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hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

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The Safeword is RadioApple (part 4 - Lucifer’s victory)

Read the first part here for intro and warnings and then decide:

Did Alastor win rock paper scissors? Smash this

Did Lucifer win rock paper scissors? Keep reading….

Alastor wrapped a firm hand around Luci’s neck, pulling him closer to nip at his ear. Lucifer peered down at you, a gleam in his eye that could only be called sinful. “We came to an agreement.”

The word ‘we’ felt like it was in bold. “To show just how much we want to work together for you. Wanna hear the plan?”

You nodded, holding your breath as you watched Alastor’s tongue snake out and lap at a thin line of golden liquid dripping down Luci’s neck.

“We know you’re not feeling one hundred percent today, kitten. So, instead of having you take more than you can, Alastor will be the focus.” You heard a hum from Alastor, pulling back from Lucifer and looking at you with half lidded eyes. His smile was closed, but something in his features conveyed to you a sureness.

Luci bent down, whispering in your ear, “Let’s ruin our big bad deer demon together.” His voice, the words, the hiss that decorated his lilt harkening back something ancient in you…it shot a pang of electricity to your lap. Who needs heaven, when they sent their best recruiter straight to hell?

To your great pleasure, you watched the objects of your desires strip each other naked. Surprising, given how Alastor disliked Lucifer seeing him in the buff. But everything had been pure shock since they got into your bed, so maybe you should steel yourself.

Attentions turned on you, wide eyed and fidgeting. Alastor lied down on his back, a sigh as you straddled his lap. With a few soft touches and strokes he was hard in your hand. You used his warm and soft cock head to stimulate your clit, gathering wetness to ease his entry. Slowly, the angle making him feel more like iron than flesh, you sat down on his length. You needed a second, moving forward or back felt like you’d accidentally rearrange something. When settled, nodding to Alastor, he pulled your legs forward, knees hugging his ribs.

You didn’t understand the angle yet, until you looked back and saw Lucifer’s sharp eyes gleaming in the lowly lit room. He popped open the small bottle with one hand, “Lean forward kitten, Daddy needs room to work.”

Alastor’s legs jumped when you ground down on his half hard dick. You’d never seen Lucifer so commanding, even that first night he was rough but he was still timid and lost in the sensations. This was intentional, Lucifer in his element in a new way for you and Alastor alike.

Pressing down on Alastor, stomach to stomach, you found his face a little out of reach for kissing. He was so tall, and lying down made it harder for him to stretch to meet you. You were very rarely on top, Alastor typically only comfortable with you riding when it was just you enjoying yourself, him with no intention to chase a climax.

He noticed your pout, sitting up with his elbows to bridge the gap better. His head tilted, mouth open and tongue reaching for yours. Your breath was already shaky, something unusually sensual about everything. This wasn’t fucking anymore, was it? Had this changed? From one slip of your tongue?

Alastor was hungry to feel your soft tongue on his. There was a deep comfort in you that he enjoyed, a place of safety behind your teeth. He put his weight on one arm, needing the other to caress your cheek, slender and long fingers roaming up your face and to your ear.

His entire torso tensed under you, head pulling back. He looked so unlike himself, teeth biting at his bottom lip through his smile, eyebrows high and furrowed. He was looking at you but a little past you.

Lucifer’s finger was massaging the lube into the soft and rarely lavished skin around and on Alastor’s hole. He was licking his lips, hungry for the reactions. He hadn’t enjoyed topping a man in ages, many seemingly forgetting the short king was entirely capable of taking the reins.

But he was showing restraint. Even just pressing softly against the tight ring of muscle was hitching Alastor’s breath. You felt him soften a little in you, you knew time would tell you if it was nerves or disinterest.

“Can I move?” A soft question muffled by his neck, you pressing your lips to his pulse point and sucking.

“Please, dear.”

You take to your task slowly, not wanting him to slip out. As Luci sinks in a knuckle, then another, soon a whole digit, you feel the radio demon come back to life in you.

Alastor was struggling. The foreign feeling of being entered was fighting for dominance with the slick heat of your cunt slipping around him. It didn’t feel bad, just unfamiliar.

As more fingers spread his hole open in preparation, he started to get pulses of pleasure up his balls and along his shaft. He knew you felt it, you moaning more as your body shook, rising and falling on him.

When Luci began to thrust his three fingers in and out of Alastor, you could see the change immediately. Eyes clenched shut, his hands came to your hips to hold you still. He began rocking up into you and back down onto Luci’s hand. You had no complaints, his strong arms lifting you with ease and freeing you up to focus a hand on your clit. The scene was too hot, his pleasure too intoxicating for you to keep your hands off yourself any longer.

The pressure of his muscle pulling with Luci’s fingers was morphing into pleasure, the pressing digits seemed to hit something he hadn’t found before, the withdrawal of those fingers also providing such a satisfying feeling.

Lucifer opened Alastor’s legs wider, free hand rubbing the flesh of his ass and inner thigh, “What beautiful skin you’ve been hiding. So soft and supple.”

The deer demon went pink in the face, “Just shut up and do it already, your majesty.” His usual cutting tone was blunted by how his voice broke as Luci’s fingers dug into his ass with crooked knuckles.

“You don’t have to, Alastor.” You reached a hand for his cheek, missing the first time as he didn’t stop bouncing you on himself.

“Yeah, you don’t have to, Alastor.” Luci was leaning his face against your arm, looking down at Alastor. He watched the blush deepen, the radio demon too prideful to say what he wanted. But Luci knew, he could feel it as Alastor tightened around him when he said Alastor’s name.

He knew the second he won the game in the lobby he was going to make Alastor lose face, whether with his cock or words. Both, it seemed now.

You felt Alastor buck a little, an embarrassed smile. His eyes shot to the right, avoiding the way you both were looking at him. You with sweetness in your eyes, Luci with a lusty fire lighting the red of his pupils.

Lucifer poured the lube down your own ass, it dripping to Alastor’s balls and between his cheeks. A long and deep moan rocked your chest, Lucifer’s rock hard girth thrusting between your cheeks. His hands were both rubbing the excess lube over Alastor’s ass.

“Is that necessary?” Alastor tossed his head back.

“No, but I love the sound it makes when I’m fucking you.” Lucifer kissed your neck, eyes dark and hooded as they aimed at Alastor.

You’d never seen Alastor look vulnerable before…the closest was his face before and during his orgasm.

Luci was drinking in the look on Alastor’s face. He went back to fingering the other man, scissoring them apart to make room.

“You’re so warm, Alastor. I’m worried my cock will melt.” Alastor’s eyes closed, smiley wonky. “And kitten, you’re so pretty bouncing on our big buck.” Wet and long tongue traveling up your neck.

One hand reached back, you gripping Luci’s hair as you met Alastor’s thrusts with your own. Every time Luci spoke it seemed he was determined to make both of you break.

Had he spoken like this before in bed, you weren’t sure how Alastor would have taken it. But for some beautiful reason, Alastor’s eyes went wide as his hips lost rhythm, suddenly jerking into you with fervor. He was so horny.

Your body felt cold as Lucifer retreated. Alastor sighed when the fingers quickly left him.

You both made a shocked yelp as you were unceremoniously yanked back to the foot of the bed. Alastor sat up, arms holding you up as you twisted around. Lucifer had taken Alastor by the thighs and effortlessly pulled his ass, and you with it, to the edge of the bed.

A shudder ran through Alastor with the realization just how much Lucifer had been holding back when he had been teasing him the day before. The chill first carried a tinge of fright, but then his nerves were flooded with euphoria—- Luci wanted Alastor to dominate him. He had fully let the sinner take the lead.

“Lie down and hold on,” your King smiled at you, giving a command you were happy to accept. As you rested your full weight in Alastor, you hooked your arms between his armpits and held onto his shoulders. Head rested on his chest, you kissed below his collarbone, salty skin so enticing under your mouth.

“Just tell me to stop if you want to tap out.” Lucifer smeared the lube coating you both across his leaking head and down his member before pressing into Alastor. Too tight, but the best they could manage, he used a little forced to get past his entrance. Again you felt Alastor seem to shrink a little in you, mind not able to focus on anything but what was about to happen. You weren’t moving now, just clenching around him to keep your own fire stoked.

The muscle too tight, a cock ring trapping the blood, Lucifer began slow and short thrusts into Alastor. The gentle rocking slowly bounced you against Alastor, your trapped clit rubbing into Alastor’s pelvis.

You could hear Alastor swallowing groans, jaw tense as he fought back the sounds Luci’s cock was making him create. His hands were rubbing your ass, gripping every couple of thrusts. One of Luci’s claws dragged down your spine.

“Don’t fight it Alastor. It feels better when you let go. Relax.” Lucifer’s voice was deeper than his normal speaking tone, “Let me hear you. Or do I need to bully your little g-spot to make you scream for me?”

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, Luci delivering on the threat immediately. Red and black hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead as his straining broke out a sweat. You nuzzled into his neck, giving soft bites and leaving love marks. Finally, a moan tore out of him, a growl of pleasure.

Luci grabbed your hips and held on, using you as his anchor point as his speed and depth picked up. The movement had you clutching onto Alastor to keep his cock from ramming through your cervix with Luci’s powerful thrusts.

You cried out Luci’s name, followed by a series of, “Fuck! Oh God—! Mmh, Luci…lu-,” as Alastor lost his grip on his sounds. His chest rumbled, hands threatening to cut into you as every exhale he made just a strident groan.

Lucifer felt his orgasm quickly building as he watched you both before him, sobbing from the pleasure he was happily pouring into his lovers. He worried if the high of the feeling reached any further he wouldn’t be able to contain his troublesome wings. He could soar with this ecstasy alone.

He wanted to hear one more prayer to him, from his newest convert. His soon to be third favorite sound rang out, his thighs slapping on to Alastor’s sticky ass. There was a pop as their bodies pulled apart and the lube tried to keep them together. Your mouth formed lazy kisses on Alastor as you couldn’t find the power to close it.

“Lu-,” you watched the smile fall apart on Alastor’s face, sharp eyes wet and struggling to keep from rolling back.

Almost. Lucifer was so close, pushing back against the pleasure. Say it.

Your wet pussy was gripping him like he was your lifeline, plush walls quivering over him. Opening him up wide and deep, sensitive and intimate insides fucked by his king’s thick cock. He couldn’t call for God, so he yelled out for the closest thing he had.

“Lucifer!” Alastor lost control of his radio echo, Luci’s name cutting through the room with a stark clarity.

With Alastor’s submission, Luci pulled out, jerking himself off for several pumps before he came onto Alastor’s pink and twitching hole. Before he was spent he sank back in to that welcoming heat.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck it back in to you, Allie.”

Alastor couldn’t stop now, he needed to give you his own seed, biology urging him to take you by the waist and impale you on his manhood.

Luci stopped moving, letting Alastor take over. Sandwiched between two vastly different sensations, Alastor couldn’t stop the embarrassingly unrestrained whines, a chorus of, “Fuck fuck fuck,” as his leaking slit smashed your cervix.

You could only silently sob into his chest, trembling when he gave your womb a punishing mating press. A flood of warmth, thick and determined semen scratching a primal itch for you both.

Pussy clenching, body hungry for every drop of your darling demon. Your hands wound into his hair, pulling off of him so you could reach his cheek. Lucifer’s hands roamed around your backside, pausing to rub at tight muscles. He enjoyed watching the cum dribbling out of you.

“Darling doe,” you always grinned when Alastor called you that.

Luci stared at your entrance, open and puffy. “Love?” His fingers grazed against your lower lips.

“More, almost got there.” You sighed, blood still flowing to your crotch with an ache.

Heaven, ironically, was Alastor whispering into your ear as Luci kissed your lower back, hands rubbing at your clit and fingers rocking into your spongy g-spot.

“I’m unworthy of your affection, let alone your touch.” Alastor’s hands were petting your head, mouth dropping kisses to your cheek and forehead as you whimpered. “You are my proof redemption isn't something found above.” Your body locked up, focusing all your energy on getting relief.

Sweet words into your skin, kisses fit for a queen down your spine, the very fingers that held the damning apple frothing your shared lover’s seed around in your cunt.

It was an effortless climax, a short but intense orgasm fueled less by stimulation and more by the immense satisfaction of the unlikely pile you were in. Luci lied on your back, body boneless above you.

The serotonin waned, Alastor tossing Lucifer to his left, you rolling off to his right. There was a brief moment where you looked at him, and then you both looked at Lucifer.

Luci’s lusty side was fully evaporated, bright eyes and goofy smile as he gingerly set his head against Alastor’s bicep.

You and Alastor looked at each other again, your eyes searching for an answer, question unnecessary. Your answer came in the form of a swift move of his arm, allowing Luci to be pulled into his side and letting his head take a place on his chest.

In his attempts to compete and always dominate over Lucifer, Alastor had been uncharacteristically interested in sex as of late.

You were hoping now, as he closed his eyes and tried to return to a normal heart rate, things would mellow out. Perhaps their tug of war for your affection would be laid to rest and you could all fill your time together with slightly less sex. You could finally show your love in a way you were happiest with.

Luci smiled as you cuddled into your place opposite him. He reached out and laced his fingers with yours.

The rock paper scissors hadn’t mattered, he had every intention of taking the lead regardless of his positioning in bed. After seeing how upset you were at their bickering, and how elated you were when you thought they had actually made a truce, he knew he had to go through Alastor, not around him. If he could become your equal under Alastor, he could have you without restriction. He needed to be full accepted into the triangle of horrors, as Angel called it.

A little piece of him fluttered, it was a nice … coincidence that he found Alastor to be a shockingly compatible lover for himself. Not able to put a word to it, he swallowed down a part of him that seemed to shimmer in his chest when he thought about Alastor’s after-sex smile, the way his chest smelled of sweat and passion, the vibration of his body as Alastor asked you if you’d like a little music.

The radio popped on, smooth and sultry sounds making your lids heavy. It was too early for bed, but your body didn’t particularly care what you thought after what you’d done to it.

Your eyes finally shut, staying focused long enough to watch Luci grin into Alastor’s chest as Luci tightened his hold on your hand.

ଳ⊹₊ ⋆ masterlist

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mx24 · 7 months ago

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nothin in particular, it's design is just rlly cool

#mx rambles #undescribed #[ also theyre a rein/deer thats christmas themed n it's got a punny name so theyre naturally my fave lol ]

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djarincore · 9 months ago

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a sacrifice in your name

SUMMARY: A paladin's oath means everything to them—but not to Simon, not when it comes to you.

ALTERNATIVELY: Simon sacrifices his oath to save you.

TAGS: oathbreaker!ghost, f!reader, DND!au, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, nondiscript violence, implied minor character death(s), Simon can lift reader, special villain guest appearance by Graves, body worship, cock warming, WC: 3.2k

A/N: a little what if scenario for vengeance paladin!Simon, who will always choose you over everyone else no matter the cost. and yes, the title is another sleep token lyric...

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers!

You wake to dim woods, a full moon overhead, and arms firmly encircled around your waist. The world bounces and sways in your bleary vision with a persistent ache pounding through your head.

Memories of the past few hours are a rapid flash of reds and oranges, sounds of crackling, splintering wood, and terrified screams echoing through the night. The bone-chilling fear of death seems to still freeze your sore muscles.

Now, as you slowly regain your senses, you realize you're riding atop a horse somewhere deep in unfamiliar woods in nothing but your night gown. The figure, whose arms encircle your body, grips the reins in front of you. Their own weight almost sags against yours. A helmet rests against your shoulder.

Icy fear crawls back through your body. You wish you can remember or get a clue as to where you were, but it is too dark and the horse is no longer on a path. The best you can do is escape, run, somewhere far from this stranger.

You jerk forward and claw at their arms, but you're blocked by leather vambraces. The stranger pull you closer to their chest, trapping your arms against your body.

“Let me go,” you plead. The stranger scrambles to restrain you and reign in the horse, who has become spooked by your cries. “Please!”

“Shh, you're safe,” a familiar voice soothes. It's grated, rough. Simon. “It's alright.”

Your body sags into his, but your heart still pounds. Your thoughts are mush in your head as you try to piece them together.

“What happened?”

The last thing you can recall is smoke and flames, raiders breaking down your door, and the blunt end of a sword bashing your temple.

Your query is followed by thick silence. A dark cloud of confusion hangs over you and Simon doesn't seem to want to offer any guidance.

“Simon?” You attempt to turn, but he holds you tighter, almost forcing the air from your lungs. And then, you realize he's trembling.

Simon, who was the pillar of strength, never trembled, never showed an ounce of fear. You grew worried.

“Don't,” he says quietly. “Just rest. We’ll be at an inn soon.”

A pit sinks in your stomach. An inn, but not your inn. If your fragmented memory serves you correctly, your inn is ash. The home and business your family-owned for generations was gone in a single night.

All the fight and adrenaline drains out of your body, leaving you weak and exhausted. You shut your eyes and lean against Simon, allowing tears to fall freely in the dark.

The neighboring town’s inn is small, cold, decorated with the heads of different animals and sharp weapons mounted on the walls. You hate it. There is no fireplace, no warmth, or life—nothing like your inn, your home.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

The owner is a bony, severe-looking man whose slimy gaze clings to you alone. Even as you cower behind Simon the man’s hunger makes you shudder.

You stare into the glassy eyes of a deer hanging above the owner instead. Your blank expression stares back in the reflection.

“A bath for her.” Simon tosses an extra silver piece onto the counter.

You're covered in soot with a trail of dried blood running down your temple and a small cut on your neck.

The owner perks up. “Do you require any assistance washing?”

You can't help but cringe at his words and wrap your arms around yourself.

Simon’s hand darts over the counter to grab the man by the scruff of his neck and slam his face onto the counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barks, “and get it ready. Or I'll spill your fucking guts on the floor and you can wash that up instead.”

The man whimpers and you can't find it in you to feel bad for him. But you do worry. Simon always makes a point to keep his violence away from you.

His fury wasn't a sight you saw often. You only know the beginnings and ends of it. The deep breaths as he tried to control himself and keep his temper in check or the bloodied knuckles and split lips.

“Yes, yes, right away,” the man stammers.

Simon doesn't let up. You see the fingers of his pointed gauntlets curl tighter, forcing a choked gasp from the man.

“Mercy,” the man pleads, voice wavering on the edge of tears.

Finally, Simon flings the man back and he stumbles to catch himself from hitting the wall. Scampering off, the man disappears around the corner.

Simon heaves a sigh, bordering on frustration and exhaustion. His shoulders are tense and when you reach a hand out to touch his arm, he doesn't look at you. He hasn't since you woke up on his horse. His helmet being on didn't help either.

You desperately want to know what he is thinking. Simon was never a talker, but his eyes were always more expressive than his words.

His arm wraps around you, bringing you into his chest. Your cheek rests against his chest plate. The metal is cool against your skin. Your arms wrap around his waist in turn.

You want to ask him so many questions, but now isn't the time. You want to think he’ll explain everything soon, but his tension doesn't reassure you.

He holds you in silence until the owner returns.

The man's gaze doesn't fall anywhere near you this time. The bloodshot, green eyes stay firmly on Simon as he stumbles over his words and let's you know the bath is ready.

Simon takes your hand and leads you around the corner. The narrow hallway has a wooden staircase built into the left and leads further down to an open door. You can see the tub inside, a towel draped over a wooden chair beside it.

The washroom is a simple room with a basin and a chair. There's a standing mirror tucked in the corner you use to look at the grime covering your body. Your face is gaunt, a shell of yourself. Your fingers ghost over the frown you fear will become permanent.

Simon shuts the door and moves behind you like a pillar, poised to support your unsteady legs. “Off,” he commands with a low voice, brushing the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder.

Your clothes slip off easily and Simon guides you into the tub. The water is lukewarm at best and you curl your knees to your chest to conserve heat.

“Will you tell me what happened now?” Your question is quiet.

He runs a cloth over your shoulders.

“Raiders,” he all but spits.

“What of everyone else?”

“Gone.”

Your brows furrow. You just couldn't believe you were the only one to make it out. Your heart breaks for all the people who were lost.

“And the raiders?”

No doubt Simon made short work of those bastards. He always did.

Simon wrings the towel out and extends his hand. “Come on. Out before you get cold.”

You're redressed in your nightgown but not satisfied.

He leads the two of you up to your room for the night. There's a wooden bed tucked in the corner and a dresser beside it with an oil lamp. You grimace at the sheets which are covered in a layer of dust. You pull them off the bed and toss them to the floor.

Simon begins the quiet routine of shedding his armor at the door. It almost feels like you're back home. His helmet comes off first and rests on the dresser.

Finally, you can see the tight furrowed brows, the downcast eyes, and tense jaw he wears. There is a quiet conflict raging behind his tired eyes. He looks exhausted and beaten to the core. He leans his sword against the wall, places his gauntlets on the dresser, chest plate and greaves beside it.

You watch as each piece comes off, searching for signs of injury. He never returns to you without scars or bruises for you to fuss over. But piece by piece, his clothes are free of blood and his body doesn't tense from sudden movements.

No sign of injuries should be reassuring, but it only adds more questions.

“Are you okay?” Your hands run down his chest to rest on his abdomen.

He's quiet for a moment, tense beneath your hand, before he mutters a curt, “Fine.”

Simon takes your hands and guides you back onto the bed. He leans over you, forcing your neck to crane back. A hand cradles your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb, as his lips lower to ghost over yours.

You want to ask him more questions—ones he won't answer, he can't answer—but he stops you short.

Simon captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger that he needs satiated. His hands cup either side of your face, always gentle.

When he pulls away there's something missing from his gaze, replaced with a despair that stretches beyond you.

“Simon…”

“Not tonight,” he whispers.

He never liked to talk about his missions, the evils he faced all in the name of upholding his oath. And you never forced him to, simply doing your best to provide him comfort in other ways. You gave him a home to return to, open arms to fall into, and loved him completely. But, the hollow look on his face warns you of something terrible, something that can't be healed.

He brings himself to his knees, head hung in quiet repentance. His lips press against your knee. Then his hands snake up, pushing your nightgown past your thighs.

You grab his hands before he can reveal anymore, but he is insistent.

He looks up between your thighs like you alone can offer him salvation for whatever sin is consuming him whole.

“I need you,” he pleads. “Let me have you.”

Simon doesn't wait for your response before he’s rising once again to push you against the bed. When his lips meet yours, it's fierce and demanding. His body cages you and you're helpless to refuse as he knees your legs open.

Simon’s rough hands explore the soft curve of your body. Your hands caresses the slender curve of his neck and into the silk strands of his hair while his thumb traces random patterns on your stomach before dipping below the waist of your panties. His fingers skim lower and lower, and you squirm when the dull ache between your thighs grows stronger.

The pads of his finger meet your sensitive clit for the first time and rub slowly. Your body seizes around him, thighs clamping around his, and your arms wrap around his neck to ground yourself around the sensation.

The way he gazes upon you so reverently, like a goddess worthy of his devotion, nearly makes tears spill down your cheeks. You let out a gasp as the pleasure in your stomach grows stronger.

Your hips move against his hand, demanding more. When his hand moves away to tug at your gown, you pout.

“Off,” he commands.

Nothing needs to be said twice, not with Simon. You pull your dress off, freeing yourself to the darkness and his roaming eyes. Your nipples are pert against the cold air. His calloused hands glide over your waist, mapping every inch and curve of your body to commit you to memory.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers in awe. His hand cups your breast as he lays kisses across your chest. Between each kiss he says, “You’re mine.”

You feel yourself blossom beneath his reverent touch and words. You lift your hips to let him pull your underwear off. His hands slide up your calves, over your thighs, and eventually one settles over your mound. You arch into his touch. A sigh leaves your lips as he runs his finger through your slick folds.

Two fingers are thrust into you without warning. Your breath is caught in your chest as you clench around him. His fingers work inside of you, pulling sweet moans from your lips, until you come undone.

Simon lifts your limp body against him as he settles on the bed with his back against the wall. You lay against his chest, face buried in his neck, as a wave of exhaustion hits you. The traumatic night is finally catching up with you.

As you come down from your orgasm and your eyes grow heavy, he pulls his cock free and positions you above him.

You attempt to shift your hips down to take him, but he stops you with a gentle squeeze of your hips.

“I've got you. Just relax.”

Simon eases you down on his cock, stretching you open. You want to squirm, to move, to please him the same way he did for you.

“Just stay here,” he says, his breath heavy in your ear. His hands cling to you as he shifts your bodies against the pillows. You feel the stir of him in you and involuntarily clench. He groans, burying his face into your neck to regain control of himself. “Let me feel you.”

You stay in each other's arms until your breaths fall steady. The closeness, his warmth, is a comfort you relish. Your home may be gone, but you still have Simon.

And, for now, it is all you need.

Simon waits for you to fall asleep first, cradled against his chest, before he allows himself to feel guilt wash over him. The weight threatens to drown him and he clings onto you like a raft.

He leans his head against the wall, staring at the water-stained ceiling. A veil of unshed tears blurs his vision. “Forgive me,” he whispers.

To who and for what, he doesn't know. He just hopes those words are enough to make the ache fade—it doesn't.

He allows himself to fully recall the entire night before he found you, before it all fell to shit.

Simon returned to ruin.

He saw the plume of smoke in the distance and hoped it wasn't real, but it was. Your town was engulfed in flames, glowing in the dark as bright as day, burning in his eyes like hellfire.

He moved through rubble, mind swimming with dread, to find you at the center of town, bound and unconscious. There were men surrounding you who wore a familiar coat of arms.

Graves, the pain in his side who never seemed to just disappear, was standing in the center of it all. Simon had faced his men before, but never Graves in person.

Simon would have caught on to the strangeness of the situation if not for the fury boiling in his blood.

Simon knew what he had to do—kill him, make him suffer. His oath wouldn't allow his evil to continue any further.

Gods, he hated the cocky grin on his face.

“There you are,” Graves called out like he was greeting an old friend.

“What the fuck do you want?” Simon’s sword was already unsheathed, ready to taste blood.

“To teach you not to fuck with me.”

Simon almost barks out a laugh. He raised his sword toward the challenge. Not one of Graves’ men moved to help defuse the situation.

“Go ahead and do as your oath commands—kill me.” Graves stood proud, arms spread wide.

Simon took a step further.

“But if you kill me, your girl dies too.”

A henchman hauled you up and placed a dagger at your throat.

Simon, for once, faltered. The sword in his hand trembled. He tried to steal himself but found he couldn't catch his breath.

He couldn't kill Graves and reach you in time. And he was sure if he made any move to save you, you'd be dead already.

“If you don’t kill me, I'll let you leave with her. Make your choice.”

So that was the game.

“Fuck you,” Simon spat. “I don't know ‘er.”

Graves ignored the bluff. Something in his smile told Simon, he saw right through his bullshit. “Go ahead and be a hero, Ghost.”

“I'm not a hero.”

He scoffed at the word. Destroy evil by any means necessary. His tenant echoed in his mind. Any means necessary.

He was far from a hero. A hero didn't turn a blind eye to those in need to pursue evil. He left behind innocent's far more times than he can count in the name of his oath.

Would you become one of the souls he sacrificed too?

Ever since he lost his family and took up his oath, he couldn't allow himself to feel emotions like guilt, sorrow, or fear, less it made him weaker to deliver the vengeance he swore to uphold.

But, you were his new family, the love he found amidst his violent wandering. He couldn't lose the safety and warmth that you were.

No matter what he chose, you or his oath, he would lose a part of himself.

Simon wanted to plunge his sword into Graves’ chest and be rid of the man and his impossible choice and that fucking smug smile. He wanted to destroy his very existence, so not even the strongest magic or God could piece him back together. He knew the world would be better off without him. He knew it deeply.

Yet, Simon lowered his sword and made his choice to condemn the world.

“I knew you were a selfish one.”

“Give her to me.”

Graves waved his hand and you were dropped. Simon caught you before you could touch the ground. He wrapped his arms tight around you, shielding you from the world.

“Fuck with me again and I won't wait for you to save her.”

Simon gritted his teeth but didn't say a thing. He kept his eyes on you. There was a cut on your neck where the blade was, shallow enough to draw a sliver of blood, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Fighting Graves would mean your death. Simon didn't care if he died, but he would never risk you. All he could do was lift you up and walk away.

Each step away from that ruined town he felt a piece himself slip further into the dark, remaining in the wreckage. His limbs lost feeling; his chest constricted.

A rope pulled inside his chest, urging him back to finish his duty. But, his feet dragged against the force to continue forward.

When Simon stepped over the town's threshold, the rope snapped. He was left with cold, empty despair.

Simon held you because that was all he could do as he left behind the destruction and his oath. At least he still had you.

He condemned the town’s survivors to death and allowed evil to escape the wrath of punishment—and he would do it all again to save you.

He will tell you of his selfishness in the morning. But, for now, he will hold your bare form tighter against his chest, closer to his heart, convincing himself you will fill the piece of himself that will never return.

But the void is boundless. It is echoes of flame and terror, shame and guilt, and a haunting voice calling to him in the dark.

“Oathbreaker, what have you done?”

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost scenario #simon ghost riley #cod mwii

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yeonshy · 2 years ago

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८. ･ ͙．w͟i͟n͟t͟e͟r͟ u͟s͟e͟r͟n͟a͟m͟e͟s͟ ᰍ ｡ ͘ ᳞ ✽

winnieter -> from "winter" and spanish "nieve" (snow)

ivyccld -> from "icy cold"

viernc -> from spanish "invierno" (winter)

nievelorio -> from spanish "nieve" (snow) and "velorio" (funeral)

snowvie -> from "snow" and french "vie" (life)

qtaisu -> from "qt" (cutie) and korean "아이스/aiseu" (ice)

aiseuco -> from korean "아이스/aiseu" (ice) and "cocoa"

cinnamilke -> from "cinnamon" and "milk"

vlizzrd -> from "blizzard"

avalnc -> from "avalanche"

inbyeol -> from spanish "invierno" (winter) and korean "별/byeol" (star)

kopivie -> from korean "커피/kopi" (coffee) and french "vie" (life)

wwintry -> from "wintery"

winvyu -> from "winter" and korean "우유/uyu" (milk)

mewtrrs -> from "mew" [kittycat noises] and "winter"

aunterw -> from "autumn" and "winter"

winternets -> from "winter" and "internet"

winteu -> from "winter" and korean "아이스/aiseu" (ice)

snowytown -> yk ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ🤍❄️

dizzyntr -> from "dizzy" and "winter"

swirlycocoa -> yk ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ🤍❄️x2

azeulkp -> from spanish "azul" (blue) and korean "아이스커피/aiseukopi" (iced coffee)

moonflakes -> from "moon" and "snowflakes"

snowflan -> from "snowflake" and "flan"

nevadoremi -> from spanish "nevado" (snowy) and "do re mi" [musical notes]

winfleur -> from "winter" and french "fleur" (flower)

decbouquet -> from "december" and "bouquet"

julyter -> from "july" and "winter"

pawcoa -> from "paw" and "cocoa"

mecwmellc -> from "meow" and "marshmello"

mrrycries -> from "merry christmas" and "cries"

miaurri -> from "miau" and "merry"

jardinvrn -> from french/spanish "jardin" (garden) and spanish "invierno" (winter)

cinnabunnie -> from "cinnamon" and "bunny"

berrycreme -> from "berry", "creme" and "merry chistmas"

crememx -> from "creme" and "christmas/xmas"

fleurry -> from "flurry" and french "fleur" (flower)

invierlace -> from spanish "invierno" (winter) and "lace"

lavieverde -> from french "la vie" (life) and spanish "verde" (green)

marenos -> from italian "mare" (sea) and spanish "renos" (reindeer)

ilydeer -> from "i love you/ily" and "(rein)deer"

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erabu-san · 1 year ago

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They tried to not laugh.

Submit your request here !

"it would be Rude-olph (rude) to laugh, I won't rein-deer (dare)" -Cyno probably

I did a mixed of some request hope you don't mind ! (i was inspired) thank you so much for your kind message !

#my art #genshin impact #genshinimpact #tighnari #genshin impact tighnari #daily tighnari #cyno #genshin impact cyno #collei #genshin impact collei #sillies. l love them.#sumeru sib #do not tag as ship

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sir-walton-goggins · 6 months ago

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At Your Mercy

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Mature (+18)

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader

Summary: Arthur and you have some fun in your private saloon room. You decide to take the reins and Arthur lets you.

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The hotel room door slams firmly shut as the cowboy and his companion enter the room, arms already tangled around each other. Arthur presses against you, pushing you against the doorway as he kissed you passionately. The only sounds in the room were the wood creaking from the pressure of both your bodies against it, heavy breathing and lips kissing repeatedly, smacking and pressing against each other in a dizzy rhythm. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes while you sucked on his plush bottom lip, puffing it up even more. The blond man moved your body from the doorway just to lock it, signaling to everybody else in the saloon that you two were gonna be very, very busy.

His hands were all over you: on your back, your hips, shoulders, cupping your cheek, entangled in your hair, sliding down the curve of your spine towards your ass, booking a stay there by squeezing it gently but firmly. The other hand was pushing your hair back to bare the tender skin of your neck and collarbone.

“Arthur,” you gasped on his mouth, but he didn’t respond. He was too busy being lost on your lips, eyes closed in absolute concentration as he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. He craved to be even closer to you, and the barrier of your clothes was starting to be too much for him to take.

His fingers tinkered with the buttons of your shirt, frantically trying to undo them. Goddamn it, why were they so small? His large hands kept sliding off and losing grip as he swore under his breath. You helped him undress you, throwing the cotton clothing haphazardly on the ground as Arthur closed in on your neck, sucking and kissing it like a thirsty animal. You threw your head back, gasping for air as the tingling sensation downstairs overwhelmed you.

You grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and, catching him by surprise, you pushed him towards the bed. He fell sitting on the mattress, blinking and looking as defenseless as a baby deer. You stopped for just a second to take him in: disheveled long hair sticking up in all directions, mouth open and panting, lips pink and swollen, looking up at you with big, questioning eyes and his shirt opened just enough to give you a cheeky peek of his chest hair. God, he looked so fuckable. Even more so than usual.

“y/n, what-” You didn’t let him finish. Before he even knew was happening, you were on his lap, shutting him up by sliding your tongue between his lips, pushing him further towards the center of the bed.

“Let me take care of you tonight” you breathed, pausing the kiss to undress him slowly. Off came the vest, the shirt, then the pants… he observed you with a curious smirk as you undid each button of his union suit, purposefully stopping at his crotch. Oh, you were gonna wipe that arrogant grin off his face, alright.

"What do you want me to do?" you asked seductively, your hand massaging his clothed dick. Arthur sighed loudly in anticipation, tilting his head backwards and sucking air through his teeth. It needed your attention so bad, already hard and throbbing beneath the fabric of his underwear. Since he didn’t answer your question, you gripped at it harder and a mouth-watering, low-pitched moan escaped the man’s lips without his permission. He looked at you, dazed.

"What do we say?" you didn’t move until he finally pleaded:

"P-Please..." all his composure crumbled under your touch, as he begged you to take him. In all the time you knew him, you never heard Arthur Morgan stutter or beg. And yet, a simple hand on his most vulnerable body part, and he was putty in your hands.

“Please what?” you teased, keeping your hand firmly on his crotch, tracing the shape of his organ with the light pressure of your fingers while keeping firm eye contact with him. For once, he was the one trying to look away, cheeks flushed in a combination of desire and sheepishness.

He cleared out his throat and paused before speaking. “Please, give me a hand-job.”

His voice was a little shaky and unsteady, but he spoke clearly, knowing if he mumbled you would have made him repeat himself. He’d never looked so bashful, a rare sight that amused and excited you at the same time.

Satisfied, you indulged him, undoing the remaining buttons to finally uncover his cock. You curled your hand at the base of it and started pumping it up and down, up and down, very slowly.

"Good boy." You whispered in his ear, making him shiver with pleasure, little groans emerging from his chest at every movement of your hand on his sensitive skin.

He was under your complete control, his whole body in display in front of you, his weakness in your hands. He depended on your every movement, second by second, as you continued to stroke him slowly but firmly. His face was consumed with pleasure and concentration, contorted into a grimace that was both caused by you, and only for you to enjoy.

As you gradually increased the speed, he bit his lip, squirming under your touch, his hips moving endlessly upwards in desperation. He was exactly where you wanted him.

"You'd do anything for me, right?"

He nodded, still lost in the ecstasy the friction was causing.

"Say it."

"I'd do anything for you." It came out pained, but determined, his voice breaking from the effort. He was whimpering now, a complete mess.

He whimpered so softly, so helplessly that your brain shut down and you momentarily lost control. Still stroking his cock, you attached yourself to his exposed neck, sucking it and biting it like a desperate animal, leaving dark marks all over it that were probably gonna put him in trouble the next day. But neither of you cared in that moment. Your lips and tongue lingered on every inch of his poor, tender skin, leaving wet marks and just hints of bite marks all over it.

"I-I'm..." he tried, voice so shaky he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Sweat was pooling on his forehead, eyes squinting and closing repeatedly. His pretty mouth was agape, lips swollen and red from kissing, panting like a dog, gripping at the sheets so hard he was ripping them. He looked so fucking hot right now, you would’ve done unspeakable things to him. You rejoiced in the power you had over this big, tough man. The man you loved, the man who deserved every ounce of pleasure he was getting and more. He was all yours.

Every muscle in his body was tensing up, simultaneously preparing and fighting against his release. Arthur was just a complete whimpering mess, and all because of you. He already leaked precum and you were as slick as he was, getting off only from pleasuring him. The warmth downstairs got stronger and you felt a deep pleasure at the mere thought of being the sole cause of his state.

The cowboy lifted his torso a bit and gripped tightly at your chemise. That's how you knew he could no longer wait. But you stopped him dead in his tracks: it wasn't time yet.

"Why?" He cried in exasperation, furrowing his brows.

"Because I said so." Your tone left no room to objection, and Arthur let himself fall back onto the pillow with a sigh, his face contorted from the effort to not come.

Still gripping his dick, you swiftly removed your underwear and positioned yourself on it, slipping it in easily. You let out a contented sigh as he filled your cunt with his girth. You could feel the man clenching even harder to not come inside you immediately, so hard it must have hurt: he groaned in pain and swore.

"Goddamn it!"

The feeling of wetness and warmth from your pussy around his length was almost too much for him to take, and for a second he thought he was about to give in to his natural urges, but he managed to power through this feeling, somehow. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do, and complete torture, especially since you were on top of him, sighing and softly whimpering as your sweet spot was finally being taken care of, too.

Yes, torture. And you were gonna pay for that, sooner than later.

His hands found your hips and held them tight, following your movements upwards and downwards, very slowly. Arthur was digging his fingers into your soft flesh, hurting you a bit and possibly leaving some bruises, but you didn’t care. You every move was calculated to make him even more aroused, so you bounced up and down, moaning so gently and deliberately to provoke a reaction in him. He looked at you through the sweat that was now streaming down his face, breathing heavily as he moaned with you, unable to hold himself back at this point. You were overstimulating him good, making sure he got all the pleasure he deserved.

"You like that, Mr. Morgan? You like it when I ride you?" You teased, a smirk on your face momentarily interrupted by you biting your lip and wincing because his thrusting hit just the right spot.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Arthur ripped the chemise right off of your torso, a loud rip echoing in the room followed by your gasp. You gave him a reproachful look, and the cowboy simply giggled at your genuine outrage.

“Arthur! That was my best chemise!” you whined, patting your newly-exposed skin and glancing dejectedly at the ripped piece of fabric strewn across the side of the bed.

“So? M’ gonna buy you a new one” he smiled, apologetic. He looked so adorable, you simply had to excuse him. Of course you couldn't stay mad at him, especially when he was inside you, making you feel so good. “Besides,” there it was again, that arrogance. “Jus’ wanted to enjoy the view.”

You sighed, noticing the lust in his eyes now that your breasts were exposed. You knew that was his favorite position, and that was the reason: watching your tits bounce up and down when you moved made him crazy, and he instinctively sped up the pace, almost forgetting your command.

“Hey, not so fast, cowboy” you ordered sternly, leaning forward and whispering “you come when I tell you to.”

Arthur looked at you, mesmerized. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to obey you. He didn’t take orders from anyone, yet here you were, small girl bossing him around, and he loved it. In fact, it was making him even hornier. Unfortunately, he got himself in even more of a predicament, now that he could see you wholly naked: the quest to stifle his orgasm had just become harder, pun fully intended.

“Yes ma’am” he whispered, his determination faltering. He was almost at the edge of his orgasm, but was doing everything in his power to keep going. The way you were stifling him... Made him want to act up. He was already shamelessly plotting his revenge in his mind.

He had to put a stop to it though, because the sounds you were making were adding up to his fantasies, making him want to explode. He suddenly regretted stripping you of your shirt: the sight of you bouncing on him was getting too much. Ugh, why did he do that?

“Ah, fuck” he whispered, the overstimulation finally getting to him. The confounding mixture of pleasure and pain was getting to his head like a badly-mixed cocktail, tears pressing behind his eyes and all kinds of moans coming out of his mouth, beaten out of his lungs with every thrust of his hips.

He was a complete, utter mess: mouth open, eyes squinted and filling up with tears, sweat glistening on his tanned skin and gluing his long hair to his face. You admitted that seeing him like this turned you on endlessly, but it also evoked compassion: that poor man was being fucked within an inch of his life, and you were doing this do him. You slowed your pace for a moment, leaning forward to kiss his lips delicately and wipe his tears away.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart” you encouraged Arthur. “Just a little bit more, okay?”

The cowboy nodded, still crying and whimpering, but never daring to interrupt his constant thrusting. How long was this going on for? Five minutes? Ten? Either way, this had to be some kind of record. He felt his whole body tense, sore, begging for relief but, at the same time, the waves of pleasure hitting him violently were the most intense he’d ever experienced. He never cried, but now he found himself unable to control the tears streaming down his cheek, mixing up with sweat. Tears of pure pleasure.

You picked up the pace steadily, riding him wildly now to direct him to the finish line. You angled yourself so that his dick would reach your sweet spot at each thrust now, to finish together. You felt so close, your toes curling and your muscles tensing against Arthur’s, who was mumbling your name repeatedly like a prayer, completely out of it. You could barely hear him anymore as you reached your climax, remembering to dismount him at the last minute and slumping next to him as he finally and deservedly came all over the sheets and himself. You watched every muscle of his relax, his face in an enraptured bliss you had seen many times after you made love to each other, only amplified, and wet with tears. You gave him a few minutes to recover as you snuggled up against him, eyes closed, resting. His breathing gradually slowed down, his chest rising at a normal pace now. Arthur slowly turned his head to you, a drunk smile plastered on his face.

“That… was amazing” he sighed, pausing to breathe between words. “You... are amazing.”

Your lips found each other again in a tender kiss. “Rest now. You deserve it” you murmured, quite worn out yourself. Arthur’s eyelids were so heavy, and he was asleep in just a few seconds. You followed him into Morpheus’s arms soon after.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic

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