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fluoneia · 1 month ago

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pitfighter!vi knew it was bad to be indulging in something like a whorehouse, yet, she found herself at babettes often since she starting fighting in the ring.

usually, it was a quick in and out, but this time, she heard of a new worker. since the others started declining her because they were too rough with them, she decided to take the chances with you.

she drunkenly stumbled into babette’s place, grabbing onto the doorframe to steady herself.

that’s when she saw you. standing there, all pretty in nothing but pink.

vi’s eyes widen. she sees you talking to babette, no doubt starting as a worker there. vi chuckles to herself as she thinks, oh, i’m having fun tonight.

vi stumbles forward, grimacing as her shoulder hits the wall. she walks forward, leaning against the front desk.

“hey, babette.” vi slurs. she turns her glance to you, peering you up and down. her hungry, raw eyes make a shiver go down your spine. her badly-dyed black hair, ends pink, like how you assumed her hair used to look. she had bruises on her face, blood stained on her lip.

you gasp.

“hey, beautiful.” the girl rasps.

“vi.” babette says calmly, “i’m afraid.. you’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

“what?” she turns to babette. “why?”

“well.. none of my girls will take you anymore. if i mention your name, they instantly say no.”

what the hell could this girl have done that makes it so every girl would decline her? money is money, you thought. and this girl seems willing to pay it.

“that’s bullshit.” she scoffed, slapping her palm on the desk. “bunch of wimps.”

“that’s precisely why, violet.” babette shakes her head. and her name is so.. un-fitting, you think. maybe the girl she was before, the girl with pink hair, was violet. but, this didn’t seem like a girl who deserved the honour to be named after things as delicate as flowers. but then again, you never liked delicate girls.

“i will.” you speak up. you straighten your back.

the girl— vi, turns to you. she eyes you up and down. and she reeks of alcohol, but, you could overlook that.

truth be told, you wanted to see what she would do that the others that made them not want to take her as a client anymore. you wanted to see what she could do.

“will you?” vi leans toward you. you smell the alcohol on her tongue. what made her this confident.. and if she can back it up?

and babette gives you a look. “alright. goodluck, then.” she snorts, leaning back.

you glance back toward vi. her eyes are staring at you like she can see underneath your clothes. undressing you with her eyes. and you wonder how she could look so damn hot.

red jacket. black hair. face-paint on her face. the way she held herself was so.. unreal. she knew she was attractive, and that’s what made her even more attractive.

you hadn’t had a good fuck in a while. at your old brothel, it was nothing but smelly, old, beer-bellied men, often from piltover looking for the thrill on cheating on their wives.

so, you hoped, maybe, just maybe, her reputation holds up, and you can just.. let yourself go.

oh, and boy, was she able to hold it.

you were writhing. your legs shaking, wrapped around her head as she eats you out like you’re a damned feast on christmas eve.

“o-oh, gods!” you’d scream, hands digging into her black hair, gripping and pulling her scalp. vi whines against you as you pull and tug, your plush, soft thighs wrapped so tightly around your head.

her fingers curl inside of you, only adding to the pure euphoria you feel. you’d fully forgotten everything— nothing mattered but vi’s tongue on you, licking through your folds, tasting you, feasting on you.

“ugh— fuck!” you whine, head throwing back against the pillow. the smoke of the candle around you, earthy scent only adding to the fog in your head.

how could anyone pass up on this? you’d think as her tongue brings you to your fourth orgasm of the night. your voice cracks from the sounds you’ve been making, no longer caring about how people might hear you. you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s it,” you hear vi whisper, voice vibrating against your skin in the most pleasurable way as it could. her voice was rasped, so drunk on your taste that she swore she’d never tasted better pussy before she met you.

“vi, vi, vi—“ you chant her name like a damn mantra as her hands tighten on your hips, dragging you toward her as you begin to pull away.

“oh, fuck, s’too much!” your voice slurs, her tongue chasing you as you pull back.

but that wasn’t true. you wanted this, you wanted more then this, you wanted to be treated so well that you forgot your own name.

she takes a second, pulls her head away, and you sigh in relief. “you asked for this.” she says, before running her tongue along your folds, your hips jerking at the sudden stimulation.

she placed a kiss against you, before pulling back, running a hand over her hair, inhaling a deep breath.

yet, her hands don’t pull away. she smiles a toothy smile as her fingers begun rubbing small, long circles over your most sensitive spot, leaning toward you.

“mmf, vi.” you cry, eyes opening to peer up at her. you don’t realize the tear running down your temple before she wipes it away.

“so beautiful.” vi gasped, fingers dipping inside you only to move back up. you cry out, legs shutting against her hand, preventing her from moving her hands any further.

but, her eyes darken, and her other hand rips your leg to the side, pinning it to the side of the bed.

“don’t do that.” she nearly damn growled, “do that again, and you’re only getting it worse.”

she leans toward you, eyes glancing all over your body, at the plush of your stomach, so soft, and twitching, pushing up from the bed, leaning into her touch despite your protests.

“ohmygod!” you whine. “fuck, oh my god!”

everything around you was so hazy. so foggy, so unreal. her hands were unreal, so laced with skill it almost drove you insane.

“said you can take it.” vi’s slurred voice only brings you more into the spiral of your own pleasure. her lips find your neck, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your skin. her teeth nip at your neck, grazing against your skin, and it’s such a sweet gesture if you weren’t so out of it.

the feeling makes your skin set ablaze, prickles all over your body.

“you can take another. can’t you? hm?” she hums against you as her slender fingers dip back into you, curling, pressing against that spot she now knew drove you absolutely crazy.

and you whimper and whine, but you don’t protest. you wanted this. that’s all you’ve wanted for years. someone who can keep up with your stamina, your needs.

and vi not only meets that, but surpasses it. you swore she was between your legs for three hours and didn’t move once to breathe.

she was so enveloped in you. and that’s what you need.

her fingers rile you up, ignoring the absolute ache of your core, your whole entire body. you relished in the fact that you’d probably be here all night, but that’s what you wanted.

and as you feel your stomach untwist, that knot release, your vision goes fucking white from the searing, hot pleasure through your whole body.

“ohm—“ you cry, chest heaving as her fingers work you through your orgasm, slowly, yet continuing to abuse your bruised spot that she’d been hitting all night. “fuck, fuck! fuck me, oh my god!” you cry, gasping for air.

your arms throw around her, pulling her against you, entire body curling into her, legs clamping around her hand. your body shook, your nerves feeling like they were alive, and they would never die.

and finally, she stops.

you gasp a satisfied breath of air, mouth falling open, eyes squeezing shut before she finally lets her hand slip away from you.

her hands glide up your body, stopping at your hips before she hauls you over her own body. her hand rests on your back, her own breath heavy as she tries to regain herself.

“you’re amazing.” she whispers against your hair. you freeze, taken aback by the sudden intimacy, but you let yourself melt into her, both not having the will or the strength to pull away from her.

“you’re fucking amazing.”

and slowly, you laugh. you glance toward her.

“are you.. are you done?” you say quietly, timidly.

she cocks a brow. “do you not want me to be?”

you shake your head. “no, no..” you inhale a deep breath, hand moving to take one of the strands in her hair in your palm. “for now, im done.” you snort as you shake your head, body still compelling from the previous orgasms. “but..”

“but?” she hums, hand moving to grab the plush of your ass, before running up your back. you gasp at the crude gesture.

but, you shake it off.

“you.. you haven’t let me touch you at all.” you say, shakingly pushing yourself up, resting your palms on her chest.

you let your hair spill over your face as you move closer, lips hovering just above hers.

“yeah. that’s not what i’m here for.”

vi gasps a breath of air. she brings herself closer, hands resting on your hips.

“that’s what you paid me for.” i cock a brow, before laughing and pressing kisses along her jaw, up to the corner of her mouth, testing the waters.

you smirk, you hand moving down to her jacket, slowly pulling it away.

“let me do my job. huh?”

“fine. but you’re not getting anything out of me. i give. i don’t receive.”

“you underestimate me.” you smile against her lips. “i’ve been in this business for years. i know how to pleasure a woman, vi.”

she pushes herself up, nose touching eachothers.

“we’ll see about that, cupcake.”

vi left the brothel feeling like a new person. all she could think was, what the fuck?

she clears her throat as she passes by babette, not daring to look at her as she struggles to stand on her shaking legs.

she discovered something about herself she never thought she would that night. and oh, she’d definitely be coming back if that meant you were there.

a/n. for @obivari :,)) more info on my taglist here

part 2 here.

#fanfiction #writing #arcane league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane x reader #vi x reader #smut #arcane smut #vi smut #vi arcane #arcane

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allurilove · 4 months ago

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Yandere Ghost x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: A little introduction to very pretty and demure yan ghost x gender neutral reader, perverted behavior, mentions of cheating and murder, he wants to be your one and only.

Part two ! ★

Yandere ghost had been alone for five hundred years. He had seen many people come and go, and none of his lovers had last long. They were all peaceful people who accepted death and their untimely demise, and no matter how hard he would beg for them to become a spirit and stay with him—they chose to go to heaven. Yandere ghost was scared to let go. He wanted to be on earth forever.

Yandere ghost had the prettiest hair that rivals the finest silk. Before he had died, he was a paramour. He fell in love with a married woman that made him want to be the best version of himself. He started to learn all the beauty secrets he could, traveling around the globe for the best ingredients for his skincare and hair. He dabbled in makeup, adding a bit of rouge to his cheeks and stained his lips pink. He took care of his body well. He used sugar to wax any hair on his torso or legs, and slathered scented creams he made himself so he smelled rosy. He made sure he would massage his legs and face after he woke up, and put ice on any puffy areas.

Yandere ghost was murdered by his ex-lovers husband. He didn’t like to dwell on his death, and he hadn’t exactly been truthful to you about it as well. He didn’t want you to think lowly of him for being the “other woman” and breaking a relationship apart. But, when he does get unwanted memories from that unfortunate night, he appears in your bedroom. You could feel his presence whenever he comes and goes, his cold hand would gently tug at your blankets, and you shivered as his body slowly sided next to yours. He would play with your pajamas, kiss your cheeks and bite on em. Not too hard, but enough so he could see his teeth marks.

Yandere ghost was grateful that you weren’t creeped out by the sight of him rubbing his cheeks on your inner thigh. He liked resting on your lower half since it was so unbelievably warm. He liked pressing his tongue against the crotch, and he smiled often at the wet spot that usually formed down there. He doesn’t want to be too forward with you, so simple touches like these was all he did. He kissed the fabric of your underwear, trailing upwards to your midriff, and his fingers grazed over the soft skin of your thighs. Yandere ghost was more active during the night time, and he preferred to keep himself hidden from you. Sometimes, he would pop out if you had another man over. His beautiful face would twist into disgust, and for a brief moment, he would reveal the most ugly parts of himself to the man he considered to be “trespassing.”

Yandere ghost was a little mischievous and jealous man. He didn’t like seeing you with anyone else because he had felt like you were the one. Yandere ghost was a man of many talents. He could rip his body into half on command, his intestines hanging like strings, and his mouth could detach from the jaw. He often liked to scare the men by hovering over them, his eyes wide and white without a pupil in sight, and his breath that reeked of spoiled and decaying fish would waft into their nose. If that didn’t work, he would beg them to free him from this house, and scream that there was a curse for any man that stepped foot on this land. He would crawl on the ground, sobbing endless black tears. Every time they would snitch on him… yandere ghost just disappeared immediately. He wouldn’t want you to see this jealous side of him.

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spilladabalia · 11 months ago

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youtube

The Soft Pink Truth - Black Metal

#the soft pink truth #black metal #venom #cover #drew daniel #bryan collins #electronic #synthpop #drum 'n' bass #why do the heathen rage?#2014 #Youtube

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winxanity-ii · 3 months ago

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SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

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rastronomicals · 9 months ago

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The Soft Pink Truth

#Soft Pink Truth

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jammyjen26 · 3 months ago

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Simon has been fidgeting for the past ten minutes.

He’s sweating bullets while you just stare at him worried.

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want to..” You say, he glares at you and shakes his head with a scoff.

“I promised you. I ain’t goin’ back on my damn promises. Just wait.” He huffs and sighs.

Simon had promised that on your 1st year anniversary of dating, he’d show you his face.

However, now that the day has come. He’s nervous.

What if you leave because of the way he looks? What if you’re not satisfied with what you see? What if you get scared?

So many thoughts, so many insecurities, and so much anxiety.

“I can close my eyes and then you can just tell me when to open them.” You say with sweet smile that he adores so much.

He doesn’t know how or why whenever you look or smile at him, his hearts throbs and skips beats.

He likes this feeling. Makes him feel like a teenager.

After all you are his first serious relationship after all his one night stands.

He doesn’t understand what you see in him and why you love him.

“Alright. Close your eyes for me, blossom.” He says as he stares at you.

You nod and close your eyes.

He wipes his sweat with the back of his hand and then pulls his mask off.

A soft thud on the carpet floor, the cool air filling his face.

He takes a deep breath and taps your shoulder.

“Open up.” He mumbles in a quiet voice that you barely hear.

You open your eyes, you’re met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Brown eyes that look fierce but there’s love in them, light brown buzzed hair, pink plump lips, chapped but they look soft.

“You’re…” You say as you stare at him.

His mind is going crazy, what are you gonna say? Is he ugly? Is he an abomination?

“You’re so fucking hot..” You blurt out.

He stares at you before throwing his head back in a laugh. You’re drooling.

Drooling like he’s a medium rare piece of steak on a gold platter.

The rest of the night is spent with you pampering him and complimenting him each second.

He’s not one to accept compliments and always thought they were backhanded.

When you compliment him and stare at him with those beautiful eyes, he just knows you’re telling the truth.

#call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #female reader #fluff

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bi-writes · 7 months ago

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thinking about sugarbaby!reader batting her lashes when simon comes home. watching him come through the door, tossing his duffel onto the ground, grunting as he shuts the door behind him and cracks his neck from side-to-side as he eyes the pretty thing standing there waiting for him. (18+)

wearing that baby pink silk that he loves so much. the one that didn't put a dent in his wallet, even though it was outrageously expensive--but fuck was it worth it when he saw those gorgeous tits wrapped so delicately in it, fabric sitting soft and smooth like water. his mouth goes dry as his eyes focus on the skin there, knowing how you'll taste when he rips the thing off of you and puts his cock right back where it belongs.

your eyes meet. you smile, bright and sugary and sweet, and when he bends down to kiss you, he brings the weight of him down, too. he's vicious with it, teeth knocking against yours and tongue a little sloppy as he swallows the pretty sounds you make--simon-oh!

he watches with bated breath as you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands finding the laces of his boots and beginning to undo them. you tip your head back, looking up at him, and he lowers himself to look closer at you, pouty lips parted and waiting for him as he shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth and pries satisfaction from the gag that you choke down and settle with a soft suck.

a warm mouth. a pretty cunt. a gorgeous girl, all for him, waiting like the lovesick kitten that she is for him to come home, for him to devour, for him to indulge in.

and when you let his fingers go and kiss his blood-soaked palms with a whimpering, "thank you for your service," he knows this is the only place he will ever know the truth of it all.

#hi pay for me and ill be here baby #:D #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon thoughts

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trvthservm · 14 days ago

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// age gap // dubious consent // student teacher relationship nanami knows he's a sick, sick man. he realises the extent of his depravity when his eyes first fall on your innocent form when you walk into his class for the first time. he knows its wrong to look at you like that — to look at you like he wants to eat you whole. you are none the wiser, always wearing the shortest plaid skirts and sweaters that hang off your shoulder, just to entice him with the baby pink bra strap that digs into your skin.

he knows what kind of girl you are. the kind to wear strawberry flavoured lipgloss and vanilla perfume, like a doll wrapped up just for him to get his claws into. he knows that you are a hardworking girl, someone who burns the midnight oil instead of partying out like her peers. no, he knows you sit down at your desk dressed in frilly pajamas, going through his recorded lectures and notes so you could be the best in his class.

he wants you like how the snake wanted eve to push her pearly white teeth into the apple, letting the sinful juice drip down her lips. he wants you like how evil wants carnage.

its not difficult for him either, to get a pretty thing like you under him. all he has to do is ask you to stay back in the big lecture hall, watch the way your throat bobs as he walks closer, a smirk playing on his lips. it does not take him long to have your lips wobble and your eyes filled with fresh tears.

its easy to have you pliant and ready to do as he pleases when he tells you that your grades have significantly dropped. he sees your animated face shake slowly, denying it internally. he smiles to himself with the panic painted on your face.

"it happens," he lies, "girls like you work hard in the beginning and then get distracted with boys." he lies again. you shake your head fervently, hoping he sees your desperation. you deny it with honeyed words, your begging saccharine sweet to his ears.

you are angel incarnate and he's the devil's son.

he has you on your knees trying to show him how good of a student you are, how you only focus on professor nanami's lectures. he has you worship his sinful cock like it was the holy truth of god. he doesnt mind the sticky pink gloss that coats his length. he welcomes it. it reminds him of how awful of a man he is.

he holds your hair out of your face like he cares, like he wants to be a supportive as he can. instead he uses all his force to pull you onto his dick over and over again. your sweeet moans and the noises of your restricting throat fills the hall, echoing throughout. he knows its fucked for him to have you serving him while countless other academics used that space to change the minds of students.

he only cares about taking control of your mind. he cant help himself , not even when he pulls his throbbing cock out of your soft mouth so he can have your legs thrown on his shoulders. he pushes himself into you, the only preparation your virgin cunt had was his soft kiss to her and a rough two fingers gauging if he could fit.

he surely doesn't regret it when he feels you wrapped around him, your body shaking with the wrongful pleasure you felt. he definitely doesn't when he picks up your skirt hiding the way you were both connected just so he could take a good look at the way he had debauched his favorite student.

#trvthservm #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut

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themotherofhorses · 8 months ago

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simon riley x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language. soft smut. breeding kink.

On the continuation of my “Soft!Ghost” ideas:

Imagine lovemaking with Simon.

Simon has you—his pretty girl—tucked inside his bedroom, sandwiched between him and the mattress. Right in his arms, where you rightfully belong.

(In his arms, you’re protected. Safe. Nothing could possibly ever harm you.)

Of course, the intensity of sex differs with his moods. On some days, he is a delicious mix of dominant and aggressive, claiming your body with a certain roughness that reflects how possessive he is over you. But, on other days, all Simon wants is to possess your heart and soul, in some desperate frenzy to stake his claim over them.

You were made for Simon. In his eyes, that is the truth. How could it not be? Every inch of you—from the curve of your hipbones and the tanalizing way your bottom lip shines with a fresh layer of gloss to how your beautiful, doe eyes twinkle anytime he is near—is all his. You’re irresistible.

And when you lay beneath him, completely bare, ripe for the taking, whining out for his touch, what else could he possibly do than worship you?

One arm keeps him steadily up, towering over you; the other cradles your soft cheek against his palm. His thumb strokes along your cheekbone. He’s gentle, smiling, even chuckling. “I’ve got you, baby,” he purrs in that deep, hoarse accent. “Shhh, darlin’. C’mon, lemme take care of ya.”

“ Si…”

Your body stiffens as Simon gently slides himself into your pussy, until he’s buried balls deep; he lets out a breathless “fuck” as you tighten around his cock, followed by a low groan. “Perfect for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, leaning to kiss you for a moment.

“That’s my good girl,” he mumbles against your lips, letting his tongue entangle with yours. “So fucking good for me.”

His hips slap against yours at a slow, gentle pace—matching his thrusts. “C’mon, baby, fuck.” You whine in response, arching your back, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders while your pretty, teary eyes hold his gaze.

“ Simon…! ”

Simon chuckles, takes one of your hands in his, and flattens it against your lower stomach. “Feel that, love?” You gasp, nodding. There is an unmistakable bulge in your belly; you can feel it. “Aye, that’s me.” Your cunt takes him so unbelievably well; he cannot stop pistoning his cock in and out of you.

God, he thinks, you were made for him.

You were fucking made for me.

The only thing that could possibly be better than this is—

“Lemme make you a mum,” Simon suddenly says, groaning. “God, baby, need to make you one.” His fingers find your nipple, pinching it before rubbing it back and forth, causing you to squeal. “—make these pretty tits all swollen. You’d be so bloody gorgeous, love.”

Simon wants a family, so fucking badly. He is beyond desperate for one — ever since he looked into your eyes for the first time, and saw his future staring back. At the time, the feeling was confusing and disorienting….

…now, it all made sense.

“Yeah?” Mid-thrust, he kisses you again, swallowing your gasps and tiny whimpers as he splits you open on his cock. “You gonna let me make you a mum?” Another thrust. “C’mon, baby, use your words, my girl.”

You nod, unable to muster up a response to your husband; instead, your mouth falls open—pretty, pink lips dropping into a perfect “o." “P-Please, Si…” your soft, little voice whines out, stirring up more heat in Simon.

(He loves your voice. So bloody fucking much. You could ask him to raze the Earth to a burnt crisp, and he’d do it for you.)

“Please what, baby?”

The sensation of his massive cock overwhelms you. You fall slack as an orgasm rips through your body, robbing away all of your inhibitions; all you can do is let out another high-pitched moan, praying your body gives him the answer that your voice cannot.

“Fuck — gonna breed you, baby. Gonna have my kid in you by the weekend.”

It’s a promise. His thrusts continue, in the exact same measure as before, not wanting to fuck you, but to make love to you. “You’re so bloody beautiful.” He’s gonna cum. Cum deep inside you; give you the family you deserve.

“Look at ya — bloody work of art.”

Flushed cheeks; breasts sweaty and heaving with countless love marks scattered around the skin; your fingers card softly through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He’s a lucky bastard, indeed.

“I love you."

Simon repeats those three words— “I love you. I love you. I love you.” —against your mouth, feeling his entire body tauten before he spills his cum inside you.

I love you. You saved me. You’re everything to me.

You smile up at him, flushed all prettily, and he flashes a smile back, taking a moment to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. God, he fucking loves you.

“I love you,” he says again…and again…and again.

notes: my attempt at writing smut for the first time in months. if it sucks, it's cause im in my late luteal phase.

#vic writes 🧸#call of duty #cod mw #cod ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x fem!reader

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