#even if this is just a simple rough thing

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, minor wounds, shackles, mental deterioration

♡ GN reader

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at you sheepishly from where he kneels before you, your feet in his lap as he carefully unclasps the second metal cuff from your ankle—leaving roughed skin in its wake, cut raw and swollen as badly as the other. “But, you know, I would have taken them off sooner if you’d been good.”

You don't answer him—not feeling like nodding and agreeing, though not exactly feeling up to doing the opposite anymore either. Tired of it, you remain quiet, and you look away instead—flinching and hissing as he carefully handles the wounds with disinfectant, balm, and bandages.

When he’s done, he rests his cheek on your knee—stroking his hands up and down your claves tenderly. “I really am sorry,” he repeats—voice soft and silken, nuzzling into you with big puppy eyes looking up at you. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

There’s a disturbance in your head—an indecision—toiling and swirling like a storm, making you sweat, almost shiver. Should you behave for once? Do what he wants and avoid another punishment—or do you still feel like fighting? Is your dignity worth it? Do you still wish to take the risk and run now that you’re unfettered and free to try again? Or would you like to finally give it up?

This is a test. You know it. No doubt.

He’ll surely catch you if you try. You know that, too. It’s been proven, and you’re not foolish enough to keep holding onto any such false thing as hope.

So then, why try?

Well, it’s a stupid question, and yet you find yourself contemplating it—whether you should try anyway, even when failure is guaranteed. You think, now that you're really thinking about it, the only thing keeping you going is sheer and hollow principle.

Yes, principle—one based on the understanding that if you try, even if you fail, you can at least say you tried—one where the simple thought of giving is detestable. Back then, even weighing the options was unthinkable. Do or die—no in-between, nothing more or less.

But that fire within feels faint now—a low flame just barely weathering the storm, all alone in the cold, in the dark, just waiting for a final gust to blow it out once and for all.

It's an ugly thought, but you think what you really want isn't to find the strength to keep fighting but for someone to say it's okay to stop. You just want a sanction—a blessing—someone to blow the candle out for you.

And acknowledging that, you might as well blow it out yourself.

If the point holds no value, then fighting for it must be even more empty—right?

You sigh.

“It’s not that bad." Lifting a hand, you run it smoothly through his tousled locks with a smile. “Actually, it already feels better.”

The worst or best part about it is how strangely freeing it is—now that you’ve let go. The trouble of remaining vigilant and hostile is an exhausting feat, and now that you’ve put it to rest, you’re left feeling unfettered—like you can finally breathe again.

He kisses your knee, then rests his chin atop it—giving you a similar smile. “I’m glad.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[1-800-local-slut]

Sticky and Disgusting

In honor of my favorite crash out, my favorite tweaker, here's how I feel like nasty sex with JJ would be. I know I was supposed to upload last night but I was bawling my heart out, so I hope this makes up for it <3

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

𑁍 JJ fucks, and he does it good too. He's driven women insane, married women, and single women alike text his phone about how much they miss him, how they just can't forget him.

𑁍 But since meeting you, he's elevated his skills quite a bit and knows how to get you in the mood and usually he gets horny first

𑁍 Walking down the street and sees a swimsuit he wants to see you in? Hard. Laying down and randomly thinking about you? Hard. A hug? I don't even have to say it at this point

𑁍 JJ likes listening to something that puts him in the mood

𑁍 Anything with a slow pace he can roll his body perfectly in time too

𑁍 He's willing to get down anywhere anytime, but he's the type that when he gets the chance to make things nice he will

𑁍 His favorite place is your room. You're his kook princess, and you have this fancy ass bedroom with your parents who hate him downstairs and your brother who also hates trying to tone out the noise of you whimpering JJ’s name like a prayer

𑁍 Blue LED lights, a ring light that he fingered out how to set different colors too, and now you two were fucking under a sea of velvet-colored lights

𑁍 He would take it slow depending on his mood. He's slowly rolling his hips into you, his necklace dancing in your face, and your legs are trembling while he's leaving wet kisses down your sweaty neck and whispering perversions in your ears

"Say my name, I know you can do it." "You like that? Yeah, I know you do."

𑁍 And he's so cocky because he knows no one fucks you as good as he does.

𑁍 He knows every part of you, which fleshy part of your body to press down on to have you arching your back off the mattress and wondering what you did to receive a blessing like this

𑁍 Speaking of pressing, JJ likes fingering you. He'll pull you into his lap, shirt pulled up to reveal those tits he loves so much and make out with you slowly but aggressively while he finger fucks you just right

𑁍 Your eyes are closed while he picks up the pace and he's watching you lean back with your legs shaking around his waist as his palm rubs against your clit. The room is hot and JJ's fingers are covered in cream as you let out pleas for release.

𑁍 JJ can never deny you (yes he can, he's done it before when he wanted to see how long he could edge you too and you got pissed and didn't blow him for two weeks) so he keeps going until you boil over to a finish that JJ has only seen in porn. He wished he set up his camera, so he could get that sound on video

𑁍 There was always next time. And you'd let JJ do anything to you and he loved that so much

𑁍 The first night he realized was when his hands automatically went to around your neck and gave you a tender squeeze and when he withdrew his hands an apologized, and you shyly told him to do it again. He came so hard that night his eyes hurt from how they rolled back in his head

𑁍 And it never ends with that, from there, JJ holds up his fingers for you to lick clean and because you're his girl you eagerly do it that makes JJ's heart swell

𑁍 He likes missionary. It's simple, but he gets to look you in the face while he does things to you that would kill your grandmother if she knew.

𑁍 Having you on your back while he sinks slowly into you at first just to see your reaction when he first slides in

𑁍 That warm, creamy feeling, like putting his nuts in warm pudding. He likes to go in, all the way to the base first, just to see you look in his eyes while wearing the necklace with a little 'J' around your neck that you got for your six-month anniversary that made him cry when he first saw it

𑁍 He starts rough though. He just needs too. Sometimes he eases into it, but on certain nights he just can't

𑁍 He loves when you moan his name with a gasp that says that's the stuff that you love, when you let out choked little moans of 'right there' and 'just like that baby'

𑁍 Oh and high sex? Don't even get him started. Its a little ridiculous, the way he twitches a little more and presses soft kisses all over you because JJ is a little love bug when he's high and doesn't have it in him to bruise your ass cheeks

𑁍 Angry sex. JJ gets angry, so very easily. And he loves when you're willing to let him get it out of his system on you instead of someone's property.

𑁍 He's grabbing your face and making you look him in the eyes, he's holding a firm grip on your waist while he plows into you like he was trying to fuck you to sleep (which he has done time and time again), he has you with your ass raised in the air and slapping it like a punching bag

𑁍 He's trembling from rage, and from how good you are for him, how he's shaking and his brows are furrowed while you bounce back against him. Your manicured nails are gripping the sheets, and his hand is fisting your hair while holding you into the pillows

𑁍 Don't be afraid to take control over him though. JJ likes it when you push him on the bed and sit down on his dick like it's where your meant to be.

𑁍 He wants you to ride him like you hardly care about him. He wants you to bounce up and down, nails scraping down his chest ignoring how red he's turning and how he's whimpering out warnings that he was about to cum

𑁍 When you start bouncing up and down harder, while he's twitching and trying to hold onto your hips, and you do that little grinding thing when you circle your hips around and rub up against his abs so he cums inside of you while letting out moans that were so out of character that he would refuse to admit that was him if anyone ever saw that on tape

𑁍 Drunk sex, when you two stumble in from a party tipsy and you're suddenly desperate to blow him and who was he to tell you no.

𑁍 Take him down your throat and he'll cum right there. He's done it a few times. He watching you bob your head up and down, eyes staring up at him with an evil glint in your eyes

𑁍 Leaving kisses all over his chest and down his stomach, your lip gloss and lipstick smearing down his stomach and he feels a warm fluttering feeling in his stomach

𑁍 When you both cum, it makes a mess. He likes it messy, he truly does. When he pulls out and cums on your stomach or his personal favorite is cumming on your pussy so he can't tell when your mess ends and his begins.

𑁍 When you leave a creamy ring around his base, or when he cums on your ass cheeks. When he face fucks you like you're a human flesh light and you have tears and spit streaming down your face before giving him a sloppy kiss that has him weak in the knees, when he cums so hard he drools a bit and you kiss him anyways because you love anything from him, when you ride his face like a mechanical bull and when you get up he looks like he just went down a water park ride.

𑁍 You two always, and I mean ALWAYS leaving a giant stain on your sheets, his sheets, his bike, your clothing (mostly ending up being your swimsuit or panties from him pulling you aside at a kegger and rubbing you through the cloth of your swim suit until you came and quickly had to duck before a group passing by saw you two), and it's always a terrible mess to clean up.

𑁍 Sweat, spit, cum, tears, it's a disgusting mess and by God JJ lives to make it any chance he gets

[cvnntagious]

♱ ⋮ fratboy!chris headcanons ⸝⸝

all my fratboy!chris blurbs, fics, and wips : here

⇢ SFW

✱ fratboy!chris who, of course, met you at a party his fraternity threw and instantly decided you were comin' up to his room at some point, even if it wasn't gonna happen that night

" y'look good "

" me? "

" yeah, you— wa's y'name? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's known all too well by girls at boston university, though, despite contrary belief, he doesn't actually entertain most of them... guess you got lucky?

✱ fratboy!chris who's BU's resident dealer, known by every fiend on campus and more

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't fuck with relationship labels whatsoever

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't mess with anyone else, and doesn't want you to either, even though you guys aren't really 'dating'

✱ fratboy!chris who has no problem letting everyone know you're his with pride

✱ fratboy!chris who would rather focus on his lacrosse career than "some shitty college romances", or at least that's how he explains it to you

" and why are you telling me this? "

" jus' thought y'should know... i'on want you gettin' any funny ideas about what we got goin' on here "

✱ fratboy!chris who avoids any conversations about the future, or anything that requires him to even think about committing

✱ fratboy!chris who constantly needs you with him, whether he's just lounging around, at practice/games, or out making moves. ironic, isn't it?

✱ fratboy!chris who doesn't call you anything but mama, not even ma, no matter the occasion

" y'see how crazy you're bein' right now? mama, m'jus sittin' here, see? can't stand when y'do allat whinin' shit "

" don't call mama right now, chris, i'm done with all your fake nonchalant ass games "

✱ fratboy!chris who, even with being admired for his outgoing and charming personality, has such a rotten temper, especially when things don't go his way

✱ fratboy!chris who always says what's on his mind - to you, his friends, random people, anyone - even if it's completely unnecessary

✱ fratboy!chris who absolutely relishes in the respect he has from not only his peers, but the staff as well. humble's simply not a word in his world

⇢ NSFW

✱ fratboy!chris who's big and knows how to use it

✱ fratboy!chris who favors doggy, but can also get down with some rough missionary

" nah, s'okay mama... we'll switch it up tonight, don't worry "

✱ fratboy!chris who likes giving, but loves receiving. the image of your lips wrapped around his length is what helps him to sleep at night

✱ fratboy!chris who's a huge hair puller and thigh slapper (as well as occasional cheek squeezer)

✱ fratboy!chris who will take any opportunity he possibly can to either roll up or puff his joints while you use him

✱ fratboy!chris who makes sure to leave marks. usually where only you two can see, but if he feels like a guy's paying too much attention to you, he'll mark you on your neck or something for him to see

" chris, it's so obvious. how am i even gonna cover this up? "

" don't cover it. i'd like to see m'try an' get in your pants again when he sees allat "

" he literally asked for the material in our class..? "

✱ fratboy!chris who's almost always down for trying something new, but isn't usually one to suggest it

✱ fratboy!chris who loves when you praise him, even if it's unintentional. simple things like "so big," or "so good," really get him going

" yeah, s'good? y'wan more of that good shit? "

✱ fratboy!chris who, to no surprise, is horrible at aftercare.

a/n : i fear this took a lot longer than i thought it would to make... but i'll be making at least one of these for each of my au's since a) i'm unmotivated/don't have time to actually write, and b) want to develop the characters (and some of their pairings) further

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[kateschi]

same book, different chapters

synopsis: an ordinary evening takes a turn when katsuki expresses what you've always known but never expected to hear.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

being with katsuki is a lesson in unspoken understanding. you knew who he is long before you started dating him—loud, brash, and not the type to share his feelings openly.

but it didn’t take long to realize there’s so much more to him than that. his love is quiet, reserved, and shown in the details:

how he pulls you out of the way of a passing car, or how he remembers the smallest things, like your favorite kind of tea or that you prefer your coffee without sugar.

and that is enough for you. mostly.

you didn’t expect him to be the kind of boyfriend who says "I love you" with ease. katsuki isn’t like that. it isn’t something you hold against him either.

but every now and then, a small part of you wonders what it would be like to hear him say it—to hear those three words slip past his lips in the same way they had from yours.

you say it first, a quiet “I love you” in the middle of a peaceful night when the world outside feels still.

his response comes in the shape of hugging you tighter, securing you in his arms. however, he doesn’t say it back, and you don’t expect him to. you don’t need him to.

still, there are times when you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if one day he’ll actually verbalize it.

it isn’t that you doubt his feelings. katsuki isn’t one to waste time on things or people he doesn’t care about.

you know how much he cares by the way he silently takes care of you, always putting you first in his own way, even when his words are rough around the edges.

it’s just that sometimes, words have a way of making things feel more real.

tonight is one of those easy evenings you cherish—one where you don’t have to think too much about anything. the two of you are in your kitchen, making dinner together, though “together” is generous.

you’re doing most of the work while katsuki stands next to you, arms crossed, casting a critical eye over everything you do.

“you’re putting too much salt,” he says, the frown on his face making you smile.

“pretty sure this is the exact amount the recipe says to use,” you reply, amused at how serious he always gets when it comes to food.

“tch, that recipe’s wrong. I could’ve made this better with my eyes closed.”

“then why don’t you?” you tease, turning your head to glance at him. his gaze is sharp as usual, but the small curve in the corner of his lips betrays him.

“maybe I’ll cook next time,” he grumbles, looking away like the very idea of giving in bothers him.

you laugh softly, enjoying the banter. this is something you love about him—how even in these simple moments, his presence fills the space with a sense of ease.

there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourselves, even when his blunt honesty clashes with your more relaxed approach.

as you stir the pot, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander back to the three words. you know katsuki isn’t the type to say things until he’s ready, and you respect that.

but part of you is curious—would it ever come naturally to him, or would it always be something unspoken between the two of you?

still, as you stand there, the warmth of his steady presence beside you, you realize that maybe you’re okay with it remaining unspoken. katsuki shows his love in ways that don’t need words to validate them.

and then, without warning, you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. you freeze for a moment, caught off-guard.

“katsuki?” you ask, your voice soft, as you lean into him instinctively.

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds you there. his touch isn’t hesitant, but it is different from the usual casual touches you’ve grown used to.

“you’re annoying sometimes,” he mutters, voice low in your ear.

you chuckle, relaxing further into his hold. “I know.”

there’s silence for a beat, and then: “but I love you anyway, idiot.”

you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. you turn your head slightly, trying to see his face, but he buries it against your neck, hiding his expression. “did you just—?”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mumbles, voice suddenly gruff, though you can hear the embarrassment beneath the words.

a smile breaks across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. you didn’t expect it, but that makes it all the more special. he isn’t saying it because the moment demands it.

he isn’t saying it because you’re waiting. he says it because he wants to, because he feels it.

“I’m not,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your happiness bubbles up in your voice. “but…I love you too.”

you feel his grip tighten around you and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[stuniolvs]

tension

rafe cameron

summary.) the tension between you and Rafe becomes unbearable

warnings.) dry humping/cum in pants

The sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in the distance, but it barely registered. You were focused on the space between you and Rafe Cameron. It was late, much too late for a conversation, or for anything that was supposed to be normal, but here you were, standing in the dim light of the Chateau, The clamber of the Pogues and some of Rafe's friends seeping from inside.

Rafe was leaning against the counter, a beer in hand, his posture relaxed in a way that belied the intensity in his eyes. He wasn’t saying much, he was just watching you and studying you like you were the only thing worth looking at in the room.

You had no idea how things had gotten this way, how the tension between you had turned from simple annoyance to something much more complicated. His presence in the room was electrifying, one look from him and your heart would start to race, your breath hitching for reasons you couldn’t explain.

"You're quiet tonight," you finally said, breaking the silence but only half-meaning it. It wasn’t like Rafe to be quiet. Usually, he had something to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

He smirked, and that smirk made your pulse spike in a way that unsettled you. "Maybe I’m just letting you catch up."

The challenge in his voice made something inside you tighten. You met his eyes, the space between you two feeling suddenly smaller, the air thick with something unspoken. It was the kind of tension that built without either of you acknowledging it—two people standing so close, but neither willing to make the first move. Not yet.

“I don’t need to catch up,” you replied, your voice steady, but you could feel the edge in it. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Rafe stepped closer, just enough to close the gap between you two, but not enough to make the contact feel like anything more than a promise. His presence was overwhelming, his height and the way he loomed over you making it impossible to ignore him. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, barely a whisper, but it held so much weight, so much meaning.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You couldn’t look away from his gaze, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt like it was pulling you under.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Rafe,” you said, though the words felt flimsy, like you were saying them out of habit rather than belief. You didn’t know why, but every time you were near him, every time he looked at you like that, you lost track of your own thoughts. You wanted to fight it, to pull away, but there was something about him you couldn’t ignore.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He just took another step closer, his gaze never wavering, his jaw tight, the slight tension in his body obvious. You could feel the heat of him now, the warmth of his skin just a breath away.

“Maybe you don’t want to explain,” he murmured, his voice rough, like it had been waiting for this moment. “Maybe you just want to feel it.”

The way he said it, so certain, so knowing, made your heart race. It was like he was reading your mind like he knew exactly what was going through your head, even though you weren’t sure yourself.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. But your body didn’t listen. Every part of you was aware of him now—the slight edge of his breath, the smell of him, the sharpness of his gaze. You could almost feel the pull between you, the space between your bodies becoming charged with something raw and electric.

“I don’t…” You started, but the words caught in your throat. You wanted to say something, push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Rafe was too close now. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power in the way he stood. There was a force to him that you couldn’t deny, couldn’t ignore. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something else—but before he could, you found yourself leaning forward, your lips crashing against his without thinking, without planning it.

The kiss was immediate, urgent, as though you both had been waiting for this moment to come. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into it, the other resting on your waist, pressing you closer to him. You felt wetness pool in your underwear. It was messy at first—hungry, desperate—but it was everything you had been holding back.

You were both breathing heavily now, the taste of him on your lips, the heat of his body pressing against yours. You could feel his pulse, feel the way he was responding to you, like you were both trying to figure out if this was something that was happening—or something that was about to happen.

Rafe pulled back, just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still locked on yours, searching. “This what you wanted?” he asked, his voice low, like he was both questioning and daring you at the same time.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t think clearly, but you knew one thing for sure: you didn’t want him to pull away. Not yet. You nodded.

Rafe's lips found yours again, this time filled with even more hunger. The kiss was sloppy, you could feel Rafe’s hardness pressing against your stomach.

He grabs your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, never breaking the kiss, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He sits down on one of the raggedy wooden chairs near you guys, placing you on his lap. His hard cock now pressed right where you needed him most. He starts to slowly move your hips against his.

“Rafe!” you gasp, pulling away from the kiss. “What if they come out here?” you examine Rafe, his eyes glassy and lips swollen and red. “Let them.”

You gasp into his lips as he continues to move you against him. The added layers of clothing between you only add to the friction to your clit. “Feels good?” He mutters against your lips. You hum against him. He groans. “Always knew you were a slut.” His words make you moan into his mouth. “Fuck Rafe.” You whimper. You pull away from his lips fully. Tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Rafe starts kissing down your neck. He starts slowly thrusting his hips into yours adding to the pleasure pulsing through you.

“Fuck baby,” He groans “‘Gonna cum.” He mutters, quickening the pace of his thrusts. “Me too!” you moan. Rafe grabs my hair to use as leverage for his thrusts. You felt the knot snap in your stomach, releasing your orgasm into your panties. Rafe did the same. Our movements both slow as we ride out our orgasms. After we both catch our breaths Rafe places a soft kiss on my cheek “Fuck baby now I 'gotta change my pants” He chuckles tracing his hands along your waist.

[iichfilwypj]

why, why, why | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: ANGST (shocking tbh we know it is not gonna last) ღ wc: 646 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5

He carefully opened the door, trying not to make a sound. As he stepped further into the room, his eyes immediately found her, lying asleep so peacefully. She was curled up in the bed, the blanket draped over only half of her body, and the lamp beside her illuminated her face brightly.

Oh God, this was agony. The worst kind of pain he had ever felt.

She was so close, yet so far away. He knew she didn’t like him; the past few days, she had been distant, pulling away. A part of him, the selfish part, wished it was something else, like her damn period or something like that.

He stared at her; it became more difficult with each passing moment. He approached slowly, avoiding the mattress where he slept on the floor, and sat on the bed beside her waist. 

He thought it was impossible, but up close, she was even more beautiful. 

But she wasn’t his.

He quietly switched off the lamp and glanced at her once more. He couldn’t pull himself away just yet.

He noticed something in her hand, clenched against her side. The moonlight revealed it—a locket. He smiled faintly as he recognized it. He had given it to her a few months ago on her birthday. She had never worn it, and Percy found himself wondering if she didn’t like it.

"I really loved this gift, Percy." Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was sitting on the bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She looked at him with bloodshot eyes, and in his gaze, she saw only despair. She frowned. “Are you okay-?”

"Tell me why," he said abruptly, his voice rough and shaking. She looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and concern. Her hand reached out toward his face, but the moment her fingers came close, he intercepted it and pressed it tightly against his chest. "Why don't you see it? Why don't you feel the same? Why?"

The words hung in the air, raw and desperate. 

She had no idea what to say. Should she apologize for not being able to express her emotions? For closing herself off and distancing from him? For fearing that he wouldn’t love her the way she loved him?

That was no excuse. The boy standing before her looked like he was on the verge of falling apart, like he might shatter if she stayed silent for another second. 

She began to bite her nail, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. But she couldn’t for long, as she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her chin, lifting her face so her eyes met his. "Dreamy, I—"

He seemed to be in pain, his eyes filled with an emotion so raw that it made her heart skip a beat. She could see it in the way his brows furrowed, his jaw tightening as if the simple act of speaking was causing him distress. 

He was close to losing it. He wanted to tell her everything inside him. He wanted to say that he liked her –no, that he loved her. That he was in love with her, obsessed, whatever the word was. That he couldn't live without her. 

Percy loved her, deeply loved her, in a way that made her feel whole. But she wanted more.

And she waited, her breath caught in her chest, thinking that in this very moment, the thing she wanted was going to happen.

But instead, she only received an embrace, a soft kiss on her forehead, and a final look from him. He stood there for a moment, his eyes filled with a sorrow she couldn’t quite understand, and then he spoke, his voice quiet, distant. “I’m going to sleep.”

And with those words, he turned away, leaving her in the silence, alone with her own aching heart.

hi :) do i like this? NO I HATE IT NO ME GUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i want them to kiss and love and all that but i don't want to rush it! anyways stay tune ;) ahre ni se si se dice así JAJAJA

[nicosraf]

It's my birthday! And Angels Before Man's second birthday from the original publishing! And almost three years since the original draft of it! Wow! Thank you all a million times for being here. Really, genuinely

I'd like for this extremely long post to be happier ! But a lot of people are really troubled by the United States election. There's a lot of fear-mongering online about what'll happen and a lot of real threats to marginalized people in the U.S. and abroad. I don't talk about my own identities a ton. I'm a gay, trans, Mexican from the US-Mex border. The vast majority of my family, community, and friends are immigrants of varying legal statuses. I could lose everything!! I fear for my family! My friends! For my body and my heart!

My mom called me yesterday morning, though, basically asking for an explanation. She told me she was shocked, she was scared, and I said that so was I, then we said, "Pos ni modo." Ni modo!! Oh well!!! What can we do now? We can keep doing what we've always done. Survive. That's all you really have to do at the end of the day, you know, survive.

My family is from a rough Mexican city that fell apart when I was little, a place where my own family has been kidnapped and bodies have been left mutilated in the street for everyone to see. The radio spoke in code to let you know not to go outside when things got really bad. There used to be mariachis in the street to greet American tourists but by the time I was little, they were mostly gone. Boarded up, abandoned stores and boarded up, abandoned homes. I remember being scared, and I remember not knowing what to do listening to a shoot out right outside. I remember my heart stopping when my family was stopped by the soldiers and they demanded money out of us for the first time.

(And I can talk also about living on the other side. The hyper policing, ICE, the racism when my school played against other schools, my parents forbidding me from speaking Spanish outside our Mexican enclave and to stay close to them, and I can talk about the aggression from the white nuns at my catholic school toward the latino kids, I can talk about having to see the border patrol every day just to go to school, I can even talk about Trump-supporters coming down to the border and making a mess of the place and I can talk and I can talk but why? what for??)

My family is all (mostly) still around. I'm here also. We're still here. All of that horrible stuff happened and is still happening to us y ni modo!! Ni modo ! The fight continues. You'll be fine if you allow yourself to be, and if you're not, then you really gave it your best shot, and the people around you will see that you did.

I know for a lot of people there might be the urge to spiral into doom and grieve, but you don't need to borrow the grief of the future. Today you can get up and roll up your sleeves and clean the house. That's what my parents tell me to do when I'm sad. Ponte a limpiar. Ponte a trabajar. I used to get mad at them for it, but in the end, you're only in charge of yourself and the places/things that you upkeep.

I was raised around nopales (prickly pear cacti) and, many years ago, I threw one out of my parent's house because I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't want it. I figured it'd get eaten by something or die somehow. The nopal started growing instead, and it's still there. It even grew a flower, though it hasn't given us a pear yet. My dad doesn't like the pears/tuna but my mom does, so we went out to check on it and while we were there, we heard a bird singing. He looked up and he told me it was a cenzontle and that it was singing a little song for the nopal. I had this thought about how even though I basically tried to kill it, the nopal was growing, thriving. it's an easy metaphor to make, but the earth gives you simple lessons sometimes.

(The monarchs pass by every year. They don't even do it legally. They cut the border line and don't wait their turn to talk to the Customs guys!!! They just fly overhead then look back at us like we're crazy. How can we explain this to them? How do I tell them that there's a place that hates us both)

All you have to do is survive. Whatever happens to me or my family or my friends, we will find a way to grow and find birds to sing along with. If there's so much grief in the future, then we can grieve when that time comes. In other words, canta y no llores. All you have to do is survive. Take it hour by the hour. Pick up the broom and get to work while you can.

Because I've talked too much, I wanted to remind everyone that my ebooks versions of my writing will always be free to read.

Maybe it'll come as a shock to you that a lot of ABM was about coping with losing a home forever, of remembering the feeling of wall paint that you will never feel again. But it's about survival too. I hope you all take care of yourselves as much as we can. This isn't a sad post! Go out and enjoy what you have! Go for a snack. Protect yourself however youre able to. I'm so lucky to have a birthday, to have lived this long. I hope my work will live on no matter how much the world might despise it. I've survived this far despite the world too, and so will ABM... I hope ! :)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Tangled Possibilities

Very simple Monster Hybrid!König post today. I hope you enjoy, even if the post is very short!

TWs: mentioned sickness

Wordcount: 1.4k

Art from This Post

A Knot Undone Spills Forth Tangled Possibilities

Training with monster König did not go well. In fact, it went so far from well that you’d positively say it was horrible. You swore up and down as he chased you around the gymnasium, only stopping occasionally to loop through the rafters above like a big cat.

“König! Get down from there!” you yelled up overhead.

The monster only crawled around further, looking almost like a bat with how he used the talons on his big feathery wings to maneuver through the beams. His long furry tail trailed through a series of loops along the ceiling behind him.

“König!” you called again, your hazmat suit crinkling as you stomped your foot.

Finally, he snapped his head to look at you.

Even though you were his trainer, looking into the empty sockets of his eyes had chills crawling up your spine. He croaked out a small caw, then turned away to go back to playing with the metal beams in the ceiling.

You watched his massive body twist and turn as it wove amongst the beams above. On one hand, you were truly impressed that he was able to do it without getting stuck, but on the other hand you hadn’t even managed to get his control cage on his back before he had bounced away to do his own thing.

You muttered curses under your breath as you watched him playfully swing by his tail from side to side as he chirped happily.

“I need to clean you!” you whined.

König took a moment to stop swinging. He looked at the rake by your side, then at the massive sponge and bucket on the other. Without another word, he dropped down to the floor with a reverberating thud and scrambled to your side.

“Clean,” his voice sounded like a hoarse death rattle, “Clean!”

You sighed as you held up the rake, “If you stay still I can clean you.”

“Clean!” he parroted again before rolling onto his back and splaying out his tattered black wings, “Clean! Clean!”

You slowly trudged over to his side. You grimly noted that his feathers were rough and patchy and his black fur was tangled in thick knots. Evidently, he hadn’t been able to clean himself properly since his last trainer.

“Okay, so,” you sighed heavily, “you’ve got a lot of matts. I’m gonna need to go grab some scissors, okay?”

König whined and rolled on his back playfully.

“Just stay here,” you warned him before hurrying off to the handler equipment room.

You flicked on the lights and looked around the room haplessly. Evidently, whoever had been here before hadn’t had so much as a thought of consideration as they dumped everything into a mound. All the equipment had been haphazardly thrown around recklessly. To your horror, they’d completely jumbled all the organization of the room. What was normally a neat and tidy room had somehow turned into a muck room since you had gone to train König in the gym. How they’d manage to undo all the careful maintenance you and your cohorts had been practicing for ages was beyond you.

You scrambled to look through the ruins. You came across collars and chains and balls and more as you searched through the piles. You had the horrible feeling that you’d never find the trimmers. How could you when the room was like this? You worried that König would be off in the rafters again if you didn’t manage to find it soon.

Just as you were about to give up hope, you saw a glimmer of steel. You sighed in relief as you pushed a heating blanket aside to find the trimmers buried underneath. How you managed to find them was beyond you, a simple chance of fate, but you took it with both hands and lifted your hope and the trimmers from the pile.

You were used to making a mess by now, but something clattered to the floor when you brought the trimmers to your chest. You screwed your brows together and looked at the ground.

It was just a simple rope puzzle. It lay on the floor, tangled more than usual, but it was obviously meant for some of the more intelligent hybrids. It was just something to keep them busy. Something to keep them occupied.

Something to keep a hybrid like König occupied.

It clicked in your head. You no longer cursed whoever had wrecked the room before you. Instead, you’d bow and pray at their feet if they walked in that moment. Praise the bastard for giving you the answer to all your problems in the form of a simple puzzle.

You scurried out of the room with your new toy as quickly as you could, nearly forgetting the trimmer in your excitement.

When you made your way back to the gym, König was predictably up in the rafters again. 

“Hey!” you yelled as loudly as you could, “hey König!”

You heard a low rumble up from behind you.

You slowly turned and looked up to see König hanging upside down like a bat from the rafters, his head just a few feet above the door. You wondered how long he’d been hanging there, almost like some winged opossum.

“You!” you yelled and held up the trimmers, “come down here so I can clean you!”

König chuffed and crawled up his body to get back into the rafters. You huffed and puffed as he weaseled his way through the beams to get away from you.

“Hey!” you yelled at his retreating form, “wait, get back here!”

“No.”

You ignored the shivers up your spine when he spoke, a natural side effect of the nachtkrappe voice, and charged after him. You crashed across the runway, your hazmat suit crinkling like a paper bag with each and every single one of your movements. You could probably be heard from the other side of the gym at this rate. You shoved the thought aside and pushed forward.

“Hey you ugly mutt, get down here!” you howled as you scrambled after him.

“No!” König croaked back and swung from the rings hung from the ceiling. You couldn’t help but groan. Now that he found the rings there was no way he’d be coming down soon. Not unless…

“I have something for you!” you yelled as loudly as you could. Your lungs burned with the effort as you hung your other tools by your side.

König, to his credit, at least momentarily paused at your suggestion. However the flight rings proved to be too tempting and he was soon winding round and round the red and white plastic again.

“Come on!” you complained loudly, “we can do ringwork later, we need to clean you first!”

That got his attention, at least.

König lunged down directly at you. You squawked loudly as you threw yourself out of the way of his big grey talons. He thankfully didn’t baffle you with his wings and instead curled his long tail around your legs, tripping you in the process.

You pulled yourself to your feet and brushed yourself down. The rubber suit was thankfully durable enough to withstand a bit of wear and tear, but you still checked to make sure it was intact. You’d hate to get sick because of a small tear in the suit. Whatever nachtkrappe’s carried, you didn’t want to catch it.

“Okay, so,” you pulled yourself together, “I have an offer for you.”

“Offer, offer,” König parroted as he tilted his head back and forth, the fluorescent light glinting off his tusks and horns menacingly.

“So,” you held up the trimmers and he hissed, “stop that! Look, if you let me trim some of the matts, I’ll give you something fun.”

“Fun?” König thankfully perked up.

“Fun!” you repeated and held up the rope toy, “this is just a little rope puzzle. You think you can finish it before I finish trimming you?”

König snorted out a plume of putrid smoke, “Ja.”

“Ooo, confident!” you chuckled as stepped closer, “well, let’s see how well you do.”

You tossed him the rope. He struggled to catch it in his front claws on his wings, but he managed to carefully lace it through his fingers and settle on his front.

You flicked the trimmers open and sauntered over to him. You picked up the rake along the way with a smirk.

Finally, you had a way to make him sit still.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[ltash]

The Bodyguard- Last Part

Link to all parts in the end.

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader

This part contains angst

The first light of morning drifted through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. You stretched beneath the sheets, your body deliciously sore, a quiet reminder of last night's passion. But as you blinked your eyes open, the space beside you was empty, the covers rumpled, his warmth already faded. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you imagined where he might be.

You climbed out of bed, padding to the bathroom to freshen up, the chill of the tile beneath your feet a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered from the night before. After a quick shower, you slipped into a pair of jeans and a simple tank top, feeling the soft fabric slide against your skin as you brushed your damp hair back.

Following the quiet sounds drifting from the other side of the door, you made your way toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee meeting you halfway. And then, you spotted him standing at the counter, his broad back turned to you, bare save for the sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The muscles in his shoulders and arms moved as he worked, his movements casual yet precise. You paused, admiring the way the morning light played over the contours of his back, a quiet strength that stirred something deep inside you.

Without a sound, you tiptoed across the room, stepping up behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you pressed yourself against his warm, solid frame, your cheek resting against the smooth skin between his shoulder blades. He stilled, his hands pausing on the coffee mug he'd been reaching for, and for a moment, he simply breathed, savouring the feel of you wrapped around him.

"Good morning," you murmured, your voice muffled against his back, a hint of a smile in your tone.

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that you felt reverberate through his chest. Turning his head just enough to catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder, he reached down, his hand finding yours where it rested against his stomach. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, the simple gesture sending a warm thrill through you.

"Morning, love," he replied, his voice still thick with sleep, rich and warm like the coffee he'd just poured.

For a while, you stayed there, wrapped around him, your heartbeat settling in time with his. And in that quiet morning light, with nothing but the sound of your steady breaths and the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen, you knew you could stay like this forever.

Ghost chuckled softly as you lingered in silence, lost in the warmth of his embrace. He turned in your arms, slipping his hands around you and pulling you closer, his sleepy smile melting as he gazed down at you.

"Cat got your tongue, huh?" he teased, his fingers tracing slow, gentle circles along your back. His voice was low, still rough from sleep, carrying a softness that made your heart flutter.

You smiled, resting your hands against his bare chest. "Just... happy," you murmured.

His smile softened at your words, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Me neither. I'm still not used to it, to be honest," he admitted, his gaze searching yours, as if he needed to memorize every detail of this moment. With a sigh, he pulled you even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin, his arms wrapped protectively around you. "But I'm glad we're together. You're mine now, and I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

You laughed softly, glancing over his shoulder at the stove. "Hmm... what are you making? Never knew my bodyguard could cook, too."

He laughed, shaking his head as he moved away for a moment to grab eggs and bacon from the fridge. "I'm not just a bodyguard, babe. I can do other things too," he replied, a playful spark in his eyes as he turned back to the stove, muscles flexing under his skin as he worked.

You leaned against the counter, arms folded, a teasing smile on your face. "Yeah, I thought you could only boil eggs..."

Ghost snorted, casting you a smirk over his shoulder. "You thought I was just some guy who can only make eggs? I'm hurt, babe." He finished cooking the eggs, plating them and handing one to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You accepted the plate, grinning. "But I bet you can't cook as well as I can."

Rolling his eyes, he pretended to look offended. "Oh, so now you're doubting my cooking skills? I'll have you know, I'm a great cook." He took a bite of his eggs, watching you with a smirk. "And I'm definitely better than you."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Maybe you're better at killing enemies or fighting in warzones, but you can't fight in the kitchen."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, his smirk widening. "Oh, so you're saying I'm better at killing people than cooking? That's a low blow, babe." He stepped closer, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I guess I can't argue with that. You do have a point."

Before you could reply, a sudden shift in his expression caught your attention. His gaze flicked to the small television in the corner of the kitchen, his face hardening as he absorbed the news report flashing across the screen. He tensed, jaw tightening.

"Diego's dead," he said, his voice dropping to a cold, lethal whisper. His eyes flicked back to you, searching your face.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips, and you reached out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah. You killed him, thankfully."

Ghost's expression softened, his hand stilling in yours. You saw a flicker of something almost like guilt in his eyes, but he forced it down, nodding slowly as he turned off the TV. "Yeah. I did."

You looked up at him, feeling the weight of the past few days lift from your shoulders. "You didn't have a choice. He would have taken me, and God knows what he'd have done."

Ghost nodded again, his gaze steady on yours. "I know. I had to protect you. I couldn't let him lay a finger on you." He stepped closer, his hand reaching up to gently brush your cheek, his thumb tracing a tender line along your skin. "I'd do anything to keep you safe, you know that."

A gentle smile tugged at your lips, and you nodded, feeling warmth spread through you at the intensity in his eyes. "Well, now the threat is neutralized. I can go out and enjoy myself without looking over my shoulder."

He let out a soft, relieved sigh, pulling you into his arms once more, holding you close as if reassuring himself you were still there, still safe. "Yeah," he murmured. "You don't have to worry about that anymore. You can go out and do whatever you want without worrying about Diego or anyone else."

A thought crossed your mind, and you looked up at him, a playful smile forming. "The chef's not coming today. Why don't we go out and celebrate your victory, hmm?"

A smile lit his face, his eyes filled with warmth and affection as he looked down at you. "Yeah, let's do it. Just you and me." He reached down, taking your hand in his, his grip gentle yet steady, a silent promise in the simple gesture. "Anywhere you want to go, babe."

The day passed in a blur, and by evening, you were ready. You slipped into the black, backless silk dress, its soft fabric gliding over your skin, and added a pair of classic Louboutins to complete the look. A spritz of your favourite perfume lingered in the air, and as you fastened a final earring, you felt his eyes on you.

Ghost stood in the doorway, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt, his familiar black mask covering the lower half of his face. His gaze raked over you, lingering on the elegant curve of your exposed back. You could feel the intensity of his stare, a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked away for a moment, as though grounding himself, before looking back with a small smile in his eyes.

"You look stunning, babe."

"Thanks," you replied, extending a hand toward him.

Ghost took it, his fingers lacing with yours, his touch warm and reassuring. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his voice deep with anticipation. "Ready to go?"

"Always," you murmured, a smile playing on your lips.

With that, he led you out of the mansion and into his car, his hand steadying you as you slid inside. The drive to the city was peaceful, filled with comfortable silence, the two of you simply savouring each other's company as the lights of the city sparkled in the distance. When he pulled up to the entrance of an opulent, seven-star restaurant, he stepped out and walked around to your side, offering his hand once more.

"Wow," he murmured as he looked up at the grandeur of the building before glancing back at you with a smirk. "This place is amazing. Let's go inside and enjoy the night."

He led you into the restaurant, his hand resting gently at the small of your back. Inside, the ambience was refined and elegant, with soft lighting and hushed voices. Ghost scanned the room, searching for a private corner. He found a table near the back, secluded from the rest, and guided you there, pulling out a chair for you before taking his own seat across from you.

"Here we go. This table should be perfect."

As you both settled in, you placed your orders, and a comfortable silence filled the space between you as you ate. Every so often, his gaze would flick up, his eyes catching on the way the candlelight played against the silk of your dress. The moments stretched in a quiet intimacy, the kind where no words were necessary.

Finally, after a long pause, he cleared his throat, his voice gentle as he broke the silence. "You know," he said, his eyes warm as they met yours, "you look stunning in that dress."

The night had been perfect, an elegant dinner at a seven-star restaurant, the soft glow of candles flickering between the two of you, the hum of distant conversations blending into the background. Ghost had been relaxed, enjoying the rare moment of peace away from the chaos of his life. He had smiled more than usual, laughing at your jokes, his dark eyes warm and affectionate as they studied you across the table.

But that peace was short-lived.

As you drove back to the mansion, Ghost's phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message. It was from an unknown number, but when he saw the video thumbnail, his stomach dropped. He didn't even hesitate before tapping it. The video played.

His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel as his heart sank.

There, on the screen, was a grainy but unmistakable image of you, with Diego. The man he had just killed. The same man who had threatened you, who had kidnapped you, who had held so much power over your life. His fingers tightened around the phone, his face going rigid as he froze for a moment. The video continued, showing a part of your intimate encounter that he had never imagined would exist.

A low growl escaped his throat as he turned to look at you. His voice was cold and harsh, barely contained. "What the fuck is this?"

You felt his gaze, sharp and heavy, and your stomach churned. The air between you instantly thickened. The sound of the engine seemed to fade away, the world around you silenced as you turned your head toward him.

"What the hell is this?" Ghost's words hit you like a slap, even before he raised his hand to show you the screen. The video. Your stomach twisted, nausea creeping up your throat.

You stared at it, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to process the situation. Your mind raced, but your mouth couldn't find the words. Your body went still, instinctively wanting to shrink away from the anger radiating off him.

"Where did you get this?" you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

He was seething. The vein in his neck pulsed with fury as he kept his gaze locked on you. "Where do you think I got it? It's a fucking video of you with Diego... the same man who kidnapped you, held you hostage, and who I just fucking killed."

He let out a ragged breath, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me, why didn't you tell me about this? Why the hell didn't you tell me the man who hurt you... was also the one who you..."

He couldn't even finish his sentence, his mind struggling to reconcile what he had just seen.

You swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. "It wasn't like that, Ghost. It was a moment... I didn't know he'd record it... it didn't mean anything."

His eyes narrowed. "A moment?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You had a moment with the bastard who held you captive?" His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles pale as his chest heaved with frustration. "You think that's just a moment? You think I should just forget that this sick fuck recorded it and now it's in my face?"

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but his anger overpowered any words you could say. You could feel his frustration in the tightness of his voice, the way his hands trembled with barely-contained fury.

"How could you keep this from me?" His voice cracked, the hurt and betrayal seeping into his words now. "You knew what Diego did to you, you knew what he was capable of, and you didn't think this was something I needed to know?"

Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you fought to stay composed. This wasn't the time to break down.

"I didn't think it was important," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I didn't think... this moment mattered. It's over now. He's gone. It didn't mean anything."

But that didn't calm Ghost. His fury only grew as your words settled in. He slammed the phone down onto the dashboard with a force that made you flinch. "Not important? Not important? You-" His voice was tight with emotion, shaking with rage.

Before you could react, he whipped around to face you, his hand raised in the air.

In the blink of an eye, the slap came. His hand made contact with your cheek, the sting reverberating through your face. The shock of it hit you like a truck. You gasped, your hand instinctively flying to your cheek as the pain radiated across your skin.

You blinked back the tears, your face turning red with both the sting and the humiliation. The silence that followed was deafening, thick with tension.

You stared at him in disbelief, the world around you spinning. But the hurt was too much, and you couldn't look at him anymore. You hid your face in your hands, desperately trying to shield yourself from the raw pain of his betrayal.

"It's over," you whispered, your voice barely audible through your trembling hands. "It's over, Ghost."

His heart sank at your words. He felt his chest tighten with panic, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. "What? No. It can't be over," he choked out, his voice full of desperation. "You're mine. Don't do this."

You wiped your face with your palms, trying to steady yourself, but the tears were already falling. "Take the next flight to England tomorrow," you said, your voice raw. "I don't need your protection anymore. I don't need you as my bodyguard. Not like this."

His chest tightened, his mind struggling to process your words. "No... please. You don't mean that. I'll do anything. Just... just let me fix this."

But you shook your head, your words cutting through him like a blade. "No. I don't want to hear it. I'm done, Ghost. It's over."

You turned your face away from him, your entire body tense with the weight of the situation. The silence between you both felt suffocating, and it was only broken when you looked at him one last time.

"Drive back to the mansion. Now," you ordered, your voice firm.

He felt his chest constrict, his anger mixing with heartbreak as he glanced at you, but the finality in your voice told him there was no way to undo this.

With one last, lingering glance, Ghost nodded and began to pull out of the restaurant parking lot, the tension in the car thicker than it had ever been between the two of you. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to lose you. But he had no choice. He started the drive back to the mansion, the miles ahead of him feeling longer than any he had ever driven before.

The quiet, oppressive silence enveloped both of you. Every second that passed seemed like a decade, and he knew, deep down, this was the last time he would be with you.

He just didn't know if he could live with that.

The drive to the mansion was a long, silent stretch, each mile feeling like an eternity. Ghost's knuckles were still white from gripping the steering wheel, and his mind raced with a storm of emotions. He didn't want this. He didn't want to leave you. But the words you had spoken hung in the air between you, unspoken but heavier than anything else. "It's over."

As the mansion loomed ahead, he couldn't bring himself to say a word. He parked the car in the driveway, his mind still a haze of confusion and pain. The heavy silence lingered as you climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind you. Ghost's heart lurched in his chest, but he didn't chase after you. He knew better than to push you when you were this angry.

Without looking back, you stormed inside, slamming the door to your bedroom so hard it rattled the entire frame. The sound echoed in the quiet of the mansion, a loud finality to the moment.

Ghost stood there for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He stared at the door where you had disappeared, unable to move. The weight of everything that had just transpired crashed down on him. He wanted to go to you, to beg you to reconsider, but he knew that would only make things worse.

But leaving... leaving you like this? He couldn't accept it. He couldn't leave without knowing he had done everything he could to make things right. But what could he say? What was left to say?

He stood there for another long minute, battling the overwhelming need to just hold you, to make everything right again. But he knew it was futile. The decision had been made.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from your bedroom door, walking through the mansion with mechanical steps. He didn't want to leave Los Angeles, not like this, not when everything felt so unresolved. He wanted to be close by, to keep an eye on you, to hope-just hope-that you would change your mind.

He knew you better than anyone, and though he couldn't fathom it, part of him still clung to the belief that this wasn't the end.

He grabbed his phone and quickly accessed the CCTV system, syncing it with his device. It was something he'd set up early on when he started working with you, ensuring your safety. Now, it was the only thing that might give him some peace of mind. The cameras around the house provided him with a connection to you, even if you were angry and shut off from him.

His eyes lingered on the camera feed for a moment, the image of your bedroom door standing there like a barrier between you and him. He swallowed hard, fighting back the pang of pain that seemed to gnaw at him with each passing second. He could see the faint outline of your silhouette through the curtains as you moved around your room, but you were distant, unreachable.

He had to leave, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. The thought of not being there to protect you, to make things right, tore him apart. His chest ached as he quickly packed his bag, knowing he had no other choice.

He walked down the hallway to brief the security guards. They all knew what had happened, the tension palpable in the air. Ghost didn't need to say much; his expression said it all. He briefed them quickly, making sure they knew the changes in security protocols and the extra precautions they had to take.

"Stay alert," he said, his voice cold, clipped. "There's no telling who's still out there, and I don't want any surprises. Maintain the same measures. We'll keep a close watch on her." His gaze flicked briefly toward your bedroom door.

One of the guards nodded, sensing the heaviness in the air. "Understood, sir."

Ghost threw one last glance in the direction of your bedroom door, his heart twisting in his chest. His mind screamed to stay, to make you see reason, but he knew you needed space. This wasn't about him anymore. This was about you finding your own way, and if that meant he had to leave, then that's what he'd do.

He turned away, his boots heavy against the floor as he made his way to the front door. He stepped outside, the cool night air hitting his face as he climbed into his car.

There was no longer any point in staying in the mansion. His presence would only make things harder for both of you. He needed distance, and maybe, just maybe, time would heal the wounds he'd caused.

He didn't head back to the house he'd rented. Instead, he drove to a small, rundown motel on the outskirts of LA. He wasn't staying at some fancy hotel where he'd be surrounded by people; he needed to be alone, to think. It wasn't the most comfortable place, but that didn't matter. He needed solitude.

When he checked into the motel, the receptionist barely glanced at him. He didn't care. He was too focused on his own thoughts to pay attention to the dingy surroundings. He tossed his bag onto the bed and sat on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees as his head hung low.

For the first time in a long while, Ghost felt utterly lost.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it, half-expecting it to be you, but when he saw the screen, it wasn't. It was a message from his team, confirming the new security arrangements. Ghost exhaled sharply and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

He stared at the peeling wallpaper, the flickering light above him casting strange shadows in the room. His mind kept drifting back to you. He couldn't shake the image of you walking away from him, the pain in your eyes as you slammed the door, the finality of your words still echoing in his mind.

He had failed. He knew that. But something inside him-something deep and raw-refused to let go.

Maybe you'll change your mind, he thought, though he wasn't sure if he was convincing himself or just hoping for something impossible.

But for now, all he could do was wait. Wait, and try to heal, even if he wasn't sure where the healing would take him.

The night had felt cold and silent, leaving you with an odd feeling of emptiness. Without Ghost around, the mansion felt too big, too still. You tried to sleep, but thoughts of Diego, of everything you hadn't told Ghost, kept swirling in your mind. You regretted not explaining everything, the weight of your secrecy pressing down on you.

The fear of the video getting leaked gnawed at you. You knew it could ruin everything. But you'd already told Ghost to leave, to go back to England, and now you were left alone in this vast, quiet house.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you felt it-a light touch against your cheek, soft and cold. You jolted awake, eyes wide in the darkness as your heart raced. A figure stood near your bed, half-hidden in shadows.

"Who...who are you?" you whispered, voice shaking.

The figure shifted slightly, stepping closer until a bit of moonlight fell on his face. You gasped as the face reminded you instantly of Diego, though the man standing before you wore a twisted, vengeful expression.

"I'm Diego's brother," he said, his voice low and venomous. "And I'm here to finish what he started."

Your blood ran cold as his words sank in. You felt the urge to scream, to cry out, but you knew there was no one left in the house who would hear you.

Panicked, you tried to make a break for it, hoping to reach the door, but he moved faster than you expected. His hand shot out, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you back. You cried out in pain, your hands instinctively reaching up to claw at his grip, but he held tight, smirking as he watched you struggle.

In his motel room, Ghost had been trying to get some sleep, though he'd barely managed to rest. His instincts wouldn't let him completely switch off. His phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and he glanced at it. The CCTV feed from your mansion was up, and as he rubbed his eyes, something caught his attention-a figure moving in the shadows near your room.

Ghost sat up, tension flooding through him as he watched the footage. His breath caught when he saw Diego's brother yank you out of bed, grabbing you roughly by the hair. Ghost didn't waste another second. He leapt up, grabbed his keys, and raced out of the motel room.

In the car, he dialed for SWAT backup, his voice a growl as he explained the situation and demanded immediate assistance. His mind was laser-focused as he sped down the dark streets toward your mansion, every second dragging on like an eternity.

When he arrived, the place looked deserted. None of your guards were at their posts outside, and he could feel that something was terribly wrong. Ghost slipped out of the car, moving silently across the lawn until he reached a side entrance. He forced the door open, slipping into the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps silent.

The air was thick with tension as he made his way deeper inside. But suddenly, hands seized him from behind, rough and unyielding. Diego's men had been lying in wait. They gripped his arms tightly, pulling his weapon from his belt and shoving him forward, surrounding him.

In the main hallway, Diego's brother was dragging you by your hair, his men following as they watched you struggle, your nightgown askew. You whimpered, the pain intense as his hand twisted in your hair, forcing you to stumble along. When your eyes met Ghost's, trapped and unarmed, you felt a jolt of both relief and dread.

"Well, well," Diego's brother sneered, his voice echoing with malice. "Looks like your protector couldn't stay away after all."

Ghost's eyes met yours, fury and regret flickering in his gaze as he took in the sight of you being dragged, hurt and vulnerable. He strained against the men holding him, but their grips were firm.

"Let her go," Ghost growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Diego's brother smirked, pulling you closer. "Oh, I don't think so. Not after everything you've done to our family."

Ghost clenched his jaw, his fists flexing as he glared at Diego's brother. "This isn't about family. This is about you wanting revenge for a man who destroyed lives, who used people."

Diego's brother laughed, the sound cold and bitter. "It doesn't matter now, does it? You're too late to save her."

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, the fear building as you glanced from Diego's brother to Ghost. "Please," you whispered, the pain in your scalp unbearable. "Let him go. This is between us."

Diego's brother tightened his grip, ignoring your plea as he turned his attention back to Ghost. "You thought you could just walk away, huh? Leave her here, vulnerable, while you played the hero somewhere else?"

Ghost's expression hardened, his eyes burning with rage. "I made a mistake. But I'm here now. Let her go, and I'll give you whatever you want."

Diego's brother's grip only tightened on you as he sneered at Ghost. "You've already given me what I want, a chance to show her what happens when she messes with the wrong people."

Ghost struggled again, but the men held him back. "I'll give you one chance. Release her and face me like a man, or you'll regret the day you decided to cross me."

Diego's brother chuckled, seeming amused by Ghost's words. "Oh, I'm not afraid of you, Ghost." He leaned down, close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Now, let's see how brave your 'protector' really is."

You tried to hold back a cry, but it escaped as his hand tightened in your hair, forcing you to your knees in front of Ghost, the pain sharp and unrelenting.

Ghost's heart hammered as he watched, powerless to help, but his mind raced, already forming a plan. He could hear the distant wail of sirens. Backup was on its way, but he needed to keep you safe until they arrived.

"You lay another hand on her," Ghost said, his voice a deadly whisper, "and I promise you won't live to regret it."

In that moment, Ghost was no longer the man you had pushed away, the man burdened by anger and jealousy. He was the soldier, the protector, willing to go to any lengths to save you.

The silence in the room grew tense as Carlos raised his gun, pointing it straight at Ghost with a twisted smile.

"How about I kill him?" Carlos taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "Finish off the man who killed my brother?"

"No! No, Carlos, please don't!" You choked out, panic tightening your throat. Desperation flashed in your eyes as you watched the gun aimed at Ghost, your heart pounding against your chest.

Ghost, despite being outnumbered, glared defiantly at Carlos, his eyes cold and unyielding. He didn't waver, didn't flinch, and his posture remained steady, even with the barrel pointed his way.

"Oh, you want to play the heroine here, do you?" Carlos sneered, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. Without warning, he reached out, roughly yanking you by your hair and pulling you against him, his arm securing you in place as he pressed the gun to your lower abdomen.

"Say goodbye to your lover," he whispered mockingly into your ear, his voice low and filled with menace.

Your breath hitched, and your pleading eyes met Ghost's. "No, please, don't..." you begged softly, feeling the cold metal digging into your skin.

But Carlos's finger tightened on the trigger, and the deafening sound of the gunshot echoed through the room. Pain shot through you as the bullet tore into you, the force knocking the air from your lungs. You gasped, your knees giving way as the world spun around you.

"NO!" Ghost's shout cut through the chaos, raw and desperate as he struggled against the men holding him back, his voice filled with an agony you'd never heard before. He fought like a man possessed, but the guards restrained him, forcing him to watch as Carlos smirked down at you.

You felt yourself weakening, your vision blurring as the pain radiated through your body. Carlos's smirk grew wider as he took in Ghost's desperation, relishing the torment he had inflicted. Then, with a cold, careless chuckle, he released you, letting you fall limply to the floor. You landed heavily at Ghost's feet, and he looked down at you, his face etched with a mixture of anger, pain, and horror.

"Stay with me," he rasped, dropping to his knees beside you as his hands hovered over your wound, afraid to hurt you further. "Come on, stay with me. Don't you dare give up on me now."

You managed a weak smile, reaching up to touch his face. "I'm... I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, though your voice was barely more than a breath.

Just then, the blaring sound of sirens filled the air, growing louder as they approached the mansion. The SWAT team was finally breaching the property, and Carlos's men, hearing the commotion, began to scramble, leaving you and Ghost behind.

Carlos snarled, his attention shifting toward the approaching law enforcement, but Ghost used the distraction to his advantage. He quickly scooped you up into his arms, his face pale and filled with a fierce determination as he carried you outside.

"Hang on," he murmured urgently, his arms tightening protectively around you as he made his way through the chaos. "I've got you."

Outside, paramedics were already waiting, and as he carefully laid you on the stretcher, Ghost's hand never left yours. "I'm not letting go," he promised, his voice a low, intense whisper. "Not now, not ever."

You managed a faint nod, clutching his hand as the medics wheeled you toward the ambulance. The sound of gunfire and shouting faded as you were rushed away, but the last thing you saw was Ghost's face, etched with a fierce, protective devotion.

---

Over the next month, you recovered slowly, your strength returning little by little with each passing day. Ghost visited every single day, keeping his promise, staying by your side through it all. And when you finally sat up, stronger than before, he was there, his hand resting on yours.

"You scared me half to death, you know that?" he murmured, his voice unsteady, betraying a vulnerability he rarely showed.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "I didn't mean to. But I knew... I knew you'd save me."

He leaned closer, his gaze steady and filled with emotion. "And I'll keep saving you. I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

[yandereunsolved]

🪽 Mutual Yandere Chain & Reader 🪽

We were all simply lost amidst the confusion...

It was a simple mission, truly. You were ordered by a higher power in your universe to eliminate heroes in others. You had little choice, as you were merely a slave to the whims of your master.

So slay you did. Hundreds of heroes from a multitude of Hyrules were slain. Darkness was left in your wake. The monsters saw you as not just one of their own but a leader. 

So eliminating a group of the goddesses chosen shouldn't have been too difficult. You had fought them separately, and while together they had their weaknesses.

You stalked them like a wolf to its prey. Meticiously, you jotted down all that you could use against them. You learned them inside and out, without even having a proper conversation. 

It was odd to feel so possessive over your victims. 

Every single one was like a trophy, and you treated their mutilated corpses as such. 

These ones, though? They differed from the norm.

You were left vulnerable by them. 

They freed you without knowing the atrocities you committed. 

You told yourself it was for your own advantage. Them slaying the God that was keeping you so tightly wound up on his strings gave you freedom. Which means you could kill them and then move along. 

Only that presented a new set of problems. Did you have to kill if you were not being forced? Is this who you are now? 

Joining their ranks with them seeing you as a hapless victim who must be protected from alternate versions of your keeper. 

You grew soft, frightened of yourself and this need to own them. 

"Links?" you call out hesitantly, logs of firewood in your rough, scarred hands. 

You should have known better. They were heroes, destined hunters to kill the things the goddesses commanded them to. 

"Oh, our dear. You shouldn't have seen this," Hyrule worriedly chirps out. 

Bodies piling up on the dozens—all of the creatures you have interacted with throughout your adventures. Magic. Their magic. The goddesses magic. They abused their divine gifts... for you?

"We love you...?" Wind, grown since you met him, states cautiously. The blonde curls on his head bounce as his nervous nature sets into motion.

You chuckle.

"I thought you guys would never confess. Ask next time, okay? I could have given you most of their coordinations. You all know I appreciate efficiency."

That's how the end of your beginning began. It's been bloody hearts and kisses ever since. With some arguments and miscommunications along the way, as all beautifully twisted relationships naturally have. Even the gods fear all of you, except Fierce, seeing as how they are included in your affection. 

[casualavocados]

An idiot like you...an idiot like you...

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 9

[gayofthefae]

What's the saddest Stranger Things death?

WRONG. It's Castle Byers.

[bmpmp3]

passes away forever

[firelightfoxes]

she's my babie

[chipjrwibignaturals]

anyway i. really enjoyed how gillion was played here.

like... his whole life has always been around glory and destiny and these big, dramatic important things. he's born into a prophecy to be the chosen one, the hero of the deep, etc. he's never known anything else.

but like. this episode all gillion truly wanted was. the humble. the simple. domestic. he didn't want to ask anything serious to his friends because he didn't want to go out thinking about something serious and dramatic. he wanted to go out thinking about how chip enjoys raspberry cookies and jay loves raccoons. the little, humble, simple aspects of those he loves-- the opposite of what he was raised to focus on, what he "should" care about.

his favorite color is brown.

[adviserbylove]

It's been implied many times in this blog, but I will say it directly this time

If Haruka Sakurai had a little more confidence, he'd make for one of, if not, the best boyfriend

I won't even apologize for spamming the Haruka tag, that man owns my heart