#and Ghostly Dancers is. Ghostly Dancers.

[penroseparticle]

Maybe Arena isn't so bad

[almostlookedhuman]

[childrenofcain-if]

D + MCs who do ballet? Classic they were a punk, they did ballet trope 🤭

How would it go if D somehow stumbled into MC dancing alone at a studio?

the music echoed softly through the studio, a haunting piece by rachmaninoff played on piano, filling the wide, empty space like smoke. it wasn’t the kind of music meant for performance—it was private, introspective, full of cascading notes that fell like raindrops on the skin.

you stretched your arms upward, your fingers trembling slightly before melting into the next move, a slow arabesque. the floor beneath your feet seemed alive, absorbing your every step and breath, your body moving as though the music was stitched into your veins.

the studio smelled faintly of resin and varnished wood, and the walls were lined with mirrors that reflected you in endless variations—an infinite string of dancers chasing one another in ghostly synchronization. the barre stretched along one side, but you weren’t touching it. you were in the center of the room, spinning lightly on the ball of your foot, every motion deliberate and delicate.

you were a swan, or at least that’s what you told yourself, gliding across the floor with a mixture of grace and control. but there was something raw beneath the practiced movements. dancing alone always brought out a part of you you couldn’t quite name, something wild and unpolished that made your heart beat a little faster.

outside the studio, D was grumbling to themself, rifling through their sheet music with a kind of irritated intensity. their classical music class had been predictably boring, full of lectures about bach’s counterpoint and unnecessarily complicated homework assignments.

“this is ridiculous,” they muttered as they stuffed the papers into their bag. “who cares how many times he modulates in a fugue? it’s like professor khan wants me to suffer.”

they were halfway down the hallway when the faint sound of music drifted to their ears, a piece they didn’t recognize but which tugged at something in them nonetheless. it wasn’t from their class, wasn’t the droning lecture about sonatas or fugues. this music was alive, sharp and sweet like glass catching sunlight.

D slowed their steps, distracted, and when they passed by the glass window of the studio door, they nearly walked into the wall.

they stopped. then they stepped back.

their gray eyes widened as they caught sight of you moving across the studio, your body arching and spinning in time with the music.

you weren’t even looking at the mirrors, weren’t watching yourself at all, as if you didn’t need to see your reflection to know you were beautiful. your hair was pulled back, a few strands escaping and sticking to your neck, and your face was focused, serene.

for a moment, D forgot to remind themself to breathe.

you didn’t look real, not in the fluorescent light of the studio or the sterile smell of the building. you looked like a painting, like something fragile and otherworldly that didn’t belong in the same space as the chipped tile floor or their scuffed sneakers.

“god, they’re unreal,” D muttered under their breath, and then snorted at themself. “get a fucking grip, rook.”

but they didn’t move away. instead, they opened the door slowly, slipping inside without a sound. you didn’t notice them at first, too lost in the dance, and D leaned back against the wall, their arms crossed as they watched you. their usual smirk softened into something unreadable, their practiced nonchalance dulled by the quiet awe in their expression.

when you finally stopped, mid-pirouette, and turned toward the mirror, you caught sight of their reflection. you jumped slightly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

“D?” you said, your voice breathy with surprise.

D pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward you, their smirk reappearing like a reflex.

“don’t stop on my account,” they said, their tone teasing but warm. “i was enjoying the show.”

your cheeks flushed, though you tried to hide it by rolling your eyes. “flatterer. how long have you been watching?”

“long enough to know i could never do that spinny thing,” D said, gesturing vaguely to the space where you’d been dancing.

you blinked at them, caught off guard, before laughing. “the spinny thing? you mean a pirouette?”

“sure, whatever it’s called,” D said, stepping closer. “i kind of wanna learn it.”

you hesitated, eyeing them skeptically. “you’re not exactly the most... graceful person, D.”

“hey,” they said, placing a hand over their chest in mock offense. “i’ll have you know i’ve got excellent rhythm. i just… don’t use it for dancing.”

you snorted but relented, gesturing for them to follow you to the center of the room. for the next few minutes, you tried to teach them the basics—how to balance, how to turn without tripping over their own feet.

D was, predictably, terrible. they stumbled more than once, their movements awkward and stiff, but you didn’t seem to mind. you laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. honestly, it didn’t seem like D cared much about looking foolish in front of you.

“i think i’m doing it,” they said at one point, wobbling precariously as they attempted a turn.

“you’re definitely not,” you said, laughing so hard you had to clutch your stomach.

“harsh,” D said, grinning despite themself.

but then, as you were correcting their stance, their hands brushed yours, and something shifted. the laughter died in your throat as D turned to face you fully, their gray eyes suddenly serious.

“you’re fucking amazing,” they murmured, their voice low.

before you could respond, they cupped your face in their hands and kissed you, their lips soft but insistent against yours. you froze for half a second before melting into the kiss, your arms wrapping around them.

the barre was behind you, cool against your back as D pressed closer, their hands slipping from your face to your waist. the kiss deepened, and for a while, the rest of the world fell away—the music, the mirrors, the studio. it was just you and them, tangled together, desperate and unthinking.

when you finally pulled back, breathless, you looked at them with wide eyes.

“what’s gotten into you?” you asked, half-chuckling.

D smirked, their forehead resting against yours. “i just couldn’t resist you, my sweet swan.”

you rolled your eyes, though there was no heat behind it, and pulled them into another kiss. when you finally broke apart again, D leaned in close, their breath warm against your ear.

“for the record,” they murmured, “i’m a much better performer in bed.”

you groaned, pushing them away playfully. “now you’ve gone and ruined the moment.”

“and yet, you’re still with me,” they said, grinning.

you shook your head, grabbing your bag and slipping your hand into theirs. together, you walked out of the studio, the music still echoing faintly behind you.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

NO BUT I NEED SATORU AND SUKUNA INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NEEOOOWWWWW I CAN TAKE THEM.BOTH!!!!!

❝ Darling, won't you just plead, or should I begin to bleed? ❞

Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen x ftm!reader x Heian Era!Gojo Satoru | alternate universe, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5.4

warnings: mentions of murder, dub. con (Gojo Satoru), power imbalance, size difference, threesome, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex, spit roasting, triple penetration, tummy bulging, improper use of RCT , marking, possessive sex, degradation, one of Sukuna's cock gets bigger out of spite, unrealistic amounts of cum, AFAB terminology (reader's genitals are referred to with cock, dick, hole, boycunt, boypussy, clit)

“Call off your dog, Sukuna,” he snarls. Sukuna’s grin stretches obscenely and he throws his head back to laugh. Satoru hopes to have hurt your ego — from the tall tales he’s heard of (Y/N), you were known to have a haughty air about you. Satoru is sorely disappointed as he hears you chuckling along with Sukuna. In any other situation, the sweet sounds of your laughter would’ve made his heart flutter. But it’s mixed with Sukuna’s cackling so intricately he shudders at the very thought.

“Come, dog.”

authors note: heed the warnings!!! * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned)!

When the sun sets over the horizon and tucks itself past the peaks of those great mountains, it isn’t unusual for the sounds of burning to follow. Little slivers of suns swaying on top of wax or dancing across oil. Naturally, the burning comes with smoke. Casual tantalizing curls emitting from the evershifting flame; make you wonder if the sun steams and smokes.

Does it stay in the darkness, its company being the dancers of its creation swirling with it to the crackling of its flames? Afterall, if the sun is the king of flames, it would make sense that he has his own concubines.

Your eyes pull away from the sprouts of candles at the edge of the throne. Leaning your head back, you now gaze up at the king of curses as he breathes in the flavourful, addictive, smoke from the burning tobacco and exhales it into the air. He swallows the ghostly concubines. Stealing another king’s treasure. It was like him; he was the true king, after all.

Sukuna pays you no mind. He had called you to lounge with him, had Uruame prepare you for a night of passion despite not yet touching you. He had simply tapped his lap and you filled out the space by cushioning your head on his big thigh.

He’s dressed in auspiciously white garments, the expensive material has you wondering what’s in store for the both of you. The King of Curses does not need primping. Even so, he is dressed loosely. The mouth on his stomach is visible and one of his sleeves threatens to fall from his shoulder. The hand holding the smoke pipe allows itself to be pushed while the lower pair holds onto your hips. He stares down at you, his four eyes glinting silently in question. You’re practically kneeling on his lap and you barely reach the bottom half of his lips.

“Do you recall how many people I’ve killed for their insolence?” his tone is drawled out, a tinge of amusement hidden behind the baritones. “Yes, my King. I’ve always enjoyed watching you destroy them,” your hands curl around the bulging muscles of his chest and you trace up the tattoos he has to reach his shoulders.

Sukuna takes you in. Uruame had outdone themselves. You’re dressed in his favourite colours. Nothing too restrictive, the layers were enough to entice but not to invoke annoyance. Japanese politeness and grace are interwoven into every stitch despite your less-than-innocent gaze. You’ve always had the prettiest eyes; he remembers jesting that he’d pluck them out to put into a jar just so he could see them every day. They trial the shape of your lips, painted with the shades of flower petals that bloom in the light of the heavens; he thinks the irony is all the more poetic.

Your mouth and heaven do not go hand-in-hand. It’s pure sin. From that wicked, silver, tongue to your saccharine-sweet smile to that spine-shivering laugh.

You were hell-born. Just like he was.

Gently, you slip your digits under the fabric of his shoulder and he watches you and your actions impassively. Four eyes give him more room to admire you with, whatever part of you. He imagines you mean to smooth out the — imaginary — wrinkles as your palm slips up and down his broad shoulders. Your touching earns a firm squeeze to your hips, his hands are so large they cover the entirety of your back. And when they squeeze it makes your eyes flutter. He could snap you in half with just one hand. Barely use any of his strength — Sukuna could kill you as an afterthought, toss your beautiful body aside, and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t.

“You are getting impatient, boy.” The hand on his chest could feel that rumbling. Your throne — his lap — moves and you let yourself be placed according to his will. Sukuna sets you back on his lap and splays you out with a look. You stretch out on him — if you were a cat your tail would’ve curled coyly into the air just under his chin.

“It is late, Your Grace.”

The only lights left were from the candles and pools of oil ignited.

“You are passion and flame and I’ve been prepared for you to alight.”

He thinks your flowery words are adorable but unneeded. Sukuna props his face on his knuckles as he gazes down at your exposed legs. They’re practically glowing and the scent of oil entices his cocks. The mouth on his stomach splits and his tongue curls over the teeth there - you giggle at the sight.

“You want me to fuck you,” he smirks sharply, “and I am telling you to wait, brat.”

“For what?” You prop yourself on your elbows, brows pinched. “The servant that prepared me has his head tossed into a hole and yet I can still feel his little prick inside of me.”

Taking Ryomen Sukuna’s cocks was not an easy feat. For the common man, a few fingers and oil would do. For a beast that is your king, a generous pour of oil and a man pumped with herb aphrodisiacs was needed. None of the men would ever reach completion and neither did you — Sukuna would not allow it.

They would fuck you but once Uruame felt that you were stretched enough to gape, they’d pull the man away and bring him to the courtyard. A hole would be dug and the naked man would be beheaded. His penis was tossed in there to be buried and forgotten. No one should live to tell the tale of preparing Sukuna’s precious concubine. They should be honoured they were chosen but they’ll never be seen again. Those poor bastards. At least they were useful before they died.

Mirth sparks in his eyes.

“I spoil you,” and at that, you bashfully turn away. “I deserve to be spoiled.”

A greeting comes from across the long hall. The servants next to the doors rise from their bowed positions and it slides open to reveal Uruame and a man touched by frost behind them. Uruame is kneeling, and the man is not.

“Your Grace,” Uruame bows deeper.

“The head of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru. As you requested.”

His skin was pale and his hair paler. You’re certain if the sun rose he’d turn all but translucent. The flicker from the candles attempts to cast shadows across his small face but they cannot darken those sky-blue eyes. Uruame had announced he was from the Gojo clan but, you’ve only ever seen such blue eyes from white men — he doesn’t appear to have been sired by one. You doubt they’d even let the head of their clan be of a mixed race.

Gojo Satoru is a freak of nature. He is a curse in the shape of a man.

“Does he not know how to bow?” Your purring tone is gone. It’s cold as Uruame’s technique. Sukuna eases it back with a deliberate squint of his eye.

“Bring him in. Then leave, Uruame.” They bow deeper (if that was even possible) and after Satoru steps through, Uruame is hidden by the sliding doors once again.

“Have you reconsidered my offer, sorcerer?” Satoru’s brows are furrowed, and his long sleeves hide his hands but from the flex of his shoulders you know they are clenched.

Rising from your throne you make your down the platform. Every step exposes your delicious thighs and legs and it is so indecent it makes Satoru’s ire falter. The sleeves of your outfit drag onto the floor and it weighs down the fabric around your shoulder; your neck and your clavicle down to the whisper of your chest has Satoru’s ears blush.

You walk in a half-circle to his right, your eyes set into a glare that disappears as slips from his eyesight. Satoru knows he should not let you get behind him but turning his head away from Sukuna seems more damning. Sukuna says nothing of your less-than-inviting nature, his silence prompting Satoru to speak. “To serve you or die?” he scowls. “The Gojo clan will not serve you, Ryomen Sukuna.” Sukuna sighs, placing his smoke pipe down as he frowns. “So you have come all the way here to waste my time and to die. So typical of you sorcerers.”

“If you wish for my clan to serve you, we require more than empty promises.” Satoru’s tone was akin to the sound of the first arrow whistling through the wind, the growl he let out being the twang of the released drawstring. Regret beads down the back of his neck as he feels the sharp edge of a curved dagger pressed against the hill of his throat.

“You ask my king to fulfill wishes? Do you think him a genie?” the shape of his teeth familiarizes themselves as his jaw clenches. The blade is a cursed object, it mewls and groans faintly; the opal colour breathing as it soaks in his blood.

“Call off your dog, Sukuna,” he snarls. Sukuna’s grin stretches obscenely and he throws his head back to laugh. Satoru hopes to have hurt your ego — from the tall tales he’s heard of (Y/N), you were known to have a haughty air about you. Satoru is sorely disappointed as he hears you chuckling along with Sukuna. In any other situation, the sweet sounds of your laughter would’ve made his heart flutter. But it’s mixed with Sukuna’s cackling so intricately he shudders at the very thought.

“Come, dog.”

With a curl of a finger, Satoru is able to breathe. You make your way to Sukuna, kneeling as you reach the top of the platform and crawl right onto his lap. The dagger slipped under the fabric around your waist.

“You are certainly an arrogant man, sorcerer. Your haughty clans fail to have taught you any diplomatic manners.”

“Diplomatic?” Satoru barks out a laugh. You narrow your eyes, bemused. “You’re a tyrant, King of Curses! The villages you’ve burned to the ground, the clans you’ve wiped out! Diplomacy? You’re taking the piss!”

Sukuna spots the curls of your lips and when glance up at him, he concurs that you do deserve to be spoiled because the two of you share the same thoughts.

This Satoru, this stubborn man; he would make a fine collection for both of you if he could survive a night.

“You require more than my word to serve me? Very well.” The nudging from your side earns him a purr and with your back turned to Satoru, you shed the fabrics. Blue eyes watch in confusion as they watch you kneel and push away the clothes from Sukuna’s shoulder.

“My darling dog has been hungry. He’s insatiable, every part of him.” One of his hands holds your chin and turns it so Satoru has a clear view of your side profile with your lips pushed forward.

“From his painted lips.”

Another hand slips down the waist of your outfit and it gives way to show the small of your back. Nearly the entirety of your back is marked from Sukuna’s lips, teeth, nails, and hands like a canvas of artwork.

“To his tight holes. You cannot see it, sorcerer, but he is clenching around the tip of my finger. Hungry.”

The hilt of your dagger is askew but neither paid it any mind. There’s more rustling and you’re almost completely naked as you obediently let yourself be displayed.

“Ah!” The wet squelch of a tongue makes your back straighten and your fingers spasm as they tighten their hold on Sukuna’s robes.

“His useless cock is already leaking.”

“What are you asking of me, Sukuna?” Satoru speaks through gritted teeth. But his skin is so pale it betrays his weak resolve. Those reddened cheeks and ears, the racing heartbeat; Sukuna doesn’t need four eyes to know that Satoru’s dick was interested in whatever is being offered.

“Fuck my darling boy and your family will not be cursed by me while they serve me, Satoru.”

“W — What?” he sputters. Meanwhile, you’re all but melting as the sounds continue. He sees your ass trembling as your expression melts in pleasure.

Sukuna arches a pointed brow as his hand tugs the clothes of your body and it flutters onto the ground in a fancy display. There you are. Naked as the day you were born. Satoru should look away; but how does one pull their sights away from a body carved by the devil? Angelic in all the wrong ways, temptation sticks to your skin like perfume and Satoru is not a saint but he feels as though a single touch would damn him. In fact, just looking at you is dangerous.

“Are you a virgin? Or is my concubine not to your taste?”

Your nail digs through Sukuna’s shoulder. So his large tongue sweeps below your drenched cunt to soothe your irritation.

“I warn you to answer that question with caution, Gojo Satoru,” you hiss out.

“Perhaps he’s not a fan of men,” Sukuna reasons. “Common men perhaps. Are you calling me common, My King?” the squelching sound of your nails digging in makes streams of crimson slip down Sukuna’s skin and the sight of it has Satoru gasping (again).

“Put your claws away, boy. As if I would sink my cock into a common man. No, I take you like a proper bitch. This body may be different, but this tight hole?”

Satoru watches a tongue appear from Sukuna’s palm. The pink muscle pushes in and the rim of your asshole easily gives in, back arching further to assist. "And this?" Satoru sees the dexterous muscle from his stomach curl. A tongue larger than any he's ever seen, squirming its way inside of you from the front, and it makes you gasp airily in pleasure as it eagerly wriggles deeper.

“A body made to be fucked, to be left leaking with cum for days. And it is rare, Satoru, for it to leak with cum that isn’t mine.”

Satoru takes a tentative step back, shame coursing through him as he tears his eyes down.

“This is — This is dishonorable — “

“If you walk through that door, Satoru, you’ve sealed the fate of your clan to be erased forever.”

You moan as his tongue grows longer and those bloody fingers wrap around Sukuna’s thick neck. The mask on Sukuna’s face, the eyes on it, narrow the tiniest bit.

“And you’d offend my concubine greatly. He’ll enjoy murdering each and every one of your clan members for the disrespect.”

The candles shudder as the wind blows through the slits of the wood. It causes the flames to dance and the shame Satoru is experiencing to be swallowed down. He is frozen there for a moment, your sighs of pleasure like a siren call to hell. Sukuna’s great tongue hides behind a row of teeth, the grin most likely identical to the one he wears on his face, as Satoru approaches the steps of the platform.

“Come, Gojo Satoru.”

Climbing up the stairs was akin to walking to the gates of hell. Satoru can see the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck. He wonders if every part of tastes like heaven. Your tears, your slick, your sweat, your cum, your blood. Without even laying your hand on him once and you've already destroyed him, (Y/N).

"Kneel." Sukuna's words are a vow. An agreement. If Satoru's knees had settled onto the wooden floor, he'd have sealed the fate of his entire clan to serve under Ryomen Sukuna. His pupils quake, taking a sharp intake of breath as he tries to steady his heart.

Your hands invade his vision. The palms of Sukuna's concubine are soaked in crimson — was that why they were so soft? Your nails still have Sukuna's blood and the feeling makes spiders crawl up his spine.

"Gooseflesh rippling?" You whisper as your naked body finally earns his focus. You're in a puddle of your clothes, kneeling before him. Tilting your head, you surge upwards and press your forehead with his. His eyes may be haunting but yours are unforgettable.

It reminds him of the first time he'd ever peered into the darkness of the woods behind his clan's estate. How the light never reaches past the woodline. The silence. The way his brain made up shapes and faces and beings and curses and you.

In that memory, there you are. Between the mighty trees, what little light did reach you making your eyes reflect it back; as if you didn't have a soul yourself and all you can do is pretend.

"Kneel, boy." You say and Satoru's knees buckle.

The thud that resounds was final. Your grin is terrifying. Sukuna looms over your shoulder and his eyes are glowing with excitement.

Gojo Satoru had made a deal with two devils.

"Good sorcerer," your face comes closer and your lips acquaintances themselves with his. They're pillowy and soft. Blood rushes south despite Satoru's conflicted feelings. If he pretends you're not who you are, perhaps he can delude himself into thinking you're someone he loved; a man he wishes to devour; Violet eyes, black hair, upturned eyes with a voice that'd make angels sigh.

That image disappears as he feels your fingers wrap around his throat. You say nothing. But the second Satoru's eyes shoot open, he sees the unamused expression on your face.

"Now, don't get yourself killed so early on in the night, Satoru," Sukuna muses out. His lower hand reaches to grasp the nape of your neck and it squeezes hard enough for Satoru to hear your bones wheeze under pressure.

"Come here, darling." You turn away with a huff.

Satoru doesn't know what to do with himself so he is content to watch as you undress Sukuna. The King of Curses watches, enraptured by your movement as his torso is now bare of anything. The mouth on his stomach, that monstrous tongue, wets your chest and you simply shudder but continue your task.

"My concubine can be rather pouty when he isn't paid attention to. Best to not let your mind wander, Satoru."

You scowl, bending over to mouth at Sukuna's crotch as he holds the back of your head. The sight of your dripping cunt and ass has Satoru's cock rising to attention.

"How dare he even do so. I'll slice his cock off," Sukuna thinks the sight would be amusing but he simply guides your head lower.

There were rumours of Ryomen Sukuna's endowment.

If he had another pair of everything, did that mean his cock was the same?

Satoru wonders how you aren't split in half as he sees Sukuna's cocks twitching in your grasp. They're thick and heavy, bumping into each other as they perk up from your attention. The tip of it is nearly bright red, angry, and demanding a hole to sink into. The veins on it must make you keen often because you tongue at them with a pleased grin.

"Satoru." He tears his eyes away from the sight. Sukuna smiles at him, ignoring your pleased groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand strokes over the other.

"Feast, Satoru."

The command is so simple yet so vague. Satoru can't quite comprehend it. So he stares at Sukuna then at you, kneeling before your King with the most obscene noises coming from your mouth. There was no way the phallus could even comfortably rest on your tongue, each the length of your face and as thick as your wrist.

It must be uncomfortable. He must have other concubines for this exact reason. There was simply no way you alone could please him.

Your head rises from between your shoulders, and a long stroke from the base to the tip of his cock has Sukuna exhaling through his nose; he sees you bob up and then down. A minute gagging noise slips through but then you widen your knees and somehow you dip your head low.

"That's it, darling. Take your fill."

He wasn't lying when he said you were greedy. Satoru pushes himself to stand and Sukuna would usually kill men for not bowing their heads to the floor but he wants to see what the white-haired man intends to do.

Cheeks sucked in, eyebrows sloped delicately as your jaw strains to keep itself intact. Sukuna is well-endowed, big, humongous, huge — whatever other synonym you'd use to describe big cock(s). You feel someone move your bangs out of the way.

"He's halfway down..." Satoru had seen a lot in his life. From the fantastical curse techniques of other sorcerers to the nightmare-inducing curses, the wealth from his clan members also assists the opulence he's known since birth. The whores his uncles had given to him as a gift for his birthday — the array of positions they knew, of how willing they were to do whatever he asked with a grin even if it involved humiliating themselves or him.

But he'd never seen a man as handsome as you take such a monstrous dick in his mouth with no effort. The stretch of your lips, the smear of the red pigment around it, and on Sukuna's cock.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Sukuna boasts. "Usually, the other concubines look like fishes speared on a pike when they take me into their mouths." Your eyes open in a glare and Satoru placates it by stroking your temple with his thumb.

"Not even a mention?" Satoru's inquiry earns a chuckle from Sukuna. "No. He will not allow it, if I wasn't so far down his mouth I'm sure he would've pulled away to complain." The hand on your head is not Sukuna's but it holds you firmly in place.

"How do you even fuck the other concubines?" Satoru wonders.

"(Y/N) usually slaughters them a week after I've brought them in." Satoru's shock weakens his hold, so you pull away with a cough and frown deeply up at the two men.

"I do not slaughter them! They just so happened to have ill-fated ends." You squeeze his cock one more time before turning your attention to his lower half, kissing it sweetly on its head before smearing his precum all over your lips, the smell of it making your cheeks warmer than it already was.

Truly, (Y/N). You didn't need to play this part of a proper highborn so astutely. Even if you beheaded the last concubine he had in front of him instead of summoning a curse to slam into it, resulting in the palanquin and the concubine within it along with her attending ladies being thrown off a cliff and mangled beyond words; he wouldn't have punished you.

It was your right to exorcise whoever you needed to so long as it didn't interfere with Sukuna's will. It pleased him to make you bridled with rage to result in murder, why wouldn't it? The blood that painted you from your head to your toes. It cannot all be his doing.

His dearest concubine, you mustn't get queasy so quickly. Show him the lines you'll cross to ensure he remains yours. Kill whoever you please, maim the sorcerers who take him away from you, burn down villages, and bask in their cries and their pain with him.

Hide your giggles behind your silk sleeves if you must but don't you dare hide your amusement of carnage from him; command curses to tear men apart and slice women to shreds. Everything is yours, (Y/N). Everything you wish for, everything you ask for, everything you need, and everything you didn't even think you required.

The world is yours.

"Of course," he grins and the tongue from his stomach reaches out to lick your cheek.

"Astonishing," Satoru mutters. Concubines killing each other aren't anything new though he sincerely doubts the others truly understood what they were getting into when they became Sukuna's. "Thank you," you reply after combing your hair back to take his other cock in your mouth.

Satoru feels overdressed and Sukuna was not in the business of doing that task for him. So he sheds his layers, the symbols of crane wings embroidered in the sleeves shimmer gloriously up at him. Satoru folds them over to hide it.

He will need to forget about everything else tonight. If he wishes to remain sane or tolerate the both of you — he will use his other head to guide him.

"Milky skin." You purr from Sukuna's lap. "Pale as the moon. Eyes as blue as the sky. I would kill you if you lived in this palace."

Satoru scoffs, standing with his cock twitching in the cool breeze.

"How fortunate for the both of us that I don't live here then." He hisses as your grasp onto his semi-hard dick.

"Even the hairs here are white. What a pretty cock." The feeling of your velvet tongue on his tip makes his breath shudder. It's nowhere close to Sukuna's length —or girth —but that doesn't cause him disappointment. He's longer than average, his cockhead poking the back of your throat, and veiny, mainly on his sides.

"Good weight," he moans as your lips trace the prominent veins, painting his blushing cock with your marks. Satoru doesn't understand what you want to him to say to the comment, a thank you seemed unbecoming and anything else would be odd. So he says nothing and just caresses your jaw to guide your mouth forward.

"Take your fill, (Y/N)."

The position you're in is not entirely new. You've taken Uraume and Sukuna together before. Witt their sex is in your mouth while your King takes you from behind. Ah, what fond memories. You really should invite the ever-so-loyal servant into your bed once again.

What a talented mouth they had. Such vigor to please you, adoration pouring from them with every flick of their tongue.

Sukuna is still a possessive lover. That did not change. But he does find amusement in the way you ache for Uraume's body and something about the way Uraume strokes themselves to completion as they watch the two of you fuels him with pride.

But enough about your lovely Uraume.

Satoru had placed his robes beneath your knees and so you suck in your cheeks as thanks as you suck on his length. Your hands were on his knee and his fingers held a fistful of your hair. The silken cloth beneath you makes you inch forward with each thrust from Sukuna.

"The way he's stretched around me. Satoru, I'll save his other hole for you to fuck, this one is all mine," his hips are flushed against your ass. He can feel your cunt attempting to push him out, resisting the stretch that would've killed others, as cursed energy flows through your body. It would ebb away, the need to heal yourself, as your body gets used to his size but fuck does it make Sukuna grin absolutely monstrous at the very fact you even need to do so.

You can't blame him. It's not like he'd never hurt you in any way you didn't like.

Your thighs are clenched tightly around his other cock. Luscious thighs slicked with oil that had been conveniently placed nearby and making sounds almost as obscenely as your filled cunt.

Satoru's jaw is loose. Throaty groans and appreciative moans rewarding your efforts as your nose presses against the patch of pubic hair he has. Diamonds line your waterline as you breathe through your nose, the back of your throat squeezing around Satoru's cock.

"Fuck!" He pulls you away, stroking himself furiously with one hand and holding your head in the other. The expression on your face should be preserved forever, Satoru thinks. So that future men will wish to be born in the same era as you.

His brows furrow in annoyance at how ethereal you look.

You should look whorish — which you do! But there's something unreal about it. Picture perfect, an embodiment of lust, depravity that beckons with that wet tongue and wetter eyes.

"S'kuna! Oh, yes, yes — Darling, you fill me so well!" Your voice is hoarse as you're jostled back and forth, nails leaving claw marks on the wooden floors. Satoru lets go of your head and you stretch out like a cat, the top half melting as your back arches into a perfect position.

Sukuna kneads at the mounds of your ass, splitting it apart to watch your asshole winking back at him while he holds your waist. It's brutal how he fucks you. Satoru stands and backs away to watch, his breath coming out in barely there white puffs and his heartbeat drumming through his ears.

"Fuh - fuck! Mpfh! Ngh — Your cocks are beautiful, they fill me so well," He tightens his hold on you and the moan you let out as he moves your body makes Satoru's cum bead on his tip.

Sukuna chuckles as he sees Satoru cursing and wiping away his shame. "You've never been in a room where people aren't salivating over you have you, sorcerer?" Satoru frowns pointedly at his condescending tone.

"Hah! I feel you in my stomach — You're — !"

"Must you belittle me any chance you get? Are you trying to compensate for something?" Satoru retorts. It makes Sukuna bark out a laugh. Strong biceps curl and flex as he rights your upper half so that it's pressed to his front.

On display for Satoru with Sukuna's greediest mouth curling around your chest to tease your chest.

"Compensate, is that the word you used?"

Between your slicked thighs, his cock spears through them in tandem with the one inside you. Satoru's eyes widen at the sight of the prominent bump poking from your stomach. The fact that you aren't dead is a clear testament to your skills — both in bed and in battle.

"I've heard no one has ever cut his skin," Satoru kneels again in front of you, nose curling at the dexterous muscle that flicks at his chin. "I know Reverse Curse Technique is a useful skill to have...but I never thought you'd be so perverse to use it so shamelessly."

"Get off your high horse, S — Mfh! That feel s'good — Satoru!"

"Wrong name," Sukuna growls near your ear. It manages to split Satoru's lips into a smirk as he cups your chest in each hand. It's slicked with saliva and he ignores the disgust he feels as he locks his lips with yours. Sweet as ever, despite the saltiness that lingers on your tongue.

"If his cunt is yours," Satoru pants out between kissing you. His thumb tweaking your nipples between his index, his cock hanging heavily as it fills up once again.

"Then he'll have to face away. I'll take his ass," he bites down on your lower lip. The sensation of his teeth and Sukuna's rough palms tightening their grip on you have you squealing in pleasure. His hips pause, it gives you enough time to form words while the men stare each other down for a second.

Sukuna was beginning to miss Uraume's presence. They never glared at him with open animosity, unadulterated wanting and greedily claiming your chest with a grip that'd leave bruises.

The shadows of a scowl crossed his face. Insolent little brat. But so fucking gorgeous. Strong too, from what he's heard.

He wasn't anywhere near as beautiful or strong as you but Sukuna has always had a penchant for these types. No one walks all over him. But he does find it amusing when pretty faces are so defiant — or when their heads are staked on a pike with crows plucking their eyes out.

You're breath shudders as Sukuna pulls you off his cock, leaning onto Satoru. He wraps his arms around you, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your wet lips tracing his jaw while your body is all but boneless.

He inhales sharply as you grab his cock. "Thankfully, you're not — hah — completely incompetent in the sack. Impressive stamina, sorcerer." That, he could say thank you too. So he does.

Satoru is kind as he maneuvers you to face your beloved. Was that irritation in his chest at how excitedly you allowed Sukuna to claim your lips? Gods, no.

"Get closer," you said as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "If the both of you are going to fuck me, get closer."

What was it that Sukuna told him to do again?

Feast?

You can't tell where your pleasure begins or ends. Every nerve was set aflame and you weren't even sure if your body could've survived this if it weren't for your cursed energy.

Because from behind you, Satoru's thick member is spearing you again and again with Sukuna's. The idea of Satoru's cock inside of you seemed to have upset him enough to want to...accompany it in its endeavors. The sorcerer is hypnotized by the way your rim furls and unfurls on his blushing dick, how it greedily squeezes down every time he hits home and bumps his cockhead with Sukuna's. Even though their cum was creating a frothy ring of white at his base — he seems intent on pumping you with more and more and more. Marking your insides as white as his hair. He spreads your cheeks apart, groaning each time he does, and fuck, he's filthy as he whispers into your ear.

"You take us so fucking well. Like a proper whore, huh?"

"I'm not — I'm not a whore, you —"

Then, at the front, Sukuna's displeasure at Satoru's brazen attitude was taken out on your cunt. Still, you take all of him in because what concubine would you be if you couldn't? Your pride was on the line and you'd rather claw your own eyes out than let it be broken down.

His cock was inside of your cunt. You were more than pleased.

Sukuna's face floats above yours, his hands gripping everywhere while Satoru was chased off to just handle your ass. Though even then, he'd grab a handful of each cheek just to leave bitemarks on it — and annoy Satoru.

"Look at you," he groans out. His vermillion eyes are hooded with lust as he cradles your face.

You were perfection. A filthy little demon made to accompany him until the end of time. Your brows sloped so prettily, eyes hazy and lashes clumped together with tear streaks down your face. Lips red and bruised, neck littered with angry and dark marks.

"My King, my beloved, I — Oh, fuck, I'm close, I'm close," you whimper for what felt like the 5th time that night alone.

Why you were cumming? You weren't even sure.

The aching stretch of both holes as your brain is wrecked with too much pleasure is causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Your hands spasm from within one of Sukuna's hands and your whole body shakes as you feel yourself cum again.

"Ah, shit!" Satoru groans as he pulls out, frowning as cum follows his departure and drops onto the floor. "You're just as awful as he is," he hisses out to Sukuna as he glares at the way the cock he'd been sharing your ass with stopped growing. Snug as a bug as it plugged you up. Satoru had already been close, with a few more thrusts he'd be filling you up once again. Then, what he thought was you tightening up turned out to be Sukuna making his cock so big it made the fit painful.

Fucking asshole.

"If I was as awful as he was, I would've cleaved the top of your head off, Gojo." Sukuna grabs your ass and your wanton mewl makes both men twitch.

His thrusting picks up its speed and you fight back his hold to wrap your arms around his neck. Sukuna allows it. He's close. You can tell. He's close and like a child, he decides he's the only one allowed to flood your insides with his cum, overflow your body until it forgets the taste of Gojo Satoru's.

"Sukuna, Sukuna — My lover, my beloved," you manage a dopey grin as you messily mould your lips together.

"Cum with me, Sukuna."

He's wonderfully loud when he does. Violent too. His nails digging into your waist and ass while he thrusts himself balls deep inside of you. Satoru's amazed your body hadn't given out — amazed at your endurance and how your cursed energy levels hadn't once seemed to deflate once in the time the three of you had been naked.

He shouldn't hope for it — but Satoru wonders how you would fare in a fight with himself. In fact, he cums into his own fist and onto the floor at the very thought.

Sukuna groans as you squeeze around him, another orgasm washing over you in pathetic spurts of wetness from your cunt.

Soft panting fills the air. The two servants by the door rise from their knees to slide the door open and Uraume walks in with three women behind them.

"Fuck," Satoru should scramble to get off his kneeled position but his body is too pumped with pleasure to even process the command. "Oh, don't feel shame, sorcerer," Sukuna muses out.

The King of Curses leans back, settling on his throne with you in his lap and still snuggly inside of your holes. Uraume comes to your back, and two girls tend to Sukuna, gracefully wiping him down while Uraume does the same to you.

The other girl does the same to Satoru and he simply tosses his head back as he falls back onto his calves, groaning at the cool water.

"They've heard everything already. Your sacrifice for your clan. How noble."

A weak giggle comes from the mess of limbs on Sukuna's torso. It's still one of the most heart-fluttering sounds Satoru had ever listened to and he hates how his cheeks reddens once again as you lift your head to smile at him.

"So very noble, Gojo Satoru."

[velting]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚Heartwarming˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

⋆★⋆Noel Noa, Chris Prince, Lavhino, Marc Snuffy x Fem Reader⋆★⋆

Context: You are the Russian coach and player in the NEL and have a hard time socializing, lost in thought you stumble in a problem

જ⁀➴

SFW || Fluff || Love Triangle||

Side Note -> Zenon Martyr is going to be the ALTERNATIVE version of Zenit Saint Petersburg in Russia football team.

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Inhale……. Exhale………

Taking one step each time she passes through the liminal halls of the facility, her dark gaze falls upon the tiled floor, slowly continuing her tranquil life, and luckily she didn't have to do much other than making sure her team gets a good review on others, then she could finally breathe. Training wasn’t a struggle for her but training a bunch of foreign teenagers into shape was one thing to hear, of course she knows that not all boys are naturally flexible but doing constant stress from time to time could loosen their blood flow in their streams.

For her it wasn’t a problem, she was once a ballet dancer, well if you count Russian ballet any easier then you’ll be dead wrong. She didn’t have much growing up, Russia was not a heavenly place to live nor is it the best to be born either, for her it was always cold, alone. But she never complained, she couldn’t complain even if she wanted too, but she knows her home county was filth. Camps, sickness, abuse. Enduring all hardship that slapped on her face. Who could blame her? Life was hell as it is, always wishing her life could do something more than just some random ballet dancer. She had never been on a stage before, always in the training room where the grown woman abused them for their lack of agility. She once remembered one of the coaches made all the girls be on their tiptoes for an out straight.

But she can’t dwell on the pass anymore, she’s now a coach. A football coach at that. Ditching her ballet in her teens and slowly climbing the ladder in success in her name. But she will alway be reminded by the hardship she was shown in learning football. All sports are the same, no matter the activity. They hit you, they laugh at you, mock, cry, cheer. It was always the same to her, She never made friends either. Always having this default state that creepted others out, nor was she social either. She couldn’t remember when was the last time she had a conversation with anyone, or having a conversation at all.

Just give out orders, tell her team what to do, help make progress and be done. That’s how it has always been. She notices how other coaches alway had a bright smile. Or in Noel’s case some good feedback. She always wonders if any of the coaches could help her into being social rather than looking ghostly pale on the sidelines.

Chris Prince is a good example, he was a very charming English man, he was like a ray of sun, smile so bright that he wanted to make [Name] wear sunglasses every time he was near radius.

Lavhino has a charismatic tone to his play, he saw the good in things majority of the time. Laughing and joking with his teammates, a style that [Name] was jealous of. Wishing she could have his confidence in games and with other people. They talked once but couldn’t remember how long that was. She hopes she can talk to him again.

Marc Snuffy was an intelligent man. Making his ways with riches and having the best life there is to offer. It wasn’t until she realized that one of Snuffy’s friends passed away not too long ago. She never had a proper interaction with him but deep down she wanted to comfort the man of what he’s been through, it’s not easy seeing a loved one pass away. She knows how that feels. Always Living in a cold harsh climate all her life she saw eyes of death many times on the road. Whether it be through malnourishment, food poison, or the cold climate, and sadly both her brothers were victims off, she couldn’t get angry but if she did then who would care? Emotions were useless from where she was.

She shook her head at the thought and continued her mindless walking. She soon started to think about Noel Noa. Quite the quiet guy for her. He seemed very pristine, and patient but if there's one thing he lacks it's leadership, she once saw the interaction with the japanese and germans on his team. Some couldn’t get along. Including one of the new gen who have undying hatred with one short player.

She knows her team better not to start fights or have some sort of resentment on others, including with newcomers. She continues to think more about the coaches and remembers the young french coach in PxG. Julian Loki. It amazed her to think someone as young as him is even here. Despite all odds, she never really talked with him or even interacted with him to begin with. Only small exchanges like a wave or a peace sign.

But despite everything she has full respect for the guys, all strong and simple minded with their team and as a coach. It’s even a surprise that Ego, the one that made Blue Lock, invited her as the coach of the Russian stratum of Zenon Martyr. She thought that it was for the male coach but surprisingly it was for her. Apparently, they wanted a Female coach in blue lock.

Which shocked her for the most part, but she accepted neither the less. It’s not an everyday thing to get accepted into a foreign country by someone in power. But to her it was something she always dreamt about. She alway wanted to see the famous cherry blossoms, never once has she seen pink trees and the thought of it just made her giddy on the inside. Spring was very scarce, if not never happens up in the northern part of Russia, unless you're in rural parts in Russia like Moscow. But other than that she can’t wait to see Japan for the first time after NEL.

When she arrived she was given instructions on what to do in blue lock, the facility known for beating JFU and wanting the best coaches in Europe to compete one another for the U-20 world cup. What really disappointed her was the lack of female staff, and girl bathrooms. No doubt that this is a male dominated facility, so seeing a woman was really scarce here unless it’s her and Anri, who was kind enough to give her her own room and bathroom without disturbance. Anri was a sweet person. [Name] can tell by how confident she looked, she wondered if all Japanese women were this classy and diligent. If only she could return the favor of hospitality to her.

“Blyat. Where am I?” Oh yeah. She forgot that she was supposed to go back to her stratum to train her teammates, wasn’t very professional for a coach to get lost easily, and she couldn’t understand the Japanese language but thankfully she had these translating earpieces to hear what they're saying in Russian. She looked around and saw if she could get a clue of where she was. Looking around she saw a way leading to another, deciding where to go she chose to go……

➺ NOEL NOA

Right.

Her steps echoed through the halls as her sharp gaze fell upon one of the entrances of the doors. Upon opening it she saw one of the coaches slouchy sitting on a chair. Noel heard the doors to his room open and close. Cautious, he turned his hazel gaze upon the woman that had entered unexpectedly.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were coming here, much less company for me.” He spoke unamusing. [Name] ignored his words and looked around before looking at him with that sharp ghostly stare. Anyone who looked at her always felt uncomfortable by her presence but Noel didn’t see what was wrong with looking at her since she wasn’t doing or saying anything remotely harmful to anyone.

“Izvinite. This is the vwrong room,” She apologized and was about to turn around before Noel’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait. Why are you here on the German side to begin with?” Still confused, she looks at him before looking down.

“I…. got lost.” She admitted. Noel noticed from her tense figure and approached her. “How?” Is all he asked.[Name] just gaveout a hum before telling him the details.

“I vwas lost in thought before my feet started to vwalk on their own, I thought I vwas going to the Russian side. Sorry to disturb you.” Her accent comes out thick under the translation.

Taking in the information he thought it’ll be best if he could walk her back to her own stratum then getting more lost here, it is a pretty big facility so knowing it by one go is technically impossible, and it seems she doesn't remember where she’s going to begin with. “I’ll walk you down there.” He offered.

[Name] was surprised by his genuine offer. Not many people helped her so hearing his words was something she was not expecting. “Da, I vwould appreciate that.” She offered her hand for him to take. Noel was surprised but took her hand with his anyway. Upon making skin contact, he felt her cold skin making contact with his hands.

“You're cold.” He pointed out. [Name] only nodded from his statement. “Da, I barely get warm. No matter the temperature, my body grew cold over time the moment I was born. I lived a cold life.” She looked ahead as they began to walk.

“I see.” He nodded. He looked over at her facial expression and saw a small beauty mark under her ear. Maybe unnoticed by her but it was a nice touch to her character. “If I’m not being rude, can you tell me more about your childhood?” He asked. Listening closely to her side of the story. Noel didn’t know anything about her due to her cold gaze. In his eyes he can see she grew up in a bad environment. And taking in her body language; she always looked down and sad for some reason.

“I don’t think there’s much to say. I grew up bad. Vwhen I was a little devochka I always grew up cold, two bratya with me. One old and one young. One died from starvation and the other from the cold. My otetz vwas drunk. He beat me and my bratya. It vwasn’t easy for little girls to live peacefully. I Lived in Norilsk. Bad vweather, bad people, bad life. It vwasn't until I vwas 15 vwhen I quit ballet and began my journey to play football.” She looks away.

Noel wasn't really prepared to listen to all that in one go but from what he heard he can feel and tell that she's still struggling in past lives. To see someone who grew up so cold could also look so beautiful.

Noel could admit, she was really breathtaking. She is a hidden gem to some people.

“Sorry to hear. It seems you had it rough.” He soothed his fingers across her palm for her to relax. [Name] sighs and looks up at Noel.

“Am I a bad person?” She asks. Noel being the honest man he is, shook his head. “No, why would you say something like that?” He was genuinely confused on why people think she's a terrible person. She does no harm to others and keeps to herself majority of the time. It's just her lack of socialization and gaze which makes everyone turn away.

[Name] sighs and looks down again. “People hate it vwhen I look at them. I've done nothing to harm except trying to help. That's vwhy I think I'm bad.” She admits, without realizing it a small tear slowly cascades down her pale cheek. Noel notices it and wipes it away, causing her to look up at the tall male with shock.

“You were crying there. I couldn't help myself.” He sighs.

“I- thank you for that…. I thought I'll never cry again…. But I vwas vwrong.” She put her hand on where he touched her and she swears she could feel her cold heart melt.

“Hmm, it seems we're here.” The warm feeling of his palm released and put them in his pockets. [Name] wish that warm feeling could last forever but sadly all good things must come to an end.

“Ah, Spasibo Noel. I… enjoy being with you.” She admits, feeling her cheekbones rose a little.

“It wasn't a problem for me, how about we grab coffee some other time to communicate?” He offered, to which she gladly nodded. “Da, I vwould love that.”

Noel nodded as he started to turn back but before he left for good, he said his last words to her. “And you should smile more often, it looks nice on you.” And went away.

[Name] didn't know what he meant until she felt her lips in an upward motion, finally realizing she had just smiled at Noel. A pink hue was splattered on her cheeks as her cold heart began to pound uncontrollably.

“…… thank you…. Noel…..”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ CHRIS PRINCE

Left.

She didn't know where she was headed to be exact but if she at least finds a way then she hopes she can find her stratum eventually.

Her cold gaze fell upon one of the doors and hoped it was one of her designated rooms, but upon opening she was met with the bright English man drenched in sweat.

“Ah… this is the England stratum…” she finally realized. Nethertheless she entered and wanted to see if Chris is available to engage in conversations with her. She doesn't know how to properly talk out a conversation but the practice would be good for her.

“138….139….. 140!…. Haa! That's a new record!” The English man shouted in triumph while lifting weight. Finally giving his muscles a little rest before lifting again, he sighs in relief as he does some stress to release his blood flow, slinging a towel over his shoulder and picking up one of his famous “Chris Prince” water and chugging it down.

He was so out of thought that he didn't even realize that [Name] was right behind him.

…..

“Chris-”

“PFFTT!! AHEK! AHEK OH MY GOD AHEK YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!!” Chris choked on his water as he slowly backed away from the woman trying to keep his composer still. After the last cough he made he sternly looked at her while whipping the towel on his lips.

“A little warning could've been great?! You almost killed me back there!” He shouted out, grunting as he wiped his templates as he looked back up at the woman who seemed to only be looking down in what seems to be distraught.

“My apologies Chris. I didn’t know how to approach you in a vway, I vwas trying to talk to you about something.” she looked at him to see an amused mix in with confusion plastered on his face. Taking a seat on the bench he had a well knowing grin forming on his lips.”Hm? What did you want to say?” Ushering her on with her words. [Name] slowly looks at him before pointing.

“Is it alright to sit next to you?” She pointed at the empty spot on the bench. Reluctantly he nodded and made room for her to sit, thanking him she took a spot next to his. And so she then started to look down again and started to twirl the ends of her hair.

“Chris…. I just vwanted to say that…. You're amazing….” She admits, as he can feel himself choking on the air from her words.``Ahem I was what?!” His pride and ego started to shoot up through the roof from her encouraging words. “Go on! Say it again!” urging her to speak more.

[Name] then starts to twiddle her fingers in a nervous manner. “You’re like a sun; Chris… You are always bright and smile. Make people happy vwherever you are. I vwish to smile like you and make others happy…. I’m alvways cold. From vwhere I’m from…. Emotions are useless….”

Chris heard her stride of the story and couldn’t help but smile at her kind words about him. “Aww really? I’ll be damned, coming from someone cold as you do warm my heart.” He then placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. [Name] stopped and slowly looked at him before speaking…

“Chris…can you teach me?” She asked silently, “Teach Me how to make others happy?” After she said those words, Chris couldn’t hold back and let out a roaring laughter. “HAHAH! You want me to teach you how to make others smile?” He pointed at her. To which she nodded with a hum.

“Da, I vwant to make others smile….” She repeats again. After laughing away Chris finally calms down and takes a breather.``Sigh Well that was something to ask about, but teaching a hottie like you could boost my reputation!” Without hesitation he grabbed her hand and lifted her to stand up.

[Name] was surprised that someone like him could hold her hand without complaint but in her mind she was glad that Chris was willingly able to help. It was when he held up one finger for the lesson. “First you need to greet yourself properly. Since you do have a history record of sneaking up on people” He whispered the last sentence. [Name] nodded, wanting to see how far she could succeed in this little training.

Chris stuck out his left hand and began. “Hi! I’m Chris Prince, what’s your name?” He introduced himself. [Name] slowly grabbed ahold of his hand.

“Now what do you say?” He urged her to continue through the lesson. “Um…. oh… uh…. My name is [Name] Bogdanova, I’m from Russia.” She spoke quietly. Chris nodded “Okay we’re getting somewhere. How about you be more vocal, raise your voice a little so others could hear you! That's how people know you're sincere.” He smiled. [Name] nodded and started to take more lessons from the englishman.

Through each step [Name] was making great progress on becoming more vocal of her speech. “That’s great!” “Almost!” “Keep trying to do fine!” Chris encouraged her which made her more vocal a lot. She couldn’t help but her heart started to melt away from the cold inside her. Maybe it was Chris who was encouraging her by lighting up the ice inside of her.she didn’t know why but it made her proud.

“Okay for the next and last step! Try to smile!” She put a smile that she swore rays of sunlight shine behind him. Confident she tried to smile but couldn’t get her cheekbones to listen. “I… I can’t…..” she shyly said looking away. Chris was patient and tried to help the best he can. Putting a hand on her shoulder and the other under her chin to look at him

“Of course you can. Think about something that truly makes you happy, whatever it is, whether it would be football, or food, or someone close!”

After hearing those examples [Name] didn’t have much to smile about, she didn’t have a special someone, nor she didn’t like any food other than earl gray tea, but that’s not something to smile about now was it? Slowly her eyes adjusted to where Chris was. To her, he was handsome and bright. He took his time to help train her to be more socialized. Not many take the time to talk to her anyways, so him being here right here and right now just made her cheekbones accommodated and finlay lifted her lips upwards.

“Whoa…” Chris was in complete shock to see her finally smile. It was small but it was progress to him, and the way she smiled was in a cute way. He could totally see her smiling like that again. “Your smile is nice.” He admitted a small speck of blush appears on his cheeks, taking in her beauty that he had never seen before.

[Name] quickly covered her mouth and felt the smile on her mouth. “I… I smiled….:” she gasped. But then I let go and continued to smile. “I actually smiled… T-thank you Chris.”

Then Chris smirked, having more of a cheeky side to him. He knew he was the best. “Heh, no problem. How about a little reward for you?” He grabbed both of her shoulders, [Name] nodded as she continued to smile, not questioning his motives.

“Sure, what is the reward?” She asked, “You’ll see. Close your eyes.” Listening to his words she closed her eyes. Slowly Chris begins to lean closer and closer to her face. Hoping that this was worth the wait.

He leaned closer… and closer….. Closer…

Agi busted down the door and shouted. “Chris! They’re fighting again!- Oh?!”

Chris blushed, With an angry face he looked up at him and shouted.

“GET THE HELL OUT! I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING!”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ LAVHINO

Forward.

At this point she was headed straight, so going forward again wouldn't hurt anybody. Well she hopes nobody gets hurt, but other than that she kept her stance straight and moving forward.

It took some time for her to actually make it to a door from a different stratum than her own. Without saying a word she opened it and noticed that this was the training room for Spain.

She sighs once again from her lack of directions. But in the corner of her eye she noticed someone training in the room, her curiosity got the best of her and entered the training room without a sound. There she saw the shirtless Brazilian male doing a handstand. A ball on his feet kicking it upward.

[Name] was impressed at the creativity and ability he showed while using this technique. She knew how to do a handstand when she was young and trained in ballet but it mostly hurt her and was never remotely close to creativity.

So seeing Lavhino do something so complicated yet fun made her heart swell.

He then did a fantastic front kick and landed perfectly on his feet. With such momentum the ball traveled upward and came curving down.

Impressed with his agility moves, he let out a groan of relief. “Did pretty good but it could use some work. Welp! Time for uma pequena pausa- AHH!” Lavhino shrieked when [Name] appeared in front of his view. Clutching his chest and beginning to gasp for air from that shocking moment.

“You did vwell.” She says in the most stoic monotone voice that anyone heard from. After calming down he sighs and looks up at [Name] with sweat dripping down his head. “Hey belleza! I didn’t see ya there! Didn’t expect anyone to come here to begin with.” rolling his eyes at the last sentence before smiling up at [Name].

“So what made you come here?” He asked, trying to keep his optimistic side. [Name] shook her head. “Nett, I vwas trying to find my stratum until I came here. You play very nice Lavhino.” She said while looking up at him.

“You are like a bird, free and happy. I vwish I could be free like you.” She admitted slowly looking away. Lavhino felt kinda prideful from her words and snickered. “Heh! If you wanted to watch me play then you could've just said so!” He pointed at himself with a smirk. [Name] nodded and then looked around. Noticing the various equipment and footballs scattered around.

“How….” She whispered.

“Hm?” Lavhino raised a brow at the girl with a hum.

“How do you be happy vwhile playing? You see the light in things, very bright and full of life. I alvways vwondered if I could be free like you, but…. I don’t know how…” She silently sulked.

Lavhino could help but grin at her statement. “Heh! There's no need for you to worry belleza! If you need a little lesson, then I'm the person to help!” Speaking confidentially and putting a hand on her shoulder to assure her that he can be of help.

“Really?” She was surprised that someone as lively as him was willing to help her. But she wouldn't say no to a chance like this.

Lavhino nodded. “Of course! But there's one thing I need to do!” Reaching in his pocket he took out his mobile phone and typed in something.

After a few seconds, he put on some Salsa Romantica music. This completely caught her off guard by the choice of music, but he increased the music and held out his hand for her.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asked with a grin. [Name] was confused by his statement. “I… know how to do ballet.” she shyly said not sure where this is going.

“Eh! Close enough!” He grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him, she gasped as she was chest to chest with him, he smirked as he held her hands in a motion. “Just follow my lead.” He whispered to her. She didn’t know what was going on anymore as Lavhino began to lead the dance and she could only follow. Trying to mimic his footing and hearing slow music accommodating the atmosphere made her heart swell. She had never felt this kind of experience before.

He begins to make her twirl and bend her back to do a head dip it shocked her, but she continues to follow his lead, the movements begin to increase, and [Name] could only clutch onto him for support, but slowly she started to get the hang of this.

“Yeah! That's it! You're doing great!” His words of encouragement started to make her feel proud of what she's doing and continues to dance alongside with him. And when the climax of the song came Lavhino picked her up from the waist and threw her up in the air.

“Whoa!” She loudly accumulated before coming down and casting down onto Lavhino’s arms safely and did a last-minute twirl before being her back and having one of her legs lifted on his hips while keeping a secure grip on her waist just as the music ended.

Both of them trying to catch their breath from that intense moment before Lavhino speaking out with a smirk.

“So did you enjoy yourself, belleza?!” He could help but look at [Name]'s eyes that twinkled by his amazing acrobatics.

“Y-yes…. I… never danced like that before, it vwas fun” A hint of amazement was heard in her voice, something that Lavhino was proud of.

“Well, we can dance all night! If you want!” He couldn't help but wink at her. Something about him just made [Name]'s heartburn from his fiery passion. It was amazing he could keep going from such intense play like this.

But dancing all night with him didn't sound so bad. She doesn't have to suffer from all day leg workouts like before and she can finally be free from her restraints of posing. For some reason the corners of her lips shot upright. Giving the male a soft smile to his surprise.

“Whoa! I didn't know you could smile?!” He pointed at her features. [Name] blinked before remembering that no one saw her smiling or giving out the slightest emotion and feeling that smile just send a heatwave of joy through her system.

“I… I guess I am. I didn't think I ever smiled before…...” she held her reddened cheeks before looking at the male in front of her.

“I think you made me smile, Lavhino.” She whispered shyly but enough for the male to hear. This made him blink “Huh? Me?” His face could be seen with a cheeky grin on his face. [Name] nodded and explained about how she felt.

“From vwhere I'm from, girls don't dance freely. They alvways have to dance perfectly if they vwant to become better ballerinas. It vwas never easy, my body vwas alvways cold and thin…. If vwe do one mistake then they hit us, that's vwhy I never thought that dancing vwould ever bring me joy. But you showed me so much, you showed me how to enjoy dancing and that I shouldn't hold back… thank you for that. It's as if you showed me the light of it all. Something I vwish to alvways see. Thank you Lavhino….”

After explaining her story, Lavhino couldn't help himself but pat her on the head. “Hey, I'm sorry for all that crap you've been through. But you're not there anymore! You're here! Enjoying yourself and being proud! How about we drop this sappy story stuff and get back on our dancing! I can teach you how to do the tango next?!” He snickered.

[Name] could help but smile once more, she really did enjoy being with Lavhino. He was like fire. Flames that burn bright and can reach into people's hearts. He really is the ideal person for what it means to have fun.

“Yeah, I would love that…”

“Heh! Now grab on because this is going to get more wilder!”

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

➺ MARC SNUFFY

Backwards.

What's better than retracing your steps, it is best to start where you came from so heading back was a reliable option on her part. Slowly taking each step on the tile floor trying to remember what path she came from. There were many doors and sadly she doesn't know which one was. Still continuing onwards to what she believes is her destination.

Trying her best to focus on where she's going, she then stumbled into a problem. She doesn't realize which door is her section of Stratum.

She believes she went into the wrong stratum since there was a different door than what she usually sees, but maybe she just noticed the new door. Curious, she decided to take a look inside.

Walking in without permission is what she's against doing but her curiosity was getting the best of her, and she'll apologize for interrupting if it's the wrong door. Slowly she opened it up and was met with an unexpected scent of delicious food.

Couldn't help herself but take a giant whiff of the scenes accommodating the room. Whatever it was, she couldn't seem to hold herself and walked in, closing the door behind her. There she noticed another person was in the room with her, lounging on the black sofa. On the coffee table was dishes of Japanese cuisine and sweets.

It wasn't until she realized that someone sitting on the sofa was Marc Snuffy. Finally putting two to two together, she's in the Italy stratum and this was their meeting room. Ah, no wonder the doors increased and seemed out of place.

She was about to leave undetected, but Marc noticed her before she could even turn around. “Ah, I didn't know you invited yourself here [Name], is there a reason you came here?” He seemed genuine in his question as to why the Russian coach made herself present here on his Stratum.

[Name] looked at him before looking down guilty like. “My apologies Marc, I vwas only trying to go back to my stratum but it seems I've gotten lost instead.” She spoke out.

Marc couldn't help himself but chuckle at her stature and sense of direction of this place. No doubt that this is a large facility so her getting lost was bound to happen. But he didn't think it would come true.

“Heh, no worries. Why don't you come join me?” He spoke out giving the grip a genuine smile. [Name] was surprised that Marc wasn't even offended at the slightest but yet solicited her arrival.

“If it's not too much to ask or a bother for me to intrude, then guess it's an honor for me to be here.” She spoke monotonously. She couldn't help but look at the variance of dishes displayed on the coffee table, something in her mind wanted to taste some of them but didn't want to be rude. Marc noticed her stare at the food on the coffee table and decided to invite her along.

“How about you come sit next to me” He asked her to which she nodded and sat on the black sofa next to him. Now having a very good view of each exquisite dish on the table, she couldn't help herself but gulp in hunger.

“I asked Anri if there was anything to eat since I skipped breakfast, but it turns out she got more things than asked for, so now I'm stuck with plates of food that I don't think I could finish!” He then looked up at [Name], a tiny drool cascading down her lips.

“It’ll be nice to have some company to help me to eat with.” He urged her, [Name]'s eyes slightly widened and looked at Marc. “Ah, sorry. It vwould be very rude for me to come here and eat this food that Anri prepared for you.”

Marc quickly shook his hands to turn down her statement. “No no! It's totally fine, I'm inviting you here to eat with me. Since we didn't have much to speak about when we played against teams.” He spoke assuringly. [Name] was quite before slowly nodding to his words.

“Okay. You don't mind if I try this?” She picked up a seaweed sushi between her fingers, showing it to Marc who nodded. “Sure thing, all these foods are indeed famous Japanese dishes.”

[Name] brought the sushi up to her nose to take a small whiff, a scent of fish, vegetables, rice and seaweed in one formation. She then plopped one in her mouth and slowly chewed it. The flavors of the sushi exploded into flavor in her mouth. Tasting a sensation that she never knew before. Her eyes began to sparkle as she plopped another in her mouth, and another.

‘Soo gooood!’

She couldn't hold herself from stuffing her cheeks with many sushi variants. Marc couldn't help but snicker at her swollen cheeks stuffed with sushi, to him she looks like a curious chipmunk. In an adorable way and he couldn't help but watch.

[Name] then stumbled upon a light green paste on the side of the plate. Curious, she picked it up and slowly brought it to her mouth. Marc saw this and tried to stop her from consuming the green paste. “Wait I wouldn't eat that if I was-”

Too late, she already put it in her mouth.

“-you….” Marc then saw the giant whiplash that was exposed on her face. [Name] cringed and made a sour facial expression. Not liking the burning bitter paste that was wasabi. It burned her taste buds and made her nose flare. She didn't want to waste the food on her mouth so slowly she swallowed the disgusting paste down her throat which made her throat even more burnt. "Bleh… that's horrible….” She still cringed at the aftertaste.

“Oh! Here, drink this.” Marc held up a cup to her, thanking him she drank whatever was inside that cup. Apparently, it also burned her throat but had a scene of flavor kick to it. “Damn, I didn't know you could drink Sake like that.” After she was done drinking, she put the glass down on the table and looked away.

Marc noticed the change of movement from her and was concerned if sake wasn't her go to drink. “Hey you alright?” He asked concernly. [Name] just looked down on her hands and fiddled with her fingers. She slowly looked up at Marc with a small blush creeping up to her cheeks.

“I vwanted to thank you…. I never tasted something like these in my life…” she said. Marc was confused of what she meant and asked what happened. “Did something happen [Name]?”

She slowly shook her head. “Vwell, I never grew up to anything delicious like these. Vwhen I vwas growing up all the food and vwater vwas poisoned and tinted vwith lead. Vwhen I became a football player my meals vwere very strict on my diet. I had to have the same cabbage soup or grilled potatoes eating to make my body into a professional…. After eating sushi… I thought my taste just lacked flavor. Instead, I never tasted something so delicious…” she confronted him.

Marc saw that struggle on her face and couldn't help but feel pity. She lived a different life than anyone and was probably mistreated by others. That face looks like she has seen death multiple times and yet she still stays standing. As if she MUST stay standing or else she doesn't have a choice. “God [Name], coming from you. It's awful to hear, I couldn't imagine being in a place that treats me like shit. You're very brave.” He put a assuring hand on her shoulder for comfort. She couldn't help but feel better by his soothing words.

“Spasibo Marc. I've learned to fight it in me. Sorry for me telling you all this.” She looked guilty. Marc smiled and patted her back. “It's fine. I'm glad to be an open ear for you to speak. I just thought you hated us but it seems that everyone has their differences, including facial expressions.” He joked but [Name] didn't find it funny in her case.

She thanked him again for comforting her, looking back at the table to spot out a pink colored ball wrapped in a leaf. Curious got the best of her and learned to grab it. This time without making a mistake she examined it and took a small sniff. It smelled sweet but she knows not to get tricked again. She licked the pink rice in her hands and found it sweet in her case.

Without saying she finally took a bite of the mochi, chewing it softly and swallowing it down.

It's as if a firework went off on her mouth and her cheeks turned pink.

Her cheekbones started to go upright and her face turned flush, a whole new flavor that she never knew ever existed in her life made a whole thing change. “Soo good!!” She squealed in amazement and continued to chow down on the sakura mochi.

Marc was surprised to see a whole new side of her, for the first time he finally gets to see her smile. It really suited her and she seemed really happy about the Sakura mochi. He noticed that she's going faster with eating and growing concerned he tried to warn her.

“Y'know I wouldn't eat that much if I was - hmp!” A Sakura mochi was placed on his lips. [Name] brought a Sakura mochi to him, trying to let him eat the sweetness. “Eat, these are good!” She said her face was already stuffed with Sakura mochi and wanted Marc to try them out.

Marc blinked before taking the mochi in his hand and smiled at [Name]'s unpredictable astonishment. But he can also see she can be quite the messy eater seeing some rice stick to her cheek, he couldn't help but grab her chine to look at her.

Confused on what he's doing she felt his hand brush off something on her cheek. “Ah sorry, there was mochi stuck to your cheek and wanted to get it out.” He said, flicking the rice off his fingers.

[Name] swallowed and was pleased by his kind gesture. “Spasibo Marc. You're an incredible person.” She whispered but loud enough for him to hear. Marc couldn't help but smirk and brought her closer to him, pulling her over where her arm met his chest. [Name] doesn't know what he's doing but didn't question it.

“Y'know you're beautiful when you smile” he said close to her ear. [Name] couldn't help but blush from the closeness between them, it wasn't until Marc slowly came closer to her face, just a inch close before brutally interrupted by the bang on the door.

“OI! Pops! We were looking for- oh?!” Lorenzo made himself present in the meeting room where he saw a sight for him to see. He couldn't help but crackle at his coach.

Marc eyes begin to twitch at the disturbance that entered in and interrupted their moment. “Has anyone told you to knock first, Lorenzo?!”

“You were totally going to make out with her!!!”

[Name] just slowly looked away and continued to munch on her mochi.

‘Soo gooood!’

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Ball……

Why is there a ball?

After thanking Him for the help He had given the girl, she was now going back to her rightful Stratum.

That is until a ball slowly made it to her feet. Confused, she bent down and picked up the object off the ground and looked around to see who left it, that is until she saw the blonde kid from PxG.

Charles was messing around until he kicked the ball a little to hard in the hallway traveling down to someone's feet but he gasped when he saw the Russian coach pick it up and slowly look at him.

Like a deer in headlights, his heart began to rapidly increase when he made eye contact with the coach, petrified by her stare he slowly took steps back, NOT wanting to be near her any longer.

[Name] then begins to go after Charles with the ball.

“AHHHHH!!!”

Terrified he began to scream and run, “GO AWAY GO AWAY!! WAHHHH!” tears were running down his face when he finally made it to his Stratum and entered through a door, locking the moment he closed it.

“Charles what happened? Why were you screaming?” Tabito looked at the petrified blonde who backed away from the door and hid behind his teammates for cover.

“SHE GON GET ME!!”

“Who's going to get you?” Ryusei questions.

And to his answer, a knock came from the door.

*KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!*

“AHHHH! SHE'S HERE!!!

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Russian Translation:

Blyat = Fuck

Izvinite = My apology/sorry

devochka = girl

bratya = brothers (Pural)

otetz = father/dad

Da = yes

Nett = no

Spasibo = thank you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ended

© 2024 Ｖｅｌｖｅｔｅｅｎ — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[radiance1]

Master List

King of the Blob Ghosts - Mostly flavor text where Danny is the only king of the Blob ghosts. Au not tied in with Ghost King or Ghost Prince hc unless specified.

Goo Dragon - An au where Danny is a goo dragon made entirely of ectoplasm!

Blind King - Danny is blinded by the portal incident, gets adopted by blob ghosts, and then falls into DC and ices over an entire section of a city.

Infinity Prince and the Dark Escapee - Where Danny gets prince training and then has to hunt down Dark Danny because he escaped.(Small thanks to @starlightcat04 and @lauwftzee3542 for ze name)

Cat Familia - Where Danny gets turned into a cat by pissing off a wizard, and accidentally adopts various cats in Gotham!

Tempest - Danny owns a ship called Tempest that he created that he uses to sail through time. Then he accidentally jumps timestreams.

Moth - Where Danny is de-aged and is a moth boy.

Moth - But with Killer Moth.

Eastern Dragon - Danny is the ghost prince and can turn into an eastern dragon.

Cuddly Apocalypse - Teddy Bear Danny au meets one Dark Danny.

Interdimensional Mini Occult Detective - De-aged Tucker gets thrown to another dimension after getting caught lacking by the magical government branch he was looking into.

Herald of Seasons - Danny obtains the ability to guide the seasons when he was split off from .Phantom while still having Vortex's powers

Vortex's lil guy - Soulless Danny gets taken by Vortex and is his little guy.

??? - Phantom causes a ruckus in DC after getting into it and him and Danny fight or something.

Sold to the devil? Nah, sold to the bear - Constantine sells his soul to the Ghost Prince, and is then turned into a baby sitter by the Ghost King.

Demon and Wraith - Demon twins au where both of them are dancers.

Sun and Moon - Based on an older au where Danny and Vlad were deities.

Successor in training - Ghost King Danny except he isn't and Pariah is his mentor.

Just Monika - DDLC is installed on Tucker's PDA somehow and he dates Monika.

Subject M-0001 - Monika hacks into Mount Justice.

Subject Omega - Danny's most perfect clone protects the ruins of Amity Park.

Medic - Danny be a doctor in Gotham.

??? - Pariah Dark just disappears and it's left to Danny and Vlad to find him.

Eastern Dragon and Phoenix au - Mostly a cosmetic au, where Danny is an Eastern Dragon and Vlad is a Pheonix.

Ghost King/Ghost Prince and Duke of the Ghost Zone - Mostly just flavor text really, Danny is usually more Ghost Prince than King and Vlad is the Duke.

Phoenix King Vlad - Exactly as it says, Vlad is either one of or the king of phoenixes

Kawmi? - Where Vlad and Danny get transformed into magical jewelry that allows others to use their powers.

Fountain Dragon - Danny drops in the Wayne Manor Fountain.

Will of the Wisp - Where Danny gets turned into a tiny whisp because of one of his parents inventions.

??? - Jack gets thrown to the DC dimension alongside Danny and made a coffin for Danny to sleep in during ze day.

??? - The Ghost King gets summoned to DC and wages war, but the Ghost Prince stops said war and gets a date out of it.

Teddy Bear Danny - Another cosmetic au where Danny get turned into a stuffed teddy bear in his accident, he was holding onto one before it happened. He's also in ranges of 5-10 here.

Ghost King at birth, Farmer at heart - Mostly cosmetic au where Pariah Dark, if he weren't the ghost king, would be a farmer and he has an intense love for horses.

Farmer with quite the ghostly (and kingly) secret - Pariah Dark disguises himself as a human and moves into Smallville, has a hard time interacting with humans and humaning as a whole.

Life hanging by tape and sheer will - Where Tucker gets yeeted to the DC dimension.

Dream pals? Dream pals! - Younger Danny and pre-Batman Bruce meet each other through a dream, unfortunately when Danny experienced his accident that connection was shut down.

Bakery and a masquerading demon? - Vlad owns a bakery, Constantine is a regular who holds suspicions that Vlad may or may not be a demon.

Gift in the arms of tragedy - Danny becomes Vlad's ward after the Nasty Burger explosion, only to then become adopted when he was turned into an eight-year-old not even a week later.

??? - Danny and Vlad get turned into kids by Clockwork and placed in the DC dimension because Clockwork thought it was funny. Danny decides to use Vlad to not get adopted.

The key(s) to Doomsday - Danny gets de-aged by Clockwork when going to visit Pariah in the human world, gets summoned, and meets Raven.

Alicorn parole - Pariah gets released from his eternal rest with the sole condition that he's to be watched over by Clockwork. The Ancient of War then decides to combine two mythical beasts and shaped himself into an alicorn, Clockwork followed and then they met Billy Batson.

Ferret Danny - Danny is a ferret. That's it.

Witch - Sam is a witch.

Dead eyed Doctor - Danny, the son of Talia Al Ghul and Jack Fenton, trained under Vlad Masters and became a doctor.

Shadow Twin? Shadow Twin. - Danny dies and reincarnates as the son of Talia Al Ghul, the younger brother and twin of Damian Wayne and son of Batman. Only to then be killed immediately after because he was born with a birth defect, thus becoming a shadow creature that follows Damian around.

Match and Danny - Danny reincarnates into the body of a clone of Superman and Wonder Woman, steals Match and then becomes Metropolis cryptids. Also check out this fic it's great!!!!!

[polariscroquis]

"Just wanna be, wanna bewitch you in the moonlight...!"

I think it's pretty well-established Cardi is a great dancer - or waltz-foot, as we'd say in my country. So here he is: the waltzing Papa dancing with death in a very Dracula attire and some "horns" made of ghostly fabric ;)

You can find the photo I used as a pose reference to this drawing right here: pinterest photo link.

Also: why does it look like a fairy tale illustration? Well, yours truly is a sucker for Illuminated Manuscripts and Illustrations. I showed this to my mom, saying I wanted to draw a frame around it, but had no ideas. She told me to do "my kind of beautiful frames" - and that's what she meant: the Illuminated sort-of frames I study on my free time. Enter Count Copia waltzing under the moonlight, Dance Macabre quote and all.

TLDR: blame it on my mom :)

Classic Artist Disclaimer: please don't use my work without my proper authorization and credit.

[sheplaysviolin]

One of the girls

“I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

Caitlyn Kirammen X female reader

Disclaimer- smut, cussing, smoking, and drinking some mentions of season 2 act 2 spoilers, and mentioning of prostitution

Extras- inspired by the song ‘One of the girls’ by The Weekend, Lily-Rose Depp and JENNIE

Enjoy :)

The city of Piltover has seen numerous attacks due to someone from the under city. Only the higher ups of the city truly know what is going on leaving the city in complete silence. But you still have to get up everyday at exactly 7 pm to start your day at the club. You obviously didn’t imagine this life for yourself while you were in school but due to the death of your father who kept the family unit afloat your education was forcibly put on hold.

He died young, only at the age of 48. Your mother completely disappeared after his death. Her ghostly figure hovering around the house. Her steps heaving and her head held low. Your father always told you that if something happens to him. You had to be responsible for the family. So now you work late into the night to sustain the life your family once had. You can tell your mom is truly thankful for your sacrifice but doesn’t show it much. She is far more embarrassed by the life you had to chose because she couldn’t get her shit together.

You get out of bed and look at your hands. Trying to see if the fight you were in yesterday is visible. Seeing that it is not you stand and start to get ready for your shift. Picking out an outfit that will hopefully get you enough money to put in the monthly payment for your younger brother’s tuition. Already running late you take some things you need to keep getting ready at work. You walk out of your room and the house is quiet and dark. A pot of stew on the stove waiting to be eaten.

You give your home one last look before leaving and locking the door behind you. The walk to the club is sketchy. Of course it is, this form of work in Piltover is illegal. But for girls like you this is your only option. You walk quietly through the city. Seeing flowers in memory of the council memories that passed away due to the attack. You observe young men slumped over clearly intoxicated crying out for someone.

After many flights of stairs you finally make it to your job. Hearing the music from outside of the building always gets you prepared for what you are about to expiernce. You knock three times rhythmically on the door letting the security know it’s one of the dancers. A tall broad man opens the door for you and gives you a quick glance. “Good afternoon Y/N, loads of people here tonight.” The man says while keeping his eyes straight avoiding eye contact.

You push your way through to get in and chuckle at his statement. “That’s every night.” You sassily reply to him. He shakes his head in disagreement and bends down closer to you. You feel his slow breathing on your neck and twitch slightly. “No, it’s different tonight.” He says ominously. You playfully push him off of you and walk away. ‘Can’t be that different, right?!’

The club is dimly lit and flashes of color appear every so often. You hear all sorts of songs tonight and men whistling at the women dancing sensually on stage. You walk to the back and open the door to the dancer only section where girls are getting ready. “Hey Y/N.” Farrah says while snorting some substance up her nose. Farrah actually introduced you to the club life without her.. you don’t even want to think about it. You smile at her and walk over in a skippy manner. “How is the money tonight?” You ask while giving her a friendly kiss on her head.

She slightly blushes and waves you off. “It’s great. Like really great. Probably best all year in my opinion!” She says excitedly. You walk over to the changing rooms and start changing. Everyday is a theme and tonight it’s ’Under the sea’ kinda stupid in your opinion but whatever. Your outfit is light blue and barely covers anything. You slip on your high heels and start to pick out your songs for tonight. “Y/N! You are on stage right now.” Your boss says while quickly scanning her eyes over her clipboard. “Okay.”

Going on stage is always nerve racking but once you are up there all of the nerves go away. Your music starts playing and you start dancing sultry and smooth. Desperate men throw their money at you that they promised to save. Your body touches the cold pole and sparks your excitement even more. While dancing you see a figure in the back with piercing blue eyes. You stare directly at them. Watching them like your life depends on it.

You try to focus on your dance while still trying to make out who the figure is. ‘Maybe it’s a regular? What no way I would’ve recognized those eyes. Hmm their hair seems kinda long, maybe it’s a woman?’

You hear men whooping and hollering over your and seeing men slouched over at the bar with an empty drink besides them. It’s usually never women in these kinds of places. With this conclusion you start to feel more into the music than ever. Squatting slowly down the pole and pressing your pelvic era near it slowly. You start to slowly walk around the pole and rolling your body. You keep eye contact with those blue eyes. You guide your hands down your body and bring it back up to suck on your fingers.

This movement always makes the men in here holler for whatever reasons. The figure starts to smirk slowly which gives you all kinds of excitement. Your song ends and the men start to stand up and clap and throw money at you. You wink at them and start picking it up slowly while mouthing ‘thank you’. You step off stage money in hand and go to the dancer section only to get ready for private rooms. “Great job Y/N! You already have a customer wanting a private room with you.” your boss says while taking an inhale from her cigarette. “Okay, let me get ready then.” You tell her while putting your money in a bag saving it to count for later. You retouch your makeup, and fix your hair a bit before walking out to the private rooms.

“Hey Y/N.” A man says while putting down his glass. It’s Harlow he’s always in here. His shaggy hair covers his deep eye bags and his forehead wrinkles. “Hey, sorry can’t talk right now private room!” you say quickly trying to avoid a conversation. He’s a nice man but he’s very pushy and if you don’t stop him. He will take up your whole shift talking about himself. “Of course baby. After him it’s my turn.” He says while attempting to wink at you but actually just closes both of his eyes. You give him a wave and keep walking.

‘Him, huh? Damn I wanted it to be ocean eyes.’ You think to yourself before opening the deep red curtain to the private room. “Hello..?” You say while entering. Before even being able to finish your sentence you see the person that was smirking at you while dancing. You were right it was a women. Infront of you is a women with her legs spread and slumped down in her chair. Her features are intriguing her teal-blue piercing eyes that shine in the dim lit room. Her long blue hair that she keeps pushing out of her face. She must be nervous. Something about her looks so familiar. “You don’t look like you are supposed to be here.” You say while closing the curtain behind you. You feel her eyes stare at your figure and you suddenly became nervous.

“What does that mean?” She scoffs at your comment. Her voice catches you off guard for a moment. “Love your accent.” You say while walking towards her. She rolls her eyes and looks at you up and down. Inspecting every part of you. “You are fucking gorgeous by the way. Wouldn’t think a face like yours would end up here.” She says to you while stretching her hand out to you. You hesitate for a moment than take it. Her long slender hands are cool to the touch. ‘Wonder what this would feel like up my.. fuck.’

You smile at her. No one has ever called hour gorgeous before. Mostly because people can’t even spell it where. “I didn’t think so either but here we are.” You giggle for a second before straddling her. You really aren’t supposed to get this close to the clients but damn this girl is different. “I don’t even really know what we are supposed to do in here. But I like this a lot already.” The ocean eyed lady says while slowly gliding her hands up and down your body. Some of you is bare due to your outfit so it tingles in a good way.

You give her a quick smirk. You start to move your hip closer to her. Grinding back and forth. She pulls you closer to her and squeezes your ass. “Can I kiss you?” She asks shyly as if you aren’t basically riding her. “Of course.” She grabs your face tightly but also comforting and pulls you into a kiss. Her mouth opening to let your inside. Everything about her is so addicting. The way her tongue slowly enters your mouth.

You slowly moan into her and she takes that as a sign to take off your top. Which is totally against the rules but fuck it. She exposes your breast to the cold air. “So beautiful.” She says before leaning into your chest. She opens her mouth and sucks on your nipples needly. “Fuck..” you mumble while resting your head on your shoulder. You have never been this intimate with someone before and this experience is out of body. She smiles into your chest hearing the sounds that you are producing just from her mouth. She grips your other breast with her free hand squeezing them.

“Damn they are soft.” This comment makes you a bit embarrassed. You start sucking on her neck and run your fingers through her hair. “Hah..” is the only sound you can make just from her sucking on you. She opens her mouth exposing your breast to the cold air and lifts your body up to take off your skirt. “Can I?” She says before sliding her index and ring finger into you. The noises your body makes is fascinating.

You start to moan into her neck. “Come on baby ride my fingers.” She whispers into your ear sending shivers down your spine. You start to adjust your self into her fingers and start to move your hips. “Fuck your tight.” She whispers while pushing more into you. You try to maintain a steady rhythm with your hips like you are on stage but this is just so different. Her long slender fingers fit so well inside you. She starts to move her fingers in and out of you.

“Ha.. I can’t.” you softly grunt. “Are you about to cum?” You nod and she smirks at you. “Come on baby.” She begs while looking at you. Your body squirms with every slightly movement she makes. “Mmhmm..” is all you can muster out before climaxing. “Good job baby.” She praises you as if she didn’t do all the work. She slowly lifts you up and takes her fingers out slowly. The slimy residue that is left on her fingers is a creamy white color. She stretches apart the two fingers that were just in you and a string of the substance is shown.

She looks at you and starts to put her fingers in her mouth sucking in her cum filled fingers. You can’t even look at her embarrassed from what just happened. She takes her fingers out of her mouth and tilts your head towards her with her thumb and smiles at you. “Beautiful.”

──★ ˙ ̟🐇 !!

HIIII I hoped you liked it!! Bro I’m so terrified to finish arcane that I distracted myself and wrote this instead!! I’m so tempted to write caitvi fic bc I’ve already seen all the videos their little scene it was so hot. Well anyways bye :) until next time!!

Speaking of next time what would yall prefer- Caitvi, Viktor x reader or boxer Vi x reader ? Please tell me <3

[venusphoriia]

࿐྄ྀ˖ ⌜2:43 𝐀.𝐌.⌟ ─ 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ཿ⠀ in which Leona grows infatuated with you after a one night stand. [Part 1]

He’s the second born prince of Sunset Savanna, often disliked because of his arrogant and lazy persona. His lack of motivation more often than not makes him fall short of his wild ambitions. Despite his lazy, apathetic nature, he wields powerful magic that strikes fear into even the hearts of his own people. The power to cause a drought at will.

His well known reputation has caused many to view him as “unapproachable.” The second born prince, of course, seems to care little of how others perceive him. Taking naps wherever he deems fit, skipping important events when lacking the motivation to go, and caring little to form meaningful and genuine connections with others has formed the reputation that Leona carries today.

Despite his lack of wanting anything in life, there is one thing he yearns for more than peaceful naps under the cool shade of a tree in the hot afternoon of summer—

To be king.

Although he long gave up on that ambition the moment his nephew was born.

He officially became the second born prince of Sunset Savanna, who was as lazy as he was prideful with no motivation nor will to make anything of his life.

Until he met you…

A dancer who had performed at a grand banquet held for his brother celebrating yet another great deed he had done. There was nothing special that caught his eye the first time he looked at you, it was when you approached him after the banquet that captured his attention.

You spoke so freely that he wondered if you knew who he was and his reputation among the kingdom. When you acknowledged his status and his reputation, but gave little care to the gossip surrounding him, you had him enraptured.

Your relaxed, comforting aura whisked him away into a night of sin. The way your lips felt so soft against his felt almost ghostly. With every mark he painted across your skin, he felt himself becoming more and more enchanted with your very being. The way you breathe, your whispers of his name, even the taste of you against his tongue—everything. You felt as warm as the savanna’s sun and as comforting as its cool breeze.

He was infatuated with you.

He had found his new ambition, and he’ll be damned to let it go.

You will be his. You don’t have a choice.

© venusphoriia 2023 — do not copy or repost any of my works on any other platform, please and thank you !! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

[rainforestakiie]

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Falling Leaves

@adamsappleweek

hello~ day 05th super excited for everyone to read it~

thank you to everyone who gave me research in Adam and lucifer being cats.

At the beginning of autumn, when the leaves began to fall, magic stirred in the air. The once verdant green leaves blushed gold and crimson, their edges crisping like the curling pages of an ancient tome. They fell not with the harsh thud of things dying, but with the whisper of secrets, like autumn snowflakes, painting the cobbled streets in a tapestry of ruby and amber.

The wind—sharp with the taste of Halloween and something older, something wild—played its ghostly tune, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and mischief.

Each leaf, as it tumbled from its branch, shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its brittle veins knitting together in patterns unseen by human eyes. Slowly, as if commanded by some unseen force, the leaves folded, their crumbling edges curling inward like claws of ancient beings.

Limbs formed—fragile, delicate—until, just as the leaf touched the ground, shadows moved, and from the dark crept tiny creatures: hollow insects, born from the brittle skeletons of autumn’s fleeting moments. They crawled from their leafy shells, their wings transparent like whispers, flitting about in the cool twilight.

Underneath the grandest tree in all of New York City—a tree that had stood for centuries, older than the buildings and streets, older than memory itself—a cat watched. His emerald eyes, glowing with a knowing light, blinked slowly as he observed the golden leaves flutter down like dancers in a long-forgotten ball. His tail, thick and bushy like a fox’s, swished lazily against the ground, stirring the blanket of fallen leaves.

The cat—more ancient than he appeared—had lived through countless autumns. Each one brought with it a sense of renewal, yet also a strange melancholy. The years had weighed heavy on him, yet he never tired of the sight of the leaves’ graceful descent, as if they, too, held onto their brief moments before vanishing into the earth.

His much-too-large ears twitched at the faintest sound: the delicate crackle of leaves breaking apart underfoot, the scurrying of those tiny, magical insects taking their first breaths of autumn air.

This was his favorite time of year. There was something about autumn, with its fading light and long shadows, that soothed his old soul. He loved nothing more than to lie on his belly beneath the wide, sheltering branches, hidden away from the world, and watch the dance of the leaves.

They twirled as if possessed by a spirit all their own, gliding on the wind, never in a hurry, always mindful of the beauty in their slow descent. The city might belong to the humans, but autumn—this fleeting, magical time—belonged to him.

The humans never noticed him. They rushed past, their minds occupied with their lives, never pausing to wonder at the magic that lingered in the air. No one looked for him, and he preferred it that way. He had no human to call his own, no warm lap to curl into, and no home but the city streets. It had always been this way. Solitude was the thread that wove through the tapestry of his long life.

As the golden leaves began to cloud his vision, swirling in hypnotic patterns, he felt the pull of sleep. The night was falling fast, and the air carried a biting chill. He needed to find a new place to rest, somewhere warmer to wait out the night.

Humans were already tucked away inside their towering boxes, leaving the world outside quiet, save for the whispers of the wind and the soft hiss of the cat as he stretched, urging his tired body to move. His paws ached—sharp, relentless pain that dug into his bones—but he ignored it, as he always did.

He had lived far longer than any cat should, his fur now streaked with silver and time. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he pressed on, dragging himself away from the shelter of the great tree. His tail trailed behind him like a forgotten thread, brushing against the pavement, while the city, veiled in shadow and the magic of autumn, seemed to hum with secrets untold.

Even as he moved, the leaves continued their dance, as if bidding him farewell. He knew this autumn might be his last.

The old cat had long grown accustomed to his solitude. It had been so many years since he had shared warmth with anyone, that the cold had become his constant companion. Alone he had always been, and alone he believed he would always remain. It didn’t bother him anymore—not the biting chill of the night nor the way no human had ever laid a kind hand upon him, stroking his fur with warmth. His life had taught him to be at peace with the quiet, with the empty nights and the cold streets. He had stopped looking for affection long ago.

When he was just a kitten, bright-eyed and hopeful, he had wanted what the other strays had—love, warmth, and a place to belong. He had chased after humans, purring and rubbing against their legs like the others, hoping they would scoop him up and take him home. But it never happened. The world was indifferent to him, and as the years passed, he had grown used to that too.

Now, his body ached more than ever. He dragged his tired paws across the ground, each step sending sharp jolts of pain up his legs and into his weary frame. His stomach burned as he leaped onto a nearby park bench, the effort almost too much for his aging bones.

A small, pitiful whimper escaped his throat as he settled himself down, curling up tight to preserve what little warmth he had left. Once his head nestled between his paws, the pain eased, if only slightly. His ears folded back, and a long, deep sigh escaped him.

In the quiet of the night, memories swirled in his mind like autumn leaves. He remembered a time when he had been part of a pack of stray cats, a family of sorts. Those days had been lively—filled with the warmth of companionship, the comfort of bodies pressed close together during the cold nights, and the playful bickering over scraps. It had been fun, cozy, something like a home.

He had liked it. But, one by one, the other cats had been found by humans, taken into homes where they would be fed, loved, and kept warm. One by one, they had all disappeared, until he was the only one left. The only one no human wanted.

He had watched them all go, hopeful at first that his time would come too, that someone would see him, and he would be loved. But no hands reached for him. No doors opened. No hearth awaited him.

The loneliness had crept in slowly, like a shadow, until it was all he knew.

Humming softly to himself, the old cat blinked his emerald eyes, the weight of the world pressing heavily upon them. His heart, though it had hardened over the years, still carried a small flicker of longing—just one friend, he thought. Just one companion to share the cold nights with, to curl up beside. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? His eyes grew heavy, lulled by the distant whisper of the wind and the soft rustle of the leaves.

With that wish lingering in his mind, the old cat finally allowed sleep to take him, sinking into the warmth of his own fur. The night wrapped around him like a velvet cloak, and he remained unaware of the world as it moved in the shadows.

But not far from where he slept, a small figure was creeping toward him. Hidden in the night, a much smaller white cat emerged from the wooded park, his movements quiet as a breeze. His fur, pure as freshly fallen snow, glowed faintly under the dim light of the park lanterns.

His had been watching him for some time, this grand, fluffy creature that seemed larger than life to him. And as he finally curled up on the bench, looking so worn and tired, something stirred inside him—an eagerness to snuggle into his warmth, to press himself into his thick, soft fur and feel the comfort of another.

He moved cautiously, his tiny paws barely making a sound on the ground as he padded closer. His bright blue eyes, wide and curious, never left his large form. He didn’t want to disturb him, but he couldn’t resist the pull to be close to him, to share in his warmth.

And so, with the gentleness of a falling leaf, the small white cat climbed up onto the bench, tucking himself into the hollow of his body. He pressed his tiny nose into his side, letting out a soft purr as he settled into the warmth of his enormous, fluffy form. His deep, steady breathing soothed him, and soon enough, him own eyes fluttered closed, a quiet contentment washing over him.

For the first time in a long while, the old cat was not alone. Neither of them knew it yet, but that small wish—his quiet hope for a friend—had begun to take shape, like the golden leaves turning to dust and becoming something new.

When morning came and the autumn sun began to rise, the world stirred with a soft, golden light. The rays filtered through the canopy of leaves above, casting a gentle glow upon the city. The air, still crisp with the remnants of night, carried the scent of damp earth and fading dreams. As the first hints of warmth touched the old cat's fur, he blinked awake slowly, still so very tired, his body heavy with the aches of a life lived too long.

His emerald green eyes, dulled with age but still sharp with a quiet wisdom, fluttered open, and he shifted, instinctively wanting to stretch despite the familiar burn of pain in his limbs. But something stopped him. His body was pinned, not by the sharpness of his own aging muscles, but by something softer. His ears twitched with confusion, and he inched his large, fluffy form just enough to hear a small, sleepy meow of protest beside him.

The old cat froze, his wide eyes blinking in surprise as his heart gave a startled leap. Slowly, cautiously, he raised his head and looked around, his gaze darting about as if he expected something—or someone—to charge at him from the shadows. But the park was empty, save for the trees swaying in the gentle morning breeze. He was alone—yet not quite.

His gaze lowered to the warmth nestled at his side, where he saw, to his utter astonishment, a much smaller white cat, curled up against him. The little thing was wrapped so tightly into his fur that their coats had begun to blend, the old cat’s red-brown fur tinging the pure, snow-white of the newcomer with a soft, reddish hue.

The old cat stilled himself, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to do. His mind raced, fumbling for a decision, though his heart remained paralyzed with surprise. No creature had willingly curled up beside him for longer than he could remember. His first instinct was to retreat, to slip away before the little intruder woke. Maybe he could wiggle his large form free and sneak off into the shadows, leaving the small cat none the wiser. Yes, maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn’t wake the smaller one at all.

But that hopeful thought was swiftly torn away.

Before he could make his escape, the little white cat stirred. A soft, sleepy purr vibrated from its small frame, and the cat shifted, tilting its fluffy face upward. Brilliant blue eyes, as clear and sparkling as a summer sky, opened and met the old cat’s bewildered green ones. The older cat stared back, frozen in place, his wide eyes locked onto the smaller cat’s gentle gaze.

The moment lingered, stretched thin like the morning mist curling around the trees. The little white cat blinked up at him, its expression filled with innocent curiosity. And then, to the old cat’s utter disbelief, the smaller one stretched up, its tiny paws pressing into his side, and gave the tip of his nose the softest lick.

The old cat shot up as if struck by lightning, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He scrambled to his feet, startled beyond words by the unexpected gesture. His ears stood on end, and his thick tail fluffed out in shock, as if preparing to face some unseen danger. For a moment, the world around him spun, and he half-expected the trees to start whispering or the wind to laugh at him for letting his guard down.

But the small white cat merely looked up at him, amused by his reaction. It blinked slowly, as if to say, It’s alright. There’s nothing to fear here.

The older cat, still on edge, stared down at the smaller one. His heart, which had been bracing for rejection or indifference as it always had, was now met with something else entirely. Affection. The sensation was foreign to him, unsettling and strange, yet there was no malice in those blue eyes, only warmth.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do next. His instincts told him to run, to return to the safety of solitude, where no one could surprise him or shake him from his quiet existence. But something about the little cat—the softness of its fur, the brightness in its eyes—made him pause.

The white cat purred again, softly, and shifted closer, brushing its cheek against his paw as if seeking comfort in his presence. And for the first time in a very long while, the old cat felt something warm unfurl in his chest, a feeling he had almost forgotten. Perhaps… it wouldn’t be so bad, having someone near.

Still wary, but no longer willing to run, the old cat sat back down, his movements slow and careful. He kept his eyes on the smaller cat, watching, waiting. The white cat merely settled back down beside him, pressing itself into the curve of his fluffy form with the ease of someone who had always known where they belonged.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the old cat felt that perhaps he was no longer so alone.

Like snowflakes, the autumn leaves continued their descent, swirling gently through the air with the grace of a thousand tiny dancers. Each leaf shimmered with a faint golden glow, catching the last light of day before twilight descended. The park, bathed in the fading warmth of the evening sun, seemed to hum with quiet magic, the kind only the old cat could sense. He had seen this place in every season, but autumn had always been the most enchanting. It was as if the whole world paused, holding its breath before the long sleep of winter.

When the big cat awoke once more, twilight’s soft purple glow casting long shadows across the ground, he blinked slowly, expecting to feel the warmth of his new, tiny companion nestled against him. But as his old eyes opened fully, a strange emptiness greeted him. The small white cat was gone—vanished, as if spirited away by the very winds that whispered through the trees.

His heart, which had warmed so unexpectedly the night before, now sank with a familiar heaviness. The old cat remained still for a long moment, his ears drooping with a sadness he thought he had long since buried. The ache in his chest spread slowly, a cold, creeping thing that wrapped around his heart like ivy, tighter and tighter. He had forgotten what it felt like to lose something, to miss the company of another. And now, that loneliness returned to him, sharp and painful.

He laid there, motionless, his green eyes scanning the quiet park as the leaves continued their dance, twinkling in the soft twilight. He waited. And waited. Hoping, with each passing moment, that the little white cat might return—eager to snuggle back into his fur, to purr softly in the silence of the park. But the white cat did not come. The hours stretched on, and with each minute, hope slowly slipped away, like the last light of the sun fading into the horizon.

A soft whimper escaped the old cat’s throat, low and mournful. He had waited long enough. The ache of longing, so sudden and fierce, was too much to bear. He had hoped, just for a moment, that he might not have to be alone. That perhaps, in this sprawling city, there was one small creature who would stay by his side. But hope, it seemed, was a dangerous thing for someone who had lived as long as he had.

The old cat finally dragged himself to his feet, his limbs heavy with sorrow and age. Pain flared up his legs as he moved, a familiar burn that he ignored, though it tugged at him with every step. The park, once his haven, now felt empty, its beauty tainted by the loneliness that gnawed at his soul. The trees no longer whispered with secrets; the leaves no longer danced. All he could feel was the weight of his own isolation, pressing down on him with every breath.

New York City had always been his home, but tonight, it felt different. The streets, usually bustling with life, seemed distant and cold. The park, once so cozy and magical, now filled him with dread—the dread of hope, of having allowed himself, even for a brief moment, to believe he wasn’t entirely alone.

With a final glance at the towering tree that had been his sanctuary, the old cat turned his back on it. He didn’t want to stay here any longer, where every rustle of a leaf reminded him of what he had lost. Slowly, with the same weary grace he had carried for so many years, he began to wander through the city, his paws padding softly against the pavement.

He moved through streets that had begun to light up with the glow of lampposts and shop windows, but none of it held any comfort. The harshness of winter was coming—he could feel it in the bite of the wind. He had lived through so many winters, but this one felt different. He wasn’t sure if he could survive it, not with the cold now seeping inside his heart as well as his bones.

But still, he walked, searching for a new place to settle. Somewhere, anywhere, to weather the coming storm. And as the night deepened around him, the city wrapped in its own veil of mystery, the old cat continued his quiet journey through the autumn-painted streets, a lonely figure wandering beneath the silver glow of the rising moon.

He wished somebody cared for him. He wished somebody loved him…just once.

The old cat wandered on, his sore paws carrying him through endless days and nights. He no longer counted the sunrises or the moonlit skies, for they blurred into one long, continuous cycle—light chasing shadow, shadow chasing light. Each step grew heavier, each breath more labored, as if the weight of the years was finally catching up with him. He had walked for so long, he no longer knew where he was going or why. His only companion now was the sharp, ever-present pain in his side, gnawing at him like a cruel reminder of his age.

The city stretched on around him, indifferent to his suffering. Cars hummed in the distance, people moved like shadows on the horizon, and the leaves, ever falling, continued to dance around him, swirling in their eternal autumn waltz. The old cat could barely keep his head up anymore. His once proud tail, bushy and full of life, now dragged limply along the ground, collecting dust and fallen leaves as he shuffled forward.

His vision blurred. He blinked, once, twice, trying to clear the fog from his mind, but the dizziness wouldn’t leave him. The world swayed before him, tilting and spinning, and his legs wobbled beneath him. The pain in his stomach had grown unbearable, a fire burning low and deep within him, spreading out like tendrils of smoke. His paws, trembling with exhaustion, finally gave way beneath him, and with one last shaky breath, the big cat collapsed.

The thud of his body hitting the cold ground was soft, almost too soft to be heard, like a leaf falling from a tree. His ears folded inward, his tail lay still, and for the first time in his long, lonely life, he couldn’t muster even the faintest whimper of pain. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, cold and all-encompassing, swallowing the world around him until only a pinprick of light remained.

Ah. This seems right.

He had lived alone, wandered the streets alone, and now, he would die alone. What a sad life, he thought. His once-bright emerald eyes, now dimmed with age and sorrow, slowly shut. He surrendered to the quiet, to the darkness, letting it pull him under like the tide. He would be forgotten, as if he had never been at all. His body relaxed, preparing to welcome death as an old friend, as his chest rose and fell one final time.

But the universe, it seemed, had a different plan.

At that very moment, across the street, a young woman hurried through the brisk morning air, her breath puffing out in quick clouds as she cursed under her breath for not grabbing a thicker coat. Her long, grey and purple hair swirled around her in the chilly breeze, catching the early light of the sun as she hurried home. She was eager to get back to her girlfriend, to see the small, mischievous kitten they had adopted not long ago, its playful antics already filling their apartment with laughter.

She rounded a corner, her boots clacking against the pavement, when a flicker of movement caught her eye. Glancing up, her heart leapt into her throat. There, across the street, was a large, fragile-looking cat—collapsed and unmoving. Its once-fluffy fur was matted and dull, its body thin and frail, as if it had been wandering for far too long without care. The sight of it made her heart squeeze with worry.

“Shit,” she cursed, without a second thought.

She sprinted across the street, her boots skidding slightly on the pavement as she knelt down beside the poor creature. Her hands were trembling as she gently gathered the cat up into her arms, the weight of him so much lighter than she had expected for such a large animal. The cat's body was limp, his breathing shallow, and she could feel the weak, erratic beat of his heart against her chest.

"You're not dying on my watch," she whispered fiercely, clutching the fragile cat to her chest as if her warmth alone could keep him tethered to the world.

The cold wind whipped around them, biting into her skin, but she didn’t care. Her thoughts raced, a flood of worry and urgency filling her mind. She was a veterinary student—she had seen animals in critical condition before, but this… this felt different. This cat wasn’t just another patient. There was something in his stillness, in the way his battered body had finally given up, that tugged at her heart in a way she hadn’t expected.

With a burst of determination, she stood up, holding the big cat close to her chest as she ran, her feet pounding against the pavement. She didn’t know if she could save him, didn’t know if he had the strength left to survive, but she would try. She couldn’t let him go—not like this, not alone.

And as she rushed through the city streets, her breath coming out in ragged gasps, the autumn leaves continued to fall around them, swirling in the wind like golden snowflakes, as if the city itself had conspired to guide her to the old cat’s side at just the right moment.

A week later, Vaggie had the old cat at the vet and then finally home with her.

The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the cozy apartment, casting long shadows across the walls as Vaggie sat beside the old cat’s bed. The world outside their window was a swirl of golden autumn leaves, twinkling in the twilight, but inside, the air was thick with worry. The fragile cat lay still, his once-mighty form now a shadow of its former self, tucked beneath layers of blankets as if the warmth alone could coax him back from the brink.

Vaggie’s eyes, usually so sharp and determined, were filled with a quiet sorrow as she gazed at the slumbering creature. She had been caring for him for a week now—checking his vitals, ensuring he was fed, speaking soft words to him as if her voice alone could summon him back to the waking world. But still, the old cat slept, his chest rising and falling with shallow, slow breaths, as if trapped in a deep dream.

“I think he’s a Maine Coon, but I can’t tell. He’s in such a terrible state,” Vaggie whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft crackle of the fireplace. She brushed a strand of her grey and purple hair behind her ear, her gaze never leaving the cat.

Beside her, Charlie sat down on the edge of the bed, her bright eyes filled with the same quiet worry. The apartment, usually so full of light and laughter, had taken on a hushed tone in the last few days, as if they were waiting for something—some sign that the cat would wake, that he would be okay.

Charlie reached out, gently taking Vaggie’s hand in her own, her thumb brushing soothingly over her knuckles. “Vaggie, it’s only been a week since we got him from the vet. Give it time. I’m sure he’ll wake up. He just needs a little longer to heal.”

But Vaggie’s heart ached with doubt.

“He should have woken up by now,” she murmured, her voice barely a breath. “I’m worried about him.”

She watched the old cat’s ears twitch slightly in his sleep, but there was no other movement. His fur, once matted and dull, had begun to regain some of its former luster under their care, though he still looked so frail, like a creature made of whispers and shadows.

Vaggie couldn’t shake the feeling that time was slipping away, like sand through her fingers, and that maybe, just maybe, he had chosen this long sleep as his way of fading quietly from the world.

Charlie leaned closer, her warm presence a small comfort in the dimly lit room.

“You saved him,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet strength. “Whatever happens, you saved him. You gave him warmth, love, and care when he needed it most. Maybe that’s what he’s been waiting for all along—a place to rest, where he’s not alone.”

Vaggie’s heart clenched at her girlfriend’s words, and for a moment, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She had found the old cat by chance on that cold morning, barely alive, and had brought him into their home without hesitation. But now, seeing him so still, so unresponsive, she feared that she might lose him before he even had a chance to wake.

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light over the room, the old cat lay in a dreamlike stillness, unaware of the two souls watching over him. Outside, the leaves continued to fall, each one carrying the soft whisper of the season’s magic, as if the world itself was waiting with bated breath.

But in that quiet moment, something shifted. Vaggie’s sharp eyes caught it—a flutter, so slight, in the cat’s whiskers. Her breath hitched, and she leaned in, her heart pounding in her chest.

The old cat’s eyes, those once-dim emerald orbs, blinked open ever so slowly. They were clouded with sleep, but behind the haze, a flicker of life remained. He glanced up, his gaze settling on Vaggie for a fleeting second, before his eyes drifted closed again.

It was just a brief moment, but it was enough. Enough to send a spark of hope fluttering in Vaggie’s chest, like the first breath of spring after a long, cold winter. She clutched Charlie’s hand, her heart racing.

“Did you see that?” she whispered, barely able to contain her emotions.

Charlie nodded, her smile soft but filled with hope.

“He’s waking up,” she whispered back. “He’s not ready to leave yet.”

And as the autumn leaves swirled outside, twinkling like tiny stars in the fading light, the old cat lay nestled in the warmth of the home that had found him, in the care of two hearts that had opened to him. The magic of the season lingered in the air, and for the first time in many years, the cat was no longer alone.

The soft, warm atmosphere of the room was abruptly interrupted by a loud, high-pitched meow that echoed like a tiny siren. Charlie’s face scrunched up in playful frustration, her hands rising to her ears for a moment.

Vaggie let out a light laugh, her eyes dancing as they flickered towards the bedroom door.

“Aw, poor baby,” she cooed with a smile, though it was clear she was amused.

Charlie huffed, crossing her arms. “He is not a baby, not after the stunt he pulled last week! There’s nothing poor about him.” She glared at the door as if it held the mischievous little culprit behind it.

The sound of scratching reached their ears then, a persistent rasping at the bottom of the door, and Vaggie shook her head, the smile still playing on her lips.

“He’s a little devil, I tell you!” Charlie’s pout deepened. “He snuck out when he wasn’t supposed to and gave me a heart attack! I was running all over the streets looking for him, and then he just appeared the next morning, acting like nothing happened!”

“But Charlie,” Vaggie began softly, her voice laced with that gentle understanding that made Charlie sigh, “he’s been acting a bit manic all week, hasn’t he? Maybe even longer than that?”

Charlie paused, her frustration momentarily melting as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, yeah… ever since you found Addie and brought him back from the vet.”

Just as her words trailed off, another howling meow—long and full of impatience—rang out from the other side of the door. Charlie groaned dramatically, while Vaggie’s snickers turned into full laughter.

“Alright, alright!” Charlie threw her hands up in defeat. “Luci, enough with your howling!”

She pushed herself up from the chair, her long blonde hair flowing behind her like strands of spun gold, as she stomped toward the door with exaggerated annoyance.

“I’m going to let you in, but you better behave, or I’m kicking you right back out again!”

The scratching had abruptly ceased, and the suspicious silence on the other side of the door made both women exchange a wary glance.

Charlie took a deep breath, her hand hovering over the knob before turning it slowly. She cracked the door open just enough to peer through.

“Luci, what are you—”

Before she could finish, the little white blur of fur on the other side was already attempting to wedge his fluffy body through the gap. Luci, their spirited Turkish Angora, was pushing his way in with all the determination in the world, his soft, snowy paws flailing as he squished his slender body through the narrow opening. His stomach seemed to flatten like putty as he squeezed through, his eyes bright with a mixture of annoyance and excitement.

“Luci, you're going to hurt yourself!” Charlie scolded, but the little cat paid no mind, fully committed to his daring entrance.

With an exasperated sigh, she pulled the door wide open, and Luci strutted in with an air of triumph, his pure white fur gleaming like freshly fallen snow. He pranced forward as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, his fluffy tail held high, flicking in satisfaction.

“What do you expect? He’s a Turkish Angora,” Vaggie snorted with a playful shrug.

The elegant breed was notorious for their energy and mischief, and Luci, with his bright blue eyes and endless antics, was no exception.

Charlie rolled her eyes as she followed the little troublemaker back into the room.

“I should’ve gotten a tabby like you said,” she muttered under her breath, though her words were tinged with affection.

Vaggie chuckled, watching as Luci jumped up onto the couch, circling the old cat’s bed with an air of curiosity and mischief. “You wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

“I might!” Charlie retorted, though her smile betrayed her.

She watched as Luci, with all his boldness, tiptoed closer to Addie’s bed. The older cat, still resting deeply, didn’t stir, but Luci, ever curious, extended a paw, gently prodding at the blanket.

Vaggie shook her head with a grin. “He’s definitely up to something.”

The room felt alive with quiet energy, as if something was stirring beneath the surface. The autumn evening pressed gently at the windows, leaves tapping softly against the glass as if in rhythm with the unfolding moment. Charlie couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Luci’s behavior—something strange and mysterious in the way he had acted ever since Addie had come into their lives.

Luci’s dazzling blue eyes swept across his beloved friend, Addie, resting so silently beneath the soft glow of twilight. His heart had ached with longing ever since he was forced to leave him behind in that park, but now—now Addie was here, home, within reach once more.

It had taken all of Luci’s willpower not to break free earlier, but Charlie, in all her well-meaning protectiveness, wouldn’t let him slip through her grasp again. No matter how clever he thought himself to be, no matter how gracefully he executed his plans, Charlie always caught him before he could dart out into the streets.

But last week, when Vaggie returned with that familiar smelling cat carrier, Luci’s sharp instincts had picked up the comforting scent. His friend had come to his rightful home, beside Luci. He knew it before he even saw the familiar ruby fur, smelling the lingering traces of the autumn park clinging to the carrier’s mesh.

But his humans were conspiring against him! They had locked him out, barring him from entering their shared room—keeping him from Addie, from ensuring his friend was truly alright. Luci had howled, scratched, and whined until finally, they relented, cracking the door just enough for him to slip through.

Now, standing on delicate paws by Addie’s side, Luci’s heart ached at the sight of his friend’s broken form. His ears folded as he sniffed along the soft coat that Addie wore—black and gold like a fading sunset, stitched together to protect his delicate skin and keep him from reopening his wounds. Addie’s once luxurious red and brown fur had been trimmed and shaved in places, a stark reminder of the battle he had fought. His long tail—once a proud, sweeping plume—was now half gone, ragged and injured.

Oh, dear Addie, Luci thought, sorrow pulling at his heart like a tug of an invisible thread. He pressed his nose into the fabric of Addie’s coat, inhaling deeply to catch his scent, so much fainter now, like a whisper of autumn carried on a faraway breeze.

“Luci,” Charlie’s voice broke through softly but firmly, warning him from the doorway. Her gaze was anxious as she watched him with a furrowed brow.

Luci paused, turning his large blue eyes toward her with an innocent, wide-eyed look that said, I’m doing no harm. Then, ignoring her soft protests, he delicately climbed into Addie’s bed, stepping lightly over the fragile form as if he were tiptoeing across thin air. He sniffed along Addie’s body, noting every bandage, every wound that had yet to heal. His soft nose brushed against the trimmed fur near Addie’s neck.

“Luci!” Charlie hissed again, her voice rising with concern as Luci began to rub his cheek affectionately against Addie’s.

He ignored her once more, his focus only on ensuring Addie carried his scent—his mark. The last thing Luci needed was that posh, insufferable cat upstairs, Lilith, trying to claim Addie while he was vulnerable. Luci purred to himself, satisfied with his work.

“Luci, be careful,” Charlie warned, stepping closer. “He’s very fragile and weak.”

But Vaggie, watching quietly with a thoughtful expression, hummed softly. “I think Luci likes him.”

Charlie blinked, her large eyes widening in realization.

“Oh…” She trailed off, her voice softer now as she looked down at the two of them—Luci curled protectively beside Addie, purring, the sound like the whisper of wind through golden leaves. “That… would explain a lot.”

Luci pressed himself against Addie’s side, snuggling close as if to shield his friend from the chill of the room, from the world itself. His purring deepened, a warm, soothing sound meant to comfort. He remembered the way Addie had given him warmth, a sense of belonging, out in that vast, lonely park. And now, it was Luci’s turn to return that gift—to wrap Addie in the same love and comfort.

Addie didn’t stir, but Luci didn’t mind. He would wait as long as it took, purring his lullaby through the night, hoping that with each vibration, he could pass along a little bit of his strength, his love, his hope—just as Addie had done for him beneath the falling autumn leaves.

In the soft twilight of the room, with the whisper of autumn winds outside and the glowing warmth between them, the magic of friendship wove itself like a delicate, invisible thread—binding the two cats in a world where love and comfort could be found, even in the most unexpected of places.

[jadeshifting]

🫀 SHIFTMAS

day 6. WHAT’S THE MOST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU’RE RECEIVING IN YOUR DR? is it something unexpected but thoughtful, like a scrapbook of your favourite memories? or something you’ve been dreaming of for ages? how does it make you feel? 

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

MINI ME MUSIC BOX

— ★⋆. when i return from class, a box wrapped in charcoal-black paper and tied up with a silver velvet bow rests on my bed. (i ask Astoria if she saw who left it, but she’s busy studying and waves me off, which i take as a no)

inside is a handcrafted music box adorned with intricate silver filigree and emerald inlays that shimmer like starlight. instead of a traditional ballet dancer performing inside, it’s a miniature version of me

— ★⋆. the tiny me twirls in an elegant emerald-green ballgown—more specifically, the one i wore to my 17th birthday gala—that swishes around the figure gracefully. tiny me is accompanied by my patronus, a tiny dragon that circles tiny me’s feet timidly and breathes out tiny puffs of smoke

when the music box is wound, it plays a haunting, ghostly melody that’s mostly violin—my favorite instrument.

— ★⋆. i turn the box over in my hands, examining the craftsmanship, both on the wood and the enchantments on it, until i see the message inscribed in the underside: “so that you can enjoy the sight of your beauty as much as i do”

i’m certain that Mattheo is the only person who knows i’d be vain enough to enjoy a gift like this, and still manages to like me despite that

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[neonacity]

SIREN CALL | Kim Doyoung x Reader

Warnings: stalking, animals eating other animals, cursing. Doie calls reader the b word. Smut though not too detailed. Overall creepy vibes.

A.N.: I wrote this in less than three hours and is barely proofread. Doyoung's Fact Check teaser is to blame. Disclaimer: I am not implying any likeness between my characters and their real counterparts. They are simply my muses for creative inspiration.

You've always felt it. The crawling pull of not-so-secret eyes on your back.

They're similar to the touch of ghostly fingers running down your spine, wanting and desiring from the shadows in secret. You've grown so used to it that it no longer makes the hair at your nape stand, though the familiarity was not enough to entirely quell the tingling feeling building at the pit of your stomach. You would try to keep yourself from physically shivering, determined not to let him know the effect that he has by simply watching.

Still, he stared.

Harder.

Longer.

Deeper.

You've only talked to him thrice. The first time was when you were introduced to the rest of the part-timers at the petshop you'll be working for the summer break. You completed the less than a dozen rotational crew of the store, but there was only one who stuck out to you the moment the introductions were done.

Kim Doyoung.

He was assigned night shift just like you, down at the fish section on the back part of the shop. His presence, however, did not call out to you for all the normal reasons. Doyoung was tall and lanky, his oversized dark hoodie hanging off from his wide shoulders lazily as if they were fitted for someone three times his size. His hair, dark with a tinge of blue, was closely cropped, emphasizing his almost sharp bone structure. He was pale—the likes of those that does not seem to see the light of day in the regular—and yet it was none of these qualities that made you choked up the moment you laid eyes on him.

It was his dark eyes that seem to drill deep into you, a stare so unwavering that it makes your knees buckle from the weight of it alone. He never gave you a smile or even a nod when he was introduced to you, but he kept you locked under his gaze, his pierced eyebrows barely moving to give away his thoughts even as you moved along to meet other members of the store.

Since then, his stare never left you.

*******

The second time you talked to him, you didn't really have a choice. You were asked to call in to fill in for a sick coworker and you had to work the same section he did for the whole shift. A good half of it, you tried to keep your distance from the quiet man who spent most of his time staring at the fish tanks—at least when his eyes weren't on you. Doyoung's gaze is not the type to trigger internal alarm signals... but they linger, like a long drag of cigarette that burns your throat even after you blew out the smoke.

"The Bettas. They like you."

You looked up from the tank you were trying to clean and stared at the man a few shelves from where you are. His eyes weren't set on you, leaving you to wonderel for a while if you simply imagined his voice or not.

"...I'm sorry...?"

Doyoung kept quiet for a while, his face lit up by the pale blue light of the aquarium he was staring at. Inside it, about half a dozen deep blue fishes swam languidly, their long flowing tails giving them the illusion of dancing in water.

"The Bettas. I think they like you," he slowly repeated this time as his eyes lifted to finally meet yours. The moment he looked at you, you slightly clenched at the soft rug you were holding. He was a good five feet away from you and still you could swear you felt his long fingers run through your body.

It took you everything not to shiver.

"What makes you say that?"

The man slightly lifted his pierced brows. Silently, you watched him press his hand against the tank. In seconds, the water dancers started moving close to the glass he touched, almost as if they were hypnotized. It was a strange but calming scene. One that was only broken by the spine-chilling words he spoke next.

"They aren't trying to eat each other today," Doyoung said simply. You looked at him in shock and you could swear you almost saw the corner of his lip slightly twitch. Silently, he pushed back from the tank and started walking away.

"You should stay here. Always. That would be nice."

*******

The third time you talked to him, it was not really a 'conversation.' You were walking home after work when you felt the familiar prickly sensation between your shoulders. It was dark, with nothing but the lamp posts lining the path crowding your peripheral vision. You did not need to see him to feel him though. In a moment of denial, it took you a minute to finally accept that there is more than just your shadow moving in the darkness as you tread your way back to your dingy apartment. Maybe it is the adrenaline, but you managed not to stumble on your steps and keep the illusion of cluelessness despite the hard beating of your heart. Maybe if he believes that you're unaware of his presence, he will not do anything bad to you today. You just need to reach your apartment... one street down, two more doors, just put the key and don't let him see the shake of your fingers. Then you'll be safe.

That night, he watched you from across the street, even if he cannot really see you from your upstairs window. Your message to him was clear despite the lack of words, and his the same to you.

*******

The fourth time is going to be the last.

It was a tiring round of cat and mouse and it's about time it comes to an end. You walked silently between the rows of tanks, silently watching the colorful caged up fish there. The room was dark, and yet the space glowed from the light from the glass containers stretched out on your sides.

You stopped right in front of the Betta fishes and noted in silence how most of them were clustered in just one part of the aquarium. They were moving in small motions, and it was not until one swam away that you finally understood what was happening. A motionless fish was in the middle of the pack... serving as fodder for the rest.

You parted your lips only for them to be covered again by a rough palm that went over it. Eyes wide, it only took a few seconds for your body to be pushed forward until you were pressing against the cold glass of the tank. There was a constricting force that almost choked you as it kept its ironhold on your midriff and you had to cough a few times to keep your airpipe open.

"Caught you."

The smile that followed those two words was sharper than any broken shard of glass that can draw blood and split flesh. Doyoung looked at your smiling reflection on the glowing tank and swore he could feel it sink into his skin.

"How did you know?"

The man didn't say anything for a while and instead only moved one of his hands downward to unbuckle your jeans. He wasted no time moving it and your underwear down, just enough for him to run his fingers up and down your slit. A broken moan of pleasure left you before your voice curled into a chuckle.

"Can't wait? You didn't answer my question—"

"Shut the fuck up, you bitch. You want this," he hissed against the shell of your ear as he unceremoniously buried two fingers deep inside your hole. You gasped, the shock of his action making you run your nails against the glass you're still pushed against.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"You went into my house on your own. That was all you."

Oh, yes. Sure you might have been the one who created the collection of photos of him on your wall, but it was him who followed you home and let himself in to see it. Yes, you did apply for the job at the forsaken seedy petshop after taking an interest at the hermit boy working night shift there, but you didn't force him to like you or be obsessed of your little falsified innocent act.

Yes, it was you. But it was also him as well.

You drew your head back slightly now and briefly watched the Bettas dancing in the water. Another blink and your eyes focused on the reflection behind you, the man with the cropped hair and pierced brows wearing an almost pained expression as he finally freed himself from his pants and lined himself against your core. When he sank into your warmth, your sweet smile melted into a gape as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Yes, it was you all along. But it was him as well.

[xiakato]

Interview With The Vampire (M) (TW) - Giselle

“Ready?” She asks, her voice low and sultry. The type that would send shivers down your spine and goosebumps throughout your body. You turn and look at her, her ghostly white skin, her lips stained crimson. Swirling her wine glass, filled with her favorite blood, fresh as it can be. 

“Yes, Lady Uchinaga,” You sit across from her, she watches intently as the blood swirls. The slight smirk on her face is attractive yet unnerving. Her glossy black nails shine under the low light she demanded there be, brightness was something she never liked. 

“Oh please, I told you before just call me Giselle or Aeri. No need for formalities, I lived long enough, those are just a mere bother.”

“Right… Giselle, thank you for agreeing to this interview,” You thank her feeling her eyes crawl over you. The feeling of unease, you know, will never leave you for the duration of this talk. Placing the audio recorder on the table, her eyes follow your every movement.

“Your welcome, it’s not like I had anything better to do. Especially nothing special enough to turn down an interview with such a good looking man.”

“Thanks for the compliment, let’s get right into it,”  You smile slightly which she reciprocates, “When were you born?” 

“I was born in 1683, during what most of your historians call the Edo period,” She sips from her glass before placing it on the table with such grace only seen from Royal families. 

“What can you tell me about your family?” 

“My family were well off, my father, the head of the Uchinaga clan. My mother, your run of the mill dancer in the taverns in and around Tokyo. Being a daughter let alone being the only child had its perks.”

“What were these perks?” 

“Everyone being at your beck and call, never having to share anything. Only thing I had to share was my father’s attention as the head of the Uchinaga clan, he had duty to the shogunate. One that not even his family came first.” 

“So I’m guessing your father was mostly absent? What was that like during that time period?” 

“It’s quite alright, my mother was indeed ample support that I would’ve needed as a little lamb. The guards were adequate people to converse with as I got older. Although my father was vermin, detestable truly.”

“What happened to make you see him as such?” You take a slight notice in her tone, with the topic of her father quickly making itself a no go zone. 

“I killed him,” She downs her glass of blood, “What else is there?” 

“When did you turn into a vampire?” Despite wanting to know why she killed her father, you thought it to be a better course to avoid such a topic. The tint of red in her eyes works wonders as a deterrent. 

“In 1705, a rather unfortunate circumstance made me what I am today,” She licks her lips, gathering the crimson liquid still present, a peek at her fangs make you gulp. The striking white burned into your skull, “Don’t stare too much, you might make me blush.”

You snap out of it as she chuckles, “What was that circumstance?” 

Her eyes got sharp,”I don’t dwell on it so I wish that you would respect it.”

“Yes, of course,” You flip through your questions, “What have you done to pass the centuries?” 

“Many things, all of which only provided me with slight enjoyment before the disappointment. Piano, violin, opera, even was a whore for a time.” 

“Why a whore of all things?” 

“Easy prey, men that only think with their dicks are the easiest of prey, them and women hoping for the secrets of eternal beauty.” 

“Was there ever a lover?” You ask as you watch her eyes soften, only teary eyed. You knew immediately that this may be a more sensitive subject than her father. 

“There was,” She pauses a bit, grabbing a blood bag filling her glass, “He was a farmhand on my family estate. Truly a pure soul, innocent to a fault. He taught me that love can come in many forms. He was my first for many, until he was killed.. By my father.” 

“I see…Sorry for bringing up a sensitive topic,” You sadly smile at her, despite the centuries she has lived, she’s still a human at heart.

“It’s fine, in fact you remind me of him. You have  his same eyes, the eyes seeking the answers to the infinite amount of questions they contain within.” 

“By the way you speak of him, I’m honored,” She smiles at your response, the tense atmosphere nearly gone.

“I’m glad,” She gulps down the blood, leaving her glass empty once again only to fill it quickly, “Once I got turned into a vampire, my father saw me as a monster. Locking me away in my room, yet boarding the windows so I didn’t turn to ash. At that time, I didn’t know who the real monster was. Luckily, Tatsuya snuck to me every night, he didn’t care if I was a vampire or not. I was still his Aeri, he gave me his blood to slake my thirst. I still remember the taste of it, the metallic taste, mixed with his emotions, truly a delicacy.” 

“Tatsuya was your lover I’m guessing?” 

“He was, despite everything good I can say about him, he was a simpleton. He wasn’t careful with his movements and one day my father caught him and forced me to watch as he tortured him for visiting a monster.” 

“I’m guessing this is why your father is vermin in your eyes?” 

“He is more than vermin, that foul being didn’t have more right than me to be called human, I snapped and killed my father,” She pauses and stares at you as if she’s gauging your reaction, “And everyone else in the Uchinaga Clan.” 

“Even your mother?” You ask calmly, ignoring your racing heart. 

“She was the least enjoyable kill, I truly loved my mother and everything she did for me yet she stood her ground with that filth. I pleaded with her to just leave and never look back at the burning estate.” 

“What did she say? Aeri.” 

Her eyes flicker in and out of deep emotion hearing her name roll off your tongue, “She told me that no monster would deter her from fighting to protect her house, even if the monster wears her daughter’s face.” 

“I’m sorry Aeri, I truly am that your family turned their back on you.” 

“It was to be expected, After all they were trying to marry me off to gain more power within the Shogunate inner circle.” 

“I see,” You pause, looking down at the recorder, an hour has passed since the start, “Can you tell me about any other vampires that you have met over the years?” 

“All of them are the peak of beauty, at least were. Some are dead now, the latest death being that of a beautiful tall woman at the hands of a father hell bent on finding his daughter. I wonder how I would’ve turned out if my father was like that. One you may know is Karina, that witch always craved attention.” 

“Karina, the pop star is a vampire?” You tilt your head, absentmindedly giving her a view of your veiny neck.

“Yes, I turned her myself. She was also an attention whore, but in the bedroom and on the streets,” her eyes watch your neck, “I must say though, Y/n, your neck looks absolutely delectable.” 

You instantly cover up your neck only adding to her laughter, “You can’t have any of my blood.” 

She stands, strutting her way to you, her dress flowing behind her as she straddles you with ease, “Are you so sure about that darling~?” her voice ever present sultriness turned up 10 fold, “I smell your fear, your excitement.” 

You button your collar, revealing your cross, blessed by the Vatican, “Back off Aeri.” 

“How cute~” She smiles, gripping the cross, ignoring the burning sensation on her palm, tearing it from the chain. Her hands glide down your chest, unbuttoning your shirt as she gets lower and lower, “Are you going to be a good boy for me?” 

You nod, hoping whatever she does, it’s over quickly, “What do you want from me?” 

“Your blood obviously, and the bulge in your pants that’s been throbbing against me as soon as I straddle you,” That damn smirk evident on her, that one that is unnerving, “You love the danger don’t you? The danger of know that I could tear your throat out before you even notice,” 

You shake your head, as you continue to cover your neck, “I don’t like the danger, I would rather live.” 

“No need to lie~” She whispers in your ear as she takes in your scent. Her slender hands move yours without much resistance. Her fangs grazed your neck softly, making you jump a little, “Someone is antsy~” 

“Get off of me, I don’t want this,” You demand of her, only to feel her sink into your neck. Your breath hitches, your eyes roll back as you listen to her take gulp after gulp. She pulls back, licking the crimson from her lips. 

“Delicious,” She smiles, her teeth stained with your blood, she kisses you. The taste of your own blood envelopes your mouth, pulling away, she slits her wrist with her fang, “Here darling~ drink,”  You shake your head, but couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful crimson staining her milky skin. Drawn to it, you lean closer, taking hold of her hand. You lick the dripping blood leading yourself to the slit on her wrist, before drinking your fill. The warmth takes hold of your body, “Atta boy~ drink to your heart's desire~” 

Darkness starts to take you over, as you sleep past out. Strange, all you did was drink her blood. 

“Get up Y/n,” You hear her, your eyes flutter open,you don’t feel any clothes on you. You’re shirtless as your body is covered in hickies, you look at her, her beauty is undeniable, eternal is an understatement, “It’s been a week since I turned you.” 

“Wait,” You croaked out, “You fucking turned me?”

“Yes,” She stands up from her chair, dropping her robe, revealing her body. The perky breasts with her puffy pink nipple stand out to you. She gets on top of you, stroking your cock, “I want you to be my lover for the time being, if you choose to stay is up to you but you now live as a vampire,” Once she was satisfied with your hardness, she slides your cock into her, “Mmm~ I missed this feeling, although you’re bigger than most,” She moves your hips, grinding against you. Your hand reaches her meaty ass, squeezing it. Spreading it with your grip, you start to thrust upwards into her, “Now you’re on board~” She moans out, taking your cock better than any woman before her. You ignore the changes that you can notice about your body only focusing on her. The recoil from her body as your body collides with hers, her juices coated your cock and your thighs. 

“Fuck Aeri,” You breath out as you flip her onto her back, continuing your assault on her body. 

“Please, keep saying my name. I- I love it when you say my name,” She says between her moans, your hand pushing down her hips. 

“Take it Aeri,” You comply with her request, her back arches to better accommodate you. Using your grip on her hips, you pound and pound away. Not worrying about her, she can take it, “Fuck come on Aeri.” 

“Fuck Y/n, give it to me!” She screams out gripping on the sheets, “Give that fat fucking cock~” She tightens squirting all over the sheets, her tightness makes you cum. You push deep in her, filling her. 

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” You say between your breaths as you pull out of her with a pop. 

“I-I take b-back what I said, you can’t leave,” She reaches behind her, sliding your still hard cock back into, “G-give me more please, daddy?”

[currentfications]

Halloween Special | 👻

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Pairing: Bada Lee x ghost!reader(?)*

Warning: Ghost, fluff, mention of death?

Synopsis: Bada found a suspiciously cheap rental

AN: Halloween!! I am HYPED ^_^ Hope y’all like this one, it is a little odd but I just wanted to write some brainless fluff for Halloween >////<

*I know the tag says Bada Lee x reader but I figure it’ll be a little weird to insinuate that the reader is dead… so I’ve settled with vagueness (no y/n or you used in this fic) in hopes that I’m not making things too weird 0.0 sorry if it just made this fic harder to read :(

Bada had an inkling that the deal was too good to be true when she rented the apartment, located dead-smack in the city, at such a low price.

Nevertheless, she was still scared shitless when she saw the ghostly apparition behind her the first morning she moved in.

“Ohmygodwhatthefuck,” her words blurred into one as she flung her toothbrush at the mirror, choking on the foamy toothpaste as she stumbled backwards.

The ghost caught her before she would’ve cracked her melon at the handle, gingerly placing her down to the cold tile.

Hovering over Bada’s body, frozen in fear, the phantom crouched down to meet the dancer at eye level.

You okay there? Her voice echoey, sending chills down Bada’s spine. She snapped her jaw shut, nodding dumbly, eyes still bulging in fear.

“I-” Bada opened her mouth to try to form a sentence, but her thoughts escaped her mind as soon as she hung. What to even say to a poltergeist? She settled on more gawking.

Sorry, just wanted to welcome you to the place. The ghost wasn’t particularly scary looking, not especially with the apologetic look and puppy dog eyes. Guess I’m your new housemate!

Said new housemate took a while for Bada to get used to. She initially thought about moving out, but the non-refundable deposit and rising rent didn’t really provide much of an alternative option. She thought about getting an exorcist too, but figure that will probably be rude considering that she was there first, after all.

After the initial fright though, Bada quickly realised the perk of having such housemate around. Especially during summer, haunting at the rental really keeps the place cool and the electricity bill low. That one time when she locked herself out, ghostly housemate quickly came to her rescue.

The phantom really lived up to her name, as Bada haven’t really seen her since the initial encounter - except occasionally out the corner of her eyes.

An air of unease that hung over the air every time Bada gets home seemed to indicate that the other tenant have only recently left the room to prevent giving her a fright.

“Hey,” Bada called out timidly, a few months into the tenancy. “Are you there?” She had begun to wonder if this was all a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t.

The linen closet creaked open and a girl peeked out from behind the door. Hi?

Bada took a deep breath to compose herself before waving the poltergeist over with a small smile (technically, with her peaceful nature, Bada wasn’t sure if she can even be classified as one - more along the line of Casper the ghost if anything). After coexisting for these few months, Bada is starting to feel a little rude for not have gotten to know her housemate all these time.

The friendly spirit kept her distance even after the introduction - she can occasionally be seen sitting by the window sill right around twilight or found stargazing on the balcony - but she almost excuse herself (vanish) whenever Bada enters the room, reluctant to make her feel uneasy.

So when Bada came home to blaring music one night, she decided to creep up to the source of noise. She found the door to her spare room (she mostly uses it as a dance room) slightly agape and peeked a glance into it.

She found her housemate vibing to some early 2010’s pop music, tapping her feet (?) as she swayed to the tune. Even though it’s not like ghost can even get sweaty, she has pulled her hair up into a messy bun, eyes shut as she joyfully danced her heart out.

Bada couldn’t hold back a chuckle escaping her lips, her hands flying to her mouth as soon as it does. The ghost snapped around, flustered, let out a shriek that slammed the door shut and a few books off the bookshelf. A crackling static sound was heard before the music was stopped.

“I’m so sorry!” Bada shouted through the door apologetically, realising that she had spooked the spook. “I was just curious about what you’ve been doing.”

More silence followed as the tall girl leaned on the door frame, waiting for a response.

No, I suppose it’s fair. A scare for a scare - we’re even now.

The door opened, and Bada found the poltergeist (now officially one after the door slamming and object throwing) curled up on the floor, face buried in her hands.

“Awwh don’t be embarrassed, you’re not too bad,” the dancer comforted, squatting down to the spirit. She remained curled up and did not budge once. “Your basics is actually pretty solid, want me to teach you?”

That made the sulking spirit look up, eyes glistening. Really?

Bada couldn’t help but notice that the girl is really cute - her gleaming and excited doe eyes made her forgot that she’s a ghost for a moment, reaching out to fix her fringe back into place. Her eerily icy skin snapped that reminder back into the dancer.

“Yeah-” scolding herself for having a split second of immoral thoughts on the undead, Bada quickly stood up and turned to the speaker. “I do teach dance for a living after all, and you’ve been an exceptional housemate.”

The ghost took her hand, a smile growing on her face. Thank you. I guess you can teach dead dogs new tricks after all. The warm twinkle in her eyes was payment enough for Bada’s dance masterclass.

Over the next few weeks, the girls have gotten closer over the dancing classes. Sightings are now more often around the house.

Bada has noticed that her food is always at the right temperature, her morning coffee never scorching her anymore. Her laundry is never rained on, even when she run late from work. One time she rushed home, remembering that she’d left the hair straightener on, only to find the electricity turned off and the iron back in her drawer.

“Thanks,” the overworked choreographer cooed in relief, “I was worried I’d burn the house down.”

Wouldn’t want to be cremated twice. Her dark humour gave Bada a good laugh as she ran back out the door to attend her workshops.

On her way home from work, the dancer stopped by a local florist to pick up a simple white rose bouquet, a token of thank-you for her housemate.

From that point onwards things escalated. Bada would bring home books to replenish the ghost’s bookshelves, making sure she have sufficient reading materials to lounge by the windowsill. The poltergeist is in charge of clearing out trash when the choreographer is on her away trips. Soon little tidbits and souvenirs joined the books and bouquets collection, and Bada would return home to cooked meals and warmed baths (or iced baths, if she’s had a particularly strenuous workout on her schedule).

Then the ghost stopped hiding, and Bada would wake up to cooked breakfast and a lounging phantom, rocking on the chair she’d bought on a whim (Bada thought it would be funny to have a cliched rocking chair in a haunted house, to which the spirit agreed - she even asked for some yarn and knitting needles to occupy her time, Bada received plenty of beanies and sweaters in return).

Soon it became a norm for the duo to comfortably coexist in the cozy haunted space for two.

“I’m gonna run late tonight,” Bada shouted, to nowhere in particular, knowing that she’ll hear her anyways. An echo from the kitchen confirmed that the message was received.

Bada later found a birthday cupcake in her lunchbox. Smiling, she gently peeled back the wrapper of the red velvet cake, taking a bite into the scrumptious dessert.

“Ooo who’s that from?” Tatter teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at their team leader. “How come we haven’t heard anything about anyone packing your lunchbox?”

“She’s not just anyone-” Bada blurted out, stopping herself in the track when she realised her Freudian slip, “-just my housemate is all.”

Sharing a knowing look, Tatter and Lusher decided let their team leader simmer in her own thoughts.

The alcohol involved in the birthday party later on, however, probably does not help with thought formation.

Team BEBE had to hoist their very intoxicated birthday girl home that night. Sowoen especially regretted in feeding the much taller dancer too much alcohol.

While the group was fumbling to find the keys off Bada, the front door creaked open.

“Oh god Bada this is so unsafe, how’d you haven’t gotten robbed is beyond me,” Tatter half scolded as they dropped her onto the couch. “And why is your lights still on? How much do you pay in electricity bills a month?” Her rambling questions was cut short by Lusher jabbing her on the side.

“You must be-”

Housemate. Thanks for bringing her back safely.

The spirit managed to present herself passingly as a regular human, smiling warmly and offering tea to the late visitors. Even though they couldn’t really put a finger on what was making them feel so strongly unsettled, the group trusted their gut feelings and politely declined the offer. Tatter and Lusher in particular assumed that it was simply a case of jealous and/or possessive girlfriend.

Once the group was sent off, the phantom floated back to a flushed red Bada, offering some water.

“C-can you get me some iced towel?” The dancer asked meekly. The ghost simply pressed her icy palm onto her cheeks, cooling her down instantaneously. “Ahh that’s much better than a towel, no dripping water.”

I can make dripping ceiling happen if that’s what you want.

Bada chuckled, leaning onto her personal ice pack. “Please don’t do that, I think we have a routine inspection next week.”

You mean you have a routine inspection next week, the spirit giggled, it’s not like they can evict me.

“And you’re gonna let someone else move into our home?” The dancer slurred, darting her gaze up to the phantom.

Maybe she’s drunk, but she swear she saw a rosy tint forming on the ghost’s cheeks. You mean your house.

“I mean our-” Bada sat up, pulling her housemate closer, “our home.”

You’re drunk. An invincible force pulled the dancer back into the couch, the spirit’s hands still placed on her cheeks. Get some rest.

Bada wanted to argue but a haunting siren song lulled her into a slumber. It was a soothing melody that sounded foreign but yet felt so natural to her. She managed to wrap her arms around the cold body to cool off her intoxication before sleep claimed her.

She woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee. Groaning, she opened her eyes to a glass of water and two aspirins floating in front of her.

Hung over?

Bada hummed and nodded at the question, wincing at the splitting headache as she does.

I’m lucky to be somber and sober.

Laughing softly as to not cause another jolt of pain, the dancer sat up, regretting the heavy drinking from the night before. “Hey,” she motioned with her eyes close. Feeling the palpable change in atmospheric pressure next to her, a smile curled her lips upwards. “Now that I, too, am sober-” she paused to reach around, continuing when she found her personal poltergeist, pulling her forward, “- I meant what I said last night. I’m lucky to have you.”

Pressing a soft kiss on the girl in her arms, she let the soft words fall from her lips. “Our home.”

[cool-fancier]

A Butterfly’s Embrace

Synopsis: Childhood love, Bada, struggled with depression. A rediscovered necklace sparks memories, her ghostly presence consoles heartache.

Your relationship with Bada began in the peaceful environment of a tiny suburban town, when childhood friendships were created and memories were carved in the canvas of time. Both of you were brought together by the natural currents of fate, and your paths crossed in fourth grade.

The first meeting was pleasant like the first notes of a melody yet to be written. You were the quiet and wary newcomer, nervously wandering the school's strange corridors. Bada, on the other hand, was a whirl of energy and warmth, her laughter resonating  like a lovely symphony through the corridors.

In the beginning, your encounters were limited to passing looks and temporary moments in public places. As a social butterfly, Bada couldn't resist approaching you, finding a similar spirit beneath your quiet demeanour.

Bada approached you one day as you sat alone in the school courtyard, engaged in a book, with a grin that could light up the darkest corners. "Hello, new kid!" "What are you reading?"

You looked up, surprised by the unexpected invasion into your isolated world. "Oh, it's just a book." Nothing out of the ordinary."

Bada's eyes twinkled with interest. "Mind if I join you?"

With that, the first chords of your friendship were struck. Shared interests and conversations grew naturally, creating a tune that rang true with the innocence of childhood friendship. The connection between you and Bada became stronger as the days changed into weeks, and weeks into months, becoming a constant in the ever-changing world of childhood.

The dynamics of your relationship with Bada began to shift during a school project, a simple yet significant moment. The assignment required pairing students to work on presentations, and fate had chosen you and Bada as partners. The theme was animals, and you chose the butterfly, a symbol that would come to represent your relationship.

"I'm a huge fan of butterflies!" "They're like nature's delicate dancers!" said Bada.

You smiled as you realised the poetic beauty in her words. "Yeah, they are pretty amazing."

The project's combined effort became a symbol for your increasing friendship. Late-night study sessions devolved into mutual laughing, and whispered confessions took the place of educational debates. It was around this period that you realised the extent of your feelings for Bada.

The realisation came like a sweet tune, lingering in the calm times spent together. You gained the confidence to talk about what had been silently growing within your heart one evening as the sun dipped below the horizon and bathed the sky in orange and pink hues.

"Bada, there's something I need to tell you," you said, just above a whisper.

She turned to face you, her eyes shining with genuine interest. "What is it, Y/N?"

"I... I think I really like you, Bada," you admitted, your words dripping with vulnerability.

There was silence for a time until Bada's face lit up with a sparkling smile. "You do? Because, Y/N, I like you as well!"

And in that moment, the transition from friends to something more unfolded seamlessly, the melody of your connection finding a new rhythm. High school presented its own set of difficulties, but the power of your friendship-turned-romance endured the storms.

Your love for one other grew stronger with time, becoming a source of comfort and support in the difficult path that is adolescence. The shared dreams, whispered confidences, and stolen glances became the fabric of your story.

The idea of university loomed on the horizon as the final year of high school neared. The uncertainty of diverging pathways put your love to the test. Graduation was bittersweet, with a vow to reunite resonating through sad goodbyes.

The following chapter took place at university, where the challenges of adulthood put your relationship to the test. Late-night phone calls took the place of shared nights, and text messages became the lifeline that kept your connection alive. During these years, the first evidence of darkness appeared within Bada's heart.

As sadness wrapped its grasp around Bada's spirit, the lively soul you fell in love with became a shadow of itself. Late-night phone calls that used to be filled with laughing now bore the weight of silent grief. You could only offer words of comfort and love across the digital gap, helpless and miles away.

As the years unfolded, the facade of Bada's bubbly exterior began to crack, revealing the depth of her internal struggles. The enthusiastic partner who once radiated brightness became disguised in darkness, and her laughter became a distant echo of a time when joy came easily.

The indicators of Bada's inner pain became too obvious to ignore during your college years. She withdrew from social activities, her once-enthusiastic participation in gatherings replaced by a haunting isolation.  Conversations that were once lively and vibrant became increasingly sombre as the light in her eyes faded.

Late-night conversations that were once brimming with shared ambitions and aspirations had turned into hushed confessions of misery. Bada confided in you, confessing the tyranny of depression that had enslaved her. She described the tremendous emptiness that seemed to swallow her whole, leaving her in a state of permanent numbness.

Bada's pain weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you felt helpless in the face of her wordless agony. Desperate to help, you encouraged her to seek assistance from professionals and to confide in someone who might guide her through the confusing web of her emotions. But, like an insidious shadow, sadness had a way of distorting reality and convincing its sufferer that reaching out was pointless.

Bada's cheerful energy had been replaced with a listless version of herself. Her favourite activities had become burdensome, and even the simplest tasks seemed overwhelming. Every day seemed like a battle against an unseen power aimed at putting out the brightness within her.

Your love for Bada was strong, but the fact of sadness is that it rarely has simple remedies. As you watched her slowly sink into the abyss, you felt powerless, wondering how to save someone who appeared determined to avoid you.

There were brief periods of hope, when Bada would emerge from the shadows and enjoy the warmth of the world. But these were temporary times, like rays of sunlight bursting through a stormy sky, only to be swallowed up by the gathering clouds again.

Not because of a lack of love, but because despair had built obstacles that even the most sincere relationship difficult to overcome. Bada became a prisoner of her own mind, and you were a steadfast witness to a never-ending conflict.

Despite the difficulties, your love and dedication endured. You remained at Bada's side, providing a soothing presence even when words failed. The struggles with depression cast a long shadow over your relationship, but the love you shared became a lifeline—a flickering flame that refused to be extinguished.

Bada's gift of the rose gold necklace to you in the middle of her personal agony was a touching gesture, a statement of love that endured even in the face of misery. Little did you know that the year after this meaningful present would be the last you'd spend with Bada, and that the necklace with its delicate butterfly pendant would become a lasting remembrance of a love tale filled with both joy and grief.

As you rummaged through the neglected boxes, each containing a piece of your past, the air in the garage was thick with the aroma of dust and memories. Old photographs, paintings from your childhood, and even a collection of hockey awards brought you back in time. You discovered a small, dazzling jewellery box among the remains of days gone by, and a warm smile graced your lips at the memory it held.

The box, covered with various shades of blue glitter, was a memorial to your childhood best friend and girlfriend, Bada's, dedication. She had been saving for it for two and a half years, a symbol of the lovely affection that had characterised your friendship since the beginning. A flood of childhood memories washed over you as you ran your fingertips over the gleaming surface.

You took a deep breath and opened the box, showing the rose gold necklace that had adorned your neck the year before she passed.

As the weight of grief rested on your chest, tears welled up in your eyes. "I really miss you, Bada. I hope you're doing better than you were. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you or save you," you broke down your pain echoing in the garage's silence.

Unbeknownst to you, Bada stood behind you, mournful eyes on you. She knelt down beside you, wrapped her arms around you, and caressed your hair, a silent presence in a world where her touch was ignored. "It's not your fault, Butterfly. I was the one who couldn't hang on in this life. You're the reason I stayed for so long. You should be happy."

Your body was overflowing with tears, a frantic attempt to relieve the sorrow that had been growing since her departure. "My sweet girl," Bada said quietly, her voice a soothing breeze in the garage's silence.

As you continued to mourn, Bada's ghostly hug provided some solace. She hoped she could brush your tears away and tell you that the love you shared had been the anchor that had held her grounded for so long.

But the gap between the living and the dead remained, leaving Bada as nothing more than an imaginary witness in your most private times of grief.

And so, the garage held the echoes of a love that transcended the boundaries of life and death—a love that, even in the face of tragedy, refused to fade away.

[ectafoole]

here are some of the many short pitches I have made for Caves of Qud Patreon bonus pets that have not (yet) been selected for implementation:

the greasemother: a pile of wailing ooze spawned in the Heptagon Underkitchens

Clem: a warped shard of Tzimtzlum populates itself across your journey

spiny dancer: pretty pointy perilous pirouetting pal

five bats: in search of a lost count, but they found you

Lil Fun Gal: the pet who occupies an arm slot

Fire-on-Asphalt: a wingless, smaller variant of the dawnglider kept by Northern Issachari (approved, chosen, and written)

Ooh-EEE-ee: baboon girl thats her (written)

a ghostly hart, ever at the corner of your vision: he won’t let you get close, yet your enemies lie dead (adapted to a later pitch)

Tlepolemus: we thought he was a goner, but the ray cat came back

Daruel: an enthusiastic stray hyrkhound, ‘drooly’ for short

Cht-tst: luminous butterfly wings keep her aloft betwixt waking and dream

a floating crystalline octahedron: 🔷 (written)

commemorative sultan automaton: handmade in the 2nd century AR by a collective of hermit artisans