#tempesttemptations

Continued from here.

Anonymously tell my muse how you would fuck them

“Fuck…”

Anonymously tell my muse how you would fuck them

“I will admit I’m a little surprised. Most husbands don’t tolerate my presence as well as you do. Laura describes you as a ‘lover’. I am eager to find out just how true that is.

Doesn’t even have to be for her viewing pleasure. Could be just for yours- I don’t mind being on my knees.

nsfw prompt list

@tempesttemptations

send 👀 + a dirty thought and/or fantasy your muse has had about mine. let's see how my muse responds.

He visibly shivers, that usually jaded expression shifting ever so slightly to something else. Shock? Embarrassment? Something akin to it no doubt as his cheeks flush pink and his hands flex.

Lucio can’t help but think about how surprised she may come to be when she feels exactly just how proficient he is in pleasing her specifically.

After all he’s had quite a bit of practice.

“….. Fleeting moments with you in the dark- in that damned stairwell I can scarcely breathe. I would be yours at any beck or call.”

Subtle Nsfw

Another one of those misty late nights and early mornings. Increasingly, they seemed to be sharing them. Lucio feels as though they speak of everything and yet nothing at all. Not when there were so many things he wanted to speak of, but was too afraid to. Her warmth was too addicting to risk being taken from him. Yet- he found that despite that, he easily slipped into the mindset once again. That she was his- and he, hers.

That those soft glances she gave him were silent love letters. Brush of hands admissions of longing. Her presence, the red string of fate tying them together, regardless of their distance. Finding her again was only proof that she was meant to be his all along. That not even war or death could tear them apart. He'd find her, again and again.

His gloved hand is behind her head before it hits the brick of the wall behind her. Even in his spontaneity, mindful. His free hand stays on her waist, his lips press a heated kiss to her own. Contrary to how he portrayed himself during the day, Lucio seemed a lot more comfortable under the influence of the alcohol.

Rather, he merely lost a bit of his reasoning. Felt the tingle in his fingertips and the sharp bite of his teeth in his tongue.

He remembered what flesh felt like, what being Cicero felt like. That's who she loved before. Eventually anyway. Even if it consumed him, if it's what she wanted, he could be that again for her.

Send 😈 to catch my muse going through your muse’s pantie drawer

Recently, Laura had been quite surprisingly receptive to his affections and charms. But- that didn't necessarily mean that it would last. There were periods that she'd tease him, let him in closer than she'd previously allowed before pushing him away for months. Perhaps... coming to her senses. Realizing what a mistake she made by letting him in. It was always a matter of time before he wanted for her to no avail. Where he'd be refused and scolded at every turn- He had to have something of her before that happened. Something to last him long enough during those nights where all he can think about is her and the way her body feels against his own.

His hands dig and sift through the familiar broken clothes hamper deftly. Most tended to notice clean clothes going missing and besides....

Washed clothes didn't have that scent he was looking for.

When fingers grasp thin fabric, he smiles to himself. His heart feels sort of heavy in his chest- fluttering with the excitement.

Only when he pulls the panties from the laundry and holds it to his nose to check does he notice her in the doorway.

His eyes widen, and that fluttering feeling instantly sinks into a deep dread. The hand holding her undergarment drops to his side and hides behind his back. Comically if she was in a good mood. Watching him uncomfortably squirm in the very least.

"Aheh-!" He half chuckles, fingers tightening around his prize behind his back. There was no lying about it- not from the way she was looking at him.

"I just-! Well."

What to do?

His eyes are very obviously looking for an exit that isn't the one she's standing in. Her strange fondness for his loud shamelessness has saved him before-

"It's.... exactly what it looks like," He grins widely, "It's an affliction on my mind in the small hours of the night. When all I can think of is you and yet you are so far from reach. A token- a token for me to carry~" He says it as though he weren't just trying to steal them.

Continued from here.

There are no words to explain the rush he gives her - nothing like anyone she had known before; like no one she had loved before. Perhaps it was the inherent danger; the complete opposition of his demeanor when compared to the man she had dedicated her love to centuries past, his associated with those she regularly bloodied her hands against in a completely different world from the one she had known... Was she a completely different person? Her thoughts wander too far and, despite the heavy breaths rising and falling in her chest in quick rhythm, Laura can almost feel herself drifting away. The strength of his kiss, then, in no way deters her affections. Instead, it is a welcome surge of oxygen, reigniting her dying flame. A sudden prick of pain in her lip, the taste of blood and her reflexive wince, give her pause - but only for a moment, until his words are formed on the soft flesh of her hesitating lips, persistent still. The breath caught in her throat leaves her, sacrifice to his hunger. Between her own starving kisses, a hand had raised to tangle in his hair, finding a firm grip with which to redirect his attention downward, where, head tilted after lips reluctantly pulled from his, she bore her neck to him.

Cicero was a live wire, nerves all on end as he feels her willingly press her lips against his own. His hands flexing by his sides, aching to grab her and hold her but afraid. He's afraid if he touches her, he'll hurt her. Or refuse to let go and frighten her. He couldn't be trusted to hold her down, not after his last transgression.

The whispers that usually accompany these thoughts had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her touch the only thing that his obsessive mind could think on. Memorizing the way her breath hitches- her chest rising and falling, the way her fingers tangle in his hair.

He can't help it- when their lips part momentarily, he finally breathes. Low and shakily. His eyes searching her face for her ire. Her disgust. The assassin was ready to beg and apologize. Convince her that it was indeed an accident. And this time it would be the truth. He could be good, he'd promised.

By the hand in his hair, his mouth is guided somewhere... unexpected. His lips brushing against the warmth of her neck. She says nothing to him, and he quivers. Placing kisses along her neck, he can't help but remember his mother and father. His mother wore a few scars along her own slender neck, proof of his father's love. The way he'd steal a few kisses along those teeth marks, the way she'd giggle and caress his cheek as she did so.

He could feel her quickened pulse beneath his lips. And he desperately longed to show her that he loved her. That he craved her so.

Cicero's body moves on it's own, hands finally holding her against him almost too tightly. His breath quickening- lips parting... the sharpened teeth in his mouth finding purchase where there wasn't an artery. Careful- so careful-...

It's a primal feeling, letting his teeth pierce her flesh, holding her in case she thrashes from the pain. Blood slowly flooding his tongue.