#no i did not draw all that chest hair individually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Incubus!Dieter Bravo x Virgin F!Reader

Summary: Have you no idea that you're in deep?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, religious corruption kink, bastardizing prayers, brief drug use, mentions of alcohol consumption, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, breaking a hymen, descriptions of blood, biting and drawing blood, pheromone incubus anatomy, size difference/kink like whoa, monster transformation, monster fucking, PiV sex, wildly unrealistic sex, kind of dubious consent in the way that she has no idea what she's getting into so Dieter checks in A LOT, consent is sexy and monsters especially should ask for it, Reader has no idea what she's doing when it comes to summoning an incubus.

Notes: Like most things Dieter's involved in, it takes twice as long but you reap the most rewards. A little late for Halloween, but spooky season is 24/7 and I needed to put this out into the world as soon as possible. Very special gold star mutual thanks due to @ezrasbirdie who gave me the prompt for this story and then talked me through some of the ideas she had. Religious corruption kink is super new for me, not being raised in a formal religion, but it was incredibly interesting to explore in this way. Apologies for the sacrilege, friends, it's all in the pursuit of sexyness.

A big disclaimer! This is not a blueprint for losing your virginity! This is some wildly unrealistic sex, especially for someone who has never experienced PiV intercourse before! Please be safe and careful with your bodies. While we thirst over these scenarios and would love to take monster cocks, always practice safe and fun sex with partners who care about your comfort.

A second disclaimer that in this fic, the Reader defines losing her virginity as experiencing penetrative sex and breaking her unbroken hymen. Virginity does not look the same for every person, and each individual's circumstances may be very different. Virginity is also a social construct that has some gross stigmas around it, which we'll be briefly addressing. I've also kept the reader's age unspecified (18+ of course) but that she has gone to college, so whatever age you may be reading this, your own sexual journey moves at your pace and if/when you define that you've passed this milestone, that's the right time for you.

Cross-posted on AO3

The lines chalked into your hardwood floors glow with a sudden and panic-inducing heat, smoldering as a phantom breeze whips around your kneeling body. The lights in your apartment flicker and dim as a sooty haze hangs around your ankles. Springing to your feet, you frantically search for something to smear the careful symbols to nonsense while a crackle of electricity raises all of the hair on the back of your arms and neck.

It’s much too late to go back now.

Something pulls in the center of your chest as the room expands and contracts like a great beast breathing. You try to stand strong but the tremble in your frame chatters your teeth. Suddenly the room plunges into darkness, and a crack echoes in your ears before the light swells back to full strength. Bracing yourself for what may be in the circle you foolishly copied, you peel open your eyes.

Then, your mouth falls open, because never in your wildest dreams did you expect Dieter Bravo, famous actor, to be sitting in the middle of your half-assed summoning circle.

“What the fuck?”

He looks just as bewildered as you do, cross-legged on the floor and pulling his lips from a turquoise bong cradled in his lap. He’s wearing sunglasses - did you spirit him here from halfway around the world? - and an open silk bathrobe patterned with roaring tigers. The waterfall of folds bundle in his lap, and for a mouth-drying moment you wonder if he’s got anything on beneath. Then he shifts, billowing a cloud of skunky smoke at your ceiling and placing the bong at arms length.

Well, he is wearing socks at least, pulled halfway up his legs and under Crocs. You don’t know whether to laugh or choke on your tongue.

“What the fuck to you too,” he grumbles, creakily getting to his feet and dusting little frills of ash from his shoulders. It’s now easy to see he’s sporting tiny black boxer briefs, and your eyes fight to land anywhere but there. They finally find the book, opened to the page you scoffed over until your finished glass of wine goaded you on.

“This can’t be happening,” you finally squeak out, shifting on the balls of your feet as you spin and press your fingers into your cheeks.

“Sure is,” Dieter says, one hand on his hip and looking at you with naked curiosity. He’s swept back the robe on one side, showing off the shapely curve of his thigh, the soft definition of his stomach, how large his hands…

“I didn’t…I couldn’t have…you…go back,” you stammer, heart and head pounding. Does this mean you’re a witch? Did you honestly summon something with a book you rented from the library? Nothing makes sense with this man staring at you - practically leering - as you contemplate whether you’re having a dusty-old-book-based hallucination.

“Breathe, baby,” Dieter purrs, hands making soothing motions in the air between you. Taking in a big breath and letting it out explosively, you follow Dieter’s motions to sit down with him. The floor is hard and unforgiving on your bottom, but you criss-cross-applesauce with him as he leans back on his hands.

“Normally when I show up, people aren’t all that surprised,” he says, and his voice is raspy and sonorous in the room. You swallow hard, finding comfort in twisting the hem of your pajama shirt in your palms.

“Well, it’s pretty damn surprising to have THE Dieter Bravo in my living room,” you say, a momentary swell of pride when you realize your sarcasm hasn’t flown the coop with your sanity. Dieter chuckles, tilting his head onto one shoulder.

“Who were you expecting?”

“Honestly, no one. Nothing,” you lie. Half-lie. You were hoping for something pretty specific.

“Very cute, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here. I know exactly what you were hoping would pop up in this pretty little circle of yours.”

Your eyes wander to his inner thigh, then snap to a symbol on the floor.

“I thought…” You sigh, ducking your head. “I thought I was summoning some sort of…sexy demon. At least that’s what the book said.”

“An incubus,” Dieter offers, and you nod.

“But clearly something went wrong, because you’re here, somehow.” You scrub a hand over your face. “No idea how I messed up this bad. I didn’t even know you could mess up this badly.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Dieter says in a carefree voice. “Mess up, that is.” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“But I got…you.”

Dieter leans forward, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head with a knowing smile. In the dim light of your apartment his eyes seem even darker than before.

“Exactly what you asked for. At your service.” He tips his head, tongue slipping from between his plush lips to swipe along his full lower one. A sudden patter of arousal grips your hips, and he half closes his eyes and breathes deep.

“That can’t…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an…incubus.”

“Also yes.”

The next question blurts out of your mouth too quickly to stop.

“Why?”

His laugh is just as quick and breaks some of the tension digging into your spine. The warmth of it wraps your head in cotton, smiling along.

“Oh, starlet, I should be pissed as hell to be pulled away from that fantastic party I was about to ruin, but this is turning out to be much more fun.” Your cheeks warm at the affectionate name. “How many people do you think summon incubi these days? A demon’s gotta get by.” He’s sliding closer to the edge of the circle but not moving past it. A small voice in the back of your mind notes that he might not be able to.

“So…acting,” you say, not without a little smirk. He seems to like that, smile stretching wider and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“What, should I be slinging burgers?” he asks with another snort of laughter. “C’mon, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense. Beautiful people, sex appeal galore, fast living and high octane relationships? I haven’t been hungry in ages.”

Your hands still in your lap, studying your fingers as you let the silence linger. Dieter allows it for a time before his voice pulls you back.

“But you summoned, and I came. You must have a reason.”

Now that the silly half-buzzed fantasy is mere feet from you, saying it aloud is daunting.

“You’ll…you won’t get it.”

His eyebrows lift in slow surprise.

“Try me.”

You're turned on more than you’ve ever experienced in your life, and Dieter’s nostrils flare as his jaw ticks.

“I was having a drink. A couple,” you correct, the dregs of the bottle giving you away. “And I was just hating the way I was feeling about everything going on and I looked at this book and it seemed like a funny thing, to try and summon a demon…”

“Incubus, get it right,” Dieter purrs, and the air thickens.

“I didn’t think it would work,” you protest, hands coming up to cradle your temples.

“But you hoped, enough to do all this work on the one day of the year when magic is easiest to grasp,” he teases, tilting his head to the side to catch your eye. It’s definitely not helping the situation that he’s Dieter Bravo, solid C-list star who’d captured your attention in more than one of his movies. Thoughts of his dark eyes and full lips drew your hands down your body on more than one occasion before…

Dieter growls low and frustrated. “Let’s cut to the chase, starlet. You’re laying out a buffet and I can’t even have a taste.” You blink owlishly at him before he smirks, licking an incisor. “I can smell how much you want me.”

Shock slams your mouth shut, face burning. Your traitorous body has failed you again.

“You called and I answered. I’m still in your circle, so you could send me away, but I doubt you know how to do that.”

He’s right. You’ve trapped him here. With little old you.

“Or, you could tell me what you really wanted when you spent all this time writing all these little symbols so carefully.” Dieter’s fingers dance along the chalk lines, smile turning cheekier. Steeling yourself, you let the truth out into open air.

“I called you because…I’ve never had anyone before.”

Dieter’s face remains cooly neutral, but you can see his nostrils flare briefly.

“You’ve never…”

You shrug, self-deprecating smile cutting through the awkwardness.

“I’ve done some things, by myself, but never…I’ve never had sex with anyone in the…classical way.” The words are starched and wooden but hit a chord with Dieter. He repositions to sit back on his knees, hands splayed on his bare thighs. The smooth expanse of his chest begs to be touched.

“I thought I smelled something special here, and I was oh so right,” he rasps, nipping at his lower lip while he drags his eyes over your body. “Human virginity is a social construct, but inexperience in pleasure? Being allowed to revel in your body discovering all the ways it can feel? That is a rare treat.”

You don’t expect the sudden rush of emotions at Dieter’s eagerness. Years of people either finding you broken or fetishizing your “purity” had given you an even larger complex than you thought.

“It’s not…fucked up that I’m doing this?” you ask.

“What sounds better to you, letting some Chad fumble through trying to pleasure you when his dick can barely handle your sweet cunt, or allowing someone with centuries of experience give you everything you ever desired?”

Your aforementioned cunt knows which one she wants.

“May I ask why you’ve waited until now?” he says, interrupting your railroading thoughts. Shyness and shame clouds your eyes.

“My parents were very religious. Lots of ‘thou shalt nots’ and ‘obey thys’. But I wanted to be a good daughter. So badly.” Dieter’s eyes are darkening as you speak, fingers pressing divots into his thighs. “So I did everything they said. Followed all the rules. And I grew up their perfect little girl. Never got caught sneaking out with a boy, never drank or smoked or anything.”

“How…boring,” Dieter comments. It stings between your shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all I heard when I went to college. That I was boring for not liking weed. A buzzkill because I was nervous about breaking rules. And sex…”

Here you swallow, your lower lip trembling before you bite it back.

“I thought I was doing everything right. Everyone told me I was doing everything right. And then I get into the real world and nobody wants…” Looking up you catch a softer expression on Dieter’s face, true understanding blunting the lust.

“How have these fumbling fools tried to pleasure you?” he asks, and maybe the wine is still thrumming in your veins (it’s not), but your tongue is looser than it’s ever been.

“Grinding mostly. I think they’ve…cum…but I don’t. Not like when I do it myself.”

Dieter snarls softly. “Fuckers,” he rumbles, an oncoming thunderclap crackled with electricity.

“Every time I feel like I’m damaged goods,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought maybe this would…fix me.”

The lights in the room dip low as Dieter chuckles. Darkness seems drawn to him, settling around his shoulders like a fine stole.

“Betrayed by the God you worshiped so faithfully,” he muses, rolling his shoulders and licking his lips. “Don’t worry, starlet, I’ll take care of you tonight.”

“Can I…do anything for you?” you ask. Dieter’s smile softens, tutting quietly.

“Believe me, you’ll be perfect,” he praises, the heat in your cheeks even more unbearable. “Like I said, I’m rarely hungry anymore, but your arousal will be delicious. I’ll gorge myself on your peaks and leave you sated…and ruined for any after me.”

That should be a warning. It only makes your want greater.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Dieter’s smile widening again. Are his teeth…sharper?

“Now we can fuck to our heart’s content in this summoning circle here,” Dieter says, tapping his finger in the air. Motes of copper light and sparks rain down from an invisible barrier. “I’ve had more challenging obstacles. But if you would like me at my best, break the circle starlet.”

Standing back up, you retrieve a cloth from your kitchen table. When you return Dieter is standing in the center, prowling ever so slightly in his tiny prison. You move to wipe the line connecting the circle when…

“Are other celebrities incubi?” you ask, kneeling in front of him with open curiosity on your face. Dieter’s predatory smile quickly shuffles to confused and incredulous.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t keep close tabs.”

“Tom Hiddleston could totally be one. Or Robert Downey Jr. Heck, maybe Marvel just employs incubi to keep their revenue going…” Leaning down, you move to wipe the mark.

“Strange little starlet,” Dieter chuckles, and a warm breeze tickles the back of your neck. With one swipe the circle is broken.

“Hannah Waddingham would totally be…” you start to say, nerves tumbling words from your lips, but thankfully Dieter’s stop them.

He moves so quickly for a moment you’re sure he’s going to devour you, tear you limb from limb for imprisoning him. Instead he crashes your mouths together, hand firm on the back of your neck as his broad shoulders press you on your back. His hips slot between your thighs so smoothly you’re arching into them before you can think straight. Once your head is carefully lowered to the floor his hands find your wrists and press them above your head, maneuvering your thighs to wrap you around his waist. The dizzying feat of agility pales in comparison to his kiss.

Dieter commands your mouth to submit, tongue hot and lewd between your lips. You’re afraid you’ll choke on your own but he strokes delicate paths into the lush depths that keep you barely breathing. His lips are plush and yielding, pulling away to drag against the corner of your mouth or teasing the edge of your lips. And his teeth. You’d had boys clack against you, or press them harshly against your lips. Dieter knows exactly when to scrape them against your tongue, how much pressure to put with your lower lip trapped, the anticipation of them sliding against your skin before he dives in again.

“What a soft, pretty thing you are,” he rasps, and there’s a deep grinding quality to his voice now. Like stones moving slowly past one another, it vibrates straight to your clit as he inhales deeply behind your ear.

“Dieter…” you manage, his face lifting from his ecstasy to study your own. His eyes are somehow losing the edge of white, expanding into inky blackness. He lazily laps at his lower lip, and when you lean up to kiss his chin he snarls and presses deep into your apex.

“I’m sorry, starlet, I forgot you’ve been waiting to break promises,” he teases, sliding a hand down to knead at your ass. As quickly as you were laid out you’re suddenly in the air, legs wrapped around Dieter’s waist as he carries you out of your living room. His strength has you feeling light as a feather, barely a nuisance as he searches out a place for his plans.

“The bedroom.” You motion to a half-opened door and Dieter’s knowing smile precludes entering.

“Eager, aren’t we? What if I wanted to lay you out for everyone to see?”

The image of your body laid bare, covered in moonlight and monstrous hands, flutters your eyes as the bedroom door shuts behind you.

“No, tonight you will remain in my confessional,” he says, kneeling down on the bed and letting you fall back into the mess of pillows and sheets.

“You’re very fond of religious metaphor,” you rib, rubbing your thighs together as Dieter sheds the robe and his Crocs, a brief moment of clarity bubbling a giggle up your throat. Dieter’s motions slow as he regards you again, kneeling between your legs.

“Maybe I am rather fond of…corruption,” he husks, the word lighting on your skin like sparks. “Maybe I like seeing you forsake all for me.”

If he asked, you just might. The high of his attention is so great.

“But in this moment, what I mean is we will speak no lies in this room.” His hands trail down your thighs, and now your body remembers it has no experience from here. You shake, heart pounding as Dieter crawls up your body with only brief brushes to guide his way. “My promise is that you will know pleasure as great as I can offer. And you will tell me everything you think, and feel.”

He hovers over your body, broad enough to block the paltry light through your window.

“Would you like to be pleasured?”

“Yes, Dieter, please.”

His smile is wicked, and the scrape of his fingernails up your ribcage arches your back. In a fluid slide of his fingers your shirt is over your head and tossed into darkness, leaving you bare-chested under him. He hums with appreciation as his face descends, curved nose dragging along your tender skin. Time hangs in the balance as you tense for what may come, but Dieter only traces dizzying paths with the tip of his nose and the fullness of his lips. Up one side of your ribs, placing kisses at intervals, then along the underside of your breast. His hot breath warms skin, nipples hardening sharp and sensitive at the scratch of his facial hair. Then down the center of your stomach, a long and cyclical detour around your bellybutton. Stomach trembling, he hushes you as his fingers slide under your waistband and bunch your sleep shorts and underwear in his hands.

Another fluid drag and you’re nude, still swimming in endorphins at Dieter’s skilled touch. It’s only when hot palms wrap around your knees and begin easing them apart do you balk. Instinctively you clamp your legs together, heat flooding your face. Dieter tuts, smoothing his hands up and down your jittery thighs.

“What are you afraid of, starlet?” he asks, ghosting his fingers over the apex of your sex. Just the brush against your mound steals your voice, that same hot shame and anxiety pulling you in on yourself. When you don’t answer, Dieter commands more firmly, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Dragging your eyes from the ceiling back to him doesn’t help. He’s all mischievous eyes and knowing smiles, pressing a kiss to both of your knees as he rests his chin on them.

“I can make it easier for you,” he says, fingers finding a soft crease in your hip and stroking along it. “Give you something for the nerves, for any pain. I’ll only let you feel good here with me.”

You take two more grounding breaths and ease the pressure on your knees.

“”Sorry, I’m just…no one’s ever…” you say, but before you can explain your woeful inexperience he’s wedging his way between your legs and holding your thighs open in his firm tight grip.

“I’m the first to taste this forbidden fruit?” he asks, and you clench involuntarily. He waits as you gather yourself enough to nod. A deep, dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Starlet, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”

The question claws up your throat but no sooner has he glanced at your pussy he’s diving in to press his tongue deep and sweeping through your folds. The velvet slither arches your back off the bed, a strangled cry earning a satisfied hum between your legs.

“Holy shit, Dieter, oh my god,” you rasp as he flicks his tongue in fast swipes over your clit. It’s foreign and taboo, so much wetter and softer than your fingers and you can barely stop your hips from bucking into his mouth. One hand presses you down to the bed, his chin tilting up to catch your eye. Slick shines his mouth, and your pussy throbs when you realize his eyes are the shiny black of nightmares and creatures used to the dark.

“No god here, sweetheart. Only me. Only take my name in vain,” he growls, and the rush of blood in your ears speeds up when you realize the hand pressed on your abdomen spans the width of your hips. Black-tipped claws indent the flesh, prickling your skin just shy of pain. Dipping low again, Dieter swirls at your entrance and prods in, nose pressed tight to the button of your pleasure. The supple stretch is unfamiliar, pulling at a primal need to let him fill you. It tightens your thighs and shudders you against him as he forces you down again, the bite of claws a sharper warning. His jaw doesn’t stop, plunging and delving into you as deep as he can manage.

“Dieter, it’s never…oh fuck, it’s never felt this good before, please…please, I can’t stand it,” you beg, a rush of slick coating his tongue. Now a true snarl seeds your cunt, and in the charcoal dark his silhouette thickens, shoulders broadening under your knees. He pushes you further up the bed, pulling even greater cries from your chest. Dragging his tongue from your sopping hole, he sucks greedily on your clit, hands wrapped around your waist to lift you half off the bed. Suspended and flowing with arousal, your hands unclench from the sheets and circle his wrists. The skin is hot under your palms, and they dig deeper in at your scrabbling touch. It’s not enough, so with a boldness you pull from a dizzying depth you bury your fingers in his curls.

At first touch they’re soft. Long enough to wind around your fingers. You give a gentle tug and swear you feel a shudder around you. But as you bury them deeper another sensation tickles your palm. Something unyielding and curved, smooth like bone. Two protrusions fit in the webbing of your thumb and forefinger, short enough that the blunt tip brushes your knuckles. Horns, you think. A demon is eating me out and he has horns. And where you might have tried to wake yourself from a nightmare at this thought, instead you wrap your fingers around them and tug.

Like lightning something changes in Dieter. His lips tear from you with a roar that fills the room, your mind, spreading like forest fire and drying your mouth out. You hold on as he drops you back to the bed, the sound still ripping from his throat. Then there’s pain, supernova-like in intensity and scorching through arousal and fear. Your eyes snap down to Dieter’s mouth, but it’s no longer defiling your pussy. It’s clamped hard on your inner thigh, air puffing sharply through his nose. The pain radiates, and you realize he’s bit you. Not an overzealous love bite, you can feel the puncture of incisors and pump of blood into his mouth, the same pattern as your racing heart. Your hands release his horns, pushing you up as your mouth drops open in horror.

“Dieter,” you gasp, but with his horns released the pressure abates. His eyes open slowly, catching your terrified face. The curve of his brow morphs from surprise to apology to determination. Then a thumb presses firmly to your clit and circles it, washing pain away with pleasure teetering right on the edge. His fangs remain in your thigh as you stare at him, incredulity on your face but pleasure rocking your hips. He adds pressure to the bite again, speeding up his fingers as your brain struggles to differentiate one from the other.

Then, just as your spine begins tingling and your fingers go numb, one slick finger penetrates your cunt, smooth and deep, barely noticeable compared to the symphony of sensations. Like a reward, Dieter gives you the final stroke that crashes your orgasm over him, slamming you back to the bed as pain and pleasure and shame and exhilaration floods your brain. You barely register Dieter’s jaw releasing, fingers working you through your orgasm as the slow laps of his tongue lull you back to your body. Every muscle quivers, attempts to sit up failing twice before you manage to come up to your elbows.

Between your legs Dieter is pressing devotions to the spot he bit, open-mouthed kisses with peeks of tongue soothing the injury. His finger is still inside, a lazy caress of your walls foreign but not unpleasant. Finally he lifts up to his knees and turns his attention back to your face.

“I’m sorry, starlet, you got me a little too riled up there. I’ve fixed it, but you might be sore tomorrow.” A bloom of teeth circle your inner thigh, but no blood oozes out. You felt the pop, felt him inside you, and somehow he’s taken it back. “Can’t have you injured because of me, not very professional.”

“I hope it stays,” you pant, fingertips tracing the dark marks. The tenderness arcs down your spine.

“Fuck, you’re made for sin, starlet,” Dieter purrs, and now your attention can turn back to him. Grounding yourself with a healthy, “oh fuck,” is the only way you can fathom what he’s become.

He towers over you even kneeling, broad body only more tantalizing as he’s grown in stature. The well-known triangle tattoos you’d seen in paparazzi photos are joined by swirling patterns up and down his arms, concentric rings and text you can’t read patterning his skin. Where only wild curls were before now jut two smooth horns, curved away from his face and looking suspiciously similar to a goat’s. His skin almost steams in the room, wisps of smoke or condensation haloing his silhouette like an ominous aura.

Then his hand flexes again and you realize how full you are with just one finger inside, even observing how thick and wicked they’ve become.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and there’s only a hint of teasing now as he works his finger inside.

“It’s…okay,” you gasp, staring at the place where you’re connected. His thumb ghosts over your clit again, but so soon after your high it’s over sensitive, making you hiss and tremble.

“Shhh, starlet, just relax. Thought it would be better to take advantage of the pain.” With a final stroke that lights up your nerves he slips out, holding his fingers up for you to see. They’re wet with your arousal and a little blood, a lot less than you thought. “Now that’s out of the way, we can take our time giving you the best fuck of your life.” With a knowing smile, he pops his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean.

“Fuck, you really are…an incubus,” you say, acquainting yourself with the dull ache of your loss. There isn’t much fanfare, no swelling of emotion. If anything, breaking your hymen is probably the least memorable part of your night. Dieter’s smile falters briefly, and in a dizzying turn of events he shrinks back, closing in on himself. Ducking his head, you might think he was embarrassed, or shy. It looks stranger than the horns on him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Touching the horns got me a little too worked up. Let me open you up on my fingers for a little while longer, that’ll give me enough time to…change back.” His smile is sheepish now, hands roaming your thighs and stomach. Instead of the skin-crawling terror you thought that would instill, you’re practically preening under his touch.

“Is this you? This form?” you ask, and you let your boldness move to your hands. You stroke your fingertips over his, investigating the smoothness of his claws, how the joints of his fingers are more pronounced than yours. He scoffs an uncomfortable laugh.

“Uh yeah, mostly. But you’ll have a lot more fun bragging that you lost your virginity to THE Dieter Bravo,” he redirects, shaking his head like he’s annoyed he’s not that man yet.

In your brief and paltry handful of intimate moments, you never considered yourself bold. You’d let men touch you until your discomfort was too much, or your embarrassment pulled to the forefront. You never asked for the touches you enjoyed, or sought out the pleasures you dreamed of. But now, with a creature that’s endearingly vulnerable before you, your voice is finally strong enough to be heard.

“I’d like you to stay this way,” you say. Sitting up further, you skim your hands up his arms to cup his face. Your touch snarls his lip briefly before he settles.

“You can’t handle that, starlet. I’ve kept my human form reasonable, but you will not be able to take my cock,” Dieter husks. Tugging your wrist down to his waist, you palm him through fabric barely able to contain him. Thick and long in your hand, he drops his head and thrusts against you and gets bigger.

“Ruin me, then,” you whisper, filthy and naive into his ear. “I’ve waited all this time, saved myself for no one but you. Make me take no lover but you. Make me pray to you for ecstasy.” Leaning in to the metaphor rewards you. With a dangerous rumble he pushes you flat on your back, one hand wrapped around your throat.

“You want this, starlet? All of it?” he grits out, sickening cracks and pops echoing in the room. His hips force yours wide, planting his other hand by your head and carefully watching your face. The shine of his fangs whips your heart into a gallop, more ink dancing on his skin as he transforms from something beautiful to something magnificent. The room darkens perplexingly until you realize wings spread from his shoulders, thin light gleaming through the stretched web of skin. His aura crackles with molten motes, a whiff of fire and smoke making a home in your lungs. When he looks back at you, half familiar and half transcendent, his roguish smile brings one to your lips.

“Strange little thing, wet and ready for me,” he croons, removing his hand from your throat. A rip of stitching signals he’s as nude as you are now, and your eyes widen when the heavy length of his cock rests on your mound, curving past your navel and thicker than your hand can circle.

“Say you want Dieter Bravo back, and I’ll have just as much fun wrecking you in that form,” he says, but there’s something cautious between you now. A shimmer of anxiety and distrust. You’re holding a thread of something truer than he intended to give you, and if you drop it you’ll never find it again.

“Can you help me make it feel good?” you ask, sliding your palms along his chest. Without proper pupils it’s hard to track his expression, but you think it’s awestruck.

“Of course, starlet. You’ve learned to cum from pleasure and pain, but I won’t have you suffer more than necessary.” Dieter leans down and cups your head, bringing your nose to his neck right where it meets his shoulder. “Breathe,” he instructs, and you inhale deep. Below the smoke and heat you smell sweet new earth, lush and fruitful. It makes your mouth water, clutching at his shoulders as he begins rocking his hips against yours. His monstrous cock slips in the wet mess between your legs, slicking the underside generously.

“Fuck, you arousal is so delicious, I could taste you for centuries,” Dieter whispers. Lifting up, he smiles at your dazed expression and wandering hands. They trace his features, lingering on his lips. “How are you feeling now?”

You want him inside you, filling you up to bursting, to breaking. The need is hotter, all-encompassing. It’s surety that he won’t hurt you, that you’ll be shown pleasure beyond anything you’ve experienced. It’s lust but also trust.

“Can you kiss me?” is what you say, and Dieter’s smile is a touch softer before he leans down and claims your lips.

You swear you hear a hiss when he touches you, his skin scorching but not enough to burn. Parting his lips and nudging your jaw open, he traces the inside of your lower one with the tip of his tongue. One hand cups the back of your head, cradling you to his mouth, and with a forbidden thrill you realize his hands are now large enough that his fingertips caress the perimeter of your face. The threatening pressure of claws in your skin arcs arousal back in your cunt, winding your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he orders, and with a magnificent beat of bat wings his silhouette glows with dancing light much like a breath sparking fire to life. The warm hue of his human skin has gilded to gold, tattoos moving along the dips and peaks of his body. Eyes black and fathomless, his smile is a lifeboat in a raging ocean. He lets the heavy weight of his tongue wet his lower lip as your eyes widen, hefty cock lifting from your mound to press at your entrance. Scrabbling fear overtakes you, and you clutch at Dieter’s shoulders as the pressure mounts.

“Again, starlet,” he croons, but his voice is the rumbling of great stones moving over one another as you inhale deep of his scent. Cool water pours through your limbs, easing your muscles and letting your legs drop open wide. His other hand presses at your lower back and arches you off the bed, resting your thighs atop his own. Then, with a controlled push his head breaches you, wrenching a wrecked moan from deep in your chest. He stops as soon as he’s engulfed in your heat, the only betrayal of his own state residing in the long exhale of breath that tickles across your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Tell me if you need me to stop,” he grits out, but you shake your head and roll your hips. It’s sloppy, inexperienced, but he moves ever so slightly within you and it punches a groan from between Dieter’s clenched teeth.

“Please, Dieter, more,” you beg, his claws tightening around you again. Another measured advance, another wail, more snarling and groaning from the creature stuffing himself inside you. Whatever aphrodisiac he’s fed you is working magnificently. You’re full, the pressure intense, but the pain is dull and quiet. He’s watching where you’re joined so closely, stretched obscenely around his cock, waiting for your thighs to unclench before backing out and pressing deeper in.

“Touch your clit,” he gasps, “Rub that pretty clit so you can take all of me.”

Your fingers are nowhere as decadent as his tongue but they pull bursts of ecstasy close to the surface. Venturing a look down, you’re dismayed to see he’s barely halfway there, so much more of his pulsing cock still to take. He already feels like he’s in your stomach, battering against your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes, lower lip wobbling.

“It’s not going to work,” you whisper, and even with the knowledge that Dieter could turn human at any point you still wallow in the rejection you anticipate. Not good enough for anyone, not even the person you called for.

“Shhh,” Dieter soothes, easing you back down to the bed. He tugs over pillows to tuck under your hips before covering you with his body, still looking in your eyes even at his towering height. “Breathe. Do you want me to stop? I can let you rest, change back to my human form. If you can take all of this…” His hips twitch forward, a soft cry tumbling out. “...then you can take my human cock perfectly.” With a tenderness your eyes water for, he strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s already so much, so intense and mind-blowing, but you can’t help yourself.

“I want all of it, Dieter,” you say, consequences be damned.

Much in the same way touching his horns unleashed something in Dieter, hearing those words unlocks something even more primal and greedy in his face. Dropping down to his elbows, he presses your face against his neck.

“Bite,” he orders, the word igniting every pleasure center in your body. “Hard, starlet, give me one as good as I gave you.” The words are barely out before you sink your teeth into the crook of his neck, but instead of blood or other ichor you’re flooded with pleasure. The sensation rips an orgasm out of you, hips bucking on his cock. You register Dieter pulling out to the tip before slamming his hips into yours, seating himself fully inside your throbbing cunt. You don’t know how your body makes room for him, how you’re not screaming (well, maybe screaming some), but he’s inside you and littering your body with, “oh fuck, oh fuuuuucks” as he swirls his hips.

“I did it,” you coo in pleasure-dipped delirium, head flopping back on a pillow as Dieter starts thrusting into you in slow passes.

“You sure fucking did sweetheart, look at that perfect pussy taking my monster cock,” he praises, now sliding along your clit with focus. The overstimulation rolls right into desire again as your cunt learns how to gorge itself on pleasure.

“It feels…good,” you say, bearing down on his thrusts to meet him with a little more force. He purrs in admiration, starting to speed up ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Like how good you feel all stuffed full?” Dieter asks but it’s nonsense now, his focus pulling between your face and his cock pumping in and out of you. There’s a little more pain now, places where his cock brushes that zip sharp up your spine, but it’s far from unpleasant. In fact, you might like it. Maybe really like it.

“More, Dieter. Want to feel you. Please,” you moan, restraint flickering in Dieter’s eyes.

“Fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that when I’m so deep in you, I won’t be able to…” His thought falls off as his thrusts speed up, a little more force at the end each time. It’s kissing at something devastating inside, something clawing its way to the surface through years of shame and dread.

“Please Dieter, I’ll beg for it. I’ll…” Your brain wraps around a wicked idea. “I’ll pray for it.”

That does the trick. Dieter’s lips curl back in a snarl as he rears up to his knees, wings spreading to fill the room with only him. Hands gripping your hips, he looks down at you not like a lover, but like a fallen god.

“Then do it, starlet,” he challenges. His smile is cool, but his cock twitches in your cunt. You have him.

“Glory be to you, Dieter,” you say, and hellfire light erupts around him. Dragging himself out of your cunt, he holds tight as a bowstring.

“And to your…fucking massive cock,” you continue, eyes rolling back as he fills you to the brim. “And to your true form, in all its beauty,” you add, softer now, drawing his eyes back up to you. Time hangs as he studies your face before dipping down and sealing your lips with a kiss that means too much for words. When he lifts away you finish the prayer.

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.”

Dieter’s smile glints.

“A-fucking-men,” he rasps, giving you just enough time to press your hands against the headboard before he starts railing you.

You’re lost in pleasure and ache and sin and Dieter pounding recklessly into your cunt. His grip paints bruises along your waist, battering thighs marking the inside of your hips. His claws dig into your flesh and sharp scrapes tighten your nipples. Hands roam up over your breasts, around your neck, pressing your wrists into the bed as ominous splintering and cracks echo in your ears.

“Another before I cum on your tits, sweetheart,” he pants, spitting down onto your clit and circling it with vigor. You cry out, hips bucking as the thickness of his cock impedes on your quivering walls. “It’s so close baby, just cum around me. Let me feel you cum on all my cock this time.”

“I can’t,” you cry out, shaking and sobbing around him. Dieter tuts, his rapidly increasing slap-slap-slap of thrusts maddening.

“You can, and you will starlet. You didn’t think you’d take my cock. I didn’t think you’d take it, and look at you now. So you’re going to cum. You’re going to cum now.”

The order shakes the room, pictures rattling on the wall as a final flick hurtles you off into oblivion with Dieter’s roaring triumph right behind. He’s somehow still fucking his cock into you even though you’re so tight it almost hurts to be cumming so good. A final crackling roar and you’re achingly empty, followed by a hot splash of cum across your stomach. Then another cresting your breast, and more and more until you’re covered in it, sticky trails sliding to pool in your bellybutton and drip over your sides onto the covers. Dieter is gasping above you, glowing like a sacred artifact as he pumps the last drops from his cock.

You close your eyes once and it’s a mistake. As soon as you let your eyelids touch exhaustion grips you, fighting your desperate attempts to reopen them. It’s battling this bone-deep tired when you experience Dieter’s return to a human form. The horns receding, tattoos fading to just the ones that grace tabloid pages. The wings fold away, and soon a sexy as hell rumpled and soft body replaces the supernatural one.

“Wore you out, starlet?” Dieter Bravo asks, kneeling between your parted knees with a rakish smile. You try to return it with a nod but your whole body is heavy, the mess barely bothering you. Dieter hums thoughtfully, and in a few moments a warm washcloth is cleaning up his cum.

“Side effect of my influence, helps a lot in the moment but it’s got some pretty strong sedative properties. Good for a speedy exit.” His chuckle sounds faraway now, even as you try to clutch at it.

“Stay,” you manage to croak out, hands seeking his body. You find his hair again, nose buried in your sex as he licks softly at your folds. The building ache there creeps back down to something dull and manageable.

“Our contract is up, can’t stay once you’ve given me what I’m owed.” Dieter’s lips start leaving small kisses along your abdomen, fingers soothing your skin. “Even if it was very, very good.”

“Please,” you try again, racking your rapidly puttying mind for anything to keep his hands on you.

“Even when you say it so sweetly,” Dieter says, but there’s melancholy now. It glances off your fingertips as sleep pulls you under.

In the between world of dreams, you think he says something more to you, but Morpheus snatches it away.

Hail, starlet, full of grace, Dieter is with thee.

This might be the silliest thing I’ve ever…well, hmm…

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, all those delectable orgasms you gave me.

Holy starlet, bringer of…something special.

Pray for this sinner.

There’s blood on your sheets when you wake, though less than you expected. There’s also less pain, though the ache takes your breath away when you sit up too fast. Hobbling to the bathroom with the cool pink of morning light guiding, you inspect your body in the mirror.

You don’t look much different than before. Some strange notion of losing your virginity making you suddenly appear “mature” is dashed away. Maybe there’s a little glint of a secret in your eye, but not much more. Actually, surprisingly not much more. You expected bruises, scratches along your body and love bites marring your landscape. Instead your canvas is unblemished, no marks or injuries to hide. It’s almost as if he’d never been there.

Sitting down on the toilet, you wonder if maybe he wasn’t. That you dreamt up debauchery due to food poisoning or someone spiking the punch at the Halloween party. You couldn’t possibly have summoned an incubus.

A dark mark inside your thigh catches your attention, and any doubts dissipate. A ring of teeth, four larger fangs prominent, marrs the inside of your thigh. Brushing your fingertips over the circle, the skittering thrill of those memories settle in your chest.

You ride on the endorphins for a few days, a handful of people noticing. A work friend tries to interrogate you on it but “a lady never tells” is a saucy enough reply for her to give an approving look. You buy a new bed online, the base of yours splintered to ruin, but you keep the cracked headboard like a souvenir.

Online dating doesn’t seem as daunting now that you’re not so worried about the dreaded “first time.” You even accept a few dates, meet some generally nice men with generally boring personalities. They don’t make your heart race like a certain celebrity whose name you googled briefly before slamming your laptop shut. They certainly don’t kiss like him, or make sexy little jokes or terrify you as much as intrigue you.

So for a while you try to move on. There’s no other option, right? Dieter Bravo the Movie Star would never give you a second thought. Dieter Bravo the Incubus surely has better things to do, more lascivious living. So you try to find something even remotely like what you felt that night.

It’s mid-November when you find yourself sitting on your living room floor again, piece of chalk in hand. You lit candles this time, bought black lace lingerie, made yourself up to feel pretty. It doesn’t help your shaking hands as you pull the rug off the summoning circle. Touching up a few spots, you settle by the broken line where you released Dieter. It all popped off when you completed the circle last time, so with a deep breath and a swipe of the chalk, you reconnect the chalk.

And you wait.

And wait.

A bulb in a lamp flickers but it’s brief. An errant breeze almost snuffs out a candle. But nothing happens. Your knees are sore, eyes watering but you blink the tears away.

It was a long shot, you have to admit. A fluke chance, never to be repeated. You’ll have to settle for something bland, safe, loving but…

Nothing like Dieter.

You’re about to get up from the floor when one other idea tempts you. Something you thought he might have said before leaving you ruined.

Pray for this sinner.

Clasping your hands in your lap, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

It’s been a long time since you last prayed.

“Dieter…” you whisper. The fine hairs on your neck rise up, but you press on.

“Dieter, I pray to thee,” you continue, closing your eyes. “Come to me in my hour of need.”

A pause, then a final entreaty. “Please.”

A rumble creeps into your body, tiny puffs of candles snuffing out reaching your ears. You dare not open your eyes yet, too hopeful for disappointment. Instead you wait, and hope.

A hot hand, thick fingered and human, slides up your chest, over your throat and cups your chin. Relief floods your body, melting back against a solid chest and chuckling lips.

“Hello, starlet,” Dieter croons in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Your fingers search for curls, burying in his hair as you lace your fingers with his.

“You came,” you breathe, sparks igniting on your skin as he presses a line of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

“How could I not, when you prayed so sweetly?” he teases, tugging you back to sit in the cradle of his crossed legs. “Smart of you to try the circle, but outside of all hallow’s eve you don’t have access to enough power for that trick.”

“But you came,” you repeat, turning your face into Dieter’s ministrations. He nips at the side of your jaw, soothing it with his lips before murmuring a confession into your skin.

“I hoped you would call again.”

A thick emotion swells in your chest, and you spin in his grasp to crash your mouths together. The momentum knocks him backwards to the floor, letting you straddle his waist and feast on his ample lips. His hands roam your back, reverent in their paths. When you break to suck in lungfuls of sweet air he leans up to mouth at your neck, possessive hand on your ass urging you to grind against him.

“Have you let anyone else fuck you?” he growls. To your delight the anxiety and trepidation that colored your first encounter is nowhere in sight. You smile wolfishly down at him.

“How could I? You’ve ruined me for any man,” you tease, and under your body he writhes, the whites of his eyes trading for inky black. “Plus, one time is hardly enough to know if I even like sex. I’ve barely begun to explore.”

The fangs flash between his kiss-swollen lips, and under the promise of any delight you desire you glimpse the even more exciting fondness that will draw you back to him again and again.

“Then we have a lot of work to do.”

END

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through

The Arctic Monkeys, "Do I Wanna Know?"

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #incubus!Dieter #virgin reader #prolix fics

539 notes · View notes

bandaidrights · 2 months ago

Text

My rant on fem ratiorine bc I love women

Individual hcs first

Ratio:

- About shoulder length curly hair, it's usually thrown into a bun because she's a tired teacher and is usually too tired to do a full curl routine

- same height as cannon ratio and same amount of muscles (why do ppl not draw her muscles 😔)

- heavy chested, her back always is in some sort of pain, her baths usually help relieve it tho

- boob window

-greek nose

- her cannon outfit is the same, but she sometimes wears a white or dark blue skirt, just depends on how she's feeling

- her sandals have a slight heel, she's already tall so she doesn't really need to make herself taller, it's just for fashion

- her bust is the same as cannon ratios, nothings changed about that

- rarely does makeup, maybe a light lipstick if she's feeling it, she's just naturally beautiful

Aventurine:

- about mid back length straight hair, she tries to curl it and put products to make it look good

- same height as cannon aven

- keeps things in her bra, lipstick, credit cards, wtv

- mostly cannon outfit but wears a white skirt most of the time, sometimes, she'll wear loose white business pants

- heels, always wearing heels, they have lil spades on the heel

- always has her nails done

- always wears makeup

Now them tg hcs

- aven insists on doing a curl routine for ratio, she honestly loves doing ratios hair, it's comforting to just do her partners hair in comfortable silence

- their first date, ratio did her hair and makeup and dressed up more then usual because they were going somewhere nice (avens choice). Aventurine noticed immediately and eas just "did you get all prettied up for me, dear doctor?" With just a smile, ratio nodded and js grabbed avens hand

- aven does ratios nails, nothing fancy, she just paints her finger and toe nails whatever color ratio pics, usually blue. Aven is usually ranting about whatever happened during the day while doing her nails, and ratio is carefully listening

- ratio is a human heater, she runs hot, aven is always cold, during the night, ratio has no blankets on, aven is buried in them but also snuggling up to ratio for more warmth

- aven does ratios lipstick some mornings, sometimes she messes It up on purpose with a kiss

- ratio always carries around a hair tye for aven, she sometimes wants to put her hair up and doesn't have anything, ratio already knows what she's asking for and just holds it up

-------

Thank u for reading, feel free to add any if u have some :3 I love love love ratiorine

#dr ratio #aventio #honkai star rail #ratiorine #dr ratio x aventurine #yapping #just yappin #genderbent #hsr

119 notes · View notes

anantaru · 1 year ago

Text

MAYBE I SHOULD OR MAYBE I SHOULDN'T

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — after your first date with kaveh, there was something particular yet scary that the both of you simply couldn't ignore.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 800ish words

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fluff, very sweet, kissing, early relationship (first date), a lil awkward but he's got the spirit, gn! reader

there was a lump in kaveh's strained throat, of the size of a cherry pit and he hasn't been able to get rid of it all passing day— you cannot discern it on your own and he hoped that you wouldn't notice that he had been nervous this entire time.

at the end of the day, it was your first date together and the blonde had tried his ultimate hardest to show off all his exciting and confident traits.

nobody could save him from the established chain reactions moving inwardly, set in stone in his colorful mind. kaveh was a creative individual and he had a way with words, he bleeds on paper when he draws, pouring his soul onto the a blank canvas until it turns alive, he shows his feelings but can get desperately tongue tied when in front of someone he desired to impress.

agitated receptions where the fundamental causes he had suffered from, from nothing more than having you close beside him.

a date, again, what had seemed so pure and virtuous, was slowly shining to its very ends with the night emerging, the occasional barking of faraway dogs around sumeru city breaking the silence which was savaging the air between.

and even after he had decided to walk you home, you stay still in front of your door, as if, something essential was missing, more and more.

"there we are." the man truly was patient, and scared.

yet how was he so quiet about it? for the desire to kiss your lips.

how could he, keep his heart closed off in his chest? when all it wanted was to flee.

or his eyes, those scarlet eyes, surely kaveh wouldn't say it out loud, but his expression was telling. horrible discreet, that's a sufficient way of calling it.

but it's persistent in its silence, and kaveh didn't see that you had ached for the same, he thought about it but wouldn't want to cross any boundaries with you.

and then, under the boundless, glowing stars stretched in infinity, he sees you and imagines to have you embraced in his arms, a pure fantasy as such was like he held all the celestial bodies close to his heart.

you, on the other hand, have decided now, to maybe, not go in for that kiss you sought after, rather go inside and call it a night. but as you turn around to open the door, kaveh gently, yet swift, grabs your wrist into his palm, stalling your way home.

"wait." he gulps, knowing he had just witnessed his body move on its own, "wait." kaveh says it again, this time slower, more controlled and he holds your wrist and pulls you towards him.

like it was nothing, like it has to be that way, he did it as easily as holding down a butterfly.

you find comfort in his subtle trace and step forward, watching how his deep red eyes now held a perception of delight, "yes?"

some days, you felt everything at once while others, you feel nothing at all, but right this second, you catch yourself becoming addicted to the man who had made up his mind.

he coughs, "do you think—" maybe he has misjudged the situation, perhaps he can still walk away but how accomplish that without making an utter fool of himself.

"yes."

fighting for another mouthful of air, you repeat yourself, "yes." feeling almost lightheaded as the hand around your wrist loosened to slide and cup your warm cheek.

the dream flickered, becoming reality when kaveh moves closer to slowly place his lips on top of your own yet not before making sure of it again, remained eye contact and a subtle nod giving him permission to proceed; shivering, increased with a rapid heart rate but you take the chance to draw him near as well, trembling hands weaving into his soft hair.

his tongue clumsily pokes at your bottom lip before you part your mouth, feeling how he's readjusting his posture, just right so he could welcome you in his arms.

kaveh's face was burning at the thought of what was happening right now and the way you'd skillfully circle your tongue over his own while whining silently into a breathless moan.

was he insane? no, this is insane.

he should be figuring out on what to say next, when will the kiss end and how will he survive the somewhat plausible possibility of things becoming awkward right afterwards? right after you pull away.

still, despite the chaos in his mind, he accepts and tries to remember this for his entire life. you're pressed up against a muscular body that only got warmer as time passed by— while you, well, you never wanted it to end, and it's making your knees weak as your ears detect a slight pitch of a whine slither right past them ..

.. finding it hard to stay restraint, when this situation was exactly how it's meant to be.

#kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x you #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x you #kaveh fluff #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact kaveh x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact kaveh

509 notes · View notes

callsignmarz · 10 months ago

Text

MDNI | 18+ : Keegan x Reader | Fem

TW- sexual content, degradation & humiliation.

“Social Media.”

"Take it down...now."

Keegan goes to snatch the phone from your hand but some how you were quick enough to dodge him.

He saw the picture on your story.

Not on your wall, where you strategically uploaded pictures of fond memories and alluring selfies, decorating yourself to be some eccentric individual.

No, it had to be your story. Which was meant to post for temporary reasons.

All damn day, you've waited for Keegan to get home from work, excited to unwind the night away with your boyfriend.

Only to get turned down because he wanted to play his fucking video games.

So, in retaliation...

You posted a mirror selfie, posing to draw attention to your curves in nothing but a thin grey sweater and simple black panties. Of course, to make it more classy, you add a black and white filter.

"Don't make me repeat myself, y/n." He warned you with another attempt to grab your phone, but to no avail.

"I'm not taking it down." You scoffed at him, finding amusement in pestering him, "A thirst trap never hurt no body. Besides, not like you're giving much attention today."

"Are you fucking with me right now? Your 'little followers' don't need to be thinking you're single..." there was a dangerous edge to his words as he spoke. It took every ounce in him to not flip out on you.

It was nauseating to him how much your life revolves around your Instagram.

Each moment had to be shared, every comment enlivened you and the likes that flooded your notifications gave you fulfillment.

You practically were a whore for attention.

The two of you continued the power-play battle for your phone with Keegan's sculpted chest bumping you back until you were pinned against a wall.

With a spontaneous reaction, you shoved your phone right into your panties. Keegan's eyes met yours, fully aware what you were doing. You were provoking him in the right ways, even if it did piss him off.

"Do you think that's supposed to stop me?" He let out a unwarranted chuckle."You're playing with fire, princess."

Before you could respond, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, grazing teasingly close to your clit. Your breath hitches with anticipation, as you allowed the phone to be retrieved from it's hiding place.

Unlocking the phone, he scrolled around until he had reached your post. His thumb hovered over your sultry picture.

Before pressing the delete button, Keegan had sent the picture to his phone.

And instead of giving you back your phone, he holds onto it. "Are you happy now?" You say as if bored.

"Very but, I'll admit it...you looked damn good in that picture." Keegan said with a smugness in his tone as his eyes now raked over your body. "But let's be crystal fucking clear about one thing..."

His hand crept up and lightly trailed your throat, sending electrical jolts of pleasure throughout your body. He could see a flicker of impish desire in your eyes, expediting his own arousal.

Keegan leaned in, his lips hovered over your ear and with a husked voice he whispered,

"Don't think you're getting out of this. When I tell you something, babygirl...I expect you to listen."

You can feel the cool surface of the wall behind you, heightening your senses and making you acutely aware of the close proximity. A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his hands dropped to his pants, easily maneuvering to undo them.

"Get on your knees." He commanded and your body follows. Your obedience fueled his dominant nature. Keegan's hand fishes out his needy cock, unveiling himself before you.

You could feel your mouth watering at the sight of his dick, ready to take him into your mouth. He saw the hunger gaze of yours, and he tilted his head slightly to the side, looking down on you with his own avid fascination.

As he guides his cock to your waiting mouth, his finger comb into your hair then finding a firm grasp as he descends down your throat. The taste of him on your tongue was a delicacy.

Keegan let out a low, throaty groan as he lost himself within the depths of your mouth. "That's it, baby...fuck..." he rasped, before pulling out your phone. The flash of the phone illuminated your face, capturing your attention.

He was recording...

You try to pull back, but the vice grip Keegan had on your hair, anchored you in place as his hips bucked into your mouth.

"Not so fast, babygirl. Mmm.. you're going to show everyone who you belong to. So, take this dick like a good little slut." Keegan's voice was laced with mischief and seduction.

With that, his thrusts quickened and moved with power, the sounds of your gagging mixed with his moans echoed of the walls.

Keegan watched you through the phone, making sure to get the best angles. You were putting on a performance of a lifetime as your lips and tongue worked their magic.

Within a matter of seconds, you were a mess. The sight of your disheveled state, inched him closer to reach his climax.

"Fuck, y/n... I'm about to come...argh."

He yanked your hair back, pulling himself from your mouth, leaving you gasping. His cock glistening with your saliva and your chin coaxed in his fluids. His hand continued to stroke his throbbing shaft, the tip of his dick turning bright red.

"Here it comes baby...mm.. fuck, f-fuck...yes, god y/n..argh!~" Keegan growled through his teeth.

You patiently waited, eager for him to consumed by his tantalizing orgasm. It wasn't long until ropes of milky white cum, shot out onto your face as if he was painting a canvas.

His groans of ecstasy sounded like a symphony to your ears. As he slowly caught his breath and stopped recording. His attention fully into the video, making sure it met his standards. Then with a press of a button, Keegan uploaded the video to your story.

"I'm sure you'll have fun with the comment section later." He laughs as he pulled you up onto your feet, handing the phone back to you.

"Now let's get you cleaned up."

#call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty fanfic #mw2 imagine #spotify #cod keegan #keegan cod #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty keegan #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts #call of duty imagine

195 notes · View notes

sagesolsticewrites · 4 months ago

Text

Hot Summer Night (John Brady x Juliet (OFC))

In which John Brady helps his wife through a stiflingly hot night in upstate New York.

a/n: wrote this forever ago after seeing that 👀 pic of Ben, came back to it after suffering through an AC-less Tennessee summer when we lost power last night 🫠 enjoy Brady girlies!

Word count: 1k

Warnings: mature content (unprotected PinV penetration) (18+ MINORS DNI), John Brady being husband of the year, I think that’s it? Please let me know if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Taglist: @winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

Masterlist

Juliet threw off the thin sheet with a huff, unable to stand one more thing covering her. At first she had been fine with the fact that the air conditioning in their home didn’t quite reach the master bedroom— happy, in fact, for the excuse to keep the windows open at night. But this year’s New England summer was even more hot and humid than the last, and the stagnant air outside was doing nothing to soothe her.

“Jules? Everything okay?” Came her husband’s concerned voice from the other side of the bed. John Brady was a notoriously light sleeper, and even after just a few months of marriage somehow always knew when his wife was anything less than perfectly content

“‘M fine, honey, just… hot,” she whines, fanning herself, and stopping when all that did was push more hot air towards her.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he chuckles softly, “Maybe I can help.”

She rolls to face him, gaze tracing over the significant lack of clothes on her husband— clad in just a sleeveless undershirt and boxers in an attempt to ward off the heat, moonlight glinting off the dog tags he wears even now and highlighting the sheen of sweat along his forehead and collarbone.

A gentle hand on her waist draws her closer, closer, until their noses are nearly touching. Her confused expression— how exactly is this meant to help?— falls into relief as he gently blows a stream of cool air over her face.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath fanning over her as his thumb strokes along her cheek.

“Much,” Juliet sighs, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

He resumes his role as her personal fan, occasionally leaning in to brush soft kisses to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. The combination of cool air and kisses has Juliet nearly melting into his arms, their legs tangling as his hand drifts lower on her hip to pull her flush against him, sparking heat in her belly that has nothing to do with the humid summer night.

It seems to have the same effect on John, given the way he abandons the pretense of cooling her off in favor of skimming his lips across her cheek to capture her lips in earnest. She sighs into the kiss, her hand trailing up his chest to toy with the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he pulls her impossibly closer.

Lost in each other, Juliet isn’t quite sure how John ended up on his back with her straddling him, his shirt tossed to a corner of the room, but she isn’t complaining. His hand tangles in her curls, lifting them from her neck to allow what little breeze there is to reach her as her hands wander over his broad, sculpted shoulders and chest, their soft sighs and groans punctuated by the occasional gasp as they broke for air the only sound in the room.

She can’t help but grin at the way his breath hitches, her name escaping him in a groan as she moves down his neck, sucking the salt from his skin. Her lips glide over every inch of him she can reach, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of his throat before recapturing his lips with hers, slowly rocking against him as heat pools between her thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gasps into her mouth, his hands moving to rest at her hips before trailing up her sides, taking her thin nightgown with him, the gauzy fabric sliding over her head to be tossed aside as she pulls back to meet his gaze. His eyes are a stunning silvery blue in the moonlight, pupils dilated, lips deliciously kiss-swollen, and she knows she must look just as dazed as he does.

“You’re beautiful, Johnny,” is all she can think to say as she grinds against him once more in earnest, her fingers tracing along the waistband of his boxers.

He lets out a desperate groan, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips buck up into her, “Jules—”

She knows what he wants, and she can’t wait any longer either, his hips lifting as she sheds both of their underwear. She lets out a moan as she drags her slick folds along his bare cock, one hand planted on his chest to steady herself.

Their breaths mingle as he positions himself at her entrance and she slowly, slowly, sinks down onto him, biting back a stuttering moan as she stretches around him.

“Oh sweetheart,” John groans, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut, “Fuck— you feel so good, honey, so tight—”

She lets out a soft whine at the praise, slowly rocking in his lap as she adjusts to his size, gradually moving up and down his length.

She leans down to capture his lips once more, his mouth moving hungrily against hers as he grips her hips. There’s no words as they slowly move together, just soft sighs and gasps, her fingers closing around the dog tags dangling in the middle of his chest, his hand moving up her back to tangle in her hair.

The tension in her core builds like an ember into flame, and the gasping moan she lets out in warning— “John…”— is acknowledged with a squeeze of her hip and a gasp of “Me too, honey” as she reaches her peak with a soft cry, burying her face in his neck as her husband follows suit shortly after, spilling into her with a muffled groan.

Juliet scatters kisses up his neck as they each catch their breath, slowly lifting herself off of him to lay beside him, the sheets suddenly cool against her skin.

John pulls her into his arms, playfully blowing a gentle stream of cool air onto her neck, eliciting a squeal from his wife.

“Feel better, sweetheart?”

She can hear the satisfaction in his voice— not of the smug variety, more in a way that tells her he’s glad he could make her feel good.

“Much better, my love,” is her soft reply, punctuated by a tender kiss. She settles her head on his chest, her fingers reaching up to rake through his sweat-damp hair as they both drift back to a contented sleep, and a smile stretches across Juliet’s face as a gardenia-scented breeze drifts in through the window.

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #oc: juliet thompson #john brady #smash wagon #love’s light wings: brady & juliet #masters of the air oc #mota oc #my writing

50 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Impossible Choice (46)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, anxiety, angst, war victims, trauma ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

When she woke up in the morning she felt that she was alone. She looked around, completely naked and covered herself with the furs lying next to her, sighing heavily. She rose to sit up and pressed her lips together, feeling her moisture and her husband's spend slowly flowing out of her onto the bedding. She blushed at the memory of what he had whispered in her ear moments before she fell asleep.

I love you.

He said it.

He said it even though he didn't have to.

Even though she hadn't asked him to.

She felt happy and hopeful. Daeron's arrival with his reinforcements gave her the feeling that perhaps they were not in such a hopeless situation, that perhaps with her father's help this war could be won. With this thought, she stood up, calling her servant to help her take a bath and get dressed.

As the girl finished tying her buff, open sleeves to her gown her father walked into the tent, startling her completely. She pressed her lips together at the memory of what she had learned the day before from her brother and swallowed loudly, asking the servant to leave them alone. The girl bowed and left, an awkward silence ensued between her and her father.

Should she tell him that she knew?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that his illegitimate child was in Harrenhal.

She couldn't look him in the eye.

Her father grunted, clearly as stressed and concerned as she was.

"Did he tell you?" He asked lowly, uncertainly, his tubular voice trembling slightly. She looked at him in pain, tightening her lips.

"Not him, but Royce. I know my husband threatened you, Father. However, I already know, and you, if you wish, do what you want with your army." She said in a shaking voice, trying to remain calm, looking down at her trembling fingers, which she involuntarily played with.

She wanted to cry.

She felt hurt at the thought that her father was not as perfect as she had thought. She believed that other lords had mistresses, but not him.

That other lords had bastards, but not him.

She was naïve.

"Your husband has decided that we will move on the Eyrie." He said calmly, and she threw him a quick, shocked, horrified look, her heart beating harder in her chest. "And I supported that decision. We are leaving tonight."

She looked at him feeling her lower lip tremble, her eyes filled with tears, her whole body quivering.

Her husband, her father and her brother were going off to war, perhaps never to return from it.

"Why the rush…after all…." She mumbled, but her father interrupted her.

"Daemon is trying to find individuals born of dragon seed who have the potential to tame the dragons. They want to make them dragon riders. To have an advantage in the sky. If we let that happen, their fire will wipe us out. We need to surprise them. I agree with his decision." He said firmly, like a commander rather than a father, and she sobbed loudly, catching her stomach, his words cutting through her like sharp daggers.

She heard him draw in a loud breath, her reaction making him unsure how to act. He approached her, and after a moment she felt his large, familiar, rough hands on her head and then the cold steel of his armour against her cheek, his bearded face placed a kiss on her hair.

"– my sweet child –" He said in a breaking voice, and she wept in his arms, embracing him, feeling that what he had done, what he had hurt her with, no longer mattered.

"– Father –" She mumbled out loud as if crying out to him for help, as if begging him for something, though she didn't know what for herself.

Her father, who had always supported her, who had always been proud of her, who she could always count on, was now standing in front of her and offering her his comfort, his safe arms in which she sheltered herself when, on cold nights, she could not sleep, terrified by the darkness of her great chamber and the ghosts that might lurk beneath her bed.

"– forgive me, Father –" She whispered and heard him draw in a breath, swallowing loudly – she had the feeling that his voice had trapped in his throat as if he was about to cry himself.

His hand tightened on her head as if he wanted to give her reassurance that he would always be there for her, that she would never lose his support.

"It is I who should ask your forgiveness −" He said in a trembling voice she had rarely heard from him, the kind she had heard when he had sat beside her mother's bed and watched her life slowly leave her. "− I sold you − I −"

"– I love him, Father –" She said in a breaking voice, trying to calm her breathing, her heart pounding hard in terror. "– I'm happy to be his wife –"

Her father swallowed loudly and let out a quiet sigh, trying to calm down and pull himself together. He patted her on the back as if he wanted to pour a little reassurance into her so they would both stop crying.

"Good. Very good. I'm happy. You'll see, in just a few months I'll be holding my grandson in my arms and then…" He paused hearing someone walk into the tent.

She saw her husband's surprised face, pale and shaken, his pupil dilated wide, looking at her with fear.

Her father kissed her hair once more and let her go, heading for the entrance, and she looked at him with a misty gaze, as if she didn't quite believe herself what was happening. She looked at her husband's face, tears involuntarily running down her cheeks, her breathing uneven and accelerated.

She swallowed quietly as she saw him approach her slowly, his figure rigid and upright. He looked down at her, his lips tightened as if he was thinking intensely about what he wanted to say to her.

"If I don't come back, you will do whatever Rheanyra wants. You will bend the knee. Do you understand?" He asked coldly and she looked at him with dull eyes and shook her head.

If I don't come back.

Why did he say that?

"Daemon has a weakness for you, moreover you are with child. You will say that I forced you to do this and according to his will you tried to convince me to change my mind. If your father and brother survive, also let them submit to the will of him and my sister. I will not consider this a betrayal against me." He whispered, cupping her face in his hands, and she sobbed quietly at his words, terrified and distraught, unable to calm her breathing.

"− don't leave me −" She whispered, feeling as if he was saying goodbye to her, as if he felt that this time the will of heaven would not protect him. "− you promised me that after Harrenhal you would never leave me again − take me with you − I want to be by your side − I −"

She didn't finish as his lips pressed aggressively and violently to hers, his tongue invading her throat letting out a stifled, desperate moan. She clenched her hands in his hair pressing into his lips, seeking rescue in his closeness. He pulled away from her and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard, his gaze dark and troubled.

"I want to spend the next few hours with you and our child."

And so they did. At first they wanted to just make love to each other, but they stopped, too distraught at the prospect of sudden separation, and just snuggled into each other, his swollen manhood pulsing deep inside her.

She tried to remember the feeling, the feel of his arms around her, his scent, his face, his gaze.

She was terrified of losing him, and her body was trembling at that thought.

"Promise me you'll come back to me." She whispered and heard him swallow loudly and twist, all tense, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I promise."

She watched helplessly as the servant put on his armour thinking that this wasn't really happening – she felt as if her heart was about to burst out of her chest, a cold sweat on her back. When he was in full equipage again he walked over to her and knelt down grasping her face in his hands, his soft lips placed a warm kiss on her forehead.

"Remember what I told you."

He stood up and disappeared a moment later and she was left alone, with a pounding heart and tears running down her cheeks.

Never before had she felt so scared, so alone, so abandoned.

She curled up, surrounding herself with furs, and just lay on the bedding. After a while, the noises around her quieted and there was an ominous silence, broken only by the footsteps of the guards passing by her tent and the wounded who had not gone off to battle.

Night fell, and she squeezed her eyes shut and began to pray.

Warrior, give them strength.

Father, guide them, do not let them harm your sons.

Mother, have mercy on them.

Stranger, do not take them away.

She repeated these four sentences over and over again, crying, rising quickly every time she heard any louder sound. She dressed in her nightgown and put a robe over it, poking her head out of the tent, but saw nothing.

She felt like she was losing her mind.

The hours seemed to lengthen like days to her. She lit a candle and tried to read, however she felt her body trembling all the time, glanced nervously at the entrance and wondered what was just happening.

She had never been so scared before in her life.

She felt helpless.

The first loud sounds and screams reached her ears in the morning. She roused herself from her restless half-sleep and ran out of the tent on her bare feet, looking ahead.

Their army was returning.

She covered her mouth and cried out loudly when she saw the silhouette of Vhagar and the other dragon in the distance, feeling relief flow through her body.

He had made it.

He had returned.

She saw the dragons land in the distance, and she ran between the cheering men towards the flying deer banners, searching her eyes for Royce and her father. Her heart beat harder when she spotted him, his face pale and smeared with blood, he looked as if he could barely see out of sight.

He only woke up when he saw her running up to his horse. She put her hand on his knee breathing unevenly, feeling uneasy.

"Where is our father?" She panted, smiling, thinking that perhaps their father was injured and being carried somewhere behind.

Royce stared down at her and answered nothing. She stroked his knee as if to comfort and reassure him, seeing how tense he was.

"Brother?" She asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly, but a hopeful smile was still painted on her face.

Only after a moment did she glance sideways and see a horse pulling a cart, with a body on top of it covered in the cloth of the Baratheon banner.

She felt her heart stop and ran over there on shaking legs despite Royce's shouts for her to stop. Her brother jumped off his horse and ran after her, grabbing her around the waist and preventing her from pulling off the material she wanted to grab.

"Who's there? I want to see him." She mumbled, breathing heavily, feeling like the world around her was spinning.

"Don't look, please. His body burned." Her brother mumbled weakly, and she drew in air with a quiet, mournful whine, clenching her fingers painfully tightly on his hands, trying to pull away from him.

"− let me go, Royce −" She said menacingly, struggling against him, the soldiers around them looking at the scene with sympathy and embarrassment.

"− stop −" He said helplessly, his grip strong as steel, both of them panting heavily. "− please, stop −"

"− LET ME GO TO HIM −" She cried out loudly, reaching out towards the cloth, slipping to her knees. Royce leaned over her, kissing her hair, his cold armour almost scorching her heated flesh.

"− he doesn't look like you remember him anymore − please −" He said pleadingly, and she fell down on the grass.

She clamped her fingers over her mouth, a loud, high-pitched, squeaky, almost inhuman scream came from her lungs, so terrifyingly pathetic that the men around her averted their gazes.

Scream after scream ripped from her throat as if someone were skinning her, as if someone were ripping her heart out alive, with sobs in between taking her breath away.

It felt like she knelt like that for hours, unable to calm down, Royce knelt next to her, his shaky voice not reaching her mind, not understanding what he was saying to her.

Her father was dead.

Her beloved father, her support, her companion.

He was dead.

He would never see her child.

She cried out louder at that thought and tucked her head between her knees wanting to disappear, to melt into the ground, to die.

"Prince Daeron is dead." Royce said indifferently, and she felt her heart stop. She swallowed loudly, wiping her nose and face.

So who was the other dragon rider she had seen?

"King Aegon joined the battle at the last moment." He said, and she froze, staring blankly ahead.

Aemond.

She looked around as if for a moment she didn't know where she was, the men watching her outburst of despair averted their eyes and dispersed. She rose on shaky legs.

"Where are you going? Wait! I…" Royce called out, grabbing her arm, but she pulled away from him.

She moved back through the camp hearing everything as if underwater, the joy of the men around her and their shouts seemed to her unnatural, strange, out of this world.

What was making them so happy?

What were they rejoicing about?

With difficulty she reached their shared tent, and as she walked inside she froze, seeing him before her.

His eye pierced her deeply. He was sitting in a chair facing her, his hands spread out on the armrests, his chin lifted slightly, his gaze cold and blank.

Like when he had arrived in Storm's End.

She wanted to shout that it was his fault, that she hated him, that it was all because of him and his brother.

She wanted to shout out how much she was suffering now.

But she couldn't.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. After a while, as if some impulse flowed through her she twitched, and her body moved forward.

One step, a second, a third.

As if she were a small child learning to walk.

She looked down at him, his healthy eye didn't even blink, watching her intensely.

She heard him swallow loudly, surprised, as she climbed onto his lap and snuggled into him, hugging her face to his chest, tucking her legs under her chin, trying to press her body into his. She felt him tremble, felt his heart beating hard against her face.

He had come back to her.

He had promised her and he had returned.

After a moment, she felt his trembling arms rise and embrace her tightly, his familiar, warm hands on her womb and in her hair. She burst out into a silent sob feeling it.

"Your father killed Daemon." He said and she felt her heart stop.

"He hit him with a crossbow when he tried to jump off Caraxes and pierce me with his Dark Sister. That's why Baela…" He said, and his voice stuck in his throat. She felt her heart beat harder, her lips parted in accelerated breath.

Your father killed Daemon.

He hit him with a crossbow when he tried to jump off Caraxes and pierce me with his Dark Sister.

Nothing mattered, nothing her father had done in the past could change the pride and love she felt for him.

Her father saved her husband.

"And Daeron…" It came out of his throat like a painful cry.

She stroked his shoulder feeling the pain in her heart, suddenly remembering cruelly clearly that he too had lost someone that night.

"– I tried to help him –"

"– shhh –" She whispered, lifting herself up. She embraced his terrified, pale face and cuddled his head into her breasts, offering him the shelter of her body, even though she was going through grief herself.

She could have crushed him, destroyed him, told him it was his fault, that he deserved this suffering.

But then he would sink back into his darkness.

She could see that he stood at the edge of the precipice over which he stood when she met him.

She could have pulled him back or pushed him forward to fall.

"− it's my fault − he was only a child − he was afraid, and I −" He mumbled out, her heart pounding like mad.

"− help me −" He muttered helplessly, and she felt her breath caught in her lungs. "− help me −"

She saw him with the eyes of her imagination, saw him in the void, in the blackness, in the emptiness, her husband, her god, her Stranger.

Help me.

She grasped his face in her hands, his healthy eye red, wide open, terrified.

He looked at her as he had never looked at her before.

He was utterly vulnerable, open to any hurt from her, ready to finally fall, to hear who he was.

She kissed him greedily, clasping her hands around his neck and hair, putting all the rage and love she felt for him into his lips. He moaned loudly into her mouth reciprocating her caress, his fingers on her cheeks and in her hair drawing her close.

She shuddered and pulled away from him with a quiet click when she heard a servant stepped into their tent to announce that the King was expecting him.

Her husband refused to go without her. He waited patiently for her servant to help her comb her hair and dress her in her gown.

Brown and gold.

The colours of the Baratheons.

As she walkend into the tent with her husband, Aegon's eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.

He didn't know where to look, so he looked away.

She stood next to Royce, trying to hide the trembling of her hands. Her husband did not stand beside his brother-king, but beside her. Aegon held out his hand towards him.

"Lords, behold my brother, destroyer of Caraxes, slayer of our…"

Aemond did not let him finish, his voice expressing fatigue and impatience.

"Lord Borros Baratheon fired a crossbow towards my uncle as he leapt from Caraxes and sought to stab me with his Dark Sister. The arrow pierced his neck. He died in the fire of Moondancer." He explained coolly and she swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze.

She tried not to think about it, she couldn't get over it, her mind repressed it.

Her father's burnt body lay somewhere on some cart covered with cloth, surely already rotting in the sun.

A spasm went through her body at the thought, but she only swallowed loudly and clenched her eyes shut, trying to calm herself down.

Aegon grunted at his brother's words and nodded, his gaze shifting to Royce.

"Lord Baratheon. In accordance with your family's tradition, you will now become the ruler of Storm's End. As I understand it, I can count on your devotion and loyalty, just as I could count on the same from your heroic father?" He asked feigning lightheartedness, as if Royce's answer was obvious, but she knew it wasn't and looked at her brother horrified.

Royce pressed his lips together and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, shifting from foot to foot. She put her hand on his shoulder, looking at him pleadingly.

Don't do this to me Royce, she thought.

He'll kill you if you don't bend the knee.

Her brother swallowed loudly, the words leaving his throat with difficulty.

"I am faithful to you, my King." He choked out and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "I wish to take my father's body to Storm's End and bury him in our home fortress. Then I will return with my army, and…"

"My Lord, you and your army will go where I command." He was interrupted by Aegon, and she looked at him wrinkling her brows, furious at his tone of voice, at the fact that he had flown in when everything was a foregone conclusion, that he had lost nothing.

The King, however, caught her gaze and swallowed quietly, embarrassed, his voice softening a tad.

"However, I understand the need for a quick burial, and I offer him the royal burial by fire that awaits my brother as well." He said, as if he was doing them a favour, but Royce laughed at his words in disbelief.

A royal burial by fire might have seemed like an act of grace to him, but not to them.

"You want to burn my father?" Her brother hissed, and she tightened her hand on his arm, feeling the fury rising within him. Aegon shrugged his shoulders at his words.

"Lord Lannister and my uncle will remain in the Eyrie together with the rest of the army. Lord Stark has retreated to Winterfell and is trapped, surrounded on all sides. Without Daemon they will be in disarray. The usurper may, in a fit of madness, try to attack King's Landing and that is where our main forces must now be. Inform your sisters to come to the Red Keep and take your father's body or ashes to Storm's End." He said lightly. Ser Criston grunted loudly, a long scar on his face from someone's cut.

"Shouldn't at least one dragon stay here?" He asked uncertainly, and Aegon sighed heavily.

"And guard what? The ruins? Our armies will create a wall that will cut off the North from supplies from the South. If they wish to starve to death for the Usurper, so be it." He snorted impatiently. After a moment, another commander, a vassal of House Hightower spoke up.

"What shall we do with Lord Greyjoy? He does not yet know that Prince Daeron is dead. What about the agreement? Without his fleet, we have no chance at sea." He said uncertainly, and silence sounded around them. Aegon swallowed loudly, looking at him terrified and grunted.

"Well… the Lord of Storm's End cannot be left without an heir." He said lightly, and she felt a cold sweat on her back – she cast a quick glance at her brother. Royce was red with rage, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He had lost his father to this fool, and now he wanted to put his conditions on him.

"No." He hissed, looking at him with hatred. "You will not force me to marry."

She was frightened by his directness and what Aegon might do with his words, so she decided to quickly interject and defuse the situation.

"Lord Greyjoy wanted a Prince as a husband for his granddaughter, not a Lord, my King." She said quickly, but felt discomfort when Aegon laughed at her words.

"Then perhaps I should command my brother, and your husband, to take a second wife like Aegon the Conqueror and close the whole discussion. What do you think, my Lords?" He asked loudly, and she felt a sting of humiliation ripple through her body at his words.

Perhaps I should command your husband to take a second wife.

She felt like crying at the very thought, her brother standing beside her was on the verge of bursting with anger.

"Careful, brother." Her husband hissed suddenly in such a tone that she looked at him shocked, his eye wide open.

For a moment they measured glances.

"− King." His brother corrected him, and she saw his husband's face stretch in a dangerous, dark grin not reaching his eye that she knew so intimately, that she had seen when he looked at Luke.

When he wanted to kill someone.

Aegon grunted, pretending not to see it, and turned to the Lords again.

"So it is settled. Send a letter to Lord Greyjoy informing him of my brother's death, the changes in the agreement recognising that the new Lord Baratheon will marry his granddaughter. Inform him also of the death of Daemon Targaryen and the heir to the throne of that usurping whore."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99

292 notes · View notes

daydream-cement · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Wish (NSFW)

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

When a birthday wish goes awry, you are given love by a infamous being.

This fic has two purposes! A BIG BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR @alexusonfire AS IT WAS HER BIRTHDAY ON THURSDAY! I LOVE YOU SM BAE AND I HOPE YOU LOVE IT SOOO MUCH!!! And this is the last week of Smutember with @alexusonfire! The prompt for this week was birthday sex, but I think I may have missed the mark a little bit. I was just having fun when I wrote it.

You hadn't been dreading your birthday, but you weren't entirely excited for it either. Of course it had to land on a weeknight so the celebration with loved ones was short and sweet, allowing you to get back home before 10pm.

When you arrived home, you deposited the few gifts from loved ones on the kitchen counter and popped open the container containing a wonderfully decorated cupcake with a little birthday candle sticking up out of its center. A sweet gift bestowed upon you by a friend.

Opening a drawer to your left, you pulled out a matchbook. Plucking a match from the comb, you firmly strike the match against the striker and watch it rapidly set aflame. You lower the flame to the candle and wait patiently for the fire to take. You hum the happy birthday tune to yourself, content in celebrating the final hours of your birthday with yourself.

As you wave out the flame at the tip of the match, you consider what your birthday wish would be. Perhaps a promotion? A pet? A new love? You smirk at the final thought, a faint ache appearing in your chest when you dreamed of a new love affair. You genderated an image in your brain of who that love might be.

Attractive... Confident... Powerful... Your thoughts then spiraled as you considered your sexual relationship. Alluring... Sensual... Gentle...

You thought about strong hands, a sweet smile, kind eyes... long legs...

You closed your eyes, wistfully dreaming of the individual you would come to love. Through your lashes, you leaned down, holding your breath momentarily before blowing out the candle - sealing your wish through the extinguishing of the flame.

A warm puff of air came at the back of your neck causing the hairs to rise on your body. It felt as if someone were breathing down on you. You quickly spin around, scanning the kitchen for who or what the sensation came from.

Emptiness.

You were alone. No one was there. You must have been imagining things.

You enjoyed your cupcake and readied yourself for bed. When you reclined back on the mattress, there was an instant feeling of comfort and relaxation. You were ready for sleep.

As you drifted off, you pictured the person from your wish. Tall and blonde. A divine presence that you can't remove your eyes from. You approached them slowly, mesmerized with eyes and big as saucers.

They cooed to you in the most eloquent tone. It made you shiver.

"Come to me, my love..."

----

When you awoke, you were incredibly disoriented. Your body ached. The atmosphere felt strange, the smells were different, and the texture of the sheets felt askew. When your lids parted, you were quickly made aware that you were no longer in your home. The room was dimly lit and the walls lacked your posters and art. The atmosphere was cold and impersonal - it scared you.

You shot up in bed, drawing the sheets to your chest as you glanced around with a furrowed brow. The room was lit by flame and it almost felt as if you had traveled back in time.

It was all a dream. It had to be a dream.

"Hello, lamb. How did you sleep?" A familiar voice called. It was slightly feminine with a low register. It was hypnotic and soothing.

You turned your gaze towards the voice, eyes clearly filled with fear. A being was looming over the left side of the bed. It was your love that you had dreamt of.

Short curls fell around their face and they were clothed in a crimson robe. They leaned over the edge of the bed, robe parting enough for you to see a hint of cleavage before you averted your eyes. With your gaze shooting downwards, you saw their hands. Beautiful long fingers that would fit so wonderfully in your-

"Darling? Are you feeling okay?" Your eyes followed their fingers as they lifted to your face, stroking your cheek up to your forehead. Your cheeks were burning red from the filthy thoughts - never had you had such explicit thoughts of someone before.

"Where- Where am I?" You stammered, eyes now studying their face. With how gorgeous you found them to be, you weren't necessarily upset with having to be there with them, but it was still jarring to be in this haunting environment.

"Welcome to Hell, child. I'm pleased to meet you..." The blonde cooed, their fingers shifting into your hair to pull you towards them. Their lips pressed softly against yours, but in your shock and confusion your mouth went slack, leading to some awkwardness in the kiss. They hadn't seemed bothered as they pulled away, their facial expressions remaining constant as they smiled down at you. "I have gone by many names, but you may call me Lucifer."

Your heart stilled in your chest. You were terrified. At least, the name alone instilled you with great fear. Their presence however was nonthreatening, making you even more nervous when considering their unspoken intentions.

They seemed amused at your shocked expression and slack jaw, "Aren't you cute? I've decided to grant you your wish..."

"W-what wish?"

"Love. I am going to give you love."

----

Lucifer had given you a week to decide if you wanted to stay with them. At first you were adamant in your desire to return home, the strange creatures of the underworld being far too terrifying to even consider staying. But there was something about the way that the Morningstar would be so quietly doting as they attended to your every need and want that made you remain in the underworld.

You remained a bit of a recluse in the underworld, staying in your chambers and only exiting when you were called upon by Lucifer.

Tonight was different in that Lucifer didn’t call for you, rather they came knocking at your door. You opened the heavy door with some effort, smiling weakly up at the being, “Good evening, my lord.”

“Please, lamb… Lucifer is just fine.” They rose a hand to your cheek, drawing you in for a chaste peck at the corner of your lips.

Once again they left you scrambling for what to say or do in order to impress them. “Would you like to come in…? We could spend time… together…”

“I would appreciate that very much.”

They strode into the room, their beautiful expansive wings following in tow. They drew your eyes in every time you were near Lucifer. How you wished to reach out and touch them… To make yourself acquainted with every peak and valley…

Lucifer had their back turned to you, their eyes observing how you had made yourself at home with the help of Mazikeen. This was a perfect opportunity to study their beautiful wings, and perhaps even touch them if you were brave enough.

You took a step forward, examining their texture and the occasional scar. Lucifer’s wings were far from perfect, but regardless you were enamored. Mesmerized, you reach out a hand, stroking a few fingers up the ridge of their wing where it connected with their back, murmuring, “They are beautiful.”

Lucifer tensed and shivered in response. Their back straightened and you retracted your hand, fearful of what they may do or say. You wait a moment and they don’t move. You are holding your breath to the point where it makes you feel dizzy.

When they don’t react, you reach out and touch them once more. You reach a spot that makes their wings flex open, and they let out a soft and quiet moan, which brings a smile to your face.

“Those are not toys, my love.”

My love. That’s what they had been calling you on occasion as they attempted to drive home the point that you both were meant to be in love.

“Hmm?” You are feeling mischievous. You shift your hand so your palm and fingers are shifting across their wing, your other hand reaching out to caress the other wing.

“C-caref-ful…” Lucifer groaned. Their groan was so guttural and desperate it created an ache in your core. It spurred your hand movements on further. Your hands shifted back to the center of their back, applying a bit pressure to where they attached near Lucifer’s spine. You grinned wide as their back arched and they reached out to grasp the post of the bedframe nearby for support.

Their moans were so beautiful and intense. You needed more.

“Ahh… Please… My love… I-” Lucifer was losing all control, succumbing to the pleasure that was your hands massaging and rubbing at their powerful wings. You take a step closer, needing to continue to push the boundaries even further.

You release a breath across their wings, causing goosebumps to raise on their arms - a sensation they hadn’t known they were capable of. Then you pressed a featherlight kiss to their wing… then another… and then another.

Their breathing was growing ragged and you needed more. You needed to give more. Their moans were addictive. Their body was addictive. Lucifer was addictive.

Kiss after kiss you roam their wingspan, their moans filling the void of your room. Your hands came to settle on their waist as your mouth explored the black expanse of their wings.

Their hands were on top of yours in an instant, clutching your hands and dragging them to the tie of their robe. They were desperate for more. They knew what they needed to make this experience as pleasurable as possible. Their hands guided yours in every action they wanted you to take and you were enthusiastic in all that they silently tasked you with.

First the robe came undone.

Then they invited you to toy with their breasts and pinch their nipples.

Then your hands were guided to their heat where you teased by squeezing roughly at their thighs to earn a delectable moan.

“More, my love. More.”

You obliged, your fingers dipping into their wetness and probing for their clit. When you found it, you applied some pressure, drawing out a long helpless moan as you had also drug your teeth across the ridge of their wing.

Their heat was drenched. The sticky wetness coated your fingers and caused heat to pool between your own legs. How could one being be so divine?

Shifting your hand slightly, you plunged two fingers inside of Lucifer and felt their knees buckle. Their spare hand shot out and supported their weight fully against the bed, their head thrown back in utter awe of the pleasure you were giving.

Their red robe was slipping off their shoulders, revealing a milky white expanse of skin that rendered you speechless.

“More. I can’t- It’s so-” They sounded so desperate for you.

You smirk to yourself and begin pumping your fingers in and out as your spare hand begins rubbing circles against Lucifer’s clit. Once you fell into a rhythm, you redirected your attention to nuzzling and kissing their wings. You were aching to make them feel good… aching to make them cum.

“You are my beautiful, wonderful love. I adore you, my darling. P-please, ah, yes… Right there…” They groan and writhe, hips bucking against your hand in a desperate attempt to help themselves along. Lucifer felt so pent up - they needed to cum.

You slowed the movements of your hands, drawing out these long lazy strokes that drove Lucifer wild, Their head quickly was thrown back and you felt wetness gush around your fingers as their cunt clenched at your digits. They began to thrash and their back arched, wings stretching wider than you ever thought physically possible.

Their body gracefully collapsed against the bed and they took a few moments to recuperate before turning over and gazing up at you. “I chose well. You are perfect, my love.”

You blush profusely, turning your eyes down to the floor in sheer embarrassment.

“Come. Let me hold you…” Lucifer cooed, arms stretched out, inviting you to lay against their chest.

While you tried to ignore it, the sight of their exposed breasts prevented you from looking elsewhere. As if you were hypnotized, you crawled into bed, immediately placing your lips on their breasts to press soft, adoring kisses.

Their arms wound around you tight, their touch soft as they stroked your hair and smiled down fondly at the human they chose to love. “My lovely darling… You make me so happy… I know you are settling in still, but I hope you can learn to call this place home…”

“Perhaps you could show me around tomorrow… Like a tour… You could show me your favorite places…?”

Only if you could have seen the way your question caused their face to light up. Their lips turned upwards into a gentle smile and their eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. They were enamored by you constantly.

“I would love that, lamb.” They cooed, arms enrapturing you in a tight yet comfortable hug. Their wings curled around your bodies, fashioning a cocoon to block out the world. If this is what loving Lucifer meant, you were excited for what else was in store.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @opheliauniverse, @enchantressb, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @scream-queenlover, @shyladyfan, @rubberduckiesbathing, @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @emilynissangtr, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @dumbasslesbi, @oculusalien, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @h-doodles, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic

#lucifer morningstar (sandman) x reader #gwendoline christie #fanfic #lucifer smut #lucifer morningstar smut #lucifer morningstar (sandman)#the sandman #gwen christie

396 notes · View notes

theprismyyy · 1 year ago

Text

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt

Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader

Tw: Mentions of self-harm, nothing really graphic but still don't read if you don't feel comfortable.

(English is not my first language)

Here's your request, I did my best to keep this interesting without being too extreme (I like lighter stuff), I hope you like it and enjoy @jas-the-shrimp

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Firstly and obviously, she would be super worried, so...like…basically panicking if she caught you in the middle of it, she would probably need a second to compose herself before she could actually help you; taking a few deep breaths and going to get the first aid kit, sitting cautiously next to you and very carefully starting to inspect your wounds.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who will pay attention to every little wound, whatever type they may be; she will clean and dress quickly and efficiently, trying to make things easier, even if just a little; she would kiss each of her bandages, she would put colored Band-aids on the little bruises and if they were too big for that, she would simply put the Band-aids and small stickers over the bandages.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who would let you cry if you needed to or dry your tears, hugging you close to her chest and giving you the sweetest affirmations of affection.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ I would think a lot before actually saying anything about the situation, she doesn't want to pressure you and would completely understand if you want stay silent for a while. But assuming you want to talk, she'll be all ears, just letting you open up and sometimes talking back to you gently.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who would do everything to create a welcoming environment for you, respecting your individuality, without ever invalidating or neglect your pains no matter what they are. She always makes a point of highlighting how important and valid two emotions and thoughts are, even if sometimes you may find them silly.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who would care to know the things that can set off triggers in you, so that she doesn't end up accidentally slipping up; The last thing this sweet girl wants is to be the reason for her tears or worse, her bruises. She knows she won't be able to protect you from external events in the world, but she will try to do everything possible to keep you away from stressful situations or situations that she knows can trigger you.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ God help the person who tells her that her pain is nonsense, she would definitely avoid making a big fuss or getting physical about it, unless the person does it first, but it would definitely give the idiot a piece of your mind.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who always makes a point of helping you find other healthy alternatives to resolve things.

Do you like painting, drawing or just doodling? This girl will make sure to always save a portion of her allowance to buy her things, never missing the most colorful and fun pencils of all, she bought white and colored sheets, sketchbooks, markers colors, paints, brushes and basically everything you need. She gave him a gift set with 12 colors of those colorful glitter pens and it was so adorable.

If you like writing a diary to express yourself I'm sure she would buy you a new one whenever the previous one was full.

Hot and relaxing baths??? It's a complete yes for this girl, she will reserve God's favorite bath products for you, she can come out and let you have fun or just sit on the toilet seat and talk to you quietly or just be silent (for you two, it's not something weird, it's just an intimate and affectionate way of showing how much she cares for you). Now if you ask her to take a shower with you, this girl will triple her efforts, washing your hair, rubbing and massaging your back, whispering words of affirmation in your ear and hugging you affectionately.

She is willing to accompany you and participate in any activity that helps you cope, she just wants you to be well, so: running, dancing, tearing something or screaming, all of this is a big yes for this girl, anything that can help you in a healthy way she would automatically accept.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ If you take medications for this, she would make sure to always remind your doctors to take them; Gwen knows how medications can affect you and also always tries to be as understanding and calm about it as possible.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ It would collapse if you ever ended up in the hospital because of it, she would never yell at you for it, but she would definitely hug you strong at the moment when I saw you and I simply cried holding onto you. Seeing you like this just breaks Gwen's heart and she can't even imagine losing you, it scares her so much😭

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who would definitely accompany you to the psychologist or psychiatrist's office whenever she could, waiting with you at the reception until your time and still patiently waiting until the end of your session, probably buys you an ice cream after each session. Even when she can't accompany you, Gwen makes a point of sending you a message to know if you arrived at the office safely.

Gwen with a girlfriend who gets hurt —------ Who would just be the sweetest and most understanding girlfriend of all, always willing to help and listen to you. She's so sweet and I just need one Gwen in my life😭😭.

#gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy #gwendolyn stacy #spider gwen #across the spiderverse #spider verse #into the spider verse #wlw #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #my gf <3 #she is so beautiful #✩‧₊˚#theprismyyy

86 notes · View notes

sardonic-the-writer · 2 years ago

Text

—a stakeout

SUMMARY | a late night steakout with tangerine has you questioning how you really feel for him

PAIRING | tangerine x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNING | mentions of guns, hit men, murder, some angst, etc

WORD COUNT | 2k+

AUTHORS NOTES | no spoilers for bullet train! and as much as i love the rivals/enemies to lovers troupe with tange, here's some softer stuff. happy holidays!

🍊 Masterlist 🍊 Navigation 🍊 Rules 🍊

Lemon had done this on purpose.

He had always had the ability to read people well when he wasn't busy talking about that train show of his. You swore he could tell what you were feeling before you did most times—instantly there with a handful of tissues or some reaffirming words before you even knew it. Most times it was real a help.

Most times.

That was all you could think as you stared out a tinted window into the cold night. The leather of the car seat underneath you was warm from hours of constant body heat, your legs surely numb from blood loss by this point.

From next to you sat a tall figure, dressed to the nines per usual. Soft ringlets of messy brown hair fell in his eyes, only ever moving as he let out a big sigh on occasion.

Tangerine rested his head in one hand, the other drumming his fingertips across the steering wheel as he clutched it. Flashes of moonlight would steadily dance over your vision as the luminescence caught sight of the metal rings decorating his fingers.

His rings. Seperate pages in one giant book it often seemed. Each one of them told an individual story throughout his life. The pitch black ring on his pinky? The first time he'd ever gotten into a fist fight on the job, that one had left a mark deep enough in the other guys face to shed buckets of blood. A lucky hit. Tangerine often told that story with pride, boasting that you would still be able to see the scar he left behind to this day.

The chunky gold one situated snugly on his pointer? Lemon had snatched that off a random bloke that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time a few years ago. It had been right when they had first gotten into the business, presenting it to his twin afterward with a clap on the back as a job well done. A sick gift of sorts, but it still managed to make each of them smile when they looked at it.

And that smooth, rose gold band hanging around his chest—dangling loosely on a silver chain? Well that was the reason you were currently sitting in a car in the dead of night.

Lemon was no fool. The moment he had seen you pull out that small gift box for his brother last week, he had recognized that love sick smile on your face. The way your eyes shone with excitement as you practically bounced on the balls of your feet when he went to open it. Lemon should be able to recognize it after all. It was the same look Tangerine got anytime you entered the room.

It was antagonizing for him really. Watching the both of you harbor crushes for each other in your own ways. (Tangerine; constantly checking for texts from you when he was away, using more than enough loving nicknames for you just to see your ears grow red. You; buying anything and everything that reminded you of him, doodling little drawings of the man on the corner of your loose leaf nktebooks at briefings before quickly erasing them.)

Finally he had had enough, pulling you off to the side last night. He had been a bit too rough about it for his liking, but it didn't matter now.

"Here's the plan." He didn't even stop to acknowledge your confused expression, questions surely bubbling on the tip of your tongue. "I'm sick. Very sick. You're not. Tha' stake out tomorrow night? You're goin' on it mate."

"The fuck Lemon?"

"Mate, just trust me. I know you fancy m' brother. Just take th' opportunity."

He had taken your stunned silence as a yes, giving you his best smile before moving on like nothing had happened.

So far, that was the only thing you had been able to focus on the entire time you'd been sitting idle on this hill. Not your target or his friends' late night activity you were supposed to be monitoring. Just re-running things over and over in your mind until you were dizzy with the effort.

All the times you had tried to be subtle with the longing looks and sporadic gifts. All the nights you had lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. Wondering if it would even be possible for someone like him to love you back. How did Lemon know? Were you really that obvious? Did anyone else know?

More importantly, did Tangerine know?

"Alright. S' going on in that lil head of yours (Y/n). Been quiet all night. Not like you."

Tangerine was now facing you. Arm draped around the back of your seat as if preparing to back out of a parking space. Heat from his hand radiated mere inches from your neck, but you pushed your shiver down with a forceful swallow.

"The mission." You shrugged, not moving your gaze from its spot on the window. Hoping that your response would be the end of this conversation.

"Yeah right." Tangerine just snorted. "You've never cared for these kinds of jobs love."

You forced the butterfly in your stomach to be killed off one by one. Refusing to be affected by the nickname.

"Guess I do now." Your shoulders moved with the effort of another shrug.

Tangerines mouths dipped down into a slight frown. He had been looking forward to a night alone with you. Maybe even going to get some food afterwards, even if just under the guise of two friends having a meal together. He would take it. He would take anything involving you at that point if he was being truthful.

Calloused fingers gently cradled your chin, softly gripping it as Tangerine turned your head to face him. You finally got a proper look at him, seeing the way his baby blue eyes rippled with concern as they traced unseeable patterns on your face. You were so focused on his intense stare that you forgot to remind yourself not to lean into his hand.

"You alright love?"

It would be so easy to kiss him. Just a little stretch of your neck and—

"I'm fine." His hand fell away from your face as you jerked yourself away. You almost immediately regretted it, wanting nothing more to feel him against you for a moment more.

"(Y/n)—"

"I'm just peachy Tan." You snapped, suddenly feeling angry. "Can we get back to our jobs now? You know. The thing we came here to do?"

Tangerine felt his own face flare up with anger. A rare feeling when it came directed at you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He frowned with a bit more bite to his tone than he intented. The sound of it made a flicker of regret cross your face before it was replaced with a scowl. "Seriously, who fucken pissed in your oatmeal this mornin?"

"Oh like you don't fucking know." Your own teeth grit against each other as you glared at him. The both of you now locked in a heated staring match. It wouldn't be a suprise if the windows started to fog up. The car certainly seemed like it was a lot hotter than it had been a few minutes ago.

"What, so I can fucken read your mind now?" He ran a hand through his hair in a jerky movement. The way your heart fluttered at his disheviled state drove another molten spike of rage into your heart, frustrated with yourself for finding him attractive even in the middle of an argument.

"Sometimes I really hate you Tan." You hissed. How it had gotten to this point you had no idea. But each word was like a nail to the heart for you.

"Yeah? Well, you're not exactly a joy ta be around all the time either, sunshine."

"And that's another thing!" You were full on yelling now, probably looking like a crazy person to any passing cars as you threw your hands in the air. "Stop fucking calling me those names! I bet you think you can just charm your way into anyone's pants with that huh?"

"When the fuck did I ever say anything like that!? And I thought you liked the nicknames for fucks sake!"

"I do!" You hissed with clenched fists. "The problem is I like them too fucking much! I like you too fucking much Tan! And it's killing me knowing I can't do a single goddamn thing about it!"

It was only after it was already out there did you realize what you had really said.

"Fuck. Listen—"

You didn't get any farther than that before Tangerine slammed his lips into your own. A sound of muffled suprise made it past your lips before it was quickly swallowed by him, along with the rest of your breath. The faint feeling of something prickly ticking your upper lip sang in your head as you realized it was his mustache, resulting in a silent sort of laughter. Teeth clicked against each other harshly before you reached up to rest a hand on his jaw and the other in his hair, steadying his pace to a softer, more tender one.

He only broke away in time for you to notice how fuzzy your head was becoming at the lack of oxygen. Gasping for breath, you brushed a hand over your lips. As if checking to make sure that had really just happened. Or maybe to keep the moment bottled up forever, solidifying it with the graze of your fingers.

Both of you took a moment, panting for breath as a way to fill the silence.

"Did you just—?"

"Yeah."

"Did we just—?"

"Sure did."

"And that means you're—?"

"If you ask anymore questions I might have to kiss you again (Y/n)."

The smile in his voice shone through. You allowed yourself one as well, eyes watering.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for." The englishman sighed, resting his elbows on his thighs as he watched you stare star struck at him. "Please tell me I didn't seriously misread the situation there." He added on as an afterthought with a chuckle, already knowing the answer as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry Tangerine." The sudden apology left you with a breathy quality. Tears were threatening to fall at a rapid pace now, one or two escaping. You couldn't tell if they were from remorse or joy. "I didn't mean that. Any of it."

"What about th' part where you confessed your undying love for me?"

He laughed as you went to hit him in the chest playfully, noting how the tears in the corner of your eyes began to disappear.

"You know what I meant. And I did no such thing." Your efforts to conceal a smile were fruitless for once. "You just got lucky this time."

"This time?" He reached a hand out to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek with a sudden fondness. "Nah. Been plenty lucky for a while now, love."

"Sap." You mummbled, closing your eyes with a sigh as he continued to leave soft strokes against your skin.

"Just for you darling."

You really would have to thank Lemon when you got back home.

#tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train x y/n #bullet train x you #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine #tangerine imagine #tangerine #bullet train #lemon #fluff #x reader #one shot

818 notes · View notes

puuuders · 2 months ago

Text

In Pursuit of Something Better ~ Part 2

Ghost fanfiction

Previous | Next

I've had this waiting for like 500 years. Kept telling myself to do the art for it but I'm not gonna lie I simply do not feel like it 😔 I will probably just occasionally make art for it. I have 2 other art projects going on, so I'm gonna put all my drawing energy into that.

The parts for this fic are short and slow right now, but I imagine they will pick up once I get into the more juicy stuff 😳 y'all know I like to tease and edge y'all

Omega and Terzo talk.

Read on AO3

1.3k words

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

While the rest of the pack of ghouls were most likely hunting for their own food as it was around noon and lunch time, the quintessence was sitting across a desk in a cold office. The swivel chair he was in was far too small for him, made for a human twice as small. His tail was hung awkwardly on the arm rest that his thighs were pressed painfully against. Terzo, who was sitting on the other side of the desk, had his eyes narrowed and his head slightly tilted to the side as he studied the ghoul's uncomfortable position.

“Ah, I am sorry. I do not have chairs for ghouls. You do not have to sit if you do not want to.” Terzo offered, pushing his hair back and motioning for the ghoul to stand next to his chair. The ghoul nodded, his eyes looking around the room for a moment as if he were making sure there were no witnesses before he took Terzo's offer. He began to stand, or tried to at least, but his legs were stuck between the arm rests. He only squirmed for a few seconds before completely giving up, propping his head up with his hand and elbow pressed to the arm rest.

“Are you stuck?” Terzo laughed. The ghoul blushed furiously behind his mask, humiliated.

“I'm fine. Let's just talk.” The ghoul spoke quietly, trying to hide his embarrassment. How he hated being the biggest ghoul in the ministry. There was nothing accommodated for an individual of his size.

Terzo responded with another laugh.

“Let me help you.” Terzo stood and moved towards the ghoul. The ghoul wanted to protest and insist that he was fine, but did not feel he was in the position to argue with his new papa. Before he even had the chance to debate, Terzo's smaller gloved hands were pressed against the armrests, holding the chair down.

“Stand now.” Terzo commanded.

The ghoul sighed in exasperation. He looked away from Terzo, grunting as he pulled upwards, struggling to escape before finally he popped out of the seat. It was a sudden release, causing Terzo to stumble back at the contact of their chests bumping into each other. The ghoul's large hands quickly sprung out to catch Terzo by his arms before he fell backwards.

“Ah… You are certainly a big boy…” Terzo hummed. He felt extremely small in the hands of the ghoul. As he examined their current position, Terzo noticed a tattoo on the ghouls neck.

“Thank you.” Terzo gently pulled himself out of the ghouls grasp. The ghoul's hands returned to behind his back, standing to the side of the desk instead of sitting. Terzo returned to his own chair, spinning it to face the ghoul.

“What is that on your neck?”

The ghoul was immediately filled with annoyance.

“It is just a tattoo.” He responded coldly. Terzo cocked his head to the side.

“Hm. It is a symbol?”

“Yes.

“What is it?”

The ghoul sighed.

“It is just a letter of the Greek alphabet. Do you have any other questions?”

“What did I tell you about vagueness, ghoul? I do not like it.” Terzo scolded with a grin. “What is it?”

“It is the omega. Do you-”

“Ah!” Terzo interrupted, shaking a loose index finger at the ghoul. “I remember this. I thought that is what that was, but I am not Greek. So you are not the big guy, then, hm?”

“Yes I am.” The ghoul spoke in almost a hiss, clearly defensive.

“You are Omega. Not Alpha.” Terzo smirked

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“Are you arguing with me?”

The ghoul, who seemed to accept the name of ‘Omega’, immediately silenced himself. Though, Terzo did not express any true ill feelings, a grin on his face. He seemed to find Omega's frustration amusing.

“So you are Omega, but Alpha is not… the alpha? I do not understand.”

“It is only relevant to our positions in the rituals,” Omega explained, biting back his frustration, “Alpha is our lead guitarist. I am the rhythm guitarist.”

“Mmm. Sister told me otherwise. Is she a liar?” Terzo asked.

“...No.” Omega decided to stop arguing about it. He was definitely hoisted into the position as the pack leader, since he was physically the strongest, biggest, and handled interactions with the highest level of maturity and intellect. The others were not dumb per say, but they could not take a punishment the way Omega could if they did say something dumb. Given their conversation as of now, Omega's light debating had him already lined up for a beating.

“Well, Omega ghoul, I only want to go over my expectations. Though I would prefer to speak to Alpha, you will do.” Terzo stared at Omega for a moment with a smartass look, waiting for a reaction. His expression fell to disappointment when he failed to provoke him.

“My brother was a bit of a bitch, eh?”

Omega pulled his head back a bit, surprised by Terzo's bluntness. His brother was, in fact, a bit of a bitch.

“I do not plan on dictating you.” Terzo continued, “I expect your unwavering loyalty to me and the ministry. Professionalism, respect. Your best work and effort. Reasonable, no?”

Omega nodded silently, taking a mental note of what to tell the pack.

“And- And of course, don't destroy the place,” Terzo chuckled, “apart from that and your chores, I do not care what you do.”

Omega was still for a moment, waiting to see if Terzo would add on anything else. Terzo intertwined his fingers.

“Do you have questions?” He asked.

“No.” Omega responded, an unsure tone in his voice.

“Oh, and tomorrow after service, I would like for you and your friends to stay. There are new uniforms for you. I hope they will be more comfortable,” Terzo clicked his tongue, his eyes moving to the right, “they are definitely more comfortable to look at, I will say. Make you look less poor.”

“Right.” Omega scoffed, rolling his own eyes. His hands slowly drifted to his sides. “I do not like wearing this.”

“I do not like you wearing that either, ghoul. Omega. What do you prefer?”

“Omega.”

“Then, Omega, stay after tomorrow before you go to your chores.”

“Yes, papa.”

“You can just call me Terzo.”

Omega did not like that. He did not plan on referring to him by his first name. It felt far too personal. Unprofessional.

“You may leave now. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Terzo, dismissed, his attention shifting to a book that was sitting on his desk. Omega turned to leave, but stopped.

“I have one question, actually.”

Terzo looked back up at him.

“What would you like to know, ghoul?”

Omega took a breath, avoiding eye contact.

“I hope I do not anger you, but what would your response be if it were to happen?”

Terzo hummed, tapping a golden claw against his chin playfully as he hummed and leaned back in his chair. Omega was irritated by his lack of seriousness.

“I suppose it depends. But do not worry. I will not harm you.” Terzo finally answered.

“I thought you did not like vagueness?” Omega said with a tilt of his head, the corner of his lips cracking into a small smile under his balaclava.

“You are witty. Why don't you show that more, yes?” Terzo grinned. “But, yes, vague. Vagueness. I do not like it. That does not mean I cannot be. I am ipocrita, I know.”

“I am too scared to argue with that.” Omega joked.

“You should be! Good ghoul.”

Terzo stood from his desk, patting Omega on the back and guiding him to the door.

“I am busy now. I will see you and your friends tomorrow, yes? And we will replace those ugly rags.”

Omega nodded, finally left the room and made his way down the hallway, his tail swaying close enough to the ground to swipe dirt across the floor.

21 notes · View notes

wellsayhelloaagin · 2 years ago

Text

Enchant- Beckon Part Five

Summary: Wanda struggles with her growing feelings and the fear that they may ruin everything.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x f!reader

Genre: Smut (top!reader, switch!Natasha, bottom!Wanda)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: fingering, oral, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, dirty talk, swearing, light angst

AN: I've risen from the depths of hell to bring you this (short) update. I do have a plan for the next part (you may not like it) so hopefully I can get that written somewhat soon.

If someone had told Wanda a month ago that waking up in bed sandwiched between you and Natasha would become a regular occurrence, she would have laughed in their face.

Yet, that’s exactly what happened.

After the morning spent making pancakes, Wanda had begun to spend more time with the couple next door. She would invite the two of you over once or twice a week, cooking dinner before the three of you would inevitably end up losing your clothes and falling into a heap on the nearest surface.

Weekends were quickly becoming Wanda’s favourite thing. She would walk the path to your doorstep each Friday night and normally wouldn’t resurface until Monday morning. And while the sex was incredible, she was also enjoying the chance to get to know you and Natasha better.

She learnt more about your relationship with the redhead, about how you both met and the beginning of your romance. Wanda learnt about the two of you as individuals as well, the things you liked and disliked. Every new piece of information was stored away in her brain, warmth blooming in her chest from the fact that you both trusted her enough to share yourselves with her.

Wanda knew she was developing feelings for both you and Natasha but she tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart whenever you smiled at her or whenever Natasha cupped her cheek. She wasn’t entirely sure if this agreement was more than just sex and she was too scared to mention anything, afraid that it could all disappear.

So instead, she kept her feelings to herself, content in enjoying whatever she could get.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your voice draws Wanda’s mind back to the present, where she lay curled up in bed with her two favourite people. The sun was beginning to peek through the curtains, a warm orange hue bathing the room in a golden glow. She admired the way the light shone in your eyes, her stomach clenching again.

“Hmmm?” Wanda asks, stretching languidly.

She was normally the last one to wake up, so it surprised her when she opened her eyes that morning to find you and Natasha both sleeping peacefully.

“What’s got you looking so serious?” You ask, finger smoothing out the furrow between Wanda’s brow. “It’s too early to be thinking that hard.”

“It’s nothing,” Wanda dismisses you, enjoying your hand combing through her hair now. “Just work stuff.”

Wanda did feel bad for lying but she couldn’t risk bringing up her quickly growing feelings and ruining this one perfect thing she had.

“Sounds like your boss rides you too hard,” you smirk, looking over at your still-dozing girlfriend.

Wanda blushes, remembering just a few hours ago when Natasha had indeed been riding her pretty hard, her thighs sandwiched on either side of the brunette's head.

“I don’t mind it so much,” Wanda returns playfully, fingers running down your bare arm and enjoying the goosebumps she left in her wake.

“Is that so?” You counter, hand tightening slightly in Wanda’s hair to pull her face closer to yours. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Wanda just hums in agreement as you connect your lips together, the smooth feel of your lips under hers making her sigh. You don’t push too hard, content to kiss lazily for a few minutes as your hand slowly trails down Wanda’s side.

You smile into the kiss as you feel her shiver against you, Wanda’s hips starting to rock slightly as she seeks out friction. You hook your hand behind her knee, bringing her leg to rest over your hip and opening her up for you.

The three of you often slept naked together, usually falling asleep from exhaustion after bringing each other to release. Wanda was thankful for it now, just one less barrier for her to get what she wanted.

She feels your fingers dancing along her inner thigh, reaching higher until you find her centre. She’s already wet from your touch, your fingers gliding over her easily as you find her clit.

“Oh,” she gasps as you apply pressure, moving your fingers in slow circles.

She rocks her hips in time with your movements, panting into your mouth as you work her body expertly. She groans as you push two fingers into her, her ability to continue your kiss disappearing as you thrust into her in slow, even strokes.

Her eyes are open, locked on yours as you bring her closer to the edge. She moans softly as you curl your fingers, captivated by your gaze. She can feel herself growing wetter, your fingers easily filling her as her orgasm builds.

“Isn’t this a lovely sight to wake up to?” Wanda hears the groggy voice from behind her, her only warning before Natasha begins to pepper kisses over her bare shoulders.

She feels an arm snake around her chest, lithe fingers dancing over one of her nipples. She arches her back, eyes closing as she succumbs to the pleasure filling her body. Her release washes over her quickly, her breath catching as you help her ride it out.

“Morning my love,” Wanda hears you greet Natasha, your fingers slowly leaving her body and pulling a whimper from her throat.

Natasha is still massaging her breast and Wanda turns her upper body to face her more. Her eyes open as your hand reaches over her, fingers that had just been inside Wanda now tracing Natasha’s lips.

Natasha opens her mouth, sucking the digits inside, her tongue cleaning Wanda’s release from your fingers. She hums happily and Wanda can already feel herself growing hot again at the sight.

She was so caught up on Natasha that she wasn’t prepared to feel your mouth latching onto her other nipple, the warm, wet feeling causing her to clench around nothing.

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out without thinking, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

“That’s the idea, detka,” the redhead laughs, now grasping your hand between both of hers.

Wanda watches as Natasha guides your hand under the blanket, knowing when you had found your target by the breathy moan Natasha lets out. You shift slightly, never detaching from Wanda’s breast as you move to kneel over her.

Wanda can see your hand moving under the blanket, transfixed by what must be happening underneath. Natasha is panting beside her, hand clutching your forearm tightly as she raises her hips to meet you.

Feeling brave, Wanda tugs the blanket aside and is rewarded by the sight of your thumb working over Natasha’s clit. She can’t see completely but judging by the way your hand surges forward, she gathers that your other fingers are buried inside your girlfriend.

You begin to trail your lips down Wanda’s torso now, teeth nipping along the way as you move your body down to hover over where she was dripping. Wanda is impressed that you managed to navigate your way down her body without losing your rhythm with Natasha.

The redhead is still moving her hips along with your thrusts, her moans growing in volume. Wanda reaches over, her fingers working over one of Natasha’s pebbled nipples as she palms her breast.

You catch Wanda off guard by licking along her dripping folds, her free hand flying to your hair as she arches into your mouth. You usually liked to tease her, working her up into a frenzy before putting your mouth where she wanted it most.

You waste no time today, your tongue already probing her entrance as you straddle one of Wanda’s legs. She can feel the heat from your sex, your arousal evident as you settle over her. She can feel the wet patch on her leg, the thought of you being turned on while eating her out causing the heat to pool low in her belly.

She shifts her leg, bending her knee and flexing her thigh underneath your centre. Wanda jolts as you moan against her, the vibrations shooting straight through her core. You begin to rock against her, never stopping your ministrations on either woman as the room is quickly filled with the sounds of pleasure and the smell of sweat and arousal.

Natasha folds first, her orgasm hitting her loudly as she holds onto your arm for dear life. Wanda can tell you’re getting close too, feeling your pace pick up as you rut against her leg, your tongue still buried deep inside her.

She wants to outlast you, wants to finally gain some kind of power over you in this dynamic she found herself in but she knows she won't last much longer. Especially now that you had another hand free, angling it under her hips and driving your tongue in deeper.

“That’s it, detka,” Wanda hears a sultry voice in her ear, Natasha curling her body to her side. “I bet it feels good with her tongue inside you doesn’t it?”

Wanda just whimpers in return, eyes clenching shut as she tries to hold off her impending orgasm.

“Shhhh,” Natasha continues, nose running over the column of Wanda’s throat. “It’s okay. You can cum if you want.”

Wanda just shakes her head, stubbornly trying to resist. Her hands are clenched tightly in the sheets as you eat her out.

“Being difficult, are we?” Natasha taunts, fingers pinching one of Wanda’s nipples. “That’s not fun.”

Wanda can feel Natasha pout against her neck before she bites down, sucking at the skin there as Wanda gasps in pleasure.

“Such a shame,” Natasha coos mockingly into Wanda’s ear again. “I really wanted to lick your cum from her chin.”

The image of what Natasha had described was enough to send Wanda over the edge, her thighs clamping over your ears as she cries out. Waves of pleasure wash over her, her voice feeling hoarse by the time she finally calms down.

You slide up her body, a satisfied smirk on your face as you take in Wanda’s mussed hair and glazed eyes. Her chest is still heaving, Natasha’s fingers still teasing her sensitive nipples as she jerks through the aftershocks.

“A bit defiant today,” you taunt, gripping Wanda’s chin in your hand and forcing her to look at you. “I don’t know why you bother trying to compete with me sweetheart, you know I’ll always win.”

Wanda just nods dumbly, her mind too fuzzy to do anything else. She watches as you pull Natasha into a bruising kiss, the redhead licking Wanda’s cum off your chin as she had planned.

Despite the two orgasms she had already had that morning, Wanda could already feel arousal stirring again.

“Come on,” you instruct, pinching Wanda’s cheek to get her attention. “If you’re good, I might let you finish me off in the shower.”

Wanda hums to herself as she towels her hair, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. She had stayed in the shower a little longer, enjoying the warm water cascading over her aching muscles. You and Natasha had laughed at her, telling her not to turn into a prune and to join them for breakfast when she was done.

She had changed into a pair of your sweats and one of Natasha’s old shirts once she got out, enjoying the way they smelled like the two of you. Wanda liked the comfort they brought, planning to leave your house with them and claim them as her own for the nights she spent alone.

She could hear voices as she neared the kitchen, stopping just before the doorway to lean against the wall and bask in the simple domesticity of it all. She was sure she was falling hard and fast for the both of you but maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe you and Natasha felt the same way.

She moves to the doorway, hovering there as she watches the scene before her.

Natasha is sitting on top of the counter, her legs swinging playfully as you twirl in front of her, a bowl of pancake batter in your hands. Natasha laughs at you, her eyes shining with adoration as her hand catches your outstretched arm, pulling you to stand between her legs.

You place the bowl down on the counter, hands resting atop Natasha’s thighs as she cups your face gently, her nose brushing over yours and making you giggle.

“I love you,” Natasha whispers but it’s loud enough for Wanda to hear from her position, her heart clenching painfully at the words.

“I love you too,” you reply as easy as breathing, leaning in to press your lips against Natasha’s in a sweet kiss.

Wanda feels the pang again, realising it was jealousy coursing through her. She felt like she was intruding on a private moment, her chest constricting as she takes a step backwards, ready to leave the room.

The movement catches your eye and you pull back, smiling at Wanda. She wonders if it was the same way you smiled at Natasha, an ice-cold feeling rushing through her veins.

“There you are,” you say brightly as Wanda forces a smile in return. “I was wondering if you were trying to use up all the hot water.”

Wanda just shrugs, walking awkwardly to sit on one of the stools on the other side of the counter. Her eyes are locked on the mixing bowl in front of her and she misses the look of concern shared between you and Natasha.

“Everything okay?” Natasha frowns, eyes searching yours for what to do.

Ten minutes ago, the two of you had left Wanda happy and laughing in the shower, a far cry from the woman in front of you now.

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” Wanda replies, shaking her head to try and clear the funk that had settled there.

She can tell by the look on your faces that neither of you believes her but you don’t push, instead taking a step away from Natasha and grabbing the mixing bowl again.

“I’m making pancakes, did you want some?” Your voice is soft and gentle and Wanda can feel the concern leaking through your words.

“Sounds great,” Wanda answers you. “I’ll cut the fruit.”

Wanda moves to the fridge, taking a deep breath as she searches for the strawberries inside.

Maybe her feelings weren’t so harmless after all?

I no longer do taglists but you can follow my library blog and turn on notifications to get alerts when I post a new story @puppiesbrainsandbabieshearts

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #beckon series #s writes stuff

545 notes · View notes