniable feeling of a mouth between your legs, the sound of low, rumbling, appreciative moans that vibrate through you.

Even the sound of your own cries are registering in your mind. 

The melting pleasure collapses into one pinpoint. A supernova explodes within you as your clit is sucked diligently while the two, long fingers buried inside you hook to press against your g-spot. 

Your back bows, eyes flying open as you cum against Gale’s warm and inviting mouth with a cry of his name. He guides you through it with gentle laps of his tongue through your folds. He mumbles words of encouragement, but they’re lost against your skin. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Gale.”

“Mm.” You can practically feel his pride radiating off of him from making you come. 

He continues to lick you through it until you’re coming again, hands fisted in his hair as his lips suck once more on your clit, his fingers fucking into you. Your legs quiver atop his shoulders, your mind utterly fucked into emptiness.

When it’s all too much you push him away, breathing heavily, contented tears in your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you should wake me up like that more often.”

His eyes sparkle excitedly. “If that is what you wish, I’d be glad to.” 

“You are such a giver. You really should let me take care of you sometimes.”

He shrugs. “I like giving. It brings me great pleasure to reside between your thighs for as long as you can stand.”

You sigh at his fanciful words, but you appreciate his adoration all the same. He crawls forward as you lean up to kiss him, the taste of yourself on his tongue rekindling the fire in your gut. His hand winds its way into your hair, the other squeezes your hip. 

“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “Now.” 

He groans, fingers flexing in your hair. Your body jolts with arousal at the sweet tug. 

“Say no more,” Gale says. “Your wish is my command.”

He takes off his trousers then rolls you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up and backwards, and his knee comes between your thighs to press them apart. 

He guides the head of his cock through your slick folds and your hips squirm in anticipation.

He leans across your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “I wish you could see yourself on the battlefield. The way you look with someone else’s blood on your armor… The flush on your cheeks… The way you breathe… You’re so capable, so strong. I cannot help but stare.”

He eases his cock inside you and the two of you moan in tandem at the delightful feeling. Him, at your warmth. You, at the undeniable feeling of being filled. 

He bites lightly at your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Sometimes I wish I could take you right there. In front of all of our friends and dead foes.”

You clench around him at his words, and he groans, hips snapping forward. You jolt against the bedroll, elbows digging into the feather down material. 

“Gale,” you whimper. 

He hums, “Yes. You’d be saying my name just. Like. That.” He delivers those three last words with hard thrusts, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the tent. 

He builds up the pace, fucking into you steadily. Your cheek squishes against your pillow as he fills you, your mind still sleepy but undeniably consumed by lust and love.

“What do you think? Would you like that, love? Would you like to be fucked in front of all our companions?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please, Gale. Need you—“

“Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs. His hand skates across your stomach as his warm fingers settle over your clit. “As much as I’d love to indulge the fantasy, I’m not sure I’d want them to watch.” 

He begins to circle your clit with reverence, in time with his thrusts as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you all to myself,” he grits. 

You cry out, melting against him, knees buckling as you reach your release. It rips through you, hard and fast. Unrelenting. A wildfire raging through your nerves. 

Gale chases after his own climax, thrusts growing sloppy and deeper, moans and praises spilling from his lips before he finally cums inside you, hips twitching. 

Your body trembles as the aftershocks roll through you. 

You collapse onto the bedroll, breathing heavily, and Gale pulls you into him. You both lie on your sides, him softening inside you. He buries kisses into your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you all right?” he asks you, his thumb brushing comfortingly along your rib cage. 

“So good,” you respond, brain blissfully empty, as if the tadpole never existed. You already feel sleep crawling across your mind again, pulling you under. You yawn and grin happily, like a cat that’s gotten its warm milk. 

“Going back to bed already?” he teases, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I wear you out that much?” 

“Mhmm…”

“All right. Go to sleep darling. I’ll clean you up.”

You’re already halfway asleep when you feel his tongue dip into you once more, licking his cum out from inside you—

Oh well. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.

Hey! Would you like to write something for mori and his female s/o with bondage? A scenario would be amazing! Maybe was sie trying to tease him the whole day!

➽─{uwu i would love to ~ the doctor is in ❤️☠️}─❥

warning(s): nsfw, bdsm, oral (receiving)

You’re restless, hungry, agitated on the lookout for slick black hair and white wrist-length gloves. A group of young mafiosos pass you, all eyes cautiously averted. Pleased, you relish in your hastily planned attire: one of Mori’s white button-ups, and not much else underneath. If anyone was caught leering at the boss’s plaything, they would surely be punished––though the word “punishment” barely even begins to describe it.

Sighing as you round another dead end, you ponder your options. Either wait in Mori’s office, or try the room you saved for last. It’s the one place you’d normally have the good sense to steer clear of, but your desperation is reaching new heights. Waiting is simply out of the question. You make a beeline for the main meeting room, as you’ve passed it dozens of times by now.

Oversized walnut doors loom over you as you stand outside of your final destination. The voices inside are dampened, but not muted; the room is soundproofed, but not completely. When you reach out to grab the handle, the heft of the door resists your pull as if asking, “are you sure about this?” You prop it open anyway, just wide enough to slip through, grazing the polished wood as you enter.

Inside, a pack of mobsters surround a long rectangular table, at the end of which your lover eyes you calmly––but is that a hint of a disapproval you see? Many heads turn towards you, but few linger. The most daring of the group shoot quizzical looks at Mori, but his expression reveals little to nothing. Back bathed in sunlight, face hidden in shadow, he continues to lead the discussion as if nothing peculiar is happening. A professional as always. Your visit is largely ignored.

You maintain your gaze as he talks shop, but you bore instantly. Twirling your hair and nibbling your lips from across the room hardly evokes the reaction you came to spark. Though he never takes his eyes off of you, he otherwise acts as if you aren’t there. No choice but to get closer.

Grabbing the nearest chair, you walk Mori’s way as his eyes narrow, still focused on you. Your gait is as unwavering as you can manage in front of a criminal syndicate. Some of the executive board shift uncomfortably in their seats, and as you near the windows, Mori realizes why. You prop your chair up next to him, leaning into his ear:

“I just thought you should know that I’m dripping wet.”

The boss of the Port Mafia is the very last to get a clear view of your bare thighs, their innermost surfaces gleaming in nature’s lube. He simply nods his head, trying his best to maintain the illusion of control––but when you sit yourself down, putting your hands on his legs, he immediately cuts his losses.

“We’ll stop here for today. This meeting is adjourned until further notice,” his voice booms, teetering on the edge of annoyance. Good; you want him just as worked up as you are.

As the last of the Mafia members filter out, not so heedless as to glance back, Mori turns to face you. Hands fumbling with his clothes, he folds his trench coat over his chair and slips something out of its pockets. Its metallic glint threatens to blind you with natural light. When your senses adjust, you realize it’s a pair of handcuffs, but not before a loud clinking reaches your ears. Your hands––they’re locked together now, cuffs fastened shut behind your back.

“Rintaro?” you protest, but your voice falls upon deaf ears. He hoists you up by the waist and sets you on the meeting table, eyes undressing your already scantily dressed form. You smirk. “You like?”

“I like?” he says back, mockingly. “Such a disobedient, troublesome girl like you? I wonder about that.” Gloved fingers unbutton your (well, his) shirt, but your restraints prevent the garment from completely coming off. Starched fabric bunches at your wrists. The chains jingle behind you as you test your strength against the stainless steel, but not unnoticed by your lover.

Mori’s voice drops a notch: “I swiped them off of a police officer this morning. He was getting in the way of a business transaction, making my job very… difficult.” A certain iciness laces his words, sending shivers down your spine. “Perfect for a slut who doesn’t know her place, no?”

Hands awkwardly positioned, you struggle to keep yourself upright under his smoldering gaze. You’ve barely gotten comfortable when he starts to go down on you.

A small yelp escapes you as Mori greets your clit, spreading the wide of his tongue across it. His tongue flicks upwards as one, two fingers slide past your drenched slit, and you’re quick to realize that he hasn’t even bothered to take off his gloves. The silky fabric introduces an effortless glide to each Mori’s slow, drawn-out dips into your pulsing pussy. His fingers rock back and forth inside of you, continuously curling towards your g-spot with leisure. 

Just when you’re getting used to the rhythm, Mori’s tongue begins to rub circles upon your swollen clit. Your legs buckle beneath you when he pushes them back for easy access. It’s hard not to quiver under his hold, but it’s even harder not to let your voice out. Soft mewls overflow into melting moans. His methodical motions almost get you shaking when he suddenly stops, and you can’t help but whine in response.

The gloves come off, soaked through and through, and he moves to loosen his tie next. Your anticipation grows almost tangible as more and more clothing comes off, but he stops at his belt buckle, flashing a wicked smile at you.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You wanna know what I do to loud and impatient girls?” Before you have a chance to answer, your lips are forced open, a thick cloth slipping between your teeth. His red scarf stuffs your mouth, restricting your breathing somewhat. You are virtually silenced, unable to speak properly. Muffled noises substitute your every word, something that obviously brings great pleasure to the sadistic doctor. 

“I make them take responsibility,” he continues, edge in his tone. He releases his bulging cock from black trousers, stroking it to your wide-eyed form. “It’s all your fault. Just look what you’ve done to me.” His free hand flutters at your waist, tracing your curves. You’re pulled from the table and bent over it, the cold metal cuffs cutting into your skin, certain to leave red marks. You feel the scarf tighten, pressing against your cheeks.

“If you want me to stop, you’ll have to scream.” Mori pauses to admire his handiwork, perhaps a beat too long.

“I wonder what sorts of sounds you’ll make when I use you..?”

--

sources:

link i

link ii

link iii

Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Brothers

A/N: The brothers!! I hope yall enjoy!! Aphrodisiac induced is always a fun thing to play with. The brothers,, my beloved

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You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a gentleman- most of the time at least. But during your time of need he is perfect to go to. He’ll allow you- or more like insist- that you stay in his office until the aphrodisiac’s effects have passed. You’ll lay on the couch, face buried into a throw pillow while the other one is between your legs. Shame has long been gone since you’ve entered his domain, his eyes never really leaving your shaky frame. When you moan his name, he stiffens, the pen in his hand is held tighter but he still rises, walking towards you in concern. He’ll sit beside you, let his hand curve over your forehead, feeling the heat go through his glove.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away, and there’s this heavy look on your face, the pillow squeezed tight between your legs, the pillow under your head has faint imprints of your teeth. He’ll avoid touching you, pulling his hand away from you and walking briskly to his desk chair. He can hear your steps across the floor, the way you gasp his name and seem to rub your thighs together for any sort of friction. He won’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. Underneath the desk, his leg jolts as you snake your arms around his shoulders, your lips wet as they touch his neck.

There isn’t enough time in the day and night for him to focus on his work and on your growing needs that are starting to mark everything in his office. Black ink scratches along the pape, the letters growing shaky as you snake your way onto him. He’s actually startled when you situate yourself on his lap, your sex pressed against his erection. He’s surprised by your sudden confidence but writes it off due to the effects of the aphrodisiac. You’re above him, arms snaked once more on his shoulders and you play with the hair that rests on the nape of his neck.

The feeling of shame is not foreign to the Avatar of Pride but even then, letting you know that he is indeed aroused given the situation does bring a bit of heat to his body. His hands find their way to hold onto your hips, trying to ignore the way that you have begun to grind against his. But there is work to do and despite the growing need to pleasure both you and himself, he displaces you, ignoring the way that you call his name and can’t seem to stop touching him.

The only way to gain his attention that you desperately long for is to push him away, the wheels locking against an edge of the floor and you bend yourself over the desk. Lucifer wants to throw you out so you can be another’s problem but you pull your bottom layer off, your fingers searching inside your leaking hole and pride starts to fuel him. You touch yourself in front of him, beg for him to touch you- of course you would. Slender hands come to touch your body, and you’re already leaking onto the floor, thick, sweet arousal staining the very room that he allowed you to enter. His cock is against you, rimming around your entrance, hearing your cries and please for him to simply fuck you but you did cause him to become distracted from very important work and he is going to punish you for that.

Mammon:

Of course you’d go to him. He is your first after all, why wouldn’t you go to The Great Mammon? But wow, he was over his head when you came knocking at his door. Always eager to see and spend time with you, he allows you to enter without seeing the state you’re in. You stagger into his room, holding his hand and stumbling into him and it’s only then that he can smell the sweet, lingering aroma in the air. He wants to believe you’re just trying a new perfume and now it's made you sick, but it’s worse than that when the hand you’re holding moves to your chest. He can feel your rapid heartbeat, the way your body is in flames that can rival hellfire itself, the pained cry of his name as you try to pinch your legs together in the awkward embrace.

Frozen for a moment, Mammon completely blanks on what to do. He can feel your pain, the aching need in your entire body that makes you feel as if you’re going to combust into flames. He doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. But then you cry his name- sobbing it out in broken syllabus and you cry that it hurts and you think you might die and you're in his arms. Your hold on him tightens and he thinks he can leave you to be- let you wait out the excruciating pain in his room until the feeling fades and just thank him with attention or material objects later. He fails to consider that he is weak to you and when you look at him with teary eyes, he falters.

He stutters in his explanation, talking about how he can maybe go out and get you a toy or something- and he promises to be quick, he is the fastest after all. But then the thought lingers and he imagines your sex stretched with some toy that he chose, and his body jerks. Your vision is growing blurrier by the second and the hold on his hand tightens until your knuckles pale. You pull on him, thanking whatever God is watching down on you, that the door to the prized car he keeps in is open. Even he’s unable to know what is going on until you push him inside, crawling onto the back seat, calling his name and begging for him to join you.

In such a closed space, the Avatar of Greed is trying desperately to avoid touching you. He stays seated in the front seat, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. He cares for the car deeply- one of the few things that gives him freedom that is indescribable and yet, here you are. Your sex is leaking, your cries echoing across the closed space and what is music to his ears in his dreams is now a horrible reminder that you are seated behind him, victim to an aphrodisiac. He needs an excuse to touch you, needs to just feel you for a moment and when you threaten to stain the flawless leather seats with your slick, it’s enough for him to crawl to the back seat.

He never realized how crowded it was, how his elbows and knees tend to knock into things. He doesn’t notice how you’ve kicked your shorts off, how your underwear has become dark in color to your dripping sex. You kiss him, and Mammon is weak to you. His hands are on you, the scent overpowering and he promises to keep the touching to a minimum to only touch what you’ll let him touch and kiss where you want him to. But you’re huffing, grabbing onto him and trying to meet his crotch. The windows grow foggy, the car begins to creak but neither of you pay it any mind. It’s cramped and you’re too close but not close enough, you ache to be closer to him, to have him pressed against you until all you can remember is the way that his chest feels against your skin, the warmth of him, and the way his kisses are so tender and feverish all at once.

Leviathan:

Leviathan refuses to make eye contact with you. He won’t even address you. He sits on his desk chair, playing a game that doesn’t need half of the attention he usually gives. You rest inside his bathtub, curled over he presumes, whining and mumbling something that sounds like his name but he can't be so sure nor does he expect you to mumble his name in your current state. But as much as he wants to drown you out, he can’t. You’re too whiny, crying and begging for a solution, peeling your shirt off because it’s too hot. He reasons that’s because of the aphrodisiac because his room is always kept to a cool temperature. So now, he has you topless in his bathtub and the only proof is your shirt that was tossed where he sits and the reflection above, portraying a teasing, blurry image of your torso.

It’s possibly the worst situation for the poor, introverted demon. He finally has you all to himself and you’re in such a needy state and the plot is so close to a top tier hentai of his- Help! My Friend Took a Drug and Now They Won’t Stop Grinding on Me But I Also Don’t Want Them To Stop. But You came to him, you trusted that he would watch over you and whether it was because he kept his room so guarded or because you trust him, he really doesn’t know which. It’s just too muddled for him to believe that you would actively choose him. So, he does what he does best- he immerses himself in a game. The cutest game that he could think of- one that even if he grew and remained hard would make him feel more like a degenerate than he already does. He puts his headphones on and as if everything is trying to punish him, the loading screen takes forever.

The soundtrack plays loud, booming in his headset and effectively drowning you out. But he knows you’re still crying for him- that you're still in the same room with him. The perverted otuka glances up where he can see your reflection and he catches a glimpse of your hands cupping the swell of your chest and his face burns. Had you caught him peeking before? Was this a way for you to play with yourself without actively touching yourself? He can feel his growing arousal, translucent pre-ejaculate spilling past his slit and staining his boxers. It’s humiliating and he hates that the idea of you touching yourself in his room is more than enough for him to get in the mood.

He’s ignoring you- the only way that he can hopefully soften without actually creaming his pants. He avoids your reflection, ignores how your hands grip the curve of the tub until your knuckles pale, how you swing a leg over and it meets the hard layer of the bath, and for a moment, you still. He’s ignoring your decision to remove yourself from the place he rests and staggering to him. When he feels your hands on his thighs, he startles and the game minimizes into a small box. Unaware of what to do in this situation, he freezes, letting his body tense as you crawl onto his lap, your eyes heavy with lust and body feeling so warm above him that he’s unable to breathe.

His breathing is ragged, his hands stopping on the curve of your bum, as he’s unable to look anywhere else but your face. You’re flushed, gripping onto him, your tongue out as you pant and you’re so desperate for his attention that you lean close. His hands raise in an attempt to push you off but as if it were a cliché moment, his hands curve over your chest and you whimper his name at the simple touch. The third born should have been careful, he shouldn’t have let you grind against him and he surely shouldn’t have let himself becomes distracted by a kiss and yet, here he is, undressing himself as you greedily slide yourself onto his cock, your face scrunching up as every scale is pushed further into your aching hole. Leviathan is holding you close, the computer screen dimming as your can fill him spill inside of you.

Satan:

Eager to learn, he knows the effects of what an aphrodisiac can do to a being. So when you come knocking at Satan’s door, begging for refuge, leaning against him and gripping at his shirt, he pats your hand, and welcomes you inside. He allows you to rest on his bed, letting you bury yourself under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for either of you- you’re inhaling his scent during a time of desperate need, and soon when the effects wear off, he’ll be left in a bed that is drenched in your scent. That, however, is a problem for another day.

In order to keep his mind and hands busy, he’ll finally organize his room. He’s able to ignore your whining, the way that you shiver under the covers and bury yourself into his pillow, how you spread your legs so they are uncovered by the blanket; he ignores the sweet scent of your arousal that fills the room and his lungs. He holds his breath, taking few, deep breaths every now and then to avoid inhaling too much of you. You’re whining, talking through the pillow about how it hurts and you just need something- and doesn’t he have a spell he can use to just rid you of at least a tiny bit of it.

It’s the growing arousal of himself and your constant whining that edges him closer to annoyance. He holds books tight in his hand, orders them by author and published years, height and volumes, but it isn’t enough to drown you out. He regrets letting you enter his room but in the same second, he regrets having the thought. He’s happy that you came to him, trusted him enough to see you in a disheveled state. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you feel unwanted, so he edges closer to you, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if he were a nervous boy instead of a grown demon. The bed creaks under his weight and your hand latches onto his thigh. He jerks his leg, your hand only squeezing tighter and when he makes eye contact, your eyes are filled with tears, glistening and catching on your lashes like fresh dew.

You’re aroused, deeply and sweetly. It's a nervous thing to be attracted to someone like you, a demon that has been round and born with blood and wrath etched deep into soul and yet here he is, nervous to even touch your trembling hand. He knows the effects of something as strong as an aphrodisiac and for a demon made one, there is no real spell for it. He lets you lay on his lap, your mouth close to his sex, eyes lidded and holding tight to his hand. His control is fading, his growing need pushing past logical thought. He offers himself, and you rise quickly, already straddling his lap, your chest pressed against his, asking if it is okay. A cold shiver runs through his spine and he nods, offering that he’ll take care of you.

The trembling, nervous demon fades just as quick as it came when your lips are on his. You kiss him, need so transparent that he’s teasing, pulling away, letting your back meet the bed. His smile is sharp, leaning to kiss your pursed lips, grabbing your leg and pulling it upwards, mumbling praise under his breath when you hook your leg around his waist. Satan is heavy when above you, and maybe it’s the aphrodisiac that still lingers on your tongue, but he is unwilling to move away from you, kissing you and hooking his fingers in your mouth when you moan. You’re needy and he wants to hear you beg for him, calling his name. He cups your face with spit coated fingers, asking you to be good for him and mew for him.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus immediately knew something was off in the house when he felt lust in the air. It’s sweet. Intoxicating and bitter all at once. It’s like the sweetest honey known to mankind and he knows the feeling well enough to open his door before you have the thought to knock. He welcomes you into his room, letting you rest on the bed, a small part of him on the inside crinkling when you ruffle the sheets. But, of course, he knows this isn’t you- you would never be so careless. It’s all because of the aphrodisiac making your movements more frantic.

He knows the cure to end it- sex, plain and simple. Masturbation might help but he fears your hand will become sore. Always eager to have somebody in bed with him- out of his own sin and own need for company- he offers you two choices. You can borrow a toy- new, still in the box and all- or he could take care of you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered the second option, he knew how excited you were to simply enter a room with another living being but he couldn’t help himself. You look absolutely adorable with your flustered face.

A kiss from the living Avatar of Lust is better than any pleasure that you’ve ever received. And he knows it. You moan under him, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head, clawing at the shirt on his back. He smiles into the kiss. So eager to be taken care of that a simple kiss was enough to make you climax, your arousal dripping onto your underwear, so heavy in the air, that he pulls away as he feels your breaths start to shorten due to lack of air. But even as he pulls away, you still reach to pepper him with kisses, your breathing reggae against his face, gasping for breath with every parting kiss.

Your hands are on him, eager to pull him into another kiss. You want him and it’s evident from the way that you don’t push away when he removes his clothing. But, he stops for a moment, watching your gaze on him, wide and dazed and you stare at him as if he was something more than just a demon, you give him your worship and you pull him into another kiss. He stiffens, pulling away and asking if this is what you want, touching your bare skin only to flinch away as if it burned him. And when your lips are on him, your smile returns for a moment, telling him that you came to him because you knew he would tend to you in any way, and he melts.

His lips return to yours, kissing you eagerly, wanting nothing more than to just keep his lips on you. And as last time, you shudder beneath him, another orgasm washing through your body, your release spilling pass your slit. Limps entangle with each other and you cry the name Asmodeus, moaning it as if it were the only thing on your mind, sobbing under him and telling him how good it feels. You pet his head and let him bury his face into our chest, peppering kisses until he reaches your neck. His eyes close, an unexpected climax teases at him, as you pull him closer to your aching body. Every sigh from you in a gentle gust of wind, every cry a song that not even choir from the Celestial Realm can rival. He pushes deep inside of you, letting you feel every curve and texture from his cock as it molds your leaking hole into his shape.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub feels incredibly guilty when you come to him, his shirt knotted in your hands as you explain what you ate. He blames himself, going to hold you only to flinch when you hiss and pull yourself closer to him. It’s an aphrodisiac, he should have known that you’ll be more sensitive to touch during this time. He apologizes as he leads you to his bed, shaking his head and holding your hand. He’s gluttony- he should have been able to smell the scent of an aphrodisiac.

Of course, he’ll let you hide in his room until the effects wear off. He won’t make a single peep but it’s difficult for him. His clothes are sticking to him, his body is in an odd sticky situation where sex clings to him clothes and skin. He knows the effects of the aphrodisiac but he feels guilty for giving it to you so when you cling to him, begging for him to not let go of you, he sighs and stays beside you. He’s stiff, unwilling to move and can only let out a shaky breath, when you press yourself closer to him, hooking a leg over his and curling it over. He can feel your sex- hot and pulsing and he leaves ripped bedsheets as his hand curls into the comforter.

He’s rubbing your back, letting his fingers drum against your spine as he hears your panted breaths. He knows he should stop, that he should at least go and take a shower so he can at least smell good but you hold a tight grip on him. You’re feverish, burning against him and he can tell you want more, your lips open up and kiss along the side of his ribcage but he can’t move.

It’s getting too much- even for him. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this needy state that you’re in but as he rises with a feeble explanation that he’s going to take a shower, you pull him down. He’s above you, your eyes watery and cheating rising and falling with heavy breaths. He can’t kiss you but you’re leaning closer, your lips brushing against his and he can smell the aphrodisiac that still rests like heaven on your tongue. You don’t blame him for the accident slip, you’re just begging for him to take care of you, letting your hand rest over the swell of his breast and he’s growing weaker by the second.

When your lips are on his, your tongue slipping past your lips, Beelzebub can taste the aphrodisiac and he’s melting. His tongue has made its home on your mouth, curving over your pink muscle and feeling the way you shudder beneath him. His name is muted by the kiss, your hands clawing at his clothing and he’s sweaty and aroused, watching you as you strip yourself of your clothes. The lovely pastry that still lingers isn’t enough for him to go into a full rut, but it’s enough for him to bend your legs to your chest, your hole pulsing as his cock aligns to it. The way that you call his name is enough for him to push himself fully into you.

Belphegor:

Belphegor is asleep under the covers, pillow tucked under his head and he does not awaken to your scent growing closer and closer, heavier and sweeter than usual. He doesn’t awaken when the doorknob wiggles, a frantic turning but he does awaken when you slam the door. He is startled awake, his eyes wide for a second before narrowing, teeth flashing as he lets out a low growl. He stops when he notices it's you, yawning and telling you to get into bed with him. It’s only until you’re beside him, greedily taking the invitation, that he realizes the state you’re in.

He has to prod you until you tell him what’s happened, watching as you bury your face into a pillow, whining out pathetically as you tell him what happened. He laughs, it’s sharp and teasing. Of course, you took an aphrodisiac by accident. It could only happen to you. He tries to be sympathetic with you. He knows you must be in a great deal of pain, but then again you came to him and that makes him stay awake for a bit longer, turning over on his side and watching you struggle to not touch yourself despite the aroma of your arousal that is thick in the room.

Sloth offers to put you under a deep sleep- he can’t promise that you’ll be still- but he can promise that you’ll wake up without the effects of the aphrodisiac. When you refuse, he merely shrugs, turning over with a pout. He’s disappointed but he can’t do much. He does tell you that he is tired, so he’ll be sleeping but you’re allowed to spend the rest of your heightened arousal in the attic with him. The power of an aphrodisiac- one made a devil no less- is strong, and giving it you in even worse. He can sense the neediness in you, the way you watch him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted the eagerness to get into bed with him.

As promised, he slips off into a sleep, leaving you alone. But your body is on his, legs parted with his single leg. He isn’t asleep long enough for him to be in an actual slumber before he feels the bed move ever so slightly. It’s constant and your whining, mumbling apologies and he opens his eyes to find you humping his leg. It’s pathetic and hot all at once, watching you get off on his leg alone, so desperate for release that you’ve succumbed to humping him. His smile is tight, turning over and letting his tail curl around you, the static in the air only causing you to arch your back when his demon form pops out. It pricks against your wrists, the fur unkempt as he rises above you.

You wanted his attention and now you’ve gotten it. You’ve woken him up from nap, it’s normal and expected for him to be grouchy but thank goodness that the smell from your leaking sex is more arousing that anything else he’s encountered. You’re on your knees on the mattress, his hips meeting yours and letting out a loud grunt when he finishes. He’s tired and over it but his cock still stands upright and you’re still needy and awake, your sex leaking with his arousal. Belphegor will lay on his back, offer himself in his sleep to you until you’re content. The last coherent thought he has is sighing at how warm and squishy you feel against him.