the devil herself

[thedcvilherself]

she/her. twenty+. ｡𖦹 ° independent smut roleplay blog containing heavy triggers! please do not proceed if you are under the age of eighteen or have no interest in these topics. ｡𖦹 ° muses are created on a whim so they may not be on a directory page. ｡𖦹 ° please feel free to message me if you have any questions.

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[thedcvilherself]

i promise i'm here (in my drafts, slowly chipping away), life is just a little hectic and muse is picky so it's taking longer than i'd hoped ❤️

[thedcvilherself]

dare i say i'm thinking about revamping...please, don't look at me

[thedcvilherself]

i promise i'm here (in my drafts, slowly chipping away), life is just a little hectic and muse is picky so it's taking longer than i'd hoped ❤️

[tay-swifts]

✧ MARGARET QUALLEY Made Her On-Screen Daughter Hang Out With Her All the Time | The Ellen Show (April, 2022)

[gaybuckybarnesss]

ANTHONY RAMOS Ironheart 1.03 "We in Danger Girl"

[daikunart]

[dcbicki]

Practical Magic (1998) dir. Griffin Dunne

[ladiesofcinema]

MELISSA BARRERA for Numéro Netherlands

[crookedkingdcms]

OPEN TO m / f / nb (25+) PLOT — jagger is an investigative journalist working on a piece about a series of unsolved mu.rders in the city / area of the country, believed to be the work of a serial k.iller. little does he know that the person he's searching for lives under the same roof as him: his spouse / partner / boyfriend / girlfriend. MUSE — jagger aquino. 37. bisexual. investigative journalist. ( fc: manny j.acinto )

the nature of his work often left him exhausted. chasing down leads, sometimes traveling too much in only a manner of days while hunting down a piece of information. the only reprieve—if one could even call it such—was that the person he was looking for had gone silent. it had been months now without any m.urders. or, rather, none following the same modus operandi that the k.iller was known for. while he was grateful new families weren't being subjected to the grief and horror of losing a loved one so violently, what jagger primarily felt was unsettled. if they had become inactive, if there was some thread waiting to be grasped amongst his notes, police reports, interviews, and the like, and he couldn't find it, what if this k.iller remained at large forever? every time he sat at his desk, jagger felt as if what he needed was just at his fingertips or slipping through his fingers before he could get a proper hold of it.

it was far later than jagger realized when they found him, sat his desk and staring at the screen of his laptop as if it would miraculously answer all his questions. most of the house was dark by now—not that he had noticed—save for the work lamp illuminating the room. he lets out a heavy sigh, hearing footsteps approach behind him. pushing his glasses up on top of his head, he rubs his hands over his face. "five more minutes, alright?" he glances over his shoulder quickly, offering a placating smile. "then i'll be up."

[thedcvilherself]

for some time she'd waited for him, unaware of how long had passed before her eyelids had grown heavy, the pages of her book blurring and the world shifting to black. she only knows that when she opened them again, feeling somehow even more tired than when she'd lay down, the space beside her is still empty. it pulls the raven-haired woman out of bed, to the office where light still casts out like a beacon.

it's no surprise to find him there — yet the predictability does nothing to soften the pang in her chest. this wasn't supposed to happen. they weren't supposed to happen. jagger had been unexpected — not part of a plan that had started long before he'd waltzed into her life, long before he'd unintentionally stopped dalia dead in her tracks.

"you're obsessing." soft. simple. matter-of-fact. a beat of silence hangs in the air between them, hoping time might urge those words to make an impact of some kind. "they go quiet sometimes, jagger." and just because it's an attempt to draw him from the case doesn't make it less true. "he could be hurt...locked up..." bare feet travel across the hardwood floor as she speaks, carrying her the rest of the way to him. "by a lucky shot..." arms drape over his shoulder, hands falling to his chest, to his heart. "maybe dead." there's another pause, a missed beat — this time unintentional. without warning her breath catches, chest tightening when dark orbs connect with the flurry of information on his screen. silently, dalia buries her face into the crook of his neck, lids fluttering shut for the second time that evening as she inhales that familiar scent, as she suppresses that wave of guilt threatening to consume her. "please don't become some kook who dies surrounded by boxes full of evidence, trying to crack a case that the police and fbi can't." though one had to wonder if such would be a fate better or worse than to die never knowing a woman you'd loved was responsible.

[crookedkingdcms]

open to m / nb (~ 24 - 30)connection — any younger man — younger boyfriend / husband, sugar baby ( why can't men be them too!! ), sibling's boyfriend, best friend's brother, step-son, step-brother, cousin muse — nova wolfe. 35. bisexual. lawyer (in-house counsel). fc: meg.hann fahy alt. muse — serena (bre.nda song)

he was behaving so well for her. nova couldn't remember what he had been doing, sitting on the couch, when she had come up behind him. but he had simply been too tempting for her to continue going about her business. now, here she was: bent down to speak into his ear, hand wrapped around his hard cock. "shhhh," nova whispered, nipping at his earlobe. there wasn't anyone around that was at risk of hearing them, but she was pleased watching him struggle to keep in every needy sound. her thumb teased over the head of his cock, movement pausing for a moment just to mess with him. hopefully, to hear him whine a bit. she spread the bead of precum over the tip of him absently, amused by how quickly he was leaking for her. nova's hand began to move again, keep that slow—likely torturuous—pace. "you're such a good boy," she breathed out. "aren't you?"

[thedcvilherself]

it doesn't take much for hayden to lose all focus, for whatever movie he'd been attempting to focus on to fade into nothing more than black noise as his every sense locked onto her. nova was magic; beautiful, sophisticated, successful — a woman he still couldn't comprehend ever having looked his way, let alone smiling at the terribly delivered flirtations he'd used in hopes of holding her gaze for merely a second. in the beginning, the most he'd hoped for was being used for an evening of pleasure. and now? fuck now, she's in his ear, calling him a good boy while her hand teases him like she somehow knew his cock better than he did. "fuck..." he doesn't even try to hide the moan, doesn't even know how to feel shame when she's touching him like that. "fuck, yes. fuck, i'm-" in his parents house; where he'd invited her to meet the family and celebrate the holiday weekend like a proper, mature partner should do. "oh — oh god, we can't do this."

[lambsgod]

"no." her refusal is sudden, resolute, nearly overlapping with the end of dalia's last word as a hand shot out to trap her wrist in her iron grip. even before her gift had been revealed to her, genesis had always come off as intense, a strong personality that you either loved or despised, but at least she'd made that strong of an impression. not everyone had that ability to provoke, and once she understood the voices she'd been hearing all her life as the voice of god, her polarizing nature made all the more sense. not everyone was ready to receive his word, but that was no reason for genesis to abandon them to fend for themselves. it was even more important that she reach out to the skeptics than the believers, and with dalia's platform she had the opportunity to finally have her voice be heard on a grander scale. "it has to be tonight. it is his will."

[thedcvilherself]

for such a dainty thing, the femme's grip is surprisingly like a vise; managing to stop dalia in her tracks and awakening that ancient instinct to engage in fight or flight — to act on impulse rather than rational. that's not dalia. she's not dumb, though one could argue an intelligent person would have never been here to begin with, she knew when she'd started this that choosing to step into genesis world also meant that she had to play by her rules. that despite the fact that she'd become unsettled, she could not try and alter the playbook now. "genesis..." her tone remains calm, balanced, and she positions herself to fully face the other — prey refusing to turn its back on their predator. "you know i never came to you with the same intentions as others." she was curious in understanding her world, not in becoming a part of it. dalia had never been deceitful about such. honesty was important to whatever strange understanding they'd seem to build — to this entire thing not ending in flames. "i have no interest in...potential miracles. or in his will." never a believer — another fact she'd been clear about. the only thing dalia had ever believed in was her own power and that of the natural world. gods had always been the creation and comfort of man.

[lambsgod]

𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫: m/f/nb 21+ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡: genesis believes herself to be the second coming of christ and is intent on convincing your muse of such. (dialogue based slightly off of h.eretic) 𝔴𝔥𝔬: genesis winiata, she/her, 27, queer, dominant, prophet

"by the end of the night, you will witness a miracle..." no ifs, ands, or buts, her promise was definitive. it wasn't uncommon for people to doubt her claims of divinity, writing her off as nothing but a raving lunatic with delusions of grandeur, but she'd been hoping they would be different. something about them had stood out to her even before they'd first spoken, a sort of tether she could feel drawing her in, and she'd learned by now to trust her unexplained gut feelings. "it may confuse you— it will frighten you— but promise me you'll go in with an open mind, alright? i need you to trust me."

[thedcvilherself]

for a moment, dalia's silent; the raven-haired woman staring blankly at the other like she's going to break character, deliver a punchline, something. it doesn't come. she'd truly stepped into it this time. this likely being a sadly un-diagnosed case of psychosis — but that was far above dalia's pay grade. "yeah, listen, genesis...as much as i'd love to...see that...it's rather late." her notebook closes, forcing herself up from her chair and maintaining the same cool-headed demeanor she had throughout their every interaction, the routine visits like a scientist inspecting their specimen that the self-proclaimed prophet allowed for one reason or another. "i think we should save this for another day when we're both a little more..." sane. "awake."

[lambsgod]

𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫: m/f/nb 21+ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡: as her newest creation, romilda has had her hands full with trying to train pasha out of his hedonistic impulses. he's still yet to learn any sort of self control, so she's brought him to a local club on kink night with his collar and leash on so they can hunt without him making a mess of things. 𝔴𝔥𝔬: romilda vergne, she/her, turned at age 33, dominant, vampire and pasha "peach" pavlov, he/him, 21, switch, vampire

she could feel his eager energy radiating off him in waves as they strolled their way through the club on their way to the bar, only kept at bay by the thick leather leash attached to the matching collar around his neck. as much as she might have liked to let him run loose, she'd had to learn the hard way that pasha was exceptionally headstrong with an appetite that could rival even the most insatiable of bloodsuckers, and he required a level of control that wasn't the most typical of her fledglings. as his maker, it was her duty to keep him in check and show him the ways of their kind in order to move through the world undetected, and anything he bad did would serve as a reflection of her mentorship. this outing was both mealtime and a lesson of sorts, a chance to practice his self control. for romy, she wouldn't get to enjoy herself properly until they'd selected their plaything and brought them back home for the real fun, but she was far more accustomed to patience than her young progeny. he was practically crawling out of his skin as she forced him to wait for her to finish her drink before they went about stalking their prey, and now that they were integrated within the throng of bodies writhing on the dancefloor, he was finally able to exert some of that pent up energy. within moments he'd zeroed in on one member of the crowd, romilda allowing him the leeway to reel them in before she followed suit to sandwich them in between their bodies. "you're so beautiful," he leaned in to speak into their ear, mouth watering at how strong their scent had become up close. "are you alone tonight?" romy chimed in, giving his leash a short but sharp tug to yank him away from their neck.

[thedcvilherself]

she's not sure what draws her focus to them — unimaginative to simply say the two seemed an odd pair when the club was filled with the likes; unexpected couples, throngs of people doting both wardrobe and confidence that flora hadn't before experienced. the leash isn't the first, or even the most unexpected image, to be spotted that evening. yet, the femme feels nothing short of captivated when they move upon her, muscles stiffening like a drop of ice water had cast down her spine. "oh-" it's hard to focus on the compliment when he moves in so closely, his breath connecting with her skin and somehow seeming hotter than the sweat-glistened bodies surrounding them, encouraging goosebumps to take flight along her delicate frame. "thank you." nearly grey orbs attempt to seek out his face, lips parting to offer a compliment in return when instead her gaze is drawn to the other. she's too entranced by the duo and their sudden wave of attention to allow for in depth thoughts, to acknowledge just how odd the way his head is forced back from her neck may seem. did it matter? what was this evening if not for the peculiar? "i wasn't." she admits, body shifting, seeking the friends that were responsible for convincing her to give this place a try, that had delivered a jovial reminder for flora to enjoy herself before they'd disappeared into the crowd after their own target some time ago — now long lost to whatever the evening held in store for them. "i believe i am now." though as her focus draws back to the pair, excitement fluttering in the depths of her stomach and tingling in her toes, her pressed lips glide upwards. "but perhaps not anymore."

[justxangelxthings]

Thinking about a boyfriend that just casually let's his bros have access to me without ever asking me if I'm ok with it or not. It would start with a "Hey babe Will and Jake are coming over to play games, could you wear the jean shorts for me? Last time you wore them they said they liked it" and progress from a "Sean made some comments about how lucky I was to see you naked so I sent him the nudes you sent me last night" to a "Aw hey did you hear that? Since Trey is having a bad day why don't you let him touch your tits, yeah?" To a "Hey you know my friend Alex is a virgin, right? Yeah he's been pretty down about it so I told him you would fix that for him, you don't mind, right?" To a "Kyle and Aiden's girlfriends found out they were cheating on them and broke up with them today, they're pretty heartbroken. They really need to let some aggression out, I figured you could make them feel a lot better. They're on their way now." ❤️

[egosdeaths]

[jellco]

MICHELLE RANDOLPH Marie Claire Greece, February 2025

[girlgvn]

💗 — open for f muses connection: daughter/step-daughter

the interior of his ford mustang was warm, the radio playing softly a patsy cline song he loved. it was all in direct opposition with the storm steadily brewing within him, something he couldn't quite control or understand without accepting facts that felt like they tore at him. could have lectured her the whole ride home if he wanted to, he certainly had the right. stellan had warned her time and time again about the boy and his reputation. he wasn't good enough for her. maybe she'd thought his words some paternal, automated thing. no boy is good enough for my daughter. perhaps had convinced herself of it, as they continued to dance around the thick tension between them over the last few months. infrequent instances that stuck out in his mind, sweet moments tainted with a lust that seemed to come from nowhere, hearing her through the wall during private moments, scantily clad outfits worn to the table every time they shared a meal. stellan clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead at the road as they drove. "are you intending to pout for the whole car ride?" stern question was asked with one glance spared her way and his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "drove all this way to pick you up and not even a thank you, daddy. you just sulk like a child over some boy that wasn't worth your time."

[thedcvilherself]

sophie was a monster of stellan's own creation; a spoiled daddy's girl who hadn't yet had to face the real world. he gave her the stars, assured she never knew disappointment or hurt. if they stopped to face the facts, it was no wonder she'd dropped out of college her freshman year, returned home to live on his bill, spending her days enjoying her youth rather than deciding on any structured future. it's also why she's pouting in the passenger seat of the car, wounded, after finding the object of her current obsession pressing another girl against a wall at the house party. "you didn't have to come get me." a dry retort as she stares at the road ahead — clearly pouting for the entire car ride was the route she was choosing. distraught that another girl could be chosen over her and more distraught that daddy seemed to be scolding her rather than licking her wounds. wasn't it his job to assure her she was the most worthwhile and deserving creature in the world? that she hadn't deserved to be treated so cruelly? "i bet plenty of boys would have been happy to pick me up." arms loosen from where they'd been folded over her chest, fingers prying open the plush material of the faux fur overcoat. the outfit wasn't terribly scandalous, at least not at first glance, not until one realized that dark material was sheer, displaying those tiny black panties and lack of bra beneath. "i bet that they also would have loved hearing me say thank you, daddy." words repeated in a tone that's just shy of a whimper.