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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 month ago

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Calming the Emperor God

Geta x wife! reader

warning : hurt/comfort, kissing, cuddling, mention of murder and sickness

Summary : Rome seemed to turn on their rulers, what Caracalla compensated with more Colosseum fighting Geta had to face reality as much as he thought he was divine, he alone couldn't control everything. The demand of his head was only the beginning as the emperor sought advice and care in the arms of his wife.

info : A work for Geta I just wanted to give him a long hug, enjoy reading ;)

masterlist

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Marriage, when you were a ruler of a empire, it was important to have a wife after your appointment, someone you loved or not, someone who could give you an heir.

He had even less regard for his father than his brother, a man driven by empathy and kindness as well as hope, a weak man whose only great deed was to father him and Caracalla with his mother, nothing else. That was the only reason for his damned father's last acts, a marriage.

A marriage three years ago, on his twentieth name day, he took her as his wife, a young lady of his own age from a noble house of the united kingdoms under Rome.

He hadn't thought much of her then, but when he looked at the sitautioon now, she was more than just his love, she was his shield, the judgement of the people and a light that all kinds of people looked up to so that the people wouldn't rise up in revolt.

She was a pillar at his side who could lead Rome, advise Caracalla and be there for him at the same time…the only thing that had not been created in all this time was an heir.

An inheritance that in theory the two emperors had in each other, but with each passing day Geta saw how bad things were for Caracalla, ,,The Holy Roman Empire will belong to the world, but three deaths would mean its end" he had said shortly after their wedding, at first still indifferent to her, even disgusted by her failure to conceive and paranoid that she would betray him.

But none of this mattered when he saw how gentle she was with his brother, how good she was at managing the senate and how understanding she was towards him every day.

,,My doubts were never about you, my husband, a marriage of the dead is beyond our influence and your circumstance worries me more than my own" she had admitted when she realised how bad things were for the emperors.

Who ruled a world empire, how easy she had had it, several siblings, no illnesses, her parents a long life and security, everything Geta and his brother didn't have.

Both had hardly received any training in warfare, politically she hardly knew what to do and they had no connection to the people.

From the moment they were born, they had already come too close to the sun and would never raise their wings again. She was a woman, a princess, aware of her role as a mother, but if she couldn't even be that, she would do anything to support her husband.

Taking her eyes from the marble floor that lay cold beneath her sandals, she looked back at her husband Geta presenting new proposals for the military, improvements and enhancements to a Senate that seemed barely interested.

They were strategies and proposals for which Geta had spent hours and nights in the library with her, he was trying so hard for his people, or at least for the world for now, the dream of a Rome that covered the world, it wasn't fair that the senate consisted only of fake snakes, but you couldn't kill them either.

No one is interested but us she thought and sat down again on Geta's throne when she heard a giggle next to her.

Caracalla was once again more than just bored by all this and began to play with his fingers, seeing that Geta gave her a quick glance and an unsaid ‘thank you darling’ seemed to come from his eyes, she rose to take care of Caracalla.

As much as the presence of both emperors was required, Caracalla was disturbed by the introduction of the laws the blond was probably about to rise herself, she put her hand on his shoulder, ,,We should leave Geta alone, how about a game?" she asked in a whisper and saw the grin widen. Already sending Caracalla forward.

She bowed to Geta who had paused in his speech, allowing everyone a brief moment to think, ,,I'm already longing for your liberating kiss of my sorrows" he murmured to her before placing a kiss on her cheek, a face with a ‘divine’ countenance looking back at her before she withdrew from the senate.

Once again, her god had to try to cope on his own, an event that occurred weekly and took its toll on him, for what was an emperor without preparation since childhood?

He was nothing.

Footsteps followed Caracalla, who was already pulling out his favourite figurines from a wicker basket, ,,The conquest of Rome with the crucifixions of the Christians!" he announced and she clapped as he told her everything in meticulous detail.

Not a game in the sense, but something amusing for him, especially when he could stab the little figures and she had to make the death noises that he always found extremely sweet, ,,Your memories are unfathomable and fascinating," she said and tapped him on the forehead.

He could hardly remember what was served for dinner yesterday, but he seemed to know such a battle going back hundreds of years completely by heart, it was the madness you couldn't control.

But that didn't matter because, apart from the battle, they played together with Dundus and in the afternoon she had to sing Caracalla a lullaby because otherwise he wouldn't go to bed, otherwise he would only cause more ‘problems’ like a small child.

One thing that hardly bothered her anymore she knew it would give Geta less to worry about and she had a few more hours of peace and quiet in which to organise her own things, ,,Sleep well little king" she whispered as she closed the door to his room and with a sigh made her way back to her own room.

Knowing that the meeting in the senate would take a long time she returned to her art of the gods, knowing that only they could help her and her family Appolo I pray to you for healing and beauty over my brother-in-law Caracalla and husband Geta she heard her own praying voice in front of her altar to Appolon the model for Geta.

In all the golden clothes he wore, even the make-up was dedicated to the god, but the gods seemed to have abandoned the brothers since the birth and not given her a blessing.

She spent the next few hours embroidering, writing and reading books, hoping to get advice from former emperors on how to cultivate fields to increase yields, which were getting lower and lower.

This was bad for the population of Rome, the army and the imperial family itself, who had to cope with all this without falling into the madness that Caracalla was making worse and worse.

The goblet of water next to her was refilled every now and then and the lamps and torches in her room were turned on by the servants when the sun had long since reached the horizon, she knew that the discussion in the Senate had to come to an end.

She was about to roll back the parchment and place it on the table when someone knocked on her door.

,,Yes?” she said, but instead of her beloved she only found a servant who bowed and replied, ,,Emperor Geta wishes to see you, he insists that you dine with him. His brother Emperor Caracalla has already been taken care of” the message read.

She sent the servant away with a wave of her hand and rose herself more hastily than she had intended and immediately headed for his chamber, which was only a corridor away.

So Caracalla is sleeping well it flashed through her mind casually as she realized that he had probably taken care of him as well. Geta was once again doing a lot more than he was supposed to, another reason why she loved him so much.

Stopping in front of the large double wooden door, the guards bowed before they opened the door for her and she was finally back with him, ,,Geta dearest I see you again,” she said happily and automatically went to the table where she had expected him to be for dinner but he wasn't there.

Turning around as she heard a sniffle she saw a golden curly head standing on the balcony, he was overlooking the city but ewa san his posture made her falter ,,Geta? Is everything alright?” she asked as she stepped out into the cool night and stood behind him, her fingers carefully resting against his back.

He was tense, trembling slightly but whether it was from the cold or the excitement she couldn't tell, ,,No one...none of these philistines listened, it led to nothing,” he finally said slowly as he turned to face her, the moon shining above him, the cold god watching over God's representation on earth.

The make-up on his face smudged, the golden light clothes wrinkled and not smooth and his blond hair completely disheveled. He did not have the madness of his brother, but as the sole ruler of an empire, such a burden lay heavily on him alone. ,,My husband, you know I couldn't be prouder, don't you?” she asked the superfluous question but knew he needed it.

The next moment he turned to her with a sigh and grasped her hands, she could see the watery eyes even in the faint moonlight, ,,The feelings are the same...but an emperor without his senate only with enemies and no support as it seems...is neither god nor man he is nothing” he finally spoke the truth and embraced her a little more strongly, slightly painfully and yet seeking help.

She understood him, understood him from the bottom of her heart, a pain, a helplessness she knew only too well.

Putting her hand on his cheek and looking at him for a moment, he entangled her in a kiss, she felt his hand at her side running over her hip, ,,Love you” she heard the murmured words as they broke away, as this wonderful fallen god looked at her so full of grace and love.

Her heart was bound with his as the brass rings made a soft muffled sound as their hands met again, the small smile on the god's lips as he looked at his love.

,,You are the most important thing to me and to Caracalla and I as your beloved swear to you that this will not be the end,” she assured him and saw the love that showed in the darkly painted eyes.

She saw him look away at Rome, the city behind him, his home and the empire that belonged to him, saw the nod, heard the intake of breath as he pulled her into another kiss. he may be destitute but he would never lose his family, his love, Geta knew that.

,,We'll show them together," he promised and led her next to him, leaving his hand linked with hers and seeming to promise her not only Rome, but the whole world, because together the imperial family of Rome would be able to do anything.

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@potatoesenpaii , @thatnerdliv , @scorpiongirlsthings , @pxnx-kk

@the-a-word-2214 , @peakygirl1919 , @k-yurieee

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #male x female #reader is female #emperor caracalla

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 2 months ago

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Workplace

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, secret identity, vigilante reader, office romance, fingering, kissing, biting, wounds, penetration, slightly toxic Dick Grayson,

"Holy shit, y/n?" A gruff voice called your name from across the police station. You turned away from your papers and in the direction the address was coming from, meeting a bloodshot wild gaze of a man who looked around your age. You didn't recognize the man, who was currently being escorted into a cell.

You didn't respond, assuming he confused you with someone else. He called you again, though. "Y/n! It's Spencer Van! We were in the fifth grade together-"

You met his crazy gaze again, raising your brow in question.

"Ms. Strums class!" He added.

You blinked, recalling the name of your fifth grade teacher. You began to recognize him. And your mouth twisted in disgust. You didn't remember much, other than him being a piece of shit; bullying the smarter kids, and constantly interrupting your teacher during class. Not someone worth remembering.

Your grimace didn't deter him, though, as his gaze slowly studied you up and down. You began to regret your earlier decision to discard your blazer when his gaze landed on the undone top buttons of your blouse.

You hated going to the police station for this exact reason. The staff were nice, but the people they brought in... different story.

"Damn," Spencer groaned, his tongue sliding across his teeth. "You grew up gorgeous."

The blood drained from your face, and you felt nauseous. Now definitely swallowing bile. Detectives and staff were looking between you two as you took in a steadying breath and tried to avoid glaring at him.

"You like me like this?" Spencer continued, grinning a dirty, crooked smile and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You like seeing me in handcuffs?-"

Before he finished his sentence, he was brutally shoved into the cell. The sound of the slam echoing throughout the station.

The detective who shut him up, Dick Grayson, stood towering, muscular, and gorgeous in his uniform, and your secret crush on him only grew. Grayson barely broke a sweat while Spencer bounced off the wall and was now wheezing, struggling to get back up.

"You son of a bitch-" Spencer choked. "You fucking broke my rib!"

"Yeah?" Dick challenged. "Press charges after you're done serving ten years for drug trafficking. Prick." Then he slammed the cell door shut.

The rest of the room fell back into routine, the sounds of phone calls, walkies, filing papers, and conversations filling the air once more.

Grateful for the change in pase, you returned to your documents.

"Ms. L/n, are you alright?" A low masculine voice you instantly recognized spoke behind you. You turned to see the detective. Sharp features and ocean-colored eyes pierced through your thoughts, catching you off guard. Your breath hitch at his size towering over you, while the smell of beachy cologne invaded your senses. His uniform hugged his body so well that you could almost see the defined muscle under the material.

"Yeah, thanks for shutting him up." You stammered, your shoulders rising slightly.

"Im sorry I didn't do it sooner." He frowned, his gaze flicking to Spencer, who still groaned in his cell.

You gathered your files. "Should we sit down to look over the Falcone case?"

"Yes, right." Dick gestured for you to take a seat at his desk. It was the only one in the room that wasn't covered in a million papers. Just his computer, a notepad, pen, and calculator lined up against each other in a tidy order, with a half finished cup of coffee sat on the corner. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

You shook your head. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Then, at his raised brow, you rushed to add. "I'll need to share some sensifitive information."

He nodded in understanding and got up, leading you down the hall. Your heels clicked behind him as he opened the door to a meeting room lined with shelves. A single table and two chairs sat in the middle of it, illuminated by warm toned lights. The noise died down as he shut the door before pulling out your chair for you to sit.

He spoke up as you sat down. "Late nights at the DA's office, huh?"

You blinked, trying your best to look confused, also trying to cover the blush on your cheeks. "N-no. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, offering you his signature joking smile. "According to our email exchanges, you were originally supposed to come here yesterday. I was just curious why the last-minute change. I've got a very busy schedule today."

"Im sorry," you shook your head, rushing. "I just... I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh no." Dick said, his brow creasing.

His tone of worry hid a chuckle that was desperately trying to escape. You were such a bad liar. "I'm glad you're feeling better then."

"Yes, well," you took your seat, pulling out a series of photographs from your folder and placing them on the table for him to see. "Falcone met with the owner of MacKenzie Buildings in his club two nights ago."

Dick made a big show of studying the photographs, which he took himself two nights ago. "Hmmm."

You continued. "Yesterday, as you know, MacKenzie was found dead in his apartment."

Dick nodded along to your words, picking up a photograph to study it closer before frowning. His brows furrowed as he looked at the picture. "How'd you get these? Did you hire a P.I.?"

"Not exactly." You lowered your voice, eyeing the locked door behind you.

When you turned around, his blue gaze was narrowed at you. Questioning.

"I'd like to keep the source confidential."

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Two nights ago.

"I need to go use the ladies' room." You spoke over the music before getting off your date's lap. He grinned and nodded, barely acknowledging you as he was distracted with a pair of women dancing on a tabletop.

You matched with the man on a hookup app an hour ago, suggesting this club to meet up, and he was more than happy to go - probably thinking he was going to get lucky.

In reality, it was just a cover.

As soon as you walked off the main floor, you headed for the back of the club and out to an alleyway behind the building. Unwrapping a bandana from your wrist, you tied it around your face, hiding all of it, save for your eyes.

Taking quiet steps in your combat boots on the gravel, you grasped at the bag slung across your shoulder as you spotted your opening. With a running start, you jumped up, grabbed onto the ladder, and began to climb.

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Nightwing followed you for the fourth week in a row. This time, your escapades brought you to Falcone's nightclub, with some creep who wouldn't stop running his hands over the open back of your corset top. Dick had half a mind to knock him out there and then each time you stiffened from his hand, brushing your skin.

Wearing an all-black outfit which helped you blend in, you hiked your makeshift mask covering your face. You used the railings to scale your way up the roof with practiced ease. Either gymnastics or calisthenics - if Dick had to guess. Either that, or the mandatory self-defense classes at Gotham Law had incorporated parkour into the syllabus. Brushing his chin with his fingers, he perched casually on a nearby rooftop.

Silently lifting yourself up and positioning yourself on a rooftop that overlooked a large window, behind which Falcone and his men were gathered around a table. Dick watched you pull out a camera from your bag and begin to snap pictures. Like you were some kind of private investigator.

Dick watched patiently. He's seen you do this several times now. He was curious where this was heading this night.

Silence and the howl of wind replaced the club’s thumping bass, and for a moment, you felt utterly alone - until you heard the faintest shuffle above.

Instantly, you rolled out of the way just as a fist came down to the spot where you just were. You got up, hid your camera in your bag, and assessed the assailant. Only one. Good. That you can handle.

You dodged the following blow as well, dropping to your hands and swiping your leg under both of his, knocking him off balance. He went down fast, and you took out the taser you always had in your pocket, bringing it to his neck and activating it until his body began to shake. You held it long enough for him to pass out. Then, you held your hand to his neck, making sure you found his pulse, ensuring he was still alive before you walked on, taking your camera back out.

As you continued snapping the pictures, what you didn't see were the two other bodyguards approaching you on the roof.

Good thing Nightwing did.

Out of nowhere, you were grabbed around your waist and flung onto a higher up rooftop, and away from the meeting. "Hey!-"

"Quiet." A deep voice orderer in your ear.

When you two landed on another rooftop, you stumbled and caught yourself on the rubble. You turned around, facing your new assailant.

Momentary shock took over as you were met with THE Nightwing. The protector of bludhaven, glowering down at you with a disappointed look under his mask.

"Nightwing!" You choke out.

"The one and only." He confirmed.

You've never seen him in person, never mind standing inches away from him. Your initial shock wore off to make room for anger of your own. "Look... thank you for saving me, but I don't need your help."

He smirked like you just made a joke, then gestured behind you, tilted his chin. "Turn around."

Tentatively, you turned and faced the street, away from him.

"Look down, down at the alleyway." He said. "See those guys patrolling outside the club with their M16's?"

You strained your eyes, trying to see what he was referring to. "No..."

"Exactly." He came to stand side to side with you, taking something out or his utility belt and holding it up to you. Upon initial inspection, you concluded it was a lens of some sort, and you brought it up to your eye. The lens did show a pair of bodies walking back and forth behind a brick wall. Heat sensors.

Embarrased, you handed him the lens. You took a breath, steadying yourself under his intense gaze. Heart pounding, you wondered why his presence felt just as dangerous as comforting.

"It sucks. Doing what I do. Not everyone can." He said.

"I'm not trying to do what you do." You defended yourself. "I'm no vigilante."

"Why do you need these pictures?"

You follow his gaze down to the camera clutched in your hands. "That's confidential,"

He then stood face to face with you. Or rather, face to chest with his frame dwarfing you. "Are you a P.I.?"

"No." You huffed, hoping your raised brow will stop any more questions. "Thank you for saving me. See you around." Then you hopped down the rails and to the ground.

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You pushed open the door to your apartment, stepping in still in your club clothing. The corset top was dirty and pulled out of your leather tights, which tore at some point during your escapades, and your feet were in immeasurable pain from walking in those boots all night. You were tired as you tossed your keys into a bowl and locked the door.

A man cleared his throat behind you. "So this is where you live," Nightwing stepped into your living room.

Your voice hitched, and you jumped, rushing to switch on your lights. You stumble over your heals and nearly fall. He caught you around your waist and stabilized you.

"What were you doing at Falcone's club?" He asked, eyes searching your apartment.

"Did you follow me?" You asked, tone incredulous.

"Didn't have to," he pulled up a piece of paper and held it to you.

Your eyes widened. "Is that my car insurance?"

"Mhmm," he nodded, walking to your kitchen and flipping through the papers on your counter. "Pro tip: when you go on patrol, don't bring ID. Otherwise, the mask becomes obsolete." He grinned and picked up an envelope. "Ah cute, your children's hospital donation went through."

You snatched the envelope from his hand. "Give me that! And get out of my house!"

He tisked and shook his head. "Not before you tell me when you were doing following Falcone."

"I- I already told you-"

"You told me fuck all." He interrupted. "Now, I know exactly who you are, miss. L/N I know everyone you've ever met and how to find them. Easily."

He stalked closer, the shadows of your dimly lit room casting sharp angles on his face. “Now ill ask you one more tim. What were you doing at Falcone’s club?” His voice was low, the threat behind it unmistakable, and for a moment, you wondered if Nightwing was as dangerous as the people he fought.

You gulped, straightening your neck. "Look, nightasshole-"

He snorted.

"You're breaking and entering." You continued. "I could call the cops on you."

He grinned, wondering if he should let you, only for his phone ring when you dialed. Then, he set the idea aside. "That building you were on when you were snapping your pictures belongs to Falcone. You were on private property without permission. I'm sure a lawyer would know what the name for that is,"

Your shoulders sagged as you lowered your gaze. "Trespassing."

"Very good." He said. "So go ahead and place that call, y/n." He shrugged. "Tell them that Nightwing, identity unknown, address unknown, broke and entered into your house." You approached you, his tone sharpening. "Meanwhile, I'll place my own call. About Y/n L/n, from apartment 2a on 21 Nelson rd. For trespassing on Carmine Falcone’s private property. We'll see how long you get to keep your license."

Your eyes widened in shock. Would he really ruin your career over this? And all of a sudden, the mantle of "protector" became subjective in your mind. You swallowed nervously, regarding him with unease.

In a sudden move, you raised your knee, aiming straight for his groin, hoping to take him by surprise.

He was way ahead of you, and he dodged your knee along with the follow up attacking from your punches and kicks.

You were backed up against the wall, one of his hands easily held both your wrists above your head.

"Cute," he murmured, his voice mockingly soft, as though you're struggling amused him. "Should I be insulted that you think you can fight off Blüdhaven’s ‘protector’? Those defense classes they make you lawyers take get worse and worse each year -"

You collided your forehead with his nose.

"Shit!" He swore, then huffed a laugh, raising his free hand to wipe at the trickle of blood trickling from his nose, and looked down at his hand. The distraction you hoped for wasn't effective as you struggled against his hold, which was rock solid.

"I think you broke my nose." He said as a matter of factly. "How's your head?"

"Fine!" You snapped at him, fighting to keep your vision from blurring at the edges. That was the wrong angle to use, you thought, cursing yourself for forgetting the lessons you got from your self-defense training.

"Yeah?" He sounded doubtful. "Not throbbing anywhere? Like over here," he gave a gentle tap to your temple.

"Ow!" The point he pressed shot excruciating pain throughout your head, and your vision blurred even more.

"Yeah, valiant effort on your part." He commented, his voice growing more and more muffled as you struggled to... to...

He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes. "Hey, hey, no. No falling asleep. You gave yourself a concussion."

"Get... out of my home," you slurred.

"Can't do that either." He sighed. "I'd be leaving you for dead." He grinned. "That wouldn't be very heroic of me."

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Well, this is certainly the most creative way he had to keep a woman up all night, Dick thought to himself, bringing the smelling salts up to your nose.

"Ah, christ!" You exclaimed, jerking away from the violent stench. "Why do you even have these with you?"

"You'd be surprised how often head injuries can occur in my line of work." He explained, putting them away. "I've had to keep myself awake after a lot of brawls."

You nodded, eyeing him wearily. It was so odd how casual he was acting about this entire situation. You felt like you were a prisoner in your own home, with him as a friendly warden.

"How's your nose?" You asked, your hands rubbing your temples to try and ease the pain.

"Eh," he shrugged, looking at his reflection on your phone. "I've had worse."

He demanded on staying until he confirmed you were better. When the throbbing stopped, he did a quick assessment of your vitals using some kind of gadget you've never seen before.

The following afternoon, you came back to a package resting on the pile of mail on your kitchen counter.

There was a note on top, scrawled in sharp, hurried letters: "Thank me later."

Suspecting who it might be from, you carefully turned the folder over, spilling its contents—a stack of photos showing Carmine Falcone in a close conversation with Owen MacKenzie, the owner of MacKenzie Buildings.

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Present Day

"Let me guess," Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against his desk. "You’re suggesting there’s a connection between MacKenzie’s death and his meeting with Falcone."

You nodded. "Just speculation for now, but it’s no secret Falcone’s been after those developments. I think he made MacKenzie an offer he didn’t like, and the next day…"

Dick’s gaze narrowed, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his desk. "So, what do you need from me?”

"You have access to the autopsy report," you replied, leaning forward. "If we can prove it was murder we can keep those properties out of Falcone’s hands.”

He studied you, scratching his head. "That’s making a lot of assumptions."

“Which is why I came to you,” you pressed, holding his gaze.

He raised a brow, lips quirking in mild amusement.

"If we’re right, we could keep dozens of families from getting pushed out onto the streets," you said, more earnestly.

After a long beat, Dick sighed and nodded. "I’ll see what I can do."

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Later That Night

Either that concussion affected your memory, or it dulled your self-preservation instincts, Dick mused as he watched you. He couldn't fathom why you kept diving headfirst into life-threatening situations.

You climbed the scaffolding at an abandoned construction site, slipping past rusted barriers until you reached the eighth floor. Perched on a narrow ledge, you crept toward a makeshift office in the corner. Little more than a desk and chair surrounded by half-finished walls. Kneeling, you pulled out a lock-picking set and made quick work of the drawer, glancing over your shoulder once before opening it.

A low chuckle sounded behind you. "Not a shred of self-preservation in that cute little body."

You jumped, heart pounding, and spun around to find Nightwing leaning casually against a support column, arms crossed over his chest.

"God," you muttered, trying to steady your breathing, "I thought you were a -"

"Bad guy?" He chuckled, tilting his head. "What exactly would you have done if i was?"

"Maybe tase you," you shot back, turning back to sift through the documents in the drawer.

In two strides, he was beside you, looking over your shoulder at the papers. "What are we looking at?"

You glanced up at him, momentarily struck by his proximity. It took a beat too long for you to refocus, the sheer size and quiet intensity of him throwing you off balance.

"I’m looking for a ledger or a blueprint - anything tying this site to MacKenzie."

Nightwing raised a brow. "The project’s been transferred to Falcone. Announced just this morning."

"Do you believe that?"

He sighed, arms crossed. "Alright, trouble. Enlighten me - what’s your theory?"

"You really need me to spell it out?" you asked, arching a brow.

He smirked. "You think Falcone’s behind MacKenzie’s death."

You nodded. "A friend in Blüdhaven is working on getting me his autopsy report, and - "

"Oh, a friend?" he interrupted with a teasing tone. "Must’ve gone through all the right channels to get that, yeah?"

You frowned. "Of course."

He leaned in, the playful spark still in his eyes. "You know, a real friend would’ve gotten it for you just cus. No questions asked."

You stifled a blush, hoping your mask hid the heat rising in your cheeks. His gaze softened as it lingered on you, just a shade too long, his lips curling in a way that made your pulse quicken.

You were overcome with a need to defend Dick after Nightwing’s comment. "He's more noble than you," you said.

And oh god, if the irony alone didn't make Dick want to burst out laughing. Pull yourself together, he said to himself.

"Did anyone ever tell you." His voice was lower now, softer. "You have really pretty eyes."

Thrown off, you glanced away, muttering, "Just… let me know if you see anything with MacKenzie’s name on it."

A low ding from the far end of the floor interrupted your sentence. You both froze, watching as the elevator doors slid open, and heavy footsteps echoed into the hollow silence. You quickly locked the drawer and put everything back in place.

Before you could even react, Nightwing’s arm was around your waist, pulling you back toward the edge of the building. He fired his grappling hook to the floor above, tugging you both up to safety. His hold on you was firm yet controlled.

Landing, you were acutely aware of every inch of him pressed against you, his gaze unreadable as he raised a gloved finger to his lips, signaling for silence. You swallowed, pulse racing, unable to tear your attention away from the solid, unyielding warmth of him beside you.

"Destroy every file on that table," a voice ordered. "Burn it all if you have to. I don’t want any trace left of his fingerprints here."

Your eyes widened. Proof that MacKenzie had been involved after all. You looked up at Nightwing, who nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of the moment.

The voice spoke again, sending a thrill of hope through you. "And make sure they do the same over at the south location. We don’t need loose ends."

Your eyes met Nightwing’s, urgency clear in your expression. There was still a chance to get evidence.

The smell of smoke drifted up from the floor below, mingling with the crisp night air as flames started licking up from the table and chair. You looked at Nightwing, panic flashing in your eyes. He didn’t move until the elevator dinged again, signaling the men’s departure.

"We need to get to that second site," you whispered, barely able to contain your urgency.

Nightwing’s gaze hardened, his earlier playfulness replaced by a steely resolve. "I need to get there. You’re going home."

"But-"

"No buts," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You want to help these people? Stay out of sight and leave the dangerous work to me. Trust me. This is my city."

For a moment, you considered arguing back, but something in his gaze warned you not to push him further. Instead, you gave a reluctant nod, allowing him to guide you away.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

There was a knock at your window.

You look up from your phone, already ready for bed in your pijama shorts and tube top. You see his outline through the glass as you aproach the window, already half-expecting bad news as you open it cautiously. You are met with Blüdhaven’s protector, leaning on the rail of your balcony, clutching his side, blood seeping through the cracks of his suit.

"Hey," he rasped, short breathes coming out of cut lips with a pained smirk as he raised a USB. "Got your evidence."

"You’re bleeding," you said, your voice a mix of shock and concern.

"Only a little," he grunted, but when he stumbled, you caught his arm, guiding him inside before he collapsed entirely. "You should see the other guy."

He helped you remove the top of his suit, leaving him bare to his hips. You tried not to linger too much on the ridges of hard-defined muscles lining up his chest, arms and stomach - it was a challenging endeavor.

Your hands moved carefully as you cleaned the gash on his side, trying not to let your worry show. "You should’ve gone to a hospital."

"They ask too many questions," he said with a wince but tried to smile. "And I’d rather have you play nurse."

Huffing, you rolled your eyes, but his words sent your pulse racing. You could feel his breath close to your cheek as you look down, the faint brush of his gloved fingers against your arm as you worked.

"Ive got a first aid kit. One moment." You said, getting up and bringing the white box that was kept on the top of your bookshelf. You've had some practice stiching up wounds back when your little siblings would get scrapes on the playground. You even wanted to be a doctor when you were a kid. Before you decided studying law was more interesting. Especially in a city like Bludhaven.

He drew in a gasp as you carefully threaded the needle, stitching up his wound. Finishing up, you placed a gauze bandage around the affected area, tisking. "You should still go get it checked out."

His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, making you look up at him. Your eyes flickered to his, and for a second, wondering what color they were behind his mask.

“You dont need to worry about me,” he said softly, his fingers coming to play with the hem of your crop top. Your skin tingled where his touch brushed you. "But... I like that you do."

His words hung in the air, and your pulse raced as his gaze dropped to you lips, then back to your eyes.

“We shouldn’t-” you started, but before you could finish, his hand slid up under the back of your shirt, his warm fingers sending tingles along their path.

“I know,” he whispered, but then he pushed you towards him, lips pressing softly against yours.

Your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You took a moment to orocess the fact that you were kissing a stranger. It coukd be anyone under that mask. The need to know clawed at you.

"Nightwing?" You asked.

"Yes, trouble?" He wispered, lowering his lips to lay kissed down your neck.

You felt your cheeks warm as your shoulders rose. "D-do you do this often? Sleep with people you save?"

He grinned then, nipping your earlobe as his hand, covered in calluses and scars reached around you, pulling you onto his lap. Gasping, you could feel his hardness on your silk shorts.

"Only when they take such good care of me." He asnwered, grinding up against you, brushing your sensitive clit in the process. "You know, to return the favor."

You gasped and he repeated the movement a few more times, until you were riding him still separated by your layer of clothing.

"You're gonna open -" You wimpered when a particularly long brush of his Dick sent a powerful sensation down your core. "-Your stitches. This... this isn't a good idea."

"It's a good thing you're here to fix me up then, isn't it?" He challenged, an evil grin playing at his lips.

You moaned and shook your head, still trying to think logical. "It will hurt."

"It hurts more not being inside you now, trouble." He wispered- no, whined- as his lips brushed your ear. "Please, put me out of my misery."

His finger slipped under your shorts and between your folds. "Fuck-" He caught his lower lip between his teeth, the bit leaving a beautiful read mark on his gorgeous lips. "You're so wet, trouble."

Unable to look away from him, you whimpered as his fingers brushed your insides.

"I dont even know who you are," you wispered in disbelief, more so to yourself than to him. "I don't even know your name,"

A small, curious part of him wondered how you'd react if he pulled off his mask and presented you with the very same face that's been working with you this past week at the station. Your "good friend" detective Grayson.

"I'm no one," he said instead.

A minute later, his suit was discarded on your carpet, along with your pijamas, as the two of you gasped and writhe against each other on your couch. You were riding him, the feeling of him filling you up was extacy. And his view provided him with an image of you panting on top of him, red lips parted as your hair fell in messy stands around your face and shoulder. "Trouble," he moaned. "You're so fucking sexy. Oh my god."

"Thanks, you like... a seven." You joked, then squealed, arching your back as he rose and bit your collarbone, driving into you hard.

"For that," he growled, a wolfish grin playing on his lips as he eyed the new bite mark forming on your skin. "I'll keep you up all night."

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

"Y/n?"

You looked up from your computer to see your co-worker standing nearby, balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of files. She offered you a shy smile.

"Detective Grayson from the station is here for you."

"Oh, thank you!" you replied, quickly standing and smoothing your skirt and blazer. Nearly tripping in your heels, you mentally scolded yourself for coming to work instead of calling in sick; you could’ve used more sleep.

At the front entrance, Dick waited in uniform, coffee in hand, his usual bright smile already in place.

"Good morning," you greeted him with as much energy as you could manage.

"Morning," he replied, grinning. You couldn’t help but wonder what he put in his coffee to always look so chipper.

He held up a folder. "Here are the autopsy reports you asked for."

Your eyes lit up. "You got them? Amazing!" Taking the folder, you looked up at him gratefully. "Thanks, Dick."

"Happy to help," he said, dimples appearing as he smiled down at you. "I’ve got to get back, but let me know how the case goes, yeah?" He turned toward the elevator, giving you a casual wave.

"I will! Have a great day!"

As you watched him leave, someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around, you found Lily standing there, a slightly nervous expression on her face.

"Hey," you said slowly. "Is everything okay?"

Saying nothing, she took your arm gently and lifted her phone, angling the camera so you could see yourself in selfie mode.

Your hand shot to your mouth in shock.

Clear as day, a bite mark peeked out from your collarbone. "Oh god."

You felt your face heat up as realization hit. How many people had already seen that? And oh god! Dick definitely saw it too!

Meanwhile, in the elevator, Dick allowed himself a small, satisfied grin.

#batman #batboys #dick grayson smut #smut #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing

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darlingdaisyfarm · 3 months ago

Text

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 1 | part 2

NSFW (mdni)

There’s something about Gravity Falls in the autumn that feels like a secret the world only tells to those who stay long enough to hear it. The air smells like damp pine needles and earth, the leaves of the trees cover the ground with a carpet of golden, rusty and red shades. Mornings here are misty, cold enough that you can see your breath, but not quite winter's chill. It’s the kind of cold that makes you want to wrap yourself in something soft, makes you crave warmth. It’s a cozy time.

Gravity Falls in the fall is just. . . different.

In the late afternoon, the rays of the sun break through the crowns of the trees, flooding everything with a lazy golden light. And sometimes when you’re out by the edge of the Shack, you catch a glimpse of deer moving quietly through the woods, their dark eyes watching you with curiosity before disappearing into the shadows of woods.

The Mystery Shack is the same, just a little too quiet now that the kids have gone back to California. It’s not empty, not really, but there’s a weight to the silence. Mabel’s infectious laugh and Dipper’s constant questions replaced by the softer, quieter rhythm of life with the twins. You’ve been here for months now, long enough that the place feels like home. Especially when the twins, Stan and Ford, are around. But that’s where it gets complicated.

It’s Ford.

You’ve fallen for him. Hard. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s so much older and you know you shouldn’t, there’s no logical reason for it, no sense in how your heart races every time he looks at you or how your stomach flips when you catch a glimpse of him doing something, like sorting through research papers or tinkering with one of his strange gadgets.

But god, it’s the way he wears that red turtleneck, isn’t it? It clings to him in a way that makes your thoughts go to places they shouldn't. It’s so simple, so casual and yet it wrecks you. Every time you see him in it, you feel the warmth between your legs. You don’t even realize how much it’s affecting you until you're practically soaked, wishing he’d notice. Wishing he’d touch you.

It doesn’t help that he’s so damn wise, so much older and that age difference? The way he corrects you, not in a condescending way, but so softly, so patiently. Like that time when you were trying to help him with some gadget, fumbling over wires and he came up behind you, placing those big hands over yours.

“No, not like that. Here, let me show you.”

His voice was so calm, so gentle, and his hands. . . they just took over. His touch was firm but careful, like he knew exactly how to handle you and it made you melt right there on the spot. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning because holy shit, how could he not feel what he was doing to you? His breath warm on the back of your neck, his fingers touching yours with just enough pressure to make your knees feel weak.

It’s pathetic how much you crave that. How much you want him to just take control, to manhandle you a little bit, gently, of course. You can imagine it so clearly: him pressing you up against a wall, those strong hands pinning your wrists above your head, his mouth on your neck, groaning something about how you’re “too young for this”, how he shouldn’t, but fuck, you know he wants to. You can see it in the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his fingers sometimes twitch when you're near, like he's resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

And it’s not like you’re subtle either. Maybe that’s why you’re out here now, watching him from the window as he rakes up leaves in front of the shack. It shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t make your mouth go dry, but it does. It really fucking does.

Because it’s Ford and every single thing about him makes you ache.

For example, Ford’s in the kitchen, humming under his breath while he chops vegetables with a methodical precision that’s so him. You’re sitting at the table, scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the fact that just watching him move around the kitchen has you practically dripping. God, how does he do that? He’s not even trying to be sexy, just making dinner in that stupid, red turtleneck and apron Mabel had given him. . . and here you are, practically imagining yourself on your knees, begging for it.

You hear him muttering something to himself as he stirs the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration, but your attention is broken when he turns to you with that familiar, slightly exasperated look on his face.

“You know,” he says calmly. “these phones. . . they just eat up time. Back in my day, we didn’t have things like that. We actually talked to each other during dinner.”

You laugh, because of course he would say something like that. Ford, being thirty years in another dimension, has no clue what the modern world is like and it’s just adorable, yes. But you’re also too busy imagining all the things you’d rather be doing with your mouth than explaining social media to that old man.

Still, you put the phone down because something about his tone always makes you want to listen. Maybe it’s the way he says things, like he’s so much older and knows better, and you can’t help but get a little turned on by the way he’s so gentle when he scolds you.

He moves past you to grab something off the counter and when he leans close, you catch a familiar blend of pine and old book scents. It makes your thighs clench together involuntarily because now all you can think about is how you’d kill to taste him. To kneel in front of him while he’s still wearing that turtleneck, his eyes watching you as you take his cock in your mouth, sucking him so slow, so deep, until he can’t help but grip your hair and guide you.

Your hand twitches in your lap, resisting the urge to touch yourself right there at the table, but fuck, it’s hard not to when he’s right there, all casual and focused on making dinner like he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.

You shift in your seat as your thoughts get dirtier. Like how it would feel to straddle his lap while he’s working on his journals, his big hands on your hips, holding you as you ride him slow, dragging your cunt along his cock while he tries to concentrate on his notes. You can picture it so clearly, his jaw clenched, brows knit when he’s trying to stay focused, but fuck, he’s too close to losing it, too close to breaking and finally giving in, flipping you over and taking you.

“Are you alright?”

Ford’s voice pulls you out of your fantasy, he looks at you curiously, like he knows something’s up but can’t quite put his finger on it. You must look like a wreck right now, all flushed and flustered.

The next morning, even after you spent the whole night touching yourself afterwards, you still can't get enough. Your fingers working desperately between your legs, hips arching up off the mattress, trying to keep quiet even though the need clawing at you is making it impossible. You’re soaked, drenched in the thought of him, Ford, in that damn red turtleneck, that stern look on his face when he’s focused on anything other than you. You want to shove that look right off his face, make him fall apart, make him whine your name.

It’s shameful, really, the way you’re so gone over him. The age gap shouldn’t do this to you, but it only makes you hotter, messes with your head in the best way. He’s older, so much smarter, more experienced, and all you want to do is kneel at his feet and beg him to show you exactly what all that experience feels like. You think about his rough hands gripping your hair while you choke on his cock, that raspy voice telling you to take it, all of it and when you obey, next thing you hear is “that’s it, such a good gi—“

Fuck, your breath catches, and you’re so close, rubbing your clit faster, thighs trembling. Your whole body feels tight, ready to snap, your mind filling with images of Ford pinning you down, fucking you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, until you—

“Hey, can you come in here for a second?”

His voice breaks through your fog like a fucking bomb exploding. Your eyes wide in shock, your body jerks, because you’re so close to cumming you could scream. “Shit,” you whisper harshly, hands flying off your slick cunt like you’ve been burned, heart hammering in your chest.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It takes you a second to pull yourself together, to stop panting like you’ve just run a marathon. You wipe your wet fingers hastily on the bedsheets, muttering, “Coming, Ford,” though not the way you wanted to.

You get up on wobbly legs, your body still buzzing, still so damn close it’s torture and you head toward the kitchen, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to make a difference. How the fuck are you supposed to face him now?

Ford’s sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him, and his eyes flicker up to you the second you walk in, what makes your stomach flip, your heart pounding in your chest.

You’re trying so hard to act like nothing’s wrong, like you weren’t just moaning his name touching yourself five seconds ago. “What’s up?” you ask, even though your voice is shaky, your mind still spinning. Your thighs press together, trying to dull the ache that hasn’t gone away.

Ford looks at you for a moment longer, like he’s trying to read you and it makes you panic inside. God, you hope he doesn’t know. “I found something interesting in the woods today,“ he says, that familiar thoughtful tone returning. “It looks like an anomaly of some kind, a gravitational distortion, but it’s hard to be certain without taking a closer look. Normally, I’d go with Dipper, he was always eager to go anomaly hunting with me over the summer, but now that he’s gone back to California, I thought. . .” Ford pauses. “maybe you’d be interested in coming with me tomorrow to check it out?” he glances up at you and for a moment, his gaze softens in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat, just the way he looks at you when he says it makes you nearly collapse.

He’s so fucking hot without even trying.

Your heart’s pounding for a whole different reason now. “Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to sound casual, like you weren’t just fucking yourself into oblivion a minute ago. “I mean, I’m no Dipper, but I’d love to help!”

Ford’s lips curve in an approving smile, and it’s almost painful how beautiful he looks when he does that. Like a reward for doing something good. God, you’d do anything to get more of that look from him.

He watches you for a moment, his brows knitting together like he’s thinking too hard. “Are you alright? you seem. . . a little distracted.” his voice sounds way too caring, the edge of concern mixing with that sharp, authoritative tone that always makes your knees weak.

Oh, if only he knew just how distracted you are.

Well, now you don’t know how you ended up out here, freezing your ass off, trudging through the woods with Ford while he’s talking about electromagnetic fields and spatial distortions. The chill bites into your skin, and of course you didn’t think to bring a jacket, because why would you, when you were too busy fantasizing about him fucking you senseless? You were so distracted by that goddamn turtleneck and the way his hands move when he talks that you didn’t even consider how cold it might get. Now you’re out here, shivering like an idiot, trying to keep up with him while your body is screaming for warmth, for heat, for him.

Ford doesn’t seem to notice your suffering. He’s in his element, rambling about science and anomalies, gesturing toward the trees like he’s uncovering some deep cosmic truth. And you want to care, you really do, but all you can think about is how fucking good he looks in that tan coat, how his hands would feel on your skin, holding you still, keeping you steady while he. . .

You try to focus on his voice, but it’s useless. Your mind is gone, stuck on the idea of him pushing you against one of these trees, ripping your clothes off, his six fingers bruising into your hips while he pounds into you, telling you to take it, like you were made for him.

You grit your teeth, the cold biting at your cheeks as you shake off the thought or try to, anyway. It’s fucking useless. Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you sink deeper into fantasy. You can’t help it; you’re obsessed and he doesn’t even know.

". . . and that's when I realized that the energy trail was much stronger than I had originally assumed,” Ford continues, but to you his voice is distant, like you’re hearing it through water. You’re so far gone in your own head that you almost miss it when he asks, “Are you alright? You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Fuck. You blink, realizing he’s staring at you now, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. You clear your throat, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just picturing his cock inside you two seconds ago. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. Just, um, a little cold.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to your arms, bare except for your thin shirt, and his brow furrows in that disappointed way. “You didn’t bring a jacket?” he asks in a stern lecturing tone, voice strict and that drives you insane.

You cringe inwardly. Of course he’s going to scold you. You love it. “I. . . forgot,” you admit, feeling like a damn child being corrected.

He huffs softly, shaking his head. “That was careless. You should know better by now, especially given the weather this time of year.” he sighs, but without further ado takes off his coat and hands it to you. “Here, put this on. We still have a ways to go.”

You take the coat, feeling the warmth spreading through your body — not only from the fabric, but also from the fact that it belongs to him. It smells like him, this subtle blend of his favorite coffee and old books, and you pull it around yourself, feeling the weight of it settle on your shoulders. It’s too big, swamping you completely, but somehow that just makes it better. You’re wrapped in him now and it’s driving you crazy.

“Thank you, Ford,” you mumble, pulling the clothes tighter around you. The cold air is still biting at your skin, but now, with his coat on, you can almost pretend it’s his arms holding you close.

“You really should be more careful,” Ford continues, his voice taking on that fatherly, lecturing tone again. “Out here, exposure to the elements can be dangerous. Hypothermia can set in quickly, especially if you’re not properly prepared.”

You can’t help it, the way he talks, the way he corrects you, makes you want to drop to your knees right here in the dirt. It’s infuriating and so fucking hot at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you mutter, rolling your eyes even though you’re still so turned on it hurts. “I’ll remember next time, Professor Pines.”

Ford pauses, his eyes flickering to you at the sarcastic tone in your voice. “You’d better,” he grins.

Fuck, why does he have to be like this? All you can think about is him pinning you against a tree, that authoritative tone pushing you further into submission, his hands rough on your skin, his voice in your ear telling you how badly you need it, how good you’re going to be for him—

“Honestly, you seem. . . distracted, again,” Ford says, he stops walking, turning to look at you.

Shit. “What? No— I’m just tired.” how the hell are you supposed to concentrate when all you can think about is getting railed against a tree by the man who’s currently lecturing you about hypothermia?

Ford gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you for a second, but thankfully, he doesn’t push it. Instead, he just sighs, turning back toward the woods. “Try to focus, okay? this anomaly isn’t going to find itself.”

You bite your lip, nodding even though your mind is anywhere but on the anomaly. If only he knew what you were really thinking about. If only he knew how badly you wanted him to stop being so goddamn serious and just fuck you dumb in the middle of these woods.

The two of you finally reach the spot Ford had been leading you to, hidden deep in the woods, tucked between towering pines and thick underbrush. It’s a small clearing, but something about it feels. . . wrong. The air here is heavier, like it’s charged with something invisible. Ford crouches low, gesturing for you to follow him into the bush, and you drop down beside him, trying to keep your breathing steady, you watch as he surveys the area with full concentration.

“There,” he murmurs, pointing ahead of you. “do you see it?”

You squint through the branches, at first, you don’t see anything unusual, just trees and shadows. But then, something shifts. A flicker of movement catches your eye, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s wrong, like it’s not part of this world. It’s hard to focus on, almost like it’s glitching in and out of existence, flickering at the edges like static. You can barely make out its form, part animal, part shadow, part something else. It’s small, no bigger than a dog, but the way it moves, the way it breathes, feels unnatural.

“What. . . is that?” you whisper, leaning closer to Ford, your shoulder brushing against his.

He glances at you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Distortion in the structure of reality,” he explains quietly. “I’ve seen creatures like this before. They exist in pockets of dimensional instability, places where our world overlaps with others. Their form isn’t stable, which is why they appear, uh, fragmented.”

You stare at the thing, amazed. It moves silently, its body flickering like a bad signal, its limbs elongating and shrinking as it drifts through the clearing, unaware of your presence. You should be scared, but all you can think about is how close Ford is to you, how his voice sounds in your ear and how much you want to feel him right now. You can’t focus, not when he’s explaining these wild theories with that serious tone, making you feel like an idiot for not understanding.

“And what does it. . . do?”

Ford’s gaze remains fixed on the anomaly. “They’re typically harmless,” he murmurs, “but they’re drawn to specific atmospheric conditions. This one, for example, seems to respond to shifts in barometric pressure and electromagnetic fluctuations in the atmosphere. But more interestingly,” he pauses, glancing at the sky, “rain tends to destabilize them completely.”

You blink, confused. “Rain?”

Ford nods. “Rain disrupts their ability to remain in our dimension. The water molecules interfere with the dimensional rift that keeps them here. It’s fascinating, really. I’ve observed this behavior before, it’s as if the rain itself acts like a natural disruptor!”

You’re about to ask him more when, as if on cue, the first cold drops of rain start to fall, splattering against the leaves and the ground. Ford’s eyes widen and you glance back at the anomaly. The creature twitches, its form flickering more violently now, like it’s struggling to hold onto something.

The rain falls harder, and within seconds, the creature’s form starts to dissolve. It doesn’t vanish all at once, no, its body breaks apart in fragments, each piece flickering and glitching until there’s nothing left but empty air. One minute it’s there, the next it’s gone.

You stare at the empty clearing, rain dripping down your face, soaking into Ford’s coat. “It. . . it’s gone.”

Ford leans back slightly, his eyes still big in surprise. “The rain destabilized it completely.” there’s something in his tone, something deeper, like he’s not ready to leave yet. Ford wipes his glasses with the sleeve of his turtleneck.

The rain starts falling harder, drops turning into a full downpour that soaks everything in its path. You stand there, wrapped in Ford’s coat, but he’s not as lucky, his hair quickly becomes drenched, plastering to his forehead in thick, graying strands. The fabric of his red turtleneck clings to his body, outlining every muscle, every curve of his broad chest and shoulders. The rain slides down his skin, leaving little rivulets of water dripping from his neck, his hair curling at the edges, making him look even more handsome than he really was

You can’t stop staring. He’s just so damn hot, god bless him. You feel a rush of heat despite the cold rain, you bite your lip, fighting back the urge to push him against the nearest tree and kiss him.

Ford wipes his face again with the back of his hand, visibly irritated by the rain now. His expression grows more serious as he watches the empty clearing where the anomaly had been. The rain’s still coming down hard, and Ford’s soaked through, he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, but the rain keeps coming, relentless.

“We should head back, there’s no point in staying here now that it’s gone.”

There’s something different about his tone, more serious, frustrated, maybe? He turns, starting to walk back the way you came, and you follow, the tension between you is growing. It’s obvious he’s frustrated, his normally calm demeanor slipping just a bit, and you know it’s not just because of the rain. It’s the anomaly disappearing, vanishing right in front of him, after all that work.

You pull his coat tighter around you, trying to keep up, but it’s hard to focus on anything besides how good he looks, even now, soaked through and visibly annoyed. Every step now feels tense, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably, broken only by the sound of your boots squelching in the mud and the steady rhythm of the downpour.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the Mystery Shack. Ford’s steps quicken as he approaches the door, shaking the rain from his hair like an irritated cat before pushing it open. You follow him inside, immediately hit by the warmth of the indoors, the cozy smell of wood. The contrast between the cold, wet outside and the warmth of the Shack feels surreal, your skin prickling as you step out of your soaked boots.

You turn to Ford, feeling a little shy as you glance at him. “Thanks. . . for the coat,” you murmur in a soft tone, giving him a little smile.

He nods, still looking slightly annoyed, but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease a bit. “Of course,” he speaks. “you shouldn’t have come without proper gear in the first place.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll. . . I’ll make us some tea,” you offer, eager to warm up and maybe soften the mood between you two. “You want a cup?”

Ford glances at you, thinking, then nods. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

You head to the kitchen, still feeling the weight of your earlier thoughts clinging to you, but trying to shake them off as you busy yourself making the tea. The warmth of the kitchen seeps into your bones, and soon the kettle is whistling, the scent of the tea filling the air. You pour two cups, careful not to spill as you carry them back out to the living room.

But the moment you step back in, everything stills.

Ford’s standing there, his back to you, and he’s in the process of pulling off his soaked turtleneck, peeling the wet fabric off his skin, revealing his bare back, broad, strong, skin glistening from the rain. You freeze, eyes wide, the cup trembling in your hands. You almost drop it right then and there, the mug slipping slightly as you catch your breath, heart racing, your brain is an absolute mess

Holy shit.

Ford turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at you, completely unaware of the effect he’s having. You look down, watching the movements of his body, the way the muscles roll under his skin as he turns to face you fully now. You can see the soft gray hair on his chest, the way it leads down to the waistband of his pants, and suddenly, you’re not thinking about the tea or the rain or the goddamn anomaly anymore.

Ford glances at you, frowning slightly when he notices the way you’re standing there, staring at him, barely able to breathe. “You alright?”

You nod, “Y-yeah.” but you’re barely listening, the pounding of your heart too loud in your ears, your body too warm, too needy. All you can think about is how you want to tear the rest of his clothes off, feel the weight of his body pinning you down against the kitchen counter, hear him grunt your name as he ruins you. You’re imagining how he’d taste, how he’d groan as you took him in your mouth, his hands fisting in your hair, his hips pushing deeper until you're choking on him, eyes watering, but you’d love every second of it, because this is Ford.

You can barely stand on your feet and all he does is run a hand through his wet hair, oblivious. "You sure?"

And then you blink, realizing that you've been staring too long, but it's too late to back off.

#stanford pines x you #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines #gravity falls x you #x reader #Smut #gravity falls #ford pines smut #gravity falls smut #ford pines x reader #gravity falls stanford #ford x reader #ford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x you #gravity falls fanfic

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lxclerc · 1 year ago

Text

𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 | 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

summary... oscar is dating one of the world's biggest singer and no one can believe it request... yes note... i love oscar yall and you're not a real fanfic writer if you've never used gracie as a faceclaim faceclaim... gracie abrams

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername i've loved you 20 summers now, honey, but i want it all

view all comments...

user1 RUE WHEN WAS THIS

user2 WHAT HOW WHEN

user3 they were childhood best friends 😭😭

user4 i'm gonna need oscar's prayer reveal bc how the fuck

oscarpiastri and 20 more summers to come

⤷ yourusername sap

⤷ oscarpiastri ihy

⤷ yourusername 🖕🏻

⤷ oscarpiastri just kidding i'm actually madly in love with you

⤷ yourusername you better be

⤷ user5 okay but their energy >>>

landonorris so can you ask her for tickets orrrrr

⤷ oscarpiastri dude

⤷ landonorris im being fr

user6 YOURE TELLING ME NOT ONLY IS SHE TAKEN, SHE WAS TAKEN BY A VROOM VROOM BITCH???? brb kms

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and others

oscarpiastri there's a holy ground beneath them... 2 years ago, i got the courage to finally ask you out but i've loved you since before i knew what love was

view all comments...

user1 THERE'S A HOLY GROUND BENEATH THEM SPARKS FLY WHEN THEY KISS 😭

user2 fuck romeo and juliet i want what these bitches have

user3 brb im gonna check if my toaster is waterproof

landonorris now this is what i say hard launch

⤷ oscarpiastri what's a hard launch?

⤷ yourusername oh baby

arthurleclerc i've known for ages 😌

⤷ yourusername don't get cocky

user4 i'm fr gonna need to know how oscar did it

⤷ user5 the fact that they seem to have been best friends since toddler days probably helped

yourusername damn it you beat my post

⤷ oscarpiastri i'm just better than you

⤷ yourusername your head is getting bigger than your helmet

yourusername but i love your more than words can say

yourusername also i'd like everyone to know that it took him NINETEEN YEARS to figure out i'm actually the love of his life

⤷ oscarpiastri shut up

user6 THEY'RE ACTUALLY SO CUTE?????

user7 they got together TWO YEARS AGO but it took him nineteen years??? so they've literally known each other their whole lives 😭😭

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction

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reveluving · 7 months ago

Note

can i go rabid in your inbox…not a request just imagine billy x reader x kessler…🥴 the contrast of billy being rough but ultimately wanting you to feel good and finish, and kessler being faux sympathetic ‘aww, you poor thing :(((‘ and keeping it just out of reach…hell yeah

- the benny/rick puffing out chests anon (i still go back and read that! 🩵)

me: *sighing, opening the kessler gdoc I already had and scrolling to the bottom because you know damn well I’d elaborate on this. and a girl’s gotta eat too!!*

addict ; billy butcher x reader x joe kessler

includes: s~mut obv (minors DNI!)

a/n: okay but HOLY SHIT, BENNY/RICK CHEST PUFFING ANON??? IT’S BEEN WHAT, TWO YEARS SINCE THAT ASK? bless you, hun! I sincerely hope you’re doing well, please know I giggled and kicked my feet in my bed to this, and the fact that you still come back to the rick series!! 😭❤️

fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

smut includes: mm4f, size kink, ‘softer’!dom butcher & slightly meaner!dom kessler are equally nasty, petnames, dirty talking, cunnilingus, edging, overstimulation, sq~uirting, voyeurism & exhibitionism, spanking (once), brief mentions of age gap (legal & consenting!!), bj & unprotected s~ex (p in v), butcher & kessler are absolutely obsessed over you!!

Butcher had an obsession with the way you moaned in his ear as he had you on your back. His large frame concealed yours as his hips moved, his thrusts deep but his pace torturously slow. Like Kessler, he loved how your voice pitched higher each time he bottomed out into you, begging him to let you cum in incoherent murmurs. Seeing his team’s pretty little ace writhing underneath his old buddy was almost as exhilarating as any combined operation he had ever faced.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Butcher cooed condescendingly, tilting your head up by your jaw so Kessler, who was lazily pumping his cock as he sat on the chair he had dragged beside the bed could see your tears. If your eyes weren’t brimming with tears, blocking both your vision and mind, you would’ve tried to avert your gaze from Kessler’s heated ones.

“Billy, please…” You sobbed.

Butcher was dying to have you when it all started, and he would’ve had you first but he wanted to drag your orgasm. Make you yearn for release, only to cry out in frustration ever so cutely each time he slowed his pace, and despite what one would believe, he would’ve surrendered to your cries much quicker, giving you what you, or at the very least, teasing you just a little bit longer before giving you what you needed then and there. Offering you sweet kisses and even sweeter reassurance as he kissed your neck.

But Kessler wanted to put your limitations to the test, and you knew you were in for a wild ride when he suggested it with a playful glint in his eye.

Even so, he took great consideration for your well-being, immediately asking Butcher for the safeword and both of them reminding you to use it if you ever needed to stop at any point. A calm before the storm, before he pushed you onto the bed and restrained you with his arms on your thighs, then latched his lips onto your sensitive clit.

When Kessler had you on your back, flicking his tongue along your lips and grumbling into your pussy, causing your legs to tense and tremble, Butcher sat by your head. Leaning in to kiss wherever his lips could reach, praising you with zero filter while his hands alternated between roaming your luscious body to holding your hands to your head each time Kessler’s tongue had you particularly jumpy.

“Y'hear that?” Kessler lightly slapped your pussy, his fingers covered in your slick and his saliva the more he patted your sensitive bud. He and Butcher shared a chuckle, and you would’ve attempted to shut your legs if not for Kessler’s adamant grip.

Butcher needed in, so he sat behind you, pulling you onto his lap so he could be with you as physically close as possible.

With Kessler’s fingers glistening with your juices, he offered his digits to your lips.

“Go on,” Butcher rasped in your ear as brushed his beard along your shoulder, “Taste y’self, so you’ll know why I love tongue fuckin’ you just as much as he does.”

And one thing led to another, after Kessler edged you for a while, topped with the way Butcher squeezed your tits and had the audacity to tell you not to cum just yet, you were already mush in their arms. It wasn't until you looked up at Butcher with your glossy, puppy dog eyes that he convinced Kessler to spare you the torture.

But with how long they refused your orgasm, you couldn’t control the spurt that had the men who worshipped you the way America did with their golden boy laughing and cheering for your release.

“‘Atta girl,” Kessler praised, swiping and stimulating your sensitive folds to force the very last droplets of your juices into his mouth and chin, “Atta girl.”

You were practically melting in Butcher’s arms, letting him kiss your cheek, jaw and neck before turning your head to press his lips onto yours.

Kessler’s stubble tickled your thighs and hipbone, his calloused hands slowly sliding up your body before reaching for your hand. You felt his lips against the pads of your fingers before bringing them in between your legs. You felt Butcher smile against your lips when you whined at the embarrassing squelch, but they perked up at the noise.

“Up.” Butcher murmured as soon as he pulled away. You blinked sluggishly, seeing his eyes dart to your fingers. You brought your hand to his face and he immediately wrapped his lips around your fingers, unabashed with the sounds of suckling and groaning that mingled with Kessler’s. You were practically clenching around nothing, and before you could voice out your frustration, Butcher captured your lips with his once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Feels nice, right?” Kessler smiled when you practically jerked at his knuckle nudging at your clit. You weren’t even sure if he was asking you or Butcher, “Just gotta tough it out, bud.”

“Shut it.” Butcher scoffed, but God, did he need you and he needed you now.

Butcher shot Kessler a glare when the latter playfully slapped your ass, though they both knew Butcher didn’t mind it one bit. Not when you let out an irresistible yelp, a reaction they hoped to hear more when they switched places, with Butcher already in Kessler’s place, but not before removing his pants while Kessler decided to sit back. As much as he wanted to feel you once more, he didn’t want to miss any of your reactions if he were to ever lose himself in his own pleasure.

He knew he’d have just as much fun watching you front row seats, plus, he already had more plans for you soon. Whether he was going to have you once Butcher had his fill of you or if he would be impatient enough that he’d stand or kneel next to you so he could feel your perfect lips around his cock was uncertain.

But with how addictive you were, he and Butcher knew none of them could wait to have you whole.

a/n: I hope y’all enjoyed this little piece of our two hunks. it’s pwp ‘cause do we REALLY need a reason to go to town with them? SHIT I wanna hear more about them or at least kessler 😩 pls don’t forget to leave some sugar! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

If you don’t mind (tho ofc you don’t have to write it if you don’t wish to), could we get a pt 2 of that priest geto fic? Where him and reader have been secretly fucking every damn where but especially in the church ever since that night, they both realise they have a thing for breeding kink so they don’t bother with protection either. Obv they have to hide what they’re doing and reader secretly gets away from her house at night to get dicked down frequently. and he knocks her up so they ultimately run away together ( or somewhere along those lines it’s totally up to you)

We missed you!! So good to have you back :D

DOMINE DIRIGE NOS !

wc: 7.8k (when will the horrors stop) / first part here ✶

warnings: DARK CONTENT, LORE, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), christian references, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, brief mention of abortion, described scenes of f! and m! masturbation, face-sitting, fingering, clit stimulation, both f! and m! receiving oral, praise, mild degradation, sex in a religious place, semi-public sex (blowjob while geto is conducting mass oop), deep-throating, lots of unprotected p -> v sex, LOTS of creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, abandoning home, n*sfw under the cut

“father geto?” you curl deeper into geto’s back in the rectory, the uncomfortable mattress below you just reminding you of your upbringing in this suffocating town and the proximity of everyone. since that night, the two of you have been insatiable, using the House of the Lord for anything holy and instead are filled with violent moans and constant skin-slapping. even to you, the Church has started to look darker and darker, painted with the sin of Pandæmonium’s pillars, each time you enter it.

mass is all about locking eyes with the other, a game to see who falls first. sometimes you’d come in the shortest dress you can find, staring up at him from the second pew from under your eyelashes just like how you’d suck his cock. sometimes father geto would have his hair tied up, revealing his neck and jawline — the priest had not much to experiment with, but it took equal effect on you, anyway. clenched thighs, stuttered words, fluttering eyes.

father geto fortunately finds it easier to evade parishioners after doing his morning greetings to everyone; with another older priest who didn’t request the rectory, he could hide away to stroke at his cock all he wanted while the other took over the later masses. you, however, needed to reject the holy pastor ever so often to stop your mother from thinking vile of your absence.

it still was father geto, though, so whenever you mentioned his name after morning mass, she lit up like a switchboard, happily ushering you away to spend time because it was always encouraged to improve your faith.

— improving your faith in a non-existing god, perhaps.

“you don’t have to call me father when we’re alone, baby,” geto reassured, accommodating you when you turned around to meet him halfway.

“yeah?” you whisper, like someone could hear you. it was taboo, shameful even. the neighbourhood good girl with a deadbeat father coalescing with the newly transferred priest — it was the blasphemous, sent to be burnt at the pyre sort of sin. the rectory felt odd, your house felt odd; there was no place for people like the two of you, driven by lust and forbidden love and sin in the eyes of God, but what could people do when sin just felt so right?

you relish in the father’s gasp when you grind your butt against his crotch which are concealed behind his trousers, biting your lip with a smile when you catch his small grin at your mischief. you continue your ministrations, rolling your hips and bringing his hands to your chest. your clothing has become shorter and shorter ever since you convinced him of your little sin back in the confessional booth of skimpy tops and skirts. geto takes over, fingers slipping under your camisole to pull down your bra, fondling with your tits and playing with your nipples.

“sneaky little baby, hm?”

“s-suguru—” you whine, hips bucking and cunt already clenching. “need your cock, tongue, anything—”

“i’m getting there, doll, wait for me,” he pants, hurriedly unzipping his trousers. his erection is pulsing and throbbing by now, letting out a small sigh of relief when he finally pulls down his underwear, but you’re confused when you’re turned around and before you can reach to sit yourself on him—

“sit on my face first, darling,” he slyly smiles, beckoning you forward. here, father geto suguru looks anything like a pastor and if you close your eyes and listen, the repetitive tweets of the morning mass birds sound a little sweeter and the rushing water of the stream nearby remind you of a countryside house far away from your parents, your faith, your life. but forbidden has a time limit without the luxury of listening in, so you only settle for a pout when you hear the slick noises of him pumping his cock.

“you did say tongue,” he grins, “i don’t disobey scripture.”

“i’m not the Bible, suguru,” you jest with a small smile.

“you are scripture to me — anything you say and do, i’ll follow.”

and that’s the first time it’s truly cemented in you how much father geto was truly willing to throw away, but you hardly have any time to react before he easily settles one leg over and pulls you toward his mouth. it’s so violent, the way he loves you that there’s a small hmph that sounds from his throat when your sweet, wet pussy meets his mouth. after, it’s just endless groans as he laps at your clit while you fill the rectory with your sinful moans, grinding your hips into his mouth over and over while he just hums in agreement.

“that— that’s it, useme, useme—” it comes out slurred and slippery, just like your dripping cunt and his leaking cock, wet sounds that surround the both of you as geto’s tongue continue to assault your sensitive clit. he licks and sucks endlessly that you have no choice but to grab onto his hair for support and he does to same to both your thighs.

“father suguru—! hnfuck . .” you whimper out, looking down at him with hooded eyes while he meets you with the same intensity. below you are just streams and streams of your juices flooding his chin and hair; he just ever so lightly dips his tongue down to your needy cunt, plunging it in and your back arches involuntarily, “o-oh, god!”

geto laughs into your pussy, arm still clutching your thigh but the other goes back to his neglected dick, pumping it in time with his tongue as he swirls it around and you just clutch tighter and tighter. you definitely soaked through the sheets by now, but you follow his command, riding his face over and over until you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

“su— suguru, i’m g’nna . .” you moan out quietly, but your priest already knows what’s in store for him, abandoning his own ministrations entirely to please you as he pulls you all the way up to his face, positively cutting off his air supply in the process but he doesn’t care. he only suckles on your clit harder and with more pressure before switching to licking, abusing your puffy clit until you’re speechless and all that comes out of you are ah’s. “cumming, cumming— fuuckk . . !”

“cum on my tongue,” suguru manages to get out in between breaths, “give me all y’r cum, darling.”

those words are enough to send you over the edge, hitting your high with a soundless whine as your hips roll into his face and relentless torture, body continuing to convulse in his hold at the climax. if, before your continued praises sung God, now they were just full of father geto’s name, enunciated through the lips like a passionate blessing before mealtime. suguru, suguru, suguru, even Lucifer was ready to make ready his throne for the both of you.

“shit— sweet as always . .” father geto moans, slurping up all of your cum and making a mess, so much so that you’re giggling shyly at the lewd noises. you rest upon his heaving chest, noting wet patches that stain his black shirt — he came as well. “you treat me so good, don’t you, doll?”

your face twists, “i think i should be the one to say that, father geto.”

“don’t—”

“i like it. rolls off the tongue nicely,” you smirk, easily scooting downwards before settling your pulsing cunt onto his softening cock. but he knows you can get him up at any instance, just as you start grinding your clit along his shaft. the pleasure-filled moan he sounds out never gets old, echoed at the front of the Church of not, “father geto.”

all he shoots you is an unimpressed look, but he can’t keep his look up because the sight of you always inspires a thousand sermons and questions of morality.

“i like the dangerous aspect of it, father geto,” you reason with a sultry voice, grabbing his hardening dick and teasing his weeping tip along your folds. the both of you shiver. “it reminds me of how a holy man like you so easily fell for some pussy and got addicted to it.”

“pretty slut’s developing a dirty mouth,” he laughs, “carry on.”

“fucked a clueless, innocent girl in such a holy place,” you whined when his tip nudges past your pussy and into your gummy walls, spreading you open so deliciously.

“need my help?” you shake your head defiantly, sinking down slowly with calculated steps, gasps escaping your mouth as his cock continues to impale you inch by inch.

“and then claimed her right at the apse of the Church. on the altar, where bread is b-broken and wine is shared.” your eyebrows have knitted together from the pure stretch, descending down fully where you sit a little uncomfortably. no matter how many times you take him, he’s still big and full in you, needing a few moments to adjust as you wiggle your hips.

“can man prevent himself from chasing after his darkest desires?” father geto asks, bumping up his hips just a little and he grins at the little whine you let out.

“no, but God can,” you reason and yet you know you wouldn’t want anything to have changed between the two of you. you still would have wanted father geto’s downfall, you still would have wanted to see him stroking his cock behind the velvet curtains of the confession box.

you momentarily lock eyes with geto, drunk off the feeling of his length in you and the friction of your clit against his pelvis that you naturally gravitate towards him, feeling tired from all the grinding from earlier. he coos, receiving you without any judgement just like how a good priest should do and you feel most at home in his hug.

“what if my God is my darkest desire?” you barely make the connection before geto starts to thrust up into you, not too harshly but not too gently, either. you limp forward and just let him do the work, praising and worshipping you with every snap of his hips from below you.

“o-oh, baby, you’re so tight . .” suguru mumbles, littering kisses all over your neck and face while you struggle to keep yourself up, held up by your weak elbows as you try to meet his eyes. it’s the purple eyes you want to see as he fucks you dumb on his cock, full of lust and only on you as you drop all of your walls for him to enter. suguru tries his best, too, treating you as gently as he can out of the bedroom, which frankly isn’t much, but he tries. he brushes away your hair when it gets into your tongue during communion, he massages your knees in the rectory, he brings chocolate cake whenever he can.

he tries in the bedroom, too, but you are just too much for him. too much in the way that the devil’s whispers start to sound more and more like O Emmanuel and too much in the way he can feel the swell of his heart when even your name is mentioned. father geto doesn’t want to name it love, because in his position it will simply come off as manipulation, deceit.

father geto needs to know you are willing, too.

“father g-geto,” you whine, hands upon his face and sweat lining your brow, “faster, p-please—”

he chokes out a moan, “o-of course, sweetheart.”

you just feel so damn good, clenching so tightly around him that he cannot stop rutting his pelvis into you. he can feel the ripple of your ass with each thrust, the snugly fit tip hitting your g-spot ever so often to pull out the most beautiful moans from you. you’re both so wet and sloppy that you both can hear it — the squelching of your cunt paired with the pre-cum of his cock, mixing at your connected bodies in noisy pap! pap! pap!’s.

“s-suguruuu . . pleasepleaseplease.”

“whaddaya want, baby? words,” geto slurs as well, hips never stilling but now grinding in circles. his glutes and thighs burn but he won’t stop until you tell him what you want.

“i w-want your cum, inside me,” you mewl out like it’s a secret, like he hasn’t been cumming inside you for the past multiple times that you meet, “w-want you to breed me.”

suguru chuckles like it’s a dangerous bet, like he hasn’t emptied his balls deep in your pussy before, “you’re still on the pills, right, baby?”

ah . . the pills, that’s what you wanted to ask him to get more of at the beginning.

you nod hurriedly, “yes— i am, f-fuck—!”

“oh . . my darling’s close,” father geto grunts out, angling his hips so his cock reaches deeper in you, arms trapping you in an eternal embrace like Eve and the devil’s Serpent. you give him lazy, intoxicated kisses, sucking at the skin until there’s bound to be purple and he does the same to yours, albeit lighter.

“y . . yeah, i’m yours, suguru,” you whimper softly, voice breaking from the sheer pleasure once your hand sneaks in between to rub softly at your clit. you suck in a breath when both his cock and your hand find that sweet spot, moans suddenly overflowing into his neck with repeated “yes”’s and profanities until you cum with a cry of suguru’s name, juices spraying everywhere. it’s messy and filthy, your cum soaking his balls and staining the sheets.

“that’s it, thaaat’s it . . squirt all over my cock, baby,” geto continues to ram into your pussy as he praises, hips faltering in the slightest bit, “that’s a good girl.” it only makes you clamp down on his cock harder, making him hiss.

“i w-won’t last long, sweetheart—” he warns you but it’s not enough before he’s stilling in you, pupils blown wide as he shoots spurt upon spurt of hot cum into your cunt, filling you up to the brim as his cock twitches in you. you shiver at the feeling, breathing heavily in his arms as he continues to pump you full. slowly you recover but he stays plugged in, heading back to your position on elbows.

“she’s satisfied?”

you grin with a sigh, “very.”

“that’s all i ever want.” father geto smiles, gently bringing your head down for a gentle kiss on your lips. it turns heated soon enough, the gesture prompting your hips to move again on his very sensitive dick. but with the distant clack of shoe upon cobblestone that increases in volume, the both of you freeze.

“father geto?” it’s a boy’s voice, possibly one of the altar boys.

“what is it?”

the boy seemed to be relieved, as if stepping near the rectory was a sin in itself, “father nanami unfortunately can’t lead the night mass at eight tonight, will you be available?”

you shoot him a disappointed frown, but it is still his job after all. all he manages is a forehead peck.

“a-ah, yes, i am,” father geto thinks if it’s worth asking the next questions, “how many people usually show up to the night mass?”

“not too many, father geto, but it serves mostly the truckers and people in our town who have night shifts.”

you nod since you’ve never attended the night mass at all. father geto has conducted it; it was right on that fateful night where you had texted him about an unnamed confession.

“thank you, go in peace . .” geto shouts his reply and then looks at you with a small smile, speaking softly, “i have an idea.”

it’s only the afternoon when you make it back to your house for lunch before heading back out again like you planned with suguru earlier, following him from a safe distance until you’re out of earshot and sight of the congregation, even if no one was there. he kisses you gently in the sacristy, body pressed up against decades old of wooden cabinets and drawers. you have no idea what your priest has up his sleeve, so your eyes blindly follow his figure that brings out a toolbox proudly, taking out a hammer.

“don’t even know why the sacristy has a toolbox.”

“. . you’re insane,” your mouth drops open when he gives a hint of homily and sermon that you connect the dots, following him a little worried to the apse. there, stands the podium where he gives his readings and sermons, hands going straight for the board that’s nailed shut. turning the hammer around, using the claw at the back of it to remove the nails that hold it down, removing the nails of the lectern one by one with muscles bulking under his robes before it’s revealed.

“looks . .” he whistles lowly at the pristine condition of the wooden podium, “. . i forgot they gifted me a new podium when i transferred.”

“new priest privileges.” you nudge him in the side.

“i’m probably going to get transferred out soon, too,” he jokes with an arm around your waist, and in a perfect world, this would be the two of you looking at your newly built home in those terrible films. instead, you’re here, faced with temptation and sin.

“are you gonna be okay? we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to—” you cut him off with a hand to his crotch, sparing a glance towards the double doors. the church was small, yes, but there was still a good amount of people that attended it, even if the night mass garnered less.

“i’ll be okay, suguru. i’m wet just thinkin’ about it,” the other only hums at your revelation, bending down with you as you slot yourself into the dark place, pockets of light fighting to get in from the amateur job of the podium, “you better go prepare.”

“you’re a gem.” with a soft kiss to your forehead, father geto leaves just as the first parishioner shows up for mass: a whopping 43 minutes before the start of mass. you’re not surprised by the faith in this town, sometimes coming in to complete a rosary, do some extra prayers or partake in confession — but you realise you’re going to have to stay in this lectern for 43 minutes and more before he starts his homily. it’s a perfect fit, but trying not to rattle the box while adjusting yourself seemed to be the most difficult thing.

he had no helpers tonight, no altar boys, such a prime time to commit such a foul act in the eyes of God while he finishes up on the Gospel and you feel your fingertips tingling when he walks from the altar to the podium, dress shoes clicking against the wood of the floor of the rickety Church.

thank god the alb is huge and so is the podium, and thank god there aren’t any pews at the sides of the church. you know he spares some glances, too, so after a few moments of silence to reflect on the words of the Gospel, you’re lifting the alb right to where his boner was. you palm the area in wonder, at the clear sin of the act that you’re currently committing and this is all new to you apart from fucking when the place is empty.

“so big . .” it’s like he hears your whispers, cock twitching under your hold when you slowly remove it from his trousers, slotting his hardening dick through the boxers and zip hole without bringing too much attention. you trail your thumb over his tip that’s leaking pre, a difficult thing to see in such a dark place but you know it’s there when you kitten lick the mushroom tip.

you can hear a falter in his sermon, a stutter of words. leaning forward, you awkwardly switch onto your knees before wrapping your mouth around his length and it’s more clear now when you’re closer to the source of sound.

“. . ory of G-God, excuse me,” geto coughs as if he’s got something stuck in his throat, pulling at his chasuble that feels like choking him at the neck. your mouth continues its teasing, holding onto his thighs as you continue to suck on his fat cock. even now, you struggle to take it all in your mouth, pumping at the bottom while you bob your head. you can only pray that the broadcasted words of the sound system can cover up the obscene noises that your mouth makes.

“mmhh . . j—just, sorry,” the less-than-thirty church-goers don’t pay any mind when his hand snakes down from the top of the lectern toward you, offering his fingers and it’s like salvation after being stuck in there for God knows how long. you grasp at the hand, using your hand to stroke his shaft while you suck on his fingers. in a moment of bravery, you stick your head out as the other wills not to look down, but with a calculated glance to everyone that’s either asleep or zoning out, father geto rewards himself with one gaze while you switch from fingers to his cock.

“oh . .” he restricts himself before any pet name can escape, seeing your pliant mouth take all of him just like that first night but someone coughs and it snaps him out of the daydream, hand going back up.

“we should prioritise the Lord at every part of our day,” geto breathes heavily when he feels you deepthroat him, hands dripping the sides of the podium that you were sure the cheap wood would splinter under his grip. you focus on getting him in your mouth when he steps closer to you and you let out a small sound of surprise; he takes that small break to quickly bun up his hair, all wet from the sweat on his neck.

“mmf—!” there’s a small relief that leaves your priest’s mouth at having his tip hit the back of your throat, muttering a lot of uhm’s and repeated words. he wants to cum, and he wants to cum quick from how his hips thrust into your warm mouth, wanting to do away with conducting mass and to just be in your pliant pussy.

“. . a-and to make sure all our actions honour the Lord our Saviour,” his hips continue to move, continually buried up to the hilt in your mouth over and over as he fucks your mouth. you receive it willingly, hands taking action to play with his balls and that has his thighs tensing up. “and while you continue to live your life in praise—”

“f-fuck,” it’s whispered away from the microphone but you hear it, length twitching in response to your hands before you come off with to breathe. both hands stroke his cock while you suckle on the tip, driving him into insanity that he’s struggling to finish his sermon.

“you’ll be given the greatest graces in Heaven,” father geto shoots his cum down your throat and it’s so much, muscles pulled taut as he continues to buck his hips needily. you can feel him slump forward and out of breath while you continue to milk him and his words start to slur just a tad bit and while you clean him of his semen, you giggle to yourself under the podium as he gathers himself for another look down at you.

the final blow is how you stick out your tongue to show him the cum that’s left, a grin spreading that he just has to give you his hand again as you hold it gently, “—together in eternal life with God Almighty and Christ.”

“i hope i wasn’t too obvious on the lectern two weeks ago,” father geto laughs into your neck at your place, seemingly so long ago where he decided to step into your room and questioned your thesis on Paradise Lost. it felt like it was just last week he was bringing cake to your place, sitting in on dinner, walking with you around the town. now you sit in his lap in the living room of your house, unassuming because of the five day vacation that your parents decided to take. your mother stayed with your father for what, you never could figure out, but with the baby dropped off at the family across the street (your mother knew you’d be busy with university work) and them out to the next town, you did what every university student would do.

you sneaked priest geto in on sunday night, letting him take you on every surface he knew you’d spread your legs for him on, and now sat, freshly showered and the television turned down to a low, you could only hope this was what a life of matrimony could look like. all the dreams and fancy stories your mother tells you, you think you could twist this sick relationship and forbiddenness into something normal for at least five days if you convince yourself enough.

“you were stuttering on every sentence,” you mumble into his hair that starts to smell more and more like yours, arms encircled around his neck while he sits in a mere singlet. “you like my mouth too much.”

“ego te adoramus.” father geto hums quietly, pulling away from the embrace as he looks up at you and he sighs. if only he had found you sooner before starting his theology degree, before he could hear God’s call for him into priesthood. he would be happy being your childhood friend, anything.

“do you ever wish you weren’t a priest?”

geto swallows, brushing away the strands from your face and adjusts you on his lap, “sometimes.”

“my parents were open with my choice, as they always are, but they valued how much i liked to explore and try new things. they only said that i should choose this path carefully because they knew time is something that no one can get back,” he explains, hands stroking your sides carefully and you let yourself dream that you were just a normal couple, “some friends were weird about it, telling me i would miss having sex and whatnot, but i still value my relationship with God and the many things i’ve learned from my journey in the seminary.”

“but?”

“i didn’t expect to . . meet someone like you so soon,” suguru laughs when you shout a small hey!, feigning annoyance, “someone so bright, and loving and kind. someone that embodies what Jesus and the Church stands for, and something i’ve never seen in ages. unconditional compassion.”

“your praise is too heavy,” you swat away his hand, only attributing your disposition to your mother’s exemplary way of raising you, “is simple kindness that hard to see?”

“you shadow a lot of priests in conducting masses, baptising people, giving first communions, and you see a lot of personalities — some that are vile for people that regularly go to Church. it’s disheartening to see Christians who are clearly wrapped up in their privilege and pride and think they’re the most important religion to exist. you hear it in history books, through word of mouth.” geto looks just like a boy, frustrated with the world that he lives in that a scowl settles into his features and his hands ball fabric into tight fists.

you manage to relax him a little, running your thumbs over his face and hands; he twines his fingers with yours. “i thought that if i went in, i could at least try to reshape the community. bit by bit, open their minds about abortion, about the queer community, but it is proving hard when the first church you’re transferred to is a small town.” that gets a giggle out of you.

“you’re not wrong, suguru, for trying your hardest. it’s so admirable. i’m trying to unlearn things about the Church that my mom has taught me too, and it’s all interesting reads alongside my second year of uni. if you can change one mind, there’s the potential to change many others.”

geto lets you rest your forehead on his, closing his eyes to just feel you, “thank you.”

he’s not even sure when to tell you that he’s fallen in love, the hardest he’s ever done since in high school with his first love, or in university studying theology, and he’s not even sure it’s love. all he knows is that when he looks at you, a life until silver hair is all he can think about.

“you can do it,” you break the ice softly, placing a peck on his lips, “i believe in you.”

“i don’t think they would wanna believe a sex-crazed priest, darling, not when i wanna give you the life you deserve.”

you sigh, hiding your face, “i don’t think we can achieve that, suguru, not while you’re still married to the Church and i’m supposed to be celibate.”

“that’s out the window—” and he laughs when you slap him on the bicep, finding that you’d want him to laugh more. he does it sometimes when he gives sermons, recounting a specific story about his mother, or while baptising a baby. it’s pure like a young boy’s laughter, something to be protected, the way his eyes crinkle and lips stretch . .

“what if i break priesthood for you?”

what?

“no . .” you brows furrow, “don’t say stuff like that.”

“why not, my love?” you continue to shake your head, standing from your place on his lap and he’s confused — wouldn’t you want this?

“don’t call me that—” your safe space, your room is the only place all you can think in, and you escape to it before he can catch a thread of your clothing. father geto calling you that means he’s officially fallen, chained to the river Styx. the descent was fun, but you didn’t want to be the reason why he’d truly throw away all of his hard work, you didn’t want him to be shamed, nor did you want to be called out for being a temptress. self-serving while serving others — maybe that’s how Christians operated and you were the walking proof of it.

geto thinks he’s messed up big time and unsure of the reason why as he lets you stay in your room to cool down. he only sends out a text simply to check on you, but it takes you an hour before you’re ready; once he hears the click of your door, he’s heading up the stairs and pushing open the door gently.

just like that first night, he’s cautious when he enters your room as if touching your sacred place will have him reciting rosaries as penance, as an apology for staining your heart and your body. you stand.

“i don’t want you to leave everything behind just for me . .” you sound out, sniffling softly and the priest’s heart already shatters at the sound, “all your hard work, the years you did in the seminary and then just dumping it all just for a chance with a woman who you don’t even know whether will be suitable as your lover.”

geto’s expression softens in the dark room, only illuminated by fluorescent light from your bedside table lamp — “i won’t leave anything behind; all those years, all the studies, all of it mattered because somehow it still led me to you. if that isn’t God’s doing, i don’t know what else it was. my definition of Christianity has been entirely reimagined, entirely changed when i look at you, a person filled with nothing but pure lovingness and soft-heartedness and yet i still feel proud when you said you wished harm on your father because i know that Christ didn’t ask men to gouge their eyes out for nothing.”

he grabs your hands, stroking the back of your palms and stepping close to you as much as you will let him. suguru plants feather-like kisses onto skin before continuing, “i will always carry my Christianity with me, the shame, its history and if i fall, so be it. Lucifer had fallen many times after, crouching by Eve’s ear to whisper sin, turning into a serpent to give her the forbidden fruit, sentenced to rule Hell because he himself is Hell.”

“and are you dragging me down with you?”

“i have been dragged to the darkest pits of Hell from the moment i saw you, and if anything, while i worship God, i cannot ignore the olive branch that you hold out to me like a saving grace, like you ascend the same pedestal that the Trinity sits on.”

you swallow, eyes breaking contact and he’s quick to rectify that, both palms on your cheeks and your face is tilted upwards.

“our God will always be there for repentance if you wish so, but allow me to indulge in the blasphemy and filthiness and sacrilege of craving someone so desperately that my body burns from thinking about her and my knees want to strike the Earth whenever she’s around me.”

the sentence takes you aback before he’s leaning forward, but abruptly stops short— it’s rushed, can i kiss you?

“yes. yes, suguru—”

and he kisses you with the force of a thousand suns and the most detrimental winds of the pacific, arms going from your face right to your body as he wraps you in his love. geto deepens the kiss just as he always has, but the feelings that spark in you differ greatly from just mindless kissing during sex. it’s full of passion, full of possibly everything he’s kept bottled up as he walks you to your bed, yelping in surprise when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“do you still have your pills, my love?”

your fingers bunch up the same sweater he wears on the first day, “i . . ran out . . a while ago.”

“i’m surprised those pills work even after i cum so much in you,” that really draws a hearty laugh from your stomach, “but whatever happens, i’ll be here.”

“the feeling’s just too good—” you giggle, squealing when father geto lifts you off the floor and puts you on the bed.

“if you test positive, and if you want to keep it or abort it, i’m okay,” geto hovers over you, looking at you with so much love you wonder how you miss it the many times you’ve been together, “i’ll support you in everything that you do.”

a peak of silver shines in the moonlight under his sweater and you realise this feels like the first time you lost control over your lust, the first time you touched yourself. like heeding a call, his crucifix falls from the safety of his sweater and almost hits you in the face if not for suguru pulling away in worry.

“was it just like this?” he teases with a small smirk, knees already nudging your legs apart, “you imagined me fucking you with this dangling in your face?” your face heats up at the mention, at the fact he still manages to remember that confession and you nod whilst biting your lip.

“well, you get to live it now,” geto grins, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips before having his way with you.

and have his way did he — you aren’t even sure what round you’re on at the moment, simply subjected to getting you face smushed into your pillow as he pounds into you from behind. geto grunts as he eases his cum-filled cock back into your sweet cunt, hands travelling everywhere over your sweaty back.

“are you okay, baby?”

you turn your head with arms still buried in the pillow, a cock drunk smile on your face, “splendid.”

“goin’ in— shiit . .” geto sinks into you easily, your mixed juices proving easy before getting himself right up to the hilt. his mouth hangs open in pleasure, pants leaving both your lips before he starts to thrust and the wetness is just straight-up obscene. with a wordless tug, father geto brings you close to him, wrapping an elbow around your neck while the other settles for your tummy, feeling the muscle that curls around you. he doesn’t trap you so tightly, simply holding your limp body up as his pelvis rams into you.

“your pussy’s just so good, darling,” he mutters into your neck as your head tilts back in ecstasy while your body trembles in geto’s hold.

“s’full, suguru . .” you whine, hands flailing for his toned arms that encircle your body while he thrusts, cum spilling from where you were connected onto your sheets. it was a blessing your parents were out because father geto doesn’t hold back with the way he fucks you, voice carrying throughout the house and permeating the walls that you hoped the neighbours wouldn’t hear.

going for multiple rounds meant the two of you were highly sensitive, jolting when his hand sneakily drew circles along your clit and matched his pace, while his length in you kept twitching and pulsing from the way your gummy walls wrap around him. “s-suguru — i need you, p-please—”

“i’m here, sweetheart,” geto chokes out, hand wrapping around the expense of your neck and turning your face, indulging himself in a sinful kiss that you return immediately. tongue and saliva is everywhere, hands and hips never slowing down when it comes to you and your sweet pussy. “i’m here, always, amie.”

“i’m gonna c— fuck— shit,” you tighten around his cock at the name, moaning into his mouth like a mantra, like a mystery that cannot be solved as he cums with a guttural groan into you and you shiver from the feeling of him filling you that you forget all about your own pleasure, body shaking with mini orgasms instead. “lay forward . .”

it’s softly spoken, and you obey, eyes fluttering close when he pulls out slowly and geto’s fixated on the drip of his cum that falls from your pussy. flipping you over instantly, he smears your juices together and all over your centre, smiling at how your legs close in on each other at the sensitivity. his tip’s filled with your cum, a messy painting of your repeated rounds.

“you’re the most stunning right here,” he breathes out as he rests on his calves, cock still hard. his hand trembles as he strokes himself, moaning softly at the warmth that he misses already and he’s brought to attention again when you whimper softly. you’re fingers play lazily with your folds, finger rubbing circles into your clit and all he can think about is pumping you full of his cum again when you look at him from under your eyelashes, with a subtle pout and the plea of the eye.

“fuck me again, father geto,” you mumble, “fuck me until i’m full of your cum.”

the priest only grunts lowly at that, trailing his angry tip along your pussy and collecting your juices before slipping in. the both of you gasp at the sensation, more of you when his hands close around your knees and push. he’s forcing your legs right up to your chest the same time he enters you, sending you deeper into desperation that you writhe on the bed.

“ohh . . tha’s a perfect pussy right there . .” suguru slurs, body pushed against your bent legs as his cross swings back and forth like an omen, like a crow watching your movements, “will you be mine, my darling?”

your voice comes out in high-pitched whines at his question, so intimate, so loving in such a dirty space. you can only manage nods when he starts to move, this new position allowing him to reach much, much deeper into you that you preen at the overwhelming feelings that bubble in your chest.

“yesyesyes! r-right there, suguru—” your back arches off your childhood bed, where you first prayed, where you first read the Bible, where you did your homework, where you first fingered yourself, all overthrown by the sheer blasphemy that geto suguru wished to indulge in, and you give it to him just like that, “f-fuck! love your cock in me, father!”

“o-oh . . you’re playing a dangerous game, c-calling me that, baby,” his eyes also struggle to stay open, committing your pleasure-filled face to memory as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back. he can see your tits move with his rough thrusts as well, licking his lips while feeling you fuck him back, “are you close?”

“mhmm—” you’re humming, mumbling incoherent sentences at this point as your mind fogs at the neck-deep euphoria you were in. with the room that’s filled with sex to the nasty, sloppy noises of his balls hitting your ass, and soaking wetness that can be heard from a mile away, the both of you are lost to the claws of Hell. geto knows you’re close with the way your cunt tightens and your breathing escalates, using his thumb to rub at your clit and now you truly feel like you’re going insane.

“c-close . . haah—” your eyes try to stay open to look at the sight above you: messy-haired and body lined with sweat, the beautiful entity of abstinence and temptation all in one person. you fumble with his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer so you can admire him up close while he drives you to your high. the moment of vulnerability only spurs geto on, drawing out the brutal, carnal need he has for you.

“is that it? you wanted this?” he grunts out through gritted teeth, “you wanted me to fuck your pussy until it knows the shape of my cock?” the words muttered sends goosebumps throughout your body. you nod, “you wanted me to defile this pretty pussy so no one else can fuck you, isn’t that right?”

you whimper at the words as he pushes your legs further into your chest, “cum on my cock, darling.”

and you do. generous with it, you’re gushing all over his length as he continues fucking you through your overstimulation, thumb slowing its ministrations on your puffy clit as he chases his own climax. “taking my cock so well, so good like the good slut she is,” the other says through a small grin, hips stuttering when you give him a small yeah in return.

“another load for you, baby,” father geto groans out loudly before he switches to quick, fast thrusts into your warm, welcoming pussy before cumming with a whine, shooting thick ribbons of white deep into your womb. your moans are swallowed by geto as he continues to fill you to the brim, painting your insides and enjoying your slow, needy kisses.

“she’s had her fill,” you mumble softly, feeling sleepy while the other only hums in agreement. slowly, geto lets your legs down which only plop down on the bed, unsheathing himself from you and relishing in the way the cum dribbles out, glob after glob of cum leaving your pussy and onto the sheets, “are you okay, suguru?” he takes your shaky hand, interlocking your fingers with his as he scoots up to you, closer until he’s just over you.

“always better with you here.” you roll your eyes, tugging on the crucifix and pulling him into you where your lips collide, feeling him collapse by your side even as your mouths continue their movements. all you do is smother each other with hands, one through his sweaty locks and his grabbing your waist. you want to live through the feeling of his front against yours for eternity, deepening the kiss with your tongue and moaning softly when his fingers squeeze your ass secretly.

“you just stay here and i’ll clean you up,” with one last peck to your temple, father geto navigates your house like he lives there, getting a rag and wetting it before he cleans you up gently, fabric travelling along your skin like a kiss of hellfire as he massages your legs, your arms. there’s a multitude of things before the two of you succumb to slumber, going to the toilet, grabbing something to eat and then wallowing in some late night conversations (“do you think you find me in other universes?” / “i’ll find you in every one.”) until finally, you two settle in each other’s arms.

it’s like a still painting that would be studied by future literature students, scrutinised by art critics all over the world of a sacrilegious relationship that should not have place for love, that should not have place for purity, but the feeling of geto suguru’s arms from behind wound tightly and protectively around your physique feels like both the good and bad of the secular world. love and lust can coexist.

just as father geto worships, your luggage is quickly packed up a few weeks later alongside a pregnancy test that looks awfully reminiscent of the cross in the church. picture frames emptied, laptop and papers packed, a barren land of what used to be the place of a God-serving, holy girl — and even if knowledge caused her downfall, she was more than willing to own up to it. the room looked larger and drab with everything gone; you aren’t even sure how you fit everything into the luggage.

the fallen angels watch over your encounters with crinkles of the paper of your farewell letter, the squeaky floorboards, and the atmosphere of the night sounding like vacuum from its sheer silence as you snuck out of the house and into the stark night, hands clasped within each other’s while gravel below your feet reminded you of your situation. you weren’t sure if you were walking to salvation or away from it, but at least you knew Eden was by your side, with the lavender scent of your shared shampoo on both your heads and his saccharine words.

after walking for what felt like forever to avoid detection, geto waves excitedly to a car in the distance which seemed to house two men — one blonde that looks awfully like father nanami and the other, a white-haired man.

“i called up some friends,” suguru brings your connected hands to his lips and his tired eyes soften even further, pressing soft pecks along your fingers and face. your priest catches you in a sensual kiss, humming into it and mumbling sweet nothings that sound just like Lucifer in Eve’s ear, but you’re too enamoured with the sparks you leave on one another to notice the commencement of your coronation at Pandæmonium.

“we’ll be okay, amie. ego te amo ut dum stellae luceant.”

“Rise, then, to the thrones of Moloch and Paimon, of Belial and Beelzebub, of the infamous angel who challenged his Creator and clawed his way from the Stygian pool to Pandæmonium made of demon blood and soot-filled fingertips. Rise to Lucifer, and take your rightful place on the throne overflowing with hate and vice and villainy, and rule Hell just as how he would’ve wanted it.”

a/n: another insane piece .. pls dont look / tagging @mysugu @slttygeto @screampied @suguruplsr @na-t0 @peachsayshi

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cutebat · 5 months ago

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Go Home with your Friends Route

Warning(s): No yandere themes, past neglect, a lot of swearing, skipping school, attempted smoking, mentions of pills, bribery, threats

(This is where now you can pick your own choices in this series, so this isn't technically a chapter)

~~~~~

You decided to go home cause honestly, fuck school.

~~~~~

You and your friends all went inside the Wayne Manor after that whole conversation.

"You can put your stuff right there."

You tell them as you point at the corner.

As they did that, the three of you went into the living room and sat on the couch.

It was silent for a moment before you spoke up.

"So, do you guys wanna do anything or what?"

You ask that makes the two of them stare at you.

"You're the one who made us skip with you. How the hell should we know? We've never been to your house before."

Sasha responds as she leans back against the couch.

"Did you really decide to go home so you can avoid Damian?"

Noelle asks as she crossed her arms and puts her leg over her other one.

"Not really. He lives here."

You respond in a nonchalant tone.

"What?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Then, why did you want to go home if you know he lives here?"

"I don't know, I just don't want to be at school right now after everything that happened and he never skips, so we're fine."

It was silent again before Sasha spoke up.

"Can we smoke here?"

She asks as she lightly pushes herself off the couch.

"You can, but I don't know if you should. Bruce banned cigarettes here."

You tell her.

"Okay, well, you hate your dad, your brothers, your sister, and basically anyone who you told us that you hate. So, let us smoke here."

"Holy shit, calm down. Fine, you can. Also, how are you so addicted to this?"

"Blame my mom. I usually steal stuff from her and she has a fuck ton of cigarettes lying around the house. I usually take them when I feel fucked over."

There was a brief silence before you spoke up again.

"... How old are you again?"

"Fifteen?"

"Are you really going to smoke at that age?"

"Bitch, you don't know when you're going to die or not. I don't really care about what my fate is, so why not just use that time to just, you know?"

"I guess that's true."

"Cool. Anyway, Noelle, what kind did you bring today?"

Sasha asks as she turns to her other friend who is just sitting on the couch, not saying a word for the entire time until now.

"I have Marlboro Ultra Lights in my backpack."

She said that made Sasha cringe.

"Seriously? You have the weak ones? What happened to all the good shit you had?"

"My mom started therapy as her New Year resolution ever since she caught my dad having an affair with his intern three years ago. And now, she basically quit smoking and smokes with very weak cigs every two weeks."

Noelle said as she walked over to the corner before returning with her bag.

"So, do you still want to do it, or not?"

Sasha seems to be in thought before she lets out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know... These things don't throw me over that much. I need something that can actually fuck me up."

She said as you spoke up.

"I actually found some pills that my brother's girlfriend had. I think she left them, but they look pretty cool to high over on."

You said as you took out a pill bottle.

"What's that?"

Sasha asks as she stares down at the bottle in your hand.

"I dunno. I just found them on the ground when she left."

You said in response with a shrug.

"Damn... two choices. Smoking or getting high over some pills that we know nothing off."

Noelle mutters out as she stares down at the pills.

~~~~~

Use Bab's pills

Smoke in the house (Coming soon)

•

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#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #neglected reader #platonic #yandere dc

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fujii-draws · 7 months ago

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(in the nicest way possible, WHAT THE FUCK)

Thinking about @fujii-draws' eepies with mine again...except WorseTM. I've illustrated them as meeting after Eliana has made amends with Dusknoir (so like post-post-post game in my AU haha), but what if it were reversed?

Little Eevee!Eliana just dazzled by Sylveon!Ribbons and her bubbly nature despite the hardships that she hints she's gone through. Asking for advice in how to maneuver in such a tiny body, especially in dungeons, as well as for how to support and help Lu advance and grow. Feeling a bit silly being older still but able to piggy-back on Ribbons' back (although she does get taller when she evolves lol).

Baby Riolu!Lu still trying to find himself and his place in the world, still working hard to master his aura-sight, feeling so insecure about his limitations and combative abilities to keep Eliana safe since she's usually the one that takes the brunt of the fighting despite him being more suitable for it. Finding comfort in Aimilios' and Ribbons' unconditional encouragement and advice on how to be a better explorer and partner to help Eliana with her amnesia and Scream.

However, the heartache comes into play when Eliana starts telling Aimilios and Ribbons about her good friend the Great Dusknoir. Do they know him in their world? He's very wise and kind and such an excellent conversationalist. She has learned so much just listening to him and he's very patient and gentle with her despite how rude she was to him at first and she just really respects and admires him (and it's so painfully obvious how much she likes him despite her not saying as much).

Ribbons and Aimilios just Look at each other knowing they can't break the "temporal prime directive" but feeling just so much dread and sadness knowing, at least vaguely, what will happen and how it might impact Eliana. Them feeling so conflicted on whether they should at least say something to try to prepare her emotionally but knowing they can't really interfere. God help them if they witness the immediate aftermath.

(And God help Dadnoir if he's anywhere near her afterwards.)

#my goodness. so many thoughts.#first things first! Ribbon’s would enjoy Eliana’s company very much. even if she herself is still immature/doesn’t understand all of the #things the elder Eevee says. speaking of Ribbons would be very tease-y over their size differences. (Until Eliana evolves that is.)#(To which the Leafeon is getting the last laugh in that regard; Ribbons crossing her feeler-arms and pouting)#She very much enamored by how much wisdom she has and could fall asleep listen to her drone on and on. (and YES she would give piggybacks)#(probably reading Eliana’s mind before she can ask and picking her up without warning >:3)#Aimilios on the other hand would love to listen to Eliana and be able to actually converse/debate with her on things #(sometimes the Lucario has trouble keeping up bc Eliana is very wise for her age)(he enjoys the challenge regardless)#AND LU!!!! Aimilios would dote over the Riolu endlessly. being more than happy to take him under his wing)#(even if the Lucario can be overbearing sometimes.) (not out of underestimating Lu or his disability but bc he cares for him so much.;.;;.)#(Aimilios apologizes for this but falls into the habit a couple of times)#those two would be MORE than willing to teach them how to aura sense better/not get head splitting migraines with D.Screams)#AND AS FOR THAT LAST PART…. HOLY SHIT.#the Eevee and Riolu could probably feel the sudden change in atmosphere when those two have the most uncomfortable expressions plastered-#-on their faces. Ribbons instinctively wrapping a feeler around Aimilios’s arm and he gently squeezes it. still looking at the two pre evos #They would nod approvingly (although painfully) at times when they speak of their Dusknoir in such high ragards. just smiling and trying no #to give away their heartbroken expressions knowing damn-well what’s going to happen to them.#at one point Aimilios scoots closer to the two and tells them that their Dusknoir still very much cares for them. even if it doesn’t seem-#-like it. wryly smiling at the now; confused Pokémon.#Ribbons is wrapping her feelers around each of Eliana and Lu’s paws. not saying a word bc she is not the best at keeping up a poker face #(she feels like shit and would not fault the two for hating her for not warning them sooner.#(but legends knows what would happen if they did give them the heads up. and Dusk took a more sinister route-#-that would’ve ended in those two’s deaths.)#so they bite their tongues. just trying so hard not to look upset at them.)#anyways ty for the brainrot im going to send a nuclear warhead over to your house Fisara

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lucysarah-c · 5 months ago

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~ Holy Ground ch. 1 ~

Summary:

"Alright, get comfortable because this is going to be a long, crappy tale. Join me as we travel down memory lane, back when Erwin wasn't yet a commander, when Mike and Nanaba couldn't keep their hands off each other, when Hange was… well, Hange. And Levi? Well, Levi was a twenty-four-year-old man who didn't give a damn about the rules. Are you ready?"

Warnings: This story contains age gaps, time period misogyny and mentions of homophobia, strong and offensive language, underage sex, alcohol, smoking, implied/referenced of drug use. This is a very slow burn so everyhthing takes a while to happen. Explicit sex content. Virginity, loss of virginity, cheating, mentions of cheating, pregnancy but no by the main character, consensual sex, consensual underage sex, underage kissing.

Pairing: Levi x Reader x Erwin. Levi x Reader are end game. (this is not eruri). This story takes place after ACWNR but BEFORE season 1.

-> Masterlist to all the chapters! <-

Just after Historia's coronation but before the expedition to Wall Maria, this story took place. Everything was coming to an end after a long and exhausting day of duty in the legion. The night had already fallen, and dinner at the mess hall was over. Our lively group of cadets had planned to sneak out after curfew to enjoy their youth. Well, that was the plan IF a certain short black-haired captain didn’t catch wind of it.

The plan was simple: they would all wait in their respective shared rooms and beds until the last superior left the public areas. It wouldn't be too difficult if Sasha and Connie could refrain from cracking jokes, or if Eren and Jean could postpone their petty arguments. They were just a few meters away from the front door, with the gates right in front of them. They were so close that they could already feel the cold autumn air brushing against their faces. However, their intentions and dreams crumbled like water slipping through their fingers when a throat was cleared loudly in the room. Some of them bit their bottom lips and closed their eyes, while others, like Eren and Jean, clenched their teeth, as if bracing for impact. On the other hand, Mikasa, with her usual calm demeanor, turned to confirm her suspicions. Sure enough, Y/N was leaning against the doorframe, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Her arched eyebrow silently questioned the cadets, who knew they better answer soon.

"It's not what it looks like!" Jean was the first to attempt a convincing response but faltered flatly.

"Really? Then what does it look like?" the superior took a sip of her freshly brewed tea and followed up with a verbal question this time.

Armin was next in line to offer an acceptable excuse, but before he could even finish, the woman shook her head with closed eyes.

"Oh, sweet summer child, you can't hold a candle to me," she said with a tired voice, followed by a loud sigh.

The group of teenagers looked at each other, trying to gauge how many hours of punishment awaited them. It wasn't too much to ask, after all! The fair was in town, and wanting to have some fun during one of the few nights when the town came alive in the late hours shouldn't be a crime. Truth be told, they didn't know what their superior could actually do to them. They were accustomed to the captain's cold treatment, but Y/N's? Not really, since she had recently returned to work.

"Well? Are you planning to stand here all night or what? Come on, follow me," the young woman ordered, making her way in the opposite direction of the main door.

Without a doubt, the famous group followed closely behind her. They didn't dare make a sound as they walked in an unknown direction. The clock in the common area struck midnight as the group navigated the halls of the Scouting Legion's building. During their expedition (not precisely outside the walls), the young men in the group couldn't help but notice their superior's revealing outfit. She wore an oversized grey shirt that clearly didn't belong to her, along with a pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. She wasn't even wearing shoes, walking through the halls barefoot and without any source of light. It was as if she knew the corridors like the back of her hand. Armin, the clever one of the team, was the first to notice that he had seen that shirt before, and his blue eyes shone with his brand-new discovery. It was (Y/N) who broke the silence.

"Allow me to give you a few tips for next time," she said, walking and turning around to face the team.

"Never try to sneak out through the main door. Why? All the superiors' offices are on the upper floors, and none of them go to sleep so early. Conclusion: you're going to be heard. Second, never wait until everyone is supposed to be asleep. You may think that the darkness of the night will protect you, but it only makes things worse. Next time, try to do it right after dinner. Everybody is still walking around, so it won't be strange if you're out and about. But don't all go together; that's suspicious. Plus, the superiors usually stay a bit longer, chatting about life or whatever."

The 104th promotion was in shock. Since when do the superiors give advice on how to break the rules? However, they were all taking mental notes of this valuable information. Every wise word that came from the woman's lips was pure and solid gold.

"Last but certainly not least," she said as they turned the corner and entered an old storage room for forgotten equipment. "Use a hidden door."

She walked straight toward the stone wall at the end of the room. She moved the old boxes, covered in dust, and muttered to herself, loud enough for the rest to hear, "the fifth brick from the left," then pushed with all her strength. Suddenly, a secret door opened, revealing the cold night sky.

The teenagers were completely overwhelmed to see such an awesome secret hidden behind that old, mossy wall.

"When you want to come back, there's a small leather handle on the other side. Just give it a gentle pull, and you're in. It's as heavy as it looks," she clarified, so the team could return without being seen. "If I were you, I wouldn't do it tonight. Tomorrow, you have an intense practice session with Levi, and you'll regret this. But nothing like the present, right? Come on, let's go! I have better things to do than freeze to death here."

After the last sentence, all of them rushed out in a hurry, except for Armin, who looked at his superior with curiosity. She could easily tell that the blond short kid was her favorite; his wisdom and curiosity reminded her of herself when she was still a little girl.

"Why?" he simply asked.

"Because I was once young too," she replied, crossing her arms on her chest. "And just because I'm having an awful and boring night doesn't mean you have to as well. Go on! Have fun, get drunk, enjoy it while you can."

The group was expecting various resolutions to this outburst of rebellion, but this was certainly not one of them. Of course, they didn't waste any time and went out. While the young ones were having the time of their lives, (Y/N) made her way back to her room with her now cold tea. If someone could have seen her face, they would have noticed that she wasn't the happiest woman wandering around that night.

Lost in her memories, she tried to recall the last time she used that secret door. As she pondered, another memory burst into her mind like a firework: the very first time they had discovered that secret door. A nostalgic smile appeared on her face, resembling that of a mother watching her child play in the backyard.

The voice of experience never seems to fail when it comes to predicting the future, better than any oracle ever created.

"For fuck's sake! What the hell is wrong with all of you today?!" The unmistakable voice of Captain Levi echoed in the training area as his team seemed to be devastated that morning. "What a shitty performance you're all giving today!"

The woman, who was supervising the training, hid her laughing face behind the notebook where she took her notes. The short man turned around to see what was so funny, and she tried to regain her composure in front of him, but failed miserably. The only sounds coming from the cadets were yawns and tired attempts to reply "yes, sir" with enthusiasm.

"Let them go, Levi. They can't even keep their eyes open," she tried to convince the black-haired man.

Not at all pleased, Levi chickled his tongue and rolled his eyes. He knew she was right; training in this state was pointless. However, he wanted nothing more than to kick all those brats' asses for making him waste his time.

"Alright, you shitty brats, get the hell out of the area before I kick each and every one of you so hard that you'll stay awake for an entire week," he pronounced with an irritated tone.

He couldn't even finish his sentence before his team was already making their way back to their rooms. But they weren't the only ones trying to escape from humanity's strongest soldier. The woman gathered her things and attempted to sneak away before he could notice.

"This better be the last damn time you let them sneak out during training days. Am I making myself clear?" Levi turned around and said to the young woman who had been sitting next to him just a few minutes ago.

"Oh, come on, Levi! Let it go this time," she replied, chuckling. "We were young once too."

She tried to ease the tension with a sweet smile, glad that they were talking like usual. However, the look he gave her caused her to lower her gaze with sadness in her eyes. She wondered when everything would go back to normal. She missed him and the warm, small smile that he only had for her.

"It won't happen again, sir," she said, not even attempting to conceal her sorrow as she walked away.

Reader’s pov

The day went without any problems and was relatively peaceful, as peaceful as a day at the scouts can be. We had a little meeting with the remaining superiors. Levi seems to insist on giving me the cold, silent treatment. Last night, I tried to change things a bit, hoping that after nearly six months of chilly nights, he would warm up to me. I even went ahead and offered him a massage, wearing nothing but his shirt. I know how much he likes it. But even the freezing marble floor beneath my bare feet felt warmer than him.

I wonder if this is as difficult for him as it is for me. After enduring his cold treatment, the words slipped out of my lips. I couldn't hold back, I needed to ask him.

"Are we breaking up? Just tell me so I can stop making a fool of myself in front of you. Come on, muster the courage to say it," I said, feeling tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"Don't shout. You'll wake up the entire legion," he replied without even looking up from his paperwork. "Whether we break up or not, it's not my decision. I'm not the one hiding information here."

As he finished his cold-hearted sentence, I quickly put on the first pair of shorts I could find and ran out of the room. I needed some tea to calm my mind. This was all too much for my weary body. While I was in the kitchen, I overheard Levi's squad attempting to sneak out. Initially, I considered walking away, but I knew Levi would catch them. However, he wouldn't dare intervene if I were with them, not after our little argument in our shared room. So, I made a decision. I helped them out.

And now, here I am. I just took a shower in the common area because Hange's bathroom is dirtier than any titan's mouth. I walk down the corridors, wondering if I'll have to sleep on Hange's sofa once again. My lower abdomen is throbbing with pain. A comforting cup of black tea made by my wonderful boyfriend would be a dream, but dreaming of freedom for humanity seems more realistic than that. On my way, I notice a group of cadets stationed at the watch post outside the building. Among all the scouts, I recognize those faces—it's Levi's team. I bet they're being forced to pull an all-nighter for night watch duty as punishment. Typical.

"Well, well, look at that. Not only do I grant you a free pass, a free morning, but also a night of bonding with friends at the watch post," I say, making my presence known among the group. This causes Jean to spit out the liquid he was drinking, and all of them turn around with pale faces.

"Calm down, guys. I'm not here to punish any of you."

They all let out a collective sigh of relief upon seeing me.

"For a moment, we thought you were a real hard-ass superior," Connie says, chuckling, which surprises me and widens my eyes.

"Excuse me, brat?! What do you mean by 'real superior'?" I ask, irritated by the tone in my voice.

"We didn't mean to offend you! It's just, it's just…" Armin tries his best to salvage the situation after his comrade messes up.

I can't help but burst into laughter as I struggle to sit between Eren and Jean. I clutch my lower abdomen, right where my bandages are. I wonder when the pain will finally subside.

"It's alright, I was just teasing all of you," I say, observing their puzzled expressions as they exchange glances, trying to decipher why I'm here. I wish I knew myself what the hell I'm doing here. But honestly, anything is better than going back to my room and pretending that everything is okay when it's not. "Do you mind if I spend the night with you? As a token of appreciation, you can ask me anything you want."

I enjoy the way their faces change upon hearing the last part, especially Armin. That little blondie's blue eyes gleam with curiosity. But Jean isn't far behind; his expression screams, "I'm going to confirm all the juicy rumors." However, to my surprise, it's neither of them who asks the first question.

"Do you know how to do Captain Levi's spin?! Can you teach me?" Eren enthusiastically shouts the first question.

"I'm afraid I don't, sorry sugar cube," I reply, oblivious to the numerous protocols I've just violated with a single response.

I'm not accustomed to dealing with cadets; my work has never involved interacting with them. I can tell they're taken aback by my pleasant demeanor, especially Eren, whose face turns crimson at my nickname.

"Are you Captain Levi's girlfriend?" Armin's question feels like a stab to my injured heart. Everyone gasps at the question; I suppose they all had their own speculations.

'Right where it hurts, Armin, right where it hurts,' I think, while I try to come up with a realistic reply. Technically, I'm still Levi's girlfriend. ' His freaking five-year-old girlfriend.'

"I am, but I'm guessing you already knew that, didn't you?" I respond with elegance, attempting to sound confident.

Immediately after my reply, the entire group starts bombarding me with question after question. It's as if “Levi's girlfriend” title has opened a door they've all been yearning to enter. I can't help but let out a small laugh at the situation I've gotten myself into. I'm like that bold friend who's been intimate before the rest of the girl group, and now everyone wants to know every detail about the brand-new topic.

"Whoa, calm down, guys! One question at a time," I say, gesturing with my hands for a momentary break.

"Is it true that he was from the Underground and he was a rebel?" Eren once again fires off a question, a quick kid armed with surprisingly accurate information.

"Where did you hear all that?" I inquire before answering, unable to contain my laughter. "It's true, he was quite the rebel when he arrived from the Underground. He even used to wear a black leather jacket during his free days. I must admit, it suited him."

They take a brief moment to process the new information, mouths agape, before the barrage of questions resumes. I do my best to respond to each of them to the best of my ability before Jean asks the one million dollar question you should never ask someone whose personal relationship is falling apart.

"How did you two start dating? He doesn't strike me as the dating type," Jean wants to know the most challenging information that has ever existed.

"Well, it's a long story that goes way back, even before Wall Maria fell," I reply as casually as possible. "And trust me, none of you wants to hear it."

"I do!" is the only thing I hear amidst that chilly autumn night. I know I shouldn't because it's not just my story; it's Levi's too, and I know how reserved he is about his private life. But I'm heartbroken and nostalgic, surrounded by a group of teenagers. Nothing good could happen tonight, so…

Author's Note: This was the very first long fic I ever decided to write, and it's the reason I opened a Tumblr account back in the day. I deleted the chapters here because it felt like nobody was reading it, and I decided to focus my account on other things. Now that I'm rewriting the old chapters to finally finish the last five of a story spanning over 40 chapters, I've decided to give it a second chance and post it again!

I'll be posting all the new chapters every Friday! The banner was made by me, and the little "dividers" I add have a purpose—haha! The story advances through Levi's entire first year as a scout, so we'll go through all the seasons, starting in autumn. I don't usually ask for much, but Holy Ground has always been my baby, and if you guys decide to give it a try, I'll be forever grateful. <3

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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henry7931 · 5 months ago

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Head Swap Short: My Dad’s Body At The Pool

Trevor:

God this is embarrassing! I just know all of my friends are going to make fun of me.

I broke my leg about a week ago and I’ve been in bed for days now. I felt like I was going to miss most of the summer.

All of my friends texted me about coming to the pool today and I knew I had no way to go with the current state of my leg.

That’s when my dad stopped by my room and asked me how I was doing. I told him how bummed I am about being to go hang with my friends. That’s when offered to do a head swap with me.

Dad packed me a bag, we swapped heads, and I hurried to the pool.

As I started driving down the road, it felt kinda cool having my dad’s body on. He taller than me and pretty strong.

When I got to the pool, I headed to the locker room and started opening up the bag dad packed. I looked inside and saw only a freaking towel and a speedo!!!

But I’ve already made it this far, I looked around the locker room and saw that no one was around.

I pulled off my dad’s shorts only for his massive dick to come flopping out.

“Oh god! Everyone’s going to see his bulge.”

When I got outside I saw my friends… I took a deep breath and walked over confidently in my dad’s body.

“Holy crap Trevor! Is that your dad’s body?” said my friend Phillip.

“Yeah, it was the only way I could come.”

A couple of the guys laughed about the speedo for a little bit. But all around they thought it was kinda cool that I had my dad’s body on.

Even one of my friends Cameron told me he thought my dad was a dilf.

I’ve had a thing for Cameron for a while now but he’s never shown interest in me (at least until now). He even asked what I was doing after the pool. We ended up getting food after and went back to his house to hang.

We went up stairs and he started flirting with me hard.

“Bro, I don’t mean to be weird but it’s so hot seeing your cute head on top of your dad’s beefy bod.”

“You think haha,” I say back to him.

“Yeah man, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again all undressed,” he says winking at me.

I blushed and said, “I guess I can show it off again.”

I pulled off my dad’s shirt and shorts, all the way down to his underwear.

“Damn…” he says to me.

We go to his parent’s guess bedroom and I hop on top of the bed.

“Trev, I’m so turned on right now. I don’t know how to ask you this but could I rub your dad’s body over?”

“Sure man!”

Cameron goes down to my dad’s big feet and starts rubbing them. It feels pretty good, I guess my dad’s hasn’t had anyone rub his feet in awhile.

All of the sudden, Cam does something that surprised me. He starts licking my dad’s feet.

I watched him be enthralled with them. It was so hot seeing a hot guy my age be so into something I’d never expect.

Cam, crawls up to my dad’s crotch and starts rubbing his inner thighs. I’m surprised that he hasn’t just gone for my dad’s junk yet.

My father’s dick is completely hard and leaking on his underwear.

Cam reaches up and twists my dad’s nipple which made me squeak a bit.

I’ve looks right at my dad’s crotch and back up at me— like he’s taking for my permission.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, I knew this wasn’t a boundary I was going to be able to come back from.

I nodded my head and Cameron pulled my dad’s briefs off. My father’s 11 inch hairy dick was now in my crushes hands.

He fondled dad’s big hairy balls and planted his noise right into dad’s taint.

He kisses his cock head a couple of times before he forced dad’s dick down his throat.

I ran dad’s hands through Cam’s curly brown hair while he gave me the best blow job ever.

Cam ran his free hand all over dad’s body, I was coming close.

“Cam I’m about to cum!”

Cam takes all of my dad’s load down his throat.

He says to me, “I want you to jerk me off with your dad’s big manly feet.”

I giggled and said, “okay!”

I used dad’s feet to stroke cam’s 8 inch dick listening to him moan. Cams feet were positioned right near me to touch. I rubbed them and while watching Cam get so much pleasure from a foot job.

Cam let out one last scream of a moan as he squirted all over my dad’s feet.

I watched him lick every inch of cum off of them.

He crawled up to me and we laid in bed together while I cuddled him.

“So are you bringing your dad’s body to the pool tomorrow?”

I grinned at him, “Now I am!”

#head swap #male tf

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anjee0 · 3 months ago

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Old friends

Female!reader x 2000's Eminem. (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n decides to have a little get together at her house where she gets to spark interests again with her old friend that she hasn't seen since high school.

Warnings - Explicit language, drinking, vomiting, pill or tablet taking

Requested by @heyitstial

Y/n adjusted the plant pot on the coffee table for the 100th time making sure it looked “perfect”. One of her good friends Dre was coming over with a friend of his and she wanted to make sure that her apartment was spick and span. Dre hadn't told Y/n who his friend was and whenever she asked he'd just respond with: “It's a surprise!”

Y/n sat on the sofa and patiently waited for Dre and his friend to show up. Moments later, the doorbell rang as its playful tune rippled throughout the house. Y/n immediately got up and dusted her jeans off before opening the door.

She was immediately met by Dre smiling at her widely with his arms stretched for a hug. Y/n hugged him as he felt his arms around her waist, engulfing her in a warm hug.

When Y/n pulled away she couldn't help but smile. “I've missed you. I haven't seen you in ages.” She said gleefully.

“For real. And speaking of people you haven't seen in ages…” Dre stepped to the side to reveal the Marshall Mathers standing right by Y/n's door.

“Holy crap! Marshall!” Y/n exclaimed as she hugged her old friend.

Her and Marshall were best friends with each other back in high school. They were inseparable and literally attached to the hip. After Marshall had dropped out of high school, they stopped seeing each as often. Then eventually along the way, they lost communication completely and hadn't heard from each other in a few years.

Marshall looked completely different from what Y/n could remember of him. His fluffy brown hair had been replaced with a bleached buzz cut and his teeth looked less crooked. He had small hoop earrings and definitely developed more muscles as well. He looked somewhat… cute.

“How do you guys know each other?” Y/n asked.

“I'm helping Marshall out with his new album. And while we were in the studio the other week, I told him how I was gonna visit you. He said you sounded familiar so I showed him that picture of us when we went to New York and he recognised you. So I decided to surprise you.” Dre replied.

“Wow, that is amazing.” Y/n said.

“Small world, huh?” Marshall said.

“Well, come in, come in.” Y/n said, stepping aside so they had space go inside.

Dre and Marshall stepped in and took off their shoes as they looked around at the living room. They observed in awe at how beautiful and well organised the place looked.

“Damn girl. This is great. How'd you get this?” Dre asked.

“Saved up enough money.” Y/n responded. “Uh, sit down.” She chuckled awkwardly. She wasn't really used to guests coming over to her house.

Dre and Marshall sat down on the sofa opposite to the seat Y/n was sitting in. They made themselves comfortable and leaned into the softness of the cosy sofa.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Y/n asked.

“Hey, uh. Do you ever have people over here?” Dre asked, forgetting Y/n's question.

“Oh, uh no. You guys are actually my first guests here.” Y/n responded.

“Hey how about we invite a friend over and you invite a few of your friends over and we have a small get together? This seems like the perfect place for it.”

Y/n really wanted to say no, she wasn't the biggest party person out there. With work always being her top priority, she never really had time to sit down and relax or to go out with her friends. But being the people pleaser she was, she agreed. At least she'd have some of her friends over too.

“Who are you gonna get?” Marshall asked.

“I'll call Proof. I'll tell him to get drinks as well.” Dre responded. He looked over to Y/n. “Do you have a telephone?” He asked.

Pointed over to a small rounded table where a red telephone was placed. “Right over there.”

Dre thanked her before going over to call Proof. In the meantime, Y/n tried to make conversation with her old friend.

“So, how have you been?” Y/n asked.

“I'm good. I've got a kid now.” Marshall replied.

“Oh, that's amazing.”

“Yeah.. her name's Hailie. She's 4 right now.”

“I bet she's adorable.”

“Oh yeah, she is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Is the mother in the picture?” As soon as those words left Y/n's mouth she wished she could take it back. Sure, her and Marshall were great friends but she hadn't seen him ages, she didn't have to pry around in his business. “Sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn't have asked that.”

“Hey, don't sweat it. It's you asking so I don't mind. But uh, yeah. The mother’s Kim.” Marshall replied.

“Kim? Like Kim from high school?”

“Yeah. We're… married now.”

“Oh…”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, you guys were pretty on and off in high school.”

“Yeah, no I get that. Actually, Kim found out she was pregnant a few weeks after we broke up. We got married as soon as we could.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah, but uh, it's not the best marriage. We're always arguing and fighting over dumb shit. We've resorted to an open relationship now.”

“What do you mean by open relationship?”

“Well, we're both allowing each other to date other people since we don't really have feelings for each other anymore. At this point, we're just staying together for Hailie.”

“Oh, I think I get it. So are you dating anyone?”

“Nope. Sort of wanna focus on my new album.”

“Oh yeah. How's that coming along?”

“I think it's going great.”

“I'd love to listen to it once it's released.”

“I'll send you a copy.” He chuckled.

“I like the new look by the way.” Y/n smirked as she looked at his bright bleached hair.

“Oh yeah. Thanks. It's for my persona, Slim Shady.”

“Alright, I called Proof. He's coming over with drinks. Y/n, you wanna call your friends?” Dre asked as he hung up the phone.

“Yeah, sure.”

As Dre went to sit back down, Marshall, Y/n got up to call her friends. She picked up the phone and dialled her friend, Mikayla's number. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up.

“Hi there, Mikayla speaking!” She greeted Y/n in her usual cheery tone.

Y/n smiled hearing her friend’s happy voice. “Hey girl, it's me Y/n.”

“Hey, what's up?”

“So I'm having a little get together with a few friends. Wanna come over?”

“Ooh, who's there?”

“A few guys.”

“Are they cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Fun! I'll dress extra well. What are you wearing?”

“Just a pair of jeans and a top.” Y/n replied as she looked down at her casual outfit.

“You're wearing that?”

“Yeah I know. Should I change?”

“Yes! Wear something sexy.”

Y/n could just feel Mikayla's wide smirk through the phone. “Yeah, but I don't know what to wear though.”

“Hey, how about that denim mini skirt I got you for your birthday and that cute tank top that you got from that Christmas sale?”

“That's great! I will wear that. Thank you.”

“Well, I am the fashionista friend.”

Y/n chuckled at her friend's joke. “Oh, and while I get ready, can you call Abi and let her know too?”

“Of course. I'll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Y/n hung up the phone and turned to Dre and Marshall. “Two of my friends are coming over. I'm just gonna quickly change.”

Dre and Marshall nodded as you entered your room and locked the door to get changed. In addition to the mini skirt and tank top, she wore a black push up bra too. The tank top was a bit see through but that didn't mind her. Y/n took one last look at herself in the mirror before coming out of her room.

“Looking good, Y/n.” Dre said.

“Thank you. I'm just gonna clean up the kitchen really quickly.”

What she didn't realise was Marshall absolutely stunned at how beautiful she looked. He found her cute back in high school and couldn't help but notice how much more pretty she looked since all those years ago. The new pair of clothes she was wearing fit her perfectly well. The mini skirt made her legs look elegant and the bra highlighted her breasts perfectly. And to top it off, the tank top she was wearing bought the whole look together to make it all the better.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen and closed the door, Dre immediately turned to Marshall.

“You like her, don't you?” Dre asked with a dumb smile on his face.

“As a friend? Yeah.” Marshall replied.

Dre slapped the back of his head and tsked. “Man, not like that. You're into her.”

“No I'm not, we're just friends.”

“Really, cause you were taking a good long look at her. As your face is red as a tomato.”

“It's just hot in here.”

“Man, stop playing with me.”

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang and Y/n immediately left the kitchen to open it. She was met by her friends Mikayla and Abi who immediately engulfed her in a friendly hug.

“You look cute!” Abi said.

“So do you!” Y/n replied. “You look cute too Mikayla, come in.”

Mikayla and Abi stepped in and immediately jumped onto the empty sofa. They came over often so they treated the place like their second home.

“Hey there, girls. Y’all look great.” Dre said.

“Say, you look awfully familiar.” Mikayla said.

“Well, I am Dr. Dre.”

“You are?” Abi exclaimed.

“The one and only.” He replied with a smile.

“Is he lying?” Mikayla asked Y/n.

“Not at all.” She replied.

“You never bothered to tell us?” Abi said.

“Yeah, we I didn't think you'd believe me.” Y/n said, sitting with her friends on the sofa.

“Dude, my little brother, Mike, is so obsessed with you.” Mikayla said.

“Oh really? Should I autograph something for him?” Dre asked.

“He wouldn't believe me even if I had an autograph.”

“I have a polaroid camera. I can take a picture of you both and Dre can sign it.” Y/n offered.

“That sounds great.” Dre said.

Y/n went to get her polaroid camera from her room and swiftly came back. Marshall got off the sofa to let Mikayla sit down next to Dre. He sat down next to Y/n as their shoulders slowly brushed.

Y/n bought the camera up to her eye, her finger hovering over the capture button.

“Alright, ready?”

“Ready!” Dre and Mikayla and Abi said I'm unison.

Y/n hit the capture button as a bright flash came from the camera followed by shutter sound. And at that same moment, Proof burst into the house with 3 six packs of beer.

“What's on you guys!” He cheered as he held the pack up and stuck his tongue out.

Marshall chuckled at Proof's energetic greeting.

“Man, what took you so long?” Dre asked.

“Cashier lady was being a bitch. She thought my ID was fake.” Proof said as he sat down next to Dre. “What's up, Marsh?” Proof asked as he dabbed him up.

The polaroid developed and Y/n chuckled at it. Dre and Mikayla were smiling on the couch and in the background was Proof holding up the 6 packs with an energetic expression on his face. She handed it over to Dre and Mikayla who laughed at the sight of it.

“I'll sign my name right over your face.” Dre said teasingly at Proof.

“Man, fuck you.” Proof chuckled.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Dre said. “I bought a cassette with the tracks Marshall's done so far for his album.” Dre reached out in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled a cassette out.

“Why did you bring that?” Marshall asked as he tried to snatch it off.

“What? Let them listen, I think it's great man and you know it too. You got a cassette radio?” He asked Y/n.

“Yup.” Y/n reached under the TV stand where a cassette radio was. She took it out and placed it on the coffee table.

Dre put the cassette in and hit play. A few moments later, the first track started playing. It started off with a catchy beat followed by Marshall's voice. His voice easily flowed through the beat and his lyrics felt immaculate. Marshall groaned as he sat back on the sofa.

“I think it's pretty good.” Y/n said as she turned her head to look at Marshall.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I'm being serious, Marsh.” She playfully pushed his knee.

Marshall jokingly flipped her off to which she happily returned the favour as old high school memories started flooding back to her.

As the music played through the background, everyone introduced each other and talked for a while. Proof eventually opened one of the 6 packs and passed everyone a beer.

“What is this?” Abi asked as she inspected the can.

“Beer, duh. Drink up!” Proof responded.

“I very much prefer Y/n's blue cocktail.” Abi said as she leaned her head on her friend's shoulder.

“It's Y/n's best cocktail. She works at a bar.” Mikayla said.

“What bar you work at?” Proof asked.

“Pink Pristine.” Y/n responded.

“Holy shit, you work at Pink Pristine?” Marshall said as he sat up.

“Yeah, I've been there for a while.”

“Ain't that the bar where all the rich people go?” Proof asked.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“No wonder you got such a nice house.” Marshall aside.

“We love Y/n's blue cocktail. She always makes it for us.” Mikayla said.

“Blue cocktail?” Dre asked.

“I haven't found a good name for it.”

“Can you please make us some?” Abi asked. She looked up at Y/n with a pouty expression and wide eyes.

“I don't have all the ingredients for it, sorry.” Y/n said.

Mikayla and Abi both groaned in disappointment.

“Alright then, drink up!” Proof said.

Everyone cracked open their beer bottles and said cheers before drinking up. Y/n wasn't the biggest fan of beer; the bitter taste made her throat dry and left a terrible scent in her mouth.

“Anyone wanna try chugging the beer against me?” Proof asked.

“What?” Abi said in confusion.

“Me and another person both chug their beers and see who lasts the longest without stopping.” He explained. “Anyone up? Marshall?” Proof looked at him with a sly expression.

“Nah, man. I threw up like crazy last time.” Marshall said.

Proof looked around at everyone else, hoping for an answer. But he was only met with a thick silence. He was about to give up until Y/n spoke up.

“I'll do it.” She said, feeling determined.

“Alright then! Let's go! First to chug 3 wins.”

“Are you sure?” Mikayla said.

“I'll be fine.” Y/n responded.

Proof and Y/n both got ready to chug down their beers as Dre started the countdown. He did it slowly, which built up a lot of tension and a suspenseful manner.

“3, 2, 1… Go!” Dre said.

Y/n immediately started chugging down her drink as fast as she could. The bitter taste of the alcohol made her throat dry. However, she still continued to chug the drink down like it was nothing. She could hear everyone else cheering and whooping for them, encouraging them to go faster.

Y/n and Proof had finished their first can at around the same time and they were already onto the next one. She chugged that one down, already feeling the struggle to keep up. Proof was easily chugging it down like it was water meanwhile Y/n was scrunching her nose up at the scent.

When it got to the third can, Y/n could feel some of the beer trickling down her chin and down her neck. She decided she couldn't take it anymore and that she'd let Proof take the win. Y/n took the half empty cab off her lips, finally giving up, only for her to accidentally spill the rest of the beer onto her shirt and skirt.

The loud and supportive cheering was replaced by gasps. The beer had only made her shirt more see through, revealing her bra underneath more. She quickly got up to go change as her friends followed behind her.

“Yo, are you okay?” Proof asked.

“I'm fine!” Y/n called back before entering her bedroom.

“Did you guys see Marshall's face?” Mikayla asked quietly as soon as Y/n shut the door.

“No, why?” Y/n responded.

“He went all red and couldn't take his eyes off you.” Mikayla explained.

“He likes you!” Abi exclaimed.

“He doesn't. We're just old friends.” Y/n said.

“Old friends?” Mikayla asked.

“Yeah, we were best friends in high school.”

“Did you guys ever date?” Abi asked.

“No.. but we kissed once.”

“You did?!” Abi and Mikayla exclaimed at the same time.

“Shhh! But yes, we did. It was once. Then we never talked about it.”

Y/n changed her shirt and bra out for something more comfortable. She decided to wear a sports bra and an old baggy shirt on top.

When they came out of the room, Y/n could sense some sort of tension in the living room. Marshall's face was blushing red as a a tomato. He looked more embarrassed than flustered.

“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on Marshall's shoulder.

“Yeah everything's fine.” He replied.

“Hey should I order pizza?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, yeah that's good. Let's do that.” Dre said.

Y/n called the pizza place nearby and placed an order for a large pepperoni pizza and for a large meat feast pizza too.

“Are we even gonna finish all of this?” Y/n asked as she sat back down.

“Hey, me, Dre and Marshall can easily have a whole pizza for ourselves.” Proof reassured jokingly.

A few minutes passed and the pizza arrived. Everyone was starting so they were pumped to get their hands on a slice. They all reached in and took a bite, feeling at ease.

Y/n could feel her stomach churn as she ate the pizza. Perhaps pizza and 2 and half cans of beer weren't the best combination to have. She started to feel queasy so she decided to have a glass of water. Y/n could feel that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach slowly drifting away from her as she finished the water.

As minutes passed, everyone decided to sit on the couch and talk with each other for a while as music radio played. As the previous song faded, a new one started to play. It started off with a snappy beat and then followed by a female voice. It was the type of music you'd hear at a club or at a bar.

“Ooh! I love this song.” Abi said, smiling widely.

“I like this song too. Care to dance?” Proof asked smoothly as he offered his hand.

Abi instantly put her hand in his as the both stood up to dance. They both put their hands on each other and held each other close as they swayed to the music.

“Guys, join in!” Abi said.

“Yeah, get your asses off the couch.” Proof chimed in.

Dre and Mikayla gave each other a look before shrugging at each other and going off to dance. Y/n looked at Marshall with a sly smile.

“Care to dance?” She asked.

“Why not?” Marshall said.

They both got up to dance along with the others too. Marshall placed his hand on Y/n's waist as she placed her ls on the sides of his neck. They pulled each other closer and swayed to the music. Their foreheads touched as the tip of their noses came to contact too.

Y/n felt the space around her getting hot and stuffy. Her cheeks came to a bright pink colour from the heat as she felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of her neck.

“Hey, you okay there?” Marshall asked.

“Just a bit hot.” Y/n replied.

“Do you wanna step outside?”

“Yes please.”

With that decision, they went out to the back garden where they stood on the wood porch. The sky was dark and looked majestic with the twinkling stars and bright moon staring down on them.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Marshall asked.

“What?” Y/n asked curiously.

“When we snuck into that disco that the school was hosting cause we had to pay to go.”

Y/n gasped slightly as the memory started flooding back to her mind. “I remember! We danced for a bit, we got caught and stole snacks.”

“Yes!” Marshall chuckled. “And then we just kinda sat outside and watched the moon. And then we were talking and then…”

“We kissed.” Y/n said softly as she watched the grass rustle in the gentle wind.

“Yeah…”

“That was my first kiss actually.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all.”

They both looked at each other for a moment before leaning in slightly. But in that moment, Y/n felt her stomach getting queasy again as it tied up in twists and turns. She could feel a weird itchy feeling coming from her throat.

Shit.

She covered her mouth and turned around, vomiting into the nearest plant pot. Well, there goes her aloe vera. Marshall immediately held her hair up and stroked her back gently. His touch was calming and made her feel more at ease.

“Hey, if you don't feel well, I'll tell everyone to go home okay?” Marshall said.

“Okay, could you do that please?” Y/n replied.

Marshall quickly informed everyone about Y/n to which they were immediately concerned, especially Mikayla and Abi.

“Is she okay?” Abi asked.

“We wanna see her.” Mikayla said.

“She's fine but she needs space. It's best if everyone leaves.” Marshall stated.

“You coming with us?” Dre asked.

“I'll stay here to help her clean up. I can call a cab afterwards. I'll be fine.” Marshall insisted.

“Alright, man. Call me when you get home.” Proof said.

And with that, everyone but Marshall left. He took her to the bathroom so she could clean herself up while he cleaned up. He threw away all the empty beer cans and put the leftover pizza in some tupperware to leave in the fridge. He then hoovered and disposed of the aloe vera plant.

“Thank you, Marshall.” Y/n said as she stood by the doorpost on the living room door.

“Yeah, of course. I'm gonna get a cab and leave. Goodnight.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“It's 2 am. You can stay over, I think that's best.”

“No, it's fine. Don't worry. I don't wanna bother you.”

“You won't bother me Marshall. You're my friend. I have a guest bedroom. Feel free to stay there. I'll quickly clean it.”

“Hey, don't bother. It's fine.”

“Please…”

“Okay, I'll stay, but you don't have to clean the room. I just need to call Proof quickly and let him know.”

Y/n nodded and bid him goodnight before going over to her bedroom to take a fully deserved sleep. After Marshall informed Proof, he also went to sleep on the guest bed and slowly drifted to a slumber.

In the middle of the night, Y/n woke up with the sudden urge to have a glass of water. Her mouth felt dry and she needed to quench her thirst. She laid in bed for a minute before finally getting up. She'd probably had to take a tablet too for her killer headache she was just starting to deal with.

She noticed that the light in the kitchen was on, Marshall was probably in there. When she opened the door, she was met with Marshall turning on the tap and getting himself some water.

“Hey.” Y/n said gently, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh hey.” He replied as looked up at her with a soft smile. “Also craving some water?”

“Yup. And something for my killer headache.”

She rummaged through her cupboards and found ibuprofen. She took some cold water, immediately satisfying the dry feeling in her mouth.

“Listen, about earlier outside. I'm sorry-” Y/n started.

“Don't be sorry.”

Before she could say anything else, he sealed her lips with a gentle kiss. The gentleness of kiss soon became replaced with the feeling of desire and having to fulfil a desperate need.

“Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?” Y/n offered.

“Sure.”

Moments later, Y/n found herself laying head against Marshall's chest and playing with the fabric of his shirt on her bed.

“I'm sorry for losing contact with you over the years.” Y/n apologised.

“It's my fault too.” Marshall insisted.

“Why don't we try giving this a chance?”

“I like the sound of that.”

Marshall kissed her head before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader

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