#[ man of simple pleasures · visage ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delinquentfiction · 2 months

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A Night of Pampering With Vil

Content: Vil x Reader, fluff, spa day, romantic, kisses, pet names (Darling, Kitten, Petal, Dear), no use of y/n

Tw: None

Word count: 1140

You knocked politely on the imposing dorm door, practically vibrating with excitement. Today was a self-care Saturday, as Vil had dubbed your regular bonding sessions of indulgent relaxation. And you were more than ready to soak in his pampering aura.

"Come in darling, I'm just finishing up in here!" Vil called melodically.

Pushing open the door, you were immediately greeted by a heavenly aroma of rose scent wafting through the lavish lounge area. Soft classical music floated through hidden speakers, soothing your soul. But your attention was stolen by Vil emerging from his spacious bathroom, clad in a silky robe with damp hair tousled fetchingly.

How Neige was considered more beautiful than him you couldn’t figure, especially in moments like this. Fuck, the man looked like he was sculpted by the angels themselves. You hated how sometimes the blonde watching his figure so closely meant that you had to give up some simple pleasures, especially in the beginning, but clearly the work works out. If only the french fries and small bags of chips you would sneak didn’t taste so good. If only they didn’t taste better when you sneak them.

"Come here kitten, let me get a look at that lovely face of yours." He cooed, taking your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to tilt your visage this way and that under scrutinizing eyes.

Vil hummed in approval. "Good, no unsightly blemishes to speak of. Now, have a seat and I'll fetch my supplies."

You giggled, obediently perching on the plush chaise lounge. Moments later Vil reappeared with an armful of ornate bottles and tubs, laying them out ceremoniously on the coffee table before you. His nimble fingers got to work smoothing aromatic creams and serum into your skin, massaging deftly. You melted into his touch with a contented sigh.

Next came a clay mask infused with calming scents, mixed fresh for optimal potency. Vil expertly applied the cool mixture, sculpting it to your features in sweeping strokes. Gingerly tapping your nose, he winked. "All done darling, now just ten minutes for it to work its magic. We'll chat and sip tea, yes?"

Vil set about preparing a luxurious pot of rooibos with honey, chatting idly about the latest campus gossip during the wait. Before long he proclaimed your mask fully cured, carefully peeling it away to reveal radiant skin beneath. You gasped - already you felt rejuvenated on a deep level.

"Simply stunning, as I knew you would be, my petal." Vil praised, cupping your chin affectionately.

A brush of his thumb along your lower lip set your heart skipping, though the moment passed as he began applying rich lotions to lock in moisture. With finishing spritzes of setting mist, you were left the picture of pampered bliss.

"Now for the pièce de résistance!" Vil declared dramatically, rising in a flourish.

He returned promptly with an armful of silky fabrics, laying them out like pieces of a puzzle atop his sumptuous canopy bed. Selecting two options, he held them up for your inspection. "The emerald shall bring out the gorgeous azure of your eyes darling, but the rose quartz may better suit your rosy complexion. Decisions, decisions..."

You considered briefly before gesturing to the rose, touched by his care in selecting colors flattering your features. Vil beamed, gathering the garment to hold against your form appraisingly.

"Exquisite choice as always, now let's get you dressed." He hummed, helping you slip into the floating silk robe and sneaking a delicate kiss on your shoulder. It was light, but you felt it and it caused a slight heat to grow on your cheeks. With nimble fingers he tied the sash, smoothing the fine material over your shoulders. "Gorgeous, simply gorgeous, my petal."

Stepping back, Vil admired his handiwork before setting to styling your hair. Gentle brushes and delicate braids worked your locks into an elaborate updo, stray curls artfully framing your face. Finally, he applied the barest touches of makeup to accentuate your natural beauty - pink balm to plump your lips, wisps of shadow to make your eyes pop.

Spinning you to face the full length mirror with a flourish, Vil gazed proudly over your shoulder at the vision before you both. "My dear, you take my breath away. Come, let's bask in the glow of your allure together, shall we?"

His arm settled around your waist, pulling your back against his robust chest as you admired your reflection. With his chiselled jawline dusted pink and lustrous hair tousled roguishly, Vil was quite the statuesque specimen himself. Turning in his hold, you wrapped your arms around his neck in thanks.

Vil murmured your name affectionately, leaning in to brush featherlight kisses across your forehead, cheeks and nose until you were both breathless with giggles. His arms tightened around your waist, looking deeply into your eyes as if searching for something. Your breath hitched under the intensity of his gaze.

But the moment passed as Vil reclined gracefully against mountains of satin pillows, patting the space beside him invitingly. You readily cuddled into his side with a contented sigh, idly tracing patterns on his chest through the gauzy robe as relaxing melodies washed over you both once more. The blonde at one point delicately holds your cheek and stares into your eyes once more, however he didn’t seem to be looking for something. He seemed to have found it and leaned down while you allowed your eyes to flutter closed and the warmth of his lips met yours for a good minute or so before breaking the contact. You shyly smile at him before hiding your face back in his robe. The heat in your face was sustained by his larger hand tangling its fingers with your own.

You felt his chest rise and slightly hum as he spoke once more, “My petal, your newly found radiance and confidence over time together has seemed to captivate even myself. Might I have the honor of courting you properly?”

If you had given a verbal response, you think you would just end up shouting the answer. So instead, you nod, a big smile creeping onto your face. He lifted the hand he had been holding and placed a kiss on the back of it. You could feel his smile against your now softer skin. “Wonderful, my dear. Now get some beauty rest so you don’t get demoted to potato again.”

Hours passed by like this, basking in each other's company as the sunlight slowly waned outside. Such pampering self-care sessions had become the highlight of your weeks spent amidst the hustle of school. But nestled securely in Vil's capable arms while his digits toyed with your hair, you thought maybe you found something even more soothing than any skincare ritual or carefully crafted ensemble. For here, you felt beautiful inside and out.

#twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #admin bear #fluff #fanfic #spa day

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cannebady · 1 year

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Well, I'm on my Stizzy bullshit.

This is steddyhands where Stede and Izzy are both smitten with each other but struggling to communicate it.

They're sleeping together, but only with Ed too and it's all Ed being dominant and Izzy being submissive and Stede kinda just being along for the ride. Anyway, they're figuring it out.

And Izzy loves how rough and possessive Ed gets loves what they do together and that they actually get to do this now.

In fact, that's what sparked his predicament. Because the only reason he and Ed worked their shit out is because Stede called them both out like a prissy little bull in a fancy fuck off China shop and if he hadn't stuck his stupid nose where it didn't belong, Izzy wouldn't have everything he could ever want.

Well, everything he used to want. He was never much for tenderness, if he's honest. Soft things don't survive at sea and he learned that young.

Stede, though. Stede survives at sea. Hell, he even fucking thrives, and he's seen that man make slow, sweet, mind-rendingly gentle love to fucking Blackbeard until Ed is sobbing, and begging, and nearly out of his mind with it.

He got to watch once and it's fucked him up ever since. Because it turns out there is something else Izzy Hands can want for. He can want for soft hands to touch him with love, and with intent. To take pleasure in his pleasure. And he supposes he could ask Ed for it, but he likes the way Ed touches him.

He wants Stede to touch him like that. He wants him to do it because he wants to, not to put on a show for Ed or to prove a point. Izzy wants Stede Bonnet to fucking ruin him with his soft hands and his filthy words, and his ridiculous cock and it's driving him out of his blessed mind.

Because Stede has seen Ed hit, kick, choke, scratch, and fuck Izzy at knife point. He's seen Izzy get his face brutally fucked by the visage of Blackbeard and yes he loves it, craves it even, but maybe, he's finding, he can love more than one kind of thing. More than one kind of person.

He handles it about as well as he handles anything else, which is not really that well at all. It starts to get into his head - why doesn't Stede initiate anything with him? The bastard takes every other damn thing he pleases, but he won't ask to fuck Izzy?

So he draws the logical conclusion; he's here for Ed and Stede and Stede is there for Ed and tolerant of Izzy. He doesn't pine for touch from Izzy, or lay awake a night imagining something as simple as a kiss. And why would he? Stede has Ed, who looks like that, and Izzy's tried to fuck him over so many times. It's not his fault that Izzy's broken, corroded heart tripped headlong into love from loathing when Izzy's given him no reason to reciprocate.

So, he makes a decision to lock those feelings down deep. He kept himself from touching Ed for nearly thirty years and he's pretty sure they don't all have thirty years left considering their line of work, so this should be easy. A piece of fucking cake.

But every time there's soft words and touches between the loves of his life, it hurts something deep in him. It hurts that Stede sees Ed and wants to give him everything and he doesn't feel that way with Izzy.

But Izzy's a selfish bastard, and he wants.

It comes to a head, as many things do, when he gets absolutely pissed on whiskey during shore leave. Ed is off doing fuck knows what, but Stede decided to come to the pub with Izzy and he doesn't know what all to make of that, but they're getting drunker and drunker, and Izzy keeps ordering drink after drink to ignore how good Stede's thigh feels against his and how much he wants those hands on him.

His mood turns sour quickly when his mind starts the whole pining lark again and, after Stede's fifth assertion that Izzy had enough and should come with him back to the ship, Izzy reaches the end of his rope.

"I'm a grown man, fuck off you poncey twat" he growls and he wants to inhale the words back into his stupid drunk mouth because Stede looks stricken, then like he's gathering up pieces of himself to put back away.

"Well then, alright." Stede replies and then gets up and walks out like he isn't taking Izzy's mangled heart with him.

Fuck.

He has a few more drinks because at this point why not? What does he have to lose save for more of his waning dignity. Getting a room and heading back to the Revenge in the morning is a tempting option, but something draws him back to the ship. It might just be that it's a home for him; very possibly the only one he's ever really acknowledged.

He's not nearly as drunk as he expects, but he's got a twisting, roiling feeling in his gut anyway. The walk was supposed to clear his head, but by the time he realizes that it didn't, he's wringing his fucking hands and already standing in front of the Captains cabin. His cabin, some may even call it (Ed and Stede do).

He walks in with a degree of confidence that only truly not giving a fuck and approximately eight whiskeys can buy you, and there's Stede, with a light blue silk robe draped across his shoulders, perfect blonde curls sitting about his shoulders, and a pair of hastily wiped red eyes that Izzy reckons he may have put there himself. He's immediately sober in a way he doesn't expect and he feels the crushing weight of his feelings and this secret he's dug into his chest.

Stede goes to speak, but Izzy's running on regret and adrenaline and just needs him to listen for one fucking second before he loses his nerve. He's sure if he doesn't say this now he never will.

"I want you," he says, and Stede's jaw drops a bit before he inhales like he's about to respond, "no, stop, let me talk." His voice is wildly steady given the shaking of his hands.

"I do, I fucking want you, okay? And I think you're a ponce too, but I see what-" his voice cracks. Fuck. He better get this out quick.

"I want you to fuck me like you fuck Ed and I want what you and Ed have too. But I don't think it'll fucking work because you love him and you don't love me and-"

Whatever he meant to say is taken away from him by Stede's warmth, and seconds later, by one of his gorgeous, soft hands brushing the swallow inked at Izzy's throat, and by the hazel eyes staring down into his and fucking shit, he's seen that tenderness a million times before, but never directed at him.

"Don't love you?", Stede's voice is soft and brimming with emotion, "Of course I love you, how couldn't I?"

And Izzy doesn't even care that it's cheesy or and doesn't want to wonder if it isn't true. He doesn't care that he can think up a thousand reasons that he wouldn't be loved, starting with slicing up Stede's shirt and stealing a hostage, then ending with actual betrayal via British Navy, but again Stede found a way to surprise him.

He's going to say it back, but what comes out is a whine and then soft lips are over his, and soft hands are around his waist and oh fucking hell.

It's good, is the thing. Stede's holding him so gently, but also like he can't imagine letting go. As he slowly licks Izzy's mouth open he's running one hand from his hair, to his jaw, to his waist, then his hip to pull them flush, and then right back up to grip the back of Izzy's head like Stede can't fathom not touching all of Izzy and fuck if Izzy doesn't wholeheartedly agree.

He remembers that he also has hands, and then buries them both in Stede's hair. It's so soft and and this close he can see the whites and grays that Stede hasn't avoided and it makes Izzy feral. This isn't the Stede of his dreams, nor some perfect gentleman from a society that rejected Izzy from childhood, this is the real deal, the mad man, the lunatic, this fucking incredible being, and fuck its doing Izzy's head in.

When Stede breaks the kiss, they both realize that they've moved so that Stede's pressing Izzy into the wall next to the bed. Izzy's panting, barely holding himself up, and he grinds up against Stede, for the friction and to be a little shit, and Stede's eyes darken. He's so lost in them that he barely realizes that Stede's hands have moved before he's being bodily picked fucking up and oh yeah, Stede has actual fucking muscles now, which fuck fuck fuck. He gets why Ed loses his fucking mind for this.

He groans and Stede whispers into his ear, close enough that he can feel his lips, his breath, "Israel, darling, let me take you to bed."

And Izzy's breathing out, "Yes, fuck, finally". He feels safe and wanted and fucking loved and it's sending him floating.

He lets that warmth light him up as Stede lays him down, curls hanging in the space between them, before he kisses Izzy again and they're both lost to the gentle, sweet expression of love and devotion they both deserve.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #my fic #izzy hands #ofmd fic #Stizzy #Steddyhands #edward teach #blackbeard

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historichawkeye · 5 months

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I develop myself.

Staring in the mirror eternity

I see wonderful marketing opportunities.

I see a visionary.

I challenge preconceived notions

Of what’s possible and what’s not.

I ignore all of the motions

Of those whose heads would rot.

I see an idol.

A golden ratio encompasses all

Of the inches of my body.

Everyone else’s visage is small,

Compared to me they’re shoddy.

I see an icon.

Someone whose success meets no end

But the swift snip at the string of life.

Someone who’ll be your digital friend

Through all your lowly strife.

I see a brand.

Nothing can be imperfect.

All must be correct.

I will fill all the boxes.

Check check check.

Summarize myself in a paragraph

And film my interests.

Invest invest invest.

My face splattered across the web isn’t mine.

It is an other.

One perfectly crafted for your pleasure.

A brand named you

Is simple and neat

And every you is perfectly complete

And they have problems oh yes it’s so

But their willingness to change is virtuously slow.

Put yourself on the market.

Let it wring you with its hand.

Take solace in knowing

You’re more and less perfect than man.

“A Brand Named You” -Written December 18th, 2023

#original poem #poetry #dystopia #anti capitalist

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promethea-silk · 1 year

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Smoke Burned Eyes

Hues of red and orange danced across the dimly lit room, refracting off the silver rimmed monocle very accurately resting over Cordelia’s right eye. Her fingers delicately traced the outside edge of an aged page in the book that was nestled upon her lap only to softly flick up the corner to turn it slowly. The warmth from the crackling fireplace seeped through the room like an unseen entity, wrapping her form with a cozy comfort that allowed her to relax and almost melt into the large cushion chair that was nestled just in front of the fire. Etched words on pale parchment pulled her into a world of her own beyond the frigid city of Ishgard. Though if she were being honest, the cold did little to annoy her, it was the people within the borders of these territories that were the most bothersome.

An idle hand floated through the air from the book to reach at her side for the cup of steaming tea. Her gray eyes never moved from the page as delicate fingers gently grasped the handle of the teacup instinctually, lifting it from the small saucer and guiding it to her lips when even still as the monocle fogged slightly, her gaze peered from over the cup’s edge to remain committed to her reading. To say she was in a trance was only a slight over exaggeration. Though the sound of echoing knocks on the large door brought her attention finally away from the book, her eyes blinking slowly as she simply lifted her gaze toward the fireplace and sighed. By now, the teacup had been set back into its cradled saucer and the creaking of the leather binding was sign the book had been closed.

Cordelia knew the one interrupting her reading had not been Wren as often the Viera would have entered upon knocking. No, whoever was disturbing her now was someone else. “Come in,” She ushered in a tone lacking in enthusiasm and bordering on the edge of annoyance. Despite her entirely welcoming words, her demeanor gave off the complete opposite as she chose to remain seated as the figure entered through the doorway and crossed the room to step into the fire’s glow. As the gentleman’s features came into view, Cordelia grinned as a release of breath came through her nose while she set the book aside finally. “Ah, Mister Lemieux, to what do I owe this pleasure?” With the inquiry came the offering of a seat by way of a gesturing hand extended to her left toward the neighboring identical chair.

The Elezen man cleared his throat, seeming to consider the offer briefly and perhaps even leaning toward denying it before he finally turned to lower himself into a stiff seated position. Delia narrowed her eyes, peering at him curiously as she took note of his demeanor. Kylian Lemieux had handled all of her late husband’s finances, advising him of this and that, where his investments should be placed and likely even his will. If he was paying her a visit, she could only anticipate something interesting to be proceeding with him opening his mouth.

“I’m not entirely sure either of us could consider this a pleasurable visit, Lady Gray…” He began, his hands gripping the large ledger in his lap a bit tighter with every word it seemed. Cordelia raised a brow at this, her lips tugging into a sarcastic smirk as she suggested he continue by a slight nod of her head. Kylian cleared his throat, settling somewhat as he opened the book before him and glanced down at it. “As it stands, I have not visited you since Lord Gray’s funeral, firstly for that I apologize. However, more importantly I do find myself in a position…one that is somewhat uncomfortable yet it must be addressed; Well to put it frankly, I question the circumstances behind your husband’s death.”

It was then that Cordelia’s uncaring demeanor molded into something new, something calmer and gentler. A hand lifted to remove the monocle from her visage, tucking it into the pocket of her simple yet elegant gown that was meant merely for a relaxing day around the manor. Her hands folded upon one another within her lap as she spoke, “I’m unsure what there is to question, Mister Lemieux, my poor husband’s heart gave out on him far too soon. We all mourn his passing and it truly is an awful thing and as unfortunate as it is, these things do happen. We mustn’t allow ourselves to dwell-”

Kylian abruptly lifted a hand, palm toward her in a way to cut her off. “Lady Gray, please do not play innocent with me… I think we both know where this conversation is going and my purpose here is not a kind visit. I know something happened to Ambrose and I have an inkling you had something to do with it. Now, we could do this my way or the hard way and as I feel you wouldn’t entirely enjoy either, but I can assure you my way is the easier of the two.”

The features on Cordelia’s face remained stoic as she listened, her head tilting slightly as she feigned a certain curiosity or confusion but only just enough that it was sprinkled in. With a deep breath, she stood and cleared her throat. “Your accusations are unwelcomed, unsubstantiated, and quite honestly simply cruel. How many widowed homes of Ishgard have you entered immediately upon their Lord’s demise in search of coin by way of blackmail and threats? Surely there is a list long enough to fill that ledger. Now, I will forgive this intrusive disruption and disrespect if perhaps you take your leave now and speak no further as I assure you the next time words such as these leave your lips in my direction, I will see that they are shut permanently as you will be ruined in this city. Are we at an understanding, Kylian?”

Words left her with a staunch sternness, leaving very little room for misinterpretation or even allowing him to cut in despite his efforts, of course. The Elezen man fumed with her response but as she had already gestured toward the door for him to take his leave, he stood and began to make his exit only to stop just before her. “I will prove that you had something to do with his death, Cordelia and I believe once I have that proof you will be singing a different song for me than this little charade you have going on here. Most of Ishgard has fallen to your ruse but I have not and I hold your estate’s cache. If you wish to continue to remain as comfortable as you are, you may want to play a bit nicer with me.” And with that, he slinked through the door, leaving it wide open as he disappeared into the hallway.

The ploy left her as soon as he had, her aggravation and concern with his curiosity coating her countenance like a venom taking hold of its victim. Once she was convinced Kylian was gone, she turned back to face the fireplace, walking toward it as her gaze fell distant as she stared into the dancing flames. Perhaps she was silently mulling over way to make Kylian Lemieux quiet or disappear entirely. Though just as quickly, she blinked away the daze and smiled to herself as she turned to cozy up yet again in her seat, returned the monocle to her eye and resumed her book.

Wren was due to return any day now and her information was likely to be of even further use now than it had originally been expected. Though, finding friends now fell a bit lower on things of import as her warden was going to have to work a bit of overtime now it seemed.

[ @song-of-wren for mentions]

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv #moth lady

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scotianostra · 2 years

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On September 5th 1750, the poet Robert Fergusson was born in the Canongate in Edinburgh.

‘Auld Reikie wale o ilka town’

This line from Auld Reikie, by Ferguson sets the tone for the main body of his output as a poet, written in the Scots tongue that Burns would later write so successfully in, if this other Robert had lived longer than the short years on this planet, I really do think that he would have been our national poet. The line means Edinburgh: best of every town, so he was a champion of the city that he was born in.

Fergusson was brought up initially in Edinburgh but then moved to Dundee where he attended high school before being matriculated to the St Andrews University in 1765.

After the death of his father and completing his studies, the responsibility for supporting his mother fell upon Fergusson and he moved back to Edinburgh, taking up a post as a copyist. This caused some friction with his uncle as Fergusson had essentially rejected the excepted professions of the time such as lawyer or going into the church as a priest. In 1771 he began to contribute poems to Ruddiman’s Weekly Magazine..

It was after he met Scottish preacher John Brown in Haddington Cemetery in 1772 that Fergusson, the 22-year-old copyist and author of Auld Reekie, had until then been a convivial man, at the heart of Edinburgh’s literary and social scene. But soon after encountering the theologian, he became gripped by “religious melancholia”. He shunned the limelight, preferring to stay at home and read his Bible, and his works took on a gloomy air. Then, a year after predicting he might share the fate of John Cunningham, a poet who had died in a mental asylum in Newcastle, young Robert had a fall in which he suffered a head injury, his fears were to become reality and ended up in Darien House, part of the city’s Bedlam asylum, on Bristo Place, where those with mental illnesses were offloaded. The conditions were terrible – food was in short supply and the use of restraints was commonplace.

Within weeks Fergusson was dead. His brutal end deprived Scotland of another potential bard (Robert Burns, who was inspired by his verse, erected a memorial on his unmarked grave in Canongate Kirkyard). His death was also a catalyst for a change in the way the city of Edinburgh looked after it’s mental health patients, thanks to a man who was a visitor of Robert Fergusson in Bedlam, Doctor Andrew Duncan. In a letter to the Scottish Sheriff Deputy the doctor wrote of his experience of his visits with the poet that it “afforded me an opportunity of witnessing the deplorable situation of Pauper Lunatics even in the opulent, flourishing, and charitable Metropolis of Scotland”. By establishing the asylum in Morningside, Duncan contributed to Fergusson’s legacy, not just as a brilliant poet, but as someone who had a lasting impact on public health in Scotland.

I’ve chosen Fergusson’s poem Braid Claith today, the title is a simple one and easily translates to Broad Cloth a traditionally woollen fabric

The Daft Days.

Now mirk December's dowie face Glours our the rigs wi' sour grimace, While, thro' his minimum of space, The bleer-ey'd sun Wi' blinkin light and stealing pace, His race doth run.

From naked groves nae birdie sings, To shepherd's pipe nae hillock rings, The breeze nae od'rous flavour brings From Borean cave, And dwyning nature droops her wings, Wi' visage grave.

Mankind but scanty pleasure glean Frae snawy hill or barren plain, Whan Winter, 'midst his nipping train, Wi' frozen spear, Sends drift owr a' his bleak domain, And guides the weir.

Auld Reikie! thou'rt the canty hole, A bield for mony caldrife soul, Wha snugly at thine ingle loll, Baith warm and couth; While round they gar the bicker roll To weet their mouth.

When merry Yule-day comes, I trow You'll scantlins find a hungry mou; Sma' are our cares, our stamacks fou O' gusty gear, And kickshaws, strangers to our view, Sin Fairn-year.

Ye browster wives, now busk ye bra, And fling your sorrows far awa'; Then come and gie's the tither blaw Of reaming ale, Mair precious than the well of Spa, Our hearts to heal.

Then, tho' at odds wi' a' the warl', Amang oursells we'll never quarrel; Tho' Discord gie a canker'd snarl To spoil our glee, As lang's there's pith into the barrel We'll drink and 'gree.

Fiddlers, your pins in temper fix, And roset weel your fiddle-sticks, But banish vile Italian tricks From out your quorum, Nor fortes wi' pianos mix, Gie's Tulloch Gorum.

For nought can cheer the heart sae weil As can a canty Highland reel, It even vivifies the heel To skip and dance: Lifeless is he what canna feel Its influence.

Let mirth abound, let social cheer Invest the dawning of the year; Let blithesome innocence appear To crown our joy, Nor envy wi' sarcastic sneer Our bliss destroy.

And thou, great god of Aqua Vitæ! Wha sways the empire of this city, When fou we're sometimes capernoity, Be thou prepar'd To hedge us frae that black banditti, The City-Guard.

#Scotland #scottish #edinburgh #poet #poetry #history

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ryvnk · 7 months

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#[ man of simple pleasures · visage ]#yo <3 este photoshoot #welp pensé que me iba a poder pasar esta noche pero estoy rip x_x #so será mañana <33333 #niiiiiiites <3

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sunshine-luca · 1 year

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stones - cont.

from x

Luca locked his ankles around Ryan’s back as his new husband sank impossibly deep into his little body. A growl left Ryan’s chest, savage satisfaction that echoed Luca’s relieved whimper that they were finally, irrevocably joined. The mist had cleared, the old woman had disappeared as silently has she had come, and the strip of tartan that bound their wrists now lay on the mossy ground beside their discarded clothes at the base of the tall stone monoliths that surrounded them.

“Ry,” Luca moaned, clutching hard at Ryan’s strong tattooed shoulders. He was dizzy, all his nerve endings sparking with more than just the simple intrusion into his body. There was magic here, surrounding them, shielding them – holding them in the space between worlds he couldn’t hope to understand. His heart felt too big for his body, light radiating out of his chest as Ryan gripped his hips and pulled him ever closer.

“Luca.” Ryan gazed down at him, his eyes electric, his brow furrowed with concentration and no small amount of wonder. Luca swore he could see the same glow radiating from Ryan’s chest too, like their souls were too bright, too eager to mingle and bleed together to ever be contained in mere mortal flesh. Perhaps in this space, were the edges of the circle seemed hazy and echoes of memories that belonged to lives previously lived slid past behind his eyes - they couldn’t be.

Luca unlatched his clawed hands only to move them to Ryan’s face. The soft fuzz of Ryan’s beard was almost hazy under his palms but the strength of his cock stretching Luca’s hole was as real as anything.

“Here,” he heard himself whisper, his eyes locked on his lover. His soul mate, his husband. Through the sparks shivering through his body at Ryan’s intrusion, Luca swore he could see the shifts slither across Ryan’s visage. Subtle masks shimmering, overlaying the face he wore in this life with those from Luca’s soul memory, offering Luca glimpses of the men and the lives he’d lived before. “I’m here, Blake. I’m always going to be here. I’m always going to find you.”

Ryan answered him with solid thrust of his hips, driving himself deeper into Luca. They both moaned, the vision before Luca’s eyes momentarily blacking out as he allowed himself to succumb to the pleasure of Ryan’s velvet steel throbbing inside him. He threw his head back. It felt so good. It felt so right, like every wish had been granted, every destination reached. Like every curse had been broken.

“Blood of my blood,” Ryan ground out hoarsely, the words seeming to come from both far away and deep inside him. Luca’s eyes snapped open and he fell into the vivid blue that watched him. Ryan’s grip on his hips was almost bruising and Luca locked his ankles harder, keeping him impossibly deep.

Somewhere, deep inside him, a memory stirred.

They had exchanged these words before. Luca recognized them.

“Blood of my blood... bone of my bone.”

Satisfaction and pride blazed in Ryan’s eyes as Luca repeated the vow and continued it. He pulled the words from deep within him, out of a place he couldn’t name. There was more buzzing under his skin, a rush in his ears. Ryan’s body inside his, their eyes locked, their limbs intertwined and their hearts beating in quiet tandem.

Ryan leaned down to brush his lips over Luca’s, ghosting his words against Luca’s mouth as he rotated his hips. His cock brushed over Luca’s secret spot, and Luca’s body lit up so much he gasped and arched his back.

It only drove Ryan deeper.

“I give you my body,” Ryan rasped to him. “So that we two might be one.”

Luca’s hands fluttered against Ryan’s jaw. The glow felt like it was all around them now, burning bright and hot like a supernova. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the echo of voices, a song that he felt in his bones, a melody that felt like coming home.

But all he could see was the face of the man he had loved for millennia. The other part of his soul. His reason for existing. His promise that even when they were done here, there would be other lives, other worlds. More magic to bind them. Infinite possibilities and in each one, always seeking each other out.

Luca caught Ryan’s eye, and saw everything he felt reflected back at him. His heart swelled again.

“I give you my spirit,” he told Ryan, shaky and almost desperate. It was less a repetition of an ancient vow and more his heart’s most solemn wish. He wanted this man, this soul. Wanted him with everything he had. “-till our life shall be done.”

They crashed their mouths together and Ryan began to rock into Luca in earnest. Against his belly, Luca’s own cock lay trapped between them, forgotten but leaking precum like a faulty tap from the waves of pleasure each push of Ryan's cock inside him brought. He rode the waves of Ryan’s swift thrusts, cresting high alongside his love. He was dimly aware of Ryan shifting, taking Luca’s dick into his calloused palm and stroking Luca in time with each one of his thrusts. Luca writhed and whined and cried as his peak came closer - and when he heard Ryan’s guttural moan, he knew Ryan was close too.

“Fill me,” he managed to whisper and he had the dizzying sensation that he was falling into Ryan, their chests blurring with each sinuous slide of their bodies. “Give me everything. I’m yours. Yours forever, I belong to you and only you, you’re the only one I want, I’ll follow you everywhere, I’ll always find you, I’ll always be yours just like it has always been-“

He didn’t realise the words he was babbling, just clinging to Ryan as Ryan pounded into him until finally giving a low shout. Luca let go and they both went tumbling over the edge. Luca came with his husband’s hand clenched tightly around his dick - and Ryan’s hot cock spurting white heat into his guts

#idk luca wanted to say vows with ryan inside him and if thats not a lucan special idk what is

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kongkhoi · 3 years

Text

do i need to tell you again?

character: scaramouche

warnings: smut, degradation, dom scaramouche, biting, teasing, orgasm denial, blowjob, swallowing cum, hair pulling, creampie, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not proofread, enjoy (?)

“sc-scaramouche! ah-”

you’re laying on the bed, the man above you pinning your wrists down into the plush surface. his head is in the crook of your neck, hungrily licking and sucking, marking you as his. he relishes in your sounds and in your scent, his control slipping with every noise you squeak out. he wants to take you then and there.

it’s absolutely hypnotic to him. how sensitive you seem to be, how he can feel your hands clenching tighter, how your thighs are on the verge of shaking from desire. he wills himself to prolong the moment. extend his patience.

after all, who knows what cute sounds you’d let out if he were to..

you let out a repressed squeal when he bites down into the soft flesh of your neck, leaving you panting. you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip.

“bastard,” you manage to spit out. “that’s gonna leave a mar- nngh!”

you’re interrupted when he harshly sucks on that same spot, almost making him laugh at your sudden silence. he smugly chuckles against your skin, continuing his kisses. he trails up your now-sensitive neck, to your jawline, to the corner of your mouth. you can’t stop the mewls that spill from your lips, your mind going blank.

he takes a second to see what’s become of you. face flushed, lips rosy and swollen, pupils blown wide, marks littering your neck. with a low growl in his throat, he licks his lips at the sight.

“already so needy. i’ve barely even started,” he teases, his voice lilting ever so slightly. it sends a shiver down your spine.

you open your mouth to respond. to deny, to retort, anything. but his lips crash into yours before you do, robbing you of whatever you had to say. his kisses are breathtaking. ravenous but reticent. rough and yet ever so slightly laced with sweetness. before long, he has your back arching and your hips desperately rolling into his--despite any of your claims to want otherwise. heat pools between your legs more and more by the second, making you crave for any kind of relief through friction. but you wouldn’t dare let him know about that.

scaramouche pulls away, meeting your eyes, loving the way your eyes look distant and hazy. smirking, he releases your hands to trail one down to your slick cunt sopping with arousal. your eyes widen at his touch, wanting to become undone with just his fingers alone, only your pride stopping you from outright begging.

“look at this, he hisses. he brings his hand into view, his fingers glistening with your slick. aware of every detail, you take a sharp breath in, entranced.

“such a slut. this wet already? i can only wonder what goes on in your head right now.” he smirks. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he slowly drags his tongue along them. he maintains eye contact, not for a moment missing any of your reactions.

the feeling in your gut tightens at that, almost making you whimper.

with your hands now free, you flip him over with you on top. you’re freeing his cock from it’s confines when he grabs your hair and tugs, making you moan and look up at him.

“ah, ah, ah,” he reprimands.

it’s a simple gesture. yet for some reason it sets a fire within you. you want to see him cry out in pleasure and yet you obey, staying a hair’s breadth away from his angry cock. you’re eager and awaiting, even enjoying the ache his grasp on you brings.

so you feign annoyance. “what is it this time,” you grunt.

“as nice it would be to have you doing this on your own accord, i could only imagine what a view it would be if i did...this.” his grip on your hair tightens enticingly.

“open,” he commands, and you do, leaving your mouth wide open for him to use like a toy.

not wasting any time, he brings your head down onto his cock. you gag at the sudden intrusion and he lets out a low moan at the sudden tightness your throat brings. tears sting the corners of your eyes and your glare shoots daggers up at him, making the man laugh.

“it only gets rougher from here. but i’m sure you already know that, whore.”

you suck harshly on his dick in retaliation, shutting him up with a grimace.

he thrusts up into your mouth again, building up a regular pace. gagging and choking on his cock, you elicit long, drawn out moans from scaramouche. fucking his cock into you deeper, his breath hitches, his other hand tangling into your hair as well.

you swirl your tongue around his length and groan, making him pull your mouth off of him.

breathing heavily, he demands, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“can’t handle it?” you chuckle. the spit your escaping from your mouth and the darkened blush on your face drives him crazy. before he can answer, you blow hot breath onto the tip of his cock.

eyes darkening, he grips onto your locks once again, his cock filling your mouth. the even faster pace and the lack of air makes your head spin and your vision blur.

heavy breathing fills the room as you continue to struggle for air, the man above you adoring just how tight and warm your throat is around him as his visage contorts in pleasure. the tears falling from your lust-shrouded eyes is the icing on the cake, and it’s not long after until scaramouche shoots hot cum down your throat.

he releases his grip on your hair and you pull off, wiping the tears from your cheeks. you’re finally able to breathe when he shoves you onto the bed again, your back meeting the cushiony mattress.

scaramouche positions himself between your legs, gripping your thighs so tightly it was sure to bruise. but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. after much anticipation on your end, he hauls your legs over his shoulder, and easily slips his cock into your sloppy cunt, making you cry out.

“hah, you’re not even putting up a fight anymore. has my stupid little slut finally come to her senses?”

you manage to squeak out a response.

“hm? speak up,” he sneers.

“yes!”

he raises an eyebrow and pauses. “yes, what?”

you hesitate to answer. but the way the desire pools in your stomach is more than enough to make you swallow whatever dignity you have left. anything to relieve the burning ache that only builds.

“i... i need you to fuck me, scara. please.”

“not good enough.” he begins to stroke his cock, to send a message. “if you keep this up, i’ll leave you here and get off by myself. so tell me. what do you want me to do to you?”

your throat bobs as you gulp. with a deep breath, you beg. “please. please i need you to fuck me, scaramouche. i-i’m your dumb slut and only yours, just pl- ngh! ah s-so big!-”

upon his bottoming out into you, the only thing you can do is curl your toes and throw your head back in pleasure as his cock drags so deliciously between your walls and his skillful fingers rub circles into your sensitive clit. you can only grip the bedsheets and watch with blurred vision as he thrusts deep into you.

scaramouche fucks into you and ravages you better than you ever could with those fingers and toys. almost pulling out, he rams back into your tight cunt, making you scream. “i can’t -ngh- i can’t, scara-”

“take it,” he growls in between thrusts. “you’re gonna take anything i give you, understood?”

his head perfectly aimed at that spot you love, hitting it with every thrust makes your mind go blank. it feels so good, you can’t help but babble out incoherent “yes, thank you”s and “feels good!”s. the coil tightening in your stomach and the way you clench around his dick tells him everything he needs to know.

right before you can cum, he pulls out of you, eliciting a whine from your lips, now bitten raw and red.

“hah,” he pants. “bend over. the side of the bed. c’mon, you can do it.”

it takes a few seconds to process. “b-”

“do i have to repeat myself?”

you blush and shake your head, doing as he says. your ass now exposed, back arched, cunt dripping, you manage to comply. the lack of vision you have in the new position sends goosebumps across your skin.

he rests his hands on your hips and caresses your ass, making you shiver. he lines up his cock to your welcoming entrance, groaning at how it sucks him in so nicely. wet, hot, and tight for him, he bottoms out into you. its cruel and torturous, the pace he sets. his cock kissing your g-spot, you press into the mattress at the pleasure it gives you. but you want more. and he knows it.

“more! please,” you sob. “f-faster!”

“all you had to do was ask.”

the harsh thrusts and his fingers digging into your stomach bring you closer and closer to your high. your whimpers and moans come out higher pitched as you near your climax.

it hits powerfully, amplified by your previous denied orgasm. you near scream into the bed, your sobs muffled and your tears flowing. but he doesn’t stop there. you’re still sensitive when scaramouche bends down to whisper in your ear, “god, you’re so -nngh- so tight! does my cock feel that good? going stupid already?”

you try to respond, but can’t form the words. your tight hole clenching tighter around his cock at his venomous words.

“you like that? is that gonna make you cum? go on, then.”

your thighs have long given out, your body convulsing under him. mind screaming from the pleasure the overstimulation brings, hearing nothing but scaramouche’s voice and the sound of wet skin against skin. it’s all too much. you cum for the second time, making him groan at the feeling.

he thrusts harder into you, causing you to cry out. his voice husky and moans broken, his hips stuttering, and his legs giving out, he cums inside. the hot liquid shooting deep mixes with your own slick and cum, slowly dripping out as he pulls out of your used hole. he uses two fingers to swipe up as much as he can and stuff it back into you.

“good,” he pants.

you tilt your head to the side, face red. “mmm. good?”

he nods. he moves the stray hair away from your face and sits down, fixing your body in a more comfortable position. “yeah. we’ll sort things out in the morning.” he pulls a blanket over the two of you. “rest up.”

you sigh as you take one last look at him. “alright.”

#hooo boy im down egregious #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche brainrot

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quindolyn · 3 years

Text

Yes, Sir || Remus Lupin

Request: If you’re comfortable writing it could you maybe write a Remus smut where he’s really playing into a size kink and just man handling and throwing you where he wants you? -anon

Word Count: 4410

Notes: Agh! This is my first time writing full fledged smut, I hope you enjoy it. @st0nesnglitter proof read it for me, I couldn’t bring myself to read it again so I attribute all errors to her

Warnings: Smut, degradtion, size kink, thigh riding, sir kink, professor/student relationship, poorly written, openended cop out

Masterlist

You were lying on your stomach, sprawled along Remus’ king size, four poster bed, face pressed up against a random book you’d plucked from his extensive collection, most of which appeared to have been swiped from the library during his time at Hogwarts. You were sure the book was interesting enough but you could barely focus on it, you’d been waiting for Remus in his bedroom for at least a few hours whilst he was downstairs in his office finishing up grading assignments from his 4th years.

But it was getting late, and you wanted Remmy. Not allowing yourself to talk yourself out of what you were about to do you pushed your body off the plush mattress, not bothering to straighten out the bedding, if things went your way it’d be in vain.

You took a double take as you passed the floor length mirror. Examining your appearance you noticed your hair was mussed from lounging about his bed trying to find a comfortable reading position. Your uniform shirt was rolled up to your elbows with the top couple of buttons undone to reveal a healthy amount of cleavage accompanied by a glimpse of the white lace of your bra. Your skirt had ridden up dangerously high, the white material of your panties peeking out from the hem of the pretty much useless piece of clothing. You’d already abandoned your thigh highs, leaving your legs enticingly bare. A smirk graced your face as you pulled your skirt up even higher before continuing out the door, down the spiral staircase to your boyfriend’s office.

“Remus?” You rapped your knuckles against the heavy oak of the door.

You were met by the deep, honey like voice of your boyfriend, “Come in.”

Pushing the door open you took in the visual of Remus hunched over at his desk, the sleeves of his button up rolled similarly to yours as he ran a calloused hand through his hair. His desk covered in papers, his hand fiddling with his quill as his lips moved silently as he read. He hadn’t realized who was at his door until he lifted his head, scratching one final note onto the paper.

“Puppy?” He quirked an eyebrow, “I thought you were upstairs, are you going back to your dorm already? M’almost done I promise, just a couple left.”

“Not going back, just wanted to see you. Been waiting too long.”

He motioned you over with a crook of his finger, pushing his chair out from the desk, patting his thigh for you to sit on, “There you go Puppy, get comfortable.” His hands found their place on your waist, helping you settle on his thigh, allowing them to wander up and down your sides, squeezing your waist and hips. “Was my Puppy getting impatient, waiting for me upstairs?”

You nodded in response, your breath hitching as his fingers found their way to the waistband of your skirt, “Are these not fitting you anymore Poppet? Do we need to get you new ones?”

“No Sir,” You mewled, shivering as one hand left your waist band, instead finding their way to the hem of the skirt, now resting on the uppermost part of your thighs.

Remus let out a disagreeing hum, resting his chin on your shoulder, looking over your shoulder to watch his fingers play with the material of your skirt. “You sure Puppy? Because I don’t think so, it's not covering anything, anyone could take a look at your pretty little arse in one of these.” He punctuated his remark by bringing his hand down against your thigh, with no skirt to soften the blow you tensed at the impact before he began massaging the sensitive area with the palm of his hand.

“Just came from upstairs Sir, no one saw me,” You reasoned in a pathetic whine causing him to grip your jaw in his hands.

“Did I ask for excuses Bunny?” He spat, turning your visage to face him, his usually bright, sparkling irises now dark, drowned in lust. You whined out, trying and failing to shake your head in his tight grip. “Can’t even answer me? Come on I know you can be a good girl for me, now did I ask for excuses?”

You gulped, “No.”

He tsked, “No who?”

“No Sir,” You corrected yourself, feeling your panties begin to flood at his mocking behavior.

Satisfied, he let go of your face, taking your hand in his so that your palms were pressed together highlighting the length of his fingers as they dwarfed yours. “Good girl, now was that so hard.”

“No, Sir,” You responded obediently.

His lack of response made you nervous, knowing he was plotting something probably devious. You knew you were right when you felt his lips on your neck, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses on the delicate flesh that resided there. Your attempts to suppress your whimpers were in vain as he sunk his teeth into the side of your neck, leaving purple marks in his wake.

“Such pretty noises,” He murmured and from the sound of his voice you could tell he his lips were pulled into a gentle smile. Your breath hitched as his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he planted a kiss on one of the blossoming bruises on your neck. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty slut.”

You threw your head back onto his shoulder as small waves of pleasure rippled through your body, reveling in the feeling of his hands on your body.

“Alright pup, let’s get up okay?” It took you a second to truly digest his words resulting in him leaving a gentle, but firm tap against your hip to which you scrambled up to obey him, turning so that you were facing him where he was lounging in his chair. You couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot as his eyes roamed your body, taking in each detail of your appearance, grinning like an idiot when he went to the hem of your skirt, which really was useless now, completely bunched up at your waist.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” He asked in a cloying tone of voice, almost as one would speak to a child when asking them to perform a difficult task.

Enthusiastically nodding your head you started on the button resting right between your cleavage, the work you made in your efforts was miniscule as it took more than a minute for you to undo the top button with your shaky hands and already cloudy mind not assisting in your efforts.

You felt yourself get increasingly frustrated as you failed to get a solid grip on the next button, the plastic evading your struggling fingertips. “You having trouble there bunny?” Remus’ deep baritone sounded from his chair, you lifted your face from staring intently at your shirt to Remus’, his amusement at your being unable to perform such a simple task evident on his face.

“S’not my fault,” You complained, “Buttons are just so fuckin slippery!” You were exasperated, this shouldn’t be taking you this long.

“What was that?” All signs of previous amusement vanished from his voice, nearly taking you out at the knees as your soft, pleading eyes met his. He was fuming and it wasn’t until he spoke next that you realized why. “Did I say you could fucking swear you slut?” His voice was cold as his posture straightened itself out.

“No,” He said, not giving you the opportunity to respond for yourself, “I didn’t. I expected you to be my good little girl, didn’t think that was unreasonable, usually so obedient for me.”

“M’sorry,” You pleaded, your hands continuing to struggle with the small buttons, “Didn’t mean to break the rules Sir, just frustrated.”

“Did I say you could talk at all?” He spat, “No, I didn’t now stop breaking the rules, don’t want you to apologize, just want you to be good for me. Now come over here and let me help you with your shirt, fucking pathetic aren’t you?”

Knowing the question was rhetorical you didn’t bother responding, instead just taking the invitation to inch yourself towards Remus until you were standing between his open legs, your fingers still shaking, not yet having abandoned the buttons you’d failed to undo.

“Your hands are so small,” Remus mused, lifting one of his to pry yours away from the material of your shirt, “How do you even get things done with these little things, oh right,” He tightened his grip on you, “You don’t. Need me to take care of everything for you, can’t even take off your shirt. S’that right baby?”

“Yes Sir,” You murmured.

“Let’s get this off of you,” It took him half the time to undo the rest of the buttons and get the shirt off you that it took you to undo one button. Remus’ pants got considerably tighter taking in your appearance, your breasts clad in his favorite color on you.

“I’d ask you to take off your skirt too but you need my help with that too don’t you puppy?”

You were quick to nod, desperately wanting to be naked as soon as possible knowing that the sooner Remus had access to your cunt the sooner you’d be feeling good.

Opposite to the civil, careful approach he took in ridding you of your shirt, Remus quite literally tore your skirt from your waist, leaving your skin stinging at the aggression of his act. A blush creeped up your neck as your cunt pulsed at his action, watching him inspect the ruined material.

“How can you even wear something this small? It's so small, so short. What does it even cover? I wouldn’t even fit one of my thighs.” Ironically he took the time to carefully fold the skirt and set it on his desk before pulling you even closer to his body by your waist as if you weighed nothing. He splayed his hand out against your lower stomach, frowning as he watched the skin of your belly disappear underneath it.

“So much prettier when I can see my cock inside of it, it's practically half your size puppy.”

“Want your cock Sir, please give me your cock,” You pleaded shamelessly, gripping at his forearms.

“Beg,” He ordered simply and unwaveringly.

Not missing a beat you did exactly as he asked, and you begged, “Please Sir, please give me your cock, I need your cock. Feel so empty without it. Please Sir, make me feel good. I’ve been a good girl I promise.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you bunny?”

“No Sir, I would never lie to you.”

“Good,” He nodded approvingly before swiftly pulling you down so that you were on your knees before him, “You look so pretty on your knees, so easy to get you there for me, so obedient,” He murmured affectionately brushing a finger delicately across your cheekbone which already felt warm erupted into flame at his touch.

Wordlessly he started on undoing his belt, the distinct clink of the metal sending shockwaves through your body, your mouth began watering as he undid his zipper, pulling both his trousers and boxers down slowly, allowing his hardening cock to spring out against his stomach.

You began to reach for his cock but quickly stopped yourself, looking up at him, blinking owlishly, “Sir, may I touch your cock?”

“Go ahead Puppy.”

As soon as he granted you permission you were on your calves, kneeling forward to take his cock in your hand which barely wrapped all the way around it, your fingertips only brushing each other as you pumped your hand up and down on his member.

“Maybe your hands are good for something,” Remus growled, “So tiny but they can still pump cock can’t they?” His harsh words were contrasted by his delicate touch as he brushed hair from your perspiring forehead. Then threading his long, slender fingers through your hair they anchored themselves at the back of your head, using his leverage he tilted your head upwards to make eye contact. “You gonna wrap those pretty lips around my cock Princess? Make me feel good?”

Your answer came as you leaned forward, his hand not even needing to guide you into motion. You peaked just the tip of your tongue out between your teeth to kitten lick the head of his cock, lapping over the slit feeling the grip on the back of your head tighten.

“Don’t tease me Puppy,” He warned lowly.

Taking his threat at face value you licked a broad stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing a distinct vein that thrummed under your oral muscle. Breathing in deeply you sucked the tip of his cock in between your lips, looking up at him you saw his eyes clenched closed as he tried to refrain from bucking his hips up into your mouth.

Working the entirety of his cock into your mouth you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, seeing that you were only half way down his now completely engorged member you willed your gag reflex to not get in the way of your mission as you forced him further down your throat. Feeling a few tears run down your face you wrapped your hands around the few inches that you couldn’t quite fit, working them up and down the sensitive, exposed skin.

“Such a good puppy,” He praised, “Taking my cock so far down your throat, can see it bulging in your throat. See,” He reached out, tracing his outline down your neck, “Right there, such a good little thing taking me in your mouth.”

As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, hollowing your cheeks Remus let out a pornographic moan, god you loved when he was vocal. The sounds of his groans and grunts spurred you on, daring you to take him deeper into your mouth until your nose was finally nestled in his happy trail, brushing against his pubic bone, saliva making a mess of your lower face.

“Gonna cum Puppy, gonna cum down your throat, and you’re gonna swallow it all up for me like a good girl.”

He was right, he was about to cum and you could feel his balls starting to tighten, wanting to get him there you moaned around his cock which was still resting deep in your throat, his movements chafing your vocal cords.

The vibrations of your moan sent Remus over the edge, causing him to buck uncontrollably into your mouth, triggering the gag reflex you’d been able to keep dormant up until then. As he came he let out a string of curses, allowing his head to tip backwards and rest languidly against the back of his chair.

You kept his cock in your mouth, swallowing each strand of cum he shot down your throat until he removed himself from you and letting his dick hang lazily in between his legs as he leaned down, melding his lips with yours.

“Did I make you feel good Sir, did I satisfy you?”

He let out a dry laugh, nodding his head slowly as he already began to recover from his orgasm. “Yes, puppy, made me feel really good.” To your bewilderment he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before turning his chair back towards his desk, leaving you, mouth agape, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn’t really going to leave you like this, was he?

You were too confused to notice the subtle smirk pulling at his lips, he knew exactly what he was doing. He really did want to make you feel good, you’d made him feel so amazing just moments earlier and he wanted to reward you for that. But he was going to make you ask, like the good girl he knew you were.

“Yes, bunny?” He lilted, picking up his quill and dipping it into his pot of ink.

“I-I thought you were going to make me feel good Sir?” You asked, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for release.

“Is that how we ask, bunny?”

“No, Sir, I’m sorry. Please make me feel good,” You corrected yourself.

“That’s better,” He murmured approvingly, pushing his chair back out from his desk where he abandoned his quill, smearing ink on a random paper.

With a flick of his wrist you were getting up off your knees, standing submissively before him, you could now feel your slick on the inside of your thighs.

“Over here Poppet, on my thigh.” He helped you straddle his bare thigh, causing you to gasp at the mere sensation of him between your legs.

“You wanna cum? Then you can cum on my thigh while I finish up these papers, then when I’m done, if you’ve been a good girl I’ll fuck your little pussy.”

“O-okay Sir,” You nodded, beginning to thrust yourself against his thigh, the ridges rubbing deliciously against your soaked clit. It practically killed you as he went back to his work, the sound of his quill scratching against parchment nothing compared to the sound of his grunts as he destroyed your cunt.

Remembering what was promised to you if you were a good girl and got yourself off on his thigh, you got back to work. Dragging your clit up and down his leg, you tortured yourself, not letting you go as fast as you desperately wanted to, knowing you’d get teased for being so needy and desperate.

Throwing your arms around his neck you picked up your pace and feeling pleasure boil in the pit of your belly you tried to suppress a moan, knowing that good girls wouldn’t distract their Sirs while they tried to do work while at the same time letting their sluts get off. But despite your best efforts a soft moan escaped your red, swollen lips.

“Keep quiet slut,” Remus scolded, the sound of quill to parchment not even pausing as he spoke to you, “Or you won’t get your reward.”

It was fate that you managed to remain quiet as you more closely approached your orgasm, you were so close the pleasure boiling in your stomach had you twitching as you shamelessly thrusted into Remus’ thigh, giving up on any pretenses of self control. You reached down to rub at your clit, desperate to tip over the edge of pleasure you were currently tip-toeing, but even while multitasking Remus was still the most observant person you’d ever met. Catching your hand before it ever made its way to your clit he squeezed it harshly.

“You know better than to touch what’s mine without asking Princess, come on slut, get yourself off on my thigh. You’re close, don’t even try to deny it.”

There was no correcting him as your climax washed over you at his command, sinking your teeth into his still clothed shoulder to muffle your scream as waves of pleasure crested through you, leaving you a shaking mess as cunt pulsed around nothing, still painfully empty.

You sighed, throwing your head onto Remus’ shoulder as he finally dropped his quill again and rested his hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly until coming to the clasp of your bra, expertly undoing it with one hand while the other anchored itself in your hair, pulling your head back to look you in the eyes.

“Aw, puppy don’t tell me you’re too fucked out already? Haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

“No, no Sir, m’not done, I can take more, I need more, please.” You begged unabashedly.

That was all Remus needed before hooking his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you up into his arms. Shifting your weight to one arm he used the other to swipe the contents of his desk onto the floor, paying the sound of shattering glass no mind as he dropped you onto the desk. Your clothed bum hitting the unforgiving wood.

“Look at you,” Remus murmured, leaning back to take in your appearance, bare tits on display for him, legs clenched together hiding your closed pussy from his view. Sliding his hands between your closed legs he forced them apart, you putting up no resistance making it an easy feat for the werewolf.

A simper graced his lips, now being able to take in the view of your clit, partially visible through the soaked material of your white panties.

“So wet,” He mocked, reaching out a single finger to gently massage your clit, “So wet and I haven’t even touched you. How pathetic.”

Without warning, just as he did with your skirt, he tore your panties off your body, slightly less impressive now that you’d already seen him do it with much more substantial fabric, but still enough to send another gush of wetness to your cunt.

Lifting your bum up from the desk you allowed him to slip the waste of fabric out from beneath you.

“You want me to fuck your cunt now puppy? You want my cock in you?” He taunted, pumping his hand up and down his cock, appraising your body, smiling as he took in his favorite sight in the world.

“Yes please Sir, need your cock, feel so empty without.”

“Course you do,” Quicker than you could comprehend what was happening Remus had abandoned his cock and instead had flipped you around so that your waist up pressed against the worn wood of the desk. You were forced to support yourself on your forearms as your legs dangled uselessly in the air, toes barely grazing the floor of his office. A chuckle in Remus’ low baritone sounded through the room, “So small your feet can’t even reach the floor, how adorable,” He accentuated his point with a slap to your arse, causing you to jolt forward.

“Sir,” You whined, “Please, I need you.”

“You think this little cunt can take my cock? So small, I might just break it.” He mused, pushing his index finger into you, smiling when your walls clenched around him.

“No Sir, I promise I can take it. I’ve taken it before.”

“That you have Poppet,” He agreed, positioning himself behind you, you gasped, feeling the head of his cock trace your clit before he pushed the entirety of his length into your quivering hole, watching as you greedily sucked in all 9 inches of him.

“Fuck!” You swore, Remus’ rule slipping your mind as you lost yourself in pleasure.

“Don’t be a naughty whore (Y/N),” He warned, “Told you not to swear, didn’t I?” He questioned as he began to thrust into you unforgivingly, gripping your hips to stabilize you on the desk as without it you were uselessly sliding against the desk.

“I’m sorry!” You screamed as pleasure began to overwhelm you, with so little break between your last orgasm and the current ministrations on your pussy you were a whimpering mess.

“You should be,” He growled, leaning over you, bracing himself on his forearms to whisper in your year, “M’so good to you, least you could do is follow my rules. They’re not that strict.”

“They’re not!” You agreed as the new position allowed him to hit a new place inside you, intensifying your pleasure tenfold, if that was even possible at this point.

Gripping your hips and lifting them up slightly Remus increased his bruising pace, the combined sensations of his cock inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit, and you upper body rubbing against the desk had your eyes rolling back in your head as the pleasure began to overwhelm you.

At this point you were being fucked so thoroughly and ruthlessly that your feet weren’t even grazing the floor anymore, instead they were limp, hitting against the front of Remus’ desk as he supported your weight in his hands.

Remus was able to stretch you out like no one ever had before, to the point where pleasure bordered pain and the line between the two blurred to the point where you weren’t even sure if you knew what day of the week it was.

“What a little slut, if anyone came in right now they’d see you getting fucked by your professor,” You moaned at Remus’ filthy words which went directly to your cunt. “You’d like that though, my little exhibitionist.” Another smack to your bum was delivered as Remus lifted your lips even further into the air to reach new depths inside you. “Always so hungry for my cock aren’t you? Can’t go a single day without me filling this cunt of yours, can you?”

Your response was swallowed by a moan as Remus sped up his thrusts as his cock started to twitch inside you, causing you to clench your pussy around him.

“I’m close Sir, may I cum?” You pleaded, your voice shaking with the effort it was taking you to keep your orgasm at bay.

“No,” He commanded through gritted teeth, “You’re not gonna cum until I say you can.”

“Ye-es, Sir.”

Remus growled as his thrusts stuttered, cumming inside you, rope after rope of thick cum painting your walls in his release. He stayed there inside you, leaning over you, your back pressed to his chest until he caught his breath.

Pulling out of you he smiled, watching his cum drip from your cunt, “So pretty,” he murmured pushing a finger inside you and with it his release.

“S-Sir?” You stuttered, not daring to move from your position until he said you could.

“Yes Puppy?”

“I didn’t cum.”

“You think I didn’t notice that? I’m not daft,” He shoved two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out viciously before completely pulling them out of your hole causing a pathetic whimper to escape your lips at the empty feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach where your pleasure still simmered.

“Feel so empty without something in there don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Get yourself up to my bedroom and when I get up there after I finish these last few papers I’ll make you cum over and over again Puppy.” With a light swat to your bum he zipped himself back into his pants but you were too desperate to move. “Now, before I change my mind.”

That got you up off his desk, darting up the stairs to his room where you laid dutifully on his bed, waiting for his arrival.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x student reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin golden trio era #marauders x reader #maraduers smut #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic

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lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years

Text

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

#poseidon x reader #thor x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #snv thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #snv thor x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok thor x reader #poseidon x reader x thor #snv poseidon x reader x snv thor

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

Text

When The World Knows Peace

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x afab!reader

Wc: 1.6k

Cw(s): SMUT, unprotected sex, sex in a forest, sappy love, oral sex (reader receiving), prolly typos (tell me if it sucks ass)

Summary: The world may know a fleeting moment of peace when lovers embrace

Masterlist

Many a moon-many a generation- had passed before the lovers met under the moonlight once more. Their souls had been connected since the dawn of time, always drawn to each other, always in yearning for the other, and never complete lest the souls find each other once more.

It is said that their very souls were once one, until the Gods' tore them from one another; to damn the lovers to an eternal plight to once again be whole.

Their tale had existed in many different tongues, a legend of time, a legend of persistence. Twas for naught, as the children whose ears the tale fell upon laughed - for, how true may true love really be?

Yet, each time the souls rejoin, the onlookers-whom had grown from the children who laughed- were marked as indisputably mistaken. Only fools may look upon the souls intertwined and still beg the question how true may true love really be?

In the expanse of the many eons, the souls had taken many a form; each with a different face, doctrine, and colour. Be that as it may, none were to be more beautiful in the eyes of one half than their counterpart. Each visage had the other swooning at first sight, feeling the everlasting pull of fate to their other half.

There were lifetimes where the clock ticked much too speedily, and the lovers were once more damned to a life of separation and settling.

But not this one.

Now, as the lovers lay in the forest, they loved, they loved, and they loved, as if this may be the last lifetime they may spend together.

"Happy three years, Baby," Jake whispered to you. A deep blush spread from your sternum to the upper-most tips of your ears. Somehow, despite having been in love with him for three years now, even the simplest of words from Jake could have the blood rushing through your veins at mach speed. The beautiful boy beside you chuckled, brushing his rough thumb over your cheek. "Awe, you still get all flustered around me."

"I'm going to punch you in the mouth," you laughed, placing you hand over his. Jake smiled contently, gazing at your beguiling face. "Y'know how we went to that really fancy restaurant on our first year?" Jake nodded. "And to Vancouver on our second?"

"If this is about how our third is low budget and-"

"I like this one the best," you finished with a snicker. Jake rolled his eyes with a certain sass.

"So we spent all that money only for you to be happier with a blanket and a forest?" He grinned. You laughed, propping your head up with one hand, resting the other on his chest. Jake smiled up at you, "Well I'm glad my idea is the best one."

Leaning lower, you brushed your nose across his, gaining a low chuckle from your counterpart. "You're an asshole," is all you said before closing the gap between your lips and his.

While your one hand traveled up to cup the lower part of Jake's face, his hand came over and rested upon your side. Still, you shivered at the touch, his fingertips seeming to strike lightning to each cell in your body.

"Baby, I love you - you know that, yeah?" Jake mumbled, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second.

You couldn't suppress the smile. "I know that, Jakey. I've always known - just like you've always know of my love for you."

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you," he spoke lowly.

"The Temptress. Slick."

Jake came back up to rejoin your lips, for he could never satiate the need of your own upon his. The overwhelming feeling of passion engulfed you both, bathed in the light of the Pale Lady Moon above, while shrouded by the dark green of the foliage.

Pushing you back on the blanket, Jake deepened the kiss so that there may be no doubt of his love for you. The feeling of utmost devotion was palpable to even the animals passing by.

Grasping the ever-so soft locks of his hair, your fingers got lost in the maze of his scalp, bringing him infinitely more close. Jake's hands roamed your body as if he were savouring the moment, though this was not the first nor the last he'd ever caress your sweet form. One hand drifted from the curvature of your frame to lift your thigh, effectively wrapping your leg around his waist.

The tight prison of Jake's jeans brushed against your own as you could feel the warmth of arousal dampening your underwear. With a small tug on the roots of his hair, Jake groaned, relishing in the pleasure just your simple touch could bring him.

For a moment, you broke the kiss, as for both you and Jake to strip your shirts. The cool night air nipped at your skin, but you could practically imagine steam rolling off the two of you. Jake began to kiss from your jaw, to your clavicle, leaving the smallest bites and the sloppiest kisses down the territory of your neck. The hands fondled your newly exposed chest, making your nails drag down his back when he began to pinch and twist one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb.

"Jesus, Jakey," you sighed in pleasure.

Your comment only spurred the guitar player further, becoming more rough with your breasts. He opted to attach his lips to your chest, while beginning to toy with your unoccupied nipple. His teeth grazed your tender skin, making you putty in the palm of his hand.

"You torture me, y'know," you respired as Jake began to make his trail further down your torso. The lowly laughter of Jakey only sent vibrations from your stomach to the spot he was most anxious to meet.

His dark eyes met yours, looking at you in the most sinful way. "It'd be no fun if I didn't." As he spoke, his fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans, removing them from your legs entirely, to join with your shirts, in a pile long forgotten. The pressure you felt against your core was still clothed by your soaked underwear, making your boyfriend hum, "You're always so wet for me."

"And you're always rock hard for me," you responded, letting your calf graze his raging erection. Jake smiled as he came into connect with your clit, sending a shiver up your spine. You couldn't resist the low moan that came from your lips, "Please, Jakey."

"As you wish."

With a swift snap, your panties were removed from you, leaving you fully exposed to a man you fully trusted. He leaned further down, letting his warm breath fan your weeping heat. Flattening his tongue, he collected your juices on his tongue, reveling in your sweet taste. You let out a groan as Jake began lapping up your arousal with his tongue, having it like ambrosia.

"You taste amazing," he whispered. His tongue came into contact with your clit; abusing the bundle of nerves while his fingers found home inside of you. The sounds you made were pornographic as Jake decided to begin sucking your sensitive spot.

It wasn't far after that you could feel the nerves begin to collect in the pit of your stomach. The fingers that carded in his hair became unorganized, and Jake knew that was his sign to stop.

You gave him a look of betrayal as he began undressing the rest of himself. "Tortuous."

"As wonderful as you taste, Baby," Jake said, coming back on top of you. He tilted your head with his fingers gently, leaning in closer. "You know I love it when you cum on my cock. Who am I to deprive you of that pleasure?"

"God, you're so right."

You attacked his lips feverishly as Jake began to slowly fill you to the brim. The kiss stopped you from making too loud of a sound, but it was unavoidable.

His thrusts were slow and methodical, finding your g-spot. Once the soft tissue was found, Jake began ensuring he hit it every time. With every hitch in your breath and every vibration sent down his throat, Jake came closer and closer to his own undoing.

"Jakey, I'm really - ah - really close," you whimpered.

"Me too. I'm right behind you," he grunted, his thrusts becoming less and less methodical, yet more and more animalistic.

The bundle of nerves in your stomach finally burst, causing your legs to spasm and your walls to clench around the cause that was buried deep inside. Feeling the wave of orgasm wash over you, Jake was quick to follow, shooting his warm seed deep inside of you.

After a few more weak thrusts, Jake slipped out of you, flopping next to you on the blanket. You looked over at him, but Jake was already looking at you.

"Even after three years, you can still fuck me like no one else," you laughed. Jake busted a ragged smile as his chest heaved, trying to absorb every bit of oxygen he could get.

"I'll never get tired of you, Y/n," he told you. You smiled, getting bashful again. "Even when we're old and grey, I'll be right by your side, still taking you to plays and still playing you every song you want to hear."

"I'd want nothing more."

The two of you joined for one more kiss, this one oozing with passion and love. And for a moment, the world was still, and all that mattered was this moment.

The Gods let it be so, that when the souls shall be connected once more, enthralled in the other's embrace, the world would know peace, if not just for a fleeting moment.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #jake gvf #gvf one shot #gvf #fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet #x reader #oneshot #one shot

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inumakilovemail · 3 years

Text

Description: For the fifth time this week Okkotsu Yuuta wakes up at three am and realizes he might be on love with his wife, forgetting completely that they've been married for five years and have a two year old daughter.

Genre: Fluff, Slightest bit of crack (i used one of those person a prompts as inspiration for this)

Author’s Note: hello my name is cee and i’m back on my loving okkotsu yuuta train. @aliteama talked about dad!yuuta and baby okkotsu got her name from ali too, she suggested hoshi bc baby okkotsu is yuuta’s star while yuuta’s wife is his moon and i was sobbing when she told me that.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭☆

Okkotsu Yuuta is, undoubtedly, a man of simple pleasures. He likes easy missions where he doesn’t spend too much time away from his family. He likes making breakfast for his family. He likes to pinch himself when his wife smiles her blinding sun smile at him to make sure this is real and not a dream.

So, when he wakes up at three am on a Saturday from a dream about [Y/N], he’s dumbfounded with the realization that he’s in love with her. Head still muddled with sleep, he turns his body to gaze intently at her.

“Yuuta...?” A sleepy voice sounds out when the beauty that voice belongs to blinks open her sleepy eyes before sitting up. “What wrong...?” Concern floods her visage and Yuuta smiles sheepishly at her.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The admission makes her collapse on her back. “Yuuta, you’re killing me.” Her voice is weak and her shoulders are shaking before she grips the pillow and hits him with it “We have been married for five years and we have a two year old daughter.” She deadpans at him with unamused eyes.

“I know, it’s still unbelivable.” He murmurs, tugging the pillow away from her. “It feels like just yesterday you were laughing at me for being beaten by Maki.” He smiled at her and she softened.

“Mommy...? Daddy...?” A tearful child’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. Yuuta jumps up from the bed and you follow quickly behind.

The door opens to reveal a tearful black haired child. “Oh, Hoshi. What’s wrong?” You coo as your daughter as Yuuta picks her up.

“I had a bad dream, couldn’t find mommy or daddy.” Her bottom lip trembles and Yuuta runs his hand through her hair as you press a kiss to her cheek.

“Mommy and Daddy are right here, little star...” Yuuta whispers softly to her, as if afraid to speak louder. “Why don’t we all sleep together tonight.”

“Okay.” She nods and you smile and press a last kiss to her cheek before heading towards the bed.

Hoshi lays in the middle, clutching onto both of her parents hands. “Night Mommy. Night Daddy.”

“Goodnight Hoshi.” You both say at once and you smile at Yuuta before laying down fully.

“Sleep well, Yuuta.” You say while smiling at him and following your daughter into a blissful sleep.

Yuuta blinks away the sleep from his eyes as to watch his two favorite girls a little longer.

A happy wife and daughter equals a happy Yuuta after all.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu #dad!yuuta makes me want to cry so badly #ALI THIS IS FOR U #heart drabbles

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minteagalaxea · 2 years

Text

in hac vita | s.m

mezou and kazahana

genre: 3 cups angst, 2 cups fluff, 5 cups fantasy/myth

word count: 1.5k

inspiration: “ 无华 “ by jane zhang and liu yuning from the legend of fei

note: one of my shorter works, but i’m super happy with it. i really enjoyed playing around with it.

legend has it that there was a king of the sea, who was feared by all in his kingdom for his beastly appearance, with the mouth of a monster and more tentacles than an octopus. he was a noble man of elegance, yet his heart ached, consumed with loneliness and the desire for connection, any connection at all.

his kingdom resided deep in the ocean, intentionally secluded from the rest of his fearful subjects, yet it always glowed with light at its darkest, illuminating his realm in the darkness in a way that set his heart ablaze, gentle in intention and inviting in warmth. one night, where the onyx oceans seemed to possibly glow even brighter than before, the king dared to leave his realm, venturing to the surface to search and thank whoever flooded the depths of his worl with crystalline light.

the king’s rise to the surface stunned him, the brightness unfiltered as he stared directly at its source, bewildered at her warmth and laughter, the way she twirled and danced with the way she hung on the moon. though, in his eyes of calm tempests, that depiction appeared tragically inaccurate and an injustice to the reality of it all—she was playing, a carefreeness to her movements as her legs wrapped around the end of the crescent she rested on, her hands reaching down to touch his face as he dared to venture closer and closer to her, letting her hands brush his fearsome visage with a delicate reverence in her bright eyes of starglow.

“are you not afraid of me?” the king asked, daring to graze her tresses, her eyes fluttering shut at his hand, before blinking with a content smile.

“should i be?” the woman jested in kind, soft and gentle gestures never ceasing.

“i’ve been told that i have the appearance of a monster,” the man explained, shying away from her touch and evading her eyes, though she persisted, a mirthful smile on her face.

“i’ve never believed in monsters.”

he visited her on a more frequent basis following her words, admiring and keeping her company to stave off some of the loneliness, constantly reaching towards her hands to feel a bit of her cold skin, allowing her to concentrate her nocturnal energy into something calmer, earning mellifluous giggles into his ears and croons of affection, her rocky vessel always expressing her innermost emotions as it constantly blushed pink with his presence.

the king allowed the sweet deity of the moon to let him feel like he was flying, the bare end of his tentacles touching the ocean, and in turn, he granted her the simple pleasures of swimming and letting her skin touch something as mundane as water, fondness glowing in his dark eyes as he saw the way her expression blinked and morphed upon her skin touching the cold water, the temperature shocking her, though his touch kept her warm and content.

the moon goddess kissed her oceanic lover on such a night, her eyes twinkling with stars as she leaned down, silently requesting for permission. upon the king granting such a wish, she pressed her lips against his, her pale hands carding through his dark locks as the man twirled a strand of her white hair with gentle hands, every caress promising something akin to eternity underneath a pink moon and in tranquil waters.

hunters always enjoyed killing for sport, the promise of glory and fuel for their egos too enticing to pass up the opportunity; perhaps it was for this that the god of the sea, king of the oceans was the pinnacle of it all.

the king went about in his demure, modest manner, roaming and inspecting the developments of his domain in the daylight, reveling in the way the sun god’s rays drifted and warmed his glacial skin, greeting his subjects dutifully. in his moment of conversing with one, his keen ears perk up at the sound of a boat, followed by another and another. despite the waves rippling, he could make out the points of harpoons easily enough, a shiver erupting through his spine as he examined the situation.

in a fit of fiery protectiveness, the king summoned up the most portentous of tempests, meant to lead the humans astray—somehow, they persisted through it all, in spite of the raging storm and warnings to fend away from the king’s people. the mere humans forced the monarch to rise to the surface, determination glowing in his eyes as the water reflected their glow.

yet, as much as the king of the sea attempted to thwart the hunters’ efforts, he succumbed to their relentless barrage, with one mortal’s spear piercing straight through his heart with a carnal smirk as the king fell, the other mortals claiming his body to flaunt their victory.

the moon goddess heard her lover’s scream first, with her first instinct being to desperately search for him, diving into the depths of the ocean to find the ruler, her fingers balling into furious fists and agony painted her features when she couldn’t.

her anger went unrestrained, channeling her energy to dim the light of the moon itself, plunging the sky into a black, guideless abyss as she threatened to maintain the sky to this state until the mortals recovered the king’s corpse; the mortals obeyed, searching frantically for the deity in wake of her unadulterated vexation.

the total darkness lasted for days, the humans further descending into chaos, madness, and despair as they searched for the deceased king, no amount of fire and man-made light a sufficient replacement for the goddess’ gift. it was during one of these nights, however, the goddess’ rage reached its pinnacle as she thrusted upon them the bloodied, mangled hunters at their feet, starlit eyes as frigid as the waters of the ocean without its ruler, and her vessel as vermilion as their blood, a promise for the decimation of villages if they could not fulfill the simple request.

when they brought his body to her, at a beach where the sand was pristinely white, the white-haired woman descended from her own realm, what was her heart shattering into iotas of pieces as she held the king of the sea in her arms, her starlight tears soaking into his skin as she lamented the loss of her lover, feeling the way his body slowly disintegrated into the seafoam he was born from.

the moon would regress in its glow in her grief and brighten in her happier moods, though never as bright as that of when she had her king—the light would never again reach down to the palace where the monarch resided.

two people stood in front of the painting: two lovers, one of seafoam, the other of stardust, clutching at each other’s hands in the middle of a dark ocean, the dark blues of his contrasting the whites of hers.

“the story was tragic, wasn’t it?” the boy inquired, turning to face the girl; his white hair stood stark against his skin, a teal mask muffling his voice.

“i suppose, but i think that there’s beauty in it; she fell in love with him beyond his appearance,” the girl commented in kind, her long black ponytail swishing to reveal her angular face, framed by her two long strands of white.

“it was the first story that i thought resonated with me,” the boy explained, a tentacle off of his webbed arm speaking in his mouth’s stead.

unperturbed by the appendage conversing with her, she glanced up at him, arms crossed, “i suppose i was the same. it was a nice form of escapism, since i fancied her to be a trapeze artist...a circus freak of sorts like me.”

“i can agree with the former, since i’ve been told that i have a monstrous appearance and the like, hence the mask.”

“monsters aren’t born, they’re made, in my opinion,” the girl rebutted with palpable insouciance, craning her head to scrutinize the features of his she could see, “and even then, i’ve never believed in monsters.”

black eyes met mint ones as the two properly glanced at one another unwaveringly, the girl clad in all black, and the boy in shades of forest greens and sea blues, before the boy inquired cautiously, “forgive me for asking this, but…have we met before?”

“i don’t think so, yet, you seem so familiar, i don’t know why,” she replied, trepidation evident in her answer, arms crossed in front of her stomach as her orbs flitted to the ground.

the white-haired boy extended his hand for her to take, eyes gently beckoning her to look at him, forcing himself to speak without the use of his appendage, “i’m shoji mezo.”

the girl clasped it, an unreadable glow in her own as she met his gaze with a newfound assertion, a small, equally inscrutable smile on her countenance, “hisakawa kazahana.”

#bnha #shoji mezo #shouji mezou #mezo shoji #mha shoji #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha fic #bnha scenarios #shoji x reader #bnha x reader #shoji x oc #bnha x oc

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