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ldrfanatic · 4 months

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Oh Bella

Italian!Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

synopsis - 3 times the reader teases Theo’s Italian roots + 1 time she celebrates them

cute, lazy fluff, no angst just happy vibes for a happy christmas :)

slytherin boys masterlist navigation

warning - internet translated Italian

(got these ideas from Ben and Fabio on instagram they’re so funny)

It wasn’t easy to date Theodore Nott. It was always rewarding but it wasn’t always easy.

For starters, Theo grew up in Italy and has one of the thickest Italian accents you’ve ever heard. There were a few times over the course of your relationship that you had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. Like when he was trying to tell you that Draco had invited you out on a double date with himself and Hermione.

You had just woken up from a nap when Theo walked into the Slytherin common room after quidditch practice. He flashed you a breath taking smile and all but skipped up to you as you rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your heart melting in your chest at the sight of your adorable boyfriend.

“Buongiorno Bella.” (good morning beautiful) Theo swooped down and delivered a soft kiss to the side of your face before plopping down next to you on the couch. “Guess what?” You hummed in response as you snuggled deep into his side.

“What’s up Theo?”

“At quidditch practice today, Draco says that you and I, we can go out double with them.”

In your tired brain, Theo’s words made even less sense. You sat up from his side and stared at him with your brows furrowed. “Huh?” Theo stared blankly back at you. He brushed a piece of your hair away from your face.

“Still asleep, Bella?”

You shook your head lightly but it didn’t convince either of you entirely. A chuckle rumbled through Theo and his chest vibrated in laughter.

“Draco says we can go double out with Herminone.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at the way Theo pronounced Hermione’s name. You’d all been friends for about two years now since she and Draco had started dating, but he still couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly.

Finally deciphering his thick accent and slightly broken, but still cute English, realization dawned upon you. You tried to smother a smile as you stared at your boyfriend in pure adoration. “You mean he invited us to double date with them?”

Theo looked at you for a few seconds before standing up and sighing a little dramatically.

“Mio dio Bella, that’s what I said”

“Mmm of course, Theo.”

So, dating Theodore Nott was not without its challenges. But it also wasn’t without its fun.

It was Mattheo’s birthday so of course the Slytherin common room was filled to the brim with drugs, alcohol, and probably the sluttiest girls in all of Hogwarts. Theo was sitting at a table off in the corner with both of your guys’ drinks and was noticeably uncomfortable in such an environment.

You’d gone to get ice for your sex on the beach when you had a mischevious idea. You scooped a little more ice into the cup and started making your way back to Theo.

You caught sight of Mattheo what was sitting on one of the large couches dead center in the room. He had three girls all over him right now and Lorenzo was giggling uncontrollably as he passed him a joint. Mattheo caught your eye and winked playfully. He liked to flirt with you to rile Theo up a little bit every once in a while.

You finally made it back to your table where Theo was swirling a deep red wine in a glass. His lips quirked up in a small smile as you took your seat next to him. Without speaking, he reached out and pulled your chair impossibly closer to his before throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Ciao Bella.”

Your entire body bloomed at the sound of his thick accent over his husky voice. Warmth settled over you like a fluffy blanket on a snowy morning.

“Ciao Theo.”

The surprise on Theo’s face was more than enough to make you happy that you’d taken up Italian recently. You practiced with Lorenzo in some of your free time and he was a pretty good teacher. You made eye contact with Theo and winked before settling into his side.

Theo immediately became suspicious as you were known for your antics.

“What are you up to Il mio piccolo piantagrane, hm?” (my little troublemaker)

“Nothing Theo, relax.”

He stared at you suspiciously for a few seconds before his body finally loosened.

The opportunity was too great to miss.

You leaned over both of your drinks and dumped ice into your sex on the beach before then dropping a few ice cubes into Theo’s wine.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Oh! Bella, no! No, no, no!” His lips turned up in disgust and multiple muted expressions left his mouth in what you assumed were Italian swears.

“Che diavolo? Ghiaccio nel vino? No! Il vino è sacro.”

(what the hell? ice in wine? no! wine is sacred.)

A large hand came and ran through his messy curls and the laugh you’d been surprising burst suddenly from your chest. Theo’s eyes snapped to yours and you recognized the mischievous glint.

A squeal left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat and took off around the common room with him hot on your tail.

The second time that you decided to make your poor sweet Italian boyfriend question all decisions to be with you was at dinner one night. You weren’t intentionally teasing him at first as you stared down at your empty plate trying to think of what you wanted.

You glanced over to Theo’s plate next to you and saw a mouthwatering pasta that he’d conjured. You tugged gently on the sleeve of his green sweater and his attention found yours immediately.

“What’s wrong, bellissima?”

“Can you get me some of that, please Theo?”

“Of course.”

He took your plate in his hands and after a few seconds his dish was sitting in front of you. You noted how he made sure there were no tomatoes in yours like there were in his. Theo knew you hated tomatoes. It was so sweet it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do to his little Italian heart.

Almost.

Theo picked up his fork and started to dig into his food before he stopped abruptly. Lorenzo too stopped eating his own food and the pair stared at you incredulously as you shoveled the pasta into your mouth.

“Oh Bella.”

He seemed more horrified than anything else. You loaded more food into your mouth being careful to eat as much as a lady as you could.

“No.” You stared at him blankly with a sheepish look before resuming your meal. “Bella, no. Twirl. Like this,” Theo picked up his fork and expertly swirled the noodles around before bringing it up to his mouth.

You offered him a gentle grin before promptly resuming what you were doing before. From across the table Lorenzo started whisper screaming at Theo in Italian.

“Theo, Cosa c'è che non va nella tua ragazza? Lei mangia la pasta come una bambina!” (what’s wrong with your girlfriend? she eats pasta like a child!)

Theo stared at you astounded as redness crept up his face. Then it finally dawned on him that you were teasing.

“Bella per favoreee.” He dragged out his words with a small smile on his face at your teasing. You both knew that you knew the proper way to eat pasta.

“No more teasing love.” You nodded through your giggles and Theo wrapped a thick arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

So, you knew that you promised Theo no more teasing last week but when you overheard him and Lorenzo complaining earlier in the most adorable stuttered English you couldn’t help yourself. You were walking down towards the common room to get lunch with the boys.

Theo, Lorenzo, and Mattheo were sitting in the common room all having a discussion. Suddenly you heard your boyfriend’s sweet Italian symphony of a voice shift into one of astonishment. You peeked around the corner and saw both him and Lorenzo staring at Mattheo like he’d just said the most offensive thing ever.

“What do you mean you have the cappuccino in the afternoon, huh?” His fingers came to rub at his temples and you had to stifle your laugh behind your hand. “Puah! cappuccino è solo per la mattina.” (Cappuccino is only for the morning).

Mattheo stared blankly at the two. Finally you decided to step in before the vein in Theo’s forehead burst.

“Theo? I’m ready.”

By the time that you made it to the Great Hall, the boys seemed to have forgotten about their earlier conversation. Mattheo walked quietly in step next to you while Theo and Lorenzo conversed in Italian so quickly your head was spinning.

“Psst. Y/n I have an idea on how to make that little Italian boy of yours blow a fuse.”

(“Maledizione Lorenzo, non credi che se sapessi cosa regalarle non andrei fuori di testa?”)

You cursed yourself that you couldn’t understand what they were saying. After staring at the side of Theo’s handsome face for a few moments longer you let out a disgruntled noise and turned to Mattheo.

“Fine! What?”

And that was how you found yourself in this situation.

Trying your absolute hardest to keep a straight face without looking at Theo at all while you sipped on your cappuccino that you’d conjured in your cup.

“Oh Bella.”

Theo’s familiar distressed tone rang out from next to you. “You cannot be series, amore mio.”

“Do you mean serious, Theo?” Mattheo chimed in with an amused smirk.

Theo made a dismissive Italian noise and waved Mattheo off. He swore under his breath before grabbing the side of your face and turning it to him. “Bellissima, it is too late for a cappuccino!”

You smirked up at your distraught boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to the softness of his cheek. “I know, amore.”

Theo stared at you before throwing his hands up in the air and turning back towards his lunch. Mattheo’s deep laugh burst out and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh along with him.

You were so busy laughing you hadn’t noticed that Theo was staring at you with a smile. He was so very in love with you.

+ one time you celebrated Theo’s Italian roots

April 25th was meant to be celebratory. La Festa della Resistenza. And Theodore Nott was stuck at quidditch practice.

Meanwhile, you were scurrying around the common room with Lorenzo trying to set up the perfect surprise for Theo. With Italy’s Liberation Day approaching, you’d noticed Theo had been a little down lately. You knew that it was because he was missing his family.

Normally, his mother would prepare a big feast and the family would sing the song of the resistance, Bella Ciao. You’d taken a floo to his home in Italy and gotten some recipes from his mother directly, all his favorites. And now, you were trying desperately to teach a group of first year Slytherins how to sing the song that you’d been practicing for weeks.

You sighed deeply as you realized the little buggers you bribed with a few galleons each were not at all going to get the song down in time. You conjured your purse and shelled out a few galleons to each child before shooing them out of the common room.

By the time Theo got back from quidditch practice, everything was perfect. You were standing in the center of the room in a deep red dress that you knew was his favorite. When he saw the spread, Theo thought his heart might stop. You looked nothing short of stunning.

“Oh Bella.”

It didn’t hold any of the distress that it normally did. This time his tone was thick with adoration. Theo felt a lump moving up his throat that caught tears behind his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. This was one of the most thoughtful things that anyone had ever done for him.

Just when he was certain you couldn’t get anymore perfect, your sweet voice rang out in an impossibly beautiful symphony that rivaled Pavarotti.

“Una mattina mi sono alzato

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

Una mattina mi sono alzato

E ho trovato l'invasor.”

Theo held you closer to his chest and pressed his forehead against yours as he joined for the next verse.

“O partigiano, portami via

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

O partigiano, portami via

Che mi sento di morir.”

The two of you swayed as Lorenzo joined and the three of you sang the rest of the song together. When you finished, you all made plates and sat down in the common room.

“When did you learn all of this, Bella?”

You smiled gently at Theo while he stared at you like you were the most perfect being in the world.

“I took a trip to Italy to see your mother a little bit ago. She told me about La Festa della Resistenza the Celebration of the Resistance. She talked about how important it was to Italy’s history and that it marked the Resistance victory in the Italian Civil War. Then when I saw how sad you were to be away from home at this time I knew I had to do something.”

In that moment, Theo knew that there wasn’t anybody he’d ever loved as much as he loved you. He took your face in both of his hands and pressed a deep kiss to your lips.

“This is perfect, bellissima, thank you so much.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #Italian Theodore Nott #slytherin boys x reader

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visionsofmagic · 6 months

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day 22: simon ghost riley [sex pollen]

࿓ synopsis • after the mission is done, waiting for trucks, you realize something is wrong with your body but ghost there to help.

―❦ nsfw, roughness, jealousy, fingering, clothes full on/off, dom!ghost, possessiveness, claiming, mentions of exhibitionism (I guess), licking, cum eating, pet names, nearly fainting, crush, f!reader, brat!reader, praising, poison/venom, flower & more in the work! • 3.9k • the longest one for the kinktober, but, who is surprised? I am on my knees for this man, so, hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed whilre writing! here’s our lieutenant, have fun & enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“copy,” ghost said, using the device on his chest as he talked with soap on the other side of the call, making a plan about waiting where you are for a while – inside a small room used as an office for information gathering, while the team secures the building entirely until the trucks come. “y/n and I will wait in here.”

hearing your name from his lips always gives you goosebumps – he has great effects on you, and you believe he knows every one of them because of how he acts around you, however, he’s a duty man, bringing no love or any affection into the field – sadly. you content yourself with the little yet effective affection he gives you though. he’s different around you – even though he will deny it right away.

as he nods to you, then, sitting down on a chair with no arms, he puts his weapon beside it – elbows on his knees, he kneels lower, taking his knife out of his pocket and cleaning it – acting as if he’s alone in the room but you can sense that he studies you.

to act calm down, you travel around the room as possible as you can, the rain washing over the window, giving a sense of coldness. holding the beautiful flower inside your hands, you smell it again because of the addicting scent it has, giving you a feeling of joy, even a highness you cannot acknowledge yet.

finally, putting it onto the table, you grab a book from the shelf, get in front of the table, and sit on it, making ghost stand right beside you as he still uses a cloth to clean his sharp knife.

blowing the dust from the surface of the book on your hands, no glove, the scent of the flower is still on there, you read the title that book has. you chuckle, making ghost look at your face for a moment under the mask, hands never stopping.

turning to him, you show the book, saying, “didn’t know there would be classics on the shelf of the bad guys.”

ghost nods, “it’s just for the display sergeant.”

“it seems so,” you say, shrugging and putting the book down beside you. then, you watch his skull-themed gloves working on the knife, signing because the images – dreams, in other words, come into your mind in which he uses his long and thick fingers to fuck your holes – how would it feel, you ask to yourself, and a deep voice answers it right away, ‘it would feel euphoric’.

when you come to yourself, you look at how his hands stopped, and his eyes directed on your face, studying you.

leaving a nervous chuckle, you hold your thighs tightly to stay still under his piercing gaze. “something wrong sir?”

he gets up slowly, taking your breaths away with each little step he takes. his knife goes into his pocket, and, his gloved hand finds your chin, rising your head up, standing a bit taller than you even though you sit on the damn table. “s-sir?” you try to ask, getting breathless at the proximity you have – it’s not the first one, nor the last, yet, it’s effective as if it is.

“your face –“ he says, furrowing, “it gets redder.”

“huh?” it takes time for you to understand what he’s saying. when it hits you, your eyes widen, thinking that the reason behind being red is him. chuckling, you wave your hand in the air as he leaves your chin, “’s nothing lt, gotta be overwhelming state of the mission we have finished.”

he doesn’t say anything. going back to the chair, his eyes never leave your body as you get up from the table, traveling around the room, and finally stopping in front of the shelf once again. your back is turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you which burns you alive.

palms getting sweaty, hair on the neck getting high, hands trembling, breathing rapidly, nose getting cold, and the whole body except it becomes warmer each passing time – making you weak entirely – it all happens in a moment, before even you know it, your body’s temperature changes from steady to warmer one – only a few places of it remain cold; your nose, the tips of your fingers, and sweats. only simon’s voice is audible as the rest of the world’s noise becomes blurry to hear – to understand. even the rain’s peaceful sound disappears.

it feels far more different than any disease or feeling you have ever felt – taking your logical side away slowly, one by one, it makes you breathe louder, taking the attention of simon to you when you turn to him, hands moving without your mind’s control, scratching your back, neck and even abdomen. “s-simon – “ you say, voice low, haskier than before, using his first name, not the title or nickname.

he stops talking with whomever he talks to through the device, looking at you as your hands find the surface of the table – to become steady, you hold its edge strongly, still looking at his worried eyes.

“is it me or – agh – is it me or the room is getting – uhm, hot?”

simon says he needs to go to soap, as you assume, then rushes to your side – hands find your face after he gets rid of his gloves – skin touching to the skin, you close your eyes and leave a whimper at the feeling of coldness his body has. “ohh – simon –“

“shit –“ he swears, letting your forehead hit his chest, holding you from the back now, he says, “damn, y/n, you’re burning as hell.”

he sounds calm, giving you the power to hold still, and having the strength to hug his arm, “simon – aggh – please, please, simon – help me.”

you have no idea how your mind works in the moment but you’re grateful.

picking you up, he sits you down on the table, holding you by the arms, he makes you look at him, “hey, look at me sergeant. listen here little one, I will go and get the medic team, got it?”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer, ready to leave you and get the others immediately because he cares about you so much that it drives him crazy to see you this weak, so red, breathing rapidly, and can’t focus anything but only him.

however, he can’t go, not when your eyes meet with his, hands finding his chest and holding him dearly – as if he’s the cure you need, and in the end, he will understand that it’s the deal – his your cure.

“don’t leave – simon, need you, only you.”

a certain time passes until he understands what's going on truly after he analyzes all the possibilities and the reason behind your state – the moment the sight of the flower on the table, behind you comes to the vision, he gets it at the exact same moment.

“hey, y/n, look at me kiddo. did you smell that flower?” his patient runs empty – turning your head to it, he asks the question again, and you finally answer by nodding.

he curses under his breath – even his breaths get rapid, how to help you without alerting others is a hard decision to make. he spends his little time thinking about it as he picks up the water bottle from your pack, giving it to you, waiting for you to drink it and get a bit of clearer mind.

“okay, okay,” you whisper to yourself, cleaning your face with the rest of the water, shaking your head, “I get it now – the whole lab, medics, scientists – it’s all because of it, right?”

he nods, calming down to see you good again, not entirely, but enough to understand it all.

“oh, how stupid I am!”

he stops you from going further and blaming yourself – he knows you like cute little things, can’t hold yourself from playing with them, being innocent, and not thinking about the consequences fully. this is why the enemies tried to make venomous yet cute-looking flowers to use against others, to get what they wanted without being caught.

“’s okay, just focus in here, tell me how you feel.”

with wet eyes, you say, “hot – it’s so hot – lt, can I take my clothes off?” you ask suddenly, the logic is long gone, only instincts remain high, and you act according to them. “gotta feel coldness.”

without waiting for an answer, you take your clothes off, not thinking about the outcomes, just doing what you think will be helpful.

staying only with the thin fabric of your upper shirt, covering your body tight, and leaving your abdomen in display, your muscles loosen up. to become colder, with the fact that the temperature lowers as the clothes leave your hot skin, you take your pants off, only leaving the little shorts hanging on your lower part – too occupied to get as naked as possible that you can’t see ghost going and locking the door with the key you used to enter in the first place.

finding himself before you once again, he reliefs when he sees the heat disappearing on you, however, the risk still is there to be fixed before anyone comes into the room, questioning why their lieutenant and sergeant stay silent.

he knows you got the flower with the poison of sex pollen segments – causing the user of it to get a high degree of warmness, especially in certain parts of the body, making the person who used it want to have intimate sessions with another one, and it all happens without their knowledge because they’re too gone to understand the situation they’re in – and that is exactly what happens with you, his delicate sergeant who he needs to take care of – to heal, to become the cure for that he will gladly agree on but first, he needs to tell you about it, retelling what soap told him before you said how warm the air was.

“hey, doll, focus on me, would ya?” he asks, spanking your cheeks lightly to make you focus on him. “you’re under the effects of a poisonous flower,” he shows it again, “the warmness, sweats, desires are caused because of it,” he tries to stay low, not giving his feelings away when he sees your almost naked body and how your eyes wink rapidly, looking at him from head to toe and mouth going dry as you do, “we need to get it out of your system.”

“I know,” you say, whispering.

“what?” he asks, sounding surprised.

you look guilty for a moment, avoid his gazes, you confess, “I read the description on the report but I didn’t know which flower was which – I thought this one was – pure, to use afterward – but it seems it’s already affected.” you sound sorry, yet, you don’t stop on your actions – picking the bottle and using the rest of the water to pour it on you. “I am so sorry, lt, I really am but I – aggh – I know what we should do –“ you look at him from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to look directly, “if you would like to help me – but if you don’t, I can go –“

“no,” he sounds as if he orders you around. he hides the jealousy rising within him as the idea of another man touching you, being the cure, hit his mind – he wants to be the only one who can have you – his good girl – well, not in the particular moment but maybe, you’re still his good girl – or else, you would suggest to go and see a doctor immediately, not waiting and asking him whether he can heal you or not and it’s even meaning that you’re giving yourself to him.

because of the effect of the venom in your system or not, he knows you damn well that you would not ask if you didn’t want it. “I will help,” he says, nodding to show how certain he is, hands slowly reaching your arms, skin to skin, the coldness flowing from his fingers to yours. eyes widen, you look so pretty, he thinks, “just tell me you want it not only because of the pollen but also because you desire it.”

it doesn’t take time for you to confess it, nodding, hands finding his chest, “I desire it,” you say, breathing louder, “I desire for you, sir.”

satisfied, he smirks, glad he has the mask on, yet, you know him, don’t you? even your gestures are proof of it – the hands gripping him by the neck, lowering him down, saying, “sir, your mask is on the way.”

“you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he teases, not understanding how he is adapted to the sudden situation – he just gives up, giving you what you want – what you need – himself, and taking what he desires for a long time in return.

curling his mask up until it reaches half of his face, lips on sight, he nods, allowing you to move closer and kiss him, and you do it in high spirits, smiling, and connecting your warm lips with his cold ones with such passionate that he puts his palms on the table beside your thighs not to fall onto you.

warmness makes it euphoric – lip kissing lip, tongue joining the other’s mouth intensely, whimpering sounds coming out both of you in unison. hands hugging his neck tighter, you make him kneel down closer enough that he gets between your inner exposed thighs – the hard fabric of his pants touching your flesh, sending chills because of how clothed he is compared to you.

leaving for air, you feel his massive hands moving to your thighs, finding the sports’ edge from there, and pulling it down in one motion after you nod to him, moaning his name lowly, “s-simon –“

“oh,” he says, waiting for you to take your top off too, throwing it onto the floor, putting your palms on the table as you lean to behind, displaying your naked body fully to him with pride and lust – and a bit of shyness you can’t hide. “prettier than I have imagined.”

“you – you have imagined about m – mmmph!” your words are cut by his fingers entering your mouth, shutting you up as he waits for you to lick his two massive fingers. now thanks to seeing half of his face, you can witness the smirk he has, clearly enjoying how you lick his fingers with pleasure, eyes half-closed.

“wondering how you will manage when you have my dick inside you twice as big as my fingers on your mouth, doll,” he says, teasing yet having the voice of a man who tells no lie – only the truth – and just the idea makes your pussy clench around nothing as you suck his fingers, wishing they were his cock instead.

his lips find your ear, whispering, “tell me, do you think you can handle me, princess?”

not in the slightest you believe you can, but, you want to, so, you nod fast, making him chuckle – sounding so sinful and angelic at the same time that you feel warmer – hotter than any poison can give.

“atta girl,” he praises you, both for licking his fingers and nodding, “now take my fingers, need to prepare your beautiful pussy.”

waiting no more, he shoves his fingers into you in one go, making your forehead hit his chest, hands gripping his arms strongly that were he another man, he would break – but no, he’s fucking ghost, and he can receive any damage he can get from you without complaining.

you moan mindlessly, trying to swallow them – it’s too much, you think, too much to handle yet too delightful to push – so, you open your legs wider, they’re shaking already.

“simon – ohhh! yes, yes, yes!”

he chuckles again – how many times now, two? – more than he chuckles for an entire year but it’s you after all – his pretty girl who is so fucked up even with his fingers.

“unbelievable, sergeant,” he says, taking you by the chin, eye to eye, “it’s only my fingers, and you’re already cumming?”

“huh?”

he’s right – he’s so right that it hurts – seeing your cum on his finger, you feel shy, one step away from hiding your face on his chest – but you stop when you see him licking his fingers full of your juicy – a moan escapes from your parted lips.

“mmhh –“ he whimpers, “tasteful.”

it’s the only thing he says before giving you one last look full of danger – mixed with lust – something you see first, something you will beg to see again and again after this night as well.

putting down his mask, he turns your body and bends you down on the table – not too harshly, not too gently.

“simon!” you scream in shock – a shock that turns you on further – even though you cum a few minutes ago, you sense an upcoming climax after he grips you by the neck, pushing you onto the table, getting your ass up. hearing him unzipping his pants, your wet pussy clench around nothing, eyes closed, heart beating as if it will break your chest into two, set free – you know the venom eating your body alive still even after the cum – however, can’t deny decreasing power of it which leaves its place to one and only simon ghost riley who seems like he’s ready to devour you.

“didn’t though ya would get away that easily from disobeying my rules, and picking a possible venomous flower without sayin’ me about it?”

he sounds amused rather than angry – he’s doing it on purpose, to make you go crazy – to make your pussy go crazy for him.

“don’t say such things, lt,” you challenge him to be rougher, being a brat, using the effects of the poison on the advantage. “or else I will disobey you more often.”

“is that so, kiddo?” he mocks you – you can hear it through his husky and dangerous voice, alerting you about what will come – and you’re so right about it when you feel him slapping your ass – body jolts forward – weren’t he holding you by the neck, you would fall at the impact, “then for each one of ‘em, I will fuck you so well that it will dig into your bratty mind not to show disobedience to your superior.”

“wanna learn it, sir, wanna learn my lesson – please, simon – pleeease! need you – agghh –“ your words – or begs if you be honest with yourself, shutting down by his cock’s tip, entering your pussy slowly as he opens your folds wider to make it fit.

with a different desire except being fucked by him, you turn to behind as possible as you can, looking at his thick and long cock staying right in front of your hole’s entrance, “ohhhh –“ you moan with pure instincts when you see how massive it looks.

simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes burning your skin alive, “what is it, doll, bigger than you have imagined?” he refers to the fact that he’s not the only one who has deep desires – but also you – having naughty thoughts about your superior, your lt who you have by your side all the time.

“s-simon,” you sound more fearful than you want to, “will it – will it even fit?!”

he shakes his head in disbelief, kneeling further – his cock enters you deeper, making your back arch in both pain and pleasure – it’s already too much and it has another halfway to go!

“don’t worry princess,” he says – how come he can sound deeper with each passing time? “I will make it fit into your tight greedy pussy. after all, you are made of for my cock – for me, aren’t ya?”

he finds the answer to his question by going in deeper, causing both of you to moan and swear – he shoves his cock deep inside your walls, filling you up fully – the feeling is euphoric, boiling in sin, completing with the lust and passionate coming from the love you have for each other.

“ohhh – simon! it’s too – too much!”

hoping you will be able to adjust his length soon enough, you let him take his cock off out of your aching pussy and shove it inside again with a hard thrust, trying to make it fit – make it give you the pleasure you need as a cure at the highest scale.

“just – fuucck –“ you could never, “mghhm – just one more to fit!” could never thought you would make him swear, whimper, even moan out of all the people, yet, here you’re, in front of his massive body, bent over, displaying your body to him in nude, letting him use your body as he pleases – he does it to heal you, it’s the first thing you believe, but when you go deeper in your thoughts, you realize how not only you but also he is in the need of you – having you.

“there it is,” he says, taking you from your mind into reality, cock has started to fuck you faster, going in and out with perfect rhythm which continues to accelerate instead of staying at the same pace. “told ya you’re made for it, doll.”

starting to fuck you hard, deep and rough – exactly what he wants and you need, he uses your wetness to thrust into you easily, earning sweet voices from your dry and parted lips, looking at your exposed body shamelessly, as if he has all right to do – well, he does, you both know it – feeling pussy clenching, squirming around his length and soaking onto it – mind dizzy, hands gripping the table under them to stay in the earth – he’s the only reality you have who feels like a dream – eyes seeing starts because of how good he fucks you, you sense poison leaving your body, its place is filled with what ghost is giving; heaven and hell – mix.

“simon, simon, ohh, simon! s’ good – agggh – it’s s’ good!”

“shh,” he quite you down, kneeling on your level – cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, thrusting your g-spot without missing, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?” he asks, entertained when you bite your hand to stay silent, “or you want it. would you like that? others watching your pathetic face as I fuck you good? no one, but me – mmh – fuuck! that’s right baby, no one – just me, simon ghost riley. shiiit – can’t even realize soaking so wet hearing my words,” his fingers joining his cock, picking the wetness you’re making with his fingers, then, shoving them into your mouth.

you moan his name as you suck your taste from his fingers, eyes rolling, going white when he grabs you by the hair, turning your face to watch your pretty face close while fucking you harder as if it’s possible – he claims you, you know it even with your dysfunctional brain, “scream my name louder.”

he orders, hands leaving your hair to position on your hips, holding you still, breaking you into pieces – you don’t know how louder you moan his name, too cock dumbed to care – don’t know how many times you cum onto him – don’t know the tears washing your face – brain isn’t working – or it works just to send pleasure into your twisting abdomen, and abused pussy.

the last thing you feel his hot semen filling you up, moaning your name as he does it, then, nearly collapsing onto you because of how good it was to fuck you.

“fuck, you have no idea how weak you’re making me, princess.” he confesses, picking your body, he guarantees, “don’t worry, I got it from here, sergeant. only rest.”

hearing his words lastly, you give up – the exhausted body is left to take care of him, your one and only simon ghost riley.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina& @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @manuursw *hearts, hearts, hearts* 💌💌💌

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jointherebellion215 · 2 months

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His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!”

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.

A life with your love was within reach.

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no.

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love.

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Jiggly

Summary: You find yourself feeling a little self-conscious after it becomes clear you've gained a little weight.

Warnings: Insecure Reader, Ari Being A Menace, Discussions of Body Image, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Smut (Heavily Implied), Oral Sex (Fem Rec Implied), Light Spanking, Cursing, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Talk of Potentially Abusive Exes, Brief Discussion of Murder, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Dedicated to @curls-and-eyeliner and @dc41896. This story will more than likely take place in my upcoming Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

___

“Lemme see.”

“Seriously, Ari?” You mumble, throwing your arms over your face. “Ari–no!” Your man’s eagerness has you almost immediately second guessing yourself as you hastily go back to protecting your middle.

“Why not?” Your man purrs, nuzzling the fabric of your threadbare flannel shirt with the tip of his nose. It was your favorite thing to wear when you felt like this. Not because it was exceptionally cute, but because it was comfortable.

Nevermind the fact that it had once belonged to Ari. And that you usually only wore it when he was away on a job and you were missing him.

“I just wanna see what all this fuss is about, Bird.”

“I already told you.” The words are spoken in a huff. After a brief debate, you decide to take advantage of the element of surprise and flip your positions so that you’re straddling him. “I’m feeling a little jiggly.”

“Right, you’re…jiggly.” A small snort slips from his mouth before he can compose himself. “I heard what you said the first three times you said it. Didn’t make a lick of sense then and it doesn’t make any now.”

Annoying bastard. Not everyone could walk around all day sporting washboard abs. Especially not a girl like you whose passion for baking was almost as big as her passion for books.

“Oh, shut up.” You grunt, rolling your eyes as you go to pin his hands above his head.

“I’m just pointing out that my ears are working fine.” He picks that moment to buck his hips, almost knocking you off your perch. Somehow you manage to steady yourself, but it’s absolutely easier said than done.

“Hold still, Levinson!”

“Looks to me like you’re the one doing all the moving.” Ari’s hearty chuckle has you redoubling your efforts to hold him hostage. “Although, I can’t say I’m complaining.” He purrs, his lidded gaze straying to your now-heaving chest. “But I really think our next move should be gettin’ you outta that shirt.”

Fat chance of that one, pal. The last thing you wanted was to be naked in front of him right now. Sunlight wasn't known for being slimming.

“Nope.”

“I vote yes.” Ari twists his big body, jerking against your hold. “And while you’re at it you can lose the shorts too, along with the panties.”

“But I’m not wearing any.” The words tumble out faster than you can stop them. It’s enough to have you mentally slapping yourself in the face.

“Even better.” The feral gleam in his eyes sends sparks shooting straight to your core. “I’m a simple man, baby. And giving me easy access to that sweet pussy is the quickest way to my heart.”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a surprise that you don’t lose them. As it was, your flimsy shorts were already riding up your ass in a way that was kind of uncomfortable. Mostly because your man wouldn’t stay still.

“Bird, what have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?” The soft, silky timbre of his voice has alarm bells sounding in your head.

“Um…” Now, that one has you at a loss. And not because you didn’t know the answer to his question.

In the past, Ari had explicitly warned you not to do it. Not unless you wanted him to give you a few reasons to keep ‘em rolling. Specifically in the form of his thick, hard cock. Because while your man was usually more than willing to put up with quite a bit of sass from you...

There was just something about rolling your eyes that pissed him off. In fact, the last time you’d done it you’d found yourself bent over the couch with a sore ass and him balls deep inside you.

Granted you’d also been in the middle of a fight, but that was neither here nor there.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

“Bite me.” You snap, your mouth once again moving faster than your brain. Fuck, you needed to get a handle on that.

Ari has you on your back in a flash. He looms over you, careful not to give you his full weight. It went without saying that you were well on your way to getting yourself in trouble with your man.

Him and stupid rules about maintaining proper eye eye contact and refusing to tolerate your brand of self-deprecating talk. He always maintained that if he ever found himself wanting one of those rail-thin Hollywood types over you, he’d go see about getting his head checked out.

To him you were gorgeous. Not because of or in spite of your curves. But because you were you.

“Where’s all this sass coming from?” Ari asks, shaking his head as his nimble fingers begin the work of unfastening your flannel. “It can’t all be because you’re feeling squishy.”

“Jiggly.” You correct him gently, your heart speeding up as he slowly unfastens one button, and then another.

“My mistake, Duchess.” And there was his other nickname for you; the one you’d earned yourself during your very first meeting. “I just don’t like seeing my girl upset – especially not when she’s been walking around my place all day looking good enough to eat.”

Soon you’re down another button, but you hardly notice this time. You’re too busy getting lost in his sparkling blue eyes.

Only a few more to go. Frankly, the only reason Ari hadn’t ripped the damn thing was because he knew just attached you were to it. And he didn’t want to risk upsetting you further.

“I’m sorry.” You try, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. While your boyfriend doesn’t say anything, the apology does manage to earn you a kiss. Even though it’s nothing more than a faint brush of his mouth over yours.

“Swear to God, baby.” Ari hums as he resumes the delicate task of divesting you of your clothes. “If I ever meet the man responsible for planting all those ugly thoughts in the beautiful mind of yours…” Once all the buttons are finally undone, he parts the edges of the worn fabric, exposing your bare breasts.

“Ari…”

“I’ll fucking kill him.” His dark gaze locks with yours, making it clear that he’s not joking.

“Beast…” A shiver courses through you, the cool air making your nipples pebble. “This has nothing to do with him. My clothes have been feeling a little snug lately, but then I stepped on the scale this morning and it confirmed everything. I’ve probably just been eating too much.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen how much you eat.” The tick in his bearded jaw has you glad your ex no longer lived in the same county as you. “Some days it’s still nowhere near enough. Might as well be a bunch of birdseed. And since when do I even own a fucking scale?”

Since you’d relocated it from your house to his. But your man doesn’t even give you time to respond. He’s already decided on its new home.

“It’s going in the trash, Bird.” Ari growls, his tone dripping with authority.

“But I need –”

“What you need to do is not worry about counting every single calorie in every tiny bite of food you put in your mouth all the damn time.” His big hands go to frame your face as he forces himself to take a calming breath. “Because I remember what it was like back then, when you were too nervous to even eat in front of me.”

Shit. You did too. You’d been so worried that he’d make some remark about how much food you were putting in your mouth or on your plate that you’d done your damndest to avoid eating in front of him altogether.

“And I will not let us go back to that place, baby. I just won’t.” Ari’s head dips once more – this time his tongue sweeping past your lips to tenderly dance with your own as he pours every ounce of love he can into the kiss. He groans when he finally feels you relax beneath him, almost as if he’s savoring your submission. “You have my fucking word.” He murmurs once he finally lets you up for air.

“I think that maybe I just need to eat more salads.” You tell him as your toes begin to curl. At the same time, a delicious warmth pools in your belly as your man begin’s trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. Your fingers sink into his chestnut tresses, lightly ruffling the strands.

“Eat whatever the fuck you want.” Comes his swift rebuttal, his sharp teeth grazing over your pouting nipple.

“Bu–but…then my clothes might not fit.” A hiss of breath escapes as his kisses continue to move further south. “Like, at all.”

“Then we’ll just have to buy you some more goddamned clothes then, won’t we?” Ari snarls before pausing his hedonistic assault to glare up at you. When you don’t respond immediately, one of his hands finds your chin – gripping it with just enough force to let you know he means business.

Your man was also the type who liked to hear an answer when he asked a question. And that wasn’t something that only applied to you. It was true for everyone. He didn’t talk just to hear himself speak.

“Yes, Sir.” To be fair, it was hard to argue with your boyfriend’s logic. And if he wanted to spend his hard-earned money he’d made off of chasing bad guys, then perhaps you’d ought to let him.

The last thing you needed was him off pouting in the corner somewhere. He was a sizable enough menace already. He didn’t need the extra help.

“Thank you.” He grumbles, shifting his attention to what’s left of your clothes. Namely, your shorts. The ones Ari wasn’t too keen on you wearing out of the house on account of the fact that they barely covered your ass. Shaking his head, he eases the thin material down your thighs before tossing them over his shoulder.

Now you were well and truly naked – completely at the mercy of your still fully-clothed Beast.

“Show me what’s mine, please.” Ari rasps, nudging your thighs apart. In the mood to obey, you let them fall open, putting your glistening cunt on display. “There’s a good girl.” His fingers reach out to brush over your sensitive folds, making you whimper.

Feeling brave, your hand shoots out to wrap around his thick wrist. “Wait. I was thinking I’d like to, um…makeup for upsetting you a little bit ago.”

“Really, Bird? You wanna make it up to me?” He maneuvers himself on the bed so that he can help you sit up. Nodding, you move to reach for him – intending to remove his t-shirt. Only to be surprised when Ari stops you.

“But I want it off.” You whine, poking out your lower lip. “You’re not playing fair.”

“That’s because we’re not playing. If you wanna make it up to me then you’re just gonna have to do what I say.” He smooths a thumb across the wrinkles in your brow. “You can suck me off later. After you’ve fed me.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” Grinning, Ari goes to lie flat on his back, his muscled arms coming to rest behind his head. “Now bring your sweet ass over here and sit on my face.” He pats his chest for good measure, licking his lips in anticipation. “And I mean all the way down.”

“But what if I –” Your stream of consciousness is interrupted by Ari tugging you forward. He grips your thighs, his slightly calloused palms tenderly kneading your flesh as he urges you up his body in the direction of his waiting mouth.

This position always makes you nervous �� regardless of whether or not you’d had to jump into your jeans that morning.

“You just let me worry about all those pesky what-ifs.” Your man grunts, letting it be known that the only way to satisfy him right now is to submit. He spanks your ass when you hover too long above his face. “The only thing you need to be concerned about is how I’m gonna redden that ass if you don’t do as you’re told and sit all the way down.”

You feel your face flush as your empty walls clench. Your body was feeling more than a little needy. You were craving your man's cock like the drug that it was. But before you got what you wanted, you'd have to make a couple of concessions first.

Starting with this one...

“I mean it, Bird.” He growls, delivering a sharp smack. “All the way down, please. I’m not worried about being able to breathe.” You jump when you receive another smack for your trouble. “Besides, if it’s my time to go…then I’d much rather go out with the taste of you on my tongue.”

"Now let's see just how many you can give me."

END

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attapullman · 6 months

Text

Someone Will Hear | Robert "Bob" Floyd 18+

Summary: When everyone else retires to bed after Friendsgiving, Bob has other plans for you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f receiving), creampie, praise kink, cum play if you squint, sex in a house full of people, mostly porn without plot. It’s cozy season. It’s Friendsgiving season. It’s Bob Floyd Fucks season. Season greetings to all who celebrate.

“Guess we’re the sole survivors.” Bob’s breath is hot on your neck. Those warm, strong hands skim down your sides. If you turn your head slightly you can catch the remaining scent of mulled wine on his breath.

To be fair, everyone had agreed to a second movie. An afternoon crowded around mismatched card tables stuffing your faces with overcooked turkey (Javy) and undercooked sweet potatoes (Mickey) quickly turned Friendsgiving into movie night while your stomachs settled. And everyone had still felt rowdy and wine drunk enough to start the sequel. Or so it seemed. Not even ten minutes in Bradley was shuffling himself to Natasha’s guest room with a soft yawn. You hadn’t even noticed the rest of the squad excusing themselves, your head cushioned between overstuffed cushions and Bob’s welcoming chest. Your head swivels around to confirm that you two are the only ones left in his front seater’s living room.

But one press of Bob’s lips on your neck has every thought leaving your brain. He’s been impatient for the past hour. Your thigh pressed between his legs, your nails scratching down his back, the tiny kiss pressed to his wrist when he removed a pesky hair from your brow. It’s taken every ounce of will to not fuck you right on the loveseat where everyone could see. Docile, sweet, cozy you is his favourite to defile.

Hands slip under your sweater. One admiring the smooth texture of your skin, while the other quickly finds purchase over your bra, fingering the delicate material. Instinctually you keen into his hand, desperate to feel those skilled fingers tease. A not-so-subtle nudge against your thigh reminds you of the thick appendage he indulges you in daily. Twice if you ask nicely. There is truly no greater pleasure than sex with Robert Floyd.

It’s too much. Your body surges forward, fingers curling in softly gelled hair as hot mouths collide. Tongues twist and curl, desperate to devour. How does he taste so good? He barely drinks and yet you’re drunk off his kiss. Your needy fingers bring him closer - feeding your addiction to his touch - before sense returns and you tug his head back.

“We can’t do this.” The kisses he presses to your jaw say otherwise. “This is Natasha’s couch. Her house. Everyone’s here. Someone will hear.”

He isn’t the least bit concerned. Intertwining your fingers and brushing them against the unmistakable bulge that has made you walk funny on more than one occasion. “Don’t worry, everyone’s asleep.” A light kiss to your jaw. “Look at what you’ve caused.” Another addictively delicate kiss to your neck. “You have to fix it.”

Your brain holds fast to the belief this is a bad idea, but the tidal wave of arousal that floods through you wins out. Your fingers stroke along his covered length, straining against his zipper. Everyone is fast asleep, you can be quiet. Bob watches the fight leave your eyes, the swell of your chest under his hand as your nipples tighten. He knows he has you right where he wants you.

His hand leaves your waist and strokes your jaw. An adept finger runs along your bottom lip. “Say it, baby. Tell me you want me to fuck you on the couch while all our friends are asleep.”

The depraved moan that leaves your mouth is too loud in the quiet house. His heavy hand clamps over your lips. “Say it quietly like a good girl.”

Your whimper out, “Please fuck me on the couch while all our friends are asleep.”

The grunt he lets out is low but carnal. Arousal stilling the air as you anticipate how he’ll play with your body. That strong, lean-muscled torso leaving yours as he settles between your thighs, opening them up like a present before guiding your pants down each leg; soft, spongy kisses replacing the denim. Once discarded, there’s a slight burn in the muscles as your thighs swing as wide as possible to accommodate his broad shoulders. He already has his mouth latched over your panties, the soaked lace his appetizer before the main course.

“Mmm, always taste so good, baby.” The words are muffled he’s so deep in your core. You can feel his finger slip through your soaked folds, pulling the lace back from where he eagerly devoured. Instantly replaced by a deliciously warm, wet tongue that wastes no time in re-acquainting itself with your pussy. It’s his second time enjoying you today, but every time is just as devoted as the first.

Words catch in your throat as he licks along your inner walls like a starving man. His nose presses against your clit harder and rougher as he searches for the spot that makes you see stars. He’s only reached it once with that short tongue, so quickly relinquishes the search to his long fingers. His right hand offering you one finger for pleasure, but filling you with two once it’s confirmed you’re stretched enough. Eyes roll back in your head when his left hand trails along your sternum before slipping three thick fingers in your mouth, effectively muffling the obscene moans you’re emitting. He pulls back for a breath. “That’s it sweetheart, show me what a good girl you are.”

His pupils are blown, sapphire turned obsidian. Eyelids drooping, a red tint to his cheeks…Bob looks every inch of fucked out pussy drunk as he breaks eye contact to worship your clit. Mouth swiping over the bud, suckling it as his fingers thrust harder. The white hot edges of an orgasm fuzz your brain, excitedly awaiting when he hits that spongey spot. You pant around his fingers in anticipation. So drooly for him, his little pet.

But one spit-slicked thumb press to your clit changes plans. Your body suddenly cannot comprehend the ecstasy he’s showering you in and the edge of the cliff is suddenly there. And then you’re careening off it, brain spiraling in orgasmic nothingness, one hand wrapped in his hair while your mouth drools around his fingers. Bob’s tongue unrelenting, dedicated to licking you through your pleasure as his thumb guides each spasm. Hips rubbing against the couch as he chases his own relief. Not stopping until you’re whispering “S’senstive” around his digits and squirming for relief.

Your eyes are heavy as your highly trained aviator raises himself to his knees, taking in the vision of your half naked body. The house is still quiet, and you bask in your glow under his watchful eye. Not the end to Friendsgiving you expected, but a nice treat before Bob drives you home. You reach down to fix your panties when strong fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Let’s take those off for this next part.”

Bob is not an ostentatious guy. Never draws attention to himself or makes a fuss. But his cock? It strides in heavy and thick and demanding every ounce of your attention. You can’t look away from him. Breaths still heavy as he recovers from feasting on your dripping pussy. Sapphire eyes hold your gaze as he unbuckles his belt and teases the button of his corduroys. The anticipation heavy between you. He knows you would do ungodly things for his cock, based solely on the filthily descriptive letters you’ve sent him while on deployment. The man believes in old-fashioned letter writing and eats pussy like a king. Of course you worship his cock.

Unable to handle the wait, your fingers fly to his crotch. Unhooking the button and pulling down the zipper with zero finesse. Now that he’s promised the gorgeous stretch of fucking you, you want nothing more. As he unbuttons the respectful tartan button up he’d chosen for dinner, slipping the fabric from his shoulders, that all-consuming fuzz clouds your brain again. Growing only stronger as he slips the pants from his hips before removing a monster of a cock from tight cotton. Your mouth waters as he slips one veiny hand around the head and stokes down firmly.

Your mouth opens instinctually.

A large hand wraps around the back of your neck, guiding you hungrily to his lap. His thumb rubs along your pulse as he traces your lips with the tip. Bob loves how your lips are always a shade darker than his cock. When you’re ready, you tilt your head and swallow him down.

“So good baby, feels so good.” You can tell he’s already on the edge of wanting to swear. “Your mouth was made for me.” Bob’s too far gone to indulge in your velvet mouth, wanting nothing more than to feel your tight walls squeeze him. Currently unsure whether you both can stay quiet, but he’s willing to die trying.

He slips a few more inches past your lips and enjoys the way you swallow along his cock, breathing through your nose as your hands wrap around his creamy thighs. Shudders rise up his spine as delicate fingers trace along his cum-filled balls. Too much of that and he’ll paint the back of your throat with salty cream. He’s already so close.

Before you can lose yourself in the rhythm, his hand is pulling you back gently by your neck, helping you out of your sweater. The material hugs you and he’s been thinking about your tits all night. Bob regularly has dreams about suffocating between them, enjoying his last breaths with one nipple in each hand. He can’t properly appreciate them in Natasha’s living room with a ticking clock, but this will satisfy for now. Gentle hands guide you onto your back, on display for him upon the cushions. His lips descend down your chest - hot, wet kisses to your flesh, nose tracing the cups of your bra. A rumbled grunt warming the valley between when you stroke his spit-covered cock and bring it to your dripping cunt.

“Bobby…please…” Your voice is low, still afraid of waking one of the house’s occupants. But as his tip catches on your entrance need overtakes sense, a moan slips past your swollen lips. “Need you now.”

A swift flick of his hips and he’s inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. Years later you’re still experiencing the continued stretch, one his colleagues would raise eyebrows if they knew what heat he was packing. His fingers soothe over your upper arm, lips still praising your chest. Loving ocean-blue eyes trained on you, anticipating your needs.

Hands slip over his shoulders, soothing over the broad muscle to distract yourself. Nails biting into the flesh as he accidentally twitches before you’re ready. You’re faintly aware that the movie ends, the soft glow of the credits bathing you two in low light as you determine if you’re ready for Bob’s engorged cock. He presses a kiss to your jaw before whispering in your ear. “I love you. You’re such a good girl for me. I love you so much.”

His words have worked and your hips slip forward, begging him to fill you up. Feeling impossibly full as he gently thrusts between your folds. Peppering your chest in affection-filled kisses. Your mouth clamped shut to keep pathetically desperate moans from filling the quiet house. He sinks deeper and deeper, words of affirmation falling from his tongue, until the neatly trimmed hair around his cock is drenched in your essence.

He shifts down to his forearms, surrounding you in his scent, his touch, his aura. Chests touching, nowhere else to look but those cerulean pools of blue that had you falling on day one. From this angle your leg can hitch around his waist, opening up your pelvis to hit a spot that has you seeing stars. His balls slapping against your cunt as he continues his deep, forceful thrusts. Your mouths slot together in a desperate bid to stay quiet, both of you working quickly toward the edge with the fear of anyone in the house discovering you.

Your fingers trail from his shoulders to hair, pushing a wayward strand from his forehead. You pull away from his lips to whisper in his ear how good he feels, how he’s made for you. He looks debauched, his tongue slipped between thin lips as he concentrates on thrusting his way to the spongey spot of your cervix. This is the kind of pinpoint accuracy he doesn’t win accommodation medals for, but he always finds his target with you.

“Keep quiet, baby.”

Hands clamp to your mouth as Bob delivers a hard thrust to your cervix, blanking your brain as white spots fill your vision. His lips quirk as you move your hips, chasing the feeling. Sweat-slicked chests pressed together as he rams himself inside of you again and again, your muffled moans the sound of victory. This is exactly what he wanted when he settled himself behind you on the sofa. Such a perfect girl for him.

You’re so close to the edge, his hot breath on your neck, the stretch of his cock driving you home. If you close your eyes you can feel your orgasm within reach. Bob adjusts his weight, still pressed against you though as he can’t bear any space, and brings his fingers to where you two connect. Your aching clit happily accepting the controlled circles as hips slap together, too loud in the house to be mistaken for anything else. He whispers one last praise against your lips before you crumble before him.

Your walls squeeze around his shaft, forcing Bob to slow his hips and enjoy the tight sheath of your pussy. Back arching into firm chest as one low pornographic moan escapes right into his mouth. Small spasms wracking your body as he continues to drag himself in and out of your warmth. Chasing his own orgasm as you spin back to earth. Your droopy eyes and sleepy smile spurring him on, his happy cockdrunk girl. Slamming hips against yours one last time before bottoming out - garbled grunts of warning filling the space between your mouths - before pushing every creamy drop of his seed deep inside his babygirl. The creamy ring around his cock forgotten as his cum fills every available space.

Panting, unable to open your eyes, you regain your bearings in the dark room. Everything is still silent, the promise that you’ve kept your dalliances private. The warmth of Bob’s skin grounding you to the moment. You love him so much.

After too much time has passed and your skin itches with dry sweat, Bob finally pulls out. A wicked grin upon his lips as he pushes his cum back inside you; partly for his own pleasure but also for the safety of Natasha’s couch. Wrapped in a throw blanket, he whisks you to the bathroom to clean up (sweet kisses and praise included) before redressing and tucking you both in for the night on the cramped couch. His legs are too long and you both want to stretch out, but it works out with your knee between his thighs and your head between a cushion and his chest.

While hours have passed, when you open your eyes it feels like you’ve only just drifted off. The living room is still dark, but the rest of the house is bustling. Reuben and Mickey are making coffee while Jake loudly brags about the perfect shot he pulled on his new espresso machine. The sweet smell of pancakes fills your nostrils. Bradley’s specialty, and you can slightly hear the tail end of whatever he’s humming as he works the stove. You snuggle in closer to Bob, who has also woken up to the chaos of his squadron making breakfast.

The two of you fight off reality for a moment longer before joining in the kitchen. All assembled look disheveled, having slept in their Friendsgiving formals and most spending the night on the guest room floor because Rooster won’t share a bed. Joking accusations fly around as Jake complains of neck pain.

You’re tucking into the offered pancakes when the rest of your group joins the kitchen. Javy looking well-rested because he slept on ten inches of memory foam in the primary bedroom. Natasha, however, doesn’t seem as pleased after a night of comfortable sleep with a partner. And when you see what’s hanging off her finger it makes sense. With a pinched face, she slowly holds up the pair of charcoal grey briefs.

“Floyd, why were these under the couch?"

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd smut #top gun maverick smut #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader

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dinogoofymutated · 26 days

Note

Hi can you write something for Logan? I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but I never see this man get any love. Thanks!

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB! Reader

Hope this is okay! I tried so hard to post it last night but tumblr kept failing on me. It wouldn't even save as a draft! If you see this before I've added the meat to the fic, it's because I'm testing because tumblr is being a dick and I'll edit in the good stuff soon.

Edit: Yay! It worked! I was just uploading too much at once I guess. Had to brake it all down for it to work!

Tw: MNDI!! pnv, fem reader, creampie, size difference, petnames. Praise kink.

If you asked him personally, Logan would say he's extremely unlucky, cursed even. and With everything he's gone through, he might be correct. But still, he is certainly blessed in at least one aspect.

Logan had a really, really nice cock. It wasn't pretty like the perfect ones in porn, but damn, was it nice. It has prominent veins that you couldn't help but spoil every time you your hands (or mouth) on him. He was flushed a deep red color at the stip, and proportional, a good 5 or six comfortable inches.

The only thing is, Logan's cock was thick. impressively, deliciously thick. When the two of you started to take your relationship to the next level, Logan didn't hesitate to warn you. That didn't stop him from Taking care of you though. He'd pump his thick fingers in an out of you, curling and stretching you, finding the most pleasure spots inside of you to get you to cum and cum hard.

But every time the two of you would get close to going further, he'd back out. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, or that he didn't want to, he just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you.He'd always end up saying “ ‘next time, sunshine.” Or “Just wanna make sure I take care of you properly.” and although it was sweet, you knew what you could handle, and you were determined to climb this man like a tree.

And if there was anything Logan knew more than anything, it was to never get in the way of a determined woman.

You had spent what felt like hours in Logan's sheets, his fingers curling deep in your cunt, stretching and touching the most sensitive parts of you. He kissed every tender part of you, letting you writhe and moan underneath him. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him beyond a shadow of a doubt, knowing how stubborn you are when you really want something. This was no different. And after Cumming twice on his fingers, you were sure you could make it work. Logan sighed as you straddled him, grinding his cock against your slick cunt to try and lube him up. He sets his hands on your thighs, comfortingly caressing the plush skin. The two of you gasp when his head brushes against your Clit, an electric shock of pleasure bolting through your bodies. Logan is laid back against the pillows on his bed, looking up at you with a heated gaze.

“ ‘you okay there, doll?” He asks, the words rumbling through his chest with a groan. He smirks just barely as you scoff, adjusting yourself on your knees as you line his cock up with your slit.

“I'm- fine, I can do this.” You huff, grinding down against his thick head. Logan sucks in a breath as you do so, teeth latching onto his lip as we watches you desperately try to take him. He's not going in as easy as you thought he would, and it almost makes you feel discouraged. You were so sure you could take him, and you didn't want to quit now. Your eyebrows furrow as you struggle, and at some point his cock slips out and away from your hole. Logan lets out a grunt as you flinch, mortified.

“Ah- Sorry.” You're doing your best to not let it get to you, but there was such a sinking feeling in your chest. Almost as if he can sense it, Logan reaches up, taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finder and tilting your head down to look at him.

“It's okay.” Logan assures you. “Just relax. You'll get it.” His thumb drags across your lip, calloused hand brushing against your tits as he brings it down to your clit. He circles the nub gently first, then with a tad bit more pressure. You hear him chuckle as you eyes flutter closed, moaning at the pleasurable sensation.

“okay.” You sigh, trying to align himself with you once again. You try it a little slower this time, grinding down with just enough pressure. The both of you gasp when the head of his cock notches against your slit, an improvement from before. Then, almost suddenly, it slides in.

“Fuck.” Logan grunts. His cock was hardly halfway inside, but that didn't stop the moans you let out at the pleasure- and slight discomfort- of having him inside you. The stretch was slightly painful, but you can't seem to stop yourself from grinding against him, trying to take him further.

“Logan…” The whine of his name comes out involuntarily, and the strong man inbetween your thighs shushes you sweetly, adjusting himself so he's sitting against the headboard. He brings you closer to him, snaking his hand around the nape of your neck to bring you into a kiss. He hardly gives himself time to breathe in between kisses. Logan bites your lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp at the painful pinch. He groans when you clench around his length. Still not quite adjusted to what you could fit, and his hand grabs hold onto your thighs and squeezes.

“I know, sweetheart.” He says, finally pulling back. “I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.” You bite your lip, leaning your head on his shoulder as you begin to move your hips again. The process is slow, sinking onto him inch by inch as your body adjusts to the girth, but when you finally feel the base of his cock finally sink into you, you've never felt so accomplished.

“Good girl.” Logan grunts into your ear. “ ‘did such a good job.” You yelp a little as his hips jerk, thrusting up into you. You cry out Logan's name, holding onto his shoulders as he starts to slowly pull out of you, gently thrusting back inside as he cups your face, kissing you gently. It feels good. Like he's rubbing against every spot inside of you perfectly. His slow, loving pace felt good, so, so good. But it could only keep the two of you satisfied for so long. The next time Logan pulls out of you, you slam down with a little more force. He lets out a choked moan, before you hear him chuckle. He pulls away from you just slightly, arms wrapped around your waist as he smirks at the needy look on your face. You're impatient however, and grind against him sharply when he stops moving. A flicker of pleasure flashes across his face before he's growling. He pulls you against him, pressed flush against your body as he begins to thrust more aggressively.

“Couldn't be patient, could you?” He growls. Your noises are embarrassingly loud as he picks up speed, fucking into you just like you had spent so much time imagining he would- and he was right too. You couldn't be patient. He moves his hips just slightly, hitting that one spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help but cry out, and without having to even tell him, he's hitting thay spot over and over again without fail. His grunts and groans are starting to get louder, and you can feel the knot in your stomach coming so close to snapping.

“Fuck- Logan!” He groans at the way you say his name, the knot snapping as you reach your peak and cum hard on his cock. He curses, burying his face into your neck as he starts to crumble at the feeling of your warm walls fluttering around him, desperately trying to milk him for what he's worth. He almost lets out a whine as he cums, and the noise surprises you. You can feel him twitch as spurts of his cum warm up your insides. By the time he's done, you're sure he must be leaking out of you. You lay against him, boneless as the two of you pant for air. Logan begins to press gentle kisses against your neck, praising you for how well you did. You sigh, content. Logan lays the two of you down on the bed, holding you close as his cock starts to soften inside of you.

Logan howlett was definitely blessed.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #Wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett headcannons #Wolverine headcannons

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heartthrobin · 9 months

Text

catch me if you can

hobie brown x female!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a questionable attempt at british slang, Miles' pov (it makes sense i promise), established relationship, Miles is a little baby boy angel, implied chubby/thick reader, Miles' 'jealous of Hobie' dynamic

an: this idea popped into my brain as i was trying to sleep last night so here it is :) it's actually funny cause i'm a hobie brown girl first and human second but have been working on so much miguel content. go figure. remember to reblog and comment to support your favourite writers :) THIS IS A REPOST! i woke up this morning and the original post literally disappeared from my page :( sorry y'all

summary: you and Hobie are absolutely incorrigible.

Miles didn't like the sound of Hobie Brown.

and now that he's faced with the man in question, he doesn't particularly like the sight of him either.

the spider-society foyer is a menagerie of characters, different suits and capes and hairstyles and --horses? but Miles can't move his line of sight off Hobie's back where he just bumped his too tall frame against Gwen's much shorter one.

she stumbles sideways and laughs, and Miles wants to throw a fit right there.

Hobie stops walking. his figure tightens and his shoulders draw up.

Miles frowns in confusion and follows his gaze.

under the archway of the door towards where he assumes is this Tio Miguel's office stands some spider-women, three in varying outfits.

there's one in a forest green suit, your eyes have found Hobie's. they're wide, round in something Miles can place most akin to fear.

you're beautiful, he can tell that easily: all full-bodied around the edges and soft in the face.

you surprise him when you turn on your heel, running out only three wide steps before spitting out a web onto the nearest ledge of those that lingered above his head and hoisting yourself up.

the green suit blurs, swinging over hundreds of spider-people and you glance back over your shoulder in panic.

more surprising than that, Miles finds that Hobie is chasing you.

his long thin legs stride down the walkway, abandoning Gwen when he too sends a thick white web at a tall pillar and flies across the foyer. he sticks to another dais and climbs wildly along walls after your escaping figure.

Miles jaw is loose, face dripping in concern.

somewhere behind him Jessica sighs. "those two are incorrigible."

his head is flicking back and forth between his companions, unsure if he's the only one who can see what's unfolding. your figure is climbing desperately up the side of the wide window, you're fast but Hobie is gaining ground.

Gwen and Pavitr are walking still ahead of him, arms swinging by their sides. he steps quickly, eyes never leaving the chase in the air.

"is nobody seeing this?" Miles' hands motion up to the air, they're frantic. "Hobie is chasing s-some ... poor woman!"

glancing back over her shoulder, Gwen's eyes finding the two colourful blurs, she draws to a halt. "i guess we should wait for them. they're so annoying sometimes."

Pavitr's head lolls to the side, an endeared expression twisting into his face. "i think they're adorable."

your grunts can still be heard echoing down the chamber, Hobie's too. you yelp as Hobie just misses your leg, escaping his clutch by swinging low over a random spider's head. the spider grumbles up at you.

"he's ..." Miles shakes his head, fingertips twitching against his web shooter. "is nobody gonna help her? i-i'm gonna help--"

"help?" Gwen and Pavitr were looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

there's a sharp shriek from above, he finds you mid-air. a wide web has enclosed over your shoulders, locking your arms against your side and you're hoisted back against Hobie where he's perched along a wall.

Miles hand jumps up to web his way to you when Gwen's hand closes over his wrist. she just shakes her head at him. "chill, Miles."

he looks back up.

you crash against Hobie's chest with enough force to jostle him off the wall. your joined figures slide down the side of the wall to land a few feet from where Miles stands.

your shoulders are shaking. if you weren't so low on the ground, he might not have recognised that you were ... laughing?

"got'cha, luv."

Hobie's forehead meets yours gently. you wriggle in the webbing that's bound you.

"took you longer than this morning." your voice crumbles out between giggles.

a ring-clad hand finds your chin, tilting your face against his. you press up on tippy-toes, teetering like you're drunk with his kiss. Hobie's hand is creeping over your waist and dipping you backwards under the influence of his height.

"i mean, we've barely been gone a couple hours." Gwen mutters at the sight. Pavitr is holding his hands up to his chest and lets out a soft "they're so cute."

confusion is still tugging on Miles' mind but it's drowned by the waves of relief coursing like coffee down his gullet and warming his stomach.

"they ... they do this often?" he asks tentatively.

"every damn day."

his gaze flickers between Hobie and Gwen. "so they're ... dating?"

Pavitr nods. "Hobie doesn't like labels. but pretty much."

"so," he is feigning nonchalance as far as he can carry it. he speaks at Gwen. "you and him ... you're not--?"

she's affronted. "me and Hobie?"

Pavitr is laughing.

"no!" she clarifies, clearly put out. "that's so weird ..."

Miles is practically blind with relief.

you've clearly been detangled from Hobie's webs when you bounce over to where Miles is standing amongst the others.

"Gwendoline!" your voice is light and animated, you're panting slightly from your chase.

Gwen grumbles like she hates the name, but smiles sideways under the weight of your hand ruffling her hair. you bump into Pavitr's side and he greets too.

they smile like they love you.

your eyes find him. "you must be Miles!"

he discovers you're as keen on physical touch as your boyfriend, hoisting him tightly against your chest before pulling back: holding him at arm's length to examine him.

"you're taller than I thought you'd be."

"you should see mans fly, babe," Hobie's hands slink into his jacket pockets. Miles thinks he's referring to him. "wicked with the webs, i tell ya'."

he blushes at the compliment. you're smiling at him like you're proud. "oh, yeah? maybe boss will put us on a mission together and i can check these moves, hey Morales?"

Miles nods. "sure."

you let go of his shoulders, eyes finding your boyfriend's.

skipping ahead of the kids, your hand slips into Hobie's and he leans down to kiss your temple. "how was your day, rockstar?" he hears you ask.

Gwen slides in beside Miles. they start walking again and she smiles at him.

he returns it. ahead of him, you're teetering on your toes so you're walking completely pressed against the side of your boyfriend.

Miles finds that maybe he doesn't dislike Hobie as much as he thought.

comment and repost if you enjoyed <3

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 11 months

Text

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Two

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Word count: ~2.8k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Alicent's birthday dinner proves to be eventful in more ways than one.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She flops down onto the sofa next to her flatmate, once safely back inside, huffing a dramatic sigh and replaying in her mind the mortifying moment that Aemond refused her kiss.

Mysaria takes out her earphones and closes her laptop, turning to her with a smirk. “So, sugar baby, how was your evening?”

“Shit.” She shoots back, dipping a hand into the open crisp bag that sits between them and taking a few.

“Let me guess, didn’t look anything like his picture?”

She shakes her head, speaking around a mouthful of crisps. “Exactly like his picture. I tried to kiss him and he said no.”

“Sounds like a win to me.” Mysaria says with a shrug. “If you can get away with not doing that sorta stuff and still get the money then you absolutely should.”

She sighs. Therein lies the problem, with Aemond she wants to do that sort of stuff.

The rest of the weekend passes by uneventfully, with no further word from Aemond, no matter how hard she wills for it as she stares at their existing text chain.

She has to suppress a strangled sounding squeal on Monday when he texts her while she’s at work. Her hand flies to her phone the moment she sees his name light up her screen with a buzz.

Are you working today?

She is almost embarrassed at the speed with which she replies.

I am. Why?

She feels her breath hitch as his response comes instantly.

I’ll swing by at lunch time.

She’s unable to concentrate for the rest of the morning, too nervous to focus on anything other than the fact that she’ll be seeing Aemond in a few hours. The time passes painfully slowly and she feels as though she’s anxiously drummed her fingers on every available surface until finally it’s noon.

She spots him in the foyer as she heads downstairs. He is instantly recognisable; taller than almost everyone, the top half of his pale hair is pulled back from his face in a bun, while the rest hangs loose around his shoulders. His fitted black shirt is rolled up to the elbows and paired with a well tailored pair of suit trousers and expensive looking dress shoes.

He gives her his subtle trademark smirk when he sees her and she immediately feels self conscious under the intensity of his gaze.

“Thanks for giving up your lunch break for me.” He says after she’s greeted him. “I figured it would make our story more believable if I’d actually seen you at work. We’re bound to get asked questions at dinner on Wednesday.”

“Oh…sure, no problem.” She feels herself deflate a little upon hearing that this isn’t a visit because he simply wants to see her.

“I brought you a little something, guessing you haven’t had lunch yet?”

He hands her a thick, white box that has ‘Cédric Grolet’ inscribed in gold lettering. It’s a bakery she’s read about in Time Out Magazine, but never visited. In her opinion, anyone willing to spend six pounds on a croissant has more money than sense. She opens the box, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she looks at the delicate pastry inside.

“You brought me a custard tart.” She meets his eye with a grin.

Aemond scoffs. “Parisian flan, actually.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks heat up as she holds his gaze. “I’ll eat this later. Don’t want to risk it around the exhibits.”

He nods, a mixture of amusement and something she can’t quite place evident in his eye as he looks at her. “Shall we then?” He gestures for her to lead the way.

She guides him around the museum and she is impressed with the depth of his knowledge as he tells her what he knows regarding Ancient Egypt and Greek history. Likewise, he pays rapt attention when she explains the timeline of the Vikings and Saxons, asking relevant questions and nodding enthusiastically as she answers.

For the first time in a long time she feels genuinely listened to when she speaks about the subject she’s so fiercely passionate about. It’s nice to have someone take an interest. The conversation flows easily and all too quickly an hour slips by.

“I should let you get back to work.” Aemond tells her, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “I need to get back to Vhagar anyway.”

“Vhagar?”

“Yeah.” Aemond says, and for the first time since they met, his face lights up with genuine happiness. “She’s my doberman. She’s getting on a bit, so I try not to leave her with the dog walker for too long if I can help it.”

She feels herself melt a little at this admission. As if he wasn’t already perfect, he was an animal lover to top it all off.

He’s quick to compose himself, clearing his throat and returning to his stoic demeanour. “Anyway, I’ll pick you up at six on Wednesday, okay?”

She nods and they wave goodbye to each other. She heads back to work, a slight spring in her step for having seen Aemond. She can’t believe how much they have in common, smiling to herself as she wonders when she’ll get to meet Vhagar.

She’s brought crashing back to reality when her phone buzzes with a text from Aemond.

For working through your lunch break.

It’s immediately followed by a notification from her banking app. A one thousand pound deposit from A. Targaryen.

She knows she should feel elated by the money, but it’s a sobering reality check. He’s not your boyfriend, this is transactional.

When she arrives home from work on Wednesday afternoon, she is overwhelmed by the idea of having to get ready for Alicent’s birthday dinner. There is no way she can reuse the dress from Jace and Baela’s engagement party, and everything else in her wardrobe feels far too casual for a family as high end as the Targaryens.

She’s distracted momentarily when she catches sight of a package sitting on the kitchen side.

“Parcel on the side for you!” Mysaria calls out from her bedroom.

“I see it, thanks!” She shouts back, working to remove the packaging.

Inside is a Cartier box, with a note; ‘Would really like you to wear this to dinner - A.’

“Well, then, what is it?” Mysaria asks, creeping up behind her and resting her head on her shoulder. “It arrived this morning and I’ve resisted the temptation to open it all day!”

She gasps as she opens the box. A white gold necklace inlaid with diamonds, and a single sapphire at its center, rests inside.

Mysaria lets out a low whistle. “You could sell that and put down a deposit on a bloody house!”

She rolls her eyes. “I think he intends for me to wear it, not sell it. But what the fuck am I going to put it with? It’s going to look like I’ve put tinsel on shit!”

An hour later, having rummaged through Mysaria’s wardrobe, she’s finally ready, having paired a long sleeved, silky button down top with a faux leather skirt. Simple enough for a casual dinner, yet dressy enough to compliment the completely over the top jewelry that now sits around her neck.

Aemond arrives and is ever the gentleman, opening the passenger side door for her as she climbs into his car. Her eyes linger a little too long on the way his expertly tailored suit hugs his body. Thankfully, his attention is focused entirely on her throat, so he doesn’t notice.

“Necklace looks good.” He says buckling his seatbelt. “We’ll have to do something at some point about the rest of it though.”

Her mouth gapes open in shock. “What’s wrong with my outfit?!”

He reaches across, rubbing the material of her top between his thumb and forefinger. “Polyester.”

The touch of his fingers in such close proximity to her skin makes her feel so light headed that she can’t find it in herself to be offended. Wordlessly, he starts the car.

“So, I should brief you on what you’re getting into before we arrive.” Aemond glances over at her as he drives. “It's my mother's birthday. She won’t have cooked, she never does; she’ll have ordered Thai food. Her partner, Criston, will be there, so will my brother, Aegon, and my sister, Helaena. There’ll also be my half sister, Rhaenyra.”

She doesn’t miss how Aemond tenses up as he speaks of Rhaenyra. She can’t help but feel panicked at how intimate of an affair this will be, especially as this is only her second date with Aemond, if date is even the right word for it.

“What about the rest of your family that were at the engagement party?”

“Most of the people there were not anyone I’d consider family. My grandfather’s away on business and ‘Nyra knows better than to bring her boys. Mum won’t want them there. None of us do.”

The grip that Aemond has on the steering wheel tightens and his jaw clenches. She decides not to push the subject any further, it’s clearly a touchy one and she simply doesn’t know him well enough to pry. The rest of the drive passes in silence.

The townhouse they pull up outside of is lavish, a blanket of green ivy covers the outside. Aemond is quick to take her hand as they walk up the path to the front door. Her heart races at the feel of it, and she has to battle to remind herself that it’s all for show.

Alicent gives them both a warm welcome, pulling them into a tight hug with a kiss on both cheeks. She looks radiant as ever as she leads them through to a large dining room, with a long mahogany table at the center of it.

Helaena jumps up as soon as she sees them, giving them both a hug, while Aegon opts to remain seated, making a mock salute as he takes a swig from his beer bottle.

Aemond was right about the Thai food, as Criston enters shortly after they arrive, carrying several paper bags from a place called Patara and places them in the middle of the table.

Aemond pulls out a chair for her and she takes a seat, her eyes fluttering closed involuntarily as he presses his lips to her temple. A shiver runs through her.

“Get me a fork, would you, Hel? I’ll be here all fucking night trying to eat with chopsticks.” Aegon says, leaning forward to rummage in a bag.

“It’s Thai food, you eat it with a spoon, not chopsticks!” Helaena shoots back.

“That’s not a fork though, is it?” He rolls his eyes exasperatedly, pulling out tubs and setting them down. “Get me a fork!”

“Get your own fork, dick.” She fires back.

“Will you two stop it?!” Alicent hisses. “I just want one family dinner without an argument. Rhaenyra isn’t even here yet, stop opening the food. Aegon!”

She hurries from the room as the doorbell rings.

The mood around the table shifts. She notices Aemond rubbing his fingers together absentmindedly, his teeth grinding ever so slightly. Without thinking, she reaches over and takes his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, shooting her an appreciative look.

Rhaenyra sweeps into the room, looking glamorous. Her long, light hair is pulled into an intricate braid and a pair of teardrop ruby earrings hang delicately from her lobes.

“Apologies for my lateness.” She says with a tight smile. “Difficult to be on time when you have to make separate dinner plans for the side of the family that aren’t welcome.”

“Oh god, she’s started already.” Drawls Aegon. “Come on, who had ‘as soon as she arrives’ in the sweepstake for when ‘Nyra would start her bitching?”

“Aegon!” Alicent scolds him, her brown eyes widened with anger. Her face softens as she turns back to Rhaenyra. “Ignore him, I’m so pleased you could make it.”

The two women exchange a warm embrace before taking their seats.

The meal passes in relative high spirits, in spite of its awkward start. Expensive red wine is shared around the table, as they all dig into dishes of soft shell crab mango salad, chicken massaman and vegetable pad thai.

Alicent asks her more about her line of work, while Aemond interjects that he’d dropped by to surprise her with lunch. This little anecdote is met with excited coos from both his mother and sister.

He plays the part of attentive boyfriend perfectly. Dishing out food onto her plate, feeding her from his fork and placing his hand on her knee at regular intervals. The longer it goes on for, the more difficult it becomes for her to remember that it’s all an act. The way her body responds to his touch is certainly not for show, however; there is no pretending when it comes to the gooseflesh left in the wake of his hand on her skin.

As the meal is drawing to its end, Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass. “So, I was planning on making a gift of Dragonstone Cottage to Jace and Baela, since they’ll be needing a place to live together once they’re married.”

“That’s not yours to give away.” Aemond tells her, staring at her with an intensity that’s almost frightening.

“Father didn’t name an owner in his will. Technically, as first born, everything goes to me.” She says with an offhand shrug.

“That’s such bullshit!” Aegon seethes, over the rim of his glass.

“Don’t.” Criston warns. “You’ll upset your mother.”

“Maybe this is best talked about another time.” Alicent says, shooting an apologetic look around the table.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it, Mum? You never want to talk about it and she always gets her own way, just like when Dad was alive.” Aegon says, his voice raising an octave with every word.

“Oh, I think you’ve gotten far more than what is owed to you.” Rhaenyra glares at him.

Aemond slams his fist on the table, causing everyone to startle. He stands abruptly, storming from the room.

She isn’t sure of where to look, she has never felt more uncomfortable in her entire life than she does right now. The atmosphere around the dinner table is horribly strained and she is suddenly glad of the opportunity to play up to her part of concerned girlfriend in order to get away from it.

“I’ll…um…I’ll just go and see where he’s gone.” She says shakily, eager to get away from the sour, sullen faces that now surround her.

She finds Aemond stood outside in the back garden, leaning against the railing of the patio decking as he smokes a cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.” He responds, taking another drag.

“Anything in there that you wanted to talk about?” She offers meekly.

“I don’t pay you enough for that.” He sighs.

Her face falls slightly at this. Each reminder of what their relationship really is is like a punch to the gut. She leans against the railing, placing her hand next to his.

“Whatever it is, I’m sorry. If you ever do need to talk though, I’m happy to listen.”

Aemond flicks the cigarette away, crushing it under foot. “I just…just once it would be nice to feel appreciated.”

“I appreciate you.” She tells him honestly, her little finger stroking over his as she stares up at him.

His face softens as he looks down at her and for the first time since she stepped outside she feels like he is seeing her, really seeing her. His hand moves from the railing to brush her hair away from her face and as his eye moves from hers to her lips, she leans up and presses them to his. This time he doesn’t stop her.

He tastes of cigarettes and red wine, it’s a heady combination, intensified by the plushness of his lips. All too soon, he is pulling away, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.” He admits.

“But I wanted to.” She pleads earnestly.

He wraps his arms around her then, one hand clutching desperately between her shoulder blades, as the other buries itself in her hair. He kisses her like he is a man starved of oxygen and he needs her to breathe. She whimpers as she feels his tongue work itself against her own. Nobody has ever kissed her like this before, it makes her head swim and heat lick at her lower belly.

“Go to dinner with me on Friday.” He says breathlessly, once their lips part. “Just me and you.”

“I’d love to.” She whispers.

846 notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 6 months

Text

Perfect Fit

A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Story in 2 parts

My Masterlist

Idk, babes The muse has spoken...

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You are Nathan's employee and are staying at his secluded home for experimental android purposes. Shenanigans ensue. Like - two Nathans shenanigans.

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) NATHAN BATEMAN SHOULD BE WARNING ENOUGH

Content/Warnings: sci-fi semi-horror elements, smut - pwp, oral-m and f rec., p in v, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dacryphilia, degradation AND praise, anal sex, group sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dub con related to possible gaslighting, sex with AI/androids, language, Nathan is his own warning - he's a narcissist duh, sci-fi nonsense, not beta'd, I'm a Nathan-writing virgin so enter at your own risk

I guess that's all?

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

"I have a surprise for you."

Nathan - your boss and temporary roommate, in the loosest sense of the term - breathes on your ear.

"Shit - Nathan!" You gasp, nearly slicing your thumb off with vegetable knife you're using. "You scared the shit out of me."

Whirling around, you find his nose crinkled in mischievous (evil) laughter.

So you smack him with the flat side of the knife's blade.

"Fuck, sweetheart, calm down," he admonishes, trapping your wrist in his strong grip. 'You'll like it, I promise." Thick, dark eyebrows shoot up over wire-rimmed frames. Okay, this asshole is pleased with himself. What else is new?

Maybe you should lighten up about the little jump scares he likes to do. After all, it's the only time you get a laugh out of this narcissistic genius.

Nodding your head toward the countertop full of chopped veggies, you protest. "I'm making soup."

"Come on," he decides for you, pulling the knife from your grip and laying it on the counter. Wrapping his fingers around yours, he drags you out of the kitchen.

So bossy. But hand holding is the sweetest it gets with this man.

So you follow.

In your weeks living with/working with Nathan, you've discovered two things:

Arguing with him is pointless.

His dick is big enough to match the size of his ego.

You promised yourself you would NOT engage in any physical relationship with your reclusive, genius, billionaire boss. Yeah, that lasted about three days before you climbed on top of him.

Since then, business and pleasure mix on the daily. So, wherever he is almost sweetly leading you by the hand - well, it could be work-related, but it's likely...recreational.

Wrong. It's both.

"Here we are," he announces, guiding you into one of his indoor pool areas. This particular pool resembles a lush, tropical paradise. An actual stories-high waterfall cascades down into an artificially warmed pool. White bubbles float all over the surface, foaming at the waterfall's base, and giving off a bubble bath vibe. Greenery surrounds you, along with bright, tropical flowers.

"I remember this pool. You showed it to me on the first day."

Nathan makes a face. He isn't a fan of you (or anyone) stating the obvious.

Still, something has him in a good mood. Like a better than we're-about-to-fuck-in-this-pool good mood.

"Get in," he nods, pulling off his glasses before peeling his soft white shirt over his head.

Soon enough, your slick, naked bodies bob in the water as Nathan lifts your thighs around his waist and licks his way inside your mouth.

His thick beard tickles your face, the tingling sensation a dizzying contrast to the soft caress of his lips as his tongue rolls over yours.

Suspicious that he could be this excited about a quick romp in the water, you decide to enjoy yourself. After all, just him yanking his shirt over his head created a personal waterfall between your legs.

After a salacious make-out, you let out a yelp as he pulls you by the hands through the rushing waterfall.

Cool water dumps over your head, making you squeal at the contrast to the pool's warmth. Once you emerge behind the waterfall, you see it: the cause of Nathan's...chipper mood.

Lying naked and stretched out like a Renaissance work of art, on a large, flat rock, is...Nathan.

Well, not Nathan.

Your Nathan (is he really yours?) smirks, folding his arms over his bare chest with a look of self-satisfaction like you've never seen.

The other Nathan perks up at the sight of you. His eyes instantly fall to your chest, and he wets his lips at the sight of your bare breasts - nipples pebbled from the cool waterfall.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, you notice him...getting hard.

Your Nathan is practically salivating.

"What the hell is this?" You question warily, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from this Nathan-shaped Other with a Nathan-shaped cock.

"He likes you," Nathan nods toward The Other's erection as if it is scientific proof.

Other Nathan pushes off the rock, his muscles flexing deliciously, into the pool's warmth, half-swimming, half-walking toward you, with...intention.

You instinctively countermove to Your Nathan's side. "What is going on? What does he want?"

"What do you think he wants, sweetheart?" he murmurs lowly against your neck. A shiver zips down your body, straight between your legs.

"He...it's...he's like..."

"Fucking hate it when you stutter," Nathan groans. "You know what he is. You know what's about to happen." Boldly reaching for you, he cups your cunt, swiping his fingertips through your slick folds, his teeth teasing your earlobe. "You want it to happen."

"Nathan, I ..." You gasp out as he rams two fingers inside you, pushing the pad of his thumb roughly over your clit.

The warm water heightens every sensation.

"You'll like him," Nathan assures you, roughly plunging his digits in and out of you as The Other stands directly in front of you. Dark, hungry eyes meet yours before traveling down the curves of your body to watch the Creator finger you.

The Other wets his lips again, reaching to wrap his fist around his cock.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, grinding your hips down on Your Nathan's hand as The Other strokes himself vigorously.

As infuriating as it is to admit, Your Nathan is right. This is doing it for you.

"Look at you, already moaning for us like a whore." As Nathan speaks, his teeth nip at the flesh behind your ear.

Then, without warning, he jerks his fingers out of you, causing you to cry out in frustration and surprise, your body stumbling forward into The Other Nathan...

...who grips your arms, steadying you, his straining erection prodding your abdomen.

"Give me a turn. I won't stop," The Other speaks in exactly Nathan's voice. The sound of it - the feel of his heavy cock against your skin mildly terrifies you - yet you find yourself responding eagerly as he surges forward to kiss you.

You feel Your Nathan's hand on your shoulder, jerking you back. "No fucking kissing." He glares at The Other warningly.

Your head whips around to your boss/fling, your eyes going wide at his one and only, ever display of possession over you.

"Nathan, what - "

"Come here," he interrupts, guiding you to the rock where you found The Other lying a few minutes ago. Your Nathan pulls you back against his broad, muscular chest, running his hands all over you, as if claiming you. The two of you lean against the rock, your bottom halves submerged in the warm, frothy pool.

His hands cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as his thumbs rub circles over your nipples. You keen and arch into his touch.

"Eat her out," he commands The Other...who nods once in response and stalks toward you determinedly.

"Wait, Nathan, how can - we're underwater - " Before you can finish your question, The Other eases below the pool's surface, nearly disappearing beneath the bubbles.

A second of silence follows and then you feel his mouth on your cunt.

"He can breathe underwater," Your Nathan almost purrs on your ear, working your breasts seductively while grinding his own erection between your ass cheeks.

"Mmmnnn...fuck," you moan as The Other's lips latch onto your clit, sucking underfuckingwater. His thick beard is always driving you wild and his lookalike is no different.

"You want him to stop, just say the word," Nathan offered. "But I told you - you'll like it."

Your hips involuntarily buck against The Other's mouth, which pulls growl of satisfaction from Your Nathan.

"Use him, babydoll, he can take it," he instructs, thrusting harder against you. "He's your toy. My gift to you. Play with him."

You could swear The Other Nathan smiles against your pussy before plunging his tongue inside you.

"Oh shit...oh my god..." your incoherent moaning makes Your Nathan chuckle in satisfaction. "What a good slut for us. Knew you would spread your legs so fast. Gonna fuck you until our cum is dripping out of every hole you've got, honey."

Nathan reaches for your thighs which he helps you hoist over The Other's shoulders. Taking your hand, Nathan guides you to grip the back of its neck.

"Fuck him, honey. Take what you want. Then I'll slip into that tight ass until you cry for me."

That nearly sends you right over the edge. Your hips buck wildly, sloshing water everywhere as you fuck yourself on The Other's tongue, hands pushing his shaved head against your aching center, yanking him against you with your legs - heels digging into the flesh of his back.

Nathan isn't kidding around. As soon as you start writhing, he pushes your cheeks apart and eases the tip of his cock into your tight hole.

Thankfully, you've done this before, many times, but the sting is still there - the stretch of it - as Nathan works his thick cock into you slowly.

You still your rocking, which seems to infuriate The Other, still underwater. He jerks at your hips to pull you forward, but Nathan is still pushing into your ass.

A slight tug-of-war ensues - but the water soothes and slows things down just enough so that- moments later, you have one Nathan in your ass, breathing on your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear, hands wrapped around your tits. And The Other Nathan underwater, slurping and licking and sucking - worshipping your cunt.

Your body arches violently as you come, your moans embarrassingly loud.

"That's it, honey, squeeze my cock so tight," Nathan grunts right on your ear.

You're still coming down from your high as The Other emerges from the water, eyeing you hungrily. Your Nathan is still inside you, pumping slowly.

"Look at his cock," Nathan instructs. "Do you know how much work it took to replicate this dick for you? Do you see what I made for you?"

"Y-yes," you stammer, admiring the creation before you, still heady and euphoric.

"Good. He's gonna fuck you now, babydoll. We both are. That alright?"

The thought of two huge dicks inside of you sends a bolt of nervous anticipation through you, but Nathan is filling you so good. You don't want to stop.

"Use him," Nathan repeats his command, even as The Other reaches for the swell of your hips. Staring into your eyes, he bends his knees slightly, reaching for his stiff length and sliding the tip through your folds.

Without any more fanfare, he pushes deep inside you and you scream at the intrusion. It's too fucking much - two of Nathan. Two cocks so thick - so fucking heavy, thrusting inside you, using you like a doll.

They set a rhythm, back and forth, over and over, a little faster with each thrust, hands roaming, fondling, caressing your wet skin. The press of two sculpted bodies caging you in already has you close again. Your next orgasm hits you like lightning, your body seizing in mind-altering pleasure as the two men inside you push and plunge harder and faster.

Your Nathan comes with a strangled cry, filling your tight hole with his spend, fascinated by the sight of another him fucking you so good.

Nathan is Nathan's favorite person, so watching himself rail you is the ultimate high. And this surpasses the many other times he's watched himself fuck his androids played back on a screen.

Easing out of your tight hole, he takes a step back in the water, admiring his handiwork.

He's a goddamn genius.

With Your Nathan no longer behind you, The Other pauses just long enough to lay you down on the rock and hoist your legs up around his waist. He leans over you, palms flat on the rock - one arm on either side of your head - and smiles down at you wolfishly.

He winks. "Let's give him a show. Let him see I'm your perfect fit."

Your eyes dart over to Your Nathan for some sort of sign of disapproval, but The Other grips your jaw. "Look at me."

If Nathan hears The Other, he ignores it, seeming content to have come in your ass, and now, to watch a version of himself lay you down and pound his seed into your cunt.

You go a little hazy as your eyes once again find Your Nathan's, holding his gaze while his creation snaps his hips hard and fucks into you faster than Nathan has ever managed.

Nathan is onto something here, because the fact that he is watching pulls moans as loud as the waterfall from your throat. Your body twists and arches violently, giving him quite the display.

"What a good whore," The Other mocks, "fucking yourself on a toy. Because that's all I am, right?" He glares at his maker and comes during this act of defiance.

You're too fucked out to keep up with the conversation at the moment, but Your Nathan darkly chuckles. "Shit," he whistles. "I'm so fucking brilliant, I even gave you my ego."

Then he turns to you. "You alright babydoll?"

You let out a breathless laugh, attempting, but failing to drag yourself up off the rock. Apparently, they are done with you for now

"Pick her up," Nathan instructs The Other, turning to climb out of the pool.

Wait, is he just leaving you to the machine? Asshole.

The Other Nathan complies, offering his hand to help you up. You take it, easing off the rock and back into the water, stumbling into his chest.

"You okay?" It asks you in a hushed whisper, grasping your elbows to steady you.

You assure him you are fine. Taking your hand, The Other leads you back the way you came, through the waterfall, but just before you dunk your heads under the cool rushing water, he pulls you into his arms and stares deeply into your eyes. Then brushes his mouth over yours.

Your Nathan has already passed through the waterfall and left the room for all you know. Still, he'll see this. He always sees everything. It’s a condition of you living here.

Feeling a slight resistance from you, The Other Nathan releases you. "You like kissing," he states, as if discussing data and not pleasure.

"What?" You question, your chest heaving with desire and confusion.

"Don't make me repeat myself." One dark eyebrow shoots up condescendingly. How very Nathan. "He doesn't kiss you as much as you want. I know - all the footage is stored in my memory." He taps one finger to his forehead with that know-it-all Nathan smirk. "He doesn't kiss you enough, but I will. I'll kiss you anytime. Will you kiss me back?"

You're stupefied.

It takes you a moment, but then you remember. Nathan said The Other was for you. Nathan said 'use him.'

Why the hell not?

"I'll kiss you back," you shrug, barely finishing your sentence before The Other pulls you against his chest, melding his lips with yours. He samples each lip before licking his way inside, his hands already sliding down over the swell of your ass to hook under your thighs.

Before you can even think, he pushes his cock inside you again, which is unrealistically hard already, his knees bending just a little as the two of you ease further down into the warm water.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you decide to enjoy this present from Nathan - this Nathan shaped fuck machine. Feels kind of wrong, but fucking hell does his cock feel real plunging in and out of your cunt underwater.

"He told me I would like being alive," The Other whispers, running his hands up the curve of your back to grip your shoulders and pull you down harder into his vigorous thrusts.

"He was right. I do," he rambles on, fucking up into you faster now.

The familiar heat pools in your belly as he fills you so good. So like Nathan. Only...sweeter? Or are they the same?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

"This is what I was made for," he pants against your lips, the rhythm between you making literal waves in the pool. He kisses you again and your back arches in bliss, your cunt squeezing him until he fills you up again.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan watches on the monitor as his doppelgänger kisses you and brings you to orgasm number three beneath the waterfall. The sound of your moans lets him know how thoroughly he's succeeded. And The Other isn't wrong. You like to be kissed.

Nathan types out some notes before heading to the kitchen to finish dinner.

"Have fun?" He asks you once you find him in the kitchen. You took a shower (alone) before finding your boss.

Best to be honest with Nathan - he knows everything anyway.

"He's amazing," you answer simply. "Unbelievable, really."

Nathan smirks, setting down the knife he found you with earlier. Without another word, he pulls you close and kisses you breathless.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Life with two Nathans is something else.

The next several days of work are centered around this new android.

That's where you find yourself now - in your bedroom with your shiny new toy. And Nathan.

"Sit down," Your Nathan tells The Other, nodding toward the bed. the three of you are naked, as usual, but the boys seem to be in a bit of a mood today.

They're both hard and ready to fuck you too.

"On your knees, babydoll," Nathan beckons you. You comply, dropping down in front of him, knowing exactly what he wants.

Dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel like his priority instead of his damn other self.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Nathan grips your chin. "Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks together which forces your lips open.

He pushes the tip of his cock inside, shuddering at the absolute heaven that is your velvety mouth. You swirl your tongue along the slit, tasting him before tracing the ridge. Wrapping your lips around him, you hum against his skin, sucking on his tip, giving him a tease before he pushes his way to the back of your throat.

You gag for a moment, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you swallow the tip of him, laving your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

"So good, honey, just like that."

The Other Nathan grunts out a disapproving sound. Unlike your Nathan, he doesn't seem to be enjoying your mouth stuffed full of his Creator.

Which makes Your Nathan enjoy this even more. He grips your head, thrusting into your mouth like you're a toy. You gag as a drool dribbles from the corners of your mouth. You normally love being used by him, but he's not enjoying you for you at this point. And it's not even about getting his dick wet.

You tap his thigh forcefully, letting him know you need a breather. Normally you like to take what he gives, but is the goal to make an android feel jealousy? You’re distracted by the confusion and you want to enjoy this too.

"What? What is it?" Nathan pulls out of your mouth, his eyes darkening in concern. "You okay?"

Just when you think that maybe you mean nothing to him, he pulls this. He always does. 'You okay?' Those two words and his beautiful brown eyes are your weaknesses.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You awaken in the night to feel lips hot and wet on your neck and his thick, hard cock pressed against your ass. Someone's hungry. The question is: who?

You've been having so much sex, you can hardly keep track anymore. Truthfully, you start to wonder if you are the personal fuck toy. You spend your days naked and cockdrunk, their spend leaking out of your holes, rug burns on your knees and a sore jaw, and so many back-to-back orgasms, you start to wonder if this some twisted version of heaven.

"Nathan..." you murmur, almost instinctually pushing back against him, grinding into his erection. "'m sleepy."

"I know, honey," he purrs on your ear, sliding one hand across your abdomen as you lay side-by-side. "All you have to do is lie there."

You groan. "Are you Nate or Nathan?"

Nate is the name of The Other. Your Nathan didn't want him to have a different name - ego wouldn’t allow it - but 'Other Nathan' got old fast.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teases, pushing his fingertips down between your legs.

Okay, that felt good, but you asked a question.

"Fuck off," you whined, shrugging him off with your shoulder. "Don't touch me unless you tell me who you are."

But he grips you tighter. Right then, red emergency beams dimly light the room, indicating a power outage.

"Listen fast," he urgently whispers on your ear, his hand reaching to cover your mouth. "You can't trust him. You have no idea what he's done. What he's going to do. He can't hear us while the power's out. Tell me you understand."

"Mmmphh!" You struggle to speak, writhing to get away from whoever this is.

"Be still!" He hisses. You feel his biceps flex against your arms as he squeezes you, halting your movement. "We don't have time. You can't trust him. Do you- "

Suddenly, the red emergency lights switch off and power is restored. You had been sleeping, so the room is still mostly dark, but whoever was speaking to you says nothing more. He simply climbs out of bed and stalks out of the room, completely naked.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

From there, things only get stranger. You begin to wonder if this whole Nate experiment is Nathan's attempt to gaslight you into...well, you're not sure what.

What could he possibly hope to accomplish by confusing you?

The answer should be pretty obvious: Nathan likes playing God.

Or is it Nate messing with your mind?

If the object of this experiment is: can Nathan's AI truly pass as a human being? Then he has probably succeeded.

You're between them now, lying on your side, in bed, one of them in each of your tight holes, thrusting in tandem, back and forth. The stretch of two heavy cocks filling you up has you whimpering and biting one of their shoulders, while the other one sucks bruises into your neck.

The sweaty press of skin against skin - your slick arousal creaming his cock, while the other one stretches your tight hole so good you cry for them, just like Your Nathan promised you would.

"Such a good girl, taking both our cocks, crying so pretty for us," the one facing you says, swiping the puddle of tears spilling down your cheeks. His other hand slips between the press of your bodies to strum at your oversensitive clit.

You sob, completely wrung out, but desperate for another release. As his fingertips trace a lazy pattern where you crave it most, your sob devolves into a low moan.

"Nothing but a desperate whore," the one behind you jeers, nipping a little too hard at your ear. "Too cockdrunk to tell who's stretching out your tight hole right now. Gonna fill you up, honey. And when I'm done, I'll fuck my cum right back into you."

The guttural moan that rips out of your lungs surprises even you as your back arches, your body seizing in yet another earth-shattering climax.

They're not done with you. Not yet.

You're too full - too fucked out to figure out who comes first. All you know is that an eternity passes, you've come so many times that your every nerve ending is on fire, only in the best way. And cum is dripping from both your holes.

One of them stalks out of the room, glasses on, cock soft and totally nude.

The other gathers you into his strong arms and carries you to the bathroom. He wraps you in a plush robe while running you a warm bath in the garden tub.

"I'll give you some space," Nathan declares, stripping you out of the robe once the tub is filled with lavender scented water and luxurious bubbles. He takes your hand and helps you step into the tub. "That was a workout," he winks. "You hungry?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Your Nathan? You felt so certain he stalked out of the room and Nate carried you to the tub.

"Nathan?" You whisper, your voice cracking - hoarse after crying and moaning so loudly and for so long.

"That's my name," he groans, truly hating obvious questions. "Nate's gotta charge up. You wore him out."

He is too damn pleased with himself to be Nate. Right?

You sink down into the bubbles, feeling a little better somehow.

The he asks the question.

"You okay, honey?" And those gorgeous brown eyes find yours.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

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#oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x f!reader #ex machina #read the warnings #perfect fit fic

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whorediaries-09 · 28 days

Note

every time that we realized it's crazy 🎵

sirius x reader with bondage amd breeding????????????

bondage and breeding? both? are you trying to kill me?

house of balloons/glass table girls;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- this song has been stuck in my fucking head.

ps- we going to hell with this one 🗣️

little train 700 follower celebration post.

' so don't blame it on me that you didn't call your home so don't blame it on me, girl, 'cause you wanted to have fun. '

the sweet air hangs around sirius. he watches your head fall on your shoulder, drool slipping out your tongue. your legs appear to be lifeless, yet he has them tied together. he waits for your eyes to open, to show him the beauty of fear within your irises.

he's seen the sadness, the madness and the happiness. now he wants to see the fear, wants to observe it as it passes through every inch of your body, wrecking you apart. he wants to see how your body comes alive when he touches you, when he feels you.

so, when you open your eyes, he feels the blood rushing down his cock. it's beautiful, the color of your eyes, visible through the dimly lit bulb that hangs from the ceiling. it's as if he can smell the fear, through your body.

but it's not just fear he senses. he senses the arousal, the lust, the lore of your hormones rushing through your veins when your eyes fall upon him. so, he smiles, walking towards you.

'hello, little birdy,' with the utmost rage that you can portray from just your voice, you shout.

'who the fuck are you? where the fuck am i?'

'no one will come if you scream birdy. it's just you and me in this room. alone,' he says. he circles around your tied form, his gray eyes piercing through your helpless form.

'what kind of a fucking joke is this!' you scream, tired of the heavy silence that weighs upon your back.

'ah, i guessed you'd say that. perhaps, you think this is some kind of a joke or a prank. you might wonder why you're here. you might wonder think this is a terrible mistake, a strange hallucination dawned by the last margarita that flowed to be just one too many. or perhaps, you think it's one of those strange dreams that you write about in your journal. where you dream a tall, handsome stranger whisks you away to an unknown location, having his so wicked way with you.'

he swipes his tongue on his upper row of teeth, watching your throat bob as you swallow.

'but,' he continues, his palm now cradling your cheek, thumb stroking the skin, 'i'm afraid, some dreams are more real than you think. reality could be so much stranger, than the dreams your mind could ever conjure,' you stare at him letting the words infiltrate the thick coat of fear your mind wears. tears well into your eyes.

'please,' you beg, 'what do you want?' he knits his eyebrows together, his fingernail stroking your cheek.

'i don't think,' he sighs, 'you're taking me seriously. i think you- you believe that this is some elaborate prank.'

his eyes wander to the back your chair, where the chains he used to tie you up are connected to the wall. your eyes follow his and you crane your back, trying to see what he's observing.

'you see those chains little birdy? they're heavier than you think.' he looks at your wrists, swollen and chafed. 'you should know better than me, given how chafed your poor wrists are,'

'do you want to guess who i am?' he says, lowering down and sitting on his knees. he takes out a key from his pocket, unlocking the chains from your feet. he massages them slowly. you're sensible enough to know this man's stronger than he appears, and you better not kick your feet. when you stay silent he, insists you.

'come on, take a guess,' his hand slip between your thighs, his long slender finger rubbing soft circle on your clit. unconsciously you arch your back seeking for friction. he smiles devilishly watching you squirm as he rubs you through your underwear. 'take a guess, birdy, i dare you,' he breathes, feeling your slick soak through your underwear and wet his fingers.

'please,' you beg. he raises an eyebrow, increasing the pace. he tears apart the fabric of your skirt with a pocketknife, smiling at the fear that clouds your vision.

'hmm, not quite,' he teases, lowering his jaw to put on the flesh of your thighs. 'i'll give you a hint. mary adams, kelly whitlock, catherine stephens,'

recent murders.

he pulls down your underwear, watching you down at realization.

's-sirius black? the mass murderer?' he smiles,

'yes, very good. so much information in that pretty little brain of yours,' he praises, flicking his tongue on your clit. he watches your eyes roll at the sudden contact. he smiles against your cunt. his hand grip the flesh of your thighs. he spreads them apart, pulling you closer to his mouth by the legs of the chair. he puts your legs on his shoulder.

his tongue finds home on your clit, as he sucks on it. the anklet scratches his shoulder, bleeding out a wound. it soaks through the sheer vest he wears.

he plays with your folds before pushing in two fingers at once, providing you a delicious stretch of your walls. his tongue lurks around your clit, as he curls his finger into you, quickly finding your sweet spot. he laps up into you like a starved man.

'oh- oh god-' you scream, trying to push him away but bound by the heavy chains. you hear the metal clink against the dusty floor, but to no avail.

when the euphoria rushes into your nerves, the hotness creeps into your stomach, filling you up with an insatiable pleasure that makes you curl your toes, bestow moans from your lips. you chant his name, paired with a string of curses.

it's pure madness, when you feel the tight coil in your stomach unravel, your sweet juices coating his tongue. he arises from between your shaking thighs, his chin coated with your orgasm. he lets his thumb crawl on the flesh of your thighs, watching the madness of pleasure paired with fear in your eyes. he watches your chest heave.

'please, just tell me what you wa-' your sentence remains unsaid as he finds your mouth with his, slipping his tongue into yours, clashing his teeth with yours as he lets you feel the taste of your cunt and his saliva linger on your tongue.

his hands rip apart your flimsy blouse, releasing your breasts. the cold air hits them. his cool and wet fingers draw circles around your nipples, feeling them harden and erect, as hard as his cock.

he lifts you up as if you're a toy, making you sit on his lap. your legs fall on the either side of his waist, your back against his face. he shimmies down his pant, freeing his painfully hard cock. he teases your slit with the tip of cock, sliding through your wet folds. you squirm, too sensitive for the feeling. his fingernail digs deep into the skin of your waist, as he pushes you down.

the burn seeps through you, a painful ecstasy crawling underneath your skin as his cock stretches into your cunt, burning down the banners of sinful pleasure.

'f-fuck,' you manage to breathe out as he rubs his temple on your spine. his finger attaches to your clit. it's as if he has your body memorized, as if he knows everything which brings you pleasure, which leaves you aching for more.

'come on birdy,' he says, parting your lips with his other hand. he stuffs your slick underwear into your mouth. he arches his hip, pulling himself out all the way. it produces a sound that echoes through the empty room.

'p-please,' you say, voice muffled, your core already burning and aching for the pleasure. it's a storm within the cages of your lust, which burns you up. he fits into you like a puzzle, fitting every crevice of your body.

'please what, birdy?' he mocks, as he increases the pace of pushing and pulling into you. his hand wraps around your throat, another hand drawing circles on your stimulated clit. the tension and nerves build up into a familiar yet stronger coil, urging to snap out any moment.

your head falls on your side as the exhaustion of ecstasy and pleasure grips every inch of your body. it's maddening, the pace of his cock as he rims into you so perfectly, stretching you out so deliciously. it makes your toes curl, thighs shake, eyes roll and core burn.

'you, you fucking belong to me. so fun isn't it birdy?' he says, ramming into you, enjoying the bliss of your moans and screams as they pass, muffled through the fabric of your underwear. still you manage an incoherent yes.

'yes, so fun. i'm gonna fill you up to the brink, breed you with my little babies. you'll look so cute with your your belly so full with my little ones. when your tummy starts swelling, i'll fuck you each and every way, have my wicked way with you.' he promises, as he feels you clench around him at each word.

he bites your shoulder, letting his teeth sink into the skin, as your body releases the coil building into your senses. you close your eyes, muttering something which makes sirius slow down his pace before he releases himself into you, filling you up, as promised.

************************************

when you open your eyes the next morning, the sunlight filters through the window and the flowing curtain. you're not in the cold empty room you were last night. the familiar strong hands are wrapped around you and you feel fresh and relaxed. you try to squirm around to free yourself without waking the one who held you.

your efforts bare no fruit.

he's awake, holding onto you tighter. he rests his chin on your shoulder.

'hi, baby,' he mutters, his voice morning fresh and raspy.

'hi, sirius,' you whisper back. you turn around to face him.

'did you enjoy, you know last night?' he smirks. heat crawls to your cheeks as you nod.

'i did,'

'i stopped because you said your safe-word. i wasn't too sure i heard you correctly because of the- uh- you know, but i stopped anyway. did you mean it?'

'yes i did. and before you start, it was because i got exhausted and not because you hurt me or anything.' he rubs his temple on yours.

'are you sure?'

'yes.'

he smiles, pushing his chin into the crook of your neck. his stubble tickles you and you giggle as he breathes out a 'we should do this more often,'

he's not wrong. roleplaying as a damsel in distress captured by a deranged murderer was fun. more fun than expected.

*************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox. specify whether you want to be tagged in just the series or all my upcoming works.)

****************************************

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #fanfiction #james & peter & remus & sirius

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princessbellecerise · 10 months

Text

Touch The Skies

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | In which Aemond finally takes you flying on Vhagar

warnings | None

this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters

divider by @princessbellecerise

You know you shouldn’t be scared, but you were.

The nerves that pooled in your stomach almost made you sick, but you hid them from Aemond as he lead you up the hill, not wanting to making your dear husband upset.

After all, you know how much of an honor this is. For him to even consider showing you Vhagar was one thing, but for him to propose that you ride her?

That was an entirely different story. A true honor, seeing as Aemond had never let anyone ride on Vhagar’s back expect for himself. When you got married, you always assumed that he wouldn’t even let you get close to the dragon he had fought to claim.

But alas, here you were. Ascending the cliff that the gigantic beast rested on, for she was too big for the Dragonpit the ancient Targaryens had designed. A monster in her own right, and utterly terrifying to see in person.

Your stomach churned a little more but you tried your best to keep a brave face. The warnings your dear husband still rang through your head:

Do not ever let a dragon sense your fear. They will deem you weak, and the weak are treated as prey.

Those words nearly paralyzed you; reminding you over and over you could not fault. You had to be as strong as your husband was, fearlessly walking up the dragon as if he was the bigger monster.

Aemond’s back was straight, gaze strong as he first approached the dragon. You lingered back a little bit further way at his command; the Targaryen needing to speak to his dragon before you approached.

Curiously, you watched as words of old Valyria flew from his tongue, prompting the gigantic beast to turn it’s head to your husband.

Yellow eyes stared into lilac ones, and for a moment, all was still. You held your breath as Aemond repeated his commands and Vhagar grumbled. The hefty dragon looked as if she were barely listening to your husband, but you soon found that it was quite the opposite.

Vhagar did heed his commands, and underneath you the ground shook as she moved around. Almost like she was positioning herself, getting herself into the right angle so that Aemond could comfortably mount her.

So that you could mount her.

“Come, my love. She has granted my wish for you to join me.”

You gulped as Aemond held out his hand for you, nerves eating you alive as he awaited for you to join him by the dragon’s side. You hadn’t been this nervous ever since your wedding day—and even then you were sure you didn’t sweat half as much as you were right now.

Clammy hands are what met your husband’s, Aemond giving you a look as you slowly allowed him to pull you towards the beast’s side. You could barely contain your beating heart but the soft tugs and gentle touches from your husband are enough to calm you down a little. At least enough for you finally get close without collapsing all together, Aemond taking your bare hand and lacing it with his before gently setting it on top of Vhagar’s rough hide.

Like you expected, the dragon felt hot and her thick scales had been softened by age. By all means, she was exactly what you pictured a dragon being like. But you had to admit—she was eerily calm as your fingers ghosted over her. Something you weren’t expecting but clearly Aemond was by the way he smiled a bit.

“See?” Aemond’s eye glinted as Vhagar softly growled but still allowed you to touch her. “I told you there was nothing to worry about, sweet wife. She clearly likes you; probably even more than she does me.”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time, dear husband,” You laughed shakily, earning a sharp, playfully glare from Aemond. He stood by closely and allowed you to keep stroking Vhagar’s hide before eventually taking your hand again.

Clasping your fingers together, you shared a look and you knew what that meant. Gulping, you let out a breath as Aemond nudged you forward and encouraged you to take the first step towards riding; placing your feet in the ladder and climbing onto the back of the dragon.

Since Vhagar was so large, it was impossible to mount her without doing this. And so, steadily your feet ascended, one after the other as Aemond followed closely behind.

You could feel the encouraging hands of you husband nudging your thighs as you aimed to reach Vhagar’s saddle, ensuring that you would not fall backwards as you climbed. Grateful for this small act of affection, you briefly smiled and then when you finally reached the top, you paused.

You examined the reins which were worn by the various riders of Vhagar and the sheer size of the mount. If that did not help put into perspective how large this dragon was, you didn’t know what would. Of course, you knew that she was huge but staring at the added space of the saddle had your jaw dropped.

Easily, Vhagar could have carried at least twenty people on her own. Maybe even more.

If it was not for the fact that Dragons only bonded with one rider, you had no doubts she could be used as a very useful mode of transportation.

Luckily though, your husband was the only one that held any sort of claims to her. And now you—sort of—as you settled between Aemond and the reigns of the saddle.

Behind you, you felt your husband shifting as he gathered the ropes and all the proper measure before the two of you took flight. He took extra care doing this, making sure that every precaution was met so that no danger would be presented to you.

You found that most of the safety ropes were wrapped around your waist which left Aemond vulnerable a little. If something were to happen or if Vhagar turned upside down, he would not be as protected as you.

Briefly, this caused you to frown but then you chastised yourself for not believing in your husband. Of course—he had done this plenty of times, ever since the age of ten. Now nine and ten, Aemond was sure to know what he was doing and how to control his own dragon.

You did not need to fear for your husband, only seek his warmth as your back pressed to his.

“Are you almost ready, ñuha jorrāelagon?” My love. You smiled briefly as Aemond purred in your ear, turning your body slightly so that you could look him in the eye. Already finding him staring at you with a soft expression, you nodded and then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, dōna valzȳrys,” You sighed, the organs in your stomach beginning to twist and turn with anxiety.

You hadn’t even taken flight yet but you were already nervous. As one should be when riding a literal dragon for the first time, but deep down you knew that you had nothing to fear.

Not when you had your sweet husband with you.

Aemond would never let anything happen to you, and it was this thought that calmed you enough to stay still as Vhagar shook and groaned.

After a few commands from your Lord Husband, she was ready to take flight. And you gulped as your body began swaying along with her, holding on for dear life as she walked towards the edge of the cliff and then made her descent.

A scream—no perhaps a shout of caution got stuck in your throat as she dived downhill, not even being able to release it due to the backlash of the wind. The very particles seemed to nip at your face and all but rendered you breathless, your body going limp as Aemond laughed behind you.

Out of everything, you weren’t expecting your husband to laugh at your misfortune. But alas, while his beast was busy trying to take flight, he leaned forward and caught a glimpse of your face. Priceless—you were sure it had to be. Yours cheeks all but molded by the wind and your mouth open with a silent scream.

Aemond shook behind you, and you breathed like you had never done so before as Vhagar finally straightened out. Her wings spread, and finally you were granted the pleasure of sanity as she flew through the skies.

“See? That was not so bad, my love,” Aemond teased.

You had some not so nice words your husband but you decided to hold your tongue since he was being nice today. Letting you ride Vhagar, which slowly became a more pleasant experience the further you got into your venture.

Eventually, you had stopped holding your breath and allowed yourself to really and truly enjoy the experience of riding a dragon, opting to keep your eyes open to ogle at the sights below you.

It was like Vhagar was touching the skies and you saw everything from mountains, to lakes, to people in boats that ogled you as you shook the water.

Everything that you could possibly imagine, right there under your fingertips. The beautiful sights and land on display only for you; and your husband as he leaned into you.

Eventually, Aemond had taken to relaxing as well once he was sure Vhagar was at a steady pace. This allowed him start pointing certain things out, filling you in on all the things he had seen while you nodded.

You loved hearing him talk about his ventures, especially during a time where you were both so relaxed. It was rare to see your husband look so peaceful, carefree in a way he was not on land. That’s because up in the skies, there existed no worries, no duties. Just the two of you and the soft lulling of Vhagar’s wings.

It made you hum, and it let you savior this moment like it was going to be your last one earth. Your last memory would be of the heavens opening up to you.

As she flew, that’s exactly what it felt like. And perhaps now you understood why people always claimed that Targaryen’s were closer to Gods than men; for now you knew that no man, not even yourself, could ever replicate this kind of serenity without the likes of dragons.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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visionsofmagic · 7 months

Text

day 16: bruce wayne [power play]

࿓ synopsis • the game you play takes a different route in which you try to dominate him, but, he doesn’t allow you.

―❦ nsfw, dominance/submission, roughness, licking, marking, wrist holding, short, f!reader, brat!reader, riding, begging, pet names, ‘is all I guess? • 0.7k • he's my favorite dc character and the idea popped into my mind because he's looking so dom! enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“who’s in control now, love?” he asks as he pounds into you, hands holding yours above your head as your back arches onto his bare chest, filthy voices leaving you one by one since it’s too much to keep silent – he’s trying to gain it from you after all, wanting to make you scream his name louder with each of his deep, hungry thrusts that hit the exact spot that drives you crazy in every time.

the question is a reference to what you said before being in this situation; leaning down on the mattress, wrists inside his palms, breasts bouncing shamelessly and even hitting his chest from time to time, legs wide open, pussy soaking wet enough to make the white color of the sheets goes grey because of how much it is, legs shaking yet still having the strength to stay on his back, hugging him from there only to bring his body closer to yours as if it’s possible – as if he’s not already deep buried inside you, fucking you roughly because he has something to prove to you – to dig it into your pathetic mind as he said before.

he’s angry – a little bit, with the lust that flows inside his veins until it reaches the tip of his thick cock – using it to shove it into you mercilessly.

the feelings are there due to you – being a little brat and trying to take control while riding him a while ago, teasing about how his dick dripping, pale face is full of redness, breathtaking with a rapid way, and even sweating – only you can make the vigilante sweat like this – the reasons why he is rough now.

with the power you had at that moment, your body moved without your mind acknowledging it, making you look down at him, taking control, riding him so slowly to make him beg for you to move, to fuck him, yet, bruce who knows you better than anyone else, including you, understood what you were trying to do, especially when your hand tried to hold his neck – with sudden movement, he gripped your wrists, turning your body over, hovering above you as he mocked you – showing the dominance he has on you – not yours – his.

power play ended when he began to fuck you ruthlessly.

his question remains unanswered – he doesn’t seek one either, he just enjoys watching how messy you’re getting under him, ready to beg more when his hips slow down – and nearly stops as he fucks you leisurely, taking his time, and even having a ghost smirk on his face.

and when you look at him, your vision is blurry yet witnessing his lustful expression, representing of the dominant side he has on you, you know he waits for you to beg – to cry. weren’t it for your aching pussy that is in need to be fucked by bruce, you would stay still, yet, you have no brain at all – only a greedy wet pussy and passion mixed with love.

“bruce –“ his name comes out of your parted lips on its own – pure instinct. “ohh – bruce!”

“yes, my pretty slut, what’s wrong?”

“move – aghh – please, move already! nee – ohh – need you to move!”

leaving your wrists free, his hands positioned on your hips, holding it strongly, ready to bounce into you with all his strength, his weight can be felt on you, sending a different sense of both pain and pleasure at the same time.

“look who’s begging now –“ he teases, kneeling down until his lips touch your neck, biting it – licking it so that he can leave marks on you- bigger and more efficient ones than yours that you left on his entire body before he took control. he enjoyed being under you, yet, the delight of having you under him is far greater than it. “tell me – that I am the one who is in control over you, not you over me,” he lowers down, licking and kissing your exposed body gladly, reaching until its tongue travels on your hardened breasts.

pushing you against his hot tongue, you answer, feeling his cock leaving your pussy slowly, “you! bruce – ohh – you!” “good girl.” he says lastly, then, pushing his hip further, the cock fills your warm walls entirely with a powerful thrust and he doesn’t stop – he thrusts into you with a great pace and power that you no longer remember the power play – letting him do whatever he wants to do with you until he’s satisfied.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*

#🔥 kinktober 2023 second week #kinktober 2023 #dc #dc comics #dc x reader #dc smut #batman #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman x you #batman x f!reader #batman x y/n #batman smut #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne smut #THANKS FOR READING!!#power play with him hits different ^^

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theaceace · 4 months

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Hob is woken, not by the shrill cacophony of his alarm or the sunlight hitting his face where they'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night, or even the warmth of Morpheus' hands and mouth, but by the sudden dip in the mattress as another person flops onto the bed with them.

Several lifetimes' worth of instincts see him jolting awake in an instant, heart racing and sweat already beading on his back and brow. Hob may not be able to die, but he's been ambushed in his sleep more than enough times to be getting on with, ta very much, and he's not keen to do it again. Suddenly he's twenty-five, and exhausted after days of marching on Troyes, feet sore and heart sorer, waiting on a battle that never came. He's twenty-eight, and the knife that flashes in the darkness misses his throat only because Herry has ears like a bat and enough blind-foolish loyalty to leap on their attacker's back. He's seventy-three, and lying barely-conscious among the dead that need burying or burning, and he knows that he needs to rouse himself even with the arrow still in his chest, or he'll be burnt or buried with them. He's two-hundred and sixty-four, and they've come to the home he'd made for his family, to drag him from the bed he had shared with his wife some thirty years before, and haul him away as a witch.

He's gripped now by the same fear, and it has him up and moving, one hand fumbling at the bedside table for anything with enough heft to dent a skull before he realises that none of his attackers have ever smelt like peaches.

Beside him, Morpheus shifts just enough to free his face from the clutches of his pillow.

“That key was given to you for use in emergencies, my sibling,” he says, voice thick with sleep and the cotton pillowcase.

Desire stretches luxuriously between them and smiles, fox-sharp, at Morpheus. They roll their head to look at him – beneath the perfume and sweat and wet pavement smell of them, Hob catches a sour waft of alcohol.

“Oh but my dear brother, this is an emergency,” they say, and – look, Hob has been drunk enough to recognise the exquisitely deliberate care at the edges of their words. He huffs a little, pushes himself up so that he can slap a hand on the bedside lamp and blink furiously against the sudden light. It takes a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he rubs his hands over his face in a vain effort to convince himself that this is some new nightmare that Daniel is testing out, before he gives in to the inevitable and turns to examine their guest.

"And what could possibly be so pressing at –" Morpheus snatches Desire's wrist up to stare blearily at their watch "– two thirty-seven in the morning? That could not be expressed in a phone call or wait until a reasonable hour?"

"Do you know, brother mine, how many partners I found to dance with? Whose desire for me, once so integral as to be a given, I had to simply guess at? To read in the curve of a smile or the enticing lull of a question? I didn't know them, not a one, and can you guess, sweet Dream, how many of them took me to their beds?"

And Hob has heard quite enough of that. He stretches and tosses back the sheets, while Morpheus shoots him a filthy glower that softens immediately into a plea for respite with his sole visible eye. Desire either doesn't notice this silent communication, or doesn't care.

“None!” They crow gleefully, clasping their hands, and Morpheus scowls as he's jostled in place.

It's not that Hob wants to leave him to fend for himself against his sibling, only that he doesn’t fancy being in the firing line when Morpheus inevitably snaps and thumps Desire with a pillow.

Doing an admirable job of ignoring Morpheus' wounded expression, Hob groans and lurches himself in the vague direction of the kitchen. Might as well put the kettle on for this.

"Jasmine or apple tea, love?" He calls. No sense having any caffeine now. If they're lucky, Desire will wear themself out quickly and they'll be able to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off.

"Apple, if you would," Morpheus replies.

"Ooh, I'll have jasmine if you're making."

"Didn't ask you!" Hob shouts back, already adding a spoon of sugar to the third mug he'd fetched down for them.

“Oh, so forceful! You know, if you ever get tired of my stick-in-the-mud brother here…” Desire trails off meaningfully, and Hob snorts, smiling a little to himself. They know full well it's not going to happen, however much or little they remember about his desires, and even if he were – impossibly – to change his mind about Morpheus, they'd get bored of him soon enough.

He sets all three mugs on a tray, and grabs a pack of chocolate digestives while he's at it. Morpheus would never admit to being fond of them, but he doesn't need to. Hob's watched him absent-mindedly devour most of a packet while he pecks one-handed at the keyboard. Besides, Desire could probably do with something to line their stomach.

“Is being human always this delightfully contradictory? So baffling and solid and… damp?” Desire asks, lifting their head just enough to peer at Hob as he re-enters the room. It's a moot question, of course. They've been human long enough now to know that the answer is, largely, yes.

“Often. But do you know, my sibling, the very best part of being human?” Desire turns lazily to look at Morpheus, smiling wide. Their lipstick today is dark purple, and smudged at the corners of their mouth.

“Mm, do tell. You know how much I crave your… wisdom,” they say, rolling the words indulgently over their tongue. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus’ book to one side so he can set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“It is that it is no longer against the Old Laws for me to do this,” Morpheus says, planting one foot against their side and shoving hard enough that they topple off the bed with an outraged squawk and undignified thump. There's a blessed moment of stillness, the same kind of breathless anticipation that Hob remembers from the battlefield, before the charge and the mud and the pain. Then they pop back up over the side of the bed with a cry and launch themself at Morpheus. He'd be more worried if he couldn’t hear the laughter in their voice, nor see how their outstretched hands target Morpheus’ ribs and armpits, rather than his eyes.

Hob's sisters have been dead for centuries now, but he remembers this well enough. Maybe if the Endless had ever been anything like children, they might have gotten all of the murderous posturing out of the way before they grew up enough for it to be a problem, he muses. Still. Better late than never.

He takes a sip of his own tea and grabs a biscuit. Lord knows he won't get a look in once Morpheus has finished trying to jam his elbow into Desire's stomach and realises they're there.

“It was never against the Old Laws for you to be a bastard, which is lucky because you always were one!” Desire gasps, writhing away from Morpheus’ pointy limbs. Hob's been at the receiving end of those elbows before, and even when Morpheus is being gentle, they're decently sharp. He wonders idly if either of them'll tire of this before their tea goes cold, and decides not to intervene either way. Serve them both right if they have to drink cold tea.

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don't tell me you're still hung up on that?”

“I am, because you tried to kill me!”

“Well it's not like it worked!”

Not really the point, Hob reckons, but then again he's had plenty of mates that have tried to kill him.

“More by good fortune than good judgment,” Morpheus hisses.

“Oh, so you admit to your poor judgment?”

Hob snorts, and the wounded look Morpheus swings towards him would fell a lesser man. Hob takes another biscuit.

“Ha!” Desire takes advantage of his momentary distraction to lock their arms around his shoulders and blow a loud raspberry against his cheek. Hob doesn’t think he's entirely successful in hiding his smile. Morpheus doesn't even try to hide his look of disgust.

Well, he had to learn the downsides of being an older brother at some point, Hob supposes.

Judging that the worst of the scrapping is over, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats Morpheus’ flank idly. Desire, loose-limbed with alcohol and triumph, flops over him to reach for their tea. Morpheus magnanimously doesn't jab his fingers into their exposed side.

“Thank you, Robert darling,” Desire says, eyes half-lidded as they drink. It comes out far less coquettish than Hob imagines they intended; too genuinely content. Morpheus sighs, and frowns, and doesn't quite do a good enough job of hiding his own ease as he sits up and leans against Hob.

“I suppose you intend to stay the night?” Morpheus asks. There's nothing of the dignified dreamlord about him now, with his hair flattened on one side and just a little lank, and pillow creases on his cheek. He peers at Desire, half of his weight still supported by Hob, who takes another slurp of tea and polishes off the last of his biscuit. It's still unbelievable, sometimes, that he may see his dour and distant old stranger like this. Something tangible, something grounded, something he can hold. Unbelievable, too, after the way they had almost parted, after the way Morpheus had almost –

Well. Doesn't bear thinking about, really.

“Mm, yes, if you'll have me.” Do they have to work to make everything they say sound like a double entendre, Hob wonders, or does it come naturally? He's not entirely sure they even notice they're doing it.

“You're always welcome,” Hob says. “Guest room's all made up, and there's a spare toothbrush under the sink you can have.”

“How very kind. Dream, dear, isn't your man kind?”

“Unreasonably so.”

“Ta, love,” Hob says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Desire rolls their eyes theatrically, as though that might mask how their expression softens. “Now drink your tea, I'd like to get a few more hours’ sleep before I need to get up.”

Morpheus grumbles but straightens up, plucking his mug from the nightstand and cradling it in one hand while he reaches for a biscuit with the other.

“Should we expect any of our other siblings to join us tonight?” He asks, managing somehow not to spray crumbs everywhere as he does so, which is a bit unfair. Hob has centuries more experience talking through mouthfuls of crumbly biscuits, and he still can't do as good a job of it. “I take it you did not venture out alone this night.”

“No I didn't, but don't worry,” Desire says, tilting their head back as they drain their mug, a neat ring of purple left behind on the ceramic. “My sweet twin is unlikely to make an appearance. I certainly hope, at least – she went home with that little exorcist friend of yours. If she comes here, then something’s gone dreadfully wrong.”

They grin, cat with the cream pleased at the expression on Morpheus’ face, and flick their hand in something like a wave. “Well, goodnight brother! Robert.”

They flounce away towards the spare room, and Hob presses his smile into the curve of Morpheus’ shoulder.

“I hate them,” Morpheus grumbles. Hob kisses the bony jut of skin where his t-shirt has slipped, once, twice.

“No you don't,” he says. Morpheus sighs, sets his mug down, and returns to hold Hob's face still for a proper kiss. Not that Hob would try to get out of it.

“No,” he agrees softly, pulling Hob down with him for a cuddle onto pillows that still smell a little of peaches. “No. I do not.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless #desire of the endless #hob gadling #This was originally going to be part of 'Em's retirement home for wayward Endless'#in which Dream retired and all of the other Endless followed (except destruction who didn't want someone else saddled with the job)#A sort of 5+1 thing with each of the ex-endless siblings interacting with dream and hob #and 1 of the current endless #But unfortunately my brain isn't up to that so you guys get this instead #Anyway I think a lot of problems would have been solved if Dream and Desire had gone through developmental stages like regular siblings #Here we see the 'toddler' phase. Hob is lucky they're not biting each other #Not exactly a writing tag

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s1ater · 2 years

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Hii! I have a request🌼 İt is reader x louis partridge where they are both famous and they have a loooooooongggg interview about their relationship pleasee, and full off fluff if possible

Thank you🖤

Have a great night/morning🥂🌃

couple's questions.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

about. above

warnings. swearing

ricky rocks. the links within the text are reference photos i guess. not very long because idk sorry lol x

who asked who out first?

“me, i did,” louis mumbled right away, rubbing his jaw as you stared up at him with narrowed brows.

“yeah, after millie made you.”

“no,” his own brows narrowed as he looked down to you.

“yes,” you nodded your head, your mouth slightly opened as he stared at you with confused eyes, “lou, she bought your birthday present for me too.”

“you know about that?”

favorite memory together?

“i have.. none,” louis swiped his nose slightly, bluntly speaking.

"i have to agree."

he's struck offended.

wallpapers?

“lou’s mine,” you held up your phone after unlocking it before showing a facetime photo from when he had fallen asleep on his couch. “he’s also my- well we’re both on my lock screen,” you hit the power button before hitting it again causing the screen to light up and show the two of hugging each other after a day at the beach. “millie also took that,” you smiled before tucking your phone back in your pocket.

“she’s only my lock screen,” he held up his phone, showing a selfie of him having an arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind in new york. “my home screen is just me and my sisters.”

you smiled at the thought of the photo as he stuck his phone in his pocket then looking over to you, smiling.

favorite gift one has received/given?

your eyes brightened at the question before looking to louis who was already looking at you, a light laugh flying past his lips. his arm extended behind the two of you, his hand lightly grasping the back of your neck, giving it a light squeeze before wrapping around your waist.

“well, i’d say the silver chain that has louis’ name on it, but millie was the one who actually gave it to me, so..” you shrugged your shoulders causing him to lightly roll his eyes before fiddling with the thick gold bracelet on your left wrist that he had a matching pair of on his own wrist, something he bought himself for the both of you.

“she bought me my ‘heaven can wait’ sweater” he said bluntly, “i wear it a lot, but it seems she wears it more than i do.”

you laugh lightly, running your eyes along his jaw.

"you know, before we started dating my closet was filled with clothes, but ever since we've gotten together i only have the option of wearing the same thing every day," his tone is slightly annoyed but has playful banter hidden underneath as he lightly pinches you.

you smile hard, thinking about how much your closet has expanded and how it shouldn't even have to matter whether or not he has clothes at home due to how much louis is at your house in the first place.

over the summer, you both had talked about moving in with each other a lot of the time sense it seemed you both already did at your parents homes. you were almost never apart.

who gets annoyed the most?

“louis.”

“what,” he frowns hard looking to you, “that is such bs, there is no way it’s me.”

“you’re getting annoyed right now,” you grin, extending your pointer finger to him, making his brows furrow more. he stared at you a minute more before slapping your finger down.

"yeah, sure; me."

night in or night out?

you both look to each other and you frown slightly in thought. you can tell louis already has his answer by the way he smiles like a sick dog, his hand slapping onto your thigh, "night in."

he's asked 'why' by the interviewer--further extending the grin on his face, "because you can't make out in public."

you scoff, your face beginning to feel hot, "i'd agree, but not... for his reasons."

not totally anyways.

"oh, cmon love," he slightly elbows you in the ribs, "be honest."

"louis, quit being a perv," you shake your head in slight annoyance.

although the two of you do make out, a lot, nights in don't pertain to that idea, totally. you always find time to schedule movie nights, card nights, or even just plainly eat dinner with each others family.

as much as you loved going out, it got harder the more publicity you both faced from recent movies and shows you both did. you couldn't go a minute without a camera being shoved into your face.

what is one thing you both can't live without?

"lou absolutely can not live without his phone."

"neither can you, sweetheart," his voice is sour as he looks down to you, practically scowling at your insinuation.

"yes i can," you narrowed your brows, "you're such a phone face, lou, you don't even know it."

"since when?"

"since i've met you," you dumbfounded, "anytime i try and communicate to you, it takes about five minutes for you to finally get off your phone and look at me."

he winces a bit, knowing it's true, but he still shakes his head with the kiss of his teeth, "afraid not, love."

"fine, we'll put it down for something we both can't live without."

"no," he shakes his head, "i'm changing mine to you."

your face goes soft, and you look up to him, almost caught off guard, "louis, that's actually so sweet."

"what can i say, i'm a sweet man."

navigation.

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @heyitsmeimdead @thehuntress09 @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @lukewearingbeanies @kiramdd @highkeygolden @kitkat-mini @spencybear @w0nderr r @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @whoreforpsychopaths s @siriusspuppyy @mxsmwndr

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