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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: Your job nannying for the Targaryens takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: 18+ (explicit sex, oral fem receiving, fingering), slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, language

word count: 4.0k

note: part 2, it's about to get spicy in here! I hope you enjoy!

Days go by like you’re living in a dream. You’ve fallen into a solid routine with the boys, ushering them out to the school in the morning, and taking them to the park (mostly to gossip with Shae). You can’t help the gnawing feeling inside you, waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s almost been a month and you’re still around. As Shae said, previously unheard of.

“They’ve got some wedding this weekend,” Shae says waving to one of the kids.

You’re sitting on your usual bench with her, sipping on a hot drink, rocking Joffrey’s carriage with your foot slightly. He’s out cold, snuggled up with his favorite plushie, a soft dragon egg. You raise an eyebrow at Shae.

“A wedding sounds fun!” you tell her.

“There'll be some drama, that’s for sure,” she teases, “I’ll have plenty of gossip to spill when we get back.”

“If I’m still here,” you joke, causing her to frown.

“It’s still going well though, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it's literally perfect,” you tell her, “though I feel like I’m walking on eggshells now.”

“Keep your head up, you’re doing great,” Shae says, rubbing your shoulder.

You glance at your phone, noticing the time.

“Shoot, I should get them home,” you tell Shae, calling to the boys.

Jace and Luke bound over to you. You hand them their jackets, helping Luke with his. He enjoys the extra attention as you zip him up. Luke is such a little love. He thanks you, and you wave goodbye to Shae, heading back to the highrise. It was such a nice day you decided to walk to the park not far from the Targaryen home.

Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t present when you arrive, though the home office door is shut so you assume Rhaenyra is finishing her day. You sit the boys at the counter in the kitchen, plating the dinner that has been prepared by the chef. You lean against the counter, joining them.

“I don’t like peas,” Luke says, pushing them about his plate.

“They’re better if you mix them with your mashed potatoes,” you tell him.

Jace reaches over to Luke’s plate, swirling his fork in his mashed potatoes and gathering some peas on his plate. Luke lets his elder brother, before scooping the mix onto his fork and shoving it into his mouth.

“Much better,” he says through a bite, causing you to smile.

The front door opens then, and Daemon walks into the kitchen, phone against his ear.

“Then we’re going to have to figure this out,” he says roughly, to whomever he’s on the phone with.

He smiles at the boys, before continuing his conversation. Daemon sounds stressed, and you think it's best to remove yourself and the boys from the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the theater room,” you tell them, clearing their places, “and give daddy some space.”

Daemon wasn’t paying attention before, lost in his conversation with his partner, but you have his attention now. His violet eyes meet yours and you feel a blush begin to warm your cheeks. Daemon smirks slightly, before returning to his conversation.

You hope you haven’t put your foot in your mouth. You take the evening to yourself after the boys go to bed. A bottle of champagne with a silver bow was left in your bathroom as you returned to your room for the evening. Rhaenyra is too kind to you. You pop the bottle and pour yourself a glass, settling into a soothing bubble bath.

Long after your soak, as you’re reading in bed, a soft knock comes to your door. You had just reached a rather spicy chapter, your mind completely entranced in the text, lower lip caught between your teeth. You jump slightly at the knock, before opening the door and revealing Rhaenyra.

Her silver hair is flowing freely over her shoulders and she wears a red silk pajama set. She smiles at you.

“Hey, Rhaenyra,” you say, feeling warm from the champagne.

“I just wanted to apologize for being so absent today,” she tells you, “work just got away from me.”

“There’s no problem at all,” you tell her, shaking your head, “seriously, it’s what I’m here for.”

Rhaenyra smiles.

“Daemon and I wanted to offer you tomorrow evening off. Laena has agreed to take the boys for a sleepover, and we figured you deserved a night off,” she tells you.

“Thank you so much,” you tell her, unable to stop yourself, “seriously, you’re so thoughtful with the gifts, and now the day off- I really appreciate the kindness.”

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow slightly at the mention of gifts, but you don’t really notice. You’re too lost in the sparkle of her violet eyes, her playful smile, and the way her eyes flicker around your face. She watches you with such rapt attention it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

“We really like you,” she tells you, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your lips part, and you cannot help but let your gaze fall on hers. Pink, plump, and waiting. You blink rapidly. She’s your boss.

“We would really like to keep you,” she tells you, “So we like that you’re happy.”

She strokes your cheek a final time before pulling away.

“Enjoy tomorrow night, have fun, and go out!” she tells you.

As she turns her eyes flicker to the champagne bottle, the half-full glass. She smirks.

“Enjoy the gift,” she tells you, bidding you goodnight.

You leap back onto your bed as she leaves, rummaging in your nightstand drawer. Your hand finds your vibrator immediately. Surely, fantasizing about your boss isn’t bad? I mean, you’re only human after all. It takes a couple of rounds before you’re finally able to find sleep.

The next evening you call your best friend, letting her know you’re free. She’s more than excited that you finally have a break. You decide on a pretty fancy club, for drinks and dancing. A much-needed night with your friends. A short silk dress clings to you, the perfect going-out dress. You’re wearing your favorite heels, strappy black ones that creep up your calves.

You’re having a good time, a couple of drinks in when you notice a flash of silver. Daemon Targaryen is there, clad in his signature suit, with rings on his fingers catching in the light. You turn quickly as his head turns your way, tapping your best friend.

“I’m getting another drink!” you tell her above the music, heading toward the bar.

You lean against it, putting in your drink order, trying to steady your nerves. You take a sip from your drink as someone comes up beside you. You know it's him before you look, from the smell of his cologne paired with some expensive cigars. You’ve heard Rhaenyra scold him for smoking but know he does it anyway when out with his investors.

“I can go somewhere else,” you tell him.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer, clearly flustered, all batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

Daemon wants to devour you whole. Leave nothing behind. Trailing you across the club and over to the bar has made him feel like a predator chasing its prey; his cock hard in his pants.

“I just imagine you don’t want to see your au pair when you’re trying to have a night out,” you tell him, nervously licking your lips.

Daemon watches you, taking a sip from his drink.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daemon murmurs, leaning closer, “in fact, it’s nice to see you having fun and enjoying yourself.”

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, he’s your boss. You really like working for them, working with the boys and you really like Rhaenyra. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Thank you again,” you tell him, moving away a bit, “for the night off. It’s really nice of you.”

Daemon nods, noticing your retreat. You glance at the section of the club your friends stand in, they wave at you, beckoning you over.

“I should go,” you tell Daemon.

“Behave yourself,” Daemon tells you, “and have fun. I’ll see you at home.”

You can’t stop the jolt of pleasure that lands between your legs at his tone. You nod, not trusting your voice, and make your way over to your friends.

“Who was that Daddy you were talking to?” your friend asks, eyes wide.

“Girl!” you hiss, “That’s my boss.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she cranes her neck to get a better look.

“How do you even work, with all that walking around?” she asks.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“You should see his wife,” you tell her, blushing.

She squeals.

“Dirty girl! How do I get your job?” she whines and you laugh some more.

The evening is spent drinking and dancing, harmless fun. Daemon remains in the VIP section, lounging on a couch, sipping his whiskey while conversing with colleagues. His eyes remain on you throughout the evening, keeping you under a watchful eye. You catch him looking several times, a thrill running through you each time you do. It’s harmless fun, right? You’re not actually doing anything.

As you’re dancing with your friends you feel a hand snake it's way around your waist and you turn, meeting the eyes of a man with dark curls and warm brown eyes.

“Hey there sexy,” he murmurs, not removing his hand.

He’s cute. You blush, flattered by the attention.

“Um hello?” you say, eyes flickering to his hand on your waist before giggling.

“I’m Quoren Martell,” he tells you, continuing to dance with you.

You tell him your name, enjoying his boldness. You converse with him for a while, and let him buy you another drink. He’s charming and goes out of his way to make you laugh. Quoren Martell is just what you need to get this thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon out of your system. You’re just desperately horny, and a one-night stand will cure that.

“You want to get out of here?” Quoren murmurs in your ear, “Head back to mine? I have a spectacular collection of streaming services, all the movies and shows you can dream of.”

“Oh really,” you say chuckling, “you want to watch a movie with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you,” he answers honestly.

“Let me just run to the bathroom, and let my friends know,” you tell him, smiling.

You are pushed by people in the club and find your best friend in the bathroom, fixing her makeup in the mirror.

“I’m going home with that guy, Quoren,” you tell her.

She groans, giving you a quick hug.

“What about your sexy boss?” she asks, pouting.

“Haha,” you tell her rolling your eyes, “I love you, you good?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she says smiling, “have fun, be safe, and leave your location on please.”

“Always,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

You walk out the door and down the hallway, heading back toward the music, when a figure walks toward you in the opposite direction. You expect them to keep walking by you, but suddenly hands are on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. You gasp, looking up at the stranger’s face, startled. There’s only a second to realize who it is before he slams his lips to yours.

Daemon.

His mouth is warm and demanding as his tongue splits your lips apart before darting into your mouth. You moan as his hands squeeze the meat of your ass, pressing you closer against him. Dameon brings one hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrap around him, nails dragging against the expensive fabric of his suit.

Daemon releases your lips, tugging on your lower one harshly with his teeth before bringing his attention to your neck. Whimpers leave your lips and you thrash against him desperately. You can feel him hot, and hard against you- holy shit he’s huge.

It’s enough to rip you from your thoughts previously clouded by lust and you push against him, wiggling out of his grip. Oh no, oh nonononono.

Daemon lets you go, though a surprised expression is on his face as you flee away from him down the hallway.

Shit.

You’ve ruined everything.

You’re going to get fired. Maybe slapped. Probably both.

Oh no, Rhaenyra.

You hope you can somehow make it back to the highrise before Daemon and explain yourself. Your leg nervously taps in your Uber and you fly out of the car once it stops in front of the building. You push by the doorman and stress the entire elevator ride.

You don’t bother to remove your heels, running straight for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s room, crashing through the door. Rhaenyra is seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. She looks up as you enter, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Darling-”

“I need to talk to you,” you gasp, “right now, I- Rhaenyra I am so sorry.”

She gets up, embracing you as tears leave your eyes. You hate that you’ve probably hurt her. She seats you on the bed, sitting next to you, stroking your hair as you tell her what happened.

“I would never, ever want to betray your trust,” you tell her, “I love this job, I love working for you so much, and this will never happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, holding your face in her palms, wiping away your tears with her thumbs.

Your eyes search her face, trying to gauge her feelings, but her expression gives nothing away. Like always, you can’t help but look at her lips, so pink and rosy and begging to be kissed. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker to yours quickly and you blink. Surely, you’re now seeing things.

But then she leans forward.

Her lips are just as soft as you have imagined, and you let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment, before pulling away just as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You gasp, standing up from the bed, trembling.

“Well,” a voice says, causing you to turn.

Daemon leans in the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Getting started without me?” he says, loosening his tie.

Rhaenya makes a clicking sound with her tongue, reaching to grab your hand. You look at her in confusion.

“It seems you were getting started without me,” she purrs, tugging you closer.

Daemon throws his tie on the bed, moving to loosen his cufflinks.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tells Rhaenyra, “I had to do something, did she tell you the whole truth of it?”

“What?” you say, now thoroughly confused.

“Ah,” Daemon says, shaking his head, “See? She’s trouble, I told you.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell them, feeling Rhaenyra stroke the back of your hand.

“She was being a little tease,” Daemon says, ignoring your statement, “about to go home with some silly little boy.”

His words sting. For some reason, you feel embarrassment flood through you. Rhaenyra looks up at you, noticing your pout. She places her hands on your waist.

“We’ve been interested in you for quite some time now,” she tells you, rubbing circles against your hips, “and we believe you’re interested as well.”

Oh shit.

They know you’ve been thinking about them. Both of them. Your eyes flicker between the two of them.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What did I tell you about being sorry?” Rhaenyra scolds, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We just need to know. Do you want us, baby?”

This is not happening.

“She asked you a question,” Daemon tells you impatiently.

Rhaenyra gives him a stern look before her gaze softens as it returns to you.

“I’m not…” you pause, trying to wrap your brain around the situation, “I’m not losing my job?”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly.

“No dearest,” she answers, “we very much wish to keep you, sweet girl.”

You look between them once more.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

Rhaenyra purrs happily, like a pleased kitten. She pulls you between her legs, grabbing your ass with both hands. She captures your lips in a kiss once more.

“We should be punishing her,” Daemon scolds as Rhaenyra pulls you closer.

“Hush you,” she says to Daemon, as she begins to kiss your neck, “She didn’t know she did something bad.”

“Then she’ll learn for next time,” Daemon says, watching closely.

You whimper at her touch, as one of her hands snakes up your back to the zipper of your dress. She drags the zipper down, letting the silky material pool at your feet. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow for one, so your breasts hang heavy and needy, nipples pebbling as the air touches them.

Rhaenyra drags her hands up your sides and you bite your lip, trembling under her touch.

“Don’t be so cruel, my love,” she scolds Daemon, “not during our first time. We must be gentle with new toys.”

Her hands reach your breasts and she massages the soft mounds in her hands, eliciting a moan from you. Daemon walks closer, you can feel him pressing in behind you as Rhaenyra takes your right nipple into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the hardened peak. She sucks the puckered bud hard and you arch your back into her.

You feel Daemon’s lips caress the side of your neck and your lips part as you tilt your head to allow him better access. Rhaneyra moves her mouth’s attention to your other breast as Daemon sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, flinging your hand back and grabbing a fistful of his silver hair, the other hand gripping Rhaenyra’s head against your breast.

She laughs against you as Daemon’s hands move to your panties, dragging the lace material down your legs. The noises you’re making are obscene already at their attention and Rhaenyra releases your nipple with a wet pop.

“Needy little thing you are,” she murmurs, dragging her hand across your dripping folds, “and so wet already.”

Daemon has crouched beside you, hands on the straps of your heels.

“Leave those,” Rhaenyra tells him, “I like them on her.”

You feel her slender finger teasing at your entrance, and Daemon lifts your leg, spreading you wide in front of Rhaenyra.

“I want to see this pretty cunt of yours,” she tells you, curling a finger inside of you.

Your hands dig into her shoulders, your mouth falling open as she slips a second finger inside, slowly curling them against your silky walls. The pleasure blooms in your abdomen like a rose stretching toward the sun.

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Daemon says, before capturing your lips in a kiss as Rhaenyra continues curling her fingers inside your pussy.

She merely chuckles at Daemon.

“Oh I will, hmm?” she teases, “I’m not the one who’s been leaving her special treats. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sneaking around at all hours, thinking I won’t know.”

Daemon’s hand moves to your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away.

“Are you angry with me?” Daemon asks her, as Rhaenyra dips forwards, circling her tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you moan, thrashing against her mouth, against his hands that hold you firmly in place.

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra says, answering him, ignoring your plea with another small lick of your clit, “She’s been so good to us, she deserves it.”

Daemon’s hand travels from your neck to toy with your breasts as your orgasm creeps nearer with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, every flick of her tongue. It’s all too much and suddenly you’re crying out, clenching around her fingers, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling girl,” Rhaenyra praises, removing her fingers from your center.

Daemon flips you on your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his massive cock, as he fists it in his hand. The flushed tip is weeping, anxious to split you open. You nervously glance at Rhaenyra who strokes some hair from your face.

“He’ll be gentle, sweet girl, won’t you, my love?” Rhaenyra says, stroking your face.

Daemon drags his cock along your sopping folds, from your entrance up to your clit. He taps the sensitive button with his fat tip, chuckling as you squirm from the sensation.

“For tonight, at least,” he says, watching his cock spread your folds once more.

Daemon presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. You moan at the stretch his cock gives you before you are silenced by Rhaenyra’s fingers in your mouth. You suckle them, gazing into her eyes as Daemon presses your thighs into the mattress, spreading you wide. The sleek black materials of your heels catch the light as he begins to thrust into you.

You whimper around Rhaenyra’s fingers as his cock splits into you so deliciously, Rhaenyra whispering sweet praises into your ear all the while.

“Fuck you feel fantastic,” Daemon groans, rolling his hips.

Rhaenyra removes her fingers from your mouth, trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach to play with your clit. You moan as her nimble fingers circle your clit, a juxtaposition to the hard thrusts Daemon gives you.

“Such a good girl,” Daemon praises, “She should put that pretty mouth to better use Nyra.”

He swats away Rhaenyra’s hand, replacing it with his own, large fingers pinching at your clit. It’s rougher than Rhaenyra’s touch but you find yourself twitching against him at the pleasure it gives you. Rhaenyra rises from the bed, riding herself off her bottoms before crawling up toward your face. She straddles it, lowering her dripping cunt onto your mouth.

You greedily part her soaked lips with your tongue, nose nuzzling against soft silver curls to nudge at her clit. You dip your tongue inside her, relishing the taste of her, the sound of the soft moans that leave her lips. Your tongue explores every inch of her, pressing into different places that elicit more pretty sounds, more desperate grinds against your face. Your chin is dripping with her as you suckle her clit.

“She’s a delight,” Rhaenyra moans and Daemon angles his hips, thrusting against a spot that paints stars behind your eyelids.

You moan against Rhaenyra’s sweet cunt, burying your tongue inside her, stiffening it so she can swirl her hips around it. As her moans reach a new pitch you know she must be close. Eager to please you lap at her greedily, bringing all your attention to her clit until she’s trembling on your face.

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra croons, “Daemon, be sweet to her.”

Daemon snaps his hips against you and Rhaenyra leans down, pressing her tongue against your clit as the head of Daemon’s cock rubs against your spongy walls. The pleasure is too much and you’re cumming once more, clenching around Daemon's fat cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and finishing on your stomach.

Rhaenyra pulls herself off of you, and Daemon releases your legs. Your heels are still on, the feeling of being naked with just them on is strange. Daemon walks to the bathroom and you hear him start to fill the tub before he returns with a towel. He gently cleans you, as Rhaenyra draws shapes on your stomach with your fingers.

“We’d like it very much if you stayed, darling,” Rhaenyra tells you, “the children adore you. We adore you.”

She places a kiss on your shoulder. You want nothing more than to stay with them. Both of them.

“I want to stay. With you. Both of you,” you tell her, and she smiles.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“As am I,” Daemon agrees.

______________________________________________________________

note: hope you enjoyed! as always, comments, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your thought! until next time, ily!💖

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fonteyn · 1 year

Text

something wrong with me and you

Pairing: Marquis Vincent de Gramont x afab!reader. No use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: smut. slightly dub/con, including spanking, teasing, making the other beg, etc. Minors do not interact. +18 rating.

Author's note: who knew me going to the movie theater to watch john wick 4 was going to bring my fic writing era back from the dead lmao, maybe I'll finish other fics I abandoned along the way

I do not consent to any of my work being reposted on other websites.

At first, it was a night like any other.

Until he showed up, deciding that on this evening you were worthy of his time.

His lips reached closer to the shell of your ear while you struggled to hold in a sigh. He’d been at it for hours, tentatively running his nose on your neck, poking for a show of weakness on your part.

And you knew you were at the precipice of failure. The relentlessness of his continuous challenges made an inevitable dent in your resolve to deprive him of his wishes.

"I can give you everything, mon amour”, his full body pressed you down onto the mattress, fingers gripping your inner thighs, “everything you could ever want and more."

At this point, this had become a bit of a habit of his. Speaking these infamous words every single time you were with him. To the point of annoyance.

Be it in the low lights during a theater performance, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, or - as you were now - in his bed, draped in nothing but luxurious jewelry and the expensive silk of his sheets. It seemed he had become fixated on tantalizing you with unreachable realities.

"Isn't that what you want, darling?", he teased with a playful smile, just before nibbling your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin followed by the soothing of his tongue.

His pleasure in the act of mocking you was palpable, even more so when you were at a point of nearly squirming underneath him, "It is no shame to admit it", he continued, "don't you want to be all mine?".

You could no longer hold it in anymore, fighting power running out.

A shaky nearly broken moan left your lips along with a tremble through your body, and you threw your head back as his left hand found your waist. The right one lowering down smoothly - from your waist to your thigh, teasing the idea of doing something about the mess he created - before moving on, with a caress, all the way to your calf.

His hand settled, wrapped around your ankle, as he moved away from you, getting up from the four-post bed.

You were about to voice disappointment when you felt a tug on your ankles.

A surprise noise was once again dragged out of you as Vincent yanked you closer to the end of the bed, where he stood.

His once perfectly pressed shirt hung open. The slicked hair was now messy as a result of the good work from your fingers, both in the back of the limousine and on the elevator that took you both to the upper levels of his home.

Still pliant from all the effort he had put into making you putty in his hands, you lifted yourself up on your forearms, noting the harness of his length, which he had been rubbing against you ever since before you left the private dining room.

You were often fascinated by how the regality of his every move seemed impossible to rattle, even on the most heated nights.

A person could easily mistake the coldness of his stare to believe it meant indifference, after all, the Marquis de Gramont was a hard man to impress.

But you knew better.

You’d seen him beyond his title, his wealth, his ruthlessness.

And he had seen you.

His eyes almost twinkled from pent-up desire and as if he couldn’t help himself, he forcefully grabbed your chin, bringing your lips ever closer

Merely an inch separated you from the kiss that would soon follow.

Though before you could seal the deal, you became entranced by the sight of him licking his lips and the raspy whisper that followed.

"Say it to me. Say that you want to be my little marchioness. I can't give you what you want unless you say it."

You couldn't help but reach forward, your teeth sinking on his lower lip, making him hiss. Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

A smirk on your lips was inevitable, "Who's doing the begging now?"

That would just about do the trick on him, his body stiffening immediately and you braced for what would soon follow.

“Well, the night is not over is it?”

He admired your defiance in the face of his authority. How most times, even if you stood before him deprived of a single stitch of clothing, you were still able to look him in the eyes, as if you held all the cards. As if he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - ever harm you in any significant way.

Refusing to back down, teasing him to react first.

Admit it first.

To say just how much he wanted you.

How much he craved for you. How he woke up and thought of you. How much he wished he was inside you all day, every day.

And sometimes, even more dangerously, how he saw a particular painting and thought of you. Wondered if you would like it. Played out in his head how he was going to tell you all about it and then show it to you. The same had been happening a lot with clothes. Gowns he saw and only pictured how you’d look wearing them, and the way he would go about getting them off later.

The look you gave him during dinner while sipping on the most expensive wine from his private collection…It was enough to make him want to stop the world. Bend you over the table and fuck you until you pleaded with him to let you finish.

Tonight, however, he was tired of your games. Vincent was no longer interested in making you squirm, he wanted to make you scream.

If you refused to admit your obvious desire when he was being so nice, he was going to make you beg out loud.

He flipped you around, sturdy hands on either side of you forcing you to go on all fours for him. Aware that you hated not seeing his face while he took you.

For a moment, he basked in that power.

Of how despite all your fight, your snark, your feigned indifference when he spent weeks without seeing you and suddenly turned up at your door, you were still pliable to his will.

One of his large hands maneuvered to make sure you couldn’t switch positions, holding your neck in place. The cold metal of his ring tingling against your skin. Demanding that you stare forward, towards the headboard, stealing from you even the mere possibility of catching a glimpse at what he was about to do.

A slap came down hard on your ass, earning him a choked gasp. His hand soothed the now pained spot for a second before another slap soon followed. And then continued his motions, one after another until you lost track of how many spanks you had gotten. Being only mildly aware of the prickling of your skin, and more consumed by the wetness dripping from your core.

A whine ripped through you as he finally placed his thumb on your pussy, caressing you thoroughly.

“Fuck…”, you muttered a satisfied near-sob.

“Mmmm…not yet, mon amour”, Vincent teased, “unless you’re ready to beg for it.”

He splayed his hand on your lower back, moving you closer to his cock, and you held your breath as you felt him gripping his length behind you.

“Are you ready, darling? Are you ready to beg for me?”

“Yes!”, you mewled, nearly adding a “please” after.

You knew he was shaking his head at you, “It is truly a pity you have not spoken the correct words.”

You hissed as he grazed the head of his cock on your entrance, teasing but not making any moves towards pushing inside.

Vincent smiled, if you wanted him you’d have to say it, and he knew you were close to breaking.

“F-uck, fuck, okay”, you relented, backing yourself up further against him, “please…please…fuck me, I can’t…I-I want you, I need you so fucking bad.”

He wanted to resist you, as you had resisted him. He wished he could.

Vincent liked to think of himself as a man with enough resolve to spare, but that was always a challenge when it came to you.

When he said he would give you whatever you wanted, you thought it was a tease, a joke, a lie. You were wrong.

Not another sigh from you was needed to make him plunge his cock inside you and set a fiery pace, embracing your warmth as he moved one hand toward your nipples, pinching them so hard you started screaming.

Time lost all meaning, and sounds felt far away as he pounded inside you, setting a relentless pace.

Neither of you spoke, but both panted in pleasure.

One of your hands reached out towards his own, the one that is holding your neck, intertwining your fingers in a way that allows you to finally move your head back towards him.

Searching for his lips.

Unable to deny you any longer - and consumed by his own desire - he complied. Draping himself closer and closer, as if he wanted to consume you fully. Covering your body with his own, devouring your mouth with vigor, until neither of you can hold on.

You’ve deprived each other for too long.

He waits for you to finish, a wave of ecstasy ripping through you, as he fucks you even harder, chasing his own release with a shout.

He soon lays down on top of you, and in your lightheadedness, your fingers intertwine with each other.

Holding on for as long as you can.

Unaware of the great lengths the Marquis will go to make you, his.

#marquis vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #john wick fics #fics #mine #smut #bill skarsgard smut #marquis vincent de gramont smut

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close. It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream. But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You want the truth. You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck. “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate. He thinks in silence for a moment.

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding. “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in. What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app. “You’re in the pool house,” he decides. He turns on a dim light in the pool house.

“What does he want?” you ask.

“Hell if I know. Go through the basement.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Trouble.”

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.”

He seems endeared by your fear. “Do it for us,” he says with a wink that makes your heart jump. Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink.

“Wait,” you say.

He freezes.

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say. “I’m mad anyway,” you say.

“Figured. It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.”

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.”

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon. Didn’t want her to drive.”

There’s a long pause and your heart races.

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.”

Damn, Joel is smooth. He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .”

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear. You creep down the stairs quietly. You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners. It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house. The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist. You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen. If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out. It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this. Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser.

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands, “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out! I’m not in charge, you know that.” Glasses clink with ice.

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day.

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want. I want out.”

“You’ll be out.”

“I want it in writing.”

Your dad scoffs. “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?”

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?”

“It was supposed to be a six month contract. Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.” You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says.

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone. “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK” A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-”

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel. Call it what it is. I’m an asset. Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.”

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,” Joel calms down a little. “And what about you? You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues.

“We’re on the same team, buddy. I want this over as bad as you do. C’mon, let’s look at the intel.”

You’re sick to your stomach. Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard. So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head. The one about your stepmother and . . . gross. Something doesn’t sit right about it. You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex.

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity. Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it. And once you got there, game over? Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question. If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened? It’s an easy no.

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off, you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now. You want to hear it from Joel. You want to know what his real job is. The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him. And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter.

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day. There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy. It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator. You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you. There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed. You stay on the couch. It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off.

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table. You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”

You shake your head no.

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly. You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head. You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck.

. . .

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it. He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad. He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse. Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face.

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes. He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch. His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.

He whispers, “Are you on-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. Then he covers your mouth with his lips again. Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you. It’s so close. It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now. His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You really, really want the truth. It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it.

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him.

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer.

“Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations. You need the truth, but you’re aching. Your body needs to be filled by his.

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask.

“When I’m back,” he sighs.

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer. He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place. He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth. He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad. He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back. He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically. He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours. Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket.

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach. You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it. He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock. It sends a bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask.

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.

You want his lips on yours forever. You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him. You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back. You shrug off the blanket. He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in your hand. You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.” Right. Of course.

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit. You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction.

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself. You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans. Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.

He moans and breathes heavily. “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.

He groans. “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.

He takes a deep breath. “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right. You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs. You bend at the hip and hover over his cock.

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.

“Still own the business.” He adjusts his hips under you.

“But that’s not all you do.” You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need.

“No,” he quietly admits.

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with. You throw caution to the wind and ask, “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip. No immediate answer. Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans. You take it out.

He sighs. “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.”

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before. You hook your top leg over him. You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead. His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.” Your heart skips a beat. You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake. You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe. He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan. You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low. He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard. His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest. When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips. Tension swells and tightens deep within you.

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face. You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows. You bite your lip and inhale through your nose. You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right. He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more. He pauses and you just barely nod.

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him. Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you. He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.

“Yes ma’am,” he growls. He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely. Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt. He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last. Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo. You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels. He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth. He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out. Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue. His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm. His hair is messy and perfect. The silver bits of his beard glisten.

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.

“About to come?” he asks. You nod and take a deep breath. He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit. The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Then another. You clench around him and your body jerks erratically. Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock. You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him. When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath. He strokes your face and says, “god damn.”

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.

He looks so peaceful. At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on. You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately. All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not. You start to worry about him going to do this job.

After a long silence, you say, “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face. He sighs. “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.” He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says.

“That’s messed up,” you say. “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass. Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse. Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.”

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.”

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.”

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud. You playfully pinch his cheek.

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing. You don’t need to spell it out.

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight. “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “ His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck. He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant. He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask.

“Couldn’t help it,” he says. “Neither could you.” Well, that’s true. “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me. That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says. “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?”

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips. “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?” You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away.

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do. Not that you’ll do anything with it. Too dangerous.

“Yeah,” you say.

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you. “This right here,” he says. “If you want.”

You fall asleep in his arms again.

When you wake up, he’s gone. It’s light outside. Birds are chirping. You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.” You don’t stay there. It’s too creepy without him. You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly. A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck. He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.

“All done?” you ask.

“Let’s celebrate,” he says. “Got that same suite on the river. Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro @ausamocee @skythighs @jasminedragon @leeeesahhh @blushynini @momia2910

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #content label

1K notes · View notes

honeykaes · 1 year

Text

—𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

✦ valentines day hc’s feat. scaramouche, kaeya, heizou, diluc

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern!au, fingering (scara), exhibitionism (scara), cunniligus (kaeya), mention of boobs and bra (heizou), boobjob (heizou), lingiere kink (heizou), bondage (heizou), cockwarming (diluc), riding (diluc), bath sex (diluc), creampie (diluc), unedited

Scaramouche isn’t the keenest on Valentine’s Day. He finds it rather annoying to deal with and see couples flaunt around trying to prove something to other people; despite his relationship with you. Still, when you woke up greeting him with dark chocolate-covered strawberries, he couldn’t help but see the appeal now.

The two of you decided to go to the movies to see an old rom-com, with Scaramouche begrudgingly shutting his mouth and not complaining. With the two of you sitting in the back of the movie as the film progressed, you could see the bored expression gazing into your partner’s eyes. Still, he could find some entertainment with a bad movie in the background

You were shocked to feel Scaramouche’s hand squeeze over your plush thighs, slowly shredding up and playing with your waistband. You silently looked over at him, whispering what he was doing but his face remained turned, still dully staring at the movie. A slight gasp escaped you as you felt his hand finally dip between your pants and underwear, as you tried to cover a moan from his cool fingers beginning to cup your entrance.

Your eyes wandered to the rest of the movie theater, noticing how most of the people were upfront and couldn’t notice what he was doing to you. A smirk fell on Scaramouche’s face as his fingers slowly trailed up and down your slit, feeling your juices beginning to dampen and coat his nimble fingers. As his thumb settled on your clit, pressing small, firm circles on your clit, two fingers sunk into your core.

Your body squirmed as your back arched against the seat, covering your mouth and shutting your eyes as you felt Scaramouche’s digits continuously thrust inside your sobbing cunt. You could feel him curling them—trying to reach deep inside of you— as his abuse on your clit never let up. He leaned over to your ear, cock uncomfortably twitching, and pushed against his pants.

“Look how easily wet you are from my fingers around so many people. Instead of this silly movie, we can leave now and I can grace you with my tongue when we get home,” he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear. You eagerly nodded, as a low chuckle escaped his lips—fingers sliding out of your velvety cunt and underwear. The light from the movie made the slick, sticking to his fingers glisten as his intense eyes—hazed in lust—never left your gaze as he lapped the remaining slick up with his tongue.

He rose to his seat, cock throbbing excitedly for the festivities at him, as he reached his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Kaeya’s hand covered your vision as he slowly guided you from the bedroom out into the kitchen. You could only imagine how wide he was smiling, leaving small butterfly kisses on the nape of your neck as he guided you. One of Kaeya’s favorite holidays was Valentine's for some reason and he had limited you to just the bedroom the entire day as he “worked on his gift”.

“Alright. Open you can look now,” he called out, lifting his hands up. As you slowly fluttered your eyes open, a smile crept up on your lips seeing the intricate meal Kaeya had made along with a fresh and expensive bottle of wine from his brother’s company. Kaeya admittedly wasn’t the greatest chef in the world, but it seems he secretly took classes this month to prepare for this moment. As you turned around and stole a kiss from him, his hands settled on your waist, pinching the skin before leaning away and guiding you to your seat.

As he pushed your seat back in, you expected him to sit down across from you on the dining table but were shocked to see that he merely grinned and leaned down, disappearing under the table. Your eyebrows furrowed as you called out his name, only to gasp as you felt his cold hands settling on your thighs and pushing your legs open. You stuttered out his name, feeling him beginning to drag your pants down, leaving you just in your underwear.

His name left your lips as your head lulled back, feeling him press his face against your clothed entrance. He slowly spread his fingers along your slit, watching the fabric begin to darken and dampen. With a finger, he easily swiped the material as he tore it to your shock. As you snapped out of your lust; about to reprimand him for ruining your favorite pair, your hands shot to his soft hair feeling his tongue beginning to lap up your clit.

Two fingers firmly placed themselves on your folds, widening you up, as his tongue rapidly flicked along the sensitive numb. He moved his plush lips to suck on it, pulling it a few times from the suction before his tongue went back to play with it. He slowly swirled his pink muscle along the sides of your clit as your legs shivered in pleasure, slowly caving in towards his head.

“That’s right darling. Lose yourself on my tongue,” Kaeya groaned out. With one last flick of his tongue, your back arched, and eyes rolled to the back of your head finally reaching your high. Your heart thumped rapidly as you looked down between your thighs to see a smug expression on your boyfriend, lower face coated with your slick.

“Y’know your food you worked hard on is probably too cold now,” you hummed, brushing his hair as he leaned his cheek against your thigh. He pressed a chaste kiss on it before shrugging.

“It was a worthy sacrifice. Besides, I had my meal already and I’m getting a bit hungry for seconds.”

As Heizou walked inside his home and took his shoes off, exhaustion seemed to be heavily hitting him. It had been a long day at work that he didn’t want to go to, leaving you pouting in bed early that morning as you gave him his chocolate. Still, he needs to brew a coffee or something since he wanted to celebrate Valentine’s with you.

He walked into the bedroom, expecting to quickly take his clothes off, only for his shock to replace his body. There you lay in the bed, adorned with lingerie he had gotten you a year prior as candles burned around the room. Your smile, seeing the lace perfectly decorating your body was the caffeine and addiction Heizou needed.

“Well Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” he murmured out, lips pulled into a tug. As you laughed, watching him quickly shimming out of his clothing, you were shocked to see he kept his tie in his hand. With a gasp from you, Heizou eagerly tied your hands to the bed frame, now utterly helpless to his touch as he pull the lacy bra down, revealing your chest.

As you stuttered out his name, curious as to what he was doing, you were shocked to see him press his half-hardened cock in between the valley of your breasts. You could feel his length twitch against your skin as it got harder and harder. Precum budded at his flushed tip as he grabbed the soft mounds of your chest, squeezing them together and against his cock.

He slowly moved his hips up, sliding his cock back and forth as a groan escaped his lips. His eyes were completely enamored with your chest, watching the mounds move to the pace of his thrusts as he squeezed them even more.

“God, look at my beautiful partner treating me so well. Stick your tongue out honey,” he groaned out, gnawing on his bottom lip. As you obeyed, timidly sticking your tongue out, a grunt erupted from Heizou as his hips began to waver. Ropes of his thick cum soon shot out, landing on your chin, neck, and chest. A lazy grin fell to his face, rubbing his cum with his softening cock, watching it shine on your skin.

“You surely know how to treat me, darling. Now lift your legs up, it’s time for me to spoil you.”

Throughout the entire day of Valentine’s Day, Diluc treated you as if you were royalty itself. His gifts, the dates, his soft smile—everything about him was perfect. Too perfect in fact that you were getting a little insecure that you didn’t do enough for him.

As the two of you returned from a fancy dinner, you insisted on taking a bath with Diluc but told him you needed to prepare for it first. You ran into the bathroom, going under the cabinets to grab the rose petals you had bought yesterday to prepare as you began the hot bathwater and poured his favorite bubble bath in. As the bath began to form frothy bubbles, you threw the rose petals in quickly, lighting the candles around you with a lighter.

You popped back out, urging him to get inside the bath first using some excuse you needed to grab something first and he, albeit confusedly, agreed to take his clothes off and dipped inside the bath. As you walked back in, the long, translucent bathrobe hiding your form, you flashed him a smile as you let the robe slowly fall down revealing your form—he always seemed to be bewitched whenever you revealed your form in this manner.

As you dip yourself into the bath and settle against his chest, you could feel his cock beginning to throb and harden. You flashed him a smile, leaning over his arm to give it a kiss only to slightly widen your legs and guide his cock inside of you. A small moan escaped your lips as his cock sank inside of you, his tip firmly against your cervix. Diluc groaned out loudly, hands going to your waist as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“Are you trying to tease me again, darling…Don’t you know better than that,” he murmured. Just as you were going to offer an excuse you were shocked to see Diluc lifting you up by your waist only to pull you back down on his cock. You threw your head back, as Diluc continued to have you ride him, soon thrusting to meet that pace of him.

One of his hands snaked around your front and began to toy with your clit as his lips continued to nibble and suck on your neck. The water rose and fell with every thrust, loud smacking echoing out in the bathroom. Your body shivered in pleasure, calling out his name as he felt your walls begin to tighten and close in against his cock. With a grunt, he had you stay in his lap as he stroked his cock inside of you and rubbed rapidly on your clit.

It didn’t take long before you called out his name, letting your full weight fall on his chest. Diluc shut his eyes tightly, moving his hand away from your now throbbing clit, and wrapped his arms around you. With a low moan, Diluc emptied himself inside of you—thick globs of his cum now coating your walls as he nursed the climax, lazily moving his cock inside of you.

With a sigh, Diluc pressed a kiss against your cheek, not wanting to pull out and leave your warmth for now.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beloved…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #heizou x reader #heizou smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut

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cordeliawhohung · 7 months

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Liquid Smooth [2]

main masterlist | series masterlist

bodyguard!Gaz x fem!model!Reader

he's just doing his job

warnings: break in, cursing, mentions of guns (in a video game), fluff, slight mutual pining? gaz is a fucking gentleman and i'm sobbing. lots of inaccuracies of sorts i'm sure. half awake while editing, apologize for any mistakes.

wc: 3k

Living in a gated community made you feel pretentious, but with someone of your popularity, it was the only place that made you feel safe. With top notch security, and state of the art surveillance, you never once doubted not only your safety, but your privacy. Still, every house for sale was too big and with too many amenities. Big pools, private theaters, and large game rooms were only fun when you had someone to share them with.

And as every tabloid, social media platform, and on occasion your own manager, liked to remind you; you were utterly alone.

Which was the whole idea, wasn't it? If you came home to your large, empty house feeling completely lonely, then the gated community did its job right. You were alone, and that was good.

Until you weren't.

It happened in the dead of night. An ear aching siren sounded sometime shortly after three in the morning, and though the source of the siren was on the bottom floor of the house, you could hear it clear as day from your room on the second floor. It stirred you out of your sleep, and the moment you realized the siren was from your security system, you felt your stomach plummet through the floor.

You sat straight up in bed like the undead rising from their grave, and your hand flew to the nightstand where your phone buzzed. The app that your alarm was connected to was so kindly informing you that there was a potential intruder in your home, as if the intermittent woops of the alarm wasn't informing enough. Though, the system had already contacted the police on your behalf at least.

But that still left you with one problem. You were no longer alone. Suddenly the distance from the entrance of your home to your room felt much too close. Terrified someone would come waltzing in, you hopped out of bed and ran as quietly as you could to lock the small turn lock on your doorknob. The siren still wailed, and you noticed your heart beat with a terrible thunder in your chest.

You were alone, and you really, really, didn't want to be.

Before you knew it, your fingers were tapping away on your phone and you had it pressed against your ear while you listened to the ring as it attempted to connect you. Each ring felt longer than the last, and it wasn't until you stepped away from the door that you realized your knees were shaking.

"Hello?" It was Kyle's voice, and you had never been so happy to hear it in your entire life. There was a certain tone to it that felt like gravel that told you your phone call had just woken him up.

"Hey," you greeted, struggling to get the word out.

Hey? There was an intruder in your home and that was the only word you managed to choke out? Not a help me? But you didn't even have the mental capacity to chastise yourself with everything going on.

"What's that sound? Everything alright?" he asked. You hadn't even answered him and you could already hear some sort of shuffling on his side of the line.

"Oh, well, uhm, the alarm at my house got tripped, so that's like the siren or... yeah, but the police are on their way. I'm sorry, I just, I don't know, I got scared? I think and I just- did I mention the police are already coming?" you said, stumbling over the words.

There was a slight pause on Kyle's side of the call, as if he was contemplating something, before the shuffling on his end continued. Though, you noticed whatever sounds that bled through the speaker seemed quicker.

"Are you safe?" he asked, his voice more alert.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in, uh, my room and I've, you know, locked the door," you said. Your eyes still glanced around the room, as if you weren't sure that the burglar, murderer, whoever they were, hadn't snuck into the room unnoticed.

"Stay put," Kyle ordered, "and stay on the phone with me, yeah? I'll be there in ten. Cops better beat me there."

Just like he had instructed, you stayed on the line with him. There wasn't much talking to be done, as you were terrified to make any noise lest you led someone undesirable straight to your bedroom door. Every now and then, Kyle would check in and ask how you were doing, to which you'd mumble something or hum just to confirm you weren't keeled over on the floor.

"Almost there, love. You're gonna be alright," he assured you.

The cops did show up before him, but only by a few minutes. You heard the siren finally silence, and the house fell into quietness. Kyle spoke with the officers on scene for a few minutes, but their conversation was much too muffled for you to hear. Either way, the adrenaline was still pooled in your system, and you had to keep wiping the sweat off of the palm of your hands.

"Where's your room?" he asked, voice cutting clearly through the speaker on your phone.

"Up the stairs. Third door on the right," you told him.

"Which stairs?" Kyle asked after a pause.

A laugh left you, and you weren't sure if it was because of his question or your nerves. "Right, uhm, the one on the left."

Not even a minute passed before there was a soft knock on your door. Hanging up the call, you fumbled with the lock on your door before swinging it open. Kyle stood in the hallway as he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. Worry was etched deeply into his face as his eyes did a quick look over you as if worried you still might have gotten hurt.

He couldn't even get a single word out before a slight grunt left him. Your arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug, and you buried the side of your face into his chest. He smelled warm, like something spiced and woody. That warmth only extended further as his arms enveloped you, returning your hug.

"It's alright, I got you," he muttered quietly while resting his chin on the top of your head.

After a quick inspection of your home, it was determined that the only real damage done was to the large window in your living room. The beautiful floor to ceiling glass that you liked to gaze out of in the mornings laid in a shattered mess on the floor. Someone had grabbed a rock from your garden and threw it in what was most likely an attempt to enter your home to rob you. While you didn't think anything was missing, you couldn't be sure until you did inventory. Otherwise, the intruder most likely left as soon as the alarm sounded, damaging nothing more than a window and your sleep.

"Fucking hell," you muttered.

You stood a good few feet away from the broken window, taking care not to step on any of the glass shards. A soft breeze drifted through the living room, cooling your exposed skin. Some cops mulled around as they messed with your security system and gathered any bits of evidence they could. It was a huge relief to realize things were fine, yet you still felt a little gutted. There was something dehumanizing about having your home broken into.

"Sorry you had to go through all this tonight," Kyle said as he stood next to you. "I'm glad things weren't worse."

"Me too," you agreed before you let out a strained chuckle. "To think all this commotion over a broken window. Seems a little silly."

"Well, it's a big window," he teased.

His comment got another chuckle out of you, but this time it was more real, more comfortable. You glanced up at him, but his eyes were focused on something outside. Assessing anything that the cops might have missed, no doubt.

"Do you feel safe staying here?" he suddenly asked. "I imagine it'll take them awhile to clean everything up. Might not have a window for a bit."

You bit the bottom of your lip as you glanced back to the empty void that laid just beyond your house. The shape of your garden was vague and dark in the dim moonlight, and you couldn't even make out the pool to the left. The gated community was mostly cut off from the public, which meant it wasn't like someone would come strolling by and see that you were down a window. Still...

"I'll probably get a hotel or something," you said as you waved your hand like it was no big deal.

"Seriously?" Kyle challenged.

"What, it's not like I'm a stranger to hotels with all the traveling I do for work," you brushed off.

"No, I understand that, but love, it's nearing four in the morning." He paused for a moment to wet his lips before turning his full attention to you. "Could stay at my place, if you'd like."

That was... not what you were expecting out of his mouth. For a moment, you wanted to fight him on it. Staying over at his place was certainly crossing a boundary of some sort. He was your bodyguard, you hired him. But really, he had a point. By the time you fully settled into the hotel, if they would even take you at such an odd hour, you'd be lucky if it was only six in the morning. You'd be wasting time and energy for nothing.

But still...

"Are you sure?" you said, uncertain. "I don't want to intrude, or anything. And don't offer because you feel bad for me or anything, either."

"Hey..." Kyle said while softly reaching his hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch was so warm. Everything about him was warm, from his voice to his scent. You felt your throat grow tight as that familiar feeling of endearment flooded your system. "I'm offering because you've had a shit night, and it's my job to take care of you."

Something told you to resist. It wasn't a bad idea, and you knew it was more realistic than trying to get a hotel. Yet there was something gnawing at you, telling you it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that you couldn't trust him, but maybe you couldn't trust yourself. Not with the way you found yourself feeling about him after your wardrobe malfunction a few weeks back.

And yet, half an hour later, you found yourself in Kyle's bed. Alone, of course, because he had been nothing but a gentleman to you. Insisted that you slept in his room rather than take the couch, and you quickly found out that arguing with him was futile when it came to how he treated you. He even changed the bedding for you, and though you wouldn't admit it, you were a little bummed about that; not being able to breathe in the scent of him as you fell asleep.

God, you needed to get a grip.

Between the crazy events of that night, and the fact that you were in Kyle's bed, you couldn't sleep. You laid on your back, staring at the vague and darkened features of his bedroom. It was so clean, and not just clean but neat. He was a very organized man. Perhaps he had his military experience to thank for that.

With your restlessness eventually getting the best of you, you slowly slipped out of bed where you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. With quiet steps, you cracked the door open before slinking off towards the living room where you surprisingly found Kyle awake.

Dull and quiet sounds of gunshots sounded from the TV, which had the volume turned so low it was nearly muted. A controller sat in his hands where he pressed various buttons. You watched him from the hallway for a moment as you took sight of his furrowed brows. Eventually, he let out a quiet sigh before mumbling, "fuckin' pixel peek."

"I thought you'd be asleep," you spoke up softly, making yourself known.

Kyle didn't seem at all surprised to see you standing in the hallway, and he greeted you with a tired smile. The yellow glow of the standing lamp bathed him in a golden light. Fuck, he could have been a model.

"I imagined you'd have a hard time falling asleep after everything. Figured I'd stay awake. Just in case," he explained.

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his words, you laughed instead at how predictable you were. Or maybe he was just good at reading people. Either way, he scooted over some on the couch before patting the spot next to him.

"Here. You've earned yourself front row seats to watch me get my ass kicked in this game."

You should have turned around and marched your happy ass back down the hallway and into bed, but you gave into his request (and your secret desire to be closer to him) and took the spot next to him. The TV showed what appeared to be a character selection of sorts. Multiple characters laid out in perfect squares across the screen where he danced the cursor back and forth between a few.

"Pick one," he said, leaning back into the couch.

"Your character?" you asked.

"They're called operators, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "Uhm, Jackal."

As you suggested, Kyle selected the operator, who seemed to be a man with a weird looking half helmet. You thought his chin strap made him look dorky, but judging by his icon, he seemed awfully confident in himself.

"What game is this?" you asked as he equipped his load out.

"Siege," he answered. "Straight shit at it, but it gives me something to do."

You hummed as you watched him load into the game. It was a first person shooter, and judging by all the military tactical stuff, it was certainly army related. Which seemed awfully fitting, actually.

As he waited to load in, Kyle let out a soft yawn before reaching his hands above his head in a stretch. You were about to poke fun at him for being tired, but your words quickly got caught in your throat as you caught sight of the way his shirt pulled up. The toned skin of his stomach peeked in a thin line, and you found your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't.

"What's the goal of the game?" you asked instead. He finally loaded in, and he lowered his arms, saving you from having to look at the eye catching sight of his body.

"Well, we're attacking, so our goal is to go in and diffuse the bomb that the defenders placed somewhere in this house and-"

Kyle was cut off mid sentence when several shots sounded and his operator flopped over on the ground with an over exaggerated groan. He laughed but it quickly turned into a groan as he rested the controller in his lap and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Suppose that's what I get for playing Jackal," he muttered.

"I hope you're a better soldier in real life than you are in this game," you teased.

"No, see, that's not fair," Kyle defended with a grin. "Most terrorists don't spawn peek, and I never magically spawn ten meters away from the target."

You giggled as you settled further into the couch. Your legs were curled up against your side, and you found yourself sinking low enough so that your head rested against the arm rest. You looked akin to a cat. For a couch only one person used, it sure was a comfortable one.

For the rest of the round, the two of you were stuck watching his teammates attempt to locate this bomb. Though you didn't ask for it, Kyle gave you a play by play of everything going on, which you didn't mind at all. Honestly, there was something comforting about his voice and the softness to it. Maybe you were just getting too attached.

"In real life, we'd never take an approach like this," he explained. "In a situation like this, I'd honestly take it from the roofs. Death from above, type thing. And- ouch. Glad I don't have to watch out for Kapkan traps in real life. Now we're in overtime. What operator should I...?"

Kyle's sleepy rambling fell silent as he turned to look at you. Wrapped up in the blanket he gave you, your head rested comfortably against the arm rest as you slouched to the side, eyes closed. Your soft and even breaths caused your shoulders to rise and fall, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he watched you for a short moment.

Disregarding his game, Kyle carefully stood from the couch, not wanting to wake you, and turned his console and TV off. Just in case you woke up, he kept the lamp on, but dimmed it before sitting back on his side of the couch. Even though you were fast asleep, he still refused to sleep in a bed while you were on the couch.

A heavy sigh left him as he propped the side of his head on his hand, glancing at your sleeping form one more time before his own eyes fluttered shut. You took up two thirds of the couch, but that was alright with him. He'd slept on worse. And your comfort was his priority, anyway.

It was his job, after all.

"Sweet dreams, love."

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #bodyguard!gaz #f!reader

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anzulvr · 6 months

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Hii!! Can you do karma with a s/o that's rly quiet but ends up being good with kids??

Karma x Reader whose Good with kids // fluff GN! Reader

This all begins when E class gets themselves into deep trouble. Attempting to train on rooftops while studying for midterms, what they thought was a genius idea doesn't go as planned. Okajima and Kimura jump down and fall on top of an elderly man riding his bike. The old man is hospitalized for a broken foot. He ends up being the caretaker of multiple kids at a daycare he runs, Karasuma goes to talk to the man on behalf of his students-apologizing with flowers and all.

Korosensei orders the entire class to volunteer at the daycare and take the elderly man's place while he rests his leg to teach everyone about helping those who are weaker and those they’ve wronged.

Okay yeah, Korosensei was pissed- Karasuma just spent 20 minutes bargaining and apologizing to the rightfully angered old man and the class was filled with regret, shame and dread for the hard work that was coming. You on the other hand were secretly hyped! You loved taking care of kids, their cute little faces never failed to give you baby fever.

Even though you and Karma werent personally involved in the training scheme you still had to participate as it was a class effort.

The days of volunteering roll around and each day progress is made.

Everyone has a job to do, Some of your classmates are helping the kids study others are in charge of nap time and many are cleaning the space and fixing the building up.

You look over to a group of kids entranced with a theater show Karma, Terasaka and Okuda are putting on for them.

You catch yourself staring at Karma for too long, and bring your focus back towards your job;

You’re in charge of looking after the kids when they’re doing activities, (everything is in rotations for smaller groups)

Your current group is painting and drawing to their hearts content.

You notice one of the kids, Jiro, seems really upset, His eyes are getting watery. You crouch down to his level and ask him what’s wrong.

“My drawing— looks bad, I can’t draw good!” He speaks through the hiccups that slice his sentences up, now the tears are flowing down his cheeks completely.

“Don’t say that… You’re so talented Jiro, I want one of your drawings for myself!”

You ruffle his hair and he starts laughing through his tears, “You’re not lying?”

“Of course not, you’re drawings are my favorite thing ever!”

“Really?! I can draw one for you to take home!”

“The great artist Jiro will make me a drawing? Thank you Jiro you’re the best!”

Jiro rushes back to his seat with a smile on his face ready to start a new drawing as a present for you.

Michi raises her hand, "[Name] look!! I drew you!"

"Awe! I love it thank you Michi, you’re so sweet!"

She nods as she points to the second stick figure on her paper, "Look! I drew Karma because he's your best friend right?"

"Yeah he is-" You're cut off, startled by someone’s voice you turn to look and there he is.

"I'm just your best friend?" He feigns disappointment, you laugh and shove his shoulder gently.

You point at her drawing and back at him as a show of comparison "That looks just like him- you're so attentive to detail Michi!"

"I don't know what that means but thanks!" She skips back to her seat overjoyed with the praise.

Karma turns back to face you,

"Who knew you were this good with kids, it hasn't even been a full week and you're already their favorite- after me, they love me more."

You smile "You wish! Honestly I'm not surprised you're good with them, you have a fun personality, but anyway how'd the play go?"

"It went great, they're Kayanos problem now. I’ve been wanting to come over to you- just couldn’t.”

“I know, I can’t believe we’re on opposite sides of the room!”

“Can’t believe you’re still alive, clingy.”

“Shut up I caught you glancing at me every few minutes. You should focus more on your performance.”

“Hey my point still stands, if you caught me it means you were looking too!”

“I wanted to see how the story played out.”

“Righttt, rate my acting on a scale from 1 to Karma.”

“I’d give you a 9, just cause the outfit was cute.”

“Not bad, where’d the last point go?”

“You’re acting sucked-” you pressed your lip in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to come out.

He scoffed putting his arm around you, “You should do it with me! Tomorrow were doing sleeping beauty, all you have to do is sleep while I smack Terasaka with a plastic sword.”

“Sounds like fun, but I wanna see Terasaka getting hit— can’t do that with my eyes closed.”

“If you do it I’ll ask someone to film it so you can watch later, and more importantly I get to wake you up with a forehead kiss.”

“Alright then, the video convinced me.”

“You sure it wasn’t the kiss?”

“Maybe a little.”

A child’s shout brings your attention back onto your job “[NAMEE]! Michi spilled paint on me!”

Michi stands up “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!”

Restful moments with Karma couldn’t last forever but even the noisy ones you appreciated wholeheartedly, now you’d clean up the colorful mess together.

note: sorry for any errors in the writing pls correct me if you catch any <3! sorry this is late still have many rq to go through!

#akabane x reader #assasination classroom #karma x reader #akabane karma #ansatsu kyoushitsu x reader #korosensei #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination classroom x reader #reader x karma #karma akabane #karma akabane x reader #karmaakabanexreader #eclass #endclass

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crowncustomdoors · 2 months

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Home Theater Entrances

Cinematic Magic Entrances by Crown Custom Doors

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#Home Theater Entrance #Home Theater Doors #Custom Doors

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

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When people decide they want a castle, they have to have a vision and then hire an architect to design it. That's why I'm fascinated by them- a wealthy person's idea of what a castle should look like. This one was built in 2019 in West Linn, OR. It has 10bds, 13ba, $6M. Well, this one sure has a lot of turrets. No drawbridge, though.

Well, it's elegant, but it's got a regular entrance.

Interesting entrance. They get right down to business- the first thing you see as you enter the front door is the wine cellar. And, it's huge.

Powder room next to the wine. Look at the sink- it's the Eiffel Tower. I like the color of the toilet, too.

The entrance hall rises a dramatic 3fls. with balconies. The blue tower is an elevator.

I don't see a sitting room. They go right into the kitchen. It has a nice brick pizza oven and blue cabinets.

The pantry is large and is used to store all the dishes.

Beautiful library.

The dining room looks like it's on th 2nd fl. I like the long room and window arches. I wonder what they store in the small doors.

There's also a shower room.

Since the dining room is on the 2nd fl., maybe the turrets are the sitting rooms.

I have no idea which room is the primary, b/c there isn't one that's very large. They're all about the same size. This one has a fireplace and a balcony.

And, this one is a twin of that one, but it doesn't have the balcony.

This could be the primary, too.

Here's one of the spacious baths.

Another bedroom that's about the same size as the others.

Cute bath.

Here's a home theater that's disappointing.

Looks like a sun room.

This part of the house is another full living quarter.

It even has it's own kitchen and you can see a living room with a stone fireplace on the right.

There are several outdoor areas.

It's a huge home on 68.48 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/26480-SW-Wilken-Ln-West-Linn-OR-97068/48267845_zpid/?

#castle houses #estates #mansions #houses #house tours #home tour

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blissfulip · 2 months

Text

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus.

There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less.

A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays.

The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories.

After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape.

But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus.

---------------------------------------------------

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning.

To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing.

“Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically.

He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid.

When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status.

In retrospect, he should not have read it.

In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood.

Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

#viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane au #viktor au #priest au #legion #Spotify

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theblue6ook · 3 months

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The Young Years

Summary: This is a prequel to "Shit Interview" in the “Out of My League” series. Read about Bruce and Y/N as troubled little kids. What about their struggles make them work? (Hint: it's their troubled past.)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Also, that “eventual slow-burn” is for when they are ADULTS, don’t be bringing the kids into this. There is also blood, death, and annoying children in this fic. You've been warned. [Eventual slow burn with Bruce]

Loss [B(8) Y/N (6)]

They weren't dead immediately.

Bruce stood and watched as his father, proud and tall, rocketed towards the ground. He heard his head crack against the concrete and saw the hole in his chest. He watched his unconscious father choke and gurgle until his chest rattled. One. Last. Time.

He heard his mother scream as one of the bullets ricocheted into her ribs, but his mother... oh, his mother. She fought. Blood poured out of her, hands grasped her neck, and shook off her jewelry; she didn't care. She threw herself onto the sidewalk, wide-eyed and stubborn. Her fingertips dug into the concrete, her nails bled, and she crawled to her son. She choked and spat and crawled. Bruce stood horrified. Eight years old, he stood petrified by the back entrance of the theater.

They weren't dead immediately.

It's a common misconception. It happened so quickly. By the time the theater workers had rushed out to the sound of gunshots, Martha was half delirious. She might as well have been dead. But she wasn't, and Bruce knew that. He would never not know that.

Y/N’s bottom became numb against the hardwood steps. The raised wood was cold- my god- it was so cold, and yet she still wouldn’t move. She couldn’t move. She had to sit, staring at the open screen door. Maybe she’ll come back if I sit here long enough. In her heart, she knew she was wrong. She had just wanted a glass of water; she didn’t mean to catch her mother halfway out the door.

Y/N hadn’t even made it down the stairs when she looked out and saw her mother, luggage in tow, walking out on them. One. Last. Time. She stood on the raised wood stairs, a small hand gripping the handrail, and said nothing. Her mother stood in the open doorway, looking back at her, and said nothing. But the look she gave Y/N… it was clear. She would never see her mother again. But maybe… just maybe, if she sits here long enough, she’ll come back.

Name [B(10) Y/N (8)]

Bruce didn’t want to be here. He didn’t understand why Alfred insisted he continue going to Gotham Academy. For the past two years, after what happened to his parents, he had switched to at-home tutoring. Not that he really felt he needed it. He was breezing through the material. He used knowledge and learning as an escape from his parent's death. Every topic he dominated. Every lesson was child's play. So it didn’t make sense to him why he had to come to school today. Alfred kept telling him, you need to have some normalcy. You need to be with kids your age.

I’m not like kids my age anymore. They can’t relate to me. They can’t understand what I’ve been through. It makes him so frustrated.

As he walks through the hallways, people whisper about him. Is that Bruce Wayne? I didn’t think we’d see him back. Did you see what happened to his parents? It made him sick. It made him angry.

He decided to head to the office. He needed to leave. He can’t do this anymore. The bell rang, perfect timing. The ladies in the office sympathize with him. That’s one thing about having famous dead parents; you get away with anything.

As students were making their way to class, he noticed Bobby White barrel his way through a small girl. Her books went flying. Students filtered out of the hallways, and she just stood there, her hands in little fists. Her knuckles were white.

He could just walk down the hallway and leave her, but it’s like his mother nagged him in the back of his head, be a gentleman, Brucie. So he quietly walked up to her and leaned down to pick up her books.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She whipped around, surprised to see him, and mumbled, “Yeah.”

I should just give her back her books and go home, he thought, looking over at her. She rubbed her eyes and looked embarrassed. Oh no, here was that nagging again, be a gentleman. He glanced down at her books, room 301. Not far from where he was supposed to be right now.

He silently sighed to himself, “It looks like you're going to 301, I have a class in 304. I can take you over there.”

He barely heard it, but she had whispered, “Okay.”

Delicately, he held her hand to guide her down the hallway. He was grateful she didn’t ask for his name. He was even more grateful, it didn’t seem like she knew who he was. I don’t care to learn her name anyway, I’m sick of people talking about mine.

“I think I’ve heard of the L/N family. Is your dad in oil?”

“No… I really don’t think you would. I’m from the west side.”

“Like by Monolith Square?”

Y/N sighed and mumbled, “Like the Narrows.”

“You mean you’re by Crime Alley?!” Why does this keep happening to me?

Who is your family? Where are you from? Would my daddy know yours? This is the fourth conversation today Y/N was getting tired of this.

Two years ago, before her tragic passing, Martha Wayne attended Gotham Public Primary Schools for a fundraiser. She made a huge donation for in-school tutors and offered students in lower-class communities the opportunity to take the Gotham Academy entrance exam; if they qualified, she would pay class fees. Y/N scored so high she ended up getting a full ride. She finished out her last year at Gotham Public and recently transferred. It was a nightmare.

Y/N started getting frustrated. She was rushing to pull the books out of her locker to get out of this horrible conversation. “I don’t know if I would say we’re that close to crime alley-”

“How do you even get to school? Don’t tell me you take the bus!” He giggled until the bell rang. Then, knocked the books out of her hand as he started to run past her. Over his shoulder he shouted, “Got to get to class!”

UGH. She couldn’t even remember his name and she didn’t want to. Y/N thought going to school farther from home would be good. It would get her away from things. It would help ease her thoughts on her mother's disappearing act. Soothe her mind on her father's alcoholism. Give her a break from watching her brothers. It turned out to just be another chore.

“Are you okay?” Y/N turned surprised. She hadn’t even noticed the tears that started to blossom in her eyes or the boy who reached down to pick up her books. He looks older than her, maybe by a couple of grades.

“Yeah,” she sniffled and rubbed her eyes.

He looked down at her books as he tucked them into his left arm. “It looks like you're going to 301, I have a class in 304. I can take you over there.”

“Okay,” she almost whispered it. He took her hand and guided her through the hallways. She never asked for his name, and she never knew who he was, but it didn’t matter. I don’t care to learn his name, I’m tired of having to explain mine.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batfam #batman #batmom #batboys x reader

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fresh-orange-whispers · 13 days

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I'm feeling a bit emotionally unwell. I went to see Maul yesterday at the theater - no empty seat, all taken in advance, with a line of people who couldn't get the seats standing at the entrance and security guards keeping order.

I can't believe I was blushing SO hard watching him on the big screen. And I was already starting to miss him. I heard him make a guttural sound, while starting to wield the lightsaber and the same sound twice later during the duel. Cinema sound effect is so different from what you can hear at home, because I've never heard it before. I asked the girls on Discord to confirm if it was real or just my illusion and they all heard it.

I just need him. Like I don't even want to do anything with him, I just need him BACK.

I paid to see an old film that I had already watched, but it was still worth it, to see his high resolution pretty face. I don't know, it was just different, like an urge to enter his world, hug him and save him, and cut Obi's hands grabbing the edge of the reactor for him because damn, he didn't do it, he was playing around before getting cut in half! 🥲😭

He is and forever will be my red moonlight - a person that is elusive in the heart, has always been loved, but cannot be touched.

#star wars #darth maul #maul

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werywrenniethoughts · 9 months

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Let's Talk About Sun and Moon

I've been itching to share all my thoughts & theories on the Daycare Attendant ever since I first played SB. With MattPat's latest video reacting to Fuhnaff's recent Ruin theory, I could no longer contain my silence. It's obvious Steel Wool is pointing us back to Sister Location, or more specifically Circus Baby's Pizzaria. I think we'll find that the daycare attendant has been here all along. Below are a few key things I want to open discussions with the DCA fandom. Buckle up friends, and grab a snack or 3, because this is a long one. Let me know your likes, let me know your dislikes. (FYI general disclaimer that I bummed all these pictures from Google and that spoilers ARE contained below)

Personally, my theory is the DCA is an old funtime/toy animatronic from Cirus Baby's Pizzaria that was repurposed for one reason or another and brought to the PizzaPlex. Let's go over some of the reasons why:

Does the Daycare attendant fit with the Glamrock animatronics?

No. Not even a little. The Glamrocks are synonymous with neon signs, rock n roll, and 80s-early 90s vibes. Sun and Moon are based off of the naturally occurring satellites we see in the sky on the daily. Most FNAF theorist tends to unanimously state they simply "don't know what to do with the daycare attendant." It's understandable. They don't really flow with the rest of the SB cast animatronics.

You know who I think they do mesh with though? Circus Baby, Funtime Freddy, and Bellora. While one could argue they are not an exact fit, they certainly fit the circus designs far better than the Glamrocks. Sun with his striped pants, bells, ribbons, and poofy collar certainly give him more of a clown-like look (dare I even suggest, they look like a jester, Mimic fans?)

I've also always felt that Moon's speech patterns model Funtime Freddy's more than the Glamrocks or even Suns. They sound like preselected lines he's been programmed to say, rather than cohesive sentences most of the time with limited vocabulary usage, not unlike the lines delivered by the withered, Funtime, and Toy animatronics in Ultimate Custom Night. Phrases that sound innocent, but with the given inflection, they're obvious threats. Kellen Goff, the overly amazing voice actor for both the DCA, and Funtime Freddy stated once in an interview that the audition description for FF was "a voice that children would love, but adults would hate/fear." He nails that with Freddy, but, I think his performance with Moon warrants that description somewhat as well.

Another circus link I want to point out is this little devil right here:

Ballon Boy. He too blends in with the circus theme. It's also worth mentioning the arcade machine hidden within the DCA's room is Balloon World. Where in-game versions of Sun and Moon watch over any poor soul attempting to complete this flappy bird ripoff. Has anyone ever noticed that the arcade cabinet, and the game's home screen you start on, display a carnival tent?

Further, Kids Cove is linked to the daycare- the floor map shows us the shore of Kids Cove flows into the daycare, which flows to a flowery hilltop where the DCA's castle room sits. A pirate version of Foxy is the featured animatronic of Kid's Cove. In fact, every character cut-out you need to flash with the FazCam to access the DCA's room is a member of the original four: Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy.

The DCA lore from Bobbiedots states the DCA was "an old stage animatronic" NOT specifically from the FazBear theater. Of course, no one can deny the FazBear theater is absolutely pointing us toward them being meant to be performing there. The artwork of the daycare has the FazTheater in the "sky" per the scenery, there's a sun framing the entrance banner, and Moon's patterns decorate the door. Additionally, both the comedy and tragedy masks line the banner.

Could it be they are older animatronics meant to be retrofitted and added to the lineup but were instead reprogrammed as the Daycare Attendant last minute or, were they performing an old throwback routine from their original pizzeria for a time before they were reprogrammeed? Or was it always the FazBear Theater from the get-go? I feel all these scenarios are somewhat plausible.

Sun/Moon make more rudimentary machine sounds than the other animatronics in SB. It's hard to describe the glamrocks and the endos just sound smoother, like well-oiled machines. While Sun's movements are fluid and the sounds he produces are rhythmic, he sounds more like a clock or wind-up toy than anything else. Moon flat-out squeaks- a LOT. Like he hasn't been oiled in years. (Admittedly, this could just be a subtle attempt by Steel Wool to help you deal with Moon during the generator section. It's dark as crap, and you CAN hear Moon coming far sooner than you see him.) You can listen to isolated sounds of Sun's mechanisms on the FNAF Wiki and you can hear Moon on any SB playthrough. I think their cable might also be considered rudimentary compared to the glamrocks as well, but, this is also a personal opinion that doesn't really have any evidence to back it up.

I could probably add a few more minor things, but I think I've given us all quite enough to chew on for now. I know I've failed to mention Eclipse this entire time. Without any additional lore, it's hard for me to decide whether he's the original version of Sun and Moon, or a brand new addition. Obviously, a lot of my theories here are either supported or thrown out the window based on which one is true. I'm okay with letting that lie for now until we (hopefully) get a more concrete answer from Scott or Steel Wool.

It seems like we'll be getting a Sun-based story in Tales #8 so I'm eagerly awaiting to see if that completely disproves my ideas, or gives them any merit. I certainly don't think I have them 100% figured out, but, I think the limited amount of lore regarding the origins of the DCA means Steel Wool's hiding something. I'm eager to hear everyone's thoughts! Thanks for coming to my Sun/Moon TED talk.

#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb ruin dlc #daycare attendent #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #sundrop #moon #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf dca #fnaf lore #fnaf theory #fnaf the daycare attendant #sun and moon fnaf

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