#n;sfw

[rebelliousroyal]

@shadowofaprince​

Today was definitely shaping up to leave him frustrated so far, and it was only mid afternoon. One after another, people kept coming into his office, just to ask him some small little detail they could probably figure out themselves. Gods, lately it seemed everyone was out to cause him endless stress and frustration, which left Zen pent up as hell at the end of the day. He was always glad when he was allowed to disappear into his room, and not deal with anyone for a while, and finally have some time to himself to get rid of some of his frustration.

Technically, it was a different sort of frustration but it still helped well enough as far as relief went, so whatever worked. It didn’t help either that it had been one of those rare days when he’d seen Obi in just the right way. One of those looks, those poses, the way his shirt happened to cling to him in just the right ways, before shifting back and going back to normal, leaving Zen half wanting to dump a bucket of water on him just so that shirt would cling to him like that again. Of course he’d never say anything to him about it, nor would he actually do it. Still, that desire was definitely there.

Finally though, Zen had done enough for the day, he was able to leave, although he might have almost bolted out of his office a little too fast, something that might worry some people who didn’t know better, and making a beeline for his room. And the moment he was there, he shut the door, disappearing into his bathroom, and turning on the water to fill the tub, slipping into the water when it was done, closing his eyes and reaching down. It was always nice to relax a little when he did this. It made it a little easier to forget everything else but the feeling.

[raybanstm]

since we’re all sharing. - phoenix never got to lose his v-card, as he was killed during what was supposed to be his first time. he died the virgin that was necessary to house the god and has a hard time with intimacy for obvious fucking reasons. getting to that first time takes patience and understanding. - when in a relationship, he will do everything in his power to get his partner to finish quickly, at first. he avoids a lot of attention and directs it to his partner, instead. he relies on his mouth a lot for this   ---   and he’s impressive for someone without tons of experience.  - stamina. through the. roof.  - sex is the one place he has a hard time avoiding the ‘L’ word. - he tends to want the lights on, when things get really serious. it’s more of a trust thing than a naughty ‘i want to see you’ thing.  - be prepared for there to be laughter in the bedroom. phoenix has a lot of nerves when it comes to intimacy and he likes to keep things light and fun if he can.  - he’s    ...   emotional. i cannot stress that enough. he is loud, he is vocal, he is expressive. the sunglasses usually disappear during sexytimes and it’s a lot to behold because he’s just so raw and so frayed and he doesn’t know what to do with the intense feelings he experiences. - he cannot do one-night-stands. he falls in love too easily. - once awakened, his sex drive kinda goes banana bonkers. he’s much more bold. a lot more ‘hungry’ for whatever he can get. i’m not saying he feeds off people through sex but i’m almost saying that it fills that void for a short period of time. shit, am i saying that? fuck. - phoenix switches. a lot. but he is generally comfortable with whatever his partner wants him to do or be. a people-pleaser, especially when there’s skin-on-skin.  - his autopsy scars being touched are very much a brrrrrrrrrrrr turn-on. - attention to the scar on his heart is a mixed bag, tread careful there. - there’s something i can’t even post here but i just wanna say YEAH, he DOES. but it takes the right person. and it takes a lot of trust. and he always makes sure it’s 100% consensual and safe, first. and it turns him on like nothing else when his partners are receptive.

[hokosu]

[ eat ] reverse / tomura :)

if anyone, including jon, looks under this cut i swear to the gods i will personally manifest and fill your tub with orbeez.

gloves, glasses, and headphones had come off earlier --- they’re on the arm of the couch, sitting on his jacket. forgotten. hawks is fully dressed, overwise, having simply shed a few layers to become more relaxed (to allow some intimacy and trust to show in painted nails revealed, in real contact) and to avoid overheating while working. well. working is a loose term.  but it’s amusing to think about how the others think they are. that shigaraki is giving him a stern talking to after a comment earlier. that isn’t to say that he isn’t eagerly listening to anything that the younger man may have to say, in the moment. knees are over his shoulders --- feathers occasionally tickled but wings doing well to stay folded as he sits on the floor in front of the couch. it helps that they aren’t fully grown in but there are more than enough feathers to keep track of his beloved boss’ breathing, to relay him the fact that his heart is racing. there’s a partially gloved hand in his hair, a constant warning that makes every second exciting. tonight’s goal is to get it to pull, to make shigaraki be a little greedy. “you know i can do this all night, right?” spoken quietly, teasing. hands reach, cup where thighs become ass and his head bows to allow his tongue to slide up the line caused by folds. tempting. divine, in a sense. fitting --- with hawks on his knees, head buried between thighs. he prods again, this time enough to bring heat and a nub of metal over the other’s clit. he takes a few passes, hums loudly against heat and tastes, greedy. “how many times’re you gonna be able to last? two --- three times? you’re getting better. leveling up.” fangs glint at the gamer talk, at the playful poke at the other’s own vernacular. a naughty grin, one that only lasts a few moments before he’s licking again. he adjusts, goes further down and pushes his tongue inside --- deep and greedy. it’s unfair. a little cruel as hands hold hips in place and he fucks him with the muscle, as he moans out. muffled. mouth full. he does so until he’s gasping for breath, panting hot puffs of air as he frees one hand so two painted digits can push in where his tongue had been and crook. when his head lowers again, this time, it's so that he can latch onto tomura’s clit and suck. dizzy. greedy. worship, at its finest.

[sincerecaptain]

@multixkitten​ said:  Haru blinks when he finds his boyfriend curled up on the bed, looking flushed. "You okay? Got a fever?"

Oh.. Oh.. He blinked, looking startled when Haru entered his room. He hadn’t been expecting him to come over. Oh god, Haru seeing him like this was embarrassing. Very embarrassing. Wanting things wasn’t embarrassing, but this state of desperation, the way it made him want to almost whine pathetically, the fact it took almost all of his willpower not to writhe around on the bed from the way he felt right now.. That was the embarrassing part. He felt like he had no control over it.

“H-Haru..” His voice was shaking, and despite his best attempts, a whine slipped out when he said his name. “N-No it’s not--” 

Dammit. He couldn’t help it, and he squirmed around a bit on the bed, whining a bit more, and he shoved his face hard into his pillow, trying to keep himself still and calm, biting down onto his lip so hard he almost made it bleed to try to stop himself making anymore sounds. Dammit.

[hellshoundtm]

oh you think blue’s mouth is noticeably warm? lemme tell you about his p--- (A TRUCK HONKS ITS HORN WHILE PASSING.)

[hellshoundtm]

bruises litter golden thighs, marks left by the hound’s teeth and fingertips. one of lucifer’s trembling hands is wound tight in ramsey’s hair as they arch up off the piano, breath coming in ragged gasps. ❛ ramsey — fuck, please, please … ❜

there is nothing kind about how any of this has gone down, so far; each bite to flesh has been exact. purposeful. just angry enough to help some of the burning in his chest that he’s been struggling with for weeks, now. wild. feelings build, all of them negative, until they end up here   —   until he’s able to stop thinking and start feeling, instead. talk is cheap. they have no interest in it. there’s nothing that ramsey can say to lucifer that will make everything clear but this   —   oh, this is warfare, this is cruelty. this is punishment. justified, by every means. horrible, to anyone who doesn’t know or understand them. gone are his days of being a comfort and in place of them, there is this. simmering. mouth too hot. intentions terrible. actions leaving behind bruises that are going to last for more than a few days. lucifer will be wearing reminders of this little instance in hidden places; they will be felt. constant. a fucking prompting of the hound’s resolve   —   a reminder of what they’ve become. labels aren’t needed, not with how human language will simply find new ways to fail them. humans don’t have words for anything they’ve done for each other or for the things that ramsey is doing, now. comfort comes in knowing that they cannot be defined, in knowing that lucifer won’t be able to look his little blonde therapist in the eyes are articulate how being under him made him feel. pointless. ramsey wants to be a frustration that builds until the devil can’t stand it   —   wants to push, wants to become a thorn in morningstar’s side. let his name hurt. let it be impossible for him to not wince at the sight of him. let it drive him crazy. let it ruin some of what he’s become. lucifer ends up on the piano because the damn thing is so dear to him and because ramsey intends to play him like a song. art. there’s art in the way he yanks away fabric, in the way he refuses to kiss him on the mouth for the entire time he’s in the penthouse. this is not loving. this is not gentle. when ramsey settles between thighs, it is with teeth that bite until they almost puncture skin   —   it is with fingers that press until bruises form in their wake. the piano is important because lucifer sits at it often to lose himself to his own thoughts   —   because he won’t be able to do it anymore without his mind wandering to this, to everything that they’ve done. every note. every song. it will put lucifer back here   —   body arched and tone desperate as the hound’s tongue works between folds, as he puts him through a very specific kind of torture. loathing. it’s drawn out. unfair. just like the sound of lucifer’s voice as he gets more and more lost in it, as he seems to realize that ramsey isn’t just doing this to reward him like so many humans likely have. ramsey has no intention of ending up in the devil’s bed   —   has no intention of even staying to see the way lucifer looks in the afterglow once it’s all said and done. lucifer morningstar doesn’t deserve that. not after everything he’s done. and yet. because of the collar around his neck? he also deserves everything that ramsey is willing to give. and give, he does.

on the best days, ramsey’s mind is frayed   —   but something about having lucifer under his tongue makes him feel especially unhinged. the collar is the only thing keeping him sane he knows it. both of them do. it’s kept him from burning through this vessel, kept him from destroying everything he can get his hands on and yet it doesn’t save lucifer from his wrath tonight   —   doesn’t save himself from the way his chest fucking aches every time he hears his name fall from that mouth. it’s not fucking fair, being reminded that lucifer was once an angel. it’s not fucking fair, wanting to be the source of these noises often. it’s not fucking fair, knowing that they could have done this before   —   that lucifer could have put the goddamn thing around his neck eons ago. so much pain. so much loneliness and he takes it out on him, now   —   harsh in how he keeps legs spread, mean in how he laps warmth against a throbbing clit until the thighs he’s holding start to shake. brows knit in concentration, body radiating like nothing else before as the devil’s fingers end up in his hair   —   as lucifer speaks his name and begs. it isn’t enough. he’s teased until this point, kept his attention from being just right for too long and he knows it   —  knows by tone and desperation that it won’t take much more. ramsey adjusts, jaw widening to let out a moan as his tongue pushes inside the wetness all his other work has created   —   the sensation making his own gut coil. this is how he fucks lucifer morningstar over, with the devil laid out naked on his stupid piano and ramsey’s tongue shoved deep. angry. he eats him out like he’s never going to fucking see him again, like lucifer won’t be so much as another thought on his mind. he knows better. but the sentiment is there. emotions swell. lucifer struggles at the edge and ramsey shoves him over it without an ounce of consideration, without a second thought. the sounds he makes are haunting   —   they make a home in ramsey in places that are unwelcome and when he pulls back up, he’s still angry. still raw. still fucking hurt. nothing is made better by doing this   —   nothing is fixed. the pieces are simply picked up and shaken, jostled and thrown back to the floor where ramsey continues to feel abandoned. they don’t look at each other. ramsey doesn’t say a word to lucifer upstairs. he chooses, instead, to go and scream out his feelings into the mic in the basement.

[hellshoundtm]

@rosselijah​ hit the ♡ and my hand slipped a little but you started it.

behavior has never been one of the hound’s stronger suits   ---   he manages to sniff out trouble constantly at the precinct as it is; occasionally flirting to get information or finding little distractions in the form of other people’s lunches. generally liked, there is an energy about him that most find endearing to an extent and the fact that he’s been so helpful on cases aids in keeping those around him rather fond. he and ross are gaining a reputation in california. it’s been exiting. it’s kept them busy   ---   what with other precincts sometimes calling to ask for their aid, and sometimes the extra workload puts a tension in elijah’s shoulders that ramsey makes a point to chase down and undo.  it happens, today   ---   when they end up way too close in room where much of the evidence is held, boxes towering but completely forgotten when he gets his mouth on his partner’s neck. his name is perfect as it falls from elijah’s mouth   ---   as the other man tries to warn him in ways he’s done before. shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. the word makes ramsey grin, teeth sharp against skin he wants to mark so badly. to his credit? he’s done well to keep their relationship quiet around the rest of the precinct. little comments, here. longing stares, there. but hands are kept to himself until the moments they aren’t   ---   until he caves and goes a little wild.

“i hear yah, i hear yah.” his voice is low under an ear where skin is turning red, agitated by the heat from his mouth alone. “y’don’t want me to fuck yah in the evidence closet. y’don’t want my fingers in yah. y’don’t wanna get off. y’ain’t wet for me   ---   ain’t squirmin’ or thinkin’ about it. ain’t slowly givin’ in. y’just wanna go back t’work. my mistake.” but he’s still kissing skin, hand on that hip moving to give the other’s belt a little tug. “go getcher box, then. walk away from me.”

[hellshoundtm]

‘  why  don’t  you  shut  up  and  be  quiet?  ’ ( lilimaze )

a noise comes, low and amused   —   little ramble interrupted by words that might chill someone else. oh, but not him. no. blue is as warm as ever where he’s pressed against her, hips together aside from the space allowed for where his hand is shoved up her dress. fingers curl, still teasing. not deep enough. it’s part of why she’s being so pissy and he knows it, knows she wanted quick and hot and quiet but he’s being a terrible little hound about it. his own hips rock, try to find a bit of friction as he noses against an ear, as he resists the urge to bite her.

“oh, m’sorry. am i fuckin’ borin’ you, right now? i don’t fuckin’ think so. not with all this; you can act all you want but you’re almost a puddle, babe.” fingers move in and out a bit for emphasis, they press a little deeper as he watches her face, as he challenges her while he’s literally inside of her. his smile widens at the slick he finds. smug. his body moves to press her a little harder against the bar before withdrawing fingers entirely. straightening, but only for a moment. a bluff. words come, low. a warning   ---  playful.  “but i’ll shut up if you won’t.” and then? he slowly lowers himself to his knees.