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okay-babe · 1 month

Note

On my knees begging for you to give us an Alastor x Reader fic featuring cursed Alastor cat 🙏

Some Small Part (return to you)

note: how could I ever say no? tags: alastor x reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, pet! catalastor, mild angst, reader's gender is unspecified, fluff

Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, causing you to pull your robe flush against your torso without even realizing. It was a habit of sorts now, developed after years upon years of unanticipated solitude that seemed to have no foreseeable end.

One had to cope somehow, after all, and you'd never been a very big fan of storms even back when the clouds above had spat water instead of acid.

Your fear required comfort to remedy, and those whose needs were not met made due with the little things, like wrapping themselves up in their softest robe before standing thoughtlessly to search for the only other presence that could be found within the thick and familiar walls of their house.

And of course, that is exactly what you did.

"Minou!"

You called, voice drowned out by the much louder growls of the clouds above as you made your way slowly to the creature's favorite spot within your home.

There was no doubt that he was back from whatever hunt he'd been on by now. After all, he really wasn't one to enjoy getting his fur wet.

"Minou!"

You called again, voice slightly louder this time as you peeked into the laundry room curiously, only to frown when you noted that your "pet" wasn't on the lowly thrumming dryer where he tended to reside whenever the weather grew chill.

You sighed.

He was just as hard to find, it seemed, as the man whose image he so eerily and inexplicably took after.

A burst of lightning crashed noisily against the ground, and in spite of yourself and your apparent annoyance, you jumped, gasping in surprise before groaning, placing your hand against your chest as if needing to feel your racing heart to know you hadn't died all over again.

To say you merely disliked storms after how you'd passed was an understatement, and you found yourself cursing the man who had dared to adorn your finger with his ring all those years ago.

Who did he think he was, leaving you alone to endure a hundred nights just like this one in his absence?

You weren't entirely sure he'd walk away unscathed if he ever dared step through your shared front door again.

But that was enough thought of him.

Sighing, you turned around, already eager to continue the search for your ominous little companion.

Except, much to your surprise, it seemed there would be no search necessary, because standing in the doorway behind you was the very being you had been looking for.

"There you are."

You sighed again, half out of relief and half out of exasperation for the silence with which your darling "pet" always seemed to move.

Habitually, you looked the creature over as he sat still upon the floor, taking in his dark red fur, yellowed teeth, and absurdly small antlers.

He was so familiar to you now that it almost made you falter if you thought about it for too long.

When exactly had you gotten so used to the little guy?

Honestly, if someone were to ask you when the thing had shown up, you weren't entirely sure if you'd be able to recall anymore.

It had been quite some time ago, after all, on a stormy night like this one, that he'd shown up at your door.

The date had long since left your memory, but the fear had stuck around in that wretched way it always did.

You had been terrified.

That storm had exceeded the worst of any other you'd experienced in hell prior, and as you'd cowered in the living room, the radio playing nothing but static paired with the brief interruptions of neighboring channels, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched.

It was a gnawing sensation, the certainty of eyes staring into your soul, but even still, something had compelled you to approach the window anyhow.

Whatever was out there, you hadn't felt afraid of it, not even when your eyes found those piercing red ones in the darkness.

You had let the creature come inside that night, telling yourself it was just because you felt bad for it having had to sit out there for so very long in the rain.

You'd refused to admit back then how eerie a resemblance it shared with your husband.

You'd refused to acknowledge that such a ridiculous fact had any bearing on your decision.

Because in truth, it was completely absurd.

Except, clearly there had been something about the little guy that you enjoyed having around, because after that night, he'd never truly left.

Sure, he would vanish on occasion through the cat door you'd affixed to the wall a few years ago, but he had yet to stay gone for longer than a few hours at a time.

He knew where home was, it seemed.

Perhaps that was the difference between him and the man you'd married.

You tried not to think too hard about that.

Frowning slightly at another bout of thunder, you snapped yourself out of your reverie and returned your attention to the creature still sitting in front of you.

"Where were you hiding?"

You chided halfheartedly as you bent down to pick the cat-like being up, smiling softly at his purr of contentment. For such an impersonal creature, he certainly did like being on the receiving end of your affections...

Perhaps that was something he shared with the man you'd married.

You were still doing your best not to think about that, though.

Carrying your odd little companion over to the couch, you couldn't help but sigh as you placed him upon your lap, watching as he curled up happily in that same manner he always did.

He was quite the consistent creature, each behavior as strict and unbending as a habit.

All he ever really did was hunt, stare, stand, sit, lay, and stare some more.

His typical day consisted of following you around the house, watching as you performed your daily chores and activities, leaving for a few hours if he felt up to it, and then returning to watch again.

Honestly, now that you thought about it, you weren't even really sure if you'd ever seen the little guy sleep in the four years he'd been occupying your home.

A creature of habit, indeed.

But then, if that was so true, why was it that he was suddenly standing upon your lap with no warning, his fur straight on end and his hackles raised as a hiss as low and ominous as the thunder from above rumbled within his chest.

Your eyes widened at the sight, raising your hands as if in surrender, certain you must've done something to anger your oddly particular "pet".

But then, before you could even consider what that something may have been, you heard a sound that made your heart skip a beat.

It was metal on metal, a familiar, subtle clicking, and then an obvious shift in pressure as cool air flooded your living room.

A key slid easily out of the lock.

Except there was only one other key...

And you hadn't seen it since-

Your head whipped around so fast you feared for a moment that you may have given yourself whiplash, though quickly any thoughts of injury ceased the moment your eyes met his.

"Alastor."

You breathed, his name falling past your lips like a prayer you'd been forced to stop uttering.

Even just saying it felt like an act of heresy.

Your husband's grin remained plastered upon his face even as he caught sight of you, expression unphased, though you couldn't help but notice the way that his eyes roved about your face and body, softening slightly as if he'd only just realized after so very long that he could relax them if he so chose.

"Chère."

He replied simply, his voice smooth and relaxed even in spite of how very long it had been since either of you had seen each other,

"I didn't expect you to be awake."

At that, you swallowed thickly, gently petting at the still growling creature that was standing upon your lap,

"There's a storm."

You replied softly, shaking your head,

"I can't ever sleep during storms anymore."

At that Alastor seemed to stop for a few moments, as if considering your words more thoroughly before he finally nodded.

"Of course, how could I forget?"

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, though he halted rather suddenly when he noticed the source of the angry sound that was reverberating throughout the room.

"What is that?"

He asked, gesturing slightly toward the creature who still stood protectively upon your lap, ears pointed straight up toward the ceiling and eyes fixed meanly upon your husband as if it wished to tear the man to shreds.

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure."

You continued to pet your small companion soothingly, trying to reassure it that things were okay without the use of words.

"He showed up a few years ago during a fearsome storm not too unlike this one. I let him inside so he wouldn't get hurt and he's been here ever since."

Alastor regarded the being with caution and a mild sense of confusion as he continued his slow approach. When he stopped a few feet short of you though, you found that you doubted that your "pet" was making much of a difference when it came to that. Your husband never did stand very close to you when he knew that he'd messed up recently.

A quick getaway, you supposed, probably a smart move.

But as angry as you'd been even just thinking of your love earlier in the evening, you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way in that moment

It was exhausting, missing someone as much as you'd missed the man standing before you, and it almost felt like none of that truly set in until the very moment he was just outside of your reach once more, standing in the home you'd shared as if he'd never even left in the first place.

Oh how badly you wished that were the case.

You swallowed thickly, fighting back tears that you didn't dare try to understand for fear of making them flow faster.

"It was terribly quiet here without you, you know."

You whispered, watching as your husband's lips twitched downward ever so slightly.

He hummed,

"I wasn't aware that I made much noise at all, my dear."

You scoffed at that, in spite of the tears that were still welling up in your eyes.

"I don't think I was either until you left,"

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a lot more like a sob, and in response, the creature in your lap quieted slightly, as if having sensed your distress and realized it's attention was better suited elsewhere.

You gasped slightly as you felt it's rough tongue against your cheek, lapping up the tears that had fallen in spite of your best efforts to keep them from doing so.

And then, unable to control yourself, you let out a burst of laughter.

"You're such a weirdo."

You chuckled as you held the small being beneath it's armpits, outstretching your arms to hold it out further so you could see it properly.

It simply stared back, tail wagging ever so slightly with one of it's ears bent toward you in the way you'd grown accustomed to throughout the years.

It was rare that both of it's ears were up unless it was upset.

You quite liked the look of them when they were uneven anyhow, it wasn't much unlike-

Before you could finish that no doubt destructive thought, you stopped yourself and turned your attention back toward the man who was now sitting comfortably in the chair placed opposite to you.

He hummed softly as your eyes met his once more.

You sighed.

"Al, this is Minou."

You introduced gently, turning the creature so he could see it better.

If it reacted, you certainly didn't notice.

Your husband raised a brow in response.

"It's name is... cat?"

He asked hesitantly, wondering for a moment if you had perhaps grown rusty with your french after so many years with no practice.

But before he could get much further with that theory, you nodded.

"Yeah, I thought it was fitting enough. He could pass for a cat, right?"

You turned the creature around once more to get a better look at him, and smiled when it's persistently ominous expression came into view.

He was pretty cute, in his own weird way.

Another manner in which he wasn't too unlike your husband, you supposed.

Alastor chuckled under his breath at your question, watching intently and with a look of keen interest as he took in the sight of you after so very long.

"I suppose so, if one were to squint."

You scoffed at that, but the grin on your face made it obvious that you weren't nearly as upset as you were making yourself out to be.

You pulled your "pet" in closer after a few more seconds of further inspection, smiling softly at the returning sound of his purr upon your lap.

You sighed, looking back to your husband once more.

"You know, when I found him, I almost thought that he was you for a little while, or maybe some extension of you I'd never met before. There's just something about him that feels so awfully familiar in that same way you do."

Alastor hummed and approached slowly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as he finally began to shed his coat.

"Hmm, how interesting."

He replied, semi-lost in thought as he spoke.

It would make sense, after all, that if some part of him were to somehow split off from the rest and gain a consciousness of it's own...

It would return to you.

#alastor x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #cat alastor #cursed cat alastor #alastor fluff #alastor angst #alastor x reader fluff #requests #.writes

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valentinetypewriter · 7 months

Text

Pleasant Intrusion

Wolfstar x reader

Masterlist

Y/n catches Sirius and Remus messing around in her room and rummaging through her closet

Warnings: implied smut, making out, perverted teenage boyfriends. Also I suck at naming fics, and writing anything explicit or intimate

Word count: 1,989, this is just a short fic

Sirius and Remus had finished their last class of the day when they decided to head to their girlfriend's room. Upon entering they found it empty, which seemed odd to them since Y/n would always be up here on Thursday's, having finished her last class almost an hour before them. Remus was planning on leaving to go and look for Y/n when Sirius had decided to take a seat on her bed "Let's just wait for her here, she shouldn't be too long" Remus just shrugged, taking a seat next to the black haired boy. He grabbed one of the few books on Y/n's bedside table to busy himself as he waited. Though Sirius was not one to wait, he started to get fidgety after sitting for only 5 minutes.

So he took it upon himself to start rifling through his girlfriend's stuff. "What the hell are you doing?" Remus questioned, watching his boyfriend pull out a pair of lace underwear from their girlfriend's closet "just taking a look, that's all" as much as he tried to be convincing in his tone, Sirius didn't do much to hide the fact he was shoving the panties into his back pocket. The tall Werewolf just sighed at his actions "she'll be pissed if you get caught" Sirius just laughed and shook his head, continuing his search through Y/n's stuff "you see darling I don't plan on getting caught" he made eye contact with Remus before throwing a matching lace bra at the sitting boy. The tall boy's face burned red as he held up the bra. He had seen Y/n in it before, it was the matching set she wore when she was planning for an intense night with the two boys. It was a dark red colour with black lace and a small heart bead in the centre. Remus threw it onto the bed next to him, trying to ignore the blood that's starting to rush downwards.

He looked around the room to distract himself and his eyes landed on an enchanted photo on the bedside table. It was a photo taken about 4 months ago and it was of him, Y/n and Sirius celebrating their 1 year anniversary. The three of them were smiling brightly, Remus stood in the centre with his arms wrapped around his two partners as they both shoved their faces into his own, smothering his face in kisses before looking back over at the camera. Remus gently picked the frame up and smiled at the photo, gently rubbing off a slight layer of dust. Sirius threw himself behind Remus and lent over his shoulder to examine what the boy was holding "you know that's my favourite photo of us" remus looked back at his boyfriend seeing a familiar glint in his stormy grey eyes "I especially like how red you face gets" his voice softened as he lent in to kiss Remus on the cheek. The boy's face instantly started burning up, the thing about Remus was that he was incredibly easy to make blush, especially when it came to his partners.

Sirius continued kissing over Remus's face before leaning into his lips. They deepened the kiss as Sirius's hands wrapped around his boyfriend's waist, gently pushing him down against the bed. The raven haired boy leant over Remus as he straddle his legs, sliding his tongue into the young Werewolves mouth. The two started moving against each other for friction, but neither dared to stop and undress. Maybe if he wasn't so caught up in the taste of cinnamon and smoke from Sirius's mouth, Remus would've heard the approaching footsteps or the door being gently opened and quickly closed.

"What the hell are you two perverts doing?" The voice of their beloved girlfriend rang out snapping both boys out of their trance as their heads shot up. No matter what they said there was no denying how perverted they must've seemed to their girlfriend. Sirius was sitting on top of Remus, lace underwear still sticking out from his back pocket for y/n to see. Remus on the other hand was burning red, his hair was a mess and his lips seemed swollen, a bra laying next to his head that just so happened to match the underwear in the stormy eyed boy's pocket. Sirius was the first to speak up "oh hello princess, we were just keeping busy while waiting for you to get back" a wolfish grin on his face, y/n looked between her two boyfriend's, the lace panties and the matching bra "Yes I can see that" her face reddening at the thought of the two rifling through her underwear draw then making out on her bed. "Care to join us, love?" Remus' voice had a whispered edge to it, still slightly dazed from Sirius. "Yeah ok, I guess you two depraved pervs deserve some company"

#sirius black #remus lupin #the marauders #wolfstar #the marauders era #harry potter #james potter #peter pettigrew #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #Wolfstar x reader #Wolfstar x y/n #remus lupin x y/n #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader x remus lupin #poly!wolfstar #poly!marauders x reader #polyamory #polywolfstar

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Text

Honkai Star Rail Men + Showing Affection

Pairing: Blade, Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, teasing, hand-holding, cuddles, sitting in their lap, playful biting, gift giving, domestic fluff, protectiveness, clothes sharing

A/N: Thinking about the little ways these guys would show you they love you. This is a repost, I don't know what happened to the original one but suddenly it wasn't on my blog anymore, sorry about blogging it twice.

Blade always keeps his hands on you, literally always no matter what. He needs you to know that he is always by your side, always there to support and protect and have you when ever you need him in whatever way you need him. Privacy? What is that? He can best show you how much he cares by always being there. When he's not there he likes sending you texts, anything to let you know that he's thinking of you when you're apart and then giving you a big kiss when you see him again.

Caelus likes to craft you little gifts that you can put around your house. Honesty they're not the best decorations but they're from him so you don't have the heart to tell him you don't want them. Besides you get to see his face light up when ever you accept a gift from him and that's the true gift as long as you're concerned. When you give him something he looks at it like its his biggest treasure, like he's gonna make it his family heirloom, your- eh, no, no, forget that, his family, yeah only his... he's not thinking that far ahead.

Dan Heng pulls you against his chest when you're alone, kissing you so hard he takes your breath away. He knows he should slow down but you have precious little time so he wants to make sure his love always comes across. Kissing you is his favorite thing in the world, not just kissing your lips but your cheek, your neck, your wrists in particular, slow kisses on your eyelids as they flutter against his lips, kisses on your shoulders and ears and further down even, but that's only for when you're done with work.

Gepard stands up for you in any situation no matter what, wearing his title of protective boyfriend with as much pride as his family name. He straightens up his back and holds your hand with his, the other on his weapon, ready to strike, his eyes the color of a dark stormy sky. Knowing that you're watching, that you're seeing his devotion and valor and love for you, that's what gives him his strength against any opponent. And he knows that if he gets hurt you'll be by his side until he recovers.

Jing Yuan loves cuddling with you literally anywhere. Its all fair game to the general, as are you, your body fitting perfectly onto his lap, on top of him, into his wandering hands and against his daring lips which he playfully nips at your skin with. If he could freeze time and exist with you in this moment, unbothered by everything else and indulge his deepest desires with you for the rest of his life then he would ask for nothing else in the word ever again.

Welt shares all his clothes with you, half the closet is yours anyways so why should it matter if you put one of his shirts on by accident? It doesn't matter, he is yours, and he loves seeing you wearing his shirts and pants and vests. There's no better sight then him waking up to you in his sleeping shirt, having stolen it off the edge of the bed where he threw it last night and putting his glasses onto his face while giving him a small kiss on the forehead.

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zedif-y · 7 months

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Joel is pretty damn good at avoidance. You could call him an expert, he does it so much.

He's so good at it, in fact, that he's multitasking. Not just moping. He's getting wood for his latest build, thank you, so it's not his fault when he doesn't check his communicator— he's swinging a blummin' axe around, he doesn't have time to think about meetings, or Empire trades, or—

His communicator pings again.

—or a certain, tiny Sheriff.

Joel sighs. There goes not thinking about it.

...Deforestation is a valid coping mechanism, innit?

(He tries for a laugh. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.)

His stare bores holes into the rough bark, his knuckles straining around the handle of his axe. Joel curses under his breath.

He doesn't know how to face Jimmy.

That's the issue, isn't it? He could see him, could visit, but he won't. Not right now, not in the next— whatever. Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, 'cuz Jimmy's alive and that's what's important, right? Joel's being stupid.

He's being stupid because, because. It doesn't make sense that he's still so— hollow and suffocating inside. That his lungs still tremble and seize like he's inhaled smoke, his throat tight and hands clammy when he's unoccupied for too long. It's stupid. It's stupid.

Because Jimmy's fine now. He's walking around as the Sheriff of Tumble Town again, shorter where Joel got taller and if it were any other day, Joel thinks he would be laughing at the thought again.

He swings his axe with more force than necessary, basking in the crack-splintering of wood.

He's not laughing now, though.

He does it again, like he's hammering the thought into his head, over and over: Jimmy is fine. He's alive.

It wasn't meant to last.

The tree falls with a thud, leaves rustling in its wake. His arms ache. Joel's been at this for hours.

He grunts as he heaves up his axe, looking for another tree.

He doesn't get it. He doesn't get it.

His body aches with a grief he can't place, a kind of pain he's never really had to feel until Jimmy, until Grian. He feels a bit like a ghost, some days, and that's. Not very god-like, is it.

He's the god of bloody lightning, or whatever it is he went with, and yet when he hears thunder on stormy nights his skin crawls and his eyes burn and all he can think of is, is—

Tree trunks splinter and collapse under his hands. One, two. Again, and again, and again. Until there's nothing left, until his mind quiets, until, until.

Joel leans against the rough bark, his chest heaving with exertion.

…Yeah. Just that. He's not freaking out, he's not.

Joel lets out a frustrated noise, "What's wrong with me?" He balls his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. "There's no point to this."

How's he meant to explain this to Jimmy, then?

How's Joel meant to say that he can't look at him, can't tease or poke fun because even just thinking about him hurts. That he can't help but mourn him when he's right there and that he doesn't know how to stop, how to face him and not see a ghost.

He'd get that look on his face, the kicked puppy one that Joel always caves to, that one. And Joel will feel bad, because he knows he can be an ass but he's not a monster, and he hates, hates when Jimmy's face crumples like that so—

So seeing him isn't an option. Not right now, at least.

Joel sighs, slowly peeling himself off the side of the tree. His head hurts.

He looks over at the fallen wood, dark oak mingled with leaves and grass. His mind, if only for a moment, flashes with a mansion. Fire.

Joel shakes the thought away, scowling as he goes to scoop up the logs. Stupid brain.

Jimmy's right there, just a nether portal away. He's fine, and so is Joel.

…So is Joel.

He stuffs his materials into his shulker boxes, puts them in his inventory with a sigh.

Right. Next batch.

(His communicator pings, one more time.)

(hey joel, it reads. hope youre alright.)

(It stays unread for another week.)

#ryan's writing #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #smallidarity #<<can be read as platonic or romantic #empires smp #empires s2 #esmp s2 #limited life #limlife smp #aftermath at least #trafficblr #mcyt

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whorediaries-09 · 4 months

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okay but popstar!reader and rockstar!sirius where reader performs a song, and wears sirius' leather jacket while doing it and screams "yes i'm his girlfriend, do what you want with that information"and sirius is SHOCKED or in which reader is in an interview and get questioned abt siri and she's like "he's the love of my lifee" and he is all gooey and melty

eep! i'm sorry i've been inactive, i hope you forgive me. i was on a little trip and also have my exams. anyways, i hope you like what i've written.

smoke on my clothes;

pairing- rockstar!sirius black x popstar!reader warnings- fluff, 18+ content (i had to incorporate it cause its him-) use of y/n (aghhhkdjci4utcisn). let me know if i should add more a/n- okay so i mixed both the ideas like-um- idk how to explain, you'll see.

the slut club

lovelorn and nobody knows love thorns all over this rose

he was known for his notorious dating history. he was known for his "sex appeal". he was known for cigarettes after sex. he was known for his black leather jackets. he was known for his distinct rough voice, booming through stadiums. and through the years, he had a gained a reputation of being nothing but a man who seemed to a 'playboy' of sorts.

that pushed the media to slut shame him. but what happened behind close walls remained in his memories, and only he knew. while he could usually laugh it off when asked in interviews, he still felt hurt. he wasn't a man of commitment, and whenever he took a woman to his bed, he specified he didn't want any emotional bonding. it was supposed to be just a one night stand.

that was until he met you. you had agreed to collab with him on a project he had been working on. while the both of you rehearsed different genres of music, sirius wanted to experiment with his style a little bit. you were truly a sight to behold, clad in your cream oversized sweater and black jeans when you walked in the studio. there was something so mesmerizing about you, something that truly enchanted him.

that is how you got to know him. the sobs behind his smiles, the addiction behind the smoke on his clothes, the kisses behind his stage. he'd hold your hand under tables, kiss your pretty face stupid in private, he'd braid flowers into you hair. and in the perception of the hues of dark oceans, his gray stormy eyes would melt into your tear flooded haze when his cock was buried into you, hitting spots you'd never knew existed. his well defined abs would be soaked in sweat, lit under the moonlight. his lips would melt into your lips, his fingers pressing into your skin as your walls would clench around his cock, hinting the arrival of your orgasm. he would ghost his fingers at your clit, your moans and screams of his name falling like a cacophony of a melody into his ears. you'd shudder, shake and curl your toes with your breast heaving as you'd come down from your high euphoria, hitting you as he'd paint your walls with his hot white cum. he'd pepper kisses upon your hot skin, murmuring phrases of affection and falling asleep with his arms wrapped around your body.

he was a liquor you could be drunk on. but loving him was like holding a love thorned rose.

****

you wrapped the jacket around your body, hugging it closer, smelling sirius' scent upon you. the interview consisted of the same old questions but you still had to answer them with a faux smile on your face. sirius wondered how you could manage to do it all the damn time.

you shuffled with the cards, reading the tweet by a fan. you looked into the camera,

'so sirius motherfucking black just collabed with y/n? i think i'm about to faint. oh holy lord, they'd be the hottest couple if they dated.'

sirius almost about fainted. bells started ringing in his ears, as his heart thumped against his heart. truly against your wishes and his, the love you had for each other was hidden. once when you had brought it up, he'd laughed it off by saying it would blow up on your pretty face. but deep down he wanted the world to know how amazing you were, and maybe being slut shamed for you, would be worth it, for once. and while you had the image of a sweet popstar, and the world wanted you, it felt like it would be a crime to confine you with him. but his love knew no boundaries. he'd kill for you, he thought when you were so accepting of him and his flaws when he revealed that he was so 'imperfect'.

he gripped on the edge of his table, his knuckles almost turning white when you opened your mouth to answer. you smiled, holding up a finger as you did so.

'actually he is the love of my life,'

the sentence slipped so casually from your lips, as you proceeded with the tweets and questions. if he could, he'd hug you. but you were behind a screen on his phone. he felt wanted, accepted and desired. without his realization tears pooled into his eyes. he felt loved.

because you didn't care about the smoke adorned on your clothes. you didn't care about getting lovesick all over your bed. you didn't care about handprints in wet cement. you didn't care about that he was rose with thorns. you were truly drunk in love, and maybe it would be worth it even for once if it blew up on your pretty face.

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist]

Summary: A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence.

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Sunday- August 13th 2023. Present Day

We all remember the bedtime stories of our childhoods. The shoe that fits Cinderella, the frog that turns into a prince, Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after.

Fairy tales—the stuff of dreams. The problem is, fairy tales don’t come true. It’s the other stories, the ones that begin with dark and stormy nights, and end in the unspeakable. It’s the nightmares that always seem to become reality.

You shot up from your spot in your bed trying to regulate your breathing from yet another nightmare, the nightmares you already lived through that your mind, body and soul couldn’t let go of, the overwhelming fear had triggered yet another panic induced asthma attack. Your inhaler sat close by on your bedside table.

You came to quickly realise after all that you’d been through that the person that invented the phrase ‘Happily Ever After’ Should have his ass kicked and kicked hard. Because ‘Happily Ever After’ Didn’t exist.

Sleep didn't come easy anymore, especially at night. Since you’d been on mandated medical leave you did your best to sleep during the day and stay awake all night, just to keep the voices in your head silent. It did little to curve the nightmares though, the sounds of tortuous screams that would send you into a dizzying fit of terrors until you realised you were safe. That you were home and that you were in your own bed, not on some dirty cell floor a million miles away with no hope of ever seeing your loved ones again.

A knock at your front door in the middle of the night would usually have your heart racing. People don't knock on peoples doors in the middle of the night, and if they do? Your mother always taught you not to answer unless you were expecting company.

As you padded over to your front door with a warm cup of peppermint tea in your hand, you had to wonder what one it was this time that brought the wounded soul to your doorstep. You opened your front door to reveal the very person you had actually been expecting for all the wrong reasons. He stood with his shoulders slumped in his grey sweats and an old longhorns T-shirt that looked worse than he did. Sad emerald green eyes met yours as he ran a nervous hand through his sandy locks, hell, this never got any easier.

Jake Seresin showing up on your doorstep at one in the morning had become a thing. On the nights he wasn't dragging his tail up your three porch steps, you were banging against his courtyard gate. Both as desperate for company as each other. Yet neither of you would admit you were struggling. But the unspoken was as loud as silence could ever be.

You’d both witnessed and experienced the unthinkable, unspeakable acts of violence that should have killed you both. But yet here you were, making him peppermint tea at one in the morning, trying to hide the fact whenever you looked at him all you saw was the way his body bled and bruised.

“What one was it this time?” You asked as you handed Jake the tea you'd made for him, having expected him any minute now. He still had bruises that littered his cheeks and eye socket. Doctors had reassured you that his broken jaw would heal in time, for someone with the gift of the gap not talking though was a difficult task. But being in an induced coma for the first week since being admitted helped the swelling a lot. He looked more like himself now.

Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. The very embodiment of a human ken doll. He looked like the Jake you knew before the mission that nearly killed you both. Everyday that passed he looked less and less like the version of himself that would have said or done anything to keep you alive. That had done everything he could have.

“The one where they made me hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stepped past the threshold of your humble abode and accepted the cup of warm peppermint tea you had made for him. He appreciated the warm sensation, it grounded him. “I get that one alot, whenever I close my eyes–” Jake paused as he drank in the sight of you. You looked healthier now. Brighter. Your eyes weren't so full of fear and your lip wasn't as split anymore. “All I see is you and how I couldn’t save you.”

You and Jake had shared all your darkest nightmares with one another, he was the only person who understood what you were going through, what you sounded like while your skin was cut and your bones were broken. He was the only one who understood when you told him your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. And you were the only one who understood what it was like to want to die just to feel peace. To escape hell. You’d seen the limits each other could tolerate, and you'd seen each other's breaking points. Neither of you could escape the burning guilt you held for each other. It was a bond that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

With all the love you held for each other you’d both agreed now just wasn’t the right time. A relationship seemed like the worst thing to jump head first into after experiencing hell on earth. But with that mutual understanding came a deep hesitation to believe any of it was ever real to begin with.

“Well, you did.” You reminded Jake as his eyes wandered down to where your hand and wrist still remained in a cast. He could still remember the way you screamed out in utter agony when the hammer smashed your bones, how you looked when infection took over. “I’m here because of you.” He didn’t reply straight away as he took a sip of the warm peppermint tea you’d made for him. He watched silently as you closed your front door—making sure to lock it and switch off the patio light. It was the middle of the night after all.

Jake Seresin was a wreck, you knew that much. The people who knew him better than most would often tell you he was a shell of his former cocky, egomaniacal self. They all missed that version of Jake—the one who could give anyone a headache just by his charm alone, but was present and aware.

But the Jake you knew was just as scared and bruised as you. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, the mutual midnight visits were enough of an explanation, and you didn’t push. He didn’t push either. The two of you just existed, trying to navigate through the trauma of the situation the two of you found yourselves in. Marked confidential and sealed indefinitely. Plagued with the sounds of each other’s tortuous screams.

“You were there because of me too.” Jake finally replied, his voice was soft and barely audible. “You were my responsibility.” He bowed his head in shame, regret had followed him everywhere since the two of you had gone down. “I failed you.”

It was your turn to listen and take in the heaviness of Jake's admission. An admission you’d heard a hundred times before and would surely hear a thousand times more. It was Jake's truth, his version of reality.

“You didn’t fail me, Seresin.” You sighed softly as you walked your way around to stand before him. Jake looked at you with so much guilt, so much anguish in his eyes. Those deep green emerald eyes. “Because we’re home, we’re safe, you’re standing here drinking my peppermint tea and I’m about to reach up and kiss you—“ You placed your hand on the back of Jake's neck, slowly, tentatively. “Because you didn’t fail me, you saved me.” Jake knew that was true to some extent, you were holding on for dear life when rescue came. Without them, without Jake begging you to stay, you probably wouldn’t have.

“Please—“ Jake whispered as tears fell from his lash line. “Just one.” You did. It wasn’t hard touching Jake, or loving him or kissing him or doing anything that made you feel connected. If it were anyone else you’d struggle. But not with Hangman.

It was the softest of kisses, the most fleeting of things, but you did what you said you were going to do and reached up to kiss Jake's lips.

Jake raised his eyebrows in reaction to your softness but soon closed his eyes knowing he was safe and pulled you closer by the small of your waist with just one hand. He still held the peppermint tea in the other. Savouring every single moment, every fleeting touch you were willing to give him.

“You didn’t fail me Jake, I’m standing right here, because you kept me going—you kept me alive.” You knew exactly what Jake needed to hear as he let his forehead rest against yours. You cupped his cheeks to catch the tears that had begun to fall down his slightly bruised cheeks. You caught Jake's tears with the pads of your thumbs, just like you’d done when he was covered in his own blood.

“You gave me hope and we’re okay Jake, we’re okay.” All Jake did was nod with closed eyes. He needed your gentle touch to ground him, keep him from falling into the dark depths of the hole he was standing on the edge of.

“We’re okay.” The same hole that you had teetered on the edge of. “We’re okay.” Jake repeated a few times as he kept his eyes closed. He was afraid that when he opened his eyes you’d be gone. “We’re okay.” He whispered just one more time before he opened his eyes, you were still there, his weapon’s system office, his responsibility, his one and only guiding light. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” You pressed your lips together in a fine line before you stepped away. Heading towards the kitchen where you’d left your own cup of tea. “I’m glad you’re here actually.” You sheepishly admitted. “I was going to try and get some rest but couldn’t fall asleep alone.” Jake knew what you were asking of him—he’d asked you a fair few times himself. But again, it was all coded.

“I’m pretty tired, could use an hour or two.” He replied with half a smile that only graced half his face. Jake followed you over to the hallway he knew led down to your bedroom. Completely lit so that not an ounce of darkness could shroud your recovery process. “I’ll stay.”

“Thanks.” You looked up at Jake as he looked at you, both as broken as each other. He still saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the fear that your time had left you with. Jake could argue you had it worse than he did, but you’d say it wasn’t a competition. “I think I sleep easier with you here than when you’re not.”

“If I wasn’t so haunted by your screams Hollywood, I’d be flattered.” Jake teased as he took a sip of his tea. The tea you’d made just for him in the mug you knew he liked. It was easy to joke about small details, it’s how you and Jake got by, but the sad reality was it was all true. There was a time where Jake Seresin would have taken that compliment and turned it into something more sexually explicit. But now? Even when the two of you did embark on showing one another what it was like to touch the stars and all Jake saw was you in that cell screaming for those men to stop. In his nightmares as he’d lay beside you he felt like one of them.

Jake caught himself falling into a k-hole of thoughts as he took another sip of his tea to bring him back down to earth. “But yeah, I sleep better with you by my side too.”

It was weird going from being so sure of every word Jake spoke in the time you were held together, to all these ‘Thinks’ and ‘Pretty Sures.’ But you knew the ‘I love yous’ shared and the admiration admitted were all just tactics to keep each other alive. At least on Jake’s behalf you assumed. For you? Every word of it was real. Every plea for Jake to keep his eyes open was real. Every cry of mercy for them to stop beating him was real. Every ‘take me’ every ‘I love you’ every ‘don’t you dare die on me, not now.’ Was real. Every ‘when we make it home, I’ll never let you go.’ Was real.

“Good.” You yawned, exhausted from all the sleepless nights and half ass attempts during the day. “Because I’m exhausted.”

“Feels like we’re on a train that’s going like two hundred miles an hour without any breaks.” Jake began walking with you towards your bedroom. A bedroom he’d become so familiar in he knew where you kept your socks and what corner you favoured for dirty laundry. “And as much as you wanna stop that train we can’t get off, for some fucking reason we just can’t get off.” He continued as you pushed your door open, still lit from almost every light you owned. “Wouldn’t it though—wouldn’t it just be so nice to step off onto the platform for a minute?” Jake asked as you took his tea and placed it up on the dresser beside yours. Coaxing him forward and towards your bed by his hand.

“It would be nice.” You tried not to cry.” “It would be so nice.” You knew what Jake meant, what the platform was a metaphor for. You couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about it—the sweet release death would bring. “But I’m not quitting on you now Hangman.” You held back tears as you kissed Jake again, this time with more passion and fire in your intention and this time he kissed you back.

The back of your knees hit the side of your bed and you were down, with Jake falling with you. It was the closest to love the pair of you would get. Relearning what gentle romance was. Relearning to understand that not every touch was rough.

“So you don’t get to quit on me.” You reminded him sternly. It was just the trauma talking. You’d give anything to go back to the way things were before, when the two of you hardly spoke. When the pair of you bickered and argued and didn’t engage in pity sex out of an existential obligation to one another just to feel something besides hopelessness and pain. “Because we made it out, we got out and we survived—“ You cried into his mouth as tears of his own dripped off his cheeks down onto yours. “And we’ll survive whatever else is left to come, okay, you and me?”

Jake didn’t give you an answer, but he nodded silently before he took your lips hostage again. His hands were gentle against you—afraid that he’d hurt healing wounds. But he could never. He could never hurt you as much as they did.

“Just you and me Hollywood."

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989

#bruises // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin angst #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #top gun hangman

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thedivineflowers · 10 months

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I'm feeling angsty 😈

Imagine like Middle schooler!reader goes back to their world and like everyone still thinks they're there.

Like they hear some shouting and running they'll think it's you considering you do that the most.

When Riddle sees a silhouette play with the hedgehogs he'd think it was you until he got a closer look and it was just one of the residents:(

Whenever Trey is baking late at night and he hears someone open the door he'll think it's you because you would always come by to grab at what ingredients he'd have.

You'd always be the first to like Caters post and put some unhinged shit in the comments so when someone else does it to his posts after you've left he turns sour :(

Ace and Deuce would always stop by Ramshackle to have sleepovers with you and Grim and when they just see Grim they try to brush it off like it doesn't affect them but it does :(((

When Leona always hears footsteps near him when he's in the garden he'd always push his tail away and make room because to skip class you'd always go and cuddle up next to him but when he doesn't smell you his nap is ruined and he'd go to his room and just lay there.

When Ruggie goes to eat lunch he always looks for you so you two could go and steal stuff and when he plays with the dog of Savannaclaw alone he remembers that you left :(

When Jack would go on his morning runs he would hope that you would join him or send him one of those little motivational quotes like he would always send because you found them funny but when he doesn't hear from you he'd try and call you and when it went to voicemail he remembered that you went back

Whenever Azul worked late at night you'd drop by and sleep in his office to keep him company or tell him weird ass facts and mess with the fish but when he looks up with a hopeful face to Jade and not you he had to bear the fact that you'd no longer be there

When the twins would work they'd hope to see you join them but when they close up the lounge and have to feed the fish alone they get reminded that you left

When Kalim gets lonely he'd always call you but when it went to voicemail he'd get just a thought and when he looks at your room in the Scarabia Dorm only to see it cold and filled with extra junk that the other dorm members were too lazy to put away properly he gets sad

When Jamil would make food and serve it to Kalim he'd expect to see you there sometimes but after a month he would lose hope and he would brush it away so he could tend to Kalim

Vil would expect to see you around the halls at least twice a day but when he doesn't see you be would ask but then he would get told that you got sent back and he'd have to hide his sadness for later

Rook would always be tracking students around you to look for you but when he overhears a conversation about your leaving he would remember and would just look at the pictures that he took of you over time and at the bow and arrow he wanted to gift you.

When Epel overhears a fight going on he'd always check to see if it was you but it would always be another student and when he gets into fights you wouldn't be there or join him and cheer him on so he ends up losing his motivation and would leave the beat up students.

When the shroud brothers are hanging out in their room and hear a knock on their door they would think it was you but it was just another student calling them because they had to go to a meeting or something and it wasn't you just wanting to join them

When Malleus walks to the dorm he would hope to see you outside already waiting for him but when he sees no one he would walk inside to dorm only to see Grim on the bed cuddled up in a blanket he'd leave and stay in his room for hours at a time as the sky turns dark and stormy

When Lilia plays games late at night and he sees someone join him he'd always look at the user to see if it was you but it would always be someone else. And when he tries to scare what he thought was you it would always be someone else and he'd have to just put away his sadness and try to bring up the other threes mood while he's mourning the absence of who he felt was another child of his :(

When silver falls asleep sometimes he'd mostly hope to see you wake him up and bring him to where he needed to be but it would always be another student or a teacher and he'd always sleep with a plush you got him nearby or else he'd be tossing and turning all night

When Sebek goes around after he'd finishing his duties tending to Malleus and he hears yelling he'd think it would be you and would run over with excitement only to see it was another student just being rowdy

Grim would always be cold at night by himself in the dorm and tried looking into books to make a portal and try to get into your world so he could be with you again

And then when you're out and about you'd almost always think someone from your world was one of the students but it was always just a stranger passing by and that would bring your mood down because you'd have no one to talk to and all the other kids would just push you away because you were 'too loud' or 'too weird' :(

(mc has magic here)

Imagine you get really sad and you accidentally open up a portal in your mirror so when you look at the mirror to see your current self you see the inside of Ramshackle and you don't believe it until you touch the mirror and your hand goes through :)

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year

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Dom! Scaramouche x sub!fem! reader. Smut. Harsh degradation. Praise. Bondage. Fingering. Rough sex during a thunderstorm. Overstimulation. Mind break-ish? Yeah there is some big mind break here, you don't even have to squint.

a/n: It's been rainy, stormy, and windy all week since Tuesday night. Which is why rain has been turning up as some sort of constant theme lately. Please enjoy.

A thunderstorm had been rapidly building in the distance, painting the sky with various shadows of dark gray and greenish clouds. Lightning brilliantly flashed, cutting and cracking the sky.

The air inside your bedroom was already charged with electricity.

Scaramouche's Electro.

Gritting his teeth, his grip on your hair tightened as you began to squirm against him, pressing your back against his chest. Your hips were shamelessly bucking sloppily into his fingers.

"Stop squirming, you stupid, fucking slut," He growled, frustrated, giving your hair a threatening tug to remind you of your place.

Scaramouche let out a shaky breath, quivering with ecstasy at the absolute power he always had over you. He slowly scissored your gummy walls apart before withdrawing the two fingers he'd been abusing your weeping cunt with, soaking them in a fresh coat your slick before shoving them in back inside of you.

You let out a strangled cry of pleasure, making him laugh. He unceremoniously added a third finger, biting into your shoulder, groaning when he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers. "Scara...ah!...mouche! Please, let me cum already!"

He yanked his fingers out of you just to hear how sweet you sounded when all your hopes of cumming were shattered, making your body quiver upon denial.

"Listen to how pathetic you sound, kitten. The storm isn't even on top of us and already you are begging like a filthy slut to cum," Scaramouche scoffed, smirking as he groped one of your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipple to harden against the pads of his fingers.

You mewled, reaching down to massage your clit. Scaramouche's eyes flashed, making his eyes cloud darker with lust. He smacked your wrist away, licking against your neck. "Didn't I tell you to stop squirming," He sighed, bringing your fingers up to his mouth so he could lick them clean.

Scaramouche pushed you so that you tumbled down onto the bed. "If you insist on writhing about like that," He said thoughtfully, snatching up the rope he liked to use when he was feeling extra dominant."I still want you restrained while you fall apart for me."

You moaned when you felt him tightly yank on the rope to tighten around your wrists before securing it to the headboard. The rope felt rough against your wrists, making your skin burn as you strained against them. It wasn't soft like that velvety ribbons he normally used. You wrists were guaranteed to be rubbed raw, just another clear mark of possessive dominance Scaramouche loved to mark your skin with.

He squeezed your thigh to make you spread your legs. His eyes flashed with angry pleasure when you suddenly turned your head, your tongue flicking to curl warmly around his cock.

"You fucking obedient whore," He groaned, lifting your head so he could thrust into your mouth. "I would've preferred to order you to suck me off, but this works for me to," He moaned as you flattened your tongue to lick his cock before you started wetly sucking.

"Archons, here I was laying into you for sounding so shameless," He groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he sighed in pure pleasure. Your throat convulsed and relaxed, coughing and spasming as he rutted deep into your throat, giving you a rare amount of control. "Fucking hell, I have to stop you or I am gonna cum down your throat before I even fuck you."

Scaramouche's thumb jammed into your jaw, forcing your mouth to open so he could pull his cock from your mouth. Thunder rumbled loudly outside. "Perfect timing!" He sounded somehow smug with delight.

He leaned down to kiss you, biting your lips harshly. He could feel he had stolen the very breath from your lungs as you gasped into his lips, giving him the opportunity to lick and prod his tongue in your mouth.

"I hope you are ready to beg for me to fuck you raw while take my time working your cunt over with my mouth," He bit, licked, kissed and sucked his way down your body before sinking his teeth into your inner thigh.

You yelped, more so in pain that melted into pleasure as he pressed this thumb to rub slow circles on your clit. His teeth left a deep imprint on your thigh, enjoying the way drool of beginning to pool at the corners of your mouth.

Your senses were starting to feel hazy from overstimulation. You suddenly had an idea. A dangerous one. Panting softly, you gulped, looking down at him before snapping, "Scaramouche, either fuck me or don't do it at all."

His hand shot out to wrap around your throat. "Fucking excuse me?!" He growled, using your neck as leverage as he crawled up your body. You coughed, smirking as he glared down at you. "Try and order me around again, slut. Go ahead do it."

Scaramouche laughed darkly, his fingers squeezing harder as he roughly thrust himself all at once inside of you. "What was I thinking, giving a shameless whore like you some kind of control. Just as well though.." He was babbling as he mindlessly thrust into you.

His fingers relaxed and brushed lovingly against your throat, letting go just in time for your orgasm to wash over you, making your scream and writhe underneath him.

"That just means I can remind you of your rightful place beneath me. Now start begging for me like the good little slut you are. I'm close," Scaramouche moaned, his cock twitching as he fucked you through your orgasm. "I'd better be able to hear you over the thunder."

His breath was warm against your ear, his teeth nipping at your ear lobe. Tears of pleasure fell from your eyes. "Please cum inside of me, please. I'll be a good girl and..and.."

Scaramouche came undone as you trailed off, your body completely submitting to him as his cum spilled inside of you. "That's my good girl. I'll bet you can't even hear yourself anymore. That's good, yes, that's good. You submit so well for me."

You moaned when you felt his teeth gnawing next to your throat. You let a few gasps of pleasure. Scaramouche nuzzled your neck, the pace of his thrusts picking up again. "I'm not done yet. I know you are to enjoy just laying here until I am spent."

Scaramouche flicked your forehead. "I'll make sure you are nice and aware when I make you cum again. Careful not to pass out on me now."

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #suzu after dark

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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So I know you're good at writing stories about kids (I recently read Ocean At The End Of The Lane and I'm still recovering) and from what I understood about Good Omens, the original story you sent to Terry Pratchet was about the child antichrist. You also said that Terry based a lot of Crowley's characteristics about you, and I think Aziraphale have much in common with him. My guess is that the story developed in a different direction, around the characters you and Terry enjoyed writing to most - Aziraphale and Crowley - because you were writing each other in a way. So my question is, with the new season that includes (obviously) Aziraphale and Crowley, but doesn't include Adam, what's left from your original idea?

I'm not sure I understand the question.

What I sent Terry was the first draft of the opening of Good Omens. Starting with the bit that is, in the finished mss "It wasn't a dark and stormy night." and ends about ten thousand words later with "I think he actually looks like an Adam." It had a demon called Crawley who was a lot less cool than Crowley, and in fact was a lot more like Aziraphale. Terry's idea was to split the rather sweet demon into a cool Demon and a gloriously uncool Angel.

From that point on we were co-plotting each day and co-writing -- I did more of the Four Horsemen, and of Crowley, Terry wrote more of Adam and the Them and Agnes Nutter, and mostly we were just trying to get to the next good bit before the other one could. By the end of the book both of us had written all the characters, and if we hadn't on the first draft we made sure that we had on the second draft.

Terry enjoyed making fun of some of the bits of me with Crowley. I'm not sure that there was much Aziraphale in him, although both Terry and Aziraphale (and I) all loved sushi.

So, I don't know how to answer your question. The original idea ("What if the Omen happened but a demon got the baby swap confused and the kid grew up in a lovely village?") is the plot of the book and the first TV series.

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whitedarkmoonflower · 7 days

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Little Seer

Pairing: Sihtric x reader(female) x Finan

Authors note: there was something in the air again 😅 Brainstorming and writing together with the talented and amazing @little-diable is an absolute pleasure. Thank you so much for co-writing this little story with me! 💖💖💖

Warnings: SMUT 18+, a bit of angst, the usual things

Summary: as if being Skade's sister wasn't challenge enough, you are faced with an impossible choice between two warriors, competing over your heart

Word Count: 4,8 K

You closed your eyes and inhaled the cool, crisp morning air. A fleeting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted toward you, evoking a vivid memory of work-worn hands kneading dough on a high table, so tall that your nose barely reached its surface.

"Go fetch your sister," a soft voice urged, and you giggled as a finger touched your nose, leaving a white flour mark on it.

"Skade, Skade, where are you? Mom is baking bread," you called out cheerfully, your voice ringing through the yard like a bright, joyful stream. Your small feet carried you from one building to the next.

"Shhh, what are you doing? Stop yelling! You just scared all my spirits away," an irritated hiss made you freeze in your tracks as your lively, smiling eyes met two stormy, piercing blue ones. Your face twisted into a mocking grimace as you stuck out your tongue at your sister. Her giggle was soft and sparkling, reminiscent of a tiny bell's chime, as she took your hand and you both skipped joyfully back to the house.

Long before the big wooden gates of Dunholm creaked open to welcome the small traveling party, you had already known she was approaching Dunholm. The runes never lied to you. Bound by the same blood and the same divine gift, your destinies were intricately woven together in a delicate tapestry of love and hate. You knew you couldn’t escape each other and no matter how hard you tried to defy this fate, you had always failed.

Your palm tightened around the shaft of the Nithstang you had crafted tonight, wet and sticky with the warm blood dripping down your fingers, as you forced your eyes open. Your steps, steady and resolute, carried you to the small paddock across the inner yard, now a makeshift prison.

"Release him!" Your voice, edged with a metallic tone, carried a hint of the anger simmering deep within you. Something stirred in the shadows at the back, and a silhouette began to move closer to the bars. Two familiar, deep pools of dazzling blue met your gaze.

"You know I won't," a challenge danced on the plush lips curved into a smirk. "You should know me better by now, little sis."

"Don't make me use my power against you," you warned, your breath forming small clouds of mist as you spoke, casting a shimmering, translucent veil over your sister's face and giving it a mysterious glow.

"You wouldn't dare," Skade smirked, tilting her head defiantly.

"You leave me no choice," you replied, not with anger but with a surge of resolve. With a loud cry, you swung the Nithstang high into the air, driving it deep into the ground to face the place where your sister was imprisoned.

Your love for her was deeply rooted in every fibre of your being, yet you despised the monster she had become, transformed by power-hungry men who sought to use her for their own ascension. It was this profound care for her, this need to protect her even from herself, that had driven you to carve the ancient runes into the wood under the cover of night. The power of love was stronger than the power of hate, yet your sister, as mighty as she might be, still failed to recognize this simple truth.

Fear and caution had long been your constant companions, often mingled with respect, but genuine fascination and appeal seldom visited your life. You struggled to suppress your smile as you constantly felt two pairs of eyes almost burning into your back each time when you turned away.

The dark brown eyes exuded warmth, strength, and protectiveness, creating a comforting presence that seemed to envelop you each time you entered the great hall. The peculiar, mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, radiating a sense of possessiveness. They darted around the room, absorbing every detail, as if laying claim to every word you spoke and every move you made.

An Irish-accented voice, rich and booming, reached you near the stream just as you were about to lift the heavy buckets brimming with water. "May I help you?"

"Thank you, that's very kind," you replied with a smile, watching the sturdy, well-built Irishman effortlessly lift your load and nod for you to lead the way.

To break the somewhat awkward silence, you inquired, "How's Lord Uhtred?"

"He's well, thanks to you, lady. On the way here, I had my doubts he'd even make it," the warrior replied, his voice thick with genuine worry and care. The soothing quality of his words made you turn and cast a warm smile back at him while noticing his shoulders straighten and his eyes light up with a friendly glow.

Having seen him spar before, it was clear that beneath his somewhat soft and pappy shell lay a core of steel, marked by agility and resolve.

"Lady, I was looking for you..." greeted a cheerful voice accompanied by a bright smile at the steps before your hut. "I... I was riding out the horses, and there, in the meadow, I thought of you when I saw these," stammered the young, handsome Dane, revealing a bouquet of wildflowers he had been hiding behind his back. His gaze quickly shifted to his feet.

The bouquet was not a mere haphazard cluster; it was artfully arranged—a vibrant swirl of colours with bright yellow flowers at the centre, gently transitioning to soft pink and white ones around the edges, framed by green leaves.

"They are beautiful, thank you so much, Sihtric," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. Your fingers lightly brushed against his as you accepted the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. A muffled scoff from behind made you bury your face deeper into the bouquet to hide your amused smirk upon seeing Finan roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Lady, let me..." Sihtric hurriedly ascended the few steps and swung the door open for you, you stepped inside and Sihtric followed you, letting the door close just before Finan could enter. You turned to him with a surprised smile and, hearing Finan’s disgruntled curse behind the door, Sihtric quickly opened it again to let in the visibly annoyed Irishman.

"Please put the buckets there," you directed, pointing to a wooden bench in the corner while turning to fetch a vase for the flowers from the cupboard.

The sound of shuffling feet and muffled murmurs behind you indicated that both warriors were hesitant to leave. As you turned to face them, Finan spoke first, "I... I placed the buckets on the bench... I..." He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around the room, seemingly searching for something to say.

"Oh, your door is half ajar; it needs fixing," Sihtric suddenly exclaimed. "I'll fetch some tools and be right back."

"You've never held a hammer and nail in your life, you don’t even know what they look like, and now you want to pretend you can fix a door?" Finan scoffed, clearly upset he hadn’t noticed the issue first.

Sihtric hurried off to fetch the tools, leaving Finan behind, still bristling from the earlier mishap and determined not to be outdone by the young Dane. “I can fix that just fine without his help,” Finan muttered, eyeing the slightly ajar door as if it were a direct challenge to his capabilities.

When Sihtric returned, he clumsily carried a bundle of tools wrapped in cloth. Finan was already examining the door, squinting critically. “Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Sihtric announced with a confident swagger, setting the bundle down with a thud.

The two warriors stood side by side, peering at the assortment of tools, which included a couple of misshapen awls and a few worn hammers. “This one looks about right,” Sihtric said, picking up an awl with an uncertain glance.

“That’s not how you hold it, give it here,” Finan scoffed, snatching the tool and holding it upside down. You watched, amused, as they fumbled, each trying to outdo the other with bravado that was clearly unfounded.

“Here, you need to tighten the hinges,” Sihtric suggested.

“No, the alignment’s off. It needs a new hole,” Finan countered, eyeing the frame as if he could will it into compliance.

Sihtric attempted to use a hammer, gently tapping around the hinge as if coaxing it to tighten by itself. Meanwhile, Finan, now wielding an awl, tried to carve a new hole in the wood, his efforts resulting in a crooked and unnecessary indentation.

The result was a door that hung even more awkwardly than before.

“You know, maybe we should just ask the carpenter in the village,” Sihtric finally conceded, stepping back to examine their handiwork, which looked worse than when they started.

Finan, though reluctant to admit defeat, nodded in agreement. “Let’s just say woodworking isn’t our calling,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their earnest but bungled efforts, appreciating the entertainment, if not the craftsmanship. “I think that’s wise,” you agreed, still smiling. “But thank you both for trying. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Everything went quiet suddenly, with just shy glances and nervous shuffling of feet filling the air. It was getting awkward, but it was obvious neither warrior wanted to leave. The question in their eyes was so clear and so charming that this time, you couldn't help but let a grin slip.

Their fondness for you was apparent, neither attempting to conceal it, as they'd been playfully fighting for your attention for a week now, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. The two warriors were as different as fire and water, their contrasting energies sparking against each other with every word and gesture.

You really appreciated how Finan always looked out for you, always there to lend a hand, careful and attentive. His support was rock solid, his eyes always warm, and he never missed a chance to gently tease you.

Then there was Sihtric, with his wild, spontaneous streak that drew you in just as much. He’d show up at all sorts of odd times with flowers, or suddenly appear at your hut with a huge smile and a basket full of goodies, just because he’d found the perfect spot on a nearby hill to catch the sunset. No matter how tired you were, his laughter and sheer joy were contagious, always managing to sweep you up in another adventure.

Both warriors truly brightened up your life, even helping you momentarily forget the deep worry your sister's presence constantly evoked. As time passed, it was clear Uhtred was committed to his decision to stay with his brother, which only seemed to make the boys more hopeful whenever they looked your way. But what really amazed you was something quite rare, something you hadn’t seen before—even with their ongoing competition for your attention, their friendship didn’t waver—not even a bit.

They were both waiting for you to make a choice between them. And honestly, as much as you wanted to decide, making up your mind just seemed impossible.

Stars were twinkling in the sky as you rolled your head back, letting the river run through your hair as you took your bath. Darkness wrapped itself around you like a veil, hidden from the drunken men you didn’t want to cross paths with, the nosy fighters who’d give a lot for a good look at your naked frame.

Your body had ached as you found your way down to the river, desperate for some moments alone, away from the confusion of being close to Sihtric and Finan pushed through you and the confusion your sister managed to push through your veins with every rising of the sun. It was a steady back and forth you should be all too used to by now.

“Here’s good!” The raspy voice echoed through the air, dripping with his Irish accent while forcing your eyes away from the sky to watch the two men walk closer. For a moment, you didn’t move, letting your curious eyes watch the two as you waited for them to notice you. But Finan and Sihtric kept undressing, not picking up on your closeness just now.

“It’s not very honourable of you to disturb a woman’s bath, now is it?” Humour flushed through you as you spoke the word, chasing the protection the dark water offered. Only your head and throat were visible, hiding the body both Finan and Sihtric had been imagining the past days, chasing highs with their minds solemnly focused on you.

“Apologies, lady.” SIhtric stumbled over his words, drawing a loud laugh from you as you kept on watching them.

“Would you mind some company?” It was a bold question the Irishman asked, knowing that this could take an ugly turn. Perhaps it was the mead flushing through your system, perhaps it was the thrilling coldness of the river, whatever it was, it forced your mouth open once again, giving room to your words rolling off your tongue.

“If you can behave, I wouldn’t mind your company, no.” The hum leaving Finan seemed to snap Sihtric out of his trance, averting his gaze as the two kept undressing. For some more seconds, you allowed yourself to study their muscular frames, a sight that left you trembling with heat pooling between your thighs before you eventually let your eyes wander back up to the sky.

“It’s a beautiful sight, aye.” Finan’s voice wrapped itself around you as he moved closer, marvelling at the starry sky. Even though you kept your eyes focused on the sky, you couldn’t help but focus on the heat he emanated – a heat that only grew stronger as Sihtric also stepped towards you. “But we are fortunate men, us two, we don’t have to look that far for a beautiful sight.”

The words left you laughing, unable to bite down your smile as you turned towards the two men. Mischief was swimming in their pupils, it seemed as if whatever back-and-forth they had felt between one another had found some end, a compromise perhaps. Whatever it was, it drew them even closer, giving you the chance to pull away before overstepping any boundaries

“Others may no longer respect your honour if they see you here with us, lady.” Sihtric’s husky voice was about to draw a moan out of you, reminding you of the words you had imagined them to speak as you had chased your high just this morning, thinking of these two warriors now caging you between their bodies.

“And why is that?” Slowly, you rose, exposing your naked chest to Finan, who was standing in front of you. You felt Sihtric tugging himself against your back, with his tensed abs pressing into your soft skin, with his hardening cock pressed against your behind. An unfamiliar heat took over, guiding your every moment – you were about to slip up, about to give in while your mind was silenced. And for the first time, you were alright with letting go, diving head-first into an adventure you had been dreaming of for days.

Sihtric’s hands found your waist, keeping you pressed to him as Finan’s warm hand cupped your cheek. You could feel their breaths teasing your skin, making you feel as if you were their sacrifice, one with the fire they were about to toss you into, leaving you trembling and aching – all because of them.

“Once you lose your honour to us, we won’t let you go again, little lady.” You scoffed at the nickname Finan used for you, a sound that was turned into a moan as Sihtric’s fingers danced down your stomach, finding their way to your pulsing bundle. The moan that clawed through you had nothing human-like to it, torn between a warrior’s cry and an animalistic growl. A sound so sinful, you felt both men chuckle; a chuckle of victory; a chuckle of excitement.

Tonight you were theirs. Tonight you wouldn’t break free from their grasp. Not tonight.

“Oh, gods.” The words clawed through you as Sihtric’s fingers began to move in circular motions, rubbing your bundle of nerves just enough to make the hairs at the back of your neck rise. It felt as if you were trapped by some kind of spell, chaining you to these two men who explored your body with their lips. Finan’s beard scratched your skin as he kissed your throat, dipping his head down to find your hardening nipples, all while Sihtric’s teeth teased the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

“No gods will answer your prayers tonight, pretty lady. For now, you’re ours to play with.” Sihtric’s raspy words were about to push you over the edge, chasing your release without feeling either one of them buried deep inside of you yet. You were desperate for more, torn between different sensations that left you trembling and aching for more.

“I want you, please.” It was pathetic almost how needy you were, too far in to pick up on the sly grin tugging on Finan’s lips, wordlessly communicating with Sihtric.

“How do you want us?” Finan’s lips teased yours, not kissing you fully, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But nothing could pull you from these two, not tonight at least. Sihtric tightened his grip on you as you kept quiet, adding more pressure to his moving fingers, toying with your pulsing bundle.

“Speak when you’re asked to, don’t play any games.” You choked on your gasps at Sihtric’s demanding command, leaving you shuddering between them.

“Both of you, I don’t care how, I just need you.” Within moments you were shifted around, pressed down on a nearby stone to balance your body as Finan positioned himself behind you. You were close to passing out, letting your racing heart guide you as your glassy eyes wandered down Sihtric’s muscular front, straight to his twitching cock. The Dane positioned himself in front of you, fingers pulling your hair together to draw your mouth closer to him.

“Who are we to deny a pretty lady’s wish, huh?” Finan pushed into you without another warning, tearing another moan from you that was silenced by Sihtric’s cock. Your mouth engulfed him, lips wrapped around his tip to suck on him. His taste stuck to your tongue, a taste you’d forever remember, just like the feeling of Finan finally fucking you. The Irishman didn’t grant you any mercy, he fucked you as if the Devil himself was chasing him, a sensation so strong your walls kept fluttering around him.

“What a devilish mouth for such a sweet seer.” Sihtric’s praises shot shudders down your spine and drew sounds from you that vibrated on his cock as he pushed further down your throat. You were close to seeing stars, close to letting the darkness that called your name swallow you. Tonight you didn’t care about what may happen to you. Tonight you didn’t care about losing yourself to these two handsome warriors. Tonight you were simply theirs.

“You feel divine, lady.” Finan groaned his words as he fucked you even deeper, pressed down on the cold stone that would surely leave its marks on your body. This night would leave its bruises on you, bruises you’d forever remember, while silently hoping that they’d leave some more on your body in the upcoming days and weeks.

Tears ran down your warm cheeks, tears of desperation and lust, drawn from your eyes by the feeling of Sihtric’s cock nudging your throat, by the feeling of Finan’s calloused fingertips rubbing your overstimulated bundle, pushing you over the edge within moments.

Finan fucked you through your high as Sihtric groaned your name, painting your tongue and cheeks white with his release. You didn’t dare break eye contact with the handsome Dane as you swallowed, not even as you felt Finan stain your behind with his cum. It was a moment so intimate that you were sure neither Finan nor Sihtric could ever forget about it, just like you.

The three of you were heavily panting as silence wrapped itself around you, drawing a laugh out of you as you rose back to your feet. You couldn’t help but shake your head as you studied the two for another moment, trying to accept what had just happened.

“What’s so funny, lady?” Finan pulled you against his broad chest, grinning in success as you clung to him, wordlessly telling the two that you weren’t planning on running anytime soon.

“I’m just happy, I think.” Your eyes wandered towards Sihtric, grinning at the man who looked at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky yourself, a true masterpiece only a few were fortunate enough to take in.

“We won’t let you go again, we stay true to our words.” As much as you wanted to give in, to let this dream suck you into its grasp for some more moments, you couldn’t, breaking out of your hazy trance. Carefully you stepped away from Finan to sink back into the cold water, cleaning yourself for one last time that evening.

“Don’t make any promises, Irishman. You don’t know what’s coming upon us, it will be cruel, guided by my sister’s hands.”

The clang of weapons and the wild shouts from the crowd echoed off the walls of Dunholm, deafening you with the force of a thunderstorm. You had always been certain of the foolishness and recklessness of men, yet they continued to surprise you.

Your decision to serve Ragnar was based on his ability to listen and consider matters without letting emotions cloud his judgement—a rare trait among men. But this time was different.

Your eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Skade at the far end of the square. How had you missed it? Distracted by a fuzzy haze of love and admiration, you hadn't noticed the spider spinning its web behind you, the viper weaving its venom into the hearts of men. Now, you were forced to watch as arrogance and false pride shattered the fragile peace you had so carefully helped to nurture.

"Are you satisfied? Do you really think this will bring you anything?" you hissed into Skade's ear.

"I’ve won, little sister. I always win, whatever it takes. There’s no turning back. Uhtred is mine. He will come to rule all Danes and Saxons; he’s been born to lead. I’ve seen that. And I'll rise with him. He's bound to me, and there's nothing you can do about it," she whispered back, her words slicing through you like the sharpest knife, reopening old wounds you had struggled to heal.

“This is no game, Skade. Stop this madness. You’ve gone too far. You took a life that wasn’t yours to claim, just to replace her. This will have consequences, and you know it. Release him and stay here with me. Please, sister,” you pleaded, knowing deep down it was likely futile, but you had to try.

There was a subtle shuffle of feet before your sister finally turned to face you. Your pleading gaze met her icy stare, the chill from her eyes almost freezing your words in midair.

“Did you enjoy the company of those two fools, calling themselves warriors?” she asked coldly, her chin lifting slightly as she tilted her head to the right, scrutinising you through her long lashes. “Tell those two hounds to stay behind, or if they're foolish enough to follow their master, tell them not to interfere with me. You know better than anyone what happens to those who get in my way.”

You couldn’t remember how you got home, the sound of the door, shutting behind you with a loud thud as you slammed your back against the gnarled wood, startling you. You slid down the door to the floor, elbows on your knees, cradling your head in your hands.

Sobs wracked your body, starting quietly and gradually becoming louder and uncontrollable, until you threw back your head, releasing a loud, desperate cry that tore through you. Yes, you knew all too well what happened when someone interfered with your sister. You knew the agony of feeling like your heart was being ripped from your chest, leaving a wound that wouldn't heal, a wound that lingered for years.

She had taken everything from you once, and without a moment’s hesitation, she would do it again. Of that, you were certain.

"Come with us," Finan urged, his large, rough palm reaching out for yours while his thumb gently traced circles on your skin.

"We will care for you, protect you," Sihtric added, his two-coloured eyes searching for yours, but you stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. You pulled your hands away from Finan’s gentle grip and, needing something to occupy them, began nervously adjusting and straightening your clothes. You shook your head, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

"Stay here, both of you, stay with me," you countered, finally lifting your head, your eyes pleading as they moved between Sihtric and Finan.

Silence stretching between you, Finan stepped forward first. He enveloped you in a strong embrace, his arms a fortress that for a brief moment, warded off what was about to come. As he pulled back, his hands cupped your face, and he leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on your lips

Sihtric, his expression a complex tapestry of regret and resolve, moved closer. His farewell was quieter, more restrained, as if he feared that any show of passion might crumble his resolve. He took your hands in his, holding them between you both, his gaze finally locking with yours. Slowly, he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them softly, his breath warm against your skin.

Words were superfluous; everything that needed to be said shimmered in the air around you, poignant and bittersweet.

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate my sister,” you finally broke the silence, “She can turn Uhtred against you.”

You saw the disbelief in their eyes and sighed deeply. “You have no idea of what she is capable of. This is just the beginning.”

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claymorexpunisher · 5 months

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Don't Poke the Daddy (18+ One-Shot)

Pairing(s): Damian Priest/Fem. Reader

Summary: Reader lets it slip that she finds Drew incredibly attractive and she decides to wear his merch one night at a show. Her boyfriend Damian doesn't think it's so funny.

Tags: 18+, bratty reader, Daddy kink, light humiliation, rough sex, Dom!Damian, jealousy, posessive!Damian, dom/sub dynamic, unprotected vaginal penetration, fingering, oral sex (man and woman receiving).

Word Count: 2,005

Drew was the first person to greet me as I walked into the venue hours before showtime.

He and my boyfriend Damian have been at odds with one another for weeks now and it kinda tickled me to find out that Damian’s disdain for the Scotsman ran a bit deeper- especially after I drunkenly let slip how gorgeous and incredibly talented, I thought Drew was.

Maybe it was a bit mean of me, but the bright idea to dress in the skimpiest outfit I could think of, along with Drew's merch to show my support for Drew and ruffle my man’s feathers came to me recently and I was just now working up the nerve to see it through.

Juuust to see how Damian would react.

Drew at least seemed to think that it was a fantastic idea, if the way his face lit up and he smirked salaciously was anything to go by.

Damian, however, wasn't nearly as amused…

I had stayed behind while Damian drove to the venue earlier in the day for call time, giving me plenty of time to really plan this out.

And to be honest? I felt hot as hell as I tied up the black heels along my thighs and I slipped the black and blue plaid skirt onto my hips, finishing off with a Big Daddy Claymore crop top that I made at lightning speed.

I pretended not to notice Damian's eyes boring into me as Drew pulled me into an affectionate embrace, clearly also feeling Damian's eyes on us.

"He's pissed." Drew chuckled, knowing exactly what I was up to without me even having to say anything.

"I know." I replied, smiling innocently, and making him laugh.

I swore I practically felt the daggers Damian was now throwing at us.

But I was hellbent on waiting to see if he’d actually call me out on it.

After more idle chit chat with Drew, I finally met my boyfriend halfway, having to look up to look into his stormy dark eyes.

“Hi, baby.” I purred, smiling innocently.

Upon assessing my not-so-innocent demeanor, it was as if something clicked in Damian’s brain and my heart skipped a bit at the light smirk that graced his lips.

Not at all the reaction I was expecting.

“Hola, princesita.” He purred back, letting his eyes survey my frame from head to toe, just to watch me squirm a little.

“Thanks for coming.” He said.

“Of course! I told you I’d be here.” I replied, standing on my tippy toes to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

I grunted softly in shock as he suddenly placed a possessive hand to the back of my head, deepening the kiss and I moaned softly as his tongue momentarily explored my mouth, possessively stroking mine all while his eyes bore into my own even as he pulled away.

“Nice outfit.” By the way Damian played things off, anyone would think he was amused by my antics.

But his tone said otherwise.

I recognized that tone immediately…

I instinctively pressed my exposed thighs together, just knowing in my gut that I was in for it.

“Thanks…” I replied, hearing the breathiness in my voice.

Rather than answer, Damian left my side for a moment and he and Finn, Rhea, and Dom quietly murmured to themselves before he came back to me.

“Let’s go to the locker room.” Was all he said as he smiled softly at me and kissed my temple.

And I could do nothing except quietly obey and wonder where the hell this was going.

Surely, he wouldn’t punish me here at the venue… in The Judgement Day’s locker room…

Upon entering the locker room, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

I was shoved up against the locker room door forcefully, already feeling the slick arousal beginning to pool inside my black lace panties.

My panties were roughly yanked to the side before Damian dropped down to his knees and my hips immediately bucked at the first languid strokes of his tongue along my glistening folds.

“This morning, I thought about how good you’ve been lately. And that you deserved a little reward��” Damian stopped long enough to speak before he got back to feasting on me, and I scrunched my eyes shut and pushed my hips onto his mouth, urging him on.

“Oh my fuck…” I moaned as one of his thick fingers slid into me as he suddenly sucked firmly on my clit, causing an electric to shoot from between my legs and down to my toes.

Then I clamped my mouth shut, remembering where we were.

My hands traveled underneath my crop top, and I roughly tweaked one of my nipples, hissing at the delicious bite of pain mixed with the sensations from Damian’s mouth.

I let out a strained sound as his finger crooked inside of me, pressing against my sweet spot, and I felt the muscles in my stomach began to tighten and my legs wanted to close reflexively, signaling to Damian that I was dangerously close to cumming.

The fabric of my top and skirt rubbed softly against my sensitive body, making my back arch that much more and I felt the vibration of Damian chuckling as his tongue swirled against my clit before he brought into his mouth again.

Just as I was about to cum, Damian stood, as calm as ever, and he slid my panties back in place as if he didn’t just have his face between my legs and he hadn’t just been eagerly tasting me not even 3 seconds earlier.

“And then… you decided to piss Daddy off.” He said, dashing my hopes for release.

I gaped at him in shock, my body trembling as it slowly came back down from my impending orgasm.

“Oh, you’re shocked? You really thought I was gonna reward you after you pulled this shit?” Damian chuckled softly, the sound somehow making me feel as if he’d just flicked his tongue on my clit. “Nah, mi vida... You can watch the show from here and think about how you’re gonna apologize to me later. And then maybe you’ll get to cum.”

I continued to silently gape at him as he gently shoved me aside and he sauntered out of the locker room, leaving me behind to do as he commanded.

The rest of show time went by torturously slow as my panties only continued to dampen even more, and they rubbed against my sensitive clit.

I watched the show in The Judgement Day’s locker room like Damian asked and it felt like 1,000 years had passed before we were in his rental and making the trip onto the next town.

“So… you figure out how you’re gonna apologize yet? Because I didn’t think that was funny.” He said, his deep voice seeming to fill the car with its power that had me immediately standing at attention again.

“I think I… have an idea on how to make it up to you.” I replied tentatively, biting my lip as I looked behind us at the clear road.

Thankfully we were in buttfuck nowhere so there were no cars behind us or, anywhere, really.

So, what I had in mind was definitely possible, but we’d still have to be careful.

As I reached over and began unbuckling Damian’s belt and exposed his cock to find it hard as a rock, I gave it a few slow, tentative strokes, watching his features.

I stifled a giggle as his eyes widened and the car gave a sudden jerk as my tongue surprised him.

“Will this help?” I asked cheekily, still watching his face and enjoying the quiet struggle in his eyes, but his voice gave nothing away for now.

“Maybe.” Damian replied shortly, now staring straight ahead at the road as if he were completely disinterested.

I smirked, my hand gaining more momentum before I adjusted myself in the passenger and clicked off my seatbelt and then I brought my mouth down onto his cock, teasing the head momentarily before I thought better of it.

Gripping him firmly, I relaxed my throat, breathing calmly through my nose as I felt his length reach the back of my throat.

Staying there for a few seconds, I then slowly slid my mouth off, tracing a vein at the vase of Damian’s cock, smiling filthily as it jerked in my hand in response, and I heard a muffled groan slip out of his mouth.

“How’s it feel, Daddy?” I asked, looking up at him with devilish amusement sparkling in my eyes.

“Shut up.” Damian said sharply and without looking away from the road.

I was kinda impressed at his willpower and how steadily he was still driving us to our destination.

My tongue swirled over the head once more before I brought one of his balls into my mouth and sucked firmly, pleased to hear him groan and break off into a deep growl that made my body sing.

Then I was confused when he stopped me, just as he was about to cum himself.

“I thought this was-“ I started to say, but quickly shut my mouth as Damian held one finger up to silence me.

“Get in the back seat.” He commanded after he stopped the rental on the side of the road.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I did as I was told, sliding into the back seat of the car before Damian followed suit.

Practically giving me whiplash, Damian flipped me onto my back against the backseat, hiked up my plaid skirt and then he teased the head of his cock against my slick entrance.

“I think you deserve this now, muñeca…” He smirked and I let out a gasp, any coherent thought in my brain snatched away as he entered me without warning.

My slick arousal helped my pussy accommodate his size quickly and I couldn’t help but rock my hips to meet his thrusts, my mouth opening in a silent moan as I felt a bead of sweat trickling down the back of my crop top.

Damian gripped said crop top, using the material as leverage and I nearly sobbed as his cock nudged against my sweet spot without mercy.

My cheeks burned as the wet sounds coming from between my legs filled the space between us and I bit my lip almost to the point of pain as I tried to shove away another impending orgasm.

My body shook with all the sensations coursing through me and I moaned loudly as Damian’s free hand gripped my hair and he pulled me into another possessive kiss.

He thrusts were relentless and I could do nothing except tell him how much I loved it through jumbled sentences and overwhelmed sobs.

“Yeah? I bet you’re not thinking about him now, are you? Huh? You remember who you and this pussy belong to now?” Damian growled and I could see several veins in his neck bulging as he fucked me.

I reached out and trailed my tongue over one of them then sucked on the skin, marking my territory as well and I felt his cock pulsate inside of me in response.

“You, Daddy! Y- you… fuck!” I yelled; my eyes scrunched shut tight as my thighs began to tremble.

Damian didn’t let up until I came hard, my juices spilling between our bodies as I shook.

I lay there, trying my damnedest to come back down, when suddenly Damian pulled out and he gripped his cock in his hand.

I did nothing but watch as an orgasm shattered him and he stroked himself with earnest, allowing the milky ribbons to paint all over my crop top, soiling Drew’s logo.

As he started to come back down, Damian smirked, his chest heaving up and down with exertion.

But he looked incredibly proud of his handiwork.

“I’m so glad you get it now, princesa.” He said, before his tongue wrestled with mine once again…

@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @lynswinterwonderland @mohawkmama @rollinsland

#damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest x female reader #wwe fic #wwe smut #wwe fanfic #wrestling smut #🫡#also- get it? Dont Poke the Daddy? Like Don’t Poke the Bear- 😭😂😂💀

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

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Ghost x City Girl Reader

No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. And then, tonight happens…

NSFW 18+ Eventual Smut, Porn with Plot, Romance, Drama, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Mentions of Alcohol, Slight Slow Burn, Hatemance, Jealousy, Bickering, Teasing, Flirting, Reader is a mean girl, Ghost is an asshole, but the chemistry's there, Slowly gets steamier as it goes, slight hints of Reader x Gaz, 'cause why not

Word Count: 4.2k

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Masterlist

A/N: Finally finished this (was super nervous to post this for some reason)! This was inspired after binge-watching a shit ton of Bad Girl's Club on Tubi. I just know Ghost and a City Girl wouldn't get along at first, but I love dynamics that look like they wouldn't work. Part two is where the smut is, but I like build-up and stuff, so I turned a one-shot smut piece into a two-parter. I hope you enjoy ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू)

"Ayy~" You rest your hands on your knees in a joyous fashion, readying yourself to start shaking your ass. "Let's get it bitch!"

Music blared on the club speakers, the crowd growing hyped as the sounds of Pink Panties from Baby Keem serenaded the drunken patrons all looking to have a good night.

That third daiquiri had caught up to you, your mind buzzing and your heart racing. The swell of the crowd dancing around you puts you in a euphoric trance. All you can comprehend is the warmth in the air, the taste of alcohol behind your teeth, and the way the beat makes your skin vibrate as you dance.

Your face expresses every bit of the drunken euphoria you were feeling, letting it bring your hands seductively down your body, pulling in any who dare come, if they're brave enough.

You and the rest of 141 came just at the perfect time; the club was just starting to get busy but it hadn't yet grown too packed. Chatter and laughter picked up and the music got better the more you drank. The vibe was just right…

…Almost.

Across from the dance floor, at the corner of the bar where he'd been standing all night, Ghost watches you dance, unamused, with dark eyes leering at you from afar.

He observes the way your hips sway to the music like it were his own, private video. All night he's been watching you, his gaze lingering just a little longer each time; though, it hadn't been any less unwelcoming.

If he watched any longer he might just excuse himself, so that he may relieve the tension that's built between you. Deep down he knew you knew that too. It's thus created a notable, stormy cloud over his head all night, one you undoubtedly took joy in seeing.

Your eyes play with him across the sea of dancing heads between you, taunting him, teasing him, and letting him know just how much better than him you thought you were. The same eyes he's grown accustomed to for a long time now.

Codename: Spice. He couldn't think of a more fitting name for such a hot-headed woman, seeing as "Bitch" wasn't acceptable. You joined the team maybe a year or so ago. Much too long for Ghost to have counted.

When Laswell initially brought you in, the entire Task Force was in an UPROAR. You'd been a well-decorated soldier, to say the least, however, what merits and awards you held almost paled in comparison to the rap sheet of complaints and discrepancies you possessed.

Fighting. Disobedience. Disorderly Conduct. Fraternization. Etcetera. Etcetera.

And as if that weren't enough, you were a complete and utter bitch as well. Especially to Ghost, who you've singled out in particular. If defending your country was your day job, then being the thorn in Ghost's side had become your newest evening hobby.

Any chance you had, you were picking on the man. Your comments teetered back and forth between being harsh and petty, and once you knew he didn't like you, you just doubled down on the behavior. And it didn't matter what approach the man took to this; he could ignore you, or he could get loud, but nothing deterred you.

It wasn't often that someone got under Ghost's skin; he always did model himself on control and discipline. With all the horrible people he's managed to meet in his lifetime (and not even being in his mid 30's yet either), naturally, it would take a lot to truly irritate the man. And by no means were you the worse person he's ever interacted with before either.

But you've always been more akin to that of a tick; any time you got a chance to get under his skin, you dug in, and you dug deep.

Ghost would applaud you for how intensive you were with your pettiness. Nearly as cold, ruthless, and calculated with that as you were with your enemies on the field. God forbid someone actually steps up to you, less they suffer a broken nose or a black eye. You were Queen B and you wanted everyone to know it.

Ghost, however, was less than interested in feeding into your silly little ego.

Even now, your eyes haven't left Ghost's since you started dancing again, time moving at a snail's pace in your gazes. Knowing that the sight of you pisses him off.

Right then, as you danced, some poor woman made an attempt at courting him as he sat alone, brooding to himself. You never were one to diss a girl's taste, you guess. Not out loud, at least.

This woman, wearing her ill-fitted skirt and tacky make-up, had been getting sloppy drunk with her friends in a corner for the last hour, eyeing Ghost from across the bar just as long. At some point, she thought it'd be a wise time to swoop in and make her move.

Ghost notices this because he's now felt a stranger's hand touch his arm. Had he not looked first to see who it was, he would have been seconds away from instinctually sending his elbow back to flex their hand from him, which would have definitely connected with the woman's face.

The woman practically jolts once she sees she's startled him, however, she attempts to cover it with a laugh. "Hi," she greets.

"Can I help you?" Ghost asks, though he couldn't sound any less interested.

"I was just over there with my friends and-"

"You should get back to them."

A state of shock whiplashes on her face before she huffs and stomps back over to her friends. Ghost didn't even watch as she left; he had more pressing matters to attend to.

You smirk at Ghost, seeing this from where you dance. The man makes it so easy to push his buttons, just look at him. He doesn't even look like he wants to be here tonight, more dressed like he was about to rob a bank than go out drinking with his mates.

Frankly, you're shocked he even showed up. Clubs seemed like the last place you'd catch him, and you were right. However, Gaz and Soap giving the lieutenant a hard time as of late finally pushed him into coming out with everyone. And of course, it had to be on the night you got to choose the spot too. You'd been sick of dive bars and small get-togethers, however, so you chose a club in a heartbeat, naysayers be damned.

"Hey Kyle~" You wave for Gaz, catching his eye in the crowd. He and Soap had both been drinking just as much as you since arriving, getting dragged off by every single woman within a five-foot radius of them.

You lost Soap fifteen minutes ago, and here Gaz was now, having been able to finally rid himself of his unwanted groupies. Good thing too; you need someone to dance on, and you wanted to give your lieutenant a show.

Gaz has already grooved his way over to you the second your eyes invited him over. Lord knows he's wanted a piece since you arrived, though you saved the real promiscuity for men outside your workplace; less messy that way. You'll gladly have them chase you though.

Once in reach, you bring your arms to his shoulders and wrap them loosely around his neck, smelling the Gin and Tonic on his breath and the citrus scent of his cologne, though it's since been mixed with an array of other colognes and perfumes. His hands find your sides, settling into your hips, with drunken smiles growing between you the more comfortable you grew.

What were once innocent brushes of the legs and hip twirling, soon devolves into something a little less PG. Before long you've both found your rhythm, swaying your hips along to the music and moving together as one unit.

You whip your body around, grinding your ass against Gaz, pressing yourself back roughly against him. You make sure he can hear you laugh at him after you've heard the little gasp he let out too. However, you can play with more than one person at a time, and the Sergeant hadn't been the only one you were playing with at the moment.

The whole time, you've kept your eyes locked on the lieutenant's from across the floor, a devilish smile forming. Had Soap not bumped into Ghost suddenly, who's to say how long Ghost would have spent watching you, his bourbon held sternly in his gloved hand.

"Ghost!" Soap bellows out, cheeks a rosy pink from his drink, and lips painted in a large grin. The man had certainly been attempting to give you a run for your money in terms of enjoying himself tonight. The smeared lipstick stains near the base of his neck only said as much. Both men and women tonight had been swooning over his accent and muscles since he stepped foot in the building. Ghost had already written the man off for the night altogether.

"Still standin' 'ere all by yer lonesome, L.T.?"

"Been the best seat in the house," Ghost says dryly.

Soap follows Ghost's gaze, until he's found you on the dance floor with your eyes closed and your head cocked back, Gaz's head buried in the crook of your neck. Immediately, he knows what's going on, having seen this before.

"Tsk. Tsk. What a she-devil," Soap shakes his head. "Poor lad."

"Should know better by now," Ghost comments. "Girls like that love bein' teases."

Oh, Soap knows already; he learned that the hard way the last time you all went out drinking and you sent him home with the deepest set of blue balls he's ever felt in his life. "Aye," he sighs.

"I've no idea what you lot see in 'er," Ghost says.

"Eh, she's not so bad once you get to know her," Soap shrugs. "You two are a lot more alike than you think."

"I doubt that," Ghost turned back around at the bar, settling in his seat and placing his drink back on the counter. Soap had been ready to join him, however, some tiny woman that's been attached to his hip all night returned (who also conveniently wore the same shade of lipstick as what was smeared on his neck), pulling his attention away. Before long, the lieutenant was alone once more.

You two are a lot more alike than you think.

Now that's a joke. Ghost can't imagine you've gone through even half of what he's been through. Still, it wasn't like you two have ever actually sat down and talked to one another before. It seems nigh impossible to.

Though it wasn't for a lack of trying on your end.

The presence of another human at Ghost's side brings his eyes drearily over, until they've begrudgingly fallen onto you. It seems you grew bored of dancing, and now decided to take your teasing to the source itself.

"Enjoy the show?" you ask him teasingly, knowing you'll most likely not receive a reply, which you don't. Ghost doesn't even fully face you, keeping his eyes pointed ahead of himself at the bar. He hadn't been looking to talk, and it's not like his reply would change anything you had to say. You did invite yourself over.

"You know, Manchester," You lean against the bar, looking up at the man, just close enough to hear him over the club music and smell the cologne and cigarette smoke on him. "Instead of starin' like a creep, why don't you actually take that stick out your ass and come dance."

Now you're just taking the piss. Ghost finally gives you a look, though he wishes he hadn't. Up close, he's seeing this skimpy little, lowcut tight dress you've got on, with your fishnet stockings and heels. The black choker around your neck was simple, and just begging for someone to tug it off you, and the lipgloss you wore looked like it tasted sweet on your tongue.

Years of training and experience are everything it takes to keep his eyes from dropping any lower than your collarbone. Just in his peripherals, Ghost can see how bouncy and voluptuous they sat in your dress.

You got this cocky look on your face now. "I'll dance with you."

Ghost scoffs. "Not a chance."

"Aw, I get it," you say sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to embarrass myself out there either."

"This place can only handle so much of that with you already out there."

This conversation felt as old as time between you two. If it wasn't you being catty and mean, then it was Ghost being aloof and guarded. While you knew he had been implying your little performance on the dance floor earlier, you were as quick with your tongue as your lieutenant.

And you can't lie, you'd been itching for some good banter all night. You'll take it from anyone, even from the likes of Ghost.

"Please," you laugh. "As if your big ass could actually move out there. I bet you can't even do the two-step."

"I'm sure you'd wanna know," Ghost says.

You reach over, and by your own boundless curiosity, take his drink, inviting yourself to a sip. The bourbon burns your throat as you swallow, your nose scrunching. You smile as you see Ghost's gaze razor focus on your lips pressing to the cool glass of his drink, taking a small sip and letting your tongue chase its remnants over your bottom lip. It's just the way he does so, so unabashedly, that you can't help but giggle at.

"I already know everything I need to, honey."

Ghost turns his body to fully face you now, his massive height over you only now becoming apparent by the shadow it casts. It's intimidated most of the women at the club tonight, whenever Ghost wouldn't just do it himself. No such thing went on with you, however.

He's been sitting here by himself all night, and as much as he could list a plethora of others he'd prefer to be standing here with at the moment, he had you. If you'd use him for your own uncaring amusement, then he'll do the same, since you want to bring that side out of him so badly.

"And what's that?" he asks.

"That you're boring as fuck and have a stick up your ass," you say bluntly. Of course, Ghost didn't expect any less from you. You do this sober, just with less pep to your speech, unlike now. "Though I'm sure you're already aware of that."

"How original," Ghost says dryly. "It take you long to think that one up?"

"I only tell it like I see it."

"Wha' then," Ghost's gaze turns stone cold, doing all it can not to give you a way in. "Gaz wasn't enough? Now you've come to make yourself easy pickin's for the next sorry lad lookin' for an easy lay?"

"Ooo, feisty." You lean in now, resting your hand on the bar counter so you could prop yourself up, giving yourself what little height you can against your unmoving opponent.

"I wouldn't fuck you if you paid me," you say.

"I wouldn't fuck you for charity."

"I wouldn't fuck you if my life depended on it," you shoot back. "As if you could even handle me, Manchester."

"What's there to handle?" he taunts. "You're nothin' but talk. You bark like a bitch and puff your chest, but it's all show. Just a way to make yourself feel big. No surprise you make yourself the local slag; any lad with some sense surely wouldn't bother."

Oh, that comment strikes a nerve; you feel your eyebrow twitch and your blood begin to simmer the second he closes his stupid, British mouth.

"Who're you callin' a bitch and a slag?" You step up now like there's a problem now. "How about you come back with some new material when you can actually talk to me without that little safety blanket on your face, Manchester. It's easy to talk shit when you've got something to hide behind. And you call me unoriginal."

You take his drink and pour it out on the counter now, watching it spill over the surface and drip onto the floor. When you meet his gaze again, if looks could kill, you'd both be dead. You just wasted a good cup of fucking bourbon.

"Do somethin' about it," you taunt him.

He steps forward, and for a small second, you think the man might actually do something. However, it had merely been an intimidation tactic, a warning. He stops just a few inches shy of you, keeping his strong arms crossed over his chest.

Ghost would love to, oh, believe him. It's taking all of him not to say something really foul to you and truly ruin the whole night for everyone. And you don't stop at the drink either.

You step even closer now, keeping your head cocked back and your eyes on him. You're close enough now to feel the body heat bouncing off from him, vibrating the more irritated he grew.

"Do something," you say again. "You just gonna let some slag pour your drink out like that?"

You raise your hand up as though you're about to smack him, and that's what finally gets him to move. Ghost catches your tiny wrist in his hand, his grip tight as he holds you there.

"What the fuck-" You grimace at first, your fight-or-flight instincts telling you to try and tug your hand out of his grip and use your other to sock him straight. However, something differently entirely occurs in you suddenly.

You take a moment to really feel his hand on your wrist, how the slightest adjustment of his thumb made a chill trickle up your arm, and that he was the closest he's ever stood next to you outside of work. The man might irritate you, and he was an asshole, but Goddamn did he have an inviting pair of hands and some magnetic eyes on him. Eyes that seemed just as curious to outline all the makings of your figure.

You kind of liked it.

He must like it too, judging from how he hasn't made any attempts at letting go. But there had been a million different things running through his mind right now, all of which made him question himself.

He thought about all the ways he could overpower you right now; you gab on like you're big, and there were so many times he's just wanted to remind you of your size. Small enough to be bound and at his mercy if he so pleased. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but the thought sounded intriguing.

Your arm settles in his strong grip, your eyelids lowering as you look his masked face up and down, trying to observe his dark eyes in the dim lights. They look to you, trying to guess your next move, though even you couldn't be sure.

You take your other hand and you place it on his chest, just to see if you can. All this time you've known him, you've never actually done so before. You feel your fingers rest against him, and even beneath the fabric of his hoodie, you feel his heart racing.

The club music finally dies down, preparing to switch to its next song. With maybe just a few inches of space between you, it feels as though it's only the two of you in this entire room at this moment.

But just then, you're interrupted. Soap wasn't too far away and must have started picking up on the vibe's shifting, because he couldn't cut between the two of you fast enough.

"Alright," he steps between you two, a drunken smile still on his face. "That'll do you two."

His presence does little to take your eyes off each other, merely looking through the Sergeant, still trying to see if either one of you would say something else. As expected, it's you who does first.

"We were just about to dance," you look over at Ghost with a playful smile. "Isn't that right, Manchester?"

Ghost looks down at you. He almost wants to say no. However, he found himself curious suddenly to see where you might take things. He hadn't felt quite done with you yet, himself.

"That's right."

Soap looks flabbergasted by this. "Yer gonna dance, L.T.?"

"We'll try not to make too much of a scene," you tease.

You take hold of Ghost's hand, feeling his grip tense in your grasp, as you pulled him out onto the dance floor. Woman by Doja Cat just started and you were ready to rock this man's world.

Even with everything going on around, heads turn as you both pass by, noticing the tall, masked figure making his way onto the dance floor with this overly enthusiastic party girl who looks nothing like his type.

You find a spot just on the edge of the crowd, where the lights were low and your team could not see you. Once there, you watch Ghost stand awkwardly, waiting for you to start moving first. It's not like you needed him to do much anyway.

You ease into your dance, beginning with light footwork and hip twirling, letting the music guide its rhythm through your legs. Ghost did an odd shuffle to start, not doing much beyond moving his feet. Once he grew more comfortable, however, you learned that he could in fact do the two-step... If you sucked all the atmosphere out of it at least.

The music picks up, and you bring your hands up to his muscular shoulders, gently resting them there similarly to how you did with Gaz earlier. Only unlike the Sergeant, Ghost seemed reluctant to fully give in to your charms. He wouldn't even bring himself to touch you, just letting you use him like a pole.

You bring your head in close, shouting over the music so that he can hear you, "You're an asshole, you know."

Ghost rolls his eyes. "You're a bitch."

Growing impatient, you boldly take his hands and place them on your hips for him, feeling your skin tingle as his fingers settle against your hipbones. The hesitancy subsides once you start guiding him along with you slowly, easing him into the high tempo of the music.

"And proud of it."

You turn around and press yourself to the lieutenant, feeling your ass brush against his jeans and the grunt that leaves his chest. All he's left with now is the smell of the shampoo you'd used in your hair and the shape of your bottom against his groin. You tell him, "I'm not here to impress you."

He leans in, until you've felt his masked lips brush against the shell of your ear. His voice all but rumbles through you, "And I'm not here to entertain you."

"Aren't you?" You bend over, bringing your hands to your ankles and seductively sliding them back up your legs, and making sure each time you made your ass shake that he could feel it even through his jeans. You'd give anything to see his face right now. "Say what you want," you tease. "I don't give a fuck."

This time he doesn't shy away from letting his hands slide alongside you, stopping just at your waist so that you can still move yourself freely against him. "Yeah, you do," he all but says in a seductive growl. "Why else are we here now?"

You tilt your head back and look up to find Ghost's eyes leering down at you, half-lidded. You watch him slowly start to lose himself, his mind chasing after that brief feeling of arousal you shot through him each time you pressed yourself to him.

"I don't know," you take hold of Ghost's hands again, only this time when you rest them back at your hips, you keep your hands there, holding them. "But it takes two to dance, Manchester."

"Let's dance then."

Once the words subsided, and the club music drowned out any and everything else on the dance floor, the only thing that could be felt was the ecstasy of Ghost's body pressed so close to yours. His large hands explore your small form smoothly, letting you slide your own hands up his arms, feeling his warmth of him. He molds into your movements easily, eyes never leaving yours, with battered breaths shared between you.

Your hands stretch above your head as your bottom hugs your black little dress tightly. The fabric stretches each time you drop your ass to give it another spin, lights bouncing off you both in a mesh of glittery purples and dark blues.

Every time they do you've felt you've seen a new side of Ghost. A side of him that felt hungry for something no good for him. Though he would be in good company; there wasn't a good man left in him to spare if you kept on him like you have been all night, both in body and tongue.

Had the song not come to an end, who's to say what parts of him you would have ground on next, or what parts of your body his hands would find themselves rhythmically groping.

You turn to the lieutenant, out of breath as he is. Of course, you had been moving your body much more than he. You suppose he can save that energy for later.

"You've got any smokes on you?" you ask him, though you both know where questions like that'll get you.

"Left 'em in my car."

"Why don't you give me one?"

Part Two

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #call of duty modern warfare ii #ghost #Spotify

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tangibletechnomancy · 15 days

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Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

#ai art #generated art #simple stable #stable diffusion

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elryuse · 16 days

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yandere stepsister Yeseo?

Forbidden Boundaries

YANDERE STEPSISTER YESEO X MALE READER

Yeseo clutched the worn teddy bear tighter, its fur damp with silent tears. Her brother, her only solace after their mother's passing, was a memory kept alive by that threadbare friend. Now, even that comfort was threatened. Her father, a man shrunk by grief, announced he was getting married. Relief battled with a cold, venomous fury in Yeseo's gut. Relief because Dad wouldn't be alone, fury because it meant sharing him, sharing everything. Especially when she found out her new step-family included a son.

Y/n. Broad-shouldered with a mop of black hair that perpetually seemed to fall across his forehead, he had eyes the color of storm clouds. Unsettlingly familiar yet undeniably foreign, they held a depth Yeseo couldn't quite decipher. He offered a hesitant smile, the kind that belonged on a nervous puppy, not the annoying boy who now claimed half her house.

"H-hi," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Yeseo scoffed, refusing to acknowledge him. The traitorous warmth that bloomed in her chest was a betrayal to her brother's memory. He wouldn't want her sharing their space, their life, with anyone. Yet, a twisted part of her couldn't deny the strange pull towards Y/n, a feeling that intensified with every stolen glance over the following weeks.

The animosity simmered, expressed in barbed comments from Yeseo and awkward silences at the dinner table. But fate, with a cruel sense of humor, threw them together one stormy night. Teenage angst and a dare fuelled by boredom led Yeseo out into the downpour. One careless turn, a screech of tires, and then…nothing.

She woke to the sterile white of a hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a machine a harsh counterpoint to the dull ache in her head. A hand, warm and surprisingly calloused, held hers. It was Y/n, his own face bruised and scraped, his eyes reflecting a concern that sent a tremor through Yeseo. Shame burned in her gut for her initial animosity.

"H-hey," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "You scared the living shit out of me."

Yeseo wanted to scoff, to maintain her facade of indifference. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she squeezed his hand, a silent apology. That small gesture became a bridge, their unspoken connection strengthening with each shared secret whispered in the dead of night.

Years flew by, marked by stolen glances across the breakfast table and late-night talks under a tapestry of stars. Y/n matured, his once-gawky frame hardening into that of a man, and Yeseo found herself drawn to him with a fierceness that both scared and excited her. One day, as she peeked out the window, she saw him. Laughing, carefree, with a girl with sunshine-colored hair hanging onto his arm.

A white-hot rage flooded Yeseo's veins. This wasn't supposed to happen. Y/n wasn't supposed to find anyone else. He understood her darkness, the shadows that clung to her like a second skin. He belonged to her.

When he returned home, a lovestruck grin plastered on his face, Yeseo was waiting. Her own smile was a stark contrast, cold and predatory. "Where were you?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

Y/n froze, the smile dropping from his face like a discarded mask. "Just…hanging out with Sarah," he stammered, a flicker of unease crossing his features.

"Sarah?" Yeseo spat the name, the sound dripping with venom. "Let me think.. Hmm.. Isn't that what people call a date?" She snatched a nearby jump rope, its rough fibers sending chills down Y/n's spine.

Panic flared in his eyes, but before he could speak, the lights flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. It was either a cruel twist of fate or perhaps a carefully orchestrated plan of Yeseo's.

Hours crawled by, measured only by the rasp of Yeseo's voice, laced with a possessiveness that made Y/n want to run. Every denial, every mention of Sarah, fueled her torment. The room reeked of burnt sugar – a makeshift candle fashioned from spilled wine – and the stifling weight of fear.

"She doesn't understand you," Yeseo hissed, her voice barely a whisper in the darkness. "She can't see the real you, the broken you, like I can."

Tears pricked at Y/n's eyes. He choked out a desperate plea, "Yeseo, please…this isn't love. This is…crazy. You're my stepsister."

A strangled sob escaped Yeseo's lips. "Maybe it is. But it's all I have left."

Finally, his voice, choked and ...cracked with despair. "You can't lock me up here forever, Yeseo. My parents will be worried sick."

The flickering candlelight danced across his face, revealing a mix of terror and defiance that ignited a flicker of something akin to pity in Yeseo's heart. But it was quickly extinguished by the possessive fire burning brighter. "They don't understand you," she countered, her voice softer now, a dangerous kind of sweet. "They can't understand the darkness that lives inside you. Only I can."

Y/n scoffed, the sound harsh in the confined space. "Darkness? That's your darkness, Yeseo. Not mine."

His words struck a raw nerve, and a tremor ran through her. But before she could retort, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the night, followed by a sudden flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a brief, shocking moment. In that split second, Y/n saw the desperation in her eyes, the deep well of loneliness that mirrored his own. It was a fleeting glimpse, overshadowed by the possessiveness that returned just as quickly as the darkness.

Days bled into nights, punctuated by interrogations, forced confessions, and a chilling intimacy that repulsed Y/n as much as it terrified him. He tried reasoning with Yeseo, appealing to the memories they shared, the moments of genuine connection. But it was like speaking to a wall. Her mind was consumed by a twisted sense of ownership, fueled by her grief and fear of abandonment.

One morning, he woke up to a strange stillness. The makeshift candle had burned itself out, leaving the room in complete darkness. He called out for Yeseo, a tremor in his voice, but there was no answer. Panic surged through him as he realized he was still bound by the jump rope. He strained against the rough fibers, his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly, a soft glow appeared at the doorway. Yeseo stood there, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering through the hallway. In her hand, she held a cell phone, the screen displaying a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly.

"Look at her," Yeseo said, her voice devoid of emotion. "So carefree, so innocent. Doesn't she deserve someone who can be normal? Someone who isn't…broken?"

Y/n's breath hitched. He realized with a horrifying certainty what Yeseo was planning. "No, Yeseo, please," he croaked. "Don't hurt her."

A chilling smile played on Yeseo's lips. "This isn't about hurting her," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "It's about protecting you. Protecting you from her, from forgetting me."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes. He knew there was no reasoning with her in this state. He had to escape. With a desperate surge of strength, he yanked on the jump rope, the coarse fibers digging into his wrists. To his surprise, it snapped, frayed from days of use.

Yeseo's smile faltered for a moment, then hardened back into a mask of cold fury. She lunged for him, but he scrambled back, adrenaline fueling his movements. He stumbled towards the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

"You'll regret this!" Yeseo screamed behind him.

Y/n didn't dare look back. He burst out of the room and raced down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the cold floor. He reached the front door, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the lock. Finally, it clicked, and he flung the door open, escaping into the cool night air.

He didn't stop running until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. He found himself in a park, panting heavily, the familiar scent of wet grass and blooming night jasmine filling his nostrils.

Looking back, he realized he had no phone, no wallet, no plan. All he had was the memory of Yeseo's twisted love and the chilling realization that he might never be free of her darkness. As dawn painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, Y/n curled up under a park bench, the weight of his ordeal crushing him. He had escaped Yeseo's prison, but the scars she had left on his soul would take a lifetime to heal.

Despite the exhaustion gnawing at him, Y/n couldn't stay hidden. The image of Sarah, vulnerable and alone, fueled a surge of determination. He had to get to her, warn her. Stealing back into the house, the adrenaline rush from escape fading, was replaced by a chilling dread. The silence of the house was deafening. Had Yeseo followed him?

He found his phone on the kitchen counter, a cruel taunt. He dialed Sarah's number, praying she'd pick up. The first ring was met with silence, then her sleepy voice. Relief washed over him.

"Sarah, listen to me carefully," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't come here, don't come near this house. There's…danger."

He heard the confusion in her voice, but then, thankfully, understanding. "Y/n? What's going on? Where are you?"

He couldn't explain everything, not over the phone. He mumbled a lie, about being out late with friends, and promised to call her properly in the morning. Hanging up, a sense of despair settled over him. He'd protected Sarah, but what awaited him back in the room?

The climb back to his prison felt like an eternity. As he approached the door, he braced himself for the confrontation. But the room was empty. Relief turned to apprehension. Where had Yeseo gone?

He found his answer on the bedside table – a single white rose, its thorn pricked with a single drop of blood. It was a chilling message, a promise. Yeseo wouldn't let him go, not entirely.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Sarah, worried at his sudden distance, grew distant herself. Y/n knew he had to explain, but the fear of Yeseo's wrath kept him silent. He became a prisoner in his own right, living a double life – the happy friend with Sarah, the terrified captive with Yeseo.

One night, Yeseo returned from wherever she disappeared to, a glint of triumph in her eyes. She held up a newspaper clipping – a picture of Sarah, smiling brightly, next to a man with his arm around her. The caption read: "Local Artist Sarah Finds Love."

Yeseo watched his reaction, a predator gauging its prey. She expected a jealous outburst, a fight for freedom. But Y/n surprised himself. He felt…relief. He was genuinely happy for Sarah.

Yeseo's smile faltered. Perhaps she'd expected a different reaction. Instead, she saw a quiet acceptance in his eyes, a resignation bordering on despair.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, Yeseo spoke, her voice a chilling whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "So, you finally figured it out, didn't you? Sarah doesn't see the real you. She doesn't understand the darkness that lives inside you, the darkness that only I can love."

Y/n swallowed hard, her words a painful echo of the justifications she'd woven in his mind for weeks. "Maybe you're right," he choked out. "Maybe I need someone who…understands."

Yeseo's smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. It was a smile laced with victory, but also a hint of something else – a flicker of doubt. "But what about her? What about your precious Sarah?"

Y/n looked down at his calloused hands, the guilt of his deception a heavy weight in his chest. "I'll…tell her the truth. It won't be easy, but it's the right thing to do."

A guttural laugh erupted from Yeseo, devoid of humor and full of a chilling possessiveness. "The right thing, huh? Don't be a fool, Y/n. You won't tell her a thing. You won't risk losing me, not after everything you've seen."

He looked up, meeting her gaze with a newfound resolve. "Maybe you're right again. Maybe I won't tell her everything. But I will see her. I won't be your prisoner anymore, Yeseo. I'll see Sarah, live my life…as long as you let me."

Yeseo's eyes narrowed, the playful glint extinguished by a cold fury. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "Don't test me, Y/n. You know what I'm capable of. You wouldn't want me to…hurt her, would you? Or maybe even you yourself?"

Y/n stood his ground, the fear a dull ache in his chest. "I know what you're capable of," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

Y/n's heart hammered against his ribs as he watched Yeseo pack a duffel bag with frantic energy. The air crackled with a manic excitement that sent shivers down his spine. "Where are we going?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Yeseo, clad in a sleek black dress, her eyes gleaming with a feverish light, turned to him. "Away," she said, a single, chilling word. "To a place where they can't find us. Where our love can finally bloom."

Panic bloomed in Y/n's chest. He'd hoped for a compromise, a way to appease Yeseo while maintaining some semblance of normalcy with Sarah. But this…this was a nightmare unfolding.

"No, Yeseo, we can't just leave. What about Sarah?" he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.

A cruel smile twisted Yeseo's lips. "Sarah? She'll forget you eventually. The heart wants what it wants, Y/n, and it wants you. With me."

Before Y/n could protest further, Yeseo grabbed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. She dragged him out of the house, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of fear and dread. He stole a final glance back, a silent apology hanging in the air for the love he was leaving behind.

Weeks bled into months. Yeseo had orchestrated a meticulously planned elopement, whisking him away to a secluded island off the coast of Thailand. They lived in a luxurious penthouse overlooking the turquoise water, a stark contrast to the prison it felt like.

Yeseo, initially clingy and possessive, gradually settled into a semblance of normalcy. But for Y/n, normalcy was a distant dream. Every stolen glance at his phone, every suppressed urge to contact Sarah, was a constant reminder of his stolen life.

Meanwhile, Sarah's world had crumbled. Y/n's disappearance was a cruel puzzle with no missing piece. Days turned into weeks, then months, filled with frantic searches and dead ends. The police, initially helpful, grew dismissive as time passed. Yeseo had covered her tracks well.

One scorching afternoon, Yeseo returned from a shopping spree, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She tossed a magazine onto the plush living room couch, the cover emblazoned with a picture of Sarah, a haunting sadness in her eyes.

"Look," Yeseo said, her voice laced with a cruel satisfaction. "Seems your precious Sarah has moved on. Found someone new."

Y/n snatched the magazine, his heart clenching at the sight of Sarah's downcast expression. The article spoke of a new relationship, a feeble attempt to mend a broken heart. A wave of guilt washed over him, a suffocating weight that threatened to consume him.

He looked up at Yeseo, her face a mask of triumph. In that moment, a cold resolve solidified within him. He would never win her love, but he wouldn't be her prisoner any longer.

As Yeseo busied herself in the kitchen, Y/n grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a familiar number. The phone rang once, twice, then Sarah's voice, laced with a weary hope, filled his ears.

"Hello?"

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn't tell her everything, not yet. But he had to start somewhere.

"Sarah," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me…Y/n."

On the other end of the line, a startled gasp escaped Sarah's lips. Then, a stunned silence hung heavy in the air.

Y/n took a deep breath. He had a long story to tell, a story of a twisted love and a desperate escape. But for the first time since his abduction, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He might be trapped in a gilded cage, but he wouldn't let the bars silence him forever. The fight for his freedom, and perhaps even his love, had just begun, unbeknownst to Yeseo, who stood mere feet away, a cruel smile playing on her lips as she listened to the muffled conversation, the taste of victory already bitter on her tongue.

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