#When the Darkness Comes

[drondskaath]

Ieschure | When the Darkness Comes | 2024

Ukrainian Atmospheric Black Metal

Artwork by S Mortem

[soleilceirinen]

When the darkness comes | Tommy Shelby x shadowhunter!Reader - Part 3

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster. A/N: English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes! Warning: nothing. Part 2

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Following Thomas around wasn’t giving you any extra information, he seemed to be nothing more than a mundane man. Given that your encounter in the alley had been a bit awkward, to call it something, it was time to take action and step into his life. 

You got up and dressed nicely in your regular clothes, no shadowhunter gear this time. It was important to appear normal, you thought, as you grabbed your coat and stepped into the foggy street. 

The Shelby Company Limited building raised in front of you, the view wasn’t any special. You took the opportunity to straighten a lock of hair and make sure that your weapons were well hidden under your dress. With your best smile, you entered the building, heading to Thomas’s office. It wasn’t difficult to find, he was the owner after all. 

A dark haired woman who might be his secretary looked up at you as you stood in front of her desk. 

“I want to see Mr. Shelby,” you said, smiling politely. 

She looked you over from head to toe and rolled her eyes. It made you feel a bit insulted but you tried to ignore it. 

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked reluctantly, perhaps a bit annoyed, as if she already knew the answer. Or as if this weren’t the first time that an unknown woman came to see her boss unannounced. 

You ran a finger across the wooden surface of the desk. “No,” you admitted, looking down. "But I'm sure Mr. Shelby will make an exception for me.”

“Sorry but I can't let you see him without an appointment. Mr. Shelby is busy, he probably won't be back for several hours. I can see if he has any free appointments next week…”

“No, thank you”, you cut her mid sentence and turned around to leave. The skirt of your dress fluttered gracefully as you left under her narrow eyed stare. 

Of course it couldn’t be that easy. 

Once outside in the street, you looked for a quiet and hidden place. The first empty alley would work perfectly. You searched in your purse until you found your stele and rolled up the sleeve of your coat. After making sure that no one was watching, you drew a glamour on your forearm. The burning sensation was quite comforting.

Without hesitation, you resumed your way to the building with the difference that this time no one turned their heads to stare at you. 

You walked past the secretary's desk without her noticing your presence, as expected, and carefully turned the doorknob to Thomas's office. It was closed. With a sigh, you took out the stele again and drew a mark on the door surface. Immediately, the lock gave way under your hand. Carefully, you opened it enough to get in without drawing the secretary's attention. 

Then, you drew a mark on the door again, closing it, as if nothing had happened. 

The office was empty. 

You inspected every surface, the room was richly decorated. Since you had no idea of how long it would take Thomas to come, you took your time exploring every corner until you finally took a seat in the chair behind the dark wooden desk, placing your coat on the side. You took off your glamour and looked through the mess of papers scattered in front of you, business, business, nothing incriminatory. 

But it made you smile, the chaos on the desk reminded you of your own mess in your small apartment. At least you had something in common with that man. Given that you didn’t find anything interesting that could help to clarify any of your research, you leaned back, making yourself comfortable, prepared to wait. 

After a while, you heard the secretary's voice greeting Thomas, as well as his deeper voice. You bit your lip expectantly as he inserted the key into the lock and entered the office, without noticing your presence at first. You watched him hang his dark wool coat on the rack, completely unaware. 

“Good morning, Mr. Shelby,” you greeted cheerfully.

He jumped and turned to look at you with his blue eyes wide open. Within seconds, his gun was pointed at you. 

It made you frown.

"Really?" you complained, clicking your tongue. "Why do you have to point that thing at me every time we see each other? I already told you it's not polite, Mr. Shelby. I don't like it at all.” 

Thomas stared at you in disbelief. He lowered the gun and ran a hand over his face, looking exhausted. “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged. “I just want to talk with you and make something clear.”

He stood by the bottles and poured himself a glass of what seemed to be whiskey. Slowly, you got up, making sure that he was watching every move of your body. In fact, his blue eyes wandered over your figure shamelessly. 

Thomas got closer to the desk, walking around it until he sat behind, feeling the warmth you had left on the chair. So you must be real after all, he thought, still watching you. 

On your behalf, you hadn’t moved. You sat on his desk crossing one leg over the other, letting the hem of your dress rise up a little more than what would be decorous for a lady. But you were no regular lady. 

You stretched your arm, showing him your dominant hand, more specifically, the back of it. Thomas grabbed it as if by instinct, it seemed that he was going to kiss it but he just held your hand in his, still frowning as he scrutinised your face. His hand was warm and wide, calloused too, and his grasp was firm. Almost as if he were trying to make sure that you were made out of flesh and bone, not some sort of illusion created by his mind. 

“I’d like to try something. What do you see, Mr. Shelby?” you asked, pointing to your hand with your eyes. He followed your gaze as he caressed your fingers absentmindedly. There was your first mark, as well as every other Shadowhunter’s first rune, like black ink in the shape of an eye. The Voyance rune. It helped seeing the Downworld. 

After a few seconds in silence, his eyes grew wider and he cleared his throat. “It’s the tattoo of an eye”, he muttered, stroking the black rune with his thumb. You stared at his face in order to find any sort of recognition but there was none. 

You caressed the pale skin of his wrist with your fingertips. “Don’t you know what it means?”

Thomas shook his head, not letting your hand go. Again, it was as if just by holding it in his bigger one, it could make him believe that you were real.  

“I don’t even know what all this means” he said, gesturing at you with his free hand. “Am I losing my mind?”

His words made you sigh sympathetically. “No, you’re not.” 

You leaned forward, stopping a few centimetres away from his face. Being so close, you could smell the whiskey he was drinking and the faint scent of cigarettes. His blue eyes fell on your lips for a second before jumping away. 

“Are you even real or just a demon on a mission to torture me?” he asked, barely audibly. You smiled and caressed his lips with yours before leaning back, resting a hand on the desk behind you.

“I’m no demon Mr. Shelby. Quite the opposite, the blood of the angel Raziel runs through my veins” you confessed. He seemed puzzled, like someone who is not understanding a single word. “A Nephilim, a demon hunter. And this is not a tattoo, it is a mark which helps me fight. Well, it’s more complex than that but for now I think that’s enough for you Mr. Shelby. I have more though” you said, pulling the hem of your dress up. 

You placed your stretched leg on his lap and immediately he traced the intricate shapes intertwined all over your skin, some were as black as the night, those were the most recent ones, while others were starting to fade away and some remained like old scars, almost invisible on your skin. 

As his hand wandered over your leg, he noticed the muscles under the fascinating shapes of the runes, the same way that he had noticed your scarred knuckles and your callous hands. Definitely, you were no ordinary person, at least not like anyone else he had met before.

His hand started moving up your thigh but you grabbed his wrist with a strength that surprised him, stopping him from reaching up any further. A couple of centimetres more and he’ll touch the dagger that you kept attached to your leg just in case. You didn’t want him finding it out and thinking that you were planning to kill him or something, which would probably lead to him pointing that stupid gun at your face once again. 

“So you are an angel then” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. He was now touching your calf, it felt good to have someone, even a stranger like him, touching you like that.  

You shook your head. “Not exactly, a Nephilim. That’s what I am” you repeated, tilting your head to the side. “What about you?”

Thomas gave you a questioning look and lit a cigarette. He smoked in silence and you observed him. He was something to see, this close. It made you feel something funny in your belly. Focus, you reminded yourself. A dear friend of yours, a warlock named Magnus Bane, had told you once that blue eyes and dark hair were the most perfect combination, or something like that. You couldn’t remember his exact words but right now, you couldn’t agree more. 

“What do you mean?” he finally said. 

“Are you a mundane? What can you tell me about your parents, Mr. Shelby? Did you meet them?” 

He let out a cloud of smoke and shrugged, looking down. “I met them, yeah. There’s nothing to tell, they’re dead.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that” you whispered softly. He nodded without looking at you and squeezed his eyes with his hand. 

“It’s alright,” he said. 

What he didn’t tell you was that his mother used to see things, and that she ended up drowning herself. Now he was seeing things too and the idea of losing his mind was frightening him. He needed to stay clear, for the family, for the business. He shook his head and sighed. 

The door opened abruptly, hitting the wall. All the sudden noise was accompanied by strong footsteps. 

“Tommy! We have a problem with the ships, we need you down there… Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were busy”

You recognised that voice. It was Thomas’s brother, Arthur. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder while taking your leg out of Thomas's hands, pulling your dress down and pretending to be ashamed by the interruption. Arthur had a big smile on his face, he reminded you of a kid who knows that he shouldn’t be laughing but still finds the situation amusing. 

“I’m not busy, Arthur. Tell me, what is it?” Thomas changed his position in the chair, completely ignoring your presence. As if you weren’t there at all. As if he couldn’t feel the warmth irradiating from your body or smell your sweet scent.  

Arthur made a dismissive gesture with his hand, still smiling. “Don’t worry Tommy. We’ll take care of it later, it wasn’t that important.”

Thomas noticed Arthur’s eyes on you and frowned. You bit your lip, trying to hide your amusement.  

“Something else, Arthur?” 

He seemed to doubt. “Uh, no, I’ll let you two alone.” Arthur turned around and left the office, closing the door behind him. 

Slowly, Thomas turned to you. “Did he see you?”

You nodded patiently. He frowned even harder than before, grabbing his head with both hands. “I don’t understand it. How? I thought I was the only one, that they couldn’t see you.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder. The poor man was almost having a meltdown. “Because I am a Nephilim and I can use marks to make myself invisible. Regular mundanes can’t see me but some have the Sight, they can see the Downworld” you explained quietly, moving your hand up his neck. “I’m not wearing a glamour right now, that’s the name of the mark that makes us invisible, that’s why he saw me.”

He remained in silence, with his face buried in his hands. 

“You said that your aunt could see spirits,” you recalled and he nodded. “Do you know if she can see something else? Has she ever told you stories…?”

Thomas let out a bitter laugh. “Those are just superstitions, gypsy stories.”

You got up from the desk and grabbed your coat, taking a few steps away. “But Mr. Shelby… Don’t you know that all stories are true?”

He stared at you with a softer expression. “Tommy,” he said. It took you a second to realise that he was telling you his name. 

“Y/N,” you said, smiling widely. “I’ll see you around, Tommy.”

Turning around, you headed out of his office. When his secretary saw you she seemed taken aback, a puzzle expression replacing her previous annoyed one, clearly not understanding when or how you got into Thomas’s office.

“Have a nice day” you told her as you passed by her desk.

[meg-noel-art]

Had the honor of drawing Untalla and (hair down) Silga for @mehoymalloy and their fic which can be read here. Give it a look, it’s a wonderful and creative fic:

‘When the Darkness Comes’

[dijidweeeb]

Jeris Johnson - When the Darkness Comes [Official Music Video] (2023)

[septemberkisses]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[mermaidinthecity]

When The Darkness Comes by Colbie Caillat

[eldritch-elrics]

obsessed with the april fools day joke from the another crab's treasure devs

[bruciemilf]

Something something violence has always been the primary love language for Waynes, something something.

It breaks me that Bruce loves Jason so deeply, and Jason is so completely unaware of it. He comes to the conclusion that love is religion. You have to see to believe.

I’m just thinking about Jason watching evidence of how wrecked Bruce is after his death. He stalks Batman, always, tracks down every movement and breath. He waits for the perfect moment to shoot.

Your father only dies once, after all.

That moment, mysteriously, doesn’t come.

Jason’s never been scared of Bruce. Fear, to him, is darkness and cold and a bleach white face laughing at him. Fear of Bruce not being there at all. That’s fear.

I need a scene where Jason, — Red Hood, — watches Batman pin down a mugger.

He doesn’t know what that man says. Something about getting on him for not being there when Wayne’s boy got killed.

He’s never been scared of Bruce.

But when he punches that man, over and over and over, when his throat makes those horrible sounds of gasping effort, animal and feral, he’s afraid. Afraid Bruce won’t stop.

He’s about to jump in when another, smaller pair of feet runs up to the scene and Jesus Christ that’s a kid — A kid wearing Jason’s old uniform. Wrapping his arms around Batman’s and clinging.

The man on the ground is motionless. If he didn’t blink, Jason wouldn’t know there was a face anymore.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part is Bruce crying. Gasping, punched out noises, his hands drenched with red, squeezing the kid so close to him.

“My baby. Oh my baby.”

[the-life--after]

When The Darkness Comes - Jeris Johnson

[lieu-rey]

first meeting

[akanemnon]

Wow, not even 5 seconds in and they're already starting a fight.

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[soleilceirinen]

When the darkness comes | Tommy Shelby x Shadowhunter!Reader - Part 4

Summary: you are a shadowhunter investigating the sudden rise of yin fen in the Downworld, the trail leads you to Small Heath and a blue eyed gangster.

A/N: I'm not sure about how this part turned out. Anyway, thanks for reading it. English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Warning: nothing.

Part 3 - Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Usually, patrolling the streets was boring. Not tonight. You had been following the trail of a ravener demon for about half an hour without it noticing. It was the first demon you had encountered in Small Heath since your arrival. 

Luckily, it was a minor one and not very smart. Its disgusting appearance, a mix between a centipede and crocodile with some scorpion parts, made your stomach turn. Sometimes these kinds of demons were used to follow someone or to keep an eye on something. 

That’s why you weren’t surprised when the ravener moved around all the places that were clearly Shelby territory. More specifically, the parts of Small Heath dedicated to their non legitimate businesses. So, without any doubts, the demon had something to do with the yin fen.

However, you didn't think it was directly related to the Shelbys. 

That is, someone external, maybe the one responsible for sending them the drug so that they could distribute it throughout England and export it to America, was the one controlling the ravener. It could be a warlock’s work. Also, there were probably more than one demon, although you hadn’t seen others, which could be a problem if they decided to attack you in group. 

Tired of walking around the city among piles of garbage and puddles from the same place to the next, you took out of your coat one of your seraph blades and got ready to finish off the ravener.

“Uriel,” you said out loud, giving a name to the blade. Instantly, it lit up, filled with angelic power as it brought light into the darkness.

At that moment, the demon noticed your presence. You already knew that the poor thing wasn’t very clever. It lunged at you with quick movements, trying to reach you with its disgusting insect-like legs. You moved faster thanks to a heightened speed rune. The seraph blade traced luminous arcs through the fog as well as the ravener’s body.

With a screech and a gush of dark ichor, the demon disappeared. They didn’t die, instead, they returned to their own dimension. You observed the light from the blade fading away, it was covered in ichor and it was starting to corrode so you dropped it, no longer useful. At least the ravener’s blood hadn’t splash all over yourself or your clothes. 

You scrunch your nose for a moment, looking around. There were no signs of more demons but the night was still long until dawn. With a sight, you closed your coat to protect yourself from the cold wind and continued patrolling. 

A couple hours later, you headed to The Garrison. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt. 

The warmth of the pub welcomed you like a hug. You appreciated the cosy atmosphere, despite the noise of the drunk customers laughing and talking. So you headed to the bar, where you sat in one of the seats and rested your head on your hand. 

After a while, you felt the presence of someone next to you, so close that their arm was brushing against yours. Slowly, you turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes, blinking lazily. “Good night, Tommy.”

He nodded, watching you closely. “Long night?”

You nodded back. "You have no idea. By the way, I'm not following you, in case you were wondering. I just wanted to get something to drink," you said quietly.

Tommy chuckled and turned to the bartender. He ordered a couple of bottles and glasses before turning to you, placing his hand on your lower back. "Come with me, we can talk in a quieter place." 

Without removing his hand from your back, he guided you to the private room at the side of the pub. After closing the doors behind him, the noise was muffled and distant. You took off your coat and sat down on one of the seats, resting your head against the wall. Tommy sat by your side, watching you like someone does with an exotic animal. He lit a cigarette and started smoking in silence.

The small window opened, revealing the bartender with Tommy’s order. He got up to pick it up and left it on the table. Your eyes followed him, too tired to move.

"I'd like you to try something," he said, pouring a clear liquid into one of the glasses and setting it down in front of you. 

You grabbed the glass and brought it to your face, smelling the contents. "What is it?"

“Try it,” he replied, leaning back in the chair, never taking his eyes off your face. At your expression of rejection, Tommy rolled his eyes and took the glass from your grasp, brushing his fingers against yours and drinking it in one gulp. “It isn’t poisoned, see? I just want you to try it and give me your honest opinion.”

You had learned the hard way not to drink or eat things offered by strangers, more specifically if those strangers were fairies. One could never trust them. However, you had already ruled out the possibility of Tommy being a fairy, right?

"Okay, I'll try it."

Tommy poured another glass and slid it in front of you. You took a small sip and hummed softly.

"Well?" he asked, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray.

You shrugged. "It's sweet, I suppose," you said unconvinced. "I don't drink regularly, so I don't know. It's not bad." 

"Not bad..." he murmured.

You grabbed the bottle and turned it in your hands, looking at the label. "Gin," you read aloud, "distilled for the eradication of the seemingly incurable sadness... Shelby Company Limited, it’s your own gin?" 

"It's part of the business," he explained as he sipped his whiskey.

As you finished the contents of your drink, a sudden wave of warmth spread through your chest, so you rolled up your shirt sleeves. That night you had discarded your shadowhunter gear and had decided to wear a simple white shirt and trousers. You loved wearing pants, it made fighting much easier than a dress or a skirt. 

Actually, from a distance you could pass for a boy or a young man. If you had worn one of those peaked cups, you could infiltrate among the Peaky Blinders and they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Up close you couldn’t fool anybody. Tommy was delighted in the way the pants hugged your waist as well as the dark runes spread throughout your body, barely visible through the thin fabric of your shirt. 

"Do you like horses?" he asked suddenly.

You watched him with a raised eyebrow and nodded slowly, finding the question quite odd. "When I was little and lived in Idris, we had a horse. I used to ride all the time, it made me feel like Boudica. Why do you ask?"

Tommy shrugged. "Have you ever been to the races?"

After seeing you shake your head, he slapped the table cheerfully. He seemed to be in a good mood. "Tomorrow I'll take you to the races. Wear something nice."

“Alright,” you agreed, laughing softly at his enthusiasm.

He sat closer to you, throwing an arm over the back of your seat. You suppressed a smile, men were so easy to read sometimes.

"So, you don’t ride anymore?" he asked after a while. The tips of his fingers began to brush against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You heaved a long sigh. "No. Unfortunately, I had to move to London a few years ago and it's not the same. In Idris I used to live in the countryside,  where I could ride freely, here I feel like I'm in a cage. Everything is grey, smokey and smells bad."

Tommy laughed. "I don't really understand what you mean about Idris but it sounds like a  good place. What made you come to London?"

You looked into his eyes, he seemed genuinely interested. Still, you looked away, focusing your attention on your hands.

"I'm a Nephilim, remember? A Shadowhunter," you saw Tommy nod out of the corner of your eye, "although we're all over the world, because there are demons everywhere, our home country is called Idris."

“I’ve never heard of it,” he commented, sitting a little closer to you.

"Of course, because it is non-existent for mundanes. It is located between Germany, France and Switzerland. Mundanes cannot access it, it is our sanctuary," you explained. "Years ago my parents were sent on a mission, it seemed like something routine and simple but they were ambushed and it didn't end well. They..."

Finishing the sentence wasn’t necessary because Tommy had understood. He squeezed your shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  

You looked at him with a frown. "Don't be sorry, that’s how life works. We are warriors, we must fulfil what has been entrusted to us since our creation, keep the Earth free of demons. Most Shadowhunters die young, that's how it is. We have been trained for it since we were children."

Tommy seemed surprised at the sudden vehemence of your words. Out of the blue, your face had become a hard facade, lacking the typical sparkle of amusement in your eyes. Instead, it seemed to have been replaced by a layer of grief and resignation. 

"They sent me to the London Institute to finish my training there and I stayed. I had nothing to return to in Idris," you said with a sad smile on your lips.

He closed the little space that separated him from you and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes, tasting tobacco and whiskey. Then, you reached up and placed your hand on the back of his neck, where his hair was so short that it was barely there. Tommy grabbed your waist, pushing his tongue deeper in your mouth.

As you began to feel your crotch getting wet, you pulled away from him with a soft whimper and held his sharp jaw in your hand. “At what time will we meet tomorrow?" you asked in a whisper.

“Meet you here at five,” he muttered, staring at your lips hungrily. You released him, connecting your mouths again. 

An overwhelming feeling started to grow inside of your chest, so you got rid of his hands on your waist and stood up with fluid movements. You grabbed your coat and leaned to give him one last kiss. “See you tomorrow, Tommy.”

"Stay a little longer," he pleaded softly, trying to catch his breath.

You shook your head. A small smile threatened to peek at the corner of your mouth. It didn’t reach your eyes though. “I better get going, my night is not over yet,” you said, walking out of the room into the crowded pub. 

Tommy remained there as he watched you disappear without looking back.

[nevesceramics]

WIP peek at the hugging werewolves ♥

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[dijidweeeb]

Jeris Johnson - When the Darkness Comes [Official Music Video] (2023)