#I shadowed the words my body
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Oh no...looks like they got caught...
(First)
#eddsworld g/t#g/t#ew paul#ew patryck#borrower!paul#giant/tiny#got a bit lazy with the shadows but eh#: D#yknow#i see two things whenever i make something#i see the moving comic version#which is badically just a movie in my artsyle with voices#and i see the written version#whish is straight up white words on a black page#like ill see “beneath him(comma) Patryck's body was spasming(comma) even as he ground out the words ”dont....“ l#and so on#the word coa isnt actually there you just cant do commas im the notes#*comma#what do yall see when you imagine stuff?
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
gdi i read too many different fics in too short a time and there’s one line from somewhere that’s jumped into my brain and attached itself like a barnacle but i can’t for the life of me remember Which of the hundreds of fics from the past few weeks it’s from but i need to find it so bad it was justice league pov of batman and it was diana ruminating on bruce and thinking that she admired his methods because despite appearances he is a gentle man. she wonders if the others have noticed. something something. the way robins cling to his cape and nest in his shadows <- that’s the line driving me crazy i don’t even have the words right I know but the imagery is impeccable i have to find it I have to find it im losing my mind ! !! all of it!!! out the window!! falls over
#ughhhhhh its something something batman creature of the night vengeance terror of gotham pseudo-cryptid looming in the shadows violence writ#in every line of his body and then his black hole of a cape shifts slightly and there’s a little birdie hiding under his leg#giggling with big eyes and litol dimples. protected under the dragons belly#ugh i don’t know . my words arent right. I need to shower and pack my suitcase and pass out I slept four hours last night#honk shoo#vees train of thought#batstuff
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
There is no accurate way to measure this but I’m almost certain there is more art of Gabriel “shirtless” than his regular look
That’s a good thing btw keep it up everyone
#everyone say thank you Francis#quotes around that cause some art makes the black part his body and some art it’s like an undersuit#both are valid it’s whatever is . if I say that word I think tumblr will shadow ban my post again.#ultrakill
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm still borderline eating drywall over thinking about what things might be like for Davrin and Verbena
Like I love a good tank/support, frontliner/spellcaster ship, but... ngl, I bloody love a good warrior/warrior ship too
Watching each other's backs, wincing every time they hear a blade clatter off the other's shield...... taking hits meant for the other, the blood running cold in their veins each time the enemy calls out "the warrior first!", wishing with teeth grit that they meant them, and not their beloved...
Helping each other put on that cumbersome heavy armor, and making sure each piece is properly fastened on, as just another part of protecting one another... tapping each buckle and clasp with exaggerated care, just to know for sure that it won't be going anywhere in the heat of battle, that no mistake is going to leave them vulnerable...
On the flipside, methodically unfastening each one of the other's armor pieces, setting it all aside in a neat pile, lifting padded coats and chainmail over heads... marveling at the gorgeous creature they're unwrapping from under layers upon layers of protective material, like they're emerging from a cocoon, sweaty and exhausted but alive, alive, alive...
Massaging each other's sore muscles, and coating strong hands in soothing poultices before running them along tender, bruised skin untouched by the sun... trying hard not to think about how each mark on their lover's skin is a time they weren't fast enough, good enough, strong enough to protect them....
And of course, being unable to stop themselves from pushing their bodies just a little bit harder, doing things just a little bit flashier, a little more recklessly, just to impress one another, to show themselves in the best light, to prove themselves...
I'm very normal about all of this and everything about them based on the very, very limited information that's out about him and the game
#squirrel plays datv#oc: verbena mercar#just..... battle dynamics!!!!!!!!#i love interesting battle dynamics!!!!!!!!!#and the others all have their quirks and things that make me want to chew on my mouse but yknow#like i could write pages and pages on my feelings about my Iona in bg3 just... unquestioningly using her own body as bait#and trusting Astarion wholly and without a second thought to manifest out of the shadows and land That Hit (the sneak attack)#like!!!!! even if she can't see him she!!!!! trusts him!!!!! to keep his word and keep her safe!!!! graaah!!! graaah!!!!! fuck!!!!!!!!!!#ffs even if it wasn't too hot to play i wouldn't want to play her because i don't want the run to be over#but i want to get the epilogue scenes so bad............#sorry about the lots of ranty posts these days i can't promise that'll change anytime soon#oh what the hell i'll put the#squirrel plays bg3#tag on this too because the tags are all#oc: iona raedir
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
day 26382 of begging on my knees for SoC spin-off
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
i swear the absolute HEIGHT of total happiness is when a long fic wraps up with a wonderfully happy ending
#shut up danni's talking#it is literally the pure unrestrained delight of wish fulfillment#you've gone on this big huge long journey with these characters through all the struggles and hardships#you've seen every time these characters stumble and you've seen them doubt themselves#and yet. and yet there is always happiness. there will always be happiness.#it makes my heart so overwhelmingly light with joy and it tints my world view with such wonderful shades of roses#my face aches with how much i'm smiling as the story wraps up and how light and free my whole body feels#i want to jump up and skip with how happy i feel#even if usually whenever i do end up finishing these long fics/series/whatever i'm always so tired#because i'd've stayed up and powered through to the very end so i could lay in bed and just... soak in the bliss#i think. it's my life goal to make something that inspires the same thing in others.#i cannot begin to even emphasize how much love i feel in my heart right now for so many things#i want to speak long flowery words of praise for hours because of how overjoyed i feel#and i know its just a shadow of a thing. the biggest escape possible but by god i will take whatever pockets of sheer joy i experience#i'll hold them so tight and i will defend these with great passion because no matter how insignificant the source#i want to bask in this feeling for as long and as often as i like#so here's my recommendation: if you're the kind of person who can get completely absorbed by something like i do#and you have a long thing that you've been eyeing but the length intimidates you then absorb it anyway#take that chance that the thing you're slightly iffy on will be worth it because ohhh chase that feeling whenever you can#that is hopefully my final nugget of words that i give you otherwise i can and will go on forever
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.
very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.
they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.
mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.
sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.
these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.
i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.
what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.
they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???
THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!
it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just
ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.
kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.
24K notes
·
View notes
Text
[ . . . ] 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐂𝐇 ⸻ a private & selective portrayal of the witch in the woods, 𝖟𝖊𝖊𝖛 𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖊, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍.
❝ i am needed, i am necessary, i am good, I AM THE SOLUTION. ❞
⠀ ⠀ ( . . . ) born as the promising heir and only son of the solar coven, zeev was known to be loyal, diligent and destined to carry the torch of their ancient traditions into the future. however, faced by great danger of those who did not welcome their kind and driven by desperation and a desire to protect his family, zeev delved into the forbidden depths of dark magic. despite having succeeded in saving them, he was cast out from the fold, branded a pariah among his own kind. the sting of rejection cut deep.
𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖞 𝖎𝖓 : magic comes with a price, the wish to belong, loneliness & isolation, mother issues, grief & loss, deceiving beauty, fear of abandonment & rejection.
⠀ ⠀ ❝ 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖉. ❝ 𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙. ❝ 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘. ❝ 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( owner of 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 & 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 )
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 : husband hayley enid mike camille nausicaä vika jessie kamania bonnie
𝖎*; ( indie & original witch based on neo-pagan beliefs and modern witchcraft aesthetic, selective & mutuals only, activity varies, 21+ p&mdni, conjured by cherry, this blog mostly runs on a queue! )
#tag dump:#the pinned is edited to look neat on my mobile it probably looks off on pc; that's intentional; but I'm mostly on my phone#and let us not talk about the mobile version of my carrd#i srsly don't know how to edit that to make it look pretty#only desktop version pls#i swear it's pretty#*✹˰ ʾ visuals . ʿ he’s a mystery wrapped up in a pretty body.#*✹˰ ʾ aesthetic . ʿ maybe i’ve been always destined to end up in this place.#*✹˰ ʾ quotes . ʿ there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.#*✹˰ ʾ solar coven . ʿ i’ve turned people into homes &’ ended up homeless.#*✹˰ ʾ ooc . ʿ in my city i’m a young god.#*✹˰ ʾ inspo . ʿ all the sadness inside me melted away like i was free.#*✹˰ ʾ edits . ʿ deception and perfection are wonderful traits.#*✹˰ ʾ past . ʿ mama called me destructive ; said it’d ruin me one day.#*✹˰ ʾ answers . ʿ but you need your rotten heart; your dazzling pain like diamond rings.#*✹˰ ʾ writings . ʿ i’m a man of my words ; if i feel like it.#*✹˰ ʾ asks . ʿ i’m casting my spell on you ; you’ll never be untrue.#*✹˰ ʾ & shenanigans . ʿ they said you was high classed ; that was just a lie.#*✹˰ ʾ enid . ʿ and the magic was about them everywhere.#*✹˰ ʾ ana . ʿ the world needs chaos to know what’s calmness.#*✹˰ ʾ isaiah . ʿ within the shadows on the wall all i see is you.#*✹˰ ʾ hayley . ʿ forever hungry ; the sharpened edge where day and night shall meet.#*✹˰ ʾ mike . ʿ couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song.#tw grain
170 notes
·
View notes
Text
prisoner!geto who gets sent to the infirmary after getting into a fist fight with another prisoner. His knuckles and lip are bruised and busted and he’s doing the walk of shame down the jail hall. But he doesn’t expect a pretty young woman to be running the infirmary, nearly drooling at the sight because it’s been almost 3 whole years since he last laid his eyes upon one. He’s eyeing you up and down look a piece of meat while you tend to his wounds, completely ignoring his advances because it’s unprofessional. Though, you do find him quite handsome with tattoos all over his arms, a muscular build and his long silky black hair, his smile adding the cherry on top.
“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.” He watches you put some gloves on, grabbing a roll of small bandages. “Pretty brave of you to be working in all male prison, don’t you think?”
“You must end up in here quite a lot if you know everyone who works here,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and wiping down the dried blood from his knuckles. “I transferred from another prison. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”
He smirks, narrowing his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah? Must be used to all the flirting then.”
“Wow! How could you tell?” You say sarcastically and toss the dirty wipe into the trash beside you. You wrap his hand up with the bandage and toss your gloves into the trash. “You’re all set.”
“Did I mention my head is killing me?” He winced.
“If you’re trying to get pain killers prescribed to you, it’s a whole different process. So I suggest you stop lying and wasting both of our time.” You place your hands on your hips, staring at him.
“Fine.” He stands to his feet, tall stature shadowing over you. You step back a little the more he steps closer to you. “I’ll cut to the chase. I haven’t properly fucked someone in nearly three years, and I’m dying…dying to get a feel of your sweet, sweet pussy.” He backs you into a corner, neck craning down as he whispers in your ear. “Think you can help me with that, doctor?”
You blink at him, your throat feels dry and your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “That is very, very unprofessional.” No matter what words come out your mouth, your body is feeling the complete opposite. “I’ll call the guards right now—”
“C’mon, pretty please?” The corner of his lips tweak slightly. “I know you want to. I seen it on your pretty face since the moment I walked in.” He raises his bandaged hand and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sternly say. Oh, but he does. He’s reading you like a book right now and that smug look on his face knows it all.
“Okay,” he chuckles, stepping away from you. “Just know I’ll see you around.” He turns to walk out the infirmary and let the guard know he’s all set, but he suddenly turns back around. His eyes look at the name tag pinned to your shirt. “Such a beautiful name.” He teases. “Bye, doctor.”
#—☆classyrbf#jjk#jujustu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto drabble#geto suguru smut#geto x reader smut#geto suguru x reader smut#jjk x reader smut#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru Drabble#jjk drabble#jjk geto#geto suguru
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
love you, love you, love you;
mr. crawling x reader
plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k
a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.
masterlist • ao3
Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.
Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.
And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.
Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).
So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.
You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.
Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.
You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.
You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…
That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.
That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.
So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.
You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.
The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.
Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.
Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.
It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.
Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.
Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.
“Close, close, close,” he repeated.
It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.
Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).
Words were never the problem, it seemed.
Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.
#homicipher#mr crawling#mr. crawling#homicipher fanfiction#homicipher x reader#homicipher x you#homicipher x mc#mr crawling x reader#mr crawling x you#mr crawling homicipher#homicipher headcanons#homicipher smut#mr crawling smut#homicipher mr crawling#yandere x reader#x reader fanfiction#cross posted on ao3#x you smut#x reader smut#xposted to ao3#i wrote this after a nap after playing the game for 4 hours straight and then i had this like dream about it#and i woke up ferally desiring mr crawling like it was insane#i wrote this with possessed and perhaps crazed love#i am very normal about fandoms thanks#yapping in tags again i see
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
‘honey, i’m home.’
simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.
the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.
you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it—letting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldn’t place it.
when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.
there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.
simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since you’d gazed into those stormy eyes—five years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.
your breath hitched painfully. ‘wake up,’ you said to yourself, heart racing. ‘please… wake up.’
but you didn’t.
‘lovie…’ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time. ‘i’m home.’
your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be here.
simon’s expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didn’t care.
he was here.
you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotions—relief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.
‘they told me you were dead,’ you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. ‘they said your plane crashed. that you were gone.’
you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.
simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. ‘every bloody day, i fought my way back for you,’ he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he’d endured. ‘you were the only reason i stayed alive.’
you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking you’d lost him forever—all of it shattered in his arms.
but then, simon’s grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.
his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.
‘where’s your ring?’ he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.
your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. ‘simon…’ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.
his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. that’s when he saw them—new photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.
it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.
you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. ‘i waited…’ you whispered. ‘even when they told me there wasn’t a chance you were alive, i tried.’
his face didn’t change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. ‘i came back for you,’ he uttered softly, almost to himself. ‘i told you i’d come to you.’
‘i thought you were gone,’ you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. ‘i didn’t know how to keep waiting when they told me you’d never come back.’
simon’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. ‘i didn’t survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. ‘i fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again… i will.’
you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost moments—they still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.
‘i told you i’d come back,’ he said, voice low but steady. ‘and i’m not going anywhere. not ever again.’
#cod#cod fanfiction#simon ghost riley#simon riley blurbs#simon riley headcanons#call of duty#simon riley#task force 141#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley blurbs#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#angst#simon ghost riley headcanon#ghost x reader#simon riley angst#cod x reader#simon riley drabbles#simon riley headcanon#modern warfare#cod ghost
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Best Dreams Come in Threes
♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier
♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.
♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)
♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers
♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.
art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz
Lonely star, who do you shine for?
The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole.
Your desperation won’t bring your sun back.
Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?
You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story.
You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate.
And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them.
Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage.
It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god.
The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—
You wake up crying.
A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you.
Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning.
But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace.
The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.
Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.
“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.
Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.
His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.
A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.
Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"
“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”
Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.
You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.
And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.
You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.
He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”
Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow.
You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips.
His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”
“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.
Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast.
You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel.
Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.
Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.
You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.
You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.
"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.
His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.
Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!”
The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt.
"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”
You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between.
God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane.
“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”
Like he wouldn’t already.
But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly?
Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers. “I’m yours, Rafayel.”
And the fabric is ripped into pieces.
Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.
He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.
It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer.
“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.”
You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand.
He loved being used like this, so long as it was you.
So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess.
It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead.
And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.
You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.
With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole.
You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?"
At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.
Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long.
He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy.
"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?"
Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.
"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."
The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.
"No. Nope. That's not an answer."
"Raf–"
His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.
Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.
Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.
Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust.
Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream.
Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request.
"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.
"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”
Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric.
You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."
"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”
You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.
Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs.
“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—
Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape.
Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.
You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs.
"You’re doing this without me?"
Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.
"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean.
Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."
You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.
“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"
The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.
Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."
Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.
"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."
He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment.
Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.
Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.
"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"
You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough.
"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"
“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”
“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”
“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.”
They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body.
You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher.
“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss.
“Shh, just take it."
You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body.
“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”
Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again.
You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss.
But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace.
Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers.
Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.
"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.
"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”
"I don't take orders from you."
Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh.
"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”
The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."
“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.”
He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.
"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”
It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down.
A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.
And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.
"Deal.”
Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes.
One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.
Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head.
Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.
"So needy, little bunny."
"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."
Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again.
Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears.
Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.
“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock.
The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body.
Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there.
"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."
You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.
With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind.
“This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”
But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart.
It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.
You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.
"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.
You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat.
Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win.
The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.
Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved.
The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust.
And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock.
"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"
Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.
"Shit."
"Ah, please-"
It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale.
You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.
Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.
Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"
Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling."
"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."
His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss.
It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.
"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."
Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.
"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"
It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.
Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position, and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.
"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."
The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.
"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure.
Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.
The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.
Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing.
You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.
Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.
And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust.
Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum.
"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"
Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit.
Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."
He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.
It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.
You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.
"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."
Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.
"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"
There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."
"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”
And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure.
Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded.
Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.
The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.
It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.
Then, the world comes crashing back.
Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets.
"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.
The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.
Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."
"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas.
You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.
"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible.
"You love it."
"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."
"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides.
The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.
It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now.
And the nightmares never return.
#love and deepspace#rafayel x you x xavier#love and deepspace x reader#lnds smut#l&ds smut#love and deepspace smut#lads x reader#lnds rafayel#l&ds rafayel#rafayel x reader#rafayel smut#xavier smut#xavier x reader#xavier love and deepspace#poisonwrites
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
katalinha thorne ———-«« the dark urge
»»———- a female barbarian trudges through a forest at night, an axe swung over her shoulder, a wild look in her eyes. wood elves know the forest inside out—it's her second home, yet tonight she breaks into a cold sweat. her hands are clenched into fists so tight, red fingernail marks bloom on the surface of her palms as she searches the shadows in the underbrush to her left and her right, watching small animals skitter away as her footfalls strike the damp earth. her stomach rumbles, she wills it silent. the voices in her head are far more cacophonous; she can't outpace them no matter how hard she tries. the bloodsoaked pitch of repetitive whispers echo in her mind. a crow calls, and in a flurry of wings several shadows take flight, skimming the treeline and disappearing into the moonless sky. it is the nature of the strong to prey on the weak. she shakes her head—no, that's not right. blood drips from the ends of her locs and snakes down her back, charting rivulets of stains along the surface of her shirt. she doesn't remember from whose veins the blood had flowed. her stomach grumbles. a group of crows is called a murder. she stumbles over a smooth-faced stone worn flat by ages of rain, her heart skipping a beat. suddenly, a soft grey rabbit darts out of the leaves in front of her, trembling as it looks up for a brief moment before fleeing across the path into the darkness beyond. her short-term memory arrives through the fog of her clouded mind in short bursts: the bard's name was alfira. murder sounds a little bit like hunger, if you think about it too much. she shakes her head again, a throbbing sensation tugging at the corners of her field of vision. tears prick her eyes as she realizes—she's hungry. she was only so, so hungry. it is a predator's nature to sink into the rabbit's tender jugular. she grits her teeth, blinking the tears away, walking faster. the voices chase after her, whispering; it is only your nature. more crows swoop past her, their calls echoing through the trees. the pang in her gut twists into a lurching pain, and she resists the urge to double over, to submit, to let the hunger win. a strangled cry dislodges from her throat, raw and piercing, cutting through the chilly forest air. in the distance, far beyond her now—behind the tangle of branches and thorns, over grassy hills, and far, far past the quiet clearing of trees where her unsuspecting companions sleep through fitful dreams��a low, booming laugh rises from deep beneath the earth in response; a celebration, a mockery of mirthfulness that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
note: umm hehe i wanted to make a durge character who's close to nature and tries to defy her fate and suddenly i ended up getting way too attached to her >< here's kat, my first playthru of baldur's gate 3 (i have made other tavs but i'd like to finish the game first b4 i get too invested in them sdkfkdfk) she is dating halsin just bc i thought he was cool at first and now i guess i'm way more insane about them both than i initially intended oops,, i feel like because of her background kat comes off as a frightening force of nature, hard to read and unpredictable (at least until she starts reigning in the Urge), intimidating due to her size and strength, but halsin finding that beautiful kind of in a similar way that you'd admire a lioness or the beauty and strength of a forest's top predator. i'm not great at games tbh but i do love fantasy and writing and drawing oc stuff so i hope to eventually do that in the future yahhh!!!
#oc: katalinha#my writing#bg3#spoilers#?#bc of the death#idk#bg3 durge#ueee ueeee my linha#his willingness to stick by her side and help her find her place even after the shadow curse is lifted baffles her#and she doesn't exactly have a great command over words to express her feelings to begin with so they're very much like 😐🤝😊#also a redeemed durge's fear of losing control over themself is so real......#my silly girl#strong body tavs my beloved#i know first impressions might make her seem scary to people she meets but i need it to be known that it's her that's terrified#of herself and what she's capable of#but i love her growl scream when she does the rage thing i'm gay
1 note
·
View note
Text
⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻... 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻
♡┊TW — dp, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fuck, praise, breeedkink, afab reader, dark smut, dead dove, Ghost has two dicks here (because I chose to write it like that)
"Don't look anywhere else, look at me... I'm still your husband." The words were followed by the wet sound of the two cocks of your now radioactively-rayed husband, who looked like a monstrous anomaly — with two extra heads, two extra arms, and... two extra cocks.
You hadn't expected that in thousands of years, but when Simon came out the door completely safe and sound, looking like that was shocking and at least scary to your eyes.
Even so, you were on your hands and knees, feeling one of his cocks enter your ass while the other filled your wet pussy, making you whimper loudly as you felt his very hot and heavy balls hit your clit with the slow thrusts that the military man was giving you.
You could feel every pulsing vein of his shafts in your wet holes, the slickness between your thighs and his groin increasing. His now gray eyes were locked completely on your figure, two of his four arms gripping your waist while the other two held your wrists behind your back, ready to dominate and maneuver you as he pleased.
Hearing your moans of acceptance, his two cocks throbbed like never before, impaling you to the point where you even forgot that your partner was now a shadow of what he once was.
All that mattered in that moment was that you could take every inch of what he was giving you, as if your life depended on it—as if every fluid that came out of his cocks was a poison that made you crave more and more of him.
The slow, flesh-to-flesh pounding that had once been tender was now replaced by Simon's almost animalistic movements above you. A little drool dripped from your mouth as you could only wriggle your toes every time one of his cocks reached the tip of your womb while the other kissed limits you didn’t even know existed.
Grunts escaped his lips, muffled by the mask that was now completely part of his skin, fused to his flesh like a second garment. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to leave marks as a hoarse growl came from his throat, echoing like a triad through his three heads.
"Come on, sweetheart... I know you want to cum, don't deny it... cum for me." His words were tinged with the same honey that once soothed your soul. It was still him, even with that new body—and you felt yourself becoming addicted to it, like a drug, leaving you with pleasure so intense it made your system shut down.
You felt him give one final thrust, and at the same time, your pussy was filled with the warm, viscous liquid of his semen. Your other hole was filled as well, causing tears to spill from your eyes as you whimpered from how full you were. But your partner didn’t stop—Simon continued with small thrusts until he felt your inner walls drain him. One of his many hands moved to your pussy lips, slowly opening them to expose your tight slit as it swallowed his cock.
"I won’t let you leave here until I see you beautiful, full, and carrying my children in your belly... Do you understand, my angel?" His words left no room for argument, and no matter how tired you were, saying "no" wasn't an option. After all, you wanted him too, regardless of his appearance. He was still yours.
#yanderestarangel#afab reader#tw smut#ghost simon riley#ghost smut#ghost x afab reader#dark smut#dead dove content#cod headcanons#simon x reader#ghost x reader#ghost headcanons#smut#cod smut#call of duty#call of duty headcanons#ftm reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#yandere simon riley#monster x reader#ghost au
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
being transported into their world
►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader
►— warnings. nothing really, not proof read 🙅🏻♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! girls in the astral express are mentioned for a bit, i mentioned both dan heng and imbibitor lunae so don't mind that! mentions of self attempt/bodily harm for blade, boothill is ooc probably, spoilers of penacony quest, skipping herta space station (will be mentioned in other chapters though!), sahau (self aware honkai au)
►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?
►— a/n. i've been thinking about a self-aware au but a honkai star rail version for a couple of weeks now after my reverse isekai'd genshin sagau series. also this may be a bit biased towards dang feng (imbibitor lunae) because uh i like him, maybe you can tell?
►— wordcount. 4.5k
part 2
for days they've felt uncomfortable, well, slightly. it only began to happen a couple of months ago when they felt as if something, no... someone was controlling their every movement and choice.
during their adventures, they felt an unsettling sensation creep upon them like a shadow in the night—a feeling of being watched, of a presence looming over their every move.
the presence was overwhelming, their body would stiffen, and they felt as if something like a heavy, invisible blanket was casted upon them.
at first, the passengers in the astral express dismissed it as mere paranoia, attributing it to the heightened tension of their journey or maybe the warping effects in the train. but as days passed and the sensation persisted, they couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that they were not alone, that someone or something was observing their every action.
at times, they would catch fleeting whispers carried by the wind, faint voices that echoed in the corners of their minds. yet, despite their efforts, they could never make out the words, the words slipping through their grasp like elusive dreams.
as the feeling grew more pronounced, thoughts began to gnaw at their consciousness. who or what could possibly be speaking to them? why is it that every now and then they would feel a sudden boost and surge of power?
they knew deep down that the only being in the universe could make them feel that was,it could be no other than their creator.
the mere thought that their creator was dropping hints of their arrival was exciting. and only when the astral express crew noticed how each and every one of them felt the same exact things—looking around the moment they heard a voice, their body in sync as they tensed up... it was all too coincidental not to notice.
as they talked with one another and pieced the puzzle pieces together, using the information they found along the way travelling to each region, it all became clear.
it was a pivotal moment in their journey, the truth was revealed. in a flash of realization, they discovered that the presence they felt, the elusive voice they heard, was none other than their creator—the architect of their existence, the mastermind behind their trials and tribulations.
dan heng, himeko, welt, march and caelus had a hunch that it was their beloved creator, it couldn't be anyone else. everything added up, everything made sense. they acted like mad scientists, scurrying to their rooms and digging around every nook and cranny of their room, finding any evidence and papers that mentioned you, the creator.
as they all met up back on the train they carefully placed each and every newspaper and article about you. they had to make sure that it was really you. some of the articles that dan heng bought were from way back, thousands of years ago, he refused to tell anyone where he had gotten them from.
"in the vast expanse of the universe, where time flowed like a meandering river and galaxies danced in an eternal cosmic ballet, there existed a being unlike any other—a being known simply as a creator. born out of the primordial chaos, the creator was a solitary entity who traversed the endless void, seeking purpose in a universe devoid of meaning.
for millennia, the creator roamed the expanse, witnessing the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the ebb and flow of cosmic energies. yet, amidst the vastness of space and time, the creator found itself consumed by an overwhelming sense of ennui, a profound boredom that gnawed at their very essence.
then, the creator embarked on a journey of creation—a quest to fill the void with worlds of its own design, to sculpt realities from the raw clay of the cosmos. with a mere thought, the creator breathed life into barren planets, adorned them with oceans and mountains, and populated them with a myriad of creatures both strange and wondrous.
as creator delved deeper into their newfound passion, they discovered a love for the act of creation—a love that transcended time and space, a passion that ignited a fire within its soul. with each world it fashioned, each story it crafted, the creator found solace in the act of shaping reality, in the sheer joy of bringing something new into existence.
for six thousand years, the creator laboured tirelessly, weaving tapestries of worlds and galaxies, each one a testament to its boundless imagination and creative prowess. from the smallest blade of grass to the mightiest empires, the creator poured their heart and soul into every facet of creation, infusing each world with a unique charm and character all its own.
yet, amidst the infinite expanse of its creations, the creator remained a solitary figure—a godlike being adrift in a sea of its own making, forever yearning for companionship in a universe devoid of peers. and so, the creator continued their eternal quest, weaving worlds out of boredom and growing a love and passion for creation that would endure for eternity. and we, this universe, was crafted by none other than the creator, the place we call home. it is said that only after six thousand will the creator return to us, to watch over us once more."
the article itself looked worn, it wasn't signed by anyone, and no one knew who wrote it, or how they got the information. but it seemed plausible. millenniums... it has been well over six thousand years, it was about time the creator descended.
they had to be prepared, they had to tell the rest of their friends and families, the world. as much as they would like to keep the information to themselves they knew that you deserved a much better, bigger and more beautiful welcome.
sampo, gepard and luka were more than stunned and nervous, to say the least. their creator... was finally returning back? upon hearing the news from caelus they were sceptical at first, deep down they really wanted to see you in your glory, to finally meet the creator, but at the same time, it was nerve-wracking.
what should they say? what should they do in preparation and celebration? what gifts and offers should they give to you? nothing would do. they were positive that anything they bought, even if it got them in debt, would suffice. you deserved more than a measly couple of dishes and the most delicate and fitting garnets.
it was embarrassing really, their hearts racing as they tried their best to think of what to bring to your feet. but one thing they all had in common was their loyalty to you. if it was their life you wanted then so be it.
sampo is sampo, he was sure that his creator's glory and attractiveness were over the top, he would be sure to compliment you as many times as his mouth could allow, but he was sure that your beauty would be intimidating. no matter your looks your presence was more than enough.
gepard is nervous. his mind is full of "what ifs" and "what should i.." not even his sister can calm him down. every morning and night when he closes his eyes he's anticipating the day his sister barges into his room, yelling that the creator had finally descended. although he isn't quite sure of what to offer you he knows that whenever you need him, whatever you call him for he will be there in less than a minute, by your side or feet if you prefer.
whatever you ask of him, whatever favour you need from, he will never say no.
luka on the other hand is absolutely pumped to meet you! he had heard stories of you when he was a child, and from the stories told by the adults they described you as a kind being, who soon fell in love with the art, beauty and joy of creating. well, their most favourite was creating worlds.
he was absolutely sure that you would be the most kindest, heavenly person he had ever met, what was there to worry about now? luka knew that if he ever laid eyes on you he would fall in love no doubt, he would do anything for you. maybe you would agree to watch his wrestling matches?
jing yuan, blade, imbibitor lunae, and luocha are the most excited of all, sure, everyone is elated to finally meet you with their very own eyes. but them? oh lord... they all believe to be your worshipper, having heard tales of you from their parents, this alone caused them to be awe and love-struck with you.
they were a firm believer in you, you did no wrong in their eyes. all your actions and words were justified. they followed your principles, they made sure to announce their presence every time they came to your altar and placed down the most expensive jewels, dishes and gifts. (they had a shrine of you at home don't worry)
jing yuan was the one of the firsts to get hints that you were finally returning, the divine foresight fu xuan always looked so weary and cautious, but as time grew she began to be more... happy and elated, yet everytime he questioned her she was tense up and smile like it was nothing. and only when he pried did she say that she saw things, saw a blurred face, and heard a voice. "don't be alarmed... i'm here to tell you that.."
he made sure that everyone who worked under him and every prominent person knew of this, he began to make preparations of your arrival, he cancelled all meetings and plans, only focusing on you and your arrival. everything had to be perfect. he had even forgotten about the wanted criminal blade. jing yuan booked the most fanciest restaurant for a month max, he wasn't sure when you were coming, of course, so a month it was.
jing yuan prepared every entertainment and paid the orchestra, he wanted everything to be perfect, even the most minuscule details.
blade's loyalty was and is only for you and only you. he may be cold and stone-hearted (we all know it's false) but if it's you... whatever you ask for he will do it no doubt. he refuses to take orders from a stranger even if it is his friend, but if it's you? say no more. blade knew you were a kind soul, you needed protection from the other so-called "enemies" (he proclaimed it!).
he swore that you saved his life, years ago when everything was tumbling down, when his feelings got the better of him, he tried doing the unthinkable, as he blacked out he suddenly "saw" something.. a beacon of light, it was magical and airy, he tried his best to grasp onto the light but obviously could not.
it floated further and further away, and he followed it, his eyes glued only on the beacon of light. as it stopped moving, so did he, he continued staring at the light as it shrank into a ball, it didn't speak, it didn't look anywhere, it stayed there. suddenly he woke up, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. what was that?
sweat clung to his forehead when jingliu found him, concerned she rushed over to him, he refused to say a single word. he was left perplexed. what was the ball of light? why did he feel so at ease? why did it only appear after he...
he would make it his mission to meet you before the rest do other than the astral express crew and become your bodyguard, even if you deny his offer he will stick with you no matter what. of course, he would respect your boundaries but he knew that you didn't have the heart to deny anyone, especially your creation.
imbibitor lunae absolutely adores you, even if he was reincarnated the memories still pass on. and the tales being told by the grown-ups were famous around his area and still is. from the earliest days of his existence, tales of the creator had woven themselves into the fabric of his consciousness, painting a portrait of a being of boundless kindness and infinite compassion.
as a child, imbibitor lunae had listened with rapt attention to stories passed down through generations, tales of the creator's benevolence and the miracles they wrought upon the world. and in the quiet moments of the night, he would gaze up at the starry expanse above, whispering prayers to the creator, his heart overflowing with admiration and reverence.
when news of the creator's imminent return after six thousand years reached his ears, his heart soared with unbridled joy. in no time he set about preparing for your arrival, pouring his heart and soul into crafting the perfect gifts to present to his divine benefactor.
drawing inspiration from the tales of old, he fashioned intricate trinkets and tokens of his affection, each one imbued with his unwavering devotion and love. amidst the swirling maelstrom of feelings, one thing remained constant: his unwavering love for the creator.
imbibitor swore that once he felt or sensed a sign that would be arriving he would immediately act, he would be the first to meet and lay his eyes on your divine figure. slap him as many times as you want if you found it rude, he would only thank you.
luocha, despite remaining calm and composed on the outside, internally, he was freaking OUT. luocha found himself grappling with a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions. on one hand, he felt a profound sense of excitement at the prospect of meeting the creator, the architect of his existence and the source of all that he held dear.
yet, on the other hand, he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of inadequacy, the fear of not being able to live up to your expectations.
his mind raced with a flurry of possibilities. what gifts would you appreciate? what could he offer to express his gratitude and reverence for the being who had breathed life into his world? with each passing moment, the weight of the impending meeting pressed down upon him like a heavy burden, filling him with a sense of anxiety.
despite his inner turmoil, luocha maintained a facade of calm and composure, determined not to let his anxieties show. with a steely resolve, he set about meticulously planning and preparing for your arrival, carefully considering every detail in his quest to find the perfect gift.
he even resorted to asking the children about what gifts he should bring, and yes, they did laugh at him but helped him nonetheless.
from ornate trinkets to rare treasures, luocha spared no effort in his search for the ideal offering, pouring his heart and soul into each carefully chosen item. yet, even as he laboured tirelessly to ensure that everything was perfect, doubts continued to gnaw at the edges of his mind, although one thing was for sure, if you didn't like any of his gifts he wouldn't be upset rather, maybe all you wanted was his whole body and life, and he would not hesitant once to give it up for you.
they all couldn't wait to meet you.
aventurine, sunday, gallagher and boothill are freaking out. horribly. mainly aventurine.. once the news had reached them from the astral express that it was possible (about 98%) that you were the comet arriving in a week... oh boy were they NERVOUS. everything HAD to be perfect. they had everything to thank you for, during their life and death situation they were lucky enough to survive—thanks to you.
it was only natural to return the favour, you created them, their personality, their arms, legs, their body, you sculpted their face, you made them. you made the very world they live in right now, the world they call home... they were sure you were by their side, making them make the right decisions and the right thing. aventurine? oh, the amount of MONEY he will spend buying everything he thinks you'd like, the fanciest, most elegant and most expensive shoes, clothing and accessories. he would rent out an entire week or months of work at a restaurant if you'd like to dine alone or with a couple of people. he knows his luck is a part of him, he can only pray that he'll meet you first with his luck.
sunday... just the sound of your name makes him tear up. he could've sworn that one time you spoke to him, your other-worldly echoing voice speaking to him directly about the loss of his dear sister. and here he stood in his room, looking out the window, and in the far distant a light shimmering as it swiftly dived down. a shooting star. he knows that with everyone getting the news they're all aiming to be the first to meet you, and trust me, he does want to meet you FIRST. the second you land he'll be there right with you and guiding you to safety—penacony.
but first, he must pinpoint where exactly you'll land. and with his power and influence he will most definitely try his best to find you and be sure to hide you from everyone else... he needs you, desperately.
gallagher and boothill have exactly the same thoughts. to present themselves good to you and spend every minute and second with you. but with everyone gossiping and spreading rumours about your arrival it's hard to be unique. everyone wants to be with you, everyone wants your favour. but they could never worship you as much as them. they had dreamed of this moment, it seemed unreal to meet their own creator but nonetheless, they clung to their hope and boy did it not go to waste.
boothill basically pauses any mission he needs to complete, that can wait. you are eternal. he's practically on edge with the fact that at any moment the comet would crash through and there you'd be, dozing peacefully.. like an angel. he won't hesitate to cause some trouble or initiate some violence if it means that they don't get to see you first.
gallagher on the other hand tries to stay hidden and in the shadows. of course, he'd like to meet you face to face but with the feeling of an overwhelming and looming divine presence, it's all too much. and if that's too much then what would he feel when you stand right before him? he's like an overprotective dog, fiercely loyal and clingy. even if you can't spot him he'll be right there, lurking and watching.
dr. ratio and argenti are absolutely and 100% loyal and would do EVERYTHING in their power to meet you, even a glance would do, anything to feed their curiosity and desperate need to know the creator. so when they get wind that you were supposedly descending down... they freeze on the spot, their breath hitches as their eyes widen. could it really be?
dr. ratio was always a curious boy, and he has you to thank for giving him consciousness and the opportunities to venture out and earn knowledge and eventually spreading his knowledge to his students (preaching i guess you can say). he's a bit biased when it comes to talking about you to his friends or students, and speaking your name in a more positive light, not that anyone minds, if anything they agree!
although he isn't much of a gifter or "i'll spend my money on you" he's more of a "anything you want just tell me". if you told him to drop his precious books to come and tend to your needs he would do it in a heartbeat.
to argenti you are the standard and epitome of "beauty". the beauty he has been searching for his entire life. he intends to shower you with compliments and roses freshly picked by hand unless you're allergic or not a fan of flowers, fear not! compliments should do! be ready to be bombarded with such positivity, compliments and gifts from the knight of beauty.
anything you wish for he will try his utmost best to get it done perfectly and quickly. "your hair looks so pretty like this..." say no more, he will always style it and keep it exactly like that! "my feet feel so sore from all the walking" ?!!? why is his dear walking anyway!?!? don't worry, he'll massage it for you! "ugh all this work is making me tired" move aside, let him do the honours!!
It was a long ride home from work, you were currently in an almost empty bus, glancing over the top of your phone you read the time. 11 P.M.
Was it that late already? You knew this office job would be the death of you. You never wanted to work at a place like this, the cubicle life bored you and it was just so... depressing. That was the only way to describe it.
You decide to pass the time by playing your all-time favourite game: Honkai: Star Rail. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face as you began to grind relics and exp for an upcoming character. It definitely worked in keeping you busy and awake as time passed by slowly.
All was well, everything was fine. You had everything planned in your head. Get home as soon as possible, take a nice warm and rejuvenating shower, get five hours of sleep, go back to work and repeat.
The more you thought about your daily routine the more you realised how depressing it was, but what could you do? That job was the only one that was hiring and had average pay and things like that are rare, especially when you decided to live in the city which was your first mistake.
You were barely getting by in the city, the crime rate increased, there were more breaks in, pickpocketing and murder. But despite all of that you decided to rent an apartment where it was less populated, the rent in the heart of the city was way too high.
Pushing all those thoughts and information aside you let out a defeated sigh, leaning your head on the window as you continued to tap away on your phone.
If only life went just a little bit easier on you.
Everything was fine. The silence was comfortable and the low, soft rumble of the engine kept you awake, until a loud deafening crash jolted the bus, sending people flying and falling onto the ground.
Letting out a scream you grabbed onto whatever you could to keep you steady—the head of the chair in front of you. Although it didn't do a good job of keeping you still you couldn't care less, because as you lifted your head, your eyes caught something massive charging straight at you, and before you could react, a blinding light engulfed you, followed by an eerie silence.
When you regained consciousness, you found yourself tightly packed against something dark and rocky. Just great! Something had happened to the bus and knocked you out.
You looked around, it was pure blackness, like a void. Maybe this was what happened after death... Out of all things and especially the time too!
Feeling confused and scared you try to move your body to shift into a more comfortable position but due to the lack of space, you could barely even move an inch.
Suddenly, a crack was heard. And you froze.
Then another crack, and another, the darkness began to crack and splinter and not long after half of the egg-shaped looking ball broke in half as it fell to the side.
Shards of obsidian-like material fractured and scattered around. A large amount of dust, and shiny glitter-like specs flew everywhere, it was extremely dusty.
Unfortunately, you inhaled the smoke, coughing and sputtering, you waved their hand in front of your face, trying to dispel the particles as you squinted against the harsh light that slipped through the smoke.
As the dust settled and the steam dissipated, your surroundings gradually came into focus. You found yourself in front of... one, two, three, four, and... five.... wait.. what?
Right before you stood four male figures (with the other seemed to have a more feminine build), male figures that looked awfully familiar to you for some odd reason, just why was that?
You were confused and curious as you surveyed your surroundings, realizing that maybe this was death? You would've never guessed that "life" after death would look like this. It was very.... interesting.
The buildings that surrounded you were intricate and otherworldly. Dazzling celestial landscapes and luminescent structures piqued your interest as you slowly and carefully stepped out of what you assumed was a shell.
Its' architect and infrastructure reminded you of something, it seemed nostalgic—as if you've seen this exact building before. The more you observed and watched, your eyes tracing every precise curve and detail of the buildings your heart began to pick up its pace.
Your eyes searched every corner and inch, and finally, it landed back on the five figures you had spotted before and it wasn't until you caught sight of familiar faces that you were certain that you had to be hallucinating somehow after death.
There, standing in a circle, were figures that you could hardly believe were real: Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya. It was unmistakably them.
Their presence, their unmistakable aura of reverence, left you no doubt.
They watched you, their gazes filled with awe and admiration as if you were the embodiment of some long-awaited prophecy (and in this case, it was).
You were in disbelief. Disbelief that you had somehow been transported into the very game they were playing moments ago, but now they were tangible, real.
It was a long silence, it was both comfortable and uncomfortable with their longing gaze. You remained still as you checked around your surroundings once again before settling your eyes back on the group of people.
At your gaze they felt a shiver down their spine, and the hair on their skin stood up.
"W—Who are you guys?!" You yelled, narrowing your eyes to see if it was truly the characters from the game you adored.
Dan Heng's breath hitched at the sound of your booming voice, your voice... it was just like how they described what you would sound like in the carved stones and ancient scrolls.
The more he stared at you the more he wanted to come to you, to kneel down at your feet and profess how long he has been waiting for this moment.
With his eyes trained on your figure, he steps closer, Gepard notices and swiftly stops him from moving any further with his arm. Dan Heng looks to his side, confusion strewn on his face.
Not a single word was spoken yet with a stern gaze and the shake of a head, Dan Heng understood. Now was not the right time.
Minutes passed by in complete and utter silence, it unnerved you. Why were they so quiet? So watchful?
Finally, after what felt like hours, the silence was broken just with a couple words.
"We have been awaiting your arrival, Your Gracefulness."
note: after 5 months WOW. i've been so busy with things i haven't had the time to really sit down and work. I'm so sorry everyone!
tags 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @saltylovetale-blog @toramune @oreo-ren @backintomykpopphaseagain @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealmap @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanist @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcrow @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqq @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhhiwassup @youdontneedyoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @issacdarknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @obliviousariies2007 @coffee-seed
(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)
for those i've taged: if you do not want to tagged for hsr drop a comment or message me.
liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#dan heng x reader#blade x reader#jing yuan x reader#sunday x reader#aventurine x reader#gallagher x reader#dr ratio x reader#boothill x reader#luka x reader#sampo x reader#gepard x reader#argenti x reader#welt x reader#caelus x reader#imbibitor lunae x reader#luocha x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
SINS OF DEVOTION [2/3]
ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v ; fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: wasn't planning on expanding the one-shot, but here we are. i literally stayed up 7+ hours to write this just cuz i got a bunch of praise in the notes 😩 i'm weak... anywho this is a continuation of my previous one-shot, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read that yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲🇦🇸🇹🇪🇷🇱🇮🇸🇹`·.·★
Ever since that night, you couldn't look Father Charlie in the eyes. How could you, when the man—the symbol of the glory of the Father above—had been buried between your thighs like a man starved?
Just looking at him brought back all the feelings, the emotions that twisted and churned inside you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.
Every time you saw him in the chapel, his gaze lingering on you from across the room, your heart would race, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch.
You would try to focus on your duties, your prayers, but the image of him kneeling before you, his mouth claiming every part of you, would flash in your mind, making you falter. Your hands would tremble, your voice would break, and you would feel heat rising in your cheeks, knowing he was watching you.
And he was always watching you.
His eyes would find yours whenever you entered a room, his gaze dark and intent, filled with a hunger that hadn't diminished in the slightest since that stormy night.
You could feel it even from a distance—the way his eyes seemed to follow your every movement, as if he was marking you as his. It made your breath catch, your body reacting in ways you couldn't control, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you.
It was a regular Sunday mass when he finally cornered you; a neighboring pastor was visiting, giving a sermon, while you were cleaning out one of the confessionals.
The faint sound of the sermon echoed in the background, the low, rhythmic cadence of the visiting pastor's voice carrying through the church. You were kneeling on the ground, scrubbing the tiles, your sleeves rolled up to keep them out of the soapy water.
The scent of cleaning solution hung in the air as you worked, your humming soft, almost absent-minded, a gentle hymn that you barely even noticed yourself singing.
You were so absorbed in your task that you didn't notice the shadow fall over you until it was too late. You looked up, startled, your eyes widening as you tried to regain your composure.
"I'm sorry, this confessional booth is out of commission at the moment, I'm cleaning—" Your words trailed off as your gaze traveled upward, and your breath caught in your throat when you realized who was standing there.
It was Father Charlie.
His presence filled the small space, and you could feel the air grow heavy around you, your pulse quickening as his eyes locked onto yours. There was something about the way he looked at you—something dark and knowing—that made your heart pound, your hands freezing where they rested on the damp cloth.
The brush slipped from your fingers, falling back into the soapy water with a splash that sprayed droplets onto the floor and your habit, snapping you out of your daze. You stuttered, "F-Father Charlie," quickly standing up, giving a short bow. "Blessed Sunday morning, Father."
Charlie's lips twitched up into a smile as he stepped further into the cramped confessional booth, the door closing with a soft click behind him. "Blessed Sunday to you as well, Sister ____."
Your eyes flickered to his lips, your breath catching as your mind flashed back to how he had used that very mouth to bring you to the brink of pleasure—his lips, his tongue, every sinful movement etched into your memory. You swallowed hard, your face warming at the thought, your hands fidgeting as you struggled to look anywhere but at him.
You cleared your throat, your voice coming out small. "Is there... is there anything I can do for you, Father?"
Charlie hummed thoughtfully, taking another step closer until he was right in front of you, the space between you almost nonexistent.
Your gaze dropped to his chest, the black fabric of his cassock filling your vision, the scent of him overwhelming—something warm and clean, with a hint of incense. You could feel your heart pounding, your breath hitching as he spoke, his voice low and deep.
"There are many things you could do for me, Sister," he murmured, his tone shifting, darkening, as his lips curled into a smirk. "We could pray... or perhaps," he paused, his eyes glinting as his voice dropped even lower, "you could help me find a different kind of release."
Your eyes widened at the crude implication, your gaze shooting up to meet his, only to find him already watching your face, his eyes hooded and dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach twist.
You felt heat pooling low in your belly, the tension in the small space between you almost unbearable. You shook your head slightly, your voice coming out in a whisper, shaky and unsure. "Father Charlie, we shouldn't... we can't..."
Charlie didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he took another step forward, his body pressing against yours as he used his arms to cage you in, one hand bracing against the wall of the confessional beside your head. His other hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.
You could feel his breath, warm against your skin, his face so close that your noses almost brushed. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw, something that made your knees feel weak.
He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice a whisper, almost pleading. "Do you know what you do to me, Sister? How you push me to sin, how you make me want things I shouldn't?"
His hand left your cheek, moving down to grab your wrist, guiding your hand between your bodies, pressing it firmly against the hardness straining beneath his cassock. Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you felt him, your eyes widening, your entire body tensing at the sensation.
"Feel that?" he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "That's what you do to me. Every time I see you, every time you look at me with those innocent eyes... you make me lose control."
You felt your heart racing, your mind spinning, a mix of fear and something else—something dark and thrilling—coursing through you as Father Charlie's hand held yours in place, his gaze locked onto yours, unrelenting, his lips brushing against yours in the barest of touches, waiting, coaxing you to give in.
Your thoughts raced. So many times since that night, you had fantasized about him, dreamed about him fully taking you, about giving in to the desires that had been eating away at you. But now, with him right in front of you, so desperate, so wanting, it made you dizzy.
You were a nun, a devoted daughter, a wife to the Lord—yet here you were, on the verge of surrendering. Your lips parted as you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to cling to the last shreds of your faith.
But then you licked your lips, and you saw how his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement, darkening with something almost primal. His gaze was intense, unblinking, and you felt the pull, the weight of his need, and it made something inside you snap.
With all the bravery you could muster, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his.
It was soft, a gentle peck, barely more than a brush of your lips against his, but it was enough to make your heart race like you were running a marathon.
For a moment, you thought you could pull back, that this brief kiss could be enough to satisfy whatever it was burning between you.
But then Charlie groaned, the sound deep and raw, and before you could pull away, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you back to him, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His tongue slipped between your parted lips, invading your mouth, exploring, tasting.
The kiss was nothing like your timid attempt—it was fierce, overwhelming, consuming.
You felt his tongue caressing the inside of your mouth, tracing the shape of your teeth, stroking your own tongue, coaxing it to move with his. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he was savoring every second, every taste.
You felt your head grow light from the lack of air, your body trembling, but still, you were locked in the kiss, unable to pull away, unable to do anything but respond to him.
Your hands moved of their own accord, one of them gripping the front of his cassock, the other reaching up to tangle in his hair. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his body seemed to hum with tension, with need.
Charlie's other hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the hard lines of his body pressing into yours, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of your habit. It made you feel like you were drowning in him, in his touch, his taste.
You whimpered against his lips, the sound muffled by the kiss, and he responded with a low growl, his hand tightening on your waist, his lips moving more insistently against yours.
Charlie pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he panted, his breath hot and heavy, mingling with your own. His eyes were dark, filled with something raw and unrestrained, and he let out a low groan, his voice rough with desire. "I wish so badly to mark you up, to strip you down right here and lose myself in you," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. The explicitness of his words made your cheeks burn, your face flushing as you pressed it into his neck, trying to hide your embarrassment.
But he wasn't done. He tilted your chin back up, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek, his eyes searching yours. "But it's too risky," he whispered, his voice filled with regret, and something almost feral. "So I'll settle for something much quicker."
As he spoke, his hands moved down, fingers traveling lower, bunching up the fabric of your tunic around your waist. His touch was frantic, almost desperate, his hands squeezing and kneading every inch of you he could reach, as if he couldn't get enough.
You could feel his fingers digging into your thighs, your hips, pulling you closer, pressing you against him, and it made your head spin, made your body ache with a need you didn't quite understand.
Your hands trembled as they found their place on his shoulders, your fingers hesitating, curling slightly in the fabric of his cassock. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching you, to let your hands explore, but you were too shy, too overwhelmed.
The intensity of his presence, the way his body felt against yours, it all left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.
Charlie's gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes dark and filled with something raw, something that made your pulse quicken. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low murmur, almost a growl. "You don't have to be afraid... just let me take care of you."
Your breath hitched, your body tensing as you felt his hands venture lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by Charlie as he covered your mouth with his own, his lips moving against yours, silencing your small cries and whimpers.
His fingers moved with purpose, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow circles against your clit. The sensation made your knees go weak, your body trembling against him as he worked you with an expertise that left you breathless.
You tried to pull away from the kiss, to catch your breath, but he wouldn't let you, his mouth insistent, his tongue coaxing yours to move with his, swallowing every sound you made.
Your hands clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric as you felt his fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside.
A muffled whimper escaped your throat, your body tensing at the intrusion, the sensation both strange and thrilling. He moved slowly, his fingers stretching you, coaxing your body to relax, to accept him. You could feel every movement, every inch as he filled you, his touch deliberate, patient.
His lips never left yours, his kiss growing deeper, more demanding, as if he could feel your hesitation and was trying to coax you further, to draw you into the darkness with him. He pulled back for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he spoke, his voice a low whisper, thick with desire. "You feel so good, Sister... so perfect. Just let go for me."
Before you could respond, before you could even catch your breath, his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers curling around your leg as he lifted it, wrapping it around his waist.
The new angle made everything more intense, his fingers sinking deeper, his thumb brushing against your clit, drawing a shuddering moan from your lips.
The warmth in your belly grew, turning into a small flame that licked at your insides, consuming every thought, every hesitation; your body responded to his touch, your hips moving against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving you.
Charlie's breathing grew shallow, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his gaze roaming over your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted, the soft gasps escaping your throat.
Your thighs trembled, your body growing tense as you felt the pressure building, the sensation coiling tightly in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.
But just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, just as the first waves of your orgasm began to crest, Charlie stopped. He pulled his fingers away, leaving you gasping, the sudden emptiness almost painful.
A soft, desperate whimper escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering open, wide and confused as you looked up at him.
He met your gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around each digit, savoring the taste of you. "You taste so sweet, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I could spend all day between your thighs... but right now, I need something more."
He shifted, his hands moving to the waistband of his robe, shuffling the fabric around as he freed himself. You couldn't see anything, the fabric obscuring your view, but you felt it—the hard, heavy length of him brushing against your inner thigh, the sensation making your breath catch, your leg twitch involuntarily at the contact.
Charlie moved with a practiced ease, his hands gripping your hips as he shifted you, lifting you as if you weighed nothing.
Your back pressed against the wall of the confessional, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body. He adjusted his hold on you, his arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting them until both of your legs were hooked around his waist.
You felt exposed, vulnerable, the position leaving you completely at his mercy, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something in his eyes that made your heart race, made your body ache for more.
His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper, something that made your breath hitch, your fingers clinging to his shoulders as he held you up, pressing you against the wall. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breath warm against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "You drive me mad, Sister... Forgive me, I can't hold back any longer."
He adjusted his hold on you, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist, holding you up against the wall with ease while his other hand moved beneath the ruffled fabric of your habit.
Your legs hitched open wider, instinctively allowing him more access as you felt the warmth of his hand trailing up your inner thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin. The anticipation made your breath catch, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, your body aching for his touch.
You gasped softly as you felt something blunt press against your clit, moving up and down your slit, the sensation different this time—firmer, hotter. You thought it was his fingers again, but then Charlie let out a soft sigh, a quiet, breathless "fuck" that made your eyes widen, the realization hitting you all at once.
He wasn't using his fingers. It was him, the hard length of him brushing against you, spreading your slickness as he moved, the pressure making your head spin, your body growing even wetter at the sinful, blasphemous intimacy of it.
His movements were slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to look away, to deny what was happening. But you couldn't—your gaze was trapped by his, your lips parted as soft whimpers escaped, the sound swallowed by the heavy air between you.
Charlie's breath grew more ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Do you feel that, Sister? Do you see what you do to me?" His voice was thick with lust, his words a mixture of reverence and something far more depraved. He moved his hips, sliding himself against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin as he began to push inside you, his voice low and shaky as he muttered a scripture, the holy words twisted by the desire lacing his tone. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." His voice trailed off into a deep, guttural groan as he sank deeper, the stretch almost too much, a sharp burn that made you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as your body struggled to adjust to him.
Charlie paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours once again, his breathing heavy, his eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. But you were too lost in the sensation—the way he filled you, the way your body seemed to mold around him, the burn slowly giving way to something else, something that made your toes curl, your breath hitching as you nodded, a silent plea for him to keep going.
He smiled, a dark, almost tender smile, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, "Perfect." His hips moved again, slowly at first, his movements careful, deliberate, as he began to build a rhythm, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you, the feeling overwhelming, all-consuming.
And as you clung to him, your body trembling, you knew there was no turning back, no escaping the hold he had on you.
The two of you got lost in one another, the heat between you burning like a fire, desire crackling like embers, growing hotter with every movement. Charlie's pace quickened, his breaths coming out in harsh pants, his groans muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.
The rhythm of his thrusts grew more erratic, each one more desperate than the last, the intensity making your head spin, the pleasure building until it was almost too much.
You could hear him, his voice a mix of groans and soft, needy whines, his lips brushing against your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he moved, the friction, the pressure, everything pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
Your body tensed, your muscles clenching around him as the band inside you finally snapped, the pleasure washing over you in a blinding wave. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body trembled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the high.
Charlie shuddered in your arms, his own body tensing as he felt you tighten around him, his movements growing sloppy, desperate, until he finally stilled, his hips pressing against yours as he let out a low, guttural groan.
You felt the warmth of him spreading inside you, the sensation almost surreal, the realization that you had pushed him to this point, that you had made him lose control, making your heart pound even harder.
He stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you, something almost soft in his gaze.
Slowly, he pulled away, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your flushed cheeks as he leaned in, his nose bumping gently against yours, a small, tender gesture that made your heart swell.
Charlie's eyes held yours, his gaze intense, filled with a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, his voice still thick with the remnants of his desire. "Pleasure is deceitful... as it was for the harlot, yet I cannot resist you."
A/N: alright guys, chill with the praise and notes or i won't be able to get rest 😔🫶🏾🫶🏾jkjkjk keep them coming i'm a whore for them 🥴
#xani-writes: father charlie mayhew fics#grotesquerie#father charlie mayhew#father charlie x reader#father charlie smut#charlie mayhew#priest x nun#nun reader#smut#x reader#naive girl#reader insert#fem reader#x female reader#female reader#one shot#nicholas alexander chavez#charlie mayhew x reader#father Charlie mayhew x reader#nicholas chavez#nicholas alexander chavez x reader#father charlie mayhew x reader#father charlie#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez x reader
2K notes
·
View notes