#Boom!!' all purple cons

[rabotimagines]

I come here to offer an idea

Imagine being an older con, and you call one of them a good boy with a caress of some kind(e.i their lower back, their cheek, etc) and watch their souls ascend and become one with the allspark.

Now you have a duckling following you cause the hot dilf hit on them

ANON IVE ALREADY HAD THAT EXACT THOUGHT PROCESS!! I just hadn't written it. But I will because others have had the same idea as me. Literally whenever there's some type of "How did you accidentally discover you had a kink?" thread the most common one is always people saying a friend or coworker called them "Good boy/Girl" and they got light headed immediately.

I did let it slip in a little bit with Skywarps petname part. But let's do some others for fun/lean into it a bit more.

"Praise" Older! GN BOT Reader x Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Perceptor, Skywarp, Astrotrain, Blitzwing

Summary: You call him "Good boy" after he'd done something for you.

G1 characters: Bumblebee, Bluestreak, Perceptor, Skywarp, Astrotrain, Blitzwing

Warnings: G1 Blitzwing being G1 Blitzwing (a menace.)

Genre/Theme: The bots get flustered and mildly horny

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Bumblebee probably should have expected it considering- well, all of you. But he's woefully unprepared when you praise him with a "Good boy." You smiled at him, and your em field brushed lightly against his helm right next to where your servo was petting his helm. Bumblebee stops, and his optics widen. Thankfully, you just moved on to other things, so you didn't see Bumblebee stopping where he was to process what just happened.

Bumblebees spark is suddenly humming so loud in his chassis he's worried it's audible. His optics are burning so bright he has to reboot them fully. Finally, Bumblebee can't help laughing light at the fuzzy feeling in his chassis before clearing his vocalizor roughly. He even slams his fist into his own chassis to make sure his engine doesn't stall.

Bumblebee knew exactly what the feeling in his frame was. And he's trying not to get even more embarrassed when he realizes exactly how horny he just got from the very short exchange with you. Yeah- okay. New thing to be aware of when interacting with you. You teasing him like that gets his engine purring. Cool. Bumblebee can do this. He's totally not gonna be thinking about that the next time he self services. Nooooo absolutely not....

Bumblebee can't help thinking what else he could be doing for you to call him. "Good boy."

-

You smile at Bluestreak and nod in acknowledgment. "Baby blue." Bluestreaks wings flutter when you address him with your nickname for him, and he hands you the datapad you wanted. Bluestreaks talking about what he had to do to get it to work, and in the middle of it, you just start moving to leave. Bluestreaks worried for a moment before the back of your servo is brushing up against his cheek.

It's very light but it's accompanied by your hot em field. "Good boy." And then you're leaving- thank Primus because that means you don't see Bluestreaks wings practically shoot upwards. Blustreaks mouth audibly clicks shut, and his glossia feels like It suddenly weighs way too much, and he can't say anything- His optics are burning so bright he can feel them tinting the color on his faceplate cobalt.

Bluestreak pushes his servos over the lower half of his face in mortification when he realizes he's feeling very hot and bothered by the exchange. Oh, Primus, no! You were his superior officer! Bluestreak couldn't think about you like that! But you were so nice to him- and charming and your em field was so touchy- oh, Bluestreaks not gonna be able to be normal about this!

Bluestreak tries to be normal, but every time he sees your faceplate now all he can think about is if you'd call him a "good boy" again...

-

Perceptor offered to do something quick for you, so you didn't have to find someone else to do it. He had the time after all. He's standing next to you when he jolts lightly when he feels your servo on the small of his back. Perceptor glances to your faceplate to see a smile on your derma. "Good boy." Your servo slides away from his back when you move to leave, and Perceptor is stuck staring at the direction you walked off in.

Oh, that's... oh no. Perceptor has to cycle his optics twice before what happened actually, registers and his optics brighten near immediately. Perceptor has to clear his vocalizor since it suddenly feels as if he's got a mild obstruction in his intake. Perceptor then rapidly soothes down his own puffed up plating sheepishly. He's now very glad it was only you and him in the room. Well, his emotional response made sense to a degree. Positive reinforcement was known to have its benefits...

Perceptor then registers the interest in his array and his optics snap wide. Oh, there's something wrong with him! Well, he knows it's not that far out there- it would be a dichotomy when considering common interface interests after all but Primus- Perceptor could not have gotten this worked up over one phrase and one little, albeit very nice, touch- Perceptor can feel the ghost of your servo still on his lower back. The plating felt warm still- Perceptor finally just sighed and scrubbed a servo over his faceplate.

Perceptors processor is now just occasionally wondering the chances of if you'd call him "good boy" again for another favor. And he has to scold his apparently rather perverted processor more than once.

-

Skywarp already knows that he can get you to call him "Good boy" and he already knows he needs to do everything he can to get that rush and phrase one more time! Skywarp wants every little brush of affection you'd give him. The words, your expressions, your em field, and sometimes rarely physical attention when he got lucky. So he's waiting for it to slip out of your mouth again. But he's not really ready for it, though, after you all get your afts kicked by the slagging Autobots.

Skywarp does not want to get his medical attention from Hook- he does not! It's gonna suck! He's fighting Hook until you come outta nowhere and physically force him to lay flat on the medical slab. "Skywarp- behave." Skywarp looks up at you and debates fighting you before slacking against the medical slab. "Good boy." The phrase makes his plating fluff. And you just climb off of him and leave him with Hook. Skywarps too busy thinking about what just happened to even really care too much about Hook.

It's not till after Hook kicks him out that Skywarp realizes he got horny about it. Skywarp did think you were hot. He also liked you flirting with him. You were easy self-service material, really. But now? Yeah, your frame hunched over his own while you call him "good boy." That was gonna be his go too self service fantasy for a hot klick.

Skywarp could totally let himself want some more of you, right?

-

Astrotrains just glad he got stuck with you for the day. He'd take you over any of the other high command since you were the most mellow. Astrotrain would take your dumb little names over worrying about injury from his other bosses. So he's not exactly prepared when your servo is on his arm after he'd done his job like he was supposed to. Astrotrains helm snaps to the side only to be met with you smiling. "Good boy." Your warm em field brushes along the side of his frame before you just up and leave.

Astrotrain's spark does something- glitches? Frag- he didn't know, but he's staring at where you'd walked off like you hadn't just done that slag. His chassis hot and the plating on his arm feeling warm due to the lingering touch of your em field. Astrotrain clamps his plating back down on himself tight when he realizes it slightly fluffed up. Astrotrain then forces his wings to flick back down since they'd flicked upwards due to his shock.

His wings shoot right back up when Astrotrain comprehends the heat in his array. Slag okay no- no no no. Astrotrain was not- he will not have sexual thoughts about one of his bosses. He's not going to. No. Apparently, his sparkdamned frame did not care if he indulged it because he still was very horny over his little exchange with you. And now occasionally just remembering it when he sees you- slag it all.

Astrotrain at least accepts the fact that he's slightly attracted to you. In the end, he's just glad it's you and not any of the other decepticon high command.

-

Blitzwing had his stupid task, and you had pointed out how he was totally smarter than it, and how he could definitely handle it easy. And yeah! He could, and he did. Then you're near him, and you smile, and Blitzwing kinda just thinks you'll use your crummy names. Blitzwing thinks he might be able to actually land a hit on you for it this time if he just- Then your servo is on his pauldron but you're smiling- "Good boy" Blitzwing stopped thinking when the phrase rolled out. You then turned and went off to go make sure the dumbaft coneheads were on task.

Blitzwings wings are twitching, and he's doesn't know what the slag that was- but he sure as frag knows he liked it. He liked it a lot, actually. A rush he usually only gets on the battlefield settles down in his chassis, and the point of entry was his pauldron where you'd touched him. Both Blitzwings jet engines and even his tank engine rev and the sound is loud and rough. A wide grin that shows his denta curls on his derma.

Blitzwing knew sparkdamn well what else he was feeling and he's not about to pretend he doesn't just now wanna grab you and use you like a toy- Blitzwing bites his top denta down on his own fist when he remembers he hasn't even managed to land a hit on you for your stupid little name game you played with all of them. You were a high rank for a reason- you weren't a puny pushover.

Blitzwing doesn't know if he should flirt or threaten you the next time he can- so naturally, he does both.

[smallestapplin]

hello! Pretty Please feed my Decepticon hungry soul? can we get more reader x Decepticon harem?

Request Brought to you by the weird Anon-

I went a more fluffy route if that’s okay! Some hints if lewd acts near the end, but nothing graphic or descriptive.

-

-

Your schedule is always filled, always so busy making you rounds to spend equal amounts of time with your lovers. You’re sitting on Thundercracker’s shoulder as he writes something, Starscream ranting in the background, and Skywarp seemingly distracted, which you don’t blame him.

“All I’m saying is maybe if the fool is too incompetent to copy simple reports, why should I have to clean up this mess? I am far too great for such simple work!”

You try to stifle your laugh but it comes out as a snort. Thundercracker looks at you, smile on his derma at such a cute sound, until it’s ruined by swiftly approaching pede steps. Looking to the side, you’re greeted by Starscream’s scowl, yet such an expression doesn’t phase you, not anymore.

“And what’s so funny, human?”

Oh, he’s pulling out the big guns you see, well two can play that game. You stand from your spot and carefully walk towards the end of the blue seeker’s shoulder, standing right in front of Starscream’s angry face.

Just to lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose.

You chuckle watching his wings shoot up sticking up in the air as he begins to sputter, his face plate heating up as he tries to collect himself but is failing terribly.

“Better, my star?” You’re trying so hard not to cackle at the horrible wheezing sound he makes.

“F-fine, I am beyond fine, even!”

You turn your head at the sound of a pitiful whine, and see Thundercracker looking at you with a playful pout.

“Aw, don’t I get a kiss, little light?” He’s been so good, surely he deserves a little reward, right?

“Hey wait, I should get a kiss too!” Within a blink of an eye Skywarp is in front of you, shoving Starscream out of the way, who lets out an offended squawk just to shove the purple seeker away.

As those two begin their bickering, you walk closer to Thundercracker’s faceplate, and begin leaving small kisses everywhere you could reach on him. He chuckles, face flushed blue with energon as his wings twitch up and down behind him, showing his joy.

“Hey that's no fair, I only got one!”

“One? I’ve gotten none, you scrapheap!”

“What is the meaning of this!”

You four jump into silence at the booming yell of Megatorn’s voice, his red optics narrow at you four clearly awaiting an answer.

“Lord Megatron we were just-“

“We didn’t mean-“

“I’m sorry Megs, it was my fault for distracting them from their work.” You quickly interject, not wanting your seekers to get in trouble for you fooling around.

Though you know Megatron sees right through you, you know he has the evidence to prove it and power to ignore your words, yet you’ve wormed your way into this old mech’s spark, how could he deny you when you’re looking at him so pitifully?

He rolls his optics before approaching you, his thudding pedes reminding you and the seekers in the room who's really in charge, even if Starscream would like to argue.

“Fine, but that means you’re coming with me so these fools can return to their work.” The larger con carefully picks you up from Thundercracker’s shoulder, gingerly holding you in his servo, before turning to leave.

Ignoring Starscream’s loud complaining and Skywarp’s soft agreement. Once the door closes behind you two, you look up at your Conjunx(as he calls you) and smile up at him, chuckling as he huffs.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You nuzzle your cheek into his thumb, still grinning up at him.

“What, can’t I show my consorts affection too?”

“Tsk, you’re more of a distraction, it’s a wonder how any of them get any work done with you around.” His tone to you was teasing, despite his low speech.

“Hey, I’ll have you know, Soundwave says he gets more work done when I’m around, so I think that’s just a them issue.”

Megatron gives you a small smile, his expression so tender as he looks at you. Carefully he moves you to his shoulder, humming contently as you nuzzle against his helm.

“You certainly are an odd human.”

“So you’ve told me.” You kiss his cheek, grinning ear to ear as you watch his cheeks flush faintly, almost missing such a rare sight from the great and powerful Megatron.

“It’s a miracle you still have your ability to walk and sass me.” He speaks, pausing mid step to open the door to the cockpit.

you playfully gasp, pretending to clutch a necklace you don’t even have, “Lord Megatron, how dirty of you.”

the large mech chuckles, walking through the room and passing a few of your needier beloveds.

you mutely wave at Soundwave when you see him looking at you, though you know he can’t complain, he got to have you in his habsuite last cycle, despite how obvious it is he wants to hold you once more, with Rumble and Frenzy not far behind on that sentiment. You have to try so hard not to giggle, watching the two cassettes struggle to eject so they could have a chance to have you.

Shockwave glances at you perched cutely on the Leader’s shoulder, and makes an unamused hum, the scientist was always one to grab and touch you, still wanting to know more and it never being enough, one could say he’s grown addicted.

though he hates sharing, it puts a wrench in his plans.

especially when he can hear the rest of the foolish crew rushing, as soon as they hear you’re no longer in a private room.

He narrows his optic, as does Soundwave and Megatron, when the door is ripped open, revealing several more decepticons, who all try to act like they weren’t sprinting through the halls to get to you.

Yeah, being the Decepticons' lover wasn’t a bad thing.

In fact, you’re thriving.

[latenightdaydreams]

Hiii!! I really love your stories, and I was wondering if you could do a Knight! König x Princess! Reader, where the reader runs away and her trusted knight, punishes her for it.

Hi! Of course!

Knight!König x Princess (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, oral, p in v

2.1k word count

👸

.

.

The fact that you had made it so far away led you to believe that König was none the wiser. Assuming your way ahead of his trail, you turn into the local Inn, looking for a room. Upon entry, the short stocky man with a long black beard standing behind the counter looks you up and down. The purple color and high-quality fabric were a dead giveaway that you’re a woman of wealth.

“Hello, sir.” You look the man over. “I’m looking to buy a room for the night.” This is all new to you. It’s exciting.

The Innkeeper lingers for a second, looking you up and down. He’s debating on whether or not he should up charge you. “300 coin.”

The price surprises you, but again, you’ve never done this before. You nod, pulling out your coin purse, fishing for the 300 coin the man requested for the night. A booming noise causes you to jump and look behind you. There stood your knight, König. Your stomach sank lower as you registered that you’ve been found.

“Hey! Get out of here!” The Innkeeper shouts at König. “No imperial swine at my Inn!”

You turn and look at the man with a shocked expression on your face when you realize he’s yelling at König.

An annoyed growl leaves König’s throat as he steps forward, ducking underneath the door to fit inside. He glares at the Inn Keeper, his icy blue eyes barely visible underneath his helmet. Ignoring the man, he reaches out and grabs your arm.

“No more running, Prinzessin. You’re coming home.”

“No!” you shout, pulling your arm back, trying to break free of his powerful grip.

“Get out of here! The both of you!”

“Shut the fuck up!” König turns, roaring at the smaller man.

The Innkeeper freezes in shock when the giant Knight snaps. He watches as König grabs your waist with his other hand and hoists you up over his shoulders. As he walks out of the doors, you fight him, kicking and screaming, demanding that he set you free.

König ignores your whining as he walks you outside to his horse. Your weak body is no match for him. He sits you on his horse, holding your hips firmly. “Don’t make me have to tie you up.” A cheeky grin pulls at his lips underneath his helmet.

You roll your eyes at him, crossing your arms remaining defiant. “I don’t even know how you caught up to me so quickly.”

“Caught up? Prinzessin, I knew you were gone the moment you left.”

Looking over your shoulder, you give him a surprised look. “You knew the whole time? Why did you let me go so far?”

“I wanted to see how far you would make it. Then I heard the man back there try to con you out of more coin; figured it let it go far enough.”

König sits behind you straddling the horse, his arms reach around your waist to grab the reins to begin his journey back to the castle. He’s been your guard since the day you became eight-teen. You’ve been a pain in his ass ever since. As you’ve grown into a woman, you’ve only become harder to keep control of.

“You should have just let me leave. It’s not like I’m important. I have four other sisters.”

“Each one of you is important.” König says in a huff.

“Yeah, to be a pawn in some political bullshit.”

“Watch your mouth Prinzessin, you’re already on thin ice.”

“On thin ice.” You mock. “What are you going to do? Punish me?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“You could have cost me my life. I should punish you.”

“Stop talking!” You snap.

Deep down inside you do feel guilty for that idea. König has always been there for you, never really judging you the way others have in the past. While true, there is a deep want to live your life for yourself; König is just an obstacle in your way.

König ignores your attitude and just continues on focusing on getting you home safely. Your body relaxes back to König’s as the journey seems to drag on. There is a pit in your stomach, a deep dread of returning back to the castle. You know you’ll just wait there until you’re given away to a neighboring country.

Seeing the landscape of home approaching, you turn and look at König. “It would have been better if you let me run away.”

“The King would have simply ordered my head on a stake and send more men after you. Plus, you look and act like a little rich girl. You wouldn’t last two days out there.”

You say nothing back, knowing that he’s right. There are no limits you father wouldn’t go to just to get you back. Plus, who knows what type of men you could have possibly encountered. The sound of the gates drawing to allow the horse to enter, snaps you out of your own thoughts. The guards up front bow their heads in respect to you as you pass by.

König rides to the stables, slowing his horse to a stop before getting off. He turns to you with one hand out to help you. You place your hand in his, accepting his help begrudgingly. The second your feet touch the ground his arm snakes around your waist.

“König…” The annoyance in your voice is obvious.

“Where are you going?” He asks, pressing you closely to his body.

“To my room.”

“Not before you take your punishment.”

König reaches up, pulling his helmet off, placing it on the back of his horse. He presses his nose into the crook of your neck, smelling how sweaty you got after a full day on the run. He pulls off his gauntlets, tossing them down. You gasp as his hands reach up to cup your breasts, squeezing tightly.

“König! You know I'm to remain pure.”

“Prinzessin, I doubt the King assumes you’re pure anymore.” König chuckles.

You smirk remembering the little rendezvous with a stable boy when you were six-teen. König turns your body around to face him, your eyes focusing on his messy blonde hair and scarred face. All these years and you’ve never seen König past his eyes. Both of his massive hands up your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. A small moan leaves your lips as you feel the passion radiating for you. Still, you push away. You turn your head trying to reject him, but he holds you firmly in place.

“No, Prinzessin. Don’t act like you don’t want this.”

König’s lips trail down your neck, biting lightly as he goes. You feel your pussy getting wet, tingles running down your body with every bite. He drops one of his hands down to your ass, squeezing through the thick layers of fabric that cover you.

“You’re so beautiful, but you look better with my cum covering your face.” König growls.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck and turns you around, bending you over a stack of hay. He begins to bunch up your layers until he sees the skin of your bare ass. With one hand he reaches back, spanking you with great force. A loud groan leaves your lips.

“König!”

“Was? I said you’d be punished.” He spanks you once more.

Already you can feel a handprint beginning to form on your ass for his heavy hits. You feel his fingers push between your legs, swiping between your slit to feel how wet you are. A deep hum falls from his lips as he rubs back and forth between your folds, just grazing over your clit.

“Look at you…nice and ready.” He pulls back his arm, spanking you once more. Stepping back, he begins to take off his tasset to set his cock free.

You stand to turn to him, but he stops you, pressing you back into the hay. “Don’t move until I’m done with you.”

König’s cock springs free from its prison, he strokes it a few times before walking back behind you. He presses up against your entrance, the tip of his cock slipping in. A small whimper leaves your lips, you can’t believe he’s actually going through with this.

“König, you can’t do this. What if I get pregnant? What if we are found?” Panic begins to set in. Not that you’re opposed to being intimate with König, but what will happen if you get caught? Father will kill you both.

“Your father will have us both used as an example, so it’s best you stay quiet, ja?”

König grabs your hips to steady you before shoving more of his cock in. Inch by inch you get stretched by König’s giant cock. It’s been years since you’ve had sex, and he’s definitely making you feel like a virgin again.

“Oh—fuck!” You moan loudly.

“Shhh, Prinzessin.” He spanks your ass over the already sore skin.

Your eyes flutter back as he completely buries his cock into you. You reach out, grabbing handfuls of the stiff hay as you try your hardest to stay quiet. His thrust quickly become hard, leaving you no time to adjust to his size. He can feel your walls flutter around him.

“Mein Gott, you’re tight.” König says as his face scrunches in pleasure.

“K- König…” You moan out pathetically, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs. Your creamy cunt swallowed him whole, leaving a thick white ring around the base of his cock.

“Das ist es.” His voice raspy from the euphoria his body is experiencing. For the last ten years he’s been so busy with you that he hasn’t been allowed time to date. The women here in the castle fear him for his size or are simply too old for his liking. 

You, you’re perfect. A trouble maker and a woman closer to his age. He knows you might never be married off at this age, so you’re free for him to claim. Pleasured huffs leave his lips as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you with no regard for how his cock might be too much for your small size. The sound of his skin hitting against you's echoing within the stalls.

A rush of ecstasy takes over your body. You whimper softly as your legs tense. Your cunt begins to clench around König’s length. He laughs and pulls out. With one hand he grabs a fistful of your hair and the other spanks you in rapid succession, until you begin to squirm to try and get away.

“You’re not allowed to cum, Prinzessin.” He yanks you back by your hair. “Kneel.” He’s demanding, not asking.

You look up at him and drop to your knees in front of him. He walks closer to you, the smell of your cunt and his sweaty must consuming your nostrils as his cock is presented to you. Your eyes fall to it, his foreskin hugging his pink head, his length covered in cream streaks of your arousal.

With your hair in his fist, he pushes your face towards his cock. You turn your head, getting your own slick smeared across your face. Your hands go to his armored thighs and push away.

“I’m not putting that in my mouth.”

“Ja, you are. Open up before I force you to.”

Your eyes gaze up into his sky-blue eyes, his pupils wide from lust. Slowly, you open your mouth for König. He wastes no time showing his cock in. You quickly gag as he tries to shove himself down your throat. Tears build up in your eyes and you cough, spitting up thick globs of spit that escape the sides of your lips.

König watches you struggle, panting and he thrust forward into your mouth. His heavy balls slap against your chin, feeling your saliva drip onto them. The loud sounds of your gargles adding to his experience.

“You’re doing such a good job taking my cock. Look at you, so beautiful with tears on your face.” His voice is shaky with pleasure. He won’t be able to last much longer.

König steps forwards, pinning your head between him and the hay. He moves his hands and just begins to thrust into your mouth as if he were fucking your pussy. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to not throw up, when he pulls out. You look up with wide eyes as a rope of cum lands on your face. Your body jerks from surprise as more cum falls on your face.

“Suck the tip.” He says pushing his cock back to your mouth, a glob of his cum dangling from the head. As he shoves himself back in, the taste of his salty cum consumes your senses. You gag from the taste, but you still suck it for him. Your eyes gazing up at him as you do.

“I knew you’d look beautiful on your knees.” König says with a cheeky grin on his lips.

Part 2

[diejager]

A Fantasy

Pairing: YANDERE Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, DARK, non-con, dub-con, non-con drugging, somnophilia, creampie, possessiveness, obsessiveness, breeding, marking, blood, biting, Stockholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 9.8k

(A/N): FYI, Tracer’s (Overwatch 2) the reader’s mentor.

Requested by : @oyasumimosura

What stood before you was a great field of devastation and ruin, burned and broken buildings that used to be warm homes, lively parks that were turned to ashes, trees and plants laid wasted around dilapidated cars with broken windows and bent metal. People, young and old, laid motionless on the scarred ground, burnt black or left intact in a pool of their blood. Some were holding hands, a family, friends, a couple. Others were alone, forgotten, and left to their sad deaths.

One minute you were rushing through a portal, behind your mentor and besides your teammates, the Cavalry, as she liked to say. Rushing through fights to protect humanity and omnics and its future. The mission was like the one yesterday, the preparation, the meeting, the briefing, and the deployment, but the fate of it changed. A portal malfunctioned, it sent you elsewhere, far away and lost. This wasn't your world, this wasn't your universe, but now, you were in someone else's universe, playing their game.

The clock had struck and time felt meaningless on the battlefield, the sounds of beating aircraft blades, the booming shot of guns and the shockwaves of grenades were all people could hear. Soldiers were the only ones left, fighting against the other side - the enemy, the traitors, the terrorists - until one came out victorious.

While purposeful, the deaths and ruin of this Occidental village were regretful, families shattered, memories lost, and homes destroyed. All you could do was run around, trying to find the source of those cries you heard. A little girl's, whose tears welled for the mother she lost in the tirade of war.

The longer you ran, the closer you got to her. The girl's purple shirt and jeans were dirtied with soot and ash, dark from what was left of her village. You blinked, fazing through time and space to get to her more quickly. Rounding broken walls and jumping over fallen debris, you left a blue trail behind you, blinking your way to the crying kid.

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest when you got to her, recalling to your previous position with the girl, behind a brick wall. She clung to you, eyes red and swollen, lips bit red and her cheeks puffy. She looked like a seven-year-old child, alone, lost, and miserable without her parents or protection.

"Don't worry, love, " you used the words Tracer often used when she saved someone, her reassuring and calm voice. "I'm here."

Those zigzagging lines of light lingered in his mind, a shadow of a woman making her way through the abandoned town. The spring in her steps and the flexibility of her movements, jumping higher than any man should've been able to and changing directions so easily. She was fast, vanishing in a line of blue light and then appearing once more meters away.

Ghost saw her save a child, no older than an eight-year-old - or so he thought. A lone child on the battlefield was dangerous, a death wish for the kid if his enemies got to her first. Fortunately, the athletic woman got to the kid before anyone could, swiping her into her arms and disappearing in a blink. Seconds ago, she stood next to the pole, now all that was left was a blur of blue. She had disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

He picked at the memory constantly, powers, it seemed, were her thing, speed and agility of which no one should be able to wield, but she did and she used it to save a child. Although he admired that from a stranger, the question of her being a danger to them was still left unanswered. Whether she could be trusted or an unknown enemy that would tip the scales in the enemy's favour.

However, months later, after the war ended, there weren't any sightings of her, anywhere on earth, as if she had disappeared - again. He remembered her, though, the determined glint beneath blue goggles, her hair tied in a ponytail, flowing through the air, and her pretty lips.

She could still be in Europe, she probably was, or so he hoped. It would mean that he could run the chance of meeting her, to quench his gnawing curiosity. It would be difficult - near impossible - to find her in the millions living in Europe, but he would keep his eyes open, he had questions and he wanted answers.

He wasn't a believer per se, nor was he an atheist, he had a veto in what he put his trust and belief in. He wouldn't curse others for not believing in a God or gods, he wouldn't scoff at those who believed in them, and everyone had their rights. At this moment, however, the thought of God helping him had crossed his mind.

He had dared cross his limit, entering a small cafe - or a bistro, he wasn't sure - blocks from his flat. It was small and homely, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and tea and the place welcoming with the smiling faces of the cafe's workers.

He sat far into the shop, his back against the softness of the booth's couch, bored eyes observing his surrounding for any danger. Even off duty, the habits that ensured his safety still stuck to him, following him wherever he went.

The waitress, a young-looking woman, with striking eyes and hair pulled in a bun, walked his way. Her face looked familiar, lashes framing her pretty eyes, blushed cheeks and beautiful full lips. He knew those lips, and those eyes, and her build, short and athletic, but strong.

It was the child-saving vigilante he saw, only without her blue goggles and her tight bodysuit, blue and white that emphasized her muscles (it was probably made for usefulness, sticking to her body without any stray cloth when she ran, it made running faster and easier.). Wearing a chemise and black pants, instead of the standard skirt the other women wore, her shoes clicked as she approached him, hand pulling out a pad from her black apron's pocket.

He froze when her hand disappeared into her pocket, the items inside were unknown to him, and the content could be dangerous to him. He had to remind himself that she was a civilian at the moment, not an enemy vying for his head. She was safe, as long as she didn't attack him. He waited for her to speak, her pretty lips forming the words she wanted to tell him.

"Good morning, sir," her voice was melodic, soft and inviting. He craved hearing her speak to him with the soft lull of her tone. "Have you decided?"

Decided? What had she - you - meant by "decided"? Then he remembered he was in a cafe, people walked in to order food and drinks, to go or to eat there. He couldn't drift off like that, he couldn't disappear into the darkest depth of his mind. It was a dangerous place.

He cleared his throat, blonde lashes fluttering as he blinked, staring at your face. You were pretty. His words rumbled out, slightly muffled by his black mask: "No." He neither spoke more nor less, blunt as a hammer and sharp as a knife.

"Would you like more time to decide?" You were polite, smiling at him although his only spoken words were brash. He didn't want you to go yet, he just found you, heard and spoke to you,

"Anything you- uh... you recommend?"

You perked up at his question, seeing a more approachable change in him. Your smile widened, brighter than before as you listed off the menu by heart. Your optimism reminded him of Johnny's, expressively happy and grinning. The cafe - Ma's cafe, he learned from you - had its famously brewed tea latte, a mixture of earl grey and vanilla latte.

He took your recommendation, and you left with a skip, apron bouncing with each step. He watched you walk behind the counter, shuffling around with cups and the machine - he thought it was a coffee machine, those with pre-made coffee in its tank - meticulously, knowing well what he ordered.

You came back minutes later with a smoking mug filled with a milky brown liquid. It was fitting its name - London fog - with the white swirls that mimicked the fog that filled the cool, morning air until early evening when the sun started heating everything.

"Thank you...?" Ghost tried, wanting to know your name, you didn't have a tag on your apron.

You gave him your name with the smile you gave everyone, a customer service kind of smile that would assure that you wouldn't get any complaints about your service. He repeated your name a few times in his mind, memorizing every syllable and the way it sounded so well.

He wanted to repeat your name, whisper it lowly, but he had to make sure you were farther away from him, or you'd hear him obsessively call you. It rolled off his tongue amazingly, a perfect symphony with his deeper, raspy voice. He'll get to know you better, he planned on visiting more often, to learn your schedule and watch over you.

He pushed every intrusive thought back, bringing the mug to his lips (he had pulled down his mask to drink). It was sweet, slightly bitter from the coffee, but sweet nonetheless, perhaps a bit too sugary. He savoured the drink you made him, breathing the warm aroma of your mix. You'd made it, you had it, and served it. It was made for him, with your care and smile.

Ghost came by the next week, wearing the same black hoodie and dark jeans. He sat at the same booth and waited for you to walk by with the same smile as the prior week. You did, eyes wide with recognition when you caught him staring at you from the corner booth. You made your way to him with a grin, clad in a similar uniform and a serving tray under your arm.

"You came back," your calming voice reached his ears, giving him something to cling to in the cafe.

He liked habits, familiar things and usual occasions, but he hated the new and the unknown. They were dangerous, and deadly in his line of work. You expressed your gratitude at the tip he left you, way over the usual price other usual clients would.

"I never got your name."

He hadn't given you his name? That's right, he didn't for fear of people finding out his true identity, a broken man hidden under the mask of a monster - a Ghost. Trust issues stacked with insecurities and his introverted tendencies had made forming relationships much harder, making friends complicated with the backlash of his many blunt comments and irritated huffs, and letting people in from the fear of being betrayed, backstabbed, beaten and abandoned.

You were a vigilante, you saved a girl, you smiled at him and greeted him like you would a friend. You didn't shy away, nor freeze at the mere sight of him. You were new, but you were good - or so he thought you were. To him, you could be the achieved unachievable, a friend made from dust, a relationship formed from miracles and normalcy.

He blinked, mumbling lowly his name, low enough that it only reached your ears. You cocked your head downward, your smile widening as you repeated his name.

"Nice to see you again, Simon. I'm happy to see you again."

He nearly shuddered from hearing his name roll off your tongue, so melodically spoken. He wants to hear you call his name again and again and again, as many times as you could until he got sick of it (he probably wouldn't, he was already addicted to the way you spoke).

He dozed at your words, that you were glad he came back. He was glad too. He wanted to come by the day after his first visit, but it would seem too strange, perhaps dangerous to see him every day at the same spot, at the same time of day. He was a man of schedules, organized and neat planning.

He figured he would start by buying once a week for a month or two, then change it to twice a week for the following months, until seeing him every day would become the norm for you. He would kickstart the routine and make it a usual appearance in your life. He would make *him* a usual appearance in your life.

"Same as last time, Simon?"

God, he loved hearing you say his name. He simply nodded, he would make it his usual, a hut sweet, but enough to drown the bitterness in his soul.

The leaves turned darker, shrivelling and dropping dead to the ground. The mellow sky grew gloomy, and colder with each passing day until it dropped so low that Ghost had to wear a thicker jacket over his usual hoodie. Autumn was at an end and winter crawled ever so closer.

He was back from deployment, on a temporary leave to "relax and diffuse" as Laswell said. Everyone was back home, Price with his cigar and Nik, Gaz back home with his girlfriend, Soap with his rowdy family of seven and Roach went home to open arms and warm welcomes from his parents.

Ghost only had an empty apartment - or he used to, he moved to a house on the quieter side of town - and the cute, dazzling waitress that served at Ma's cafe. That's where he was going, he texted you before he left, letting you know that he was back and ready for a hot cup of London fog and brunch.

You read his message, replying with a "Copy that, Lieutenant". It became a running joke between you after he told you about his work, nothing classified or too detailed, but enough to let you know he was built to fight and survive.

The bell rang when he pushed the door, seeing you peer out of the kitchen once he stepped in. He was hit with a warm embrace, the cafe's heater worked well, warming the place and making it cozy enough to eat with only a t-shirt on. He gave you a nod, finding his way to his usual spot, the one he sat at for the past months.

How many months have passed since he first stumbled here? He couldn't remember everything became a blur when it was associated with you. His moments with you were warmer and calmer than at the start. You opened up to him, walls crumbling down and letting yourself build something out of it: a friendship with Ghost.

He liked being friends - for now. He had plans to make a move, to push farther, into unknown territory and try his luck. He had a feeling you'd say yes, he loved you so much and you showered him with adoration and smiles, you had to be in love with him, no? Of course, you were, he wasn't delusional, he was of sound mind, careful.

"Welcome back, Simon," you strut to him so casually, the same clothes, the same smile. "How was your deployment? Soap and Roach got into any trouble?"

He spoke fondly of his TF, they were his family, and he felt proud when he talked about them to you. He invited them once, and they all loved you as much as he did, you were sociable and easy to talk to. Though Price and Soap had the biggest effect on you, they reminded you of someone. You told him about your friends, chaotic like his TF, but a family. It sounded like an ops team, he wouldn't be surprised. He remembered the first time he saw you, it was still fresh in his memory.

"Soap stirred up some shite again," Ghost huffed, sloshing his shoulders to appear more relaxed in your presence, to make him seem less threatening than he was. "No casualties, everyone made it out fine. Bit bruised but alive."

"That's the main objective, no?" You chuckled at Ghost's indignified groans about Soap and Roach behaving like children high on sugar.

You stuck around longer now, gracing him with a bit of random chatter. He got to know about your days, your activities, your wishful thinking and your goals. He discovered something new every day, whether it came from your lips or from his own time.

You stood by his table until the chef rang the call bell. You winked charmingly and turned to get his order, he hadn't ordered yet, but he came by so often, ordering the same that the employees knew what to make when he walked through the door.

He liked the normalcy, where he came by once every two days when he was on leave. If the Task Force was sent on a mission, he could be gone a few days, a few weeks or a month. It always varied, but he made it work with his hate of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Are you free tonight, love?" Ghost asked, eyes gazing from your hands to your lips.

He found that open-mouthed expression at his question. You seemed hesitant to answer him, thinking about your reply to the man who tipped you well and was as close as a friend to you; or perhaps you were simply shocked that he finally asked you out, and wondering if you had time for him.

You nodded, a smug smile replacing your shock: "How 'bout eight? I finish at seven tonight."

" 'S fine, eight at the bar down the street?"

"It's a date then."

His heart almost broke his ribs, beating wildly against its cage when the word "date" left your lips. He had a date with you tonight, he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps you meant as a date between friends than one between lovers, but at that moment, all he could think was how your hands would feel between his, how your soft, plump lips would feel over his and how your body would feel against his, below and over him.

He dove into his delusional mind, imagines and dreams swimming freely, jumping from one to the other. He had dreams for once, a wish that he hoped you'd indulge, and a family he wanted but lost.

Everything seemed to go the way he planned, you waved at him when you saw him waiting outside the bar and giddily joined him. He found a quiet and mellow corner at the bar, a table pushed against the wall with two stools.

The bartenders knew him, he drank here with the others, and they didn't bother him and served and usual. Some were surprised he brought a friend - a woman - with him but left him to his own.

You sat down and downed a few beers while he drank his bourbon. You spoke sporadically, hands waving enthusiastically with every word. Your cheeks were flushed, slightly pink and warm from the alcohol, but you were lively, animated and happy.

It made him happy, seeing you so mirthful around him, being able to let loose from your stricter atmosphere at Ma's cafe. Your tense shoulders were looser, your back relaxed from its ramrod-straight position and your voice felt more invigorated. The alcohol might've played a part, running through your system and making you bolder.

The first time always played well, just as he imagined, and the thing that solidified everything was your parting words: "Next time's on me, Simon!"

You drank together every week, from friends to drinking buddies, there was nothing more intimate than that, to trust someone with your drunk self and your loose tongue, spewing words and thoughts the second they crossed your mind.

That boosted his confidence, the feeling that he could confess, and tell you his deepest and darkest thoughts and wants. You'd know what kind of man he was, broken and messily put together, like a DIY project made by a child gone wrong. He had sharp edges and missing pieces, a cracked personality and dangerous thoughts. He was a SAS soldier after all, once you become one, you see some twisted shit.

Like the week before, you walked out together, your legs shaky but still able to walk home, accompanied by Ghost. He helped you to your apartment, his broad shadow looming over the door, silent as always. When your shaky hands were able to unlock the door, turning the knob and opening the door, you turned around to bid your drinking buddy good night.

Lips parting to say the words, until he cut you off, his chapped lips met yours. His gloved hands caressed your cheek, thumb rubbing under your wide eyes as he held you in place. His lips were warm and plump, but chapped, a scar running over it.

His eyes were closed, lips on you for a few seconds longer until he pulled away, a dazed look in his eyes. While he expected a reaction from you, he hadn't envisioned shock and sadness, one that made his gut plummet. He winced at your expression, unable to understand what he did wrong. He thought you loved him.

"I- Simon, I- I can't, I'm sorry," you hushed out sadly, head turned down to stare at your feet. You were unwilling to gaze into his disappointed - probably heartbroken - eyes.

"Why?" He rasped, voice hoarse as if he hid cried for hours, or was on the brink of tearing up.

"I just can't, Simon," you persisted, feeling much more sober than the last few minutes. His surprise had severed you up - willingly or unwillingly. "I don't mind staying friends, but I can't get too attached. I won't be here much longer."

" 'Cause you're not from here?" He scoffed, but it didn't hold any resentment or irritation, simply sorrow and distress. " 'Cause you're from another world?"

You whipped your head to stare at him, your mouth agape and fearful shock glazed over your eyes. How could he have possibly known? While your identity was fabricated work, you know how to make a believable fake ID, Genji's knowledge helped you. You stepped back, hand reaching for your door knob, unsure of what Simon would do to you now that the secret was out.

He turned and ambled out, shoulders slumped slightly without a word to you. His world shattered once again, God seemed hellbent on making his life a misery.

He stopped coming after your "altercation", you felt horrible, but you couldn't let your heart run wild when you know Winston would find a way to fix the portal in a year or two. One had already passed and you couldn't overindulge in this world's pleasures and leave when you got too attached.

Yet, grief at being relieved that he never appeared again clawed at you, he knew you weren't from his world. It was dangerous information, especially in bad hands, but you couldn't do anything about it. This world had different rules and standards, it worked differently and you weren't book-smart like Winston or Torb. You were a simple agent working under Tracer.

You did, however, regret letting Simon leave so abruptly, he was an amazing friend, the perfect drinking buddy and would probably be a caring lover, but couldn't risk it. Even if you wanted to text him, and apologize over and over until Simon would talk to you again, you knew how to respect people's boundaries. If he left so coldly, never passing by, texting or calling told you enough. He needed time to calm down and clear his mind.

You went back and forth between your home and the cafe every night, your original routine - before meeting Simon - felt alien to you. You'd been so used to seeing Simon at the back of the shop, a hot London fog in his hands and crepes on his plate with melting butter. It was foreign to see the spot occupied by another client, or the cold spot in your chest when it was vacant.

You disliked it. You hated it. The cold, the silence, you wanted to see him at least once.

Can we meet? Usual place. was the sudden text you received from Simon during your shift. It was dated today at 5:39.

Without a second thought, you replied, affirming the date and time, tonight, right after your shift on Friday. A weight was lifted from your shoulder, the silence from Simon was broken and he finally reached out to you. Your break to let him calm down had worked it seemed, the let him cool down and clear his mind.

It was late by the time you got to the pub, around nine. You had returned home and fixed up your depressed look for a more lively one, hoping it would make Simon feel better. You caught him at your usual place, head hung low and demeanour shut off from the world around him. You took hesitant steps towards him, he didn't look exactly sober from the number of cups decorating the table, nor did he look drunk, from his sharp, hooded eyes.

"Simon, " you greeted him slowly, nearly flinching when his brown eyes washed over your smaller figure. Chills erupted through the ends of your nerves, fingers twitching at the sudden burst of danger you felt from your friend. You had no reason to be scared, wary of his demeanour, but not scared or hateful. He'd yet to act out violently or malevolently.

He gave a curt nod, emotions bleeding through his eyes. He was a stoic man, but his eyes were extremely emotional, pain, regret, grief, hate and joy were some you'd seen flash in those pretty brown of his.

He had a whole bottle ordered in advance, the cap still tightly screwed onto the bottle's neck. He poured you a cup, of rum straight out of the bottle without ice or any accessories.

Thanking him, you sipped on your drink it felt hot and heady on your tongue, it burned your throat. You hadn't drank since you'd last seen Simon, weeks ago, and you could see - feel - its effect. You coughed slightly but still downed the rest.

"You wanted to see me?" Your question left an odd sensation on your tongue. He hadn't spoken a word since you walked in, always the brooding, silent menace. He stared, fixated on you or something on you, it was perturbed you.

"I wanted to apologize, love."

You missed that low hum in his voice, and the caring way he said you "love". You'd been used to it since most British you knew always called someone they cared for "love" or "dear", loving terms of endearment used publicly. Now, however, you knew it weighted, an undertone to its meaning, a special significance in his heart.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that," he continued, regret painting his rough tone. "It felt right; to me. Guess I was more plastered than I thought."

He was human and alcohol coursed through his system. It made him bold and erratic, he acted out without a second thought. You could forgive him for the influence his bourbon had on him; you were going to forgive him anyway.

Although you felt better with his apology, forgiveness for his sudden move wasn't what you prioritized. You wanted answers. How did he know? Was it a sudden, incomprehensible blurb that he spat in a spike of hate and pain? Or was it conscience wording from his drunk mind?

"Do you remember that night?" You lost your smile, pursed lips and hardened eyes at your questioning - interrogation of him.

"'Course I do."

"Do you remember what you said? About me coming from somewhere else."

He nodded, eyes levelled to stare straight at you, unwilling to hide or lie, he spoke honestly, "Another world, love. Didn't forget."

"How'd you know? I'm not exactly showcasing it to everyone in bright colours. So how?"

"Saw you save that girl, lil babe crying for her mother," his answer was slow and purposeful, giving you what you wanted to hear. He recalled the event that occurred months prior, everything aligned with your own experience. "We don't - can't - have shite like that, too developed and powerful. Nothin' like that's possible in this era. So I figured you weren't from here. "

His reasoning made sense, his wording was careful, and it seemed like he had time to think about it. The time you gave him had helped. You kept your doubts to yourself, questions you had that he probably didn't have the answer to. A way back; a way home; an escape. All things he had no answer to.

So your shoulders relaxed and asked Simon to pour you a second cup, to which he obliged. You drank and smiled, back to the trying times when you just started drinking with him, the unknown and the awkwardness that lingered in the air stung.

You don't remember how many cups you had, or how many bottles you finished. Did you even finish the first one? Did you get halfway through before your vision started blurring and your mind dazed into mumbles of incoherent words? Simon hadn't touched another cup since the world around you blurred, the corners of your eyes turning black and your movement slowed to a slur.

He paid for the drink on his tab, slinging your arm over his shoulder, hand holding your waist as he walked out. You were drunk out of your mind, but something felt different, you don't remember being this inebriated the last time you drank half a bottle of rum. Was there something else in it?

Simon dropped you in the back, buckling you in before he made sure you sat upright. He was close, his neck bare and sweaty, his musk smelled strong and heavy, smoke and gunpowder weighing at the back of your throat. Although your vision was faulty, you could see the tight muscle of his neck and shoulder tense as he worked.

His scent stuck to you as he closed the door and drove home, the air in the car smelling like him. Whatever had drained you, lulled you to sleep, taking comfort in the familiar warmth even if a small part of you started panicking.

He had you, in the basement of his house, soundproof and padlocked from the outside. Any risk was accounted for and any escape plans were foiled prematurely by his quick mind.

Ghost laid you beneath him, on the soft, plush bed he bought and built for you, queen-sized for the times he'd spend cuddling you. He had you splayed, body limp and limbs pliant to his every desire. He admired your sleeping form, how your lace fluttered lightly and your lips perked, thinking on the corners as if you were wincing - a duck face - and your peaceful expression. You were adorable.

Your shirt came off first, pulled over your head and thrown over his shoulders, then your bra. Without his gloves, your skin felt soft, hot to the touch. Kneading your breasts, he held one in each hand and felt the fat. You twitched and mewled faintly when he pinched your nipples, hardened by the cooler air hitting your drunk-induced heat. He kissed them, lips closing around your nipple and sucking loudly. He gave each one the same amount of attention, pulling off with a wet pop.

His fingers trailed the lines of your abdomen, strong and athletic, but not too burly like anyone in the army. He admired your figure, half-naked and unconscious on his bed, in his home. He kissed down your stomach as he took your pants off, sliding leg after leg out, leaving you only in your panties.

You were beautiful: your skin - soft, your hair - silken, your lips - wonderful to kiss, and your eyes - gems. You were breathtaking to look at, a treasure to his eyes solely. You were an unblemished canvas, unmarked by other men - in his mind - by sin, and your scars were trophies, won through difficult times. He wanted to be the one painting you, displaying you prettily for his eyes alone. Pieces of works were kept secret like Michelangelo's love poems and sketches.

His eyes wandered the expanse of your body, groaning when he saw the wet patch, your body had reacted to his caresses, your arousal turning the spot over your cunt darker, wet. He pushed his nose to it, breathing in the tangy musk. His fingers hooked under the string and ripped it off with a harsh tug. You wouldn't need underwear anymore once he was done with you.

Ghost's pupils dilated, wide, blown eyes as it keyed on your slick cunt. He adjusted your legs, moving them over his shoulders to have better access to you. He gave a testing lap, running the flat of his tongue over your rim, prodding your clenching opening and leaving at your pulsating clit.

You tasted delicious, he growled and dove back. Tongue circling your button, sucking loudly, lifting the protective hood to let it swell and throb. He held your hips tightly ad you squirmed and moaned, but you never awoke. The drug he gave you was potent, tested on bigger, stronger military men. It could knock them out, so it would pull a stronger reaction from you.

It weighed on his mind, that he resolved to drugging you and bringing you home to be able to show you just how much he loved you. He'd preferred if you were awake, he wanted your first time together to be wonderful - fantastic - in all ways, but you would've protested, fought him and left him once more. He couldn't risk losing you completely, it hurt.

He had no other choice and felt guilty, but he couldn't let his mind wander when he had you under him, ripe for the taking. He pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on you, his needy girl.

His tongue returned between your leg, cheek nuzzling into your sweating thighs. He alternated between sucking your button, lips enclosing around it, and dipping his tongue into you, groaning anomalistically at your tensing walls. He pushed his forefinger in, joining his ravenous tongue. His nose bumped your clit, jerking you each time.

A second finger joined the first and his tongue left to give attention to your neglected clit, pumping to the third knuckles and curling upwards. You arched off the bed, hips buckling into his open mouth as he stretched you open with a third finger. The sound was lewd and wet, loud in his ears.

His cock twitched, straining against his pants, the fabric tight and inflexible, nearly painful. He wanted to relieve the tightness, that burning ache deep in his guts, but his needs came second to yours.

He flickered his tongue and pushed his fingers deeper, curling and panting against you. You spasmed, legs closing around his head, squeezing him as you came. His fingers eased out slowly to savour the taste of your arousal, mouth covering your fluttering hole and slurping the slick that drizzled down your ass.

He loved how you tasted, sweet and salty, like a healthy, ripe fruit ready to be bitten into, juicy and perfect. He almost lost himself, dazed by your essence and his anguish; if only you'd accepted him early, you would've been awake and conscious of this act, and you'd be able to love and embrace him as he did to you. He wouldn't have to wait so long, in pain and regret, for not wooing you enough. He wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Snapping from his hazed thinking, he lowered your legs and climbed off the bed to undress. He peeled his hoodie and shirt, which stuck to his skin by sweat, and he dropped his pants once he unbuckled his belt. His cock bobbed, slapping wetly against his navel before it hung heavily between his legs, the head achingly red and swollen. His balls felt heavy, and tight from all the neglect. They were big and full, ready to pump his seed into you.

He cradled you, pulling your legs over his elbows and slotting his hips to yours, his cock over your slit. He moved his hips, slicking his shaft with your juices, groaning at the wet warmth under him. When it felt slick enough, he dipped the tip in, your labia stretching to swallow his uncut head. The sound was downright filthy in his ears, the squelch and your strained moans.

He watched himself inch deeper, sinking into your depths with unrelenting hunger, panting and growling until he bottomed out, his balls sitting snug against your ass. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, nudging it as he rolled his hips, testing how deep he could reach and how strong he could fuck.

He slowly pulled out, hearing the wet noise of his cock slipping out to the tip, and slammed in, his balls slapping the roundness of your ass. He rocked wildly, groaning each time he bottomed out, feeling the heat of your walls clench around him like a vice. Your spasming walls wrenched low moans from him, as often as you whimpered and mewled.

"Fuck- you feel so fuckin' good-" he pushed out through his clenched teeth, his cock twitching when you tightened around him.

Your legs shook, your back arching slightly and your voice keening loudly. He covered your body with his, lips meeting yours in a hungry and possessive kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and committing it to memory. His hand found your clit, thumb rubbing your sensitive nub, urging you towards your end.

Keening, you came, gripping him with a vice. He grunted, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his peak after yours, breathing in your neck with dazed, hooded eyes. He swore, thrusting as deep as he could and came, his seed rushing to fill you.

"Fuck- fuck-" he gasped, rocking a few times into you, riding off his edge until he calmed down.

White globs leaked from your stuffed cunt, rolling down your ass and leaving a trail. His chest rumbled happily, bending down to kiss you slowly, soft and adoring compared to the last. He slid out when he softened, his cum oozing out of your gaping heat, the plug keeping everything in left.

He loved watching you full, oozing of him, asleep and satiated in the bed he bought for you. You were both coated in sweat and cum, hair sticking to your glistening skin. Your dishevelled and panting aroused him, his soft cock jerking upwards, hardening moments after he just came.

"We're not done yet, love."

You felt heavy and warm, a heat - a body - held you tightly, fingers carding through your hair and caressing your back. It smelled like sweat and smoke, a familiar musk. You opened your eyes, seeing a pale, burly chest, Simon's naked chest. You froze, body tensing, shoulders squaring and arms ready to push him back.

"Morning, love," his voice was raspy with sleep, deep and calm as he greeted you, his lips meeting your hairline. "Slept well?"

You frowned, legs moving, jutting out from between his knees as you struggled to free yourself. Your body felt sore, the peak of your discomfort coming from your heat, a pulsating and warm pain. You feared the worst.

When you looked down, you were covered by only a shirt, a big, dark grey t-shirt that smelled like Simon, it reached your knees. You winced, seeing your nakedness and Simon's pants hanging low on his hips, flashing the sharp dip of his navel and his sculpted torso. It left little to imagine, the red blemishes on your neck and shoulders, slightly faded from his careful handling and bruises the size of his fingers around your thighs.

"You-" you coughed before you could day anymore, throat dry and scratchy, alcohol dehydrated people faster.

"Drink," he held you up, back to his chest, arms slipping around you too comfortably to hand you a cup of water, cool and fresh.

He had expected this, he wasn't as delusional as he first seemed, and he was prepared. You took it, gulping it down carefully, counting the seconds - minutes - that would pass until the drug kicked in, if he had diluted any in your water.

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating as he wrapped his arms around you, nosing the collar of your neck, he placed fluttering kisses on your open shoulder. The collar of his shirt slipped from one side, exposing your skin. His teeth grazed you, teasingly nipping you with warm puffs of air.

You gulped, gathering whatever wits you still had after this whole kidnapping situation. Your mind was running miles per second, eyes gleamed over with tensions and tiredness, and your body sore from Simon's perverse affection.

"Where am I?" your voice was small, still raspy from - what you assumed - moaning and mewling.

"Home," he mumbled, latching onto your skin and sucking a dark spot.

Home? It neither meant your flat nor safety. It was *his* home, a prison he built for you. You looked around. You thought it better to get to know the place he decided to keep you captive, to learn and discover its secrets, anything you could use against or for you.

It was like a studio apartment, everything was open apart from the bathroom, it had a small kitchenette with a fridge (probably in case he left for a while, deployed in another country while he kept you here.), a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and a desk pushed to the side. He'd forgone leaving you with a television, a mobile device, a phone or a computer, all were risks of you getting out.

The walls were painted over, bare of windows and stairs lead to a door, locked from both sides. He locked you in his basement, beneath his house and every other neighbour's nose. No one would come to your rescue if you screamed. No one would hear your cries of anguish or your pleas for freedom.

He bit down, teeth pressing onto your skin, denting the scarred flesh with his teeth marks. You yelped, the area hot and painful, his strength leaving an almost skin-deep bleeding, fiery and red. It was irritated and swelled in seconds. He moved from one patch to the other, determined to mark up your shoulder before possibly moving on to the next one.

You squirmed on his lap, trying to free yourself from his restrictive hold. You gripped his hands, digging your blunt nails into his forearms. He scoffed, nuzzling the bites he made, tongue lapping at the bleeding lines.

"Ghost," you gasped, legs kicking and body struggling.

Clicking followed every kick, the distinct sound of metal rattling in a disorderly way. You looked down your leg, catching the cuff around your right ankle, a long chain kept you jailed in the basement. It was long and winding, enough to comfortably walk laps around your new accommodation but too short to reach the door.

You stared at it incredulously, the utter rage and disgust that burned in your gut that he planned to keep you as if you were a glorified pet or some sort of prize he scouted and obtained.

You knew he liked you before, it was a simple and innocent crush, like finding your first one and not knowing how to react. That, and the fact he was a soldier, scarred by time and marked by warfare made him so standoffish. You thought it was simple, but now, it was too late to forget, to not look, to let bygones be bygones.

He was obsessed, not necessarily sane, but not crazy either. He wasn't delusional, by everything he set up as a precaution, but he let his darkness fester, grow and crack the surface of his calm and stoic persona. He was still calm and meticulous, but it was a different kind, storming ideas for your imprisonment and wishes he wanted to make true. Ghost and Simon overlapped, neither good nor evil, he was simply letting the monster rage uncontrolled.

His pent-up emotions drove him to the edge, and your rejection pushed him over, tipping the scale of his sanity. That's how you ended up in your current situation, his hands wandering over your thighs, dipping between them and down to your knees. He still nipped at your skin, biting and pulling the collar down the other shoulder. His teeth sunk into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, warm fingers slipping under his shirt to knead your chest.

You winced, flinching when he plucked your nipples, pulling on them until you let out a pained whine.

"Stop-!" your hands followed his, clamping around his wrists and dragging him out, but he stayed firm, unmoving to your will as he twirled your mounds. "Fucking stop!"

He huffed, hands dropping to your lap. He mumbled into your bitten skin, groaning in complaints about not letting him care for you. His complaints came with hot breaths on your nape, mouthing the back, turning silent and unmoving.

His quietness was familiar to you, his penchant for sifting through his thoughts in utter silence. Then he moved, draping the covers over your body, tucking you in. He stood at your bedside, expression lighting in a gentle smile. Under the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a beautiful angel. A gold halo hovered over his blonde locks, framing his pale skin and warm, brown eyes.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering a few seconds longer as he took in the calming moment. He had you, he had you in his home.

"How about breakfast? Fried eggs and bangers, how's that sound?"

The normalcy of eating breakfast in bed, to wake up and be greeted with a British breakfast made by Simon. He liked the idea of such normality, it was romantic, domestic even. To be able to cook for you and serve you the food he made, he'd eat at the table in the middle of the room, seated opposite from you.

He left before you could give him a piece of your mind, or your reply to his question. Fried eggs, you knew what that was, but *bangers*, what the fuck was that?

The stairs creaked lightly, bending under Simon's weight, but his steps were silent - dangerous. The lock clicked when it was unlocked, and he left you alone, the door locking behind him. Gone was your escape, gone was your freedom, gone was your life with the door locking before you.

Time seemed endless, it went by in a blink or in long, painful moments that left you angry. He hadn't given you a clock, and without anything technological (the microwave didn't have the time, whatever Simon had done, worked. Time never played on the four-letter screen.), you couldn't tell day from night, seconds from minutes and minutes from hours. Time dragged agonizingly slowly, the only clue was Simon kept a pattern: three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and supper before going to bed with his arms wrapped around you.

How long you've stayed here was unknown. You couldn't know and Simon didn't want to tell you. He changed subjects or glared at you until you dropped it or he decided to drop it. You had no link to the outside, no way of knowing if you'd been announced missing or if anyone was worried. Simon had cut all your connections to the world around you, just outside your reach, on the other side of these walls that confined you.

You desperately needed to know about your case, if they knew, if they filed a missing person report if they were searching for you. It pained you to be ignorant of everything but your small world, the things that happened in your small room. Everything you knew was Simon.

His horribly, soothing words in his deep voice, speaking into your ear or your hair, whispering his dreams and his hopes, his love and his adoration. His wandering hands, raking the tension from your shoulders, the knots in your back, your worry from your eyes and lips, and the pleasure - forced - he brought upon you.

Entertainment was brought through him, or through the books he left for you, most were erudite, both old and new novels. Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Silence of the Lambs and The Heart of Darkness were a few of the novels you'd caught on the bookshelf.

He also fed you. Most days, he'd stay until it was time to eat, he would leave - sometimes half an hour or a whole hour, it ranged between depending on the meal - and come back with warm plates. They always smelled good and they tasted better.

It surprised you how skilled he was in cocking, as he was in infiltration, sniping, abducting and killing. Perhaps he took the time apart from you to forge his plan, to learn to cook and to care.

You ate, slowly and contemplatively. He stared at you eat, always making sure you took the first bites before digging into his own plate. It weighed heavy in your gut, like a reluctant gift you were bestowed, and Simon made sure you ate everything.

You felt dazed, gone, after eating, as if a cloud washed over your mind that made you slower, and sluggish with everything you did. The food was drugged, you were aware of that when you first felt lethargic. It made you less testy, less bratty as Simon grumbled, you were more pliant to his whims and easier to move when you tried fighting him.

Though it eased the nausea that wracked your body in the mornings, the sudden discomfort in your abdomen and the heaviness that the ache gave. You rarely needed to move from the bed if the urge to vomit came up, Simon kept pills for that. If you did, he'd comfort you, holding your hair back as the content of your stomach surged upwards.

Your time spent with Simon was time spent organizing your thoughts, Winston was smart, engineering-wise, he was amazing. Then there was Mercy with her medical breakthrough and Torb with his ingeniously brilliant machines. If they came together, found what went wrong with the portal you went through.

Trace would be so worried if she wasn't already dead worried. She was a caring and responsible mentor, taking you in before and after the fall of Overwatch. Nearly twelve years under her and this was the first mishap. You spent nearly two years in Simon's world - you counted the time your could count, the days you spent working and enjoying life as much as you could in a different place - and your heart never stopped missing your family.

You missed Jack - Soldier: 76 - when he would openly laugh, and Gabriel, when he was still the man he was. You missed Tracer's fussing, blinking around with so much energy, and Reinhardt's proud standard when he loomed over his teammates with his Barrier Field. You missed them horribly, they were the glue that kept you hoping for freedom.

It happened when you nearly conceded to Simon's whims, bending to his will and words, letting his hands wander your body and feeling pleasure - genuine. His confessions were parroted, and his I love youwas returned.

You ate less, however, the lump in your gut grew by the days, weighing heavier and heavier. You had weird cravings, followed by nausea most mornings, gripping the toilet bowl with your head hung low. Simon held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back, bemoaning about your pains and cramps.

He left a few times during your period of captivity, vanishing for long periods - usually a week or two - and had you manage everything on your own. He had cameras set up, watching your every move, connected to whatever device he decided to watch you.

He was deployed a week ago, his steps never walking to the door during the week, but now, you could hear his booming steps around the house. They were loud and intentional. Dread always filled your body when you learned he came back, he was clingy, handsy and obsessive when he came back, growling that he would burn down the world if couldn't have you; or that he was thinking about you - constantly - and that the video feed on his phone was never enough.

You picked up on his pace, hurried and panicked. They stomped around the house in search of something before it stopped at your door. Your ears perked on the clicking of the lock, straining to listen to his heaving breaths.

Crack

You jerked forward. Something behind you cracked, the loud cracking filled the air as you turned. A blue swirl cracked the shift in reality, like glass fracturing and breaking into pieces, it glowed with every line. It pulsed calmly, the swirls capturing your attention. You felt drawn to it, your hands twitching with the urge to touch it, to let your fingers swim in the infinite pool.

"(Name), are you there?" a voice called from the other side, small and feminine. It was dripping with worry and exhaustion. "Luv, are you there?" she cried a second time, a hand emerging from the portal.

You knew the voice, the warm, familiar voice that called out to you with love and compassion. A friend. A mentor. A family.

You reached out to it, hand inches from hers. Then the door to your cage burst open, his screams echoing in the basement. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could, mask still on his face as he reached for you. His gloved fingers grasped the air for you, rushing towards you with immense worry and fear in his eyes.

Mere seconds behind you, his fingers grazed your back as you fell into the waiting arms of your mentor. He was too late, he fell on the vacant bed, watching the portal close behind you. He clutched the bending, the place you sat moments ago. It was still warm, your heat and smell still mixed into your sheets.

He spun lies about your absence, about your sudden disappearance from his world. You moved away after your breakup, you distanced yourself from him to make the move easier on your heart and his. The TF had accepted the excuse, solemnly nodding about your leave and wishing they could have said farewell to a good friend.

They moved on with life, still smiling nostalgically when you were brought up, but Ghost was left heartbroken. He knew something was wrong that day, the itch in his brain about something happening at home. That's why he was in such a hurry, in a panicked frenzy to get home - to get to you. He was too late though, seeing you being pulled into a portal. Dooming was the effect on him; devastation was the pain in his heart; shattering was the sorrow of his soul.

He poured everything into keeping you, only to lose you. Now, he poured every second of his life into work, never letting his mind wander to the bump on your stomach or the subtle relinquishment in your actions to him.

He was deader than dead, colder and more stoic than before. They saw the change, they understood, but never blamed you. Everyone had fallouts, Simon just had more than the rest of the world. That's why he played Ghost more often than before, building his walls higher and his appearance darker.

Yet somehow, Soap was enthusiastic enough to rope him into playing games on his console (he used to play more before finding time between deployments to jump into a match with the others). Overwatch 2, an evolution of the first made better. Soap promised it was good. His spiel about the characters having a profound background and the gameplay being fun. Ghost was doubtful, he and Soap didn't have the same definition of fun, they were associated with different things.

He liked Soap, though, so he humoured his sergeant. He downloaded it on his console, watching the white line charge until it became playable. Soap had mentioned a few names: Genji, Sombra, Reaper and Zenyatta, he even joked about Reaper resembling him, the skull mask and the dark drapes. He'd also gushed - like an over-enthusiastic gamer - about a new character, a woman, the sole student of this Tracer.

He scoured through the lists of players, eyes skimming over the faces before he spotted a familiar one. It was more cartoonish, drawn in gentle lines and beautiful shades. Your face, it was your beautiful face. He nearly dropped his controller, hands shaking and body heavy.

Was it guilt that washed over him? Was it pain that washed over him? Was it sorrow and melancholy that washed over him? Or was it his world that came crashing down on his shoulders?

The world dulled, his breath became stagnant and shallow as he stared at your hero. You were standing proud and fearless, guns held in your hands with a bright smile. He watched you emote, your character moving as it was coded. He scrolled through your skills and perks, some he remembered you use. You blinked and recalled, moving back and forth between time and space, breaking the fragile shift in the world.

Soap was right about the new hero, you were interesting and lovely. In a flurry of emotions, he opened up your biography - or a snippet of your backstory. Every word bled his heart, every act and every situation wracked his body with sadness. The more he read, the more his tears threatened to fall.

You kept your - his - child, a beautiful kid with his blonde hair and your eyes, a round, yet sharper face like his. You kept him, you hadn't aborted the child. You gave birth and he wasn't there. You took care of your kid and he wasn't there. You watched him grow and he wasn't there.

He cried, body closing on itself. His shoulders shook, his vision blurred and his face streaked with tears. A broken sob broke through his throat, restricted and pained with waves of emotion, deep and harrowing sadness of his loss.

"I miss you, love," he rasped, his fingers gripping his hair, nearly ripping out the seams. "I miss you."

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just�� locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[shruiee]

Want A Drink?

Vampire!Daemon x Reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | Bloody Baby Series | Vampire AU

synopsis: Rhaenyra finds a doe eyed thing for her and Daemon to drink from, however she has a bad habit of playing with food.

warnings: dub-con? Kinda non-con? Feeding, blood drinking. threesome, oral (F), riding, compulsion.

a/n: I will take requests for this series :)

A masterful event, truly. The rooms of this old castle filled with enough free booze, loosened inhibitions and stumbling younglings draped in what they would consider cool clothing. This was a rather fun way to hunt, the days of random strangers in the forests had long dwindled decades before, this, this was chique - a classic way of finding a pretty someone to feed on and a hell of an excuse for party.

Rhaenyra, leaned against one of the many high tables, her senses working to find the one, if there was one. She shook her head, watching Daemon stumble and dance along with one the many girls that were fawning over him. Even with the wedding band glinting on his ring finger, these young broads didn’t care. Hands in the air as he moved to the beats - if only they knew what he was.

You tore through the thick crowd, all smiles and huffs as you came to rest your head on the table Rhaenyra stood by. The air so thick within, you needed to pull away for a minute. The smell even beyond the sweat and the booze, she could smell you. Even more so hear the running blood under your skin, lavender? No jasmine, that’s what you smelled of. You took deep breaths, trying to find air within the thick ambience of this room. You couldn’t - tequila, it had to be the tequila making you feel this way.

“You doing alright, love?” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed over the music in front of you.

You looked up, confused and a little dazed. Gosh, she’s so pretty you thought dumbfounded “I- yeah, it’s hot in here,” you replied, you looked up once more trying to breathe through your mouth this time as you lift your hair in your palm to ease away the heat.

“Come with me,” this time you hadn’t realized that she came to stand next to you, her frame towering over your as you came to stand straight. You looked back to where your friend was dancing with her boyfriend, just go, you nodded, taking her hand as she led you outside the grand room.

You mindlessly followed her, such naivety - crawling along with her to the monster’s den. She led you to a balcony, the crisp air of the night prickling goosebumps against your skin as you took yet another deep breath before your lungs fully let your chest to clear. You leaned against the balcony columns. Below in the courtyard, people stumbled over to trimmed shrubs, chatters and giggles echoed with the muffled thud of the music with every door opening and closing.

You giggled, shaking your head as it turned to chuckle. You had forgotten about the pretty woman still standing against the other column. She looked at you quizzically, what sweet sounds the corners of her lips up turned, wondering what intoxicated thought had you musing so. “What’s so funny?”

“This palace,” you coughed to halt your giggles “whatever fat lord had this made, I doubt he envisioned rowdy peasants fornicating in its bushes.” you laughed one more, pressing a hand to your belly.

“I’m sure he had many debauched plans, sweetheart.” Rhaenyra smiled, this time approaching you. Her little words of endearment didn’t go amiss as your cheeks flushed.

“He had three wives,” you blurted, the only thing you could do under the intimidating gaze of her purple contacts.

Rhaenyra’s brows waggled, she looked curious, a little knowing. “history student, are you?” She tucked a piece of your loose hair behind you ear.

“Hobby really,” you shook your head, feeling sandwiched between the marble column and this - this angelic lady dressed in maroon.

“What else do you know,” she whispered, her thumb still grazing over your cheek.

“There lived a Queen here, once, with her husband and his three wives,” your breath hitched as she grew closer “he died for her and she died in grief.”

“How terrible,” Rhaenyra murmured, you’re so pretty your mind began to scream so loudly that your actually said it. She pulled back looking amused, her thank you?

She finally closed the space between the two of you, one hand snaking around the small of your waist as the other held you cheek. The smell of vanilla and wood was hit against your nose as her lips moulded against yours. You squeaked into the kiss, frozen for a moment until you gave in. Letting her lips melt your to putty in her hands as she explored your mouth. Breathe, breathe - so overwhelming as you gasped breaths of air within the short pause.

“Enjoying without me, my love?” A man’s voice tore you away from the daze Rhaenyra was lulling you into.

A man with silver hair stood leaning against the glass paned balcony door, his cream shirt unbutton to his sternum, “Isn’t she just a beauty, Daemon,” Rhaenyra chides, before pecking your lips once more.

You looked between both of them confused, were you a home wrecker now? “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t know you were married,” you said eyeing the ring on the woman’s finger.

“Shh- sh It’s alright, Daemon doesn’t mind. Do you honey?” She began nipping at the expanse of your neck.

“My…you really are pretty,” Daemon said approaching you. Your mind seemed to have been in a trance, the way they looked at you, smelled, the hold of their fingers in each wrist.

“You are going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Daemon asked, his thumb grazing your lip. it felt like a demand, your on consciousness slipping. You nodded, letting his thumb push in as your suckled around it.

You were in and out after that, but mostly you were warm. So very warm, perhaps it was the giant fireplace in their bedroom, the only warm yellow light of the room. There were spurts your remembered.

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra moaned as you kneeled between her legs, lapping away at her cunt with your nose pressed up against her clit as she rolled her hips against your tongue “just like that.” Daemon’s grip on your hair was tight as he kept your face against his wife’s pussy, admiring the scrunched look on her face you licked away at her needy bundle of nerves.

The mere moments of lucidity passed once more as your mind dwindled to the warmth, the next you were straddled and Daemon’s hip. His cock deep within you as you rolled your hip and bounced on his cock, “can we keep her? I want to keep her?” Daemon groaned, feeling the vice grip of your cunt milking him.

“Hmm, she would make a fine pet. Look at her.” Rhaenyra whispered from behind you, she hands pinching and rolling your nipples in between her finger as you pleasures her husband.

You felt her pressing kisses onto your neck as you weight fell back against her, exhausted and wanting as Daemon yet agains began rubbing your clit, hood pulled back as he flicked against the reddened bud. You felt a sharp graze, maybe the woman’s fingernails. You whimpered, dazed as your felt the warmth in your belly stir, you were close and all three of you knew it. Daemon thrusted his hips upwards, his fingers unrelenting as you played with your bundle of nerves “that’s it darling, come for him.”

Rhaenyra sounded desperate, her eyes blown as she watched Daemon face scrunch up. She was hungry, she wanted to taste you against the blood rush. You squealed once more, a moan stuck at the back of your throat and Rhaenyra gave in. Sinking her fangs into your jugular and moaning when the thick crimson liquid hit her tongue. Blood dripped from the opened wound down your torso as you thrashed against their tight holding. The initial scream still ringing in your ears as you felt Daemon’s tongue flatten on your sternum and lick up the dripping blood. The fear has blown your eyes wide, tears polling around them.

Your heart thudding as you tried to fight against them, barely making any headway “Shh- you’re alright,” Daemon wiped at your tears, his eyes dilated and then calm, your heart was no longer thudding “you are safe.”

“I am safe,” you mumbled as Daemon lifted your wrist to his mouth before he too sunk his teeth in deep.

When you woke up next morning, messed hair and aching in a soft (too soft) bed, one unlikely to be yours. You groaned pulling yourself up, a gentle sting running down your body as you took in the silk pink nightgown your body was dressed in. Your mind wavered for moment until it focused in on their faces, the silver woman and her husband Da- Daemon. Your friends would surely freak out when they find out you fucked two people in one night. Your fingers grazed at your lip and then it all came crashing back.

Teeth, your neck. The bandaging on your wrists, heart thudding against your heart, praying that perhaps it had been a bad dream. You stopped at the giant body length mirror, multiple bite marks down your thighs and legs. One on each side of your neck, what the fuck, you winced ripping the bandage from your wrists. Yellowing bruise and two distinct wounds sunken into you skin, still bleeding. You had to get out of here, you had no idea where your phone or your clothes were but all you did was run.

Rhaenyra and Daemon sat in their dinning room, the cleaners already having returned their palace to its pristine nature. They looked rather pleased with themselves and the events that took place last night. “We should have dried her out,” Daemon groaned, eyes fixated on his glass of scotch.

“We should have,” Rhaenyra agreed, “we could just keep her.” she repeated Daemon’s words from the night before. It had been nearly a century since they shared a companion together. The end wasn’t so pretty for the last one but perhaps this time it would be different, Rhaenyra had become far more capable at curbing her blood thirst.

Daemon dryly chuckled “What? Should we just ask her to be our human blood bag?” A stale joke since they had much other plans to be within your company. You were far too warm, to sweet to let go. “Looks like Ms Blood bag is awake.” Daemon notes the distinct sound of footsteps hurrying along the grand staircase. He downed his cup of scotch before signing.

You were running, unsure which way to go at first but the hallways were organized enough to lead your straight to the enterance. Barefoot and naked another this flimsy night gown, you didn’t care you just ran. Just as you were about to reach the main door and push past it. You crashed into a hard body, stood looking unimpressed at your little attempt at escape. You screamed as he held onto you.

“No! No no- please let me go.” You yelled “Let me go!”

Daemon just stood there, hoping your outburst would heel on it’s on, unwanting to compel you once more. He needed the fear to subside on its on. Rhaenyra walked along calmly from the dinning room to the enterance, watching your frame thrash as your screams echoed through the palace. Daemon sunk to the floor, trying to shush you but looking extremely irk. Rhaenyra bent to your level as she pushed your hair away from your face. She too didn’t want to compel this away.

“Please, please don’t kill me,” you begged “I’ve barely lived.” Tears fell past your eyes that she wiped away.

“We don’t want to kill you, darling.” She hummed.

“No?” You whimpered, confused at her soft demeanour.

“We want you to be ours.”

I’m thinking of making this a Dark! AU, like eventual Stockholm Syndrome kicks in vibes and maybe she is actually happy. I will take requests for this AU right now. So if you have any ideas with Ms Blood Bag and Daemyra don’t me afraid to send a request ;)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)

[moonlight-1108]

-Algunos datos sobre mí(y mi oc):

1.-Mi color favorito es el morado. 2.-Si tuviera que decir algún personaje de los que e creado que sea mi favorito…definitivamente Félix(realmente me agrada su personaje) 3.-La criatura morada que está en el dibujo se llama Moonlight y mi Oc se llama Starnight(de ahí es que proviene el" M/S") 4.-El "0811"es por mi fecha de nacimiento. 5.-Mi LBP favorito es el 3(Sí,con todo y sus bugs,para mí es el mejor >:D)aunque también me gusta el LBPK. 6.-Nunca haré un dibujo selfshipping,por qué?simplemente no me gusta eso(Siempre espectadora)…TRANQUILOS!!yo respeto a quienes les gusta y algunos dibujos me parecen lindos. 7.-Por supuesto que me gustan los temas de astronomía,creo que lo dejo muy a la evidencia en los dibujos de mi Oc(y mi oc en sí) 8.-Sí,soy de México. 9.-Perdón si tardo mucho en actualizar,aveces no tengo ganas de actualizar(simplemente mi cuerpo está cansado aún sin hacer mucho)y cuando quiero,estoy ocupada :,,D. 10.-Mi primer acercamiento al fandom del Lórax fue "Biggering"Durante el auge que tuvo nuevamente el fandom por ahí de 2022-2023(Recuerdo estar navegando por youtube y me salió la canción,quede impactada por épica canción,así que investigue más y…aquí estoy). 11.-Cuando me uní al fandom del Lórax,me quise hacer la "Única y especial,que yo no enamoraría del Once-ler"…AQUÍ ESTOY :DD solo duré con eso unos meses y termine adorando al chico que destruye ecosistemas. 12.-Ahora con el tema de Superjail,pues…Estaba en Wattpad y me pregunte;Por qué no buscamos historias de Once-ler?,no puede ser tan malo(Primero,wtf,encontré algunas interesantes y unas…),encontré una historia de Warden-ler,me adentre pero no sabía quien era el Warden,así que investigue….Y AQUÍ ESTAMOS!! 13.-Por supuesto que me gustan las canciones de Will Wood,mi favorita es la de -Main character-Me encanta,es una canción interesante. 14.-Mido 1.70 cm 15.-Por supuesto que odio a la madre de Once-ler y al papá de Warden(son unos monstruos):DD.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Some information about me (and my oc):

1.-My favorite color is purple. 2.-If I had to say a character that I've created that's my favorite…definitely Felix (I really like his character) 3.-The purple creature in the drawing is called Moonlight and my OC is called Starnight (that's where the "M/S" comes from) 4.-The "0811" is for my birth date. 5.-My favorite LBP is the 3rd (Yes, with all its bugs, for me it's the best >:D) although I also like the LBPK. 6.-I will never make a selfshipping drawing, why? I just don't like that (I'm always a spectator)… DON'T WORRY!! I respect those who like it and some drawings seem cute to me. 7.-Of course I like astronomy topics, I think I make it very evident in the drawings of my Oc (and my oc itself) 8.-Yes, I'm from Mexico. 9.-Sorry if it takes me a long time to update, sometimes I don't feel like updating (my body is simply tired even without doing much) and when I want to, I'm busy :,,D. 10.-My first approach to the Lorax fandom was "Biggering" During the boom that the fandom had again around 2022-2023 (I remember browsing YouTube and the song came up, I was shocked by the epic song, so I investigated more and… here I am). 11.-When I joined the Lorax fandom, I wanted to be the "One and only, that I wouldn't fall in love with the Once-ler"… HERE I AM :DD I only lasted a few months and ended up adoring the boy who destroys ecosystems. 12.-Now with the Superjail topic, well… I was on Wattpad and I asked myself; Why don't we look for Once-ler stories? It can't be that bad (First, wtf, I found some interesting ones and some…), I found a Warden-ler story, I got into it but I didn't know who the Warden was, so I investigated… AND HERE WE ARE!! 13.-Of course I like Will Wood's songs, my favorite is the one from -Main character- I love it, it's an interesting song. 14.-I'm 1.70 cm tall 15.-Of course I hate Once-ler's mother and Warden's father (they are monsters). :DD.

[powerarmoured-painting]

KRANG

Final art fight ref ready! (Cutting it close!)

This is KRANG my dnd kobold barbarian! She is a complete goofball. A 2ft tall blue kobold barbarian with a strength of 25 and the ability to speak and hear all languages.. even things like ‘boat’ and ‘gun’ haha! (with rolls of course) (“ACCURATE FOGHORN NOISES”). She is chaotic good and the most impulsive gal you’ve ever met, she was basically the dnd equivalent of a WWE fighter and I considered taking levels in bard as well. She is a massive weapons nerd and likes explosions nearly as much as the mythbusters! Has a golden cloak of +5 str. A returning exploding frag axe made of poison crystal, and ‘assless’ chaps of +1 AC that were made for her from a conquered demon. (The DM really likes overpowered magic objects :] )

Image ID under the cut because it is very long!

[ID: a digital drawing. Many of the same blue kobold are shown, she is wearing a golden cloak with a fluffy collar and light blue chaps. And nothing else. The cloak has a light green clasp. She has a green earring on her right ear. She is dark blue with pale purple spines and yellow eyes. She is very muscular. There is a drawing of a normal great axe with the text “normal great axe” and a small green hand axe made of crystal. The text “poison crystal magic frag hand axe” is beside it. One of the Krangs is reading “Abysal for dummies” and is confused. Another krang is throwing the magic axe and its explodes on impact with cartoon “ka-boom” effect. Another krang is yelling with the speech bubble “*foghorn noises*” in all caps. And other krang is flexing and grinning. There is a lot of text “20 Str (25), 15 Dex, 16 Con, 13 Int, 13 Wis, 14 Cha, (my DM does sequential rolls supervised and I got really lucky), - magic golden cloak + 5 Str, - ‘Assless’ chaps + 1 AC, - Exploding magical returning frag axe made from crystal poison, - buff as hell, - chaotic good, - speaks all languages including ‘boat’ and ‘gun’ (all is underlined), - has various dictionaries to also attempt to read all languages (attempt is underlined), - was the dnd equivalent of a WWE fighter, - once survived a sparring match with kobold Mark Henry, - impulsive reckless gremlin, - very silly likes to make people laugh, - terrified of being boring.” In the bottom left corner is the text “krang” in all caps in pale green outlined with black. Next to that is the text “kobold barbarian, she / her” next to that is the artist signature “typos & tea :)” in pink on pale green background. End ID]

[khaotunq]

GGWM - Get Giffy With Me

I am not professing to be anything even remotely resembling good at giffing, but I got a little message from @thisautistic (hope you don't mind the @, bb! I'll remove if you prefer) asking about how I did my Jay Does Corporate Pride bold gays Ayan set. We quickly realised I can't do anything concisely, and so was born this idea.

All my secrets laid bare. Not that I consider anything here a secret. Go ahead and steal my methods. Steal them. Run with them. They're yours now.

Specifically, I'm going to talk about background isolation and boosting, here, but I'm gonna start a new gif from scratch and show the steps to getting there.

So, I have Photoshop 2020. Or 21. I don't really know. That's the only tool I'll be using, other than the empty cereal box I call a brain.

We're going from this to this. (These are very, very quick and dirty, but they're for demonstrative purposes.)

And this to this.

Annoyingly, I think I prefer the "bad" example, but anyway.

Fair warning: this post is exactly as chaotic as you'd expect it to be, considering it's me writing it and I wrote it in an hour... which includes the time spent making the gifs.

Are there easier ways? Probably.

Let's go!

1. CAP SELECTION.

I have the entirety of The Eclipse capped already, but you'll want to cap your scenes if you haven't already. I prefer working with caps rather than video clips - they both have pros and cons, and I can talk about that some other time if anyone wants me to.

I'm doing two gifs for this little tutorial-turned-dissertation - one that's easy peasy to colour for the purposes of Corporate Pride, and one that makes me want to consume my own elbows. For comparison, or something.

First thing to consider, is if the background is a feature, you want your subject to stay fucking still Kanaphan I swear to god.

You also want to pick something with fairly good contrast. I hate black/white and otherwise relatively neutral backgrounds because they're so difficult to make look natural, but something already predominantly coloured? Lemon squeezy, baby.

2. IDENTIFY COLOURS.

I've taken the easy route and picked green, which is almost always going to contrast nicely with skin tones and makes my life easier, and purple which I have many many issues with, but also contrasts.

Also, this step isn't massively important, it just helps. For example, I didn't know I was going to use green for the First gif until I boosted a bunch of colours and realised how green that rock face behind him is.

I tend to use my beloveds Selective Colour and Colour Balance rather than curves. I don't understand curves. I only use it if I have to lighten something.

3. QUICK AND DIRTY BASIC GIF TUTORIAL ft. my boy Pawin:

Timeline> Video Timeline> Add Media> put in your frames, change your frame delay. Boom, basic gif. Or, to get particularly meta... gif gif tutorial!

What a babe. 🥰 (Disclaimer: this was made before it came to light Pawin's a bit of a cunt :) )

And no, I can't explain why he's here. I have two perfectly fucked up gifs to fuck up, but I chose to spend 60 seconds of my life making a Pawin gif just for this.

4. COLOURING!!!

Go nuts. But here's my process for the Akk gif in specific.

This tells you precisely nothing, but it was fun to make.

I have no idea how to share the specific settings other than to give you the .psd. So as soon as I figure that out, you can have it. I don't recommend using the psd for any and all gifs, because my approach to colouring is interpretive at best, but I really don't care all that much so. Do what you like. S'what I do.

Not included in this: cropping/resizing, my sharpening action, swearing about First, apologising to First, laughing at the fact I changed his shirt colour entirely, swearing at First some more, shrugging and saying, "That'll do."

5. COLOUR FILL / BRUSH / OVERLAY

So, all of this is for this one step.

Here I will demonstrate why white/neutral backgrounds can suck unless you're looking for that particular effect.

For something like the gifset I made, I wanted to punch people in the face with colour, so I had to use scenes with backgrounds I could lean on. In the Akk gif, I noticed the green after fucking around with the colour balance (I tend to boost shadows blue or red, then highlights cyans, but I've been known to go wacky. I leave mid tones alone... for the most part.) so that's what I decided to lean into. When I started this little ramble 500 years ago, I was originally planning on orange. How fickle fate is.

Anyway! I prefer using brushes rather than a full colour-fill layer, because I feel like it gives me greater control. I also prefer adding colour gradually rather than starting with a block. So, I use either a large soft brush at 50% opacity, or a watercolour brush at 100% because it's semi transparent anyway.

I'll use broad strokes - I ain't here for detail work. Set it to Overlay or Soft Light, whichever floats ya boat. And then rather than erase anything, I'll create a layer mask and, using the same brush, splodge it around til nobody's face is green.

And then on the off chance things are eye-burningly saturated by the time I finish other colouring things, I'll just go kill the opacity on the overall colour layer. Like seu~

You have no idea the strength it's taking to not go back and redo this entire tutorial because I've taken too much yellow out of his skin and it's bugging the shit out of me.

This is a fake tutorial, Jay. Breathe.

TO KHAOTUNG!

I am man enough to admit I stole my own damn .psd for the other gif. I literally used the same settings other than futzing about with the neutral balance to try and get some kind of colour undertone.

This is the second gif with just the colouring, no additional fill or overlay:

Isn't he pretty? Don't we love him? I love him. He's so asjdkfhg. Ugh.

Anyway. I figured there was sort of a blue/purple tone. Knowing what I do, I know it's gonna be way too pale for what I want, and he also moves quite far across the frame, so it's gonna be a pain in the arse if I want to go SUPER saturated with any colour background,but this is a demonstration and nothing more.

I could use Linear Burn instead of Overlay but I always get annoyed at it. Because I am a deeply rational person.

Anyway, the point of the above is to kind of show that sometimes u just gotta leave a massive puddle of colourlessness around someone's head if they're moving a lot. I've gotten away with it in this case because it's pale, but if I tried to put any further boost to the saturation, it'd look insane:

I HOPE THIS HELPS

I apologise for my incoherence. It makes sense to me. Which should worry us all.

Anyway, final gifs:

+

Rejects of my War On Purple, because I promised those. Notice how they're all white, black or neutral (dark brown/red) backgrounds? Rage.

[jxpit3rr]

doing cc!benchtrio’s makeup

••

Notes; gender neutral pronouns(not even sure they’re mentioned tbh)

I couldn’t hardly think of anything for ranboo so I’m sORRY

*

••

Tommy

Confused™️

Pretended to be offended

‘what am I not good looking enough normally?!’

Let’s you do it but isn’t happy ab it(let’s you know how he feels)

Very dramatic

“That fuckin’ hurts y/n!!”

“I can’t feel my eyes”

Hates the beauty blender

“It’s bruising me my face is gonna be purple!”

“…Tommy I’ve barley touched you-”

Very impatient

Tried to eat the base???

And the lipgloss??!

Kept crinkling his face because of the ‘pain’

Tommy sitting still?? Never heard of her

Midway through accepts his fate

Prolly asks for some crazy/vibrant eye makeup

Figures If he has to have it done, it’ll at least be eye-catching

Still grumbles under his breath tho

Tries to bite your chin or nose when you lean in

“Have you brushed your teeth this morning?”

“Wha-”

Doing his makeup is a process honestly

You’re worn out by the time your done

Kinda likes the look but won’t outright admit it

Makes jokes ab liking it

Might let you try it again(if he gets something out of the deal)

Tubbo

Kinda confused, kinda interested

Watches you set everything out

Inspects and comments on all the products

“Con-tU-Or”

“It’s contour, Tubbo”

“oH-”

Feels all the brushes to see how soft they are

Desperately tries to sit still for you but just can’t

Asks for pastels or bright colors

Prolly wouldn’t mind (a small amount of) glitter

Feels very relaxed

Prolly leaned into your hand when you hold his cheek to keep his face steady

Laughed the first time the eyeshadow brush touch him

“I’m sorry it tickled!”

Sniffed all of the lip glosses/chapsticks

Lowkey panicked when the gloss got on his nose

Booped your nose with his nose when you leaned in once

Don’t leave him alone with your pallets, he’ll (try to) swatch all of them

You left him alone with em? Congrats you now have a tubbo fingerprint in every color!

“This comes off of clothes right?”

Giggled when you blushed his nose

Actually kinda vibes with it

“If we do this again can you do like a bee theme or something?”

You put a butterfly clip in his hair and called him pretty

Turns out you didn’t need to put blush on him, just compliment him and boom! Natural blush!

Ranboo

Somewhat interested

Has no idea what anything is or what’s going on but will nod and smile when you explain

Asks a lot of questions

You don’t use that much base because he wears a mask

Prolly asks for some kind of crazy ass eyeliner

Lord help you to accomplish this task

His hair kept getting in the way

Half way thru gets pretty quiet and let’s you work

Mostly because his head is turned awkwardly so you can do the eyeliner

“I think my neck has been broken”

Thinks it’s pretty cool tbh

When your done he wants to do yours

He tries and its.. well it’s a line-

Likes the blush and highlighter

Correction, amazed by the highlighter

“Look at it! It goes pow when I turn-“

Decided to stream and shows off the eyeliner

Will prolly ask to do it again sometime

Until he tries to take it off, then it’s his worst nightmare

You will have to help

[kitmoas]

Μια κλεμμένη στιγμή

Summary: A stolen moment for a stolen soul

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k ish

Warnings: Dark Fic Vibes (slight Stockholm?), Dark ArchDemon Deity Kate, dub non con, slight blood kink, size kink, Innocence and Corruption Kink!!!, degradation, Daddy kink, fisting, overstimulation, talks a lot about religion (hell vs heaven) but it pulls gods from all different denominations and religions.

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

***Minors DNI*** ***18+***

A/N: I actually really like this entire concept. Nothing i ever write is "perfect" in my eyes but this is truly one of the first things in a long time that I've written that I can honestly say that I love. The darkness hopefully lingers throughout, in all the subtle details. Hopefully you guys fall in love with this cute lil Kate variant as much as I did.

Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult

Kneeling on the steps leading to the seven thrones, the girl listens as each of her peers receive their assignment. Her focus stays on the foot of the throne directly in front of her, the largest one, as she awaits her turn. She cracks her neck as light chatter breaks out behind her, a pause in the line-up stirs up attention as her turn is next. The entire realm knew that she was the next coming, blessed by Ayin herself as the most perfect masterpiece ever crafted by her.

A booming yell silences the crowd, “Kolvunek, daughter of Lucifer and Nyx.” The girl raises her head, deep black iris focusing on the Demon Lord. “Rise and show your blessings from The Supreme Decreator.” 

Chancing a quick glance to her father, who sits to the left of Satan, before standing proudly. Her wings flaring out behind her, each covered in six hundred and sixty-six dark purple stygian iron feathers, a glow of hell fire gleaming around. Most of her peers fall to their knees around her, even those on the thrones sink into themselves, as her presence radiates across the Great Hall. A looming shadow sweeps across the floor, racing towards the girl and almost leaving her completely concealed within the darkness. With her head held high, the young archdemon deity allowed an arrogant smirk to spread across her face as she felt her malevolence surge. 

Those around her whispering, strained and low, exalting Hell’s first risen Arch-Angel. The hellfire lining the walls burns brighter as it feeds off of the young girl’s energy, a vibrant purple igniting within. She watches as her father’s head rises, jaw setting as he regains his composure–followed quickly by his fellow six leaders. 

Letting her wings settle at her sides, curled around her like armor, she can feel her power sinking back into her body almost vibrating within her. She stands at attention, eyes respectfully downcast as she waits for her instructions from the Devil. Silence hangs in the air as her father and their leader murmur together, discussing the final details as privately as possible. In her prefial vision she can see a few of her peers squirming, uncomfortable with the tense air that now fills the area. 

When the two finally look over the crowd, it’s almost as though the entire underworld slips into a trance readying themselves to listen to their leaders.  “As many of you know, Kolvunek is the prophet that The Great Ancient Damned foresaw to finally lead our army to victory against Michael and his vexatious soldiers.” The crowd cheers, rambunctious and energetic at the thought of finally ruling over the realm that tossed out their great leaders. “Though against mine and the Morning Star’s wishes, it seems as though your assignment is to go after a soul that the Right hand himself is after. It is a mortal, not very notable but the angels are raving about them. Your goal is to beat them to it. It doesn’t matter in what way, all we need is their soul. The being must be alive when you drag them here, the Commander must know just how badly he lost. He must understand just how dangerous you are.” 

Standing taller, the young deity straightens as she allows her bow to materialize in her hand–dark energy vibrating against her calloused palm. Bending slightly at the waist as she nods, firm and confident as she gazes between the two. “I will not fail you.” Brandishing the weapon as it permeates a coldness that chills even the farthest of demons. 

It’s Lucifer who stands next, stepping down to stand just a few steps above his daughter, to speak directly to her. “You do not want to see what will happen to you if you fail, Kolvunek.” The snarl is quick, a flash of his razor fangs, a reminder of the underlying threat to not only Hell but to her own existence if she were to fail her father. “Now, my child, you will need an Earthly name. One that will not raise any suspicion as you travel and entice this soul back with you.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Leaning against the table, the girl downs the last sip of her drink as she watches you cross the floor. After years of planting the right seeds, she knew it was time. She could feel the aura of Micheal, he was close and advancing with each minute. The high angels wanting you made sense, daughter of a millionaire who spends her days fighting against all the immoral acts that your father commits. Everything the Heavenly Host could ever want in a future warrior, but tonight ends the dispute. The young girl had grown bored of the tedious fights she’s had with the Saint, missing being home where she could be her true self. 

Straightening as she took confident strides across the room, buttoning the black suit jacket she was wearing, towards where you stood talking to a few colleagues. Swiping two cocktails from a passing waiter, she clears her throat when she finds herself directly behind you. “Can I steal you, just for a moment of course.” 

Twirling around, your face stretches into a wide smile when you see the object of your infatuation as of late. “Kate! Hi! I didn’t realize you were here already!” She’s handing you a drink, a charming smile as she leans closer to you. “Of course you can, excuse me.” You wrap your hand around her arm as she leads you away, nodding politely at the group. Unable to stop yourself from staring as she guides you around different tables and people, you’re stunned when she starts leaving the building. 

The brunette only shushes you, slipping off her jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. Keeping you close as she walks along the sidewalks of New York City, she hums and occasionally points some things out. In the distance there’s an extremely bright blue-white light that starts to spread across the city, slowly but surely overtaking. Trying to not rush you, she starts walking just a bit quicker claiming that she was starting to get cold. It didn’t take much longer before she was ushering you into a building, dark and seemingly empty. 

Your gut starts to yell at you, poking at you to leave but Kate just points up to a sky roof where you could see the full moon. She mumbles out that she just wanted to dance with you somewhere more private, and before you can even argue with her she’s spinning you gently. Leaning your head against her shoulder, you let your mind wander. The warmth of her body sinking into your bones, and your brain starts questioning how she felt cold if she’s always so warm. 

The brunette wants to take her time, attempting to calm your thoughts with some sweet dancing, but she knows she needs to hurry. It wouldn’t be long before he would be able to find you and she needed to tarnish your perfect aurora. Deep down she knew you had a secret, one that she knew was easily exploited–one that would tarnish your soul for good. “My sweet love, keep your eyes on me, yes?” She’s pulling away from you, calloused hand cupping your cheek, as she smiles at your naive obedience. Stepping back, she unbuttons her white dress shirt to reveal her abs and black bra. 

Your eyes are stuck on her torso, a shameful wet feeling grows quickly between your thighs. The two of you have been dancing around the tension between you, and truthfully you never thought you would actually see the day where thoughts became actions. Forcing your hand to stay at your side so that you don’t reach out to trace along her stomach, your breath hitches as she begins to grow wings. They’re large, almost double her size, dark and shiny. Your brain is starting to panic, sending shivers down your spine as fear starts to sink into your body. Goosebumps spread like a wildfire as a chill settles in the room, a whimper tumbles from your lips as Kate looks up at you through her lashes. You should be terrified but you’re clenching around nothing and desperately trying to ignore the throbbing. 

She’s pushing into your space, now obsidian eyes looking into yours–almost like looking into a black hole. “Can I steal you, Dulcia?” The reiterated question is simple, but held so much more than your pretty little mind could truly comprehend and that’s what the demon was counting on. Enchanted, it’s the whispered yes that prompts the brunette into movement as she seals your lips together. Her hands reach up, one cupping your jaw while the other tangles in your hair, guiding you where she wants you. The kiss isn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced, it’s slow but burning. It leaves your entire body heating up, squirming as much as you can in her grasp. It’s almost as though she’s sucking the soul out of you as she takes control of the kiss, running her tongue slowly across your bottom lip. 

Letting go of your chin, she trails her hand down your torso and you can feel her sharp nails through the flimsy dress just barely clinging to your frame. She pulls away from you, letting her lips ghost against your jaw as she whispers into your ear. “I want to see you.” Her wing stretches out, slicing at the fabric covering you. You want to whine about how expensive the dress was, how you had to give it back but your protest seems to die in your throat. 

She’s moving before you can even process it, slamming you into the ground before your dress can even touch the floor. “What I want, I get.” Kate hovers over you, an arrogant smirk quirking her lips as she takes in your heaving chest and flushed body. Her eyes linger along your breasts, her tongue slipping out to leave a shiny wet spot along her bottom lip. Her thumb swipes over your pebbling nipple, chuckling when she lets her pointed nail stab into the tender skin. 

Her touch is rough, palming at your breast, as she lets her gaze wander. With each passing moment you notice new things about her, and you feel the next change before you truly see it. The raven haired girl is leaning down, tongue flicking at your hardened bud before she sucks it into her mouth. The moan you let out is entirely too desperate, despite just starting, but you can’t help it as you had been waiting for this for too long now. The razor tips of her extended fangs sink in the tender skin, marking you as hers. She licks at the weak stream of blood that runs down the curve of your breast, relishing in the copper taste filling her mouth. 

The smooth skin of her finger tip leaves a blazing line in their wake up your inner thigh, a mocking breathy gasp against your ear. “Oh? I just knew you were a little slut. Absolutely nothing under that dress, not even a flimsy little thong for you to soak through. Who were you hoping for tonight? Hmm?” The hiss that tears through your teeth is sharp as her jagged nail catches on your throbbing clit, neglected and begging for attention the moment she finally slips off her shirt. “Such a good little girl wouldn’t be this desperate for someone like me, now would you?” 

Her touch is exhilarating and it blurs your mind, your hips raising trying to get her to touch you where you needed her most. Instead she just lets her body move against yours, almost painfully squeezing you just right to irritate every single nerve in your body–putting every sense into overdrive. It’s entirely too effortless how she manipulates you, dragging you to the brink of tears before she even touches your dripping cunt. A sob rips from your mouth, startling you, and breaking your self control. Your eyes are rolling back, cheeks wet, and the coil in your stomach is cracking but it all just seems to humor the other girl. 

Her mouth is biting marks all over your torso as her wings flutter behind her, tiny metallic taps as the forged feathers happily react to the demon’s actions. The hand along your thigh starts heating up, almost unbearable. “Fall into the abyss little one, let go of your soul. Let Daddy catch it.” A flash of hell fire ignites across your clit, traveling up your body and forcing you over the edge. Your entire being feels like it’s on fire, every nerve flaring, and you’re clenching tightly around nothing– a pathetic wail at the emptiness. 

Burning from the inside out, your mind is filled with smoke and your eyes are completely hazy. Still in your high, muscles entirely tensed, Kate shoves three fingers into your pussy. It’s too tight, and it stretches you violently; the searing pain only adds to the scalding heat throughout your body. Miserably weeping, begging for the girl to stop but she just giggles.  “Oh Koritsáki, you poor thing. Your body is just so perfect. I have to do this, I just have to fuck you. Something so angelic just has to be ruined.”  Slipping a fourth finger into you, her wings gleefully shake at your pained shrieks. 

Thrashing about you try to find some relief from the pain, but you’re no match for her strength. Just the sheer force of her body, moving against yours keeps you solidly in your place below the demon. The longer she hovers above you, a maniacal grin plastered on her face as she beams down at you, her thrusts get harder. Your head lulls to the side, letting you look down your torso as your entire body scraps against the coarse concrete floor. The scrapes bleed, leaving splatters along the gray floor; a stain that will forever stand as an Earthly reminder the day that the high heavens lost. 

The filthy distressed sounds falling from your mouth are uncontrollable as Kate fucks into you, never letting you adjust properly and just forcing you to take what she gives you. The shaking from your first orgasm has yet to subside, your muscles just tremble from fatigue as you work to try and keep up with the girl above you. She leans down, close to your face, and licks a stripe up your face. “You look so pretty when you cry for me, paulo amores.” Each time she speaks, her voice seemingly gets raspier and deeper. 

Long fingers slip out of you for a moment, and relief floods your system. As your body finally begins to relax, the burning sensation of pain becomes overwhelming. The archer spits on your puffy cunt, a cooling drop that runs against the used redness between your thighs. Tears are still streaming down your face and you’re hyperventilating, but even with the edging you are grateful for the breather. 

Working on your ragged breathing you weren’t ready for the bulky fist to ram itself into your raw cunt. Anguish is all you can feel as your body vibrates in pain, but Kate is just cooing down at you. “Did I hurt you? I must have misunderstood how you’re drenching Daddy’s hand.” She casually looks around, taunting you as she thrusts into you. She almost looks bored, as if the way your tender throat scratches as you scream isn’t entertainment enough.  “If you weren’t enjoying yourself then you wouldn’t be squeezing my fist so tightly. Your pathetic pussy wouldn’t be about to cum.” 

It’s almost as though she’s punching you, taking whatever anger she feels out on you. She takes your safety and your enjoyment at little regard, only using it against you as she bares her fangs at you. Each slam into you takes the breath out of your lungs, and it almost feels like your heart stops each time she rams her fist back into you. 

Even with the pain, something about the way she looks at you makes the shattered coil in your stomach come back to life; tightening quickly. She doesn’t try to stop you from squirming, only snickering as you move about, her free hand pinching and pulling at your nipples. They feel raw and extremely sensitive so the moment that she stabs her pointed nail the stream of tears down your cheek floods. Kate scrunches her face, cooing at you, as she abandons your breast in lue of your pulsating clit. “Is this not enough for you? Do you seriously need more to get off? Going to be a fun toy for me to break.” Her voice becomes muffled as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You shake your head, screaming for her to stop–that you hate it but you knew it was a lie. The coil in your stomach was on the verge of breaking once more, the heat overwhelming as you dangling over the edge for the second time. “A beauty like you destined to be in the high heavens dragged into the pits of hell for being a disgusting little whore. How tragic.” A joyous smile stretched across the winged girl’s face as she spoke, jet black eyes as soft as possible as her gaze bores into you. A high pitched giggle falling into the air. “Letting a pretty demon steal your soul just so that you can cum, damning yourself for the chance to be played with. Such a sinful act that you could only want to be mine.” The ocean blue eyes that you had come to know flash for a moment, drawing you in and cracking the coil in your stomach. “Say your mine, and you can be my good little meretrix until the end of time.” 

Blubbering as you fight everything in your mind to try and find a way out of this. This isn’t what you wanted, you knew you were good and you didn’t want to go to hell. Her sparkling fangs, catching in the moonlight above makes your sobbing catch in your throat, and you know deep down that she has ruined you. No one would be able to touch you the way she is and it broke your heart to go against your moral code, the beginning of the corruption. Kate can barely hear you mutter out “yours Daddy”, a chant garbled in the messy noises being forced from your body, but when she does her thrusts turn brutal. The moment she leans down, her tongue just barely licking at the slick covered clit your entire body convulses. The coil in your stomach shatters and your orgasm rips through you. 

The moans for the first time are louder than your sobs and Kate smirks against your clit when it becomes apparent that you truly are enjoying this. She continues to rut into you, dragging you into another orgasm. It’s all too much and your body is overheated, your entire torso soaked with sweat and your thighs slick to the touch. You try to raise your hand, a silent plea to stop, but you have no energy or strength and you’re forced to take everything that she gives you. Ripples of arduous pleasure sweep across your skin, leaving your muscles in an excruciating tense state. Your body breaks before her stamina does, darkness overtakes you as she shoves you over the edge again. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The portal opened just as you stood on your shaky feet, legs still unstable and barely able to hold your weight. You’re barely supported by Kate who is helping you step over the burning circle when you hear someone land behind you. The archer tugs you the rest of the way into the portal, rolling her eyes as you collapse at her feet. Her wings unfurl, looming over the both of you as she stands tall. “Are we really going to do this now?” You watch as a bow materializes in her hand, it’s smokey and the same dark purple as her wings. 

The bright figure steps towards the portal, kneeling to be closer to your level as he reaches out to you. He doesn’t even flinch when Kate snarls at him, her fangs prominent as she lunges forward as a warning. “Come with me, The Holy Father will save your soul. He loves you as you are, take my hand for I can carry you to him. Our father cares for us very much and will protect you from the corruption that is the bastard demon.” The archangel crawls a bit closer to you forcing you to squint against the bright light he emulates. 

An arrow with dark energy streaming out of it shoots directly through one of the angel’s wings causing some white feathers to flutter towards the ground, sizzling as they burn. The man stumbles, a pained grunt falling from his lips as he looks up at the source.  “Mikey boy, c’mon. I really don’t want to do this, I’ve been beating your ass for the past few decades. I just want to take her home and truly ruin her soul. Don’t make me waste precious energy when we both know this is going to end with you limping back to Daddy, crying about the big bully who beat you up again.” You watch as Kate sighs, rolling her eyes as the man stands on his feet. 

She looks down at you, a smug look on her face as she leans down to run her thumb across your lip. “Pay close attention, μικρός θνητός. Daddy know you’ll love this.” Your gaze was stuck on the mass that ended up being a fight. The two immortals clashing at supernatural speed made it difficult for you to actually see what was happening, only catching glimpses of the brunette whenever she stopped moving. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when a blinding light exploded from the middle of the blurry blob, causing you to curl up to shield your eyes. 

When you finally could look up, Kate is dragging one of the large gold-white wings dripping with Ichor. You could see the man in the distance, erratically flying upward. The brunette steps back through the portal, stopping directly in front of you. She’s covered in splatters of shining gold glitter and cuts leaking what looks like steaming molasses. A cocky smirk is across her face as she grips you on the back of your neck, using her hold on you to yank you up onto your feet. 

She’s directing you down a hallway, shushing you as you whine trying to lick at the liquid along her skin. “Shut the fuck up dumbass, can’t have you dead yet over some blood.” The demon rolls her eyes, chastising you again when you whine over not being able to lick at the liquid dripping down her biceps. You can see her starting to transform even more as the two of you walk, no longer just wings and fangs but her entire body seemingly loses its color. A ghastly hue falling over her and smoke emanates from her, hanging in the air almost precariously. Her eyes sink in, large dark circles almost completely enveloping her completely jet black irises. 

Kate rolls her eyes as your head moves around, trying to see the top of her own head. “I don’t have horns yet, they…haven’t grown in yet.” She’s grumbling, a grumpy put out look adorning her face for a moment. A shadow falls along her cheeks, and the corner of lips quirk up into a small grin when you realize it’s her way of blushing. This huge, seemingly invincible, demon is embarrassed by her lack of horns and you found it absolutely adorable. You can see her struggle to compose herself in front of you, and suddenly it hits you that here alone she seems young. 

Just as she was on Earth, sitting in your living room laughing over movies and tossing snacks to each other, the vulnerability is different here but it feels almost the same. A single moment hanging heavy in the dense silence, the fear you felt since you stepped into the abandoned building melts to the floor. It’s foolish but you can’t help it as you slip your hand up to her hair, once again trying to see if you can feel the start of horns. Kate snaps her teeth at you, her fangs just barely grazing the inside of your wrist before the stoic mask falls back in place as the two of you approach a grand looking entrance. 

Two creatures push open large doors to a hall where the moment that the raven haired girl comes into view rambunctious cheers erupt. You struggle standing as the sheer amount of emmentating evil threatens to stop your entire body’s functionality, but it’s almost as though a darkness wrapped around you protects you. Fuzzy brained and blurry vision, you’re shoved on your knees in front of thrones. 

“Today we welcome home our princess, Kolvunek! Victorious and with a war medal! Take the mortal to the pits, we no longer need her.” Several bodies are swarming you, your body unable to fight them off when a familiar dark purple wing impales all of them. 

The second comforting wing pushes you backwards, protecting you as you cower behind the girl’s legs. “She’s mine. Ayin says we can keep playthings, this one is mine.”

[sgt-seabass]

Dancing with Steve Rogers, but you're collared and he's holding the lead

Andy Barber + Game-Night

(Also these activities are seriously sending me!)

𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

You’re invited to your stepdads game night with his friends while your mum is away.

pairing — dark!stepdad!Andy Barber x college!Reader w/c: 1.3k This is a dark explicit fic. 18+ only. part of my (closed) lake house getaway

warnings — dark!fic, implied non-con, stepdad/stepdaughter, implied free use, drugging. a/n — I’m sorry this was meant to be a drabble but it kinda got away from me sfsdfjsdkjfh. Not beta-read. Sorry for any mistakes. Also, yes, I’m Australian. I spell it mum lol and I can’t be bothered changing it.

You sighed as you tossed and turned in your bed, fatigue seeping behind your eyelids, yet you couldn’t sleep.

It was only 9pm, still early for a Friday night, but your day at college had been exhausting with back-to-back lectures. Yet, the booming laughs sounding from your dining room kept pricking in your mind, making you wonder what was happening down there.

Your stepdad, Andy, had his bi-weekly game night on, and the group of middle-aged men were loud as ever.

When another loud laugh resounded, you sighed and sat up, giving up on an early rest and instead deciding to snack the night away.

You pulled your dressing gown over your frilly purple pyjama set before you padded down the stairs, glancing at all the family photos on your way down. You wished that your mum was at least home so you could cuddle and watch movies with her, but she was interstate for some stupid business trip.

“Hey sweetheart, you’re up,” Andy called to you as you passed the entrance to the dining room, beelining for the kitchen.

“Yeah, just hungry,” you yelled back, ignoring the odd pet name and rummaging through the cupboards until you found an unopened bag of crisps that seemed appetising. The clinking of ceramics distracted you from Andy entering the kitchen, so when you turned around and saw the man standing across the island, you nearly threw your bowl at him in fright.

“Shit! Andy. You scared me,” you huffed with a frown. He always had a way of putting you on edge.

“I thought you might want to join us.”

A frown etched on your lips at his words, head tilting slightly in confusion.

Andy had never shown an interest in you joining the games night before, and to be honest, he hadn’t shown much interest in you at all.

He’d married your mum your first year in college two years ago, and seemed preoccupied enough with her around. But now, there was something different about the way he was looking at you with a slight grin.

“I don’t think I’d made good company for your friends,” you said slowly, pouring the chips into your bowl with a quizzical gaze. “Plus, I don’t know how to play poker.”

“Oh, you don’t have to play. Just drink and watch. I’ll fix you up something nice and sweet.”

You couldn’t deny that Andy made a good bartender. Every time you’d had something of his, it was perfect, as if he knew exactly what you desired.

“Fine. But just for a little.”

You cradled your bowl to your chest as you followed Andy into the dining room. It was fully kitted out with a poker set, various men sitting around the table, some you recognised, some you didn’t.

“I suppose I should introduce everyone,” Andy said as he took his seat at the head of the table. “You know Sherriff Bodecker already, and this is Ransom, Charles, Nick and Brock.” He said each name as he went around the table, and you did your best to keep up with all the new faces.

You introduced yourself softly to the group, embarrassed to have them all looking at you.

“Welcome. Interested in the fun?” Nick grinned, playing with the cards between his fingers.

“No no, just here to watch.” You muttered, sitting off to the side as Andy got up to make your drink. He returned only moments later with a bronze looking liquid. You expected it to be harsh, but when you drank it, you could hardly taste the bourbon at all, the burn replaced with a peachy sweetness. “It’s really nice, thank you.”

The men resumed their game, and you didn’t really understand what was happening, but it was nice to be considered ‘one of the adults’. It seemed silly, but Andy thinking highly enough of you to have you join him and his friends put butterflies in your stomach. He was a hotshot lawyer, and it meant a lot for him to hold a high opinion of you.

As the hands exchanged and money moved around, you sipped at your drink and ate your chips, occasionally offering them to the loser as a pity present.

But when you tried to hand the bowl to Brock after he lost again, it slipped through your fingers and bounced against the rug as you found yourself unsteady.

You’d finished your drink, but you’d never had alcohol go to your head that fast.

“Woah, easy there, baby,” Brock chuckled, taking your empty glass from your hands and helping you back onto the chair as you stumbled forward. “You’re making a mess.”

Heat flooded your face as you saw the attention of all the men on you, and you were suddenly aware of the swirls flooding your vision, everything becoming hazy. “I- I think I need to go.. to bed..” You managed to get out despite the slur in your speech, and it was Andy’s turn to chuckle this time, the man getting from his seat to kneel beside you.

“Oh honey, but the night is just getting started,” Andy cooed as if speaking to a child, cupping your jaw with his palms as he looked you over. “You look a bit warm. Perhaps we should take this off, hm?”

Despite your protests, your body was weak as Andy and Brock removed your dressing gown, leaving you in your pyjamas that didn’t cover much.

“A-Andy. I want to go to bed.” You tried again, weak arms pushing at Andy’s suited form, but he remained by your side with a darkening smirk.

“But we want to play. Guys, clear the table.” You looked at the others as they began making space on the wooden tabletop, but a tap on your cheek turned your gaze back to Andy. “And I want you to call me Daddy.”

Your brows furrowed as you felt sick. The realisation was slowly hitting your senses, and you let out a keening cry as you tried to hit Andy with a closed fist.

Fully affected by whatever Andy had slipped you, your movements were slow and sloppy, and he easily deflected your punch with a laugh. “Try and hit me again. C’mon, try and hit your Daddy.”

He was taunting you, and you knew it, yet you still tried again, failing again as Andy quickly twisted your arm behind your back, eliciting a whimper from you.

Andy nodded to Brock, and they both lifted you to the table, splaying you across the wood like their latest amusement they were excited to begin playing with.

Colours melded together, and voices were indiscernible as your eyes fluttered, the warm light of the room hurting your eyes.

When you tried to shield your eyes, your arms were forced back down onto the table. “Andy- Please. I don’t- I don’t understand.”

A figure entered your view who you recognised as Sherriff Bodecker, his sly smile putting a pit in your stomach that got heavier with each passing moment.

“Open your mouth. And I better not see any teeth, or I’ll pull them out myself.” The kind Sherriff you once knew was gone, replaced with a macabre version of himself.

Desperate, your attention turned to Andy, pleading eyes boring into him as the Sherriff began to undo his belt.

“I’ve been waiting long enough for this, sweetheart. Now my friends and I are going to have some fun. Just lie back and relax. We’ll make sure you enjoy yourself too.”

As Andy spoke, you felt your pyjamas bottoms pulled down your legs by someone else, your cries getting louder before a large hand clamped over your mouth.

Andy moved in close, face only inches from yours. “The next words out of your mouth better be, yes Daddy, or I’ll make sure that your throat is fucked so raw you can’t speak at all.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

[lucielerror]

Silly SAGAU Snippets

I saw a few authors sharing their sagau-ish experiences with genshin after I started writing sagau so here I am... because I'm having a block with my Aether angst sob sob, have this instead (just so you know, I refuse to do my ar45 ascension quest unless im desperate enough for primos) an AU where they also know of other players, but you're their fave :d

Xiao's ult damage getting higher??? Plus his elemental bursts too??? I keep seeing the crit damage achievement slowly getting higher (KINDA PROUD OF HIM THO COS HE'S MY FIRST AND ONLY SOMEWHAT BUILT CHARACTER) And my spoilt 5*

He just had to show you how valuable he is. You almost forgot about him so now that you've given him his weapons, artefacts and materials, he finally has the power to make sure you can't replace him with weaker characters. Of course he can't just make his damage shootall the way up, you might get suspicious (or not... he knows you'll simply be happy when you see higher numbers and might not even question it).

When I told literally all my friends who played genshin, I'll pull on Ayaka's banner just for Razor cons, and Razor cons came home twice in one 10 pull:D

You? Wanted? Him? Normal Razor? Razor... nothing amazing... But you said you want him. Razor feel happy. Want you to also be happy. He help. He make sure. So he catch 2 purple shooting stars for you. :D

On the same day(before I pulled for Ayato on main), I went on my 2nd account(where I planned on pulling for Ayato) and I SAW A GOLD SHOOTING STAR and DILUC APPEARED ADGJKJVB?!?!?!! (below 10) I've always been raving about how I didn't mind losing my 50/50 to Diluc cos I wanted him and he just?!?!

Are you sure? He knows not many people want him nowadays and the amount of disappointed sighs and annoyance towards him increase more each day. But seeing and hearing you so excited, not a drop of annoyance in your tone, asking him to come home like that? How could he resist. It's fine, Ayato will probably have his own solo banner in the future again. So just this once, he'll be selfish.

Ok, guys, listen. On Ayato's banner right, I actually didn't plan on pulling for him on my main cos I wanted to save just in case. But I was tempted into pulling simple because I had 10 intertwined fates and I SAW A GOLD SHOOTING STAR AND BOOM AYATO?!?!?!?! (below 10, that's all I'm saying)

Diluc, that conniving rascal. That was supposed to be him. It's fine. Honestly, he's a little peeved that you didn't want him on your main... and you really wanted Xingqiu over him? A 4* over a 5*? Ridiculous. He'll show you just how great he is. And how could he let you, a bubble tea addict, let you be? He knows you'll stare at him more often(to wait for his idle animation) and boy does that boost his ego.

Also managed to secure Ayaka at low pity(below 50👀) even when I really didn't plan for her on coming home

She's happy for her brother! How could she not when there's a chance for someone to represent the Kamisatos? Just... she's a little jealous... how easily Ayato caught that gold star... (She's not going to think about how you didn't even plan on getting her, nope.)Oh! But, she thinks she can catch one too! It just took her a little longer than her brother, but it's fine!

Was doing the Azhdaha domain for my Yanfei talents materials and Xiao earned himself a cool 7% anemo dmg bonus gladiator piece...

He will not admit he's getting greedier. He just... he just wants to help your team, that's all. You liked not dying before your enemies, so logically, you'd want stronger characters, right? So, just for today, he'll take a nice artefact for himself. (He ignores the pride blooming in his chest when you opened your chat to scream to your friend how perfect it was for him.)

In conclusion, the 5-stars want attention because I like the 4-stars more.

I probably have more but I need to sleep anbdkkwkd anyways, yes, expect some writings about these in the future because I wanna thank genshin for treating me so good :d

[bump1nthen1ght]

Dangerous Liaisons (Reader x Tentacle Monster)

Pairing: Male!Kitsune!Reader/Tentacle Monster

Genre: FWB, Dark Fantasy, Sado-Masochism

Warnings: 18+ content up ahead! Description of blood and cuts, Mentions of past dub-con/rape (none depicted), Mentions of past murder, Just some bad people y’all

Word Count: 1695 words

Summary: After one of your neighbor’s kidnapping goes awry, you decide to make up for his lost prey.

Request: hi! i fell in love with your tentacle write, now my absolute favorite, so i’m here to request another one if you don’t mind. for this could it be a male tentacle monster x kitsune male reader? and instead of being traditionally good natured, reader’s of a more dark/evil-esk nature, as well as open minded to whatever kinks. esp anything rough, sadistic, & bloody. Tyvm!!

The cave floor is cold, icy compared to the humid air of the summer day. Sweat beads at your shoulders and your temple as you walk in, the shade a nice relief from the setting sun. You thread your tail in between your fingers, eyes drifting to the drying pool of blood near your foot.

“Another one bit the dust, huh?”

A deep gurgling sound crawls through the dark at the center of the cave. The looming stalactites and pitch-black emptiness might have scared away any nearby travelers or the mortals of the village, but you know what hides here; It’s not that scary.

To you, anyway.

“No….escaped.”

You roll your eyes, walking deeper inside until you see the familiar form of your pitiful neighbor.

He isn’t terribly damaged, only one long scratch running up one of his tentacles. It’s one of his larger ones, so the poor little morsel he had captured must have shocked him enough to run away and avoid any of the other tendrils.

“Tch, figures.” You chide, kicking a rock his way. “Seems you’ll have to move caves again. There will be adventurers here by tomorrow morning to kill you.” You brush off the dust from a nearby boulder, plopping your butt on it as he moans in pain. “This is what you get, Nio. You got too greedy, kidnapping mortals to partake in your ‘fun’”

A lone tentacle throws a pebble at you, but you dodge. A set of golden eyes peers out from the mass of limbs, furrowed in anxiety. You had only seen the form he used to lure his ‘playmates’ a couple of times; It resembled a handsome young man, only entirely purple, with shiny skin and placating smile. It was just tall enough to peek out from the cave and attract any wanderers, coming close enough to be snatched up by his tentacles, stolen away for his sick fantasies.

“Besides,” You click your teeth, “They break too easily. How many have you gone through now, six? Seven?”

“.....Nine.” Nio hisses, rubbing soothingly over his slowly-healing wound.

“See? Insatiable, you are. It’s not a very respectable look, you know.” You stand up from your seat, sauntering over to where Nio huddles in the corner. You rub your neck, feeling the sweat pooled at the base, and your robe falls down to reveal your shoulder. Nio’s eye’s flit from your exposed skin to your flicking tail. A lone tentacle, dripping with a viscous ooze, slowly wraps around your ankle. You chuckle, the damp air slowly reeking of Nio’s pheromones.

“But it’s your lucky day.” You undo the strap of your robe, letting it fall down your chest and exposing your form to Nio’s greedy eyes. “Because I’m a little insatiable too.”

Nio’s pupils blow out in excitement, his tentacles shifting as he slowly reveals his form. The tentacle around your ankle begins to travel up your calf, leaving a trail of slime behind it. But you yank away your foot and stomp on the tip, Nio squealing in pain and jolting backward. You smile, his yipes music to your ears.

“Just because I’m giving you my time doesn’t mean you're the one in control, idiot.” You throw your robe to the side, slicking your hair back between your ears, “Now you can touch me.”

Two more tentacles approach your legs, far more cautious than before. But when they reach your legs, you allow them to fondle your calves and your thighs, that thick ooze making your skin light and tingly. You let out a long sigh as you let the slow-burning lust of Nio’s aphrodisiac slime run through your body. You don’t need a lot, but it’s a definite plus of these rendezvous the two of you have.

You walk forward, Nio’s hungry tentacles easily latching on to your soft skin. They skirt around your erogenous zones, knowing what punishment awaits if they do anything without your direct permission. But one tentacle craves the pain, and tentatively fondles your balls.

Your deep groan descends into a snarky chuckle, letting the tentacle press against your perineum and even prod at your asshole. But with quick precision you grab Nio’s wounded tentacle and dig one of your claws into his wound.

All of the tentacles around you shudder and tighten as Nio shreaks, but none of them detach, even as blood drips down your fingers and onto your palms. You pull out your thumb from Nio’s flesh, the tiny wound reopened from your prodding, and take a long lick up your wrist. Crimson stains your jaw and lips, smearing as you lick your lips from the taste. It’s iron-like, but just a little bit sweeter than mortals. It’s another plus of sleeping with Nio.

You relish in the taste, putting on a show of rubbing your bloody palm up and down your chest. Nio’s eyes squint in frustration, but they dart up and down the red trails left on your skin.

“That hurt?” Nio nods and you lick your lips once more. “Good-”

You’re left wheezing as the offending tentacle shoves itself past your asshole with no warning. Another tentacle wraps itself around the base of your cock and squeezes hard. You keel over from the sharp tension and fire that is stoked in your belly. You look down at the offending  tentacles with a sneer, but you can’t help the small moans that escape you as you’re stretched open.

“Oh, we’re playing that game h-huh?” You mutter, thrusting your hips into the tight, hot grip of the tentacle around your cock. That tingly sensation now buzzes across your shaft, the tentacle alternating between playing with your tip and holding your balls in a vice grip. But the hand you use to yank back his bleeding tentacle is swift, controlled.

Blood falls down the appendage in small rivulets, the wound slowly rehealing before you lick the tip. You let your tongue roll out of your mouth, licking up the tentacle like a frozen treat, just avoiding the open wound. Nio’s groans rumble through the cave floor and up your body. You sink your lower half into his grip, more tentacles coming to support (and grope) your ass and thighs.

Your hand squeezes Nio’s trapped tentacles, claws retracted, and coerce it further down your throat. Saliva and blood drips past your lips as it  goes even deeper, thrusting against the back of your throat. Droplets fall onto your hard cock, now covered in a mixture of Nio’s ooze and your pre-cum.

The tentacle in your ass has become sloppy, it’s pace haggard and quickly losing focus on your prostate. To kick it back into gear, you nip the tentacle in your mouth with your teeth, pulling it out completely before giving it a kiss.

“You’re so greedy, Nio. Isn’t this supposed to be a partnership?”

Nio growls, but you can see the burning lust in his eyes as they take over your debauched mouth. Your lips are bruised from the blowjob, your skin sweaty from the myriad of sensations attacking your body all at once. You kiss the tip of the tentacle again and give him a wink.

The tentacle inside your ass picks up speed, going even deeper than before and paying extra attention to your pleasure spot. You smirk, slowly reinserting the tentacle back in your mouth.

“Good boy.” You sputter, Nio’s tentacle hungrily forcing itself down your throat once more. It presses hard against your gag reflex, ooze spattering over your cheeks as it plunges in and out of your mouth, soon matching the tempo of the one inside you. With each jolt of pleasure running up and down your abdomen is another shuddering thrust into your mouth.

You take deep breaths, compensating for the thickness currently blocking your airways. Despite his roughness, you do feel Nio slip a tentacle back to the base of your tail, petting your fur with light touches as another one punishes your asshole.

Aww, what a softie.

You can feel a tightness beginning to cinch in your stomach, your cock weeping globs of pre-cum, spurred on and on by Nio’s aphrodisiac. The tentacles coveting your body thrash with abandon, shuddering as their movements become messier and messier. A tentacle presses up against your insides, barely leaving your asshole before pushing it back in with an uneven pace.

You moan, heading rolling backwards as you feel your climax approaching and your  muscles preparing for a big finish.

But right before you can approach that peak, a large tentacle wraps itself around your neck, and squeezes.

You barely hear Nio’s raucous moans as your throat constricts around his tentacle, the rubber band finally snapping as you orgasm. Your hips jerk into  Nio’s grip as ropes of cum spray across Nio’s body and up your navel. He is quick to lap it up, the tendrils soaking in it as the pet your skin.

Nio let's put another booming growl as hot liquid shoots up your asshole and down your throat, viscous and sweet like nectar. The heat feels like heaven against your sore muscles, dripping out  of your holes and down your skin as Nio finally pulls himself all the way out of you.

You collapse your body against the cave wall, sweat and cum coating your skin as you  slide down to your bottom, cringing from your ass’ sensitivity.

The air is thick, reeking of bodily fluids and sex. The pool of blood has long dried, barely leaving a dent on the cacophony of scents in the air.

After catching a breath, you stretch your arms upwards, craning your back before pushing yourself back to standing. You bend your neck too and fro, your tail lazily swinging behind you.

You approach Nio, still quivering from his climax, and grab your robe. You sling it over your shoulder and brush your hair back.

“I’d suggest you get going soon. We don’t want any stupid knights to come and ruin our fun, right?”

Nio gurgles, eyes drooping as he sinks back into his mass of tentacles, exhausted. You lean down and pat one of them.

“That's what I thought.”

[oceanera12]

RIP JDF

I... I think I'm just in shock right now.

I'm not sure how many of my followers will care about this but gather around and let me tell you a tale.

The tale of Era's first fandom.

When I was around, maybe nine years old, I was your standard American child who woke up on Saturday mornings and rushed to the television for cartoons. Unlike some kids, I lived off of free cable TV in the form of Jetix and PBS.

I had a list of shows I really enjoyed. Sonic X was my original introduction to the Sonic fandom. Jane and the Dragon got me started on my fantasy kick. And then there was Power Rangers.

Specifically, Power Rangers SPD and Power Rangers Mystic Force.

(Listen, I know that GIF is stupid and it is just as stupid in the show but I love it and will not apologize for it--)

Now, I'm not here to claim that Power Rangers is the most amazing show in the world or even that it is particularly good. But, Power Rangers is the first fandom that I found, lost, then found again and it basically activated my fangirl gene, eventually leading me to where I am today.

It was also my first "fanfiction" of a sort. I never wrote it down, but I would act it out in my room. I pretended to be a purple ranger and kicked butt with all the other rangers, had friends, and even a very convoluted plot. But, I was nine to ten years old at the time so I think it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Let's jump ahead a few years with the invention of Netflix streaming and the glorious years when every single Power Rangers show and season was available on it. Call me childish, but even as a teenager and even now, I enjoy the Power Rangers franchise.

I will admit that it is mostly nostalgic, not necessarily good storytelling. But I still enjoyed it and like to think that I am quite an expert on the franchise. I've watched pretty much every season (not Overdrive and only a little bit of Turbo because absolutely NOT).

On my reintroduction to the franchise, I ended up randomly picking to watch Dino Thunder. There, was my first official introduction to Tommy Oliver. As to who this character was? I had no idea. But, finding out lead me down the Power Rangers rabbit hole faster than you could blink and he quickly grew to my favorite character to ever come out of the show.

Tommy Oliver is a character played by Jason David Frank and was the original Green and White ranger all the way back in the original Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. He went on to be the Red Ranger for Zeo and the first Red Ranger for Turbo, before turning the title over to the next generation. Jason David Frank returned again as Tommy Oliver for a Red Ranger reunion episode in Wild Force, and then in Dino Thunder as the "mentor/Zordon" character and as the Black Ranger. He returned multiple times since for reunion and milestone episodes, was a constant presence at comic cons, helped develop, and even voiced/acted for his counterpart character in the Power Rangers Boom! comics (Lord Drakkon, aka Evil Tommy), and even got a spin-off comic that I own ("Soul of the Dragon").

Jason David Frank was basically the heart and soul of a very chaotic fandom that many actors, staff, crew, writers, and even fans like to duck and hide away from. But, I respected him so much for taking what he was given in life and running with it. You could see it in every appearance, just how much fun he had talking to fans and being involved with the franchise. He was always just... there.

This is why I think I'm in complete shock to have learned today that Jason David Frank recently passed away at age 49.

I just want to express my gratitude and joy for Jason David Frank as basically being... well, my guide into this franchise.

It's not great. It's not going to win any awards. And it certainly is not a show I recommend to anyone over the age of eleven. But it was my introduction to fandoms and through my experiences, with Power Rangers, I went on to look up and learn about Sonic the Hedgehog, Star Wars, Avengers, Legend of Zelda, I could go on and on.

So... thank you, JDF. Thanks for the morphing times, the Zord fights, the romances, the teams, and the memories.

Once a Ranger, Always a Ranger.

RIP Jason David Frank, May the Power Protect You Forever and Always

[helicrazy]

@riflesparked

“Vortex has gone MIA... again.”

Onslaught sighs as he presses two digits against his nostril ridge. His mask is off to have what was supposed to be a simple downtime of refueling, only to have it ruined the moment a certain gold and purple jeep entered his office. Full well knowing that Swindle was here for two reasons, to pitch something that he’ll say no to before he finishes a sentence, or to receive an update he really wishes he didn’t want to hear.

“Should we-”

“No.” The military truck booms out when pulling the servo away from his face and letting it drop down tirelessly flat down against his desk. “I’ll comm others to handle this.”

“Do you really want someone else to save his aft?”

“Are you in the mood to rescue him for the umpteenth time?”

Swindle snorts with a smile before replying back. “At this point, I- we should be getting paid for it.” He shifts on his pedes, however, seeming a little off about not going on a rescue mission that would end with the copter owing him one later. “I’ll ping over his last comm check and location.”

“Do so, then see yourself out.” Onslaught instructs while finally reaching over to grab a cube and drink some of the contents. Once the ping has been received and the con mech has left the room he opens his comm line to sift through the contacts. Then begins to send a message out to see who wants to pick up the operation.

:: Onslaught speaking. I’m in need of a squad, or a single trooper to assist one of my soldiers who is in a difficult situation. His last comm check suggests he may be in enemy territory and trapped. Expect heavy resistance. Especially from him. And you either come back with him, or you don’t come back at all. :: There’s a pause as he thinks about what else to add. Then vents out a grunt while finishing off the rest of the cube.

:: There will be a reward, but only if he is returned to me in one piece and conscious. ::