#i only work in black and sometimes very very dark gray

[ruins-and-rewritez]

The crows are that friend group that go to see Barbie but I doubt Kaz in any universe would agree to wear pink so someone would definitely go up to him and say "what kind of Barbie wears black" and then he would just respond "I'm emo band Barbie, obviously" deadass

[miscelunaaa]

Are you making it to any of the concerts?

I AMMMMMM

TBH I'M STILL IN SHOCK THAT I'LL BE LEAVING MY CAVE FOR MR. MIN FUCKING YOONGI BUT HE WALKS IN BEAUTY LIKE THE NIGHT SO HERE WE ARE.

[incorrectbatfam]

Cassandra: I only work in black! And sometimes very, very dark gray!

[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: dark themes, mention of suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, Jake Sully appearance, random Human!OC's, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You settle into your new home at High Camp. You have a conversation with the Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully.

A/N and Disclaimer: If anyone would like to be notified/tagged in future updates, please comment on this post! Forgive any present tense inconsistencies.

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

Your adrenaline plummets. You rest for hours without interruption. 

The room Max has put you up in is nice, but you know it’s too spacious to be permanent. You lie comfortably on a lumpy couch. Sometimes the dim lights flicker, there’s a constant mechanical hum, and the blankets are scratchy, but you nap peacefully for the first time since cryosleep. It’s homely. You need this moment of respite. 

Hours later, you wake to the smell of something fragrant cooking. You’re so hungry that you feel nauseous. 

As badly as you want to leap from the couch and venture into the kitchen, you lie still. You continue to cherish this time to yourself—you’re unsure when you’ll get such an opportunity again. 

You let the events of the past week wash over you like a tidal wave. Tears come and go, just like mental flashes of the faces of the many women and allied wardens long gone. As demoralizing and dehumanizing the experience was, you became a tight-knit family because of it. Your pain is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before—as much as you miss them, you know they’re better off dead than being torn apart and transformed into the RDA’s breeding machines. It leaves a tart feeling in your mouth: it’s upsettingly bittersweet. 

Wading through the water of your thoughts and emotions is treacherous. If you swim too long, you know you’ll drown. 

You push away the blankets, then fold them neatly. You swipe beneath your tear ducts. After standing by the door for ten minutes, you gain the courage to place your palm over the entryway censor. You make it two steps out before you’re stopped. 

You’re startled by a woman’s whistle—it’s reminiscent of a catcall. She leans against a doorframe with a toothpick between her canines. She’s human. She’s stocky and muscular. The woman wears a navy-blue jumpsuit and combat boots. You can tell her hair was once jet black, but it’s starting to grow in gray. “Welcome, new girl,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply sheepishly. You introduce yourself—first name only. 

She does the same: “I’m Mia.” 

You shake hands—you note that her palms are very calloused. Mia must be involved with hands-on labor. 

“Listen, I don’t like to beat around the bush,” says Mia. She leans in closer, like she has a secret to tell you. “You need to shower,” she confesses, this time much quieter. There isn’t a lick of malice in her tone. “Like, immediately.” 

You appreciate her honesty, but your cheeks flush. Mia pulls a chuckle from your chest. “I know,” you reply feebly. 

And so, Mia takes this moment as an opportunity to give you a proper tour of the human’s facility at High Camp. You’re going to be living there, after all. 

Admittedly, there isn’t much to see. Together, you stroll through the science shacks and a few vacant laboratories. You meet a few more scientists. You return to the two flex rooms, like the one you napped in; Mia shows you the barracks and bunk beds, the link units, and the kitchenette. Norm is cooking what he describes to be his very own fusion recipe: a soup that combines both human and Pandoran ingredients. In passing, you apologize to Norm for spitting on him, again—you’ve already apologized four times, but once more couldn’t hurt. He makes it abundantly clear that everything is well between you both. 

“I would do the same if they captured me,” Norm confesses. “Much worse, in fact.” 

Your tour ends at the showers. Mia leaves briefly, then returns with a towel, a new bar of soap, a plastic hairbrush, a few garments of clothing, and a toothbrush and paste. “This is all we have right now,” Mia explains. 

It’s more than enough, you think. 

Tears well in your eyes at the sight of these items; although necessary for most humans, to you, these things feel like a luxury. 

“There’s hot and cold water knobs. The hot water alone won’t last long. Try to maneuver the knobs to use hot and cold at the same time,” she says with a short demonstration. Warm water spits out of the shower head onto the tiled wall in front of it. You hold out your palm—it’s bliss. 

You’re solaced. You thank Mia one last time. She takes her cue to leave and gives you some privacy. 

---

Despite the lukewarm water diminishing to icy-cold after only a few minutes, you spend a long time in the shower. You wash your hair. You scrub everything, at least twice. Your pruned fingertips feel foreign angst the metal knob—you haven’t been allowed a long enough shower since your past life on Earth. 

The clothes Mia left for you don’t fit quite right. The pants drag on the floor and aren’t secure around the waist; you take a step, and your trousers pool at your knees. You have no choice but to create a makeshift belt with spare twine and an aptly-sized piece of elastic from Mia’s sewing kit. As you weave the components together, you realize her sewing kit doubles as her first-aid box. She must use the same thread to stitch seams on fabric and cuts on skin. You take this opportunity to gently reapply scar ointment and new dressing to the stitched slash beneath your collarbone. 

The tanktop she gave you, on the other hand, was made for someone with slightly smaller anatomy. In comparison to the pants, it fits skin-tight snug. Luckily, the undergarments are trouble-free. 

When you re-enter the common area, everyone is there. It’s down-to-Earth, you note—the thought makes your lips curl into a smile.

You spend a few moments observing. Most of the scientists look like regular people. They’re plain. Modest, simple. There’s nothing particularly special about any of them, barring their bright smiles. People involved with the RDA don’t smile like that. 

It isn’t long before the “plain scientist” exception enters via the airlock entrance. 

At first, you think he’s naked. You instinctively cover your eyes with your palms to give the guy some privacy. You faintly hear him yell something out the door through the glass—you can’t discern any of it, so it must be in Na’vi. You peek through your fingertips. 

Once the front airlock closes, the human male removes his oxygen mask, hangs it on a hook by the entrance, and presses his hand to the entryway scanner. He strolls in casually, like he owns the place. The young man wears nothing but a loincloth and carries an old leather satchel. Painted, blue streaks mark his body in horizontal stripes. 

It clicks for you quickly—he sees himself as one of them. He wears his loyalty to the Na’vi. It’s… admirable. 

When he speaks again, he greets Max in English and makes an inside joke with Norm that flies over your head. He chucks his bag onto a nearby stool and smoothes his hands over his ash-blonde dreads. 

Inevitably, you’re curious to know more. Your thoughts buzz with questions—instinctively, you’d like to interview him. 

“Food’s ready!” Norm calls. 

That’ll have to wait. 

The room descends to orderly chaos. A scientist you’ve already forgotten the name of is gathering silverware. Another gives everyone a bowl or mug. Metal chairs scrape across the floor as people line up in front of the kitchenette. Mia is adamant about having her mug, which is bright pink with a broken handle. Norm serves stew with a metal ladle. Someone else passes out dethawed bread rolls from the walk-in freezer. 

They make jokes in passing. They ask each other questions. Occasionally, they bicker, like when one of the scientists scolds Norm for giving him too big a portion. They’re a family. It’s lovely, you think. 

Then Mia calls your name. “Please,” she says, “join us!”

The room quiets down. You briefly make eye contact with the semi-nude young male. He’s around your age—maybe a year or two younger. 

Entering the common area takes only a sliver of bravery in comparison to the courage you had to collect in order to survive thus far; it’s still scary, nonetheless. You gulp. 

You’re provided a bowl. Norm serves you a heaping portion of soup. Max pours you a glass of water from a large pitcher at the end of the table. You’re offered two dinner rolls—just this once, Mia says. People move their chairs to make room for you. Your heart swells. 

“This is-” Mia begins. 

Your interruption is far from rude—you introduce yourself instead. First and last name. 

---

Dinner runs its course. It began with juvenile questions; the community simply wanted to know more about you as a person. They never banked on someone taking one of the empty bunks. They were all being used as precious storage. What’s your name? Where did you come from?

The spotlight is uncomfortable—blinding, even—but you squint through it. You want to interview these people, but it’s your turn instead. 

When some of the scientists begin asking about the RDA, however, the group rears towards an unsettling interrogation. What was it like? they ask. How many were there? Could you spare any details on the escape plan?

With every intrusive question, you intake another mouthful of the fusion stew. It tastes funny, like a bad pun or cringey joke; but you’re too hungry to care. 

“Did you ever see the General?” The human male whom you now know as Spider asks. “She was short. Blonde lady, resting bitch-face. General Ardmore?” 

Mia snorts. Norm clasps his hands together. “Alright, everyone. I think that’s enough,” he states. "Let's not overwhelm the newcomer."

The scientists look at each other, humbled and slightly ashamed. They give you apologetic stares and quiet redresses. 

Max offers to do the dishes. He knows he’ll regret this act of selflessness, but he does it for you. The rest of the scientists leave their empty bowls at the table and retreat to the barracks. Mia pats your shoulder before exiting with the others. 

You turn to Norm once everyone’s left. You hold out your bowl. “Can I have some more?”

---

You’re on your third helping of soup and fourth glass of water when there’s a series of raps at the door outside the airlock. For a split second, you’re back in your cell. You’re reminded of your least favorite warden’s early-morning roll calls. 

You flinch—your body instinctively jerks. But you don’t realize this until you’re swiftly saving your water glass from falling off the table. You rub your brow with the back of your head; you can’t break two things on your first day. 

“Is it him?” Max asks Norm. Max is elbows deep in soap suds and dirty dishes. He starts scrubbing faster. 

“Think so,” Norm replies. 

Who’s him? You’re left to wonder as you scrape the bottom of your soup bowl and take your final bite; there’s no more stew left. 

Norm stands from the table and strides over to the airlock. “Come in!”

You nearly twist your neck trying to turn around before the door opens. 

A tall, blue humanoid enters. He has to crouch when breaching the threshold—the door frame is just too short. It’s the first Na’vi you’ve seen since your interaction with the Na’vi in the forest; spare for Grace, the one in a glass tube full of liquid in the common area. 

For a moment, you think this Na’vi is the one who saved you. But as they grab a respirator mask and enter once the airlock is closed, your assumption is proved to be false. 

The Na’vi nods to Norm. “Good to see ya, Max,” the male Na’vi says, peering into the kitchen. Notably, his English is fluent; but above that, his accent is strangely commonplace among humans. Nothing like the Na’vi from the forest. 

Max peers at him over his shoulder. “You too, Jake,” Max calls back. 

Your eye twitches. You face forward. Your visage pales. 

“Let’s talk about all of this for a moment,” Norm tells Jake Sully. He agrees. Their footsteps get quieter as they walk away from the common room and round the corner. Max dries his hands with a dish towel and follows them. 

You hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation while you chug another glass of water. 

“You’re sure?” Jake Sully asks. “Completely positive?”

“There’s no way,” one of the humans responds. “When she thought she’d been recaptured by the RDA, she tried to slit her wrists. A spy wouldn’t do that.”

Someone adds something to that point, but it’s indiscernible. 

“You’re right,” replies Jake. 

There are footsteps again. You keep your head forward. 

Max clears his throat. “You have a visitor,” Norm says. 

You push away the empty glass and bowl, then rise from your seat at the table. Your eyes meet pale yellow—the same shade as the other forest Na’vi’s irises. 

Jake opens his mouth to speak. “I’m-”

“You’re Jake Sully,” you interrupt. He’s like a myth come to life. During your imprisonment, the girls and wardens talked about him nonstop. He’s a Pandoran celebrity. 

Your face turns crimson. It’s one thing to interrupt Mia, but it’s another to interrupt the goddamn Olo'eyktan, the leader of his people. Not just any, but Jake Sully in particular. You’re mortified. 

You’re unsure how to greet him properly. Should you kneel? Your body scrambles to do the right thing—you bow, curtsey, and offer your hand to shake all at once. 

Jake Sully breathes into the respirator around his neck, veiling a small chuckle. He takes your hand and shakes it gently; due to his size, his engulfs yours. 

“Have a seat,” he says. You do.

Jake Sully can’t possibly fit in any of the chairs, so he defaults to sitting on the floor. “I may be asking for a lot,” he says. “But in order to grant you asylum here, I need to know everything.”

He is asking for a lot. You’ve been through nothing but hell. Your face heats up just thinking about the things you’ve witnessed. You don’t want to relive it. Maybe Norm stopped the others earlier because he knew this was coming. 

As you look into Jake Sully’s eyes, you know malignity isn’t his intention. It quite literally has nothing to do with you, actually. You know that the Olo'eyktan’s job is to keep his people safe. That’s Jake Sully’s motive. He has to know you’re safe. It’s a two-way street—in order to grant you safety, he must be able to ensure his own. 

---

You relay your history on Pandora thus far. It takes over an hour to get through everything. It doesn’t help when Jake asks a dozen questions, and tangents branch off into more tangents. Half-way through the conversation, however, you already know you’re earning his trust. You pinpoint the exact moment, in which Jake admits the reason he joined the RDA and decided to come to Pandora when he lived in a human body. 

It’s just the two of you now—Max finished the dishes a while ago and Norm left because he needed rest. 

Jake avoids your eyes every time you mention something particularly harrowing about your imprisonment. You’re as precise as you are descriptive. Towards the end of your testimony, he looks at his feet for ten minutes straight, while you reiterate the prison break. He can’t say much in response. He acknowledges that the ordeal must have been horrific. 

“Sounds like something out of this old dystopian novel,” Jake mutters. “I think it was called The Handmaid’s Tale.” 

Lastly, you tell him about the Na’vi in the forest who saved you. 

“Do you know him?” you inquire. 

Jake nods. “I do. His name is Neteyam.” He chooses not to elaborate. He omits the fact that Neteyam is his first-born son, next in line for his title. 

“Neteyam,” you echo. 

Jake nods again when you mimic his pronunciation. It’s not bad, he thinks. Not as bad as Neteyam said, when his son was harping on your horrible accent after bringing you, a human, to High Camp on his ikran. Something Jake never thought he’d see. 

“I’d like to thank him,” you say. “He saved my life. How do you say thank you or show gratitude?”

Jake rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should spend a week or two or three here. Take some time to yourself before you consider leaving the science shack and interacting with my people,” he says awkwardly albeit bluntly.

Your brows furrow. His tone of voice suggests there’s no room for protest. 

“Spider, Norm, Max, and everyone else will teach you the ways of the Na’vi,” Jake says. “They all speak the language fluently. And if you want to interact with and live amongst my people, then so will you.”

You nod. You consider telling him the very reason the RDA chose you and your talents—that that was exactly what you came to Pandora to do. “So I will,” you reply simply. 

“If you see us, then we will see you,” Jake says in Na’vi. 

You catch none of it, but nod confidently anyway. He scoffs. 

“Good talk,” Jake says lastly. He takes another breath through his respirator, then leaves through the airlock, just as he came. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all comments on this chapter! The exposition is almost done, just hold on a little longer! The exposition continues in the next part, but Neteyam will make an appearance, I pinky promise!

Next part is projected to come out a week from today, Tuesday. I will try to keep a consistent posting schedule.

Thank you all so much for the kind comments and notes thus far! <3

[calmcoldevening]

Little morning with slashers

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ﾟ｡⋆

Tw: no

Characters: Jedidiah Sawyer, Mark Hoffman, Brahms Heelshire, Eric Draven, Jason Voorhees

➤ Jedidiah Sawyer

• As usual, the morning in Texas was quite cool earlier. You've been sleeping surprisingly well lately, so you've been waking up early with a good night's sleep and very rested. The sun was lazily rising from the horizon, coloring the blackness of the sky with golden and orange colors, as if a couple of drops of lingonberry blood had been dropped into the dark water.

• You lazily opened your eyes, squinting at the light coming into the room through the thin curtains. The sheets were cool but damp from the hot Texas night.

• Stretching slightly, you try to get out of bed, but a strong pair of hands stops you, pulling you back to the man's chest. Jedidiah lets out a growl of displeasure, and you giggle softly. Turning to face him, you gently touch the leather straps on his cheeks with your fingers. He forgot to take them off again before going to bed. You gently run your nails over rough skin, the scars under the mask have almost healed, leaving behind uneven pink scars.

• "Good morning, honey," you whisper, briefly kissing him on the forehead. In response, he mutters something softly, pulling you closer to him. His dark hair had grown noticeably longer and was damp from sleeping. You gently brush his bangs out of his eyes, causing a slight smile to form on his lips.

• He was always particularly sloppy in the morning. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are sleepy with small shadows under his eyes. He's wearing a loose white shirt that smells of his body and your own hands. His arms wrapped around your waist like a protective ring, Jed won't let you walk away from him so easily this morning. He likes to just lie with you in the bedroom while the others are sleeping.

• You were the only one, apart from his mom, who really accepted him and saw through those terrible scars. You didn't care about his face, he was still damn handsome to you, and the guy was grateful for that. Jedidiah was so glad that you stayed by his side, became his love of his life and his wife. And he appreciated every second he spent with you.

• Finally, after a long ten minutes, you feel slightly thirsty, after all, you haven't drunk since last night. "Come on, honey, get up. I still have to make breakfast, remember?" You speak with a slight smile and Jed purrs in displeasure, but loosens his grip. You kiss his lips briefly and get out of bed, ready to start a new day. Your husband will stay in bed for a while longer until he feels the pleasant aroma of your breakfast from the kitchen.

➤ Mark Hoffman

• Mark always woke up much earlier than you. Insomnia and stressful detective work made themselves felt. He woke up around four in the morning, his hair and nightgown wet with sweat, his head buzzing after another nightmare. The man held his head with his hands, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

• After a short introspection, the man turns his head to the side, noticing your peacefully sleeping figure. You've always been so beautiful, even in your dreams. All thoughts of the nightmare disappeared as soon as Mark's gaze lingered on your face. He gently pulls his hand towards your face, gently and gently stroking your smooth skin with his thumbs. He's so happy to have you by his side.

• After a couple of minutes, the man finally gets out of bed, heading to the bathroom and taking off his wet clothes. He takes a quick shower, trying to sober his thoughts with cold water. After that, he makes himself a black coffee. His weekday mornings are insanely simple and gray, but on weekends it's a little different because he can spend time with you in bed until you wake up.

• Mark drinks coffee and looks through some of the Jigsaw case, sometimes instead he finalizes another drawing of a new trap for John Kramer.

• When the time moves to seven in the morning, he already leaves the house, before briefly kissing you on the forehead. You won't remember it, but a sleepy, satisfied smile appears on your face. This, surprisingly, gives Mark a pleasant feeling in his chest.

• When you wake up, he won't be home anymore. You get out of bed and wander into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Mark's breakfast is already on the kitchen table with a note next to it. "I hope you eat this. I know about your problems with food, so I hope you at least have breakfast, little lady." You smile slightly, admiring the note. The omelet he made has a sloppy ketchup heart on it.

➤ Brahms Heelshire

• A morning with Brahms is always a real lottery, you never know what mood he will be in today.

• If Brahms wants to be an adult, he will certainly get up before you. Of course, you cook for him most of the time, but he does not lack the skill to cook something simple. The man will make simple ham and cheese sandwiches and tea/coffee. Having prepared everything necessary, Brahms will return to the bedroom with breakfast ready in bed for you. You're sleeping peacefully, making soft noises. He will wake you up with a gentle kiss on your forehead, and he will put stray strands of hair behind your ear. "Good morning, Princess. I brought you breakfast."

• If Brahms decides to be little, he will be clingy and moody.

• Usually the baby wakes up before you as well. He'll frown, pick up his mask from the bedside table, and just stare at you. Brahms will just lie next to you for a couple of minutes, not knowing where to put himself. At such moments, he always naively thought that when he wakes up, you should already wake up. A man will climb on top of you, putting his chin on your chest.

"Y/N, I'm hungry!"

• He will bother you for a couple of long minutes in a row until you wake up. When you finally sleepily open your eyes, he'll be giggling with his nose in your neck.

"Good morning! I missed you," he purred with happy smile, squeezing you in his arms.

• Mornings with little Brahms are never quiet.

➤ Eric Draven

• Eric usually wakes up before you, he has a fairly light sleep. The guy smiles slightly when cool gusts of wind touch his body, penetrating into the room through the open window, and his feet stand on a warm tree.

• You get up almost behind the guy. Your eyes open sleepily when you don't feel the warmth of your lover on the bed next to you, the sheets under your palms are already cool enough.

• The air is filled with the aromas of flowering plants and young forest. Probably, the decision to move from that small town to a house near the city was the best one in your whole life. You moved in not so long ago, about two months ago, but you have already turned this place into your own cozy nest.

• You get out of bed and stumble awkwardly into the kitchen. Eric was here. His broad back immediately appears in front of your eyes, covered with scars in some places. His favorite big white shirt was on you right now. Eric turns to face you, giving you a warm smile, two mugs of coffee in his hands.

• Previously, a summer morning was always a good time to stay outside. And now the two of you are sitting on the porch. Eric put his arm around you, draping a thin plaid over your shoulders. You were sitting peacefully with each other, drinking hot coffee and looking into the darkness of the forest. Your boyfriend's presence has always been so comforting. Eric looks down at you and kisses you on the forehead, leaving a small wet mark on your skin.

"Good morning, my rose."

➤ Jason Voorhees

• You woke up because you were cold. It's damn cold. You slowly opened your sleepy eyes and sat up in bed, wrapping yourself more tightly in the blanket. The seat next to you was empty. No, of course, you knew that your boyfriend was special and he didn't need to sleep, but he was usually here with you until the morning, warming you with his big body.

• Your first thought was that maybe there were intruders in the camp again. But in such a cold season, hardly anyone would dare to enter the forest 'with ghosts'. So you decided to just wait, hoping for his return soon.

• Jason returned after a long half hour. He entered the room, throwing a large number of branches in front of the fireplace, and looked at you in surprise. He hoped you were still asleep. Jason's gaze slides anxiously over your trembling body. He frowns when he notices how you're shaking from the cold and your blue lips.

• Jason quickly lights a fireplace in the room, throwing in a large number of branches and comes to your bed. He takes you in his arms with care and tenderness, putting you on his lap, and squeezes you in his arms, hoping to warm you. Seeing you like this, Jason was consumed with guilt from the inside, he was so sorry that he left you. The man just didn't expect you to wake up so quickly, he wanted to quickly go get firewood for the extinguished fireplace.

• But you were better now. The room gradually became warm because of the burning fireplace, and the pleasant warmth of Jason's chest gave you peace and comfort. You curled up on his chest like a kitten while he gently stroked your head with his big hand. You felt so good in his arms.

[blublublujk]

i just fucked your girl (and she loved it)

oneshot

word count: 11k

genre: established relationship (reader x namjoon), dark/morally gray characters and decisions

pairings: ghost hoseok x y/n and y/n x fiancé namjoon

summary:

A very lonely, horny ghost comes to haunt your dreams (and fulfills your every sexual desire).

warnings: oh my god get ready this is gonna get long. swearing, cheating?? (is it really cheating if he's dead? i'll let you decide), explicit sexual content; sexual "nightmares", unprotected vaginal sex AND anal (ITS TIME :D), rough sex, sub/dom dynamics, no safe word, submission, dirty talk, hoseok refers to people he comes across as victims (he doesn't force anyone i promise, not unless they want to ofc), masturbation, fingering, petplay? (the reader likes being called kitten), slight hand kink, slut shaming (oopsies), use of spit (oops again), use of lube, hickeys, lots of begging, hoseok's a bit mean but the ending will make it up a bit ISTG, namjoon's an innocent sweetheart, reader feels a lot of guilt, ass play (YAY), rimming (YAY pt2), mentions to gay sex and clown kink (you'll see), hoseok's like a ghost sex worker and the reader sorta manifests him, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, come shot, blowjob, hair pulling, daddy kink, breast play, creampie, a bit of a sad/angsty ending, so sorry if anything is missing I RLLY TRIED

btw there's sex scenes between namjoon and the reader AND hoseok and the reader so they both get their share.

a.n: happy fucking halloween. sorry this got a little sad towards the end, but i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i think i'll live in this world for a while. i'm so obsessed with this probably, my favorite work yet. i think this is my smuttiest work too? idk. i was gonna delete like half of it because i hate myself sometimes but i figured you guys would enjoy something a little longer so i typed and typed until my lil heart desired and this beast was created. btw i finished this at exactly 6:13pm. i thought i'd let yall know, if anyone's as crazy as me :D im so curious what you guys think about this one so feel free to comment (only if you want too ofc ^.^) idk when i'll be back with something new but please be patient with me. i promise im not leaving lol i just get busy. OKIE THIS IS SO LONG SORRY AND ENJOY. byeee <3

p.s. i do plan to write an epilogue cuz this got crazy at the end. so much left unsaid. my brain is sooo... lol

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

--

It was the same damn nightmare. 

For the past three weeks you had been waking up in coldsweat, heart nearly beating out of your chest, breathing so out of control. You could barely hold yourself up.

And still somehow, you woke up drenching your panties of your own slick arousal.

It was the same nightmare from yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. You would end up in a dark, ominous apartment. It was yours, but somehow different. The apartment was pitch black, flashing red lights from time-to-time, as if someone in the building had pulled the emergency alarm. You would crumble in your bed, closing your eyes and praying it would end soon. That’s when he would appear. 

A man in all black, long dark tousled hair. His teeth were bright, you could tell by the smile on his face while he watched you wither away in your sheets. The glow in his dull, sharp eyes would shine even in the dark. 

He watched as you squirmed in your bed, feeling heavy, unable to stand by your own strength.

“Don’t force it, darling. Take what you need.” The stranger would say with a strong raspy tone, smelling your arousal fall into the sheets below your bottom. You were always bare in your nightmares as if you were waiting and submitting for him.

You couldn’t resist the feeling. At his call, your fingers would come to relieve the ache between your thighs. Playing with yourself as if you were alone, but it was far from the truth. He would watch as you pumped yourself two fingers deep, sighing and whimpering, satisfied that you no longer felt empty. 

Sometimes, well no most times, he would join you in your nightmares. He would tear your hands from your leaking cunt sparing mercy and you would complain against your sheets. The stranger wasn’t that bad, not for long at least, because he would fill you with his own two fingers, his eyes would dilate watching you fall apart. He was smooth and precise, he would curve his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on target, loving the sinful sounds you made as you arched your back and yelled moans without holding back. 

Once he was satisfied and right as you were about to explode, he would pull away, whipping his hard, swollen cock out of his pants and tugs on himself, forcing you to watch as he pleased himself . Of course you wanted it, but this was so wrong, very wrong. 

The worst part is he wouldn’t just give it to you, he would make you beg for it. “Talk to me baby, you want it?”

You would shake your head, denying him and trying to pull yourself from under him, but realistically it is all you wanted. You wanted to taste the beads that fell from the slit of his hard cock. He was fucking big and that itself made you go fucking insane, his hands wrapped around his length nicely. You tried to stop your thoughts from going any further, but your imagination was a powerful thing, thinking about how his pretty hands would feel wrapped around your throat instead of his dick. 

“Oh, you don’t? Maybe I’ll just leave you like this then.” He would say and it fucked with your head. 

That was the last thing you wanted. “But– m’ so empty.”

“Then beg for it slut, you don’t have to be empty and lonely for long.” His tongue was smooth and wet against your skin as he licked down your throat, sucking little marks onto your skin. He had you wrapped around his fucking fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You wanted to move but at the same time, you wanted him to have his way with you. God can forgive you for this later. 

“I c-can’t.” 

“What a shame. I’ll just take care of myself and leave you here to watch.” He would start pumping his cock faster, tugging at the crown of his length. 

You made an agonizing sound of complaint. “Please.”

“Please what little kitten?” 

He was mean. So mean. 

And you were fucking stupid. 

“Please, f-fuck me.” You begged so sweetly.

The man would smile sinisterly before shoving himself deep inside you, forcing a scream of pleasure. He was not gentle in any way and you fucking liked that. As sick as it was.

He fucked you like his only mission was to make you come and drive you insane, pushing your legs far apart and brutally fucking deep into your walls.

He would watch you fall into your sheets, murmuring noncoherent words, completely submitting to the stranger you fell apart in his complete mercy. 

What an honor. 

“That's it baby. Squirt all over my dick.” His voice was always deep and you swore you could hear a smirk between his words. 

Like magic his words would rip intense orgasms out of you and he would fuck you through them all until you eventually collapsed unconscious.

You wake up in a gasp, the wet feeling between your legs nearly makes you gag. 

This can’t be. Not again.

“Baby, wake up.” A voice calls gently, soft hands soothe your back, patting and rubbing gently. “It’s just a nightmare, love. I’m here.”

“Joonie?”

“Yes baby. I’m here, go back to bed. I’ve got you.” His calm voice manages to settle the beating drum of your heart and still, this is the exact problem with these recurring nightmares. 

Even as your fiancé rubs circles into your back, all you can think of is the hands of that strange man that would fuck you into a delrious state. You hated it. It felt too close to cheating. 

If only Namjoon saw what your nightmares truly consisted of, he would be horrified and disgusted. Every night was worse, the guilt slowly started building in the pit of your stomach as you would daydream about the nightmare over and over and over. 

…

“You okay baby?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, aware that your mind was somewhere else during dinner.

“I- yes.” But you weren’t okay. Not one bit. Flashbacks of the man in your nightmares would haunt your thoughts. These nightmares would play in your head like old memories.

His hooded eyes watching as you fucked yourself open. He would whisper things like, ‘that’s it kitten, so fucking wet all for me’ and ‘good kitten, nice and tight for me’. 

“Imagine what your fiancé would do if he saw the way you squirm in my hands. He could never fuck you the way I could, kitten. Isn't that right? Only I fuck you exactly the way you like it. My little submissive kitten.” 

“Please.” Begging is all you could muster to do in your dreams. You felt pathetic. You never wanted someone so bad. The guilt only grew stronger when you realized you were fucking addicted to your own dreams. You started chasing these nightmares. 

What was wrong with you? 

“Baby?” Namjoon called your attention once again, smiling apologetically. “You feeling okay? Your face is quite flushed.”

Your hands fall onto your face feeling the slight burn against your palms. “Sorry. I’m okay, just a little hot in here is all.” 

“It’s the end of October baby. It’s been really cold out. I’m surprised you aren't begging me to warm you up by now.” He tries to carry the conversation into a lighter, more casual matter. 

A nervous smile breaks out onto your lips, as you brush a piece of hair out of your face. “Must just be experiencing hot flashes. It happens when I’m a bit more stressed than usual.”

“Anything you wanna talk about? You know you can talk to me.” He’s sweet and present for you as usual. You feel your heart drop thkining about how this is what you are missing out on by feeding into those stupid fucking nightmares. Something had to change. 

Wake up, Y/N. 

“Yeah, I know babe. It’s nothing to worry about. Just work stuff.” You make an excuse for yourself and it seems to work, for now. 

“Mm, okay. Don’t be afraid to come to me for anything. I don’t want you suffering alone.” Your fiancé places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it softly. 

“Thank you, Joonie.” This time you give him a real smile, but the guilt still stays hidden deep inside you watching as he reciprocates the smile back at you.

“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be. Stop worrying so much baby. Maybe you should take some time off from work. You know sleep usually makes you feel better. It always has. My sleepy girl.” 

And there it goes and hits you all at once again. 

Guilt. So much guilt. Sleep doesn’t even feel enough these days. The nightmares make you feel as if you never rest. You are clearly aware that dreams aren’t real life, but you even wake up sore from them. It’s scary how realistic it all feels. Maybe that’s why this makes it worse for you. Everything feels too real.

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.” But you won't because time off means resting and resting means more sleep and more time for these nightmares to keep haunting you. It’s like you will never win. 

“Eat your dinner baby, it's getting cold.” 

—-

The daydreams continue even at work. 

“Let me see that perfect ass, kitten. Turn around for me.” 

It’s like he completely owns you, hypnotized by his voice. You immediately present for him, face down and ass up sitting so nicely. 

“Fuck kitten, look at you. Tell me, does that lame fiancé of yours ever play with this ass?” 

You whimper a ‘no’ feeling a glob of spit drip into your unused, virgin hole. His thumb caressing the wet ring of muscle, watching you clench around nothing.

“I’ll change that soon, kitten. Just how you like it.” 

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily opposed to butt stuff, the one time you mentioned it he briefly dismissed it. Granted, he was busy at the time with some work, and you were too embarrassed to bring it up again. 

It seems you got lucky nonetheless. 

The man blows hot air into your wet hole, his lips felt soft against your ass. He would leave a kiss here and there before his tongue peaked out and circled around your rim. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You weren’t the most vocal sexual partner yet somehow, under his touch, you were the loudest. 

Moans fell dangerously loud from your lips as he would continue to fuck his tongue deep inside your ass. Stopping every few seconds to stare at your puffy rim, gaping around nothing. Fuck, what a sight for sore eyes you were. 

“Please.” 

“What baby?” His palm was heavy against your ass, watching it bounce back. 

“More.” You would beg. 

“Anything.” He would purr back. 

A thumb circled around the velvety muscle before pushing right in, fucking his thumb alongside spit that dripped from his mouth. 

Yes. Just how you like it.

“Y/N?” Your coworker brushes a hand against your shoulder. “You doing okay?” 

“Shit– yeah, my bad Yoona. I’ve just been feeling a bit sick lately, I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Which is a complete lie, but how do you tell your coworker you’re having wet daydreams about another man (who by the way only exists in your imagination) that isn’t your fiancé and that it is taking over every part of your life and that the guilt of it all sits heavy on your chest as days pass by and there is nothing you can do about it, but indulge in these dreams and practically live in them because you’ve become an addict. 

Yoona breathes out a light hum. “You don’t seem sick.” 

Fuck.

“Yeah… well it’s just starting, my throat feels dry and sore these days.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” She suggests. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree just so she gets off your back. 

“You’ve been working a lot these days anyways. I’m sure Mr. Gyun wouldn’t mind if you called off. You’re one of his favorites anyways.” She laughs and you fake a smile. 

“Yeah, right. I’ll think about it. Let's just focus on work. We need this revised and sent off by Monday.” 

“Sure sure. But I’m being serious, take a day off or two, you look like you need it. You seem… tired?” She says, worrying by the sound of her tone. 

Because you know she will never let this go, you reassure her. “Yoona, I love you to death, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take some time off if it gets worse. Thank you, really.”

“Alright, just looking after you Y/N. Your soon-to-be husband would kill me if I didn't.”

“I’ll tell him you’re doing a great job, now back to the transcripts…”

—-

You knew the night would eventually come. 

There was only so much you could ignore and forget. 

A sudden rush of heat wakes you from one of your nightmares, the jolt in your body scaring Namjoon awake beside you. You knew that he meant no trouble, but he gave you the face of ‘this again?’ and you could no longer push it aside. 

“Baby?” Namjoon’s voice is tired and filled with sleep, but he asks anyways while patting your back gently, as he always does when this happens like the sweet fiancé he is. “What happens in these dreams anyways?”

How do you tell your husband-to-be and boyfriend of seven years that you get completely ruined by another man in your sleep? 

Namjoon was far too sweet and innocent to get mad at you for this and you knew that. Yet the guilt never stopped you from feeling terribly about the situation. 

“You won’t be upset with me?” Your voice comes out as a whisper. 

Namjoon stands to turn on the nightlight by the bed before he lays back and wraps his strong arms around your waist. “Baby, look at me.”

With heavy eyes, you look back at your fiancé. 

His palm cradles your soft cheek, pushing a loose hair behind your ear. “I could never be upset with you, my love. It might help to talk your nightmares through. I’ll be right here with you baby.”

With shaking hands, you take a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know where they come from, but there’s this man in my dreams.” 

Namjoon raises a brow, doing his absolute best to understand you even while the clock reads in bold 3:44am. 

“This man, he’s dressed in all black. He— he has these dark eyes.” 

“Dark eyes?” 

“Yeah, he— his eyes are dark, sharp all around, it’s sinister.” 

“Okay. What happens?” He whispers, pulling you even closer into him, your hand falls into his chest for comfort.

“He— he…” You struggle finding the right words. 

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Baby, d-does he hurt you?”

No. Of course not. In fact, he does the opposite. The man pleases you until you can’t give him anymore and he leaves you with sore limbs and the burning stretch between your legs as a reminder of what he’s done to you and what he’s capable of. 

You quickly shake your head. “No but he- he touches me and does things to me.”

“Oh honey, why would I be mad at you about that? That’s completely unacceptable. Nobody should be touching you or doing things to you if you don't want it. I see now why this bothers—” 

“Joonie, I feel,” you start and swallow the awful feeling in your throat, “ I feel like… if I've been cheating on you.”

“Baby, I know you would never. They’re just nightmares after all. It’s not like you enjoy it baby.” This is what you mean by Namjoon’s too innocent and kind-hearted to see past the lines between your words. 

“But- I.”

“Wait… do you? Do you enjoy them?” Namjoon almost looks hurt to ask the question, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, if you do.” 

“I do.” You whisper like it’s some dirty secret.

There’s a pregnant pause before Namjoon pulls you completely flush against his body, rubbing circles behind your back. “It’s okay baby, it's okay. They’re just nightmares. They mean nothing.” 

He kisses your hair for comfort and you let out a sob because they are much more than that to you and you know it. They are all you can think about. Shit, you think if you were given the chance, you would actually let that man have his way with you in real life. And it makes you feel disgusting because you know you enjoy this dynamic way too much.

At first, it was terrifying, you didn’t know the man and he, well he just became a weakness and you wanted him so bad, as much as you hated to admit it. Your imagination was a powerful tool. Why you and why with him? Why couldn’t your dreams be with Namjoon, your high school sweetheart?

“I’m so sorry, Joonie. For all these long nights. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The nightmares don’t stop, in fact they only feel longer and they get worse.” You cry into his chest. 

“I know honey, it’s not your fault. Just think of me whenever you feel this way, okay?” He pulls back, wiping your tears off with his sleeves. Your fiancé was so fucking sweet and that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was never angry at you or disappointed. Namjoon was always patient with you and a complete sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking stupid. 

“And I’m not mad at you, okay? I never will be. Those nightmares mean nothing to me. I love you Y/N.” Your fiancé whispers into your hair, kissing the side of your face. 

Namjoon has always been way better than you because had you been in his shoes, you couldn’t phantom hearing about him enjoying the presence of another woman. He knew only one part of this story. Namjoon doesn’t know that you spend evenings, the time you have the house alone while he’s off at work, fucking yourself to this strange man’s voice in your head. That you open yourself up just how you do in your nightmares and you swear you hear his voice telling you to keep going. You swear you hear him calling your name asking you about how Namjoon would feel about this. Like if his whole purpose is to make you feel worse about the situation. He’s ruining your life and you’re letting him. You think you’ve given up and it’s just started.

“I- I love you too.” You reply.

Namjoon smiles apologetically, hands gentle against your skin. “Let’s sleep?”

You nod and he pulls you against his hard chest, rubbing your back while he attempts to lull you back to sleep. It eventually comes, but not before you wake to those dark eyes again and the nightmare continues. This time you don't even fight it. He fucks you until you feel yourself collapse and you swear nothing has ever felt better. 

…

The next morning Namjoon gently shakes you awake. “Good morning my love, you slept through your alarm. I figured you could take a day off so I called your boss to let him know you couldn’t come in today. I hope you don't mind.” 

“Joonie?” Your voice is the cutest in the mornings (according to Namjoon), he smiles watching you struggle to wake up. 

“Yes, my baby. I’m just getting ready to leave for work, but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

Well, it’s not like you have a choice so you accept your fate. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, honey. You slept quite well. You didn’t even wake up this time! Did it help? Talking through it?” Again, Namjoon could be so clueless. 

The only reason you slept this well is because you were fucked into oblivion in your dream. As unbelievable as it may sound, you even felt sore down there. But he doesn’t have to know that, so he’ll just go off to work thinking that cuddles and his sweet words drifting you back to sleep actually worked. 

“Yeah… yeah it did. Thank you again. Have a nice day at work.” You say, still warmly tucked in bed. 

“I will, baby. ” He drops a peck into your cheek, smelling the fresh scent of his aftershave. “Call me if anything. See you later, my love.”

And like that you are left alone once again. The only thing that remains is the fluffy feeling of his plump lips buzzing against your cheek, a faint reminder that you are loved and have been for years, while you think about another man, one that only exists in your deepest darkest of dreams. 

—-

Hoseok doesn’t remember how it happened. All he knew is he was standing in a place unknown, sensing there was another being in the room with him. 

It's not his first time around a mortal human. No, in fact he had so much experience with lustful humans with all kinds of desires and wishes, but it has been quite long since he was manifested this strongly into someone’s dreams. 

His favorite part was watching them act as if they didn’t ask for it. Call for him. They would lie and say that they could never fuck a dead being. A ghost at that. As if they didn’t manifest him themselves. 

It's not like it was Hoseok’s fault for dying young and handsome and that now he tends to people’s guiltiest pleasures. It's not like he has anything better to do in the after-life. In reality, he’s doing people a grand fucking favor. The best thing about fucking a dead ghost is there’s absolutely no consequences, at least that’s what he always tells his victims. Unless you get addicted to one, then that’s really a personal problem. They can’t stay on mortal land forever, but for the time being Hoseok has become attached to his time here. Especially with his new little mortal toy. 

When he first heard the calling, he almost missed it. He was fucking another mortal, a man in his mid-twenties to be exact. The man had called for him in his dreams and he attended to his duty with pleasure. 

This man had a thing for clowns and Hoseok wasn’t no fucking clown, but he did his best to please him. His outfit was in all black (of course, it was his favorite color) and fit him quite well though it was different from his usual style, even down to the clown hat and all.

The guy would scream under Hoseok as he would pound into him like some fuck-doll and would have him come undone within minutes. He was so fucking easy to please. They always are.

When Hoseok came to you the first night. That’s how you found him. He still had the same outfit on (he was ripped from the last dream) and his hat had nearly fallen off in the process, but he was pleased when he came across his next victim. You were beautiful. 

“Who— who are you?” You screeched, covering yourself up, cheeks flushed. You had been doing unspeakable things to yourself in the dream. “What are you doing in my room?!”

Hoseok smiles. God, they always are the same. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and don’t mind me, keep doing what you were doing before I had rudely interrupted.”

The stranger goes to sit by the vanity in your room, making himself extremely comfortable as if it is a regular Tuesday night for him. 

You try to stand and it's like something washes over you. The strange force pushes you back down and you have no choice but to take it. 

The man chuckles, throwing his hat aside. “Don’t hurt yourself trying. Just let your instincts guide you. Tell me what it is you want, this will all go much smoother and much faster.” 

The stranger in black winks and you feel disgusted (though your pussy doesn’t seem to agree with you).

Still you manage to say, “I want you to get out of my fucking room. I’m about to get married, you know and he’ll fucking kill you.” 

“Ohhh.” He purrs, standing as he walks across the room. He stops a couple steps from your bed and leans down to match your height. “But you asked for me to come, baby. So guess what? Now I am your problem.”

He pinches your nose, wrinkling his own in the process and flashes a charming smile. 

You swat his hand off you almost immediately. “I— I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t even know you and I don’t want to know you.” 

“Mm, but soon we’ll know each other very well. Let’s not fight this.” The man’s voice is silky and you could practically see the sinful desire in his eyes while they take in your naked figure. 

You have no idea what he even means by that, but right now you could care less. This is just a nightmare and soon enough, he will disappear and you will get to go back to doing what you were doing before he ever existed. 

“Leave me alone please.” 

The guy puts his hands up clearly coming and going in peace, while retreating back a few steps. “Whatever you say princess. I’ll be back when you’re ready.” 

And just like that the man disappeared into a black distorted shadow. 

He shows up only three nights later. 

This time he catches you on your knees, riding a dildo on your bed. You don’t even hear him until he’s in front of you. Your hips stop mid roll. Whimpering as you feel the tug on your hair.

“Seems you’re ready.” He rasps, having a strong grip on your hair forcing you to look up at him. 

“I— who the fuck are you? Seriously? What do you want with me? I know I’m dreaming and I can wake up any secomd so what the fuck do you want with me.” This time you don’t even entertain him. It’s clear this man has his own vulgar intentions, you wanna skip the small talk. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up until he gets exactly what he wants. 

“The better question is what do you want with me. You manifested me after all, darling.” 

Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you ignore it, for now. “But— I don't know you. How is that fucking possible?”

Even though he knows you won't understand it completely, he still answers truthfully. “I’m dead baby. Anything is possible.” 

Great, so you’re just supposed to believe this man is some ghost haunting you in your dreams. Perfect!

This time you don’t ignore his stupid use of pet names. “S-Stop calling me that.” 

“Oh?” The man pouts, and to be honest that does something to you. If the situation was different maybe you would admit he looks fucking sexy, even if he’s a menace. 

His brows furrow, his jawline clenching as he speaks. “Is there another pet name you like? We’re already getting farther than last time, princess.” 

You don’t even attempt to hold back the scoff, your eyes roll back. “No. I don’t— I didn't ask for you and I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Just please leave me alone. Please.”

The man groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, the fist in your hair grips harder reminding you that he still had you under his control. “God, but you sound perfect begging. Are you sure of that, kitten?”

The man's voice drops in a sultry tone, nearling purring while he speaks. And somehow, that manages to slip a whine from your throat, nearly drooling at the sight. 

Your eyes immediately widen. “I— I didn't mean that.”

“Oh, so that’s what you like.” The man smiles, petting your head affectionately. You were fucked. “Of course you didn't. You were so close weren't you, kitten?” 

You shake your head, you’re unable to look away, but at the same time you want to throw his hands off you. You felt completely powerless under his gaze and you were liking it a lot more than you would like to admit. 

“Don’t bother lying to me princess, I can smell it. You were so fucking close.” He whines the last part, biting his bottom lip, he seems to breathe in the scent. “So fucking close. I’m sorry. I always join at the worst times, you can continue.” 

He offers like a fucking weirdo, pervert and still you disgustingly want it. 

“I said, don't call me that!” Your hand flies to his and forces it off you. 

“Then talk to me.” He’s rough, but firm with his tone. 

“No. I don’t- can't and I won't. Go bother someone else.” 

“I can’t. You asked for me and you brought me here. Now you have to deal with this.” He doesn't attempt to put his hands back on you, but he does let his gaze wander seeing as you still haven’t moved from your dildo. 

“This is bullshit. It’s just in my head anyways. If I close my eyes it’s like you aren’t even here. Now let me fucking come in peace.” Your eyes closed in the middle of your rant and he seemed to listen. Hoseok backs off, watching you from your wall to be exact, but he lets you take care of yourself. That’s what he’s there for after all. 

After a few seconds of calming yourself down and regaining your arousal, you slowly lift yourself up feeling the dildo pull against your walls and you drop yourself back down. 

Hoseok was right, you weren’t too far away from coming, but he messed up your pace and now you have to work yourself back up. 

It doesn’t take too long before you set a quick pace, fucking yourself onto the silicone length. 

Truly it wasn’t that you and Namjoon’s sex life was bad, in fact he was the best fuck of your life (not that you had much experience given he was your high school sweetheart) but after years of being together, things had changed, a lot. 

You don’t even remember the last time you guys got creative in bed, besides a few vibrators from time-to-time. It was starting to get boring and you didn't want to admit this to him, but you wanted so much more. It's like your body was begging for it. And you didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying it, so instead you kept it to yourself and the sexual frustration built up overtime making it impossible not to think about constantly. 

You gasp when you finally open your eyes to find the man watching you with heavy lidded eyes from your wall, he’s not even touching himself, but you can see he’s hard in his pants. 

He licks his lips as he watches you jump down on the dildo ferociously. Your eyes make contact and that's when everything seems to explode.

Moans start slipping from your lips and you feel the knot in your stomach start to build quickly. The silicone molds around your walls perfectly, feeling the tip brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, fisting the sheets below you. 

Hoseok’s nose seems to flare and he can practically taste your arousal in the air. He watches as you bounce on that useless dildo, wishing it was his cock instead. Your mouth falls open, drool nearly spilling while you feel the knot coming undone.

It isn’t long before Hoseok finally decides to speak and it does wonders. “Come, you fucking slut.”

Fuck.

On call, you come and he’s forced to watch you moan and writhe against your sheets, feeling the dildo slowly push out of you. 

He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you and you feel too exhausted to push him away. You are laying in the middle of your bed now, dildo still between your legs but it’s fallen out. 

You feel as he pushes the dildo back inside you overstimulating your used hole as he fucks it into you deeply. You really, really shouldn't let this happen. You are going to be a married woman soon for fuck’s sake, but it all feels so fucking good- risky yet new, so you can’t help but to feed into temptation. 

Sadly, your body denies it, for now at least. “N-No I can't. Not anymore.”

His action comes to a halt. “I know. Maybe next time, kitty.” 

And he disappears once again. 

Disappointment and guilt builds all too quickly. 

Disappointed that he didn’t stay and fuck you until you passed out. And guilt that you just came in the eyes of another man and on his call. 

—-

As expected, you spend your whole day off thinking about the stranger. The way he looks at you, the way he bites his bottom lip while taking you in. The way he grips your hair and clenches his sharp, symmetrical jawline when he has you falling apart in his hands. You could feel his touch, it’s impossible you know, but it all feels too real and it all happens so fast. 

He had a name now. He told you in one of your dreams while he was taking you from behind. 

“Say my name kitten. Who’s fucking you this good? Fuck, what a sight from behind. You’re just perfect all around, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s hands grip onto your ass cheeks, fucking into your pussy brutally. He hasn’t stopped pounding into you and it’s already been ten minutes. Maybe more? Maybe less? You stopped counting. Good dick leaves you feeling stupid. 

“H-Hoseok.” You whimper into your pillow, you think you have officially lost your fucking mind. 

“What?” You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips. 

“Hoseok.” You’re louder this time, but your voice is muffled, face falling into your pillow. 

“Louder slut!” There’s a sting on your ass and he has a fistful of your hair, lifting your face from up the pillow while he continues to ram into you from behind. You realize you are so fucking close and he knows it too, you try to meet his strong thrusts, but it’s no use because it knocks the air from under you. He manages to hold you up with a strong grip. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight around me, kitty. You gonna come on my dick now like a good slut? Huh?” 

“Yes!” This time your voice is loud and you scream without holding back. “Hoseok! Hoseok! Oh, nghh… fuck, Hoseok!” 

His name falls from your lips over and over while you come on his cock, just like he asked of you. That satisfies him enough and he squirts his own orgasm all over your plump ass, watching you come down from your own afterglow.

You had come to the fucked conclusion that the only way to possibly fucking fix something like this (as sick as it may sound) is to fuck it away. You had to tell Namjoon, maybe experiment a bit more just so you can finally get this man out of your head. Regain your peace of mind. Namjoon would do anything you’d ask of him, you could assure that. You just had to find a way to tell him so he wouldn’t feel it was his fault or as if he was lacking. Or you could just not tell him. 

Either way you think fucking this away would help for the time being at least.

Sex is a very special and intimate practice and that’s genuinely how it always felt with Namjoon. He always took his time with you and fucked you slow and deep. 

Before, you will admit that it was nice and that’s why he attracted you so much but now, you don’t want it to be nice or slow. You want someone to play rough, break your limits, and touch you in places you haven’t been touched before. You want to be tossed around, fucked until you can’t speak any coherent sentences. Was that just too much to ask for? 

(Hoseok sure didn't think so.)

Right as you had finished cooking dinner, Namjoon made his way through the front door, setting his work bag down by the coat rack.  

“You’re cooking?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Smells good.” 

“Yeah, I figured you deserved a nice meal to come home to. I didn’t have much else to do.” You swiftly kiss him back.

Namjoon pulls you in closer, arms holding you tightly. He still smells as fresh as he did when he first left. “I told you to rest, my love. You didn’t have to do anything.” 

“I know, I know. I really wanted to though. Let’s just eat, we'll talk after.” He nods and kisses your cheek once more. 

“Let's eat then.”

…

Namjoon decides a movie night is needed on a night like tonight. 

You were more clingy than usual (and of course, he loves it). So he puts on a random movie and allows you to cuddle him up to the fullest of your extent. 

“You’re so cuddly today, my love.” Namjoon whispers into your hair, mid-movie. 

“I just missed you is all.” And you really did, it's been long since you and Namjoon had an intimate night (maybe since these dreams started), you think it's finally time. 

He smiles rubbing his hand down your arm. “I missed you too honey.” 

You lift your head from his chest and lean in slowly, he immediately picks up on the drift and leans down to meet your lips. 

His lips are soft against yours, kissing you with gentle movements. His palm comes to rest on your cheek while you escalate the kiss. 

Your tongue comes up slowly and he lets you in quite easily. You take a hand and rake it down his chest, pulling yourself on his lap carefully. 

You start to slowly whine your hips, making it all too obvious about what you need and want. Namjoon follows along without complaints. 

“Do you wanna?” Namjoon asks, a bit breathless, bringing his forehead against yours. 

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

Namjoon smiles and steals one last kiss before he attempts to stand, thinking it would be best to move this to the bed, but you hold him down with a shove to his abdomen. 

“No. I want it, right here.” You say, finding yourself a little breathless yourself, you needed this. 

His eyes seem to widen for the moment, but he seems to agree and pulls you back in for a kiss, this time he lets his tongue push into your mouth further exploring. He tastes the sweet tang of red wine on your tongue and he groans into the kiss. 

You pull back only for a second as you get rid of your shirt and he starts to unbutton his own. Once the shirts are off, you tug your bra off freeing your breast and bring your lips back together with great force. 

Though he doesn’t complain, Namjoon is in shock. He hasn’t seen you this needy and desperate in years, he thinks? Or at least he doesn’t remember it like that. He lets you rut against his already hard member and kisses you with equal passion.

The next time he pulls away, he tugs on your leggings and he helps you out of them. Typically your panties come down with it, but you decide you’ll just push them aside. You return the offer by pushing his jeans down, including his briefs, his dick slaps against his stomach weighing heavy. 

Your mouth instantly waters, but right now you want him inside the rest will just have to come another time. 

Namjoon looks at you with so much love and admiration and for a minute, the guilt comes crashing down. You want him, you know you do so why is the guilt still there? Is it because even as you have your lover right where you want him all you can think about is how the stranger (Hoseok) from your dreams would have had you flipped onto the couch and had his way with you hours ago. Maybe he would have fucked you against the kitchen counter, defile the damn marble. Maybe he would have taken you right against your front door, like the slut you wanted to be for him. All you know for sure is he wouldn’t have let this much time pass. 

You shake your stupid thoughts away and look back up at your fiancé. This is where you want to be. Where you fucking belong. Without letting your imagination run wild, you rub yourself against Namjoon’s hard length, spreading your arousal all over him. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” He bites a moan back, feeling your warm juices, slicken his cock. 

You moan against his mouth when you feel the tip latch on to your hole, slowly sinking down on him. You feel his cock stretch your warm walls and he feels he could come already. It's just been so long (can anyone really blame him). 

You bring your hips up a bit before crashing back down feeling the burn on your tight heat. 

“So warm and tight baby.” His hands land on your hips, toying with the band of your panties. “Come here.”

Namjoon brings you flush against his chest slowing your movement, his lips crash into yours. The kiss feels much different from before. He doesn’t hold back, as soon as your tongue clashes with his, he sucks and bites it playfully. You groan into his mouth, accidentally squeezing harder against his length. 

“Fuck baby, just like that.” His dick twitches deeply against your velvety walls, you can tell he’s holding back. “I think I’ll come soon if you continue like this.”

Like hell, you’ll let him come now, you’ve barely had your fill. Without no desire to, you slowly slide off his dick, dropping knees first onto the cold floor below you. 

“Baby–” Namjoon starts, but you push his hands away as he tries to pull you back up.

“Let me do this, you’ll last longer.” He hesitates, but eventually surrenders, laying his hands aside. “Don’t be scared to use your hands, use my mouth, Joonie.”

Fuck. How could his own perfect, sweet wife-to-be sound this seductive? He hasn’t heard you talk this way since college. And it’s been years since that. He thought the years of young, hot sex were over but he’s been wrong all along. His fiancée was the sexiest woman in the world, that he was sure of. 

Namjoon’s hands find your hair and push you towards his glistening length. It’s already drying, shame, you thought, let’s keep it warm and wet. 

Wrapping hands around it, you take his cock into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the slit, hearing a raspy moan come from Namjoon’s throat. “That’s it baby, God your mouth feels incredible.”

The tip of his cock weighs heavy against your tongue. He’s breathing heavy, while he watches you take him in further. You warm his cock with your mouth just as nicely as when you were on top of him. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him as far as you could go, hearing his desperate grunts. Namjoon takes a grip of your hair (he’s still very gentle with it and you try not to be disappointed) and pushes you just a bit further, feeling your throat stretch around him. “F-Fuck baby. I really won’t last.” 

You tap his thigh and he immediately lets go when he sees your eyes water. You pull off with a pop to catch your breath. “I know.”

Your voice is raspy and it’s the sexiest thing Namjoon has ever heard. And you know exactly how to make this whole situation better. Sometimes, a little whiny purr in your voice is all that’s needed to get exactly what you need. “I just want you to come down my throat. Please, fuck my throat daddy.”

Now if Namjoon wasn’t sure he could bust before, he could definitely nut in your fist right in that instant. Yes, he has a daddy kink, sue him. 

“Come here.” Namjoon demands, doesn’t hesitate this time to tug you up a little harder and place you in his lap, before he shoves your back against the couch.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, but the answer is pretty obvious when you see him line his cock up to your hole.

“Fucking you. I’m gonna come inside you. Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop fucking you until you are statisfied.” It’s like music to your ears, his hard member slaps against your clit before he slowly eases back inside you. 

Both moaning at the feeling, he lets you adjust for a few seconds, but you waste no time to wrap your legs around his hips and pull him close. 

“Please daddy, just fuck me.” You whine into his ear. 

This time Namjoon pulls back and right before he slides out, he slams back in, balls smacking into your ass. He fucks you just like that for a while. He’s fast but skilled, finding your sweet spot quite easily. It reminds you both of older times, when things were much easier, when you were both young and easily influenced.

You moan loudly into his neck, toes curling as he fucks his dick deep inside you. “Right there daddy, please don’t stop.”

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his hair that had once been held back by gel begins sticking to skin. It isn’t a surprise to feel him thrust harder and faster, his tongue poking at his cheek as he concentrates. “Fuck baby, I really missed fucking you just like this. You feel so tight around me, look so fucking sexy, just like this baby.” 

You eat up his praise, biting your bottom lip as you feel the tight grip he has on your hips, drilling into you like he used to. Fuck, maybe you were right. This was exactly what you needed. There’s no Hoseok in your head right now. No unwanted thoughts in your mind. It’s just you and Namjoon. How it always should have been. 

A whimper falls between your lips and you feel Namjoon leaving hickey’s around your tits, covering them beautifully with his own little marks. 

Your legs start to shake around him, and warmth starts spreading through you quickly. “Daddy— I- I think I’m gonna fucking come.” 

Namjoon grunts, mouth around your nipple while he pulls off to speak. “Yeah baby? You wanna come?”

Yes. 

No.

Not really.

Preferably you would like him to control your fucking orgasm, flip you around, start pounding into you until you can’t hold yourself together but this will have to do. 

“Y-Yeah. I wanna come.” 

“Come sweetheart.” It’s not long before you moan sweetly through an orgasm, Namjoon fucks you through it as promised and you feel like you are levitating, he maintains sinful eye contact. His thrust starts to become sloppy and you feel the instant he lets go. 

“Inside daddy, inside.” With one final strong stroke, Namjoon comes deep inside you, his breathy moans feel hot against your ear. 

There’s a few minutes of heavy breathing, settling into the couch below you. Namjoon’s breaths follow close behind yours, arm tucked below your breasts, he lays behind you. 

“You were so wonderful my love, I’m sorry we don’t do that enough.” Namjoon breaks the silence, kissing the side of your head.

For the twentieth time that week, guilt falls heavy onto your chest. You didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this. 

“No, don’t apologize Joonie. It’s my fault, really. I’ve just been… out of it. But I feel much better. All thanks to you. Thank you, thank you for everything you do for me and our home.” You start getting emotional, but you don't let your tone waver. You didn’t want him to know. 

“You know I’d do it all for you, my love” He whispers into your hair, kissing along the soft skin behind your neck. “I can’t wait to marry you baby.” 

There it is again, guilt. 

“I know, I know. Me either.”

“I love you.” He doesn't hesitate to remind you sweetly. 

It hurts to say it with all that is going through your mind, but you force a reply anyway. “I love you too.” 

��

Sleep comes over you quickly that night. 

Finally, you had fucked your sweet and loving fiancé and for once, your dreams don’t start off with you fucking yourself into an orgasm. 

In fact, you don’t dream, at least you don't recall. 

Hoseok immediately knows something is different when he arrives. He doesn’t smell arousal in the air, no this time he can tell you’ve been fucked. He can smell the come leftover deep inside your walls. He’s impressed to say the least. 

He watches your chest rise and fall, a small pout framing on your lips. You sleep beautifully, he thinks you will look even better after he’s done with you for today.

With careful steps, he makes his way to the end of your bed, you jerk your arm so suddenly in your sleep and he holds back a laugh. He’s quiet when he sits besides your sleeping head, gentle fingers run through your hair. 

“Mm.” You hum sweetly in your sleep, molding against his touch, thinking it was your husband-to-be playing with your hair like he normally does. 

Before you hear him say, “someone had a good night. Isn’t that right kitten?”

Your eyes widen, nearly jumping out of bed, but Hoseok’s hands stop you from moving. “It’s just me baby.”

“H-How?” Your voice is raspy with sleep. “You were supposed to be gone.”

Hoseok smiles wide, hand still caressing the back of your head. “Did you really think that would happen, kitten?”

“Yes.” 

“You let him fuck you.” He says like he knows for sure it's a fact. He doesn’t look too happy about it and your deafening silence answers his unspoken question. He pats your cheek. “Naughty kitty.” 

You gulp, his pretty hand wrapping around your throat as he asks the next question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie and he knows it too. 

“Yeah? He fuck you better than me?” You gulp again.

“Yes.” No.

“Why do you lie to me, kitten?” His eyes flash red (they don’t), but the look he gives you is enough to warn you. Things are about to get serious so fast. “I know everything.”

You know that saying people say about fucking around and finding out. You were about to fuck around and find out real fucking fast that Hoseok doesn’t play with his toy. 

“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” The only warning you get is Hoseok’s smile and then he’s fisting your hair tightly. Jawline clenched, watching as his eyes hood and darken. 

“Fuck yourself open, you slut.” He drops the grip on your hair and stands, serious look on his face, he’s not fucking around at all tonight. His hands are quick, tugging his belt off. “Make it quick.”

When he sees you still haven’t moved, a warning comes to you by a strong fistful of hair, shoving you so closely against his face. His breath hits yours, but your lips don’t touch, even though they are so fucking close. You’re tempted to steal a kiss from those soft looking lips, but you’ve acted up enough. “I said, fuck yourself open.”

He drops his grip, letting your head fall into the mattress. Hoseok’s voice is strong and demanding so you stop fucking around and pull the sheets off your body. His eyes fall on your breasts, they are covered in hickey’s freshly made by Namjoon and he tries not to let that affect him. But damn him, he wishes it was him instead. He knows you would never sleep unsatisfied. He would always make sure you slept fucked and sated. Even if that meant, falling asleep on his cock. 

There’s a slight burn when your finger finds its way to your pussy. Namjoon did a number on you, but it makes it easier to fuck yourself open. His come still settling deep inside you.

Hoseok has his shirt off now and he tugs his briefs and pants down all at once, his cock springs out, looking delicious as ever. You hear a dark chuckle behind you. “Uh-uh, wrong hole kitty, I’m fucking that ass tonight.” 

You whimper when his hand comes to stop your movements. 

“I’m not fucking that dirty hole. Turn around. I wanna see you from behind.” He’s not putting it up for question. You push yourself up on your knees and fall back against the bed, lifting your ass towards his direction. 

He curses behind you and smacks your ass. Leaving a red hand mark behind, it almost is as pretty as your face. “Fuck kitten, you really are pretty all around. Fuck that hole open for me.” 

You feel spit hit your hole and your index finger rubs his saliva around your rim. Your chest is heavy, this time for different reasons, you are completely breathless. 

You can’t see Hoseok, but you hear as he opens the drawer beside your bed, it’s where you kept all your toys and lube. You are a finger-deep inside your ass when you hear the lube cap open, Hoseok is kind enough to warm the lube a bit between his fingers before he rubs against your rim and finger. He lets a bit of the lube dribble down your ass cheeks. Hoseok likes it a bit messy and wet. He clicks it close and tosses it besides you. 

“My perfect submissive slut.” He whispers, hands settling on your ass as you finger yourself open with two fingers now, the burn hurts but it feels so damn good. Namjoon has never fucked your ass, but it has always been one of your sexual desires. Nothing could ever compare to an orgasm through anal and Hoseok has taught you a lot about that. 

Another glob of spit hits your rim and you feel him squeeze a finger in. The burn of three fingers tear through you, moaning into the sheets.  “Mm, fuck.” 

He grins watching you hold back moans, biting your lips hard. 

“Maybe I should punish you tonight.” He suggests, still fucking his finger in your ass alongside your own. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck my dick if I’m still feeling nice.”

You complain, turning around to face him, back still arched. “No… please, please Hoseok. F-Fuck me. Fuck my ass.” 

“No.” He’s cold like usual and you know he won’t budge so it's no use. 

“But I-I’ve been waiting patiently. I thought all day about you.” It almost sounds like a purr and Hoseok loves it, spanking the fat in your hips this time with an unoccupied hand. His finger is still deep inside your ass and doesn’t let down. 

“Yeah? Tell me about that.” He starts to jerk himself off in the process, the leftover lube in his fingers makes the slide easier, his tongue wets his lips while he maintains eye contact. 

Your cheeks are burning but you continue, “I thought about your huge cock splitting me open. Forcing me to take you e-even when I can’t anymore. I thought about you spitting into my messy hole like you always do. I thought about you fucking me open against the door. Even the kitchen counter. All day, I’ve missed you all day.”

This seems to satisfy him enough so he plays nice. “Turn over. On your back. Show me those tits.”

He pulls his finger out slowly and you miss it immediately but you listen, your own fingers slide out as you turn around for him. His knees hit the bed pulling your thighs apart as he falls between them, his arm falling beside your head. He’s still fisting his hard length, watching your tits rise and fall as you breathe. 

His tongue comes out and licks around your breasts purposely avoiding your nipple. “You let him mark you.” 

“He’s my husband-to-be.” You answer, holding back a moan when he sucks on your skin, gentle enough not to make any marks. “Of course, I did.” 

“Mm.” He hums into your skin, it vibrates and your pussy responds to this, leaking arousal into the sheets. “What else did you let him do, kitten?” 

“He fucked me.” You whisper, practically vibrating below him. 

“Oh I know that. I smell it.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but instead continues sucking around your other breast, giving both tits the attention they deserve. 

“Squeeze them together.” He orders and you listen quickly. His tongue slides and sucks between them, still avoiding your nipples and it drives you insane. You want to feel him. 

“Please.” Your voice is weak.

“Please what?” He asks, looking up dumbfounded, but he knows exactly what you want. He’s making you work for it. “Tell me kitten. What do you want?” 

“Y-Your mouth.” You struggle. 

“Where?” He breathes out, right on top of your nipple, tongue nearly sliding against it. 

“R-Right there.” Your eyes never move. 

You watch as he sticks his long, pink tongue out and very slowly licks your already hardened nipple. 

“Here?” He asks between his own breaths and you moan softly, sounding sweet against his ears.

“Yes.” You whisper-moan. 

He drops his cock, letting it hit your cunt while he starts to suck on your nipples like they deserve. There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this. It’s like he wants to replace Namjoon’s love bites and leave you with his own. 

He switches off onto the previous breast and his hand comes to play with your other breast while he attends to the new one. He licks and sucks harshly, bruising your tender skin. You writhe against him, pussy brushing along his cock, but his hand comes to halt your actions quickly with a strong grip on your hip. 

“Be good, slut.” Is all he says before he continues marking your breasts and you can’t do a single thing, but moan and whine underneath him, feeling empty. The memory of Namjoon is long forgotten. 

Once Hoseok is satisfied with his work. He grins and pulls away. He grabs the bottle of lube beside you and lathers his cock in it. “Should I fuck you now?”

You are quick to nod and you feel bubbly. 

Finally. 

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” He tempts and teases, his lubed fingers touch your chin and you open with ease, taking all three fingers he offers you inside your mouth. You suck hard and watch him bite his lip.  

You moan around his fingers, his other hand gripping his slicken cock and you feel it catch around your rim. 

“Beg for it, slut.” He slides his fingers out, saliva drips down your chin, you probably look a mess but you don't even care anymore. The sinful desire and lust is ten times worse than any other feeling. 

“Please, Hoseok. Please.” You beg. “I’d do anything. Anything.” 

He sees red for two seconds and then he says. “Then keep your legs open for me. Try to stay awake. Don’t disappoint me this time, kitten.” 

There’s no warning for when he plunges his hard length inside your slicked rim. You know he won’t be going anywhere near your pussy, keeping his promise. You didn’t deserve it. You let someone else use your hole and now he’s punishing you. 

“Oh. My. God.” You moan, it fucking burns, but soon his thrusts turn into pleasure and his cock brushes your sweet spot. It’s like he’s known you all your life, knowing the exact way to tear you apart, piece by piece. 

“Ghost actually, not God, but I’ve met him. He’s not the sweet and forgiving man everyone mentions he is.” Hoseok says this all while buried deep between your ass cheeks and you would actually laugh about this if the situation was different, but instead you moan and clench around him feeling his balls slap faster against your ass. “That’s it kitten, lose your fucking mind.”

And that is exactly what you do.

Hoseok continues ramming his hips into yours for a few minutes, you aren’t speaking clearly anymore so he doesn’t understand a word you tell him, all he knows is that you must be feeling fucking ecstasy by the way you roll your eyes and yell moans. 

His hands grip your hips and he comes to a stop. “Face down. Ass up. I wanna see that ass while I pound it from behind.”

You don’t reply to him, but you seem to understand. With weak movements, you move and nearly fall face first into the bed, weak limbs. You don’t even have the strength to hold yourself together anymore. Hoseok is kind enough to help though, he places a pillow below your hips, just high enough so he can slide right back inside your tight ass. 

He hears your muffled moans against your bedsheets, watching you weakly grip them. 

“Such a nice ass. It’s a shame really.” Your ass bounces while he mounts you from behind, it’s fast but precise, hitting your walls just right at every harsh thrust. 

“W-What is?” He barely hears you reply. 

“That this ass isn’t played with enough and soon I’ll just be a fidget of your imagination. You’ll forget I ever existed and you’ll never, ever receive the sexual satifisation you deserve. But maybe, one day, when it’s your turn to go, you’ll meet me in the after-life and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed this sweet ass.” The ghost’s voice almost sounds sad and you freeze. You don’t want this to end. No.

“T-Then don’t stop fucking me. Keep me here forever.” You whisper frantically, breath hot and heavy. 

“Oh trust me baby, I would if I could. For now, I won’t stop. Stay awake, kitten.” You don’t even notice you are falling unconscious, the stretch and burn of his cock is exhausting and your ass takes him greedily, but his words wake you. 

He grips the side of your hips, pressing his thumbs into your back as he sets a faster pace. Slamming and ramming his dick deep within you. The moans and gasps that slip from your mouth sound so pretty, God he really wishes it would never fucking end, but he feels you slipping between his hands already. 

What the fuck can he do? 

Hoseok is close himself, how could he not be? He’s been practically edging himself for hours and now that he has such a juicy ass at hand, with the most perfect woman he has ever seen, he could practically come inside your velvet walls right now. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse and moan below him, you tremple and shake, the knot inside your stomach is barely holding up. “‘M so close.”

He nods, forgets you can’t see him. He harshly tugs you around, still quite limp and weak between his arms. “Wanna see that face when you come on my cock.”

He plunges back inside, lips close to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. And then you realize, he hasn’t kissed you. This entire time. He’s fucked you religiuosly for weeks on end and you don’t even know what those heart-shaped lips taste like against yours. Would they be as sweet as they look? Would he kiss you gently or would he be harsh and rough like the way he fucks? You wonder about it all at once and it makes you sad for a moment. You want a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss you? 

“Kiss me.” You breathe out, he’s grunting above your mouth still fucking you nice and deep. You are beyond positive you won’t be able to move your ass tomorrow but it’s worth it, it’s always worth it. 

He looks up and then looks back down, concentrating on his thrust, you moan but hold your ground. 

“Please. Kiss me.” You whisper, gasping when you feel the knot start to come undone. He knows you’re about to let go and this only drives him to bottom out faster and quicker. Skin smacking quickly against skin. Your asshole has been shaped and molded just for him. You’re loving every second of it, but he still hasn’t kissed you. 

Why?

Your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, he breathes heavy and hot against your ear now. It’s messy, sweaty and his touch is usually rough, but it feels awfully gentle now. He’s still rough inside your soft walls, but something’s changed. 

“Hoseok.” You breathe, you’re so sad. 

He hums against your neck, avoiding your eyes. 

“Kiss me.” You plead again, he kissed your neck so softly, balls smacking harder and faster against your ass. “No, my lips.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” He whispers sounding sad into your ear before he lifts his face from your neck and those heart-shaped lips touch your softly, it’s almost sweet. You come undone as soon as you feel the touch of his magical lips and you swear you feel him come deep inside you.

It all disappears though. 

“Honey?” This time it's Namjoon, hand already around your waist. “You okay? Was it another nightmare?”

A tear falls down your face and Namjoon awes, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” 

Why are you crying? 

And where is Hoseok?

“I am too.” You simply say, crying harshly into his shoulder.

Hoseok watches the scene unfold from afar. He wishes you could feel the ache you’ve left him behind too and there isn’t a damn thing he could do but wait. 

“See you in the after-life kitten. There I’ll spoil you with all the kisses you deserve.”

You don’t hear him, but he knows he means well. Hoseok walks away permanently this time, he’s lost the feeling of his heart long ago, but he feels heavy-hearted and continues on his way to his next victim.  

Until next time.

[nephilimbrute]

how do you make your colours so scrumptious... that's a vague ask but it's like, how do you make the colours mash together well and make sure they don't clash against eachother. And when you do designs, what inspires you to make your agent ocs outfits or do you just make them because they look silly.

hmmm... no.1 i stay away from pure black and pure white. i always use an off-white and a dark desaturated color of whatever i'm using, as well as for when i use grays. here's an example vv

^^ all of the colors on my tai lung come from yellow hues in various shades (if that makes sense). same with my lord shen. the red is a reddish-pink, and the black is, of course, a desaturated and darker shade of the red

i tend to stay in the middle area here, i don't really like to use bright or very saturated colors. another example is when i choose an ink color for marina, i don't use something that's TOO bright, but going for something a little darker to pair with the primary color of her tentacles and her skin

now, here's my chameleon vv

her colors were a little difficult to figure out, but i'd say they work together somewhat...they all fall into the category of being desaturated and such. mainly warm colors with the exception of the green, but i made the red a little pinkish/purpleish so it wouldn't contrast as much

it REALLY depends on the character but most of the time my lighter colors will be less saturated, and for darker colors they'll be saturated. this obviously varies, like with undead characters all of their colors would be a little more muted

i also have a theme i keep in mind for my colors. like with my fantasy marina, i think of olive or yellow-green. the only colors that i don't change (often) in the palette are the skin tones. another example is my young craig design, i think of the sepia filter and...old looking colors? like grayish browns and yellows and stuff like tha.t...i dunno

the main way i learned how to color is actually by coloring...normally? the colors all looked weird and had such contrast, but i'd overlay another layer on top with a solid color, set the blending mode to multiply, and lower the opacity. sometimes i'd do this with the mono color filter instead of a solid color

i also take inspiration from other artists! wolfythewitch is one of my biggest inspos for art in general, great coloring and anatomy. if you're looking for an artist with saturated colors that pop, check out bigskycastle!

now onto the second question...if you mean their uniforms..yeah i just went with whatever looked silly. (OLD ART ALERT ERR ERRR) cap3's uniform is intended to be a few sizes larger since it was most likely supposed to be for val before she got fired. and she wears pants instead of shorts since she wants to cover up a lot

not much is different with maggie. other than the fact that she's wearing a uniform too small for him and it ended up looking weird

but if it's for outfits in general i just scroll through the lists of gear on inkipedia and pick whatever i think the character would wear

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that. 

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars. 

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits. 

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them. 

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair. 

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town. 

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible. 

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv. 

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants. 

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house.  He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night. 

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together. 

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care. 

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister. 

[sassycheesecake]

Based on this video. It’s fluff and a lil' suggestive. Sorry.

Dating the twin of someone sometimes has its perks and downsides.

That of course would be great to know, if your boyfriend of two months even shared with you beforehand that he has a twin.

But it is to be expected that someone like Atsumu would forget to mention that he has a twin.

It seems so naturally, it has always been the two of them. They were attached to the hip for good 19 years of their life, everyone knew them. The famous Miya twins.

Everyone, except you.

So one day, when you came to Atsumu‘s apartment after work, you saw him standing in the kitchen cooking something.

Yes, cooking without actually burning down the kitchen and hearing firetruck sirens in the distance.

Huh, maybe Atsumu picked up cooking lessons online or something like that.

You can’t deny, that it is indeed super hot.

What is also different about your boyfriend is that he has very dark hair now. Like, it’s almost a shade of black.

You do remember Atsumu mentioning that he was going to re-dye his hair soon but you didn’t think it would be THAT color.

Although, the cooking and the new hair color really suit him.

You step closer to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his middle frame and you can feel him tense up.

"My, my. First cooking and then a hair change. What else is new? You also quit volleyball?" You mumble against his back, rubbing your face against the back muscles.

Not seeing him for almost three weeks, there was something else you missed.

Your hands wander down to his sweats and two hands stop you from going further.

Without saying anything, Atsumu pulls your arms from his frame and he turns around to look at you.

Now, this is getting a little freaky.

Something else changed.

His eyes.

They’re not the usual warm chocolate brown, they’re gray. Like a dark rain cloud.

Wait a minute.

You back away slowly, getting really freaked out by the complete plastic surgery change of your boyfriend.

"Tsumu, did you get surgery done while you were away in Seoul or something? I mean, don’t get me wrong I uh… like the new look. But your eyes? They were my favourite part about you. Always made me feel like I was drowning in hot chocolate. I didn’t know you can change your eye color. That is very dope. What made you decide to change everything? Did you kill someone? Is this some sort of protection so no one recognizes you in public?" You watch him with big eyes, rambling down your questions because your mind is running wild.

"Ya ask a lot of questions, don‘tcha?" Atsumu quietly laughs. His voice sounds a bit more rough too, not as light as you are used to.

All of sudden, a third voice joins you, coming from Atsumu‘s bathroom.

"Yannow, (Y/N) will be here soon. I think ya should go, thanks for makin' us dinner though." This sounds more like Atsumu. Wait. Then who is this?!

"W-Who are you?" You stammer out, backing away slowly until you feel the counter behind you.

"My brother didn’t tell ya he had a twin? Figured he’d be the one to forget to mention something like that. Nice to meetcha. Name‘s Osamu. I am Atsumu‘s twin brother." He gives you a slight smile as he introduces himself to you.

"Oh, uhm likewise. My name is (Y/N), I am Atsumu's partner." You blush as you introduce yourself back to him, mirroring his smile.

"Oi, did ya not hear me? Can ya leave-" The heavy steps finally come out of the bathroom, Atsumu is only wearing his MSBY training shorts, rubbing a towel across his wet blonde hair.

Atsumu stops in his tracks and looks between you and his brother.

Osamu looks at the blonde Setter, a mischievous grin adorning his face.

"Ya forgot ta mention ya had a twin. They thought I was you. Which I actually should consider offensive. 'm obviously the better lookin' twin."

"Shut yer trap asshole, 'm the one with the significant other remember? Ya've been single since ya were born." Atsumu scowls at first and then grins mischievously, like he just won the round.

Osamu is not done though. He turns to you.

"How long ya been datin'?"

"About to hit the three month mark, why?" You frown in confusion at Osamu, who turns back to look at his brother.

"Did ya hypnotize 'em or somethin'? Most of yer so called relationships lasted max a week or two, after they realized what a complete asshole ya are."

Osamu turns back to you, after seeing his brother‘s jaw open in shock at his remark.

"Do yerself a favor and run, I’ll hold ‘im down." Osamu stretches his arms out, basically forming a little wall to shield you from Atsumu.

Next thing you know, Atsumu tackles his brother from behind, jumping on his back.

Obviously Osamu didn’t see this coming, so he falls forward with a big grunt and tries to get Atsumu off of him.

You watch first in shock, then in amusement as your boyfriend tangles with his brother on the floor.

"Tsumu, I will just come by later on okay? Have fun and love you!"

You grab your bag and leave the boys to it.

Atsumu has his brother in a chokehold, messy hair and an adorable grin adorning his face as he returns your love.

Osamu uses the moment of distraction to knock him down again and that’s really your cue to leave.

You still hear a lot of rumbling, crashing, shouting and cursing from outside Atsumu‘s home but you can’t help but smile at the deep bond between the two brothers.

And you are certainly looking forward to meeting him again.

[sycamorality]

@ceruleanstarbreak okay SO

making this a post bc i love yelling about scavengers.

quick note bc im not sure where else i'd put it: eyes are either really dark, really light, bordering on white or a solid inbetween vibrant color, at least from all the scavengers i've seen and can remember.

the most common colors are grays, whites, blacks, browns and oranges - colors you'd usually see in animals irl like cats or dogs. the rarest are yellow (actual yellow and not an orange that looks yellow) and cyan. accent colors (this is just a term i use - but i use it to refer to the color that sometimes appears on frills/spines and as eartler deco, and on occasion the belly) of these two are much more common than body/head.

i have a folder of the first 11k scavengers (+ a few extra above 11k if they had colors like blue/etc so the numbers are a Little inaccurate but i think they work just fine), and the color commonality (is that a word?) goes as follows: orange - 142* pink - 100* blue - 70 red - 42* ** green - 33 purple - 32 yellow - 0 cyan - 0 *there may be more/less, this is my own view on colors. **there might be more, i'm not sure if i organized all of them yet, i wouldn't be surprised

not counting gray/brown/etc because those are extremely common

all scavengers have heads that are darker than their body, however, there is something called bodyblack that makes the body darker, and sometimes this causes the head to be lighter than the body, because techncially the head is still lighter than the body. 973 is a VERY good example of this!

scavengers also have arm blend - it is always the head color, but can sometimes look like it isn't because the blend doesn't go all the way. (their legs and tail never have a gradient) and we can't forget eartler deco! to my knowledge (i don't exactly know everything about scavenger code but i do know at least a decent bit from observing a whole bunch), eartler deco can be the same color as the eyes, or be a completely different color. eartler deco color can also be used for spine blend (which means the spine blend can also match the eyes or not), even if the eartler deco isn't visible on the scavenger. 6194, 7491 and 4572 are good examples of this!

their head color tends to not stray too far from their body, but sometimes, they do stray pretty far from it! i've noticed some combos are much more common together while others just don't exist at all (to my knowledge of course - i don't know every scavenger but i've seen a whole bunch of them). here's some examples!

whole bunch of interesting combos, yeah? the ones that are more wild like the last three are usually much rarer than the ones you see reoccuring (like the pink/orange + blue and pink/orange + green). sometimes the belly can also get an unusual color (and i'm not exactly sure how that works, it tends to seem like it has a color of its own and tends to be lighter than the body, and on occasion seemingly match the head but not exactly).

now i can really mostly only comment on 0 through 11k, but other combos i've seen (listed [body color] + [head color]) are:

white/gray + green

white + pretty much any* color

cream + pretty much any* color

yelloworange + purple or blue

red or orange + dark brown

gray + purple or blue (most commonly, but any* color is possible)

any pale color + its brighter/more vibrant variant (like pale purple + bright purple)

...and probably more, but they usually tend to match together well, unlike mr no scavnificant harassment (51620372) over here.

now, usually scavenger frills are rather. well, normal looking, and sometimes they just get SUPER frilly, but other times... they can get a little weird!

these are the best examples i have on hand right now, but i think they suffice well enough. 3222 looks like a hunchback, and 1646 has frills that do quite literally float off its body, as does 8804 (while also just having an interesting shape to them). of course there's also the frill colors that can theoretically be practically anything, and those also get wild pretty often

now these aren't the wildest i know of, but they're the ones i have images on hand of.

the rest i can't really comment on at length is the eartlers, 'teeth' (weird little shapes by their mouth) and head shape. sometimes eartlers are really thick and tall, really thin and small, or somewhere inbetween. sometimes scavengers have eartlers on the bottom of their face and sometimes they don't. sometimes two points on the eartlers visually 'merge' together, which is mostly visible if a scavenger has eartler deco, because it still applies to the separate points.

that should be all! unless i forgot something... in that case, oops, my shitty memory strikes again.

[crystalrabbit246912]

Winged NRC Students

Imagine Twisted Wonderland being a world where everyone has wings. I like to think that everyone has bird wings, but you can imagine insect or bat wings if you'd like.

Heartslabyul

I imagine Riddle would have flamingo wings because flamingos are in Heartslabyul for croquet matches and it seems fitting. If not, some species of bird with red wings seem to fit best.

Ace would likely be a parrot or a macaw since he seems like a tropical bird would fit best. Such birds have bright colors and parrots are sometimes seen as annoying, especially in media portrayals, isn't that fitting for Ace?

Deuce seems kind of like a swallow, which, if you didn't know, are small birds with dark blue wings. As such, his wings would match his hair which is mainly what I'm going for.

I could see Cater as a peacock or similarly flashy species of bird considering what he's like. If not a peacock, I'd say a tropical bird since those often have bright colors.

If I think of Trey with wings, I think of him with brown wings for whatever reason, so we're going to roll with it. He could be a tawny owl, maybe. It could work.

Savanaclaw

Leona, and Savanaclaw as a whole, is largely associated with muted, warm colors such as dark orange and brown. There aren't many birds with dark orange wings, though, so we're going with mostly brown and potentially gray here. Leona seems like he'd have falcon or eagle wings.

Ruggie grew up in the slums and gray is a color often associated with such things. Being in such a hopeless environment would have leeched the color out of anyone's wings, no? Perhaps dove or mockingbird wings could work for him.

Jack, meanwhile grew up in a cold environment, so he could potentially have white wings because snow often falls on cold days. Additionally, he could still have brown or gray wings, it's hard to pick just one. Swans don't trust outsiders often, which would be fitting for Jack's lone-wolf attitude. Perhaps he could be a black swan, though white would fit better with his hair.

Octavinelle

I can see Azul with either snowy owl or vulture wings. Snowy owls because owls are associated with wisdom and learning and Vulture because vultures could be seen as bad omens which would work well with Azul's backstory.

Jade and Floyd would probably have the same type of wings, being twins and all. They would likely have brightly colored wings, like kingfisher wings that are usually teal with white dots and orange underwings. Such colors suit them, don't you think?

Scarabia

For thematic purposes, I want Kalim and Jamil's wings to be basically mirror images of each other.

Kalim's could be a pure white crane or swan wings. I'm leaning toward swan here because their wings are long and perfect for long-distance soaring which Kalim would love to do.

Jamil, meanwhile, would likely have much shorter, crow wings. The black not only matches his hair but symbolizes the shadow that's always cast on him unknowingly by Kalim. Having short wings helps him fit into other places to do his work, though everything around Kalim is set to accommodate his much larger wings.

Pomefiore

Vil seems suited toward either mockingbird or flamingo wings. Mockingbird because he's an actor and mockingbirds are good at imitating others and flamingo because they're wings are suited for acrobatic flight and it seems fitting. If he does have flamingo wings, they would be a vastly different shade than Riddle's. He would also push proper wingcare tips and supplies onto his Dorm, which Epel doesn't actually mind since he likes his wings.

Rook is very flamboyant at first glance, so a tropical bird seems to fit him, but he's also a hunter. He's an expert at remaining unseen, and bright wings wouldn't help him with that. He wouldn't let that hinder him, but I lean more toward him having hawk wings since hawks have good eyesight. Additionally, he comes from a family of hunters and I don't think they would do well at hunting with such bright, noticeable wings.

Epel would have short wings since I imagine those with longer wings build big cities that a lot of people live in while those with short wings tend to live in small farming villages like Harveston. So he could either have woodpecker, robin, finch, or sparrow wings. I'm leaning toward woodpecker or sparrow personally.

Ignihyde

Idia would have phoenix wings, but instead of burning with red fire, they would have bright blue fire like the Shroud brothers' hair. Of course, he can turn the fire off or make it harmless, but just imagine Idia with blue fire wings.

Ortho, being... well, how he is, doesn't have physical wings. Idia was able to make him capable of simulating flight with wings similar to his hair, which I assume is a projection of fake fire. As such, Ortho can change his 'wings' but likes to keep them how they are because he likes to match with Idia.

Diasomnia

Malleus seems like no one can tell what species his wings are and everyone's too scared to ask him. If you do, he'll tell you that no one can tell what his or his grandmother's wings are. The wings have a mysterious feel to them and are probably black or something similar.

Lilia would have bat wings because he's a bat but would disguise them with an illusion of crow, vulture, or potentially some tropical bird wings because bat wings are restricted to only bat fae, and not many people have ever seen a bat fae in person.

Silver, being the only pure human among the Diasomnia crew, has pure white wings. Likely crane wings, so they're white with a bit of black on the tips. He uses them to help his balance while using his sword, so they flare out when he falls asleep so he doesn't topple over.

Sebek, being half-human, would have normal wings that have a sort of 'mystical' feel to them. I think he would have quetzal wings, which are green with gold highlights because they would match his hair and he would be ecstatic to have wings that match his liege's signature color.

Ramshackle

Being a different species, Grim wouldn't have wings, but the ghosts would have ghostly wings that no one can quite tell what they are because they don't have color anymore and the ghosts like not telling to keep it a mystery.

I like to think of Yuu as either having no wings because they came from a different world or gaining/previously having hummingbird wings. Hummingbirds in the TWST world would traditionally be messengers, which feels fitting for some reason.

[angsthology]

RE-INTRODUCTION

changed my mind about a few things. added more things. things.

a/n what the "summary" says

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

okay hey hello

remember when i said roo’s team isnt specified?

yeah, well

i lied

in 2022, she replaced kimi in alfa romeo

(he requested for her personally after accidentally watching an f2 race but u didnt hear that from me)

in her rookie season she excelled too close to the sun

by the end of the year she was the most desirable driver for majority of the teams

one stood out tho

they came to her personally with an offer that was hard to refuse

“nooooo... youre actually lying...”

a whole ass team. brand new. fresh from the oven.

just. for. her.

they had been contemplating their entrance to formula one

but when they saw her, they couldnt resist

gotta be honest, that shit boosted her ego for the next couple years of her life.

she had a lot of power in multiple decisions when she joined which she liked

(definitely didnt abuse that)

one of them being the choosing of her partner

of course, she had a couple of people in mind that she knew deserved the opportunity

but one person that stood out to her. the person who... probably needs this most

and the one who deserved it most too

she chose mick schumacher

so by the time the new season comes along

she and mick became the new faces of the porsche formula one team

(i will now have so much fun exploring their dynamic)

their team colors being stone black (honestly almost like just the darkest shade of gray, like, really really dark shade) and gold, some hints of silver here and there

her fireproofs displaying the biggest huda beauty logo (solely to piss off the older men watching formula one)

never wears work merch due to having self respect

the only form of promotion she wears is her baseball cap. black crown with a silver visor, her number and "logo" embroidered on it

her logo being a hang loose sign in diguise

hiding on the bottom visor was a cartoon kangaroo head winking — as a reference to her nickname courtesy of daniel

kinda not feelinb like designing more shit but im doin it anyway

her helmet design, the one she uses most

is a stack of grafitti art style of writings mashing with each other. all being the songs and lyrics of the song's by her band

(despite some sneaks, one of them being "armando christian pérez" in neon green)

its very colorful, a splash of neon everywhere

what stood out was the sticker of pitbull her friend had given her that she had decided to put on the back of her helmet.

in terms of racing, she didnt rlly grow up with anyone specific but there are a couple of drivers she had bump into throughout her young career

the longest standing one was probably lando and sometimes oscar and logan due to her being born in that year in the middle

taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoison @vellicoranorca @bborra hiiiiiiiii i promise im trying to write something hehe. also there are some here tha couldnt be tagged </3 (crossed out)

[dystopianam]

Masterpost: All the Lighting Mods for The Sims 2 ✨

I'm making this post both because I like to group things under one post and because I need it as a link to add to my tracker, but still I think it will be useful for many!

Look here for other masterposts!

Lighting Mods

# Gunmod's Radiance Light System 2.4 by dDefinder on ModTheSims - A realistic, extremely dramatic, sometimes very dark lighting mod that increases the intensity of colors, lights and shadows and adds sunrise and sunset to the game (they don't exist in the vanilla game)

#Gunmod's Radiance Light System 2.5 edited by @dreadpirate - An updated version of the aforementioned lighting, with much more compatibility with many shaders and less blue nights! Every Season it have they own lighting color: Summer is vibrant, autumn has warm colors, winter has cold colors, and spring has a little yellowish "filter".

#Maxis Match Lighting Mod by Dreadpirate - The environment is more saturated and bright, removes the dull gray tint that vanilla game has. Everything is smoother and more uniform. The shadows are calm, exactly like the ones in the vanilla game. Each season has its own lighting, the nights are black instead of blue and it has many compatibility with many shaders. This one also has sunrise and sunset.

#Cinema Secret by Dreadpirate (@veronavillequiltingbee) - A perfect mix between the Gunmod Radiance and the Maxis Match Lighting mod. It use elements of both, such as the shadows and calm colors of the MM Lighting Mods but the intensity of the lights of the Gunmod Radiance (especially noticeable when using neon lights). It has many compatibility with many shaders, the nights are black instead of blue, it has sunrise and sunset and every season has its own lighting.

#SpookyMuffin Lighting Mod - Recommended by a user in the comments! I don't know how to talk about this Lighting Mod because I've never used it, but the post on the site explains what it consists of!

#The Sims 2 Beta Lighting - By opening the link you will see a YouTube video by @boringbones that will explain how to have The Sims 2 Beta lighting! (The download can be accessed from his Discord link in the video description)

#5:55 Lighting by Bugjartimedecayoff - An edit of Radiance 2.4, with much brighter outdoor lighting at night (very similar to Maxis' default night lighting) and soft peach-tinted dusk & dawn lights.

#Rae-diance Lighting by Raemia - Another edit of Radiance 2.4, with the differences being brighter nighttime lighting & brighter unlit rooms, plus reduced room-saturation.

#Original Vanilla Lighting Backup Here!

Lighting Mods for the Neighborhood

#Neighborhood Lighting Remedy by Criquette - This lighting mod is ONLY for the neighborhood and you can use it together with any of the three lighting mods mentioned above. Fixes the direction of the lights and shadows to be consistent with that of the lot imposters and makes it more consistent with lot mode.

#Accurate Neighborhood Terrain Lighting by @simnopke - This lightind mod is like the above one. It is only for the neighborhood and can be used in conjunction with a DP & dDefinder lighting mod but NOT in conjunction with Criquette's NH Lighting Remedy.

EDIT: simnopke said: "My Accurate Nhood Terrain Lighting mod does something different than Criquette's Nhood Lighting Remedy and can be used with it. Moreover, my mod has two versions intended for use with Criquette's mod."

Lighting Mods for the CAS (Create a Sim)

#Minimalistic CAS Lighting Mod Replacement with Custom Light by Dreadpirate - This lighting mod is CAS ONLY and can be used together with a dDefinder or DP lighting mod and a lightind mod for the neighborhood. Using similar lighting to the MM Lighting Mod, it makes the CAS more saturated and smooth. You have to change a value in a lights file within the game install path but it's worth it!

One small problem I've noticed is that when used with lighting mods other than the MM Lighting mod it often doesn't work well even if the value is correctly changed. For example, when I changed the lighting mod and switched from MM to Cinema Secret, it triggered the super lighted sims bug in CAS which I didn't have before. But then again, this could be just my problem. There is fix by Lazy Duchess for this bug but you need to be very careful. Sometimes it conflicts with some shaders (as in my case) and unleashes an absurd pink soup even in bodyshop even if bodyshop shouldn't have anything to do with it. But AS ALWAYS, maybe it's only a problem of mine because I'm very unlucky.

EXTRA SHADERS BUT NOT REQUIRED

#Better Nightlife by @criquette-was-here - Even if it does not change anything graphically with colors, lights and shadows like a lighting MOD it adds shaders that allow the deco hoods to light up during the night. So for example, by downloading hood decos compatible with this shader you can have street lamps that light up on the street (in the neighborhood), buildings lit up at night, lit bridges etch.

#Blue Snow No More by Dreadpirate - This shader removes the blue tint that snow creates even if you use lighting mods that make the night black instead of blue. Many DP lighting mods (Like MM Lighting Mod) have this shader already included, so you don't need to download it, this is an individual shader if you don't use their lighting mods. To be honest, neither the shader INSIDE the lighting mod nor the shader by itself has never worked for me, but I think there is a problem in my download folder at this point or I am very unlucky.

#Overly Bright CAS Fix by @lazyduchess - As I have already explained before, this mod fixes the bug of super enlightened sims in CAS. Sometimes it can conflict with something (which I don't quite understand with what) and trigger an absurd pink soup, so if you suddenly start to notice more pink soup than usual try to remove it and see how it goes.

Maybe it just conflicts with some lighting mod or some shader. In my case it could be the DP's lighting mod for the CAS.

#Moi Shader Roof by niol on ModThe Sims - This shader fixes the lighting of roofs which sometimes appear much darker than their texture. Many lighting mods from DP have this shader included OR are compatible with this shader. So check the descriptions under their lighting mods before downloading it.

#Brighter Roofs...But Not Too Bright! by Deastrumquodvicis on ModTheSims - Same as the previous shader, but makes the roofs less bright than they show with the aforementioned shader. This shader uses Moi's shader as a base, so you can NOT use both. Use only one. Many lighting mods from DP have this shader included OR are compatible with this shader. So check the descriptions under their lighting mods before downloading it.

#Moi's Neighbourhood Water Global Mod by niol on ModTheSims - This mod changes the water color of the neighborhood. Nothing more nothing less. Many DP mods are compatible with this shader.

#Pond & Sea Water Overhaul by Voeille on ModTheSims - This mod changes the water of the sea and ponds and makes it more realistic using The Sims 2 Castaway water shaders. Many DP mods are compatible with this shader but for some shaders like Better Nightlife it needs a little more attention. For example, if you use Better Nightlife you will need to use the version of these shaders provided by the Better Nightlife link to be compatible. So you have to delete these for use their shaders if you want both.

You can't use this together Moi's Water.

#A World Lit by Fire by hat_play_sims on dreamwidth - This mod itself doesn't change shaders dramatically, but it change the color of some lights and make them more sensate. I'll explain: many maxis lights that are powered by candles or should give off a warm light regardless, give off a cool, white light instead. Have you ever seen a candle emitting white light? No! This mod fixes all lights in the game and makes lights that need to be warm... warm. Perfect for history-themed saves or for the ones like me, completely obsessed with candlelight in this game. Many DP mods are compatible with this shader. It's immensely beautiful when used with the dramacity of the Radiance System but works quite well with other lighting mods as well.

[barefoot-joker]

Birthday Yandere!William Afton X Reader

I smiled as I walked down the sidewalk to my older sister’s work. She had forgotten her lunch because she was helping our younger brother get ready for school. We had all woken up a bit late, so we rushed Isaac out the door before Trish headed out. I’ll admit it was rough with my sister at work, my brother at school and me taking care of the trailer; we never really got time off to spend with each other. That’s why I was happy to bring Trish her lunch, it would finally give us a chance to chat for a minute or two.

It took me a few more minutes to walk the rest of the sidewalk before reaching the parking lot. Before me stood the only pizzeria in town: Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. It was quite the spectacle even now and was very popular for children’s birthday parties. Trish and I had taken Isaac there for his birthday and he absolutely had a blast. I mean what was there not to love? It had an arcade, pretty good pizza, and singing animatronics! I had never seen anything like that before, it was just so fascinating. 

I opened the front door and a little bell went off as I did. Standing by the host desk, I waited for someone to direct me to my sister. “Oh, hello there, Y/n! It’s a pleasure to see you again!”

I looked up to see Henry, one of the owners. Henry was such a nice man. He would watch Isaac and I while we waited for Trish to finish her shift sometimes. He just looked like a teddy bear with his chubby appearance, blonde curly hair and beard, and those black thick rimmed glasses. “Hiya, Henry! Trish forgot her lunch, so I was just delivering it.”

“Oh yeah, of course. She’s a bit busy right now. We had a lunch rush. If you would like, you can wait in the arcade and I can direct her when she has some free time.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Henry!”

“Of course!”

“Mr. Emily, could you come here please”, a female called.

“Excuse me, Y/n.”

Henry walked off to go help, so I headed to the arcade. The blinking lights and loud sound effects was a bit calming to me. It was also fun to see kids be excited over 8-bit pixels. As I watched kids run around, I felt a dark presence looming behind me, almost suffocating. I looked over my shoulder to see a slim figure. I couldn’t quite identify who it was until I fully turned. 

Of freaking course.

The man’s skin was a bit pale, and his brunette locks looked unkempt. While he was slim, he still had a broad figure in the shoulders and the scent of cigarette smoke was slight on his white button up. “Miss Y/n, what a pleasant surprise. It’s so lovely to see you.”

Those gray eyes stared down at me, searching my face for some sort of reaction. I felt a shiver go down my spine. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen much of you lately. Or are you just trying to ignore me?”

A smirk played with the corner of his lips and I couldn’t help the gulp that went down my throat. I absolutely hated running into Mr. William Afton. He creeped me out and made me so uncomfortable. “I was bringing T-trish her lunch. S-she forgot it.”

I didn’t even bother with his other questions. If I had, who knows how Mr. Afton would have responded. “Ah, such a great sister! You know, you remind me of my dear Elizabeth. She does her best to protect Evan from Michael. She makes me so proud.”

Something sinister flickered in his eyes and I took a slight step back. “T-thank you?”

He stepped closer, his breath brushing against my face. Even that felt terrible, the brushing feeling like small claws digging into my flesh. Just as he was about to say something, Trish walked in. “There you are, Y/n! Henry said you’d be in here.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Thank God Trish came. She noticed my scared expression and grabbed my hand. Leading me away, I could feel Mr. Afton’s gaze dig into my back. “Thanks for saving me back there, Trish.”

“Of course. Mr. Afton can be a bit creepy at times.”

At times? How about all the time.

To make sure we were far enough away, Trish had walked us over by the host stand. “Now, what is it you came here for?”

“You forgot your lunch at the house again,” I lifted up the brown paper sack.

“Oh Y/n, thanks so much! I completely forgot about it!”

“I know, but you’re a busy lady.”

She gave me a kiss to the cheek. I smiled and looked beyond her shoulder. My eyes widened at seeing Mr. Afton peering through the doorway. His eyes stared at my sister down with such disgust. If looks could kill, she’d be bleeding profusely on the checkered floor. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you and Isaac later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She gave me a kiss on the forehead before taking the sack lunch, quickly sauntering off. I could still feel Mr. Afton’s gaze on me, so I left quickly out the front door. 

It wasn’t until 9:00 pm till Trish came home. By then I had retrieved Isaac from school, helped him with his homework, and gotten dinner ready. The three of us sat around the small dining table, munching on some chili. Isaac told us about his school day and Trish told us about work. I just sat quietly. “You know Y/n, your birthday is coming up here in a few weeks. Do you know what you want for a present yet?”

“No and you don’t have to worry. Just being with you two will make me happy.”

“But Y/n”, Isaac replied, “it’s your birthday! You deserve the world!”

I lightly smiled. They were always so sweet to me, but I really didn’t need anything. Quality time with them would be just enough. “At least think it over, okay? Isaac and I want to get you something.”

Trish set her hand on top of mine, giving it a light squeeze. 

“Okay.” I only said that to please them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After we finished eating, we cleaned up dinner. The rest of the night we played a couple rounds of cards before heading to bed.

The next couple of weeks went by normally. Trish and Isaac kept asking about what I wanted for my birthday and I always gave the same response. A couple of times I had to go to Freddy’s to give Trish something. During those visits Mr. Afton was being creepy again. 

His silver eyes seemed softer around me compared to the harshness they held for his employees.

His hands would linger on my shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

I never seeked him out but he always found me in the restaurant. It felt like we had a red string of fate connected to us and he tugged until he was near.

He even suggested I work at the pizzeria, but I immediately turned him down. No way was I going to work alongside him and his creepy behavior.

He just made me feel sick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time flew by and soon enough it was my birthday. The morning was spent having my favorite breakfast before we headed to the park. We walked around a bit and just had fun. At some point Trish had to leave to get something for later tonight (probably a cake), so Isaac and I headed back to the house. We played some card games, board games, watched TV and read together.

The hours ticked by and while we had fun, we hadn’t heard from Trish. I was starting to get worried. Freddy’s wasn’t too far from our house and she always called when she was on her way home. No, something must have happened.

“Isaac, I want you to stay here. I’m going to go look for Trish.”

“But I want to come with!”

“Somebody needs to be here in case she calls. Can you do that for me?”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I gave him a kiss to the forehead and quickly threw on some shoes. Heading out the door, I went as fast as I could to the pizzeria. Please let Trish be okay! Please!

I threw open the front door and skidded to a stop in the middle of the dining room. “Trish! Trish, where are you?!”

Suddenly, the eerie tune of Happy Birthday carried through the halls. I whipped my head around when I heard footsteps, my eyes widening when I saw a yellow rabbit headed right for me. I tried to move but as soon as I did the bunny grasped my hand, tugging me down the hall. “H-hey! Let go of me! Trish! Trish!”

I was dragged down a dim hallway, yelling at this thing to let me go. It opened a door and suddenly we were in a backroom of the restaurant. I was slightly pushed into the room, the door locking behind us. Even though I was frightened of what the rabbit would do, I forced myself to look around the room.

I really wish I hadn’t.

The room had been decorated for a birthday party. Streamers and balloons hung from every possible place; a birthday sign hung on the wall; a small table with a festive cloth sat in the middle with a birthday cake. The candles were lit and sitting next to it was my sister. Her head was tilted towards her chest and her hair blocked her face. “TRISH!”

I ran over and lifted her head up.

My eyes widened.

My breath caught in my throat.

My hands shook.

I let out a shrill scream.

Across Trish’s neck was a deep cut, thick blood running down the front of her shirt. Her eyes were glassed over and she looked like she was in pain. A dark chuckle made me look at the yellow bunny and that’s when I saw the blood stains. “Y-you! How could you?! Show yourself!”

And so it did. The thick gloved hands unclipped the grotesque cartoon head and pulled up.

I could have died right there. 

Standing in front of me with a wide grin was Mr. Afton.

“Surprise~”

“I-I-”

“Speechless? No matter. There will be plenty of time for us to talk, my dear.”

“W-what do you mean? Why did you kill Trish? She never did anything to you!”

He looked offended at that comment. “Of course she did. She kept us apart. Can’t you see? We belong together. After all, I put so much effort into this relationship so far. I’d hate for my flirtation to go to waste.”

I gasped. 

No.

No way was this murderer and I meant to be together!

I ran for the door but Mr. Afton pulled me into a tight embrace against his costume. I screamed and struggled in his grip. He just held tight. “I see you are not in the mood for a party right now. That’s okay. We can have our own celebration at home.”

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”

“Sorry about this, love.”

“Wha-”

My head was thrust at the wall and suddenly pain shot through my skull. The room was spinning and soon I blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I groaned as my eyes slowly opened. My head was just pounding and the cool cloth on my head was nice. “Finally starting to wake, my dear?”

I peered to my left and saw Mr. Afton sitting in a chair next to the bed I was on top of. He was out of the horrid costume and was now sporting a dark purple dress shirt and dark gray striped pants. “W-where am I?”

“Home.” He let his fingers stroke the top of my forehead into my scalp. 

I whined and tried to move away but the mad man was quick to grab me. He held me down and in my blurry state I tried to get away. “There’s no point in escaping, my love. You are mine and I am yours. We’re going to be together forever.”

“N-no! I don’t want that!”

“You’ll get used to it, my dear.”

“Mr. Afton-”

“Call me William. After all, we're past the formalities phase.”

With that he leaned down and gave my cheek a kiss. I threw my head to the right, not wanting to look at him. However, his fingers wrapped around my chin and forced my head back to him. “I’m being very generous, love.”

That woke me up. 

“Generous? Generous?! You made advances towards me when I made no indication I liked you. Y-you killed my sister for God’s sake!”

I thrashed around and William had to hold me down tighter. “Let go!”

“Come now, darling. Behave. It’s still your birthday, don’t you want to celebrate?”

“Not with you! I hate you! I hate you, William!”

A deep smirk set on his face and his eyes softened. “I love it when you say my name.”

He leaned down and kissed my lips. I struggled against him and bit his lip. He pulled back and licked lip, the blood going into his mouth. He smiled wide.

“Happy Birthday, soon to be Mrs. Afton.”

[p0ckykiss]

kissing in the rain - yang jungwon

summary -> on your way to the date with jungwon, who had been a stranger just months earlier, you hadn't noticed the sky graying until rain was already spilling down. fortunately, jungwon didn't mind; instead, he decided they should make the most of it.

-> fluff, kissing

you had always loved the rain. the scent of wet earth, the rhythmic patter against your window, the way the world seemed to hush and listen.

as you walked down the cobbled streets of the small town, your black boots splashing in puddles, your thoughts wandered to jungwon.

jungwon, with his fiery spirit and infectious laughter, was the sun to your calm, rainy day. you had met a few months ago at a local bookshop. you had been engrossed in a poetry book when jungwon approached, commenting on the author's knack for capturing the essence of a moment. your conversation flowed effortlessly, and by the end of the day, you had exchanged numbers and promises of a coffee date.

today, you had planned to meet at a cosy café, but you were running late. the sudden rainstorm hadn't been in the forecast, and your umbrella was nowhere to be found. as you neared the café, you spotted jungwon, his brown hair contrasting the white backdrop, standing outside looking up at the sky with arms outstretched.

jungwon spotted you and grinned, beckoning you over. “isn't this just perfect?” he exclaimed.

you laughed. you loved the rain but had never considered stepping out into it like this. “perfect for getting drenched?”

“why not?” jungwon countered, his chocolate eyes twinkling with mischief. “sometimes, you have to embrace the unexpected.”

and with that, jungwon grabbed your hand and led you into the middle of the street. you twirled and laughed, oblivious to the world around you. the rain soaked through both of your clothes, making you both shiver, but neither of you cared. 

pausing to catch your breath, you looked up to see jungwon's face inches from your own, eyes searching yours. time seemed to stand still. the world faded, leaving just the two of you, the rain, and the unspoken tension between you.

as the raindrops traced paths down jungwon's face, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. your lips met, soft and cold from the rain, but growing warmer with each passing second. it was a kiss full of promise, new beginnings, and a shared understanding of the beauty in what you could have due to a single unexpected moment in a bookshop. 

when you finally pulled apart, breathless and grinning, you whispered, “okay, maybe this isn't so bad.”

jungwon laughed, squeezing your hand, “told you so”

you felt strange for falling so swiftly. this stranger, someone so opposite of you, the stark contrast only led you to consider jungwon a new light to your darkness.

"you think I’m a good kisser? i was testing you," jungwon said as you walked languidly, as if water wasn’t soaking your sweater, turning white into grey with each droplet. if he was trying to break the tension, it worked. 

"you’re alright."

"alright?"

"not as good as me."

"is that a high bar?"

"very."

jungwon laughed, the sound like silver bells warning you that your heart was under siege. "i’m not too sure about that, maybe I’ll decide later."

"there’s nothing to decide. I’ve already decided."

every time jungwon spoke you could hear how he smiled slightly, even if it was harder to see from the side and through the increasingly torrential downpour. "that you’re a good kisser or a better one than me?" 

"both." there was no urgency to your steps.

"i’ll disagree now, just because you sound so sure."

on the empty sidewalk, fingers intertwined with jungwon's, you halted your steps. jungwon stopped too and turned with knowing eyes, head tilting to the side, lips curling further upward. before jungwon could ask any questions or make any more smart remarks, you closed the fractional distance between you and sealed your lips once more, craving the warmth you felt was far too momentary the first time. 

jungwon seemed a little flustered at first, perhaps expecting you to speak before doing it again, but you felt there had been enough words. you both smiled into it, and you made sure to make it last longer, snaking a hand behind jungwon's neck, catching the water sliding in small streams. 

the rain was something to forget about–something that only made both of your warmth burn hotter–so you decided to commit the feeling to memory. feelings matter more than where you were, on some random street, during some random hour, on the way to some random cafe.

what mattered and what he wanted to matter long into the future was this bookish and bubbly girl whose attention he somehow captured one day.

"ok." jungwon was pink up to his ears and down his neck. "maybe you’re not so bad at kissing."

you huffed a laugh out of your nose, squeezing jungwon's hand. “told you so.”

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you write something where the reader is a singer or musician who performs in the village during events, Donna sometimes watches her and is very entranced by her talents? It takes a while but eventually Donna gets the courage to talk to the reader, and it turns out the reader has been noticing Donna attending her performances as well?

You are awesome btw, thank you for feeding us!!

Yesss!!!! thank you for your support, it's really important to me :')!!! Thanks for your request too!!! I hopr you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Songs to the heart

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Singer! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,468

Summary: Maybe your talent is not a waste of time....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“I'm coming, mother,” you sighed, attending, as always, to your tasks.

With the laziness, and at the same time with the tranquility of living a new day, you decided to obey like a good girl, to dedicate your life helping your parents with everything they needed.

You couldn't do anything else.

In that lost, sinister village, there was no place for people like you, people who saw much more than a life of work and sacrifice, of devotion and servitude. Consenting, but always a dreamer, you decided to accept the destiny that the Black Gods imposed on you. You didn't believe you had an alternative either.

Work, pray, rest, repeat. Three words that were always repeated, that accompanied you every day. You couldn't complain and you didn't.

But deep in your heart, you knew that your existence had a different meaning, a purpose that no one had asked of you. The days were gray, dark and empty of logical meaning. You didn't question that boring reality, but unfortunately, the talents you were blessed with forced you to do so over time.

Art was always something foreign to your family, to your friends. None of the villagers would be able to value the melody that came out of your lips every day, the whole nights you spent listening to the same vinyl over and over again, imitating that beautiful voice.

Even music seemed something foreign to that place. It seemed distorted as it bounced off the old walls of your home, as if the village itself despised that wonderful voice.

A waste of time, a useless hobby... Your parents had many words to define your talent for singing, for imitating that voice without the slightest problem, for the words to come out of your mouth in a melodic and smooth, perfect way.

You couldn't blame them for their lack of interest in your innate ability to sing, in the harmonious voice you were born with. They never lived in the village, they always lived for the village.

A preposition, a single word could change the entire meaning of a sentence, distorting the reality of hard work, of sacrifices, of the lack of interest in your curious hobbies. Living in the village, living for the village. So different and so similar.

Lamenting, thinking or rambling about what would have become of you if you had been born outside the protection of the Black Gods stopped being funny a long time ago. You could dream of leaving that place, you could dream of singing your songs freely, doing only that, singing, and not accompanying the art of your voice with some tedious task.

But you didn't care. Over the years, you learned to settle for those small moments, rehearsing a concert, some songs that only you would hear, that only you would applaud.

In that dark village, who needed an angelic voice? No one.

“(Y/N), it looks like the weather will be worse today, I need you to pick up the sheets I hung up,” your mother said with a kind smile.

You had heard terrible things about some of your friends' parents, the jobs they forced them to do. Even some of them ended up in the worst possible place: serving in the castle.

You were sad about the life you had been given, but luckily, tedium, boredom and lack of interest in your voice was the only thing you could complain about.

Your parents were kind, good people, faithful workers who would do anything so their little girl could keep spinning that record one more day and not end up serving one of the Lords.

“Of course, right away, mother,” you said, nodding complacently, watching the movement of those sheets through the window. “Although I still don't understand why you hang them outside, it's terribly cold here,” you commented, amused.

“The coolness is nice,” the woman said. “Do you remember what you used to say when you were little? You said that…”

“Yes, that it smelled like snow, I know, mom,” you said, rolling your eyes, picking up a bucket to put the clothes in. “I don't say those things anymore, I'm 20 years old.”

“I know, but I like to remember it,” she replied, winking at you.

You laughed again and walked out the door, shuddering from the chills transmitted by the soul-cutting cold of the village, one that seemed impossible to you that would ever leave that place. As you did your task, your throat worked on its own humming those repeated songs, letting time pass a bit faster, following the swinging rhythm of the clothes on the ropes.

Without realizing it, that little stutter turned into a whisper, and the whisper mutated into a voice, a soft, spaced voice that couldn't help but sing.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras… Qu'il me parle tout bas…” you sang slowly, taking down the clothes, letting a smile add even more melody to that beautiful song. “Je vois la vie en rose…”

A subtle dance accompanied the music of your voice while folding those sheets with your eyes closed, improving your intonation, the pronunciation of that French completely unknown to you.

The clothes were disappearing and your voice was a affected by the cold of that morning, but it never mattered to you.

“Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent… Heureux, heureux à en mourir…” you continued singing, picking up the bucket already full of clothes, guiding yourself with the song to move, without making noise but at the same time, attracting attention.

It wasn’t an assumption. You never thought that there was someone else there, that someone was listening to you. Paralyzed, you dropped the clothes in the cold snow, your voice distorted, unable to finish the melody.

Your body paled and your gaze remained firm for a few moments, assuring yourself that you were accompanied, and it wasn’t your imagination.

“M-Mother Miranda,” you whispered with a lack of melody in your voice, finally lowering your head.

In front of you, there stood probably the culprit of the life you led, the undisputed leader of the village, servant and prophet of the Black Gods, your only Goddess. Mother Miranda was a divine priestess, the human incarnation of those dark deities. Certainly, you never believed that this woman had the slightest right to call herself a human being.

At that moment, this winged, black and gold figure stood before you with a smile, without speaking, but with her grey eyes fixed deep within your soul.

“Please, continue,” the woman said with a soft voice. Soft was not synonymous with harmless.

You didn’t know what kind of sin you had committed or what kind of blasphemy your parents had carried out to earn you punishment, or the privilege of her presence.

“E-Excuse me, Mother Miranda, but…” you stammered, deciding which of the human postures you would take at that moment, what attitude your body would take in the face of danger.

Flee, freeze, or face the threat… You opted for the second option.

“How curious, I had a meeting this morning… Well, about your unquestionable devotion, dear villagers,” the priestess commented, without wiping that horrible smile off her face. “And when I leave there to get away from my children's constant fights, wow, I hear a beautiful voice coming from this place.”

“D-Devotion, Mother Miranda?” you asked, lowering your head even more, ignoring that half-veiled compliment.

“Mm,” she murmured, nodding disinterestedly. “It seems you have a talent for singing, little bird.”

“Um, I…” you stammered, looking for your mother with your eyes, who, due to the not-so-subtle presence of the raven woman, had left the house, bowing submissively.

“Relax,” the blonde woman said, with a slightly harsher tone. “Come with me.”

The priestess turned around, gesturing for you to follow her, under the frightened gaze of your mother.

“Mother Miranda, have mercy,” the woman who gave you life murmured, being ignored again by that dark presence.

Your silent walk was like a way towards death, towards divine punishment due to something you still didn't know you had done. Your steps trembled, but they were forced to continue to a place under the ground, a place forbidden to villagers like you.

In that kind of chimera that debated between being a crypt or a cathedral, the Four Lords of the village stood. They were all together. It was an unthinkable sight for someone like you unless it was some special event. Of course, you had never had them so close.

Alcina Dimitrescu, Salvatore Moreau, Karl Heisenberg, and Donna Beneviento, the four of them sat around that strange altar, murmuring until they noticed the silly village girl walking next to Miranda, you.

“Is it a gift?” the metallic man joked, lowering his glasses to kill you with his gaze, one that you immediately looked away from.

“But what do we have here?” Dimitrescu murmured smiling disturbingly as you passed. “A new maid?”

“Maid, maid!” Angie, the inseparable doll of the youngest hierarch, Donna Beneviento, shouted waving her arms comically in her owner's lap. “Shut up, ugly thing!” the puppet shrieked again, annoyed, just like you, by the foolish laughter of the deformed Moreau.

“Are you done?” Miranda asked, in a tired tone, indicating that you should stand in the middle of the room, resting her cold hands on your shoulders. “Well…”

Your gaze was one of terror, of panic at that sinister vision. Your eyes traveled through the darkness of those figures, towards the black veil of Lady Beneviento, one that, for some reason, didn’t hide that her mysterious face was looking at you.

You turned your head away uncomfortably from those invisible eyes and, in an involuntary act you got closer to the priestess, who cleared her throat.

“I think I've found the answer to the problem I mentioned to you,” the blonde said, with a surprisingly authoritative tone, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Here it is.”

“A girl? What a way to solve it,” the man with the hammer complained, unpleasantly. “Look, she's cute, but… I don't think the villagers stop missing masses just to want to see a pretty face.”

“How vulgar,” Dimitrescu protested, shaking her head.

“Vulgar!” Angie repeated, with a tone that made you cringe even more.

“Silence, please,” Miranda protested, rubbing her eyes. “My dear, what’s your name?” she asked to you, making you come out of your trembling for a moment.

“(Y/N), Mother Miranda,” you answered softly, with a voice cracked by fear.

“Mm, well, (Y/N),” the priestess repeated with an indifferent tone. “It turns out that, (Y/N) has something that the other villagers don't have, and well, that you don't either.”

“Brain?” Heisenberg asked, pointing again at the lady of the castle.

“The girl knows how to sing very well, doesn't she?” Miranda said, fixing her eyes on you again.

“I-I guess so,” you said unsure.

“Don't be modest, I’ve heard you,” the witch mocked in a tone that was meant to be funny.

“Mm, the girl sings well, what’s you point?” Alcina asked, sighing at his brother's constant mockery.

“Surely you, Alcina, remember that 50 years ago we had a girl who enlivened the masses with her heavenly singing... What was her name?” Miranda commented, without letting your shoulders go.

“Maika,” the tall Lord answered.

“That's it,” the witch said. “Well, after that time, I have decided to resume that tradition and you, my dear, are the chosen one.”

“M-Me?” you asked confused.

“Come on, don't be shy, keep singing,” Miranda said, pushing you a bit closer to the middle.

It was horribly difficult for you, but, making a great effort, squeezing your eyes tightly, you were able to sing the ending of that beautiful song. As expected, your voice was shaken by fear, but apparently it was more than enough to surprise those present.

You hadn't asked for it, you didn't expect it, but your life changed in that instant.

You stopped being the insignificant (Y/N) to become a claim for masses, how? Well, by doing what you knew how to do best: singing.

Obviously the hymns to the Gods and the heavenly chants were very different from the songs you used to sing, but at least the talent that seemed useless was no longer so.

With Miranda's help, you perfected those new songs, beginning to liven up the village masses, making your voice resonate among the walls of the old chapel. Having so many eyes looking at you, so many ears listening to you was overwhelming at first.

Little by little, you got used to having the whole village in silence, to hearing your own voice singing to the Gods, to receiving increasingly timid applause. You could have blamed your parents for their lack of faith in this divine gift, but you didn't.

You received nothing for lending your voice to the odes to the Gods, you simply received Miranda's respect, something that might be worth more than money, but it wasn't enough to support your family.

As expected, they never stopped you from acting under the priestess' will. It was your obligation, one you couldn't escape from.

“May the Gods protect us,” Miranda said, ending the weekly mass, allowing you to finally get down from that altar.

“(Y/N),” a villager said, an old friend of your parents. “Let me tell you that you've been wonderful.”

You smiled embarrassed and nodded, putting your hands in front of your body and bowing your head.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered, greeting the rest of the villagers, who said goodbye to you with kind words. “It's nothing.”

“Hey, we were thinking that you could stop by Luiza's house this afternoon, you know, to give us a concert.”

“A concert?” you asked confused, looking towards one of the windows, where you thought you saw something strange.

In that small window, you thought you saw a sinister look, eyes that were staring at you. They weren't human eyes, nor were they those of a monster. The word porcelain echoed in your head.

 It couldn't be possible but it seemed to you that there, behind that small window, was that sinister doll you had seen at the meeting, Angie.

“(Y/N)?” the man insisted, taking you out of that little hypnosis, making you shake your head.

When you looked at the window again, that doll was no longer there. Surely you had imagined it. The day you were at that meeting had left quite a mark on you, especially that disturbing doll.

“Oh, um, y-yes, I guess,” you said nervously not quite understanding what that man had asked you, glancing sideways at the priestess, who was doing the same.

What at first seemed like an isolated proposal, became a routine.

That useless talent began to bear fruit: impromptu concerts in a house, a medley of songs during a festival… Little by little you became some kind of a star. The people of the village rewarded your voice with small tips and very soon you began to perform in an old meeting house.

You thought that perhaps it was a coincidence. You believed that this euphoria at hearing you sing was due to the lack of art in that place, to the privilege that only the Lords had. Well, it was a pretty accurate definition to describe your success.

You couldn't make a living at it, but at least you were good for something other than helping your mother with her chores.

Two or three nights a week, you sang for them, for those people with boring lives like yours. The silence was reassuring, the glances were fleeting. It took you a while, but you soon got used to that little big change in your life.

The rows of chairs were filled with people. Sometimes there were more, sometimes there were less, but there was always someone. In the crowd you could see your friends, the girls you knew who hadn't had the misfortune of going to the castle. You were popular even if you didn't want to be.

But apparently, you weren't just popular with the people of the village. Every night you performed, there was the same pattern, one that could be mistaken for the frescoes, for the decor of that old assembly hall. A black stain always waited in the corner, a misshapen stain that you could barely make out.

It could be an illusion, an optical effect, but you could even see that shadow moving, that beneath it there was something that must have been familiar to you. One of those days, the shadow changed places and you were finally able to give it a name, even a last name: Donna Beneviento.

That mourning and mysterious woman in black was always there. You didn't know many things about the youngest of the Lords, but you didn't want to know them either. You knew she was dangerous, that she was a mentally ill woman, that anyone who dared to enter her territory would never leave.

With those rumors in your head, your eyes began to look for her presence in the place. They began to locate the lady in black to watch over her. It was no illusion. She was there every night you sang, always, without missing a single day.

Interest in your voice? A music lover? A silent watcher sent by Mother Miranda?

You didn't know what it was exactly, why every night she was there standing away from the crowd, listening to you. You also didn't know why that apparition seemed that curious to you, why your eyes wandered around every corner before starting or finishing one of your little concerts.

That presence stopped being cautious, that figure stopped scaring you. Simply, like everything you did, you assumed it as a routine. You didn't ask questions, at least not every day.

Others, you imagined what it was that caught her attention, what mistake was waiting for you to make her to attack and punish you for disobeying Mother Miranda.

“Well…” you sighed, picking up the books that helped you with the songs, removing the disc from the player, staying alone in that place that was crowded with people. “Another day, (Y/N)…”

That last sigh led to a nervous gasp. Somehow, you didn't feel the comfortable solitude that always accompanied you at the end of a concert. You felt like someone was watching you, observing you.

“Hello? Mr. Sponic?” you asked, thinking that maybe it was one of your usual admirers, turning slowly to observe the tranquility of the place.

You got no answer and shrugged, gathering your stuff and turning off the light, a terrible idea.

Before leaving through the door, the light returned to that small stage, revealing that, in front of you, was that mysterious figure, that lady in black holding the Angie doll.

“Oh,” you gasped in surprise, instinctively stepping back. “La-Lady Beneviento,” you sighed with your hand on your chest.

“Hello, hello,” the doll said, moving her hand comically.

As much as it was funny, you didn't see it that way. With your hands in front of your body, you adopted a defensive position, lowering your gaze as much as possible.

“I…” you sighed nervously, looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You knew her presence wasn't a good thing, you knew that, in some way, she was there to punish you, on Miranda's orders. “I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry about, silly?” the doll asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I-I swear that those songs aren't contraband, the, the Duke sold them to me and... I know I don't sing hymns but...” you stammered, believing that your music was the reason for the punishment; music far from the Gods, one that you never believed was forbidden, until that moment.

“Oh, shut up, what are you talking about?” the puppet said, interrupting abruptly.

“I...I...what am I talking about?” you asked nervously, scratching the back of your neck, wishing that figure would disappear immediately.

“Are you stupid?” Angie asked again, stretching a little more to look at you more closely.

“What? Oh, I, yes, or no, I don't know, am I?” you asked nervously, causing the lady to also move her covered head, tilting it in the same way as the doll.

“What's wrong with you? Are you feeling sick?” the puppet asked again in a mocking tone.

“It's just that... It's just that I, I don't know...” you said, trying to clear your voice. “Did Mother Miranda send you?”

“Miranda? No,” Angie answered, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh, um...” you stammered confused. “I thought, I thought maybe you were... Watching me...” you admitted, trying not to look at the lady's covered face, directing your words to the doll.

“Watching you?” she mocked. “No, silly, we came to hear you sing, as always.”

“Hear me sing?” you asked even more confused. “I thought...”

“Ugh, let's go Donna, this girl is an idiot,” the doll commented, tugging at her owner's dress.

You blinked, slowly raising your gaze.

“You have a beautiful voice,” a hoarse voice whispered, one different from the doll's, one that entered your ears, confusing them.

“Oh, I... Um... Thank you,” you whispered in a small voice, nodding. “Oh, sorry, thank you, my lady.”

“Mm,” she murmured, nodding slowly, elegantly. “I come here every day to hear you sing.”

“Oh, um, yes, um, I've noticed, I always see you in a corner or... Well, I thought it was my imagination, but...” you stammered awkwardly, looking away, making a shy laugh to come out of the black fabric.

“No,” the lady replied dryly. “Stop stammering.”

“I'm sorry, my lady,” you apologized with an elegant bow. “I'm not used to receiving praise from someone... Someone like you.”

“Mm, how curious, because Mother Miranda seems to have a lot of appreciation for you, as my sister does,” the lady whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “I suppose she's already asked you more than once to be her maid.”

“Oh, you, you mean Alcina,” you said with a fake smile.

Yes, the lady in black never missed your concerts, but Dimitrescu used to stop by from time to time.

“You haven't accepted her proposition,” she commented, with a seemingly calm voice, which had the opposite effect on you, making you nervous, making you tremble with terror.

 Was that it? Your refusal to be Dimitrescu’s maid?

“No, I... I don't have much money but I like being with my family,” you answered sincerely.

You had heard rumors, but you didn't know to what extent they were true. You should be careful.

“I have a proposition for you too,” she said, interrupting your thoughts.

You nodded, unsure.

“Um, okay, my lady,” you said in a whispery, fearful voice.

“I want you to sing for me,” the lady said in a stern, almost impatient tone.

“For you?” you asked involuntarily. “What do you mean?”

“Are you stupid?” Angie rebuked, shaking her head again. “Donna, are you sure that…?”

“Taci, Angie,” the lady murmured, going a little closer, forcing you to take a step back.

The doll protested, crossing her arms and grumbling.

“I'd like you to sing for me, in my house, just for me, do you understand?” she asked again, slowing down the pace of her words.

“Oh, um, well I, I don't make private concerts, it's just that…” you said, afraid of retaliation.

It wasn't an absurd fear of a fanatic, you just didn't want to go to that house. You knew that whoever went there would never come back.

“Mm,” she murmured, not giving importance to your answer. “Va bene…” she sighed, turning slowly, without the slightest sign of disappointment or anger at your rejection, something that made you think about it.

She didn't seem insistent like Alcina, and you didn't think it was a bad idea at all, you were just scared.

“Wait, my lady,” you said hastily, putting a hand on the lady's shoulder. She pushed it away with a sharp, unpleasant movement “Oh, I'm, I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that... Well, I should help my parents, I have a lot of work and...”

“I understand,” she said, with that mysterious voice.

“I mean, I...” you stammered.

“I was thinking of paying you for it, but I respect your decision,” the doll maker said with a somber tone, walking back towards the exit.

You, thinking about that new offer, pressed your lips together.

Why would she pay you if she was thinking of getting rid of you? Could you really come back from that house? Why pay a victim? Alcina didn't offer you money, Donna did. It was a notable difference, one that made you wonder if you should really accept.

“W-Wait,” you interrupted again, making the lady turn around with a tired sigh. “I... It's, it's okay.”

“Tomorrow, at 5pm, at my house,” she said, fading away like a ghost, walking slowly until she disappeared from your sight.

Your parents didn't understand this new job, or this new opportunity. Fear was present in their eyes as well as in yours. Just like it happened with you, the mention of money changed their mind.

With fear, with apprehension, unsure of what exactly the lady wanted from you, you set off at the agreed time, arriving at this majestic mansion, one that no one remembered, one from which no one returned.

“H-Hello…” you stammered when the lady slowly opened the door, with her faithful Angie in her arms.

Without responding to your greeting, the woman stepped aside so you could enter the old mansion, so you could be captivated by its old walls, by the gloomy and sad atmosphere of that place.

Holding your faithful vinyl in your hands, you looked at every corner and at the portrait of a beautiful woman on the stairs.

You didn't know if it was a real portrait, if it was from the past, or from the present, but, of course, it was what caught your attention the most.

With a tired gesture, the lady ordered you to follow her through that dilapidated house, indicating a small corner for you to sit down.

“What did you bring?” she asked curiously, reaching out her hand to take the record you were holding, without warning, making you move nervously.

“I-It's… Well, it's the record I use for my concerts, at least one of them,” you explained, with the doll's cold eyes piercing your thoughts, even thinking that she could read them.

“Mm, Édith Piaf,” Donna murmured, giving you back the vinyl. “You have a good reference.”

“Actually, it's, it's the only record I really have at home,” you said with an amused tone. Unfortunately, you were unable to see a smile or an understandable expression from the lady in black. “I-I started singing with it.”

“It's not the only thing you sing,” she commented, more as a statement than a question, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

“No, but…”

“Well, well, well,” Angie interrupted. “You've talked too much, silly girl, Donna wants to hear you sing.”

“Yes, I… Do you have a record player?” you asked nervously, following the lady's instructions, who forced you to stand up in front of her while she sat down to look at you, snatching the record from you again.

“I'm coming, silly,” the doll said, taking the record from its owner's hands and walking to the old player while you tried to calm down.

Stage fright was never a real problem for you, but the situation was different. One person, one woman, was listening to you. Not just any woman, but a Lord, the most dangerous of all, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

You failed your first attempts, but in the end you had no choice but to draw strength from where you didn't have it, forgetting about the situation, listening only to the music, singing to overcome the voice of the original singer, making the music illuminate the cold darkness in that old house.

Once you started, it was easier to continue. The doll clapped with each song, but the lady didn't move. Donna kept her hands on her knees, almost as if she didn't exist.

You wondered if she did it to not make you more nervous or if on the contrary, she was like that. After all, that thing about her not being right in the head seemed true, but you couldn't help but think that maybe people were exaggerating.

As you sang, the feeling of danger disappeared, as if you were really sure that night, you could sleep at home and it wouldn't be the end of your days.

“Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi…” you finished singing, with a surprisingly perfect tone, totally in time with the orchestra of the original song, with a masterful voice, unthinkable for a situation like that.

“Good, good!” Angie shouted, clapping effusively. “Bravo, silly!”

“T-Thank you,” you said shyly, making a perfectly rehearsed bow. Seeing that situation as just another concert was a trick that worked perfectly for you.

The record stopped spinning, finally marking the end of that private concert, the strangest of your life.

The lady in black slowly stood up, taking the record and giving it back to you. It seemed as if she hadn't heard you, she didn't express anything with her movements. You were even worried that she wouldn't have liked it.

“That last song…” Donna commented, passing by you leaving behind a terribly intoxicating scent of lavender, one that made you blink. “Either you have a prodigious voice, or it's one of your favorites.”

“Well, well, it really is, my lady,” you said a little blushing. “I like it a lot.”

“I see,” she sighed, searching in a drawer for a large bag of coins she threw at you in an unpleasant manner. “You don't regret anything, do you?”

“S-sorry, my lady?” you said confused, holding that heavy bag. There should be a lot of lei in there, too many. “Wait, I think, I think it's too much money, I've barely sung for an hour…”

“Excuse me, (Y/N), I'd like to pay you much more. That voice is worth all the money in the world,” she commented, leaving you petrified, with your cheeks burning from the compliment.

“Oh, no, my lady, um, thank you, my lady, but…” you stammered, giving her back the coins. “I can't accept it, it's too much.”

“Accept it, you ungrateful silly,” Angie snapped at you, taking the bag from her owner's hands and throwing it back at you.

“Oh, I…”

“You haven't answered me,” Donna said, interrupting your juggling with the coins.

“Um, did you ask me something?” you asked confused, frowning.

“I asked you that if you don't regret anything,” she repeated with an impatient voice.

You looked at the doll, which laughed amused by your confusion.

“I don't understand what you mean, my lady,” you spoke in a low voice, feeling that unpleasant sensation of danger again.

“The song, girl, the song you sang,” Donna said, crossing her arms, sighing abruptly. “Je ne regrette rien”

“Oh, that, that's what it says?” you asked curiously, shaking your head.

“You didn't know that?” she asked.

“N-No...” you sighed embarrassed.

“How can you sing something you don't know the meaning of?” the lady in black asked, curious.

You, avoiding looking at the clock, shrugged, feeling suddenly very small.

“I, I just sing… I'm not good at languages, I've never learned French, but, but I can sing… I can repeat it,” you explained confused, embarrassed by your ignorance.

“Oh, really?” she asked, with an amused laugh, walking back to the player, rummaging through the records under the cabinet and taking out a few and handing them to you roughly.

“I'd like to test you,” she said in a soft voice while you glanced at these new acquisitions. “Rehearse some of these songs.”

“But, but…” you stammered, reading the titles in your head, not understanding them. “Is this Italian?”

“Mm, my family was Italian,” the lady explained, with an elegant movement of her hands, placing them in front of her body, patiently holding them. “I'm convinced that if what you say is true, tomorrow I could hear my native language in your beautiful voice.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked scared, looking up.

“Yes, tomorrow, I want you to come back,” she said, walking you to the door. “Will you come, (Y/N)?”

“Um, I…” you murmured confused.

“You can say no,” she said, sighing. “I won't hurt you.”

“Oh, I wasn't thinking…” you said hastily, noticing the lady's angry tone. “I didn't think that…”

“Shut up, I know what everyone thinks of me. I'm not surprised you're afraid of me,” she interrupted you, with a slightly harsher, annoyed tone.

“It's not that... I, I don't think that...” you stammered again, shaking your head. “You're kinder than I thought...” you said, not quite knowing why.

“Kind, how silly you are,” the lady murmured, with a nervous laugh.

“Silly, silly,” Angie repeated, pointing at you amused.

“Um, I... I'll think about it, Lady Beneviento,” you whispered.

You didn't have much to think about. Seeing your parents' faces when they received the bag of coins, you knew what your silent response was going to be.

Once again, your life took an unexpected turn. Your little night concerts were followed by little visits to the Beneviento estate, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes accompanied by the fading sun.

Testing your own abilities, you listened to those new records that were unknown to you until then. You rehearsed their songs and repeated them with the lady in black, who nodded in approval of your progress.

The days were different, strange. What you always thought was a one-way trip to that house ended up becoming an increasingly pleasant routine. Donna wasn’t a talkative woman. She was demanding, abrupt, but kind. The cups of tea began to be silent companions after each concert. The conversations were increasingly pleasant, more curious.

There was something between you two that you weren’t able to see, something that pulled you closer to her, that forced you to walk faster, to want to return when you had barely left.

The interest, the admiration of the lady for your talent should be enough for your fragile heart, and it definitely was, perhaps too much. The rumors about that woman dissipated over time. You no longer heard the villagers' gossip about their problems, about the people Donna had made disappear.

Every day was a new time with Donna, a new time in which "my lady" disappeared, in which your voice could finally pronounce her name.

“La notte insegue sempre il giorno… Ed il giorno verrà,” you finished singing as always, one of the songs the lady lent you, in her language, one that you also didn't understand very well, but you sang perfectly.

“Great, silly, great!” Angie said, applauding effusively along with the lady, who did the same in a much calmer way.

Yes, her reaction to your voice also improved, making small gestures, always silent, but showing her admiration.

“Thank you,” you said with a sincere smile, approaching the lady to make a funny bow, followed by a yawn. “Oh, I'm, I'm exhausted... I should go, I have to play a concert in the meeting house and...”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Donna said, slowly getting up from the chair, grabbing your wrist, which was already going straight to grab your bag. “I, I'd like to ask you something.”

“Oh, um, well… I don't mind singing a little longer, but, but I have an appointment with Mr. Sponic in an hour and…”

“Forget about that jerk, stay for dinner with me, please,” she said, surprising you, making you open your eyes and your throat go dry, something terrible for your voice.

“But, but I… I don't know if…” you said, trembling at her sudden closeness. “I have to…”

“You don't want to have dinner with me, just say it,” she said, with her head down, with a sad tone you didn't quite know how to interpret.

“It's not that, it's that… Well, I have an appointment with my fans and…” you said, excusing yourself, finding the proposition strangely pleasant.

“Donna is your biggest fan!” Angie shrieked, waving her arms at the lady, pointing at her comically. “Have dinner with her, silly!”

“Oh, I'm flattered by that, but…” you said unsurely, with a smile that crossed your face involuntarily. “W-well, well, I guess it won't matter if I call him and tell … I don't know, that I'm sick.”

“Why lie? Tell him the truth, that you're going to have dinner with me. He'd never dare to object,” the lady in black said, with an informal tone, as if she was sure of her words.

“Oh, well, he wouldn't believe me,” you said amused.

A small moment of silence tensed the atmosphere until, from the black veil, a soft laugh came out, a beautiful laugh that you weren't used to hearing. You unconsciously wondered if you felt the same sensation with her laugh that she did when she heard your voice.

But… What were you thinking?

“Call him, I'll go down to prepare dinner,” she said in a whisper, invading your personal space again, intoxicating you with her lavender perfume, one that was more and more irresistible.

You obeyed, staying alone in the mansion. When your nerves began to attack you, when you called to excuse yourself, you began to wander around the mansion. Feeling out of danger, you ran your hands over the dusty books, over the cracks that distorted what was once a beautiful home.

The next victim of your blatant scrutiny was the portrait on the wall, that cold and stoic look that could make your heart stop. Those eyes were watching you. They matched the lady's soft and melodic tone. It couldn't be anyone else and she, she was really beautiful. You didn't know if she looked still that way.

After a short wait, the lady came up again, carefully setting the table, laughing at the sight of you and shaking her head.

“I thought you had left,” she commented, guiding you to a chair and helping you sit down in it chivalrously.

“Oh, no, why would I?” you asked amused, surprised by the delicious aroma of the food.

“They always do,” she murmured, in a somber voice. “Wine?”

“Y-Yes,” you said nervously, extending your glass, revealing the trembling of your hands.

“Stop shaking, you make me nervous,” the lady ordered you. “I've already told you that I'm not going to hurt you.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologized, bringing the red liquid to your mouth, savoring it slowly so you wouldn't have to look at her.

“Do you think I want to have sex with you? Maybe that's what worries you,” she asked again, making you choke on your drink.

No, no, no, no, no, no. Of course that hadn't crossed your mind, not many times, almost never, or almost always, maybe, who knows.

“Um, no, I'm not worried,” you said self-assuredly, wiping yourself with a napkin.

“No? Do you want us to have sex?” Donna asked, amused, to which you shook your head, not quite sure why.

“Um...”

“Relax, I'm joking, bring me your plate,” she said, bringing a bit of that delicious dinner to you, thus beginning one of the most tense and silent moments of your life.

“It's delicious,” you said after a few minutes, smiling elegantly. The lady wasn't eating, as if she was waiting for something. “You’re...? You're not eating?”

“I don't want to disgust you, I'll wait for you to finish,” she said in a cold tone, lowering her gaze.

“Disgust me? Why do you say that?” you asked curiously. “Eat, it's going to get cold.”

“You wouldn't like me to take off my veil,” she commented, crossing her arms. “Eat, don't worry about me.”

“You don't know that,” you murmured with a cautious look. “I, I thought my voice was horrible before… Well, I became famous.”

“That has nothing to do with it, beauty is not subjective, (Y/N),” the lady said, with a haughty tone, with an increasingly marked accent. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as if she were really nervous.

“I don't think so,” you said sincerely, trying not to make your curiosity too obvious.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, bringing a trembling hand to her veil and slowly removing it.

The beautiful woman in the portrait was no longer on the stairs, but in front of you. One bright eye, one absent, covered by a horrible scar, black hair, surely soft, tender lips and a dangerous look.

“Do you still think it's subjective? Do you want to ruin dinner with some more stupid comments?” the lady said enraged, clenching her fist tightly on the table.

Your already deactivated danger detectors were louder than ever.

“Soltanto adesso io ti guardo… Nel tuo silenzio io mi perdo… E sono niente accanto a te,” you sang nervously, looking away, letting the music speak for your true thoughts, letting your voice calm her nerves, showing that what you thought was true.

“You’re singing… does my appearance make you that nervous?” she said, with a look of disgust and annoyance, putting the black cloth back on, making you move quickly.

“No, wait, Donna, wait…” you said hastily, grabbing her hand so she wouldn't cover that beauty anymore, so you could contemplate it, even if it was just for a single moment longer. “I-I sing because my words would be absurd without a melody, because, because by singing I can say what I think.”

“Mm, liar…” she said, with a sly smile, dropping the veil on the floor and slowly getting up, walking towards you in a threatening manner. “You don't understand what you just said.”

“I do,” you said confidently, lowering your gaze to the floor, feeling a thin finger lifting your chin, a bright eye scrutinizing your gaze. “I don't sing anymore if I don't know what the lyrics say, I… Hey, I've been learning.”

“Oh, how nice,” she said, with an ironic tone.

“I did it for you,” you said, whispering, admitting that eagerness for knowledge motivated by the lavender, by the sweet tone of her voice, by her comments, by her admiration, by everything that Donna was beginning to mean to you.

“For me…” she said, letting your chin go and shaking her head. “You were looking forward to getting out of my house a moment ago.”

“No, actually…” you said, standing up when the lady turned her back on you, nervous but determined to let your haunted heart speak. “I didn't want to stay because… Because I could spend the whole night singing for you.”

“Mm?” she asked with a murmur, turning nervously, looking at you with a frown. “I could spend the whole night listening to you.”

“Donna, I…” you said nervously, getting a little closer to her, taking her wrist, a gesture that she didn't lose sight of. “I like singing for you more than for the rest of the villagers…”

“Why is that?” she asked, distrustful, playing with your hand, making your fingers intertwine. “Are you really stupid?”

“I guess so,” you said with a sigh, getting even closer. “If loving you makes me stupid, then I am,” you confessed without wanting to, you said the words out loud, the feelings increasingly present in your head.

Yes, you were in love with her, and you couldn't help it.

“I lied to you, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, not moved by your words, also approaching slowly, bringing her other hand to your cheek, without stopping to look at you. “I really want to have sex with you”

“Oh, wow,” you said embarrassed, blushing again. Your nervous smile faded before her serious look. This time, she wasn't joking.

“Not just that... I want to hear your voice all the time, for you to sing for me, only for me. I want to be the luckiest woman in the world, the only one who can hear your voice. It's all what I want in my miserable life, (Y/N)...” she whispered, with a look that was tender and dangerous at the same time.

“What I want is... to kiss you,” you murmured, dazzled by her words, by the reciprocity of feelings that you considered absurd.

The words ceased to have importance. Your lips came together slowly, without haste, inexperienced, fragile, clumsy lips that tasted like wine. The movements were joined with her hands on your waist, with her sighs, with those kisses that were increasingly deeper, more sincere.

That night was the first of a new phase, one in which you couldn’t live without those lips on yours, without her caresses. That kiss was the moment when a new life began for you, when you could finally say that you would live the true vie en rose…