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nincompoopydoo · 3 months

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CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

BETRAYAL — ; PART 8 / 9

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.7k SUMMARY: Awakening in an unfamiliar setting with restored memories, you encounter someone familiar. However, a lingering sense of betrayal clouds the reunion. Meanwhile, Theseus uncovers a concealed message in your letters, hinting at the potential discovery of your location. A/N: Hi everyone! I know I said I was going to put this on permanent hiatus until I was ready to pick it up again, but your girl finished her degree (kinda did badly, but glad it's over!), and now I have ample time to put all my energy of my one brain cell into finishing this series before I fall into depression again lol. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this and thank you for all the love for this series and my baby, Theseus <3 I'm also sorry for ending it with another cliffhanger haha WARNINGS: Angst. Kinda scary shit (I literally scared myself while writing this lol) no beta we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Your environment is an enigma through the lenses of tunnel vision—hues of darkness circle in textures, contrasts of colour that dance along with your darting eyes. Your slow mind tries to keep up with your sight, unravelling the mysteries of your surroundings.

You first notice wood. Brown, battered, dim–a wooden beam trailing along the expanse of plastered white walls, grimed with dirt and age. Through blinkered sight, you catch a glimpse of light, dim orange hues casting fluttering shadows on the wall. You see it now, a flame dancing upon melting wax perched on a rustic candlestick.

Flame. Fire. Heat.

You remember it all now.

Inferno swept through the foundations of your tiny household, leaving you and the fragility of your lungs gasping for air as you stumbled around for an exit. Yet, things were dense, billowing colours of deep grey and red, blinding your vision. You still feel the parchedness scratching down your throat.

You remember how your hands clambered to grasp something before falling to your knees. You remember how your environment began to twist and spurn before your very eyes, vivid colours of the blaze swirling.

Then, everything went black.

…

…You…

You remember emerald cobblestones—a mesmerising golden statue.

You remember the warmth of the colour red – the trees in fall, the crackling of a fireplace, a desk with scattered papers across its surface.

You remember.

Theseus.

Dim blue eyes. Sad. Freckled cheeks. Flushed. Brown hair curled and tumbled in autumnal hues. Trees. Barcham trees that line the sidewalk are carpeted in autumn gold. The tenement. His home. Warm, petite, charming. Gardenias. Tea. Your suitcase. Magic.

Little glimpses of returning memories flood your whirling mind like gushing water. It’s overwhelming. For weeks, you sat with a sense of longing, a missing piece, settled within the depths of your mind. And now, it all traces back to the odd familiarity of the man you met on the bus. Perhaps you recognised the glint in his eye when his eyes met yours or the patterned freckles along his cheeks, tinted in blotches of red from embarrassment.

You remember.

Your elbows immediately shift under you, perched as you rose midway, wondering yet blurry eyes moving along your surroundings. You’re in a room, and it’s not your own. Small, humble, solid walls encircle your surroundings. You have seen places like these during the war. You push yourself up, weight now on your splayed-out palms on what you realise to be a settee. It creaks at your very touch, and every little shift echoes throughout the room.

Its walls are far from pristine, with petite flowers scattered across the yellowed wallpaper with tears at its curling edges, perfectly still yet timeworn.

Your eyes trace the trails of sunlight that glow through the room, diluted by a translucent curtain that hangs before a window, shadows of a tree swaying in the gentle wind.

There’s a bed on the far left of the room, narrow and meticulously made with a quilt reminiscent of autumn hues. You can barely distinguish its patchwork from where you are, and it itches a part of your brain – a sense of familiarity.

Before you can make sense of that feeling, you are overcome with searing pain. Tearing through your head and coursing through the very confinements of your skull as if something was begging to break free from the back of your mind.

Eyes squeezed shut, you cannot help but bring your palms to the sides of your head, the heels of your hands harshly pinned to your temples, yet all you see are flashing lights dancing around in the darkness.

Then, a flash. White. Blinding.

At that moment, you found yourself transported to an apartment. Yellow-bricked, warm honey-coloured hues of Autumn. Golden, falling leaves. Bright eyes, cheeks tinged with a touch of red. Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun. Like you hold a weight of significance, a tapestry to his existence.

“I know I’ve said this a thousand time before, but I’m sorry. Truly. You don’t deserve to be involved in this.”

You feel yourself smile; tears threaten to slip from your saddened eyes.

“I would usually say it’s alright, but I don’t think I can say it for everything that has happened. But, thank you.”

A hand reaches for his, gentle and soft to the touch. You feel his fingers twitch under your hold.

“Truly.”

Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun.

Theseus looks at you…

Theseus…

Suddenly, you find yourself in a narrow bus. You see him blinking wide-eyed at you, his expression paled. You had said – no, asked something.

“No. I don’t think we do.”

You see it, the pain in his eyes, the sadness in his tone. It clenches your heart, but you don’t know why.

That was the first time he had lied to you.

…

You hear your name.

Distant but frantic. It repeats again and again and again.

A grip on the curve of your shoulders, and you find yourself back in the narrow, unknown room you awoke in moments ago.

But then you see his eyes, his tousled hair. It’s him who calls you.

“Theseus?” you breathed, disbelief flickering in your wide eyes. Without a second thought, your hands reach out to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt as if to ground yourself in the reality of his presence. A counterpoint to the disarray within your mind.

But as Theseus meets your gaze, a furrow forms on his brow, and a shadow eclipses the warmth in his eyes. The frown, subtle yet profound, settles an uneasiness in you. Your grip weakens.

“We need to go. Now.” His tone is cut-throat, laden with urgency, and you cannot help but jolt at his words. You find your fingers slowly releasing their hold as the weight of his statement settles in the room.

He pulls away and reaches for your elbow, swift and deliberately, that reflects the gravity of the situation. His touch is so firm that it prompts you to stand. Questions hang heavy in the air, but you know you’re in some kind of trouble. Yet, you catch your eyes lingering on the dark look in his own, and you can't help but think he's changed since you last saw him. Since you last remembered him.

Something feels…wrong, but you don’t give yourself a chance to even think about it before you’re being led out the door.

The narrow corridor stretches ahead, dimly lit, bricked walls with a single lamp casting a glow across the space, revealing its worn walls and your flickering shadows. The air is cool, carrying a faint scent of dampness that permeates the space. All you hear is footsteps reverberating along the narrow passage, echoing against the walls. You realise you are underground and feel your stomach lurch at that thought, making your skin crawl.

“Come on.” Theseus pulls you along, the grip on your elbow never weakening. You can feel the tension emanating from him, the stiffness in his movements, the rigidity of his jaw.

You find yourself staring at the back of Theseus' head, studying how the dim light catches on his hair. He seems so different.

“Where are we going?” You finally ask.

He doesn’t respond.

Theseus continues to pull you down the corridor, and you take the time to scan your surroundings despite the quickened pace. You see the occasional rusty pipes that snake along the ceiling, contributing to a low mechanical hum and the flickering of overhead lights that seem to swing periodically at a light rumble that makes the ground shake for a second or two.

Then, he eventually comes to an abrupt halt, revealing a dead end. Your feet stagger back, trying to stop yourself from bumping into him. You see Theseus' brows furrowed in thought, eyes darting between the walls, searching. His fingers trace the rugged surface and abruptly pause as you catch sight of a carving on a specific brick, nearly invisible.

Theseus taps it, and a warm glow emanates from the wall. The carving becomes illuminated, and the wall seems to dissolve into seemingly ethereal dust. It shines golden under the dim buzzing lights. What once was a wall reveals an entrance to an alleyway; it greets you with a rush of cool air and the sounds of the city.

You step through the entrance after Theseus as he beckons for you to follow hurriedly. Yet, your focus is elsewhere as you close in on the intricate symbol carved into the brick. As you inch nearer, the features sharpen, and a sudden recognition sparks within you.

It's a Gardenia, delicately depicted.

Gardenias always had a particular significance in your life, and it’s all because of your mother. That same Gardenia on your mother’s necklace is an heirloom that spanned many generations. It was important and personal to her, and you don’t know how or why it is doing here.

Flowers for your mother – a bouquet of Gardenias.

The bigger picture materialises as if the puzzle pieces are beginning to click.

Your place in the unfolding mess remains unclear, but it hints that you've anticipated the arrival of this revelation for a long time.

Theseus is calling for you, a slight note of panic in his voice, but you ignore his calls, remaining rooted in place. As you watch the glow that details the symbol disappear, you wonder if Theseus knows everything, even though you swore you never told a soul.

Unless…

You still don’t know how you got your memories back.

As you finally turn to Theseus, there’s a gripping sense of uncertainty. His approach, marked by a frustrated expression, erodes the strong familiarity you once held for this man, a trust built in such a short time. With each step towards you, that trust begins to dissipate.

That vulnerability quickly turns to anger – betrayal.

“What the hell is happening, Theseus?” you question fiercely, pressing him for an explanation.

Again, Theseus dismisses your insistence and attempts to reach for your arm, but you instinctively step back, maintaining a wary distance.

“Answer me.” you insist, voice growing louder, eyes boring into his.

His gaze lingers on your face, and you watch his expression harden, jaw tense.

“Look, you’re in deep trouble right now and it’s best we leave right now he’ll come looking for you.”

He.

Not they. Not she.

Not The Restoration Movement. Not Morrigan.

Something is very wrong.

And his eyes. You can’t quite place it, but something about the look in his eyes has shifted. They look so different.

In moments like these, you aren’t sure what to do, but you know to trust your gut. Your mind races at the possibilities of how this could all end, and the only thing you can think is to run.

And so, you run.

—

Theseus believes he has only survived through self-deceit – the deception of his ability to stay grounded and keep his emotions at bay. His heart was never to be trusted, never to give in or give up. Yet, how does one cope when a situation relies on promised perseverance but is tangled amid his emotions he suddenly lacks control of in your presence?

Theseus knows there was something between the two of you, but he will never admit it despite his now aching heart caused by your sudden disappearance, even though you might as well be considered dead to the muggle world. The thought of your death pulls his thoughts to the night he first met you, how an unforgivable curse nearly struck you, how you looked at him, knowing you couldn’t have survived if he hadn’t been there in time.

Merlin, he hopes you aren’t dead.

No, you’re not. He knows it. You’re relentless. So relentless that death would never want to claim you without a fight. So relentless that you manage to squeeze yourself into his thoughts at every waking hour. Every fibre in him wishes he hadn’t let you slip away that day, wishing he hadn’t abandoned you, betrayed your trust.

He wishes you hadn’t agreed to leave.

To leave him.

Now all alone.

Alone.

Theseus was never certain of his feelings for you when you were ambling within the expanse of the four walls he calls home. Whether affections were simply out of pity or was it his admiration for your entire being, your perfections, blemishes, and everything in between. Yet, at this very moment, he couldn’t be more unequivocally sure that his affections are true because presently, you have consumed all his waking days and nights, leaving a hollowed space perhaps once filled by your presence. The constant worry in his brow made his eyes tired but sleepless due to his fear of the worst for you.

Dread fills his senses, and tears threaten to seep through the cracks of a carefully sculpted, hard-headed man he had spent years practising, performing as a so-called war hero. Theseus never let himself cry, especially over you, not even when you parted with a touch to his cheek. Not even when he set his eyes on you again and you were completely unaware of him.

Yet, it’s the possibility he has lost you forever that he’ll never see you again. Never.

Theseus breathes a shaky breath, fingers clamped in his trembling hand as he tries to remember what he’s been told to do. To find you. To stop Morrigan. To stop whatever mess he has landed you in.

No, you’re not. You’re not dead. He reminds himself again.

The sun had set moments ago, darkness creeping between the cracks of light, shimmering from the candle alight by his tableside and the flames of the fireplace. Its crackling grounds his very notion of stirring into panic. Theseus finds himself tucked in the same corner of his living room, and his couch now houses a collection of books and particular pieces of evidence of your whereabouts.

He merely fears this has everything to do with Morrigan, the Restoration Movement, your supposed living brother and perhaps your mother – also dead. Theseus gains a strong premonition, a gut feeling that your disappearance is all a part of a larger plan than he had initially expected. Your disappearance may have caused a flurry of commotion amongst the Aurors. Still, the ministry has its sights on the movement rather than your supposed connection as more than just your brother, which Theseus feels strongly about. Yet, with Travers breathing down his neck to arrest Morrigan and her acolytes, Theseus needs solid evidence rather than vague instances and misdirected clues that all seem to lead to spiralling trails.

Frankly, his career is at stake, but he couldn’t care less.

He just wants to see you again.

Theseus heaves, fingers carding through his deep brown locks when his eye catches sight of the only two letters that he found to be related to you in one way or another. He finds himself drawn to it, finding the letter from your brother within his grasp for what seems like the millionth time this month. The same words, again and again, were already engraved in his mind.

When he shifts his elbow, the letter catches the candlelight from behind, and something immediately seizes his attention. Something he hadn’t recognised before now.

Inscribed in the very material of the parchment – the symbol of a Gardenia, its intricate lines glowing against the candlelight, seemingly burning. Theseus props up in his seat, back straightened, shoulders tensed, and eyes wide.

Bloody hell…

He scrambles for the other letter, holding it up against the light, eyes settling on the darkened edges of the page only to discover the very same symbol.

A Gardenia.

How could he have been so blind?

It must have been instinct when he decided that the two letters were puzzle pieces meant to be joined. Theseus would try anything at this point.

Seemingly, luck was finally on his side when he pressed the letters together, above one another – new words formed before his eyes, written with burning lines, every curve of each letter appeared between the gaps of the original text to only form a new paragraph.

Sister,

If you're reading this, I'm likely gone, and you're in trouble. Morrigan and The Restoration Movement hide a darker truth. Their agenda involves our mother and a woman named Miriam Monet. I'm unsure of the details, but Miriam plays a crucial role. Stay safe.

As his eyes shift down the page, his heart nearly stops when his name comes into view.

To Theseus,

If you see this, my sister is in danger. You know more than you think.

TAGLIST (tagging everyone who commented in my last post just because it's been awhile <3):

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@never-let-them-change-your-self

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander oneshot #caught in a crossfire

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vulturv0lans · 8 months

Note

If it's not too much to ask, can we have a soft dom diluc gently guiding a shy sub reader through her first time? (In desperate need of tooth rotting fluff and diluc being sweet lmaoo [with lots of praise ofc])

ok you know what anon i have been looking for something like this but i haven't found too many,,,thank you for the request!

word count: 2,960 (i got carried away again oops) tags: first time, references to diluc’s father/backstory/official manga, soft dom diluc, lots of love and affection and just overall sappy, porn with plot (lots of it), me crying (also lots of it)

m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox

the air is salty by the lake and his door rusty, yet you’re sure you’ve never need anything more.

when diluc brought you back to the winery for the first time, this was not what he had in mind. he had simply wanted to show you more, parts of him he had long hidden beneath the layers of his clothing and layers of walls he built up. but you are his lover now. you meet the maids that have been with him since he was a child, browse through the volumes that his father left behind, breathe the same air that he has always breathed inside the estate.

he was not planning to take you right there, on the four posted bed he claims but seldom occupies, on the second floor of the winery.

diluc was hesitant at first, leading you into the one place he holds closest to his heart. the master bedroom has not seen a visitor in ages. even the maids rarely enter except when they are asked to, because within these gilded walls and draped curtains is where diluc can truly feel at ease, no “mondstadt wine tycoon” or “master of dawn winery” or even “darknight hero” attached.

and before your eyes, he feels just as bare.

you had taken a seat at the edge of his mattress, arms supporting your weight as your eyes take in the surroundings. the wallpaper is a dark crimson red, damask patterns painted in black. the thick velvet of the curtains match the crimson in colour, yet the light seeping through the fabric and reflecting off of the golden tassels that touch the floor. the furnishings are simple, the large room otherwise empty save for a mirror, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and a desk filled with books.

yet it’s the paintings on the walls that catch your eye. one of them can easily be discerned as an exterior sketch of dawn winery, its signature red roofs a stark contrast to the rows of green underneath. off on the other wall is a portrait. a tall, greying man poses in the middle with two younger boys to either side of him, one with hair as blue as the twilight skies, and the other with hair red as blazing fire.

diluc follows your gaze to the painting, and suddenly the room feels too hot. before he can open his mouth to change the topic, you have already turned to him with an inquisitive look in your eye, and his heart softens. he cannot say no to you.

“that’s your father, isn’t it?”

he nods, choosing to offer no further explanation.

“what was he like?”

your voice is gentle, yet he is still taken aback. seldom anyone wants to know what crepus was like as a person, beyond just his title and position. for a few moments diluc is silent, pondering his answer. how could he summarize the greatest man he’s ever known into a couple simple sentences?

“he was kind. and very, very brave.” he says at last, “he made me the man that i am today.”

“i’m sure he was a great father,” you say quietly, not wanting to press further. diluc must have his reasons behind not wanting to tell the full story yet, and you’ll give him time. as much time as he needs.

“he was.”

when he looks at you again, your frame so small against the posts on his bed, he feels an unnameable emotion surging through him. you’re studying the painting with such an intense focus, as if trying to hear the voice of a man you’ve never met, trying to understand what others fail to even notice.

and in that moment, diluc is sure he has never been more in love.

he closes the distance between you in two quick strides, and you look up at him in surprise. he intertwines your fingers before pulling you up to your feet, your body pressing flush against his as you find your balance.

“can i kiss you?”

you smile at his question. diluc, ever the gentleman. even several months into your relationship he still asks for permission, and still kisses you like it was the first time.

it’s your turn to close the gap between you now, lips meeting his in a soft kiss. his hands find their way down the small of your back, then up your spine before settling on your cheeks, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you even closer, until you can feel every beat of his heart on your skin.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss for air.

“i love you, too,” you echo, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, hands clutching his arms for support. diluc feels his skin burn wherever your hands have been, and his love and tenderness suddenly becomes something more.

deepening the kiss, he backs you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before your entire person falls backwards into the plush mattress. you pull him down with you, until barely any space is left between his large frame and your own, smaller one.

he smooths out the stray baby hairs on your forehead before resting his against it, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. you both know where this is leading, but diluc wants to be certain, absolutely certain that you're okay with this.

"are you sure?"

you nod before you have time to think. this is a step you're willing to take, and there's no one else you'd rather share it with. even so, small bubbles of anxiety rise from your stomach. will it hurt? will you be able to enjoy this? will he be satisfied, even with your lack of experience?

if diluc could hear your thoughts right now, he would be quick in dismissing them as the most preposterous ones he's ever heard. it would pain him to know that you’d ever fear of not satisfying him, even when he would put you and your pleasures before so much as thinking about himself.

you could never disappoint him, this he knows.

his lips find yours again and your doubts dissipate like the dark clouds after a storm. wandering hands begin unbuttoning and untying every piece of fabric in your way, desperate to reduce the layers keeping you from feeling his bare skin. your clothing clatter as they fall to the ground, diluc barely separating from you to discard his shirt before lowering back down to kiss you, not wanting to part from you for a second longer than necessary.

he's hungry for more, for you.

your hands find purchase on his toned arms, his skin almost too warm under your fingertips. he mumbles something that remotely resembles "off" into your mouth, and you comply almost too quickly, lifting your arms so he could take off your shirt and your bra.

diluc forces himself to hold back when your skin is fully exposed to him. lips glistening and chest heaving, you have never looked more beautiful to him, and he makes sure you know it. dipping his head to your neck, he trails a line of hot kisses down to your breasts, words of praise between every kiss permanently etched into your skin.

"you're breathtaking."

your face heats up as he slots himself in between your legs, hand lowering to your waist. your heart beats too loudly now, focus glued to his fingers hooking into your belt loops before quickly undoing the button on your pants. fiery eyes, hooded by lust and desire, search for confirmation, and you grant it. how could you not, when you burn for him so much?

diluc can’t help but groan out when your bottom half becomes exposed. his attention is quickly taken away by the thin material of your panties, damp and clinging to the wetness pooling between your legs, and he feels the sudden urge to bury his face there.

he runs a finger down your clothed folds and you jump, legs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure. with a hand on your knee, he holds your legs open to allow himself better access to where you need him the most. gently, he moves the soaked panties to the side, and the man fully has to sit back on his heels to drink in the sight before his eyes.

you’re so pretty, so sweet, so vulnerable for him, legs spread and pussy glistening with your arousal, all for him and him only.

he curses under his breath, heart swelling at how lucky he feels to be the one admiring your naked form. ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants, he dives in like a man starved, flattening his tongue against your pussy to get his first real taste of you.

your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact, diluc’s moan of satisfaction sending delicious vibrations into the deepest parts of your body. his tongue works fast magic on your cunt, licking and sucking and kissing like you’re a five course meal, the slurping sounds in perfect harmony with your soft pants of pleasure.

“fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

the satin of his bedsheet is wrinkled and twisted in your palms as you grip onto it, diluc’s hands quickly reaching up to find yours, your fingers interlacing as he eats you out, the moment so intimate that for a moment you forget the vulgarity of it all and just enjoy being so close to him, physically and emotionally.

you’re growing close, and diluc knows it. despite his pussydrunk state, he forces himself to pull away, his chin now coated with your wetness, before shifting his body up to kiss you again. you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, obediently granting access to his tongue when it swipes across your bottom lip. the room feels ten degrees hotter and it becomes harder and harder to breathe, until your need for oxygen finally overpowers your desire for him.

diluc’s eyes are alert when you gently push on his chest, his first thought being he’s done something you did not like. gently cradling his face in your hands, you say with a blissful smile the words he’s been longing to hear for so long.

“i need you, diluc.”

his last line of defense snaps and he lets his primal instincts take over, quickly ridding himself of his pants and undergarments before settling you against the plush pillows.

“are you absolutely sure-”

“yes.” you cut him off before he can finish, and diluc‘s ever-present confidence begins to waver. he needs this to be perfect for you.

swallowing thickly, he lines himself up at your entrance. you mirror his gulp as you notice for the first time how big he is, thick and girthy against your tiny hole.

“tell me if it hurts, please,” he asks, so much genuine guilt in his voice that you can’t refuse him an answer.

you yelp in pain when he starts to push in, his body immediately tensing up. only when you repeatedly reaffirm that you’re okay does he continue, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and whispering apologies and affirmations into your skin as he slowly sinks into you, until he’s completely buried inside you.

“you’re doing so good baby, yeah? that’s it.”

he stills for a moment to let you adjust. but selfishly he wishes to revel in your tightness and warmth for a little longer, your walls so snug against his cock like they were made just for him. he already can’t get enough, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

you’re the one to initiate the kiss this time, silently giving him permission to move. his thrusts are slow and steady, the tip of his cock dragging against every nerve ending inside you, sending electric sparks throughout your body.

“so tight for me,” he grunts as he picks up his pace, trying to control his movements as to not hurt you, even though a part of him wants to slam into you and fuck you until you’re reduce to a babbling mess begging for his cock. but one look at your face and he feels immediate guilt at his sinful thoughts. you’re so innocent beneath him, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

he can’t ruin you yet.

soft moans tumble past your parted lips as he reaches down to rub fast circles on your clit. every last cell in your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure amplified tenfold from being in the presence of your lover, better than your own fingers could ever satisfy yourself.

you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even further, and diluc’s honour is reduced to barely hanging on by a thread.

“you’re taking me so good. so good for me.” he praises and you feel yourself gush around him, his words turning you on even further. it seems your earlier doubts were unnecessary, after all. you grow bolder, reaching up to dig your nails into his back, leaving red marks that claimed him as yours.

the stinging pain from your nails scratching against his skin sends diluc into another wave of euphoria, and he can’t hold himself back much longer. with a low grunt, he pins your wrists down above your head, dark eyes studying the microscopic changes in your expression as your hands are suddenly rendered useless, held down so submissively and at his mercy.

his eyes are fixated on the round of your breasts, bouncing so deliciously to the rhythm of his thrusts. a sudden clench of your cunt almost sends him collapsing on top of you, the tight grip he had maintained on your wrists now faltering from the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. he curses, the profanity soon turning into praise again at how good you’re taking him, how pretty you looks, and how much he loves you, his words almost doing more to build the knot in your stomach than his steady, deep thrusts.

he leans back to sit on his heels as he lets go of your wrists, moving to hold your legs above his shoulders. you cry out when his cock hits your most sensitive spot from the new position, the sheets once again wrinkled under your tight grip now that your hands are free once again.

“fuck y/n, i’m so close.”

you lift your hips to meet his thrusts half way, all the thoughts in your head replaced by your blinding desire for your release. diluc shifts his weight to hold your thighs open instead, leaning down so he can be close to you before he reaches his impending high. he wants to hold you, to hear you, to see you chase after your high.

your moans and cries are growing more frequent, each more high pitched than the last. they are music to diluc’s ears, music reserved only for him to hear, his own low grunts a perfect harmony.

“i’m so close- gonna cum- please-” you babble, tears dotting your lashes, and diluc has never seen a more beautiful sight.

the sudden warmth of his hand on your neck makes you jump. he doesn’t close his fingers around your throat (though you secretly wished he would), instead his touch is fleeting before moving to cup your face. you lean into him almost immediately, his thumb wiping the tears that escaped, down the smooth skin of your cheeks, and across your bottom lip. he’s hovering so close to you that you can see every freckle on his skin, lips mere centimetres from yours that his every exhale becomes your next inhale, so intimate that you find it hard to believe that he’s kissing you so sweetly while maintaining a relentless pace.

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t hold back.

“cum for me,” he breathes into your parted lips, “i want to hear you.”

and you don’t need to be told twice. with a loud cry of his name you come undone around him, your slick quickly forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as he rides out your high, his pace becoming erratic and sloppy at the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“fuck,” he lets out a deep grunt as you repeatedly clench around him, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. his hands pat around the bed looking for yours, and soon after he locks your fingers together again he cums too, head buried in your shoulder and his cock shooting hot ropes into you, painting your walls white.

your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, your pussy so sensitive to any tiny movements that you almost cum again when he tries to pull out from you. the satin beneath you is soaked with a mix of both your essence, drops of white leaking from your sobbing hole when diluc finally pulls out.

he admires you in your post-orgasm glow, and not just at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and your pussy now moulded to the shape of him. it’s as if a soft silk has been draped over you, painting your features in glorious moonlight.

“you’re so beautiful.”

he breaks the silence that has enveloped you both while your breathing returned to normal.

you still find it foreign, the feeling of his compliments even as you’re spread out naked under him. as if sensing your disbelief, diluc repeats his words again, this time between wet kisses on your collarbone, etching his love for you into your body.

“so. beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, his heart swelling, “and all mine.”

note. me and who WHEN >:( also i hope you enjoy my subtle taylor swift reference at the beginning hehe m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox ♡

#luna writes ☽#genshin impact #genshin smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc

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kika-writes · 3 months

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Lando Norris 🦋💙🐬🦕

im famous in age inappropriate ways - ❤️‍🔥

new faces - 🧸

new faces p2 - 🧸

two of them - 🦕🧸

two of them part two 🧸

car wash - ❤️‍🔥

built like a wall - 🦕❤️‍🔥

sex tape? - ❤️‍🔥

money on you - 🧸

strings - 🧸

don’t give me those fucking gorgeous eyes - 🦕❤️‍🔥

star studded - 🧸

get freaky with it - 🧸❤️‍🔥

throw up - 🦕

shoot off - ❤️‍🔥🧸🦕

stolen phones (and hearts) 🧸

the world 🧸

the end 🦕

wallpapers and widgets - 🧸

the right way to do it - 🧸

golden girl - ❤️‍🔥🦕🧸

dont even fool me once - 🦕🧸

your dirty little secret - 🦕

your dirty little secret - part two - 🦕❤️‍🔥

freak - 🧸

protecting you - ❤️‍🔥🖤

you dumb bitch - ❤️‍🔥🧸🦕

fish - 🧸

miami nightmare - 🧸🦕❤️‍🔥

miami nightmare part two - 🧸❤️‍🔥

apology sex 🧸❤️‍🔥🦕

figure in skating 🧸

sunshine 🧸🦕❤️‍🔥

Big fic

Landoscar

Request week

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you

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peachy-edits · 9 months

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१🍑₊˚ nct2023 - jaemin ✩‧₊˚ৎ

⇝ desktop wallpaper

⇝ like or reblog

⇝ don’t repost our edits

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wfzine · 1 year

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It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s the ✨ World’s Finest Zine ✨ now open for preorders!

Store: wfzine.bigcartel.com

World’s Finest Zine is a PG13 anthology of art, comics, and writing about the superheroes Batman and Superman, and their relationship both platonic and romantic 💗. Keep reading for details on our bundles!

🤖 Bronze Age (digital bundle) - $5 🤖

Digital zine pdf and digital wallpapers for your phone, tablet, or laptop!

📖 Silver Age (zine-only) - $15 📖

Physical zine for your viewing pleasure! Our zine is 5.5 x 8.5 inches and contains 10 pages of full color artwork and 24 pages of writing.

📨 Golden Age (flats bundle) - $25 📨

Physical zine and all flat merchandise! Our merch includes:

1 double-sided bookmark (2 x 7 in or approx. 5 x 17 cm)

1 single-sided postcard print (4 x 6 in or approx. 10 x 15 cm)

1 die cut sticker (2.5 x 2.5 in or approx 6 x 6 cm)

🌟 Platinum Age (full bundle) - $35 🌟

Includes all previously listed items (and the digital bundle!) as well as a double sided 2.5in acrylic charm!

I am vengeance, I am the night, I am... Going to buy the 🦇World's Finest Zine 🦇

#superbat #superman #batman #dc zine #dc fanart #dc fanfic #clark kent x bruce wayne

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kpop-locks · 8 months

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꒰ ˀˀ ↷ nct 2023 ; golden age "♡ᵎ ꒱

chenle, doyoung, hendery

like/reblog | @prplocks

don’t repost our work or claim it as yours

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dsktpgeneration · 5 months

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Emotional Abstracts is now real!

Our new art book Emotional Abstracts is a tribute to the golden age of digital abstract art, made by Yazan with some contributions from Andy as well.

It's 80 pages total, with an additional 29 pages & a wallpaper pack containing 6 wallpapers included in the Digital Deluxe Edition.

Digital | Physical

#art #art book #y2k #graphic design #metalheart #yazanoo16 #bennettblogs #emotional abstracts

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d1gnan · 3 months

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here's a little deep dive on the fight club necklace / my process in general hehe

i put like way too much thought into all my jewelry and this is about to be the most in depth ive actually ever gone about my process so sorry in advance 4 how long winded i am

(and if ur new to my jewelry i get everything secondhand and i upcycle so i source from places like estate sales/thrift stores/antique malls/ebay/shop frum peoples personal collections etc )

i think the necklace and the original paper street bracelet i made speak the same visual language as the paper street house pretty well because i sourced most of it from some of my oldest and most visually ornate jewelry finds.

a lot of the beads from this one are actually from this really dope older lady i knows collection/more specifically from a costuming warehouse in nyc and the jewelry is just so ornate and crazy and out of style, i imagine they were once worn by the kind of people that wouldve gotten their soup peed in so its kind of fun to reclaim them for something like this

when i went to go look thru my stash i was specifically thinking of chipping wallpaper and pulling anything that evoked that to me-kind of corny for a second, but i love beat up old houses visually and theres something so cool about the juxtaposition of ornate/destroyed. layerS and layers of beautiful print made sad and irrelevant by its surroundings. these (the houses and the jewelry) were luxurious and cool and trendy at one point and now theyre completely obsolete and funny. i honestly think the whole thing screams tyler durdens philosophy also

( a beautiful thing destroyed, the performance of put-togetherness+ wealth, putting stake in material goods+trends only for them to be completely stripped away by time )

but anyway yeah when u put these glamorous old things together with stuff like keys and charms that don't match and mix gold/silver, you get this really lived in and sick junk drawer effect, and when you pair pale whites with pale greens it can kind of give a souring/moldy/aged look

little more specific callouts tho for references (left to right)

golf club charms r pretty obvious

the green engraved stone i grabbed immediately because it gives the old wallpaper feeling i was going for

theres this golden charm that's kinda like a kitschy grandma charm, it says "1 minute/1 hour/1day/1week/1year/1leapyear/1century" and i put that as a reference to "this is your life and its ending one minute at a time"/"i am jacks wasted life" and i also think it works on another level/kindamatches with fight clubs irony since its like supposed to be a cutie love commitment idk at least 2 me hahaha

the little step ladder charm and the key i added so that it would read as yeah a dirty old unfinished house/kinda a visual junk drawer..the key i got at an estate sale (i got a bunch and had to make key soup to clean them all)it opens something somewhere

the dog vaccination tag is there both as a reference to the guy that they threaten but then also slightly as a nod to the narrators wacked self esteem the whole like puppy dog obsession aspect IDK

theres a little P and S charm for paper street

the freshwater pearl at the end and the plastic bone shaped bead are kind of supposed to give teeth/bones like subconsciously, i tried a kind of similar thing when i made jewelry based off of pearl from X and tried to make like a rotting looking necklace

theres a little coke bottle cracker jack toy on there too, if ur trying to condense fight club into symbols, glass bottles pop up in my brain so i wanted to find something like that and i got lucky. theres also a little green telescope cracker jack toy thats kind of rusty and i picked it up for how well it matched what i was going for visually but i feel like it could also be a space monkeys thing

any way thanks for looking at this, like i said this is the deepest ive ever gone into depth about my process, but this is why im so drawn to creating jewelry it feels like taking a picture or finishing a puzzle i just do it in a really specific way and it always feels fresh and new when i start a new project, (i definitely dont always have this much to say i promise) but any way hope this was cool

#d1gsart #talk tag #fight club #jewelry

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blackleatherjacketz · 11 months

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Forbidden Fruit: Chapter 6

Alistair x Female Reader, Jack Russell x Female Reader

Summary: Jack saves you from a vicious vampire attack and you discover you might be more entangled than you thought.

This Chapter: Having no choice but to go along with Alistair, you let him take you underground to prove his devotion to you.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Mature Content, Kidnapping, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Undressing, Spanking, petting, Vaginal Fingering, Female Orgasm, Finger Sucking, Jealousy, Victorian Furniture and Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake”

Word Count: 3k+

Notes: Revised Completley!

Tags: @skittle479 @bullet-prooflove @jessicafangirl @avatarofseshat @sadndnboii-reads @bluemoonperegrine

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Alistair’s hand squeezes tightly onto yours as you both descend the floors beneath the abandoned pizzeria you didn’t even know were there. A watered down version of Swan Lake’s ‘Moderato’ plays from the aged speakers as your stomach does flips each time he looks at you, despite doing its best to keep down the wine and cheese you just consumed mere moments before. That smirk on his lips brings you back to the first time you met, his thumb grazing the inside of your wrist reminding you that this situation could turn out in your favor if all else fails. If Jack doesn’t show up like he promised and Alistair has his way with you, then those endless eyes could be staring back at you for all of eternity.

Where the hell is Jack, anyways? Didn’t he say he was going to get help? How long was that supposed to take?

A high-pitched ding signals your imminent arrival to his desired floor, startling you with a jolt of your shoulders as the metal box slows to a halt. The doors slide silently open as the music continues, revealing a long hallway with centuries old wallpaper and crystal chandeliers dimly lighting the way to a large red door at the very end.

“I just can’t wait for you to see the surprise I have for you.” He tugs on your hand before stepping across the threshold, pulling you out of the world above and into the world below. Into the very belly of the beast. Each step he takes echoes loudly against the ancient walls, almost an exact replica of the house you visited him in before, only without the haunting portraits and landscapes to stare you down.

Half a dozen blackened doorways on either side of you take their place however, seeming to stretch upward in length as you cautiously try to match his stride. His grip on your hand only tightens as you blink repeatedly, trying to make sense of the stretching hallway until he deftly slows his pace. Curling his wrist inward, he reigns you in before deciding to stop in front of the last door on the right.

Taking a key out of his jacket pocket, he slides it into the aged brass doorknob and turns it with delicate ease. He pushes it open to reveal a large bedroom furnished with expensive Victorian furniture, a warm fire popping in the opposite wall behind a wrought iron cage. It warms your face as you enter the doorway, noticing a queen bed tucked in the right corner, four posts made of solid dark walnut draped with emerald green velvet as he leads you into the middle of the space.

The classical music begins to soften as you follow him into the room, fading away until you can no longer hear it at all. The sound of the crackling fire soon takes over, soothing you enough to run your hands over the thick, heavy comforter that lays across the luxurious bed. Your fingertips trace their way up the blanket to the matching sets of pillows embroidered with your initials, etched with golden silk tassels dangling at the corners. A dark bedside table holds a small electric lamp, matching the wood on the rounded corners of a crushed velvet settee sitting near the fire.

“What do you think?” He asks, watching you take inventory of every outfit he’d bought for you in the wardrobe next to the setee.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit, the warmth of the fire and the smell of the wood all but intoxicating you as you take in the extraordinary details of the bedroom. You can’t believe it: it’s as if he’s seen every page you’ve ever collected from your mother’s old Home and Gardens magazine and matched them exactly. No one’s ever done that before, ever taken so much care and effort to give you everything… anything you’ve ever wanted without having to ask or make it seem like a chore.

“I know how much you love that shade of green.” He stands in the middle of the room as you gingerly circle around him, smirking as your expression gives away your enraptured state of mind.

“I do.” You spot a dress of the same color hanging on the vanity as you nearly make it all the way back to the door. Its silk fabric seems to practically drip down from the hanger over the darkened wood of the mirror that shows only your reflection, the vibrant waves cascading over the table and down onto the floor. “Is that dress for me?”

“It’s all for you,” he steps behind you and whispers into your ear, his scent of oak and cinnamon slowly emanating into your nostrils. “Every bit of it.”

You can’t help but hold your breath as he gets closer to you, his hand holding onto your hip as you both stare at the lavish ball gown in stoic silence. Is this supposed to be the last dress you ever wear now that he’s made sure you’ve eaten your last meal? The dress that he bites you in, drains you in? The dress that you die in? Your final burial shroud? All of the sudden, your semi-flippant attitude toward his plans for you begins to crumble, the gravity of your situation now settling into your stomach in a weighty sense of impending doom. You start to wonder when you last called your parents or told them that you loved them, knowing full well that it’s far too late for any of that now.

“Wh… what’s behind the other doors that we passed in the hallway? More rooms like this?” You turn your head to face him, your nose barely brushing against his chin.

Were there other women just like you behind those doors? Each of them locked away into their own beautiful rooms just to be preyed upon at his leisure? If so, how many of them were there? How long had they been there? How many times has he fed on them? Would he ever let them go? Would he ever let you go now that you’re down here?

“Now, now,” he tsks. “You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.” He wraps his hand around the back of your neck before pressing his fingertips into the base of your hairline, massaging your scalp all the way up to your crown. “Why don’t you forget all about that and step out of this ragged little number for me?”

He presses his thumb and forefinger behind your ears, forcing your eyes to flutter shut and your mouth to fall open as that warm, blissful feeling rushes down your spine. He takes the opportunity to snake his fingers down your neck to swiftly remove your bandage before tossing it aside, temporarily washing your worries away with his actions. He takes his time pulling your hooded sweatshirt up above your head and off; the heat from the fire warming the bare skin on your torso as you allow him to continue disrobing you. His chilly palms carefully brush their way back down your arms and breasts, tying a familiar knot into your stomach before they graze their way down to your hips.

“Your beauty never ceases to amaze me,” he kisses his praise into your shoulder as he starts taking your pants off, delicately sliding them down your legs until you step out of them entirely. “Aphrodite herself would be jealous.”

You try to think of something to say, something to match his level of adoration as he stands up and curls his fingers beneath your jaw, but can come up with nothing. Instead you just nod in hushed understanding, acknowledging his tainted compliment as he stares at you through his frigid grip on your face.

“Before you put that on, though, why don’t you let me show you how well I really know you.” He lets go of your chin and shrugs out of his jacket, folding it onto the back of the chair near the vanity. He loosens his tie with a smirk and makes his way over to the bed, pulling the silk garment through the loop of his collar as he finally sits down on the mattress.

Jesus Christ, this escalated quickly. How the hell did you end up HERE like THIS? How the hell did he get you naked again so fucking fast?

“Come here,” he orders, slowly patting his thigh as he summons you with blackened eyes.

Oh, that’s how.

“Yeah,” you huff, taking a few timid steps forward. “Okay.” You pad your way across the hardwood floor until you end up climbing onto the bed next to him, cautiously straddling his legs as his hands glide over your bare body, effortlessly pulling you into him.

“I know you better than he does, better than he ever could.” He gently turns you on to your side, guiding you over his lap so that his hands smooth lovingly over your head and hair once you settle into him. “I know every inch of your body, every hair on your head…” He tucks a strand of it behind your ear, tracing the outline of its shell before following the curvature of your spine down to your lower back with his fingertips. He grazes his palm up and down your back, increasing his pressure on your muscles every time, forcing the fine hair along its path to stand on end. “I know every expression on your beautiful face, and every nuanced tone in your voice.”

“Yeah?” Is all you can think to say as he continues caressing your back, almost as if you were a sort of pet curled up in his lap after a long day.

“Does this feel familiar, darling? He asks, grabbing onto one of your cheeks and pulling it up toward him to get a better view of what he’s after.

You nod as his chilly hand tightens its grip on you, forcing you to inhale quickly as you feel him grow beneath your belly.

“What was that?” He begs for clarity, his lips pressed against your scalp as his breath warms your skin.

“Yes,” you whisper as your nipples harden against the mattress, everything about your past with him becoming crystal clear as the moisture begins to grow between your legs.

“Good.” He kisses your hair and lets your muscle bounce back into place. “It sounds like you almost forgot your words there for a moment.” He wastes no time in sliding his fingers in between your cheeks, dipping them down low enough to glide across your folds as they suddenly become slick with your inevitable arousal.

“Yes,” you moan, the pads of his fingers brushing over your clit with each torturous pass, your body keeping the score as it instinctively responds to his extensive carnal knowledge. “I mean no, I mean ohhhh my God.”

“Only I know what you really like.” He pulls his hand away before bringing it back down with a loud and sudden smack, a sharp twinge jolting your body forward. “What you need.”

A stifled yelp leaves your lips as the pain shoots its way up your spine, the brief pause quickly interrupted by another hard smack, this time to the opposite cheek. You hear him chuckle before his hand comes crashing down onto the other, repeating this relentless pattern one right after the other, hit after hit as it nearly sends you leaping forward off his lap entirely. He manages to keep you still with a hand on your throat, his nose nestled into the base of your neck as your moans morph into guttural groans. Tears well up in your eyes as the pleasure he’s delivering barely outweighs the pain that settles deep into your muscles, his abuse forcing your sex to drip down onto the polyester fabric of his his thigh. His strikes gradually become less frequent, the break between them growing longer as he finally decides to rub his palm over your newly reddened flesh in order to soothe it.

“Now, let’s see if I’m right.” He whispers against your skin, sliding his fingers between your now soaking wet folds as your juices all but drench your needy center. He glides them across your length again with impeccable ease, massaging little waves of bliss into your swollen bud as you begin to tremble beneath his touch. “Looks like I was. Always so wet for me.”

You rock back and forth against his hand as a pattern of gooseflesh ripples up your backside, causing those waves to build up into full blown tremors of ecstasy. They quake through your entire body as he pushes two fingers in, stimulating you from that special spot deep inside your velvety walls as his thumb still presses circles into your clit. He cracks that internal fault line wide open, watching the tears stream down your face as your body convulses around his fingers in a series of uncontrollable shockwaves of euphoria, one right after the other. They rush their way through you, building up from your epicenter with a groan so deep it nearly rattles his bones along with yours as they tremble in its wake.

“Alistair!” You shout, your arms and legs trembling in overstimulation as the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you echoes loudly against the walls. “Alistair, oh my God!” Your last word comes out in a breathy moan as your muscles fail you, leaving you limp in his lap as the aftershock rocks its way through your system.

“I barely even touched you, and look how well you respond to me.” He pulls his now drenched fingers out of you, bringing them up between your cheeks, across your back and over your shoulder until they’re right in front of your face. “Open.”

You follow his orders and do as you're told, opening your mouth just enough for him to shove two fingers past your lips and across your tongue. There’s no denying the sweet tang of your orgasm that coats your juices still clinging to his digits as he pushes in all the way up to his knuckles. Even as your eyes begin to water, you can’t help but relish in the taste of your own satisfaction as your tremors slow to a complete halt. You run your tongue between his fingers to further savor the flavor until he reluctantly pulls them back out.

A single trail of spit connects you before he shoves them into his own mouth, those dark eyes of his rolling back into his head as the concoction of your fluids momentarily intoxicates him. For a split second, some deranged part of you wonders how good he might have looked when he first tasted your blood, if it was anything close to this or much more gratuitous. But before you know it, he’s out of his trance entirely, his hands roving back over your body in a soothing, gentle rhythm.

“Tell me I don’t know you now.” He leans down to kiss your lips, the embrace seeming almost chaste in comparison as your unique flavor gets passed back between you both.

“You know me,” you confirm, breaking the kiss with a gentle nod.

“Good.” He pets your hair one more time, leaning in just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “I have another surprise for you.” He insists, that Cheshire grin spreading across his lips again.

Alistair helps you into the green ball gown just as carefully as he helped you out of your sweats, his hands tucking you into every nook and cranny of the silk dress as it drapes over your frame. He runs his hands through your hair after zipping you up, cupping your face before smiling with an arrogant sense of pride, almost as if he had created you himself.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, little lamb.” He soberly kisses your cheek before stepping back to admire you in full. “Are you ready for your next surprise?”

“I am,” you tell him, trying to accept that it could be the very last surprise of your life.

The instrumental ballet starts up again as soon as you leave the room with him, growing in volume through a set of speakers you can’t quite seem to locate as you both approach the ominous red door at the end of the hallway you almost forgot about entirely. The song’s previous corporate elevator tones are effortlessly replaced by a symphony of clarinets and bassoons, building onto each other as the plucking of a harp notes every step you take toward the precipice of the doorway.

You watch Alistair raise his eyebrows in giddy anticipation as an assortment of violins showers your senses with their chorus, the tone of the song getting darker and more profound as he wraps his fingers around the handle of the door. You can feel the music inside of you just as sure as you felt him before, the build up of all the instruments now working together as French horns collide with trumpets and drums, pushing the potent emotion of the piece up into your core and out of your body through tiny little goosebumps on your skin.

The red door finally opens.

The devastating sight before you dispels any enchantment Tchaikovsky’s famous work previously had on your senses. The roaring climax of that chilling act fails to prickle its way through the tiny hairs on the top layer of your skin as your heart drops into the bitter acid of your stomach, threatening to bring up your last meal along with it. That harsh and undeniable truth that you’d somehow always feared in the back of your mind has finally come to fruition: Jack isn’t coming to save you.

He can’t.

Confirming your greatest fears, Jack’s wrists and ankles appear to be secured in chains before your very eyes, holding him captive against a cement wall, the shirt you let him borrow now tattered to shreds. Something about these restraints is preventing him from moving too much or trying to escape, his helpless eyes eventually landing on you once you reach the center of the room. You’re too late. He’s too late, unable to save you from this scheming creature of the night as you both share a long look of mutual despair.

“Surprise!” Alistair exclaims as the music fades off into silence, both hands spreading out in a dramatic fashion.

#jack russell #werewolf by night #david dastmalchian #gael garcía bernal #gael garcia bernal #jack russell x reader #jack russell x you #werewolf by night fan fiction #alistair x reader #david dastmalchian x reader #david dastmalchian fan fiction

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