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captain039 · 21 days ago

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PART 9 Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence swearing

Previous part <-

Mel brought some interesting looking tomes to Jayce’s apartment before helping you all move to the house she offered. The place was big, grand even for a councillor, then again you expect nothing less from Mel Medarda. Only you’re realising how much you don’t like space. The space between your bedrooms feels like a mile long and you hate it. It’s only the third night and you still can’t sleep. There’s a gentle knock at your door and you frown a bit before saying come in. Jayce peeks his head looking guilty and sad, he wears grey pants and no shirt running a hand through his messy hair.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask and he nods.

“Can I-?” He gestures to your bed and you lift up the covers this bed was big enough for ten people. You see him relax instantly and climb in beside you, you feel yourself relax too only partly.

“Need another?” You smile at the sound of Viktor’s voice and nod watching the vampire climb in on the other side of you.

“These rooms are massive” Jayce grumbles making himself comfortable his arm going over your waist.

“They're the size of your apartment” you chuckle. You feel Viktor's arm go over Jayce’s and sigh happily.

“These tomes Mel gave us, they're weird” Jayce says in thought.

“I can't read half of them” you comment and Viktor chuckles. The room goes silent save for each others breathing and you find yourself relaxing quickly. You hear Jayce’s snores first and smile your own eyes closing as Viktor comes closer pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You’re affectionate” you whisper and he huffs softly.

“Only with you both” he clarifies and you smile again.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

“Goodnight Miláček,” he says softly.

It's cold where you are, an unnatural blizzard storm, your feel like your bones shake in your body, you can't see anything beyond the white fog and snow. You can't move or walk before suddenly the storm drops and disappears. You blink in confusion seeing three figures to your right and three figures to your left.

“What do you want?!” You yell seeing the blue and red robes.

“Accept the bond”

“Reject the bond” they say at the same time making you groan.

“What the hell does that even mean!” You snap. They repeat the words over and over again driving you made before you scream.

You wake up screaming hands on shoulders soft whispered words. You make an annoyed noise somewhere between a cry and groan. You notice the room has been shaken too not as bad as your old room though.

“What happened?” Jayce asks by your side.

“Those stupid hooded figures!” You snap magic pulsing and bristling.

“Accept the bond, reject the bond, I don’t know what the fucking bond is!” You yell frustrated Jayce lifts a hand but you’re out the bed and going to the bathroom to cool off. You slam the door by accident but don’t care as you splash cold water on your face. You sit on the toilet lid head in your hands mind reeling frustration peeked but dying slowly. Viktor is the first to come in surprisingly. His calm narrowed features easing some tension with a kicked puppy Jayce behind him. Viktor walks in and leans against the wall while Jayce sits down on the cold bathroom floor looking at you with golden puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry for snapping” you sigh.

“It’s understandable” Viktor says.

“I’m just so- argh!” You clench your hands.

“What bond, what bond could be so important to accept or reject and create divide” you sigh Jayce frowns in thought and Viktor watches you.

“It’s obviously to do with us, our bond maybe, there’s nothing in the tomes I’ve read about vampires, werewolves or mages coming together” he runs a hand through his shaggy hair.

“We still have time” Viktor soothes.

“Do we?” You mutter.

You study every tome even the ones you don’t understand looking for any words familiar to vampire, werewolf, or mage. One of the houses studies is big enough for all three of you to have books spread out everywhere. You hardly eat or drink mainly forgetting to, Viktor being the only prompting it while you and Jayce have your noses stuck in dusty dirty old pages. Ironic seeing as he doesn’t eat anymore.

“Wait” Jayce says suddenly and you perk up watching his eyes scan the page.

“This talks about a magical bond between three hosts” he says and you stand and quickly go to him.

“A magical bond is placed upon three beings of right qualities, red appetite, gold eyes and blue runes” you frown following his finger as he reads.

“The gold eyes will appear first but the blue runes will have already manifested. The red appetite comes next awakening from near death and then the blue runes will awaken to control the red appetite and gold eyes” Gold eyes, Jayce being turned, the red appetite, Viktor in hospital, and you blue runes.

“How do we complete the bond?” You ask.

“Manifesting this bond can go two ways, one of divide shadows and steel and eruption. Or of harmony and control” you freeze it’s exactly what you saw in your visions.

“Blue runes will see these futures, and only blue runes alone can complete the bond or break the bond” he adds.

“And how to I complete the bond?” you ask.

“There’s nothing” he frowns and you look to the book seeing nothing but blank paper under the text.

“Damn it!” Your magic flares knocking the books on the desk on the ground and leaving Jayce winded.

“Sorry- sorry” you sigh fixing his hair.

“So I’m just magically supposed to know” you slump against the table.

“There has to be more somewhere” Viktor pipes up but you grip the strands of hair on your head.

“Láska” Viktor mutters taking your hands in his.

“I’m just done with all this cryptic nonsense” you sigh and sag.

“I know you are” Viktor says his voice like a soothing silk. The books prove to have nothing more apart from that one text. It drives you mad, teetering on frustration all the time like a live bomb.

Viktor seems to be different you notice though, he flinches often, he doesn’t speak as much, his eyes are always swirling with red more than anything. Jayce has asked and pressed but got nothing but indifference and brush offs. You’ve tried too and received the same thing. You find Viktor staring out the window one night a weird aura to him. You stand from the bed and approach him carefully.

“Viktor?” You ask careful not to wake Jayce.

“You’re useless” his words are cold and sharp making you falter.

“What?” You ask.

“Useless” he repeats.

“What- why, why would you say that?” You say heart clenching.

“You’re supposed to be a powerful mage and you can hardly keep yourself together or complete a simple task” his eyes turn to you cold with black swirling in them.

“You will be the cause of this cities fall”

You wake up with a gasp sitting up in your head covered in a layer of sweat with tears rolling down your face. A dream? A vision? You frown.

“What’s the matter?” Viktor’s voice is soft and soothing and you shudder. He was so cold in your dream so unapproachable. You realise the whole thing had been a vision the days only mere minutes.

“Sweet thing?” Viktor whispers gently cupping your cheek making you look to him. You still have tears rolling down your face and he frowns wiping them away.

“What happened?” He asks again and you shake your head sobbing leaning against him. He holds you close gently rubbing your arm as you feel Jayce stir on the other side of you. Jayce gives Viktor a questioning look but Viktor shrugs softly continuing to hold you. You hold him tightly one hand gripping the fabric by his heart.

“Not you, please” you beg.

“Not me what sweet thing?” Viktor prompts but you shake your head. You continue to cry unaware of the blue glow your hand emits before your magic spurs. There’s a gasp from you and Viktor then a flood of emotions, feelings, memories, you feel your magic embedding itself into Viktor’s skin over his heart. You pull back in shock panting heavily as Viktor stares wide eyed.

“What happened?” Jayce asks worried.

“I saw- felt” you struggle off as Viktor’s eyes come into focus. He frowns tugging his shirt down you gasp at the rune embedded in his skin glowing a soft blue pulsing in time with his heart. It’s strange a crooked line with a curve on the end like a boxy c and a dot in the middle of the boxy c, it’s not like any rune you’ve seen on your body at least you think it’s not.

“What-?” Jayce frowns behind you but there’s a surge of power and feelings. Viktor groans his forehead resting against yours as you feel his feelings pass through you and your feelings pass through him.

“You did it” he mutters and you frown.

“Did what?” You ask.

“The bond”

Next part ->

#x reader #au #jayvik #jayvik x reader #werewolf Jayce #vampire Viktor #Jayce x reader #Jayce Talis #Viktor x reader #Viktor arcane #Viktor

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r0-boat · 1 month ago

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Mammon Nsfw Alphabet

Cw: Heavy Size kink, ownership, Poly mentions

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mammon is the king of aftercare; he'll gladly provide anything you want, even if you don't like it. Having your small body against his chest? He would love to! Bruises in bite marks on your skin? He always keeps bandages and first aid in every room, just in case. Does your smell body smell of his cum and sweat? He'll have his servants draw a warm bubble bath with your favorite scented items. And he'll be with you the whole time purring praises of how much he loves you and how good your water and charcuterie board filled with meats, cheeses, and crackers, as well as sliced fruits are always a must. He'll even hand-feed it to you if you let him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your ass, thighs are close second but what he really wants is those soft plush cheeks right above that he just can't keep his hands off.

Your cheeks are so lovely and warm, especially when they burn red from his handprint.

It's so soft and inviting. It's just calling him in his teeth into it. You're so small your little ass fits perfectly in his hands. And he could hold you while slamming you down right on him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He doesn't care if he feels you up or covers you and cum he gets that same satisfaction that he is marked you as his. If he had to choose one of the other he would say covering you and come It's a demon territorial thing. Especially when he's coating your backside and having cum land on your ass.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Guilty is charged for him buying you certain clothes that just do happened to compliment your ass or any part of you he finds sexy (which is every part). But he has to be more discreet about it since any provocative outfit you would decline.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mammon in his 'youth' of his first millennia of being king he had many concubines, before you and even Solomon. He had grown tired of each one and no longer has them, now you are the only one in the world from heaven hell and earth he wishes to court. He hopes you're satisfied with his vast experience ;)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mammon likes positions where he can grab, hold, or press against you. He especially likes the positions that emphasize how small you are compared to him. He likes holding you up against the wall and slamming into you; He likes looming over you, His giant mountain of a body covering your entire field of vision. He likes showing off his whole body while drilling you with each punishing thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In the middle, He likes to tell you how cute you are like this underneath him; He likes to talk to you while he's serving you with his mouth and fingers. He likes to flaunt how much wealth he can give you when he is sliding the head of his cock up and down your entrance.

He's not that goofy but he does talk a lot.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Mammon I would say naturally would have a fair amount of drapes with a happy line, but he will groom in any way you want him to You want more hair than he'll grow it out, You wanted to be shaved? Gladly! His body is yours.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

What he loves doing is making an impression, He loves to impress and flaunt like a proud peacock, Grand gestures and displays of his love. Romantic dinner dates that make you feel like royalty. He will make you feel like the most important thing in the world because you are.

He'll rent out resort in Abyssos for a Valentine's Day gift

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As much as he wants to save his cum for only you, He thinks about you so often he can't help but have his hand play with his cock. To see your ass swaying alone makes him want to fuck you. But he will absolutely let you know that when he touches his cock it's only for you He's thinking of nothing else then how much he craves and desires you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than your ass, or anal He has a lot

Size Kin,k: is one of his most significant, tiny, fragile humans who does so many things to his perverted mind. He wants to take care of you, hold, hug, kiss, and carry you. At the same toys, he wants to break you like what he used to do with his sex toys. He loves loves loves watching his huge cock struggle to fit in your tiny hole. He loves forcing your legs apart to go even deeper. He loves your screams and cries of how big he is on, how he's tearing you apart, and how he can't fit anymore. He will make it fit... He always does. Nothing in the world made him come the fastest then watching your throat bulge with his big cock.

He doesn't quite understand the word 'cuteness aggression' But he does know 100% for a fact he gets that with you.

Creampie: something about his inhuman amount of come running down your thigh turns the infernal part in his demon brain on.

Ownership/pet play: if you want a dog, He's on his knees, no question. Do you want to be his pet? Get ready for the role, as it is a perfect little thing. You do know the safe word, do you? Don't worry he treats all of his pets with great care. He doesn't want you to be in a collar; oh no, he wants you to be utterly naked until he finds an outfit for you. You will be nude in his lap at the next meeting as his big hand is placed on your head, scratching it. He will revel in the jealous, envious looks from All of the Seven Deadly Sins. He will especially like Asmo biting his nails, which gives him a nasty glare.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any location he damn well pleases, with a snap of his fingers any place no matter where can be a location where he could bend you over the nearest object. He prefers to do it in clean locations because that's what you deserve. But if You want to be taken in a dirty alleyway who is he to deny you what you wish.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, You wearing his things; You sitting in his lap; you with those big doe eyes staring at something you saw in a shop. Other kings that brag about fucking you (Beel). That big smile on your face as you exist at your best.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything you wouldn't want him to do, if you have turn offs then he has turn offs. If you're not enjoying anything then he isn't enjoying it. All his pleasure comes from your pleasure.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As much as he loves your tiny throat around his cock, He prefers to give oral. He wants you to break down on his tongue as he rings out every orgasm he can.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual at first, then fast and rough. You're a tiny human, so he must wait a bit for you to adjust to his sheer size. It's okay. He likes the fact that you can feel every throb, twitch, and vein of his meaty cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh my god yes, quickies King of greed loves quickies. He's greedy He wants to get most out of his day if he has the small amount of time to fuck you he will, Even if he doesn't get to cum that doesn't matter He could be in and out of meetings or business appointments and he could be fucking you in the hallways or just before the meeting start. He could have you just sitting in his lap in his office.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk? Is it really risky if he owns everything?? He is one of the most powerful men in all of hell if he can't win it in a fight he will buy it. But if it's sexually experimenting then yeah he'll do anything you want to do

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has the stamina of a God; Even if he finally goes soft it'll only lasts for about 30 minutes before he wants more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

After MC explains what a dildo actually is I'm pretty sure he starts having a collection of toys, from vibrators to bondage to gags, He also has a nice array of collars. He definitely likes collecting them especially because it's one of the very few things he doesn't own.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nope He doesn't tease, He doesn't mind being tease. When he wants something and he doesn't like to not get it It just makes him more eager to have it in the end

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not the loudest devil king. But he isn't quiet either, with mostly growls then moaning or groaning. She does like to chit chat though. He can't stop talking about you, praising or degrading.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The only devil king that doesn't mind sharing you because that means you're more greedy. And who could he, Mammon, be one to deny such greed? Everything is his in the end; Satan, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, belphigore, and even Asmodeus. and since he naturally belongs to you All these kings are yours too.

That doesn't mean he'll give you up easily to another devil. He'll make sure that he is The most willing and eager to serve.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hole resizer 9000, uncut and is a grower.

His balls aren't as swollen or as heavy as Lucifer's But still pretty big

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He isn't as insatiable as asmodeus or Beelzebub. But probably won't just be satisfied after one fuck.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nope, He has enough energy, But if you fall asleep then he will go to sleep with you if not he'll just tuck you in, or either lay beside you and read a book. This man will not leave your side

#smut #whb #whb mammon #whb x reader #what in hell is bad #wihib

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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Vampire!Rhysand x reader: Mercy, Devil

A/N: I meant to write this for October since it sounded spooky, but honestly I’m happy I didn’t because now I get to write something supernatural in the lead up to Christmas!

Warnings: blood, vampirism, eventual poly relationship

Word Count: 5,064

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve always had a strange fixation with the phantasmal night of all hallows eve. Something particular about the thought of ghastly apparitions being freed to sew discord and chaos through the monotony of everyday life entices your pulse to spike dangerously. Blood thrumming in your veins.

Clouds seal the full moon to the sky, casting shadows throughout the already dense and dark woodland. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet as you continue along the path through the ancient forest. Gnarled branches reach into your way, like talons of some malignant beast stretching to grasp you in its claws. Heart bumps against its cage, pale robes swishing provocatively in your wake, a pale glow of white contained within the darkness of night.

Before you, the abandoned castle looms, cutting a towering silhouette as it’s lit by a crack of lightening, splitting the heavens in two. Ravens caw and crow, taking sudden flight to the stormy skies, wind picking up as it whips the leaves from branches, thunder and rain coming on in an abrupt onslaught, seemingly out of nowhere. The water lashes at your skin, thoroughly soaking your robes, slicking the thin fabric to your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow the tug toward the old castle site, a chill running up your spine as you’re lured closer, path quickly muddying beneath your feet as you stumble through the howling wind and screaming rain, reaching the base of the entry way. Hurriedly trample up the carved steps, passing by the large carved gargoyles hunched either side of the case. Lightening crackles again, bursting across the thundery sky and you dive for the cover of the hewn-rock archway, seeking shelter from the torrent of heavy droplets.

Plaster yourself to the looming door, the skull knocker digging into your shoulder as you rest against it. The wood gives way, and you yelp as you stumble back, tripping up over your feet, cloak getting caught as you’re sent falling onto your ass. A stray wind whips through the interior, door slamming shut before your very eyes, locked in darkness. Tendrils of hot breath curl before your face in the low temperature of the castle, and you hurry to your feet.

Flinch as the room comes alight, allowing your eyes to sweep across the grand entrance: rich, polished floorboards bathed with blood-red rugs, a glass chandelier hanging like an abnormal spider above the room, the two sets of large winding staircases, and the dark figure at their peak. Candle light warms the castle hall, and you press back into the locked door, breathing heavily.

“My, my,” the character calls softly, “what has the storm brought in?”

Blink quickly, returning to your senses as reason and rationality are returned. You hadn’t known the castle was occupied… “I’m so sorry, Lord,” you call, hoping your voice carries to his looming perch. “I was out in the forest when the rain came on out of nowhere,” you explain, “I came seeking shelter, but the door wasn’t closed properly, and I fell in.” Heat flushes your cheeks, and you self-consciously step back from the rich rugs, trying to keep the mud from the spotless fabric.

“Fell in?” He echoes, and you could swear you hear the faintest laugh. “There’s been many a grand entrance in these halls, and yet none quite as theatrical as your own.” Suck in a quiet inhale of embarrassment, smoothing down the cloak in attempts to look vaguely presentable for the young aristocrat. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you call out, thankful for the evenness of your voice. “I would like to request shelter until the storm passes, then I promise I will be on my way.”

“Of course,” he replies, “be my guest.” His arm sweeps across the grand hall, encompassing the room with a deliberately relaxed gesture. “What’s mine is yours. Stay as long as it pleases you.”

Almost immediately, your shoulders lose their tension, relieved to not be forced back out into the horrific storm—it really had broken out of nowhere. You dip into a light curtsey, the least you can do to demonstrate your gratitude. “My deepest thanks, lord…?”

“Rhysand,” he calls, voice smooth as velvet, sinful as silk. “You may call me Rhysand.”

————

Strangely, you hadn’t seen another soul since you had arrived, which can’t be right, since the place was clean enough you might have thought it unlived in. Missing the mess of life, a strange deathlessness stalking the flame-lit halls.

Perplexities aside, the lord—Rhysand, as he’d informed you with that strange smile—had been more than welcoming, offering a spare bedroom larger than your home, with clothes to change into. You’d had to fight to keep your mouth from parting in awe from the decadent luxury at his fingertips, the sheer mass of wealth he’s shrouded in. How blasé he is about the display of opulence, immune to the shock and wonder of it all.

“You are free to stay as long as you please,” he’d reminded, glancing over to you from where he stands on the threshold. “Dinner will be served at eight. I’d be delighted if you joined me,” he says, offering the invitation graciously. Brows raise on your forehead, grateful for your stroke of luck. Dip your head in confirmation. “That would be wonderful,” you answer sincerely, “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, my lord.” He waves his hand dismissively, yet it comes across as charming rather than arrogant. “Rhysand will suffice perfectly,” he replies, sharp eyes cutting to you, lips fashioning themselves into a distinctly feline smile. “Rhys if you feel otherwise inclined.” There’s a suggestive lilt to his honeyed voice that has your hairs standing on end, toes curling in spare slippers.

Dip your head again. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

Something pleasured passes through the darkness of his gaze, but it’s quickly covered as he nods, turning to leave, but pausing. “Feel free to adorn yourself as you please,” he adds on, framing it as an after-thought, despite embodying the antithesis of someone who would speak without thinking. He inclines his head toward the vanity, various sparkling gems strung together, contained within the jewellery armoire. Lips part to politely refuse—he’s already offered so much, it would feel wrong to take advantage of such an opportunity.

But he beats you to it, giving you a smile that suggests he knows exactly what you were about to say. “God turns a blind eye to my castle,” he purrs, lips sinfully curved. “Indulge as you like.”

Then he’s gone, striding away down the blood-red corridors, disappearing out of sight and leaving you alone in the offered room. Completely out of your depth, on unfamiliar ground.

Glance at the grandfather clock—you have a quarter hour to swiftly change into clothes of his taste. You waste no time, hastily closing the door before heading to the armoire provided. He’d told you everything was already prepared, which had initially drawn some questions, but you suppose someone with such a vastness of wealth would always have his doors open to passersby—a different way of displaying opulence.

You settle on the simplest gown you can find, still obscenely intricate, with tiny detailed patches of embroidered lacing the hem and sides. The bodice fits nicely, easy to change into and resting comfortably over your now-dry skin. The skirts are held up by an in-built petty-coat, giving the illusion of shape by flaring out past your waist, grazing your ankles. While the rest of you has been ridden of the lasting effects of rain, your hair remains damp, so you decide to allow it to hang at your back—you’d hate to sleep on the crisp pillows with wet hair.

A single look to the clock reveals you have five minutes before dinner is served, so you decide to peer at the jewellery, making sure to leave time for finding the dining hall. Within the small armoire are a menagerie of necklaces, but you pick out a small string of pearls, the clasps rendered in gold to match with the cream of your gown. Heart beats with infantile excitement at getting to adorn yourself in such expensive clothing, enjoying the cool brush against your skin, the weight of the pearls as they skim your breasts—plumped by the front of the bodice.

The clock ticks, and you turn for the door, leaving no time to change from the slippers that had been offered as you swish out into the hallway, returning the way you had come. Surely the dining hall would be located upon the ground floor…

You head for the swirl of stairs, pausing at their peak—where the sharp-featured lord had stood, surveying his lonely kingdom. The glass pendants suspended from the chandelier glitter and gleam like diamonds, and you span your hands delicately across the polished wood of the banister, taking the time to drink in and admire the antique beauty of his home.

Startle when a palm slides around your waist, spinning fully upon turning to see who’s approached. The banister presses to the base of your spine as you lean to it, his hands lightly holding your sides, resting without squeezing. “I’m glad you were able to find your way,” he says lowly, no need for volume with the proximity you are to one another. “I had worried you might find yourself lost in my halls, and I would have to go searching.”

A polite smile plays on your lips, attempting to calm the flush his silken words inspire beneath your features. “I was admiring your home,” you murmur, one hand pressing atop your breast to calm your heart—maybe also to direct his attention to the softness of cleavage. “The chandelier is wonderful, with how it catches the light. For a moment I thought it was winking at me,” you laugh quietly, demurely ducking your head, casting your gaze away from the sharpness of his own.

Rhysand chuckles lowly, “you have the eyes of a magpie.” Hand lightly raises to the set of shining beads at your throat. “Seemingly the taste of one, too.” He threads his fingers with those atop your breast, bringing your knuckles to the softness of his lips. “May I say, you look positively regal,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your skin. You’re surprisingly relieved at the coolness of his mouth, soothing the fire that’s thrumming wildly in response to the delightful liberties he’s taking.

This time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Enchanted by the swirling depths of violet.

“If I look regal,” you breathe softly, “it is thanks to your exquisite taste in dress.” He raises a single, neatly groomed brow, and you’re rather glad to have the banister to lean back on. “A raw gem is beautiful even before it’s refined,” he purrs, cool lips skimming your knuckles with each word. “The clothing merely enhances what was already there.”

Open your mouth to deny his flattery, but once again he beats you to it, as if able to read minds. “Now,” he says, standing to his full height, “shall we?” He guides your arm to link with his own, hand pressing to the firmness of muscle beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. All you can manage is a dip of your head in acquiescence before he’s gracefully guiding you to the stairs, leading the way to the dining hall.

“In the mean time,” he says casually, “why don’t you tell me what you were doing, traipsing through the woods on such a morbid night?” Clasp your skirts in one hand, descending the case on his arm, quietly enjoying the gentlemanly mannerisms even if you’re undeserving of them. “It’s all hallows eve,” you answer, honestly, “I found myself yearning the company of the forest.”

“So you decided to play at red-riding hood,” he drawls, mirth coating his teasing words. You manage to shoot him what you hope is a playful glance. “There are no wolves in these forests, Rhysand,” you smile, returning your gaze to the steps. “Besides, these robes are white, not red.”

The two of you reach the base, and he moves to escort you through the archway on your right, leading away from the entrance hall. “That’s the lovely thing about white though, isn’t it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So open to change.” Your brow dips in a subtle show of confusion, narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Lips carve themself into something distinctly vulpine, sharp canines gleaming beneath the warm light. But he shakes his head, murmuring a “never mind” before continuing through the ornamented room.

“Tell me more about this so-called yearning for the forest,” he goads, drawing you through yet another exquisitely decorated hall, rugs a shade darker now you’ve strayed from the entrance. It’s your turn to shake your head, unsure how to describe it without sounding utterly off your rocker. “It’s hard to say really,” you say truthfully. “The temperature was crisp but not biting, and the sky was overcast without promising a storm— well, I had thought not, though I was clearly mistaken,” you smile, though there’s an intensity to his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You quickly avert your eyes, peering instead at the large banquet table you’re swiftly approaching.

“I think, if I’m being quite plain, the quiet suited me in that moment,” you admit softly. “I didn’t know those forests were capable of being quiet,” he mutters, “they must like you.” You shoot him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, again shaking his head. “I was merely thinking out loud,” he clarifies, pulling out your chair. You politely take the seat, smoothing out your skirts as he tucks you in. “I’d be interested in hearing more of your inner thoughts,” you say, “they sound quite intriguing.”

Rhysand pauses, hands resting atop the back of your chair, “would you now?” Spine stiffens when you feel icy air brush your temple, tilting your head to figure where the stray breeze came from. Freeze when his lips graze the shell of your ear, fingers halting in your lap. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking right now?” He inquires lowly, startling heat simmering in your lower abdomen. Manage a slight dip of your chin in tense confirmation. Lips trail lower, ghosting below your ear, brushing your neck. But then he pulls away, standing straight, offering a charming smile. “I’m thinking it would be a shame to be seated so far apart from you, and that I will have to move to be at your side.” Then he’s striding to the end to retrieve the crockery laid out, cutlery held in his free hand.

While his back is turned, you take the moment to try and calm your racing heart, startled by the vivacious beat being drummed against your ribs. You should be better equipped to face him, yet he’s seamlessly pulling you apart, stitch by stitch. All effortless charm and debonair grace. By the time he’s returned, you’ve managed to reach a state of near relaxation, just an edge of tension still gnawing at your spine.

“So, Rhysand,” you say quietly, nervous to intrude too deeply into the air of the castle. “Does your family live with you?” When he begins taking food to his plate, you follow suit, assuming the dinner has commenced, and that it will be fine for you to now start on the delicious meal laid before you. “Occasionally they fly by,” he answers with that playful smile, its reflection mirrored upon your lips. “I have two brothers who will visit from time to time, though they have their own hunting grounds to preside over.”

He hunts? You would have thought someone dressed as finely as he is would have little interest in such a superficial task. Particularly if there’s no one to converse with during the process. An image of him dressed in hunting leathers flashes through your mind, as if put there by an encouraging hand. “Preside over?” You ask, raising a forkful of food to your mouth.

Rhysand nods, smiling faintly as he watches you. “Indeed. They require a surprising amount of attention. Making sure the game are well-kept so none are driven from the lands,” he elaborates, and you nod along, surprised to find yourself interested in the subject. “What counts as being well-kept?” You ask once done with the food in your mouth, eagerly moving to the next piece. “Making sure they are well-fed,” he answers with a playful smile, “that generally keeps them happy.”

You blink, then smile. It’s nice to know he takes care of the animals on his land. That they’re looked after before their death. More humane than some of the things you’ve seen in your small hamlet. “I take it you hunt for pleasure?” You asks, eager to learn more about the charming lord. But he shakes his head, “not regularly. Or rather, not as regularly as some others I know.” A frown seems to dip his brows, and you wish to change the subject. His knife slices through the meat on his plate, carving it up into neat little squares for polite, bite-sized snacks. “Besides, I fear if my game notices it’s being picked off, it will run for the hills.”

Laughter bubbles across your breast-bone with his little quirks. The idea that his prey would be at all self-aware is rather amusing, while also strangely heart-warming. “If hunting is not a hobby of yours, how do you spend your time?” You ask, relaxing into the pleasantly stimulating conversation. “Welcoming rain-soaked women into my castle, of course,” he drawls, a wide smile spreading across your lips, quickly raising your hand to cover your mirth-filled grin. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt, yet I haven’t laid eyes on a single other soul here,” you reply, peering at him.

Lips quirk, and he reaches for his glass of red wine, thoroughly opaque, darkened in the flame light. “Everyone else has gone home for the night,” he answers, sipping at the thick liquid. “It’s just us, my lady.” Flush at the title, returning to concentrate on the meal. “I am no lady, Rhysand,” you respond softly, cutting into the rich meat on your plate. “And yet if I were to walk through those doors and find you dining alone, I would not think you looked even a spot out of place in my home,” he says, equally hushed.

Cutlery stills in your hands, raising your eyes to swirling violet. It strikes you then what a spectacular colour it is. Manage a shy smile, “your flattery is outrageous.” He’s quiet for a short spell, before also lowering his cutlery. “Do I look like I’m lying to you?” You’re surprised by the sincerity of his tone. Throat rolls as you observe him, head still lowered shyly. “I’ve known you for not even a night,” you murmur, unable to quite pull your focus from him. “You could,” he answers lowly, voice pitched down a few keys.

Blink, taken aback. You must be misunderstanding. Swallow thickly, making to return to your plate, but— “Don’t look away,” he instructs softly, coaxing your eyes back to his. Mind swims through heat, the world dimming around him, as if blanketed by a thick fog. “I…I couldn’t say,” you manage, a strange wariness prickling at the nape of your neck. Hairs rising with the intensity of his gaze.

The lord is quiet again, watching you with those strange, wonderful eyes. But then he pulls away, spearing a sectioned piece of meat with his fork. “Forgive me,” he says, “I shouldn’t have been so crass with you. I find myself so rarely with civilised company my manners are often forgotten.”

You shift in your seat, a bout of cold icing your skin in the absence of his attention. “No, it’s fine,” you say, finished with your meal, gently setting down the knife and fork. “I was simply caught off guard. The truth is I would feel as though I was taking advantage of your generosity, Rhysand.” You notice he’s also finished, but are unable to recall at what point. “What’s mine is yours,” he reminds lowly, eyes glinting.

Pulse spikes in response, something dark in that look that has you urging to run. The question is: in what direction?

“You seem tired,” he observes, glancing at the grandfather clock. Brows raise as he reads the time. “Appropriately. It’s nearing midnight,” he drawls. Lips part in surprise, how has it been that long? It feels like you sat down to eat less than an hour ago, yet it’s already beginning the ascent into morning. “Nearly midnight?” You echo, following his gaze. The clock indeed reads twelve, the hour hand raised as if poised to strike down.

Rhysand stands from his chair, refolding the napkin before stretching out his hand. “I would hate for you to sleep poorly because of me. Allow me escort you back to your room,” he asks quietly, all traces of previous heat removed, replaced by well-mannered charm. You manage a nod, arm once again overlapping with his own, making to follow him through the labyrinthine halls.

It hits you then, the vastness of his castle—how desolate the space must be. Especially with how rarely he apparently gets to meet with anyone he cares for. “You know, before tonight I had thought your castle was abandoned,” you say absently, taking in the elaborate decorations with more appreciation. “I’ll admit, it sometimes feels that way,” he replies, deep voice tracing down your spine. Push the heat aside for the moment, turning to glance at him. “Do you ever get lonely?” You ask quietly, aware of the ice you’re treading.

He hesitates, momentarily meeting your gaze before continuing onward, reaching the stairs. “Quite possibly,” he answers, “it would certainly be reason for my appalling lapse in manners earlier tonight.” His lips are lifted at their edges, yet you can’t quite manage to return the smile. It must be difficult, having all this space with only his self to fill it. Then again, with the intensity he’s occasionally pinned you with, that doesn’t seem like a particularly hard task.

“Tell me about your own hobbies,” he requests, breaking from your inner thoughts. “I feel as though I’ve spoken more than enough for tonight.” But you’re shaking your head before you can help it, speaking before you can stop it. “I like the sound of your voice,” you admit quietly. Violet eyes flick to you, weighing on your cheek…your neck. “It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

He stares, and heat blossoms beneath your skin. That was incredibly uncalled for on your part.

“I hope not,” he says at last, humiliation burning at your insides as you hastily look away. But then he comes to a stop, hand reaching for your jaw, drawing your helpless gaze to lock with his own. “Because putting you to sleep right now is the last thing on my mind,” he breathes lowly.

Oh.

Chest rises and falls steadily, becoming aware of how breathless you feel, how utterly bare you are beneath that look of his. Tongue flicks out over your lower lip, mouth parched. “Tell me…what’s the first thing on your mind then, Rhys.” Attention pierces to the plushness of your lips, and you’re suddenly in need of that banister from earlier. “You want to know what I’d do with you if you let me?” He asks, voice rougher than it was moments before. Pulse spikes beneath that intensity, breath shallowing, but you manage a nod.

He groans lowly, hand dropping to your waist, lightly resting along the seam of the bodice. Cool fingers stroke away a lock of hair, pads grazing the heat of your cheek as he stares down at you. “I’m not sure such things are for your ears, magpie,” he grits out, applying a light bit of force to your waist. “Tell me anyway,” you breathe, hands raising to the fine lapels of his jacket, more eager to put them in his hair.

A rough sound of conflicted pleasure rumbles in his chest. “Such lovely things,” he promises, violet darkening with desire, swirling and dancing as he drinks you in. “So lovely you wouldn’t be able to pull away once I’d started.”

Heat numbs rationality, mind melting as the words warmly splash over your bones, sinking into marrow as you become soft and supple beneath his touch. Step into the lines of his body, feeling as his fingers press to your sides with tension. “Do it,” you breathe, quietly. “Please.”

Cunning satisfaction releases through the male, pleased with how quickly you changed your mind once he applied himself to the task. He’d gotten a sense of your taste before dinner, when he’d pushed you in, and it had been enough to convince him even though he’d fed not even a week ago, he would have to sample you. Now here you are, head tilted, eyes having fluttered shut, offering yourself to him for an entirely different set of wants. Maybe he will indulge your desires—if you satisfy his, that is.

You’ll be on the floor colder than ice if you fail to do so.

He moves in, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he lowers his mouth to yours. Lamb had been served over dinner, and he finds the taste pleasant on your tongue, stoking the embers of his hunger as he presses himself against the soft shape of you, partially hidden by the blasted dress and pearls. A small sound gets caught in your throat, and he revels in the feeling of your fingers tightening on the lapels of his jacket. As if you’re experiencing even a fraction of the hunger he has for you.

Works his way down your jaw, taking his time as he descends to your neck. Nosing at the pronounced pulse, liking how you tilt your head to one side, freely gifting him access. Lips graze the spot he’s chosen, tongue flicking out to drag along hot skin—so hot it practically burns.

Razor-sharp canines scrape, and he feels the exact moment you go rigid in his arms. But by then it’s too late, his teeth piercing your throat, injecting his philtre-laced venom into your bloodstream. The familiar taste of adrenaline and arousal spills on his tongue, bursting from the small puncture marks he’s made, quick to heal over with the aid of saliva. Drinks you down, savouring the richness of your blood, sealing his lips over the incisions, taking more, and more, and more—

He forcefully drags himself away, vision turning hazy, the scent of your life-force spinning his mind. Breathes heavily, the rich and spicy tang still prominent in his mouth, sapid and hot. Tongue darts out to wet his lips, gathering up faint traces that remain there, and then he’s being pulled back, already so deeply enamoured.

Canines re-pierce that same spot, reopening the incisions as your blood burns his throat, inspiring heat in his long-dead body. It’s as if he’s returning to life, having it shot through his veins, snaring him in the addicting flavour. Lips seal over the puncture marks, drinking deeply, swallowing down more and more.

He should stop.

He knows he should stop—he’ll bleed you dry, and then he’ll never have another taste. Arousal coats his tongue, and heat spreads across his skin, bone-deep aches making themselves apparent, as if forcefully dragging him to you. Your hands have dropped from his jacket, instead weakly rubbing at his shoulder and chest, unable to do much more than hold yourself up.

But the taste—the sheer heaven you’ve put into him again. If he stops drinking, it will pass, and he’ll return to that permanent state of death, cold and solitary. But you’re bleeding sunlight into him, sunlight that’s dappled and controlled instead of the unrestricted blaze that would incinerate him in the blink of an eye.

A quiet gasp slips from your lips, fingers losing their grip on his clothing, beginning to slip, but just a little more…one more gulp…one more sip…

“Mercy, devil,” he breathes onto your neck, as if in pain. “What God-damning angel are you?” He growls, trembling hands cupping your cheeks, sharp violet eyes locked on the small marks to your throat. “You’ve bewitched me. I must…” Then he’s surging forward, slamming you against the wall with inhuman force, hand gripping your jaw as he roughly tilts your head to the side. Groans, hot tongue licking over the soft skin, elongated incisors pricking as they again pierce.

Pulse spikes beneath his grip, growing dizzy as he drinks deeply, hands pressed to your shoulders to pin you still. Vision blurs, lips parting as you raise your arms in attempt to push him away, but end up desperately clinging to the finely spun fabric cloaking his back. Limbs go weak, turning limp in his hold as he feeds, a pleasurable spin overcoming your mind, turning pliable beneath his teeth.

He groans, pulling away only in favour of going lower, suctioning now-hot lips over a new, unmarked patch of skin. Blood bursts on his tongue, rich and spicy, not yet too ripe but void of the sour bite that’s present in the young. Heaven and hell blend together in his mouth, mixing so appetisingly he could never—

“Rhys…” you whisper, pleading. Less than a breath left before you—

Your body slumps, and his is trembling so violently the best he can do is go with you as you slide down the wall, blood trickling down onto the pure, white pearls. He knew they’d get in the way.

He hauls himself away, shocked at the utter lack of control you had subjected him to. How his discipline shudders in your presence, practically brought to its knees for a single drop more.

Earlier he had considered making a bottle or two out of you to send off to his brothers, ready for consumption.

Looking at you now, he can hardly stand the thought.

What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.

Your blood is his, and his only.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#rhys x reader #vampire!au #vampire!rhys #rhysand x reader #mercy devil #a court of thorns and roses

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mazikeenhyde · 4 months ago

Text

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure! Finale Part 2

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER)

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! -

SMUT, GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES , ALCOHOL

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond rhiamaymay scaraskzzs darkangelchronicles

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 2

“You’re Fired y/w/n..... You're fired, with immediate effect.”

In that moment, in that very moment… I could say it was as if the world just fell away. As if the entirety of time stood still, as if silence was the only thing that existed on earth… but that could not be further from the truth. All hell had broken loose.

The entirety of Judgement Day had completely lost their minds, they were screaming & shouting, demanding answers from Triple H who had now been surrounded by security in an attempt to hold back the furious group. Paul was trying to have his voice heard over them all but every word he got out, he was interrupted again. Liv Morgan had been quick to disappear out of sight choosing to wait in the wings of the ramp to enter the match. The Wyatt Sicks had already made their entrance to the ring and were now pacing their territory both inside and out of the cages. The monitors in Gorilla showed them playing up to the audience while many fans were chanting for The Judgment Day, for Mami, for Y/W/N big entrance. Abby the Witch, who had already entered the cell was sat in the middle of the canvas smiling, chanting to herself in hushed tones, her painted China mask glowing in the spotlight gave such an uneasy feeling to those in the front row. Meanwhile those further back in the cheap seats had been more than happy to begin poking fun, trying to stir up the Wyatts.

“Y/W/N is gonna kill you…. Y/W/N is gonna kill you!” They sang, arms waving in the air as Dexter had jumped up onto the barricade alongside Huskus, shouting abuse back at the spectators. But the fans were just as quick to jump on them instead…

“Rhea’s gonna kill you… Rhea’s gonna kill you!” The audience chimed together. Out in the arena the atmosphere was really building for what everyone believed was going to be an incredible match.

Meanwhile, backstage chaos was still at full peak. Anxiety was kicking in and I stood back from everyone in silence, I wasn’t entirely sure what to say, what to do. How do I even begin to process what he had said, what was going on? I couldn’t hear any of them now, my brain had turned into a cloud of fog. All I could focus on was a high-pitched alarm going off in the corner of the room, it was flashing on and off with an LED screen that displayed the words ‘ON AIR’.

The main event of WrestleMania had been replaced last minuite with this Ten Man grand slam match. When it had been announced the crowd were beyond excited, they screamed and chanted ‘THIS IS AWESOME’ so loudly the ring announcers had struggled to be heard, even with a microphone.

And yet I was not going to be in it? Pfft, over my dead body.

I’m not sure where it came from, or indeed what bought me back to reality. Maybe it had been that alarm indicating that the show was live, and the production team were now running behind, given that The Judgment Day were still stood in Gorilla arguing with Paul and every member of the backstage crew.

I took a deep breath and proceeded to walk over to the production crews table, picking up a steel chair and launching it across the room into the adjacent wall. The loud crashing sound echoed throughout the room as everyone fell silent and stared over in my direction. Rhea looked so concerned for me as her eyes scanned over my body for any sign of injury or upset. Meanwhile the boys were all far to angry to fully regulate their emotions at that point.

“Enough…” I stated plainly, holding my head up high and slowly walking over towards Triple H.

Rhea, Damian, Finn and Dom all took a step back to allow me to pass by them as I stopped in front of my boss. Security was quick to regroup and reform behind him while Judgment Day stood directly behind me, Dom reached out his hand to squeeze my fingers, desperate to make sure his girl was okay. Though I am sure he himself needed a little grounding too.

“Why?” I questioned Triple H as he readjusted his suit shirt from Damian’s firm grip, making sure to fix his tie where Finn had attempted to throttle him with it.

“Why am I fired? You have to tell me why. You can’t just fire me, walk away and think no one is going to question your decision.” My voice was plain, strong and confident. If I hadn’t been so focused on dealing with the situation in hand, I might have noticed Damian getting a little hot under the collar at his little lady dominating the problems at hand. I may have noticed Finn smirking with pride at the self-confidence I was displaying, or even Rhea with her arms folded and eyebrow raised, she knew full well her girl could handle business.

Hunter cleared his throat as he placed one hand in his pocket and the other over his mouth, wiping the sweat of his chin and taking a breath.

“This company, Y/W/N…has a strict no tolerance policy when it comes to fraternizing with other wrestling companies. You signed a contract young lady; you know the rules…. And you broke those rules. So…” Hunters words sounded almost humorous, like the situation to him was funny.

“What are you talking about!?” I said, frustrated and confused at everything that was going on.

Triple H very quickly got frustrated and ran his hands over his head, taking another sharp breath.

“Look, we don’t have time for this right now. You lot…” He said pointing to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn.

“Get out to the ring, the match needs to start! Liv Morgan is waiting; she will be taking Y/W/N place. GO!!” His voice was harsh, he was not happy, but neither were my loves. I turned on the spot to face them all and smiled.

“Finn, you always told me the show must go on, no distractions. Remember? All of you, go! Kick their asses, Ill fix this, I promise! I’ll see you out there” I held out my hands and they all quickly rushed in, sharing a warm group hug before they made their way out. Rhea turned before she exited through the curtain as The Judgment Day’s music played out in the arena, blowing me a kiss and offering a half corner smile.

I watched as the monitors showed them all entering the ramp and making their way to the ring, the crowd cheering and chanting their names. But the front row quickly noticed it was Liv Morgan there and not me. And when Samantha Irvin announced Liv would be my replacement, the thousands of spectators were not happy.

“BOO! BOO! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! WE WANT Y/W/N! WE WANT Y/W/N! THIS IS BULLSHIT. . . . . THIS IS BULL SHIT!”

Liv smirked without a care in the world and made her way into the cell.

The cages were locked, the bell was rung.

The War began.

“Ok!” I shouted facing my manager once more.

“You are back on schedule, the production are happy and the show is running to time again! So, take a bloody chill pill grandad and explain to me what the hell you are talking about?!” I demanded standing in front of Hunter.

He sighed, frustrated by my words and turned on the spot, taking an envelope out from the desk behind him and handing it to me.

“Liv bought this to my attention after your match earlier, just shortly after you and the rest of Judgment Day went back to your locker room, I wanted to discuss it with you, but you were all…….. obviously busy.” He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at me, his tall figure looming above mine as I rolled my eyes at his words and proceeded to open the envelope.

We must have been loud enough for Hunter to hear us!

Tearing open the envelope I pulled out a handful of photographs but before I could take a look a sudden flurry of cheers from the crowd had me distracted for a moment. Both Triple H and I turned our heads to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice ringed through the sound system.

“Joe Gacy has been eliminated!”

Dominik and Damian had managed to pair up while the others fought and with an assisted South of Heaven-Frog Splash Dom had pinned Huskus! A huge grin was plastered on my face as I turned my attention to Rhea who had Howdy pinned in the corner, pounding him with continuous punches to the face. That glint in her eye showed me she was fighting for love and her passion for revenge had completely taken over.

Liv and Nikki were in the midst of a brutal scrap, exchanging punches and body kicks with neither showing any weakness, but my heart burnt deep and heavy. That should be me out there fighting! That is my title shot!

Frustratingly I could also see Rowan had gotten back to his feet after a brawl with Finn, who had been sent over the top rope and into the steel cage. My poor Irish prince was in agony, then within the blink of an eye Rowans giant frame had flattened Damian with a hefty forearm, swiftly followed by a chokeslam to Dom who was now out for the count.

“Dominik Mysterio has been eliminated!”

“Shit…” I whispered under my breath, turning my attention back to the photographs. My heart ached for Dom, I needed to be out there. I need to sort this shit once and for all!

“So, what is this?! What am I looking at?” I demanded taking a closer look at the photos. They were blurry, it looked like countryside landscape, but I recognized something in it. There was a vehicle in them, it was a white transit van, hidden slightly by some large branches hanging from the trees above. On the side of the van in large letters were painted ‘A.E.W’. And there I was, standing at the back looking over my shoulder. I don’t remember any of this though. There’s no denying it was me but… why do I look so…odd? Positioned so strangely? So lifeless? So?...

Then it hit me.

This was the day the Wyatts had snatched me from my run, I didn’t look odd or strange, I wasn’t even conscious!

“I know how this may look H, but I promise you I have no connection to AEW whatsoever! Look…” I pulled the photo out to show him in closer detail.

“Yes, it is me. But look you can see! My eyes aren’t even open and my hands… they are tied behind my back! I know its blurry, clearly this camera man they paid off is shit at his job! Look, I have a long history with the Wyatts, and one I don’t want to bring to light. I made some serious mistakes in my past and I learnt from them, Bray Wyatt helped me see that and I was a firefly. Howdy he, he can’t accept his brother has gone. And we all know when love cannot save you, evil is quick to thrive. This day, this day Finn had me training and I went for a run, the Wyatts grabbed me and took me to this old barn to try and scare me. I didn’t think much of it, Howdy’s always playing games but…..” My voice trailed off into a silent whisper as something caught my eye.

“I never knew…. Why… they….” My voice was broken, barely audible as Hunter rushed to my side looking closer at the photograph in my hands. I was trembling as I only now realized the true ring master behind it all.

There…

in the photograph….

Driving the van.

My shaking finger moved to point at the driver’s seat, a blurry but prominent head of hair was clearly visible and we all knew who it was.

“But.. that’s Liv Morgan?” Hunter questioned, taking the photo from my hands.

“I never knew why they took me that day, it all seemed so strange. But it was, it was all so strange because it was a set up. She planned it right from the moment he set her free. Despite both of us being guilty for that night we took our revenge to far she had always blamed me. She set me up!” My voice more dominant then ever as I turned to face hunter.

“I understand you cannot pull her from the match now, but you have to see this was all a set up! The idiot she is must of thought the photos being such a poor condition you wouldn’t of taken notice of her in the van when you could clearly see me. I deserve to be in this match, I deserve to fight for that Championship! HUNTER PLEASE!” I was begging him at this point.

Triple H turned his head to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice rang through the arena once more.

“Dexter Lumis and Finn Balor have both been eliminated in a double pin!” Samantha sounded panicked as the referee had opened the door to the cage and Finn and Dexter had come out still swinging for each other after managing to get each other in a double shoulder down pin. Neither preparing to stop the fight they were still going until they were pulled apart by security and Dominik who was quick to check on Finn. He led him over to their opposing side of the cage as Rhea rushed to put her hand through the grate to Dom. She looked exhausted and Damian was clearly running on fumes now too.

“HUNTER. PLEASE!” I threw my hands up to the screens as Liv was setting up her finisher.

Hunter said nothing, he simply reached over and flicked a switch on the keyboard. He nodded his head to me as my music drowned out the stadium and the crowd erupted into complete chaos.

The lighting scheme changed to full on Judgement Day colors, flashing LED’s and stream spot lights illuminated the runway as I appeared at the top of the ramp.

Inside the first cage remained Damian & Rhea vs Rowan and Uncle Howdy, meanwhile Nikki Cross and Liv Morgan were battling with what they had left in the second cell.

Dom and Finn leapt up at the sound of my music, grappling the side of the cell and shouting at the top of their lungs as I ran at full speed down to the ring, the referee opening the cage door and allowing me entry.

Locking eyes with Liv Morgan she grinned evily and hit her finisher on the witch, pushing her out of the way and to the floor below.

And so there we stood.

“We were friends Liv, we were family. How fast you were to sell me out...” I spoke.

“I didn’t sell you out… I bought in to a new way. You were weak, we could have finished that scumbag off for what she did to you. But no… Y/W/N always breaks, you were to soft.” Liv’s voice was full of spite.

“I wasn’t soft Liv, what we did was wrong. He taught me that, but it seems you never took his lessons to heart. A firefly always….” I tried to reason but she cut me off.

“SCREW THE FIREFLIES!” Liv lashed out grabbing my hair and the fight began. Blow after blow, swing after swing, punch after punch.

The crowd erupted and their chants could be heard the other end of the city.

“Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N!”

We tore each other apart in that ring, destroying every last piece of who we were and what we wanted to be. Nothing was off limit, and we knew it. Kendo sticks, fire extinguishers, chairs, tables and more. To the point of two broken women standing in front of each other, blood dripping and bruises across every part of the skin. The fans loved it, but they had no idea we were both prepared to destroy each other to secure victory.

Rhea and Damian had Howdy and Rowan on their knees as they both set up for their finishers, taking a quick peek over to my match before sending these two scoundrels back to where they came from.

“RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN! RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN!” The announcement desk was going wild, unable to comprehend the absolute madness of this match.

“1……2…….3!!!!” THE CROWD CHANTED AND CHEERED!

“Erik Rowan and Uncle Howdy have been eliminated! The Judgment Day win the first battle of Hell in a Cell!” Samantha Irwin announced, cheering as she did.

Finn and Dom ran around to the side of the cell I was fighting in, Nikki cross was out for the count on the floor of the cage while Liv had me up against the ropes. My vision starting to blur as she laid her fist into my face repeatedly before getting off and picking up the Kendo stick by her feet. She swung it into my ribs again and again and again, Blasting any remaining air from my lungs.

Liv then threw the stick to the side and turned to celebrate to the crowd, preparing her run up to the ropes for the final Oblivion.

“Y/N! Y/N!” I could hear Finn’s voice coming from behind me. Turning my head I could just make out his silhouette.

“Come on lass, you can do it!” Finn shouted, over the sounds of the crowd.

“Come on my girl! Finish this!” Dom yelled.

From my right I could hear two gentle voices calling out, trying to ground me back into reality.

“Mi Vida, Mi Vida! Por favor, listen to me! You can do this!” Damian’s voice was gentle and full of love.

“Bunny, you are our champion already, no you need to be theirs!” Rhea was right.

I dragged myself back to my feet, Liv racing towards me and without a seconds thought I lept onto the rope before catching her off guard.

“Y/W/N/F! Y/W/N/F! MORGANS DOWN MORGANS DOWN!” The announcement team went wild as I found myself laying next to Liv, she was out and I could see it.

“PIN HER LASS! PIN HER!!” Finn screamed as I reached out, dragging my broken body towards the bitch, falling flat on top of her.

1!!!!

2!!!!!

3!!!!!

The entire stadium flew into a chaotic celebration, with screams, cheers, chants and more! Confetti cannons blasted off down the entire ramp runway and fireworks set off, filling the night sky above.

“She’s done it! Y/W/N has done it! We have a new champion! We have a new champion!”

The referee unlocked the cage door and Finn, Dom, Damian and Rhea came bounding through tackling me to the ground. Their smiles, cuddles and kisses were almost enough to block any pain signals my body was sending, instead a flood of emotion took me out in waves as Damian hoisted me up onto his shoulders, parading me around the ring.

Rhea was quick to take Liv Morgan by the scruff of the hair and send her headfirst out of the cell, dusting her hands off and turning away.

“Get out of here, Puta!” Rhea’s accent had such a way when she spoke Spanish, I could feel my inner core heating up and Damian knew it. He bent down and Dom helped me off, grinning and planting a soft kiss on my lips.

Finn came over, kneeling down in front of me and held out the ‘Women’s World Championship’ belt.

“You did it Lass, our champion” he smiled, standing and pinning the belt around my waist.

Finn put his arm around my neck, waving the others over to join us.

There we stood, a full family hug in the light of the full moon under the glow of a million fireworks and the love of a million adoring fans.

But no love as true, no love as strong… as theirs.

“I made you a promise Y/N, you are a champion. Our champion…” Finn smiled, “Now, bring on those distractions!��

I did it.

I was their champion.

‘To get over the past,

You first have to accept that the past is over.

No matter how many times you revisit it, analyze it, regret it, or sweat it, it’s over.

It can hurt you no more’ – Mandy Hale

The End.

#the judgement day #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #damian priest x reader #damian priest #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #wwe #wwe raw #poly!judgement day #wwe x reader

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oscconfessions · 5 months ago

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Poly ships exist on a continuum from poly bright lights to poly grand slams. Poly branches represents the middle of this continuum

(Poly branches is firey coiny leafy pin in case that isn’t clear)

#confession #/ii #/bfdi #/bfdi/coiny #/bfdi/firey #/bfdi/leafy #/bfdi/pin #/bfdi/coiny/firey/leafy/pin

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ask-ii-bfdi-shipkiddos · 3 months ago

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I need to know, for the poly grand slams I have two questions 1. what is the sir names, do you just have 4 sir names? 2. what is your bed like, do you have 2 king beds pushed together or do you just have two sepearate beds?

"Yep, we just have 4 last names since we're not married. Our full names are Suitcase Chana, Balloon Cerda-Faraday, Baseball Wilson, and Nickel Cooper.

BJ has Baseball's last name."

"We have one, really big, custom made bed."

#ask ship kids #object show community #object shows #osc #ship kid ask blog #ship kids #inanimate insanity #ii suitcase #ii nickel #ii poly slams #ii basecase #ii nickcase #ii nickloon #ii suitloon #ii bickel

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lilacs-stash · 1 year ago

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Sharing this Nickcase edit @maxphilippa made for me a month or two ago cuz brainrot real

#got their permission to post ofc #ii suitcase #ii nickel #ii balloon #ii baseball #nickcase #inanimate insanity #object posting #ii edit #not my edit #ii grand slams #polyam grand slams #The world's worst polycule ii #poly grand slams

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ii-rarepair-confessions · 22 hours ago

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when people say polylights, they usually mean paintbrush x lightbulb x testtube x fan.

WELLLLLLL what if we made polylights into one huge polycule with ALL of the bright lights?

imagine the sheer CHAOS of it all!

(and then there could also be polyslams? idk.)

i love polyships

☆

now i'm just imagining all the bright lights who are all dating against all the grand slams who are all dating and im giggling LMAOOO. may the best poly team win,, i love this

#inanimate insanity #osc #ii rarepair #confession #object shows #ii confessions

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xinnamonbun · 4 months ago

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Hold up...

I randomly saw a shit post that was joking around saying that in order for all of the contestants to revive they need a true love's kiss...

So like...is Nickle screwed? And no not for the reason you're thinking. You see the problem is that he has MULTIPLE true loves so like would he have 3 separate opportunities to get revived OR would all three need to kiss him at once-

#inanimate insanity #ii nickel #ii bickel #ii nickcase #ii nickloon #ii poly grand slams #This is so stupid-#He needs to pull THREE bitches at once-

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burgycreeper405-blog · 1 year ago

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Rank 5 best ii ships

well sh1t

uhh

1. Metallic Salad (Knife x Mic x Pickle x Mp4)

2. Limegold Jokes (Trophy x Cheesy x Tissues)

3. Polyam Grand Slams (Baseball x Suitcase x Nickel x Balloon)

4. Hotel Trio (OJ x Paper x Soap)

and uuhhhhmmmm

5. i dunno Poly brightlights (Lightbulb x Paintbrush x Test Tube x Fan) i guess

had a bit of a hard time thinking of 5 lmao

#burgy talks

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ellecdc · 10 months ago

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Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right.

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet.

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #self insert #reader insert #ask elle #marauders fanfiction #hurt/comfort #ellecdc fics

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