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blughxreader · 11 months

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Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

#yandere miguel o'hara #dark miguel o hara #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spiderverse #cw: noncon #cw: breeding #afab

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totallynotokartichoke · 2 years

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Can I face the mortifying ordeal of asking my crush out? Or am I doomed to suffer in silent longing?

#why is this shit so hard?#will my desire to not look like a creep always trump my desire to get with someone?#I’m simply unwilling to make someone uncomfortable 😭#in a way thank god I have this crush to occupy my mind so I’m not driven insane by work or the profound sense of loss I still feel

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haunted-xander · 9 months

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Since people seem to really like my vision requirements illustrations, I figured I could elaborate on my theories/headcanons!

(EDIT: Since people keep mentioning it in the tags of the illust. post, so just to be clear, I am well aware Archons don't hand out visions personally😅 it IS however heavily implied they have a subconcious effect on who gets one, even if they have no active say. It's why no electro visions where granted during Inazumas vision hunt decree, for example)

Anemo: Purpose.

Anemo users have been unsure or hesitant about how to live their lives or what to do at some point, but all ended up finding something to strive for. Venti found purpose in rebuilding Mondstadt after Decarabian fell, to make the nation a place that the nameless bard would've loved to live in.

Jean found purpose as the Dandelion Knight, Xiao found purpose in serving Morax, Wanderer found purpose in freedom etc. Everyone has something they find fullfilment in.

Geo: Determination.

Geo users have a set path and/or ideal they live by, something they will not budge on no matter what. Zhongli is solid on his contracts, the written word is law and cannot be allowed to go broken, regardless of circumstances. His path is one of mutual agreement and fairness, to ensure everyone and everything gets their due.

Ningguang walks the path of Liyue's pillar, Noelle walks the path of self-improvement, Itto walk the path of acceptance etc. They are determined in their ways and will not bend them.

Electro: Protection.

Electro users all have something/someone they hold dear, and will do anything to ensure it's safety and longevity. Ei loved her sister more than anything else, and would've done anything to keep her safe and alive. Her actions in Inazuma was her terribly misguided way of "protecting" it from erosion, to keep the nation her sister loved so much in prosperity in her place.

Sara wants to protect her people, Keqing wants to protect Liyue's prosperity, Fischl wants to protect her imagination and fantasies etc. They hold things close to their heart and will do anything to protect it.

Dendro: Understanding.

Dendro users are seekers of knowledge and wisdom, wishing to understand the world around them and all that lives in it. Nahida wants to understand people, for wisdom means nothing when it can't be put to practice. People aren't something that can easily be comprehended by textbook knowledge, they must be observed extensively first-hand to even begin to understand.

Baizhu wants to understand the secrets of immortality, Kirara wants to understand human society, Collei wants to understand how to help others etc. They earnestly search for ways to expand their world.

Hydro: Duty.

Hydro users tend to have a strong sense of responsibility and personal principles they live by. We don't know enough about Furina to say for sure what her deal is right now, but I speculate her duty is closely connected to the Heavenly Principles, and that she views herself as Celestia's "executioner" so to speak.

Ayato's duty is to the yashiro commision, Candace's duty is to the desert-dwellers, Childe's duty is to the Tsaritsa etc. They have solid loyalties and set principles they work by.

Pyro: Passion.

Pyro users are full of love and passion for what they do, dedicating themselves whole-heartedly to their chosen field. We know very little about Murata, so it's hard to say what she's like. As the God of War I assume she has a passion for battle? Who knows.

Yoimiya is passionate about fireworks, Bennett is passionate about adventuring, Diluc is passionate about defending Mondstadt etc. They have a profound love of life and what is in it.

Cryo: Contradiction.

Cryo users are at odds with themselves, rife with inner conflicts and clashing desires. The Tsaritsa is described as an archon with no love for her people, and has been noted to have grown cold post-cataclysm. Her harbingers, most notably Childe, say otherwise, though. She's not unloving, but she is disillusioned and vengeful. Her hatred for Teyvat and Celestia is at odds with her love of her people.

Rosaria is conflicted with her lifestyle(s), Ayaka is conflicted with her status and wants, Kaeya is conflicted with his loyalties etc. They are torn by irreconcilable opposites.

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necstasy · 28 days

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what are your thoughts feelings emotions about paul atreides having a breeding kink...... wanting so badly to knock his girl up......

creampie; soft paul; husband!paul & PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

it comes to him naturally.

he’s always had the desire to reproduce settled in the back of his mind. he’s always wanted a family; a wife he truly loved, kids who he could see himself in. it was simple to him at first—base instincts of a man, especially the heir to the throne.

and then you two married, and it became something more primal. something more debauched, and therefore deeper into the base instincts. he couldn’t sleep as his mind was plagued with images of you, to the point where he needed to thrust these visions into reality. they were all within reach, all he needed to do was spread your legs and settle between them with the same determination he tended to push down in fear of scaring you off.

but he doesn’t think he could ever scare you off. not with how receptive and eager you are.

your legs opened to accommodate paul’s lithe hips in between them. your hands in his curls and pressed into the muscles of his back. really, your hands are everywhere. sliding down his torso, pinching his hips, pressing into the dimples in his lower back. you’re insatiable, trying to get more of him even as you drink in all of his air as you kiss him.

he’s just as bad if not worse.

his hands roaming your body. from your hair, to cupping your jugular, to pinching your nipples, all the way to teasing your cunt. he wants you, but he doesn’t want to make it quick. he wants it to last.

so he takes his time. each thrust into you is purposeful and artistically crafted. it’s not just a means to an end, it’s a rehearsed dance that he gets better at each time. sure, he has a goal—to shoot his cum as far into you as possible—but he wants it to be as enjoyable as it always is. he sucks hickies into your neck, he peppers loving kisses all along your body while he tells you how appreciative he is of you. it pains him, but he dismisses your cries to go faster and give you more. he wants it to be slow and romantic, his still blossoming mind only associating the two with each other and never with any other fashion of fucking you. love making, as he would call it.

until you hook a leg around his waist and beg. “will you cum in me, paul? so i can make you a father?”

god, you want to make him a father, the same way he wants to make you a mother. it’s so simple, nothing profound, but just that admission and your begging has paul’s hips snapping into yours. you have inadvertently gotten exactly what you wanted, and you’re vocal about how thankful you are. this is a different form of love making. it's addictive.

paul’s green eyes stare down at you the entire time, switching between taking in the way your face morphs into pure pleasure and how his cock easily slides in and out of you. he doesn’t know which view he enjoys more: the way your lips part and your eyebrows pinch together, or the way you’re literally creaming around his cock before you’ve even reached an orgasm. he tries to pay equal attention to both views, but he ends up focusing solely on the work he's doing below, his eyes attentive even through the weight of them.

he watches his cock drive in and out of you, so focused that he doesn't notice the speed that his mouth moves.

"yeah? you want me to?" he asks in relation to your begging. you nod, but he doesn't notice. he continues either way. "i'll put a baby in here, my star. i think you'd look so pretty. you always look so pretty 'f me."

he has a distant thought to focus on your pleasure, but it doesn't make it to the forefront. instead, he focuses on one thing: knocking you up. and he makes sure he gets his wish when he cums into you forcefully, his head buried in your neck while he keeps his hips flush against yours, his cock twitching inside of you as warm spurt after warm spurt flies out of him and settles into you. and even when he's done, he sits there for a while, refusing to leave in fear that the tiniest amount trickling out of you could damage the possibilities.

just to be extra sure, he fucks the cum back into you once he's pulled out, bringing you to an orgasm just by his fingers covered in his cum alone.

#&. WRITING #&. paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #&. chats #timothee chalamet x reader

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livlaughloveluke · 2 months

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𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 ! - 𝐥.𝐜 🫧

daughter of aphrodite! reader x luke castellan 💘

summary- luke would carry the world on his shoulders for the approval of your mother

warnings- like two cuss words, feminine reader, one slight reference to sex (lukes a virgin lolol), not proofread (yet)

3.3k

You had always been the favorite of your mother, Aphrodite. With the way she frequently delivered extravagant gifts, ranging from beauty supplies to carefully crafted swords, it was clear you were granted special treatment from the typically vain goddess. Others grew envious of your glorious relationship, watching from afar as you had yet another conversation with her.

The unfortunate truth was that you worked your ass off to receive a fraction of affection from your mother. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready, biting your tongue as others gossiped about you, and training hours per day were just some of the cruel circumstances you had to endure in order to keep up your facade. Everything about you had to be seemingly perfect, which is hard to maintain when living in such harsh conditions.

Your ethereal beauty and charming personality gained the attention of many, making Aphrodite proud. However, no matter how many demigods asked you out, they were all politely declined. This wasn’t a personal choice, but instead one forcefully implemented by your mom.

Every camper knew of the strange rule the goddess had set for you. Not one soul would be allowed to take you on a date without her approval. Unfortunately for you, she was extremely strict and harsh when choosing. It was odd that the ruler of love would prevent her dearest kin from experiencing the joys of having a partner, but the gods did little with rationality.

During your weekly prayer one evening, you found yourself pondering why Aphrodite seemed to reject all suitors. Seeking answers, you broached the subject with her. In response, Aphrodite professed a desire for nothing but the best for you, her words punctuated by the subtle shifts in her mood. Intrigued by her cryptic response, you couldn't help but remain curious, uncertain whether she spoke the truth or spun another detailed tale.

Among the crowd of diligent campers who showered you with attention, there remained one who truly stood out. Luke Castellan, the offspring of Hermes, had harbored a profound admiration for you from the moment of your arrival. While others were fixated solely on your captivating exterior, he found himself drawn to the depths of your enchanting personality. Your passionate expression for the things that ignited your soul—be it delving into the mysteries of ancient artworks or nurturing the vibrant flower fields—held him spellbound.

One day, the immense ache in his lovelorn heart became too agonizing to bear. As the sun awoke from its slumber and you elegantly devoured a ripe pear, he asked you to follow him into the lush forest. Despite the slightly sketchy request, you obliged, trusting Luke with your whole heart.

"I hate to sound blunt, but why are we here again?" You queried, batting away pesky flies and dodging branches that lunged out intrusively.

"I'm determined to take you out," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt creep in as you cringed with uncertainty.

“Luke, you know how my mom feels-“

“Yeah, I know how your mom feels. But how do you feel?” He blurted, his coffee brown eyes staring deep into yours, and for a moment, you saw the deepest part of him that was hidden from the rest of the world.

“What’d mean?” You questioned him, trying to wrap your head around his statement, like it was a foreign concept for someone to ask how you perceived the situation.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Luke whispered.

“I’d love to, but she-“ His response was accompanied by a light shake of his head, his voice gaining intensity as he delivered his next sentence with austerity.

“Tell me the truth. If Aphrodite wasn’t your mother, would you date me?”

Silence flooded the woods; it seemed even the birds stopped singing to hear your much-awaited response.

“Yes, I would.” You said it honestly, twiddling with your hands out of nervousness for your mother’s reaction.

“Okay then. I have a plan; don’t worry.” Luke interlocked your fingers, gently dragging you back to the pavilion with a grin plastered across his face.

As the day unfolded in its familiar rhythm, there was an intriguing twist: you found yourself stealing glances at Luke more frequently, your fondness for him blossoming rapidly. Anticipation brewed as you prayed for the success of whatever scheme Luke had concocted. Yet, the nagging suspicion of your mom’s disapproval gnawed at you, even if Luke was nicknamed the camp's "golden boy."

As dusk approached and dinner was served, the absence of Luke grasped your attention. The atmosphere lacked the presence of a couple other different Hermes offspring, too; the usual crowd at the wooden picnic tables was now missing. Brushing aside budding concerns, you settled beside your siblings, concealing any anxieties that threatened your composure.

You would have thought Hades took a visit to Cabin 11 with the way everyone was scrambling around. Dozens of clothes littered the floor, the room looking as if a freight train plowed through. Luke was in the center of the mess, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully examined his outfit options.

“A suit is definitely too much, right? I mean, I think it would be weird to go completely dressed out.” He started, with Chris standing next to him as they both pondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Ditch the suit.” His friend replied, tossing the crisp attire back into the closet.

“So do I wear the camp shirt or something else?” Luke interrogated the rest of the children.

“Camp shirt.” Chris said, but another older female camper chimed in.

“Obviously not. It’s a disgusting neon orange.” She declared, rolling her eyes.

“I think it makes him look devoted to the camp.” Chris defended.

“Oh please, it washes him out. Try this navy blue top.” The Hermes girl tossed a crinkled polo at him, turning away as he slipped the shirt on.

Luke looked in the mirror, pleased with his choice. All of his peers stared at him in judgment before coming to the conclusion that the deep blue suited him.

“Told you. Now hurry up. You can’t miss dinner.” She uttered, shooing him out of the packed cabin.

All eyes were focused on him as he walked to supper since he was out of the appropriate attire. He snagged his dinner, rushing to sit next to you.

“Cute shirt. A little late though; dinner's almost over.” You complimented, and the rest of your fashion-inclined siblings nodded in agreement. Luke felt his cheeks flush from your words and because of the overwhelming stares provided by campers.

“Thank you. I’m not really hungry anyway." He responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. His stomach was doing cartwheels as he counted down the minutes until the burnt offerings. As soon as the sound echoed through the air, he practically sprinted to be the first.

He slid almost all his food into the metal tin can (which he would definitely miss later that night when he went to bed hungry) and, with shaky hands, lit the dinner. The aroma of multiple dishes mixed into one and then set on fire was putrid, but luckily for Luke, that’s just what he needed to catch the attention of Aphrodite.

As she heard the pleads of the boy, who was begging for a conversation, and smelled the smoke, it was enough to send her spiraling down onto Earth. She was gorgeous—ten times prettier than any image Luke could have pictured in his head.

“I'm Luke Castellan.” He stumbled out nervously, but recollected and gathered his thoughts.

“I want to date your daughter, Y/N.” He declared, noticing the way the goddess looked away with anger.

“And before you say anything,” he continued, “I swear I have the best intentions.”

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes, inspecting him.

“I don’t know. Many boys just like you have claimed the same.” She spoke to him with such clarity.

“It’s different; I can promise you that. I’m a good kid.” He pleaded, growing desperate as he swallowed.

“You aren’t sounding much different than the children before you.” She replied, and Luke could tell she was about to walk away, so he did what he thought was best and blurted out what came to mind.

“I’ve never smoked, I pray to the gods every night, and to be honest, I rarely step foot out of camp. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, and I’m the best swordsman in camp—at least that’s what everyone says. I’m still a virgin, and I’ve never even glanced at another girl in any romantic way because the only one I have eyes for is your daughter. Please, ma’am.”

Aphrodite's eyebrows lifted, and her mouth agape at his sudden speil. She had to admit that it was quite impressive.

“Hm, I suppose you have made a compelling argument. I’ll let you take her out on one date, but only if it goes well will you be allowed to see her again. And she must approve of you.”

Luke smiled at her, letting out heavy breaths he didn't even know he was holding on to.

“Thank you so much. I can assure you, you won’t regret it.” He thanked the goddess, who just shrugged and left him in the dark forest. Too thrilled to care, he joyfully jogged back to the cabins, where his bunkmates patiently waited.

He shoved his way inside, panting, excitement bubbling within him. The air in the cabin seemed to crackle with anticipation as everyone turned their attention toward him, their eyes lit with curiosity, waiting for him to spill the details of what had transpired.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. Instantly, the air was filled with the sound of cheers and joyous squeals, his friends erupting into a wave of celebratory exclamations.

“Well, sorta. As long as the first date goes okay,” Luke added, his enthusiasm slightly dampening as he lowered his head, a hint of uncertainty tainting the original exhilaration of his announcement. The cabin fell into a sudden hush, a sense of disappointment crushing the once great news.

“Then we better get to planning,” Chris interjected, lighting a spark of hope. Everyone returned to their primary delirium, huddling together to craft the picture perfect night.

Campers threw out ideas for the date on the spot, ranging from the location to his preferred mannerisms. His sisters used their experiences with being a women to instruct him on how to act, telling him what was considered acceptable and what to avoid. The rest of his siblings and friends scoped out the land, deciding on the perfect site.

After enduring the lengthy schooling, Luke stole a fleeting moment away from his lesson, his heart set on sharing the newfound momentous revelation with you. The bonfire raged on, campers swarming around it like hungry sharks. Old friendships were being rekindled, and new bonds were forming. Admits the social circle stood you, who laughed as you spoke to the Apollo kids.

With a grin that illuminated his features, Luke observed you from a distance, captivated by the infectious positivity that radiated from you. As you strayed away from the chaotic crowd, your eyes met his. His feet propelled him forward, drawing him towards you.

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice filled with genuine excitement as he approached.

“Hey! Guess what?” Luke's words tumbled out in a rush, his eagerness present as he awaited your reaction.

“What’s up?” you inquired, intrigued by his anxious body language.

“Your mom said yes,” Luke revealed, his expression a mix of anticipation and restrained enthusiasm.

“What?” you gasped, disbelief coloring your features before giving way to unbridled joy.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, the thrill evident in his voice.

Excitement flourished within you, causing you to leap into his arms, angelic laughter filling the atmosphere as he lifted you up and spun you around. The cutesy scene hooked the attention of others, whispers beginning to travel.

Like a raging wildfire, Luke's announcement spread swiftly through the crowd, resonating with everyone within earshot. Within minutes, the joyous information spread through the gathering. Some were jealous, spreading rumors the moment they heard them, and some were just happy for the two.

Neither of you cared about the whispers and gossiping of those around you, their chatter fading into the background as you were enveloped in his warm embrace. The world seemed to melt away as he gently set you down, his touch lingering on your skin.

As you looked up into his eyes, time seemed to stand still, and the intensity of your love was reflected in the depths of his gaze. With each beat of your heart, you felt a surge of affection wash over you, your gaze softening as you looked upon him with adoration. There, in the depths of his eyes, you found comfort, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

"7 o'clock okay for tomorrow?" Luke's voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to the present moment. His words sent a tingle of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Mhm," you murmured in response, your mind still lingering on the warmth of his touch, until a daughter of Demeter called you over, disrupting the spell cast by Luke. As you tore yourself away, a shiver raced down your spine, the absence of his soothing hands leaving you feeling strangely hollow.

In the darkness of the night, neither of you seemed able to sleep with the thought of each other prominent in your minds. Remembering all of the special moments you shared, even before today, summoned a mixture of emotions. If this date didn’t go according to plan, the memories would be permanently lost, drowned out by new experiences.

Eventually, Hypnos blessed you with a night’s rest, and before you knew it, it was 6 p.m., an hour before the long-awaited gathering with Luke. Your siblings were currently helping you get ready in the vast space that was the Aphrodite cabin.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Urged your closest sister, her fingers deftly working through your hair as she leaned in.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you met her gaze in the mirror, uncertainty dancing in your eyes. "No, not really," you admitted with a sigh, feeling a knot of anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach as you nervously tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination as she dropped the task of defining your hair, her attention now fully focused on the impending dilemma. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly crossed the room to her bustling closet, the sound of fabric rustling filling the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

You watched her with amusement, as she rummaged through her collection.

With a triumphant exclamation, she emerged from the depths of her closet, a victorious smile gracing her lips as she presented you with a selection of carefully curated outfits. "I'm sure we can find something that'll work," she declared with confidence, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to lay out the options before you.

She presented you with a breathtaking spring dress, its delicate fabric decorated with teensy flowers. You ran your fingers over the dainty material, embracing its beauty.

"It's perfect," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper, as you marveled at the garment.

"I know, right!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious as she twirled around in delight. "This is so exciting! Your first date!" she continued, her words bubbling with enthusiasm as she continued to fuss over your appearance.

You attempted to summon a smile, but despite your best efforts, the flicker of unease in your eyes did not go unnoticed by your sister. She gently squeezed your hand, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"What's wrong?" She questioned you softly, her hands pausing in their task of arranging your hair as she turned to look at you through the expansive vanity mirror.

"It's nothing, really. Just... anxious, I guess," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to find the right words to express the complexity of your thoughts.

"Hey, it'll go great. And if not, there's a long line of suitors out there waiting for you," she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding, "so I'm sure Mom would approve of at least one of them."

"But I don't want it to be them," you confessed, your voice shaky as you admitted your true feelings. "I want it to be Luke."

She slightly frowned, grabbing your head and leaning into you. You shut your eyes to block the tears, discovering a place of love in her arms. A sudden knock on the wood door interrupted the warmth of silence.

She hopped up with eager anticipation, practically skipping to the door to greet Luke. As she opened it, you seized the opportunity to slip into the closet and change into the dress she had requested.

Luke stood on the doorstep, his hands fidgeting with a bouquet of ethereal flowers, their petals shimmering in the sunlight. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes as he glanced around, searching for you.

"Uh, is Y/N here?" he asked, his voice laced with nervousness as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, she is," your friend replied, her tone firm, her gaze locking onto Luke's with determination. "But before you go any further, I need to warn you. You must take excellent care of her, no matter what. Because if you don't, I'll come find you personally."

“I promise.” He stuck out his pinky, interlocking it with hers to signify an agreement he would uphold. Stepping outside the cramped enclosure, you checked your reflection and headed towards the door.

"Hi!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing out into the air, breaking through the awkward tension that had settled between the two of them. Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed as he turned to face you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips upon noticing your presence.

"Hey." He whispered softly, capturing in the sight of you standing before him, your captivating looks leaving him momentarily speechless. You smiled, threading your arm between his and escaping the cabin.

"I brought you these." Luke stated, his voice tinged with admiration as he handed you the colorful floral arrangement. You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, the fragrance of the flowers filling the air as you gently wafted them in your hand.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, touched by his thoughtful gesture, "they're beautiful."

Lost in conversation, you continued hiking together, the winding path leading you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke had a destination in mind, his steps purposeful as he guided you along the trail . The scenery around you shifted, the dense foliage giving way to a small deserted landscape.

Atop the grassy bank, a thick picnic blanket lay spread out, its vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery that surrounded it. An assortment of fruits and treats adorned the blanket, ranging from juicy strawberries to decadent chocolates.

As you settled onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning your every movement, you couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before you. Stretching out into the distance was the icy blue lake, its surface shimmering in the golden light of the sun, which peeked over the horizon as if to witness the magic of the moment.

As the minutes flew by, the loud croaking of cicadas immersed and the sky gradually transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars.

Wrapped in Luke's arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries and uncertainties of the day melting away.

In that moment, as you lay together under the vast starlit sky, you felt a profound connection to Luke. A realization that filled you with a sense of joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Whether your mom approved of your relationship or not (spoiler alert: she did), it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were with Luke, and in his arms, protected from the surrounding cruel world.

#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan #liv’s writing !#luke castellan x reader #laufey #aphrodite

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qingxin-dream · 9 months

Text

“Righteousness”

summary | in another timeline, kunikuzushi never redeemed himself. he took interest in a different kind of heart—not the Gnosis, not a Vision—but yours. (art credits: @/Shiqaruki on twitter).

warnings | lore, kidnapping, kuni calls you ‘little songbird,’ profanity, brief mention of physical abuse, manipulation, praise & degradation, pining, obsessive/possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader (wears a dress & lingerie), dominant kuni, choking, yandere jealousy, murder/arson threats, worship, slapping, finger-fucking, mirror sex, kuni receives oral, deepthroating, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, mention of breeding

genre | yandere, smut with plot, canon-divergent

word count | 4.5k

pairing | kunikuzushi/scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In a time all but forgotten, a young boy sat on his knees, caressing a hand-sewn doll in his palms and looking up with childlike compassion to his companion.

“There once was a puppet solider whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever,” he began, his eyes reflecting the scene of his storytelling imagination.

He gently squeezed the doll in his hands, as if to comfort his companion before the truth spills from his lips. “But the solider didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feelings came from.”

“One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina,” he continued with a more somber tone, drawing attention to the gut-wrenching ending of a tragic romance.

However, his voice shifted, offering soft words of wisdom and hope to his distraught friend. “The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

Instinctively, the beautiful puppet sitting before the young boy curled his lip in disdain. “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart… but that’s not a real heart.”

He could hear the affectionate smile pulling at the corners of the young boy’s mouth. “Maybe, but what if… hearts can be born from ashes?”

“What a joke. It’s just ashes,” the lonesome puppet can barely conjure up a breath in his agony. “Nothing left but ashes.”

As his chest twisted and clenched with the wretched filth of so-called human emotion, the divine puppet came to a profound realization. His body merely served as a hollow shell, cursed by the ghost of mortal weakness—a living testament to the depths of an Archon’s visceral mourning.

In his naïveté, he had trusted the boy he thought to be his friend. He had believed that silly little fairytale, that maybe he wasn’t as empty and worthless as he felt. There was no heart to be found in the cold vessel of a failed god.

Kunikuzushi would have to claim one for himself.

Sin.

The ultimate temptress of mortals. The manifestation of human greed and desire. That which demands repentance and atonement for fear of eternal damnation. It is hinged on the human condition that death is inevitable.

Mortals are easily persuaded by morals and ideology if it means life after death in a paradise that is not guaranteed. Humans create false narratives to exercise the sick satisfaction of controlling one other. When all is said and done, the real struggle is for power—namely the power to control fate itself.

For those who are destined to roam the world with no such motives, imprisoned in an earthly purgatory, sin and salvation are laughable notions.

There is no reason to live, for you cannot die; Sin knows no bounds and comes with no price.

“The sooner you accept this, the better,” Kunikuzushi laments, his face just inches from yours. The bewitching twinkle in his lavender irises has remained all these centuries, a cruel illusion masking the abyss beneath. “Nothing you say will change my decision.”

You were really quite the picture, if he was being honest, all tied up for him. Kunikuzushi loathed that just the sight of you was enough to make the void in his chest cavity ache with longing. A reminder of his imperfection.

Anyone else would have died a violent death for such a transgression. But you presented a unique opportunity.

“Kuni, please,” you whimpered, your pleas falling on deaf ears. On the contrary, he loves hearing your voice, especially when you beg so earnestly. “I-I don’t know what I did wrong… I’m scared. Please, let me go…”

The puppet hushes you lovingly, his lips brushing against your delicate skin toward your ear. “Hey, now. There’s no need for that. You’re safe with me, little songbird.”

You flinch, gasping and recoiling in fear, turning your head away defiantly. It’s not like you could push him away, your little limbs bound to a tall column in the kitchen nice and tight. Hot tears pricked at your eyes. It burns like hell.

“Untie me, Kuni!” you shrieked, squirming and struggling against the binds to no avail.

He snatches your face firmly between his thumb and two fingers, squishing your cheeks to the point you felt pressure on your skull. “Ungrateful slut. Didn’t I explain this to you already? Your heart beats for me from this day forward.”

Frozen in shock, your body stiffens involuntarily as fear floods your veins, rendering you utterly helpless. Even as he gazed upon you with an icy, detached stare, you couldn’t find it within yourself to fault Kuni for this act of desperation. He could never make sense of himself and the pain that came with betrayal after betrayal.

Why even try to embrace humanity if it would mercilessly punish you for not having a heart?

You still remember the day you found him, it was but a coincidence you both crossed paths. Kuni was a wandering traveler, or at least that’s how he introduced himself. He seemed kind enough. You were particularly taken by his appearance, so lovely it was almost inhuman.

It just so happened that you were willing to offer him a place to stay. It took a bit of convincing on your part, actually, but you were worried about the string of murders near your village recently. Someone must have had an insatiable vendetta against the blade-smithing arts, striking them down one by one.

A small knowing smile pulled at his lips, his eyes creasing slightly with amusement as he marveled at how you opened yourself up so easily. This was the first time he had talked to a human in who knows how long. Perhaps since the young boy’s passing many dreadful seasons ago.

Kuni found the void in his chest persuading him to entertain his curiosity about you.

He had to admit, once you both got to know each other, it was quite the impeccable arrangement. During the day, you provided the kind of mundane tranquility and domesticity he had always dreamed of. Thankfully, your residence was in a rural part of the countryside, which offered much appreciated security and seclusion from the world.

Once you were safely tucked into bed and sound asleep, he would lie restlessly in the guest room. Puppets have no need for sleep. On some lonely moonlit nights, he would entertain his own fantasies of you. In the absence of such desires, he was compelled to satisfy his blood thirst.

Though Kuni had long forsaken the human emotions that afflicted his existence with disappointment and abandonment, his burgeoning relationship with you had quickly proven to be the last remaining vestige of his innocent supplication for a purpose.

In fact, he demanded it, after witnessing you day in and day out slipping from his grasp. He was growing impatient, waiting for something more. You had always stopped short of taking a little leap of faith to hold his hand or kiss his forehead, leaving him yearning for your touch and attention. Why?

Even in your presence, he was not alleviated of his turmoil. A number of possibilities plagued him. Were you dissuaded by his artificial constitution? Did he make a fatal miscalculation? God forbid, was there someone else?

No matter how many times he twisted, folded, and bent reality in his mind, trying to make sense of you, he never came to an agreeable conclusion. By the time Kuni realized just how deep you had nestled yourself into the empty husk of his heart, it was too late for the both of you.

All of this mental anguish and pining was unbearable. Unacceptable. He loved you, yes, but needed you more.

The puppet’s chest fluttered as you willingly complied, tears staining your cheeks, but that’s okay. His soft pink lips brushed against your cheek once more, kissing away your precious tears. It was his first taste of you.

Kuni cradled you in his palms like a delicate doll, his thumbs ghosting your cheeks. He leaned in closer, indigo bangs tickling your face and his mouth parted with a breathless question. “Is your heart… truly mine?”

He had broken you, and you had no choice but to nod slowly.

“Say it for me, little songbird,” he encourages you with a warm intonation. His eyes were trained on your lips.

“I-I’m yours,” you replied weakly.

No sooner than you could speak were his plush lips pressed to yours, a breathy hum of relief exhaling through his nose. In turn, you muffled a whimper, overwhelmed by the sensation. He had untied you, knowing you couldn’t hurt him but he could certainly hurt you.

Kuni was gentle at first, relishing in his first kiss with you. He carefully took your wrists to guide your hands to his body, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you against him. Still, you trembled in his grasp.

“There’s no need to fear,” he whispers between kisses, holding your face to his. “I will take care of you.”

He can’t bear to leave your lips. Guiding you towards him, he leans against the kitchen counter and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. A small prayer barely escapes his lips. “(Y/N), hold me… touch me… please.”

“Kuni,” you choke out, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. You are silenced with increasingly fervent kisses, one of his hands trailing down to your neck just by his fingertips, giving you goosebumps in the wake of his featherlight touch.

“You are going to give yourself to me. Your heart is my heart, and I will not have you hiding any part of yourself from me,” his voice grows a bit more insistent, closing his fingers around your throat as a threat, but not yet squeezing. “Do you understand?”

You give a feeble nod, unable to look at him directly. Every time your gaze locked with his, it sent a pang of terror jolting through your fragile body. He brings you closer by your neck, kissing you with more confidence than before. There is a little part of you that is worried you are unable to discern fear from excitement.

The puppet lets his hand slip further, fingertips finding the contour of your chest. He hesitates briefly, then allows his palm to feel your plump breast. The act was enough to elicit a little whine from you, and he knew right then and there that he had to hear it again.

“Do you… have any inclination of how long I waited for you?” he whispers hotly onto your lips, feeling down your waist at an excruciatingly slow pace. He smoothed each wrinkle of your dress with his thumb, tracing the silhouette of your figure down until he felt the hem of your underwear through the thin fabric. His breath caught.

You were still not as receptive to his advances as he would like, and suddenly he scoops you up to hook your legs around his hips, pressing your back against the nearest wall in the hallway. Kuni was beginning to reveal his desperation for you in more ways than one, breathing a little heavier. He was determined to have you submit to him and if you weren’t responsive to his soft side, then so be it.

“Answer me,” Kuni lowers his voice with a commanding edge, his lips just inches from your neck while his messy indigo bangs tickled your jaw. You whimpered, involuntarily moving your hips against him at the mere thought of his mouth on you.

At long last, you found your voice—delicate and decadent with a tinge of spine-prickling anticipation. Perhaps you had lost part of yourself, your humanity, in him too. “H-how long, Kuni?”

You shivered slightly, feeling his mouth spread into a satisfied smile against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice deepens further, sultry and needy, “Lifetimes… I’ve been so goddamn purposeless for too many fucking lifetimes, just waiting for you.”

Without warning, the touch-starved puppet sunk his teeth into the crevice of your shoulder at the base of your throat, sucking at the weak spot to bruise the skin with his mark. A surprised yelp fell from your mouth, and you so nicely turned your head to offer him more. He clutched your curves tightly, as if he was secretly wishing your bodies would just melt into each other.

Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum…

Your precious heartbeat echoed through his chambers of his chest. Kuni craved that little pulse of yours, chasing it up your neck in heated, sloppy kisses. All the while, you encouraged him with sweet little sounds of pleasure, softly asking for more under your breath.

“It’s mine,” he reiterated, perhaps to help immortalize the sensation against his lips. With a faint growl and yet another love bite, he added, “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

If only he could be bothered to pull back and catch a glimpse of how the puppet had unraveled you beyond recognition, equally as intoxicated by the heat of the moment. No matter. He will have his fill of you in due time.

“Y-yours, mhmm,” you capture his wet lips halfway, experimentally swirling your tongue with his passionately. You were clinging onto his shoulders, entangling your fingers in the soft ends of his pretty hair resting on the back of his neck.

With a faint moan against your mouth, Kuni lifted you once more by slipping his hands under your dress to feel his digits press into the soft flesh of your ass. It was light work to carry you, giving him the opportunity to squeeze and smack your ass with a smirk.

Slipping into your bedroom, he set you down and turned you around by your hips so that you were facing the tall mirror just a few feet away from the mattress. He leans over your shoulder from behind and you blush heavily at the image reflected by the mirror. Both of his beautiful hands traveled up your body simultaneously, one feeling your stomach, ribs, breast, and resting around the bottom of your throat.

The other, however, caught the frilly ends of your dress, sliding it up your skin at a painstakingly slow rate. Kuni’s violet irises shimmered with obsessive desire, admiring every inch of your body that was exposed to him. He bunches the dress in his fist as he raises it above your hips, revealing the most angelic lacy undergarments accented with cute little ballerina pink ribbons. Kuni chuckled, his breath tickling your neck.

“Do me a favor, darling,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. He takes his time to unveil your breasts, each one perfectly shaped with lovely nipples begging to be pinched. “Open your mouth.”

You comply, watching yourself in the mirror with curious fascination, before Kuni stuffs the thin, light fabric of your dress into your mouth. He nibbles your ear playfully. “Hold that for me.”

His eyes marvel at your body. If you told him you were a goddess, he would believe you without hesitation. Divine or not, the puppet was hell-bent on worshipping you like he had been dreaming of. Kuni played with the intricate lace of your snow white lingerie, his thumb brushing your pelvis teasingly.

Instead, he takes two fingers and caresses your folds outside of the undergarment, pleased to feel your panties dampened with excitement. You quiver at the touch, moaning faintly. Kuni is enthralled by the sweet noise, taking the tiny lingerie by his thumbs and sweeping it down your pretty legs.

He immediately sits down on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling you into his lap and spreading your legs apart with his knees. There it was in the mirror. Your glistening flower framed with the loveliest soft petals.

Kuni couldn’t possibly restrain himself when you were presented so exquisitely, wasting no time to slide his fingers over your pussy. You groaned in pleasure, muffled by the dress in your mouth, relaxing against his chest as the puppet focused on rubbing circles around your clit. He kissed your neck and shoulders endlessly, admiring your reactions in the mirror and whispering lowly, “So good for me. So, so good for me, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

Your thighs trembled. You desperately wanted to close your legs as his movements became faster on your clit, the stimulation swiftly overcoming you. Breathy moans soon evolved into incoherent pleas. Kuni held you steadfast with his legs, keeping you spread all nice, admiring how you twitched beneath him.

“What did I tell you?” his tone is one of warning, groping your right breast and littering your skin with a few more marks. “There are consequences to hiding yourself from me.”

The puppet suddenly swipes his middle finger over your leaking hole—causing you to moan lewdly—before slapping your pussy. It was a light but firm slap, sending an addicting concoction of both pain and pleasure through you.

After a brief moment, he returns to your folds to trace and admire it, then continuing his ministrations on your clit. Occasionally Kuni would let a finger slip to tease your entrance, finding that it drove you crazy.

“P-please, please, Kuni,” your words quivered like your body, bending easily to the pleasure he was so kindly bestowing you. It had to have been the hundredth small cry for relief tumbling from your throat, you were on the precipice of your climax. “I-I need it. Something, anything… fuck me.”

“You better not cum on my fingers,” the puppet orders, gathering your slick and gently inserting two fingers into your warm walls. You whined in frustrated pleasure as he stretched you slightly, pumping his digits in and out of you barely an inch but keeping you stuffed.

“I c-can’t, I’m…” you babble. Kuni knew you were on the brink already, but he wanted to at least try to prepare you for his cock. He suddenly pulls his fingers out, and with it escapes your climax. Tears were almost pricking your eyes. You could definitely feel them beneath the surface.

He slaps your pussy again as punishment for not listening to his commands. “Greedy sluts are not rewarded.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble and he grunts, pushing you off of him and to your knees in front of the bed. Kuni makes quick work of his clothes, tossing his shirt aside and pulling his pants down enough to spring his throbbing cock free. You had certainly felt his hard length while you were in his lap, but seeing it rendered you speechless.

No different from the rest of the puppet’s beautiful body, Kuni’s cock was perfect. A few veins wrapped around his hard member, bulging under the flesh. Towards the tip, it was gradually flushed pink with hot need, a pearl of precum on his slit. You took him in your hand, butterflies swarming your stomach with the realization that he had more girth than you expected.

Kuni grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face toward his cock with a simple demand. “Suck.”

You experimentally drag your tongue underneath his cock, licking your lips, and working your mouth on his tip to lubricate him first. Kuni’s eyes roll in the back of his head, resting one hand behind him on the bed as he moans deeply. “Fuck, (Y/N)…”

The sensation of you smiling with his cock in your mouth sent warmth through him. You eagerly fit more of him in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue just the way he likes it when you received praise. Yet, Kuni needed more.

“You can do better than that,” he scoffed.

His grip on your hair tightened, pushing your throat completely down on his cock just to feel it once. The puppet twitched in your throat, letting out a seductive growl of pleasure. You gagged slightly, before pulling back with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You coughed a little, but he cupped your chin and wiped it from your mouth sweetly.

“That’s my girl,” Kuni coos, guiding you up on the bed next to him and pushing you down onto your back. As much as he’d love to see you taking him in your mouth all evening, he had a prize more tantalizing waiting for him. Clothes on the floor, moonlight pouring over you both, the puppet vowed to never forget how you mewled as he dragged the pulsing tip of his cock along your wet folds.

Gasping, you achingly bucked your hips in tandem, utterly drunk on the delicious sensation of his thick length parting your pussy lips. You loved to be teased, that much was for sure and Kuni ate it up—the desperate crinkle of your brow in pleasure and how your breath became short.

He presses his tip at your warm hole, but never pushes it in.

You groan dramatically, sweat already forming on your forehead and you haven’t even began. Every bit of pressure he applies has you smitten, imagining the moment he finally fills you. “K-Kuni…”

The smug puppet smirks down at you knowingly, grinding his cock against you repeatedly, rubbing your clit just right. “Yes, my little songbird? Have something to say?”

Before you can speak, he kisses you to muffle your answer. You grow even more impatient, using your legs to keep his hips locked close to yours. Kuni peppers your jawline and neck with kisses and little playful licks of his tongue. “I’m listening.”

“Please,” you beg.

Kuni’s tone is unreadable. “Please what? Use your words.”

You give him a flustered look of desperation and he pins your hands on either side of your head, interlacing your fingers with his. You reply, biting your lower lip, “Fuck m-me, Kuni.”

A smile graces his face and his eyes soften, thumbs caressing your hand comfortingly to brace you for his length. “Is this… your first time, (Y/N)?”

Though you were a shy and kindhearted person, he should’ve known from the way you deepthroated his cock earlier that it wasn’t your first. He wasn’t your first. That means someone else was. Someone else defiled you.

Kuni’s electric purple eyes darkened like an impending storm as you shook your head.

“Indulge me,” the puppet asks. “What other men have been in my position?”

You are not in the right state of mind, still insatiably yearning for your climax and grinding your wet folds on his length. However, Kuni doesn’t accept your nonsensical mumblings and half-answers. His hands tighten around yours, pushing his cock into you with a guttural moan inch by inch until he bottoms out completely.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sputter out, sighing in sweet relief and a bit of pain. Your pussy is filled to the brim with his cock, stretching you out good. You try to turn your head away and close your eyes, but Kuni refuses to let you.

“That’s right,” Kuni’s voice is nothing short of alluring in the most raw way possible. “Treat me like your god and fucking look at me while you take my cock.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t also utterly euphoric as he sinks his large member into your tight walls. Gritting his teeth, he’s taken aback by how you squeeze him unknowingly, even your subconscious is unable to deny the pleasure he’s giving you. It took you a few seconds to adjust to his girth, your eyes drifting down his muscular chest and toned abdomen in admiration.

With the first drag of his cock out of you to his tip, hushed hum of pleasures are murmured by each of you, until he buries himself all the way back into you. Kuni continues in this rhythm with a few thrusts, unable to his stifle his own moans. He was no better, his climax already building within.

Pulling back, the puppet releases your hands to push your legs against your chest by your thighs to get just the right angle and perfect view of your folds. He hovers above you, fucking just his hot bulbous tip into your needy hole. In mere seconds, you cursed to yourself at how good it felt when he brushed against your sensitive entrance.

Your clit pulsated for attention. How could he not press his palm onto your pelvis and drag his thumb across the slightly swollen bud? His half-thrusts became shakier as you unexpectedly tightened around his cock—moans freely and loudly erupting from your throat. The feeling was beyond exhilarating and convinced him to push you to your limits.

“You think I’m going to let any other man put his hands on you like this?” Kuni sneers with jealous envy reflecting in his irises. “I’ll fucking snap his neck. I’d kill him.”

Impulsively, the obsessed puppet roughly plunges his entire cock into your soft pussy. He relishes in your loud moan of shock at the pleasure and slight discomfort in splitting you wide open. His cock pushes against that wonderful spot deep inside you, incredibly sensitive after all his torturous teasing. You were seeing more than stars.

“I bet they couldn’t fuck you like I can,” he scoffs, possessively pulling your closer by your legs and holding your ankles on his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly. “Make you scream like I can. And—nghh—breed you.”

You were finer than a work of art, truly, in all your fucked-out glory as you chase your high on his thick cock. His thumb flitting over your clit messily, primal groans of bliss echoing throughout the bedroom at every divine flutter of your pussy milking his cock so well. Your words were simply unintelligible, mumbling breathy prayers wishing for his seed.

“No one can take you away from me,” Kuni himself is beginning to tremble with pleasure, but nevertheless he keeps up his brutal pace. Every crevice of your walls and your womb will know his essence. “You’re mine, and I’ll burn the whole damn world for you if that’s what it takes.”

In a rush of jealous envy at the mere thought of losing you, the puppet abruptly pushes your legs back onto your beautiful breasts by his chest. The erotic melody of your fluids coating the base of his cock and v-line with every sloppy thrust pushes you both over the edge of an impossible free fall of euphoria.

“Cum on me, (Y/N). C’mon, cum all over my fucking cock,” Kuni demands with salacious desperation, pounding into you again and again until you’ve ridden out every second of your climax. The sensation is indescribable as he swears he could feel your rapid heartbeat through your walls—your heartbeat in his hands like he’s the supreme god of your body.

And as such, he blesses you with ropes of hot cum to drown your pussy in his everlasting love. Kuni collapses and cradles you, wiping the tears of pleasure from your sweet, angelic cheeks.

Righteousness means nothing to gods, for whom salvation is too late and sin knows no price.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#IDK WHERE 4.5K CAME FROM I JUST REALLY LIKE SCARA OKAY😩💜#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #genshin kunikuzushi #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut

2K notes · View notes

herseraphwings · 4 months

Text

18+ A Glimpse Into The Most Intense Sexual Encounter Of Your Lifetime😈💦🍆🍑

It's been months & I had to step away from Tumblr to focus on business! I'm sorry to those who took the poll and didn't get the readings! Here is a steamy pick a card to make up for it. Hopefully I can contribute more pick a pile's to this side of Tumblr more consistently now!

All original works posted on this platform are copyrighted. Unauthorized use or reproduction without permission is prohibited. This pick a pile/image/card is meant to give you an idea of what the most steamy and intense sexual encounter of your life will be. This encounter could be at any point! Enjoy!

Minors DNI!!

✨This will be a creative writing pick a card✨

Pile #1

Your Song: Love Is Stronger Than Pride - Sade

Prime Lyric: “I can’t hate you, though I have tried.”

It's a shame this is happening here.

The cold of the marble countertop against your exposed skin sends quivers up your spine and frissons of blessed goosebumps across the curve of your rear. A warm but equally gentle and rough hand cups your derriere while twin digits grip your jawline. Timeless lips suckle at your needy neck as you draw in unsteady breaths, grasping at the walls to support the arch of your back. Thick, honeyed lust pools lower and lower with the current of your strong but fluttering heart, drawing your thighs together like aching soft magnets. Just a few minutes ago, there was gnashing of teeth and an attempted divergence witnessed by the Gods as a spectacled exchange of bitter thoughts raised like christened knives against your throats.

It was the supposed last stand. The conclusion of your story, where you're completely, utterly, officially separated.

But as you both faced off on your war-torn battlefront for the last time, you were ambushed. Your armageddon was due to rear its ugly head and place the four horsemen of pride, betrayal, uncertainty, and, sadly enough, money issues on all sides of your connection. But surprisingly, those demons watched from up high. For the Devil always has a trick up its sleeve. This isn't the first time you've launched into battle and escaped bloodied. But it is the first time the warzone has turned sanctuary- nestling you, cuts, bruises, and all to its tempting bosom.

What better way to fight than to fuck?

Now, your limbs are entangled while you paw at each other, vulnerable and mutilated by past sins in the bathroom of a mutual acquaintance. Hands you caressed and caressed a million lives over now grab you with need. A need for understanding. Atonement. Rehabilitation. A need to strip you even more bare than their painful words could leave you because it's you. It's always been you. You're the one that chips at their inescapable pride.

You do this to them- challenge them to be better and tear them down to be much worse when they've failed you.

Heady kisses trace down your neck to your collarbone, all the way down, planting seeds of love; another could never hope to see bear tempering fruit like they could, down to where the heat of all you could ever want and need rests eagerly within the cage of your thighs. "

“Open your legs.”, They look up to you and whisper; their voice tickling you with vibratory lust.

As you part, you feel teasing nips and pecks mark your sensitive skin with seductive swirling licks to echo, shifting deeper to the core of your desire until a pleasant moan escapes you.

You're not sure if you'll leave your tryst hand in hand or even on the same accord, but you at least know one thing. You both can rip profound emotions out of the other- deep from the marrow. Day or night. Spring or fall. You won't worry if that's a good or bad thing for now because as they beckon your climax to greet them at the edge of their greatest weapon against you, the past pain loses its power.

Every precise movement of their tongue is like perfect jolts of electricity through your body. Fuck they know you so fucking well.

Their soft lips and hums of pleasure in pleasuring you are where the true power lies. The sensual dance of their fingers strokes at your sweet spot, but the sudden rustle of the door knob snaps you back to reality. Shit! You shouldn't be doing this here. Before you allow sense to overshadow the moment,the heat builds as your moans grow more intense. You're grateful for the ruckus on the other side of the wall. You sense them smirk beneath you and lock eyes with an individual who is determined to pluck at the strings of your desire until they're taught, and muffled screams rain down on them in a frenzied zenith. Passerby be damned. Once they've drunk enough of you, you'll be ready to return the favor with equal vigor.

This moment is a storm. Just like your love. A great and terrible storm. Strong enough to tear through villages of memories built on the foundations of a long connection. And just like you have weathered many before as enemies and lovers, these moments provide enough energy to brace yourselves for inclement weather.

The soul beneath you loves you harder as you writhe, faster, stronger until your beautiful climax hits you like a truck.

It's such a fucking shame this is happening here.

You see red. Are you back on the battlefield?

The Devil rises slowly to lay a peck at your ear and whispers, "There's a thin line between love and hate."

Notes:

This person is may come off as moody or too passionate for others. You have been together for a while at the time of this experience.

At the time of your encounter they are struggling with money.

You are separated, but attempt to find common ground at a social event

This may be the direct doing of a friend.

I don’t subscribe to the concept of twin flames personally, but this person may truly be your twin flame.

Your relationship with them at the time may be so deep that any little act that may harm the other can blow up to extremes because the feelings run too deep. There’s so much passion!

Thank you for allowing me the honor to read/write for you, Pile 1!✨ Follow for more readings like this!

Pile #2

Your Song: Hours - FKA Twigs

Prime Lyric “ Who’d have thought, I’d be in your mouth, loud and clear?

I once read that the best love stories are the ones that start with two people who can't stand each other.

At the time, I thought it a stretch of fictitious delusion. Understand me, Rosaline. I've had my fair share of entertainment from the comedic tropes I've watched on my various screens and read in books, but that's because the hands that pressed pen to paper or finger to keyboard behind the scenes knew how to write a good story.

There is power in prose.

We can all agree that the prodigal hate fuck always satisfies an audience. But that's not real to me.

How you eclipse the moonlight of the bedroom window to stand naked before me as the birth of Aphrodite itself is real to me. It's more vivid than any lucid dream or waking hallucination I could conjure in my insanity for you. How you languidly stalk towards the edge of the bed and make prey of me as your supple breasts softly and teasingly bounce is real to me.

I've never known anyone to be so graceful as they lower themselves to their knees.

The throbbing ache of anticipation you draw out of me as your hands open the gate of my thighs, and your beautiful face rests at the threshold of me is real to me. That first gasp-inducing sweet lick followed by the sacred scent of your hair penetrating my nostrils is intoxicating. And, the taste of me on your lips as you pause to greet me before you take me to church is so enchantingly real.

Why? Because the most striking and tangible things of this world aren't isolated to what we can experience with the five senses. It's the things that shake us, move us, change us, and stir something profound within us that is true. We don't even have to understand the why at first.

And oh, how you stir the most primal and obsessive urges within me.

I raise a quivering hand to caress your crown as you lick, nip, and tease my most erogenous areas, but you smack my hand away in a warning. Your eyes pierce mine, and you remind me that you are untouchable.

You remain as unattainable as the day I met you.

In the beginning, that side of you was cruel. You were so severe. So chaste. A person who seemed to constantly move the goalpost as I chased and chased. Our story was an epic on the destructive nature of gravity. I wanted to be your orange moon as your sunlight cast down upon me, but your pull always threatened to consume and scorch me if I dared to neighbor you. Your glares were like ice, and your mouth spat fire at anything that had something to do with me. It must have been something that I said. But I was no child, and neither were you. We cut the bullshit and found the necessary 60 seconds to get clarity.

Now, we're very clear on one another. Our vision is 20/20, and God, if you aren't magnificent. The noises you make as your tongue continues its assault on me are provocative, eliciting moans from the bottom of my throat while my eyes roll back and my hips writhe beneath you. Vibrations emanate from your lips as you moan in response to how you undo me, slurping and licking at me deeper and faster to build on your high. Your hands grip me tighter, locking onto the soft of my thighs, not because you need to hold me down but because you want to anchor yourself. The sensual masochist in you knows how badly you want to slowly snake your hand down to feel the wet heat of your trembling cunt- but she won't let you.

It's the idea that someone like me would beg for the opportunity to just lay beneath and watch you as you gave yourself the depraved release you will forever deserve that drives your lust. In these moments, I'm the one lucky fool under your spell who gets to have a taste of you, but only under your rules.

That is why tonight is extra special because I agreed to let you do everything that you wanted to do to and or on me, and to be honest, your fantasies are not as wild as you think.

As my climax overtakes me, I gaze back down at you and admire your work.

You may see me as a fool, but I am a victor.

The same person that insulted me, frowned at me and rejected me is the same person that now in a delicious turn of events

has my cock down their throat.

Notes:

This person is someone that may have chased you or made you chase them

You both misunderstood each other and miscommunicated frequently, for some to the point that you couldn’t stand each other.

Rosaline is the original apple of Romeo’s eye. She made a vow that prevented her from marrying so she is seen as unattainable and the cause of Romeo’s strife before he lays eyes on Juliet.

For some this night of pleasure is after you have a moment of realization and see that you both actually vibe really well.

You may choose to secretly scurry off to get to know each other better, or end up having this night of passion after you deepen your commitment or get married.

You or this person could be in a situation where one has already promised themselves to someone else, but you both have a last minute moment of truth and choose to secretly give in to your desires without getting caught.

This is a slightly kinky pile

On this night you may be exploring water sports. I see a woman squirting over their partner or their partner asking to watch them squirt or pee into a glass

I see nipple play

Similar to pile one, there is an edge of not being seen or organizing a secret rendezvous.

I feel like it’s the more feminine person with the Rosaline energy, they may come off as bitchy or have severe resting bitch face, but the surprise is that they are the more kinky person.

They love your breasts, but get lustful when they see your opening.

Thank you for letting me the honor to read/write for you, Pile 2!✨Follow for more readings like this!

Your Song: Seventh - BOSCO

Prime Lyric: “Giving you permission as I'm breathing, Finger on the trigger, now we reset, Here to hide, Will we die? No.”

It's such a beautiful day. Your limbs are tangled in mine as we rest peacefully under the shade of a lone tree before the chapel courtyard. Your beautiful head against my chest gently anchors me to the grass as you listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I gaze into the blue sky, contemplating the recipe of cool teals, turquoise, and sapphires God chose to bundle the earth. Sometimes, I wonder why God still allows us to roam this beautiful garden of Eden we call our planet. Maybe it knows that after falling so painfully hard, there really is nowhere to go but up. Or, at least in my case, look up.

It's so quiet that you can hear the trickle of a nearby stream. As I look around, everything seems so vivid. Each blade of grass and round tree leaf is a more lively green and rustles so clearly against the gentle currents of air caressing our cheeks- that my spirit can't help but reach toward the surface of an all-encompassing consciousness. The sky, the leaves, the air, and the stream are alive- as alive as I am right here with you. I can see it now. Is this what it's like to be high?

How could I not be after what we just did? Even though the ceremony was intimate, I was nervous that one of our friends or family found it and somehow turned up at the last moment.

You shift your hand to draw feathered circles on my chest and snap me out of my musings. You look up at me with a mischievously giddy smile and trace me lower and lower until you reach the hem of my pants, pulling teasingly at the elasticity. I arch my brow in surprise, looking for signs of the clergy. It would be a disaster if one were to stumble across us on their holy walk to find you performing the most unholy of acts. My eyes scan the clearing. I gather myself on my forearms and take a peek back. You're also looking around, but those naughty eyes flash with an undercurrent of different intentions. I would have missed it if I hadn't known you so well.

You want to get caught.

My quick scan tells me that we're alone. But you're already gripping me, slender fingers wrapped tightly around velvet steel, ready to receive your touch. You stroke me firmly and languidly as the clouds pass by overhead, and my eager tip moistens with salty essence. I won't let you pull too many moans out of me. We don't know who may be listening despite another quick look around. It feels like I'm floating in a blessed eternity as you touch me until the chapel bell rings unexpectedly. We rush to compose ourselves- one more than the other. You giggle as I try to thrust myself back under my pants and hide my shame before we embarrassingly cross paths with someone on our walk back to the car. I don't return the sentiment.

It was a bad idea anyway. If the Universe is alive and God is real, that must have been a warning. A sort of "Congratulations, but do it in private."

I know when to listen to divine intervention. I won't allow us to suffer judgment because of your lack of self-control. So I will become a mascareri and punish you myself.

I want you to think you crossed a line during the car ride back. That our perfect day may not be so perfect after all. You got too impulsive- too excited. So you start entertaining regrets. It's a little cruel, but you'll forgive me later.

A few hours post your voyeuristic episode, we're diving into champagne and wine bottles. You begged me to pop one open in the spirit of celebration, but we both knew you wanted to flood the nerves in your body with libations. But your consumption of liquor is a double-edged sword.

Three, four, five glasses down and you're swimming. Your cheeks are a luscious plump shade of rose, your skin is warm to the touch, and your feet are too light or maybe too heavy because you stumble across the floor and fall into my arms. I open a window to let the night cool you down. I'm still nursing my first glass, so I trust myself to securely hoist my bride into my arms and lay her tenderly onto the mattress. Your arms lock behind my neck, and I meet the longing in your big, beautiful eyes. You search me for emotion. Anything that would reveal the current truth of my inner world, but I keep my mask on.

You wanted to give the Universe a show today. So let's give it one.

I'll tear the clothing off your body so roughly that cool night air will douse your heated skin with prickles of goosebumps. You won't have time to gasp at my movements because I'll already capture your beautiful mouth with my own- my strong body pressing yours into the mattress of our lover's nest. You will squirm in need, but that won't be enough for me. I need you to whimper, to whine, and mold your begging hips so close to mine as I caress slowly, achingly, down toward heaven. I'll cup my hand at the pearly gate and watch your troubled face as you wait what feels like a millennia until you crack from desperation to feel more of me.

But there is a warning in my eyes you have never seen before. Something that tells you that this is different. It grips you into submission, a sense of fear and excitement battling within. You've never experienced me treat you like anything other than an angel. Until now, I would never have allowed you to fall. But now I truly have you.

ALL OF YOU.

Tonight, you will discover that when angels fall, the devil is there to catch them.

After our week of heavenly sin in our temporary Garden of Eden, we can deal with the backlash that awaits us.

Notes:

-This is the person you will marry or at least form a deep commitment with.

-At the time of the sexual encounter, you are trying to eagerly move the commitment forward formally, but you're seeking help to try and make it happen.

-Like looking for an officiant or going through pre-marriage counseling.

-However, you are feeling a little confused and lost or at least frustrated at the situation because things are proving to require more work.

-This may be because other parties are trying to but in with their opinion.

-You feel like you are meant to be with this person. Or you could have already done the deed, and need to break it to your friends and family.

Thank you for letting me the honor to read/write for you, Pile 3!✨ Follow for more readings like this!

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #pick an image #pac tarot #pick a picture #tarot #free tarot #18+ content #love reading #love tarot reading

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waaterdeep · 7 months

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It’s heartbreaking to me how easily Gale abandons his plans of becoming a god when you romance him, because it shows that he never actually wanted to become a god in the first place.

When you ask him how he’s feeling after discovering the crown of Karsus he tells you that he’s excited about what the crown could do to improve both of your lives. His plans aren’t clear but it’s obvious that he wants to use it for himself. Of course there’s some selfishness there, perhaps a desire to get back at Mystra, but there’s a good part of him that sees this as a way to impress you, to become worthy of you.

But to convince him to let go of the crown in Act 3 you simply need to tell him that he matters, that you love him for the man that he is not the god he wants to be. You need to convince him that he’s always been enough and that he always will be, so long as he stays true to who he is. And with high approval he accepts this without question. While he feels uncertain about putting all of his faith into one person, he’s still relieved and happy to do so.

You have opportunities before the Outer Planes scene to tell him that you care about him, most notably in Act 2, when you can tell him that you want to spend the night with Gale the man, that you don’t need him to wow you with cosmic sex. While this clearly means a lot to him it doesn’t translate as “I am exactly all that this person needs” in his mind yet.

But when you have the Outer Planes scene and he tells you of his plans, if you gently bring him back down to earth, kiss him and tell him he’s perfect, he’s wholly convinced. While Tara might have told him many times some variation of this, you are the first person, and most importantly the first lover, to tell him and show him. The fact that you met him with diminished powers and the Netherese orb and still fell in love with him speaks volumes.

It shows that his ambitions are not born from hubris, rather, from a profound insecurity that could only be the product of his defining of his life, his value, in relation to the literal goddess of magic and, obviously, falling short. Conjuring visions of Waterdeep and the Outer Planes, it’s all his way to convince you that he’s worthy of your affections, you who in most cases cannot do that at all. But he bases his worth completely upon his magical abilities, it’s no surprise then that magnifying them to infinite proportions is his way to remove his fear of losing you, since his greatest weakness, his humanity, is what drove his previous lover away from him.

And that’s absolutely heartbreaking.

#I have a lot of thoughts about gale #feel free to add on to this I’d love to hear your thoughts #anyways I love him a normal amount thanks for coming to my ted talk #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #my thoughts

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planetsano · 3 months

Text

☆ 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 : you don’t want god to be the man in your life.

☆ 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 : heavy sacrilegious themes, feelings of resentment towards religion, reader is a nun, hiormi is a high preist, vaginal sex but in second person, blood mention, rosary, crosses, prayer, power imbalance dynamics, cream pie, addiction mentioned.

☆ 𝗮𝗿𝘁 : fckmanji on x.

The rosary clenched around your clammy, little dainty hand was with such intensity that it dug into the skin almost drawing blood. The beads press into your flesh, leaving indentations as if the act of prayer itself is etched into the very fibers of the hand. With every subtle twist and turn, the your veil gradually begins to slide off your head exposing a glimpse of your tresses.

He hopes you know— he hopes you know that your breathless, almost incoherent prayers aren’t getting you any closer to the God you believe you’re praying to. Your efforts only serve to further the intensity that Higuruma’s cock rams into you. The sounds to him are profound; squelching and wet skin paired with almost muted clap of the impact every time his hips snap into you.

As far as Hiromi is concerned, the only God that you need is him and you’ll worship him for the rest of your life— he knows it because he’s the center of your world. He’s all you know. So when you lay beneath him praying to a “god” he’s long since stopped believing in, Higuruma knows that in your heart, you’re praying to him. For him to stay with you— to breathe life into you and the experience thrill of participating in something so sinful, degenerate and taboo.

You weren’t alive before him and you’re well aware of that. You devoted your entire existence to God when you gave him your vows— its what you learned growing up from family. They told you that it was the right path; that this would fulfill you and be your purpose in life, you’ll be happy and complete, but you’ve never been more.. miserable in your life. A symbolized devotion now felt like a suffocating shroud that consumed you. Each day became a struggle with the weight of a duty that contrasted sharply against the desire for a different life.

Resentment brewed within you, a gradual emotional upheaval fueled by the clash between your own desires and the demands of the Church. Each prayer became a reminder of your sacrifice, and every obedient act to please your sisters deepened the bitterness. The once accepted vows you were so set on making now provoked a simmering anger— rage. A resentment that festers beneath the surface like an evil, fueled by an unfulfilled longing for a life untethered from the confines of the convent.

Still, you were ashamed. You cloaked yourself in a facade of happiness, concealing the shame and guilt that lived within you. You feared judgment from both your fellow sisters, the Church and the divine, wearing a mask of contentment and suppressing your true emotions.

But Hiromi never made you feel that way. He made you feel good, seen, heard. He made you feel warmth and light in a dark pit of despair.

You often asked yourself if this is what love was or at the very least what it felt like. You asked Hiromi one day and his answer didn’t help much— “…Who’s to say what love feels like? It’s different for everyone.. It’s like an addiction, maybe— a craving that consumes us in ways we can’t always understand or explain.” You asked him if he’d ever been in love and you were only met with a gentle hand cupping your soft face upwards to meet his gaze and he responded with: “Something like that. Let’s get back before they all start to worry.”

An addiction was a resounding way to put it because that’s what you feel for him. You feel like an addict who needs their next dose or something will snap. You’re consciously aware that it’s bad— the relationship is wrong. He’s a drug that you have to put down but it’s the high that keeps coming back. You can’t recall how many times you’ve called him whether in tears or anger about his whereabouts and that you feel like you’re going crazy without him, relentlessly chewing at your nails and lips to hear any kind of reassurance.

You’re aware of what they say about addiction, that after so long you end trying to chase what it felt like for the very first time but it ends to no prevail. That it’s like chasing a ghost from the past, hoping to recapture something that becomes more elusive with each attempt. It’s only a vicious cycle of hurt and pain but you don’t feel that when you’re with him and in his presence. Hiromi knows he’s well on his way of creating a monster but there’s a part of him that feels a satisfaction unlike no other. Hiromi knows that he very well could be on his way of creating a monster, but there’s a part of him that feels a satisfaction unlike no other.

None of it matters because he feels like a cure. A cure to both for yourself and for him. He feels like the burden of pretending is finally dispelling, like there is hope at the end of a seemingly never ending tunnel. He sees the same light that you see when you look at him. But he wasn’t sure if it was love or his own sick and perverted fantasies.

“Yeah.. Say my name, please..” A low, guttural groan escapes Higuruma’s lips, a visceral sound of pleasure resonating between the bodies of you both. It carries the weight of a raw expression— the sensations engulfing him in that moment. He’s long shed any pride, unashamedly sinking into the depths of desire— a pussy too tight for its own good is the closest he’ll get to any divine. Begging is not beneath him; in fact, it’s a familiar plea woven into the fabric of his existence. The allure of depravity has become a comfortable companion with him. He revels in the depravity and perversion, finding a dark satisfaction in the forbidden. Each twisted indulgence becomes a source of pleasure and you were his main fix these days.

“Mhn—!” A strangled moan left your lips, your plump lips glossy with your saliva as your tits continuously bounced with every thrust. They had long since been exposed, a lacy under-bust bodice decorating you so perfectly. Your hands were clasped together still, rosary still in hand but any prayer of beg of forgiveness is lost on you. The coolness from the small metal cross that touches your skin almost burns and is an alarming reminder that He’s watching. “Christ..!”

“Close.. you’re so close..” A shaky breath leaves him and his brows furrow— he’s right on the edge and just needs a push. He just needs to hear you say it. Say it like it’s sacred word so he can replay it over and over again. He’ll do it until it feels too distant like a memory— until he comes back to you seeking the same solace in your cunt. “But that’s not my name. Is it..?”

“H—Hiro..mi! Oh my God.. I’m—” It couldn’t be helped anymore. Your walls wrapped around his shaft in rhythmic patterns, your own juices coming to form a white almost frothy ring around the base of his cock. You started to shake from the pleasure, your body’s involuntary response to it all. “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me..” Oh, but even you’re aware that he’s long since given up on you. The elation and euphoria plastered on your face in such a perverse expression was depraved— it was blasphemous in the sense that he’s aware of how free you felt acting on your own selfish needs and giving into the temptation that is lust.

The act of asking for forgiveness right now is disrespectful and almost disturbing. Hiromi can see that you’re deeply troubled and displaced in this life and it comforts him in the oddest way because he doesn’t feel alone anymore. He has someone to share this burden with. Although, he does wish that you would be honest with yourself in his presence. He wonders if asking for forgiveness for you was similar to him swatting something like a gnat that comes into his face: second nature. A reaction that’s seems to be ingrained into the human response and the mind. You both knew that you had been conditioned under the pretense of believing that this route in life was the right thing to do.

Higuruma fills you up to the brim, a risky choice considering the lack of condom but neither of you cared. His hips sputter and slip until he gives you one final thrust, his pelvis pressing firmly against you as he pumps you full of his seed. His hands hold the back of your knees, pinning you into a fold that makes you feel like your muscles are tight. He’s heavy and you almost can’t breathe but it felt good— it felt so good feeling him cum inside you because it felt like he was giving you everything he had. Every piece of him.

“He can’t hear you right now, only speak to me.” His forehead rests against yours, eyes locked in an intimate stare. You look at him with such wonder like a country soul looking at city lights and skyscrapers for the first time at night.

“You’re bleeding..” He states softly, taking note of your hand. You somehow managed to pop the wire of your rosary and the wire itself seemed to work its way into your palm.

“Hiromi..” You called for him softly, watching him take your hand and gently kiss your wound— small rivulets of blood sticking to his lips. “Am I the devil..?”

“No,” Higuruma brings your hand to his face to cup his cheek, eyes heavily lidded as he looks down at you. “You’re human.”

“Let’s run away.. the both of us.”

“In time.”

#┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° bria writes!#jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #higuruma hiromi #cw.blood #cw.sacrilege #cw.religion

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hoshifighting · 4 months

Text

Synopsis: In a place where good and evil, angels and demons are divided. The angel Joshua feels enchanted and attracted by the beauty outside of Paradise, governed by you, who is a rebellious angel who lives in worldly certainties.

Joshua! Celestial Angel X Reader! Shadow Angel

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), penetrative sex, wings, dark eyes, flying, partly innocent Joshua, sinners, disrespecting the heavenly order bc of love.

In this peculiar realm where opposing forces clashed, the angelic and demonic entities found themselves in a perpetual dance of contradiction. — Day and night, good and bad, right or wrong— You, a being demon with grand black wings and your body draped in silky obsidian fabric, had transitioned from the celestial paradise to the earthly abode. It was a place adorned with greenery, a paradise for humans, yet deemed a hell by the angelic standards.

Your eyes, once accustomed to the pristine skies, now adjusted to the vibrant chaos of this earthly haven. The scent of flowers, the rustle of leaves, and the myriad of colors all around became your new reality.

One day, as you wandered through the arborized paradise, you witnessed an angel sent by the gods, radiant in celestial grace, descend from the heavens. Their mission: to carry out acts of benevolence and rescue the flawed human race from the pitfalls of their own humanity.

Once, you were an angel too, soaring through the celestial expanse with wings as radiant as the morning sun. The rules of paradise, however, felt like constraints on your very essence. The mandate to help the helpless, devoid of personal desires and sensations, left you yearning for something more.

In the heavenly realm, your duties were clear. You mended broken spirits, offered solace to the suffering, and shielded humanity from unseen perils. Yet, as you carried out these acts of benevolence, a part of you longed for the tangible experiences that the gods had chosen to withhold.

In your descent from the celestial heights, the air crackled with the energy of rebellion. The moment your feet touched the earthly ground, you felt the soft embrace of grass beneath you, a stark departure from the ethereal firmament you once called home. The celestial light dimmed as you exchanged the radiant wings for the cloak of shadows, and you marveled at the newfound weight of your choices.

The earthly realm welcomed you with open arms, and you relished the sensations that had been denied to you for so long. The warmth of the sun, the cool breeze, and the fragrant whispers of nature surrounded you, each moment a symphony of earthly delights. As you walked through the arborized paradise, your senses were heightened, and the mundane took on a profound significance.

The angels above, oblivious to your departure, continued their celestial duties. you discovered a different kind of duty – a duty to experience, to explore, and to understand the complexities of existence, discovering uncharted territories of free will.

The wide green grass of the earthly realm spread beneath the azure sky, a canvas of vibrant colors. In this paradisiacal haven, you observed with both amusement and curiosity as angels, once bound by celestial rules, now embraced the newfound freedom, their wings cloaked in shades of darkness.

Among them was Joshua, the paragon of loyalty to the gods. His wings, a radiant expanse of white, glowed in stark contrast to the gathering shadows. As he moved gracefully through the earthly realm, his every action seemed guided by divine purpose.

One day, on the expansive grassy plains, you watched Joshua intervene with gentle precision, preventing a little boy from stumbling. The child, oblivious to the celestial forces at play, continued on his way, and Joshua stood there, a guardian of earthly innocence.

A subtle shiver coursed down Joshua's spine, and cold breezes swept over him as you approached. He turned, his white wings fluttering like a beacon of celestial purity, and met your gaze with a mixture of apprehension and recognition.

"If you're not here to help, I suggest you leave," Joshua declared, his voice unwavering but laced with a hint of tension.

You scoffed, the echoes of rebellion resounding in your words, "This place doesn't belong to you or your gods above. The rules of the celestial paradise have no power here. We're free to embrace the richness of earthly existence, to revel in the balance between light and shadow."

Joshua's eyes reflected the conflict within him, torn between the loyalty to divine orders and the allure of the newfound freedom. "You may have turned away from the gods, but I won't abandon my duty. The balance must be maintained, even if it means standing against those who have forsaken it."

"You defy the gods and abandon your celestial duties for what? The whims of the earthly realm?" he questioned, his wings twitching uncomfortably.

"Is it not clear?" you replied, your own wings casting shadows over the verdant ground. "To experience, to feel, to understand the very essence of existence that was denied to us above. The gods may have favored you, Joshua, but they also imprisoned you in a golden cage."

A moment of tense silence hung in the air before Joshua spoke again, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and defiance. "You're playing with forces you cannot comprehend. The celestial order must be maintained, even if it means sacrificing personal desires."

The smirk on your face persisted as you nodded negatively, a silent defiance against the old rules that once dictated your every move. With a fluid motion, your wings unfurled, and you took to the air, flying in joyous circles above the lush forest. The freedom, the unrestricted movement, it was a sensation you had longed for, and now, you reveled in it.

Below, Joshua watched your aerial dance, his eyes betraying a longing for the unbridled freedom he had not yet embraced. The desire to soar with you, to feel the wind beneath his own transformed wings, was palpable.

In a playful moment, you pretended to fall, letting your wings come to a sudden stop. The earth rushed up to meet you, but just before impact, you felt gentle arms enveloping you.

As you both landed gracefully, he looked into your eyes, a mix of concern and curiosity reflecting in his gaze. "Why, after all this rebellion, do you persist in being alone?" Joshua asked, his voice carrying a soft undertone.

"I'm not alone. I am free." You tell him, and he lowers his head. "I wish you could feel this freedom too, Joshua," you said, your voice carrying a touch of genuine longing.

With those words, your wings began to work, creating a gust of wind that gently pushed against Joshua. As the currents separated you from his grasp, his once-protective arms now fell to his sides, and he watched as you ascended into the sky.

The verdant canopy of the forest below shrank as you soared higher, leaving Joshua behind. The cool air rushed past you, and the earthly realm unfolded beneath your wings. You glanced back, seeing Joshua below, a silhouette against the backdrop of the vibrant landscape.

His white wings, still pristine and shining, spoke of the loyalty he clung to. Yet, a flicker of yearning shimmered in his eyes, a desire to taste the forbidden freedom that now embraced you.

Days passed without a glimpse of Joshua, and an unusual presence lingered in the dark forest. The other demons tilted their heads in confusion as Joshua, with his glowing bright wings, ventured into the shadowy realm that was more accustomed to beings of darker nature. His desperate search for you seemed to defy the very essence of what angels were meant to be.

Meanwhile, from afar, you sensed Joshua's presence. His purity and celestial aura wafted through the air like an irresistible fragrance. The contrast of his untainted soul against the backdrop of the dark forest made his essence stand out. A voice, silky and enticing, echoed in his ear, "Searching for me?"

Joshua glanced around, his bright wings flickering anxiously in the dim light. The voice beckoned him, growing louder with each passing moment. He followed, seemingly uncoordinated, the sound pulling him deeper into the heart of the forest.

The voice, now clear and seductive, guided Joshua to a serene spot by a river, a cascade providing a soothing background melody. The dense forest closed in, creating a natural barrier around the secluded haven. Joshua hesitated, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through his veins.

As he stood at the edge of the river, your voice ceased its alluring call. Joshua felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned to face the source of the voice. There, emerging from the river, was your figure, adorned in wet, glistening attire, your wings draped sensuously around your naked body.

Joshua's breath caught in his throat as he beheld your luscious presence, his glowing wings flickering nervously. A distinct gulp resonated in the stillness of the forest as he struggled to compose himself. Your question hung in the air, breaking the silence.

"Why are you here, Joshua?" you asked, your voice a velvet whisper that danced on the edge of the cascading waterfall. The shadows cast by the dense foliage played upon your figure, enhancing the mystery that surrounded you.

Joshua paused, his voice filled with both uncertainty and a deep yearning. "I came looking for answers," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "The celestial realms are in chaos, and I can't ignore the call pulling me back. But..." He hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words. "There's something about this, about being here with you, that I can't quite understand."

You tilted your head, your dark eyes locked onto Joshua's, as a mysterious air enveloped the forest. His chin quivered under the intensity of your gaze, and the vulnerability in his eyes revealed a tumultuous inner struggle.

With a graceful movement, you unfurled your wings, their shadowy expanse revealing a body that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The ethereal sight was enough to make Joshua turn away, covering his eyes as if he couldn't bear to witness such an intimate revelation. The celestial rules, the mysteries of the earthly realm, and the lack of answers all converged, leaving him in a state of overwhelming confusion.

You couldn't resist a sly smirk as you traced a hand along his back, your fingers leaving a cold touch that made his wings tremble.

"What answers are you seeking, Joshua?" you asked, your voice a gentle yet probing whisper that hung in the air. He remained turned away, as if the weight of the question and the complexity of the situation made it difficult for him to face you.

Joshua stammered, his words tumbling out in uncertainty. "I-I don't know exactly," he admitted, his voice wavering. "I've been feeling strange, and everything seems... hot."

A sly smirk played on your lips as you inquired further, "And why do you think you feel this way, Joshua?"

His hesitation lingered in the air before he finally confessed, "It's... it's when I think about you."

A soft hum escaped your lips, the sound carrying a mysterious melody. As Joshua turned around, attempting to fix his gaze on your eyes, he found it impossible. Your body, bathed in the moonlight, seemed like a forbidden fruit tempting him with its alluring glow.

He struggled to articulate his thoughts, caught in a web of conflicting emotions. "I... I can't understand it. It's like an allure, a pull that I can't resist. When I see you, when I think about you, everything becomes... different."

Your eyes held a knowing glint as you observed him, the dichotomy of his celestial purity and the earthly desires that now stirred within him unfolded in the charged atmosphere.

"And why are you seeking me?" you asked, your voice a seductive whisper that seemed to echo through the quiet forest.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and desire. "There's something about you, something I can't ignore. It's like you hold the answers to questions I didn't even know I had."

"You're risking more than you realize by searching for these answers," you warned, your voice carrying a note of caution. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if echoing the weight of the choices that hung in the air.

Joshua nodded, a mixture of determination and desperation in his eyes. "I know," he admitted, his voice filled with a heavy acknowledgment of the stakes involved. "But I can't continue to listen to this voice in my head, this constant tug. I need to figure out what it means, why it leads me to you."

You stepped closer, the distance between you and Joshua narrowing as the air around you became charged with an undeniable energy. For the first time, Joshua didn't flinch; instead, he closed his eyes, feeling your breath against his skin. The atmosphere held a tantalizing mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Your fingers gently entwined with his, and you guided his hands to trace a path along your neck, down to your breasts brushing your nipples and grabbing them tight, then your waist, and further to your hips. The warmth of your body seemed to seep into his very being, causing a subtle tremor to run through him.

Joshua's breaths came out defeated, without hesitation, you smashed your lips onto his, the kiss born from a fusion of celestial rebellion and earthly desire. Joshua, lost in the tumult of conflicting emotions, didn't even know what he was doing or why his body was growing hotter with each passing moment.

His tongue brushed gently against yours, in that stolen moment, he consumed your alluring lips with a hunger that seemed to emanate from the depths of his being. The forest, draped in shadows and moonlight, bore witness to the intimate exchange between an angel and a demon.

Joshua's hands explored the contours of your heated body, the mystery of your touch captivating him. As his fingers traced over your form, he sought to understand the allure that made your skin feel so intoxicatingly good beneath his touch.

With a firm grip on your waist, he pulled you closer, melding your bodies together in a desperate embrace. The collision of celestial and earthly energies sent shivers through both of you. A moan escaped your lips, a sound that reverberated through the charged air, resonating with the very essence of desire.

Joshua, startled by the unfamiliar sensations that surged within him, sharply inhaled, his breath mingling with yours. His cock twitches inside of his vest and he bites his lips, in confusion and arousal, as the boundaries between light and shadow blurred in the intensity of the moment. "It hurts."

"I'll help you, pretty angel."

As Joshua's vest found its way to the ground, pooling around his feet, you gently laid him on the grass. The vibrant flowers seemed to come alive, surrounding his figure with a lively burst of colors as if nature itself responded to his angelic presence.

He watched you with curious eyes, uncertainty and desire playing out in the depths of his gaze. The teachings of his god echoed in his mind, warning him against revealing his naked body to anyone. Yet, the dark allure in your eyes held a power he couldn't resist.

Your gaze lingered on his exposed form, and a subtle, wicked smile played on your lips. He felt a thrill as you licked your lips, looking at him with a hunger that he never saw before. His hard pink cock looks veiny, tearing precum, while his eyes keep locked on your movements, waiting for your next move curiously.

With parted lips, you let your breath brush his dick, making him quiver. Joshua didn't have an idea about what you were going to do, he just wanted to relieve that thing that kept him hard for so long.

As you press your tongue on his leaking slit, Joshua moans involuntary, you looked so sinful dragging his cock inside of your mouth, cheeks full of his pretty dick. He looks hypnotized, by the way you bob your head on his hard length, your eyes locked with him— that powerful gaze you hold making him blush hard.

You sucked his length hard, and the angel hisses, trying to control his hips as you dive his dick inside of your throat. His cock twitched with pleasure, and you could feel his orgasm approaching, with eyes shut, he moaned continuously, his abdomen trembling trying to hold that sensation that burned his body.

Joshua was the most angelical person below the gods that you ever knew. He walked around with those filled wings, his well structured body hidden by his white vest, and those heavenly eyes— But now he looked so perverse under your touch, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, his hand holding the measure of your hair, while his cock was buried inside of your mouth.

"Cum inside of my mouth." You whimper, your tongue licking his hard veins.

"C-cum? Inside? C-can I?" He stuttered unsure, he was hearing right? He can actually cum inside of your pretty lips? How did he miss this opportunity for so long?

Beads of cum escape him before you could even answer. The sticky cum, filling your mouth and as a result, leaking by the sides of your mouth. He cries, cries, and cries proud moans of your name, the first pleasure experience running from his toes to his last strand of hair.

His dick stands proudly hard even after he just cummed, and you raise your eyebrow surprised. Joshua still with the remaining pleasure running through his body, raised to kiss you, his tongue fighting yours as he tasted himself on your lips, later, licking the little residue of his cum that lazed on the corner of your mouth.

After the kiss, a newfound determination glinted in Joshua's eyes. Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you had given him, he chewed his lip nervously, unsure of how to proceed. The angelic teachings he had followed never prepared him for sex, or to pleasure someone.

"What's on your mind, Joshua?" you inquired, your voice a sultry whisper that mingled with the rustling leaves.

"I want to pleasure you like you just did for me, but I don't know how," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice echoing the complexities of his celestial nature.

You reached out, your fingers tracing a gentle path along his cheek.

He took a deep breath, his angelic features reflecting a blend of determination and curiosity. "Guide me, show me what you like," he whispered.

"I want you to do whatever you want''

Joshua, moved by a mixture of desire and uncertainty, took a step back to take a proper look at you. His eyes roamed over your figure, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze like a caress against your skin, laying your back on the ground, that feels soft since your wings made a nest for you to lay.

He spread your legs, his soft fingers finding their way to your sopping cunt, since he saw you naked, it was like he couldn't take his eyes from your pussy. The digits explore your wet folds, and he moans at the feeling of your arousal getting his fingers drenched.

Taking a look at his fingers, glistening with your slick, he shoves his own fingers inside of his mouth, tasting your arousal. You moan at his action, and he closes his eyes, the taste making his cock twitch.

As he opens his eyes, he guides his fingers again to your cunt, when his fingers rub at your clit, you whimper his name.

Joshua did this accidentally, but that beautiful sound you made, instincts Joshua to do the same movement against your bud, again, again and again. He was loving the view of your body squirming because of him.

The little hole under your clit caught his attention, so he slid his two fingers in, making your back arch. "Yes! Yes! Oh fuck."

Your hands grab his forearm, guiding him to pump his fingers in and out of your pussy, the wet sound echoing on Joshua's mind, making his cock ache 'cause he feels so hard. Your cunt leaks, and his fingers are buried inside of your spamming pussy, the delicate fingers making you drool, your eyes rolling back.

You squirmed under angel skillful touch, a sensation you hadn't anticipated after witnessing so much under the heavens. His fingers worked with a certain expertise, guided by your reactions. Amidst the pleasure that danced through the night, you found words caught between gasps and moans.

"You're far from being an angel," you admitted, the words escaping your lips in a breathy whisper.

As you watched Joshua, a flicker of something unusual caught your attention – a brief moment when his bright irises seemed to turn black, only to return to their angelic glow. His celestial face tilted with curiosity as your reaction unfolded before him. The subtle transformation left you momentarily unsettled.

His innocent gaze met yours, and he asked, "Did I do something wrong?" The innocence in his voice contrasted sharply with the skilled touch that pressed against the right spot, causing you to arch your back involuntarily.

You were far from composed, pleasure coursing through your veins, and you struggled to form a coherent response. Instead, a moan escaped your lips, and you found yourself unable to answer his question properly.

"Y-your eyes," you stuttered, the unexpected flicker of darkness lingering in your mind as a knot tightened in your stomach.

"What about my eyes?" he asked, attempting to talk to you while your pussy throbbed around his fingers, as your gasps and moans painted a different language. "Tell me," Joshua urged, his angelic face tilting with genuine concern. But your response was lost inside of your pornographic moans.

The words you intended to speak were lost as a powerful wave of pleasure engulfed you. Your body spasmed uncontrollably, and Joshua's fingers, now slick with your arousal, continued to fuck you. A low hum of satisfaction escaped him as he witnessed the intensity of your release.

The world around you faded into white for a moment as the orgasm overtook your senses, leaving you in a state of blissful surrender. Your lips parted, and your throat couldn't pour any song, only the wet sinful sounds that your pussy made, as Joshua continued non stop.

hold his forearm still, as oversensitivity lingered in the aftermath of pleasure. You took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, as Joshua's fingers withdrew, leaving you in the wake of the intense sensations.

"What was it about my eyes?"

"Your eyes... did they just... change?" The question hung in the air as Joshua's eyes flickered again, that momentary darkness replacing the celestial glow.

Joshua's eyes flickered again, as if in response to the conversation. "I don't know what you mean,"

"It's like, for a moment, they turn black, and then they're bright again,"

Joshua's eyes flickered once more, a subtle change that you keenly observed. "Did they do it again just now?" he asked, searching your face for any sign of confirmation.

The revelation about Joshua's changing eyes left you in a state of perplexity. Conflicting emotions swirled within you—fear mingled with an inexplicable arousal. As you nodded in acknowledgment, Joshua caught a glimpse of the mixture of emotions in your eyes.

Joshua, perceptive to the nuances of your emotions, caught a glimpse of the little scared eyes that betrayed the conflict within you.

"Are you scared?" Joshua asked, his voice gentle, a reflection of the concern in his eyes.

It wasn't because you were a demon in the midst of mundane certainties in the world, that you didn't feel afraid, you were like any other human being in relation to your emotions, just like angels. So you hesitated before nodding again, admitting to the mix of emotions that surged within you.

Your black dark wings created contrast with your eyes that shone with uncertainty, while the angel and you were naked in the middle of the enchanted forest, which welcomed your bodies.

Joshua, sensing your vulnerability, reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. His touch was tender, a contrast to the intensity of the revelations that had unfolded in the enchanted forest.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and compassion. The glow of his celestial nature seemed to soften, as if trying to offer reassurance in the face of the unknown.

You leaned into his touch, the conflicting emotions within you slowly settling under the warmth of his hands. The fear and arousal still lingered, creating a complex emotional landscape that neither of you fully understood.

"I don't know what's happening," Joshua admitted, a hint of confusion in his voice. The mysterious flicker in his eyes remained an enigma.

"It's not just fear," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... something else too."

As Joshua held you close, his hands gently caressing your face, he asked with a soft intensity, "What is it, then? What else are you feeling?" his voice a soft murmur that blended with the rustle of leaves in the enchanted forest. The shadows played on his features as he awaited your response, the moonlight casting a gentle glow over the scene.

"I want to feel you so bad," you confessed, the honesty hanging in the air like a secret unveiled.

Joshua, meeting your gaze, didn't respond immediately. The flicker of darkness in his eyes seemed to intensify for a moment, as if in response to the shared desire. Then, with a quiet sincerity, he admitted, "I want that too."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a hungry kiss. As the kiss deepened, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensations of lips meeting in a passionate union. Joshua's touch, once angelically pure, now held a fervor that almost burned your skin.

As Joshua aligned with your core, a moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the passionate kiss that bound you both. The slick, intimate contact left you unable to focus on the kiss, your breath hitching with each movement.

Joshua, feeling the wetness and heat, hissed at the intensity of the sensation. His celestial mind, guided by an instinct he didn't fully understand, urged him into uncharted territory.

In the heat of the moment, you found yourself begging, your voice breathless and filled with desire. "Please," you whispered, the word escaping in a desperate plea, "put it inside."

Joshua, caught in the whirlwind of sensations and your urgent request, felt his breath struggle. His angelic features reflected the internal struggle between celestial restraint and the willing to fuck you.

"I... I can't resist," he admitted, his voice strained. "I..." he hesitated, the conflict evident in his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you."

Teasingly, you whispered into Joshua's ear, "You're such a naughty angel, a sinner in this earth realm." Your words, laden with desire, seemed to stir something within him. His eyes flickered on and off, on and off, almost flashing, a subtle dance between the purity of an angel, and his alter ego.

"You like being a little sinner, don't you?" you continued, your voice a seductive murmur. "Indulging in desires you never knew you had."

"I can't..." he began, the struggle evident in his voice. "I shouldn't..."

His eyes flickered on and off, a rapid dance of light and darkness. You could sense the internal battle waging within him, the struggle between celestial obedience and the enticing allure of earthly desires.

As you continued to playfully provoke him, he closed his eyes, a deep breath escaping him. The conflict etched on his face reflected the dichotomy of an angel losing himself to the irresistible pull of the shadows.

"You're testing me," he murmured, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

"You want this, don't you?" you continued, cooing. "You want to fuck this pussy, and let go all of those fucking heavenly rules and just feel this pussy tight around your cock."

His eyes flickered on and off in response.

"I never thought I'd see an angel like you so... tempted," you continued, your voice a seductive whisper.

You wrap a hand around his cock, the tips leaking precum, as you begin to stroke his dick, you caress the pink head with your thumb, adding to the sensory overload that seemed to consume him.

"I'm just teasing you," you whispered, a sultry tone lingering in the air.

The playfulness in your voice was met with a warning from Joshua, his tone dropping into a more serious register, furrowing his brows and the clenching of his jaw.

"I don't know if you should be doing that," he warned, his voice carrying a sense of caution.

The sultry air seemed to vibrate with anticipation as you moaned, your voice carrying a hint of desire. You dared to ask Joshua, "So, what are you going to do?"

The flickering of his eyes intensified, a silent acknowledgment of the internal chaos. He struggled to find words, so Joshua took charge, seizing your hands and pinning them above your head, making your tits bounce. The sudden shift in dominance sent a jolt of electricity through your core.

He groaned between his teeth, a low, guttural sound that betrayed the depth of his internal struggle, his head lowers a bit, taking a mouthful part of your tit, his tongue playing with your nipple, taking the lil' but between his teeth, making you throw your head back.

Heaven and Hell collided when Joshua pushed his dick slowly inside of your wet pussy, was electrifying, stretching you out in a way that left you breathless. Joshua, meeting your gaze, moaned deliciously at the new and overwhelming feelings.

Your wet walls hug his dick, and his body trembles when his pelvis hits yours, signaling that his dick is already all inside of you. Joshua's hips moved in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His toned form towered over you, encouraging him to continue, your own body responded with a delicious rigidity to every stroke.

Joshua hides his face in the crook of your neck when you start to clench and unclench around his dick, his size making your pussy soak him.

As Joshua released your hands, you wasted no time in wrapping them around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, and he moaned in response to the added sensation.

You squeak when Joshua takes his length off, then slams hard inside, making you pathetically spasm, his name leaves your mouth in a scream.

"Oh?" His eyes widened with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction.

In the midst of your arching body and the heightened pleasure, he asked, "What is that?"

Joshua, after the surprising discovery, withdrew and then sheathed himself inside you again. The slow, deliberate movements created a rhythm that built steadily, each penetration sending waves of pleasure through your body as your abused g'spot it's hit every thrust.

He fucks your brains out with that angelical, innocent stupid face, while his big cock enters your gushing pussy so hard.

You cunt traps him so tight that his hips stutter, he moans suffered in your ear, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull while you shamelessly cry, your vision turns blank, and your body tenses so hard that you're afraid to break a bone.

Your pussy gushes cum like a waterfall. And Joshua continued to fuck you through your orgasm. In a final, primal act, Joshua growled, his hips slamming with unrelenting force until he reached the peak of his own ecstasy.

As he filled you up with his cum, his pearly white wings unfolded, embracing both of you in an ethereal warmth amidst the winds of the enchanted forest, hugging tightly and creating a shield that seemed to protect your entwined bodies.

His panting breaths whispered in your ear, and his arms, placed on each side of your head with his elbows anchored on the ground, provided a protective cradle.

As your vision gradually returned, the world around you took shape in the moonlit clearing. However, the celestial and earthly union had left its mark. When you looked up, expecting to see the pearly white wings of Joshua, you were met with a startling transformation.

The once pearly white wings of Joshua, symbols of celestial purity, had transformed into black and dark ones. The ethereal feathers now matched the shadows that draped his being, a visual manifestation of the departure from the celestial realm.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you placed a hand on Joshua's neck, attempting to gently coax his face from the crook of your neck. When he opened his eyes, the once bright orbs were now dark, devouring you with a gaze that held a different energy. As you looked at him in shock, a realization dawned upon you — he was now just like you.

As Joshua noticed the intensity of your gaze, he asked, "What's wrong?" The concern in his voice was genuine, his darkened eyes reflecting a new awareness of the change that had occurred. In response to his question, he took a moment to glance at himself, as if seeing the transformation for the first time.

The realization seemed to wash over him, and his features shifted in a subtle acknowledgment of the altered reality. Joshua, with a newfound dark aura, looked at you with a mischievous, shit-eating grin.

Joshua was now a fallen angel.

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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twelve-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Sexual Aggression, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, (slight) Knife!Play, Teasing, Alcoholism, DubCon, CNC, TomRiddle.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Under the veil of night, Saturday descended, and despite the persistent sickness that weighed you down, you refused to succumb to the confines of your bed for even a second longer. The piercing ache in your head and the relentless runny nose served as mere whispers against your willpower. Ignoring the protests of your body, you ventured out, guided by a flickering determination.

The castle, shrouded in darkness, seemed to echo with your footsteps as you moved. A hushed, mysterious atmosphere enveloped you as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors. Your steps were purposeful, leading you to the heart of intellectual refuge: the library.

As you entered, the soft glow of the lamplights revealed a haven of knowledge, where ancient tomes and modern texts stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting to divulge their wisdom. The familiar scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, soothing your senses.

Amidst the quietude, you found a secluded alcove, a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The soft light bathed you as you settled into the embrace of an overstuffed armchair, its fabric worn by countless readers before you. The weight of the books in your hands felt both grounding and exhilarating, as if the knowledge contained within could lift you from the heaviness of your illness.

The hours slipped away, the silence broken only by the occasional shuffle of pages and the distant ticking of an ancient clock. Lost in the world of words, you found solace, momentarily escaping not only the physical discomfort but also the emotional turmoil that had plagued you since your clandestine encounters with Mattheo.

Gods, why the fuck were you always thinking about him? Regardless of what you did, that man was in your head--there was no escaping his ghost. Every thought of him wrapped around your mind like a suffocating vine, an inescapable plague that refused to release its hold. His touch, a lingering memory etched into your skin, haunted your senses--the way his hands roamed your body, the warmth of his breath against your neck.

His eyes, a deep, intoxicating brown, transformed in the sunlight, creating ripples of amber like liquid chocolate. The memory of his lips, plush and knowing, ignited a storm of conflicting emotions within you, a potent blend of desire and resentment. Your stomach churned with a strange concoction of yearning and frustration, especially when you recalled the sensation of his messy, curly hair brushing against the sensitive skin between your thighs.

Damn him, you thought--the intensity of your emotions amplifying with each passing moment. You loathed him with a passion that had become entangled with an inexplicable longing. The line between hatred and desire blurred, leaving you entwined in a web of conflicting emotions, unable to escape his ghostly presence in your thoughts. You knew you hated him, you just couldn't really remember the reason why anymore.

Deciding to finally call it a night, you pushed up from the chair, moving back into the shadows of the library as you meticulously returned the book back to its designated shelf, the profound words of the author echoing in your mind. Just as you were about to spin around, a sudden shift in the library's atmosphere sent a shiver down your spine, and an all-too-familiar presence seemed to materialize behind you.

The scent of whiskey filled the air, its subtle aroma enveloping your surroundings, and before you could react, a pair of unsteady arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into an unexpected embrace. The touch was rough, not a huge departure from the usual Mattheo, but enough to be entirely noticeable--and his warm breath brushed against your ear as he spoke, his words slightly slurred but not entirely incoherent.

"Raven," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "What a delightful surprise to find you here at this hour...how utterly unexpected."

You inhaled sharply, his hands snaking around your waist, pulling you back against him with surprising force. Instinctively, your fingers gripped the edge of the bookshelf in front of you, the polished wood cool against your skin. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and lightheaded, the overwhelming scent of Mattheo's cologne mingled with a hint of alcohol surrounding you.

Your voice trembled as you tried to keep it steady. "Mattheo...what the hell are you doing here..."

"Why so shocked, princess?" He breathed, his warm breath sending goosebumps cascading down your neck. His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending an electric jolt through your body. "Can't a man of my caliber simply grace this library with his presence whenever he pleases, without arousing suspicion?"

His voice dripped with a mix of confidence and mischief, his hands tightening their hold on you, making it clear that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. A familiar knot tightened in your stomach, signaling the imminent loss of control. If you didn't gather your composure swiftly, you knew he would once again reduce you to powerlessness, just as he always did.

"Oh, pardon my ignorance..." you responded, your voice thick with sarcasm. "I just never thought I'd witness such a rare event...it's not every day we see a man of your 'caliber' roaming the library, never mind past midnight on a Saturday..."

Mattheo's deep, rumbling groan resonated in the narrow space between you, his hands abandoning your sides to pin you against the shelf. His lips, warm and demanding, brushed your ear with a possessive hunger.

"There's that mouth," he growled, his voice laced with raw need. "Fuck, I've missed that mouth...”

"Matt-" a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your throat, but your protest was abruptly stifled by an unfamiliar sensation. "What-"

Something cold, unyielding, and metal pressed against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. Panic clawed at your senses, urging you to gasp for air, but his palm closed around your throat, silencing you with a ruthless grip. Desperation flickered in your eyes as you tried to make sense of the situation, your gaze fixated on the glint of the blade he was dragging up your arm.

"Mattheo-" you managed to croak, fear and disbelief mingling in your voice. "Is that...a fucking knife?"

Mattheo's silence hung heavy in the air, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he loomed over you, pinning you forcefully against the shelf. Your hands clung desperately to the wooden edges, the pressure turning your knuckles a pale, ghostly white. With deliberate intent, Mattheo tugged you back against his chest, only slightly, as he directed the switchblade toward your bust and pressed the sharp edge against the fabric of your shirt--the metal biting into the soft material as he cut a precise horizontal line just above your breasts.

"Fuck," the word was almost a guttural moan as it left his inebriated lips. "I've definitely missed those more..."

"Mattheo-" you stammered, your voice catching in your throat. There were a thousand questions swirling in your mind, but the words refused to escape. "What on earth...what's gotten into you? This...this is sick, even for you."

Mattheo's movements were swift, almost serpentine, as he seized your shoulders and spun you around. Before you could react, he pressed you back against the shelf, your hands instinctively finding his chest for support until he captured both your wrists with one hand and pinned them firmly above your head. Speechless and utterly bewildered, you were paralyzed, unsure of how to process the situation.

He smirked, the expression predatory, leaning in closer. With deliberate slowness, he placed the flat edge of the knife beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. The cold steel against your skin sent a chill down your spine, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, trapped in his intense gaze and the menacing glint of the blade.

"I thought you were the sick one, Raven..." he purred, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and intensity as he observed your reactions, his grip on your wrists tightening. "Isn't that why you bailed on me last night, hm?"

Any semblance of control you had tried to maintain had now entirely crumbled, dissipating like smoke in the wind. Pinned against the shelf, your hands held captive above your head, and a cold blade pressed against your jaw, you felt a surge of exhilarating helplessness wash over you. You knew, at this moment, your sanity was hanging by the thinnest thread, and you questioned your choices more profoundly than you ever had in your entire life.

If you allowed him do this to you, what else will you allow? Anything?

Anything...

Speechless, you nodded in compliance, unable to form any coherent words. Mattheo's huff of satisfaction sent a shiver down your spine, and his sadistic tone remained as sharp as ever.

"Yeah?" he purred, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Poor thing...let me take a look, hm? Stick out your tongue."

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, your lips parted involuntarily, and Mattheo deftly slid the cool blade between them, tugging down your jaw with a chilling precision. An electric surge coursed through your entire body, every nerve ending tingling under the intensity of his gaze. His eyes darkened, and his lips parted, both of you suspended in the charged atmosphere.

He pulled the knife away, and as if in a trance, you slowly extended your tongue, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes locked onto your face with a relentless focus, not a blink daring to interrupt his scrutiny. With a steady hand, he pressed the blade against your tongue, his gaze piercing, as if he were a meticulous doctor inspecting a patient, peering down your throat with unsettling precision.

"Seems fine to me, Raven..." he murmured, a flicker of something unsettling dancing in his eyes, sending a twist of unease to your stomach. "But perhaps you're right...perhaps I am sick..."

With deliberate slowness, he lifted the metal off your tongue, tracing it along your jaw before withdrawing it entirely. The blade disappeared into his back pocket, his unwavering gaze never leaving yours, leaving you with a lingering sense of dread and confusion.

"I'm sick and the only cure for my illness are those sweet fucking lips of yours..." he confessed, his free hand caressing the side of your face, the other maintaining a firm grip on your wrists. He drew closer, his eyes fixated on your mouth. "And I'm not talking about these ones..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart thundering so fiercely it echoed through your entire body. Your thighs ached with a desperate longing.

"Although..." Mattheo leaned in further, his thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. "They could certainly help..."

With an excruciating slowness that felt like torture, Mattheo leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. The lingering aroma of whiskey swirled around you, intoxicating your senses and making your head spin. Despite your attempts to resist, an involuntary whimper escaped your throat, the sound echoing your helplessness in the face of Mattheo's relentless seduction.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in your ears, as Mattheo's lips finally met yours. His hand slithered under your jaw, his touch both possessive and electrifying. His lips moved over yours with a devouring hunger, as though he aimed to consume not just your mouth but every ounce of your being, leaving you breathless and utterly ensnared in his kiss.

When he drew back, just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze glinted with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Your entire body thrummed with anticipation, yearning for his touch.

He blinked. "You still want to call this off, Raven?"

"We really fucking should," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the charged atmosphere. Your heart raced, the tumultuous conflict within you mirrored in your eyes. "But...I..."

Your words trailed off, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze, his eyes resembling swirling depths that threatened to drown your resolve. A smug smirk played on his lips, his arrogance palpable as he anticipated your next words, relishing the moment. He leaned in closer, releasing his grip on your wrists and bracing his hand against the wood next to your head. You hesitated, caught in the mesmerizing pull of his gaze, a fleeting battle of wills that seemed impossible to win.

"You...?" he prodded, his tone dripping with confidence and challenge, as though he knew he had already won.

"But...I can't," you admitted, your voice a fragile whisper, barely audible against the backdrop of your thudding heart.

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your desires and the weight of what you knew was right.His smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

"Can't, or won't?" he challenged, his tone teasing and infuriatingly confident.

His hand on the wood beside your head tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of his strength, his dominance. The proximity between you crackled with tension, the air thick with the unspoken, the moment hanging in the balance like a fragile thread stretched to its limit.

"What we're doing is sick, Mattheo..." you murmured, glimpsing his lips. "I...I never thought we'd be this close...I still smell you on my clothes..."

His eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and desire, his lips curving into a devilish smile. "Sick, perhaps," he admitted, his voice a low, seductive purr. "But you know it's pointless to try and fight it..."

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his chest, tracing the outline of his shirt straining against his powerful shoulders. A shuddering breath escaped you as you felt the undeniable pull, the magnetic force that seemed to bind you to him. With a huff, he gently lifted your chin, forcing your gaze back to meet his intense eyes. The proximity was suffocating, electric, and he leaned in slightly closer, his warm breath mingling with yours, until your lips brushed in a tantalizing whisper.

"Every time you meet my eyes...we both know that you're mine..." he murmured against your mouth, hand falling from your chin and trailing down the front of your chest, slipping through the cut in your shirt he'd made just a few minutes earlier. "I think it's about time you admitted it, princess..."

You gasped at the skin on skin contact, goosebumps raising on your skin, and Mattheo hummed, lips trailing toward your jawline and softly nipping at it.

"Am I all that you think about, Raven?" He whispered, and you could tell that his question wasn't really a question, more of a rhetorical statement. "Did it get too loud, and that's why you tried to shut me out?"

You winced in wake of his words. You wouldn’t be surprised if this man could read your mind at this point.

"You're a constant thought," you whispered, your words hanging in the charged air between you. "It’s fucking overwhelming, Mattheo...I can't keep allowing myself to be consumed by this..."

"Just let go, Raven..." he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. "I've got you..."

Your mind buzzed with irritation, his seductive tones grating against your patience. The audacity to believe he could ever truly possess you sparked a simmering anger within. He didn't have you, he couldn't, and his delusions only served to fray your nerves to the brink.

"No, you don't...you can't..." your voice trembled, a fragile protest as his breath caressed your ear, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his shirt. "Stop manipulating me with your pretty fucking words, Mattheo...you're only making everything more difficult for both of us."

Mattheo's demeanor shifted, tension hardening his features. His hand found your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulled back, locking eyes with you.

"Do you want me to stop, Raven?" he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Tell me to stop right fucking now, and I'll walk away, won't bother you until Wednesday's session." He drew you closer, his jaw clenched. "Just one fucking word, princess...that's all you need to say."

Your silence hung in the charged air, a battleground where your desires and your convictions clashed. Every fiber of your being screamed for his touch, the magnetic pull between you undeniable, yet your mind raged against the chaos, yearning for simplicity and an end to the torment.

Mattheo's eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. He held your gaze, his grip on your jaw tightening imperceptibly. The unspoken tension hung heavy, the weight of your unspoken words suffocating in the charged space between you. The choice, the power to end this dangerous dance, rested on the tip of your tongue, yet you found yourself unable to utter the one word that could bring it all crashing down.

"And that's what I fucking thought..." he husked, the words flowing from his lips with a dangerous poison, one that you wanted, more than anything, to get a taste of. "Don't pretend like you're some meek, innocent little girl when I see that vicious mind working behind your eyes, Raven...you've never been afraid to use that mouth before..."

"You're right," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm not meek, and certainly no longer innocent...I left my fucking innocence on your stupid lips..."

"And my hands...my cock..." he purred, his voice low and husky, Mattheo's lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes ablaze with desire and triumph. "...let's not forget my tongue..."

That tongue--infuriatingly adept and unforgettable. How could such a maddeningly skilled tongue ever escape your memory? Curse him, you thought, curse him to the depths of hell.

"All I have left is my virginity, Mattheo..." you said, fingers tightening their hold on his shirt, tremors rumbling through your limbs. "If I give you that, too...I'm scared of-"

"I don't want it, Raven..." he cut you off, leaning closer, his voice holding a rare gentleness, the smallest flicker of humanity under his suffocating power and arrogance. "Don't feel like you need to give it to me."

Your pulse leapt, throat constricting. "Then what do you want?" You struggled to keep your gaze on his eyes, resisting the pull of his delicious lips. "What do you fucking want from me?"

"I want you to need me like I need you." The answer was quick, almost involuntary, as though he needed absolutely no time to think about it.

Your brows pinched, your lungs hitching, oxygen fleeing you. "Like you need-"

"Wet, breathless, and moaning my name..." he murmured, his lips tracing a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His free hand mapped your curves, finding solace on your hip. "That's how I need you."

Your eyelids fluttered uncontrollably as his wet lips trailed down to your neck, assaulting the sensitive skin. His tousled curls brushed against your cheek, setting your flesh ablaze, an uncontrollable fire sparked by his touch. Gods, he was fucking infuriating, in the best way possible. This man possessed a way with words that felt unparalleled, a skill that left you defenseless against his magnetic pull.

His hand started to inch lower, tracing a path down your thigh, and a surge of panic shot through you.

"Not here, Matty..." you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, urgency coloring your words.

"Who's around, princess?" he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting over your neck, finding the hem of your skirt. "Just be quiet for me, pretty girl..."

Your lungs sputtered, nails digging into his skin, his hand slowly trailing upwards on your inner thigh.

"Please, Mattheo...someone could-" you whispered urgently, your words catching in your throat as desire and fear collided within you.

"Walk me back to my dorm," he said sharply, a plan forming in his eyes. "I'll pretend I'm plastered, and you can sling me over your shoulder. If anyone sees, it'll just look like you're doing me a favour..."

Your jaw fell open in incredulity, but before you could utter a protest, Mattheo took charge. He let go of your waist, pulling you off the shelf with a swift motion. His arm encircled you, feigning a drunken stumble, as he leaned heavily against you, weaving a convincing facade of inebriation.

You took a second to button up your cardigan, hiding the cut in your blouse that Mattheo had made with his blade--and without waiting even a second more of time, he urged the two of you down the isle and into the heart of the library. Fear gripped you like a vice as you made your way through the silent library, Mattheo pretending to be completely intoxicated, his weight bearing down on you with every step.

Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening in the silence, and your heart raced with the dread of being caught in this reckless charade. With each step, you prayed that you would go unnoticed, your mind wrestling with the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of your impulsive actions.

As you tiptoed out of the library and stepped into the silent corridor, the nighttime air flowed through the stone walls, cooling the fevered heat in your cheeks. The tension in your shoulders lessened, but the fire in your core raged on, fueled by Mattheo's intense proximity. His cologne, intertwined with the scent of alcohol and cigarettes on his tongue, seemed to possess a hypnotic allure, drawing you in with an inexplicable pull.

You shot your head around, ensuring no one was within earshot, before stealing a furtive glimpse at Mattheo. Your voice emerged as a mere breath, carried away by the night breeze as it left your lips.

"How did you know I'd be there?" You questioned. "In the library."

Persisting in his flawless portrayal of the world's most inebriated wizard, Mattheo barely cracked his eyes open at your question, his response delayed as though he were lost in his own haze. For a moment, it seemed like he might not answer at all, leaving you hanging on the edge of anticipation. Then, a sly smile tugged at his lips, and your stomach twisted with a mix of curiosity and unease.

"I asked your friend," he drawled, glimpsing you with the worlds most fleeting glance. "Emily."

Your heart stopped. "No you-"

You began, but your words were abruptly cut short as the sharp click of polished shoes echoed through the corridor. Your gaze shot to the source of the sound, and there, with an unsettling glint in his eyes, stood Tom Riddle himself, adorned in his pristine prefect attire. His darkened narrowed eyes bored into you, suspicion and sadistic amusement flickering in their depths.

"Evening my dear witch…Mattheo," he purred, his voice dripping with sinister charm as he advanced, each step deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey under the moonlit night. "What might be going on here, if you don't mind me asking..."

Your heart seemed to freeze, its rhythmic beats replaced by an echoing silence that engulfed you. Time slowed to a crawl, every second stretching into an eternity, giving you ample opportunity to feel the weight of the situation sinking in. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only Tom's penetrating gaze fixed upon you, like a raptor locking onto its target.

Under the burden of Mattheo's seemingly unconscious form against your shoulder, you let out an irritated grunt, trying to maintain an appearance of nonchalance. You met Tom's eyes with a forced composure, your every movement calculated to appear casual despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"I found him passed out on a bench outside the library as I was leaving..." each word hung in the air, carrying the weight of a carefully constructed lie, a fragile facade concealing the complexity of the truth beneath. "He's bloody wasted, I couldn't just leave him there..."

Tom's eyes flickered with disappointment, his sharp scrutiny never wavering as he glanced over Mattheo's apparently intoxicated state. There was a subtle sigh of resignation, as if he had expected nothing less from his wayward brother.

"Very well," he said, his tone holding a hint of exasperation. "Take him back to his dormitory, I trust you can manage that. And do remind him that his actions won't go unnoticed, even in the cover of darkness..."

His gaze drilled into you, a silent warning echoing in his eyes, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor. With a lingering sense of foreboding, you guided Mattheo toward his dorm, the weight of the night's events pressing down upon you like an invisible burden.

——————-

Chapter thirteen->

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blue-devil-of-the-lord · 10 days

Text

Cute little Bamf

Kurt Wagner x fem!AFAB!reader Words: 1.3K Summary: Kurt is absolutely smitten by his little daughter. A/N: I used a gif of Alan Cummings Nightcrawler, however it works coompletely fine with any Nightcrawler, really.

As gently as he could, Kurt brushed a strand of hair from her face that was stuck to her forehead and smiled slightly as he looked down at her sleeping form. She looked exhausted, which she was, and her hair was messy with sweat, but he was glad to see that some colour had returned to her cheeks.

Lightly, so as not to wake her, he ran his hand over her cheek. No matter how exhausted she might look, for Kurt his wife was the most beautiful woman on earth, an angel sent by God. His attention briefly shifted to the small bed beside hers, and a surge of emotion washed over him. Here lay not just his beloved wife, but also the embodiment of their love—a pure, innocent soul they had brought into this world together.

When she had first brought up the subject of children a few months after their wedding, he had been sceptical, unsure.

On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to have a family with the person he loved above all else, a testimony to their love.

On the other hand, he didn't know if she was aware of the full consequences. She was human, not mutant, and so far there had hardly been any offspring between mutants and non-mutants, especially not with mutants, whose physical appearance was so different. Kurt himself had taken a long time to come to terms with his outward appearance, and the thought of a child, his child, having to go through the same problems because of him didn't sit well with him.

She had shown remarkable patience and understanding, gently nudging him towards their shared dream of parenthood with unwavering reassurance. Never once did she pressure him, always respecting his hesitations and doubts. She made it clear that if he truly didn't want children, she wouldn't press the issue further. After two years of marriage, their mutual longing for a family outweighed his reservations. The journey to parenthood had been arduous, with Kurt feeling torn between his desire to fulfill his wife's wishes and his fear of the unknown.

He watched as his wife endured the challenges of pregnancy with strength and grace, feeling powerless to ease her burdens.

The birth itself had been a taxing ordeal, yet, in that moment when their daughter was placed in her mother's arms for the first time, any traces of pain or exhaustion vanished.

Their daughter.

Kurt's gaze shifted to the small cot beside his wife's hospital bed, ensuring she remained peacefully asleep before gently disentangling his hand from hers. With cautious steps, he approached the cot, his heart swelling with emotion at the sight before him.

She was perfect and the sight of her alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes again. When she had placed her little girl in his arms for the first time, he had been unable to stop the tears and had silently sent prayers of thanks to heaven.

In that sacred moment, he had made vows to cherish and protect this precious gift with all his being. And as he beheld his little Rachel, he felt a profound sense of responsibility and love wash over him, promising to fulfill his role as her father with unwavering devotion until the end of his day.

His wife had suggested the name because, on the one hand, it was a biblical name to honour Kurt's faith, but at the same time it was a normal name in both German and English, albeit pronounced and spelled differently.

Kurt would have married her again at that moment if he had been able to.

Rachel slumbered peacefully, mirroring her mother's deep rest, granting Kurt the opportunity to kneel beside her bed, captivated by her presence. As he observed her features, a mix of his own and his wife's, he marveled at the unique blend they had created. Though she inherited many of his distinct characteristics, they were softened by her mother's genetic influence.

Her complexion, not as deeply indigo as his own, resembled a more fainter blue, while her hair cascaded in a shade darker than his signature black-blue hue. Her eyes, previously open wide and full of curiosity, gleamed gold, not as intense as his, with larger pupils than he possessed.

She had one more digit on each hand and foot than he did, but they were just as long and slender as his. And while her body lacked the fur that adorned his own, the presence of a small tail with its distinctive spade-like tip unmistakably marked her as his.

Kurt felt a surge of gratitude that his wife had agreed to give birth at the Institute, recognizing that their daughter's unique appearance might have drawn unwanted attention in a non-mutant hospital. Just like her father.

Kurt lost track of time as he sat there, mesmerized by his daughter's stirring movements. When she finally awoke, her tiny face contorted in a mixture of confusion and discomfort, he swiftly rose to his feet. As she began to emit soft, plaintive sounds, Kurt instinctively hushed her with a gentle shushing noise.

"Shhh," he murmured softly, scooping her into his arms with a tenderness born of love and instinct. "Beruhige dich, mein Liebling. Sonst wecken wir Mama." He knew she couldn't understand his words, but the soothing tone seemed to have a calming effect on her. Her cries quieted as he rocked her gently, his movements lulling her into a peaceful state. Instead, she looked at him curiously out of her large, golden eyes while her tail whipped lazily through the air.

A tender smile graced Kurt's lips as he gently nudged Rachel with the tip of his tail, ensuring not to cause her any discomfort.

To his delight, she responded by wrapping her own tail around his, emitting soft sounds that tugged at his heartstrings. Kurt continued to rock her gently, minimizing any noise that might disturb her fragile peace.

In his arms, Rachel seemed impossibly small and delicate, igniting a fierce protective instinct within Kurt. The overwhelming urge to shield her from harm, to safeguard her against any obstacle that dared cross her path, surged through him like a tidal wave. It was a primal instinct, a father's love in its purest form, driving him to do whatever it took to ensure her safety and happiness.

He didn't know whether this thought should frighten him or whether he was justified as a father after all, so he pushed the thoughts aside.

A soft rustle drew Kurt's attention, and he turned to see his wife awake, her gaze filled with warmth and affection. Despite the traces of fatigue, a broad smile graced her lips as she looked upon them. Kurt hurried to her side, Rachel cradled in his arms, concern evident in his voice. "Did we wake you, Liebling? I'm sorry-"

He glanced towards the bedcovers, but his wife reached out for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Don't be," she reassured him, her tone gentle. "I had the pleasure of waking up to this beautiful view." Kurt smiled slightly and turned in a sitting position so that she could look down at their daughter as well.

Kurt's wife continued to stroke Rachel's forehead tenderly, drawing out a few indistinct sounds from the baby. As Rachel's tail tightened around his own, Kurt let out a yelp of surprise, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through him. His wife couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the sound filled with affectionate amusement.

"Headstrong and cheeky like her Papa," his wife remarked, affection lacing her words. "And she looks like him too. If I hadn't given birth to her, I wouldn't even know if she was my child."

Kurt pressed a tender kiss to his wife's forehead before leaning against her, his tail finding its place around her hip. "Maybe at first glance. But she looks more like you than you realise," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to Rachel, who was lazily lashing her tail and blinking her eyes, yawning softly.

"To be honest, I don't care what she looks like," she whispered, her voice barely audible as they watched their daughter drift off to sleep. "She's our daughter. She's perfect." Kurt looked down at the little blue bundle - now asleep again - in his arms and smiled slightly.

" Indeed she is.“

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