#concrete grass surround

[elodiegendreau]

San Luis Obispo Concrete Pavers Landscape

Design ideas for a mid-sized traditional partial sun backyard concrete paver landscaping in spring.

[lefttoesucker69]

I love car dependent society I love giant highways I love every grass area in my city being turned into a giant parking lot I love having every place where kids and people with dogs always used to play being destroyed in order to have more space for cars I love crossing dangerous roads in order to get where I need I love giants slabs of concrete being prioritized instead of grass/bushes/trees

[reasonsforhope]

"With “green corridors” that mimic the natural forest, the Colombian city is driving down temperatures — and could become five degrees cooler over the next few decades.

In the face of a rapidly heating planet, the City of Eternal Spring — nicknamed so thanks to its year-round temperate climate — has found a way to keep its cool.

Previously, Medellín had undergone years of rapid urban expansion, which led to a severe urban heat island effect — raising temperatures in the city to significantly higher than in the surrounding suburban and rural areas. Roads and other concrete infrastructure absorb and maintain the sun’s heat for much longer than green infrastructure.

“Medellín grew at the expense of green spaces and vegetation,” says Pilar Vargas, a forest engineer working for City Hall. “We built and built and built. There wasn’t a lot of thought about the impact on the climate. It became obvious that had to change.”

Efforts began in 2016 under Medellín’s then mayor, Federico Gutiérrez (who, after completing one term in 2019, was re-elected at the end of 2023). The city launched a new approach to its urban development — one that focused on people and plants.

The $16.3 million initiative led to the creation of 30 Green Corridors along the city’s roads and waterways, improving or producing more than 70 hectares of green space, which includes 20 kilometers of shaded routes with cycle lanes and pedestrian paths.

These plant and tree-filled spaces — which connect all sorts of green areas such as the curb strips, squares, parks, vertical gardens, sidewalks, and even some of the seven hills that surround the city — produce fresh, cooling air in the face of urban heat. The corridors are also designed to mimic a natural forest with levels of low, medium and high plants, including native and tropical plants, bamboo grasses and palm trees.

Heat-trapping infrastructure like metro stations and bridges has also been greened as part of the project and government buildings have been adorned with green roofs and vertical gardens to beat the heat. The first of those was installed at Medellín’s City Hall, where nearly 100,000 plants and 12 species span the 1,810 square meter surface.

“It’s like urban acupuncture,” says Paula Zapata, advisor for Medellín at C40 Cities, a global network of about 100 of the world’s leading mayors. “The city is making these small interventions that together act to make a big impact.”

At the launch of the project, 120,000 individual plants and 12,500 trees were added to roads and parks across the city. By 2021, the figure had reached 2.5 million plants and 880,000 trees. Each has been carefully chosen to maximize their impact.

“The technical team thought a lot about the species used. They selected endemic ones that have a functional use,” explains Zapata.

The 72 species of plants and trees selected provide food for wildlife, help biodiversity to spread and fight air pollution. A study, for example, identified Mangifera indica as the best among six plant species found in Medellín at absorbing PM2.5 pollution — particulate matter that can cause asthma, bronchitis and heart disease — and surviving in polluted areas due to its “biochemical and biological mechanisms.”

And the urban planting continues to this day.

The groundwork is carried out by 150 citizen-gardeners like Pineda, who come from disadvantaged and minority backgrounds, with the support of 15 specialized forest engineers. Pineda is now the leader of a team of seven other gardeners who attend to corridors all across the city, shifting depending on the current priorities...

“I’m completely in favor of the corridors,” says [Victoria Perez, another citizen-gardener], who grew up in a poor suburb in the city of 2.5 million people. “It really improves the quality of life here.”

Wilmar Jesus, a 48-year-old Afro-Colombian farmer on his first day of the job, is pleased about the project’s possibilities for his own future. “I want to learn more and become better,” he says. “This gives me the opportunity to advance myself.”

The project’s wider impacts are like a breath of fresh air. Medellín’s temperatures fell by 2°C in the first three years of the program, and officials expect a further decrease of 4 to 5C over the next few decades, even taking into account climate change. In turn, City Hall says this will minimize the need for energy-intensive air conditioning...

In addition, the project has had a significant impact on air pollution. Between 2016 and 2019, the level of PM2.5 fell significantly, and in turn the city’s morbidity rate from acute respiratory infections decreased from 159.8 to 95.3 per 1,000 people [Note: That means the city's rate of people getting sick with lung/throat/respiratory infections.]

There’s also been a 34.6 percent rise in cycling in the city, likely due to the new bike paths built for the project, and biodiversity studies show that wildlife is coming back — one sample of five Green Corridors identified 30 different species of butterfly.

Other cities are already taking note. Bogotá and Barranquilla have adopted similar plans, among other Colombian cities, and last year São Paulo, Brazil, the largest city in South America, began expanding its corridors after launching them in 2022.

“For sure, Green Corridors could work in many other places,” says Zapata."

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, March 4, 2024

[dragonsholygrail]

Full moon with your werewolf bf except you're the one being chained up. You aren't exactly sure how you convinced your bf to do it. He had always made sure to keep himself chained in the cellar during that time of the month. But after your incessant begging he had given in. Under this one condition.

You have to be chained up in his place. When asked why he had told you the intensity of his full form may frighten you but to stay calm. He tells you that as soon as he's caught onto your scent he won't be able to let you go and running will only make him all the more quicker to mount you. You didn't know what you were getting into.

Now as your wrists dig into the cold metal... you know. And you want more.

The unsympathetic chains dig into your wrists as your fully turned bf fucks into you with abandon, his claws piercing your skin as your greedy hole sucks his cock back in with every thrust.

As your werewolf bf plows you into another sweeping orgasm, your back arches, a loud groan echoing off the cobblestone walls. Pain mixing in with the pleasure as your pussy weeps, milking your bfs cock and trying to push him out at the same time as he cums right after you.

Your cunt is so full his release spills out of you and splashes against the concrete floor. Eyes squeezing shut, your mind and body war against each other. Though body quickly wins out.

“Ah— dammit! I need a break. Baby, please, I need a break,” you beg, your body aching yet also wanting more. The need for rest briefly overpowers your never-ending craving.

But your werewolf bf merely growls ferociously, jaw snapping in his displeasure. Leaning his giant form over you, he cages you in, teeth sinking into your neck. Making his claim clear before his hips start snapping back inside of you.

Your cunt flutters helplessly around his girth and you whine, needing even only a moment. With his warm fur covering you, a light sweat begins to glisten across your body. Allowing the grip of the chains on your wrists to loosen just enough.

So when your werewolf bf throws his head back and howls, you take your chance. Slipping out from under him and bolting toward the door. A part of you maybe even wanting it to get to this point. To have your werewolf chase and mount you brutally.

Furious growls vibrate through the quiet night, your bf right on your tail as you run toward the surrounding forest. Just as you’re about to make a break into the trees, werewolf bf pounces, crashing into the hard grass and taking you with him.

His arms curl around you as you both tumble through the thicket. Either to protect you from the harsh wood or making sure you can’t get away again. Probably both.

The moment you two stop, werewolf bf doesn’t hesitate to mount you and slam his cock back deep inside your pussy. Letting you know he’s right where he belongs again. Ready to force orgasm after orgasm out of your tired cunt for the rest of the night.

You see his long claws appear in front of you and you know you’re not getting away again. He’s caught his prey and he isn’t giving it up. A lazy fucked out smile graces your lips as your next orgasm begins to build.

[samexplores]

Contemporary Pool in Houston

Example of a large trendy backyard concrete and rectangular pool fountain design

[trippingout-tour]

Pool - Modern Pool Example of a mid-sized minimalist backyard concrete paver and custom-shaped lap hot tub design

[professorplaid]

Pool - Modern Pool Example of a mid-sized minimalist backyard concrete paver and custom-shaped lap hot tub design

[deformedcat]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[eastawaywest]

Lap Pool (Houston)

[shunkoku]

New York Beach Style Pool

[neowinestainedress]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again.  Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask. 

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody. 

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro. 

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside. 

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.  

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver. 

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever. 

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him. 

What’s on the other side is worse. 

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture. 

“Surpriiise!!” 

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting. 

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck. 

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. 

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.” 

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh. 

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?” 

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.” 

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?” 

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt. 

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle. 

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.” 

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed. 

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.” 

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin. 

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on. 

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up. 

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead. 

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.” 

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.” 

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.” 

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens. 

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.” 

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different. 

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.” 

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.” 

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?” 

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.  

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.” 

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be. 

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.  

“Why?” 

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour. 

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?” 

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?” 

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat. 

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?” 

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.” 

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction. 

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?” 

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away. 

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?” 

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought. 

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?” 

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow. 

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.” 

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you. 

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.” 

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself? 

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again. 

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department. 

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans. 

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.  

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?” 

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.” 

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.” 

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.” 

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop. 

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.” 

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle. 

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?” 

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again. 

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?” 

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?” 

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not. 

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.” 

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again. 

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair. 

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.  

You gulp and automatically close your legs. 

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.” 

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —” 

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest. 

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.” 

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.  

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.  

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.” 

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.” 

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?” 

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right? 

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.” 

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be. 

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.” 

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.  

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving. 

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass. 

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette. 

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down. 

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?” 

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?” 

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.” 

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.” 

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.  

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.” 

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.” 

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.” 

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?” 

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.” 

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.” 

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward. 

“We didn’t kill anybody there.” 

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?” 

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?” 

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you. 

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.” 

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down. 

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask. 

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly. 

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to. 

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.” 

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.  

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie. 

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.” 

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.” 

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.” 

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky. 

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip. 

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you. 

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.” 

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones. 

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly. 

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?” 

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ” 

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person. 

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.  

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?” 

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds. 

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.” 

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment. 

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.” 

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.” 

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done. 

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.” 

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly. 

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?” 

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess. 

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words. 

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.” 

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity. 

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?” 

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?” 

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.” 

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.” 

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again. 

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin. 

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust. 

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair. 

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible. 

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs. 

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.  

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly. 

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it. 

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?” 

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation. 

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?” 

“No,” you mumble.  

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.” 

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly. 

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?” 

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.” 

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.  

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.” 

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating. 

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.” 

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it. 

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.” 

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?  

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans. 

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?” 

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?” 

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now. 

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.” 

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe. 

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven. 

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.” 

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should. 

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place. 

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.” 

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet. 

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.” 

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see. 

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note. 

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ” 

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[todorokies]

cherry blossoms, tarot cards & chamomile - suguru geto

contents: sfw, fluff, meet-cute at book store, fem!reader, strangers to potential lovers, mentions of curses & whatnot, tarot cards reading,, 1.5k words.

a/n: this one goes out to the hopeless romantics who wanna fall in love in a bookstore aka me (we hear & see you)

spring has sprung as one would say. the pale snow that covered the ground has melted away, which in turn allows the freshly cut grass to flourish.

cherry blossoms had recently littered the streets alongside the sidewalks, with each petal engaging in a unique twirl that fluttered like a dragonfly before angelically collapsing on the concrete.

with spring came along new missions suguru would have to endure either by himself or with his trusted friend —and nuisance— satoru. as curse energy that once accumulated during the toughest season gets released during the warmer seasons.

today was different however, the pair had been sent into town to retrieve a relic from the past of jujutsu history; a two thousand year old book that slipped out of the archives and has been rumoured to be contained in a bookstore hidden in the nooks of jimbocho.

“the warm breeze outside might fix the low oxygen levels in your heads.” yaga sarcastically reasons when satoru made his complaints about the origins of the mission known.

the raven haired sorcerer reprimanded his tone but expressed his concerns in a more diligent manner. anyone with half a brain would know it would take many decades to successfully pawn through each and every bookshop in the jimbocho district for a specific book, that neither of them even have the slightest clue as of what it looks like.

nonetheless, they were shooed off campus with a pat on the back and a simple: “you’ll know it when you see it—or rather feel it.”

suguru now navigated through the busy streets alone, —his white haired companion taking off a few hours ago on his own journey— with both hands in his pockets taking in the simplicities of life that surrounded him while keeping his eyes sharp for any unusual curse energy.

each corner he’d turn the storefronts would be filled with colourful book spines neatly lined adjacent to one another. the harsh sound of crimped sandpaper occasionally made its presence known when a costomer would flip through the pages.

a bitter earthly aroma tangoed with the wind. one would simply scrunch their nose up and turn the other way but for suguru, the olden smell of books filled him with comfort.

elderly couples hand in hand, a few children accompanied by their parents, and the complementary store cats that would linger in the isles or be found curled up on a random stack of books.

after roaming about and checking a few stores for their recent inventory stock, suguru oddly felt inclined towards a particular store that was larger than the others.

he enters, a ring of a bell from above signals his arrival. immediately, the smell of different assortments of tea wafts in and lingers in his nose.

a café combined with a bookstore…that’s definitely convenient. he eyes the ‘ring for assistance’ bell that rest apon the main counter, he lightly scoffs before ringing it.

“how many times do i have to tell your ass, no, you can’t conduct a séance he—” you round the tight, abelit, breathable corner to face the person it seems you weren’t expecting. you slightly jump back in a frightened manner then regain your composure, or more so, your customer service demeanour.

“my apologies! business is slow today and i thought a rather persistent costomer had came back. do you need help with a book or would you like to order something?” you enunciate your words with care, trying to not let any vocal cracks slip as you fiddle with your colourful apron which is a rather stark contrast from your all black work uniform. 

suguru would pride himself as goal oriented man. the kind demands of asking to take a look at your recent stocks to see if the cursed book has fallen onto your shelves nearly wavers past his lips but the faint smell of his favourite tea clouds his better judgement.

“yes, i’d take chamomile tea with honey please.”

“coming right up!” you popped the ‘p’, scurrying off into the back to prepare his choice of beverage. alone with his thoughts again, suguru observed his surroundings with more caution.

the store has a whimsical charm to it. different array of ambiance lighting scattered throughout the establishment, vintage burgundy rugs made an appearance here and there, a few wooden chairs cushioned by velvet and a long couch that looks as if it has been passed down through many generations.

a sturdy coffee table in the middle and of course, the probably hundreds of thousands books neatly tucked in the shelves.

he wonders if you run this big place by yourself, must be a hassle if you do. he also wonders why a séance was mentioned by you in an irritated tone. maybe it could connect to his current mission? he plans on subtly bringing the topic up.

“one chamomile with honey!” you cheerfully announce handing over his mug. you don’t miss the way your heart skips a few beats when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

suguru nods his head to express his thanks. while digging for his wallet he brings up what’s been on his mind, “what was that séance you were talking about before?” he lightheartedly inquires.

you cautiously look over your shoulders and nibble on your bottom lip, as if you were scared someone might hear, “nothing too serious i suppose. these past few days business has plummeted cause there’s been talk about how this place is haunted.”

a small beat passes.

“which it isn’t by the way! just some silly stuff kids say when they wanna get under uncle daichi’s skin,” you grimace.

you then go on a bit of a tangent about how the alleged “hauntings” started a few weeks ago, just about the same time you gotten a new inventory restock. books would fly off shelves, unnerving whispers can be heard, lights would flicker and the atmosphere would turn unsettling.

suguru is unfazed yet intrigued by this, he calmly listens as his sharp eyes never leaves your face. he notices how animated your expressions are when retelling the events; you talk heartily with your hands as well as your voice that creates a certain bass to match your feelings.

he hums as he takes a slip from his mug, “can you show me the known hotspot for these hauntings?” you nod eagerly and swiftly move from your spot at the front desk to the back of the store.

yaga wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be able to feel the cursed book, as the cursed energy in the air multiples a tenfold when they step into the secluded part of the store the lighting couldn’t reach. he wonders how a cursed object this powerful was able to conceal itself from being spotted for so long.

suguru plucks the hefty grimoire off the shelf, small dust particles flying in its wake, “i’d like to purchase this one.” you look at him as if he grew an extra pair of eyes, but quickly shrug off any confusion and lead him back to the front of the store to cash him out.

as you progress his payment you feel conflicted about letting this particular stranger go so soon. holding him up for a few minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

“uhh.. wait, with each purchase a tarot card reading is offered free of charge. would you like to know what the future potentially has in store for you?”

suguru presses his lips in a thin line and sighs. he doesn’t have time for this and doesn’t believe in cards beholding a hidden future, however he is a sorcerer and just bought a book that would be a danger to society if not soon contained. raining on other peoples parade simply isn’t his forte.

he softly smiles with his eyes turning into crescent moons, “hit me.”

you try to conceal your excitement as you bring out a deck bound together by a rubber band. you start shuffling until four different cards slip out of the deck.

death, judegment, eight of cups, and the lovers.

“intresting…don’t be too alarmed by the death card, it could indicate the decay of a friendship that doesn’t hinder towards your beliefs or an troublesome habit finally coming to an end.”

you continue, “judement and eight of cups go hand in hand as your new calls for action may put certain things into perspective for you, as this chosen path may lead to dissatisfaction.”

“and finally, the lovers card is the nice light at the end of the tunnel. someone you can confine in and pour your heart out to; tarot cards can be interpreted in millions of ways so, take what i say with a grain of salt.” you smile as you put the cards away to bid the stranger farewell.

suguru stares astonished absorbing this information, you’re good. he’ll give you that. “well..thanks for the reading and the tea, have a great day.”

and just like that, he turns his back to leave until he stops just in front of the door. “oh, and i can assure you the ‘hauntings’ should come to an end now.” he smirks and waves you goodbye.

you smile until he fully leaves which is when the realization hits that you didn’t even get the chance to get his name, you frown and groan into your palms.

maybe he’ll swing by again…hopefully.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[venerawrites]

Vi reuniting with her significant-other after prison? The reader could be a mercenary, or a firelight, a baker, an artist(music and paint) just to name a few occupations they could have. I am not used to requesting, so please forgive me.

author's note: I think this request is so cute, I really loved doing it! I tis a bit angsty in the beginning, but it is fluffy at the end! <3 Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy! x

Nature always finds a way.

Even when surrounded by nothing but a cold, grey concrete, it managed to give birth to life.

Hope.

As she leaned against the wall, Vi gazed upon the big tree in front of her, focusing her attention on the gentle dance of the green leaves. Of course, she has seen trees before, in Piltover and on photographs, but never in Zaun.

In a way, she was both surprised and impressed with Ekko finding this place. She always thought she knew the city like the back of her hand, yet she had never stumbled over here. How many places were like that in the Undercity? How many places remained hidden, waiting to become a symbol of a new beginning?

"Your mind seems far away", a voice sounded next to her and Vi turned to her right, only to find Caitlyn's smiling face. Despite her gentle expression, there was a spark of worry in her eyes.

Interesting girl was she. One who has grown up in a closed bubble, protected by her family's money and influence, yet there was a fire inside of her, that made her different from the stereotypical Piltover person. She had a deep sense of justice and despite seeing the worst of Zaun, instead of turning her head to the side, she wanted to dig deeper and to know more.

Vi would lie if she said she did not judge her in the beginning. She was sure Caitlyn would not survive more than an hour down here. However, the girl kept making her raise her brows in surprise, completely changing her views about the people in the Topside.

"It is", the pink-haired girl finally answered, letting out a soft sigh in the process, "Somewhere far. Somewhere better."

And with someone else.

Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the few streaks of grass poking near her feet. She grasped one, pulling it out and bringing it in front of her eyes. Twirling it a few times, she carefully examined it, noting how the end was starting to turn yellow.

There was minute during which each of the women seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Caitlyn laid her palm on Vi's back, rubbing small circles on top of the clothed skin. She remained silent, but her gesture managed to ease the tension in the other female's muscles.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Vi shook her head, his eyes still focused on the little piece of grass in her fingers.

God, she wanted to talk. She needed to talk. But what was weighing on her mind, was something she couldn't share with anyone. Especially Caitlyn.

"No, I will be fin-"

"YOU LYING SNAKE!"

Before Vi could realise what was happening, she found herself on the floor pinned by your trembling body. The eyes, once so full of gentle love, which haunted her dreams almost every night, were now staring down at her full of rage. As your name rolled off her tongue, another set of hands got involved by grabbing you by the shoulders.

"Hey! Get off her!"

Whipping your head back, your eyes narrowed to slits once you saw the blue-haired enforcer. Your nose involuntarily scrunched, a clear sign you were far from happy of what, or more specifically who, was before you.

Ekko has already warned you Vi was back in the city and that she was accompanied by an enforcer, but you did not expect... well, her. In your mind, you had built the picture of an old, grumpy prison officer, not a young and pretty woman. Perhaps, you did not want to believe YOUR girlfriend would be giving someone like her a tour around Zaun, while completely forgetting your existence.

Your name was called again and you looked down, your expression softening once your eyes met those of Vi. Many emotions were swimming inside of them - happiness, guilt, pain, relief - all of which were making you wish for nothing more than to press her against your chest and hold her for hours. Your fingers twitched, but instead of embracing her, you landed a few harsh slaps against her shoulders.

"Stop!", Caitlyn shouted once more, grabbing your vest from the back. Instead of calming you down, however, this enraged you even more and you turned around, slapping her hands away.

The enforcer was not a woman who gave up easily, however.

"I demand you to stop!", your body froze as the command left her lips. You stayed still for a few seconds, during which only your heavy panting and the distant shouts of the children around the base could be heard.

"You demand me?", the words came out as a loud scoff and you lifted yourself from Vi, while eyeing the other girl with a mix of irritation and disbelief. With one long stride, you closed the distance between you and gabbed the front of her jacket.

"I demand you to shut your mouth and get your little ass out of here before I kick it so hard, you'll regret ever coming to the Undercity!"

Before things could escalate, you were pulled away by Vi, who held her arms tight around you, while nodding her head toward Caitlyn.

"Cait, give us-Stop it, damn it!", she groaned, tightening her hold, "Cait give us a few minutes!"

The blue-eyed enforcer stood frozen in her place, her worried gaze shifting from her friend to you and then back. You still fought back against Vi's grip, ignoring the feelings of warmth and nostalgia that you felt by being so close to her.

"Please?", the pink-haired woman said again and reluctantly, Caitlyn started walking slowly backward. Once she was far from earshot, Vi released her grip on you and took a step back, giving you some space. She opened her mouth to speak, but you were faster.

Without a word, you turned around and smacked your palm against her cheek. Her head whipped to the side and for a moment, it remained there, frozen. The usually pale skin flushed a deep red where your hand had made contact and your hand trembled, before hiding inside the warm comfort of your pants' pocket.

"I probably deserve that...", Vi mumbled, moving her jaw left and right while she rubbed the sore spot on her face. She took a shaky breath, regaining her composure, before lifting her face. With the corner of her eyes, she could see Caitlyn eyeing both of you with worry and she lifted her hand toward her, a gesture to show her she did not need to intervene. Yet.

The subtle communication did not stay hidden from you and let out an angry huff, before shaking your head. Rarely have you felt such intense emotions, especially since that night when... No. You couldn't go back down this memory lane. Not again.

"Oh, you deserve way more than that!", your tongue pushed against your cheek, biting back all of the colourful insults that were resting on the tip of it. The memories of all those lonely nights you spent crying, mourning, and wondering what happened to her, now hung between you like a dark cloud. No matter how much you have prepared to face her once again, all self-control and reason left your mind as soon as you laid your eyes on her.

"I know you're hurt, but please give me a chance to explain!", her voice was low and soft, an unusual sound for Vi, "Please, I-"

"What is there to explain? You left! You left me! You left Powder! You left Ekko...", with each name, the pain in your chest felt stronger. You closed your mouth, pressing your lips into a thin line before your gaze involuntarily moved to your right, where in the distance the enforcer was nervously chewing her thumb while keeping her attention glued to both of you.

Narrowing your eyes, you grabbed Vi's hand before starting to drag her toward the nearby wood shack. In the beginning, when you joined the Firelights it was used as a storage for hoverboards, but as the members of your group grew, it was soon abandoned and left to collect dust. It was secluded and most importantly away from prying eyes and ears.

The pink-haired girl followed without resistance, giving a last reassuring nod to the Piltover girl, who was now being led away by another Firelight. From all of the scenarios she imagined through the years about your reunion, you pouncing on her was definitely not on the list. A hug, a kiss, maybe even a chance for her to finally show you how much she actually loved you - those were the fantasies that kept swirling around her head all morning when she thought of how should she handle your first meeting after so many years.

Hearing that you were now part of the Firelights was not a surprise. Just like her, you liked to resolve your problems with your fists, rather than talk, and like many young people part of the group, there was nothing that you wished for more than free Zaun. You were stubborn, hot-headed, and reckless, and gave Vi a headache more than once in the past.

Would she have it any other way, however? Absolutely not!

Despite your tough and fiery nature, you also possessed a surprising softness and gentleness, reserved for those closest to you. She often considered herself lucky by being able to see you like this - open and vulnerable, a harsh contrast with your usual combative demeanour. The memories of your many nights spent together, sharing warm cuddles and soft kisses, while your head rested on her shoulder as you talked about your future dreams, often resurfaced in Vi's mind, reminding her how effortlessly it was for you to make her fall in love with you.

Deep inside she foolishly believed that if she ever got the chance to be released from prison, everything would be the same. Powder would still be her little sister, seeking her approval; Ekko would be their smart-ass best friend, who spent too much time tinkering with random gadgets; and you, her first love and girlfriend, would patiently wait for her arrival, ready to promise her the future which you always dreamt about when you were little.

Now, as she stood in front of your furious figure, she felt almost foolish for having such expectations. Of course you would change, you were forced to, just like everyone else in Zaun. The hardships you had to face at such a young age shaped you into someone colder and more guarded.

"I am sorry."

The words fell quietly from Vi's mouth, as she watched your face, trying to find even a glimpse of the love you once carried for her. All that stared back, however, was fury and disgust.

"You are sorry? That's all you've got to say?", you let out a dry chuckle, your voice ringing with mockery. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you eyed her up and down, finally having the chance to properly observe her appearance.

Vi has always been a beautiful woman, even if she never seemed to care much about her looks. She never bothered with fancy hairstyles or clothes, preferring practicality and comfort over style. Yet, she possessed a natural attractiveness, one that made you turn your head the first time you saw her.

Your eyes focused on her buzzcut, before sliding down her face and noting the numerous new piercings and a tattoo, that were now covering it. Her eyes, still as piercing as you remembered them, held the same fiery spark as before, despite being clouded by guilt. She was also taller and more muscular, now towering almost a full head above you.

"I didn't leave!", she finally said, her expression hardening, "That night..."

The words got stuck in her throat, as she let out an angry sigh and rubbed her calloused hands on her face. Her body slumped against the wooden wall behind her, the loud thud making you wince.

"That night I was taken against my will", she continued, her voice trembling, "By the Enforcers. I... After seeing the remains of the explosion and Powder, I just needed a minute. Some time to breathe, to realise what had happened..."

The rage that bubbled inside your chest just a minute ago slowly started to evaporate, replaced by a mix of caution and confusion. You never wanted to believe that she abandoned you - for years, you pushed this thought aside, not able to accept the idea that Vi is capable of doing something like this. Not to you or Powder.

But as the time passed, the hope you held that she was just hiding somewhere started to transform into suspicion. Seeing Powder becoming Jinx right in front of your eyes, claiming that her sister deserted her, also did not help ease your mind and soon you started to accept this version of the events more and more.

She left you. Alone.

As she continued speaking, telling you how she was thrown in Stillwater Hold, never prosecuted or charged, and beaten and tortured, your whole body tensed. Her words painted a picture of chaos and pain, something completely different from what you had imagined for her. You always thought that she was living her best life, somewhere far away from Zaun.

"Do you know how many times I thought of giving up? Of just accepting that this was the end?", her eyes lifted toward your face, the raw feelings behind them making your breath catch in your throat, "But then I thought of you. Of Powder. And I knew I had to find a way back to you."

Her words hung in the air, and there was a minute of silence, during which you assimilated what she had said. A part of you wished for your initial belief to be true - you spend such a long time resenting her for abandoning you, and to a certain extent you even made your peace with it. But now, as she spoke her truth, you were left both confused and heartbroken.

How could you deal with that?

"I thought I would never see you again", you finally said, your voice sounding way softer and gentler than it was before, "That you are living your life somewhere else... with someone else."

Vi's brows furrowed at your admission and she pushed herself away from the wall, before taking a few steps toward you.

"Did you really believe I would do that?", her accusation made you shrink in your place, "That I would just leave you and Powder by yourself? That I don't care?"

The mention of her sister sent a pang of sorrow through your heart. Everyone knew how hard it was for you to witness her transformation, especially since you fought for years to save her from Silco's influence and twisted games. It took a long time for you to accept the painful truth that she was beyond saving.

"Have you seen Powder?", you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, "Do you know what she has become?"

Her gaze fell down at her feet and she weakly moved her head up and down. Despite seeing it with her own eyes, it all still felt unreal. If she controlled her anger that night, if she never screamed at her sibling, if she didn't step back from her... Maybe everything would've been different.

"I tried, Vi", you shook your head, unable to even look at her eyes, "I tried so hard, but Silco had his claws in her mind, filling it with lies. I couldn't... I couldn't save her. I don't know if anyone can. Even you..."

The woman's face fell - this was the second time she was told there was no hope for her sister anymore. She wanted to argue, to tell you that she could reach her, save her, but deep down she knew what your response was going to be. You were always honest to a fault, wearing your heart on your sleeve, and while Vi always loved that about you, she was not ready to hear the truth. Even if she already knew it.

Closing the gap between you, she cupped your cheek, gently running her thumb across the skin. You instinctively leaned toward it, seeking the feeling of warmth and comfort that you have been missing for so many years.

"I know", she said, still caressing your face, "It's not your fault. You did everything you could."

Her words were meant to comfort, but all they did was add the final drop to the already overflowing pool of emotions bubbling inside your chest. You leaped forward, circling your arms around her taller frame and burying your face in her chest. Hot tears were now flowing from your eyes, a result of years of silent suffering. Loud sobs escaped your lips, and you felt her strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer in a protective embrace.

"I missed you!", your words were muffled by your face being pressed against her shirt, "I missed you so much, Vi! I.. I thought I would never see you again!"

Her grip tightened and she buried her nose in your hair, inhaling deeply. The sweet scent of strawberry and cream filled her senses and she smiled, finding comfort in the fact that even years later, you still used the same shampoo. After being hit with the harsh reality of what Zaun has become, she welcomed this familiarity, even if it was a small one.

"I missed you too!", she murmured in your hair, before pressing a tender kiss on top of your head, "It's all going to be alright. I promise! I am here now."

You knew you shouldn't hope - after all, in the past it brought you only hurt and despair. But as she continued whispering sweet promises next to your ear, you couldn't help but cling to them, allowing yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for you both.

"I would never leave you again!", her voice became harsher, filled with determination, "Whatever happens, I will always be by your side!"

Closing your eyes, you nodded your head, pressing your face even further into her chest. Your breathing was now calmer and the tears had dried on your cheeks, leaving salty trails behind them. If only you could freeze time and stay in this moment forever...

Suddenly your body tensed and you pulled yourself harshly from her embrace, leaving Vi shocked and surprised by the sudden movement.

"What about the enforcer girl?", your face scrunched in disgust as the words fell out of your lips, "Who is she... to you?"

The young woman blinked a few times, taken aback by your bluntness and the sudden coldness in your voice.

"Caitlyn?", the sound of her name made you roll your eyes, "She is... a friend. She helped me get out of Stillwater."

Your brow quirked and your arms crossed in front of your chest, as if protecting you from the idea that there may be something more between them. Ekko has briefly told you what he knew about her and how she seemed to be different from the other enforcers, but even he still had certain reservations when it came to her real intentions and her relationship to Vi.

"Just a friend? Is that all she is to you?"

The pink-haired woman stared long and hard at your face, somewhat amused by your questioning. She bit her lip, trying to suppress her smirk, but she couldn't control the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards.

"Violet!", the sound of you using her full name pulled her attention to your face and she reached out to you again, resting her hands on your waist, "Violet, I am being serious!"

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to just pull you closer and shut your mouth, stopping you from asking such silly things. Her gaze bored into yours and her fingers squeezed the soft flesh under them.

"Caitlyn has been a great friend and a partner in crime...", she explained, pulling you closer to her, "But she is not you! I am not interested in her in that way."

With narrowed eyes, you studied her face for any signs of her lying, before reluctantly nodding your head. Slowly you lifted your arms, before wrapping them around her neck and immediately starting to play with the ends of her short locks.

"C'mon, I have a girlfriend, who do you think I am?", Vi finally let out a soft laugh, leaning her face toward yours and nudging your nose with hers. A light blush covered your cheeks and the tip of your ears at the sound of the word "girlfriend". After so many years apart, you were not even sure if she still considered you as such.

"A girlfriend, huh? She must be lucky!"

She grinned, moving one of her hands behind your neck, while the other one remained gripping your waist.

"I think I am the lucky one."

She closed the distance between you, pressing her chapped lips against yours and pouring all of the pent up frustration and love she held for you. Closing your eyes, you melted in her embrace, completely intoxicated by the familiar taste of her. The hand behind your neck pushed you even closer to her, resulting in a harsh battle of teeth and tongues, during which she easily dominated you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you rested your foreheads against each other, while trying to catch your breaths. You opened your eyes, immediately meeting those of Vi. Dragging your hand from behind her neck to her cheek, you rubbed it affectionately, smiling once she nudged it with her head.

"If you disappear again, I will hunt you down", you say half-seriously, half-jokingly, "And I will kick your ass!"

A wide grin formed on her face.

"I wouldn't even dream of it."

cc artwork: Shuo Shi

[kiss-me-cill-me]

It's Always the Quiet Ones

Pairing: Emmett x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: After spending a few days holed up with a rugged stranger, you finally can't take the tension anymore. Things get a little more complicated when he walks in on you.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (f), Emmett walking in on you, quiet sex, biting, begging, one fleeting thought about breeding, some fluff, light angst

A/N: Emmett was honestly the start of my whole descent into Cillian Murphy madness, so I'm really searching for my people with this one lol. He's my sad, scraggly boyfriend and I love him <3

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

It’s strangely beautiful, in an overgrown way. Vines hang off of the chain-link fence as you push carefully through the jagged gap, just big enough for a person to pass through. The long grass reaches well above your ankles, and plants seem to spill out from the negative space of every structure littering the lawn.

The air has a cool, muted hue; it looks like rain later. Eyeing the building in front of you, you decide to stop here for the night. 

One step, and then a pause. Something feather-light brushes against your ankle. You look down to see a tripwire, and back away slowly in the direction you came. Interesting. It has been a long time since you’ve seen anyone else alive out here. Though the owner of the tripwire could be long gone.

You take a second look at your surroundings, this time scanning for any sign of a human presence. It’s quiet, but of course, everywhere is quiet now. Delicately stepping over the tripwire, you continue on your path toward the large building. Its looming, brick facade is featureless except for long stalks of ivy tumbling from broken windows, and as you advance you can’t help but feel that the building is watching. The sensation of eyes on you is made even more unnerving in the silence.

You pick your way across the lawn, careful to avoid shards of broken glass and open bear traps. This abandoned factory is quite the fortress, if anyone actually lives here. You reach the end of the grass, and step through a huge, weathered green door, left open on probably-ancient and squeaky hinges. The air here smells of cobwebs and must.

Inside, dripping water echoes faintly, somewhere from deeper inside the building. It’s cold by the open door, and it doesn’t get any warmer as you walk down the hallway, still keeping a careful eye out for anything waiting to meet you.

You turn a corner, and there he is, unexpected. Unexpected to you at least; the man in front of you seems quite prepared as he levels the sights of his rifle.

Instinctively, your hands fly up. The man’s face is covered, except for his eyes, which look to be the only part of him that’s still alive. Even his handling of the gun seems driven by muscle memory, as if he’s a sentry with no programming beyond, simply: “Defend.” You don’t breathe as he looks you over; relaxes a bit as he realizes you’re a lone woman, unarmed except for the hunting knife at your belt. He doesn’t look friendly, exactly - it’s hard to when you’re pointing a rifle in someone’s face. But he also doesn’t look like he really wants to hurt you. More that he just wishes you weren’t here in the first place.

As a show of good faith, you point to your knife, and then to the floor. You nod at him, questioning. He nods back. Slowly, you lower your hands to your belt and unclip the knife. The faintest click of steel against concrete is audible as you lower it to the ground. Straightening, you point to the man across from you; his gun.

Now you.

Just as slowly, the man lowers his weapon to his side. You point at your knife on the floor, expectantly.

Go on…

He’s reluctant, but after a moment of tense silence, his gun joins your knife on the ground.

You smile; hope that you look thankful and not threatening, like he’s just fallen squarely into a trap you’ve set for him.

Thank you, you mouth.

Beneath the bandana that covers his mouth and the hat that shadows his face, the man’s expression is impossible to read. His eyes, piercing blue even as they regard you more casually, move over your whole body once again. Checking you for weapons, though you don’t have anything else on you. When he’s done, you take a gentle step toward him.

Stop.

The man’s right hand flies out in front of him, fingers splayed. You freeze in your tracks. Desperately, you want to tell him that you mean no harm. You just want a place to stay for the night. There’s a cold fear soaking in the corners of his body; you can feel it all the way from here. You hold out your own hands, palms forward, telling him to stay calm. Nobody's going to get hurt. Keeping one hand in front of you, you reach around to your back pocket, intending to pull out the pad of paper you keep on you for the rare occasions you need it to communicate with someone.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall. There’s a strong hand clamped around your wrist; an arm pressed flat against your chest, restraining you. And the man’s face is inches away from your own, his eyes wild with panic.

The dust settles around you, and the echo of your body being slammed on the bricks fades away. You drop what’s in your hand and nudge your head to point at the pad and pencil, showing him. The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head when he realizes - maybe exasperation at you, or maybe frustration at himself for reacting so recklessly. He starts to move away from you-

Click.

A familiar sound comes from just outside the factory door. It’s one of them.

Shit.

The man mutters something, barely audible through the bandana, and then he’s running. Deeper and deeper into the building, his hand in a vice grip around your wrist, pulling you along after him. You feel like a mess of  awkward limbs and flapping skirts as you try to keep up. The thing behind you is in the building now, crashing carelessly through the hallways in its pursuit. Your weapons are both forgotten - not that they would be any more useful here than they are back on the ground where you left them. 

Ahead, the man has let go of your wrist and is now running at a dead sprint, trusting you to either keep up or be killed. He clearly has somewhere he’s going. You blindly follow him, out of any other options and brain too high on adrenaline to think about where he’s taking you. The hallway has opened out into a room, and now you’re weaving through huge pipes and tanks. Your lungs are about to explode. You can’t keep up with-

Suddenly, the man veers sharply to the left and smoothly jumps into a metal structure. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing to do but follow. You breathe deep and hold it to stop from screaming as you jump in after him.

Dust. It’s in your throat and your eyes as you fall into whatever is piled at the bottom of the drop. You need to cough, but you fight hard not to. Before you can get your bearings, you’re yanked to your feet and thrust in a direction that seems random, until you reach the lip of the metal tank. The man all but throws you inside even as he’s climbing in after you, and then the heavy metal door is shut and the only sound is of two people breathing.

He tears off his hat and bandana. You watch, mesmerized, as the man’s chest rises and falls, struggling to push enough air into his lungs. Then, he utters the first word you’ve heard him say clearly.

“Fuck.”

The man’s name is Emmett. This you learn as you sit, huddled together but separate, in his makeshift bunker. 

You also learn that he doesn’t want you here.

“Please.” 

Your voice feels tight and painful; jagged around the edges from disuse. It catches sharply in your throat.

“No,” he replies.

The timer on his watch goes off, and Emmett opens the door. His chest is still heaving.

You both step out, listening carefully for any noise above you. The creature, thankfully, seems to have moved on. Emmett stands a little straighter as he turns to face you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here.” His voice is a whisper, and has the same rusty, unused quality as your own.

“I just need a place for one night.”

You beg with your eyes, and Emmett turns away. He won’t allow himself to be swayed by you.

Later, when it’s - almost- sure to be safe, the two of you go together to collect your discarded weapons. The sky outside has turned an awful gray, and sheets of rain pound into the earth. The sound is louder than anything you’ve heard in months, and the wind howls from all directions. 

Emmett sighs heavily, though he makes no sound. He looks up, seeming to question who would have the audacity to do this, and then turns to you.

One. Night. he mouths, holding up a finger for emphasis. 

He looks at you seriously, and you nod seriously in return. You follow him back down to the lower level, and settle in on opposite sides of the room.

One night, of course, turns into two, and then three. It’s nice to have company. Even Emmett seems to soften a little as the days go on. He doesn’t mention anything about you leaving after that first night, and you take care not to prompt him to. Emmett teaches you how to hide in the huge metal tank; explains the timer and watches you try it with your own alarm a few times to make sure you can do so safely. You busy yourself with mending a few things - broken backpack straps and holes in his old sweaters. He thanks you softly as you hand them back to him.

You catch Emmett looking at you a few times, barely getting a glimpse of the strange expression on his face before he turns away. You catch yourself looking at him too. It’s been so long since you’ve seen another person, but even if it hadn’t been, there’s something magnetic about him. His eyes are like spots of fresh ice against his weathered face. 

“I have something,” you say, over the meager dinner you’re sharing.

You go to your backpack and rustle around, moving slow so as not to make any noise. Finally, you pull out a bottle, its dark glass glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Cream soda,” you whisper, with all the thrill of a child showing off an ill-gotten prize from her mother’s cupboard.

The bottle hisses as you open it, and you both perk up, quickly alert for any sound of a threat above you. Safe. You pass the bottle to Emmett, offering him the first sip. It’s simple, but a rare treasure in this broken world.

“What’s the special occasion?” he asks, the barest hint of a smile drifting over his lips.

You watch as his mouth wraps around the bottle's opening, and as he gingerly tips it back to drink. He takes two quick swallows, his throat bobbing twice, then hands the bottle over to you. You take it, fingertips brushing against his for just a moment, and take a quick swig before you can think for too long about how his lips were just touching the rim.

“It’s just nice to have a treat sometimes,” you reply, shrugging. 

You hand the bottle back and Emmett takes it by the neck, letting the edge of his hand linger against yours for several seconds. You make no move to pull away. 

“It is,” he agrees. “Been a long time since I’ve had anything sweet.”

In the very back of your mind, you wonder if he’s still talking about the soda. No - stop that. You don’t need to go ruining the good thing you have going.

You had asked Emmett, on the morning of the second day, if he was alone. He’d paused for a moment before answering.

“Yes… Well, I mean… Yes.”

You'd decided not to prod any further. 

Now, as you look down at your hand ghosting against his, you notice again his wedding band, firmly wrapped around his finger. It's hard not to notice, and it's even harder to ignore the dozens of sketches that litter the room, pinned and draped on every surface. All of them show the same young boy. He could be a son, or a nephew, or just some random kid that something terrible happened to - you haven't wanted to ask. Everyone is beyond traumatized in this new world, and far be it from you to question whatever brings anyone comfort. Suddenly feeling guilty, you let go of the bottle and look away as Emmett takes another sip.

"Hey," he whispers. Your head snaps back up to look at him. "I have something too."

Emmett puts the soda down between you, methodically clears the table, and pulls out a very weathered deck of cards.

"You ever play Gin Rummy?"

The next morning, Emmett is up early. You stay in your sleeping bag, pretending that you haven't woken up yet, and watch him pull on his hat and boots. He slips on a pair of heavy leather gloves. You stir, "waking up," and Emmett walks over to you.

"Gonna go check the traps," he explains, kneeling down. "I'll be back."

You're struck by the way the moment feels almost domestic; as if he's promising you he'll be home for supper. Your eyes trail over him lazily, taking in the firm shape of his bare arms and the way his hands are abruptly covered by the work gloves. The thought of him roughly grabbing you by the waist flashes through your mind; the material rubbing your skin as his fingers sink into your sides. You swallow heavily; blink a few times.

"You should wear a jacket," you whisper.

Emmett has already started to walk off, but he turns around and smirks at your words. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something. But it passes, and then he continues in the direction he was headed, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.

Once Emmett is gone, you have the place to yourself. Scant sunlight filters through the opening in the ceiling, giving you just enough light to read by. You pull out a well-worn book from your backpack, and settle into the chair Emmett's jacket was on to read it.

Quickly, the words start to swim on the page; falling forgotten into the margins. You can't get your mind off the image of Emmett leaving, blue eyes barely visible under the brim of his hat as he looked back over his shoulder. Had there been a teasing look to them, or was that just you imagining things again? Your mind flashes to an image of Emmett giving you his jacket, wrapping it around you, tight and safe. Pulling you close to him, and-

Okay, time to be honest. Emmett has been driving you crazy the past few days. And not in a bad way, but in an "imagining him tangled between your legs" kind of way. You know you shouldn't think like that. Your relationship with him is undefined and shaky at best; you shouldn't go risking it. But it's getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reaching out and snaking your fingers through his hair; against the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve; sliding them down past his belt and-

Stop.

You practically have to bite your lip as you beg yourself. You listen for a moment to the silence. Emmett should be gone long enough. And under three feet of solid concrete, you feel safe to relax a little. You desperately need to let out some frustration.

But still, it feels too open out here. Too exposed. Even if you are alone, you just want some more privacy.

Your eyes drift to the steel bunker.

Okay, you can be quick. You have your watch and can time it and be careful. With how horny you are, this shouldn't take long at all. And in the worst case scenario, Emmett will be back soon and can let you out if you get stuck. This is a perfect idea.

You climb inside, set your watch, and close the door. Keeping your head by the entrance in case you need to rush the exit, you don't waste any time getting started.

You touch yourself, shocked at how wet you are already. Might as well take advantage of the sound-proof tank. You hiss as you slide a finger between your folds, finally not bothering to keep quiet.

"Oh, fuck, Emmett."

You desperately wish these were his fingers instead of your own. You plunge two inside yourself immediately; revel in the delicious sting. Legs squeezing together, trapping your own hand, rutting up against your palm. You imagine him hovering over you, blue eyes staring into yours as he watches you fall apart.

"Oh, fuck!"

Above your head, the door swings open. You freeze, hand still plunged sinfully down the front of your pants and hips bucking halfway off the steel floor. Next to you, your watch alarm beeps, calling more attention to your shame.

You look up, and suddenly Emmett staring back at you isn't a fantasy anymore.

"I'm… uh," you stammer in a hissed whisper, searching for any words. But the power of speech has left you. It seems to have left Emmett as well.

His mouth is practically hanging open, and after a moment of shocked panic, he quickly tears his eyes away. 

Taking the opportunity, you sit up and try to arrange yourself - although it's impossible to look presentable after you've just been caught fucking your own fingers to the thought of the man standing in front of you. 

"I'm sorry," Emmett whispers, frantic. He’s pacing; tears off his work gloves and throws them to the ground. Tosses his hat onto a table and runs a hand through his hair. "I thought something happened, and I wanted… well I didn't think - not that it's anything to be ashamed of. Everyone has urges."

"Do you?"

The sound of your voice shocks even you, despite the low volume you're speaking at. Your legs are dangling out the open door of the bunker, and you watch as Emmett stops in his tracks. 

“What?” he whispers.

“Everyone has urges,” you echo, placing your feet on the floor. “Do you?”

“I don’t know what you…”

You stand up, taking a bold step toward him. Emmett takes a half step back. His eyes are blown wide, fear and confusion, as you take another step. This time he stays.

You place a hand on Emmett’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath.

You’re only inches apart. One more step and your body would be pressed flush against his, just like you’ve been thinking of these past few days. From this distance, you can hear the shakiness in his breathing. 

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare; a challenge; a bald-faced lie. You look up at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stay quiet. To not stop you. To keep going. 

“Tell me to stop.”

You’re on your tiptoes now, lips hovering right in front of his. Emmett swallows hard, and you can feel it reverberate through his whole chest. Looking you right in the eyes, he shakes his head.

No.

Emmett pulls you the rest of the distance. His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you like you can stop him from drowning. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it. Emmett has to hold you to keep you from falling to the floor. 

Gently, he eases you down. You’re desperate, pulling at him, trying to bring him to you faster. Your legs open to wrap around his waist. God, you’ve needed this. 

Emmett is scrambling to take off his jacket, and even though it only takes a few seconds, it is an eternity. To exist without his body pressed against yours. You hastily unbutton your pants, and Emmett tears them the rest of the way down.

There’s a pause, and you look up at him. Emmett is transfixed, but seems to quickly snap out of it when he notices you - embarrassed. You lean up on your elbows, but Emmett stops you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. 

Be quiet.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Emmett straddle you; reach his hand down between your legs. 

Oh, fuck.

His fingers are even better than you’d imagined. Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Emmett’s face is stoic with concentration, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him. 

After teasing your entrance for a moment, Emmett slips a finger inside you. There’s that weightless feeling again; it’s like being drunk. You could ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you.

Desperate, you scramble for something to hold onto. There’s nothing on the stone floor. Emmett is your only lifeline, and you grab at the hem of his shirt, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. 

Panting. You’re actually panting as he pulls out of you, instantly missing the way his fingers curled up inside of you. You’re still holding onto his t-shirt for dear life, and he gently removes your hand. You can’t see straight, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being undone, and a zipper loosening. When you look up again, Emmett is hovering over you, his body planted between your legs.

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you.

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s plunged into you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache.

“Please, Emmett.”

The fingers on your waist tighten, digging into your side. For a second, you worry you’ve upset him, but then he looks up at you, eyes blazing with lust. He looks like a man about to lose himself, and you smile as you move your hands up to his chest, gripping at his collar to pull him close as you whisper again. 

“Please.”

Emmett is pounding into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Emmett lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck, Emmett.” 

You whisper in his ear, breath brushing the strands of hair that fall around his face. Emmett brings his own lips right to the side of your cheek; his words tickle as he continues to fuck you.

“You know, you have a dirty mouth,” he tells you. “And here I thought you knew how to stay quiet.”

You whimper, and a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Emmett leans in to whisper to you again, devilishly. 

“Bite down if you need to.”

Fuck, he’s going to be the death of you.

Emmett is grunting, softly, as he fucks into you just a little bit faster. The sound of him coming undone is enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down onto his hand, muffling the sound of your cries as you orgasm. 

If he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it. Emmett continues to rut into you as you bite the side of his hand, trying desperately to stay as quiet as you can. You want him to hold you down, breed you, spill everything into you with no care for the consequences. Emmett pulls his hand away and plants it on the ground, trying to balance himself.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

His words are breathless; you love hearing him like this. You bask in them, arching your back against the floor, not answering.

“Where do you want me to- Fuck!”

Emmett pulls out of you, trying and failing at the last second to cup a hand around himself. Cum gets everywhere, dripping from his fingers to the floor, coating the insides of your legs. He looks down at himself for a moment; shakes off his hand before wiping it on his pants, still halfway on in his rush to be inside you. 

“Now you decide to be quiet, huh?”

He’s leaning over you again, whispering teasingly in your ear. He pinches your waist and kisses your cheek before pulling away, showing you the mischief in his eyes.

Somewhere above you, there’s a crash followed by a loud screech. Maybe you weren’t as quiet as you’d thought.

“Shit.” Emmett yanks his pants up and pulls you both to your feet. The sounds of something getting closer are clearly audible. You should be scared, but instead you’re excited.

“Let’s go.”

You tug at Emmett’s wrist as you lead him toward the bunker. Two minutes and thirty seconds - that’s how long you have before the timer goes off. You tumble, pulling him in after you. The door closes behind you with a soft thud.

You want to hear him scream.

[pedrilcvr]

I saw your requests were open, and was wondering if you could write for Gavi, and a fluff fic where he takes her on a day out and takes her round Seville and shows her places from her childhood? Something like that maybe? Thank you in advance 💘 (sorry it’s long lol)

Fountain wishes — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’d grown up in Barcelona and had never really left the big city, so when Gavi asked if you want to take a tour of his hometown, you were more than happy to go.

Disclaimer/s: ngl, i don’t know what coin currency they use in spain and google wasn’t telling me shit so let’s act like they use coins please…………😓

A/N: i hope i followed through w this req to your liking:)

A week ago, Gavi had planned a trip for the both of you. He wanted to show you Seville and you were more than happy to go. Growing up in one of the biggest cities in the country, your parents never cared to travel outside of it. So this was new for you.

Walking down the brick path, Gavi points out a small convenience store, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Aurora left me there on accident when I was ten, she thought I was behind her but I was still looking in the candy isle.”

A small memory, most would forget. He didn’t though, you noticed Gavi was like that. He remembered the little things, even with you. It was part of the reason you fell in love with him.

You continue your walk, he shows you small little things that held a memory or two. You listened intently, loving to learn about his past as he’d done for you when you showed him around your old neighborhood at the beginning of your relationship.

“And here’s where I had my first kiss.” You were outside the middle school he’d attended. His face pulls into a grimace, making laughter bubble in your throat.

“And here I was, thinking I was special.” He gives you a ‘really’ look, only making you grow more amused. “Who was it with?”

Gavi feigns a shudder, “her name was Maria. It was a dare for her, totally humbled me.”

Moving on, he brings you to the other side of the school, showing you the recess area. He points to the long grass field. “Here’s where I spent most of my time during recess.”

“Shocker.” You tease. “Who would’ve thought.”

He’d originally meant to show you more around the city, maybe a few tourist sites, but you’d insisted he showed more intimate places. You wanted to know more about his childhood than the tourist attractions.

He loved that about you. How much you really cared for everything about him. He happily agreed, sticking to the areas that had meant more to him than some might imagine.

By the time night fell, and you were walking home, you were sure the soles of your shoes were falling off. You never complained though, simply listening to what he had to say and show.

A loud gasp escapes the boys lips as he points to something in the distance. A water fountain, the cracks in the concrete hidden by the darkness, only illuminating by the shimmering blue surrounding it.

“Aurora pushed me in that once.” He chuckles, pulling you closer with your hand as he walks toward it.

You grin, “she really loved to torment you, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” he nods, “she was just evil.”

You two sit down on the dry edge of the fountain, examining the hundreds of decaying coins at the bottom. You have an idea, opening your purse and fishing around in the darkness for a moment before pulling out two coins.

Placing one in Gavi’s hand, you smile. “Do you believe in wishes?”

“I suppose so.” He shrugs, eyes flickering from your face to the coin.

“So make one, i’ll go first.” You close your eyes, saying your wish in your head before flicking the coin into the water, you only open them after you hear the plunk of Gavi’s in the water as well.

He looks at you, love in his eyes, and asks, “what’d you wish for?”

You. Forever.

“If I told you then it wouldn’t come true.” You giggle, zipping up your purse.

DTS , @halfwayhearted <3

[zooliminology]

i know a lot of people have talked about the far planes entities, but will there ever be an explanation (or run down) encompassing all the different places of the far planes? or, because this is dedicated to zooliminology, will this only encompass the entities? i am simply intrigued by the places in which all these creatures reside, and would love to learn more

A list of all known areas at the time has been posted here before, but a post of that manner can be reapeated due to new discoveries.

Here is an updated list of all known areas:

The Far Plains The first area discovered by the Zooliminology Project, and usually the initial area you can clip into. Primarily is comprised of vast, open, green planes and rolling knolls that sometimes sport fences. The sky projects the impression of being around midday and usually have large clouds. The grass found here is not confirmed to be related to real-world poaceae. Large black monoliths known as "gateways" can be found scarcely scattered throughout the area. Home to striders, kytes and maax.

Brutalia A large, geometric area of concrete that sprouts in random directions and does not truly superficially resemble any real-world architecture. The concrete gives way to many interiors and corridors that make it easy to get lost or separated from groups. The sky seems to be in a perpetual state of sunset. The only entities recorded here are longlegs.

Winter An exterior part of the Far Plane that is characterized by a constant state of snow and darkness. This area seems to closely resemble a real-world landscape, but the pseudofloran life here does not seem to grow or decay. The sky routinely shifts between being in either sunset or sunrise to being fully night. The area is covered in a constant mist that obscures faraway landmarks. This area houses fogwalkers and light mimics.

The Rain Lot An exterior area of the Far Plane is categorized by perpetual darkness and constant rain. The area, unlike Winter or the Far Plains, is almost completely flat, leading to light flooding in many areas. Natural light sources include clusters of floodlights. The only entities recorded here are ghosts.

Gamezone A dark interior area characterized by its resemblance to soft play areas and arcades. It is filled with ball pits, tubes, slides, non-functional arcade machines and nets. Rooms in this area tend to be very large with high ceilings. Tubes and other climbable areas in soft play areas can sprawl out by a large magnitude and become difficult to traverse. Sockwyrms are native to this area.

Greenhouses A purely interior part of the Far Plane that houses an abundance of pseudoflora. This area typically has an abundance of natural light sources compared to other interior areas. The pseudoflora inside of this area can vary, along with the style and size of rooms. Entities found here are golbos, princes and queens.

Mariana A dimly lit area characterized by its resemblance to an aquarium. Mariana is perpetually in dark, blue lighting and reflective surfaces caused by large, empty tanks of pseudofluid that hold nothing but pseudoflora. These large containers of water can be open to its surroundings or along walls and thus inaccessible. This area is home to miish, night skies, and spumes.

Miscellaneous Other areas of the Far Plane exist, mostly including interiors, but have either not been explored enough to find their true scope or have not been confirmed to be their own area rather than a subarea of a larger expanse. These places are home to various other entities that have been recorded in prior photographs. Please note that these areas are categorized by researchers and are not a full list nor is it a hard-fast rule. Many areas blur into each other due to the nature of the Far Plane and categorizing areas is done for the purpose of ease of cataloging explored areas and found entities.