#(perhaps before then too that’s their Thing)

[definitelysel]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #zhongli fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact drabbles #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #genshin diluc #alhaitham #zhongli #neuvillette x reader

[planetaryupscaled]

Disenchanted 4: Pump & Dump

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 7k, anal, blackmail, cheat, creampie, dp, foursome, oral

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It took a couple of days for the gravity of our meeting with Yeonjun and Hajoon to sink in. The notion of it all was earth shattering, the fact that both Karina and I were being held to ransom by two people I once believed to be trustworthy.

Yeonjun especially, was someone I thought I could rely on; it was painful to see how the situation unfolded, like a car crash in slow motion, with both our reputations and careers hanging by a thread. He had shown his true colors that day; his opportunistic vulture-like characteristics had emerged, and he was determined to reap the benefits.

In the cold light of day, I couldn’t say I blamed him. Just…there’s this part of me that wishes they would not stoop to such lows just to spend one night with Karina, but who am I to judge? I was sleeping with a married woman while simultaneously having drinks with her down trodden husband. Perhaps this was my comeuppance, my payment coming home to roost, my punishment.

Despite my misfortunes, it was Karina I really felt for. I could tell the impending meet up with Hajoon and his little stooge was weighing heavy on her mind. The way she had lost that spring in her step, her usual commanding confidence was being whittled down, day by day in silent trepidation about what was to come. Karina and I spoke for hours on the phone and in person to try and figure out a way to stop this, to find another solution to come back to the table and bargain our way out. It was all in vain, they had us up against the wall, cornered with nowhere to go.

—

The air was thick that night, humid and muggy, almost as if the weight of what was about to happen was in the atmosphere. I looked at Karina as we drove up to the Hajoon residence, clutching her hand as we left the city.

“We don’t have to do this...” I said, my voice calm and controlled.

She looked gently into my eyes, bringing my hand to her lips.

“It’s ok, we have come too far to get our lives ruined by some preppy junior marketer and an old fart.” She said, her voice laced with spite.

“Seriously…Karina, I can turn back- and...” I started.

“Runaway together?” She finished, leaning over to kiss my lips.

“Thats sweet...it really is...and I love that you want to protect me even though it will end up in your career blowing up in the process...but we have to do this, I have to do this.” Karina replied.

Her determination and ruthless business woman side coming to the fore, she was seeing this as a transaction, nothing more nothing less, a necessary means to an end.

“You love...” I started, looking over at her pretty face.

She smiled, blushing momentarily before looking over at me.

“Yes...I love you.” She spoke, kissing me once more.

“Don’t- you don’t have...” She began.

“I love you too...” I replied, a warm smile overcoming my face.

Karina smiled affectionately, running her hand across my arm before kissing my cheek.

“What?” I asked playfully.

“It’s just...those words, this admission is a big thing, yet here we are making our way to a car crash of an evening.” She said solemnly.

I shook my head in disgust, reassuring her that everything would work out, that everything would be ok. There was silence in the car for a few minutes as we neared our destination before Karina spoke out again.

“You know it’s funny...every time I’m with Jaewook...I find myself closing my eyes and thinking of you. It makes it go faster, it’s better that way. But now you are here, with me...” She said smiling, grabbing a crystal decanter out her bag.

“Just keep your eyes on me, the whole night. We will get through this.” I replied kissing her once more.

“Is that 20-year-old Jaewook’s?” I asked with a smirk.

“He’s gonna be pissed!” I said.

“No babe, it’s me that’s gonna get pissed.” Karina replied.

“I want to remember as little as I can of what goes down tonight.” She said, taking a swig from the bottle.

We pulled up at the gates, the iron structure parting slowly like a lair to an evil dictatorships base camp. The driveway was illuminated with spotlights leading up to an impressive looking, stone mansion. Situated just outside the city, Hajoon looked like he had acres of land, stretching as far as the eye could see as the sun began to set.

“You ready?” I asked Karina, my voice as calm as it could have been, given the circumstances.

Karina nodded, smiling and getting out the car ironically dressed in the same short black dress she was wearing the night I felt her up on the phone to her husband all those months ago. Her bronze skin glowed with sexiness as the sunlight hit her skin, striding confidently up the marble steps and knocking on the front door.

Naturally it was not Hajoon who answered, but a maid, offering us a drink and requesting we follow her up the grand staircase. The house was more modern looking inside than I had first envisaged, family portraits of past “Hajoon’s” lined the walls, illuminated by lights to give a dramatic welcome into the house.

“God, they love themselves don’t they.” I whispered under my breath.

“Do you think they are all cocks?” I followed up.

“Minho!” Karina replied quietly.

“Probably.” She continued, laughing into her palm.

I could see the alcohol slowly sinking in, her tipsiness was getting a little stronger as she took another hit of whisky before we arrived at two large doors. The maid knocked twice, before being asked to come in with Hajoon dressed in a pinstripe suit together with Yeonjun already prepped in a bath robe. He made me sick, I could have thrown him off the balcony right there and then.

“Glad you could make it.” Hajoon said, surveying Karina’s tight frame.

“You look...amazing tonight, as always Karina.” He said, taking a sip of wine.

“I would offer you a drink, but it seems you already have that taken care of.” He said smiling.

“Let’s get this over with.” Karina retorted, motioning to the mobile phone on the table.

“Na ah, I will delete once this is over.” Yeonjun said cooly.

“No, you delete it now.” Karina replied, standing firm.

“She will keep her word.” Hajoon replied, motioning for Yeonjun to do what he was asked.

Like a pawn he yielded, showing us the phone and deleting the video, pictures and anything else associated with that day.

“I suppose there is no cloud back up either?” I asked.

“There is none.” Hajoon replied.

A manipulative old fool he maybe, but a liar he was not.

“Shall we begin?” Hajoon asked, handing Karina a contract.

It was the transfer of his shares once he retired, going fully over to Karina. I quick squiggle and it was done, now the hard part.

“A few conditions.” Karina said confidently.

“Go on...” Hajoon said intrigued.

“No kissing on my lips under any circumstances and I do not and shall not swallow.” She said.

“After tonight, this is it, this is the only time you will be able to have me.” She followed up sharply.

The two just nodded, agreeing with the terms and walked forward, their eyes lighting up with desire as Karina backed herself onto me.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yeah...”

Karina pressed her rear onto my crotch grinding her body against my chest. I had to admit, my trepidation and even jealousy of having to share her with these two vile people was becoming slowly overturned with lust. Feeling Karina rock her hips against mine gave me instant wood as she widened her stance, showing off her toned, pale legs in all its glory before knocking back one another shot of whiskey.

“Cum in me first.” She whispered, grinding deeper into my crotch as I drifted my hands under her dress.

She was moist, almost too moist as I felt her cream leak through her silky underwear, the grool from her pussy forming strands on my fingertips the moment I pierced her cunt.

“Unghh...” Karina moaned quietly, beckoning the other two to walk forward.

I could see her eyes in the mirror locked on mine, egging me on to keep going, to please her. I did exactly that, slipping my hand between her panties and rubbing decisively at her throbbing clit. The moisture emanating from her pussy was overwhelming as I use my left hand to penetrate her folds while the other pinched at her tender clit and played with her slick labia. Karina eased herself over as Hajoon and Yeonjun stepped forward eagerly awaiting their turn. The sound of the Hajoon’s zipper being draw down was strangely erotic as the old man popped a blue pill, no doubt viagra as his cock slowly sprang to life. Yeonjun was now undressing, cupping Karina’s face as she grasped his exposed dick along with Hajoon’s gently jerking their shafts. I could see the pleasure coursing through their bodies as Karina encircled both of their slits with her thumb, pressing down gently while continuing to pump their dicks in her delicate hands, fisting their meat till both men started to dribble pre cum from their tips.

“Suck...” Hajoon said, running his fingers through her hair.

Karina looked back at me, nodding for me to ramp it up as I dragged my tip along the outside of her slit, her juices coating my crown in a delectable, warm sticky fluid before I thrusted forward, penetrating her sex with force, pushing her mouth onto Hajoon’s length while she held Yeonjun’s twitching cock in her other hand.

“Uhmm...mmh...mmm...” Karina moaned, her lips humming around the old man’s meat.

I watched in awe as she used her lips to pleasure his cock, coating him in her saliva whilst he used her mouth. Hajoon started rocking his hips, gripping her head softly while she fed on his dock, her right hand shifting to his sack while she continued to jerking Yeonjun.

“That’s a good girl, just like that.” Hajoon said, while Karina painted his shaft with spittle.

With a few more bobs of her head, she released him from her mouth, leaning back onto me and kissing me on the lips as I sucked on her exposed tongue. My cock was buried right up inside her married cunt, tensing and flexing inside her womb as my tip smashed up against her cervix. Unzipping the back of her dress, the fabric dropped to the floor, her sexiness exposed at last while I attacked her sex with my meat, slipping my thumb inside her ass and gripping her hips for leverage while I ploughed inside her slippery pussy.

“Minho- Minho...cum... cum inside me...” Karina chanted.

Her walls were milking my shaft at an alarming rate as I saw Yeonjun lose patience, grabbing Karina by her hair and easing her lips onto his cock. She took him no problem, sucking down on his cock with reckless abandon as he rolled his head back in pleasure.

“Fuckk...Karina...” He moaned.

Her mouth was in overdrive as I fucked her from behind, raising her right leg to spear her cunt deeper as Yeonjun and I spit roasted the mother of three. She was close, convulsing on my lap as I pumped more of my cock into her twitching slit, watching her feed on Yeonjun as he held her face and forced all of his dick into her warm mouth.

“Mmhh...nghh…mmhh.” Karina moaned around his meat as her legs started to buckle.

“Gluck...gluckk...gluckk...” Were the sounds of Karina’s mouth, Yeonjun clearly brushing her tonsils as her eyes started to well up.

Yeonjun and I held her in place, our thrusting, slamming ever deeper into her, stuffing her with cock at both ends as the inevitable came to fruition. I came first, my balls churning as I felt Karina shudder in my grasp, her pussy clamping down on my shaft as she climaxed hard on my meat. My balls churned wildly, as I unloaded inside her fertile cunt, spraying my seed into her womb as I pumped her full of my cum, thrusting hard into her wanting cunt like a wild animal. Yeonjun followed, almost immediately after, twitching uncontrollably as he unloaded deep inside her mouth, his seed dribbling from the corners of her lips as she worked his cock with her soft tongue. We were filling her up on both ends, pumping our sperm into her mouth and pussy all at once which she took without complaint, moaning around Yeonjun’s cock as she finally released him, opening her mouth and letting his cum fall out of her in its entirety, forming a milky puddle on the tiles. This sordid scene appeared to have set Hajoon off who was avidly jerking his veiny cock beside her, grabbing Karina by the back of the head and pointing his tip at her forehead.

“Ouhhh...Karina...” The old man moaned, sighing loudly as he unloaded on her face.

He painted her perfect lips and nose with his globulous load, thick and stringy in appearance as spurt after spurt flowed onto Karina’s face, creaming her skin in a translucent film of spunk. I t was like a scene from a porn as the four of us stood panting heavily, my cock still buried inside Karina as I gripped her hips to balance her uneasy legs.

“The bed...lets go to the bed.” Hajoon said out of breath.

The Viagra must have done the trick as his cock was as still as hard as ever, twitching in anticipation of what was to come. Karina took another hit of whiskey after wiping her face clean with a towel, the taste of salt and sperm now replaced with alcohol.

“You ok?” I asked, kissing her on the cheek.

Karina smiled, drunken and dazed, a lusty glaze in her eyes, one I was well accustomed to by now as she kissed me passionately on the lips, sucking on my tongue as she whispered in my ear.

“I... want...you...in my mouth.” She said softly, pulling me by my cock and lying on her side.

Without hesitation, Karina took my soft dick between her lips and started to suck. Her lips covering every inch of my shaft as she used her soft hands to gently palm and squeeze at my sack. It didn’t take long to reach full mast again as I held her by the face and gently pumped my cock into her moist mouth.

“Fucknggh…nghh...mmhh” Karina , screamed, wincing her eyes.

Hajoon had rammed his fat cock deep inside her pussy as she lay on her side. Her legs were bunched up in the Fetal position as he aggressively attacked her cunt with his dick, stuffing her with his meat repeatedly. The sounds of his hip slapping against her ass were brutal as Karina tried her best to concentrate her sucks on my cock. Her lips feebly wrapping around my shaft as Hajoon fucked her hard from the other side. It was something that set me off, the sound of flesh smashing together that triggered my inner animal. I gripped her face, looking her deep in the eyes as forced my twitching cock into her throat. I was using her face as my personal pleasure hole, skull fucking the married woman as I felt her lips clamp on my cock hard. Karina was shaking, Hajoon had hit the right spot grinding his hips as he buried his cock inside her cunt unloading his seed into her pussy.

“Grrhh...that’s right Karina, good girl, take it, take it all.” Hajoon grunted, pumping her cunt one last time as he fucked my cum out of her cunt and replaced it with his own.

Karina was a mess, a cum dazed mess as saliva dribbled down the side of her lips, spunk now leaking profusely out her slit as she rolled over onto her back. Yeonjun was eying her like a tiger, shifting his weight forward as he caressed her sticky thighs.

“Open...open your legs, Karina.” He whispered in her ear, licking the length of her neck.

She was too lust drunk to even protest as she spread her thighs for him, inviting Yeonjun to penetrate her well fucked pussy. He did just that, thrusting hard and deep into her pussy as his cock bottomed out inside the married woman. Grinding his hips, I was sure his tip was rubbing up against her cervix as Karina hung her head off the side of the bed.

“Unghhh...oh...ohhh...goddd...” She screamed, her arms clawing at my thighs.

“Is that all you have...? fuck me like you mean it you pussy!” She yelled at Yeonjun.

It set him off, as he gritted his teeth, his hips in overdrive as he fucked her like a bunny rabbit, grasping at her pert breasts while ramming his meat up inside her silky pussy. I could see her cream encapsulate his cock, Yeonjun’s balls slapping her pristine pussy lips.

“Take it...is...this...what...you...want...” He growled slamming her over and over again.

“Unghh...nghhh...Minho- Minho please...” She pleaded, opening her mouth and extending her tongue.

I rushed forward, supporting her head in my hands as I eased my cock between her lips once more. Squatting down I pumped my cock into her gullet, using her mouth like a glory hole as I felt her lips sheath my shaft, spit drooling at the sides of her mouth while my balls slapped up against her forehead.

“Take it...fucking...take…it...” I yelled, losing control.

Karina scratched at my inner thighs, her tongue now coating the top of my cock with spit as I began to cum. I held her face steady pumping hard and deep into her mouth as my tip exploded inside her throat, feeding her the much-needed seed she desired. Wave after wave of my cum coated her mouth, as she expertly held my base and pumped at my cock, sucking down my sperm into her stomach. Looking down, I could see her actively swallowing every last drop of cum, her throat bulging as I fuelled her mouth with my pent up salty cum.

“Agghhh...yesss...fuckkk” Yeonjun yelled, thrusting hard into Karina.

His hips were twitching, seeding her married pussy for the third time that night as we both pumped our sperm into her at both ends once more. Karina gyrated her hips, feeling the warmth of both loads enter her body as she turned to the side to suckle on my sack.

“Why do you swallow his?” Yeonjun asked.

“He...he can do whatever he wants to me.” She said breathlessly, smiling up at my face.

We stayed like this a mere minute or so before Hajoon came back into the action, slapping her ass in enthusiasm.

“I want your ass.” He said with a look of pure lust on his face.

I could not keep up at this rate so I asked for the blue pill to kick me into overdrive. The old man laughed, pointing me to the drawer as I took it down with some water. It was like a magic pill, my cock suddenly awakening, sore but absolutely rock hard. Yeonjun declined respectfully, tending to Karina’s breasts as he suckled on her nipples, sucking down hard as she rolled back in the covers in ecstasy.

Walking over I gave Karina a knowing look, grabbing her hips and flipping her over onto my lap.

“You want a ride baby?” I asked, winking at her.

Karina smiled flirtatiously, grabbing my length with her sweaty hands and grinding her sex onto me. It felt amazing being inside her warmth again, the spunk of the previous occupant leaking onto my thighs as her cunt made a squelching sound as she bottomed out on my lap. Yeonjun was standing above us, leaning on the backboard. As if on cue, she knew what to do, parting her lips and taking him into her mouth.

“Shit Karina...” Yeonjun moaned, clawing at her hair as he fed her his cock.

“Thats right Karina...bend over for me” Hajoon chimed in, pushing her mouth forward onto Yeonjun’s cock as she took him into the back of her throat.

Hajoon had a clear run at her now exposed rosebud as I pistoned in, up inside her pussy, slapping my balls up on her ass. I could feel Karina tense up the moment Hajoon entered her, her hips bucking slightly as he thrust with full force filling her asshole with his cock. All four of us found our rhythm quite quickly as I thrust my cock up inside Karina’s tight cunt, Hajoon would slide out of her anal cavity while Yeonjun would pump his cock into her throat. It was like a complicated machine made out of human body parts.

Karina’s breasts were bouncing all over the place as Hajoon gathered speed, splitting her ass open with his fat cock as he filled her anally, I could hear the slaps of flesh again and the squelch of bodily fluids emanating from between her legs. She was enjoying this, her pussy creaming all over my cock as her cunt glistened with grool.

“Nghh...mmfff...fuck...fuckk...shittt...” Karina wailed between sucks, saliva now dripping on to my face from her rapid slurps.

Her body was being stuffed with three cocks simultaneously, she was well and truly airtight. At this angle I could spear her g-spot with cock. Spreading her ass cheeks for Hajoon to violate her anus, I thrust upwards hard, grinding my hips against her clit till I felt her sacred spot with my tip. I held her here while I prodded and rubbed against her most sensitive parts, filling her womb with my meat as my cock stretched her pussy out.

“Karina...Karina...suck…keep...sucking me.” Yeonjun grunted.

I could feel myself approaching too, gripping her body close as I continued to thrust up inside her wanting cunt with my slick cock, spearing her folds with my dick as Hajoon began speed up frantically fucking her rump.

“Karinaaa…nghhh.” Hajoon groaned, gripping her hips and fucking her deep in the ass.

I could feel her lower half convulse, no doubt taking his load deep inside her anal cavity as Yeonjun followed suit, unloading wildly into her mouth while my tip exploded between her legs. All three of us were seeding her at the same time, our cums being fired into her ass, pussy and mouth together as one. Sperm flowed from her lips as she spat Yeonjun’s load out on to the pillow, a bit dribbling down her face as she pumped his straining dick on more time. Her hips gyrating slowly while my spasming cock eeked out the last drops inside her dripping well fucked pussy, creampie number four for the night.

Hajoon rolled of, slapping her rump once more before lying back on the Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Come...” He said, directing Karina to him.

“Crawl to me...” He whispered.

Karina complied, her face smeared with cum and spittle as she crawled, cum oozing from her red raw ass and well fucked pussy.

She was tired, her arms weak as she crawled across the bed on onto Hajoon’s lap, His cock was still hard, as he beat his meaty cock in his hands waiting for Karina’s mouth to engulf him. It was a highly arousing sightseeing Karina, normally the dominant one in the work environment, being tamed and compliant as she joined his hands with hers, squeezing his fleshy cock as she bent down and took him in her mouth. The sounds that came from her mouth were sexual, the way she coated him with her full lips, slathering her saliva along his shaft as her tongue travelled the length of his base till she reached his balls. Taking each orb in her mouth, Karina suckled, feeding on his sack while pumping away at his cock, now slick with spittle. Her grip was getting harder as I saw Hajoon jerk his hips, grabbing the sheets. The image of Karina’s ass was too hard to resist as I looked down at my slick cock, covered in god knows what fluids, twitching to be tagged in. As if reading my mind, Karina looked back at me, wiggling her ass as I positioned myself behind her pert rear.

“Ass up...face...down...” I said, pressing her back forward so her rear jutted out into the sweaty night air.

Karina licked her lips, looking back at me as she took Hajoon in her mouth once more.

“Mmnghh...mmhhh...” She moaned on his cock as I wasted no time.

Thrusting forward with precision, I speared her asshole with force, pushing the excess cum from her crack out all over the sheets as a new tenant occupied her anal cavity. It was a sticky affair, her tightness lubricated by someone else’s cum, Hajoon’s to be precise. It allowed me to get in and out faster, slamming my cock into her bowels as my meat stretched her out. Looking over at Yeonjun he had passed out form tonight’s sordid events.

“Pffttt Rookie...” I said under my breath as I continued to fuck Karina’s ass.

“Unghhh...ughhh...fuckkk...nghhh.” Karina wailed, releasing Hajoon’s cock from her mouth as she felt me bottom out in her shitter.

Her walls were tightening, the cum form her ass now fully excavated as I drilled her rump from behind with deliberate pumps of my cock. Hajoon was twitching like a madman, holding Karina’s head in place while his shaft started to pulse. The first spurt getting her in her eye before she recovered and took him into her mouth once more, sucking up the rest of his cum.

“Karinaa...suck...suck me...” Hajoon said breathlessly, as Karina hoovered his cock.

The meat between her lips finally going limp as she dribbled his salty seed on his lap, resting her tired face on his thighs as I neared my crescendo too. Leaning forward and rubbing at her sex with my hand we frigged her throbbing clit together, Karina and I, hand in hand as my orgasm approached. She began to shake, her voice raspy and ragged as the contractions came. Thighs trembling, Karina started creaming on my palms again, her sticky grool was everywhere as I penetrated her ass hole.

“Cumm...fucking...cummm.” Karina yelled in rapture as I exploded inside her bowels.

A warm rush of seed flooded her anal canal, coating her inside in my sticky load as my orgasm triggered hers, trembling in my arms as I violated her asshole with my cock, pumping an ever increasing amount of sperm into her anal cavity.

“Fuck…fuck...keep pumping me.” Karina said, breathing heavy as she leant back on me.

I did what she said, flexing my hips as I fed her rump the last few spurts of my twitching cock. We were all shattered, Karina no doubt the most, her limbs turned to jelly and body covered in sweat and bodily fluids. She had been filled to the brim tonight, stuffed by three men simultaneously as we pumped our seed into her tight body. Nevertheless, the sultry vixen just looked deep into my eyes, as she flicked her hair in my direction.

“Take me home Minho...” She said, kissing me softly on the lips.

—

Driving back to my place that night with the wind blowing on my face through the open window sent a much needed shock to my system. The cool morning air hit me like freight train, bringing me back to earth as I stared at Karina sleeping in the passenger seat beside me. She was absolutely wrecked, her inner thighs still smeared in god knows who’s seed, remnants from the absolute railing she had received that evening. We were relentless, not giving her a seconds rest all night, just one position after the next, unloading our cums deep inside her writhing body till she overflowed with it all, twitching in pleasure, drunk on lust.

“Hey... Karina, we are home.” I said, scooping her up and opening the front door.

There was no response aside from a light moan as we ascended the stairs setting her down softly on my bed. Sweeping her hair to the side I stood there for a moment, admiring her beauty, tracing the outlines of her hips and waist with my eyes before a sudden vibration on the bedside table pulled me back to reality. It was Jaewook, his name was flashing up on Karina’s screen. There was a moment’s hesitation where part of me wanted to answer it and tell him all about what had just happened, but I decided against it. The cruelness of it all was strangely intoxicating, knowing and doing all this behind his back as bad as it was, was never bad enough for me to stop. I wanted her and vice versa but deep down I knew something had to give, we could not keep this secret from Jaewook for much longer.

—

“Morning sleepy head.” Karina said, dancing her fingers along my forehead.

“Uhmm...hey...you.” I replied, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight.

“How are you feeling...?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“OK...a little stretched you could say.” She replied playfully slapping my arm.

Karina had changed into a silky purple nightie, most probably after I passed out from the warm shower before bed. Studying her pale legs over the cotton sheets, I could still see the hand prints on her exposed thigh, most probably from Hajoon who really went for it that night.

“Mmmm...look what that old guy did?” Karina said, noticing the shock on my face after seeing the marks.

“Yes...we really did a number on you last night...” I replied sheepishly.

“Yes...you did...” She replied, blushing slightly as she covered up her legs under the sheets.

“Listen...about last...” I started, my voice laced in guilt seeing what she had to go through just to save my skin.

I had to admit I enjoyed it last night, it was raw, uncut pure sex. It was unlike anything I had ever done or likely ever to do again, but it came at a price. Karina and her dignity, one she once proudly wore had taken a battering that night. It was strange to think that the days leading up to it all, we both were fraught in trepidation, yet once we were in the moment, it somehow felt liberating.

“It’s ok...” She said, her eyes fixed on mine.

“Truth be told...I...” Karina stuttered slightly.

I knew what she was going to say, I could read it on her face last night, as we locked eyes and I flooded her womb for the nth time.

“You...” I said slowly.

“Liked...it...” She let out with a sigh.

Her face blew up in a bright red color as she registered what she had just said. My smile was telling, almost mocking her, to which she just hit my arm lightly and kissed me on the lips. I had a feeling that this was the case, her body betrayed her, face wincing in pleasure with each spear of cock, each flood of her chamber brought about a renewed sense of satisfaction on her face. I could tell by the way we fucked last night, it was passionate, feral, right.

“Not all of it.” She said, trying to backtrack her previous revelation.

“Really...?” I said smirking.

“Well, yes...no... I mean...I liked the feeling of being pleasured...and filled over and over again.” Karina said, her eyes glazing over like she was remembering the best parts of last night.

“I can’t explain it...it almost didn’t matter that Hajoon and Yeonjun were there...they were just props...what was important was that you were there...it’s almost like our connection hit another level...you know?” She mused.

“Primal...” I replied.

“That’s the word!” She replied, smirking before kissing me lightly on the lips.

“Well...do you want to...” I began.

“Let’s not push your luck Mister.” She said sharply, before turning to check her phone.

There was something else, I could sense it, the way she flicked her phone off and turned to me told me it was something about Jaewook. It had come to pass that the married couple had had a deep talk while I was asleep, deciding what the next steps were in their marriage. Karina had all but thrown in the towel to the protests of Jaewook who was still clinging onto a small thread of hope. They were both due to go to some camping trip to later on in that week to try and “heal” she put it while rolling her eyes. It was your standard last chance saloon talks that you hear about a hundred times over, the only difference was the last part. I was invited to this healing session.

It came to light that Jaewook’s fix that we spoke about regarding spicing things up had really gone to his head. In his desperation, he had put forward an idea to Karina of a potential threesome. Upon hearing this I burst out laughing, like I was an episode of punked or something. Karina’s eyes remained resolute, to the point that my laughter faded into thin air.

“Ok...what...you...him...I’m sorry...what?” I replied, absolutely flummoxed.

“Hold on big boy, a minute ago you were all like, let’s do this again.” Karina said mockingly.

“Yeah, that was...this...this is weird as fuck!” I replied.

“Well, it is and it isn’t, some of my girlfriends have done some suspect things in their time with their hubby.” Karina said smiling knowingly.

“But what about your lack of feelings for...” I started.

“That still stands...” Karina said coldly.

“So, this thing, he’ll thinks this will save your marriage...it...” I replied

“Won’t.” Karina interjected.

“But you still want to...” I followed up tentatively.

“Yes...” She said with a devilish grin.

“That’s cold Rina.” I said.

“Please...don’t give me that. Besides, I told him already that I would ask you this as a favor in exchange to further your career.” She replied matter of factly.

“I want- this...you...” Karina said, her voice trailing off, as her eyes took over.

“And what if I refuse.” I said with an empty threat.

Her look spoke a thousand words as she lay back down beside me, her eyes trailing my lower half of my body. I had already agreed to this fucked up threesome without saying anything and she knew it.

“Morning pump and dump?” Karina asked seductively, bribing me with her body as she unclasped her bra from under her nighty and threw it in my face.

“You are outrageous...” I replied, taking her tongue between my lips as we kissed passionately.

My hands roamed her tight frame, squeezing softly at her pert breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as I positioned my hips between her bronze thighs.

“Show me what you got...” Karina said, biting my ear and pulling me close for another deep kiss.

We were well versed in this now, our bodies moved as one as I thrust forward without much thought, my cock piercing her wet folds in one slick movement as she welcomed my dick inside her moist cunt. The slickness of her folds creaming all over my shaft was something I was accustomed too, every inch of her pussy had been explored by my straining cock, my mouth, fingers and anything else I could fuck her with.

“God...you...stretch me out...so...good...” Karina moaned into my ear as I bottomed out inside her luscious cavern.

Her pink walls hugged at my meat, coaxing out pearls of precum from my crown as I smashed her cervix with my tip, stuffing the housewife with my cock, feeling the stretch of her cunt muscles as I penetrated her slick sex.

“Unghhh...mnghhh...yes...yesss...” Karina wailed.

My balls were slapping up against her ass as I felt her grool slather my shaft each time I pumped more of my dick into her tight womanly cunt, feeding her pussy all of my meat as I rubbed tirelessly at her throbbing clit. The stickiness of her thighs was growing, strands of her sexual juices now smearing against my hips as I whipped her legs over my shoulders and railed Karina into the mattress with my cock. Each stroke fucking her long and deep, filling her married cunt with cock as she clawed at my face, mewing at each penetrative thrust of my hips.

“Baby...baby...keep- keep...going...” Karina chanted.

Sweat was pouring from my face, dripping onto her outstretched tongue as she lapped up my salty beads of perspiration, licking up my neck as I ground my hips into her mound, burying my cock inside her pussy. The feeling of her cunt contracting around my shaft was a telling sign as Karina got up on all fours and pushed me on my back. Staring at the sultry married woman, she stalked me like a lioness, licking her lips as she crawled towards me.

“I want you...to pump me…full of your essence...” Karina whispered, taking my cock between her lips and sucking hard on my turgid member.

The housewife dipped her head low, taking my meat into the back of her throat as her excess spit leaked from the sides of her mouth. I was twitching between her lips, close to completion, I knew she wanted me to release inside her, but where was up to her. Karina kept sucking, slurping on my shaft like an ice lolly as she worked the underside of my cock with her tongue, smearing me with her warm saliva.

“Gluck...gluckk...gluckk...” Were the sounds from her mouth, her eyes watering as I held her face and began to thrust.

My balls slapped up against her chin as I penetrated her mouth with my cock, tapping her tonsils as Karina’s mouth was stuffed with my meat. Holding her hair back to let me see her suck me off with no hands, I guided her face to the exact depth I wanted, rolling my hips to feed her more dick between her soft pink lips.

“Karina...Baby I’m close...” I moaned, my eyes were straining to hold it together before she popped me free from her mouth and squeezed hard on my shaft, preventing me from exploding.

My balls ached at being denied, moments before release and she knew it, smiling cheekily at me, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat and sex.

“Remember what I said...Pump...and...dump.” She whispered, wiggling her tight rear in my face as she licked her lips and bent over on all fours.

Who was this woman? The sexual encounter from last night had unleashed something deep within her, a ravenous goddess that had to be satiated, and satiate I would, whatever it took.

Grabbing her roughly by the hips I thrusted forwards, impaling the brunette on my length as I penetrated her sex from the rear. Her wetness was obvious, grool dribbling down the sides of her thighs as our flesh connected with a resounding slap. The grunting emanating from her lips as I pounded her pussy from behind was music to my ears as I felt the tightness of her cunt mold around my shaft, sucking me off each time I fucked my slick cock into her tight cunt.

“Unghhh...nghhh...fuckk- do it...dump...it- dump it… inside...of...me...” Karina screamed in rapture.

The aggression of my pumps was showing on her rear, fucked red and raw as I slapped her tight ass a few times while stretching her out.

I could feel her pussy start to get tighter, her walls were closing in on me as I smashed up against her cervix with my tip a few more times, pinching at her clitoris with my fingers as I desperately stuffed her married cunt with my cock.

“Karina...fuckk...” I moaned into her ear.

She was bucking her hips, her legs trembling as I felt her orgasm hit, squeezing at my shaft with a ravenous appetite as I continued to pump my hips, lifting one leg up to smash her cunt hard and deep.

“Unghhh...pump...me...I want...it, all...of...it...” Karina wailed as her climax continued through my strokes.

It was the final straw, seeing her scream and wail into the covers set me off as I erupted from the tip just as I bottomed out inside her tight cunt. The force of my climax, pumping a torrent of cream inside her marital pussy, feeding her uterus with my milky sperm as I painted her womb white with my sticky seed.

“That’s it...Baby...” Karina, said looking back, gyrating her hips as I fed her more of my pent up cum.

She was overflowing from her pink slit, yet I continued to thrust, stuffing her tight cunt with my twitching meat, forcing my warm sticky semen deep into her womb as Karina collapsed onto the pillow while I was still imbedded within her.

“Don’t- don’t...stop...” Karina whispered breathlessly as I continued to empty myself inside her pussy, flexing my hips to get every ounce of cums inside her.

We stayed, locked in this mating ritual for a good ten minutes before I disengaged with a slurp, the remnants of my seed flowing out of her moist slit almost immediately as the sultry housewife turned towards me.

“Are you still in two minds about that getaway?” She said raising her eyebrows.

“Just give me the time and the place...” I said, breathlessly, slapping her ass one last time.

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

[dante-mightdie]

Omg Ive got another idea about the cult!au:

So simon now has this cute dumb wife who just won’t shut up about how weird stuff around her seem to be lately and she just keeps talking about wanting to see what would happen if they went out without price knowing, just out of pure curiosity yk? She constantly talks about hearing people outside, on the hills surrounding the little village they have, what could they possibly be? Maybe they’re monsters and not humans? But they seem so small and fragile just like the people in their own community 

And every time she mentions anything related to the topic simon is DEVASTATED, not because of his wife, but because of john. he knows that if his wife mentions anything like the stuff she blurts out when they’re alone price would straight up kill her and leave no proof of her ever existing before that, he’s seen it happen a few times with his own eyes

And when he remembers the terrified looks people had on their faces before being buried alive, just makes him nauseous cause he can’t imagine his wife’s beautiful face that scared.

But no matter what he does, she just won’t listen! If it was anyone else simon wouldn’t even hesitate to kill them with his own hands to show price his devotion, but it’s not anyone else, it’s his wife

So he decides to take matters into his into his own hands, he’s the one that has the keys to the gates after all

So he tells his precious little wife that he’s going to let her see the plains surrounding the village for an hour and if she liked it, they can just leave together :)

And the way his wife’s eyes just filled with excitement melted his heart, little did she know simon was going to make her want to stay

So maybe she sees something scary outside, and she runs as fast as she possibly can ,and just hugs simon with tears running down her eyes, saying that she was so stupid to think anywhere other than the warm community and her loving husband’s embrace would be safe for her

Maybe with a sprinkle of smut…? Just maybe! Just a silly little thought yk!!!

please grace us with your amazing writing, cause this cult!au is living in my mind rent free 😢🙏🙏🙏

hope you guys like the cult!au because it’s all you’re gonna be hearing for at least a few days. gonna call this version of simon ‘gatekeeper!ghost’

c/w: dark content, cult!au, gatekeeper!ghost, murder, manipulative tactics, implied mentions of pregnancy and children

your husband worries that you’re a little too oblivious sometimes. not truly understanding how the things you say and do could end in serious repercussions. perhaps you’re certain that if it truly came down to it, simon would defend you over anyone else. and to an extent, you’re right. however, that only applies when he’s actually there to protect you and if you think that price wouldn’t account for your guard dog husband when exacting out his revenge, you’re dead wrong

so he decides that he needs to help you see that. perhaps if you see with your own too eyes that the outside world is really just a pit of wolves waiting to feast on the soft flesh of his naive trusting wife, you’ll stop all this nonsense about the outside. so he decides to kill two birds with one stone by using a member of the community, who price had asked simon to get rid of anyway, to give you a fright

the man had been sowing discontent into the community for a while anyways. not pulling his weight with the mandatory community chores which everyone contributes too, apparently harbouring some resentful opinions towards key members of the community including himself and simon. it wasn’t long before price had enough of the disrespect and ordered simon to dispose of him and dump his body in the incinerato

simon decided to take a little detour with him first, though. leading him out past the gates before swiftly ending his life. he spends some time setting up a scene for you to stumble upon, making it appear as though this man was another member of the community who got too curious about the outside and had been mauled by some creature. whether you assume that creature is just a wild animal or something more sinister is irrelevant to simon, you won’t be seeing it anyway once he gets you back behind the gates. poor thing’ll be too frightened to ever wonder about the outside world again

your husband comes to collect you after hours once everyone in the community is asleep. you step out the gates with caution, as though the ground may not be walkable nor the air breathable. you soon relax once you realise the scenery and nature is not all that different to the community you were raised in your whole life. he hands you a map, one he edited to ensure you’d follow all the right paths to find the body and be back at the gates all in under 10 minutes

“back ‘ere. one hour. ‘m trusting you here, sweethear’, yeah?” your husband grumbles, zipping up your coat to protect you from the cold of the night but not before slipping a tracking device in lining. you look up at him, nodding along to every word he tells you about the paths, how to find your way back if you get lost, how if you’re not back in one hour to find somewhere safe and he will come and find you

gives you a firm kiss on the forehead before letting you go on your way, watching your form until it quickly disappears into the dark. the only thing visible of you is the slight glint of the torch he gave you. he looks down at his watch, he told you an hour but if you’re not back in 10 minutes then he knows you’ve strayed from the path he told you to go down

he counts down the minutes, softly whistling to himself as he leans on his rifle. 6 minutes was all it took for him to hear your bloodcurdling scream echo throughout the trees. he sets off, running until he eventually meets you halfway on the walk back. he feels guilty, don’t get it twisted but he’s doing it for your own good. doesn’t stop his heart breaking at the sight of you running towards him, hands reaching for him with tears streaming down your face

you throw yourself into him, sobbing into his chest as you struggle to get the words out about what you saw. as he predicted this outcome, his arms instinctively scoop you up after he slings his rifle round to rest against his back. let’s you cry to him about the awful thing you just saw whilst he carries you back towards the compound gates, cooing that you’re safe now and he’ll get you both home and safe

your home isn’t far from the gates which means your home after a short walk. you refuse to let simon leave your side, whining that you’re scared whatever got that man is gonna come and get you

“don’t be silly, lovie. they’d ’ave to get through me first.” he says, planting a kiss on top of your head whilst he strips you both down for bed. you just look up at him with a pouty lip, “I think you’re just getting too bored at home, aren’t ya, sweets? not much to keep ya busy when i’m not around. maybe some little troublemakers running about the ‘ouse will keep ya busy, yeah?”

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #cult!au #gatekeeper!ghost

[stylesharrys]

Y/N’s never been with a man like Harry before. (Blurb)

A/N: I haven’t posted any content on here for a while (but I’m working on it I promise), so here’s a little blurb for you darlings — I’m also opening up requests again so if you have any blurb ideas, feel free to send them in <3

//

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always done everything when it came to relationships. The cooking, the cleaning, the date planning — all of it. It was never like that in the beginning, of course. Most men would love-bomb and tell her everything she wanted to hear. She’d never realise until it was too late.

That’s how it always happened.

And yet, she always allowed herself to forget those signs whenever she met someone new. Always told herself that it wasn’t fair to pre-judge anybody and that perhaps that’s just how they were and it wasn’t an act.

It was foolish, really — her way of thinking. Because time and time again, they always proved her wrong, always left her feeling alone and unappreciated until she finally bucked up the courage to call it quits and leave.

She tried to be more weary of it when she met Harry. She found herself mentally scrutinising every word he spoke, every promise he made. She’d lock everything away in a safe in her mind that she’d go back through if he ever slipped up or started showing signs that he wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be when they first met.

But that day didn’t come, it still hadn’t.

In Y/N’s most recent relationship, she’d never been so low. She’d stupidly agreed to move in with James and from there, it went downhill pretty fast. He never cleaned up after himself, ever. His damp towels would be left on the bathroom floor, his empty beer bottles and candy wrappers would be left on the counter instead of in the bin, and the one time he did wash the dishes after dinner, he made a right cock out of it.

Weaponised incompetence was what she remembered her mother calling it. When somebody purposely carries out a task poorly as to not be asked to do it again.

He didn’t cook, had no idea how to use the washing machine and at one point made it blatantly clear that because he worked, he shouldn’t have to come home and do chores around the house after.

That was the cherry on top for her. Because Y/N worked, too. She worked the same kind of hours and still did everything in the home and cleaned up after him day in and day out.

When her and Harry first started dating, she kept her heart close to her chest. She was far too afraid of making the same mistakes as last time, of wasting time and energy into someone who isn’t willing to give her one-hundred percent back.

But Harry did.

Harry cooked on nights that Y/N cleaned and vice versa. She never once had to ask him to pick up his damp towel or put his rubbish in the bin. Harry just did these things. He changed the sheets on his own accord, he did more laundry than Y/N and he enjoyed a weekly Sunday deep clean with her, blaring music and lighting a candle at the end of it.

Tonight was no different. She came home from work a little later than usual and dinner was already waiting for her on the table. Harry had remembered she texted earlier in the day that she was feeling under the weather, and prepared her some chicken soup with buttered rolls for as soon as she got home.

A bubble bath was run and fresh pyjamas were warming in the dryer. The floors had been hoovered and mopped, the laundry was folded and hung in the wardrobes and the trash had been taken out.

The realisation of something that happened every day hit her tonight for some reason. Perhaps because Harry picked up the chores she typically did as well, or maybe because he thought of her and did the dinner and bath to make her life a little easier.

Either way, it had tears stinging her vision and her heart thumping. It was silly, really. She was getting emotional over her partner doing the bare minimum — him pulling his weight and keeping their home clean.

“What’s a’matter?” His gentle voice cooed from across the table.

Y/N smiled tearily, taking a bite out of her roll as she shook her head. She didn’t want to make a thing out of this — she knew he’d only laugh at her and call her a numpty. (Which in this instance, she was.)

“Nothing, I just appreciate this a lot,” she swallowed her food as the tears began to dry.

Harry squinted at her, not quite buying what she was saying. “Y’sure? If the soups bad, you can be honest and tell me. Promise I won’t get too upset.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “I just hope you know how much I appreciate and acknowledge what you do in our home and our relationship. Thank you for not leaving everything on my shoulders.”

Harry’s face softened into one of adoration, like he couldn’t believe she was thanking him for doing what any responsible adult should. But he understood. She’d told him about her exes, about how she felt like their mother ninety percent of the time.

Harry couldn’t imagine ever being like that.

“I appreciate and acknowledge everything you do, too. Know you’ve had a rough day, didn’t want you coming home to stuff to do. You can have your soup, take a long bath and I even charged your Kindle.”

Y/N smiled at him, lovingly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Harry’s words were sincere, and she knew he meant what he said. “Oh, and I cancelled the plumber for tomorrow, so you can still get your nails done.”

She frowned, finishing the last of her soup. “Why? Did he come out today?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I sorted it.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Sorted it as in…”

“As in I fixed the leak. You don’t need to hire maintenance people for the house, babe. If you notice something needs fixing just let me know and I’ll sort it.”

His statement shouldn’t have made her feel hot inside but it did. A man that would actively repair their house and not batter an eye or complain about it? That would do it without being asked?

Now, why the fuck did that turn her on?

//

Tag list:

@kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[luveline]

Can I please get the aftermath of a fight with Hotch? Maybe they’re both stressed after a particular case and things got a little heated?

ty for requesting !! fem, 1k

You hate when Hotch shouts. 

Morose, you lay in a slouch on the couch with your hand between your face and the armrest, knuckles aching from the pressure. You’re attempting to self soothe, but your misery is worsened by your own ministrations, your thumb a useless thing on your cheek. You can’t do it like Hotch can. There’s no second meaning. 

You assume him to be in the kitchen where you left him. 

Nobody likes to fight, but you think you might be the most unwilling participant for any argument with him. He’s patient, and mellow-headed the majority of the time, so when he does get heated you can’t help thinking you’ve done something really awful.

You get the worst of worries sitting there. That you’re too much effort for him, that you don’t fit. That he’s going to realise these things and cut you loose. 

Your tears are lazy. Your shoulders shudder with your breathing, but there isn't a sound to them, just heat where they well at the corner of your eye and drip over your nose. You sniffle, pressing the back of your hand to your top lip. 

It’s cold in the living room. Immediately hotter when Hotch sits down beside you. You lift your head on instinct, surprised at his sudden presence, tears jolting down your cheeks like flash floods. When you realise it’s him and what you’re doing, you turn your face back to the armrest with held breath. 

He hesitates for a moment.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you mumble. 

He drapes himself over your contorted frame. Arm weaving under your stomach, face pressing firmly to the nape of your neck, his right hand on your shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he says, hand working into your tense shoulder blade lovingly, his thumb drawing lines. “Don’t cry.” 

“Are you still angry?” 

“No,” he says, his voice ladened with a light sincerity, “I’m not angry.” 

You feel like he’s holding back. Upset again, you attempt to find his hand where it’s cupping the space just below your chest and hold it weakly, smaller fingers on his, looking for a better forgiveness. It doesn’t come. You cry so much it starts to make you feel sick, and concern your weary partner, his frown getting deeper where it’s pressed to your neck. 

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling, honey, is that what’s upset you?” 

You just hate the idea that he could feel against you. It’s like a mixture of regret, anger, and now frustration, because you hadn’t wanted to cry at all, much less be comforted. Although, admittedly, the comforting is holding you together. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your cheek between words, “let’s sit up before you hurt your back.” 

He sits back and pulls at your arm until you're sitting upright on the sofa. Your gaze falls to your legs, your hand curled uselessly on your thigh, your tears slowly pooling and falling in succession. You scrunch your face up as another wave of misery hits you. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks, far less emotional than you, and yet not completely stony, either. 

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You bring your hand to your face to wipe at your tears and runny nose, irked, not wanting him to see you. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

Hotch leans down to kiss your shoulder, which works to calm you down. Another kiss to your neck and your horrible cloud of emotion starts to clear. 

He can’t hate you if he’s kissing you. 

“I’m sorry I made it a fight,” Hotch says, “I never would have if I thought you’d get this upset.” 

“We can’t not fight just because I might cry.” 

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t. I never want to make you cry.” 

“I hate when you–” You cut yourself off, the confession sure to make you look small. 

“What?” he prompts gently.

“I hate when you yell because– because you never do.” 

He’d only raised his voice for a few words, and it hadn’t been to your discredit, he’d been telling you to leave it alone. Perhaps if he’d been insulting you it would make sense for you to cry this much, but yelling is part of any argument. You can’t work out why it’s affected you. 

“I feel so stupid,” you confess. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, wrapping his arm behind your back to pull you flush to his side, “I don’t know how it got so out of hand. You’re never stupid, I’m just stubborn. I shouldn’t shout.” 

You twist to be facing him. He frowns at your wet cheeks. 

“Do you want to kiss and make up?” you ask tentatively. 

Hotch doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh at your question —he can tell you’re being serious. “Can we?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

He rubs a loving line into the side of your face, and every tight string in you is cut. You kiss him quickly, worried it’ll be a bad one, but find yourself encouraged for a longer one by his hand, your eyes squeezed closed in stress relaxing the longer it goes on. He’s gentle with you, his lips parting atop yours. 

He pulls away. You hide your face in the curve of his neck. 

“Can you forgive me for being cruel?” he asks quietly. 

“You’re not cruel, Aaron. I hate being on a different side from you, that’s all.” 

His first name makes all the difference to him. He sneaks a couple of kisses into your temple and begins to relax as you have, two sad lumps on the couch who only want the comfort of the other. 

You rub loving lines up and down his side, finally feeling better as he breathes his own sigh of relief. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || Fuck The Foolish Mistakes

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, masturbation, pervy!gojo, tw; mentions/hints of stalking & obsession, some heinous activities, dark themes, disturbing actions, etc.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE SUMMER BEFORE everything went to shit for you was the same summer in which you and Shoko decided to move in together. For two months of break, it felt so much longer than that. It was a time in which you spent getting closer and closer to Shoko, so much so that it was only natural that you would call her one of your closest friends.

Although, said friendship seemed rather one-sided. Sure, you both got along pretty well but from what it seemed— Shoko had plenty of other friends to run to whenever she wished. So, after you realized that, you got a bit more real with yourself and dubbed her as simply your roommate. Closest friend, but roommate nonetheless.

This summer was also spent single after you’d gotten dumped a few weeks before the last semester ended. You were sad about it for a while but Shoko was there to cheer you up. Meanwhile, the other people you thought were your friends steadily started to showcase their truer colors, revealing how they never really cared too much about you to begin with and dropped you just like your boyfriend had.

Ah, whatever, that’s all old stuff anyway. It took you maybe a week to get over all that foolishness. So by the time summertime came around, you thought things would get better for you. Instead, you lost your job and that’s where your struggle began. You may have picked up one or two during your summer break but ultimately, none of them stuck long enough to trickle over to your final two semesters of school.

And as you went through such things, a certain someone was keeping track of it all like some fucking stalker. This person in question being none other than Gojo Satoru himself. Unlike you, his summer was rather pleasant. He started babysitting due to his not-so-hidden love for children, he went out a decent number of times, and he heard things about you without even asking.

Why? Because he had a wonderful friend who talked about you to no end— Gojo became very thankful for Shoko because it’s due to her that the pages of his notebook began to fill with endless entries about you. Perhaps journaling you became some kind of hobby for him.

Or maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see you as much since it was summertime so he treasured every bit of information he got on you. Why was he so hooked on noting it all down though? Was it really curiosity at this point or, was it something so much more? He’d long since labeled it as a crush but that doesn’t excuse his journaling.

Hell, at one point Gojo found himself mindlessly writing down vivid details of the way your laugh sounds— from any pitch that’s ever grazed his ears, to the number of breaths taken before and after. It was then that Gojo dropped his pencil and read over what the hell he’d written down.

His hand shot up to his forehead and his fingers went to soothe his temples, brows tensing, and eyes narrowing at his own words. Did he… Did he really just sit here and describe a woman, who he’s never spoken to, and how her laugh sounds? At the realization, Gojo had to close his journal and push it away from himself.

Sometimes, he may try to pretend like he doesn’t see any harm behind this journaling thing of his but at moments like this… He nearly creeps himself out. Imagine if you were to ever stumble upon such a thing. Gojo’s almost disgusted with himself. Not even a hi or hello has ever been spoken to you and yet here he was printing the details of that joyful sound you make when you find something humorous.

Gojo was very self-aware by that point, mentally telling himself that he needed to stop this madness and just talk to you like he craved. Maybe Suguru was right, maybe your having a boyfriend didn’t matter.

On that day, Gojo should’ve listened to his own warnings. He should’ve taken care of his own red flags right then and there.

But instead, he only got worse.

—--

Depicting the details of your laughter was one thing. But going out of his way to print out photos of you he’d found on Instagram was an entirely different level of crazy.

Okay, so perhaps this was no longer just some cute lil’ crush… Gojo doesn’t know how his… curiosity got so dark. He doesn’t know where or when it really started but at some point, he thinks he became aware that this wasn’t exactly normal. Eventually, Gojo realized this was more of an obsession— you were an obsession.

A scary one too. Even scary to himself. The mere mention of your name would make Gojo’s heart race, whenever Shoko came around smelling like you in the slightest bit, Gojo could feel his mind blur and his thoughts instantly run to you.

One time Shoko, who was just as oblivious to this as everyone else at the time, showed the man a video of you and her trying some challenge together. Gojo doesn’t remember the challenge at all or even what either of you was doing in that video but he does remember having his eyes all over you.

He remembers seeing you hug Shoko by the end of the video and the feeling that burned in his heart. Such a deep form of jealousy swirled inside him and he couldn’t understand it. He never cared about Shoko being close to you before but now, it had pained him to watch his friend have the opportunity to feel you– to talk to you.

Something that Gojo told himself he no longer deserved to do. Yeah, he knows it was even more foolish but he felt as though he should be self-punished for his strange actions in regards to you. 

Those photos that he printed of you went right into his journal, along with an entry about how he wonders what it’s like to feel your touch. He wonders what holding a full conversation with you would be like. Would you laugh at the things he says? Would you playfully hit him if he utters something ridiculous? Are your hands soft? Would they feel soft wrapped around his cock-

Yet again did Gojo find himself dropping his pencil. Though, he doesn’t know which reason was worse. The fact that he really wrote that question down or the throb he felt in his cock at the mere thought of said question. Gulping, he told himself for the millionth time that he was losing his damn mind.

So much so that he had to push his journal away and really think about what the hell he just asked. He tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh at himself. He’d lost it, hadn’t he? Thinking about you in such a vulgar way without even knowing what talking to you is like is the very definition of insanity, yes?

No, this is just his obsession. He’s not insane. But hey, maybe the two go hand and hand— maybe there’s no difference between being batshit crazy and obsessing over someone…

Either way, Gojo tries to collect himself, moving to look down at his current state only to find that his cock didn’t just throb, instead the damn thing got hard. The sight was disappointing, to say the least. Gojo stared at the outline of his dick, wondering what the hell is wrong with his body and how the fuck he got hard so damn fast. All he did was think about you…

He moves to part his legs a bit more, trying to comfort himself and deciding he was going to ignore his boner and just return to writing. Though, as he leans up and pulls his journal back toward himself, his cock aches yet again. Gojo lets out a little groan, somewhat scolding himself for being like this.

And then he manages to ignore himself for a bit longer. At least, up until he does nothing more than read your name on his page. His focus narrowed in on the letters of your name, the sound of it echoing throughout his brain before his lips parted and he let out a sound.

His hand shoots up to his face and he covers his mouth, completely confused as to what the hell he’d just done. There was absolutely no way he’d nearly moaned at your name alone. Oh this was… No, he was losing it-, not even, he’d lost it already.

Gojo steadily wiped his mouth, fingers rubbing over his jawline for a moment before he looked down to his crotch. He could now feel how stupidly wet his tip was. Was he in heat or something? How the hell did he get so horny from… reading your name? Thinking about you? Hell, he doesn’t even know where to pinpoint the cause of all this anymore.

Shaking his head, his first thought was that he was in no way going to touch himself to the thought of you. Absolutely not. Fuck no. He may be obsessed but he’s not a… actually, there’s really no word he could use to describe what he’s not right now because he pretty much checks every box for an obsessive pervert.

“Shit,” Gojo huffed, glancing over to his wide-open room door. A second passes, then two, then three before he’s standing to his feet and walking over to the door.

The man glanced out into the hall, finding no signs of Geto anywhere before he shuts his door. Then, he pauses and stares at the lock. He’s not really about to do this, is he?

…

He locks the door and rushes right back over to his seat. Gojo slouches back a little this time and his legs part, his eyes low on his hard cock resting against his thigh and how painfully it was bulging against the fabric of his clothes.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He whispers. There’s no way you’d gotten him this hard…

You and your… everything. The very idea of you made Gojo roll his hips upward, causing faint friction against his clothed cock. Then he shook his head and looked away from himself.

“Nope, I’m not doin’ this shit,” He whispered. He can’t jerk off to some girl he doesn’t even know. He shouldn’t.

It’d be different if you were some pornstar he was infatuated with, then he could jerk off to you and there’d be no issue. But when you’re his friend’s friend… it’d be so weird of him to do so.

Even if you have the prettiest face he’s ever seen. Despite your laugh leaving him in some kind of trance. Ignoring the way your voice sounds. Disregarding how kind you seem from afar. Nevermind the way you walk, the things you wear— and how the first time he saw you, you were in a skin-tight blue dress-

Gojo’s jaw drops a little, “Oh fuck,” His voice is already breathy and his hand has found its way to his aching cock, groping himself through his clothing.

He looks down at himself all over again, body hot and breath unsteady already. He swallows thickly and finally lets out a groan before moving to tug his cock out, watching how it slaps against his abdomen and letting out another heavy breath of air.

Gojo moves his hands to his thighs and just gazes at his cock for a moment, seeing how it twitches so desperately-, desperately for you, and how his tip is leaking with precum already. Hell, it look like he came already, cum leaking down along his dick so lewdly.

What would anyone think if they found him like this…

One of his hands moves to grab his journal and he flips to the page with your pictures on it. He shouldn’t do this. This is wrong-

A whine slips past his lips the second his eyes are met with your face. Then his fingers are wrapping around his shaft and he’s jerking himself off without second thought. “Fuuck,” He moans, tossing his head back with his lower lip beginning to tremble already.

His hand was working the length of his dripping cock furiously, back arching ever so slightly in pure desperation and utter need. Oh how he wished it was your hand here instead of his. Fuck, what would your mouth feel like? Hell, how are you during sex? Are you the submissive type? Would you let him have his way with you? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours like he wishes to?

Or are you the more dominant type? Would you have his legs shaking from sucking him off? You probably would. He can only imagine what your lips would look like wrapped around his cock— already wet with spit and dribbles of his cum. Your face would probably be all messy but you might like that kinda thing, right?

Gojo whines, his eyes flickering and hand not slowing for even so much as a second. Shit, your mouth is probably heavenly but what would your pussy feel like? How wet would you get for him? Would you take him all in one go? Beg him to fuck you faster?

Fuck, would you get on top of him? Take control? Ride him til’ he’s the one begging you to stop? Again, Gojo moans into the air, a few times actually. His wrist rotates as he fists his needy cock, veiny length aching for anything from you.

He wonders if you’d want him to talk you through it. Or if you’d talk him through it. Would you be mean? Nice? Fuck, his thoughts are driving him crazy. In all honesty, he’d consider himself a complete slut for you. He’d do whatever you wanted him to.

Gojo ends up shifting, moving to hunch forward as he grows a bit overwhelmed. “Fuck, fuck-,” He gasps and chokes out a whimper of your name. Would you let him be some little slut for you? Because he would be, with zero hesitation. “Fuck me,” Gojo mumbles, watching as his cock twitches in his hands.

You’d probably praise him, wouldn’t you? Tell him how good he’s doing for you, encourage him to keep going-, or maybe you’d do the exact opposite. Perhaps you would degrade him.

Gojo’s eyes roll back at the mere imagination of you ever degrading him, calling him pathetic for being like this, a slut for shamefully jerking off to you, or even a bitch-

He’s cumming before he even realizes he is, moaning and moaning after the thought of you ever calling him such a thing. He doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much, he’s never been into that kinda thing before but when it’s you, shit… he can’t even control himself.

Messing up his hand, groaning out your name, moving to stand up with shaky legs, and continuing as his cock doesn’t go down. Then Gojo looks at the picture of you again, aligning his cock with the image and stroking himself angrily. He cannot believe himself right now but it’s much too late to care.

The damage is beyond done as he starts moaning again, small whines of fuck leaving his wet lips over and over the more he stares at your picture. Then he’s thrusting his hips into his hand, moving his free hand to grab ahold of the desk in front of him as if to brace himself.

Gojo heaves as he gets himself off. Tears well up in his eyes and he just knows he sounds so stupidly desperate right now, moaning, groaning, whining, and even whimpering for you whilst he fucks his fist. Eventually closing his eyes, he imagines you there with him, mentally illustrating the way your face would twist up every time he thrusts his cock deep inside you.

He could make you feel so fucking good if you ever let him. He’d treat you so well, give you anything and everything under the sun, make sure there’s always a smile on your face, and prioritize your needs over his own at all times.

By that point, he’s chanting your name in mindless little whispers, feeling his balls ache before the tip of his cock spurts out thick and hot ropes of cum— all over that same picture he’d been staring at.

Left panting, Gojo had to deal with the aftermath of his high. His eyes were slow to open and when he realized he came all over one of his pictures of you, he was even more disgusted with himself.

It took him a moment to gather himself after his actions but when he finally does, he cleans the filthy mess he’d made of himself and that damn photo before closing his journal and putting it away— telling himself he’d never do that again.

—---

Although, his little declaration didn’t last very long. A week later and he was jerking off with you in mind yet again. The same guilt and disgust follow afterward and Gojo tells himself he needs something else to put his focus on that’s not you.

Like his job for example; babysitting. What better to put his mind on to distract him from the way his mind, body, and soul crave you so desperately?

With that in mind, Gojo started with his scheduling. As time stood, he had roughly three different kids he babysat on a regular basis, all of which were looked after separately but looked after nonetheless. The first was a girl, whose name was Nobora. She was rather bratty in Gojo’s opinion but he didn’t mind, he liked how having her around reminded him of having that of a little sister.

Then there was Megumi, a child who so clearly hates him but is forced to be around him anyway. That hatred got even worse when the kid broke his leg while on Gojo’s watch— an event in which Gojo will forever find strange because the two were at a park and he swears he looked away for two seconds only to hear screaming moments later by nearby children.

By the time he made it to Megumi, his leg was broken and Gojo was to blame.

Aside from that, the last kid that Gojo found himself watching over sometimes was Itadori Yuji. Now this, this is where things got interesting.

For starters, Gojo never understood why he was hired to watch over Yuji when the kid had a perfectly capable older brother to do so. Then again, he didn’t question it once he saw he got paid quite handsomely for it.

Sometimes Gojo went over to the Itadori residence and others he picked Yuji up. Either way, the number of times Gojo encountered Sukuna was rather slim. They only ever interacted when it was time for payments to be made. Outside of that, Gojo knew little of Sukuna (his school reputation for being a major partier aside).

Any other information he got from the man came from Yuji, who Gojo would randomly question every now and then. Though, Yuji never spoke much about his older brother— only that he’s a bit short-tempered. Given that, Gojo had no reason to think twice about their family or relations at all.

Even when Yuji would appear with a bruise or two, Gojo didn’t put two and two together until it was much too late. The first few bruises, Yuji said he got them from playing around too much and falling, to which Gojo believed since he’d seen how clumsy Yuji could be firsthand.

As such, this went on for weeks and weeks but the day Gojo finally started realizing something was up, was the same day in which he’d finally meet the consequences for his previous actions.

On that day, before Yuji was dropped off to be babysat, Gojo was busy making vows to himself. The first being that he’d finally man up and fucking talk to you. He doesn’t really know what finally came over him but he felt as though it was time. Something, perhaps the universe, told him that after today— he’d grow some balls and hold a genuine conversation with you. 

Only a few days ago had he learned from Shoko that you now resided with her so things were going to be rather easy. There was about a week and a half of summer left, giving Gojo some time to not only talk to you but also get to know you firsthand.

His self-revelation came about after he reread every journal entry he had of you, jotting down one final entry of how he planned to talk to you. It was supposed to be casual, he would ask for your number, become friends with you, and go from there based on whether or not you showed any attraction toward him.

With such plans in mind, Gojo thinks it is safe to say that his obsession is finally being tamed. He was getting in control of it after having had such lewd thoughts of you multiple times within the past month and making entries of how he was left feeling in his journal.

That may have been what his last straw was— the whole pervertedness of it all. He was getting weirded out by it himself. Maybe once he started talking to you, his obsession would completely die down. Perhaps the reality of you would help ground him from this fictional high he’s had himself on ever since his obsession was born.

Though, it seems the world finds humor in the suffering of people and Gojo was forced to learn this the hard way.

Of course, as soon as he tells himself he’s gonna clean up his act and do what’s right, his punishment shows up in the form of a person who finds joy in watching others struggle. This person is none other than Sukuna himself, who shows up at the worst time imaginable.

Amid pure stupidity and thoughtlessness, Gojo quickly found himself in a situation in which could not be undone.

—-

After babysitting Yuji for maybe two hours, there was a knock on Gojo’s front door. Yuji sat on the living room couch, watching some cartoons as he swung his feet back and forth. Gojo was in the nearby kitchen, journal in hand before he went to answer the door.

That wonderful journal of his was left sitting on the kitchen counter, right in the open for anyone to see. 

That aside, when Gojo opened his front door, he was met with Sukuna. The two barely even greeted one another before the tatted man reminded Gojo it was payment day. The transaction was meant to be done inside so, Gojo allowed Sukuna to enter the apartment.

Yuji hardly glanced over to the two men before Sukuna nodded his head back, silently telling the kid to go ahead and make his way to the car. With no argument, Yuji sighed and grabbed what little of his things before he walked over to the two, briefly said bye to Gojo, and then made his way outside.

Gojo was going to question why Sukuna let the kid go out by himself like that but, he’s made his mistakes of asking too many questions in the past and has suffered the consequences. Not wanting to deal with a mouthy Sukuna, Gojo remained quiet until Yuji was gone.

Phones were pulled out and the two men moved to make that transaction of theirs. Sukuna had strange tendencies and rules, one of them being that Yuji wasn’t allowed to be present for what Sukuna considered adult business. It was something Gojo didn’t understand but, nothing crazy to really bat an eye at.

Just before Sukuna gets ready to send the money to Gojo— something in which he requires Gojo to be present to make sure nothing goes askew, Gojo starts noticeably squirming all over the place.

Sukuna raises a brow, “Fucks wrong with you?”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Gojo huffs out without moving from where he stands.

The pink-haired man tilts his head, “Then go use the bathroom? I’m not gonna leave without paying you so relax.”

Gojo stands there a mere moment longer, contemplating a few things. The transaction could’ve been done by now but he felt like he was two seconds away from embarrassing himself so he just let out a long sigh before running off to the nearby bathroom. Thus leaving Sukuna standing there alone.

Now, Sukuna doesn’t consider himself to be a nosy person— he could usually care less about what others had going on in their lives unless it affected or entertained him. And where Gojo’s concerned, he honestly did neither at the time. He was just Yuji’s babysitter so Sukuna didn’t see much interesting about the guy.

That was, until he took his time alone to glance around Gojo’s apartment. Sukuna’s eyes wandered, studying the plain attempts at decoration and how utterly unstructured Gojo’s apartment appeared to be. Well, aside from some spots, it was rather clear that two people were living here, one more cleanly than the other.

Even so, Sukuna remained uninterested until he spotted a single book on the nearby kitchen counter. His eyes narrowed and he found himself surprised someone like Gojo would ever pick up a book. Again, the two knew little of one another aside from whatever school reputations they had— Gojo being known as some praying fuckboy and Sukuna being known as some hotheaded party-thrower. One could’ve assumed that the two would get along considering how their interests seem to align.

With that being said, Sukuna found himself walking toward this book without a second thought. The cover was completely blank and he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a journal.

Intrigued, Sukuna picks it up and does nothing more than pick a page at random to see if he’d find anything amusing, perhaps something to taunt Gojo with. Y’know, something to get a laugh out of.

The very last thing Sukuna expected to see was a page with a picture of some girl on it in the middle, surrounded by rather… creepy depictions of the woman. Details on the clothing in the picture, how much it cost, where to find it, depictions of where the woman went on that day, whether or not she seemed happy or sad, how many times Gojo heard her laugh-

Sukuna found himself disturbed instantly as he skimmed over the page. Though, not enough to stop him from turning the page. It seemed that such a creepy entry was one of many. Although, the first page he saw was definitely the creepiest. What ended up becoming the cherry on top was when Sukuna read over the fact that Gojo’s never spoken to you.

At that point, Sukuna scoffed, finding Gojo nothing but a fool for writing about a woman in such a way without ever talking to her. With dates, times, etcetera, Gojo had a ridiculous number of entries on this woman, so much so that it actually left Sukuna both curious and… entertained.

So when the sound of Gojo coming out of the bathroom hits Sukuna’s ears, he doesn’t even flinch or attempt to act like he wasn’t looking through the journal. Instead, Gojo walks out of the bathroom and finds Sukuna with the item in his hands.

It was at that very second that Gojo felt his heart sink to his goddamn toes. His eyes went wide and he froze in his steps, Sukuna not even so much as glancing away from the journal in his hands.

Gojo swallowed the overwhelming lump in his throat and attempted to say something-, anything, “What-”

“My my, what a fucking pervert you are,” Sukuna hummed enthusiastically, finally flicking his maroon gaze up to a dumbfounded Gojo. “This is disgusting, really. I mean,” Sukuna glances back down and smiles, “You love this woman and you’ve never even spoken to her?”

All wide-eyed and practically speechless, Gojo fumbles for a way to explain himself, “I-”

“And you fantasize about fucking her quite often,” Sukuna scoffs, tongue seeping out to lick his lips for a moment, “I can see why but shit… You’re a fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You-,” Gojo cocks his head back and blinks, the slightest mention of Sukuna taking interest in your appearance causing him to go right back to that not-so-rational state of his. Blinded by a deep obsession toward you, Gojo is slow with his words, “...You can see why? The hell does that mean-”

“She’s sexy, I get it. I see the lil’ pictures of her you’ve put in here,” Sukuna comments nonchalantly, “And yet, what I don’t get is this uh,” He clicks his tongue and smirks, “Obsession you have with her. Especially without talking to her? That’s…” He trails off for a second, his expression fading into something Gojo can’t quite read.

Gojo gulps and again attempts to defend himself, “I know it’s weird, I… I told myself I’m going to stop-”

“When?” Sukuna interrupts, voice rough, “When you’ve already got her wrapped around your finger and refuse to let her go because of the attachment you’ve created?” He questions the man almost as if he’s speaking from… experience.

“W-What?” Gojo’s brows push together. He never had any intentions of manipulating you in any shape or form, “No, I-”

“Would you tell her how you’ve been stalking her for months-, shit maybe even years based on some of these entries?” The way Sukuna takes a step toward Gojo lets him know that something about this seems to bother the pink-haired man.

“I haven’t been stalking her, I just-”

Sukuna looks down at the open page, “‘I especially liked how happy she looked today, when she smiles, she blinks about five times and when she laughs, it doubles.’ What sane man writes this shit about a woman he’s never spoken to, huh?”

“Sukuna just…” Gojo sucks in a crisp breath of air and attempts to plead with the male in front of him, reaching his hand out for his journal, “Just pretend like you never read that a-and give me the-”

“Aht aht,” Sukuna’s quick to swat his hand away and he nearly laughs at the way Gojo frowns frustratedly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep this little gem? Hm? See, you must be a bit confused about how this is about to go.”

For a moment, Gojo just stares. He never imagined this would happen. Hell, he wasn’t exactly careful with his journal but the last thing he expected was for Sukuna to pick the damn thing up. Fuck, he should’ve never left it on the counter. 

He lets out a sigh and his voice is small, laced with fear, “...Are you gonna tell her?”

“Am I gonna tell her?” Sukuna simply bursts out laughing, “Ha! What do I look like to you? Some simple-minded fool? No, I’m not gonna tell her.”

Gojo lets out the most thankful sigh of relief, “Thank fuck-”

“You are,” Sukuna states.

And at those words, the room goes silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. Gojo felt as though his blood ran cold and Sukuna had this overly smug look on his face.

It was from there on out that Gojo was set to face the consequences of his actions.

mlist || previous || next

tags 1/4; @lavnederr @stopmila @chelsea14 @hillmiaxoxo @choso-enthusiast

@chososdisciple @suguruologist @mitzkooni @annananamin @jakeywon

@thvema @uranometrias @gigiipeaches @isawrd @bored--boring

@soonyoung-park @oidloid @you-make-skz-stay @haesify @paintedcans

@deljojeisbackagain @heeheeswifey @s-kateboardcat @kaalyomi @rilxigh

@win2xsgf @diana4l @angelsleepinggurl @aselvaticotaku @livvyluvsyouu

@tadabzzzbee @buglikeangell @sukunadckrider @todod0kii @mua-for-now

@dazaiswaifuartisan @bee3l0v3r @blkpotionss @cranberrycosmos @cawwotta

@chosomi @gentle-roxyboo @teonawrites @interludered @wannabeotaku

@earthytreeswithc @tapinz @attackonjacksons @hovogliadisogni @hoebuns

#f*ck the list #fuck the list #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #wattpad #smut fic #jjk smut #gojo smut #choso smut #ftl!masterlist #the f*ck list #tfl!sequel #k!masterlists #anime smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you smut #gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Platinum Jacket Vignette

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: This museum really has a ton of paintings. Not that I really know how to act in quiet places like this…

Deuce: Oh, but I can't use that as an excuse. I'll have to be a good supporter for the museum, just like any honor student would!

???: Is this dome… a teapot cover? Why would the Card Soldiers be carrying tea?

Deuce: Huh, you don't know, Sebek? Cool, then I'll tell you about it.

Deuce: This painting shows a scene of a trial from one of the Queen of Hearts' legends…

Deuce: And those Card Soldiers aren't actually carrying tea, but a witness for the case: a tiny mouse!

Sebek: Hmph, what's with that smug look? Well, fine, never thought there'd be a day that you'd have something to teach me, I suppose.

Deuce: Heheh. I'm a supporter for the museum, so it makes sense that I can explain something like that.

Deuce: Since I'm a student of Heartslabyul, I made sure to study extra hard all the tales related to the Queen of Hearts or her Card Soldiers.

Sebek: Is that so? Still, did it require two of them to transport a single small mouse?

Deuce: According to the story, it was a crucial witness, so they wanted to make sure it got to the Queen safely.

Deuce: Ah, that reminds me… We had something similar to this painting go down at Heartslabyul just the other day.

Deuce: Though, it wasn't a witness that was getting brought in…

Sebek: What, was there some lout breaking the Queen of Hearts' laws?

Deuce: Yeah. There was this one student who'd been breaking the rules over and over again, and he was finally being brought before Rosehearts-ryōchō for a stern reprimand…

Deuce: When the two guys tasked with hauling him in came to bring him to the Housewarden, that rule-breaker ran.

Sebek: Why do you even have people tasked with hauling others in…? You folk in Heartslabyul have far too many strange duties and rules!

Sebek: But that transgressor is also a coward, fearing reprimand and fleeing without taking responsibility for their actions.

Deuce: Right? He made his bed, he's gotta lie in it.

Sebek: Judging by your manner of speech there, am I right to assume that you helped to secure that transgressor?

Deuce: Yeah. I ran after the guy and caught him in a flash.

Deuce: Not like I've been training my legs or working on quick, explosive power in my sprints while in the Track and Field Club for nothing!

Sebek: Oho, so you captured them. And what were those two that were supposed to have brought him in doing?

Deuce: The guys on duty were apparently so shocked when the rule-breaker ran away that they couldn't move quick enough.

Deuce: But once I brought him back to them, they firmly took hold of him on both sides and brought him to the Housewarden, though.

Sebek: I see. So perhaps the reason why it isn't considered overkill to have two people on duty for such a thing is in case something unexpected occurs.

Deuce: Maybe…? I guess so.

Deuce: Ah, but listen to this. After he finished reprimanding the rule-breaker, Rosehearts-ryōchō praised me for a job well done.

Deuce: "Not only did you capture the transgressor without a moment's delay, but you showed good judgement in allowing the students on duty to do their job as assigned," he said!

Sebek: True, normally you'd do something brash like bringing that offending student directly to Riddle-senpai after capturing him.

Sebek: An unusually calm and mature judgement, coming from you.

Deuce: Hey, nothing "unusual" about it! It's not strange that I was able to think that through.

Deuce: Because, I'm on my way to becoming an honor student!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: Oh, this painting… It looks as though it's based on the legend that speaking a wish into a well would make it come true.

Deuce: Yeah, so if you make a wish into a well, it sends your voice back out. I remember that well, 'cause I always thought that was odd.

Sebek: It's merely an echo. What is so odd about that?

Deuce: Huh, an echo?

Sebek: You didn't even know that? I'm speaking of the phenomenon in which sound bounces off of water or walls and is reflected back.

Deuce: Huh… Oh, so is that the same sort of thing as when sounds reverberate in a tunnel?

Sebek: That's right, as tunnels are also primed for echoes.

Deuce: Oh, okay… That actually brings back memories.

Deuce: Whenever I'd be riding through long tunnels, I'd put the pedal to the metal and rev it up so loud.

Sebek: You'd rev what? Are you talking about some kind of music?

Deuce: No, no. I'm talking about a blastcycle, not any instruments or whatever.

Deuce: The engine can make different sounds based on the body of the blastcycle, or even from the way it's ridden.

Deuce: It can make heavy thumping sounds, or low, rolling sounds…

Deuce: And it can be really fun to change up my driving style just to hear those different sounds.

Deuce: Whenever I ended up alongside another driver who knew how to make their own engine sing,

Deuce: It was easy to just end up competing to see who could make their engine rev louder.

Sebek: And what is so fun about that? It just seems to be a cacophony of noise, based on what you're saying.

Deuce: YOU DON'T GET IT AT ALL! It's great because I can feel it to my core.

Deuce: And, it feels sooooo amazing to feel the vibration of the engine echoing off the tunnel walls!

Deuce: AND PICKING UP SPEED IS THE BEST PART!

Deuce: The faster I go, the higher the pitch of the engine…the more that sound echoes in the tunnels…

Deuce: By the end of it all, the only sound I can hear is the blastcycle engine… I just can't get enough of that feeling!

Sebek: Shh, Deuce. You're being too loud, lower your voice. You're going to bother everyone else trying to enjoy the silence.

Deuce: Ah, sorry… Actually, kinda feels weird to get told by you of all people to lower my voice.

Sebek: Why is that? I don’t raise my voice like that unnecessarily.

Deuce: Eh… You seriously saying that right now?

Sebek: Obviously. At any rate, I don't really understand what you were saying about those blastcycles, but…

Sebek: You shouldn't cause a ruckus while riding, unlike what you did just now.

Deuce: Well, obviously I try to ride so I don't bother others on the road… At least, now I do…

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: Oh hey, it's the Lord of the Underworld. I like how brave he looks flying through the sky in this painting.

Deuce: And on top of it all… He's way too cool, rushing to the front lines like that to save his captured comrades!

Sebek: Right. The Lord of the Underworld must have been a truly capable fellow, able to take on even the most difficult missions by himself.

Sebek: One would require proper deliberation and competency to achieve positive results.

Deuce: Urgh… That hits a sore spot…

Sebek: A sore spot…? Ah, you are talking about what happened last week.

Sebek: I remember seeing you, Grim, [Yuu]… and Ace, if I recall. It was while I was heading back from flight class.

Sebek: All four of you were standing like idiots in the hallway, being scolded by Trein-sensei.

Deuce: URGH!!!! You saw that!?

Deuce: I-I didn't plan on it ending with us getting in trouble! It wasn't supposed to end like that…

Sebek: I'm sure it is a ridiculous story… But why not, I'll listen to whatever excuses you come up with.

Deuce: At the start of History of Magic class, Trein-sensei told [Yuu] to read out loud a passage from the textbook.

Deuce: But that page was completely ruined by drool, since Grim fell asleep on it the night before, so it was impossible to read.

Deuce: So, I raised my hand, offering to read it instead.

Sebek: So why did that end up with you all being sent out to the hallway?

Deuce: …I forg… …xtboo…

Sebek: I can't hear you, speak up.

Deuce: I… I'M SAYING I FORGOT THE NECESSARY TEXTBOOK!!!!

Sebek: So you tried to step up, even though you didn't have the textbook… You're a fool who has gone beyond help.

Deuce: Ace was saying something like that, too. Both him and Grim were laughing at me for that.

Deuce: Even though it was really Grim's fault in the first place!!

Deuce: [Yuu] even pointed that out to them, but they wouldn't stop, so…

Deuce: We ended up arguing… Which then got us sent out into the hallway before long to deal with the consequences of our actions.

Sebek: So that's why you were in the hallway. However, I don't understand. Why did you do such an unnecessary thing?

Sebek: Even if Grim or [Yuu] were to be reprimanded, that has nothing to do with you.

Deuce: Nothing to do with me? Come on, there's no way I can let my friends flounder like that.

Deuce: I mean, Grim aside… [Yuu]'s helped me out a ton before, so.

Sebek: Hmph. Then I guess at the very least, next time you should act after you've determined whether you have your textbook or not.

[Sebek walks off]

Deuce: YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE!

Deuce: Geez, and he walks off after one last parting shot, huh… Ugh. Guess I'll try to shake off this funk by checking out some of the other exhibits.

Deuce: Oh, this is a painting of a girl singing with flowers. She looks like she's having fun, but according to the story…

Deuce: If I remember correctly, she was described as vulgar, rude, and weedy...

Deuce: Doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, everyone has to follow the rules. Not a shocker to me that those who can't follow 'em end up in sticky situations.

Requested by @farfalla049.

#twisted wonderland #twst #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #twst deuce #twst sebek #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: riddle #mention: ace #mention: grim #mention: yuu #mention: trein

[vivwritesfics]

hey this is the first time I request something but if you have the time can you write something with vampire Fernando? Perhaps he was transformed a long time ago and as a result lost the love of his life and now as he lives his new identity as a f1 driver he finds her again?

-Dionne

VAMPIRE NANDO OMG???

Warnings: cuts and blood, blood drinking (vampire stuff yk)

Fernando had been in love once

It was a hundred years ago, before he was turning into this vicious, blood thirsty beast

They were to be wed

Betrothed and in love

That was aa rarity in those days

But then he was turned into this

She died that very night he was turned into a beast

And Fernando never forgot her

He floated around for a while

Did different things

In the early 2000's he found something he really loved

Formula one

He was good at it, too

A world champion twice over

He retired and came back, ending up at Aston Martin

And then, on his second year at Aston Martin, he met her

Shit, she was something

One conversation with her and Fernando knew she was his betrothed brought back to him

Fernando took her on one date

And then another

He never told her what he was or what he knew

On the third date he took her to his bed, lips on her neck, trying not to bite her skin

God she'd taste so sweet, he knew

And then she hurt herself

Cooking something for herself and Fernando

Knife slicing across her thumb on accident

"Shit," she hissed

Rushing to go and wrap it up

But it was already to late

Fernando had already caught the scent

Eyes flashing he walked over to her, looking like a predator stalking towards his prey

And then, gently, he took a hold of her wrist and pulled her thump up to his lips

He took her thumb between her lips and sucked

Tongue moving over the cut, gathering up everything

Fuck, she tasted just as sweet as he imagined

And he couldn't stop

A whine left her lips as he worked

"Fuck, Nando," she whispered, eyes shutting

Finally, Fernando pulled himself away, breath shuddering as he licked his lips

#fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso x you #fa14 imagine #fa14 x reader #fa14 #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #supernatural!au #vampire!au

[elsa-fogen]

I feel in the Charlie's Toys AU, the "Hell's Greatest Dad" song would hit differently. Especially the "It's a little funny, you could almost call me daaaaaad." lyric.

In a way, he would not be wrong since, as far as I can tell, Charlie's parents are pretty absent from her life for the most part. (Checking up on her and giving her stuff does not count.) That leaves Alastor to take the helm on raising her in her formative years. Playing with her, teaching her, listening to her, perhaps even sharing stories of himself when he was mortal. Or at least, I presume he would do this if he had the chance.

After all, if he manages to humanize himself in her eyes, reminding her of all he has done for her, it should give him a level of authority over her.

Well, Alastor isn't the first sinner that was given to Charlie as a toy

But Lilith and Lucifer got rid of them before Charlie got too attached to them.

Will they be able to do the same thing with Alastor? Who knows...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #sudden ask lol #charlie's toys || hazbin au

[sleepyangelkami]

can I request a Carl x shy reader?❣️❣️❣️

SILENT AFFECTION c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1k

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - carl's shy girl sneaks her way around silently and still manages to be the one to scare so easily. carl makes you hot cocoa to apologise for his scary movements.

 ☆ WARNINGS - shy!reader, lots of physical affection, suggestive if you squint, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

you were quiet, eerily so.

then again, you always were.

carl always told you not to be so shy around him, there was no need for your anxious tendencies when it was just the two of you. after all, you'd endured more than most couples your age ever would in their whole lives.

but nonetheless, you always found yourself shying away from the boy.

though, he didn't necessarily mind.

he adored the way your cheeks turned pink so easily. all it took was a quick compliment, a gentle kiss to the back of your hand or perhaps the top of your head. instantly, you were turned into what he thought vaguely resembled a pink glow in the dark glow stick. he swore that sometimes you genuinely did glow in the dark.

it was a sight that was so refreshing. during the horrors he faced daily, he loved coming home to his sweet shy girl, grinning while wrapping around him like a koala.

you were shy. but always affectionate.

it was what led to the many accidents.

being so shy, you were often quiet. this could be mistaken as sneaky at times. the boy would be in the middle of something, head bent and his hand on top of his hat. he'd wonder about whatever it is he was looking at, deep in concentration and how would he ever hear the low pitter patter of your sock-covered feet against the tiled floors.

it was damn near impossible to expect when you were coming. you'd simply scared him by wrapping your arms around his torso too many times. you did it when he was out in the garage, looking over the weaponry, or perhaps he was in the kitchen, not knowing you'd moved from the living room and wrapping your arms around him only when the hot coffee was inside his hands almost leaving him to drop it on the both of you.

luckily, he was a lot more coordinated than you were.

you, on the other hand, were the exact opposite.

you scared like nothing he'd ever seen before.

but he was always so careful with you. he found himself walking towards the kitchen, seeing you drop the warm milk into the mug tactically and slowly. you had a knack for spilling things so you used all your concentration to make sure that the hot chocolate you were making didn't end up on the ground like the last time.

you'd practically cried when carl was on the ground, sweeping up the remains of your mug. you felt so awful, making him do such a thing for you, as though he were a peasant. he'd only laughed at you softly, squeezing your knee and assuring you that it was okay.

carl would do anything for you, that included sweeping up whatever you spilled next.

softly, he knocked on the door of the kitchen, alerting you of his presence. he thought this was for the best, this way you wouldn't get scared when you saw him from the corner of your eye or when he finally laid his hands against the supple of your skin.

but instead, you almost dropped the milk.

luckily for you, it landed straight on the counter with only a little dripping off the side. you jumped from the ground, hand instantly falling over your heart as though you'd seen a train almost crash into you. the look of fear on your face was enough to make carl huff out a laugh at you.

your head snapped towards him, turning a pink colour. "carl." the name rolled off your tongue in a whiny voice, feeling embarrassment flood you at the thought of him seeing you so scared. though, you quickly brushed it off with, "i could have dropped the milk."

he rolled his eyes. "i know, that's why i knocked." he simply had to face it, nothing he did would ever be enough for you not to knock yourself over in fear.

you shook your head at the boy, rolling your bottom lip beneath your top one.

but carl only moved towards you, finding his body coming closer to yours. "you scare so easily." his lips bent down just below your ear. "'s so cute." pressing a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck.

you would have whined, not just for the feeling of his soft lips against your softer skin but because hot pink embarrassment was flooding you like a train. "carl." you groaned out, sticking your head into the chest of his flannel. "shut up." though your voice was muffled through his shirt.

you felt your stomach whirling at the tone he used, calling you cute. it was enough for your head to be reeling and your face feeling hot.

it was so simple and it had you so flustered.

"'m sorry, baby." and that tone, filled with fake sympathy that had you turning away from him, knowing your face was too hot to look at him. he only placed his hands on your waist, making matters even worse. "c'mon, i'll make you hot cocoa, yeah? to say 'm sorry."

you didn't let out a verbal response, mind too coated with the fact that his hands were against your waist, simply nodding dumbly while he reached over to grab the hot milk that had been in your hands before. he was pushed so close to your body and he knew exactly what he was doing.

it almost made you mad, knowing that he knew exactly how flustered you were.

he knew your eyes were strained against his long, pretty fingers gently pouring the liquid. and he knew why.

instead of saying anything, you snuggled into the boy.

this was your best way at getting away with your flusteredness. he always cooed at you, smiling softly as you dug your head into whatever nook and cranny you could find, hiding from his stare in the nape of his neck.

your best chance at a hideaway.

and cozy, too.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

#carl #grimes #carl grimes #carl x reader #carl grimes x reader #carl x you #carl grimes x you #carl x y/n #carl grimes x y/n #carl imagine #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes drabble #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes angst #carl drabble #carl oneshot #carl smut #carl fluff #carl angst #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd imagine #twd fluff #twd angst #twd oneshot

[liauditore]

ADVANCEMENT UNLOCKED: Participate in Hermit a Day May 2024!

I tried putting them to scale best as I could while still keeping them all relatively in frame (bdubs is standing on a slab). Sorry for the awkward crop the full png was too powerful for tumblr and I didn't want to separate gem and pearl.

Shout out to @hermitadaymay (asked to tag) for hosting and the really awesome tags I got to experience and what felt like increasing concern for me or perhaps a need to study me like a animal in a lab expressed through them. (collected some of my favourites below)

(no but genuinely very insane of you to do personalized tags on so many pieces during this event AND read some of my long ranty tags too. I think I may have had a light heart attack when I learnt you were one person running this thing and even if you weren't this level of care is so above and beyond what you had to do -- also very funny and fun please continue studying me at your leisure it's very awesome)

I don't know about everyone else but i frequently scrolled down the hermit a day blog mainly for the art (and seeing everyone's designs and styles!!) but I loved just reading your tags too lol. Always fun when there's a little back and forth. Was really proud of myself when I begun to recognize specific artists' styles who I hadn't encountered before, felt like I was earning video game points I have no idea why.

Amazing event. I'm gonna go try to fix my sleep schedule now o7

#my doodles #delete later #raughh its done its done!!!!! #once again reiterating how insane it is to me that this was run by one person. Jesus christ man. #also really cool that this years event doubled as a charity event!! I did not donate much (out of a job rn + #(+ have been donating to other things because of the state of planet earth but. it felt awesome) #rlly looking forward to that animatic

[idleoblivion]

"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader

Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?

Word count: ~900

A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.

Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil

This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though. 

He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the holiday. But the time for you to go had come regardless. 

He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland. 

But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.

“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.

“Then… then please-” “Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”

He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.

“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could. 

“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-” “Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”

“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.

“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.

“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say. “How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him. 

“I didn’t mean-” “I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.” “What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-” “No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I…I told you, I love you!” “And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”

And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly. 

It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?

But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.

He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.

“Look at me.” “Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”

“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected. You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.

“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-” “Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst angst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader

[imagine-darksiders]

Eden's Heir, chapter 5 - First Blood

Darksiders, War X Reader X Strife.

--------

“What is this place anyway?”

Standing at the edge of the iron bars that stretch like rot-black teeth across the platform's surface, War raises his head at your question, letting his eyes roam sideways to cast a surreptitious once-over of the human hovering anxiously just a few paces to his left.

Skin that he now knows is thin as a sheet of parchment glistens with sweat, and your strange, expressive eyes flit about the cavern on a constant search for danger. You certainly are a jumpy little thing, the Horseman decides, regarding the soft, pink tongue that darts out to wet your lips for the umpteenth time. Not that his brother's reckless stunt helped much.

“If…” Your voice trails off and your body turns stiff as Strife brushes past you to circle the grate, his helm tipped down at the light glowing under the bars.

Once he’s moved beyond your immediate vicinity however, your limbs slacken by a notable margin, something that doesn’t go unseen by War, who doubts it slips his brother’s attention either.

“If it’s a dungeon… then, where are the guards?” you finish, eyeing the emptiness with new sense of unease. Then again, perhaps guards weren't deemed necessary here, what with the open space, the towering ceiling of rock bearing down on your head and the inescapable moat of lava surrounding the platform with no conceivable way off. Those factors alone might be adequate to deter any unwanted trespassers. They sure as hell would have deterred you if you weren't bullied here by two Horsemen who wouldn't take no for an answer.

With a gentle clinking of his bandolier, Strife comes to a halt on the opposite side of the iron bars and returns his full attention to you, studying you briefly before he starts to swivel his head about, copying your inspection of the chamber.

“Mm… That was starting to cross my mind as well,” he admits, shooting a blink-and-you-miss-it glance at his brother. He knows his fellow Horseman’s frosty glare well enough to recognise that War had been thinking along the very same lines.

Good. So they’re both on edge.

Truthfully though, neither of them were expecting you to notice. You’re more observant than War was prepared to give you credit for, at least.

“Plenty of space for a fight,” Strife points out. And with that thought now at the forefront of his mind, he starts to sidle back around the edge of the grate as inconspicuously as he can, none-too subtly drawing closer to you whilst pretending – poorly – that he isn’t moving in your general direction.

Somehow, War’s brows knit together even more firmly across his forehead.

For a Horseman who was, only minutes ago, very blasé about your safety, Strife certainly seems concerned about the distance between you now.

Unimpressed by his brother’s odd behaviour and borderline boyish curiosity regarding a human, War simply brushes it from his mind and instead lowers his chin to gauge the sturdiness of the grate. It looks, in a word, durable. Probably even unbreakable… For anyone other than the Red Rider.

The softly glowing light that emanates from within comes from nothing more than a small, pink crystal, floating in the gloom of its subterranean cell just near enough to the top of the grate that he could simply reach in and slide it through the bars. He could… if his gauntlets weren’t twice the width of the gaps.

A quick glance confirms that even Strife’s hands wouldn’t fit.

Fine. Brute force was always more their style anyway.

Flexing his metal fists, War starts to bend down, reaching out and wrapping his metal fingers around two of the bars, muscles clenched, ready to test their strength.

But no sooner has he secured a grip against the solid iron than a distant, but very unbidden sound floats over the gurgle of lava and drifts into his well-attuned ears, faint, but audible enough to serve as the forewarning he’s been expecting ever since he, his brother and their unwilling tagalong arrived.

Flinching, you jerk back a step as War suddenly and without preamble wrenches himself upright and twists towards you until he’s sending a rock-ribbed glare right over the top of your head, his steely eyes trained on the far side of the platform.

In an instant, Strife has followed his brother’s lead, turning his armoured back to you and straining his own ears to hear anything above the lava murmuring its course through the mountain.

“What’s the problem?” he asks, stepping backwards until his heels nearly tread on the hem of your dress, prompting an indignant noise from you that goes ignored, “Heard somethin’?”

His question remains unanswered for several, terrible beats, during which your pulse makes a steady rise from thumping to jackhammering.

At last, War narrows his eyes and grumbles, “Perhaps…”

He doesn’t mention that he’s been hearing things ever since you all set foot in this accursed keep, nor how suspicious it is that in travelling through the halls and chambers, there hasn’t been a single glimpse of another life.

Nostrils flaring, he grunts to catch his brother’s attention and adds, “Keep your guard up. Demons have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Strife wasn’t wrong when he noted that there’s plenty of space in here for a fight…

There’s plenty of space for an ambush too.

“Demons!?” you squeak, kneading the chain strap of your bag between white-knuckled fists, “You mean there’s more?”

“Yeah kid. A lot more. Whole Hell of a lot.” Strife spares a chuckle at his own joke, doing little to assuage your trepidation.

For a second, as War watches you toss his brother an exasperated look, you nearly manage to appear half as unimpressed as he does, something the giant admittedly takes a bit of vindication in.

“Stick to knock-knock jokes,” you suggest, swallowing thickly and eyeing the ledges, “They’re funnier.”

You know something is wrong – very, very wrong – when Strife suddenly has nothing witty or inflammatory to say in response.

With a gulp, you try leaning sideways to see past the armour-clad Horseman, more than a little perturbed that they’re both aiming a narrow glare in the same direction, both of their shoulders locked back like rearing vipers.

Just as you start to get the sinking feeling that you’re missing something extremely vital, a resounding growl suddenly spills out of War’s boxcar of a chest right behind your ear, forcing his lips up over his teeth and just about scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head over a shoulder, you find him standing barely a foot from your back, near enough that his armoured chest takes up the entirety of your view.

How the Hell had he moved so close without you hearing it?

You wrench your mouth open to ask why the Hell he thinks making loud, unexpected noises is necessary when you’re already wound up tighter than a miser’s purse, but before you can utter a single syllable, War’s unconventional noises become the least of your worries.

From out of absolutely nowhere, the entire cavern explodes into a dreadful cacophony of chitters, high-pitched snarls and yips that send you ducking your head instinctively, tossing it back and forth with wild abandon to try and pinpoint the source of the sounds.

“What the Hell!?” you bleat, alarmed that you struggle to hear your own voice. Somewhere below the awful orchestration, the platform shudders, and a new noise emerges, the scrabbling of numerous claws frenetically fighting for purchase on a sheer rock-face.

“Ah, there it is,” Strife’s muffled voice cuts through to you over the ruckus, “Bout time the welcoming committee arrived.”

“What!?” you blurt, feeling for all the world like a record stuck on repeat, “What is that!? What’s going on!?”

Neither Horseman responds, which, you suppose, doesn’t much matter, given the answer helpfully reveals itself to you just moments later.

Louder and louder, closer and closer, the jaw-clenching clamour closes in on you from all sides of the platform until finally, just as you raise your hands to press them over your ears… the cavern is plunged into a shocking and unexpected silence. And your heart just about drops out of the bottom of your shoes.

Everything remains in a state of inertia. Nothing moves. The Horsemen don’t seem to waver an inch, even with their hands poised statuesquely on the hilts of their respective weapons. And you don’t move a muscle either. Even the breath stays trapped in your lungs, turning hot and stagnant as the seconds crawl by.

War and Strife stand on either side of you, each facing the far end of the platform.

Squinting around latter of the two, you train your eyes at the distant drop off, both trying and dreading to see what they’ve seen.

And then, slightly to the left, something hauls itself up and over the ledge.

You can’t help yourself. You wish you could stay as stoic and unaffected as the bristling giants, but you’re just too human, too fraught and unprepared, and your nerves are too shot to clench down on the muscles of your throat and stop the startled exclamation from bursting out of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Strife and War visibly jump at your outburst.

Standing before you on the edge of the platform, supported by two stumpy legs, is a creature plucked straight from the pages of a horror novella. Eyes of the same liquid fire that churns far below you leer out of their sunken sockets, luminous against dark, charcoal scales. You stare back at it agog, reminded first and foremost of some fanged, hairless ape with arms too long to suit its rotund little body, and a torso that feeds directly into an oversized chin, completely forgoing any semblance of a neck.

Despite its diminutive stature putting it at least a foot shorter than you, the beast sports a jaw large and wide enough to fit your entire head between fangs that jut from blackened gums like crooked stalagmites.

You think you might just pass out. Hopefully you’ll wake up when this is all over.

Through the gaps of its scaly underbelly, a burning light spews forth, orange and red and scalding like the glow in its bulging eyes. It’s mouth cranks open, and at the back of its throat, that same light seems to emanate from somewhere deep down inside its guts, as if the thing has just swallowed a bellyful of lava.

“Holy shit,” you croak, ungluing your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

Despite your hushed tone, the thing’s ragged ears twitch towards you and it lowers its head – and half its body – to jeer across the platform at you, arms splayed wide, and claws extended in threat. And then, as if you weren’t already on the verge of losing your mind, the damn thing laughs.

At least you think it laughs.

The sound that gurgles from the back of its glowing throat reminds you more of tyres on a gravel driveway.

“What in the name of god is that thing?” you whisper, secretly glad that there’s a wall of living armour standing between you and it.

“An imp,” Strife replies darkly, “And if there’s one thing you gotta know about imps-“

“-There’s never just one,” War finishes in a snarl.

As if that’s just the cue they’ve been waiting for, the cavern comes alive once more as the caterwauling starts up again, and all around you, to your left, right and even to your rear, a surging horde of those same, stocky beasts come scrambling over the lip of the platform.

Using meaty fists tipped with claws, they heave their robust bodies up, growling and chirping in excitement, their too-large fangs protruding from exposed, glistening gums.

In a perfectly rational manner, you let out a spineless shriek and whirl yourself around to face those hovering behind you, your heels clacking noisily on the stone underfoot. “Holy shit, they’re everywhere!” you gasp, so fixated on the ‘imps’ that you’ve all but backed up into the front of War’s bulwark of a leg without even realising it.

In the span of a few seconds, you find yourself utterly surrounded on all sides by a dozen… no, two dozen of the little beasts. Maybe more.

Unseen by you, War and Strife share a quick but meaningful look over the top of your head.

In a moment of clarity that often precedes their numerous battles, an understanding passes between the apocalyptic beings, a unified acknowledgement conveyed in the shadows lining War’s stone-like features and Strife’s hard, determined stare.

Your small, helpless shape huddling against a leg nearly as tall as yourself, is enough to spark a blaze in both their chests.

Together, without a word passing from one to the other, the Horsemen suddenly spring into action.

You nearly topple over backwards when the leg you’d been pressed against abruptly disappears as War spins on his heel and places his spine to you, mirroring his brother’s stance. Chaoseater’s dark blade glints in the firelight as it swings in a wide arch from the Horseman’s back, over his shoulder and finally out in front of him, held at the ready in one, powerful gauntlet.

At the same time, Strife’s revolvers are out of their holsters faster than you can blink.

Hauling them up, he levels his sights at the imps and takes a slow, measured step backwards, then another, glowering menacingly as he all but corrals you into the meagre space between their armoured legs.

You’d probably be more concerned about having a pair of Horsemen bearing down on you like this if your attention hadn’t been snagged by another figure looming out of the darkness of the pathway you’d just been thrown down from.

In swiftly mounting horror, you lift your eyes to track the newcomer as it draws closer to the precipice.

You might not have even noticed it amongst the rabble of demons clamouring at the edges of the platform. After all, you’re currently surrounded on all sides by two dozen snarling, chittering beasts, what’s one more card on the table?

But the newcomer has one, unignorable facet that distinguishes it immediately from the imps…

… It has to stand over ten feet tall.

All the moisture dries up on your tongue, and you realise with a punch to the gut that neither of the Horsemen have yet noticed the figure looking down on you from above.

The shadowed escarpment grants you no clues as to its immediate features. But the sheer size… the implied weight that sends loose pieces of stone tumbling from the bottom of the overhang and out of sight as the creature clomps heavily up to the edge…

It cuts a broad silhouette. Wider than a car. Wider than a bus. And taller than Strife and War combined.

“Uh, guys?” you whisper hoarsely, your lungs as dry and empty as a dead lakebed.

The colossal shape crouches, and whatever hope you might have had at getting out of this in one piece is shattered like glass on a marble floor.

With a physics defying kick of tree-trunk legs, it jumps.

War and Strife turn their heads just in time to witness the sinister figure leap from the edge of the overhang, hurtle across the space the Horsemen – and you – had just cleared, and land with a resounding ‘boom!’ on the platform with enough force to send shockwaves rippling outwards through the solid stone underfoot.

You’re almost shaken right out of your heels by the impact, barely sparing yourself a tumble by grabbing the edge of War’s steel faulds and hauling yourself upright again, not even budging the Horsemen an inch. If he cares at all, he doesn’t react, and you could almost believe your strength is so insignificant to him that he didn’t even feel you use him as leverage at all.

Straining your neck back, you take your first proper look at the beast that just threw itself down here with you…. And then you nearly collapse all over again.

You thought it looked big up on the escarpment, but seeing it now a mere dozen feet or so in front of you, you couldn’t have underestimated its size more dreadfully if you’d tried.

“This isn’t happening,” you ramble to yourself, eyes bulging in their sockets as you tip your head back to take in the gruesome sight towering over you, “Please God, tell me this isn’t happening.”

Not that you really believe a god had any hand in making this scary son of a bitch.

The monstrous creature walks like a man, upright and bipedal, with swollen, musclebound arms and a small head perched upon its neck. But there, the differences diverge. Dull, leathery scales the colour of rust shine under the firelight, entirely hairless like the imps. Its immense bulk is supported by strong, digitigrade legs that bend inhumanly at the knees and ankle, carrying it forwards as it tromps noisily across the stone towards you.

Roving your stare up the length of its body, you audibly gulp at the sight of two, inverse wings protruding from somewhere between its robust shoulder blades, a layer of bulging fat stretched between the bones like a membrane to evoke the twisted image of a gargantuan, oversized bat.

From the top of its skull, a pair of horns sweep forwards in threat, black as charcoal and pointed at their tips.

Perfect for impaling or goring, you note with a swirl of dread.

But perhaps worst of all, more-so than the bear-trap jaws and the honest-to-god Morningstar fused to the end of a powerful tail, is the weapon it carries in one of its meaty fists that makes War’s sword seem comically small in comparison.

It looks like some sort of club. Albeit one made entirely of metal, with spikes protruding from rotating cylinders that churn mechanically as the beast spins them idly with its free hand, showing off a nauseating array of skulls engraved in the surface.

Well, if you weren’t dead before, you soon will be.

As if the demon weren’t already unconquerable enough, everything above its rotund waist is protected by a layer of medieval, grey armour, which begs the question; What could possibly be out here that would prompt a beast like this to wear armour?

You’d wondered the same about War and Strife when you took a moment to consider them properly.

There’s always a bigger fish…

And if there is a merciful god in this ever-expanding universe, you can only pray to it that the fish don’t come any bigger than this.

You can’t tear your eyes off the demon – for a demon it must be - not even as War takes a deliberate and unexpected step in front of you, obscuring you from its sight, but leaving your flank exposed. The doesn’t stop you from peeking around his side of course, quaking with each of its footfalls as you gape up at those crushing teeth.

Imps scatter left and right as their apparent champion tromps a path through their ranks, defying any to get caught underfoot.

Then, with its armour clanking and its bulbous tail swinging lazily from side to side, the beast lumbers to a halt, nostrils flared with interest.

Suddenly, that massive, terrible jaw falls open and –

“Horsemen.”

A voice as deep as Earth’s molten core booms out of the demon’s throat, buzzing through your chest and spreading from the tips of your fingers to the soles of your feet.

Honestly, you hadn’t expected it to be able to talk…

At your side, Strife shifts his weight, muttering a foreign, gruff word under his breath, his eyes narrowed so thinly, they only permit a crack of golden light to shine through. His guns remain poised at some of the imps, but you’ve no doubt they could easily be redirected at the slightest provocation.

“I’m glad you decided to drop by,” the monster continues, its booming voice rivalling War’s for volume, low and rough as if it’s spent a lifetime gargling rocks, “My pets were starting to get hungry.”

On cue, the imps perk up with gleeful snaps of their teeth, eyeing you greedily between the bridling Horsemen.

Breathing out a quiet whimper, you’re so entrenched in staring at the larger creature that you don’t even register War squaring his stance, sliding one of his legs back to cover your exposed flank.

“Oh yeah, they look real famished,” Strife drawls, his eyes sweeping the room continuously, “Bet I can guess what’s on the menu…”

Gnashing his teeth impatiently, War brandishes his sword and raises his voice to issue a thunderous command. “Give us the artifact, demon! Or I shall be the one feeding you and your pets to my blade!”

In his hand, Chaoseater thrums eagerly in anticipation.

Meanwhile, still trying to swallow your heart, you don’t dare speak, petrified that you might draw attention to yourself, but even so, there still exists the smallest part of you that vies to apply some sort of order to this circumstance, an explanation or – Hell – just a plain old escape plan. You’re not in the know here, you’re completely out of your depth. You realise, with some ironic twist of fate, that you have little choice now but to trust these two, unpredictable Horsemen, because in a situation that spans entire universes beyond your understanding, you have to look to them to know what comes next.

Peeling your tongue off the roof of your mouth, you manage to squeak out a thin, reedy, “What… what do we do?”

At the sound of your voice, Strife’s helm twists ever so slightly over his shoulder to send you a fleeting glance, only to immediately do a double take, his scowl lifting as he catches a glimpse of your haggard face and glistening lashes.

Creator... Did you always look that small?

“…Hey,” he utters, his voice a note gentler in addressing you, “Just sit tight, Sweetheart. We’ll take care of this.”

Startled by the unexpected softness, your eyes snap sideways, blinking desperately up into his.

You want to believe him, so, so badly. Because if they can’t fend off these demons, then you haven’t got an ice-cube’s chance in Hell of getting back to your father, or Earth at all, for that matter.

But even you can see how awfully the odds are stacked against you.

Not only are the Horsemen outnumbered, but they’re also outsized, outgunned, and outmatched in every conceivable way. All of this, you convey in your pinched brows and clenched teeth, practically broadcasting your doubt to Strife, who meets it with his own gaze, steady and fearless, everything you’re not.

You still don’t understand why he and his brother dragged you here, nor why they’d bother to keep you alive.

Who are you to them?

Who are humans to them?

“Oh…?” That dreadful, rumbling cadence utters, drawing Strife’s furious glare back into place once more as the demon inhales deeply through its nostrils, exhaling sparks of fire. “That smell…”

You see the Horsemen physically tense around you. War’s shoulders nearly double in size as if he’s making a concerted effort to appear larger than he is, and a reverberating growl vibrates the heart thrashing behind your ribcage.

Whipping forwards again, you dare to poke your head a little further out past War’s faulds, only to immediately lose the colour in your face, regretting your decision the moment it’s too late to withdraw it.

Your eyes have locked with the cold, jaundiced stare of the demon.

Trapped by the hypnotic allure of something that had, until now, been completely unknowable to you, you watch as it peels its black lips aside to unsheathe the extent of its jagged, gleaming fangs, spilling orange light from the back of its throat. “Ah,” it breathes, exhaling insidious satisfaction, “I see you’ve brought me an appetiser.”

Where your heart had been lodged in your throat, suddenly it plummets into your stomach again, sinking with a heavy stone of dread. You let out a gasp, only to have your choked exclamation drowned out by Strife’s sharp retort.

“Hey!” he yells, pulling the demon’s gaze away from you.

Snarling, it twitches its head in his direction, fangs bared in threat.

Undeterred, the Horseman lets out a throaty noise of his own and growls, “How about you pick on someone your own size?”

While you’re somewhat taken aback by his interference, you don’t really think you need to point out that neither he, nor his brother are anywhere near the size this demon boasts.

Apparently, it agrees with you.

Throwing its head back, it lets out a raucous, bone-chilling laugh, its fleshy chin wobbling with the force. “I will pick you from my teeth, Horsemen!” it chortles, lowering its head to flash a bestial grin, “And when I’m done with you, I’ll wash the taste of your flesh down with this tender morsel’s blood!”

The crimson and grey bulwark in front of you draws himself up, proverbial hackles rising with his boiling temper. The reverberation that spills from his chest is as inhuman as he is. 

Legs like jelly beneath your hips, you unconsciously reach out and grasp for the back of War’s faulds again, steadying yourself on the cumbersome armour.

Sucking a breath in through his teeth, Strife pretends to be pensive for all of a second as he bounces one of his revolvers and responds, “Ah. No. Sorry, big guy, but that’s not really gonna work for us. Y’see my brother and I-“ He notches his head sideways at War. “-Just agreed to keep an eye on the human, so it’s gonna make us look real bad if you go and kill her now.”

If War wasn’t so busy taking stock of the battle ground, he’d spare just a few seconds to slap a palm to his forehead.

All around you, the excitable chatter falls silent and still as each and every pair of demonic eyes swivel around to look directly at you.

The juggernaut’s crooked jaw twitches. “Did you say… human?”

A heavy weight seems to drape itself over the platform, bearing down on your head until the blood screams through your ears.

“Uhm…” Strife falters, his eyes darting from left to right until he at last lets out an eloquent, “Shit.”

Just as you start to wonder – again – why your humanity is such a point of interest, without warning, the demon hoists its weapon into one hand and aims the end of its bludgeon at you.

“KILL THE HORSEMEN!” it bellows at the top of its lungs, shaking the stalactites that dangle from the ceiling, “But leave the human to me.”

In response, the imps start to howl and bay like dogs on the hunt, slamming their fleshy fists against their chests whilst the demon turns its fetid gaze down to you once more, and you can’t do anything but watch on in horror as a thick, fat tongue slides out from behind its lips and sweeps across crooked fangs, leaving a trail of drool trickling down its chin. “I want to have the first taste.”

A pitiful noise falls out of your mouth, but once again, it’s swallowed by the sharp ‘click’ of Strife cocking the hammers back on his guns.

“Over my dead body,” he spits, then raises his voice and calls out to War, “You wanna take the big one!?”

Grunting in affirmation, the larger Horseman gives a roll of his almighty shoulders and huffs, “Gladly. It seems more fitting.”

“Why?” Strife quips, sending a sly grin at his brother, “Cause he’s mean and ugly?”

Curling his lip, War snarls at the smaller demons as they begin to rush forwards as one shrieking horde, ushered by the trumpeting of their master. “Yes, and you can take the imps,” he retorts, ramping up his volume as he breaks into a slow, forward charge that rips your hand from his faulds, building momentum with each, pounding footstep, “They’re loud and bothersome!”

Unleashing its most primal roar yet, the demon lurches into motion seconds later, following the weight of its head and horns as it lumbers towards a frontal collision with War, who meets its challenge with a battle cry so fierce, you wonder how it doesn’t rip the flesh from his throat.

“He can’t fight that thing!” you exclaim, incredulous. As much as you don’t like the surly giant, you’re not exactly vying to see him flattened by one swing of the demon’s fist. He might be your ticket out of here, after all. And if he goes down, there’s no way Strife could take on every demon in here and keep you alive.

You’re suddenly broken from your fretting when a towering, silver silhouette steps in front of you, filling War’s vacated spot with another wall of gleaming battle armour.

“Don’t worry about War,” Strife calls down to you over his shoulder, taking aim at two imps who have broken away from the ranks in the vain hopes of getting to you first, “He’s a professional, he does this all the time.”

You find it hard to imagine any profession where charging headfirst at a colossal demon is considered the norm, but then there are a lot of things about this world that fly straight over your head.

Around the edge of Strife’s armour, you can see the imps scurrying closer, and every synapse of your brain suddenly jolts, sending a shot of adrenaline down through your blood vessels, waking up your overwrought muscles and telling you to take flight.

That, of course, is when the first bullet is fired.

Instinctively, you yelp and duck your head as a veritable explosion sounds out across the chamber, amplified by the high ceiling and hard surroundings. Somewhere up ahead, an imp’s beady little eyes roll back into its skull, and it crumples to the floor, sporting a clean hole straight through the centre of its forehead.

“Holy shit,” you breathe aloud, privately impressed. But you hope he has more than one round in the chamber because there are a lot of –

‘BANG!’

Again, you flinch, while Strife’s arm barely jerks as another round erupts from one of the guns, this time finding its mark through an imp’s eyeball. Blood explodes out the back of its head, and your stomach lurches, forcing you to retreat behind Strife’s back again lest you start dry heaving all over the floor.

Swinging your gaze around, you blurt out a sudden shriek, thoughtlessly plastering your spine to the Horseman’s backside and slapping frantically at his leg, screeching, “Behind you!”

With a grunt of surprise, Strife flicks a look over his shoulder and sees the other half of the impish army swiftly closing in from the rear.

A second passes, the briefest interval in which he’s struck by the humbling realisation that you’re sticking close to a Nephilim for safety.

And then suddenly, Strife comes alive.

Deft fingers flex rapidly against the triggers of Mercy and Redemption as he sweeps them in a wide, graceful arc, squeezing round after round out through their chambers and into the heads of the oncoming horde. Vibrating with glee, Strife lets his muscles do the work. They remember the motions. He revels in the familiar buzz of tingling nerves and the roar of gunfire thrumming in his ears.

There isn’t even a second between one shot and the next. His torso twists lithely despite all of his armour to shoot over your head, taking out a line of imps in the span of a few seconds. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. The demons don’t even pause to take stock of their dead, too confident that their sheer numbers will be enough to overwhelm the Horsemen. They simply clamber over the one that falls in front and continue, salivating, mad with blood lust.

It’s almost too easy.

Strife tips his head back, yawning obnoxiously as he whips Mercy towards an imp that’s made it just a bit too close to the human for his liking. A blast to its gut is powerful enough to send it flying back into some of its brethren, knocking them off their stubby feet.

Yes, he’s big enough to admit that he might be showing off, just a little, but with the eyes of a fabled human on him, Strife can hardly help himself.

He has to resist the urge to glance down and check that you’re watching.

Unbeknownst to the Horseman however, you’re not so much impressed by the display as you are downright horrified. Mouth hanging ajar, you forget to breathe as you watch Strife move. Precise twitches of his arms and wrists bring another target into the firing line, minute adjustments that happen too quickly and too numerously for you to keep track of.

You remember watching some old Westerns with your father when you were very small, gathered in his favourite armchair to witness the skill of Hollywood actors who posed as gunslingers and desperados, each claiming to be the ‘quickest draw in the West.’ You used to believe you were seeing the best of the best, back before you grew older and learned that magic can easily be faked by special camera angles and cuts and fine editing.

But even if it was real, even if all those actors and stuntmen were authentic and really could shoot a man’s dime out of the air blindfolded with one hand tied behind their back, they wouldn’t have held a candle to the skill you’re witnessing first hand.

Calm as an old oak tree and with the grace and power of a machine, Strife stands fast against the braying swarm, never missing his mark, never stopping to reload, never even flinching from the recoil.

In what has to be under ten seconds, Strife has thinned two dozen imps down to the last four, leaving scores of small, rotund bodies dotted around the chamber. The survivors don’t even slow as they reach him. You brace yourself, still cowering in the Horseman’s shadow as the imps launch themselves at you, their claws outstretched and unsheathed ready to slash, to fight.

… Only to end up having their skulls caved in by a bullet before they can even come close to scratching you or the Horseman’s armour, too stupid to break ranks and try to come at him from different angles. But even if they’d tried flanking him, you doubt they’d have had much more luck.

It’s over before it ever truly began.

The last of the imps drops dead to the floor, its forward momentum sending it skidding to a halt on the stony ground, inches from the toes of your heels.

 You almost fall over yourself stumbling away from it, cringing at the rivulet of blood that dribbles out between its teeth.

“See?” Strife boasts as he turns himself around to face you, flashing a cocksure grin down at you before he remembers it’s hidden behind his visor. Huh. Disappointing… Heaving a mental shrug, he carries on, “Nothing to it.”

Nothing to it, he says, as if you hadn’t just watched him massacre a small army without so much as a ‘by your leave.’

Strife seems to notice that your face is drawn back in trepidation instead of awe, and his grin falters slightly beneath his helm.

Breathing hard, you gulp past a stone in your throat and peer around the Horseman, jutting your chin at the demon currently trying to crush his brother into pulp.

“Uh, okay, sure - but what about him!?” you sputter.

Turning to look, Strife silently observes War’s attempt at getting in close enough to land a hit on the leathery behemoth. To its credit, the demon is far quicker on its feet that either of them seem to have anticipated.

To your astonishment, Strife lets out an honest-to-goodness chuckle and cups a hand around where you assume his mouth is, calling, “Having trouble, War?! Come on, I just killed like, fifty demons and you’re still on your first!?”

There were nowhere near fifty, and you wonder if he thinks humans don’t know how to count.

Your head cranks around to stare at him, aghast. “Strife!” you exclaim, his name sounding awkward and unnatural on your tongue.

“What?” comes his breezy reply.

Setting aside the fact that he’s probably distracting War, you’re more astounded that he’s just… standing here, cracking jokes whilst his own brother tries to fend off an adversary nearly three times his size.

If it were your father there, fighting on his own… you’d….

“That-!” you splutter, throwing an arm out and gesturing wildly across the platform, “That’s your brother!” Christ alive, how often have they been in these situations that such casual indifference is warranted?

Strife must see the abhorrence etched across your features because he’s quick to change tactics, realising that he isn’t impressing you by acting aloof.

Holding up his hands, still with a revolver clutched in each, he bobs them back and forth at you mollifyingly. “Okay, okay, take it easy,” he acquiesces, “I’m on it.”

Bemused that you’ve taken such a sudden, unexpected turn towards his brother’s safety, Strife spins neatly on his heel, pauses, then twists around once more to level a contrastingly stern glare down at you. You blink at the abrupt change, recoiling slightly as he extends one of his forefingers and points it between your eyes.

“Stay. Here,” he tells you firmly, no trace of a joke in this order.

“But-!”

“Ah!” he interrupts, “No buts! Just stay there and don’t move!”

In response, you lift your hands indicatively and give him a look that screams, ‘where the hell would I move to?’

Satisfied, the Horseman nods once, and then he’s off, jogging briskly across platform towards the pair of titans battling it out.

Another of the demon’s blows misses War, striking the ground where he'd been standing seconds before, and shaking the platform under your feet.

Hovering here, helpless and useless, you bring your hands up to your chest, wringing them over one another, suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable out in the open sans a Horseman to act as a buffer.

It’s a selfish thing to think, that your first instinct is to see them as a pair of shields against the horrors of this place, but you’re well past pretending to be a selfless person. It’s easy to act heroic when situations that require a hero aren’t foisted upon you. Survival should be paramount for you now.

You won’t leave your father alone on his death bed.

You won’t leave him without saying goodbye.

Stumbling backwards away from the grate at the centre of the platform, you allow your tired feet to carry you as far from the battle as possible, keeping your gaze locked on the Horsemen as you pick your way blindly around the decimated corpses of the imps until at last, you stop, casting a brief glance over your shoulder to find you’re as close to the ledge as you dare to get. On the corner, furthest from the fight, you watch the Horsemen with your stomach twisting itself into anxious knots.

“Need a hand!?” Strife shouts as he skids to a stop near the demon’s flank, raising Mercy and firing off a shot that ricochets off its metal helmet.

The beast’s head jerks forwards before whirling around to roar at its new opponent.

Quick as a whipcrack, Strife fires another two rounds, the twin retorts echoing around the chamber.

Wrenching its head to the side just in time, the demon manages to catch each bullet on its horns instead of its face. They bounce harmlessly off the solid bone, their casings falling to the ground with smoke trailing from the hollow ends.

Letting out a rumbling growl, War uses the momentary distraction to charge for its legs, aiming a lunge at the beast’s exposed belly.

It’s size, however, is deceptive. With just milliseconds to spare, the demon heaves itself backwards, retreating just out of range of the arching blade. In retaliation, it lifts its bludgeon high overhead and glares down at War, sparks flying from its maw when it bellows, bringing the long weapon down on a direct collision course with the Horseman’s skull.

Unseen across the platform, you slap your hands over your eyes, teeth bared in terrified anticipation.

War’s head snaps up to see the weapon rapidly bearing down on him, and merely curls his lip in response, more vexed than alarmed.

Muscles bunching, he suddenly kicks off on his boots and throws his body to the side, rolling over his shoulder and using the momentum to spring to his feet once more, further away from the beast, and not a moment too soon.

‘WHAM!’

With the force of an asteroid impact, the bludgeon crashes into the hard floor, exerting enough force to crack the rock and send splinters spiderwebbing out from the point of contact.

“Nice move!” Strife praises his brother, only to let out a short bark of shock when the demon swings its tail around towards him as it recovers from the missed blow.

Ducking his head, the huge appendage skims over him, so close that the softer under-scales ruffle the tips of his spiked hair.

“Shit!” he exclaims, eyes tracking the tail when it starts sweeping back towards him, leaving the Horseman with little else to do except throw himself to the ground, stomach first, flattening his body into the hard stone.

“Son of a…” Not his most dignified position…

Hopefully you didn’t see that…

Baring his teeth, he braces himself, waiting to feel the air rush past above him, and then, with a grunt, he rolls onto his side and raises the arm that isn’t pressed into the grit, firing several rounds at the underside of its tail.

A deafening howl erupts from the demon’s lungs as his bullets embed themselves into the spongey flesh, drawing forth thick, oily blood that spatters from the wounds and joins the imp blood on the stone slabs.

The demon snorts furiously through its nostrils, slamming the bulbous end of its tail against the ground in a way that promises retribution as it stumbles backwards, putting a little more distance between it and the Horsemen.

Unbeknownst to you and your unorthodox kidnappers, something has finally occurred to the brute.

Maybe it really is on the backfoot here.

It knows these Horsemen. Word travelled fast after the massacre at Eden, of how four Nephilim were able and willing to eradicate the rest of their species…

The demon had, perhaps foolishly, assumed that with only one half of a quartet, it would stand a chance. But one Horseman alone has already proven more of a challenge than it anticipated. The second, the one with the loud mouth, was supposed to be overwhelmed by the imps… Now that the pair of them have entered the fray though…

The demon’s twisted mind chugs into gear, cobbling together a desperate strategy. Its yellow eyes flit from the red-cloaked Horseman to the one toting guns who’s hauling himself to his feet, its nostrils opening wide in agitation.

It draws in a deep, ragged breath…

... And freezes.

Only for a second, mind. Plenty of time to process the scent whilst the Nephilim regroup.

Below the stench of brimstone, below the freshly spilled imp blood seeping into the stone underfoot, it catches that smell once again.

It’s mouth-watering.

Meat made tender by fear.

Forbidden meat. Exotic… Something no demon has ever had the chance to taste.

Its crooked jaws split open in a wide, cruel grin, and all at once, it whips its head around, beady eyes locking fast onto the tiny morsel wrapped in white, standing near the ledge.

‘There,’ it concludes, zeroing in on its unsuspecting little boon, ‘is how to gain the upper hand.’

Strife’s brows snap together when the demon’s entire demeanour shifts.

Picking himself up, he shares a glance with his brother on the beast’s opposite flank.

‘The Hell is it looking-‘

He connects the dots a few moments too late.

“Strife!” War bellows as the demon heaves its bulk around, away from the Horsemen, and there’s an unbidden hint of urgency in his tone, “The human!”

‘No,’ Strife mouths silently, looking beyond the demon to find you frozen near the platform’s edge, paralysed with fear.

Then, aloud, in a voice that grows stronger with each word, he growls, “No… No! NO!”

He’s moving before he’s even finished the last word.

Two sets of metal boots slam against the ground as two Horsemen hurl themselves into a breakneck gallop, tearing after their adversary as if a fire has been lit under their heels.

War’s hood topples back off his head, leaving his long, white-blonde hair to whip madly through the air behind him as he sprints, only slightly slower than his brother, whose guns are aimed at the demon’s retreating back.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Strife roars, unleashing a maelstrom of bullets that strike the tougher scales on its exposed legs, doing nothing to slow its forward charge.

Neither of them understands why there rises such a ferocious surge of rage at the prospect of the demon threatening their human charge, but regardless of why, War’s sigil scar still blazes hotly in the open air, streaking orange across his forehead, and Strife’s golden eyes burn like sparks off a blacksmith’s forge.

The unspoken agreement that had passed between them earlier, connects them again now.

You haven’t moved from your spot in the corner, hunkered down in a half crouch, half cower with your legs locked in place and a swirling, empty abyss carving a hole straight out of your stomach. Your entire body jumps with each of the demon’s footsteps.

It passes the grate, in long, loping strides, hurtling towards you at a breakneck pace, leaving you no time to gather your wits.

Strife’s little stunt lies forgotten in the past where it happened.

This is how you really die.

‘So much for getting back to dad,’ a small, sardonic voice whispers in the back of your mind.

Behind the demon, War puts on a burst of speed, rocketing past the grate and keeping his eyes locked on you like you've lost your mind.

Why are you just standing there?

For a split second, his priorities shift, and in an unprecedented turn of events, it’s his mission that takes a backseat.

Later, he’ll berate himself for allowing his composure to slip enough that he opens his mouth and aims a harrowing order in your direction.

“HUMAN!”

Your bulging eyes meet his across the platform.

“RUN!”

‘Run?’ you grimace, effectively shaken from your stupor by the sheer absurdity of his demand, ‘In heels?’

But it’s as if that one, deafening order had adequately unglued your legs from solid cement.

War hadn’t told you what will happen if you don’t run but you’re smart enough to parse the consequences for yourself.

Run, or die.

Not fantastic options, but you know for a fact which of the two you like less.

Giving your head a rough shake, you suck down a breath and clumsily gather up the front of your skirts as the demon extends one of its hands towards you.

Like a bullet, you turn to the side and start to run, haring off across the platform and cursing with each step you take in your tottering heels. The tender soles of your feet burn with the pressure of running in them, and you’re half tempted to kick them off in favour of fleeing barefoot, but that would take time. Time you’ve stupidly allowed yourself to run low on.

You can hear the demon bearing down on you like a runaway train, feel its sulphurous breath raging against the back of your neck. Bullets twang off the metal armour, and behind you, Strife hollers something which gets lost under the cruel laugh that erupts from the monster chasing you and reverberates through your chest.

The platform’s opposite corner is rapidly approaching.

Blinking through the sweat clinging to your brow, you pump your legs even harder, thighs already burning as you haul your ungainly dress along after you and will the demon not to tread on the back of it as it trails through the dust in your wake.

Suddenly, just as you come to the corner and start to push off on your right foot to dart left, a rush of air whooshes by, bringing with it thick, meaty fingers and claws that appear in your peripheral vision and reach past you, curling into your path.

You know as soon as they appear that the jig is up.

You’re too late to slam on the brakes.

Regardless, you try to stop yourself anyway, pushing your weight down into the toes of your shoes to come to an awkward, staggering halt. But, thwarted by your own momentum, your weight comes unbalanced, and you totter forwards, throwing your hands up to catch yourself as you topple right into the demon’s waiting palm.

Clammy, rugged fingers snap shut around your waist and legs, and you barely have time to gasp in shock before you’re unceremoniously wrenched off the ground.

Triumphant, the demon digs its heels in and brings itself to a clumsy stop at the edge of the platform, a writhing, whimpering human squeezed viciously beneath its crushing fist.

“Ha!” it barks, whirling to face the Horsemen and bringing its struggling prize up in front of its face.

Collectively, Strife and War come careening to a stop several yards from the demon, the former’s guns shaking with rage as he aims them at the brute’s skull, his fingers stiff on the triggers. He’d been microseconds away from firing when it turned. He hadn’t expected it to raise you up to cover its head, leaving Mercy’s sights trained with terrifying precision right at the sweat-streaked furrow between your brows instead.

There are tears pouring down your cheeks, your blunt nails scrabble uselessly at the closest, scaly knuckle, and something hidden deep down inside Strife’s soul starts to raise its sleepy head.

Grinding his teeth together, he eases his fingers off the triggers and spits a venomous curse, though he doesn’t lower his weapons.

“Coward!” War seethes at the demon, Chaoseater humming against his palm, “You would use a human as your shield!?”

With a chortle that raises the hackles of both Horsemen, it bares its fangs into a malicious grin and utters a single, chilling demand. “Lower. Your. Weapons.”

You give up on scraping your nails against its toughened hide and take to thrashing madly in its hold instead, a swathe of distressed grunts and bleats tumbling from your constricting throat. It’s like trying to fight your way out of a concrete coffin. The flesh on its palm is spongey, softer than the rest of the brute, but still inescapable. No matter how hard you try to kick your legs or twist your torso around, the colossal fingers don’t budge an inch.

‘Not like this!’ a frightened voice screams inside your head, ‘Not like this!’

The demon seems content to ignore you. The struggles of its prey are hardly a thing of concern now that it has you in its grasp. Of far greater concern are the two Nephilim bristling like hell hounds with their meal stolen out from under their noses.

Their weapons remain raised, and when neither of them makes a move to do as asked, the demon simply shrugs one massive shoulder and gives its hand a demonstrative flex.

The cry that’s punched out of you breaks apart halfway through, turning into a wet, choked gurgle as your ribs squeeze against your lungs. Head thrown back, your jaw stretches open around a silent plea for mercy.

Strife is the first to react.

It wounds him greatly to do so, but with an effort that physically aches, he lowers his guns until they’re pointed at the ground.

The pressure around your chest loosens by a fraction.

War’s face is set like stone as he glowers up at the demon from underneath his creased eyebrows, white hair cascading around shoulders that heave up and down with unmitigated outrage.

The demon merely raises one of its cragged brow ridges, peering at him, expectant.

“War,” Strife breathes.

His brother’s canines glint wickedly in the light.

Slowly, as if Strife had just asked him to pluck out his own eyes, War begrudgingly allows Chaoseater to drift down, its tip thudding against the stone in front of him.

Another inch of space opens up around you, enough for you to noisily suck down a greedy lungful of air, coughing and spluttering as you try to get your precious breath back.

Above you, the demon’s throaty voice growls over your head like a roll of thunder. “Now… Place your weapons on the ground.”

Collapsed over the demon’s forefinger, you half hear Strife bark, “You put her down first!”

Something shiny glints in the corner of your eye.

Shuddering around each breath you take, you roll your head to the side, mouth ajar, and spot a familiar, silver chain falling over your shoulder. It takes you a second to recognise the significance of it, yet when the realisation hits, it hits hard.

You still have your bag…

“You are in no position to bargain, Horseman,” the demon snarls, lashing its tail aggressively, ignorant of your eyes snapping open and your shivering heart giving a hopeful jump.

You still have your bag!

The tiny, silver lifeline dangles over the side of the demon’s index finger, the chain still hot against your bare neck. It isn’t much. Hell, it’s barely anything.

But right now, it’s the only thing you have to work with.

Suddenly frantic, you stretch your arms out and scrabble for it, grabbing the chain and yanking the whole thing towards you.

‘Please, please, please!’ repeats in your head like a mantra as you fumble with the clasp and throw open the lid, plunging your hand inside, digging for something – anything – you can use.

You’re just lucky the demon is so focused on the Horsemen that it only equates your sudden liveliness with renewed attempts to free yourself.

“How about a deal?” Strife pipes up, he and his brother equally oblivious to your discovery, “Demons like deals, right?”

In response, its scowl deepens, and it bares its teeth at him, unconvinced.

Undeterred, the Horseman forges ahead. “So how about this. You-“ He points a finger up at the overgrown demon. “-Let the human go… And we-“ Here, he gestures between himself and his brother. “- promise to kill you nice and quickly. Sound good?”

You don’t even hear the beast’s response, you’re so fixated on the contents of your bag.

Blinking hard to try and clear away the tears on your lashes, you peer down into your bag, shoving aside notes, lipstick, your phone-

Your phone!?

You nearly drop the whole bag in shock.

Of all the…

How!? How could you have forgotten you put your phone in the bag before you left for church!?

It’s less than useless in this situation, of course, but if you make it out of here alive…

A surge of adrenaline smacks you square in the chest, filling you with a much-needed boost of determination to get out of this bastard’s clutches.

Pushing the phone aside, you can finally see all the way to the bottom of the bag.

There!

Your gorge rises with terrified excitement.

A slim, tiny object sits in your bag’s depths, almost lost amongst all the other bric-a-brac, stainless steel, tapered to a point at its tip…

It’s not a knife, nor truly a weapon of any kind. But right now, it’s the best you’ve got.

Nearing the very end of your frazzled tether, you slip your trembling fingers around the metal nail file and pull it from the confines of your bag, clutching it inside your fist with the sharp point sticking out beneath your curled pinkie.

Wriggling around to face the soft, unarmoured flesh in the juncture where the demon’s thumb and forefinger connect, you fill your lungs with a hot, steadying breath, and raise your fist high above your head.

You’re about to pit a few inches of metal meant for filing nails against a demon of biblical proportions.

This will either be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, or…

No. No, it’s only stupid.

Bravery is for other people, smarter people who would have figured a way out of this by now.

You’re just a desperate human who wants to go home.

Far below you on the ground, War’s eyes track movement near the demon’s head, and his sharp, blue gaze flies up to see your shaking arm poised high in the air above you.

Something small and silver flashes in the light, held in a vice-like grip between your tiny fingers.

Strife sees it just after his brother, and his jaw immediately goes slack.

The demon only sees your arm fall…

… And then all it sees is white.

A blinding pain sears up the length of its bulging forearm, forcing its head back to send a roar up at the stalactites quivering overhead.

Staggering backwards, the demon all but flings its hand open and allows its prey to tumble towards the hard ground with a yelp.

For a moment, all you know is the gut-wrenching sensation of gravity pulling you back down to the ground once again, and then, without warning, there’s a distant clatter of steel, and all of the air is knocked out of you for the second time in less than an hour by something brawny and powerful.

You’ve felt this before. Arms as thick and steady as tree trunks catch you before your back can hit the ground, stopping your descent in a manner that’s only slightly less jarring as it would be to crash into solid stone.

Your eyes fling open, and you once again find yourself blinking owlishly up into War’s rugged face, now completely exposed by the noticeable lack of his usual, scarlet hood.

Behind him, his sword lays patiently on the ground, dropped in favour of freeing up his hands to spare you from a bruised or broken spine.

He’s staring down at you with the same, open-mouthed shock you’re giving back to him. In a small, seldom visited corner of your mind, you realise that he’s a lot less terrifying without his hood.

“Nice… catch,” you wheeze breathlessly, and after a pause, you add, “Again.”

The sigil on his forehead flares brightly for a second as he inspects you from top to bottom, drawing in a breath like he’s about to speak.

Before he can utter a sound however, the platform around you judders under the power of the demon’s uproarious screech.

Wrenching his eyes up and away from you, the Horseman’s teeth snap together into a wordless snarl, and in another shocking turn, he promptly yanks you right underneath his chest, squashing you against armour that’s less forgiving than marble.

Wincing in discomfort, you nonetheless follow his line of sight until you find yourself staring up into the warped visage what might have been your murderer.

The demon’s eyes are rolling in their sockets, and although it might be small, you and the Horsemen can still make out a little splinter of metal jutting from the sensitive flesh at the base of its thumb.

Outraged, it uses the tips of its fingers to pluck your nail file from its wounded hand. A spurt of blood bursts from the wound once the metal is free of its confines, giving you a good indication of just how hard you’d shoved the implement into its skin.

Sparing the file a filthy growl, the demon cocks its arm back and hurls it spitefully to the ground, sending it skittering right over to the grate where it comes to a rest, the once silver blade dripping with unholy blood.

Rounding on you and War, the beast lets out a ferocious growl.

“You… You dare!?” it demands, raising its bludgeon, a fresh and frenzied hatred bursting into existence within its heartless chest. Blood spilled by a human - a creature so much lesser than itself - is a shameful humiliation that it doesn’t intend to let go unpunished. The only way to stymie the flow of its haemorrhaging pride is to kill you, ruthlessly, something that will bring it far more pleasure now than it would have before.

It will instil a fear in you so great, your human kin will know the terror of demon kind without having the privilege of meeting them.

Spine curved back, its arm reaches the apex of its swing, the bludgeon poised behind its head ready to come crashing down on top of you and a seething War.

It’s easy to forget about the long, pink scar trailing down the length of your arm in spite of the person who gave it to you clutching you against his broad, armoured chest. It’s easy to forget that War is supposedly a Horseman of the Apocalypse when there’s a creature here who has already shown so much more inclination to kill you than he has. For a moment, you’re not ashamed when you turn your head into his chest and twist your fingers tightly around the fabric of his cowl, tugging yourself as close to his silent safety as you can get. 

The Horseman jolts around you, somehow growing impossibly more solid, though whether that’s because of you or the giant club casting a shadow over his head, you couldn’t say.

You just don’t want to see your own death coming when it-

A single, deafening shot rips the air asunder, reverberating off the cavern walls.

The sound startles a sharp gasp from your mouth, and you can’t help but peek over your own shoulder to see that the demon’s body has gone stiff as a board.

It blinks once, the maniacal grin wiped clean off its face.

As you watch on in confusion and terror, slowly, from the centre of its forehead in the space between its rigid brows, a tiny bead of blood appears, blooming outwards like a rose unfurling crimson petals.

Still crushed against War’s chest, you stare up at the demon in disbelief, mouth flapping open and shut around words that refuse to come. From the corner of an eye, you see the light glint off silver armour as Strife lowers his smoking gun.

“Deal’s a deal,” he says gruffly, rolling a kink out of his shoulder, “Nice and quick.”

There’s something almost graceful in the way the demon starts to tip over backwards, its colossal weapon sliding from loosened fingers to plummet over the ledge and out of sight.

Its wielder doesn’t take long to follow suit.

Crumbling in on itself, its fleshy wings slump abruptly, as does its tail, and its beady, yellow eyes roll up into its skull as the brain gives out, severing any connection to its muscles. Gravity takes hold of the brute’s mass, and with an encouraging tug, it coaxes its prize down over the precipice.

Thousands of pounds of flesh are claimed in an instant. The demon’s feet slip out from under it, sending it toppling backwards into the pit, vanishing in the blink of an eye over the edge it had once held you upon so precariously.

In tentative silence, you and the Horsemen remain utterly motionless, your ears straining to hear over the high-pitched ringing that slowly fades with each passing second.

Then, at last, you hear a distant, muted ‘kersploosh,’ followed by the rather gruesome sounds of sizzling flesh and the near-satisfied gurgles of lava swallowing its latest victim.

Then, and only then, do the three of you at last breathe varying sighs of relief.

“That,” Strife remarks, turning towards you and his brother, hands planted squarely on his hips, “was awesome.”

If looks could kill, the one you shoot at him around War’s swollen bicep would bring the Horseman to his knees.

You don’t think you’ve ever disagreed with anyone so fervently in your entire life.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife x reader #War x reader #fluff #protective Horsemen #bride reader

[lets-try-some-writing]

Anon angst! May I request some Smokescreen being a prime angst? More likely, what would the team think that Smokescreen is the new prime and OP's death? :3

Anon, you know EXACTLY what to ask me for. *cracks knuckles*

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Optimus's vitals were completely untraceable. That could have meant he had been offline since the blast from the Nemesis or that he was hiding somewhere. Logically, Ratchet was inclined to believe in the former of the two scenarios. No mech, not even a Prime, could walk away from such devastation unscathed. Even Prima himself fell before the might of enough blasters and bolter shells.

Even still, the small hope that Optimus still lived kept Ratchet moving. There was no body yet. There was no Matrix. No confirmation that his Prime was gone. There was still time, and while there was still time, Megatron had to be stopped. His rulership of Earth could not be allowed to continue.

And so Ratchet handled the groundbridge while the team and Ultra Magnus went to war. Smokescreen was unaccounted for, but his groundbridge had also been rather unstable. His signal was, much like Optimus's, similarly untraceable. The rookie was too energetic to die. Yet another reason Ratchet wanted to believe that Optimus was still functioning, if only in some dark hole in the ground. He had to believe in something, and so he believed in his Prime as he guided the team in their work.

The battle began to spiral quickly. Their numbers were too few and even with Ratchet and Rafael throwing themselves into coordination, there was little that could be done. Their hope was dwindling, and as it did so, Ratchet found himself praying to a god that may or may not have even been real, begging for Optimus to again rise from the ash and smoke as he had done countless times before.

"Ratchet! Look!" Rafael pointed to the screen frantically, and within moments, Ratchet was speaking to the entire team with disbelief and fearful hope.

"It's an Autobot signal, but its... airborne." The signal was strange and largely unrecognizable. It had no ID attached, but its size specs fell well within Optimus's range. With Ultra Magnus fighting for his life, Ratchet could only come to the conclusion that his Prime had, again, somehow wormed his way out of death.

He smiled and his spark sang as he watched the signal. He had no video feed of the events playing out, but he could hear the sounds of exclamation from the team. He could hear Optimus's weapons firing through the team's open comm links and he could hear Megatron's scream of rage. Optimus was back. He was alive-

"Soldier... what is your designation?" Ultra Magnus's voice broke through the blur of joy and relief that flooded Ratchet's mind as the battle drew to a close and the team gathered to begin the trip back. The children sat a little closer to the screen, watching the Autobot signals clumped together as they listened to the audio coming through.

Did Ultra Magnus really not recognize his brother in arms after so long? Perhaps time and the damage from the blast were merely making things difficult for him to see-

"Nebulous Prime. The inheritor of the title Last of the Primes." The voice that came through the link was deep and baritone just like Optimus's. But there was a youthful lightness to it, a sweetness and silky sound that came from those who had not yet spent millennia screaming orders on the battlefield. There was no rattle or gruffness to his tone, whoever this Nebulous might be.

Ice cold fear shot into Ratchet's spark as he fell silent. He stopped listening to the audio and paced frantically as he waited for the team to arrive. It couldn't be possible. This wasn't possible. Optimus ALWAYS came back. Even from the brink of death. There was no way there was a new Prime. This had to be a mistake.

Optimus would never die. Not to Megatron.

"Ratchet, I'm sorry." Arcee came forward first. She looked tired on a spark deep level. The rest of the team followed her as she entered the hangar that Ratchet had moved everything to. The children watched with nervous eyes, their gazes uncertain as Bumblebee stepped forward next. His doorwings were dipped and he merely shook his helm, dried coolant streaks staining his face. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were came after him. Neither were pleased and both seemed grim.

"What happened? Where is Optimus?" Desperation laced his voice, and he was sure he sounded a moment away from breaking down into tears. He frantically scanned each of the team, silently assessing their minor wounds while he searched for familiar red and blue paint. Ultra Magnus was the last to come forward, and he held himself with as much grace as was possible considering the damage he had sustained.

Ultra Magnus opened his intake to speak, but his vocalizer halted. He looked to the ground, seemingly trying to come up with the words he wanted to say. Ratchet shook ever so slightly, his usually steady servos twitching erratically as he fought against his growing fears. Optimus couldn't be gone. Not for good.

"Step aside Commander." The command echoed in the hangar, and everyone froze as a mech stepped in with imposing but soft pedesteps. He was tall, just as tall as Optimus, if not slightly shorter. He strode forward with grace that was unnatural, seemingly new to the mech as he focused on his steps. Most of his frame was obscured in shadow as he approached Ratchet and the team. But for the briefest of moments, Ratchet saw familiar blue optics cycling wide in greeting.

He almost believed his faulty vision. But then the mech stepped into the light, and Ratchet's entire world came crumbling down.

"I am Nebulous Prime... I am sorry that this is how we have to meet again." Blue, yellow, and white. The colors were wrong, the frame shape was wrong. The new and deadly weapons weren't of the right caliber. The doorwings now made flight capable were nothing like the smokestacks that Ratchet knew and familiarized himself with. The face that greeted him was too young, even with the new and very clearly Primely classical additions.

This was not Optimus. This was not his Prime.

"No... Optimus always comes back." His whispered denial echoed in the silent base. Ratchet could feel his systems heaving in panic and grief, and yet he was helpless to stop it as the Prime before him frowned in that all familiar and yet entirely new manner Ratchet found dooming above all else.

"Optimus Prime became one with the allspark roughly six hours ago. The damage he sustained was too great, and he refused to use the Forge of Solus Prime when I brought it to him." The mech who was once Smokescreen shifted on his pedes. He looked like Orion just after he returned from Primus's core. Uncertain and confused.

Ratchet could not find it in himself to have any sympathy.

"He told me to restore the Omega Lock and Cybertron." Nebulous spoke with a commanding air that even he seemed unsettled by. The team looked to him instinctually, watching his every word and action as they once did for Optimus. Ratchet merely seethed.

What had Smokescreen done to be worthy? What had he done to warrant his life being preserved over Optimus's?

"YOU SHOULD HAVE RESTORED HIM INSTEAD!" A venomous cry escaped him before he could stop it. His plating flared, his fists shook, and never more in his life did he wish he had a valid reason to strike a mech.

"Despite his shortcomings, he always found a way! He, WE would have found some way to fix the Omega Lock without the Forge!" Nebulous watched him with tired optics that were unfitting of his youth. He frowned and seemed to watch Ratchet with a vague sense of detachment. The team refused to meet Ratchet's gaze as he tried to vent.

"Cybertron and our people take priority over any one mech. Even if that mech is a Prime." Nebulous declared softly. Ratchet almost saw red as he reached up and grabbed the new Prime by his neck guard, forcing to Ratchet's level.

"That mech was YOUR PRIME!" He could feel coolant begin to gather in his optics. He ignored his blurring vision in favor of watching in hatred as Nebulous remained still.

"He led us through the darkness!" He remembered Orion Pax and how he had gathered armies to lead forth to war. He was still just an archivist. He was no warframe, and he had never raised a weapon with intention to kill. Despite his fears and insecurities, he guided them all the same.

"He fought until the bitter end against every foe!" He remembered Optimus Prime, fresh from Primus's core and unsteady on his pedes. He had been so full of life then. So eager to throw himself into combat in order to preserve even one more life. Optimus's frame had been covered in so many scars by the time they left their world.

"He deserved to see our home restored!" He remembered his Prime, the mech he had dutifully stood beside until the very end. Optimus didn't smile often anymore, but when he did, it was full of fond affection. They had been through everything together, and Ratchet had been of the belief that they would remain companions until the end.

Looking at Nebulous, he saw that familiar depth in the Prime's optics. But it was that wealth of hidden knowledge that left Ratchet reeling in the truth.

"He did. And if I could have changed things, I would have. I never wanted to be a Prime, but this is the burden that was given to me." Nebulous slowly removed Ratchet's servo and held it softly, kindly even. It was not how Optimus held his servo on those rare occasions where Ratchet's oldest friend felt the need to show his affection. Optimus liked to cling to one or two digits at a time, a soft brush that would not be noticeable to any watchers. Nebulous held his whole servo firmly, and yet with enough ease that Ratchet could easily break away.

"I am not Optimus. I do not have his skill or his experience. All I have are echoes of knowledge that I do not know how to find or apply." Meeting the new Prime's gaze, Ratchet's anger began to fade. In Nebulous's optics, there was indeed the knowledge of the Primes. But lingering in his optics was also fear. Primal and deep fear of the unknown just like Orion when he took on the mantle.

He looked so much like the scared archivist Ratchet had spent vorns upon vorns comforting as he grew into his station. It was painfully familiar, but also saddening. Just a cycle ago, Smokescreen had stood before him, eager and willing to jest and fight at a moment's notice. Now a terrified youngling held himself with as much strength as he was able, desperately trying to not show his terror.

"I am not used to this frame. I am not used to this weight on my mind and spark." He shifted on his pedes, and only then did Ratchet see the way his new wings dipped to the ground, a form of communication any mech could easily read as distress. Nebulous's kibble was heavy and while he had been reformed to handle the weight, his unused arm hung limply at his side. Guns and other weapons seemed to crush him.

He was used to speed, but now he was a proper weapon of war. Just as Optimus had changed, Nebulous would as well. Given time, his frame would continue to shift until the Matrix was settled. But until then, he would continue to carry weight that Optimus had been comfortable with, but Smokescreen likely never would find himself at ease with.

"I am not Optimus." A tremor rang out in Nebulous's voice. For a moment, he looked like Smokescreen again. He looked scared and lost without his idol to lead him. Ratchet wanted to be upset, but the longer he watched, the more he found himself easing into his new and unspoken role.

Nebulous was lost. He bore the burden well enough for now, but he was grieving and enduring the weight of the Primacy all at once. Ratchet could weep later, in private. For now, he had work to do.

"But I will finish what he started, if only to honor him." Nebulous looked defeated even with his proud statement. The team looked to him in concern and then to Ratchet for guidance. Ratchet was the eldest amongst them. They needed a leader.

"We will finish what he started." Nebulous startled, his optics wide and his wings perking up. He must have expected Ratchet to decide to leave or possibly defect.

Maybe he would have if Nebulous didn't look so much like Orion Pax. Maybe he would have joined Megatron in order to kill him from the inside.

But not now. Not when Optimus's legacy stood on the brink of collapse.

"We will end this war." He clasped Nebulous's servo and hastily schooled his expression. Optimus would be avenged. But in the meantime, Nebulous needed all the help he could get.

Just as Ratchet had been a friend to Optimus Prime, he would be a guide to Nebulous, the Last of the line of Primes.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #alternate universe #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #wheeljack #ultra magnus #tfp kids #smokescreen #the matrix of leadership #angst #optimus prime dies yet again #huzzah for pain for dear old smokey

[ahqkas]

I have like a supernatural request and I’m obsessed with mermaids…LIKE 😕 but I would like to request something where mattheo is by a lake. He heard a lot about how there’s a Hogwarts mermaid by this lake. But she only comes out at night. Reader’s scales are so beautiful and it makes him memorized and he starts to sneak out a lot to see her.

-🦋anon

PRECIOUS LIKE THOSE PEARLS ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE BLACK LAKE WAS CALM AND STILL UNDER THE PALE LIGHT OF THE CRESCENT MOON. Mattheo Riddle stood at the water's edge, his eyes scanning the dark surface, hoping for a glimpse of the creature he'd heard whispers about. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. He'd been coming here every night for the past week, driven by curiosity and a strange, unexplainable pull. Something must be in this lake.

Tonight, however, felt different. The usual silence of the lake seemed charged with an interesting energy. As he stood there, he noticed a faint shimmer beneath the water, a glimmer that was neither a reflection of the moon nor a trick of the light. His heart quickened as he took a step closer.

Suddenly, the water's surface broke, and a figure emerged. You were breathtaking, with scales that glimmered like precious jewels in the moonlight. They ranged from deep emerald green to a soft, iridescent blue, shifting and sparkling with her every movement. Your eyes, perhaps shining even more than the scales, locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"You're the mermaid," Mattheo exclaimed softly, more to himself than to you. His breath hitched in the back of his throat.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. "And you must be the boy who has been watching me."

Your voice was melodic, carrying a soothing quality that matched your ethereal appearance. Mattheo felt his breath hitch for the second time in a minute, captivated by the sight before him. He nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The shock of your appearance resided in his system.

"Call me [Name]," you replied, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you swam closer, examining his human features. "And you are?"

The boy appeared almost like from another realm. He was beautiful. His features, so distinctly human, seemed strange to you. The round curve of his ear, the redness of his cheeks. Only the look in his eyes matched yours. Wild curiosity for the other world.

"Mattheo," he answered, taking another cautious step closer. "I've heard stories about you. They say you only come out at night."

A chuckle escaped past your lips, a sound that reminded Mattheo of the tinkling of small bells. "The night is my comfort, where I feel most at home. It's safer, too. Humans can be . . . unpredictable."

"I suppose we can be. But I'm not here to harm you. I just wanted to see if the stories were true."

"And now that you've seen me?" you asked him the question, your gaze never really leaving his.

"I'm more mesmerized than I ever thought I would be," he admitted. "Your scales . . . they're beautiful." You are beautiful.

"Thank you," your smile widened upon hearing his words. "It's rare for someone to see me like this. Most are too afraid or simply don't believe."

"Well, I'm not most people," Mattheo said with a hint of pride. "I've always been drawn to the mysterious, the things others overlook or dismiss." And it was the truth. Mattheo had always been curious, his caretakers used to say.

Your eyes softened, and you swam a little closer to the shore, towards him. "Why do you come here, Mattheo? What is it that you seek?"

He thought for a moment, considering your question. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I'm looking for something beyond the ordinary. Something that makes me feel alive."

"You find that in me?" you asked, a touch of vulnerability in your voice. No one has ever treated you with such kindness. No one from the human world, that’s it.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "There's something about you, [Name]. Something magical." And it wasn’t the Hogwarts.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the silence between you filled with an unspoken understanding. Then, you broke the spell.

"Would you like to come closer?" asking, you extended a palm toward him.

Mattheo hesitated for only a second before he knelt by the water's edge, reaching out to take your hand. Your touch was cool and soft, sending a shiver up his spine. You gently pulled him closer, and he found himself sitting on the damp ground, his feet almost touching the water, knees soaking the dampness in.

"Tell me about your world," you proposed, eyes wide with interest. "What's it like above the surface?"

Mattheo smiled, realizing he had so much to share. "It's . . . chaotic and beautiful all at once. There are mountains and forests, bustling cities and quiet villages. People can be wonderful, but also terribly complicated. It's a world full of contradictions."

"That sounds fascinating," your voice was full of wonder. "I wish I could see it for myself."

"Maybe one day," Mattheo said, his tone hopeful. "But for now, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

You spent hours like that, talking and sharing stories. Mattheo told you all about Hogwarts, the magical creatures, and the adventures he'd had. You, in turn, shared tales of the lake, its hidden depths, and the creatures that dwelled within. With every word, the two of you grew closer, the bond between you strengthening.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you let out a sigh. "I have to go. The sun is rising."

"Will I see you again?" Mattheo asked, not wanting your time together to end. He has never felt more connected with someone.

"Yes," you promised. "Come back tomorrow night. I'll be here."

With one last, lingering look, your figure slipped beneath the water, disappearing from sight. Mattheo stood up, his heart full of a strange mix of emotions. He knew he would return, drawn back to the lake by the pull of the mysterious mermaid who had captured his heart. As he walked back to the castle, he couldn't stop thinking about you, the night you had shared, and the promise of more to come.

#mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #hp x you #hp x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist #harry potter fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin

[agirlcandream84]

Absolutely obsessed with your writing <3

Can we get a bf Frank upset about your increased partying / self-medicating ways because he just wants you to take care of yourself? Maybe you keep getting too drunk, taking unnecessary risks at night, doing drugs- literally whatever you want up to you! Your diet one helped sm🤍🤍

❤️ thank you SO much. This took me a min because I'm SO straight-laced and afraid of self-medicating that I raw-dog every human experience but I actually love how this turned out.

Angsty!Frank Castle x Self Sabotaging!Reader

"Why do you keep lyin' to me sweetheart?" Frank rumbles, the question pointed but his tone soft. He turns to face you, the heat of his eyes boring a hole into your profile.

You feel your stomach plummet to your feet, your heart hammering in your ears, but you force your face to remain neutral, feigning unbothered confusion.

"Lying about what Frankie?" you ask, even adding a small chuckle to the question. Of course you couldn't meet his eye so you busy yourself with fluffing the pillows on the couch. You hated yourself for gaslighting him but the idea of Frank finding out felt worse.

"Don't do that baby," he counters, a small hint of warning in his tone.

"Do what?" you asking, painting confusion on your face as you turn to finally face him. His brows are stitched in that cocktail of concern and determination and his arms are folded across his chest. You hated yourself for lying to Frank but you were terrified that the truth would have you lose him for good.

Then and there you promised yourself that tonight was the last time. Just one more night and you'd somehow get it under control.

"Yeah, alright sweetheart. Maybe it's nothin'" he replies, swiping an agitated hand down his face, his nostrils flared in frustration. He didn't believe you and you didn't blame him. You almost would have preferred him to explode on you and bring this whole unstoppable runaway train to an end.

He turned to lift his coat from the rack and shrug it on, his hand landing on the door as you manage to ask, "Are you heading out?"

"Yeah, gotta take care of somethin' " he grumbles before letting the door slam behind him.

You rush to the small pouch under the bed and extract the orange prescription bottle, tumbling out 3 pills for tonight and carrying the bottle to the toilet. Your hands are already shaking at the thought of it but you force yourself to hold the small bottle aloft above the open toilet, your hand poised to let them tumble in.

But of course they don't. The abject fear coursing through your veins keeps your wrist locked in place-- the pills rattling in their container.

"fuck, just do it, fucking do it," you mumble to yourself, goading your brain into destroying the very thing you thought was keeping you alive and upright. Those fucking white pills that dulled every sharp edge but had your life by the throat. The same pills that seemed to work less and less until you needed more and more. The pills that were your only ticket to an acceptable night's sleep as long as you took it with a shot of vodka too. Those pills that made you feel like you'd been hit by the M6 bus every morning. Those pills that kept the memories from creeping in. Kept the shame from rearing. Kept the fear from winning.

"Fuck!" you shout, tears already pouring down your face as your hand caps the bottle, pills still safely tucked inside. The bottle gets returned to it's pouch under the bed and you spend the afternoon with shame and fear roiling in your stomach.

You were gone by the time Frank returned home, which happened more often than not these days. In an effort not to be caught swilling vodka to welcome sleep, you often "went a friend's house" in the evening, coming home late enough to avoid questions and head straight for bed, sneaking 3-4 pills before you did.

At 12:15am, perhaps a bit later than your normal night, after three generous shots of vodka, perhaps a shot more than a normal night, you stumble home from the dive bar six blocks away and promptly twist an ankle navigating some busted sidewalk. You manage to fumble your way to a nearby bus bench and inspect your knee, blood already pricking through the skin while your head feels that buzzed gentle spin.

You sit splayed on the bench, suddenly aware of just how colossally fucking tired you were. What poetic justice that the pills and alcohol that had become your tailspin of a life were all in an effort to get better sleep (or on some nights, any sleep at all) but were also the singular source of your exhaustion and misery.

You sat unmoving for minutes, or an hour, who knew-- until a dark van screeches to a halt in front of you and a familiar silhouette rushes out.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're hurt. What the fuck happened sweetheart?" he says, rushing to squat in front of you and inspect your knee.

"Frankie?" you ask incredulously, the vodka making you feel like you were moving in slow motion. What was Frank doing here? How did he find you?

"Why didn't you call me sweetheart? Been worried sick when you didn't come home. How the hell did this happen?" he rambles a bit, eyes still on your knee as he presses a bunched up napkin to the wound.

"I.. oh uh... I was.." you mumble, your brain incapable of making an excuse. It occurs to you that Frank hasn't noticed your inebriation and you're paralyzed not to reveal yourself. "How did you know I was here?" you ask, taking every word deliberately slow.

"Curtis was drivin' past and though he saw you. Called me up right away. Did someone do this to you doll?" he asks, locking eyes with yours, pleading to understand why you were alone and injured past midnight on a bus bench.

"No, no, nobody-- I tripped, I just tripped," you mumble, your heart racing now and your hands shaking. "I just tripped," you add again when Frank's eyes meet yours. You see him see you -- crumpled on the bench, tiny streams of blood caked to your shin, your hair disheveled and your makeup worn. You look at each other for an extended breath and you realize it's not rage or anger but fear in his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah ok sweetheart," he answers placatingly, "let's get you in the car, yeah?" he says, his arm looped behind your back as he guides you to keep the weight off your twisted ankle. The ride home is silent, only the truck's blinker and his steady breathing fill the tiny space.

Frank tends to you like a patient, expertly helping you up the steps, getting you into your pajamas, taking a washcloth to your face, handing you a readied toothbrush and you obey-- compliant and silent.

You're sat on the bathroom sink while Frank cleans the gash on your knee properly, his hands competent and quick. He finishes and tosses the bloodied napkin in the trash and turns to stand in front of you in the tiny bathroom.

"It's gotta stop," he says directly, jamming his hands in his pockets. You can't meet his eye so he does the work for you, bending slightly at the knees to find your ducked head and says, "Gotta look at me sweetheart."

"Frank, this was one time. It's not a problem or something," you reply, risking a quick glance to his eyes. The lie like acid on your tongue.

"Don't do this. Don't fuckin' do it doll," he says shaking his head, agitation painting his face.

"I'm not doing anything. I-- I don't have to listen to this," you answer, anger masking the fear of being found out. No-- not found out. The fear of being accountable for change. For facing the hard things the alcohol and pills were supposed to mask.

You make to push off the height of the sink but Frank's hands land on your hips to anchor you in place.

"Nah, that's it. We're not pretendin' anymore," Frank says, is voice shifting into something like authority.

"I'm not pretending anything Frank. Let me fucking go," you reply, matching his intensity but fueled instead by the consuming fear of this being the moment you lose him.

"You gonna storm away on your bum foot, huh?! You gonna go get that pouch of pills from under the bed? Is that it!?" he shouts, his tone determined but his eyes pleading-- begging-- for you to listen.

You're frozen at his accusation. The pills. He found them. You felt the room melting off the foundation. Your stomach sinking to the floor. Your heartbeat raging in your ears.

"I don't know--" you mumble but he cuts you off.

"Yes you do sweetheart," he says, his tone hushed, as his hands navigate to either side of your face to cup your cheeks. He tilts your face up towards his, his touch so nurturing you could choke on your own betrayal of it. "Please. I can't lose--" he stops, unable to finish the sentence, "help me understand what's goin' on sweetheart."

You choke out a strained "I don't know how it happened Frankie," before a sob catches in your throat and you collapse on his chest, your hands making fists in his shirt. He hugs you to him with a strength you hadn't felt before, your breath squished from your lungs as you chant "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry frankie. i'm so sorry."

"You're alright. Sshhh ssshhh, you're alright," he responds, stepping an inch closer to the sink so that your legs are on either side of his frame and he hooks his arms under your thighs to lift you from the sink, your arms clinging to the column of his neck as he moves you both to the bedroom.

He places you gently in the bed and climbs in behind you, his shoes and jacket still on, as he cups your body within his. And in the darkness of the room you tell him everything-- speaking your shame and fears into the black stillness -- and he sees you through the other side.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst