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morallyinept · 5 months

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Sleazy Santa - A Dieter Bravo One Shot

Summary: Have you been naughty or nice? Sleazy Santa Dieter will find out... Come sit on his knee, baby, and tell Santa what you really want for Christmas. If you've been good, he might just give it to you. T'is the season to be sleazy...

Pairing: Sleazy!Dieter Bravo x MenaceF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.) Reader is referred to as 'Cookie' on occasion. You'll see why when you read... and has hair long enough to pull.

Word Count: 5.3k of Christmas sleaze

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral M & F receiving/drug use/anal play/lots of smutty dirty talk/verbal degradation - Dieter calls you a whore & slut and you love it/(im)proper use of a candy cane/Dieter being absolutely lewd and trashy whilst being a mall Santa. Reader is up for this and wants it all. Dieter is not an actor in this story. Just a dirtbag.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: (I intended to get this out on the 1st Dec, but this week has completely run away from me, so better late than never! 🫠) I just know Dieter would be the trashiest Santa. So here he is. Ho(e). Ho(e). Ho(e). 🎅🫦

☝🏻This is not a direct follow on from Back Alley Bang, but is the same Sleazy!Dieter.

Read Back Alley Bang!

I wrote this a little while back in prep for my Christmas stories to release throughout December. Since then, the lovely @cerridwen007 dropped a Frankie fic called Candy Cane, which you should totally read because it's bloody amazing! And hot! 🔥 Seeing as both our stories mention some lewdness with Candy Canes, I want to shout about hers, because it's epic. And so is she. 🥰🖤

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

🎄MASTERLIST🎄

Enjoy! 🖤

“Come sit on Santa’s knee, baby.” He smirks at you under the grizzle of greying, scruffy facial hair, sprawled across his jawline like a patch of overgrown weeds in a neglected alley.

Each bristle of his moustache seems like a picket in a fence, guarding the secrets of his expressions, a formidable barrier to anyone attempting to decipher the stoic visage he wears, despite the adept grin crook shanking it's way out from underneath it at you now.

You joust a sharp glance at him, sitting back lazily on the throne, manspreading and reaching down to adjust the swell of his cock inside his red velour pants, brazenly.

In a worn-out wife beater, that's seen one too many spin wash cycles, tinged grey with sweat around the hem and underarms, braces dangle loosely over Santa’s broad shoulders, contributing to a somewhat dis-reputational vibe.

Boots, covered in dirt and scuffs, complete the unkempt look, and a lingering rolled cigarette, possibly a joint by the herbal stench emanating from it and how tightly it’s tobacco stuffing is packed into the thin papers, add a touch of nonchalance to the unconventional ensemble.

The once jolly twinkle in his tired and bloodshot eyes he had for the children and parents queuing up all day to meet him excitedly, now carries a mischievous, darkening glint polluting the soft browns into a deep onyx as he regards you.

You can feel the heat, running moist and sticky across your body in all those fleshy crevices, as his eyes traverse all the curves and shapes of you gluttonously and leaving you stained.

It feels as if he devours you with his gaze, eyes chomping through your bones; each hungry look a bite into the forbidden fruit of your supple skin, leaving you with a sense of exposure that’s both invasive and titillating.

You feel it pulse on the end of your clit and bite back a wayward groan as you squeeze your thighs together.

You pull off your elf's hat, ruffling your hair out of your tight pony that’s been threatening to scalp you all day, and smirk at him suggestively.

He leers back, through full lips chapped pink, under that greasy moustache hidden behind a fake silvery beard all day. A sly grin twists those pert smackers up as he looks you up and down in your cute fuzzy elf ensemble, complete with annoying bells that jingle when you walk.

A crude name tag is pinned to your lapel, flecked with glitter that says Cookie. And you can't help but wonder at how he'll make you crumble.

The Grotto’s decor transports visitors to a whimsical realm where the spirit of Christmas thrives in a rammed-down-your-throat abundance. Faux snow covered branches, adorned with twinkling lights that frame the entrance, complete with fibreglass reindeer with beady eyes, creates an archway that beckons families into the enchanting space within the hustle and bustle of the shopping mall.

Inside the main cabin, the walls are adorned with festive murals depicting scenes of Santa's workshop; his cheerful elves, and his sleigh chock full of presents for all the good boys and girls.

Glittering ornaments in hues of red, green and gold hang from the ceiling, casting a warm and festive glow as they twirl and sway. Garlands of pine branches intertwine with fairy lights, adorned and wrapped around every available surface, filling the air with the invigorating scent of Christmas pine to the point you want to choke.

Eager youngsters, with their big awe-struck eyes, gravitate around your knees all day and hearing Let It Snow play on repeat is starting to grate on your last nerve by lunch time.

A two bit job in a shopping mall Grotto for the season to help pay the rent on your shitty apartment, isn’t exactly the high point of your mundane life, but being assigned as Santa’s personal elf in the Grotto this year seems to have an unexpected appeal.

Especially when under the hat and beard Santa is a fucking grimy feast for the eyes, in all of his sordid, dirty appeal.

“Oh, he’s kinda hot.” You whisper to the other elves, Sugarplum and Cinnamon, when you overhear them talking about him. “In a scummy sorta way.”

You watch as he chortles and pushes crudely taped gifts with lopsided bows into tiny, waiting hands.

“I saw him out of the suit having a smoke round back. He looks like he spends all day injecting.” Cinnamon the elf remarks, wrinkling her nose.

Sugarplum snorts distastefully in agreement as she pushes another child through to meet the magic man himself. And you can’t help but grin.

Who is this guy?

He stands out like a sore thumb in the mall full of Christmas card perfect families, with two point four bratty children, not the type to be cast in the role of Santa. He looks like he shouldn’t be anywhere near the vicinity of children at all.

He’s an obvious stain on the holly-jolly, a blot; a malignant smear with his dark appearance and equally dark aura that radiates and flashes in neon green above his head like a Sims character, that he’s a bad, rotten egg.

And yet, there’s something about him that piques you and your pussy’s interest as you can’t look away.

You wonder where they hired him, possibly off the street by the way he looks; hair a fluffy mess as he runs a giant paw through it when he takes off the Santa hat for a reprieve. Slick with sweat around the neck and ears after being swamped in the furry suit all day.

But amidst the cheerful chatter and the jingling of bells, you and Santa start to engage in risqué repartee through exchanging heated glances, hidden within the joyful chaos that swarms around you both.

He watches as you bend to greet the children, deliberately pointing your ass, clad in tight, striped hosiery, in his line of sight, and throwing him a steely glance over your shoulder as you smile innocently around your glittery lipstick.

You suck on candy canes to rile him up as he waits for the next toddler to enter the Grotto, and tease him with how far you can get it down your throat.

You can see the effect it has on him all day as he has to adjust to himself constantly and refuse that any more kids sit on his lap, opting to just talk to them on their level instead.

Your eyes often fall onto that heavy bulge between his legs as you lick up the red striped cane suggestively.

You, the teasing little elf, pretend to inspect a list of wishes, shooting Santa a sultry look. "I must say, Santa, you're on everyone's 'Nice' list, but I can't help but wonder what it would take to get you on the 'Naughty' list for a change…"

And he takes that as a direct challenge.

After the Grotto is closed to the public for the day, you see him head into it and follow, lured like he’s dropping gingerbread crumbs for you to snort up.

Lights are out in the Winter Wonderland area; a few amblers doing their late night Christmas shopping still linger around the mall, but no-one would obviously know you're heading in as your toes jingle with your quick steps in the shadows.

And it’s where you find him now, sitting back in Santa’s grand throne, legs akimbo and waiting for you as he tokes; running his thick mitts around the chintzy scruff of his real beard.

His eyes crinkle with mirth as you shut the Grotto door behind you. You reach into the basket of candy canes and he watches as you unwrap one, sucking on the stripey end of it as you step up towards him, when he pats his thick thigh again at you.

Perching on him, dwelling inside the mist of hazy smoke that lingers above your heads and makes you feel lighter as you breathe it down into your lungs, you flutter your eyelashes as you take him in.

Thick arms, speckled with tattoos of triads that look coloured in with a Sharpie, speak of a past etched with both labour and skirmishes. His hands, large and calloused, possess a certain coarseness, evidence of a wayward journey through life's grittier back alleys with short, chewed on nails. With shoulders that may slump a touch, he carries an weight of shady roughness on them; his belly and thighs telling stories of indulgence, and perhaps a few late night brawls.

Thick fingers are stacked with silver rings that are covered with Santa’s cotton gloves throughout the day. His hawkish nose adds a touch of defiance, completing the image of a man with a scuffed exterior, rough around the edges, yet somewhat intriguing in his lived-in authenticity. An unpolished diamond in some scummy rough.

But who needs a diamond, when a zirconia is just as good, right?

In the twinkly lights, the grazed hair on his face appears not as distinguished silver, but rather a mishmash of unkempt greys woven in, like shadows playing on a weathered canvas or someone forgetting to water their garden in patches.

His cocoa bean eyes, though sharp, carry a glimmer of adept slyness, a snake waiting to strike and latch it's fangs to your calf, as if they've witnessed more than their fair share of venomous dealings.

The pierced ear, with its slightly tarnished hoop you're longing to suck into your mouth, feels less like a statement and more like a relic of some practised rebellion; a declaration of nonconformity, a middle finger raised to polished appearances.

And it's here where your eyes settle, on his fingers as he brings the joint up to his lips to inhale again, and you marvel at their thickness, their startling turgidity, clenching internally.

He inhales on the end of the blunt, smoke billowing around his face in misty, gossamer trails that beckon you further into him, and his eyes, dark and beguiling with blown pupils, are still on yours.

“Have you been a good girl this year?” There’s a coarse texture to his speech, a visceral quality that mirrors the scuffed exterior of a life lived on the fringes.

He’s watching your lips around the candy cane as though hypnotised by the talent of it. You pull it out of your mouth, sticky - the red bleeding into the white - and smile sweetly.

“I’m always a good girl,” you remark with a minty grin.

Santa shakes his head. “I hear differently. I hear you’re a very naughty girl.”

You mock pout as he leans forward and sucks the end of the candy cane you’re holding into his own mouth. He smacks his lips around one another after tasting it and hums out. “Filthy,” he adds.

“Dirty.” You confirm with a singular nod.

“I like ‘em dirty.” He agrees, looking up at you, chin jutted out in a provocative challenge.

You stroke under it, scritching your nails in the softly coarse hairs there.

He flicks your name tag and smirks. “Cute.”

“What’s your name?” You ask curiously.

“Dieter,” he exhales again, and you can taste the smoke settling on your tongue. “But you can call me Santa, baby.”

You nod willingly.

“Santa wants to touch you, Cookie. You gonna let him?” He queries.

You nod again, smiling.

“Say it, baby. Say you want Santa to touch you.”

“Touch me, Santa.” You simmer. Your body tenses waiting for his hands - those giant, fucking hands - to get acquainted with you.

He finishes the joint, before squeezing the end to extinguish it, and plops it on the floor. “You gonna let Santa fuck you too?”

“Yeah," you nod again like you can't stop. "I want Santa to fuck me with his big, hard cock.” You reach down and give it a squeeze over the velour Santa pants, and he hisses. “Mmm, so big.” You say, sucking on the cane again, hooking your finger around the curved end of it.

“Fuck, baby. You want it bad don’t you? Slutty little elf…” He states.

Dieter runs his hand up your thigh, your stomach and stops at your breast giving it a good squeeze over your outfit; a grunt of approval rippling low in the back trench of his throat and he massages and gropes.

Clawing his fingers of his other hand over your thigh and grabbing at the pliable skin of your ass cheek, he squeezes a generous handful of it, pulling and smirking at you.

“Lemme get a look at these tits, fuck.” Dieter says, immediately running his tongue over them as you pull off your elf top. He yanks down your bralette, tearing at the flimsy material making you gasp around the candy cane.

Mouthing and licking around your nipples, flicking them with his hot, wet tongue, you moan and trail your fingers through his greased up hair. And Santa can’t help himself but to motorboat them, making you giggle as you squirm in his lap.

“Fuck, look at these,” He says groping them in his giant hands. He brings them together moaning and groaning as he licks and sucks them some more. Running his scruffy jaw over them, greedily like all his Christmases have come at once. He bites down on one and you hiss, feeling it fizz between your legs.

“How ‘bout a little kiss for Santa, hmm?” He croons at you, craning his face into yours. "Mmm, my lil' sugar cookie..."

You lean in, slipping your cool, sweetly sticky tongue inside his mouth as he kisses you. He strokes over your breasts, squeezing more and groaning as you suck on his tongue.

He tastes of weed, and something else strong and tart laced around his teeth. But you devour him, feeling that long tongue search around your mouth tasting you, and filling you with his muffled grunts.

“You know, Santa can fill your stocking with whatever you want, right?” Dieter smirks at you as he runs his fingers up down the striped nylons.

You grin, as you pop the candy cane back in your mouth.

With both hands, he tears open your pantyhose from your apex, and smirks at the damp patch there between your legs. You can feel it, all wet and sticky between your thighs.

You’ve made a mess of yourself all day watching and lusting after him, and now he can see it and knows exactly what he does to you. Knows how you've been craving that filthy dirtbag - who looks like he rolled out of the gutter - they hired to play dress up for the kids.

God, you wanna ride him so fucking hard.

“You been this wet for me all day?”

You nod. “Drenched.” You tease.

“Fuck…” he husks approvingly.

“You make me so wet, Santa.” You say, still innocently sucking on that darned candy cane.

His fingers swipe over the front of your panties, feeling it and pushing the damply soiled material against the folds of your swollen pussy lips.

He groans as he feels that warm slick seep through onto his fingertips. He brings them up to his nose and sniffs before putting them in his mouth and sucks them, looking at you the whole time as you flare.

Then, he runs them all over your seam again, pressing in and applying pressure to the protruding, swollen bump of your clit. Those grubby, filthy hands pawing greedily all over you, just as you wanted.

“Mmm,” you whine as he strokes and circles over your clit that’s buzzing and pulling tight. A tinge of an ache that makes your thighs tense in the most delicious of ways as he strokes over it, lewdly.

“Santa’s little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod, smirking.

He takes the candy cane from you, and slots it in his own mouth, sucking on it as he inspects between your legs like a letch. You hear it clack against his teeth as it rolls from side to side across his mouth.

Sucking on it, the stripy tip turned fully white now, he runs it in your folds, and you gasp at the coolness of the mint.

He dips it in, sliding the candy cane into your hole and pulls it out, sucking it back into his mouth, tasting you around the peppermint treat.

"Mmm, you taste so good." He praises.

He does it again, fucking you slowly with the candy cane and watching as you bite your lip as he slides it in as deep as it’ll go, before holding the sticky treat out for you to taste.

You eye him as you suck it clean of your slick, your tongue lapping down the length of it, and he groans.

“So fucking nasty,” he says with a glint in his eye.

You crunch on the end of it, breaking off a chunk into your mouth as you chew and he discards the rest onto the floor, breaking into pieces that scatter upon impact.

“Let me get another look at that pussy.” He wrenches your panties aside again, and spits on his fingers, rubbing them over your dripping cunt.

“That feel good?” He slides up and down your folds, teasing your clit with slimy circles of your slick and tapping it.

“Yeah. I want those dirty fingers in me.” You whine.

“All the way in?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get those panties off. Santa wants you spread open on his lap, baby.”

You lift your ass up as he tugs them down and you watch as he stuffs them into his pocket with a cockamamie smirk. You can only imagine all the sordid things he'll do with them later.

“Oh my God…” You gasp as he slides in two thick fingers, thumb running over your clit.

“You like being a dirty little slut for Santa, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod.

“Look at you, spread wide with my fingers in your cunt.” He looks down at the wet patch on his pants where you cream for him.

“I love it.” You nod. "I love being your slut, Santa."

“Yeah you do. Kiss me again, baby. Gimme that tongue.”

He sucks on your tongue before he pushes in a third finger, and you moan at how full you feel. He pumps them in and out of you, garnering a tempo that leaves flames licking down your spine as you writhe against them.

“Such a tight little cunt,” he whispers, pulling on your bottom lip and sucking it.

“Mmm, yeah… that feels so good.” You mewl.

You can hear your slick squelching around his fingers and leaving them shiny as he pulls them out. You watch as he separates them, leaving strings to break before he sucks them in his mouth.

“Santa’s got a gift for you in his sack, baby.” He reaches down into a bag, just as dirty and grimy as he is, and pulls out a battery powered wand with a bulbous head.

You’re stunned as you giggle, and he raises his eyebrows.

“You carry that around with you all the time?” You say, bewildered.

A filthy grin lances across his face, the type that could impregnate women. And looking at him, he probably has. A harem of single mothers waiting on alimony cheques that’ll never come.

He clicks the wand on and pushes it to your cunt.

“Oh fuck!” You drool as you feel it pulsing deliciously against your clit immediately. He sucks your nipple back into his mouth, whining at the taste of your skin.

The vibrations, like soft, tingly ripples, spread from the device and explore every facet of your nerve endings. Tiny electrical pinpricks; a bubbling conduit of glittery bursts that intensify the more pressure he applies against you.

"That feel good?" You hear him graze at you.

“Mmm, I feel like I could come right now.” You sigh, gripping onto his broad, tan shoulder and enjoying being so close falling off the ledge already.

“This little toy gonna make you come, baby? Make you come for Santa?” You watch as he tongues your nipple, flicking it back and forth fast.

“Yeah. I’m almost there.” You shudder. "Mmm, fuck." You grab a hold of his hand, pushing the wand tighter against you. You can feel it pulsing in the centre, a deep winding sensation behind your abdomen; bunching and tightening.

He clicks it up a notch, the vibrating head faster and louder against your clit.

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes, yes!” Nails digging into the back of his hand as you grind against the wand head.

“Yeah. Come for me, baby. I wanna see Cookie come for Santa like a good slut.”

“Feels so nice like that… fuck!” You say your eyes rolling back, jaw tight and teeth clenching as you shudder and burst. Eyebrows furrowing and biting down on your lip as you come around the wand’s head. “So good, Santa… fuck, so, so good,” you pant.

His eyes flash with wild encouragement, yet they contain a sense of addictive danger as he kisses across your breasts that taste salty with sweat and glittery fragments that stick to you as you shake.

“Such a good little elf, coming for Santa aren’t you, baby?”

He glances at you as he suckles and kisses your nipple, and pulls your face towards his for a swamping kiss that tastes acidic and makes you dizzy with it all.

You reach down and squeeze his cock as he tosses the wand onto his bag. Stroking him over the red velour pants. He has an oily smirk; slick and fast, matching the tempo of how quickly he gets his cock out for you. Thick, veiny and pink, with a nice fat head, oozing just for you.

“Is this all for me, Santa?” You marvel at the lack of boxers or briefs under the pants.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got such a big cock. Mmm, that’s gonna feel so good in my tight pussy.”

“Gonna stretch you out, baby.” He takes your hand and wraps it around him, pumping.

“Fill me up.”

“Yeah, Gonna fill this slutty pussy up till you're dripping me down your thighs.”

Your eyes are drawn to the ominous swell of his cock in your hand, astounding in its size and girth with a puff of grizzly dark hairs at the base of it. You’re trying to understand the science of how the fuck he’ll fit inside of you.

“I feel so fucking good, Cookie. So hard.” He whispers with a beguiling whip around his gritty cadence.

“Mmm,” you say, mesmerised by jerking him off. Watching as he drips for you and smearing it around his head with your thumb.

“You wanna feel it? Feel it in your pussy, baby?”

Biting your lip you nod and grin. “Yeah.”

In a flash, he sits you on the throne, your legs hanging over the arm rests and spread wide for him.

"Fuck, look at you," he sighs at how spread and soaked you are for him.

Dieter jerks his cock as he runs his tongue up and down your slit, sucking on your clit hungrily. He swirls his tongue round and round, speedily as it flicks across your clit and makes your thighs twitch.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” He groans.

“Like candy canes.” You giggle.

“Yeah. So sweet.”

You yank his head forward, clutching at the roots of his greying curls. His nose snuffles against the top of your mound as you feel him penetrate your hole with his tongue.

“Fuck!” You drone as he fucks you with it.

He licks down and then runs back up again, this time gliding his nose in your folds too. Slick gathers on the end of it, shiny as it passes over your clit.

“God, I wanna fuck this tight, little pussy.” He growls, wiping your juice from his nose and licking it away from his palm.

Dieter pulls off the pants fully, then stands, crouching with legs spread; thick thighs supporting him as he lines himself up with your slit.

You can see the swell of his belly where the wife beater rides up and you reach forward to stroke it, feeling the galaxy of soft hairs that lead in a trail down to his cock.

You wince as he pushes in, fisting onto the hem of the vest.

“What, huh? Too big? You can take this big cock. Come on, baby.” He looks down to see he’s halfway in; your cunt sucking him in as he traverses the fleshy, wet walls crushing around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Mmm, God!” You groan, reaching for him as he pushes in all the way, deep into the hilt of you and there he stays for a moment, unmoving, just feeling you pulse and contract around him.

He wiggles his hips and watches you breathlessly gasp.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

He pulls out and then slides deep again, over and over until he works up a tempo that has you panting; clawing at his arms and soaking around him.

You sit up on the edge of the throne, legs wrapped around his lower calves as he slows into a more laboured pace. Sliding his cock in as deep as he can get it into you. He nips at your neck, running his tongue over the skin and sucking it between his teeth, marking you with purple welts.

It’s a deep, somewhat brutal fucking, as he flexes his hips and pounds into you with determination. Taking your breath away as the jolts of your body stop you sucking more oxygen in.

You hold onto the arm rests to steady yourself as he fucks into you. His own breath getting lodged in the back of his throat.

You look up at him, jaw slack and eyes glazed over in ecstasy as his thighs slap relentlessly against your ass cheeks. His face his taught, veins bulging around his neck and eyes focused on you. Lined forehead coated with a sheen of sweat and you want to taste on your tongue.

“You like this don’t you, getting fucked by Santa?” He queries with a dark smirk.

“Aah fuck! Yeah, give it to me!” You wail.

You can feel the weight of his balls pendulum against your ass as he thrusts relentlessly.

"Santa fucking his little whore." He puffs.

"Fuck yeah!" You cry.

“Get up baby,” he instructs, wincing as he stands upright and clutching his lower back.

He sits on the throne and pulls you onto him, but facing away. You hoist yourself up, feet flat on the seat either side of his thighs and lower yourself, squatting onto his cock standing tall and thick beneath you.

“Oh, that’s it. Sit on Santa’s fucking lap, baby!” He gushes, pulling you all the way down until your cunt is flush with the base of him.

“Oh shit, Dieter!” You cry as you feel him plunge deeper than he's already been. It forces the breath out of your lungs as you sharply inhale. "Shit, shit!"

"Call me Santa, baby." He teases.

His hands hold onto your waist; thick fingers curling around towards your belly button as you move up and down, using the arm rests to push yourself upwards.

“Fuck, you’re so deep.” You groan as you work faster with the aid of him pushing your hips.

“Yeah, fuck my cock, baby.” He grunts from behind you.

You reach forward and stroke his swollen balls, groping and squeezing gently as he groans in delight. You run your hand across the both of you; feeling him plunge into your pussy, moving up to your clit as he fills you.

“Yeah, yeah, baby. Oh fuck yeah!” He’s groaning behind you, hissing and puffing. The throne creaks and rocks under you both.

The burning in your thighs stops you momentarily, and you step down off the throne and ride him harder, leaning forward on his thighs.

He’s watching, hands on your ass cheeks, splaying you apart so he can see his cock delve deeper into your pussy, shiny and drenched with your slick.

He sucks his thumb and notches it against your tight, puckered hole. You squeal in delight as he breaks through and hooks it into your ass.

“So fucking dirty baby.” He praises as you tighten around his cock. “Wish we had that candy cane now so I can put it in your ass.”

“Oh my God…” You sigh deliciously at the seedy thought.

“You gonna come? Come with my thumb in your ass like the dirty slut you are?”

“Mmm, yeah!” You coo.

“Fuck yeah!” He hollers as you start to shudder and ripple around him.

Your voice wanes, becoming nothing but a husked whisper scraping against the back crevices of your throat. But the most fascinating thing of all to him, is the way your body shakes uncontrollably on the end of his cock as he strokes the inside of your ass.

The dreamy, heady feeling crawls over you like smoke in the dimly lit corridors of the back of the mall, choking you up. The colours of Christmas in the Grotto take on a seedy glamour, as if you're witnessing the world through the tinted lens of a noir film.

It's a sensory whirlwind, where every touch, taste, and sound carries a palpable sharpened edge, laced with a hint of danger that adds to the thrill of the fuck between you both.

His cock bottoms out in you constantly, filling you full of him and you can’t get enough. Panting and whining for more.

The knotting and binding cinches tighter and you start to fall, not into a soft cloud; it's a smokescreen of desire and kinky vice. It's the kind of state where the boundary between illusion and reality blurs, and you find yourself entangled in the gritty allure of forbidden pleasures.

Fucking Santa in a children's Grotto, and you giggle at the absurd, yet vividly decadent rapture, as your orgasm takes you and turns you out.

“Yeah come all over my cock,” Dieter cajoles as you whine and screech, riding yourself through it until you buck and shake, unable to keep yourself up right on legs that feel like mush.

Dieter bends you over the throne this time, kneeling on the plush seat as you cling to the back of it whilst he stands behind you, pummelling into you and seeking his own finish.

“You like taking Santa’s big cock like this?” His voice pelts the back of your neck; hair bunched and knotted around his fist.

“Yeah!” You cry out, literally clawing at the gold paint finishing. You’ll find it under your nails later. “Harder.” You whine.

“Oh, you want it so hard, you greedy cock slut.” Wheezing like he’ll need an oxygen machine for the rest of his life, Dieter speeds up.

Obscene slapping of sweaty skin-on-skin fills the Grotto. If security were to trundle on by, there’s no mistaking you'd both be caught and the thought makes you flare.

“Spank me, Santa!” You urge over your shoulder.

“You want me to spank you?”

“I’ve been a very bad elf…” You pout coyly.

“So fucking bad, baby.” He slaps across your ass, the sting making you moan out as it traverses your body.

“Mmm, yeah! More!”

“More?” He does it again, harder and it leaves a mark where you can feel the burn.

Another slap has you screaming as you push back on his cock, meeting his every thrust.

The sweat sheen on your back shines at him and he leans over you running his tongue up your spine to taste it. The action pushes him deeper and you both cry out in unison.

He works his hips, shunting back and forth in small, quick bursts as he fucks that tight, pretty hole and makes you mewl and gasp.

A savage rhapsody of his unrelenting stamina that pummels you continually; all you can do is take it, whining and groaning and seeing the phosphenes glitter around your vision as he builds you up again.

It’s soaking between your legs, immensely sticky and you can feel it dripping between your thighs. You reach under yourself and stroke your clit that feels like it might explode with the simplest nudge.

It feels so good, too good, and you’re coming again, legs shaking and your back feeling like it might break in half, as he twists and pistons into you with all that he’s got.

“Where’d you want Santa to finish, baby?” He grunts desperately.

“In my mouth.”

“Oh fuck!”

“Watch me swallow it all down, Santa.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

He pulls out and jerks his cock a few times before coating your waiting tongue with warm, thick spurts of him.

“Take Santa’s load,” he groans. “Yeah, lick the tip clean, suck it. Oh yeah, that’s it… fuck. Clean me up with that slutty mouth, baby.”

He reaches down, smearing his thumb over your lips that are sticky with his pearly come. Cock in hand still, he strokes the side of your face as you look up at him and run your tongue over his length.

“Next time, you can fill my ass.” You wink.

“Fuck,” Dieter chuckles. He has a large dimple on the left side of his face when he smiles; an almost perfect crescent, like the moon in its waxing phase. You decide instantly that it's kinda beautiful.

Standing, your hands on his chest - the wife beater drenched with sweat - you kiss him, slipping your salty tongue into his mouth and he whines, groping your ass and crushing his softening cock between you both.

You feel him pick you up, wincing around his teeth a little, as he strains, hands splayed under your ass cheeks as he plonks you down on the counter where all the treats are kept, namely the basket of candy canes.

You groan contently into the seedy warmth of his mouth once more as he latches onto your lips, tongue exploring the wet crevices of your mouth. You cup the back of his head, yielding to the undercurrent of surrender, willingly.

Dieter takes one of the candy canes, unwraps it and slides it into your mouth. You feel his fingers stroking through your wet swollen folds, gathering it and swirling it around the rim of your ass as he puts one of your ankles on his shoulder.

It's a feeling that goes beyond the physical, a warmth that stirs the echoes of desires you might not want to admit, but have willingly embraced nonetheless.

You want more of him, want more of this grimy bastard filling you up, and judging by how grunts, licking around your teeth and gums hungrily, Santa’s not done yet with you either.

“Get it nice and wet, baby. That’s it.” He encourages you as you slurp and suck around the candy cane.

He takes it from you, and you bite down on your lip as you feel it pushing against your rim.

“Santa’s gonna make it disappear, baby.” Dieter, the Sleazy Santa chuckles at you, with a sly, twisted grin as you crush his rancid lips to yours once more.

Thanks so much for reading more of Sleazy!Dieter. I hope you enjoyed him! Stay tuned for more of him in the future.🖤

MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #christmas fic #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #jett's writing #dieter bravo fic

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millenariumhappinesstheorem · 5 months

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Personal headcanon: everyone wanted to eats the silmarils a little bit. They’re the ultimate forbidden magical gushers. Holy Tide Pods, if you will. Even the Valar have intrusive thoughts about chomping them.

#silmarillion #silm #tolkien #shitpost #silmarils #tide pods

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malicedragoness · 7 months

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Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

#MK Havik #havik #havik x reader

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hawkeyeslaughter · 1 month

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burdened with forbidden knowledge that hawk would chomp jolly ranchers . the swamp would be completely silent ( for once ) and there’d be a loud cracking sound from hawk’s bunk and gleeful giggling while charles berates him for doing it

#he would also collect the green ones because nobody else wants them . he’s unbearable #he likes the pai — * gets shot several times *#the fbi wants to silence me because i know the truth #bj and charles threatening to contact daniel pierce to ask him PLEASE for the love of GOD do not send ben any more #mash #mashposting #m*a*s*h #mash 4077 #hawkeye pierce #hawkeye

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insomniakisses · 10 months

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Hi, I am new in your blog and have a request, could you make an Alpha!Rhaenyra and Omega!reader where the reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and both are in love with each other but Viserys doesn't allow them to marry, so the two go to Dragonstone to marry and consummate their marriage

sorry if there are any words wrong english is not my first language

Forbidden Love

Character: Rhaenyra Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/notes: Omegaverse au, mentions of arranged marriages, incest, sister!rhaenyra, alpha!targaryen, omega!reader, fem!reader, your dragon is the cannibal, nicknamed chomp by cowboy anon and me, sexual scenes later on. NSFW MINORS DNI (Viseyris is an omega lets be honest sooo Alpha! Alicent and Omega!Viserys)

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NO!” You wince at the sound of your fathers voice carrying through the halls, knowing exactly what it is he is refusing, the marriage between you and your older sister rhaenyra had been a topic of discussion these past months. Ever since the death of laenor velarion, she seemed intent on marrying you.

You couldn’t argue, having loved her for a while now. There was however a great many obstacles to overcome before any type of marriage could be discussed.

The main, and most obvious obstacle was the king and queens adamants that the two of you would not marry. For your father, you knew it was simply that he wished to marry you to a stark to further cement an alliance to from north. Whereas, you weren’t certain on the Alicents reasoning. Perhaps it was that you would be a praised and perfect consort to rhaenyra, strengthen the publics reasonings for supporting her claim. Maybe it was that she saw you as her own and to think of you mated to her once friend, now enemy would be hard. You would never truly know the reason and you didn’t care all that much. You simply yearned for the comfort only rhaenyra seemed to grant you.

Taking a deep breath you entered the chambers of your father, alicent bolting to stand and welcome you in with a hug seeing thankful for the presence of someone not screaming at full volume.

“Father, please.”

You let out with a whine and he sighs cupoing your face before shaking his head. “My dear daughter, you are already promised.” He concludes flopping down in his seat as if the matter was simply over.

“BUT FATHER-“

“Enough! Your father needs to rest and I am quite frankly sick of hearing about this nonsense, seven hells!” Alicent all but roars, the alphas tone coming harsh and you whine in submission on instinct.

She softens at that, “come my dear,” she grabs you face leaning to kiss your head “you too should rest. Busy day tomorrow you will travel north to meet your betrothed.”

You sigh in defeat your eyes watering slightly at the feeling of how trapped you really are and you push her off angrily whipping your tears as you run to your room ignoring rhaenyra’s calls after you as you head to your chambers.

The sound of your door opening and closing alerts you from your place in bed. Climbing to your feet you make your way to the door freezing with a gasp when you see a hooded figure standing in the dark. As if sensing you were about to scream they made quick movement to you clasping their hand over your mouth.

“Shhhh baby, its me” you feel your whole body relax hearing her voice.

“RHAENYRA!” You whisper yell glaring as you slap her shoulder, she simply chuckles pulling you to her and placing a few kisses to your head.

“The boys are asleep and our dragons saddled, we should make haste” she whispers moving to wrap a cloak around you oblivious of your confusion.

“Make haste? Make haste where, where are we going!?” She smiles cupping your face ever so softly “To get married of course!”

You stare at her her in complete shock, “But the king-“ she rolls her eyes, “our father, will have to deal with it” she cuts you off leading you out of your room and through the secret passages until you were out of the palace, and in the dragon pit.

The soft chirps of Syrax and Chomp greet you as they make their way out from the dragon pit. Rubbing his snout you climb on chomp as rhaenyra sets off on syrax signalling for you to follow.

When you both land, she dismounts first moving to help you down and pulling u into a soft kiss before passing you a bag full of wedding clothes for you. Turning around and starting to dress into her own.

Now fully dressed you turn to each other walking hand in hand to the alter where the ceremony begins. You both go through the motions, until your cutting each others lips, drinking from the cup and leaning in for a soft kiss.

Your heart flutters at the knowledge your finally married, and you know she feels the same when she moves to pull you against her kisses you a few times before grinning against your neck.

“Well you may be my wife, but now I need to make you my mate” she smirks.

You blush as she picks you up, helping you to get seated on syrax before sitting behind you. She makes a point of kissing at your neck the whole ride her hand roaming wherever she felt like it.

The rides quick landing on a cliff somewhere that she had set up a few blankets and when you land she helps you down sending syrax off to give you guys some privacy.

She makes quick work of undressing before capturing your lips with hers. Her hands eagerly pulling the clothes from your body until you lay naked under her.

She cups the side of your neck and places gentle kisses and love bites till she reaches her desired target your scent gland that she places her mouth on and starts sucking and licking at letting out a deep rumble when you let out a whine and grip the back of her neck.

“Patience sweetling” she hums moving to capture your lips with her own in a wet kiss.

“Rhaeny-“ her lips on yours cut you off, moving to rub at your clit while she continues the kiss. The moving of hers on yours becoming faster and more heated both of you moaning into the kiss as she picks up the pace she rubs your clit.

“Seven hells” she grunts against your lips “so fucking wet for me” shes cocky, in the way she speaks, smirk pulling at her lips as she continues her kisses. Trailing her lips lover and lower taking the time to grope and suck at your breasts. Pinching the buds between her fingers and rolling and tugging at them cooing in fake sympathy when you whine and moan in response. Leaning to suck harshly at your skin.

“So so pretty, my baby, my sweet sweet sister all mine to use and breed” she groans, running her tongue against the skin of your thighs sucking and nipping the soft skin leaving purple and red marks in her wake. A trail leading right back up to your neck where she had started.

“P-please” you beg bucking up into her face as you clench around nothing your hole just begging to be stretched and abused by her thick cock.

“Patience baby, gotta make you nice and wet to take me don’t want to hurt this pretty little pussy now.” She seemingly takes pity on you then licking a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her lips wrapping around it and sucking gently as she held your legs open her cock leaking pre against the mattress as if crying for her to give it some attention.

She gives your cunt a few more licks before focusing again on sucking your clit pushing two fingers into you slowly. “I know sweetling i know, be patient baby I promise to make it feel good” she coos when you whine in discomfort the feeling of something entering you for the first time slightly painful and uncomfortable.

She focuses on soft deep thrusts of her fingers twisting and curling them as she sucks your clit, moaning against you when she sees you reach to play with your tits. Biting your lip as you stare down at her. It spurs her to go faster until she has you cussing and crying out as your juices run down her chin and you shake clenching hard around her fingers as an orgasm rips through you.

“Mm,” she moans licking her fingers and lips clean as she moves up your body. “Think your ready baby”

Moving to rub her tip against your pussy she gathers your juices along her cock, pushing in slowly as she rubs your clit pulling you into a deep kiss.

Her thrusts start slow and deep getting you used to the stretch and weight of her big cock, before she slowly begins picking up the pace. Your pussy sucking her in with ever thrust and pre spurting into you every time you clench around her. She fights her every urge to jus grab your hips and pound, wanting your first time to be gentle and soft.

Shes kissing you softly as you moan into each others mouths, her hips picking up speed and she pulls all the way out before slamming back in you move to rub your clit while she gropes at your chest. Another orgasm rips through you as you yell out her name and a string of cuss words. “FUCK RHAENYRA! SHIT OH GOD! Mmm FUCK!”

You clench hard and she gasps closing her eyes. “Thats it baby fill me up” you groan and she can’t take it anymore, loud yell filling the room as she freezes spurt after spirt of cum filling you deep.

“Mm fuck you have the best fucking pussy baby” she kisses at your neck hips stuttering and dick still twitching from her orgasm.

Moving to pick up your legs she pins them against your chest moaning when she slips deeper.

“Ready for some more baby?” She smirks rubbing at your clit as you moan eagerly clenching around her cock silently begging for her to fill you up more. Give you all her cum and make you round with her pups.

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon imagines #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra imagines #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagines #rhaenyra targeryan #hotd rhaenyra

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icarusignite · 2 years

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An Eye for an Eye (part 1)

Pairing: Aemond x OC! Daenys Varyon-Targaryen

Summary: Daenys Velaryon-Targaryen is the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, but she shares the same true lineage as her brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. Having grown up beside Aemond Targaryen, she has become a friend, a companion, and eventually a beloved wife to him. But when the man she loves commits an unforgivable crime, she must choose between her beloved and her family.

parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / Future parts: MASTERLIST

A/N: I have seen so many edits of the scene where Vhagar chomps down on poor baby Lucerys and Aemond looks shaken and it got me in my feels so I thought I'd try my hand at my first fanfiction. Aemond is probably a bit OOC but I was craving regretful soft Aemond so here we are. This is also pretty canon divergent lol. This fic is also available on AO3

Word count: 1837

Daenys Targaryen walked the halls of the castle lost in thought. The past few days had been quite strenuous, with the death of her grandfather and the crowning of Queen Alicents son Aegon. Daenys yearned to return to Dragonstone to her mother, the rightful heir, and support her true claim. However, her access to the dragon pit had been forbidden and she was barely ever allowed to leave the castle unchaperoned. Someone was always watching her every move and she was beginning to feel stifled. Perhaps, she thought, a part of her stayed to try and convince her husband to join her mother's cause. It was a laughable thought really, because how could she of all people ever get Aemond to turn his back on his family?

They had been friends since childhood and when he had asked his father, the late King Viserys, to offer for her hand in marriage, Daenys was more than happy to accept, even if her mother was a little reluctant. Even her relationship with the Queen had once been one of companionship and tenderness, but the recent crowning of Aegon had placed a strain on their relationship. Daenys had once been Alicient's favourite of all of Rhaenyra's children, so much so that she had been the one to convince Rhaenyra regarding her betrothal to Aemond, speaking of alliances and powerful unions. It certainly helped that Daneys looked the part of a true Targaryen, unlike her beloved brothers whose parentage was always put into question. Perhaps, Alicent had taken advantage of Daenys's fondness for Aemond to keep her in King's Landing for a while longer as opposed to running off to Dragonstone to her mother. The royal family needed to present a united front during such a time of chaos.

As she reached the throne room, Daenys heard a commotion. There was yelling, a frustrated sigh, and then furious whispering. Daenys could barely make out the words but she could swear her name being said, along with her brother Lucerys's. Why would he be here, she wondered, but her heart raced with anticipation. Perhaps her mother had sent for her. The Hightowers couldn't very well keep her here if her mother officially summoned her and sent her brother to bring her back to Dragonstone.

With a skip in her step, she entered the throne room. However, her brother was nowhere to be seen and she was greeted by a strange scene. Otto Hightower and the dowager queen were engaged in heated whispers while Aegon sat on the iron throne laughing. Her eyes scanned the room and eventually landed on her husband. Aemond Targaryen looked lost. His eyepatch was missing, his eyes were wide in what looked like equal parts of disbelief and horror. His hair was mussed like he had just been out riding Vhagar. Something must have disturbed him while he was out, though Daenys couldn't think of a single thing that would possibly scare the mighty Aemond Targaryen. Worry gnawed at her either way as she rushed to his side to take his trembling hands in her own.

Her entrance silenced the entire room. Even Aegon halted his maniacal laughter. When the queen's eyes landed on her, they softened immediately. Aemond on the other hand froze and went pale. He refused to meet her eyes and pulled his hands away.

"Aemond are you alright?" she spoke gently, trying not to startle him further, "what's going on?"

At the sound of her voice, Aemond flinched. Aegon smirked.

"Tell her what happened. Go ahead. It is the best news I've heard in a long time," he crowed with pleasure.

At the sound of everyone's silence, Aegon laughed even louder.

"Daenys my dear, pay Aegon no mind. His majesty simply has too much on his mind. 'Tis nothing," Alicent said gently, coming over to put her hand comfortingly on Daenys's shoulder.

"Oh for God's sake, stop being such cowards. Tell her the truth. Why don't you tell her brother?" Aegon turned to Aemond. "Tell your beloved what you did to her brother!"

Daenys froze. Her brother? Is that why they were talking about him earlier? Had something happened to him? Her heart twisted as she tried to meet Aemond's eyes. Eyes that remained glued to the floor.

"My dear there's been an accident..." Alicent tried again before Aegon interrupted.

"Why let mother fight your battles against your lady wife Aemond? You seemed perfectly capable of fighting for yourself against that Strong Bastard. An eye for an eye was it then?"

Daenys's jaw dropped as she whirled towards Aemond with fury in her eyes.

"You fought with my brother? Why would you do that? Was that the accident then? Did you hurt him? Where is he now?"

"At the bottom of the..." Aegon stopped with a scowl as Aemond glared daggers at him.

"Your brother...uh he... he had an accident and unfortunately he didn't make it," Alicent whispered.

Oh.

All the fire went out inside of her and Daenys slumped to her knees on the floor. Aemond tried to approach her, speaking for the first time since she entered the room.

"Daenys, listen..."

She flinched away from his touch as he reached for her.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Daenys please," he pleaded.

Aegon was clearly enjoying this. He grinned at his brother.

"We shall have a grand feast for you, Kinslayer. Finally rid of that bastard. As king perhaps I shall gift you the Driftmark seat. You may rule the seas you earned with your lady love," he winked.

Aemond's eyes remain fixed on Daenys as she slowly turned towards him.

"How... how did it..." she could barely get the words out.

"It was an accident, I swear it. I tried to stop Vhagar but she wouldn't listen. I promise it was an accident," Aemond insisted, still trying to reach for her, even as she pulled farther away.

"Oh quit being modest brother. Tell her how you earned the name Kinslayer. Finally going after the bastard who took your eye. You were even kind enough to give him the choice of carving out his own eye. A courtesy I remember he did not offer you. It was only after he so rudely denied you your repayment that you went after him. As king, I declare it to be a fair game to be sure," Aegon winked at Daenys, recounting the entire tale of how Aemond gave chase to Lucerys and his dragon in Storm's End. His grin grew wider as her expression grew more horrified.

"If you are too upset with my brother to warm his bed, you know where to find me, don't you? After all, it was his dragon that took a nice big bite out of your brother."

A strangled cry of horror and disbelief escaped Daenys's lips as she glared at Aemond.

"You are still on about that? After all these years, you still haven't let it go?"

"He took my eye!" Aemond protested.

"He was 5! A child!"

“And what of me? I was a child too. A child who lost his eye and had to live with this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life!”

“I'm sorry for that. Truly I am. I even offered you my eye as retribution for what my brother did. He was a child and didn’t know better. That still didn’t give you the right to take his life.”

"I... I'm telling you it was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I just got angry and wanted to teach him a lesson. I gave chase only as a prank, to scare him a little. I didn't mean for him to get hurt."

"He was still a child Aemond! You chased my little brother and his baby dragon across Storm's End on that monstrosity you ride. What did you expect?" Daenys sobbed, tears now streaming down her face. "You killed him. You and your stupid giant brute of a dragon killed my baby brother!"

"Daenys, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen," Aemond pleaded. He knelt next to her and tried to take her into his arms as her entire body seemed to vibrate with grief and rage.

It hurt him to see her this way, coming apart at the seams. She pulled away from him violently, taking deep shuddering breaths.

"Stay the hell away from me!" she shrieked.

Aemond lowered his hands, chest aching. He looked at his mother beseechingly until she knelt beside Daenys.

"Shhhh my darling. It's going to be ok. I'm sorry. He's sorry. We're sorry," Alicent soothed.

"NO!" Daenys screamed. "It won't be alright. My brother is dead. My brother is dead!"

Daenys doubled over, her insides burning. She pressed her forehead against the cool marble of the throne room and willed it to swallow her. Great sobs wracked her body and she pushed away the multitudes of arms that tried to hold her, to pull her up and carry her away. Then it became hard to breathe and when she started choking on her own frenzied cries, she allowed herself to slip into the darkness that hovered just at the edge of her consciousness.

Alicent looked at the girl who lay slumped on the floor in pity. First, by crowning Aegon as King and now by killing one of Rhaenyra's sons, her family had officially broken any and all bonds with Rhaenyra’s. This meant war to be sure. She did feel sorry for Daenys though. She cared for the girl more than she cared to admit. She was the only one of the ladies at court who didn't give her son Aemond a hard time over his missing eye, who wouldn't look at him with fear or disgust. She had always been kind to him, and Alicent knew her son's heart belonged wholly to the girl. It was a pity that it had come to this. While the girl herself posed no real threat to Alicent or the crown, especially as Aemond's bride, her family did.

"Take your wife up to your room Aemond. She needs to rest, the poor girl has worn herself out," Alicent gestured to Daenys's limp body that lay at their feet.

Aemond gathered her up in his arms as carefully as he could and made his way to their shared room. He looked at her with eyes full of remorse. He never meant to hurt her like this. He supposed the cruel part of him wanted to hurt Lucerys, but the part of him that loved Daenys was far greater and so all he was left with was a feeling of emptiness and self-loathing. He wondered if they could ever come back from this. If she would ever forgive him for this crime. He wondered if he even deserved her forgiveness.

As he gently tucked her into bed, he couldn't resist placing a gentle kiss upon her troubled brow. She whimpered in her slumber.

"I'm sorry Daenys."

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lazywriter-artist · 22 days

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Guess who’s out of ideas again so it’s time for more oc dumps

Mostly just me dicking around with AdMech design ideas this time around UwU—

C0c71 - (he/they/Any) Silly tech priest, idk lol— not much lore stuff for him tbh. The little guy just kind of vibing helping run his forge world with his ArchMagos and friends, let him live idk. Can you tell my inspo for them tee hee?

Can you tell I h8 drawing clothes? Let me show off their silly robot bodies

Az-M0D3u5 - (They/Them/Any) A snake themed heretek, I decided perhaps a Techpriest from a forgotten forge world, originally started near the sort of outskirts of its galaxy only to find it was much too unstable to be a viable forge world and thus abandoned. Most of the elites and those important got out fast leaving those who couldn’t scramble together as quickly if they had means to leave at all to fend for themselves.

Feeling abandoned by the Omnissiah and the closest thing to family they have ever known? They turn to forbidden teachings and seek to survive in the desolate wasteland of a planet they’re forced to call home. Using various xeno’s technologies to try their very hardest to stabilize their own little corner on this forgotten hellscape. They aren’t doing half bad tho!

Some inspirations for the imagination are definitely mad max meet fallout meet 40k (obvi) this barren wasteland filled with people chomping at the bit to use what little resources they have left to survive while blowing eachother to bits 🥰

8r-14n - (it/they) servitor? Weird, too human shaped. Not a fan. ServoSkull? Cute. Not cuddly enough tho— wel fear not!!!!! Has 8r-14n have the solution for you!!!!!! Brain in goop and become Pubby :)

Who made em? Fuck if I know. Why they a silly Pubby? Let them live, what are you? An Arbites? Stop questioning the silly fella so much!!!

Needless to say they’re just kind of- glorified ServoSkull built for extra murder cuddles 🥰

#I like these sillies….#can you tell I have a favorite lore wise?#teehee #sucker for snakes what can I say?#lazy’s oc dump #8r14n and C4n1d are friends #btw if you even care #two dog buddies being friends #warhammer 40k #wh40k #lazy art #wh40k art #admech #wh40k oc #adeptus mechanicus

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subastian-swallows · 1 year

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Hogwarts Legacy Characters Reacting:

You’ve fallen asleep in class, how would they react?

Sebastian: It’s Charms Class. You’ve spent the evening prior out on one of your many escapades — your feat? Wiping out a huge Loyalist camp, however, it’s not something you can exactly talk to Professor Ronen about and so you sucked it up and went to class. However, you didn’t last long and no matter how many times Sebastian prodded your side — nothing could have saved you from your exhaustion. So, what could Sebastian do? Well he could make up a lie, and say you ate something bad — passing out in the process. Or he could say he was mucking around with a spell he had learnt and knocked you unconscious — but no, you see Sebastian is a lot more charming than that and so he propped up your books and barricaded you from view. His task now: making sure you were breathing, tucking strands of hair away from your face and smiling softly at you as you snored. But it was more evident that he cared, when he simply made it his goal to keep Professor Ronen busy so you could sleep. And when you eventually looked uncomfortable, he guided you to his shoulder, barely stirring you, before he hexed poor Garreth — to have class end early. (When everyone left, Sebastian sat still for an extra forty minutes — just so you could sleep.)

Garreth: It’s Potion Class. You had been up until the early hours of the morning in the Room of Requirement — hiding behind a makeshift barricade as Garreth attempted his twenty-seventh brew of ‘Cascading Inferno.’ It was meant to be a new potion to help in the defence of Loyalists and Ashwinders, but it was proving to be more difficult than he had hoped. Both of you were extremely tired and as you were both barely able to keep your eyes open — neither of you had any idea how you would last through class. Eventually Garreth had a brilliant idea, well let’s just say an idea and when he quickly turned to scribble away in his textbook before ripping it wildly — you couldn’t help but laugh when he showed you what he had done. When he finally reached for your hand and placed two horribly drawn eyes onto your palm, Garreth explained his grand plan. He had thought that if they placed the eyes against their eyelids — they could get away with a quick nap and although it was stupid, you happily agreed. It worked for a mere five minutes before you both were scalded by Professor Sharp and given detention.

Ominis: It's History of Magic Class. He's just as dead to the world as you are. No late night adventures, not even staying up late to study — the class is just boring. But, if there was ever a time where he was awake and you weren't — only after prodding you and realising you were sleeping soundly, he would simply just make sure you were comfortable. Eventually, he would offer you his robe — especially when you had forgotten your own and when he tried to do it without you waking up, you would simply pull him close and nuzzle into him. He always accepted it though, enjoying how easy it was for you to be so comfortable with him and when you snuggled deeper into his arm, Ominis would happily fall asleep along with you.

Poppy: It's Herbology Class. You've been out all night, dealing with Sebastian and one of his escapades into the forbidden forest — and when you had dragged yourself into the classroom, barely escaping falling into a table of chomping cabbages, Poppy pulled you to safety. Professor Garlick barely acknowledged you or perhaps, didn't mind that you couldn't keep yourself awake and so Poppy simply watched over you as you passed out in a mound of dirt — gently pushing away the tentacles of a plant you were learning about, that seemed eager to capture you: a sleeping prey.

Natty: It's Beasts Class. You've been asleep for a while, finding the perfect spot between the shed and the Mooncalf pen and when Natty found you, with hay sticking out of your hair — Natty made it her goal to keep the Mooncalfs from chewing chunks out of your hair and making sure Professor Howin didn't notice you. She eventually got distracted with speaking with Sebastian, as he taunted her with her lack of wins in Crossed Wands and when she turned around to you suddenly yelping — she could only apologise, when she watched a Mooncalf dash off with a clump of your hair.

Amit: It's Astronomy Class. Amit only realised you had passed out, when he eventually stopped himself from his seventh-topic change and as he glanced back from sketching out the latest constellation he had found — he quickly felt embarrassed when he realised he had bored you to the point of sleep. Eventually, Amit noticed you shivering and when you stirred in your slumber — he quickly apparated a blanket and placed it over you.

#ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #ominis x you #sebastian x reader #natty onai #poppy sweeting #sebastian x you #garreth x reader #amit thakkar #ominis #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt fluff #sebastian sallow fluff #garreth weasley fluff #amit thakkar imagine

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fanfictionlibrary · 1 year

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A Daring Prefect (Amit Thakkar x Reader) - Part One

Summary: Amit and Reader are in an established relationship. One night, the reader sneaks out of their common room to go to the Forbidden Forest. Amit catches them and is angry because Reader promised not to go on dangerous adventures anymore. However, Reader is on a mission and needs to see the Centaurs. Amit reluctantly chooses to accompany Reader since he knows they won’t be dissuaded from their plan.

This story can be read as a continuation of the headcanons with Amit I wrote.

This story will have two parts.

Reader’s gender, house, and appearance are not specified.

Noiselessly you crept along the polished floor of the Central Hall, hiding behind a banister to evade the searching glances of the Prefects that stood guard at the doors to the library. You were crouched on the staircase, concealed by the Disillusionment Charm. You had just made your way through the Transfiguration Courtyard and were hoping to reach the end of the Central Hall so that you could turn left to go toward the Bell Tower. From there, you could easily reach the Grounds of Hogwarts and leave the school. If you got past the Prefects in front of the library, everything else would be a cinch.

You had snuck out of school more than a dozen times, and it had become routine for you to slyly walk past oblivious authority figures. Your little game of Hide and Seek had never been discovered, although rumors were circulating in school that you were prone to leave Hogwarts Castle past curfew and frequently violated the school rules. Your best friends – Amit, Natty, Sebastian, Poppy, and Ominis – knew these rumors were true, but they would never tell on you. Also, you were too clever to let yourself get caught, which included developing methods to evade Professor Weasley’s perceptive eyes and endless questions. She definitely knew what kind of mischief you were up to, but no matter where your missions brought you, you didn’t leave behind any evidence against you.

This time, the mission of the day, or rather night, was to ask the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest about healing herbs for Mr Pippin, who was working on a new potion to heal injuries. Apparently, his competition with Fatimah Lawang had got a little out of hand, and they were trying to invent potions to outdo the other.

Breathing evenly, you peeped over the edge of the last stair leading up to the fountain in the middle of the Central Hall, watching the Prefects. Two Prefects – one a Slytherin, the other a Hufflepuff – were conversing intently in front of the left library door about Herbology and the best way to grow Chinese Chomping Cabbages. Three more Prefects – two Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw – were huddled closely in front of the right door, sharing goods from Honeydukes.

Quickly, you cast Depulso at the left library door, which swung open and collided loudly with the wall. Confused, the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Prefects turned around and examined the door, calling, “Is someone there?” When their backs were turned to you, you sprinted toward the fountain, hiding behind it and breathing a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, your little distraction got the attention of the other Prefects. They, too, were perplexed. Suspiciously, they looked around. One of the Gryffindor Prefects walked over to the Slytherin boy and Hufflepuff girl, who were trying to identify the source of the loud collision. The girl walked downstairs into the library to investigate.

“What was that?” asked the Gryffindor Prefect, but the Slytherin boy only shrugged his shoulders.

“Peeves, maybe.”

“We should search the library, too. Just to make sure no one snuck into the forbidden section.” The Gryffindor patted the shoulder of his friend encouragingly and followed the Hufflepuff student. Looking to his green-robed friend, who walked down the stairs rather reluctantly, he said, “It’s probably that Sallow boy again. He never knows when enough is enough.”

You smiled to yourself. Tomorrow at breakfast you would sooo tease Sebastian about what you just heard.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students in front of the right library door dispersed. The other Gryffindor student now guarded the door to the library that had been left unattended.

Confidently, you raised your wand, casting a basic Charm on a book stack next to the Ravenclaw student. Scared, she jumped and turned around frantically. You took that chance to sprint toward the stairs leading to the doors of the Greenhouses. However, while you ran in a crouched position, you slowed down anxiously. You heard light footsteps descending the grand stairs behind you. And it must have been your lucky day because obviously, it was no one else but your boyfriend Amit Thakkar. He could not see you! You promised him to abstain from dangerous adventures outside the castle. However, based on his light jog, his black hair swaying slightly due to the motion, and his carefree expression, Amit didn’t notice you. With a pounding heart, you ran down the stairs in front of you as quickly as possible and hid next to them right as Amit passed the fountain.

Indeed, it must have been your lucky day… Amit didn’t see you nor did he look like he suspected anything. But you swore that you saw him gazing at you and narrowing his eyes suspiciously when he came down the stairs. Well, phew… you have officially prevented a relationship crisis.

You calmed your palpitating heart, not daring to move as Amit struck up a conversation with the other Ravenclaw Prefect.

“You look pale. Are you alright?” Amit crossed his arms and examined the books that were sprawled out at the girl’s feet.

“Yes… I am fine.” The girl laughed brightly – brighter than was appropriate – and brushed her hair behind her ear. You could only hear and not see her, but you were sure that she was blushing, falling victim to the Amit Effect. The very thing that made you fall for your boyfriend in the first place. “It’s just that the door to the library swung open a minute ago… And well, it did so just like that. No one caused it. And now the book stack tipped over…”

Amit’s voice sounded beyond wary when he answered, and you were certain that he brought his hand to his chin. “…Is that so?”

You didn’t waste more time and turned left to get to the Bell Tower, thinking about Amit as you strode along the corridors.

Perfect Amit… His grades were flawless, his social skills were impressive, and he exuded reliability and calmness. In other words, he was exactly what you needed. You loved the thrill of adventure and the rush of adrenaline in your veins, but what you loved, even more, was the security Amit could offer you and always offered you whenever you came down from your high. He was your solid rock amidst chaos and kept turbulences at safe distances.

Of course, Amit was aware that this was one of the reasons you fell in love with him, but although he knew how much you liked the combination of a thrilling adventure and his calmness, and although he knew how imperative this combination was to you, he never encouraged you to seek out danger. In fact, he was so done worrying about you all the time that he made you promise to turn your back on “the dangerous life” – that’s what he coined your lifestyle. At first, a big argument ensued, and you told him to go back to his telescope and leave you alone, which made him cry – Amit was a sensitive and soft young man; he was the green flag in your relationship while you often were the red one. But you two could never stay separate for too long, and it just hurt to have an argument. Eventually, you reached out first and apologized. Well, and you vowed you would live the life of an ordinary student (pretending you didn’t rescue Hogwarts from Ranrok and like you didn’t possess ancient magic).

What was the harm anyway? It couldn’t hurt to have a regular sleeping schedule. Well actually, your current behavior was potentially risking your relationship with Amit and his trust in you. So, there was the harm. But he would never know that you broke your promise from two months ago which you only adhered to for two weeks anyway. How would he know?

You reached the big double doors leading to the Grounds of Hogwarts when you heard someone clearing his throat behind you. You froze instantly and withdrew your arm that was about to push the doors open. Carefully, you glanced over your shoulder, seeing Amit standing a few feet in front of you, his arms crossed. An angry look was plastered on his handsome face.

Oh, no. Here we go.

You saw no point in trying to get out of this one. You broke your Disillusionment Charm and stared guiltily up at Amit.

Accusingly, he looked at you. He seemed to be angrier than hurt which relieved you somewhat. “You promised, (Name).”

You looked to your side, scratching your neck awkwardly. “I know, Amit. I am—”

“No!” He closed the distance between you and grabbed you by your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t want to hear it! If you felt truly sorry, you would have never broken your promise in the first place. You would have foreseen how you would have felt in a situation like this one! You would have never betrayed me like that.”

Exasperatedly, you groaned. “Amit, feelings don’t affect us causally. Only if that were the case, would you be right, and I would have never lied to you.”

Amit shook his head. Offended, he poked your chest with his finger repeatedly. “Don’t. Be. Cocky. I’m a Ravenclaw. I know that.”

Annoyed, you tried to push Amit away, but he clung to you like a moth to a flame. Besides, you didn’t want him to let go, and even though his dark eyes were boring holes into your soul, you couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty.

“How long?” His mouth moved slowly as he repeated sternly, “How long?”

Ashamed, you mumbled, “One month and two weeks.”

“Wha—” He brought his hands to his head and took a few steps back from you. He pointed his hand at you like an angry mum chastising her child. “You have been lying to me for this long?”

“Amit, I—” You tried stepping toward him, but his hands made sharp motions in the air like he was cutting something with them.

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear it!” Tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes, and he sniveled softly. “But why, (Name)? Did our promise really mean nothing to you?”

Suddenly, unpredictable anger surged through you, and you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth that you had been meaning to say for a while but never dared to do until now. “Our promise? It was my promise!” Angrily you clenched your fists around the fabric of your robe. “I had to promise to you to refrain from risky outings outside the castle because you wanted to feel reassured about my safety.”

Agitated, Amit paced back and forth, one hand grabbing the thick hair at the back of his neck. “Is it because I am not Sebastian?” His other hand ran nervously across his face. “Because I am not as daring as him?” He came to a halt abruptly and turned to face you. “If you want him, leave me be and never show your face again.”

Tears shot down your cheeks and you didn’t even care to hide them or dry your face. “Gosh, Amit… You are not listening!” You grabbed him by his collar and pulled him down to look properly into his eyes. You saw that he was just as hurt as you were. “I told you again and again that I love you just the way you are. You are my favorite person. I want you and not Sebastian!”

However, Amit’s thoughts had taken on a life of their own, and he was indeed not listening to your words. Desperate, he grabbed your wrists; your hands were still holding onto his collar which had become your lifeline in this argument. “What do you even mean by that I wanted to feel reassured about your safety?" Amit asked, exhausted. “Do you mean to say that you just made that promise to appease me? You made that promise for me and never for us?”

You bit your lips, tasting the salt that your tears left in their wake. “Well, yeah… I promised because I love you, but I found out pretty quickly that I cannot neglect a vital part of myself. It is in my nature to explore and fight. And as much as I love you, I cannot change for you. Either you accept me as I am, or you don’t. In the latter case, we have to break up.”

Defeated, you looked down, seeing your small feet standing in front of Amit’s large ones. Your shoulders shook and your grip on Amit loosened. Your hands were threatening to fall numbly to your sides, but before they could, Amit pulled you into a hug that was so tight that your face and hands were pressed flush against his chest. Gently, his hand cradled your head, and the other found your back.

“But I want you, (Name). Only you.”

You wanted to reply, but the sound of approaching footsteps woke you from your romantic hug and what would have been a reconciliation.

You were both full-on panicking as you broke apart and looked frantically for a hiding spot. Eventually, you spotted a statue and pulled Amit behind it, casting the Disillusionment Charm on you to make you almost invisible.

“Right…” Amit gave you a vexed and offensive side-eye. “You would know everything about hiding, wouldn’t you?” He lifted his wand, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, too.

“What is that supposed to mean?” The space behind the statute was narrow. Your back was pressed against the wall and your chest was touching Amit’s torso. You were so close that you could feel the even rise and fall of his stomach and ribs as he breathed.

“Well, you using the Disillusionment Charm demonstrates how you sneak out of the castle.” His warm breath fanned your face. Quietly, he mumbled to himself, “Why am I even hiding? I am a Prefect.”

You snorted. “You needed a demonstration to figure that out?” You tried crossing your arms but quickly gave up due to the lack of space. Instead, you lowered your hands to your sides where they accidentally brushed against Amit’s, who grabbed them gingerly despite your argument. “It is the most practical method there is,” you continued, “I guess, your little Ravenclaw brain failed you there.”

A growl that marked the inception of his stubborn and witty reply reverberated through his chest, sending chills down your body. Amit had to smother the words that were beginning to form, though, because the footsteps that you had heard earlier, walked past your hiding spot. Sneakily, both of you risked a glance to see who was steering toward the Grounds of Hogwarts and leaving the castle late at night. As Amit turned his head to look over his shoulder, you leaned forward, looking past him. To your surprise, you saw Professor Weasley opening the great double doors, giggling to herself, and holding a letter in her hand.

“A late-night rendezvous,” she hummed, delighted. “How risky.” The doors fell shut behind her with a loud bang.

“Impossible,” Amit breathed in disbelief.

“Well, the most unexpected events happen at night.” You shrugged, unimpressed. Breaking the Disillusionment Charm, you left your hiding spot. “See you tomorrow, Amit. I have something to take care of.”

“Wait!” Your Ravenclaw friend held you back by your arm and his translucent figure took on a solid shape again. “I think you owe me an explanation. I could have exposed your shenanigans in the Central Hall when I saw you creeping from the fountain to the stairs you hid behind. What are you up to now?”

“Wow,” you rolled your eyes. "You sound just like Ignatia Wildsmith.”

Amit lifted his eyebrow. A disappointed twinkle simmered in his eyes. “Can you be serious and not sarcastic for once? I truly worry for you.”

“Fine.” Your shoulders slumped forward, and you dropped your tough act. With him you could just be yourself, so why did you try to push him away with peevish remarks? “I am heading to the Forbidden Forest to—”

“The Forbidden Forest!?”

“To meet up with a Centaur called Dorran to ask him about healing herbs.” Briefly, you explained to Amit, whose expression slowly shifted from appalment to amazed astonishment, that you were helping Mr Pippin with a new potion recipe.

“A Centaur?” Amit mumbled in disbelief and his astronomer’s heart beat faster. “I— Well, you know that… I mean, I am responsible for escorting you back to your common room, but…” He got lost in his own thoughts, thinking hard and staring at nothing in particular. Before long, he snapped his fingers excitedly. “Yes, I know! I will escort you to your common room after we have been in the Forbidden Forest together to meet Dorran and enquire about these healing herbs.” Amit’s large hands straightened his robes, and he adopted an imposing stance. “I cannot pass this chance to meet a Centaur. They know the stars better than anyone. I will approve of this excursion of yours solely for educational purposes. And because I have to make sure that my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner does not come to any harm.”

“Aren’t you chivalrous?” Smiling and winking at Amit, you grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the castle. “Have you forgotten about that time I took you to a Goblin mine to translate construction plans? You didn’t appear as brave back then.”

“Don’t remind me, please.”

“There will be spiders in the Forbidden Forest. Lots of them.”

“But you will also be there. Logically speaking, you are the real menace, and you happen to be on my side, meaning I am in capable hands.”

Laughing playfully, you pressed a kiss to his cheeks.

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