#If it's merely ghosts or whatever it's fine

[wanderingmind867]

I would differentiate horror in it's different formats. Because, see, old 30s monster stuff doesn't scare me too much. Dracula, Frankenstein, etc aren't too bad. Similarly, supernatural characters in things like comics aren't always bad. For example, Man-Thing comics can be creepy, but Man-Thing himself is oddly charming. It's weird. But I'm pretty sure I can thank the comics code authority for this. 60s and 70s monster comics aren't too scary, because there were regulations against it. But as we push into the 80s and 90s, things get worse and worse until i dread even think about it.

And i think movies have this problem too. The black and white 30s monster movies don't really scare me as much as any horror films since. But horror film and tv stuff since the 70s has provable negative results on me. So i don't get it, but it's clear that i seem to have certain weak tolerances. I wish I understood myself better so i could share more accurate details on all this, but I don't get it myself.

[lvlyghost]

Cold Nights

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Reader doesn't show up for morning training. Ghost doesn't know what to think.

Word Count: 794

Tw: fluff, angst, mentions of being sick, soldiers being scared of simon lol, ooc simon probably, he calls reader kid, i think that's it🤭

A/N: I'm sick and this came to my mind, I just want simon to take care of me okay???🥹🤧 this is super bad as usual. still hope you like it. pls remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome ✨💖

Masterlist✨

Ghost doesn't see her at the cafeteria, nor the training room. He's disgruntled. His eyes keep drifting apart from the soldiers in front of him, waiting for the next round of endless push ups he's gonna make them go through.

Why isn't she here?

His body feels restless, pacing back and forth.

Soap doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight from one foot to another.

"Johnny," he calls him. "You're in charge."

"Lt.?" He quirks a brow, not understanding. That's so unlike him.

"Got things to do."

He storms out of the room, the walls rattle when he closes the doors.

It's a cold day. Just like the day before.

Days used to mean nothing to him.

Time.

Until she came along. Three years ago.

That woman... he sighs.

Was it something he said? Didn't they talk about it last night?

Everything was fine.

Or so he thought.

-

"We shouldn't be out here, kid." He mutters. It's freezing, he can see her trembling even beneath her hoodie. Well it was actually his. The hoodie completely swallowing her small form.

"I know, I know!" She laughs. Her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink. "I just... it was too loud inside." That he can agree on. "Is it true?" She asks a few seconds later.

Simon stills. Choosing his next words carefully.

"What?"

"What Soap said." A heartbeat. "About us."

There's a silence that falls between them.

"Those were the words of a drunk man."

"Were they?" her smile is contagious. Damn her and her beautiful soul. "Would you come with me if I asked you to?"

He stares directly at her, trying to find any sign of doubt. He's always mesmerized by her gentle nature. That's something he never knew. Perhaps that's why he was so drawn to her. Longed to be wherever she was. Breathe the same air.

"I'd say that's highly inappropriate." He states. "And that you've had too many shots of whatever poor excuse of a whiskey Johnny made you drink."

"Price called it piss water." She shooks her head. "You're changing the subject!"

Simon chuckles. He really does.

"You've got such power over me no one else could ever have, kid."

And he's doomed.

-

He's trying so hard, going through the events of the night, trying to remember. What happened? Nothing out of line was said. She seemed content when they parted ways, right after he had kissed her good night outside her room. Simon saw the way her eyes lit up with a spark he never saw before. The longing stare. Remembers vividly how she had stopped him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down for another heated kiss.

He walks down the corridor with long strides. Hands balled into fists. He shouldn't be this mad. But that was the effect she had in him.

He tries to cool down. Ghost was scared too. What if she had changed her mind and didn't want anything to do with him? He was messing up his head at the mere thought.

He finally makes it to the room, knocking twice before her soft voice tells him he can come in.

Inside the room, all the curtains were closed, not a single ray of light made it inside apart from the lamp casting shadows around. Furrowing his brows he closes the door behind him with a low click.

"Kid?" He calls her. Immediately rolling on her side she welcomes him, red eyes, stuffy nose and looking disheveled.

"Sorry I missed training." She apologizes. Changing to a sitting position and waits for him to sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" He demands with a soft voice. She's still wearing his hoodie from last night. Rubbing her eyes she gives Simon a tired smile.

"I'm just really sick Simon." She answers, he can hear her hoarse voice now.

"Bloody hell, love." His hand goes straight to her face, caressing her cheek. "Did you go to the infirmary?" Closing her eyes, she rest her head against his hand.

"Mhm. Got some painkillers prescribed. Still feel horrible."

"Good, it'll take some time for you to feel better. You need to rest, okay?". The look he gave her leaves no room for discussion.

"Wasn't planning on leaving my bed you know?" He smiles ever so slightly. "Would you stay with me?" When he doesn't answer right away she adds: "never mind you'll catch whatever this bug is and i don't ..."

"Sweetheart," he interrupts her rambling. "Scoot over."

She looks at him wide-eyed.

"You... you don't," she stutters.

"No, I don't mind at all. If there's anything you need just tell me, copy?" She nods, staring at his blue eyes. "Told you we shouldn't have been outside last night."

"Even if it meant catching a cold, I'm glad we did, Simon."

[screampied]

choso being addicted w his s/o’s breasts and cant stop sucking and licking them while he fucks her good <3

⤷ tags : fem!reader, missionary, soft sex, praise, nipple sucking, whiney choso an. crying sobrkohk

choso’s in love with your body, he can’t help himself. his favorite thing to do was to simply trace his soft padded fingertips all over.

each second he wasted staring at you — the more he feels himself growing dizzy, heart racing, palms entirely sweaty.

you’d be laid flat, in such a perfect position for him and just for him. sprawled out with your legs just scantily slinging across his slim waist.

“baby, can i—” and he pauses, the thought that was currently embedded into his mind, he grew flustered. should he…? you’d probably be weirded out, or you’d show discomfort, something along those lines. current thoughts ran through his brain, and you raised a brow, clinging onto his shoulders as he presented you with soft, deep strokes. “n-nevermind.”

“say it.” you murmur, letting off a soft moan once he gently grazes a thumb against your bare tummy.

choso let’s off a defeated sigh, the inquisitive cute expression that went on your face, he had to say something. he waits a few long moments before you heard him swallow. “i…i was gonna ask,” and his soft voice was a mere whisper—you wondered what it could be, for him to be this hesitant. choso’s eyes lower down towards your chest, and then he pouts before staring right back at you. “can.. is it okay if.. can i suck on them? please?”

immensely, you were taken aback, and it seemed like judging solely from your expression—you were weirded out.

choso starts to panic, and he pauses his hips against you before babbling. “i-i’m sorry, it was random. idon’tknowwhyiasked, i just wanted-”

“baby, sure you can,” you giggle, cupping his face before planting a single kiss on his nose. “calm down. what…did you think i was gonna say no?”

“yes,” he stammers, and he’s still inside. you drag a few nails down his bulky arm before getting a bit more comfortable. choso’s body heat was so warm…hot. it was as if your skin stuck against his, and he smoothed his glossed pink lips together before letting off another sigh. “i- i thought you’d fine it disturbing,” and then he leans in toward your chest to give your nipple a single kiss. “sorry if this makes me weird but…baby, i’ve always wanted to um…lick them.”

“go ahead. i’m not gonna judge you for being dirty,” you tease, and his face grows hot at your playfulness. his breath hitches, and he gives you a stare as if asking were you sure, yet you nod. “you can do whatever you want to me. i’m all yours, choso.”

he lets off a moan, and it’s unintentional—yet cute. “…oh.” he mutters, leaning in just a bit more to softly rub a thumb against your perky nipple.

so gentle with his touch, you were sensitive and they were a bit sore—you didn’t mind though. choso starts up his pace again, and he’s a bit more slow.

slow and thorough, the moment he brings his face close towards your chest…you grow quiet and watch.

choso cups one of your breasts with one hand before pressing his mouth against it, a soft moan escapes out of him before he gently flicks his tongue against the nipple—you whine at the sheer warmth of his tongue.

he’s so compassionate, tenderly tender.

you were so sensitive, you moved a bit underneath him as his tongue ghosts against your nipples. the soft licks turned into sucking.

and that’s when you started to moan—you ran your ankle down his back, biting your lip at the feeling of his cock buried deep. each thrust was different with him, you felt everything.

“s-so good,” he whimpers, his eyes were closed. pretty lengthy black lashes just barely fluttered, tickling against your skin. choso dreamt of doing something like this. just having you underneath him, easily drifting his tongue, circling it all around the middle part of your breasts. “m-mhm, ‘s sweet.”

you smile nervously, running a hand through his hair, combing right through with your fingers and it’s as if he lets off a cute purr.

choso’s coats every part of your chest with imaginary kisses, making sure to not miss an inch.

the way his tongue twirls gently against your hardened nipples—you moaned. his pounding into you gently and him sucking deeply on both of your breasts, you didn’t know which you loved more.

“w-want more.” he breathes, each time he departed his lips, it’d be a brief pop sound. that was his favorite part. either that and choso getting a bit too carried away. his own saliva trickling outside of the corner of his lips, and he’s drooling just a bit.

“choso, ‘m gonna cum.” you’d suddenly squeak out, hugging him tightly. such whimpers and whines make way out from your mouth, and the way his strokes were so firm yet gentle. just a tad bit of roughness to it, but just right.

time and time again, he’s stretching you out and using your pussy as his favorite flashlight, he craved you, your touch, your taste, anything.

choso finds himself interlocking his fingers with yours, he then sits up to bring you into a deep kiss. “baby,” he moans, his clenched hard and abs rock against your tummy, and his bulge. his base forevermore continued to thwack and slam against you—you find yourself dizzy whenever he slightly pivots his hip to hit you there. “cum for me, and look at me. ‘s okay, just keep your eyes on me the whole time, ‘kay?”

“okay.” you whimpered, the immense pressure, its building up and stirring your insides, choso was so thick yet at the same time slender. he’s so sensual and precise with his movements, and he then gives your nipples one more suck.

once you came, it took so much out of you, such shockwaves got sent throughout your body and you had to take a moment to breathe. he thinks you look beautiful like this. “perfect girl,” he sighs, his voice was as smooth as a lullaby, your legs locked around his waist — this time a lot tighter, and he holds you close. you’re a stammering mess, legs feeling practically nonexistent. “thank you.”

“f-for what.” you panted, and choso finds himself resting his head flat on your breasts.

“for um.. letting me be dirty. sucking on your nipples,” and he was most certainly addicted was addicted to your chest, especially with licking on them. “

“you’re welcome.” you utter, fingers still running through his scalp, he sighs a happy sigh. he’s so comfortable, so warm, and so in love with you.

yet of course—the night ends with choso falling fast asleep on your breasts, still inside of you, and with a gentle smile pressing against his lips.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober 2024

Monster-Enthusiasts, Monster-Lovers, and Monster-Fucker, I call upon thee! This upcoming October is going to be spooky!

It's time for a whole month of delicious monster content! Whether you want them to stalk, to hunt, or to devour your little protagonists (mind you, the monsters are the real protagonists of the story, hehe), I want to see a month dedicated to the beauty of the Ugly and Horrible! All things monster are welcome—art, writing, any kind of showcasing a monster! No matter how cruel or how obscene you like it—now's the time to show it off! ♥

I have prepared a list of monsters & prompts for your guidance, however, if you'd rather do a different monster or a different prompt, that is totally fine! If you prefer to stay private and not have your post reblogged to this blog, that is totally alright, too! This is merely for fun and giggles, and I welcome everyone who wants to challenge themselves this upcoming October to use this list if they want!

How to participate in my Monstober:

- Starting October 1st create something with the monster or prompt of the day! That is all you have to do.

You don't have to do all days or even in chronological order. Feel free to alter the prompts as needed. Your monsters do not have to match the usual descriptions of their kind! Post whenever and whatever you like as long as it is still connected to monsters!

- If you want your entry to be reblogged: @ me yandere-sins in your post, don't forget to put content warnings if any apply (especially Violence & Sexual Content—however, those are very welcome!), and put long texts (once they reach 3k words) under a read more! I'll reblog the posts as soon as I see and have the time to get to them!

Prompts

Day 1: Chimera | Mixed // Misunderstood // Insanity

Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly

Day 3: Alien | Otherworldly // Uncanny Valley // Space

Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion

Day 5: Nymph/Dryad/Leshy | Plants // Playful // Nature's Bounty

Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous

Day 7: Sphinx | Riddles // Sand // Giant

Day 8: Merfolk | Water // Singing // Alluring

Day 9: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity

Day 10: Mimic | Treasures // Hungry // Wrong

Day 11: Yuki-onna/Snow Spirit | Snowstorm // Promise // Guiding

Day 12: Witch/Wizard/Magician | Magic // Spells // Towers

Day 13: Shifter | True Form // Unbelievable // Transformation

Day 14: Minotaur | Labyrinth // Bannished // Following

Day 15: Eldritch Horror | Eldritch // Imprisoned // Tentacles

Day 16: "Church" Grim | Graveyard // Protecting // Spirit

Day 17: Dragon | Fire // Hoarding // Fairytale

Day 18: Kitsune | Tricked // Tails // Mystical

Day 19: Elf | Warrior // Swift // Merciless

Day 20: Goblin/Orc/Troll/Oni | Hordes // Village // Brutish

Day 21: Kelpie | Deception // Following // Stuck

Day 22: Skeleton/Zombie | Undead // Loved // Grave

Day 23: Angel | Feathers // Guardian // Watching

Day 24: Ghost | Shadows // Invisible // Coldness

Day 25: Vampire | Blood // Biting // Night

Day 26: Fae Folk | Lost // Fairy Circles // Names

Day 27: Drider | Silk // Cave // Ensnared

Day 28: Demon | Summoning // Contract // Otherworldly

Day 29: Gods | Reign // Glow // Worshipping

Day 30: Human | Real Monsters // Dangerous // Smile

Day 31: Free Choice of your favorite monster or a completely new one!

I look forward to all the monstrous ideas you'll come up with! ♥

[murdocksdaughter]

bath tub - j.v

jacaerys velaryon x wife!reader (18+)

summary: jace thought a bath would relieve from his day, in fact what he needed was his wife

warning: nsfw, smut, MINORS DNI porn with no plot, bathtub sex, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), no use of y/n vocal jace, again there is no plot

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting and did very little edit, I was rabid enjoy tho. also thank you @princessvelaryon for encouraging me to post this.

xoxo hope

Jacaerys sank into his tub, water scalding to the touch but he welcomed it. He rolled his head back and let out a small moan. As his muscles relaxed he sat there a while letting the stress of the day soak off. The aroma of oils and soaps surrounded him. 

Jacaerys just soaked in the tub for what felt like hours. Waving off servants who have come to wash him off. But he needs this time alone. To just be with no worship for the mere fact he is breathing. He sunk further into his tub, letting his hair absorb the water. 

The door creaked open and Jacaerys raised his hand to wave off whoever entered his room. “No need, I'm still soaking.” 

“Then might I join you, My Prince?” 

Jacaerys knew that voice belonged to his wife. “My love, what are you doing?” he hung his head back to look up at you. Dressed in floor length cream colored chemise. You smiled down at widley. 

“Come check on you. Caught word that you had a difficult day, how is your bath fairing…?” You sank to her knees and rested her arms on the  edge of the tub. “Just fine…” He hummed, turning his head to follow your movements. 

“Good,” You replied, your fingers ghosted along the water in the tub. 

“Such the life of a ruler, well future one…” Jacaerys sighed. You nodded, your gaze softened further as  she took note of his pained expression. 

“No need to work yourself up,” you reached to raked your fingers through his soaked curls. Jacaerys hummed, closing his eyes and smiled. “I will let you bathe and I shall return later.” 

He shook his head and sat up, grabbing her hand. “No, I want you to stay. Talking to you is doing more for me than this bath.” 

You smile, “If you insist, Lord Husband.”

“Enough of that, you know I hate it.” Jacaerys huffed. A giggle left your lip as you kissed the side of your husband’s head. “Whatever you say, Lord Husband.” 

He playful glared at you and gained a wider smile for you. It softened the Prince’s heart. You made the world disappear, his mind went blank for the exception of his wife. “You’re the most lovely woman, the loveliest.” He reaches up to kiss your lips. “Your beauty can only equate to that of a goddess.”

“You flatter me too much.” 

“No, I mean it. The old valyrian gods created you in their vision.” He whispered before kissing you again deeply. You whimpered softly at the pressure. “Join me.” he whined against her lips. 

You felt like she fell under a spell with his kiss. You  nodded, climbing into the water and straddled your husband’s lap. Your cream chemise quickly billowed in the water. Jacaerys pushed his hands up her sides pushing the dress up with it. “This is in the way,” He quipped. 

You giggled while taking it off. Jacaerys sat it up quickly kissing the valley between your breasts. He squeezed her sides kissing up to her collarbones. 

“Jace….” you whispered out. He hummed in response. Although they have been married for some time Jacaerys was not rid of enjoyment seeing your bare body. He much enjoyed basking in her beauty lit under candlelight. 

Jacaerys leaned up to kiss you again. His hands now on her thigh, he guided you higher up his lap. You could feel his hard cock underneath her and the small hiss that escaped Jacaerys’ lips when she brushed against it. 

“I can no longer wait.” he whined. You nodded and positioned yourself to sink down onto his cock. The two both moaned loudly, foreheads pressed together. Your fingers gripped Jacaerys’ biceps. 

Fully seated on his cock you let a soft whine adjusting yourself.

“Gods be merciful…” Jacaerys babled as head dropped to your shoulder. You giggled as you teased rolling your hips forward. Jacaerys rambled further, his grip on your thighs tightening. You continued the motion raising up your hips a bit.

You tangled his fingers into his curls, pulling your body flush against his. Their movements grew to be more frantic, Jacaerys matching the rhythm of his wife. One arm moved to hold your waist and the other held the edge of the tub. The displaced water pooled on the floor around them. 

Echos of pleasure filled the room. You started to fall limp on Jacaerys' hold. His cock hitting the most pleasure point inside her. The repeated motion dragged further into your husband’s spell. It was your turn to let out babbles of satisfaction into his ear. Singing his praises between moans and whines. 

He kissed and sucked along your chest, covering  your skin with small red bruises and bite marks. He thrusted up into her groaning softly at the way she contracted around him. The light pressure around his cock felt heavenly. 

“You feel amazing. By the Gods Jace...” You whined. Both of them felt so wrapped up in each, their gazes meeting. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” Jacaerys stuttered out. 

You moaned out as your hips moved faster against him. The pressure in her stomach built. “I’m so…Jace…” your half finished sentence was a sure tell sign that you were close to your peak. It spurred Jacaerys on as he thrusted into you with more intensity. He lived to see his wife lose in pleasure. You looked beautiful atop of him, your head rolling back as you used his body for yourself. 

“You’re gorgeous. Come for me my love.” He leaned up and grabbed your check to bring your face to his. “I need it. I need you to fall apart for me. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” He whispered into your ear, pairing it with a few harsh thrusts. 

You moaned at his words clenching around his cock. The piercing pressure in your lower stomach intensified. As your rhythm became sporadic, desperation filled your movements. Chasing you high with sounds of water crashing and you cried . 

Jacaerys could feel his orgasm building rapidly watching his wife. With both their releases on the horizon the room sounded like a pleasure house. Both babbling lose in their own needs. 

Your legs started to shake as you started to tip over the edge. Your body tensed, contracting tightly around your husband as you rode out your peak. Moaning loudly like a girl losing your maidenhead. Your voice was shrill, reflecting more of a cry than a moan. This sight pushed Jacaerys into his orgsam. He rested his head on your chest grunting and nail’s digging into your skin. 

Both fell limp into each other’s holds. Jacaerys peppered kisses along your shoulder. 

“I will never tire of that. Will you let me taste you?” He whispered on your skin. 

“Jace…we just….” Your protest fell from your lips as he massaged your breast in his calloused hands. “Are you an insatiable beast?” You finally whine as Jacaerys kisses further down your body. 

 “I am a dragon, remember? I am restless.”  He jokes.

“A dragon that will be the death of me but gods…” Your voice got stuck in your throat, tripping up on your own words. 

“I want to taste myself on you, please, that's all I ask.” Jacaerys whined ignoring your halfhearted quip. 

You knew you were protesting for no reason. You loved the feeling of your husband between your thighs. It was his perfected skill and it sent you reeling each time. 

You had to stop herself from clenching around her husband at the thought. “Oh gods, yes, yes, please…” you whined.

Jacaerys smiled, pulling you up and carrying you to the table next to the tub. He cleared the soaps and oils to sit you on it. He knelt down holding your thighs apart. 

With a kiss pressed against your clit you shrieked. Jacaerys smiled before pressing his tongue flat against you. Slowly licking up his seed that leaked out. He dragged his tongue up to your clit. Suck on it drawing out a cry. 

You bucked your hips but Jacaerys held your hips in place. As he slipped his tongue into her. He was desperate for another orsgam to come from her. He felt so desperate to please his wife. All stress and worry from the day fully cease to exist between his wife's thighs. If he could die between them he would take that fate happily. 

You had one hand gripping the table and one tangled in his hair. Trying your best to guide and control Jacaerys’ frantic movements. But he was uncontrollably lapping at you from inside. Rubbing his nose against your clit. He practically suffocated himself as he delved into the pursuit of your satisfaction. 

It did not take long until you bent over as your second orgasm washed over you. You felt tears in your eyes as you shook. Only repeating Jacaerys’ name through pants and sobs. Jacaerys pulled away slowly looking up at you. Eyes wide, pleased with the reaction he drew from you. 

You looked at him, his lower face painted with both of their orgasms. “Jace…” You whispered. “You’ll need another bath.”

“Only if you join me?” 

You shook your head, “No, if I stay you’ll make a mess of things again. And I am in need of a bath now…” Jacaerys pouted but rose to his feet, acknowledging he was right.

“We can continue later if you are still so insatiable my love.” You smiled slyly. Jacaerys pursed his lips eyeing his wife. 

“I’ll drop by your chambers later…” He whispered into his ear as he handed you a robe. 

[carmillascrusade]

I’ve come home again: Prologue | Emily Prentiss x F!Reader

Series summary: You and Emily had an unfortunate split; separating you from the team after the divorce had been finalised. Your found family was no more and the people you once knew became nothing but strangers. A new threat has rose, with a network of serial killers surfacing, resulting in Rossi calling you back to the BAU. Will old feelings come back?

A/N: This sets up the main story. I have the next chapter almost finished, so it should be out soon. This is planned to be around twenty chapters long so I wouldn’t read if you’re not a fan of slow burn :)

Word count: 980

The air was still as you entered your bedroom. Despair clouded the room, the stench of it prominent as you traversed further into the darkness. Your bed was illuminated a fracture by the light leaking in from the open doorway, threatening to rid the room of its sinisterity yet, ultimately, losing the fight as the door shut upon itself; the hinges crying in protest as it did so. Emily lay in the centre of your bed. In the same position she was in this morning. And the morning before that. And the one before that.

Your heart ached for her and your inability to provide any help was frustrating you to no end. But, Emily didn’t want your help. No matter how many times you had offered, or tried to comfort her, she pushed you away. Every. Single. Time.

You ran your hand through her hair regardless of the grease and grime that coated each strand. Regardless of said grease and grime transferring onto your fingers. No, you did not care. Because you love Emily and you are willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“Emily?” You whispered gently, coaxing her to look at you.

You weren’t expecting a response. You could barely get a sound out of her these days, but you were overjoyed when she turned to face you. A joy short lived, but you smiled nonetheless, since the eyes that looked at you merely saw through you as if you were a ghost made of smoke and vapour. But, press on you did.

“You haven’t eaten in a while, my love.” You murmured, fingers still combing through her hair. “I’ve brought you something to drink. I know that you don’t want to eat right now, so this way you can get the nutrients you need without eating, okay?”

You were aware that your words were falling on deaf ears. You knew that she wasn’t really present. Couldn’t really hear what you were saying. The silence had became too loud, your house unsettlingly quiet without the constant conversation and laughter flowing through it, you couldn’t help but try fill it.

The following weeks were much of the same. You helped her bathe, eat and take care of herself then slept beside her every night.

And she got better. Your house was no longer deathly silent, shared laughter and giggles filling every expanse of your house. Things were slowly getting back to normal and you were happy. Truly happy.

Until you weren’t.

When you said that you would do anything to make Emily happy, you didn’t think that would involve you packing your bags and leaving. You didn’t think she would cast you aside; send you walking through the threshold of your,  no her home, never to return. She hadn’t explained why or even gave you a reason. A simple “I don’t need you anymore.” was all she had stated before sending you packing.

But you said it yourself: you would do anything to make her happy.

—0—

You hadn’t spoken to Emily nor anybody else on the team for over a year. Was it a year? Longer perhaps. It’s easy to lose track of time when your days are monotonous and bleak. A heavy cloud hovered ominously above you, following you everywhere you went, always watching.

You had signed the divorce papers as soon as you could, sending them away immediately so that she could sign them. Fine, you had thought, if she doesn’t want me then I don’t want her.  Yet after all this time, you were still waiting for them back.

When your sister had died you had been inconsolable. What more did the universe, with its cruel hands and unrelenting grip, wish to snatch away from you? Your wife and now your sister. You couldn’t give in to your grief, no not this time; not when you had gained custody of a baby that needs to be taken care of.

Yes, the baby comes first. The baby and then you. Your sister had named her Tally, heavens dew she had told you it meant, a blessing from god.

However, Tally was not the sole reason that you survived. Alex Blake, the woman that she is, helped you through your grief. She helped you learn how to be a mother and how to take care of a such a small human, incapable of doing anything but existing, solely dependent on you.

Tally was coming up four now and had affectionately claimed Alex as her grandma. You weren’t sure how Alex would take it, having lost her son at such a young age, but you were ecstatic when she accepted your daughter with open arms, and by extension you too.

Your little family was complete and you were content with the life you had. The death of your sister or the separation from your wife had been pushed into the endless caverns right at the back of your mind, forgotten about in the inky depths.

Television shows and movies always seemed to be over exaggerating when the main characters' world came to a stop. Perhaps they weren’t exaggerating at all. A formal request for you to enlist your services within the FBI once more sat in your hand. According to the letter, a huge web of serial killers had been discovered and they needed all hands on deck to solve the case.

All hands on deck included you.

You were torn on what to do. On one hand, you could potentially keep millions safe from despicable people. Nevertheless, you had a daughter now, a daughter that needs her mother and it wasn’t guaranteed that you would catch said people.

You emailed Rossi back, stating that you accepted the job position. After all, you needed to catch and shut down this network for good. Especially when you had a daughter to keep safe.

What happened to your sister would never happen again.

[lines-in-limbo]

Harry and Snape’s Clashing Communication Styles

It's interesting to think that Harry and Snape don’t have longer conversations in the series, but when they do, their communication styles are so different that they often clash.

Harry’s way of communicating is practical and straightforward. He tends to break down complex ideas into simpler terms that he can easily understand. This makes sense, given his upbringing in a non-magical world and his tendency to rely more on gut instinct than deep theoretical knowledge. For Harry, things are usually black and white, and his directness shows his desire to cut through the confusion and get straight to the point.

Snape, on the other hand, has a more complex and layered way of speaking. His language is precise and often sarcastic, which reflects not just his intelligence but also his disdain for what he sees as Harry’s lack of subtlety. Snape’s use of imagery and metaphor, especially when he describes consepts, gives his speech a poetic, almost philosophical quality. He takes pleasure in showing off his superior knowledge and uses this as a way to belittle Harry.

We see this clash clearly in OOTP during Harry’s first Occlumency lesson:

Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, “Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency —” “What’s that? Sir?” “It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person’s mind —” “He can read minds?” said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed. “You have no subtlety, Potter,” said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. “You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.” Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savor the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing, “Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind reading to Harry and he did not like the sound of it at all.

For Harry, when Snape mentions Legilimency, it immediately sounds like “mind reading,” which is a reasonable but overly simple way to understand such a complex concept. His quick jump to this conclusion shows his need to make sense of something that feels threatening, but it also reveals his limited grasp of the deeper nuances.

Snape, however, can’t resist mocking Harry’s lack of subtlety. His response is laced with condescension as he insists on the complexity of the mind and dismisses the idea of “mind reading” as something only muggles would think of. Snape’s explanation is detailed and philosophical, contrasting sharply with Harry’s desire for a straightforward answer.

Another great example of their different communication styles comes in HBP when Snape puts Harry on the spot, asking him to explain the difference between an inferius and a ghost:

“Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.” The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to recall what Dumbledore had told him the night that they had gone to visit Slughorn. “Er — well — ghosts are transparent —” he said. “Oh, very good,” interrupted Snape, his lip curling. “Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. ‘Ghosts are transparent.’ ” Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, “Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid —” “A five-year-old could have told us as much,” sneered Snape. “The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth . . . and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent.” “Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!” said Ron. “When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, ‘Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?’

Once again, Harry demonstrates his practical and straightforward approach. He gives a simple, clear distinction based on what would be most useful in a real-life situation—whether the entity is solid or transparent. This shows how Harry tends to focus on what’s immediately relevant and actionable, and Ron’s defense of Harry’s answer highlights this practicality. Ron even points out that in a real-world scenario, Harry’s answer is actually the most helpful, contrasting it with Snape’s more academic approach.

Snape, though, dismisses Harry’s answer as too simplistic and mocks him for stating what he sees as the obvious. Snape’s communication is more about the theoretical and precise understanding of magical concepts. He emphasizes the deeper, more complex nature of an Inferius, which, while academically accurate, is less practical in the context that Harry is thinking of. Snape’s disdain shows that he values this deeper, nuanced understanding more than the direct, practical knowledge that Harry offers.

These moments really bring out the deeper divide between Harry and Snape. Harry approaches things with instinct and a straightforward mindset, while Snape is all about nuance, precision, and seeing the layers in everything. Because they see the world so differently, they struggle to communicate, which only adds to the distrust and misunderstanding between them—a tension that echoes throughout the entire series.

[josephquinnswhore]

devils antics - joel miller x female reader

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks.

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind��, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

[seattlesellie]

୨⎯ a helping hand ⎯୧

pairing: loser!ellie williams x fem!reader x dina nolastname synopsis: ellie's too shy and too nervous to take it all the way with you, and thank god dina's right by her side. warnings: weed, smut, mdni, soft dom!dina, awkward top!ellie, sub!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving) authors note: this is based off of a request i got but accidentally deleted since i'm a little braindead ˚ ༘♡ ✧༺♡༻∞

It was thick, and and hazy, and the pungent smoke hung lazily in the air. The scent was… captivating. It wasn’t bad — no, it was a tad skunky and earthy, citrusy. Piney too, and a little bit of spice. 

Something that smelled sickly sweet wafted through the air. It was almost intoxicating— The way her Jasmine and Vanilla fragrance mixed with the musk and and the resin. 

Dina took the skinny spliff in between her fingers. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Silence. 

Ellie’s eyes took a on a reddish hue. They were glossy, and bloodshot. She wore this languid, almost dreamy expression on her face. It rendered a slight droop to her eyelids and a gentle, unfocused gaze. She always got like this. 

She was not quiet— no, she was relaxed, calm. Shoulders dropped down, she wasn't hunching, she was perfectly serene, slightly manspreading on the velvety, emerald green colored couch. A piece of lint landed on her faded beige khaki’s, and she flicked it away gently. 

Everything seemed to move so slow. 

“Are you gonna let go of that blunt, D?” you questioned, lazily grasping and squeezing Ellie’s light blue stress ball in your palms. You caught her playing with that when she kissed you, once — Just a mere week ago. 

₊˚⊹♡

“Are you playing with your fidget while we’re making out?” Your voice was breathy and faint, just above a whisper. You could taste her on your tongue, bordering going on cotton mouthed. 

“No — no, I’m — It’s…” she stammered, and let the ball fly out of her hand and land on the concrete floor. 

An awkward silence. 

“You make me nervous” 

₊˚⊹♡

“It’s not a blunt, babe, It’s a spliff.” Dina took another drag, and handed it to you. 

“Whatever.” you shrugged. 

It caressed down your throat, a slight burn tingled in its wake.

Ellie always loved the way you smoked. A well manicured hand squeezing the bud between your fingers, the way your eyes were forced completely shut when you took a hit, the way your eyelashes fluttered while you exhaled. In all honestly, Ellie just thought you were very pretty. It was not the reason why she dated you; you were funny, and smart, and sweet — and the way you laughed made her stomach tie in knots and her heart feel like it was trying to leap out of her chest and leave her still as a corpse. 

But that “pretty” part, made her very, very nervous. 

She shifted on the couch, lifting her legs up to rest her chin on top of them. Ellie couldn't help but look, examine the way your chest heaved up and down, with her gaze fixed on you. She had a bit of a… staring problem. You saw her gaze from the corner of your eye, and smirked. 

“Can you two stop with your little sex games?” Dina's voice pierced through, breaking Ellie’s trance. 

“Sex games?” you probed, followed by a small huff. This wasn't a sex game. No, no... this was — purely innocent. Just two gals, who happen to be fresh as a daisy lovers, staring at each other while their best friend is in the same room.

“Ellie’s staring at you like she wants to fuck. I’m not a ghost — I’m here too, hello?” She waved her hand from side to side. You could tell she’s here too, you’d be lying if you said nothing in this living room screamed “Dina’s house!”. A silver menorah that’s been laying on the kitchen counter since Hanukkah, with a layer of fine dust collecting on top of the highest branch, a white crocheted mandala hanging slightly loose over the flat TV, bright colored crystals, and some dark ones too — splattered all over the antique mahogany table. Yes, Dina was definitely still there. 

But still, so was Ellie. And being around Ellie… made you want to… Well — Sex games? Is that how Dina put it? 

“We’re not doing anything” Ellie murmured, reaching over to take the spliff out of your hand. Her touch lingered a tad too long, lengthy finger softly caressing yours. Maybe you were? 

“You can go to the bathroom if you want. I wont peep” Dina suggested with a grin. That little devil. 

Ellie almost choked as she exhaled, You chose to ignore. 

“Promise?” You asked. 

“Swear.” 

Ellie huffed, Yeah right. 

“Gimme” Dina whined, signaling Ellie to pass her the half finished spliff. 

“I’m not done” Ellie’s defended, and took another hit. Her eyebrows were hunched together, and a small line had formed, creasing right between them. God, did she look pretty too. 

“Give it, bitch” Dina moaned, and abruptly took the spliff out of Ellie’s wet mouth, Ellie groaning in response. 

Dina rolled it between her fingers, and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Ew! You fucking drooled over it!” 

“Fuck you man” Ellie hissed, bumping lightly into Dina’s shoulder. 

“But seriously… Where’s like—“ Dina inhaled, blowing the smoke into Ellie’s face. 

“Dude—“ Ellie huffed, waving her hand in the air as if attempting to disperse the thick smoke that enveloped them. 

“Where’s the wildest place you had sex?” Dina questioned, as she smushed the spliff on the ashtray, then casually picked off some leftover tobacco from the table, absentmindedly wiping it on the red ceramic surface.

Ellie felt her cheeks turn an adorable shade of light pink. She was a blusher, you soon came to realize. 

The sex thing... that was an issue — Well, it wasn’t necessary an “issue” but it was… a thing. 

You and Ellie hadn’t had sex yet. ₊˚⊹♡

two full months of dating, resulting only in heated make out sessions. Sure, Ellie played with your tits, breathy and panting, and you almost came when she made you jump up and down her creamy thigh, crossfaded and washed by a sudden burst of extreme boldness, but that was that. When you lifted your skirt up to let her see what was underneath (that day, was a mint green colored lace thong) she hastily pulled it down, followed by a whispered “m’sorry”, and when you pouted, nauseous and incredibly embarrassed, she calmed you down with soft delicate butterfly kisses on your nose and on your forehead. 

“Wanna take it slow” she mumbled, her cheeks turning a rosy pink, lips curling down to a pout — almost matching yours. 

Maybe she didn’t really like you like that, you wondered, hugging your pillow, hot tears smearing all over the bedsheet. Maybe you weren’t attractive enough, perhaps she saw you more as a friend… A friend she liked to kiss and only kiss, a friend who made her stomach flip and her mind race, but still, only a friend. 

If you knew that Ellie spent the entire night after that glorious encounter with her purple vibrator in between her legs and a pair of your panties stuffed inside her mouth, perhaps you wouldn’t have cried. Perhaps… you wouldn’t have been embarrassed. Thing is, you didn’t know. So you didn’t kiss her hungrily after that, and you didn’t sit on her lap just to watch her get flustered like you always used used to. You kept your distance, respected her boundaries, and pretended to let it go. Small pecks, hand holding, and one kiss on the pulse of her neck — That’s how it went. 

₊˚⊹♡

You crossed your arms, and fixed your gaze on the yellow colored wall behind Dina. 

“We made out in Jesse’s bathroom” Ellie said quietly. That you did, right after Jesse’s birthday party, you needed to “Clean the bathroom” because “A girl threw up and made a mess”

Dina rolled her eyes, and turned to face her. 

“I asked about sex” 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, feeling her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. She wasn’t going to get this. 

“Don’t know why you need to know so bad” 

“I'm just... curious," Dina stated, her smirk growing wider as she looked in your direction.

“You two seem like freaks.”

Ellie bit her lip so hard it almost bled. She couldn’t look at you, too embarrassed to see the look on your face, so she looked at the ashtray, examining its sleek cover. Would you pout again? just like you did when she pulled your skirt down? will you look angry? sad? disappointed? 

“Cmon” Dina grumbled. 

“I wont judge —“

She glanced at you.

“Promise.” 

You looked at her like you wanted to shut her lips tightly together with a piece of tape. 

“It’s been kinda dry for me and I’m trying to live vicariously through my best fr—“ 

“We haven’t had sex yet.” Ellie blurted. 

The room fell silent. 

Ellie’s eyes were glued to the table. 

Why the fuck… would she say that? 

Dina cleared her throat, her gaze fixed firmly upon you. Her lips hinted at a grin, but she suppressed it, pressing them together into a straight line.

“Oh” Dina quietly said. Noted. 

Ellie shifted on the couch, and mumbled something you couldn’t hear under her breath. Could have been a “so nosy” or a “fuck off”, but alas, it was barely above a whisper. 

“Happy?” she murmured. 

“Just…” 

Dina flipped her hair to the side, brushing her fingers through the thick, black strands. If you sat any closer, you would have been able to smell her pistachio-almond shampoo. 

“Surprised” 

“Pass me the weed? I wanna roll another one” Ellie groaned. 

“I dont have any” 

Ellie ts’kd, attempting to divert the conversation everywhere but towards what had just happened. Avoid, avoid, avoid. 

You sat quietly, manipulating the stress ball, squeezing it so hard your knuckles almost strained. 

It’s not like Dina didn’t know everything about you, because she did. It wasn’t confessing to some clueless stranger, this was Dina. And still, it hurt. You knew she wouldn’t judge you, never. But you — you would judge you. And that was worse. And now, this wasn’t an unspoken thing anymore. It was out there, waiting to be pounced on. 

Maybe… maybe you needed that. 

“Fuck” Ellie huffed. 

The room fell silent again. It wasn’t the smoke that made the air feel thick anymore. 

“Can I ask…” 

Dina turned her body to squarely face Ellie. 

“Why?” 

“No," Ellie stated bluntly, her voice tinged with raspiness and hoarseness. 

“Was it like this with Cat too?” Dina asked. She always knew how to hit the fucking jackpot. Cat. 

“No, t’wasn’t” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Can you let it go?” 

This was a conversation about you, that you didn’t even participate in. Until you did, because you truly couldn’t help yourself. Was it you? Did Ellie just… Did Ellie just like Cat better? 

“Is it me?” Your voice was shaky, soft and quiet. 

She wanted to say no, Wanted to ask Dina to just let it fucking go. 

It was silent for a moment again, till it wasn’t. 

Ellie took a deep breath, slid off the couch slightly as the need to hide under it slowly overtook her. She crossed her arms.

"Yes"

You felt something turning in the pits of your stomach. 

“Oh” you whispered, god, that was painful. It was you. 

Dina’s mouth fell agape. 

“No— not like that” Ellie retreated. 

“No it’s… I get it. S’fine” 

There was nothing Ellie needed more than a punch in the gut to knock her out and a fat blunt intertwined between her fingers. 

“You don’t get it though” 

“Think I’m gonna…” You hastily started to look for everything you needed. Sunglasses, purse, keychain. You weren’t doing this. 

“Gonna go” 

“Hear her out, babe… Sit” Dina calmly suggested. It was as if she knew exactly what Ellie had in mind. It was you, but not like that. How could it ever be like that? 

“Just… Fuck” Ellie mumbled. 

“Cat — she didn’t… Can you sit down?” 

You stared at the floor. Maybe you should sit down.

“Okay how do I—“ Ellie began, scratching her head. 

“How do I explain this?” She looked at Dina. Yes, Dina knew. 

“Calmly, and with reason.” She squeezed Ellie’s bicep, followed up with a small, breathy “Fuck you” from Ellie. 

“Cat didn’t make me nervous like you fucking do, man— She didn’t make me rethink every single step I took and kissing her— Fuck” 

Silence again. 

“Kissing her didn’t make me feel like my legs were fucking wobbly or whatever.” 

“I dont wanna disappoint you.” The way it came out of her mouth, so real, and so raw… you looked… wide eyed. 

“Ellie…” you whispered. 

“Why would you disappoint me?” Gosh. Give her a little squeeze! 

“Because what if I don’t fucking know how— What if you don’t like the shit I do and what if you think I fucking suck and leave me and—“ 

“Can I say something?” Dina interrupted. 

“No, Dina” Ellie nudged her. 

“Ellie shut up, you’re rambling and it’s probably turning her off more th—“ 

“S’not turning me off” It was your turn to interrupt now. "You don't know how?" the brunette asked Ellie, with a teasing smile. Oh, she was making fun of her. Ellie barely picked up on that, too frustrated by her own thoughts running circles inside her foggy brain.

"I do know how— Just... fuck, Dina, just let it fucking go" 

“I can help.” Is all she said. Quiet, but confident. She could help.

“What?” you were stunned. Maybe she had a printed guide? A 101 on lesbian sex? 

Dina rolled her eyes and flashed her pearly whites. 

“Remember that time… when you slept over?” She had to stop herself from grinning again. Her tongue was bumping her cheek, like a naughty little chipmunk. 

“What time?” As if there weren’t dozens of those times. 

“That… Time” Dina tilted her head slightly.

“Don’t know what time youre—“ you rambled, soon to be cut off.

“Ellie—“ Dina turned around to face her, yet again. 

“I fingerblasted your girl” 

“What the f—“ Ellie blurted, and her mouth fell wide open. 

“Dina!” you yelled. 

“I’m just—“ She lifted her hands up in defense. 

“I wanna help because it clearly felt good and—“ 

“Are you on fucking drugs?!” Ellie blurted, and immediately stood up. 

“I mean we fucking smoked, Ellie” 

It was almost comical — how fast paced all of this… situation was.

The room felt silent again. How many more times could this happen? awkward silences, questioning looks. 

“I’m saying I wanna help you, El” 

“Let me show you” Dina’s voice was quiet. Genuine. Begging… almost? 

Ellie stared at the floor. And then at you — and then at the floor again. She could feel her hands grow clammy, and a droplet of sweat forming and flowing down her neck. Show her? why didn’t that make her feel nauseous? Why did she feel it in her fucking crotch?

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie shook her head.

“Only if it’s okay with you” Dina murmured softly, and gave you a warm, calming look. Comfort — Dina. 

“And with you.” She took Ellie’s trembling hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"I can show you just what I did." 

Ellie dropped her ass on the couch, and fuck — if her legs didn’t feel so fucking wobbly again maybe she would have stayed standing up. But she sat, her legs slightly parting. 

“Okay?” Dina quipped. 

Ellie gulped.

“I won’t steal her from you… I’ll be your… tutor?” Dina questioned, a sly smirk forming on her lips.

“Dina” You and Ellie said in unison. Ellie glanced at you. She felt ashamed, she felt sweaty, sickly, and too fucking turned on to move a muscle. 

“Let me take care of this” She sounded genuine. Like she truly wanted to help. No grin, no smirk, no attitude, just long eyelashes batting softly as the sun sank lower in the west.

“Okay?” she quipped softly.

“Okay”

Dina smiled so wide she had to bite her entire cheek to stop herself from fully crumpling down on the floor. 

You glanced at Ellie, then Ellie glanced at you. She still couldn’t… fully look, But this was something. A small agreement. 

“C’mere” Dina patted her thigh softly. 

It took you a moment, but you took up on her invitation. Hesitantly, you crawled slowly towards her. When you lifted yourself up in order to sit on her bare thigh, her purple thin linen shorts ending right where your ass met her leg, Ellie felt it in her guts. Her face twitched, maybe in jealousy, perhaps in confusion, but none of it mattered, since her clit throbbed inside her boxers. She didn’t know what was more painful, seeing you — sitting directly on your best friends thigh, getting felt up by someone else, or the aching of her own cunt.

“And I won’t kiss her if you don’t… want me too. Just show you, okay?” Dina whispered. Always so fucking attentive. 

“Mhm” Ellie hummed, as her mouth felt too dry to form any real, clear sentences. It was as if time stood completely still. She could stop this, she could. She doesn’t want to.

Meanwhile, you, you were trembling all over. It was almost too much — and nothing even happened yet. Dina's thighs were soft, and her scent tickled your nostrils. Vanilla, jasmine, almonds, and a hint weed. Her chest was firm as it brushed your back, two soft mounds caressing it. She let out a long breath that lingered on your neck, you hummed softly.

“Ellie… come closer” she whispered.

“Get on the floor… right between my thighs, okay?” It was the way she had said it, that got you. The way it came out to soft, so delicate, as if she was trying to comfort her, make her feel safe.

Ellie slowly crawled right where she needed her.

Dina bunched your skirt up just a tad, revealing a little bit of your upper thigh to Ellie. She sat directly in front, almost as if she was watching a movie, the bystander that she was. Her chest rose up and down. She’s never even seen that part of you yet. 

“This okay?” Dina whispered in your ear, her saccharine voice making your entire body shudder in response. 

A barely audible "Yeah..." slipped past your lips, barely more than a whisper, breathy and faint.

“Ellie?” Dina questioned, adverting her look to face the girl. 

“Have you seen it yet?” 

“N… no” she huffed. Her clammy hand formed in a fist, short nails digging crescent little moons on her palms. She hasn’t seen it. Of course she hasn’t. She’s barely seen anything.

“It’s so pretty” Dina teased, bumping her nose into the crook of your neck.

“She has a really pretty one” she whispered, and began slowly pecking your shoulders. 

“You gotta make sure you treat her good.” kiss. “Make sure she’s wet for you” kiss.

Ellie was breathing like she had run a marathon in the Sahara desert for 18 kilometers.

“Do you wanna maybe… Move her panties to the side?” 

Ellie gulped, you almost heard the fat glob of saliva slip down her throat. her mind almost went entirely blank. This could not, under any circumstances, possibly be real.

Another moment of silence. 

“No?” Dina questioned, running her fingernails down your thighs. She pinched one of them, pulling the fat between her fingers, making you jolt in her lap. 

“Yes” Ellie groaned. 

“Fuck I wanna—“ Fast paced, and needy. Slurring her words and trying to stop herself from fainting on the floor.

She jolted forward, practically leaping towards you.

“Do it…” Dina teased. 

Ellie’s hands were shaky, and her movements were agonizingly slow. As she brought her hand up your thigh, slightly tugging on your skirt, playing with the hem of it, you felt your mind melting completely off. You could only whimper in response. 

With an unsteady pull, your skirt was down. It stood pretty right above your feet.

“God” Ellie groaned at the sight. All she wanted to do, was lay her head on top of Dina’s thighs, as if they were two soft cushions, and stare till her mind completely liquefied.

“Did you pick them just for her?” Dina teased, taking both of your hands in her palms. You hummed in response.

“She’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she?” she looked towards Ellie. Ellie could barely make eye contact with Dina, let alone with you.

All she could do is moan softly in response.

“You can do it, El”

“F—ffuck off” she hissed.

She slowly moved the fabric to the side, and her eyes almost closed entirely shut when she unraveled your drooling, messy cunt. She could see the big wet spot on your panties, and all she wanted to do was suck the juices completely dry, clean them with her tongue until all that was left on the soft cotton thong was her own saliva. she wanted to digest you whole, taste the sweetness running down her throat, but all she could fucking do was pull them to the side, and let out an incredibly harsh breath— bordering on a grunt, almost a whimper. 

“Isn’t it so fucking pretty?” Dina cood, patting your pussy lips softly, each little pat making you buck your hips forward. She played with the sticky strings of slick that hung loose in the air.

Ellie ran her fingers through them, as if they were the strings of her guitar.

You — poor you, didn't even know where to look. 

All Ellie could do was hum, and stare like a tortured, bordering on perverted soul.

“Tell her” Dina commanded. 

“Tell her how pretty you think it is” she parted your puffy lips slightly, revealing the beautiful pearl that resided inside. The cool air, mixed with Ellie’s breath, so so close to where you needed her, made you shiver.

You thought you could come with just her looking into you, examining you as if you were some sort of art work, the most beautiful one she’s ever seen, with details carved by the Gods themselves, a pretty little button, a hole that clenched in and out— inviting her in, and lips like gentle curtains, soft and ethereal.

“Its so… fuck” She huffed. She could feel her mouth watering, the soft muscle hiding inside slowly grazing the top of her mouth. 

“So pretty” 

Before you could move and react to Ellie’s praise, Dina plunged a finger directly inside your greedy hole. Small, delicate, sheer little bubbles made perfectly round of your own juices formed on the tiny tip of her middle finger. 

“Ow fuck!”

Dina, quickly as ever, smeared them all over Ellie’s plump lips. 

Ellie fucking whimpered, and babbled about how good it tasted, and almost instinctively licked all of the gathered slickness that formed on her mouth. 

“Thats a good girl” Dina smirked, patting her fingers on Ellie's left cheek. 

“Dont fucking good girl me” Ellie hissed, almost falling to her knees when she heard the needy, long, high pitched moan that escaped your lips when Dina caressed your cunt again. 

“I see how it is” Dina nodded, grinning like the little minx that she is. 

“Tell her” She whispered. 

“Tell her how good she’s being for you then” 

Ellie gave Dina a questioning look, and stared at your hazed expression. You were wheezing, it was all so fucking much. Dina’s finger slipping in and out, Ellie staring and panting like a cat in heat, and the way Dina started slowly but surely, grinding your hips back and forth to meet Ellie’s hungry, desperate gaze was making you see a million galaxies every time you dared to close your eyes shut. 

“You’re being so good” Ellie whispered. 

“So good” she repeated. She was telling it to herself, now. 

Dina’s middle finger began forming slow circles on your clit, making you whimper out quiet sobs into her neck. 

“Look at her… I think she likes the circles”

She fastened her pace, making you cry softly.

“Tell her you like them”

“I li— I like the circles… God— yesss” you hiccuped, bucking your hips faster and harder towards Ellie’s face.

The way she looked at you, like she was absolutely ravenous, was inexplainable.

Ellie sat on her knees, legs slightly parted, both of her hands laying on the plush of your thighs. Forcefully, she parted them further apart.

She was utterly hypnotized by the way Dinas fingers pinched your swollen clit between her fingers, tugging at the little button. Every time she gave it a little slap, and stopped those agonizingly slow circles she was forming, almost as if she was creating something out of clay — Ellie noticed how your eyes completely shut, she noticed the juice leaking from your hole directly into your ass, making Dina’s thighs glimmer as the slick created a small, sheer puddle on her thighs. 

Ellie had to stop herself from taking her pants off and grinding on the fucking floor. 

“You like that baby?” Dina cood, plunging two fingers inside of your hole, pumping them in and out slowly. She made sure she was putting on a show for Ellie. 

“M’— oh fuckfuck” you babbled, feeling it jolt inside of your stomach. 

“You ready? Ellie? Touch her fucking clit” 

“I c—“ Ellie panted pathetically. 

“Make her come, c’mon, make her fucking come” Dinas voice was breathless and desperate. Somehow, she managed to keep it stern. She was in charge, for now.

Ellie’s fingers met your cunt, pinching your puffy outer lips together, her gaze fixed directly upon it, marveling in how louder you got when it was her who had her fingers caressing you. Dina made you feel good, sure, but it was Ellie who made the coil in your stomach tighten. It was her you craved. 

You needed her. 

“El—Mph— Ellie” You cried, as you felt her movements grow faster and faster. She wanted to drown herself in it, at last — her mouth was on you. She gave no warning, was she truly the student here? 

It was fervent, and warm, and the tight, pink muscle caressed you everywhere, from your clit, and then lapping up the juices gathering in your entrance, it all happened too fast. 

The thing is, she couldn’t help it anymore. 

“Put your—“ Dina breathlessly mumbled. 

“Put your finger inside when you eat her out” 

Her ears perked up, and she obliged. Ellie pumped them in and out, so long they almost grazed your cervix, over that one sweet spongey spot inside, rendering you almost unconscious. 

“Fuckkk” Ellie hissed, as she hungrily kissed your clit, sucking the sensitive little button in between her lips. 

“I wanna fucking—“ Ellie panted 

“Dont you dare keep your mouth off of her, Ellie —"

"You like when she does that?" Dina mumbled, gripping your tit with her left hand, her right one opening your puffy lips together to let Ellie's fingers slip inside easier, quickly pumping in and out like she was trying to win a race.

"I love it— oh god" you babbled. You were almost riding Ellie's entire face, your thighs clenching around her.

"Make her cum Ellie" Dina tugged the taller girls hair.

Oh, she fucking did. 

[crackedpumpkin]

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ

a/n: I can't find any other suitable danny gif, so this'll have to do 😔

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Hating Danny Fenton comes to you as naturally as breathing. Like how the world orbits around the sun, and how Amity Park is almost always overrun by ghosts, it’s simply just a way of life. 

That doesn’t mean that it makes it any less bearable to be around him though.

See, it wasn’t really your fault to begin with. Your parents are still on good terms with each other, but in reality, you hate his entire being to bits. The feeling’s mutual though, as clearly shown by the amount of times he’s screwed you over. 

It all started in preschool, when he’d pushed you off the playground swing set even though your turn wasn’t up yet. You’d fallen on your face, scratches and bruises littering your arms and legs. When you cried, he merely ignored you and continued to play around. 

There were plenty of other incidents too, ranging from kicking down your sandcastle and even swiping your crayons when you weren’t looking. Either way, all those situations had culminated into an instinctual dislike, fuelled even further when the both of you got paired up for a project.

“If you could just stop breathing for a minute, I’d be incredibly grateful.” He rolls his eyes at your snide remark, getting up from his seat to pour more water from a half-filled jug on his desk. 

“I would, but then again it’d mean all this precious air would go to waste on you,” he responds instantly, taking a sip of water. “And as someone who cares deeply about the Earth, I’d hate for you to continue being a waste of space.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Control your temper. This is not grounds to start a fight with him. You’re better than this. It’s only temporary, and this project will be over quicker than you can say ‘oyster’.

“Let’s just get this over and done with, Fenton. The faster we finish, the sooner we don’t have to see each other outside of school.” The project itself isn’t that difficult — you’d just have to interview some residents around the neighbourhood regarding the ghost sightings that’d been appearing more and more regularly as of late.

Initially, you’d been the first to force down your disdain for him and reach out, trying to schedule a day to try and finish the project. However, he always seemed to either leave you on read, or mysteriously disappear and reply only hours later. 

Finally, you’d cornered him at school and forced him to head back home with you, deciding to finish the project at his house so that your parents wouldn’t see him and invite him to stay for dinner. 

“What’s with the closet, anyway?” You ask, glancing at the drawers that seem to be practically bursting with clothes. Some spill over, and you’re pretty sure you spot a pair of worn socks that lay around somewhere.

“Oh, that?” He sits back down, barely sparing it a glance. “What’s wrong with it?” He picks up the pen and starts scribbling down survey questions. He pays no mind to the way you squint at him, scrutinising his irritation. 

Fine. You shrug. If he’s not going to at least try to be civil, then there’s no point in trying, is there? May as well just get what needs to be done, done. You open the slide deck on your laptop, figuring out a format. “We should ask around about this new guy, have you heard about him? ‘Inviso-Bill’ or something.”

“It’s not Inviso-Bill.” Danny’s sudden remark is filled with frustration, drawing your attention and surprise. “It’s not.” He adds after, sensing that he probably reacted a little too strongly. Refusing to look you in the eyes, he continues to scribble away. 

Weirdo.

You cross your arms. “Okay, what is he called then?” Silence fills the air. You spot the way his eyebrow twitches slightly, and the slight downturn of his lips. Even though you prefer to hate him, annoying him is far more enjoyable. “Inviso-Bill it is.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs through gritted teeth. “Let’s just get it done.”

“Fine. I’ll take the three houses on the next street, and you just do whatever.” Gathering the papers you’d consolidated ideas on during class, you get up and leave his room, ignoring the way his shoulders slump slightly. 

Passing by the kitchen, your steps slow at the entrance to the basement. It’d been a while since you saw Mr and Mrs Fenton, and your parents still try to arrange regular meetups with each other. The stairs leading down to the basement beckon to you, following the strange green glow downstairs.

Mr and Mrs Fenton stand near a metal gateway, stashing away metal appliances and what seems to be D.I.Y metal guns. You knew they were ghost hunters, but not how involved they were. The hesitation you feel doesn’t last long when Mrs Fenton spots you and calls out your name happily as she approaches you.

“It’s been so long since I last saw you! How’ve you been, dear?” Mrs Fenton grabs your shoulders tightly, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You laugh awkwardly, shoulders relaxing when she lets go. 

“I’ve been alright. Mom and Dad say hi.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner? You definitely should. I’ll let your parents know.” She decides unilaterally, whipping out her phone and sending a swift text before you can protest. 

“No, that’s okay! I mean, it’ll be late, so my parents won’t be able to pick me up.” You try to make an excuse, looking for a way to get out of this. If Danny found out about this, you’re pretty sure the hostility in your nonexistent relationship would surely worsen.

“Mom? Dad? What’re you doing here?” 

Speak of the devil.

“Danny, my boy! We were just chatting with her about having dinner together. After all, your mother did make lasagna earlier.” Mr Fenton greets his son cheerfully, stashing away a gun at the same time. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Danny’s gaze turns icy, directing it at you with every intention to get you to refuse. You can only shrug helplessly, gesturing to the text that’s clearly sent on his mother’s phone. 

“Oh, don’t be like that! After all, what’s a little dinner between a married couple?”

“WHAT?”

Both your reactions are immediate, eyes wide as you stare at his parents in disbelief. Your lips part, trying to think of what to say. “Mom, Dad, this isn’t funny,” Danny states, already looking nauseous at the mere thought.

“It’s not a joke. Don’t you both remember?” She looks between you two, tilting her head in innocent wonder.

“No? I think we’d remember getting married, of all things.” Bile rises in the back of your throat and you force it back down, trying to answer her calmly. 

“Same,” Mr Fenton looks at his wife in confusion, scratching the side of his head.

She chuckles, hitting her husband’s arm lightly. “Of course! Don’t you remember, Jack? They dressed up and everything, it was conducted at the playground. They even kissed each other! It was so cute. I’m sure we have a picture somewhere.”

“You do realise we were just kids, right?” 

“Obviously, Danny. But you should have seen the way you were all sulky and mean after she started spending more time with Tommy. You even destroyed her sandcastle that time!” Mrs Fenton points out, showing you both the video of young Danny kicking down the sandcastle you’d spent so much time working on in the sandpit. “I remember you crying after she got mad. I still have the card you made as an apology.”

You turn your head slowly, looking at a very visibly flustered Danny. “Mom, that never happened.” He denies it, cheeks tinted pink. “Neither did the ‘wedding’.” He uses air quotes, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, finding a reason to leave. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a project to work on.”

Bidding them goodbye, you follow him up the stairs into the living room where his materials are scattered about. “Did a hurricane go through here or something?” The tense atmosphere doesn’t dissipate, even with the snarky remark. 

He kneels down, picking up his papers. After a moment of hesitation, you kneel down and help him. One last piece of paper remains on the floor. As you go to pick it up, a cold hand lands right on top of yours. 

It’s an instinctive flinch, both of you tugging your hands back to your chests as if burned by hot coals. It’s not the most pleasant of sensations, but surprisingly not the worst. After the utter bomb of information that his parents have just dropped, it’s only normal that you’d both be rattled. 

“So,” You clear your throat, daring to pick up the last piece of paper regardless and standing back up. Stacking them together and handing them back to him, you draw it back as he reaches out to take it. “Where’s the card?”

He frowns, trying to grab the stack of papers you hold just out of his reach before giving up. “What card?” He asks reluctantly, though the glint of recognition in his eyes tips you off. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“The card. I deserve it, so hand it over.” 

“It was ages ago! I don’t even have it anymore.”

“I could always check with your mom.” You shrug innocently, watching his expressions morph from annoyance to frustration, and finally defeat. 

He storms over to a random drawer located right next to the television, pulling it open. He reaches in and pulls out a card that’s clearly decorated by someone with the art skill of a preschooler, handing it to you with a scowl. 

You exchange it with his stack of papers, taking it with a satisfied smile. “Why’s it even important to you anyway?” You hear him mumble under his breath. 

“Hey, I spent hours on that sandcastle you destroyed. I deserve to see you suffer, even if it’s just a little bit.” 

“It’s just a sandcastle,” He states plainly as if speaking to a child. You roll your eyes, glaring at him. 

“That sandcastle was going to be our fort, you idiot. I built it for us to play with. And those crayons you took away from me too? I was gonna use them to draw a birthday card for you.” Finally flipping open the card at his silence, warmth spreads across your cheeks as embarrassment creeps up your neck.

You’d gotten a little frustrated at his idiocy, but you didn’t actually intend to tell him about the true intentions behind both incidents. However, what you see in the card leaves you speechless.

‘Sorry’ is carefully written in your favourite colour on the top, albeit still messy. A drawing of a girl you assume to be you is holding hands with a blob whom you assume to be Danny. Both of you are smiling in the drawing, and a heart that’s coloured red is creatively placed in both figures. 

The pure innocence in it is touching. Plus, the card itself is still surprisingly clean and well-kept, like someone had purposely made sure it wasn’t stained in any way. “I never found the right time to give it to you.” Dany voices out quietly, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

A breath catches in your chest, looking at him with new understanding. A moment of silence passes, neither of you looking away. The fact that he’d kept it safe and cared for all this time tugs at your heartstrings. You break the stare first, looking back down at the card with a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot.” 

[remeberm3]

I wouldn’t hesitate | k.m

⎯⎯“if I had the chance to fall in love with you again, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

warings: a slight glimpse of angst but not really

The Mikaelson compound was quiet, save for the soft hum of classical music playing in the background. Klaus Mikaelson sat alone at the piano, his fingers ghosting over the keys as he played a melody he couldn’t quite name. The notes were haunting, aching, as if they carried the weight of centuries.

She stood in the doorway, watching him. It was rare to catch Klaus like this—unguarded, his usual arrogance stripped away, leaving only the man behind the monster. She didn’t call out or announce her presence; instead, she stepped quietly into the room, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor.

He didn’t stop playing. “I was wondering when you’d show yourself,” he said, his voice low, almost distant.

“How’d you know I was here?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

Klaus finally looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. They were softer than usual, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. Regret? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, it made her stomach twist.

“I always know,” he said simply, his lips curling into a faint, fleeting smile. “You have a way of sneaking into places you don’t belong.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I think I belong here just fine.”

“Do you?” he asked, tilting his head. His tone wasn’t mocking, but curious, almost searching.

She frowned, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “What’s going on with you, Klaus? You’ve been… off lately.”

He chuckled, though the sound lacked its usual bite. “Off. That’s one way of putting it.”

She sat on the edge of the piano bench, careful to leave some space between them. “What’s the other way?”

Klaus’s fingers stilled on the keys, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the faint echo of the last note he played.

“Do you ever wonder, love,” he began quietly, “if it’s possible to start over?”

The question caught her off guard. She blinked, studying his face. He wasn’t looking at her now; his gaze was fixed on the piano, as if the answer were hidden somewhere between the keys.

“Start over?” she echoed.

Klaus nodded slowly. “If you could erase the mistakes, the pain, the… darkness. If you could go back to the beginning, knowing everything you know now, would you make the same choices?”

She frowned. “Klaus, you’re not exactly the regretful type. What’s this really about?”

He finally turned to her, and the rawness in his expression took her breath away. “What if you had the chance to fall in love with someone again?” he asked softly. “Would you? Or would the weight of what they’d done be too much to bear?”

Her chest tightened. “Are you asking me?”

“Perhaps,” he said, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “Or perhaps I’m merely indulging in the luxury of hypotheticals.”

“Klaus,” she said, her voice softer now, “what are you trying to say?”

He leaned back, his hands leaving the piano entirely. “You once told me I was impossible. That I was incapable of change.”

She stiffened. “I—”

“You were right,” he interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. “I’ve spent centuries proving you right. I destroy everything I touch. Every relationship, every sliver of happiness—it all crumbles in my hands because of who I am. What I am.”

“That’s not true,” she said quickly.

“Isn’t it?” he countered, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, love—would you fall in love with me again, knowing what you know now? Knowing what I’ve done?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

This wasn’t the Klaus she knew. Not the arrogant, self-assured hybrid who could terrify an entire city with a single glance. This was a man unraveling, baring his soul in a way he never did. And she didn’t know what to say.

“I…” She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile.

Klaus laughed softly, bitterly. “An honest answer. I can’t say I blame you.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowing. “You’re being unfair.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Because you’re acting like this is all black and white. Like you’re either a saint or a monster, and there’s no in-between. But that’s not how it works, Klaus.”

He studied her, his expression unreadable. “Then how does it work, darling? Enlighten me.”

She sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “You’re complicated. You’ve done terrible things, yes, but you’ve also done good things. You’ve protected the people you love. You’ve fought for them, for this family, even when it would’ve been easier to walk away. That has to count for something.”

Klaus tilted his head, his eyes searching hers. “Does it?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady. “It does.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. “Then tell me, love. If I could start over—if I could undo the mistakes, prove to you that I could be better—would you let yourself love me again?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe that people could change, that Klaus could change. But she knew better than to give him an easy answer.

“Klaus,” she said carefully, “I don’t think you need to start over. I think you need to stop looking back.”

He frowned.

“You can’t undo the past,” she continued. “But you can choose what you do next. And if you really want to be better, then be better. Prove it—not to me, not to anyone else. To yourself.”

Klaus stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Wise words,” he said softly. “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she teased, though her voice was gentle.

Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. “You have a talent for infuriating me, love. And yet…”

“And yet?” she prompted, raising a brow.

He stood, stepping closer until he was towering over her. For a moment, she thought he might say something else—something vulnerable. But instead, he smirked, his usual arrogance slipping back into place like a mask.

“And yet, I find myself wondering what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice teasing but his eyes betraying a flicker of something deeper.

She rolled her eyes, standing to face him. “Well, lucky for you, you won’t have to find out. At least not tonight.”

Klaus chuckled, his smirk softening. “Lucky indeed.”

As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “if I had the chance to fall in love with you again, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. But when she turned to look at him, he was already sitting back at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys, playing that same haunting melody.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she slipped out of the room, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t quite name.

he's so cuteeee

[joe-leviari]

Simon Ghost Riley is annoyed.

" So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. " || Ghost listens in to you having sex ||

for adults only; NSFW; sexual themes; stalker!Ghost; smut; other COD characters briefly mentioned; backstory for main character; afab!reader x konig; no use of y/n; English is not my first language, feel free to privately message me to correct any mistakes.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, they need you. 

You being the highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire of a now nearly collapsed criminal enterprise, and the only one left alive with the intel that they need. 

But that’s alright, because, as it turns out, you need them. 

Them being the task force 141, the very same that has been sistematically dismantling the above mentioned criminal empire and hunting down the above mentioned highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire. Little-fucking-nuisance, according to Simon. 

So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, judging by the way Gaz has been telling you stories from his childhood, the way Price has been calling you silly nicknames through the crackling comms, and the way Soap has taken the habit to fully lean into you every time you show him something stupid on your phone, the only one who doesn’t really like you is Ghost himself. 

Not liking you is fine; that’s something he can deal with for the simple fact that he does not really have to deal with it. Disliking you is a mere subjective perception that he acknowledges in passing, almost distractingly, when he lays his eyes on you. The real problem is that he does not fucking trust you. Now that’s something he has to deal with; that’s HIS duty, that’s HIS team. 

Sure, you are constantly monitored, they are not stupid: you have lived most of your life like a criminal, surrounded by criminals. You have the resources, the knowledge, and fairly good reasons to fuck them over. That’s why you are never left alone and never trusted to carry any weapons unless strictly necessary. Your location is always traced, your heartbeat is polygraph-tested every time you have to be questioned.  The thing is, you were very well made aware of all this when you signed on the dotted line the day that Laswell came to see you in the prison’s infirmary. 

A few days later, there you were, with a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, getting yourself nice and comfy in the room down the hall. 

So it was for the sake of HIS team that Simon had to break into the room down the hall to carefully bug it. With a bit of patience, he will find something compromising that will force Laswell - who seemed to take a shine on you for whatever bloody reason - to send you back to prison. Or anywhere else, really, as long as you were out of sight. And with that, out of mind. 

Much to Ghost's annoyance, you moan differently than he expected. Simon assumed, definitely assumed, and NEVER fantasized that you would moan like a fucking pornstar. 

No, this… This is something entirely different. And now that it thinks about it, it is more like you. You have a wicked sweetness about you, the kind that makes men want to either break you or protect you. 

You have the cheekiness that gets you in trouble—the same one that gets you out of it. Ghost adjusts the ear buds in his ears and draws his eyebrows together. 

The man on you (behind you? Under you? Most definitely inside you) is babbling, grunting, and moaning, visceral and guttural. And you... You sound breathy and airy and wet and light. In a delicate voice, you are giving him directions, but you have to repeat yourself a few times before he snaps out of his daze and complies. And when he finally does, oh, you are all praise. 

How the fuck did he menage to get into your pants? And why, on God’s green earth, would you let him?

Ghost has witnessed you flirt before: sometimes you were just doing your job, other times you were having fun dancing with recruits in bars, flashing them a little smile with a pretty blush on your face. You were quick to throw them a bait and even quicker to retrieve it. “Don’t push your luck, soldier” you would say with an easy grin. Cheeky little thing. 

Simon would scoff at your antics and at the men and women who would fall for your little act. That’s why he is so surprised now, because with you, everything seems to be either an act or a transaction. I’ll give you what you need if you offer me something better first.

That’s what he thought you were doing with Konig when he caught you complimenting his skills and commenting on his strength. Just being smart, just trying to have one more ally. 

But the way you were panting, mewling, and pleading told him a different story. You could not be trusted. And now HIS team is in danger because you couldn’t keep your legs shut. Are your legs actually wide open? Are they on his shoulders? No, Ghost is not thinking about your legs. Instead, he is thinking that he wouldn’t need you to give him pointers on how to adjust the rhythm or how to angle himself to hit your sweet spot. With one hand on your mouth, he’d know exactly what to do to you. You wouldn’t need to say please and thank you; you wouldn’t need to be so polite. 

Simon is startled when you let out a sudden giggle, immediately followed by a whimper. You are confusing, half crying and half elated, half begging to stop and half begging to continue. It’s intimate—you sound so defenseless, so vulnerable. You are definitely not to be trusted. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, a little escapade with a fellow soldier is not enough to get you to fuck off somewhere else—somewhere far, far away from him. If that were to be enough, the base would be empty by now. He just has to be a little more patient and wait until he hears you say something compromising to the mercenary (or any other bastard that you’ll let into your bed, for that matter, a slut like you). Eventually you'll let something slip that will put the safety of the team at risk and thwart your credibility in the process.

Ghost is just going to have to endure more of this bullshit, and THAT is what annoys him the most. Not the fact that while listening to you, he is reminded of that one time when you dislocated your shoulder. He lets his focus drift to your moaning, desperately trying to conjure the memory of the way you turned your big, watery eyes on him, looking like a wounded animal. He can see it now; he can hear it now—the barely audible plea that escaped your lips, “Please, please don’t hurt me,"  as he was grabbing your arm and trying to fix you. It is only a pang in the pit of his stomach that snaps him out of it; he should not find the idea of you getting hurt so damn erotic. 

You little fucking nuisance.

[am-i-interrupting]

Can’t Go Back | Silco x Reader

Chapter 3 | Pushed Under the Waves

Summary: You had a long, complicated history with Silco before he became the Eye of Zaun. You thought you’d buried it a long time ago. It all starts to re-emerge from the ground when Vander dies and Powder is found in the hands of Silco.

Time felt like it passed by extremely fast and incredibly slow. Most days it felt like just yesterday that you were at the rubble where you found Vander and the boys. Yet it felt like it’d be forever before you saw Jinx (as she was insistent you call her even if it made your stomach curl) again.

It’d been eight months since you stopped fighting. You and Silco had founded a routine. Jinx was with him while you worked and vice versa. Most nights she stayed at The Drop but roughly a week or so worth of nights each month she’d stay with you.

She would curl up in the bed with Ekko after a long day of tinkering and toying and bickering and playing together, just being kids. Even if both of them had haunted looks in their eyes that wouldn’t go away.

Occasionally on those nights she would wake up and go to where you slept on the couch. She would grab your hand and pull you into the bedroom. You’d wrap your arms around her as you both laid down. Normally Ekko would stir at this and roll into your awaiting arms with her.

You cherished those nights.

Tonight, you were throwing yourself into work. At least, that’s what you had planned until Babette informed you, you had been bought out by one person for the night.

You went to the designated meeting spot that had been given. Some people didn’t like being separated from others with only a mere curtain, you could understand that. However, you couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“No,” you said simply as you turned to walk out immediately upon seeing who it was.

A hand grabbed your wrist and you jerked it away. You reared your hand back and punched him in the face.

He faltered for a moment. You went to continue your walk away but he was stubborn. He followed you. It wasn’t until you were out of the building though that he managed to grab you again. This time a tight grip around your forearm instead of a careful one.

“Have a smoke with me,” the velvet voice said. “That’s all I ask.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

You gave in too easily. You knew that. You reprimanded yourself for it. Still, you followed him to the edges of the water.

Another event flashed before your eyes instead of just the one today was the anniversary of.

Running. Adrenaline high. A vague ache in your torso and with each contact your feet had with the ground.

You had been desperate.

There was a slice that rang through the air as Silco cut a cigar. A nice click of his lighter as it opened.

You looked at him. His ocean eye on your side.

He held the cigar between his teeth as the light grew closer to the end of it. His other hand came up and curled around the flame. Slowly the end sparked with a red hue.

His lips pressed against the cigar as he inhaled. His right hand slipping the lighter back in his pocket. His pointer finger wrapped around the top as he used his others to stabilize it.

He drug it away from his mouth. His hand fell to his side for a moment as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt back. Then he carefully exhaled.

He took another puff before he handed it off to you.

“Where’s Jinx?” you asked as you plucked the cigar from him.

“Sedated,” he said causing you to pause, “she had a fit this morning when she realized what day it was. She kept hitting herself, throwing things, talking to her ghosts. I tried talking her down but nothing worked. Sevika brought the doctor in and he sedated her. Not my preferred method but whatever works, I suppose.”

“You should have gotten me.” You took a drag. “I know her better than all of you combined. I could have figured something out,” you said as smoke flooded out your mouth with your words.

“I thought of it but I was more concerned with making sure she didn’t hurt herself severely. Sevika disappeared as soon as the girl threw a knife at her. Came back twenty minutes later with the doctor in tow.”

Your own voice rang in your head from years ago. “She’s got good instincts.”

You said nothing in reply.

Your heart ached at the pain of your girl. You hated that she was going through this.

Thankfully, Ekko was doing much better. At least in comparison to throwing things and hurting himself. He’d requested that you give him his space but you knew where he was. He was at Benzo’s shop, rundown, ragged, and abandoned.

It was truly a miracle that in a years time someone hadn’t snatched it on up and claimed it as their own or that it’s managed to keep its walls free from addicts and those without any roof.

You wanted to buy it but some of your top buyers hadn’t been coming down. Scared shitless of being caught up in the fights. Only within the past month have some started to drip back down to the Lanes.

“Why are we here, Silco?” you asked.

“A man died here, years ago,” Silco began. “You need to let him go in order to move on with life. I’m not him anymore.”

You looked him in the eye. You felt your nostrils begin to sting as your eyes watered.

“I know.”

Silco took the last drag left in the cigar and flicked it into the water. The waves pulled it down until it was beneath the black.

He stepped forward. The water lapped at his shoes. He turned and extended a hand to you.

“He tried to find you,” you told him. “Vander was sorry.”

A bit of the coldness melted away. His arm slumped a bit. No longer straight and rigid but more relaxed. Still, it was reaching for you.

“No matter what he did to you and no matter what you did to him, he still loved you,” you said as you let your hand slip into his.

His hands were cold, long, and wrapped delicately around your own. Engulfing it in his icy touch.

“We tried to find you for months but you didn’t want to be found,” you continued on. “You didn’t even come to their funerals.

“All we wanted was to get to independence and peace but we’re not anywhere near close. How are you any closer to achieving that compared to Vander?”

He didn’t answer you.

You shoved his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t in his hold. “Huh?”

The water was up to your hips.

He didn’t reply.

“There’s been fighting and death and people are dying every day on the streets because of what you put in them! What’s the point? How does this help anyone? How does this make them—“ you gestured at the buildings in the distance— “respect us? All they’re seeing are animals fighting for scraps!

The water was above your chest now, reaching for your shoulders if the waves were strong enough.

He stopped. He turned to you and took both your hands in his. You held his gaze for a minute before you sighed. You let your head thump against his shoulder, uncaring that water lapped at your chin.

“How does this fix things because all I see are more problems,” you said, your voice going quiet.

“We tried to fight for our independence. We tried before and we failed. These are the trails to make our fight succeed,” Silco said. “There will be loss but this way we have subjects who are willing.”

“They’re addicted,” you corrected.

“Would you rather I kidnap people off the street?” he asked. “Pay them to? What money would go back into the trails if we gave it away just to test?”

“Did you even think about trying to strike a deal?” you asked.

“Our tongues are practiced in different forms, even combined, did they ever listen to us before? We need to scare them and if they want a war, we need to win.”

You let your weight fall against him. Felt his hands move to your elbows to adjust. His breath warmed your skin in comparison to the water.

You felt him slowly begin to pull you both down. You didn’t fight it.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked.

“If I wanted to, I would have done it when I killed Vander,” he said it with such ease.

A tear fell down your cheek. “How comforting.”

The water tickled your lips. You got half a second of warning to suck in a breath before you were under.

In the freezing waters, Silco was warm. You let your eyes close. Your head rested against his own. His hair tickled your face as the soft currents made it sway and dance.

You let your arms wrap around Silco’s middle. He hugged you back.

Together you stayed like that until the inevitable need to breathe befell the both of you. Silco’s foot kicked the bottom of the floor and brought the two of you to the surface, where standing upright the water was beneath you.

You didn’t let go for one moment, then two. You wanted to hold on, keep this moment of peace between you.

He let go first.

Your hands slowly went from his back to his shoulders and down his arms. You opened your eyes.

One sea foam green eye stared at you. The other a flame in the night.

He must have been wearing some kind of makeup because the skin around was blacked, almost necrotic.

He squeezed your elbows. His hands went down to yours. His fingers wrapped around your own. His thumb rubbed. He squeezed again. He walked away but didn’t let go until he was too far away to hold on.

You watched him leave.

You felt cold. The water was cold. The breeze was cold. Neither of those is what caused your feeling.

You stared at the water surrounding you. The waves clashing against each other. The current that tried to push through but went around you as it realized it couldn’t.

Your hands touched the surface. Ripples dispersed. The rings started off small. Then they stretched out as far as they could before they broke.

You breached the surface. Stood for a moment and simply felt. You felt the rush past your fingertips, tickling your skin.

Something slowly bubbled up inside you. It was warm.

You let yourself feel it, touch it, poke it, stoke it. It flared and quickly went from warm to hot to scorching.

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared. Your breathing quickened. You were struggling for air.

You slipped beneath the water once more. This time alone. The only source of heat coming from this feeling which overflowed, bubbling and boiling.

You let out an agonizing scream. Water filled your mouth, grimy and desolate. It aimed for your lungs. Going through your clenched teeth like breaking through a dam.

Breaching the water you coughed and heaved.

Your fingers went through your hair and pulled. You felt like you were being strangled. Like a frightened animal in a corner but with the anger of a beast protecting their pride.

You slammed your fists against the water and let another scream ripe through your lungs but this time it went through the air instead of the water.

Ekko didn’t question when you came into the apartment soaked. You didn’t question why his hands were covered in bandages.

In some weird way, you almost felt better.

There was so much going on. Fighting, bombs, guns, punches, yells, screams, struggles, death, life. All of it surrounded you.

Just moment ago you’d been aiming at enforcers. Now you were running. Tears in your eyes as your breathing came out in strangled puffs. You couldn’t keep it down. You couldn’t keep the air in.

You wiped at your tears. Scratched them off your skin.

A yell, his yell. You picked up the pace.

Distantly, oh so distantly you registered ache in your torso that went down and doubled with each contact your feet had with the ground.

But you were desperate.

You saw thrashing in the water. Above the waves one man, below the waves was the one you were more worried about.

Vander looked different. He looked murderous in way you’d never seen before. He looked dangerous in way that made you scared.

The man who’d only ever given you warmth and kindness was scaring you. He scared you here now more than the enforcers ever had.

His hands were wrapped around the neck of Silco beneath the water. He was thrashing and clawing. Every few seconds his hands would come up from the water.

You yelled out both their names but neither responded as you raced closer.

You heart dropped to your stomach when the thrashing stopped. If he could last a few seconds more.

Tears poorer down your face, heated streams of worry and grief. Just a few seconds more.

Vander’s breath left him and he stepped back in the water. Silco’s head bolted up from beneath. He scrambled to his feet. Vander tried to grab him, push him back down. A backward slash to his arm allowed Silco to get away.

The water soaked through your boots as you raised your hand and pointed your gun. This time not at enforcers but your friend.

Your head turned to watch Silco run. Blood tainted the water. It dripped down his face but his hand covered it as he ran.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” you said, voice far more steady and stern than you felt.

Vander took a step closer as Silco still ran. You squeezed your finger around the trigger. The bullet swirled past his head. A warning.

Your lips trembled.

“Don’t think I won’t!”

You readjusted your aim towards his chest.

Vander held his arm that leaked into the water and grunted. Looked at you, past you and then back again. He yelled through clenched teeth as he walked the other way. He picked up his mining gloves and back into the real fight he went.

You stood, staring at the water. It was a murky brown, tinged red with blood.

The reality of what happened sunk in and weighed on you heavier than an anchor.

Your gun fell from your hand. It misfired into the bloodstained river.

You stood for one, two, three, four seconds? Minutes? Hours?

At some point you just snapped into action and ran toward where Silco had. You were only able to follow his trail so far before the blood had been completed washed by the rain.

You collapsed at the end of the trail. The tears never stopped but they doubled down harder.

Fari, dead. Felicia, dead. Connol, dead. Vander, dead to you. Silco, gone.

Your head tilted down towards the pavement as your body curled in. Your hands went to your middle, clutched in fists where your heart was. Almost like if you tried hard enough you could rip your heart from your chest and take the pain with it.

Not once had you ever felt like this before in your life. You weren’t sure you would survive it. It hurt, throbbing a painful beat in your body. With every breath, every movement, every second the pain worsened.

You passed out in the alleyway.

You awoke to a hard pushing against your shoulder. Your eyes opened and you winced at the few scattered bits of sunlight the Lanes got. You rubbed at the sleep in your eyes and tried again. This time the world was less blurry.

Benzo.

“Come on,” he said, heaving you up. “The kids are worried about you.”

You let your head fall against his torso. His arm around you was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Right good scare you gave all of us,” he said with a forced laugh. “We were worried you’d have run off.”

He tried to lift the spirits. Bless him, he did try. However, there was no fixing this right now.

The Last Drop came into view and you stopped.

“Don’t let me see Vander,” you said, spitting out his name like a curse. “I don’t want to kill him in front of the kids.”

Benzo looked at you, worried and concerned. It took a moment for him to realize you were serious.

“Alright,” he said, “give me a second.”

He walked into the bar before you. You leaned against the wall beside the door. You felt numb. You felt heartless. You felt cold.

[yuutasprincess]

Day 3: Ghost Face

Word Count: 1.4k Warnings:  noncon, somnophilia, object insertion, I have never seen a single scream movie

“It’s like that bad horror movie- I’d survive. Trust me” 

The phone feels warm against your palm, its battery fully charged but still plugged in. You watch as the device threatens to overheat before finally deciding to unplug it. “If this is real and a killer shows up I think I’d just book it out of here.” a friend's voice, coming through the phone, sounds muffled with anxiety, and her paranoia starts to rub off on you.

Just last week, the two of you had indulged in a cheesy horror movie marathon, featuring a masked killer on a rampage. The title of the film escapes you, but at this moment, it seems trivial. The aftermath of that movie night lingers as you both discuss the unsettling news that's been floating around. It’s been all over your feed, you can't even mindlessly scroll through twitter without seeing it.

The headlines on every channel this Monday morning are abuzz with reports of a serial killer on the loose. The crimes, however, have occurred nowhere near your neighborhood, and none of the victims' names strike you as familiar or foreboding. It's October, for crying out loud—this is the season for attention-seekers and thrill-seekers to emerge. It's just another typical October where the youthful excitement of Halloween slowly fades into the background, overshadowed by the routine of daily life.

You roll over onto your back, your gaze fixating on the open window. The dimly lit street outside is somewhat eerie, as if it’s watching you. “You’ll be fine they’re nowhere near us, and if they do come to kill us don’t even think about leaving without me.” Laughter bubbles through the phone's speaker, a shared exasperation at the absurdity of the notion. The chances of a killer managing to escape the police and make their way to you specifically seems astronomically low.

With a quick exchange of goodnight wishes, you both hang up, but before you finally drift off to sleep, you spend another hour texting back and forth about the timing of it all. Your eyes are burning, and you're already so comfortable in bed, making it almost unbearable to get up and close the window. Whatever, you always sleep with it open. Nothing has ever come in anyway. 

Sleep comes easy, your back turned to the open window, and blankets drawn close to your chest. If you were awake now, you'd undoubtedly take back every nonchalant word you spoke earlier. 

A masked figure slips through your open first-floor window. The absurdity of the situation strikes them instantly — seriously, an open window? It's almost laughable. For a moment, they merely stand there, their gloved hands gripping the handle of a grimy knife, as they observe the steady rise and fall of your form. They inch closer, continue to watch as you sleep. Pretty girls like you should sleep with their windows tightly shut and doors locked.

The stained edge of the knife glides smoothly across your blanket, tracing the contours of your form. It follows the gentle dip of your covered waist, ascends to your hip, and then descends along your thigh. The thick sheet keeps you warm, but a sudden cold draft seeps in as your head sinks further into your pillow. In one swift motion, they yank the blanket from your form, revealing your Halloween pajama pants and the school sweatshirt you're wearing. Beneath their mask, a sinister smile forms as they take in the sight.

Their fingers delicately trace down your knee, then continue along your shin, the knife now resting lightly at your thigh while their free hand squeezes your ankle. It's a touch just firm enough to elicit a subtle twitch from your foot— you’re a deep sleeper. With firm hands, they grasp your hips and deftly roll you onto your back. The knife spins idly at the waistband of your pajama pants before slipping beneath the fabric and tugging upward, causing it to tear. It's a satisfying, controlled rip, not enough to expose you entirely, but a reminder that they could easily slice those pajamas away if they chose to do so.

You stir slightly, your chin tilting upward, and your lips parting to release a breath. You make a feeble attempt to roll over again, but they swiftly move you back into place. The knife now rests flat on your stomach, their hands gripping your pants to pull at the small tear, causing the sound of ripping seams to fill the room. The tearing continues all the way down to your mound, panties on display as they pull at the newly discovered clothing. 

Picking up the knife they hold the blade, rounded handle slipping between your thighs to press against your pussy. They move it up and back down slowly, tracing your labia through your panties until a damp spot can be seen in the dark. Pushing the knife against your entrance the fabric stretches, soaking further as they start to fuck you through your panties. 

It’s slow movement at first, barely dipping into your cunt but enough so your underwear rubs your clit until it’s harsh forceful thrusting. Your thighs try to close, eyebrows furrowing as they pant above you, mask amplifying their heavy breathing as they watch your panties stretch against the handle of the knife and sink into your hungry pussy. Free hand moving up to clamp against your mouth when you start to wake.

“Not a word or I’ll shove the other side of my knife in this slutty cunt.” Their voice is raspy, a whisper in the night but so loud in your ear that it sends tremors through your body. You’re disoriented, mind hazy with sleep but rushing to wake up as there’s a burning between your thighs. You groan into his hand, eyes struggling to stay open as the rough material of your underwear scratches your clit with each deep shove of the knife.

Pulling the blade away from your cunt they spin it in their hand, sharp edge at your collar as they rip your shirt clean off you. With a hand still over your mouth they rip up your clothes, pajamas a mess on the floor and panties torn to shreds, “Fuck, look at you.” Forcing your thighs apart they lay the knife between them, “Keep those legs spread or you’ll cut yourself.” Their laugh is sinister, makes your teeth clench as tears gather at the corner of your eyes. 

Gloved fingers skim your cunt, arousal sticking to the black fabric and they moan, loud. It feels disgustingly good, body betraying you as they force two fingers into your pussy and curl them up in a ‘come here’ motion. The dark eyes of the mask stare down at you, ghost face holding your gaze as they work another finger into you, forearm twisting so they can roll their thumb over your clit. 

You writhe under them, knees trying to close and knife pricking your thigh as a reminder. Their fingers leave you too fast, orgasm ruined as they pick up the blade and line up the handle with your hole, “Let’s see how well this messy cunt can take my favorite knife.” Chuckling deeply they bully the handle into you, air knocked out of your lungs at the stretch. You’re babbling under his hand, tears slipping down the side of your face as you whine. 

“If you’re good I’ll give you something bigger before killing you.” Their words make you choke back a cry, back arching as they destroy your insides with the handle of the knife, their hand wrapped around the actual blade as they pull out completely before sinking the whole thing back in. The noise makes your cringe, eyes rolling as you gush around a dirty knife that’s stained with blood.

Pulling their hand from your mouth they push their face to yours, mask obscuring your vision as they shove three fingers down your throat until you're gagging. “Don’t choke now, that mouth of yours has to clean my knife.” You gargle pathetically, eyes clamping shut as you cum around their blade, rough thrusts never ceasing until you're kicking at their hips and trying to slide your body up the bed away from them. 

They pull the knife out slowly, your pussy aching at the sudden emptiness. “Lick it clean.” Pulling their fingers away from your tongue and bringing them down to your spent cunt they shove the knife into your gasping mouth. They rub your clit in tight circles while you suck desperately at the cum coated knife, “If you do a good job I might keep you around.” Laughing over your whines, their hands leave you, weapon tossed onto your nightstand as they grip under your knees. “Fuck, I’m going to ruin you.”

That mask is all you see for the rest of the night through watery eyes, that Ghost face. 

[navia3000]

b r e a k u p s o n g s

Includes : Matteo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Berkshire, Theodore Nott

Genre : Angst

Warnings : No use of Y/N, mention of break ups, toxic situations A/N : It feels fairly obvious how sloppy I got toward the end of this but oh well. Let me know if you would like a part two!

Matteo Riddle :

“We go ‘round again

We jump back in bed

That’s what you do when you love somebody

These bad omens

I look right through them

That’s what you do when you love somebody”

A knock jolted her from her sleep. She knew instantly who was at her door. She knew why he was there. She knew she shouldn’t get up, she should go back to sleep. She knew nothing would come from her giving her precious time to him. She also knew she would never be able to sleep without knowing what he wanted to say, even if it broke her tattered heart for the millionth time.

And so, she arose from her bed and padded towards her door. She stood in front of it. Maybe he left. No, he knew her better than that. He knew she could never resist him. And so he knocked again. She opened the door less than a second after.

Matteo Riddle stood outside the threshold, fist raised as though he was going to knock again. They stood staring at each other for what felt like eons, neither daring to speak in fear that it would break whatever trance was keeping her from turning him away.

Their relationship started badly, and it ended badly. They were doomed from the start, cursed into an endless cycle of breaking up and making up. They were toxic, a poison meant to kill a person inside out.

She got tired of the silence, and all she could say was, “what do you want, Matteo?” She saw the surprise in his eyes; he didn’t expect her to be so blunt. But she had to be blunt. She had to keep a barrier between them to keep herself safe from his persuasions.

“Can I come in?” his question made her shake her head.

“Matteo, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep breaking up. And you can’t keep coming here.”

A flash of hurt flashed across Matteo’s eyes, “what do you mean, baby? I love you. I’ll change, I promise I’ll do better.”

“No, Matteo. That’s what you say each time and each time I believe you. You’re not ready for a healthy relationship, and that’s fine, but don’t drag me into it. Don’t keep leading me on and giving me hope when you don’t deserve it,” she started tearing up while she spoke, Matteo trying to cut her off.

“That’s not true-

“It is! I can’t keep being led on by you, no matter how much I love you. Let me move on. You should too.” She shut the door on him, simultaneously shutting down any hope the boy might have had of rectifying their relationship from the grave.

Tom Riddle :

“But you have more pieces of me

than the desert has sand

And I have less pieces of you

than I can hold in my hand”

Everybody warned her against dating him. They told her he loved no one but himself, that he would break her and leave her in the dust, and yet, she didn’t listen. She threw herself into the belief that he wasn’t like they said, that she could “fix” him. She wanted to believe he could change, that he could love her.

“Did you think this would last?” he had asked. “I don’t love you, I never had,” he had said. And even with his confirmation, she still held hope.

She still smiled at him when he walked by in the halls, she still sat next to him during breakfast, lunch, dinner. And he still walked by as though she were merely a ghost, still refused to acknowledge her presence when she sat with him.

Her friends constantly told her to face reality, told her what was honest. But, she still told herself what she wanted to hear, even though no one else would.

Their love was misaligned. She wanted him, he wanted nothing to do with her. She loved him, he loved that she hurt for him. She was a passing thought to him, whilst he was every thought of hers.

No matter how she pleaded and begged him, he would always shatter her heart into grains of sand.

Draco Malfoy :

“We fit perfectly like milk and honey

But some things don’t mix like

young love and old money”

“I can’t see you anymore,” those five words shattered her. She saw the castles she'd built with Draco crumbling to her feet, the rubble bruising her in the process.

"Why?" she questioned. She couldn't understand why he, the love of her life, was ending their relationship so abruptly. Everything was going well, they were both happy, so, again, she asked "why?"

"Because," he paused, and she watched as tears pooled in his grey eyes. "Because we can't be together."

"Says who?" she questioned. "Is this because of your parents? Are they making you do this?"

"Yes!" He blurted. He seemed relieved to tell the truth, but the relief was short lived.

"So, you're breaking up with me because your parents ask you to. Because you're not manly enough to stand up to them." Her breaths were coming out short, and she found herself digging her nails into her hands. Draco didn't react, he only stared, watching as she unraveled in front of him. "You talk of Potter, of him being a coward, but you lie to yourself. You're the coward, Dray! At least Harry stands up for the people he loves." Still he said nothing, the only sign of acknowledgement were the tears falling from his eyes. "You want to break up with me? Fine. But don't come crawling back once you realize how big of a mistake you're making."

Lorenzo Berkshire :

"We can't be friends But I'd like to just pretend You cling to your papers and pens Wait until you like me again"

"How was your day?" The question made the girl tear her head away from her Herbology homework and turn towards none other than Lorenzo Berkshire, the boy who broke her heart. She was confused as to why he was sitting here, in the library, with her, when only two weeks ago he was telling her they wanted different things and couldn't be together.

"It was good," she said hesitantly. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two.

"Mine was great. I was walking by the lake and thought I saw a mer-"

"What are you doing, Enzo?" She cut him off.

She watched as his face fell, and said, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you doing? You broke up with me two weeks ago and now you are acting as though nothing happened."

Lorenzo struggled to find words, his excuses flying out the window. He couldn't find the right thing to say, but he couldn't tell the truth. "I just thought we could be friends. I thought that-"

The sound of her book slamming shut shocked him into silence. "You can't do this to me, it's cruel. You know we cannot be friends. You broke my heart, Enzo. Why would you ever think I wanted to be friends with you?"

He knew she was right, which is why he let her walk out of the school's library.

Theodore Nott :

"I'm gonna kiss someone else Say 'it's not about you' Pretend I don't care, my arms aren't around you It hurts just a little, that I won't mention The things I would do just to get your attention"

Pansy watched as her friend danced with some random Ravenclaw boy, her knowing the only reason her friend was even giving him the light of day.

The girl smiled her fake smiles, and pretended as though she was having the time of her life. When, in reality, she was trying to catch the attention of a certain Slytherin. She saw Theodore Nott leaning against a wall out of the corner of her eye. His indifference only made her grind against the Ravenclaw harder. All she wanted was to catch his eye. She wanted him to care.

She turned her head, pressing her lips onto her dance partner's. They kissed for a while, breaking apart for a breath. Her eyes moved themselves to the boy who holds her heart, and her heart broke in his hands as she watched him talk up some Gryffindor girl.

Pansy saw her friend's whole interaction, and rushed to save her. They left the party together, her friend balling next to her. They made it to their dorm, the broken girl falling to the floor in tears. "It's alright," Pansy cooed, "it will be okay."

"No, it's not okay," the girl sobbed. "I just want him to notice. I want him to... I want him to hurt the way I hurt."

Pansy felt bad for her friend, for she knew her best friend would never get the attention of the cold Theodore Nott.

[acupofinkedblood]

Katana x reader [NSFW]

TW: NSFW headcanons

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• Ah, the ronin of Thieves Den. You really have quiet the fascination with traumatized old man, don’t you? But hey, regardless of that, you know what you are signed up for. Like Hyperlaser, Katana doesn’t really into the concept of dominance or submissive, and he is neither due to that. And don’t even think this man is a bottom, he is a hard top and there is no room for negotiation in this situation

• Like you have expected, sex with Katana is being treated with intimacy and affection. He treasures every moment with you, including this when both of you are at most vulnerable. You are his everything, his home and his beloved. Every touch ghosts against your skin, he will make sure that it will bring you satisfaction. It fits more to the ‘make love’ category than just ‘sex’, if you understand what I mean

• One highlight is that he has to make sure that you can take him first. I’m not even playing, you are aware that this man is 6'8" and is rather ruggedly toned because of constant training as well as fighting, right? Very few mere mortal is able to reach that height of his, and we don’t need to talk about strength because the answer is pretty obvious at this point. Mentally prepared yourself for whatever comes next, that’s all I have to advise you under that circumstance

• Despite his intimidating appearance, you know how gentle this man is around you. Same principle applies when he is making love with you. He won’t be rough, even when you ask him to. Doesn’t matter if you are positive that you can take it or not, Katana is aware of the difference in your strength compared to his, and physique as well. He doesn’t wish to hurt you. But honestly, even when he is being gentle, you are always such a spent mess afterwards

• Your comfort matters a lots to him. He won’t rush you, keep that in mind. Whatever you have in mind, he wants to hear it. You don’t have to feel shy around him in this specific moment. Vocalizing your opinions, he appreciates your truthfulness

• Be ready to be showered with praises because this man will make sure that you are aware of how much you meant to him. He will tell you how well you are doing, how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. Sometimes it’s just so overwhelming at how much he compliments you up and down, he definitely has a way with his words when it comes to you that can fluster you easily

• He doesn’t really have any specific ideas on what he wants while at it, but there is something about your touch that intrigues him. The way your hand gently brushes on his body, tracing his scars with awe, it sends a shiver down to his spine. Don’t be surprised when he suddenly hold your hand and kiss it, he can’t help himself. It reminds him how much you have been able to gain his trust, enough to see him bare like this. Your touch is welcome anywhere

• One note, this man has his own belief. He is outspoken about what he thinks, especially when it involves you. He will even disagree with you for your own sake when he figures out something is wrong. You can’t really argue with him in that aspect, sorry about that sweetheart. If your ideas sound too risky, you know that he won’t agree with it

• That is to say, he’s not the type to take risk. At least, not with you. He values you too much to the point that the thought of you getting hurt because of him makes him uneasy. He prefers to keep things at bay, enough to satisfy the both of you but also enough not to push any of you to discomfort. Like I mentioned earlier, you matter to him a lots

• Once they two have finished, his top priority is to treat you with care. You need not to worry about a single thing with him around, just leave it all to him. Though he can be quite worrisome when seeing you that spent so you gotta reassure him that everything is still fine. On that note, get him to lie down with you and snuggle up against his chest. His body is naturally warm most of the time and it can help you relax quite a lots

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