#im sorry if this seems a little rushed

[spiteful--art]

Divine Beasts PT. 2 - Imposter + SAGAU (Crossover)

Synopsis: You bond with your team, fighting alongside them as you explore Liyue. Meanwhile, some people have a discussion about the Divine Creator and the Deceiver.

Notes: Violence, attempted hilichurlian, no human dies but they get seriously injured Taglist: @the-2nd-random-kid, @vvyeislazzy, @mulandi, @okamiroxas, @depressed-bitchy-demon Genre: General Crossover, 2.29k words (Also, new linebreaks!)

You don’t know how many hours have slipped by ever since your Honchkrow took flight. You didn’t mind it, though. As a child, you’ve dreamt of this moment many times, hitching a ride on a Pokemon and soaring through the skies. Though the circumstances leading up to this moment were less than pleasant, you didn’t let that dampen your experience. Not when the ground seemed to small below you, not when you marvel at how the scenery changes before your very eyes. However, you weren’t about to let your Honchkrow just turn into a 5-hour flight. “Honchkrow, let’s rest over there.” Honchkrow caws at you before descending to the ground. You get off of the large crows, patting his beak. “Good job, buddy. You can take a rest.”

Deciding against putting him in his orb form, you figured you might as well bring out the rest of your team. Removing the rest of the colorful orbs from your belt, you threw them high into the air. Bright lights fill your vision, all in an array of colors. Shielding your eyes from the spectrum of color, you lower your arms when your companions stopped shining bright.

You see them. All six of your Pokemon standing right before you. The first to reach you is your Jolteon, tackling you to the ground and fervently licking your face. “Ahaha! Jolty, I’m happy to see you too! Down boy, down!” The eeveelution calms himself, panting as he settled onto your lap. The sweet scent that approached you made obvious who the fourth member of your team is. Your Roserade bows before you, making you giggle. “Rade, elegant as ever.”

The final two members, a Floatzel riding on a Bastiodon, soon walk over to you. The Bastiodon rumbles as you placed a hand on its head while your Floatzel happily squeaks at you. Meanwhile, Infernape and Honchkrow seem to have designated themselves as look out duty, the large black bird flying into the sky as Infernape scans the area with distrustful eyes.

Right… The other four don’t know about your situation yet.

Thankfully, wherever Honchkrow took you had no sign of civilization as far as you can see. Judging by the general surroundings, you think you landed somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue. Unless you encounter any Treasure Hoarders or Fatui agents, you should be able to roam around without any difficulty. Hell, maybe you’ll encounter another friendly hilichurl tribe? You still don’t know how or why they managed to bring your Pokemon team to life, but with your powerful friends, you won’t be having an issue in self-defense should the previous tribe prove to be an outlier.

“So listen guys,” Your voice catches your Pokemon’s attention, though Infernape stands ever vigilant. “We’re in a pretty bad spot as of now. I don’t know why, but the people of Mondstadt were out for blood, and if my gut is correct I’m gonna have a bad time at Liyue.” You say. Initially you were unsure if your Pokemon can grasp what you are going to say, but seeing your Floatzel look concerned reassures you that your meaning is coming across. “So here’s what I’m thinking-“

You use your staff to draw on the ground. “Since the hilichurls back there have decided to aid me, it’ll probably be a good idea to learn their language.” You say, drawing a crude samachurl with a smiley face. “However, since I’m being hunted, it’s going to be difficult to get my hands on hilichurlian books. But I think I have a solution…”

While you brief your team on the plan, two Mondstadters sit in tense silence.

Kaeya sits across from Lisa, the Librarian staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Ironically, it’s Kaeya who breaks the ice.

“You’ve read the reports, have you?” Kaeya asked, his arms crossed as he looks at Lisa. She lets out a sigh, procuring an envelope from her satchel, sliding it to Kaeya.

“It’s certainly hard to believe, that’s for sure. An imposter of the Divine Creator, a strange ape-like beast wielding the power of Pyro… If Jean hadn’t gone out to apprehend the Charlatan herself, I would have thought one of the knights had a wild night out.”

Kaeya tsked, throwing the envelope back at Lisa, who catches it between her fingers. “Don’t you think it’s strange?” Seeing the mage’s raised eyebrow, Kaeya continued. “First, the Almighty Creator descends to Teyvat, and suddenly everyone becomes a zealot. I don’t mean to speak ill of her, but seeing Eula become so fired up about impressing the Creator… Something’s fishy.”

Lisa looks away. “You’ll get in trouble for saying that, you know.”

“But who’s going to tell?” Kaeya pressed. Lisa says nothing, tracing the rim of her teacup. “Besides, Jean never acted like this religious. I know the Anemo Archon watches over us all, but…

“I know. I thought she was just excited about Creator’s descent, but it’s been a week. It has gotten to the point where Barbara confided with me her concerns.”

Kaeya frowns. “It appears I’m not alone as I thought.”

Lisa returns his expression. “That Charlatan person… I don’t think this whole hunt is necessary. Identity theft may be a serious crime, but they didn’t even claim to be a god.”

“Exactly.” Kaeya leans forward. “Everything has to do with the Creator, if that’s who they truly are. “

Lisa doesn’t say anything, then pulls out a scroll. “This parchment I found. It’s been stuffed in the pages of a bestiary.”

She unrolls the length, laying it down on the table for Kaeya to see.

Etched on the parchment was a drawing depicting the Almighty Creator gesturing to a monstrous creature. It was serpentine in structure, black tendrils sprouting from its body as it roars at the Creator. Meanwhile, surrounding the Creator were beasts less monstrous than the serpent. Standing among them was an ape-like creature whose head is aflame.

The two Mondstadters look at each other.

“…I don’t suppose Barbara would be opposed to joining another meeting of ours?”

“…Floatzel, Rain Dance!”

Dark clouds form above the Treasure Hoarders’ heads as you whacked your staff across a Pugilist’s face. Currently, you’re being accosted by a quartet of Treasure Hoarders looking to bring you to the Liyue Qixing. Unluckily for them, your Floatzel and Jolteon took issue with this, and have teamed up to take them out.

“Gah- You think a little rain can stop us?” A Treasure Gravedigger mocked, winding to swing his shovel before you pointed your finger at him.

“Jolty! Sic’ em with Thunder Fang!”

The combination of Floatzel’s rain, the electricity surging through his arm, and Jolteon’s canines sinking into his arm causes the large Gravedigger to scream in agony. Pretty soon, the big guy falls to the ground unconscious. An arrow bounces off the Light Screen set up earlier in the battle, and the Marksman takes a big gulp when Jolteon and Floatzel immediately turn their attention to him. “H-He did it!” Cried the Marksman, shoving his crossbow to the Scout.

“H-Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

The sea weasel doesn’t wait to for your command, fangs glowing a bright blue as she bites into the thigh of the Archer, while your Jolteon follows with another Thunder Fang. The two are frozen and shocked, and thoroughly out cold. You have managed to fend off the Pugilist you were fighting, taking advantage of his shock by slamming your staff on his head. Panting, you survey your surroundings. The bodies of four Treasure Hoarders lay on the wet field, leftover electricity crackling across two. You took in a deep breath to calm your heart.

“Good job, you two,” You say, taking out two berries and throwing them to your Pokemon. “Seems like moves work a little differently in Teyvat…”

After the rain clears, you task Infernape to take the Treasure Hoarders to a safer location, but not without nabbing a few things from the thugs. You decide to take the hat off of the Gravedigger, figuring it would help disguise you.

Stealing done and over with, you recall your Floatzel and Jolteon as your Honchkrow descends to your side, cawing at you. “Oh? You found something?” Honchkrow confirms, letting you hitch a ride on his back. The two of you landed in another hilichurl camp and are immediately greeted by a pair of excited shooters. You allow them to guide you inside as Honchkrow rests on the watchtower. A Geo samachurl greets you, bowing its head in reverence. Though the action worries you, you’re grateful that the Hilichurl camp from before isn’t an outlier.

Once again, you are sat on a file of fur as the hilichurls dance in your presence. The samachurl from earlier comes back with a mitachurl. The mitachurl holds something wrapped in cloth, gentle as a mitachurl could be.

“Kuzi Unu, mimi mani Tiga muhe.”

From your limited knowledge of hilichurlian, you hazard a guess that they want to give you something Geo-related. You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but you hold your arms towards the mitachurl as it places the item in your hands.

Your heart sinks when you see just what the bundle holds.

The Earth Plate emits a soft brown glow in your arms, then a bright light flashes for a brief moment.

When the universe was created, its shards became this Plate.

The implications that are settling in your brain are not good ones. The samachurls giving you these wondrous items, and this one calling you a Great God…

It appears that your journey has only just begun.

Laying your palm flat on the Plate, you whisper the engraving. The Plate breaks apart, the power of Ground enveloping you. Suddenly, your feet began to cramp. Quicky discarding your worn shoes, you gasp. Where there was once human flesh, there was soil. The hilichurls cheered at the spectacle while you poked your new soil-legs. They felt like soil, but at the same time you still felt them.

Before you could think to do anything, you suddenly stiffen up as images of fuzzy static flashed through your mind. Standing up, you stomped your feet on the bare ground.

“Millelith! Yaya ika!” You cry out in broken hilichurlian. Thankfully, the message comes across, the tribe immediately going on the defensive as a Millelith group storm into the camp.

“So the news is true. Disgusting. The fact that they associate with the hilichurl pests is bad enough… Men! Kill all hilichurls, don’t let that Pretender escape!”

Not wanting to stand idly by, you quickly summon your Bastiodon. “Bastiodon! Dig!”

Your Bastiodon roars as it dives into the ground, disrupting the Millelith’s attack formation. Men in armor cry out in alarm as they are suddenly launched into the air by an irate dinosaur as you assist in the fight yourself. Meanwhile, Honchkrow acts as aerial support, sending Air Cutters towards any Millelith that finds themselves up in the air.

“Hyah!” You stomped on the ground, a spike of the earth jutting up and hitting a soldier square in the jaw as you swung your staff at another. The squad attempting to ambush you during the scuffle was swiftly taken out by your Bastiodon using Heavy Slam. You quickly run to defend a hilichurl about to have its life taken away, slamming your foot on the ground to create a chunk of earth. A swift punch to the chunk sends it speeding towards the soldiers attacking the hilichurl, knocking them unconscious. You wince at the concussions you may have caused.

The mitachurls do their best to fend off the Millelith soldiers surrounding them, but as soon as one of their shields broke, the soldiers switched their strategy. The mitachurl with a missing shield soon found himself trying to shake off the numerous soldiers jabbing and slashing their spears at him while the other tries to reach his comrade, kept away by the millelith’s spears.

It’s then did you look over and see the shield-less mitachurl fall over did your vision turned red.

“...You're certain of this?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“…I see. This is a most troubling development. This power unleashed by the Pretender, you said it was as powerful as Rex Lapis himself.”

“Yes, my lady. My men are still recovering from the injuries the Pretender gave us, not to mention the beasts that disrupted our strategies… Thank the Almighty Creator none a single life was lost.”

“This has been an enlightening conversation. You are free to go.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“…” “I don’t suppose we are thinking the same thing.”

“After the information that’s been revealed today, I think it would be in our best interests that our thoughts align.”

“Then you agree that this Pretender is more than they seem to be?”

“…Yes.”

“…”

“…Good answer. Perhaps we may be able to solve the mystery that’s been plaguing our reality with that ‘Pretender’s’ help…

“And find out who the Creator really is.”

[djungleskogs]

.

[infizero]

ok guys i dont wanna be a hater but im gonna be 100% honest i didnt rlly like the nimona movie 😭 I MEAN IT WAS FUN. it was nice. but i feel like it was missing everything that made me like the original graphic novel and honestly by the last like 30 minutes i was kind of just waiting for it to be over so i could read the book again 😭 NO HATE TO ANYONE WHO RLLY LIKED IT believe me when i say i dont think it is bad or anything. but i feel like just sooooo much was changed that it didnt feel like nimona at all to me. idk how to explain it, im sure once i reread the book i’ll be able to put it into words since the original will be more fresh in my mind. i think it was good but as someone who was literally obsessed w the og graphic novel it was honestly kinda disappointing. but i dont rlly care honestly its still rlly cool it got a movie!! 

but in my mind at least it proves that some things dont need to be made into a movie. ppl act like movies are the best form a piece of media can take and if something gets made into a movie then that’d be the peak form of it. but i honestly think nimona works wayyyyyy better in its original graphic novel form. most of the early stuff is way more slice of life lowkey stuff that lets you get attached to ballister and nimona as characters and get invested in their relationship w each other, BEFORE all the angsty final act stuff happens. also there honestly was just a ton of stuff that felt to me like it worked better in the original, like jousting tournament thing instead of the knighting ceremony, nimona being captured and being forced to turn into her “true” form rather than this new version with it just sort of happening bcuz of Emotions, etc. also the movie suffered from a lot of pacing and tone issues imo but the former i think is just from that lack of the slow buildup of their friendship, and the latter is something that i think just worked better in the book. idk again I’LL BE ABLE TO SAY THIS STUFF MORE CONCRETELY WHEN I ACTUALLY REREAD THE BOOK but i dont remember there being so much jokes and goofy shit DURING serious scenes. like iirc in the original during serious scenes it was SERIOUS. but in the movie theres so many unnecessary unfunny jokes and stuff. idk IDK i probably just had too high expectations idk. anyways

[dyketennant]

idk i think i should start masking again 🤠 (i mean the autism i already wear a face mask)

[les4elliewilliams]

❝𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝚰𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞

ghostface!bestfriend!ellie ✗ fem reader

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝚰 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞

⚠︎︎︎.ᐟ ⌞warnings ⊹ cw⌝ ﹕ approx 20k words. (ik im sorry im always yapping too much.) headcanons!! mention of blood/murders, drugs usage. childhoodbestfriend!𝑒, perv!𝑒, ghostface!𝑒, switch!𝑒, v light knife play (𝑒!receiving+giving), handcuffing ghostface😊, oral/fingering, strap-on sex (r!receiving), extremely jealous/obsessive!𝑒, ellie gets off to eepy reader and they get off together on the couch yummyy... i think that's it?? ps ignore that ugly ass edited pic pls😭

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞author's note⌝ ﹕ this isn't like the movies, it's a 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 story. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞taglist⌝ ﹕ @aouiaa @kaykeryyy @whoucallingalesbian @taylormarieee @co0kiemuncher @myathegoat @joordynn @iamhellagae @hearts444olivia @ion-news @broskideedle13 @ladyofcain @cheyisagirlkisser

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

˳·˖𖤐 During her childhood, Ellie had a stern and intimidating demeanor that unintentionally scared other kids away. They’d be too scared to approach her, let alone play or talk with her, which left her in solitude most of the time. She got used to playing by herself and spent her recess in the corner of the playground. During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good). She seemed to find solace in drawing and would spend hours sketching in her green notebook, lost in her world of imagination.

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe, just maybe, the kids’ fear toward Ellie wasn’t unmotivated. She loved to cause chaos and conflicts among the other kids. She would start small fights, encourage others to fight, push kids off swings, or even break their toys. Even more concerning was that she seemed to get a kick out of other people’s misery and would laugh at their distress and discomfort, which was why many feared and avoided being near her.

˳·˖𖤐 Joel would often find himself rushing to his daughter’s school, trying his best to convince the school officials that his sweet little girl could never do anything to hurt other kids. Despite being smart and quiet, Ellie would sometimes find herself in trouble for things she claimed she didn’t do. She always stood her ground, insisting that if she ever did start something, it was only because another child had done something to her first. And, of course, her father always believed her and would go to great lengths to defend his baby girl.

Once, Joel was called to the principal’s office. When he entered the room, he saw the principal sitting behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Joel's heart sank, he could sense something was off. “My daughter would n—” Joel tried to speak, but the principal cut him off without missing a beat. “The teacher saw her. She pushed Jason off the swing and kicked him,” the principal stated, his tone firm and authoritative. Joel's eyes immediately darted to his sweet little angel, who was crying and pouting, giving him doe eyes as she shook her head to dismiss all the accusations. “No, Dad, I didn’t, I swear. He hit me first,” she said, trying to defend herself. “Heard what she said? She didn’t do it.” Joel always fell for that little dotted face. He would still stand by his beliefs no matter what the teachers or other kids' parents said. His baby girl would never hurt anyone. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything wrong.

˳·˖𖤐 You were never really scared of her—the quiet, introverted girl. In fact, you were quite intrigued by her. She always seemed to be the odd one out, sitting in the corner of the classroom or standing far away across the playground, watching everything and everyone so intently. What really fascinated you about her was her attention to detail. She never missed a thing and could remember every single detail of everything, almost like she had a photographic memory or something. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was fascinated with you. Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you. She’d just sit across the room, sipping on her apple juice box as she studied you curiously. To her, you were a delicate and pretty little girl, reminding her of a flower. She had always thought other kids weren’t as bright as her and weren’t good enough to be her friends, which led her to isolate herself from others. She thought of herself as better than everyone her age, and it was also why she would beat them up, finding them too stupid to put up with. But you were different. There was something about you that stood out to her, something that her childish brain couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t just your kindness, although that certainly played a big part in it. There was something more that made her feel like she wanted to be your friend, your close friend.

˳·˖𖤐 Even as a little kid, Ellie had always been a strategic and calculated person.

One day, she saw you playing in the sandbox and felt the urge to approach you, but she needed an excuse to do so. So, she concocted a plan. She told another kid that you had said something mean about him, knowing that he would confront you about it—Jason was a little of a troublemaker from what she noticed, so she was certain it would work. In fact, when the little boy confronted you, and you denied it, he quickly became angry and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sand. The sand got all over your beautiful frilly clothes, making you feel embarrassed and upset, your bottom lip wobbling. Ellie saw this as her chance to approach you and comfort you. She walked over to you and pushed the other kid, causing him to storm off. She quickly helped you up and offered you a slight smile, “You can’t let other kids treat you like that.” You nodded in agreement, grateful for her help, and threw yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much,” you uttered. She nodded and squeezed you, rubbing your back. “Maybe we can watch each other’s back from now on,” she suggested with a shy smile, the one that always fooled her dad as well. You were beyond ecstatic at her offer. You had long admired her from afar, and the idea of being friends with her was something you had dreamed of for a long time, but your shy nature had always caused you to keep to yourself. Even to you, she seemed smarter compared to other kids. “Can you be my friend?” you asked with a toothless grin on your face, batting your lashes at her. “Yes, I would love to,” followed by “Can I show you my dinosaur collection?” From that day on, you and Ellie became close friends, and her strategic and protective nature was always there to help you when you needed it.

˳·˖𖤐 You and Ellie have been inseparable, going through all the ups and downs of school and puberty together. She has been a constant source of support, always by your side through your best and worst days. You have shared countless memories and experiences over the years, and she has always been a true friend in every sense of the word. She was always there to protect you and stood up for both of you in any situation. You did everything together—you laughed, cried, and confided in each other like you were the only two people in the world. You shared all your first-time experiences, like getting drunk for the first time, going to parties, and even sneaking out of your house at night just to see her or hang out. Her father quickly became like a second dad to you, someone you could look up to and trust. You have always felt like a part of their small family, spending time together, sharing meals, and celebrating holidays with them. Your friendship has only grown stronger over the years.

˳·˖𖤐 During middle school, Ellie’s behavior remained consistent. Even in the new environment, she continued to find ways to get herself in trouble. She had a habit of talking back to teachers, getting into physical fights with other students, and arguing with pretty much everyone, almost as if she couldn’t contain herself; causing trouble was second nature to her. It was evident that she found pleasure in disrupting the peace wherever she went, which often landed her in serious trouble. Not that she cared, of course.

“Miss Williams, get your shoes off the desk. You are not at home, and you cannot do as you please,” The middle-aged teacher, who appeared to be in her late fifties, scolded her with a stern voice, her eyes narrowing with disapproval as she spoke. Her wrinkled forehead was furrowed with a frown, and her thin lips pursed tightly together. The teacher’s glasses, once perched on the bridge of her nose earlier, now hung from a chain around her neck as she continued to chastise the auburnette.

With a mischievous smirk on her face, the copper-brown-haired girl replied, “You can bet your wrinkled ass I’ll do as I please,” causing the whole class to erupt in laughter.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger when Cassie, a girl from math class, called you stupid. You were her best friend, and she couldn't bear the thought of someone insulting you like that. She wouldn’t let anyone walk all over you. So, that same day, she approached Cassie after class with a fake calm demeanor and explained that her comments were hurtful and disrespectful. She initially tried to remain ‘polite’ to make you happy, but the situation quickly escalated to a physical fight. Unfortunately, this resulted in Cassie ending up in the nurses’ office with a broken bone. But she couldn’t help it. She had to look out for you, and Cassie fucking deserved it.

˳·˖𖤐 It was always just you and Ellie hanging out together. Other kids weren’t allowed to join you. Everyone in your school thought of you two as weirdos, but you didn’t care, both preferring each other’s company over anyone else’s.

˳·˖𖤐 You spent everyday together, either at her place or yours. Homework, video games, comics, and movie marathons filled your time, but the one thing that truly brought you together was your shared obsession with horror movies. You’d watch a new one each day, feeding off the adrenaline of jump scares and twisted plots. Ellie seemed to devour every film, but her favorites were always the slasher flicks—especially the Scream series. The thrill of being scared out of your mind became your thing. Soon, though, it wasn’t just the horror movies that captivated Ellie. She developed a deep fascination for true crime documentaries, and afternoons blurred into nights as the two of you sat in her room, binging tales of real-life terror, lost in your macabre little world together. You both would sit there, transfixed, eyes glued to the horror playing out on the screen, completely enthralled by the spine-tingling and mysterious events unfolding before you. The chilling stories on the screen drew you in, and your fascination with the morbid and the inexplicable would lead you to spend countless hours online reading creepypastas. 

˳·˖𖤐 You were each other’s first kiss.

One Friday night, you went to Cassie’s house for a small party—yes, the same Cassie that Ellie beat up and broke her arm. You guessed she had invited Ellie to get on her good side, considering their last fight. The poor girl was tired of fearing Ellie, but Ellie didn’t like her one bit and never would. Your best friend was reluctant at the idea of being surrounded by too many people, but you convinced her to go with you, saying it might’ve been fun to do something different for once. They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek. So, during a truth-or-dare game, they dared you to kiss your best friend. You looked over at Ellie, feeling shy and uncertain. You were waiting for her to say something to stop you from going along with the dare, but to your surprise, she didn’t. In fact, she had a small smile on her face, which made you feel more nervous for some reason. Feeling hesitant, you finally mustered up the courage to ask her, “Can I kiss you?” Your cheeks heated up as you spoke. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, trying to make you feel like you were being dramatic, “It’s just a game.” Finally, you leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Everyone in the room giggled and clapped their hands, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had changed between you and Ellie, yet neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie had always been very open about her attraction to girls. She never cared about what other classmates might have thought about her preferences. Even though they were not always accepting, they never dared to say anything negative to her face, fearing Ellie’s reaction to their comments. She openly rejected guys who showed interest in her, saying that she was not interested because she was a lesbian. Always commenting about pretty girls—and man, if that didn’t make you jealous. You’d often feel this intense jealousy inside you every time she talked to other girls or whenever other girls would approach her, even if she always rejected them, 99,9% of the time.

˳·˖𖤐 Why 99,9% and not 100%? Well, because another girl named Cat entered the picture. From the very start, it was clear that Cat was head over heels for Ellie, and how could you blame her? She’d blush every time Ellie glanced her way, always laughing obnoxiously at your best friend’s puns, even when they were terrible—and that was, like, all the time. She would also go out of her way to shower her with small gifts, all of which Ellie would accept with a sly grin that you found infuriating. She’d get her snacks and pass her cute little notes during classes, and the worst part was that your friend began to reciprocate Cat’s feelings, and the two of them grew even closer. You tried to accept their ‘friendship’ but found it increasingly difficult; watching them together became too much to bear, and you knew you had to take care of it. You never liked sharing, not even as a kid, so why start now with the most important person to you?

As the lesson dragged on, you grew more restless, your thoughts tangled in a knot of anxiety. You needed to have a little chat with Cat. Urgently. Unable to focus any longer, you raised your hand, asking the teacher if you could go to the toilet. When he gave you a nod in response, you hurried out of the classroom, your pulse quickening as you slipped through the quiet hallways. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small Post-it note, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrawled a quick message:

“Meet me in the bathroom after third period. — Ellie :)  ”

You carefully folded the note and slid it into Cat's locker, hoping she would see it soon. The next few hours felt like an eternity. You kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until the third period. Finally, the bell rang, and you made your way to the bathroom, hoping Cat would be there. As you entered the bathroom, you saw her standing there with a big smile. The same smile that faded in an instant as she saw you instead of the girl she liked. You greeted her with a mischievous grin and asked her if she was waiting for Ellie. “Yeah, she told me to come here after third period,” the raven-haired girl responded, looking puzzled. “Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her. You had never started fights in school or caused any sort of trouble, though Cat feared you. Maybe it was the endless rude comments you threw her way at any chance you got or the little things you did when Ellie wasn’t watching to make her feel threatened. “Is this some sick joke?” surprise flashed across her features before a more terrorized look replaced it. “Stop seeing her, don’t come near her, stop talking to her, don’t even look her way,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, almost possessive, as you stepped closer. She backed away with each step you took. “Wha-” Cat tried to speak, but you cut her off. “I catch you lookin’ at her again, I won’t be as nice.” you threatened. “I won’t—I’ll stop talking to her,” she stammered nervously, her voice trembling. A few sniffles escaped her before she ran off, mumbling her sorrys on her way out. “I hope you mean it.” She was already out of the bathroom, but you were sure she had heard you loud and clear. And you weren’t even gonna feel bad. She deserved it. How dare she come near the most important person in your life? What was she planning to do? Take her away from you? You sure as hell weren’t gonna let that happen.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was struggling to understand why Cat had suddenly started ignoring her like a deadly disease. It was almost perplexing that the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and whenever Ellie tried to approach her to talk, Cat would leave the conversation abruptly, only briefly glancing over at her. It was particularly puzzling to the redhead as she could not recall any misunderstanding or disagreement between them that could have caused such a drastic change in Cat’s attitude towards her—for once, she was nice to someone who wasn’t you, and this was the result? She felt confused and soon enough began to harass the girl, making sure her life was a living hell at school. How dare Cat ignore her? She wasn’t even that smart or pretty. Ellie only ever liked the attention she'd get from her; she was there just to boost her ego, and now she was ignoring her?

˳·˖𖤐 As you both entered high school, you remained inseparable, sticking to the shadows for the first few years, trying to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. Neither of you joined clubs or sports teams, preferring to keep to yourselves and steer clear of socializing. But by junior year, the routine started to feel stifling, and restlessness set in. You both realized you wanted more—something bigger than just being on the sidelines. Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it. She never lost that sense of superiority, though—deep down, she believed she was different, better than the people around her. She stood out, and she knew it. You, on the other hand, joined the cheerleaders team. Dancing and performing had always been a passion, and it seemed like a perfect way to get involved. But as you spent time with other girls, you couldn’t help but notice how wrapped up they were in things that felt trivial to you—obsessed with popularity, looks, and gossip. It was hard to feel like you fit in, knowing damn well you didn’t. While your best friend thrived on her sense of superiority, you were left feeling like an outsider, trapped in a group you didn’t belong in.

˳·˖𖤐 Ever since you joined the cheerleading team, you stood out from the crowd. Your undeniable beauty did not go unnoticed, and soon enough, boys began to show interest in you. Every week, a different guy would try to catch your attention, hoping to ask you out or make a move on you. But Ellie was fiercely protective of you, claiming that none of these guys were good enough for you, whether it was a potential friend or partner. She would always find a way to scare them away, making it clear that you weren’t interested, always there reminding you that you were way too amazing for all of them and that no one could ever understand you like she did, even if they tried. She did not want anyone she deemed unworthy of your time to come close to you, and you liked it that way. To you, that was your definition of love.

“—so he just fell in front of the whole class, he couldn’t even-” You were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your best friend was out sick, missing all the juicy details, but before you could finish the story and turn to see who it was, the auburn-haired girl beside you spun around first. Her brows knit together almost instantly, and you could see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Her expression darkened as she processed the moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden attention directed your way. A kid you knew from theater class was walking toward you with a nervous smile, carefully holding a flower, making sure not to prick himself on the sharp thorns of the beautiful red rose. “Hey, I just wanted to ask you if-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence—she was already prepared to go off on him as if he’d just insulted her entire family. In reality, he hadn’t even noticed a fuming Ellie standing right beside you. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on him with an intensity that made you sure if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. You opened your mouth to say something, but Ellie quickly raised her hand in front of you, silencing you instantly. She was going to handle this, just like always. “What makes you think she would ever go out with a loser like you?” Ellie hurled venomous words his way, leaving the poor guy stuttering and stumbling over his response. His face flushed bright red as if all the blood had rushed to his cheeks. He stood there, frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. His eyes darted nervously between you and the girl at your side, clearly unsure what to do next. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to express himself, his expression desperate as if he was silently begging for a reaction from you, anything. But before he could even get a syllable out, Ellie cut him off again, shutting him down before he could speak. “Heard what I said? She is not interested,” she repeated, but this time, her voice was tinged with impatience. “I’m sorry, I just—take this.” He handed you the flower, looking utterly defeated. As soon as it was in your hands, he turned around and walked away hastily, like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. She watched the guy walk away, her leaf-hued eyes fixed on him, unwilling to let go of the sight. Her face was slightly scrunched up in annoyance, her mind clearly racing with thoughts as she seemed lost in her world. After a while, she finally tore her gaze away from him and glanced at you briefly as if snapping back to reality. She let out a small ‘tssssk’ under her breath, trying to collect herself and shake off the jealousy lingering in the pit of her stomach. “Jesus, El. You’re evil,” You let out a small giggle and brought your hand to your mouth to cover it up. “Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin. She snatched the rose out of your hand and threw it on the floor forcefully. Red petals scattered on the ground as you both continued walking. Ellie made sure to stomp on the flower. She always had a very dark humor, which sometimes left you wondering if she meant any of what she said. She always spoke in such a serious tone, but maybe it was just her sarcasm being that way. Her words were often laced with a hidden meaning, and she had a way of making you question your interpretations, but you laughed at her joke anyway.

˳·˖𖤐 So, were you surprised when a few students started going missing? 

˳·˖𖤐 The leader of the cheerleaders that always gave you a hard time? Gone.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was your biggest fan, always showing up to watch your cheerleading practices.  Manspreading on the benches, her gaze never left you, not daring to miss a single move. The sight of you, all sweaty with wisps of hair escaping your ponytail, only made you look cuter in her eyes. She loved seeing you in that little cheerleader uniform. Whenever you smiled and glanced at her, her heart would thunder in her chest. It was as if her whole world revolved around those fleeting glances and spontaneous smiles you’d throw her way. You were awfully adorable.

What Ellie found far less adorable was how the head cheerleader constantly picked on you, always putting you down. What frustrated her even more was that you just let it happen. In her mind, Amanda wasn’t better than you—no one could even come close to you. To Ellie, you were perfect, and she wished you could see it too. When she saw you walking toward her, she quickly set aside the leather-bound journal she had been scribbling in, placing it on the empty spot next to her as she greeted you with a warm smile.

“You’re doing great, beautiful,” She turned to grab her backpack, which had been thrown carelessly on the empty benches behind her. Her tattooed arm reached inside the already unzipped, worn-out bag. “Yeah, you say that, like, every single time.” You sat on the bench next to her, sweat beading on your forehead as you let out a slight huff, feeling winded after your practice. “‘s true though.” She pulled out a small towel and handed it to you with a gentle smile. She was always considerate, constantly looking out for you and ensuring you were taken care of. She expressed her love for you through these little gestures, like bringing things she thought you might need in her green backpack. Her obsession with you was apparent in how she hovered over you, but you couldn't deny that it was comforting to have someone care for you so deeply. That was love—real love—and you had never experienced that from anyone else.

“Goood, you’re so perfect,” you accepted the towel from her outstretched hand and began to pat your forehead, feeling some relief from the heat. But a little towel wasn’t the only thing she brought for you—she also handed you a refreshing bottle of water to quench your thirst and a cherry-flavored lollipop as a little treat. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that beloved childhood candy in your hand. A soft smile spread across her lips when your words reached her ears, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a subtle shrug, “Oh, I know” her elbows propped up on her knees as she leaned forward. She was deep in thought, and her hands were intertwined. You took a few sips of your water and unwrapped a lollipop, both of you fell silent, completely focused on watching Amanda, who was the target of Ellie's intense gaze, she was studying her. “She’s a bitch” the freckled girl next to you muttered under her breath. You hummed in agreement, savoring the sugary goodness. “Why do you even let her speak to you that way?” she shook her head in disapproval, you could feel her gaze on you even if you weren't looking at her. “What do you want me to do? She’s the leader, El. She’ll throw me out of the team if I confront her.” You reached up to your mouth and pulled the lollipop out with a loud smack noise, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. Ellie expressed her disagreement with a small scoff that barely registered on her plump lips, almost imperceptible. She picked up her journal once again and resumed whatever she was doing, and the silence between the two of you fell once again, punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching across the page. When you looked down at her journal, you couldn’t help but notice a drawing she was making of Amanda. The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it. “Oh, well...that's detailed,” you commented, still sucking on your lollipop, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small curl of her lips as if she felt proud of her drawing skills. “But that’d be too messy,” you added, her head shot up to look at you. “Yeah? How would you do it then?” she asked, almost challenging you to come up with a better idea for the hypothetical scenario. “The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips. “That’s it? A good ol’ accidental allergy reaction? Where’s the fun in that?” you shrugged at her words. “No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis. “True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…” She went on, entirely absorbed in her twisted narration. As she spoke, the details grew darker and more grotesque with each word. You watched her, bewildered, struggling to tell if this was still just a “what if” game. When Ellie finally realized you hadn’t responded, she looked over at you—the familiar warmth in her eyes had drained away, leaving something sharper, emptier, a chill that made you feel as though you were staring into someone else entirely.

“And where would you hide the body?” you asked.

She smiled sadistically, almost as if she already had an answer ready for that question. “I know the perfect place for that kind of thing.” she put down her journal, her emeralds back on you as she told you about the place she had in mind. “No one would ever look there,” You agreed, giving her a nod, the cherry taste of the candy lingering as you let the sweetness melt off your tongue, an amused grin playing at the corners of your mouth. The plan was actually well-thought-out—impressively so.

“I told you,” she said softly, her gaze darted between your lips and the lollipop. “Oh? Want some?” you teased, holding the lollipop just a breath away from her. Slowly, you edged the glistening, saliva-coated candy toward her, and she parted her lips, wrapping them around it, savoring the artificial cherry taste with a quiet hum of satisfaction. Her fingers replaced yours on the stick, her fingertips brushing lightly over yours, lingering just a little too long. She held your gaze, her eyes softened, almost entranced, though the depth of that look was something you couldn’t quite place. In reality, she was gazing at you enamored, her pupils wide open, but you were completely oblivious to her feelings and failed to pick up on her infatuation. Shortly after that day, Amanda was gone. Disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. You knew it wasn’t adding up, especially when you asked Ellie about it. She’d be so nonchalant, like she had nothing to do with her it. But you knew she was lying. Did you care about that stupid cunt being gone? Absolutely not. You soon became the leader of the cheerleaders, and everyone looked up to you.

˳·˖𖤐 The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.

˳·˖𖤐 The first few months of college had set in, and you were already drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out. To stay close to you, Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 

˳·˖𖤐 It was ironic, really, how someone as anti-social and apathetic as her would pursue a field that involved studying human behavior and emotions. But she did it anyway because the mere thought of being away from you for even a second was unbearable to her. She didn’t want anyone else to get closer to you or share the dorm with you, so she followed you and moved in with you because no one could take care of you better than her. You both decided to get an apartment together to share the bills and responsibilities of living independently. Your parents were more than willing to support you financially, making sure that you had everything you needed for college and the apartment. You were attached by the hip, and wherever you went, she was there with you, and whenever she wasn't, you became nervous and anxious, wondering what she was doing and if everything was okay. It was as if you had become too dependent on her, and the thought of being alone scared you. But the dependency was mutual; she needed you just as much as you needed her.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was not a fan of parties and preferred staying home, indulging in horror movies while getting high with you. However, when you told her about Daniel’s Halloween party, she knew she had to accompany you to ensure your safety and protect you from any potential creeps. You had been eagerly waiting for Halloween, your favorite holiday, and Ellie didn't want you to miss the opportunity to dress up and have a good time. Despite her initial reluctance, she was somewhat excited, not for the party itself but because she finally had a reason to wear the ghostface costume that had been sitting in her closet, untouched and unused. 

Ellie was already ready, her costume simple but somehow annoyingly perfect—but that was the price that came with being effortlessly beautiful—and her Ghostface mask thrown lazily on her shoulder. She stood at the bathroom entrance, arms crossed, eyes unwavering as they followed you. You slipped into the tight black dress, pulling it into place with a little struggle as it hugged every curve. You, on the other side, loved taking care of every little detail of your makeup and costume, ensuring your appearance was always on point. “I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowed, though her gaze was anything but annoyed as it lingered on your body. With her hip pressed against the doorframe, she watched as you adjusted the neckline, her head tilted to the side, eyes scrutinizing each inch of skin exposed. “Why’d you have to pick something so revealing?” she asked, voice low, almost a grumble. You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s Halloween, Ellie,” you huffed out, “I can wear whatever I want. Don't be such a buzz kill.” “I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?” the freckled girl quipped, her lips curling up into a wry smile as she raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a light chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the small bathroom. “And you’re here complaining,” you retorted with a mischievous grin as you reached for your high heels and effortlessly slid your feet into them. You took a few confident steps towards her, giving her a complete view of your stylish outfit. Her eyes roamed up and down your body. Your dress hugged every curve, revealing just enough skin to accentuate her drool. She licked her lips, imagining what she could do with you in that skimpy outfit, but she had to keep her hands to herself, unfortunately.  “You look fucking amazing.” 

You gave her a soft smile, turning toward the mirror and reaching for your makeup bag on the countertop. “Just need to fix my makeup, and we’re all set,” you informed her, pulling out your favorite berry pink gloss and a tube of mascara, both essentials for tonight. Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Without looking away from your reflection, you rolled your eyes, your long lashes nearly brushing against your brows. “Oh, shut up. You’ll survive,” you replied, carefully gliding the gloss over your lips. She sighed, tipping her head back against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even going. It’s gonna be full of drunk assholes, all crowding around like moths.” “C’mon, El, it’s gonna be fun,” you insisted, catching her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Oh, yeah, can’t wait to watch people hitting on you,” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm. You snorted, giving her a smirk as you grabbed your mascara. “Well, thank God I’ll have you by my side, scaring them all away.” “Damn right,” she shot back, and you both chuckled. Finishing up, you turned on your heels to face her, your eyes locking with hers. The two of you were only inches apart now, close enough to share each unspoken word in the air between you. “So, what do you think? How do I look?” you questioned, seeking her approval, though you knew the answer already. Ellie’s gaze drifted over you, her lips twitching into a scoff. “You already know you look hot,” she murmured, unable to hide a small smirk. She seemed momentarily lost as she looked at you, her green eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes, drawn in despite herself. You felt a pulse of satisfaction at her reaction, the way her attention lingered on you. “Ellie…” you murmured, leaning a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She licked her lips almost instinctively, her gaze dropping to your glossy ones, and the air between you grew thick, the energy snapping with tension. “...Yeah?” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression. In response, she gave your shoulder a playful shove, rolling her eyes as she fought a smile. “Fuck you,” she groaned, a hint of laughter in her voice, and she ducked out of the bathroom, completely flustered, leaving you grinning after her.

When you arrived at the party, your best friend was glued to your side. She didn’t want you to be alone for even a moment, telling you that she’d stay sober to keep an eye on you in case you decided to drink. However, despite her best efforts, she lost track of you for just a few minutes. When she finally found you, she swore she felt her whole organs sink. You were dancing with a girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and jealousy and pure rage quickly built up inside her as she registered that girl’s hands guiding your hips as she ground on your ass and her lips devoured your neck. When your gaze met hers, you couldn’t help but notice the striking green color of her eyes had turned into an intense, almost ominous shade. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and you could feel a sense of discomfort creeping up on you. It was like you had crossed an invisible line and were now doing something you shouldn’t do. Almost instinctively, you pushed the girl off of you, and before you could give the drunken girl an explanation, Ellie was already walking toward you.

“We’re going back home,” She spoke with a harsh, demanding tone. She grabbed your wrist tightly and forcefully pulled you away from the girl you were dancing with. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye or explain the situation as she dragged you away.

“Why are you acting like this? Can’t I make friends?” Your words were slightly slurred, the tipsiness settling in as you tried to pull your wrist from her grip, but Ellie’s hold was firm. You didn’t want to leave the party yet; the night had just started and had been so much fun, and her urgency to get you out only made disappointment grow. The music and chatter gradually faded as she dragged you both toward the exit.

“Didn’t look like a friend to me,” she muttered, voice sharp with an edge that cut through your drunk haze. “Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else. You narrowed your eyes, pushing her, testing her. “So what if she did want to fuck me? What are you, my girlfriend?” The words came out in a perfectly thought-out taunt to poke the emotions she preferred to keep hidden under the surface. You couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it too—what it would be like to actually be with her. Her green eyes darkened, shifting from their usual warmth to something intense and possessive, jealousy sparking in the depths. It was rare for you both to argue, but this time it felt like there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something that had been sitting there gathering dust, waiting for the right moment to bubble out like scorching lava. There was a palpable tension in the air, more-than-friendly feelings in your eyes. Even a fool would’ve been able to see the unspoken feelings and desires that neither of you could express aloud. Perhaps it was the fear of rejection or the uncertainty of how the other person felt kept you both from taking that step. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.” She lied, her words sharp, unyielding, and tone laced with frustration and anger. That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was still not the whole truth. She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself down. Gradually, her tense body relaxed, and her previously sharp tone softened. “You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”  Ellie wanted you to believe she was reacting out of fear because she didn’t want to lose you. But her motives were more complex than that. While it was true that she was afraid of losing you, her actions were purely driven by a sense of selfishness. She strongly believed that you were meant to be together and that it was only a matter of time until you realized she was the one for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one could ever replace you, and I hope you know that.” With a gentle tug of her costume, you pulled her close. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, and you could feel the weight of her body press against yours as she leaned into you. As you held her, you could feel the tension slowly start to melt away, replaced by a familiar sense of safety that usually came with being in her arms. “No, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend, you can do whatever you want—fuck whoever you want.” Her voice quivered with hesitation, and her heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy burden. She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go? Although the idea was tempting she knew she had to set you free─free enough to find someone at least, even if it felt extremely wrong. What were the chances it would last?

˳·˖𖤐 Despite her promise to let you go, to let you be with whoever you wanted, the girl you’d danced with that night was found dead the following day, her body left in a state so brutal it was as if every ounce of someone’s anger had been carved into her. The pieces didn’t quite fit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront it—not yet. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a horrible coincidence.

˳·˖𖤐 And yet, every time the news flashed across the screen or a passing conversation brought it up, her casual comments made your blood run cold.

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone.  “Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips. “Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.

˳·˖𖤐 When you tried to confront her and ask questions that had been gnawing at your mind, her responses were so calm—too calm, too controlled. Her voice was smooth as she answered, almost as if rehearsed as she tried to make you feel ridiculous for even asking.

“I was with you last night. What are you implying?” she’d say, her tone just soft enough to make you question yourself. “You sound crazy right now,” she’d whisper, eyebrows raised in concern. “Maybe all these murders going on are messing with your head.”

With every word, she seemed to pull you deeper into self-doubt, her gaze softening, her voice laced with an almost painful sweetness. “Are you listening to yourself right now? I love you, but… you’re scaring me. You’re being paranoid.”

˳·˖𖤐 Her words lingered, a shadow in your mind until you couldn’t tell if it was your sanity or hers that was starting to slip.

˳·˖𖤐 The third person to disappear into thin air was your boyfriend.

˳·˖𖤐 Shortly after that heated argument with your best friend, you got into your first relationship. She gave you a little more freedom to talk to people, to socialize, but her jealousy flared whenever she saw you with him—or anyone else, for that matter.

God, why him? she’d ask herself, the question gnawing at her each time she saw the two of you together. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, his style was awful, and, to her, he wasn’t even remotely attractive. Whenever he was around, she’d mock him or throw out casual, biting jokes. She always seemed to be the only one laughing. Strangely enough, her snide remarks never fazed him—he never seemed intimidated by her like other guys who quickly fell away, discouraged or unnerved after a few seconds of her scrutiny. But not him. He stuck around, seemingly immune to her attempts to chase him off. So she took care of him. You were left with nothing but a single message, his name lighting up your screen in a sudden, unexpected end. He said he had to break things off because he was moving out of town, needing a “clean break,” a “fresh start.” The words felt hollow, calculated, and as you read through the message, your emotions twisted—hurt, anger, betrayal, all swirling within you. It was your first relationship, and he had chosen to end it over a text message without any explanation or warning. You felt like you meant nothing to him, and the fact that he disappeared from your life without as much as a goodbye added insult to injury. You were upset, not because you were particularly in love with him, but because you hated the feeling of being rejected. You had always been in control, the one rejecting people, so it was a blow to your ego to be on the receiving end of a breakup. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie, of course, had been there for you, providing support and care during this difficult time. She had to be here, because what kind of friend would she be if she wasn't there for you for something she had caused?

She squeezed you tighter, those strong, toned arms wrapping around you with an unbreakable and relentless grip. Her breath was hot on your neck as she murmured against your ear, lips grazing your skin with a smug smirk. “I told you this would happen,” she’d mutter, words slipping out with that intoxicating blend of annoyance and affection. She’d let her slender, cold fingers trace your spine in a way that left a shiver behind, and her hand would possessively rest on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “No one—no one will ever love you like I do. No one knows you like this. He could never do what I can.” “You should’ve known better, angel.” There was a dark satisfaction in her voice, almost sounding like she was taunting you, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the heat of every word against your flesh. “Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 

˳·˖𖤐 Not only did Ellie ensure that your boyfriend would never come anywhere near you, but now she seemed to be spending more time than ever clinging close to you, cuddling with you, and sharing the bed with you—all under the guise of offering you comfort. 

˳·˖𖤐 Your friendship had always been intense and boundaryless, it had never been anything but healthy. And it had always been increasingly clear to anyone looking in from the outside that your relationship was more than platonic. Ellie had always been obsessed with you, and her love for you had bordered on devotion. But while others could see this, you remained oblivious to her true feelings, always wondering if she liked you back.

˳·˖𖤐 And that’s when things started to change. Maybe it was the fact that you now lived together and got to spend every second with each other, or maybe it was the fact that your stupid boyfriend was out of the picture─you weren’t sure, but you didn’t mind, and neither did she. Slowly, it was back to just you and her again. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other distractions. It was just the two of you like it always used to be.

You were leaning back on the couch, a joint held between your lips, your eyes heavy and red as you focused on the big TV in front of you. It was Friday night, a time when everyone else would usually go out, but for you, it only meant one thing: movie night with Ellie. The living room was dark, except for the light cast from the TV, making your faces glow in the darkness. You let out a throaty chuckle, taking another hit before sinking deeper into the couch and passing the joint back to her. You were rambling about random stuff as the movie went on, just filling in the background noise at first. Neither of you was really focused on the movie, too high to pay attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was wandering to other places, and it was easy to lose track of the scenes as they unfolded.  But then, a steamy scene suddenly caught both of your attention. You could feel the heat rising from the joint and maybe something else; the smoke filling your lungs and a fuzzy feeling spread throughout your body, filling you with a sense of relaxation and mellow contentment. But there was still a tiny fluttering sensation in your stomach, even though you knew it shouldn't be there. It was a strange feeling, like a soft and unexpected rush of excitement, and it made you feel both giddy and nervous all at once. As you watched the steamy scene playing out in front of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of Ellie licking her chapped and dry lips, her green, dilated eyes fixed like a laser on the screen. Her breathing was slightly faster, and you could feel her body tense up as she watched the scene. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen for a second, as if her life depended on watching it. “Y’know, you were my gay awakening,” she spoke suddenly, her husky voice breaking the silence and snapping you to attention. She stared at you, her eyes lingering on every part of your body before settling back on your face. It was a bold confession, coming out of nowhere, and suddenly, you felt your heart beating faster. A dry chuckle slipped out of you, catching in your throat. Even though you were high and a little out of control, her admission had you feeling speechless. “Is that so?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, trying to wet it as your throat suddenly felt parched and your pulse thrummed in your ears, hard and loud. “Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.” “Show me.” You challenged her with a sultry tone.   Ellie scoffed, her scarred auburn brows lifting in disbelief. Had she heard you right? She swore she was hallucinating. “What?” “You heard me. Touch yourself,” you commanded, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. The corners of your lips lifted into a smirk, the confidence in your gaze obvious.

“And you’re just gonna sit there and stare like a creep?” She shook her head slowly, an amused smile on her face as if she wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But the soft chuckle and the way her eyes stayed locked on yours hinted that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. “Maybe, maybe not.” You shifted on the couch, turning fully to face her, now closer than ever. Practically in her space, watching her, you could almost feel her heart about to explode. Those little pajama shorts you had on had her captivated. Her eyes kept slipping down, caught on how tightly they hugged your curves, tracing every inch of your legs and hips. She tried to keep her gaze on your face, but it was impossible to stop glancing lower.  “If you do it, I’ll do it too,” you added, your voice dripping with temptation as her silence stretched out. And with that, something in her snapped, a fuse blowing in her mind until the only thing left was pure, raw need. No hesitation, no questions—just her fingers reaching into her waistband, spurred on by that hungry look in your eyes. You both sat there, legs spread, your hands slipping inside your panties, each of you putting on a show for the other.   Ellie’s breath hitched, and her fingers moved with fervor, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how her parted lips let out shallow breaths, quiet gasps escaping as her hand worked. She moved with purpose, fingers gliding through her wetness, quickening her pace to get you to keep up.  “Do what I do,” she groaned, her voice low and rough. You obliged, your fingers following her frantic rhythm.  “Fuck, Ellie,” you moaned, biting back the whimper that her every move pulled out of you. 

She didn’t miss a thing, loving how you trembled and squirmed under her gaze, your body aching, practically begging. Her wildest fantasies were unfolding right in front of her, and she was greedy, wanting every sound, every gasp, every moan.   “You like that, yeah?” she rasped, her voice so rough it made your walls clench. The empty ache inside you was unbearable, your fingers slippery and soaked as you followed her every twist and stroke. You nodded, desperate, moans spilling out without restraint, each one making her move even faster. The sight of her, her touch, her ragged breaths was dizzying. She wanted to own every second, to make you crave her as much as she craved you. Your needy voice rang out, soft and breathy, “Mmmhh… need more, El.” You sounded so desperate, so whiny, it made her heart race. You were just so fucking pretty, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to have her fingers inside you, feeling every desperate pulse, every needy clench around her as you milked her fingers deliciously. Before she could even process the thought, you slid your other hand down, sinking two fingers past your folds with a soft sigh, filling yourself as deep as you could.  The sight made her breath hitch, a low moan slipping out as she watched, knowing that this image would be carved into her brain forever. She could already feel herself getting off to the thought of this moment, over and over again. Your fingers moved in sync, one hand teasing and torturing your clit while the other pumped inside, stroking that perfect spot that made your thighs tense and shiver. Ellie watched, her brows knitted, barely able to tear her eyes away from your sadly still-covered cunt. “God,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she took in every pretty little expression, every sound slipping from your lips as you finger-fucked yourself. She was beyond turned on, completely mesmerized by how good you looked, and couldn’t hold back any longer. With her hand still buried in her boy shorts, she flicked her clit faster, fingers rubbing in desperate, frantic messy circles as she got swept up in the sight of you. “So fuckin’ needy,” she taunted, her voice low and hoarse.

“Gonna...g’na cum,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming out in short, shaky bursts. In a move that sent a shiver down your spine, Ellie reached out and gently tugged your hand away from your shorts, intertwining her fingers with yours.  “Me too—wanna cum with you, need you close,” she gasped, her words breaking into soft moans as her own high built. She squeezed your hand tight, needing the contact as her hips jerked up, chasing her release. Your other hand kept moving, your fingers hitting that perfect, spongy spot again and again until— “I’m coming!” you cried out, your moans reaching a pitch that filled the room, echoing through the walls, your fingers slamming into yourself as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Ooooh fuck!” Ellie groaned, her hips bucking as she rubbed herself faster, her hand squeezing yours hard as she climaxed, her voice hoarse and breathless. 

You sat there, chests heaving, bodies still trembling in the aftermath, catching your breaths in silence as the euphoria slowly faded. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, gradually, reality seeped back in as you both glanced at each other, feeling completely blissful. Her lips pulled into a soft smile, cheeks flushed as her thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand.

Feeling a rush of warmth, you leaned back, wiping your fingers on the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, a quiet contentment settling over you. Ellie tugged gently at your tank top, silently inviting you to come closer. You obliged, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering in her dazed, dreamy voice about how perfect the moment had been, dropping little words of affection she’d usually never say out loud. With the weed still buzzing in her system, it all slipped out way too easily.

You drifted off in her arms, her warmth and steady breaths lulling you to sleep as the TV murmured softly in the background.

˳·˖𖤐 It was as though her infatuation with you intensified after that night, if that was even possible. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, and her focus on every little detail of your appearance became more and more pronounced. You were all she could draw, your lips, your nose, your brows, your eyes. She was convinced that she was the only one who truly appreciated your beauty. She believed that everyone else was too superficial to appreciate you for who you really were. To her, no one else deserved you─not like she did. You were the center of her world, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were like a drug to her, and she craved you more than anything else, her mind was consumed with thoughts of you.

˳·˖𖤐 There was this sick habit of hers, one that she’d never admit out loud but couldn’t shake. Every night, she watched you as you slept, eyes glued to how your oversized shirt barely hung onto your curves. It was like she was waiting—no, hoping—for that shirt to ride up just a little bit more, enough to give her a full view of those soft legs and the tiny slip of fabric that barely covered you. 

You always seemed so relaxed, so at ease around her, never thinking twice about what you wore, especially when you two shared a bed. You’d just crawl under the covers, no pants, no bra, just that soft, baggy shirt. And every time, it drove her wild. Part of her wondered if you knew exactly what you were doing, the way you’d stretch and twist, giving her those little glimpses that made her pulse race—and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose.  She couldn’t look away. Her hand would slip under her waistband, touching herself as her eyes roamed over you, desperate for more than just a view. She couldn’t resist ever since she admitted she’d been touching herself to the thought of you for as long as she could remember.  Even you could feel the tension every time her eyes lingered on your body or lips. Every time she shifted closer, her fingers grazing your thigh just a little too long just to pull away again, chickening out. All you wanted was for her to close that painful gap, to stop playing around and just touch you the way you knew she wanted to. Every night was a silent invitation, a wordless game where every move you made was another way to get her attention, pushing her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ellie licked her lips, her eyes glued to the sight beside her. Watching you sleep like this always turned her on─it was the combination of ‘innocence’, vulnerability, and sheer beauty that did it. The slight roll of your shirt had exposed just enough skin to make her heart race, her mind filled with naughty thoughts. You were never aware of how much she wanted to feel you and touch you inappropriately, but she knew it might ruin your friendship, and she couldn’t risk it.  Feeling her arousal increasing with every passing second, she slipped her hand under the covers. She knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this while you were asleep next to her, sleeping peacefully as she came all over her fingers at the sight of your half-exposed body─but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. The temptation was too strong, and it was impossible to resist you. “Fuck... You’re killing me…” she thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late at night, and she couldn't resist anymore.

Without hesitation, she slid her hand into her shorts and started playing with herself. Her green, concentrated eyes never left your body, studying every curve and dip hungrily. Calloused fingers brushed against her sensitive nub gently, her hips slightly jerking away from her hand. She was so sensitive; you had her pussy throbbing like crazy, and the worst part was that you didn’t even do shit. It was her fault, her perverted and filthy mind's fault. But good lord, if she would sell all her organs to touch you. “The fuck are you doin’ to me…” she murmured under her breath as she played with her wetness, feeling how messy you made her. When her fingers returned to her clit, circling it gently, her breath hitched. She knew she had to be quiet; you were occasionally a light sleeper, and she couldn't risk getting caught. She parted her legs further apart as she kept teasing her clit slowly. “God…” She whispered, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, causing her voice to be soft and sultry as she rubbed herself with increasing tempo. There was no hesitation or inhibition, just raw, unadulterated desire dripping from every fiber of her being. So fucking nasty. She wondered what your reaction would be if you woke up and caught her in the act, but, yet again, there was something exhilarating about the risk, about the idea of you seeing her in the middle of her filthy act. Her face flushed as she imagined this, her mind filled with naughty scenarios as she rubbed herself harder and faster.  “Mmph... so beautiful…” Her eyes never left your body, even while touching herself. For some reason, it felt so good knowing you were just inches away, unaware of what she was doing. She couldn't help but fantasize about you pleasing her—she needed your fingers, you, and she also fantasized about reciprocating the favor.  “Can't wait to taste you... touch you…” She mumbled, lost in her fantasies. Her body trembled slightly from anticipation, she was close. “Mmm... fuck... gonna cum” Her voice was strained, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. It was becoming challenging to stay quiet, and she just hoped you wouldn't wake up to this.

When she did come, she pulled her damp and sticky hand out of her boxers, sucking her fingers clean before turning her head slightly to look at you, admire you. You laid there sleeping like an angel, your hair cascading down your face. She watched you with mixed emotions. 

Ellie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and her forehead was damp with sweat, her red-brown hair sticking to her freckled lush skin. Despite the guilt she knew she should be feeling, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, but deep down, she knew it was merely the first of many more. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she did it, the more confident and bold she became, convinced that you’d never catch her.

˳·˖𖤐 One night, you had a bit too much soda before falling asleep. As the night wore on, you began to slowly wake up, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice the slight shift beside her. Your eyes fluttered open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her hand moving under the covers. Her pale face was flushed, a blush covered her cheeks and her cute nose, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut, trying to keep herself quiet, while her tattooed arm was stuffed deep inside her boxers. Her toned abs tensed up subtly as her perky tits peeked through her black t-shirt, jiggling with every tiny movement she made. Fuck, what a sight. You thought you were dreaming. Hell, you were sure of it. Why would she even do that next to you? You knew you should’ve done or said something, but the sight of your best friend pleasuring herself right beside you only made your pussy throb madly, and the way she dirty-talked to herself to make herself cum. God.

You squeezed your thighs together, pretending to be asleep. Her soft moans made you feel indescribable things, and you felt yourself getting increasingly wet; it felt like torture to lay there and pretend to be asleep while she pleasured herself like that, but at the same time, it was addictive.  So, instead of confronting her, you decided to play along. Wearing slutty thongs to bed became your new routine, and of course, it didn’t take Ellie too long to notice. Some nights, you could feel her lifting your beloved oversized shirt up just a bit to take a better look at your body. It was hard to suppress a smile, but you managed.

“A fucking thong, really? God.” you could hear her mutter quietly.

She’d mumble random shit like, “Wanna fuck you real bad,” when she was close to her orgasm. 

You’d often shift a bit too close to her to make her freak out, interrupting her imminent orgasm. It was entertaining hearing her panic and freeze. The little sigh of relief she'd let out when she looked over you to make sure you were ‘sleeping’ was even cuter to you.

˳·˖𖤐 One day, while doing the laundry, your eyes caught a flash of red fabric peeking out of her sweatpants, tucked deep inside the pocket. A brief moment of recognition made you realize it was your thong, one that you had lost long ago. And you remembered vividly how you had always wondered where it had gone. You knew Ellie had something to do with it—indeed, you were not wrong. “Perv,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you withdrew the thong from her pocket and tossed it inside the washing machine. 

˳·˖𖤐 Though you couldn’t say shit. You weren’t really in a position to, not when you had stolen her boxers—the very ones she had made a mess of the other night, getting off to your ‘innocent’ form in that thong, all sprawled out for her eyes only. Unlike her, you had tucked it away, ensuring she’d never find it—in your bottom drawer, buried beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes.

˳·˖𖤐 Everything had been rainbows and roses since your boyfriend was out of the picture, leaving Ellie with you all to herself, just as she liked it. She’d half-expected this wouldn’t last forever, but she didn’t think it would unravel so soon, too soon.

After your shower, wrapped only in a towel, you realized you’d forgotten to grab fresh clothes. Too lazy to trek back to your room, you decided Ellie’s closet would do just fine. “El! I’m borrowing your clothes!” you called out, already swinging open her closet door without waiting for a response. The woody, warm scent of her filled the small space, mingling with the crisp smell of laundry detergent.

Your gaze drifted downward, catching on a gym bag lying half-zipped. The black fabric looked dull under the dim light, but something about it drew you in. There were dark stains on the shirt peeking out—a rusted, dried red that had you swallowing hard. Right next to it sat a Ghostface mask, its hollow, grinning face staring up at you, taunting you, like it knew something you didn’t. 

Just then, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, a little too rushed, a little too panicked. “Wait, I’ll get it for you!” You heard her footsteps nearing, but by the time she appeared in the doorway, you were already crouched down, inspecting the items, your fingers clutching your boyfriend’s shirt—now stiff with dried blood—and a stained knife in the other.

She froze, her already pale face drained of color as your eyes met. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to explain or reach out. She simply stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for you to make the first move.

“What the fuck?” you choked out, anger tangling in your throat. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Why do you have this, Ellie?!” The words were sharp, edged with accusation, and your fingers tightened around the shirt, clinging to the blood-soaked fabric like it was proof of a reality she couldn’t deny. 

Ellie flinched, cursing herself for not getting rid of that piece of evidence. Maybe it was the procrastination, or perhaps she was just too wrapped up in you—you had that effect on her. Her expression flickered between panic and something else, something guarded, as if she were mentally scrambling to find the right lie to feed you.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Her voice was low, almost eerily calm, meant to keep you from losing your mind and freaking out even more, but it was doing the opposite. “Sit down. I can explain. I promise.” She inched closer, coaxing you back toward her bed, trying to control the situation, as if talking you down would make all of this disappear. But you stepped away from her, backing toward the closet instead.

“Then fucking explain,” you demanded, your voice rising, heat flooding your cheeks as your pulse hammered. Your eyes trailed down to the Ghostface mask lying on the floor, and you kicked it toward her. “What the hell are you doing with all this shit? With my boyfriend’s shirt?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected you, as if that made a difference in the moment. But she cared enough about it to not hold her tongue. You scoffed in disbelief at her correction, and your stern look only prompted her to keep talking, desperate to answer your question. “I found it in the trash,” she began, her tone too smooth, her words practiced. “I was going to take it to the cops.” But you both knew that was a shitty excuse. The explanation hung in the air, feeble and hollow, cracking under the weight of your inquisitor glare.

“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” you spat, tightening your grip on the knife, its sharp tip now aimed right at her. 

“Just sit down, please. I’ll tell you everything.” Her words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last, thick with desperation as she inched closer, hands reaching out like she was steadying herself—or preparing to corner you.

You held your ground, pressing your back into the cold closet door, “No, fuck that!” you snapped, refusing to let her control the moment. Her jaw tightened, and in an instant, she lunged forward, catching your wrist and forcing it up against the wood, pinning the knife-holding hand in place.

“Listen to me!” she growled, her voice growing louder, almost vibrating with a tension that rippled between you, making you quiver. Her face was close, too close, so close that her warm breath hit your face, and her eyes locked onto yours, wild verdants unwavering, staring into your dilated pupils.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shouted, fury shaking the air between you as you pulled at her iron-tight grip. But it was useless. You were sick of her lies, of her half-truths. All you truly desired was for her to lay it all bare for you ‘cause you weren’t fucking dumb, and deep down, you knew it. You had known all along. Her grip only tightened, her knuckles turning white against your skin as her breaths came fast. This Ellie was raw, untamed—a far cry from the girl you had around every day. But in this harsh intensity, there was something real, something you’d been craving for.

“You wanna know the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, each word bitten off, hard enough to make you flinch. She gazed down at the bloodstained shirt sprawled across the floor, her face hardening, “Yeah, that’s his. And yeah, that’s his blood. He deserved what he got.” 

“What the fuck, Ellie, you had no fucking right—” She slammed her other hand against the wooden surface of her closet door, inches away from your head, causing you to cut off your words before they could be fully uttered.

“He was cheating on you!” she interrupted you, her voice rough with anger, her face flushing red. “I saw him, alright? With that girl from the bar—the one you were always paranoid about. I fucking saw him with her. So yeah, I followed him, and things got… out of hand.”

You scanned her face, searching for any hint of regret or guilt, but all you found was a complete lack of remorse, an expression that only seemed to scream she’d do it all over again if she could. But it was exactly that thing in her eyes that pulled you in even more. “Then why not just tell me?” 

Why couldn’t you fear her? Why weren’t you grossed out? Shouldn’t you have had a typical reaction to her revelation, like screaming or crying over the brutal murder of your boyfriend? Instead, here you were, feeling oddly fascinated, giddy even.

“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice a little raspier, her eyes glistening with what looked like tears—fake ones. The sudden empathy felt odd, something that didn’t belong to her, and you knew her too well for this shit. “But then I saw you, finally free, happy without him dragging you down. I thought I’d done you a favor. And then I just… couldn’t say it.” 

You pressed yourself harder against the closet door, staring at her like you were seeing her for the first time. You shook your head, “You’re lying,” you stated flatly, watching her mask drop.

“What? You think I’d lie?” she shot back, trying to twist the situation, like you were crazy for even suspecting her. But you knew better. Psychology classes were really paying off.

“Yes, Ellie, you’re lying.” you leaned in, and her jaw clenched as you continued. “You did it to Amanda and that girl at the party? You think I don’t remember that night? Just admit it!” You practically yelled, and a shadow passed over her face like an ominous cloud, her expression hardening again, her eyes growing cold, dark in a way that caught you off guard. One thing was for sure—there was a certain beauty in the way her captivating jade orbs effortlessly switched between the deceptive facade and the cold, calculated gaze of a serial killer. 

“Admit what?” her tone was mocking, like she was daring you to say it.

“That you—” The words stuck in your throat, your gaze slipping to the Ghostface mask on the floor. That’s when she ripped the knife out of your hand, her grip firm as she held it close to you, not quite pressing it into your skin, just close enough to see if it’d rattle you.

“C’mon,” she murmured, leaning in with that daring, dark smile, “say it.” Her eyes flashed with an edge of mania like she was enjoying this, feeding off your reactions, like some sick parasite.

“You killed them all.” you managed, voice barely a whisper, and she threw her head back in a laugh that sent chills down your spine.

“God, do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, her knife tracing a line along your cheekbone, slow enough to make you shiver, close enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your chest tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears as her lips curled in that contorted smile. ​​Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her gaze piercing through your irises, capturing every fleck of color.

“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.

She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered, voice thick and low, and for the briefest moment, her composure cracked—just enough for you to see her desperation, like she was hanging onto a thread. She needed you to stay, even after all this. She couldn’t live without you.

“I just want the truth,” you uttered, your voice soft, never breaking eye contact. And if you did, it was only to let your eyes drop to her lips, she was so tantalizingly close that it was impossible not to. “Drop the mind games. I want the truth.” You didn’t know how the hell you could still want her, adrenaline tangling in your chest, but you did. Maybe even more than before.

Her brows rose in mock surprise as she cocked her head. “You want the truth?” she echoed, lips parting in a cold smirk. “Fine. Yes, I killed your stupid fucking boyfriend. He died like a pussy,” she sneered, anger flashing as she clenched the knife, thinking of his hands on you, touching what had always belonged to her.

“Why?” you whispered, watching her like you were peeling away her layers, seeing her stripped of all pretenses.

“Why do you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.

The words that tumbled from your mouth after her revelation left her almost astonished.

“How’d you kill him?” then, with a morbid fascination you added, “What did it feel like?” your head tilted slightly to the side. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment—both of you naked, with you perched on top of her.

Ellie was gorgeous—way too gorgeous to be a serial killer, or a psychotic person. She was even more gorgeous beneath you, auburn strands of hair splayed across the pillow, messy but not as messy as her dripping pussy. Her breath hitched as your fingers tightened around the handle of her switchblade, the cold metal gliding from her neck down to her chest, drawing lazy white scratches all over her alabaster skin.

A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips as you drew lazy circles around her areolas with the sharp point of the knife, watching with satisfaction as her pink nipples hardened, standing at full attention for you, as hard as rocks and begging to be tortured. You could feel her grow restless beneath you—her hips bucking in a desperate attempt to grind against your pussy, but you lifted yourself ever so slightly, just enough to deprive her of the friction she craved.

“Desperate?” you mocked, your bottom lip jutting out in a cruel pout. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to yours, glazed with lust and frustration, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. A cocky front, even now. But it was just a front, she was so fucking weak for you.

“Yeah,” she rasped, her voice betraying her need, but her eyes showed a glint of defiance. She couldn’t resist trying to fight back. “But you’re dragging this out like a coward.”

You hummed sultrily, letting the blade press just a little harder against her dotty complexion—not enough to cut, but enough to leave faint red marks across her flesh. “Oh, you think you’re in a position to talk back?” you spat, your free hand pinning her wrist above her head as she squirmed. “You’re fucking sick, Ellie.”

“Like you’re any better,” she sneered, though her voice trembled as the tip of the knife traced down her sternum toward her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her sun-spotted skin as her breathing became more erratic, her hips lifting in vain again to seek the friction you kept cruelly out of her reach.

“Not the one going around killing people, am I?” you snorted, the blade now grazing and lingering just below her belly button.

Ellie’s defiance cracked, her voice weaker, more fragile as she muttered, “I did it for you.” it made your heart skip a beat or beat faster—you really couldn’t tell from all that adrenaline clouding your rational thoughts.

“You’re trembling,” you noted with a sly smirk, her cocky grin faltering as the knife inched lower, closer to where she needed you most. Ellie bit her lip hard, a needy whimper slipping through despite her best effort to stifle it.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, one hand reaching up to rest on your hip. Her touch sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but lower yourself closer, pressing your body against hers. 

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, pride swelling in your chest at the sight of her—the usually cold, calculated killer, reduced to this. All because of you. Seeing her this weak for you truly made you want to do the unholiest things to her, things you knew she would never forget about. You tossed the switchblade aside, forgotten as soon as your lips descended on her neck, sucking dark spots on her soft flesh. You let your teeth sink in, biting just hard enough to get a soft sound out of her. The auburnette was so desperate and sensitive that everything seemed to make her moan—every brief touch, every kiss, even your breathing fanning over her skin. She was already half-gone, and you were barely even getting started.

Her skin flushed beneath your lips as you kissed your way down her body, taking your sweet time, savoring each second of her squirming beneath you. Her breaths grew more ragged, her thighs twitching as you moved lower. Ellie’s body was a temple, and right now, it was all yours to worship.

She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?

˳·˖𖤐 You’d never imagined Ellie would care that much, never thought she’d be capable of that level of obsession. And you didn’t mind it one bit. No, quite the opposite. The realization only made your pussy throb madly, heat pooling between your thighs as your mind replayed her confession over and over like a broken record, focusing on the brutal details she had given you. It wasn’t just the idea of her killing—it was that she did it because of you, because she couldn’t let anyone else have you.

Every single muscle in her body tensed, her legs trembling as you hovered right above her hairy mound. You could see it—the way her wetness coated her folds, her pink clit, swollen and impatient, her pussy practically begging for attention, and it only made you want to tease her more. Your thumb teasingly drew tight, gentle circles on her aching nub, making her whimper almost exaggeratedly.

“Aww, look at you…” you purred, retracting your hand, your voice low, honed in sweet mockery. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. “Soaking wet, desperate for me to touch you. Gonna start begging now?”

Your words made her whine, her resolve crumbling more with each passing second—not that there was any left. Her body betrayed her, hips lifting toward your face, her need palpable. But you weren’t done playing with her yet. You had all night ahead.

Your arms curled around her toned thighs, pulling her closer as you knelt at the edge of the bed, your face mere inches from her pussy. You could see how wet she was, how desperate she had become—there was even a dark wet patch on the sheets beneath her. You smirked up at her, eyes locking with hers as you lowered your mouth to her slick folds. With the tip of your tongue, you spread her moistened lips, and it was enough to make Ellie’s entire body jolt, a choked moan tearing from her throat as you tasted her, her sweet juices coating your lips as you lapped at her with slow, deliberate cat licks.

Ellie’s head fell back against the pillow, her hands gripping your hair with white-knuckled desperation as you ate her out, tongue flicking over her clit every now and then with just enough pressure to drive her mad. You sucked, your lips closing around her swollen bud, and Ellie’s back arched painfully off the bed, her thighs trembling around your head.

“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her hoarse voice scratching her already dry throat as her hips bucked uncontrollably and you held her down, refusing to let her squirm away from the relentless onslaught of your mouth.

You smirked against her, the vibrations of your giggle only making her moan louder. “Look at you, El,” you teased, your voice muffled between her thighs. “So sweet ‘n perfect f’me,”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, your tongue swirling around her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her, curling them with brutal precision, finding that sweet spot that had her toes curling, her breath catching in her throat. Her gummy walls clenched around your fingers, and you could feel how close she was, her legs shaking violently.

Ellie’s moans grew louder, more frantic, her hands tugging at your hair hard as she tried to ground herself, grinding against your tongue. But you didn’t slow down—if anything, you fucked her harder, your fingers pumping into her fast and deep, your mouth never abandoning her needy clit, your nose buried in her trimmed bush.

“Beg me,” you commanded as you pulled away to breathe, her core swallowing every inch of your fingers greedily. All those years of plugging her fingers deep inside her wet cunt imagining they were yours instead were so worth the wait.

“I—fuck—” the green-eyed girl’s breath caught, her body shaking uncontrollably, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please… please…” She couldn’t even fucking function; you had reduced her to a broken mess.

“Can’t hear you,” you prompted her, your fingers plunging deeper, harder, until her back arched off the bed, a cry of pure need tearing from her throat.

“Fuck! Please, I need it—I need you—fuck, I’m so close!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her orgasm crept closer, promising her to see stars, but you weren’t about to give her what she wanted—no, not yet.

You grinned wickedly, pulling your fingers out of her soaked pussy just before she could. A strangled, frustrated sob escaped her plump lips as her body writhed beneath you, her orgasm stolen, leaving her aching and needy.

“Aw, you’re not so smart, are you? You really thought I was going to let you come?” You leaned in, pressing your lips to her ear as you whispered, “Oh no, El… we’re just getting started. You’re not going anywhere.”

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie’s eyes widened with a mixture of frustration and confusion as you told her you’d let her come after you were done using her. You reached for your favorite strap-on, adjusting the harness until it sat snugly around her hips. Her wrists were bound securely to the headboard, the cuffs’ soft, fluffy lining pressing firmly against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her, her eyes darting between the toy and your wicked grin. 

Her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you lower yourself onto her, the thick silicone toy sliding in with ease after you’d teased your throbbing bud with its tip. Her hands twitched, desperate to reach out, to touch you, but she couldn’t do much with the handcuffs keeping her wrists locked to the bed, the soft restraints holding her firmly in place. She watched with wide eyes as her cock stretched your needy, wet heat, sliding in and out. At first, your movements were slow and teasing, letting her take in every inch, but it didn’t take long before you picked up the pace, your body already accustomed to its size, moving with a frantic, eager rhythm.

“Fuuuck…” you panted, rolling your hips against the toy, your breath hitching as that familiar feeling built in your stomach. Ellie’s gaze was glued to you—your bouncing tits, your parted lips, the way your body moved smoothly above her. She wanted to touch, to feel you, but all she could do was watch as you used her, as you fucked yourself on the strap like she wasn’t even there. It was cruel, truly. Her body trembled with need as she watched you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, her pussy throbbing with unmet desire as yours seemed to suck the toy deeper, and for a moment, she swore she could feel your walls tightening around her—perhaps it was the desperation playing a sick joke on her. She couldn’t help but let out a moan.

˳·˖𖤐 She had tried begging but she’d only be met with things such as:

“Cry about it,” you sneered, your voice cold and mocking as you watched her squirm restlessly beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking crybaby,” you murmured, fingers gripping onto her chin and forcing her to look at you as if her desperation was nothing more than a joke to you.

“I’m putting up a whole show for you, and you’re still complaining,” you chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction curling at the corners of your mouth as you looked down at her, reveling in her helplessness, your wetness dripping down the harness, making a mess on top of her.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking as she thrusted up. Mewls slipped out of your soft lips as the tip of her silicone cock hit your cervix, desperation written all over her flushed face. “Please let me touch you... let me do something...” Her voice hitched as she choked on a sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her glassy eyes locked onto yours, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her pleas. “Fuck, I can’t—” she cried out, voice breaking again, her head tilting back as she tried to hold herself together. Her gaze flickered back up to you, trailing to your chest, lingering there hungrily. Bushy brows furrowed with longing as she licked her chapped lips.

But you weren’t listening. You were too lost in the pleasure of fucking yourself on her, your head thrown back, sobs pouring from your lips as the strap-on hit that perfect spot against your cervix. Your movements grew more frantic, hips slamming down harder, faster, the toy sliding in and out of your slick folds with ease. The wet sounds of your arousal filled her room, mixing with the desperate, needy gasps that escaped Ellie beneath you, her fingers curling into fists as the cuffs dug into her velvety skin, promising bruises she’d feel long after this was over.

Her eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you ride her with reckless abandon. The sight of you, your body glistening with sweat, pretty tits bouncing with every thrust, was too much for her. She was on the edge, teetering, her body aching to release, but you wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t let her do shit.

Ellie groaned, frustration and lust mixing in her voice as she bucked her hips uselessly beneath you, trying to gain even a fraction of relief from the sight of you fucking yourself senseless. “Please… please, I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken, and god if it nearly made you squirt. “I need it—I need to come, please…”

You smirked down at her, not stopping, your hips grinding harder, riding the strap with everything you had. You leaned down, your breath hot against the shell of her ear as you whispered, “You’re not coming until I say you can. You’re going to sit there and watch me get off, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.” Cruelly pressing damp and sloppy kisses on the column of her neck, kisses that had her gasping pathetically.

˳·˖𖤐 And it went on and on, her eyes locked on the sight of your milky cum dripping down the thick, black strap, each drop making her bite back a groan. She wished she could taste you. Every time she tried to move or squirm too much for your liking, you’d smack her hard across the face, or switch to a new position just to tease her even more, making sure you were giving her the best view. It was only after the fifth—or maybe the sixth—orgasm that you finally uncuffed her.

The moment her wrists were free, she flipped you over, quick as lightning, giving you no time to react. She pinned you beneath her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, you looked up at her, panting and spent, your brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She just smirked down at you, spreading your trembling legs apart with ease, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Oh fuck, no—” you gasped out, trying to squirm away as she wrapped her hand around the slick toy, guiding it right back to your abused entrance. She knew she could probably come right then, grinding against the back of the strap, but the thought of pushing you past your limits was far more thrilling. 

“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”

The redhead pushed in relentlessly, forcing your pulsating walls to swallow every inch, your back arching as she made you hold on just a little longer. Before long, your legs gave out beneath you as she pounded into you from behind, each thrust deep and brutal, your cheek pressed into the soft mattress. Her hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a sharp sting that burned like a bitch. The smacks kept coming, over and over, until your skin was bruised and your body was shaking with overstimulation. “This is for leaving me high and dry,” she hissed, her voice rough with frustration and desire, slapping the same bruised spot again and again, until you knew you’d be sore for days, unable to sit down.

˳·˖𖤐 When it was finally over, the two of you laid tangled together, breathless and sticky. Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, but a question lingered in her eyes—one that seemed to claw at her even now, despite everything you’d done to show her you weren’t running, that you weren’t disgusted by her nature. You had never been, for the matter, even when you were kids.

“You’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?” she rasped, her voice rough, her grip tightening possessively on your hip while her other hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting with the weight of her words, like she was scared to hear your answer. It made your heart swell knowing she feared losing you so badly.

But you were so drunk of the overwhelming contentment that you barely registered the tension in her voice. Instead, a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and you blurted out, “Wanna be my girlfriend?” The question slipped out before you could think, your gaze locked onto her freckled face, admiring every angle and curve, the way the warm dim light softened her expression.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard, before a playful smirk curved her lips. “I am your girlfriend,” she gave your hip a gentle swat that made you chuckle softly, the sound mixing with the quiet hum of the fan.

“Y’know…you’re right,” you mumbled suddenly. Her hand drifted to your back, scratching lightly, soothing you as your body relaxed into hers. You turned your head, meeting her soft eyes again, while something darker flashed in yours. “He fucking deserved what he got,” Your voice was low, carrying a finality that made Ellie’s breath hitch. It was all the reassurance she needed. A wide grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with something almost feral, a giddy kind of joy. It was a smile so genuine, so purely her, that it was impossible to resist leaning in to kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a messy, heated kiss. 

“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”

˳·˖𖤐 She had gotten clingier and more eager after that night, always looking for an excuse to touch you, to keep you within reach. Whenever you went somewhere, Ellie trailed right behind you, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave your side. And honestly, you loved it—you thrived on bossing her around, enjoying how she would drop whatever she was doing just to be with you. If the two of you were inseparable as friends before, it had only gotten worse. Not that the obsessive, morbid love wasn’t there before, but now you both let it show, with no boundaries left to be set, no rules, just whatever twisted thing you both had become together.

˳·˖𖤐 Time flew by, and soon Halloween rolled around again, your favorite holiday. Ellie knew it, too, and she didn’t even try to say no when you convinced her to tag along to a party you’d been invited to. It was supposed to be a small, “close friends only” type of thing, but you dragged her with you anyway, making it clear you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Plus, you’d been at each other’s throats lately, bickering more than usual, and she didn’t want to risk making you any angrier. It was either coming along without putting up a fight or dealing with the idea of you going solo—knowing she’d just end up following you like the little creep she was, lurking in the shadows, making sure no one even dared to touch you.

˳·˖𖤐 The party turned out to be better than either of you had expected. A few drinks in, and you both started to loosen up, Ellie sticking close, practically attached to your side with some invisible rope. It was like she couldn’t let you out of her sight, even for a second, her hand always finding its way to your back or waist, keeping you close. You danced together, swaying in the colorful, pulsing lights, your bodies brushing intimately against each other. Her eyes stayed glued to you the whole time, like you were the Holy Mary herself, and she just couldn’t get enough. You reveled in her devotion, the way her grip on your hips would tighten as you moved. It was such a turn-on.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and it wasn’t long before it was just the two of you left with Allison and her boyfriend, Lucas. The four of you gravitated toward the kitchen, where Ellie leaned against the counter, elbows propped up on the cold granite. She played with the knives, her fingers casually tracing the handles, sliding them in and out of the block absentmindedly.

Allison scrolled through her phone, her brown eyes squinting at the screen’s dim glow. “Another guy went missing,” she announced, her voice wavering as she scanned through the article. “I bet Ghostface has something to do with it.”

“Tragic,” Ellie muttered, her tone devoid of sympathy. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. You watched her, catching the unsettling indifference in her voice. When she noticed your gaze, she raised an eyebrow in mock innocence, daring you to question her. Instead, she shrugged. Allison went on and on about how creepy it was that Ghostface could be literally anyone, her voice holding a mix of fascination and fear. 

“I mean, think about it,” she said, eyes wide as she gestured dramatically. “It could be your neighbor, your friend, even someone you totally trust! Just wearing that mask and knife in hand, ready to strike any moment. It’s so fucked up!” As Allison thought about the countless times she had passed by potential killers, she couldn’t help but shudder in fear at her luck. How many times had she walked down a dark alleyway, taken a walk alone at night, or even trusted the wrong person? The thought of her mortality sent a chill down her spine and made her wonder how long her luck would hold out.

“Yeah, it’s scary,” you hummed, but then the conversation shifted back to the guy who had gone missing. 

“You’ve got to be dumb to get killed like that, though,” Ellie scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Came all the way from Michigan just to end up dead? Pathetic. Guess all those muscles didn’t help much.”

Allison frowned at Ellie’s lack of empathy, but she shrugged it off, scrolling through her phone for more details, her thumb flicking faster across the screen. “That’s… awful,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced over at Lucas, who seemed unfazed by the conversation.

Lucas noticed your look and mistook it for unease. “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want a drink or something?”

You nodded, playing into his kindness. “Sure, thanks.”

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Allison’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving you, Ellie, and Allison alone in the dim living room.

“Wait—” Allison’s brows knitted in confusion, her voice soft but growing with unease. “How’d you know he was from Michigan? It doesn’t say anything about…” Her voice trailed off as she continued scrolling, her eyes flicking back and forth over the screen, trying to make sense of what Ellie had just casually dropped.

Ellie’s smile barely flickered. “Just a guess,” she replied smoothly, her gaze icy and unbothered, creeping Allison out.

You chuckled at the exchange, and Allison turned to you with a confused look. “C’mon, cheer up, Allison! We’re just messing with you. Can’t you take a joke? It’s Halloween!”

Allison’s frown deepened as she glanced between you and Ellie, her eyes clouding with suspicion. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the unsettling vibe. “You two are… really something,” she said, brushing it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe paranoia was just doing her dirty. Oh, if she only knew.

Ellie smirked, she leaned forward, her voice dropping low. “Oh, you have no idea,” she whispered, her tone laced with something dark and final, a warning the girl didn’t quite catch.

Lucas handed you the drink, his face lighting up with an easy smile, completely unaware of the exchange. 

“You guys wanna play a game?” you asked, grinning at Allison and Lucas. The suggestion hung in the air, deceptively playful. Allison exchanged a look with Lucas, her unease melting a bit, as if convincing herself she was just imagining things.

She forced a smile. “Sure. What kind of game?”

Ellie’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about something… fun?”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the intoxicating rush of chaos, but after a few questions were answered and it was your turn, your eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced your stomach. Time seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with Ellie, and what you saw there sent a chill down your spine—your girlfriend’s eyes were empty, devoid of emotion—not even guilt shone in her eyes. It was like staring into a void. 

Blood poured from your mouth, warm and sticky, and panic coursed through you. When a week ago she had suggested trying something new, never did you think that would lead to this—her knife buried deep inside your insides, and blood pouring out of you like a crimson-tainted waterfall.

“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 

Allison and Lucas stood completely frozen, utterly speechless, their bodies rigid with shock as they watched the horrific scene unfold before their eyes, feeling useless and not knowing how to stop it. The crimson blood pooled out of your wound, soaking the fabric of your shirt, while Ellie’s gloves gleamed with a sinister shine. The red wasn’t so visible against the darkness of her attire, but it was there, unmistakable. 

“It was the wrong answer, babe,” Ellie whispered, her words dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl, and the innocent faint smile on her face made Allison want to rip her hair out. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lucas followed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger, trying to process the madness unfolding in front of him.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Allison yelled, her voice cracking as she cried, her hands shaking.

Your body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and through half-lidded eyes, you saw the panic set in as Allison and Lucas before you stopped breathing entirely. They scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over themselves. Allison’s frantic, manicured hands rattled desperately the knob, her voice shrill as she screamed for help, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. 

And she hadn’t locked it. She was sure she hadn’t.

Lucas, desperate to protect her, grabbed a vase from the entry table and hurled it at Ellie, the glass shattering against her shoulder with a harsh crack. It staggered her for a moment, just long enough for them to dart in separate directions, fleeing up the stairs. 

Ellie grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement as she took off after Lucas, her steps heavy but steady, savoring the thrill of the chase, like a cat chasing a mouse. She looked over her shoulder at you before she raced up the stairs. Allison stumbled into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The auburnette could hear the blonde girl breathing heavily, panicked, the creak of the floorboards giving her away as she backed into the room.

But she decided to take care of Lucas instead, having labeled Allison as the weakest between the two. She successfully cornered Lucas at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door to the master bathroom, eyes darting desperately around for anything he could use to defend himself. He grabbed a towel rack, ripping it off the wall and wielding it like a bat as Ellie advanced on him, her face lit with a twisted satisfaction. A stupid towel rack wasn’t going to stop her, and honestly, it excited her. She loved how people fought for their lives, no matter how fucked up the situation was. It was fascinating to watch, like a wild show of survival instincts kicking in. The panic, the desperation on their faces and in their actions—it was what got her heart racing and made her feel alive.

“You… you’re insane!” Lucas stammered, brandishing the metal rod with trembling hands.

He was taller, bigger, stronger—details that only made the auburnette’s grin widen, her attentive eyes narrowing with anticipation. To her, he was nothing but a challenge, one she was all too eager to take on. Ellie chuckled darkly, her eyes never leaving him as she took one slow, measured step forward. “Only now figuring that out, huh?” She took another step, her shadow looming over him as he shrank back against the tiled wall, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He swung the metal bar, catching her arm with a glancing hit, but it only seemed to amuse her more. She couldn’t feel pain—not even the faintest pulse of her own heartbeat, completely drowned out by the surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt invincible.

With a swift, practiced precision, Ellie caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the rod clattered to the aquamarine floor. “Nice try, Lucas,” she hissed before shoving him backward, hard enough that his head cracked against the tile. He slumped to the floor, groaning, his vision swimming as Ellie towered over him. But he fought nonetheless, his hands trying to stop her from sinking the sharp knife into his throat, but it didn’t last long. He didn’t last long.

“That was stupid,” she panted, standing over his corpse, her look sharp and full of disdain. Her face was scrunched in anger, but the adrenaline flooding her veins felt incredible—like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. The thrill of it. A loud noise snapped her from her thoughts. The old wood creaked under her black boots as she headed toward the room where she’d last seen Allison hide.

˳·˖𖤐 The guest bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she shoved it open with a firm kick. Her eyes locked onto Allison, sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around her still body. Her face was frozen in horror as if she’d seen a ghost in her final moments. Her gaze drifted up—to you, standing just a few feet from Allison’s lifeless body.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a crooked smile, giving her a little wave, clearly nervous but with a spark of excitement in your eyes that made her stare in awe. She remembered that feeling all too well—the jitters, the high that followed her first time. And here you were, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire cat, looking so damn giddy as you took it all in—like a kid who had just discovered their new favorite toy. 

Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.

“How’d I do?” you asked, almost childlike, looking up at her with eager eyes, fishing for approval—her approval. It was all you needed, and it felt like trying to impress a middle school crush all over again.

“Pretty good, my love. You did great,” she praised, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.

Her gaze softened briefly, a low, amused, throaty laugh slipping from her lips as she pushed a stray lock of hair back with the back of her blood-stained glove, leaving a smudged streak of red across her cheekbone. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she took in the mess you’d created. “You know, for a second there, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. Look at you now.” Her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she looked at you up and down, ready to pounce on you any time now.

You blushed, a bit sheepish, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor. “What can I say? Guess you’re a bad influence,” you smirked, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

She tossed the knife aside, and you mirrored her every move, watching as she peeled off her gloves and stepped closer. Her toothy smile widened as she pulled you in, her thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, still warm from the adrenaline rush, while her other trembling hand rested on your waist. “Oh, yeah? Gonna start blaming me now?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

The freckled girl leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, soft and warm and she tasted so sweet.

“Your performance down there was flawless, and your technique…” she trailed off, her eyes trailing down to Allison’s body, “Not bad for your first time. A little shaky on the left stab, but hey,” she shrugged, lips curling into a teasing smirk, knowing damn well that even the gentlest dose of constructive criticism would get under your skin, “we’ll work on it.”

You scoffed and swatted her hand away, but Ellie just giggled, her laugh soft and breathless. “Can’t believe you got that question wrong, though,” she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing your cheek again, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. That familiar smug smirk tugged at her heart-shaped lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a more playful one, her breath warm against your heated skin. “We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,” she said, almost mockingly offended, her green eyes bright with mischief, the ones that told you exactly what she had in mind. And she swore she was falling deeper for you, you had her in a chokehold.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,” you admitted.

Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she raised her scarred eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling her hand drift lower to your waist, pulling you closer, you cupped her cheek, your thumb caressing her blood-stained cheekbone lovingly, staring at her enamored.

Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”

She let out a soft laugh. “I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.

You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”

Her smirk deepened, revealing that dimple on her left cheek you loved so much, her infatuated gaze lingering on your lips almost as if she wanted to swallow you whole. “My bad. Should’ve warned you,” she murmured, then backed you toward the bed behind you, her hands rough but confident, pressing you down as she crawled on top, her breath hot and insistent against your supple skin.

Before you knew it, she was buried deep inside you, slender, calloused fingers curling and pressing against that spot that had you whining, and your legs trembling. Her other hand gripped her switchblade, cool metal tracing up to press it against your throat, and she could feel you squeeze her fingers. “Awwhh, baby,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “You keep squirming like that, and it’s gonna cost you your life.”

You choked out a laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “You’d cum at the sight, wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip to stifle a moan, body struggling to hold still as she kept up that relentless rhythm, her fingers stretching and curling deep inside you, making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t help but trap her arm, a weak attempt to slow her down because you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with her pressing a knife on your throat. “Fucking psycho.”

“But you love me.” She said it so matter-of-factly, her lips curling with satisfaction as she watched you nod, helpless and needy, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around her, drawing her in like you couldn’t get enough.

“Yeah, I love you! F-Fuck…” you gasped, grinding down on her fingers, desperate, craving that friction your hungry clit needed. 

Her smitten gaze drifted to the lifeless body sprawled across the room, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. “So proud of you. You did such a good job. Look at her.” She tilted your face, forcing you to take it in. “Your work.” And in her fucked up mind, she truly believed it—your work deserved to be worshiped, just like Picasso’s after he was gone. A masterpiece, painted with every kind of brutal emotion.

You let out a shaky breath, almost dazed. “Yeah, I… I did that,” you stammered, voice breaking, caught somewhere between a whimper and a sob, you could feel it, you were close already and all that praising surely wasn’t helping.

“That’s right,” she murmured, nodding as her eyes roamed over you, taking you in like she was seeing you for the first time, it made you melt. “You’re so fucking hot, god. Made just for me. Perfect for me.”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine.

[abbyfreakster]

morning sex with abby

tw; oral (a!receiving), strap usage (r!receiving) , slight degrading (r!receiving) idk

primarily based off of this req but this is very short and boring im sorry 💔

mornings with abby were always some of your favorite, most cherished moments. waking up and shaking off the lingering sleep by kissing & cuddling your lover, before you both had to eventually get up and get ready for work.

but today was a saturday- which meant you had all the time in the world.

a casual makeout session had, as they always seemed to, turned into a little something more.

you placed feather light kisses down her toned body; tasting the salt kissed essence of exercise- she must’ve gone to the gym earlier- and giggling at her tensing abs & nervous breaths as you made your way down to her boxers.

you hooked your fingers around the waistband of the fabric and (with her help) shimmied them down her legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor. settling back down between her legs, noting how her pussy glistened with noticeable arousal, you let out a soft chuckle.

“you need this that badly, huh?”

“just.. shut up,” abby groaned, covering her face with her palms, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

“hey!” you chided her, nipping at her thigh. “be nice or you’re note getting anything.”

she sighed, grinning stupidly. “okay, i’m sorry.”

“not genuine enough!”

“i said i was sor-”

she cut off with a slutty whine as you pinched her clit between your thumb and pointer finger.

moving your hand back to her hip & giving her a pointed look, you rested your head on the they, making eye contact with her now swollen clit.

slipping her hand into your hair, she pulled you forward and you let her, sticking your tongue out as she situated herself on it, letting out soft, whiney moans.

“fuck, babe,” she sighed, rocking her hips back and forth on your tongue, the angle at which it was dragging against her clit driving her wild.

focusing on the way you held eye contact with her, breathing as steadily as possible through your nose, she soon got off, her hot white cum resting on your tongue.

“fucking swallow,” she ordered, gently slapping your cheek, to which you obliged, your eyes nearly rolling back at just how good she tasted.

around 10 minutes later, abby had you straddling her, guiding your hips as you rode her strap & kissing and licking at your neck, cooing comfortingly when you whined about it being too big.

“c’mon sweatpea, you’ve taken it before and you can take it now, right? mhm, just relax, you’re doing so well.”

she began to thrust up into you, starting with gentle, but firm thrusts, tightening her grip on your hips when you rest your head on her shoulder, blubbering.

“gonna cum, aren’t ya?” she chuckled as she felt you nod into her neck. “i know, baby, i can tell.”

she moved her index and middle finger to your clit, rubbing it in gentle circles until you came, and left a white ring around the base of her strap.

rushed ending sorry guys, im busy (i just wanna play fortnite)

[lovelookspretty]

waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: swearing, pretty safe !! lowkey i rushed thru im sorry LMAO

authors note: okay ik im a little late with an update and its kind of shorter but i wanted to get out a part asap. im rewatching the 100 rn and ugh. anyway if u arent part of the tag list yet, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

previous next

you sit at the small table across from rafe, your fork hovering above your plate, but your attention keeps drifting toward the large window facing the street. you can’t help it. john b and jj were out there earlier, just hanging around.

it didn’t seem like they would come in, but you still feel uneasy. your eyes flicker to the entrance every few minutes, waiting for them to either walk in or disappear.

“stop glancin’ at the damn window, y/n, i can . . . feel your worry from here," rafe mutters, his voice low and rough, but there’s a hint of something softer there. he doesn’t even look up from his plate, just keeps cutting into his food like it’s nothing, but his words hit you harder than they should.

you blink a few times, then drop your gaze to your plate, the food suddenly less appetizing. it’s not like you can explain it to him—that you’re afraid of seeing john b or jj or that they might somehow sense that you’re not the same y/n they used to know. you’re not sure they’d even care, but the thought of facing them right now, of fumbling through some conversation, makes your stomach twist.

still, you force yourself to eat, to appear normal, though the tension buzzing between your shoulders doesn’t fade.

when you and rafe finally step out of the cafe, your eyes immediately search the street for the van. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you see that it’s gone. maybe they left. maybe they figured it wasn’t worth it. either way, relief washes over you, but it’s fleeting. you get into the car quickly, a little too quickly, as if you’re still afraid they might show up.

rafe slides in beside you, his movements slower, more casual, and turns the key in the ignition. the engine roars to life, but the radio stays off, just like it was earlier.

the drive home is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the car as it rolls down the streets. you stare out the window, trying to keep your mind from spiraling, but the silence feels suffocating. eventually, you speak, your voice hesitant, unsure, “remind me why ward and rose hate me again?”

you regret the question the moment it leaves your mouth. you should know why. y/n would know exactly what’s going on between her and rafe’s parents. but you’re not her, and you need answers.

you hold your breath, waiting for his response, and in your peripheral, you see him furrow his brows, his hand on your thigh loosening like he’s pulling back, even just a little.

for a second, you think you’ve blown it, that he’s going to catch on, but then he speaks.

“they don’t hate you,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “they just . . . my dad thinks you’re in it for the money, remember? the cameron wealth. he just doesn’t trust you. and you know how rose is. she just agrees with him as long as she gets her allowance from ward cameron.” there’s a bitterness in his voice when he says his father’s name, like it’s coated in something darker. “seems a bit fucking hypocritical if you ask me.”

in it for the money? the words bounce around your head, disorienting you. you weren’t expecting that. your eyes drop to the dashboard, and you try to wrap your mind around what he’s saying, but it feels wrong. that’s what they think about her. not you. it’s hard to remind yourself of that, to separate yourself from the y/n everyone else knows.

at least, that’s what you think this is. that there was a version of you living in this world, the right version. but something must’ve been two nights ago and there was just . . . you don’t know. you can’t accept that this life is yours. you’ve never lived it.

you hesitate, then whisper, “do you . . . agree with them?”

the question hangs in the air between you, and for a second, you think he’s not going to answer. but then the car comes to a sudden stop as he pulls up in front of the house, slamming on the brakes harder than necessary. he turns toward you, eyes sharp, focused. there’s a pause, a heavy silence.

“no,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “i don’t. you know that.”

you look at him, trying to read his expression, trying to understand why he’s so sure. there’s something there in his eyes, something unspoken that makes your chest tighten. but you don’t push. instead, you just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

you step into the house and the door clicks shut behind you. the echo of your footsteps fades as you make your way upstairs, shoes dangling from your fingers by their backs.

when you reach rafe’s room, you drop the shoes in the closet with a soft thud and let yourself fall back onto the bed. the mattress bounces slightly under your weight, the cool sheets brushing against your skin as you settle in. you fish your phone out of your back pocket, unlocking it with a quick swipe.

a few notifications pop up on the screen—most of them unimportant, just the usual, but two names catch your eye. one from your mother, another two from jj.

your thumb hovers over jj’s messages first, curiosity or maybe just habit pushing you to open them: ‘ hey how u been? ’ followed by another message, ‘ saw u at driftwood lol ’

you grimace. please stop talking to me, you think, and you almost consider typing that out for him, but you just swipe the conversation away. it feels wrong, ignoring him, but it’s safer this way. at least for now.

you tap on your mom’s message, her name flashing up on the screen. it’s a simple ‘ hello? ’ sent after a previous message asking if you wanted to video call tonight. guilt tugs at you for not answering sooner, but you quickly type a response: ‘ i’ll be there ’

you drop the phone onto your chest and close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your body.

rafe comes into the room just a minute after, dragging his feet as he enters, and flops down on the bed beside you with a heavy sigh. he’s on his back, his arms thrown up to rub his eyes. the weight of the day is already too much, you can tell.

you roll onto your side to face him, watching the rise and fall of his chest for a second. he looks tired—more than tired—and for some reason, you feel this sudden pull to comfort him. maybe it’s because you’re realizing that you’re stuck here for longer than you ever imagined, or maybe it’s because, despite everything, there’s something grounding about feeling him next to you. something real.

you slide your hand over his stomach, feeling the firm muscle under his t-shirt, and trail your fingers up to his neck. his skin is warm, smooth.

he smells like fresh ocean air mixed with something expensive—sandalwood, maybe, and a hint of cedar. it’s clean, masculine, and comforting in its own strange way. your hand rests against the side of his face, and you lean in, pressing your cheek lightly to his shoulder, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize it. the scent of him feels like an anchor to this new world, even if you don’t fully belong in it.

rafe’s eyes flutter shut, his face softening under your touch, and after a quiet moment, he murmurs, "i love you."

the words catch you off guard. you blink, your heart skipping for a second as reality slams into you. you don’t really know him—at least not this version of him. not like that. and yet, you have to play the part, don’t you?

“i love you,” you mumble back, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, like they don’t belong to you. but even as they leave your lips, your mind is already spinning, thoughts racing faster than you can keep up.

a million things zip through your head at once—what if this is it? what if you never find a way home? what if you’re stuck here forever, living this life that doesn’t belong to you, loving a man who isn’t really yours?

it’s terrifying—the possibility that you might grow attached to this place, that you might actually start to like it. and then what? if you ever do go home, what happens? will you feel crushed by the weight of leaving it all behind? will you go insane, trying to navigate two lives, two versions of reality?

maybe you have nothing to worry about. maybe everything will work itself out.

but maybe you have everything to worry about.

you sit up slowly from the bed, careful not to disturb rafe as he drifts deeper into sleep. you slip away from him quietly, your feet making no sound as you pad across the room to his desk. sitting down, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the cool surface, and run your fingers through your hair. you’re tired—bone-tired—but sleep feels far away, unreachable. you need something, anything, to distract you.

your eyes open lazily, glancing at the surface of the desk. it's clean, organized, too neat, really, for someone like rafe. there’s not much on it aside from a few pieces of mail. you sift through them halfheartedly—most of it is boring stuff, some bank letters, a couple of magazines.

some are even addressed to you. they’re opened already, though, and there’s nothing of importance. not that you expected there to be.

pushing yourself up from the desk, you wander around the room. it’s yours too, right? or at least it feels that way, with how much space you apparently take up.

your fingers trail along the dresser, the faint creaking of the drawer breaking the silence as you pull it open. inside, neatly folded, are your clothes—well, her clothes. the y/n from this universe. it feels strange, surreal, knowing this other version of you needed extra room for her things. maybe she had more stuff and she just wanted more space.

your mind drifts back to what rafe said earlier. that ward and rose didn’t like you. didn’t trust you. they thought you were just after their money, like some kind of gold digger. you snort at the thought—it’s ironic, really. considering how ward and rafe were obsessed with finding literal treasure in the show. maybe everyone in this family, including her, were a little too focused on gold.

closing the drawer, you step toward the closet, opening it just as carefully. it’s split down the middle, half filled with rafe’s clothes, the other half with yours. the dresser must’ve just been for overflow.

you shake your head, closing it softly and moving back toward the bed, your gaze trailing toward your phone. it's sitting on the bed next to rafe, tempting you, but the thought of waking him just to grab it doesn’t feel worth it.

you sit down on the floor instead, crossing your legs and staring blankly at the room around you. bored. that’s all you are—bored and stuck.

your choices are limited. you can’t go downstairs and risk running into ward or rose, can’t hang out with anyone yet, and leaving for a drive without telling rafe seems . . . wrong. maybe this universe’s y/n felt the same way. maybe she felt isolated here, bored out of her mind. maybe she lost it at some point. maybe—

god, stop, you think to yourself, shaking your head.

you stare at the floor for a while, trying to focus on the wood grain beneath your fingers, but your gaze eventually drifts to something under the bed. boxes, mostly, a couple of old board games, but something else catches your attention. something wedged between two boxes.

curious, you lean down and reach for it, your fingers brushing against the cover of what looks like a journal. you pull it out, wiping a thin layer of dust from the top as you grimace. “gross,” you mutter under your breath. guess rafe doesn’t clean under the bed often.

lying down on your stomach, you run your hand along the outside of the journal. it’s worn but intact, the pages thick and sturdy under your fingertips. you never took rafe as the journaling type—he doesn’t seem like someone who would sit down and pour his thoughts onto paper. but here it is, in your hands. something personal. something that might give you a glimpse into his mind, this world, this version of him.

you hesitate for a moment, staring at the journal as your thumb traces the edge of it.

you open it, flipping past the first few pages with a lazy flick of your fingers. the familiar scent of old paper wafts up, and you wrinkle your nose at it. laying your head on your fist, you hold the journal open with one hand, skimming the neat, familiar handwriting.

it’s strange seeing rafe’s thoughts laid out like this—stranger still because you never imagined him as someone who would keep a journal at all.

but he does. and he’s detailed.

each page is filled top to bottom, crammed with his thoughts, feelings, and observations. day after day, entry after entry. it’s more than you expected, almost overwhelming in its depth. he didn’t just write about major events or things that stood out—no, he captured everything. the small details. the mundane moments. he seemed obsessed with recording every second of his life.

as you glance at the dates, your brows furrow. the entries are more recent than you thought they’d be. flipping back to the beginning of the journal, you see that it starts in early may. a sharp contrast to what you remember from your own life—your real life—where you had left in the middle of september. it’s jarring. maybe time works differently here.

and then, something else catches your attention: the handwriting.

it’s familiar. too familiar. not just because it’s rafe’s, but because there’s something about the way the letters curve, the way the words flow across the page.

you sit up a little straighter, squinting as you begin to properly read through the entries. your eyes scan the first entry dated may 12.

‘ 05/12

i don’t know why i’m even bothering to write this down. everyone says journaling is supposed to help or whatever, but all i feel is frustrated. it’s like everyone around me has it together, and i’m the one constantly getting in my own way. or maybe they’re the ones in my way. i don’t know. it’s hard to tell these days.

i’m trying, though. i think? i mean, isn’t this part of trying to get better? to work through my issues instead of ignoring them? i just don’t get why it feels like such a chore. i’ve spent so long pretending everything’s fine, so maybe that’s why this whole “self-reflection” thing is pissing me off. i’m not used to it. i’m not used to being told that i need to change, when i feel like i’ve been doing fine. they’re the ones who need to stop acting like i’m the problem. i’m not perfect, sure, but who is?

whatever. maybe i’m just overthinking it. i know i need to be better, but it’s hard when people keep pushing me into a corner, expecting me to react the same way i always have. i don’t want to be that person anymore, but it’s like, what’s the point of trying to change when no one’s even going to notice? or worse—they’re gonna keep treating me like i’m the same person no matter what i do.

i don’t know. this is stupid. but maybe it’ll help if i keep writing. or maybe not. we’ll see. ’

you blink at the page, your brow furrowing in confusion. why is rafe trying to change? change from what?

you try to shake off the unease and flip through the pages, skipping a few until you reach another entry. this one’s dated august 3rd.

‘ 08/03

i swear, sometimes i feel like no matter how hard i try, people just refuse to see it. today was fucking awful. jj and i got into it again, and i don’t even know how it got so bad so fast. i’ve been trying to be better. i’ve been trying to show up, to listen, to be the kind of friend everyone says i should be. but jj? he just doesn’t get it. he always wants to bring up the past, like i haven’t already said sorry a million times. like i haven’t tried to make up for everything. what more do they want from me?*

and the worst part is, he made me feel like i’m the bad guy. like i’m still the same selfish, narcissistic person from months ago. but i’m not. or at least, i’m trying not to be. but how am i supposed to change when people like him just won’t let me? he said i’ve been a bad friend. me? a bad friend? maybe i haven’t been perfect, but who has? i’m doing the best i can, and it’s not like everyone else is a saint. but no, it’s always me who gets the blame.

honestly, i think jj just made everything worse. i was starting to feel like i was making progress, and now? i don’t know. i feel like i’m back to square one. all i wanted was to fix things, to show i’ve changed, and instead i’m just stuck here, trying to explain myself to someone who clearly doesn’t care.

whatever. i’m done trying to explain myself. if people don’t want to see that i’m trying, then that’s their problem, not mine. ’

your heart races as you read the entry. wait . . . this is familiar. the mention of jj. hold on.

you flip through a smaller chunk of pages, eager to find the last written entry, and stop on september 17.

‘ 09/17

i’ve done everything i can. i’ve changed. i know i’ve changed, but no one else seems to think so. it’s like no matter what i do, i’m still the same person in their eyes. the selfish one, the one who only cares about herself. it’s not fair. i’ve been working so hard to be better, to be different. but every time i walk into a room, it’s like they’re waiting for me to mess up again. waiting for me to be the person they’ve decided i am.

i just wish they’d give me a break. i’m not that person anymore. or at least, i’m trying not to be. it’s exhausting, having to prove myself over and over again. i thought things would be different by now. i thought people would see that i’m not the same. but all i get are those looks. like i’ve done something unforgivable. like i’m still the villain in their story, no matter how hard i’ve tried to rewrite mine.

i don’t know what else to do. i’m tired of fighting for people to see me. maybe i’ll never be enough for them. maybe they’re just waiting for me to screw up again, to prove that i haven’t changed at all. but i have. i have changed. i know it.

god, i just wish i could do something big. something to show them all at once that i’m not who i used to be. i’m better now. i just don’t know how to make them believe it. ’

your blood runs cold as you read the last line. panic surges through you, and you glance around the room as if seeking an escape. you scan the pages, your eyes racing over the words, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

you were absolutely wrong. this isn’t rafe’s journal.

this is hers.

@v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @httpsdrewstarkey @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @cold-soup1223 @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @drewsephrry @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[ohdeerfully]

K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.” 

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming. 

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes. 

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response. 

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual. 

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face. 

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

[postmoe]

Moe im absolutely DROOLING at capitano 😵 May I request yandere! capitano preeety plees with a cherry on too 😫😫 U CANT TELL ME HES NOT JUST AHHXJSNSNSN HES SO FINEEEE

im sorry it's been so long life is just UGH i think we all need a bit of capitano rn-

i think i made the yandere a little too subtle but I hope it's still okay-

When you first fell to this world, no one believed you to be an outsider. You were just crazy, a patient who escaped the asylum.

It happened when you were out on a job, your last year of med school and you were doing your practical part, following along in ambulances and assisting paramedics. There had been a building collapse, chaos everywhere, dust surrounding the scene. You weren't supposed to stray too far, it's only when you heard a young voice calling from help did you separate, calling out your intentions to your colleague before rushing through the door with your bag of equipment held tightly to your chest. As you began through the doorway, it was as if an earthquake struck, everything trembling and crumbling. You couldn't believe your eyes, the way the ground turned blocky, a red and black colour eating the sides of your world like an 8-bit transition. Gravity hit hard as you fell through, the broken, wooden floors turning into a faraway city, canopies of trees, rivers, mountains - before you fainted.

When you awoke you couldn't find any injuries that would result from a free fall from the atmosphere, namely death. If anything, you were a little tender in the muscles. You found your med bag not far from you before awkwardly making your way, searching for help.

One lonely night you had approached a group of soldier-like people. They were part of the 'Fatui', which people seemed to fear but what other option did you have? You told them your story, begged for food, and out of pity some had helped you. A lot of laughs came your way, but even so, you sat at a table with drunken fatui and got a nice bowl of stew and bread.

Just as everyone was leaving, you felt a large hand on your shoulder. It was their Captain, who the party under his command conveniently referred to him as 'Capitano'. He holds out a small, woven bag once he gets your attention, dropping it in her hands when you hold them out. It feels like coins - Mora, if you remember correctly, the currency of this world - and regards you with only a few words, "I believe you. However, I cannot help you."

It was the little glimmer of hope you needed. You stored some leftover bread in your paramedic jacket, running after him and calling him to wait, to have a conversation but, he was a busy man. He retreated into a nice looking motel on the outskirts of the city, leaving you to sit outside.

So you did. You waited all night on the side of the road, resting until he eventually came back out.

.

Granted, following an 'evil' organisation wasn't the smartest thing, that's only if the words of the people you've met are to be believed. As of now, they're the only people who have reached out a helping hand, and Capitano, the only one to make you finally breathe and remember that you aren't insane; that this is real.

Still, you keep your distance, following diligently like a lost puppy. "Leave her be," Capitano had said when one of his men asked about you, "She is no threat." Later he would say he was hoping you would get the message to journey on your own, to find your own way.

On a cold night he had saved you, though to anyone it appeared as nothing more than an easy kill. Two hilichurls, you were half asleep, focused more on keeping warm than any dangers. It wasn't until you heard the slash of his blade did you even notice he was there, the monsters leaving behind blood and dust in their wake.

Capitano drapes a blanket over you, "Come." You follow him into the camp, beyond the guards and closer to a fire. He points to a sleeping mat, "If you're going to follow me then stay within the group." With that, he retreats to his tent. You can't help the tears of gratitude as you bathe in the warmth, your sleep the best it's been in weeks.

You make friends with the fatui, it's unanimously agreed that everyone in Capitano's ranks are morally... adequate, compared to other Harbingers. "Don't even get me started on Il Dottore's..." one mentions, and you think as a 'doctor' yourself, you couldn't handle hearing his horror stories.

Eventually, you become part of their medic team, showing them all the fun tools and medications from your world. Even if they don't believe you, they pretend to, and they show interest. You've only cried twice when reminiscing.

A few times you've seen Capitano enter the medic tent, he grabs some bandages and some ointment before retreating to his tent. "Would you like some help?" You ask, not for the first time, and it won't be the last.

His usual response is what comes, "No, thank you."

It's a routine, you like to think he appreciates it.

.

You're not a stranger to violence. During your schooling you saw a lot of gore, it never phased you in the ways it would others. Of course, it was sad, seeing children who needed to have a leg amputated, people being victimised by a violent stranger, you could only do your best to give them the rest of their lives.

War, however, was another thing. Footage does nothing compared to witnessing it, the people you eat dinner with being ripped apart by monsters, other factions of the land getting burnt to death by the power of their gods, or frostbitten and forced to watch their comrades suffer until they themselves succumb.

Capitano scared you, in a way. He was always so strong, so willing to give his all to anyone who had the courage to fight back. It was his way in honour. You're lucky he had a sense of justice, apparently anyone else could have killed you and be done with it. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like if he drew his sword against you, or used his large hands and wrap them around your neck, suffocating you until he saw the whites of your eyes...

He was a monster, but maybe compared to the other, real monsters out there, he was the better option.

Tonight he got hurt, enough to show the blood spreading through his clothes. Wounds and scars were normal but this made your stomach churn. You see a glimpse of a monster claw that he's tried to hide with his cloak. There's a tear in his sleeve as well, showing his long glove underneath.

Nope. You can't just sit by as he struggles, you signed a contract saying that you would help anyone, no matter the circumstance. As he walks back to his tent, you follow him closely behind, your bag in hand. He stops, the flap partially open as he turns to you and says in a strained voice, "I'm fine. Go tend to the others."

You shake your head defiantly, staring into the dark abyss of his helmet with conviction.

He huffs, entering the tent and murmuring, "Do as you please."

His tent is much larger than any of the others, perhaps the medical one only being marginally bigger. There's a fireplace, a desk with a multitude of papers, scattered, used bandages and a large pile of bed wrapping and furs. He takes a seat on the chair near the desk, removing his coat and grabbing the claw, about to yank it out when you slap his hand away.

You waggle your finger at him, crouching to get a better look at the wound, "You're only going to make it worse. Honestly, if that's how you treat yourself it's a wonder you're still alive. Help me get your shirt off."

There's a hint of hesitation in him, though you're only a little sure you see it. Your focus is on pulling it over the claw without moving it too much, it had gone through bandages around his stomach as well, wrapping over his chest, the rest of his body... Look over him, taken aback. His flesh isn't normal, what you thought were gloves was actually the decay of his arms. No, decay doesn't seem right either but even so, there's no life. He lets you take it in, waiting until your eyes look to his mask. "My body is rotten, rotting, still," he clarifies, and you realise that perhaps decay is the right word, it's just a different meaning in this world. "I'm fine," he says again, as though expecting this to be too much for you, "You can leave."

You wonder why the smell isn't so bad, the sweet tinge mixing with a sour after scent. It wasn't the most pleasant but if you're being honest, it wasn't horrible. You put this aside and give him a dead stare, "You're so aggravating. Are you just allergic to help? Shut up and let tend to you."

He sits still after that, leaning back in the chair as you get to work. You tell him when it might hurt, he doesn't even flinch when you're prepared to extract the claw. Even the inside of his body isn't normal, his blood seeming to pulse out than continuously flow, the colour off in a blackish way. You had removed the bandages before, so the feeling of his leathery skin was odd, there was an odd sense to it that you couldn't describe. Darkness? How could you feel darkness?

You're priority is the claw wound, which you diligently tend to, cleaning and stitching it until you were satisfied with the result. You have a gauze left that you wrap onto him, sitting back on your heels to admire your work. "I'll have to check on it twice a day. If you need help bathing let me know, or I can instruct one of your men how to assist you without infecting the wound," you tell him, expecting him to blatantly deny any outside help.

Instead, he changes the topic entirely, speaking lowly, "I still can't help you."

"What?" You ask, mind still on the topic of his wellbeing.

He rolls his shoulders and looks to his tattered shirt, reaching to put it back on, though leaving it open, "To get back home, I still can't help you. You're wasting your time here."

Oh, so that's what he meant. You haven't spoken about it with him at all, and you did have questions you wanted to ask but you're not even sure if you have the mindset to discuss your fate immediately after learning the man you've been following is rotting before your eyes. It feels kinda shitty to bring up your trauma over his. You reach forward, fingertips grazing against the damaged skin above his stomach, wishing you could do something more than than bandage a wound, "Does it hurt?"

"I've had worse, at least it didn't come out the other side," he tilts his head to the claw, and you can imagine he might have a disinterested look by the sounds of his monotone voice.

You laugh, and you're not sure if he's saying that so you don't bring up his skin but you honestly can't believe what you're seeing, "No no, your body. Your flesh. Does it hurt?" You distantly wonder if that little vial of morphine you saved would alleviate it. Would it be a blessing of reprieve or a torture since it won't last?

Capitano sighs, probably the first sign of true emotion you've heard from him, "Yes, it's very painful. I'm used to it, however."

"Does the ointment help, the one you get from the medic tent? God I wish I could just," you frustratingly clench your fist before opening your palm to him, exhaling in sombre, "Take your pain away. I'm a medic in my world, but here I feel really useless sometimes."

You sit in comfortable silence, still crouched down before him. He hasn't removed your hand, you're not sure why but perhaps the cool touch it soothing to him? His muscles tense underneath you, and you only open your eyes when you feel him relax again. You're face-to-face with a strange light from your palm, a swirling breeze like a vortex coming inwards. You freaked out, retracting your hand fast but only getting a fraction of a distance before Capitano grasped your wrist, forcing you to press back against him. It's too late, whatever concentration you had fades, as does the light.

The way his shoulders sag gives a sense of disappointment. "What was that?" You practically whisper, a little scared of whatever just came from you.

He finally relents your hand, leaning back in his chair, "I believe... It's an ancient power. I shall do some research."

Capitano is curt, his head turned to the side and away from you. You get the hint, knees cracking loudly as you stand, causing you to laugh anxiously while you dust off the imaginary dirt from your thighs, "Y-Yeah, okay. Thank you. I'll check in on you in the morning."

Your goodnights are brief, the flap of the tent closing gently behind you.

There's a pyroslinger skirmisher standing guard at his tent, you give him a pointed finger and declare, "If you see him take off his bandages without me, you let me know! I won't tolerate my patients disrespecting my orders."

He gives you a salute, playing along, "Yes ma'am!"

.

Capitano's body is corrupted by the abyss, he's been stuck in a torturous torment of decay for over 500 years. Your heart aches at this, a condition your mind struggles to comprehend but there is one saving grace you both had realised:

You have the power to ease his pain.

It's a form of light that counters his darkness, and whilst you can never truly cure him, you can certainly take the edge off and allow him to rest. Physical touch works the best, a few times now as you're focusing on his ailments has he fallen asleep. Now you provide mandatory rest, it had taken a lot of complaining and arguing but you finally managed to get him to take off his helmet.

"I've seen the aftermath of a person's skull from a violent car crash, I don't think it could be worse," you had told him.

To which he responded, "What is a car?"

Seamless to say, you were correct. If you were honest, you were expecting some sort of Freddy Krueger look, though he certainly didn't meet those expectations. What caught you off guard were the piercing blue of his eye. Sometimes, you had thought you'd caught a glimpse of them through the mask, whenever raw emotion truly shined from the Captain. Now, you know you weren't imagining things. One eyes was scarred shut, though he could open the lid, the eye itself was pale and sat naturally closed. The scar across it took up almost half of his face, his skin partially remained its true colour, though he says its faded over time. The blight that covers most of his body travels up his neck, like twisted vines growing along his cheeks and forehead. His long, black hair remained neat, only a few strands falling forward once the mask is removed.

The tent remains securely closed at the time, your back facing it as you both rest in the furs of his bed for extra security. You hum a song that doesn't exist here as you caress your fingers through his hair and down his neck, circling around his shoulders and along his spine. He rests comfortably in your lap while the light from you absorbs his pain. One of his hands reaches out, grasping your left hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, his own hand enveloping yours like a delicate treasure, "I'm not sure I could ever let you leave now. You should have turned around when you still had the chance."

You laugh, because you know Capitano and you know his values. Even as the alarm bells ring from the way he squeezes your hand, like he'll never let you go, you ignore them in favour of your naivety, "If I left then I would have been torn apart by monsters."

He grunts and rolls so he's on his back. Your smile is awkward from the position he's put himself in, your chin tilting up to lessen the double chin from looking down. His hand now reaches up to your face gently stroking your cheek as he thinks aloud, "So as long as I stay in dangerous areas, you won't run away."

His words are making you feel too uncomfortable, so you flick his forehead and scold him, "Stop being so weird. You've kept me safe this far along, right? As long as I'm here, I'm going to help you." You hold his hand against your cheek, hoping to comfort him with a smile, "Besides, who would I follow if not my Captain? Anyone else would just be a downgrade."

Capitano's stare is as piercing as ever. He takes his time sitting up, shirtless and uncaring of the cold temperature. You much prefer this angle, looking slightly up so you can still meet his gaze. True to Capitano fashion, he hits you with a curveball and says something that catches you off guard, "I want you to sleep with me tonight."

Your face goes red, eyes avoidant as you stammer, "F-For the comfort, right? To keep your pain at bay?"

You think this is the first time you've seen him smile and, if this is his joking tone then... What was everything else? "Of course, for the pain. Why, was there something else you had in mind?"

[aceyalonso]

make it rain - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader kinktober day 14 - tattoos

summary : a little rain never hurt anyone... not until lewis almost breaks y/n's back (in a good way)

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, praise kink, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!!), body worship, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of "baby" and "good girl"

word count : 5.3k

a/n : im ovulating

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n hurried through the rain-soaked streets, her hair plastered to her face. She pulled her red leather jacket tighter around herself, trying to shield as much of her body from the relentless downpour as possible. Beside her, Lewis was equally drenched, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame.

They reached the apartment building and rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. Y/n shook the water from her jacket before slipping it back on, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold. She ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her face.

Lewis glanced around the lobby, taking in the modern decor and sleek furnishings. "Nice place," he commented, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

She nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on a particularly striking abstract painting on the wall. She started towards the elevators, eager to get out of her wet clothes and into something warm and dry. As she pressed the button, she couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis from the corner of her eye.

Y/n's eyes roamed over Lewis's soaked form, taking in the way his wet shirt clung to his broad chest and defined abs. Even drenched, he looked incredibly handsome, his chiseled features and piercing gaze sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a familiar heat pooling in her core as she imagined peeling off those wet clothes and running her hands over his glistening skin. Y/n quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts. They had more important things to focus on right now.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n stepped inside, motioning for Lewis to follow. As they ascended, she could feel the tension crackling between them, the small space suddenly feeling much too intimate.

Lewis cleared his throat, breaking the charged silence. "So, uh, which floor?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

Y/n shivered as the cool air from the elevator's AC unit washed over her damp skin. "Fourteenth floor," she replied, her teeth chattering slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to generate some warmth.

As the elevator began its slow ascent, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances at Lewis. The way his wet clothes clung to his muscular frame was incredibly distracting. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those defined abs, to trace the lines of his sculpted chest...

She blinked, realizing she had been staring at Lewis for an uncomfortably long time. Y/n quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the slowly climbing floor numbers above the elevator doors.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, the two of them standing in awkward silence as they continued to shiver from the cold and the AC's relentless blast. Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited them on the fourteenth floor, but she couldn't quite shake the distracting images of Lewis's wet, half-naked body from her imagination.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n practically lunged out into the hallway, desperate to escape the confines of the small space and the heated looks Lewis had been giving her.

Y/n hurried down the hallway, her keycard clutched tightly in her hand. She reached her apartment door and quickly unlocked it, stepping inside and holding it open for Lewis to follow. He entered behind her, closing the door with a soft click.

"Sorry about the mess," Y/n said apologetically, gesturing to the neatly folded clothes piled on her couch. It wasn't really a mess, just a temporary holding spot for the items she hadn't had a chance to put away yet.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Looks pretty tidy to me," he remarked, his eyes roaming over the pile of clothing. "Though I wouldn't mind helping you 'clean up' a bit more..."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the suggestive tone in his voice. She busied herself with hanging up her dripping wet jacket, trying to ignore the way Lewis's gaze seemed to burn into her back.

She shuddered as she peeled off her soaked leather jacket, the cold material clinging to her skin. She draped it over the back of a chair, not bothering to zip it up properly in her haste to get out of the wet garment.

Underneath, her thin tank top was practically transparent, molding to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. The leopard print of her bra was clearly visible through the damp fabric, the lacy cups barely containing her ample breasts.

Y/n paused as she felt Lewis's gaze on her back, his eyes no doubt drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of skin and lace. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tank top, suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing.

"I never knew you had a spine tattoo," Lewis remarked, his voice low and appreciative. "It suits you."

Y/n turned to face him, her cheeks flushed. She crossed her arms over her chest, acutely aware of how the movement pushed her breasts together, making them appear even fuller. "I don't necessarily advertise it," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "I got it on a whim."

She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You of all people should know better than to be surprised by hidden ink. I seem to recall a certain someone having quite the collection themselves."

She sauntered closer to Lewis, her hips swaying with each step. When she reached him, she trailed a finger lightly down his chest, tracing the edge of one of his many tattoos. "What's the count up to now? Ten? Eleven?"

Lewis caught her wandering hand, his larger fingers engulfing hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "Fifteen," he murmured against her hand. "But who's counting?"

Lewis plucked the dry shirt from Y/n's grasp, setting it aside on the couch with a suggestive smirk. "Maybe you can wear your clothes later," he purred, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "For now, I think I prefer you like this."

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of her tank top, grazing the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his exploration. She leaned into him, her hands splaying across his firm chest.

"Is that so?" she breathed, tilting her head to expose the column of her throat. "And what exactly do you plan to do with me while I'm half-naked?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and full of promise. His hands slid around to her front, skimming over her ribs and coming to rest just below her breasts. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he murmured, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the swell of her cleavage. "But I think I'll let you decide how far we take this."

Y/n smirked up at Lewis, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'll let you go far, alright," she purred, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "But we need to be equal, don't we? So maybe you should take that shirt off too."

She stepped back, giving him room to maneuver. Her gaze raked over his body, lingering on the tantalizing glimpse of skin where his shirt had ridden up. Y/n licked her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten the plump flesh.

Lewis grinned, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. He made quick work of them, shrugging the garment off and letting it fall to the floor. His torso was a work of art, all hard planes and rippling muscle, adorned with intricate tattoos that told a story of his life.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she drank in the sight of him. Her fingers itched to explore every inch of his exposed skin, to trace the lines of his abs and feel the heat of his body against hers.

Lewis pulled Y/n flush against him, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. She melted into his embrace, her hands fisting in his hair as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Their tongues danced and tangled, exploring each other's mouths with hungry abandon.

Y/n gasped as Lewis's hands slid down her back, gripping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her over to the couch. The pile of clean laundry went tumbling to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Lewis laid her down on the cushions, his body covering hers as he continued to kiss her senselessly. His hands roamed over her curves, slipping beneath her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath. Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more contact, more friction.

He grinned as he noticed the "Lucky You" patch on Y/n's jeans. His fingers deftly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, tugging them down her long legs. "Looks like I hit the jackpot," he quipped, tossing the discarded jeans aside.

Y/n started to make a comment about the fallen laundry, but her words were cut off by Lewis's lips on her stomach. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her abdomen, his stubble deliciously abrading her sensitive flesh.

Y/n's back arched off the couch, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips. Her hands tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as he worked his way lower. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Please..."

Lewis hooked his fingers in the waistband of Y/n's panties, which matched her bra in a delightful surprise. He slowly dragged them down her legs, using his teeth to tug them off and leave them dangling precariously from her ankle.

With Y/n's hips lifted, Lewis settled between her thighs, his hot breath ghosting over her most intimate parts. He nuzzled her inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer to his prize.

Y/n's moans filled the room as Lewis's tongue delved between her folds, lapping at her slick arousal. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping lower, thrusting in and out of her tight channel. His hands gripped her ass, holding her steady as he feasted on her pussy like a starving man.

Lewis groaned against Y/n's pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled, his words muffled by her slick folds. "Don't hold back, baby. I want to hear you."

Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls of the apartment. "Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her hips bucking against his face. "Your ex was so lucky to have this mouth on her every day."

Lewis chuckled, the sound sending delicious vibrations through her core. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, stroking her inner walls. His nose rubbed against her clit with each pass, adding an extra layer of stimulation that had Y/n seeing stars.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Y/n's moans grew louder and more desperate as Lewis continued his relentless assault on her pussy. "Oh fuck, Lewis, just like that," she panted, her fingers digging into his hair. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Lewis growled against her slick folds, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her veins. He sealed his lips around her clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "You like feeling my tongue on your pretty little pussy?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her hips rolling against his face. "Yes, fuck yes," she gasped, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding herself open for him. "I love your mouth, Lewis. I love how you make me feel."

Lewis slowed his movements, savoring the taste and feel of Y/n's pussy on his tongue. He wanted to draw out her pleasure, to make her beg for release. Y/n whimpered, her hips bucking against his face in search of more friction.

"Lew, please," she panted, her voice strained with need. "Go faster, it felt so fucking good."

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He placed a final kiss on her inner thigh before pulling back, leaving Y/n aching and desperate for more.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over her slick folds. "I want to savor every inch of you."

Lewis peppered Y/n's pussy with feather-light kisses, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin. Each brush of his mouth against her slick folds sent electric jolts of pleasure racing through her body, making her moan loudly.

"Lewis, please," she whined, her hips twitching with the effort of staying still. "I need more, I need you inside me."

Lewis grinned against her flesh, his breath hot and teasing. "All in good time, baby," he murmured, his fingers dipping between her folds to circle her aching clit. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's head fell back against the couch cushions, her hands fisting in the fabric as Lewis worked her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, desperate for the final push over the precipice.

Y/n's moans grew more desperate, almost bordering on whimpers as she begged for Lewis to put his tongue back on her aching pussy. "Please, Lewis, I need you," she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you inside me."

Lewis obliged, his tongue delving between her slick folds once more. He lapped at her hungrily, his stubble abrading her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. Y/n's panties still hung precariously from her foot, a tangible reminder of how far gone she was.

Lewis's hands gripped her thighs, holding her open for his ministrations. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, flicking motions against her clit, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice muffled against her pussy. "Let go, let yourself feel good. I've got you."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Her legs wrapped around Lewis's head, holding him in place as she rode out the intense sensations.

"Oh fuck, Lewis!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Lewis doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around the intrusion. He lapped at her slick folds, eagerly drinking down her essence as she came undone beneath him.

Y/n's fingers tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as she shuddered and twitched with the aftershocks of her climax. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Y/n gently pulled Lewis away from her sensitive pussy, a satisfied smile on her face as she took in the sight of him. His lips and chin were glistening with her arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

"You look so pretty like that," she purred, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Lewis grinned, crawling up her body until he hovered over her. He pressed soft kisses to her stomach, her ribs, the valley between her breasts. His hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every dip and curve.

"I could eat you out for hours," he murmured against her skin, his stubble delicately tickling her flesh. "You taste so fucking good, baby."

Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips as they kissed, her hands deftly working at the button of his jeans. She popped it open and slowly dragged down the zipper, her fingers brushing teasingly over the bulge straining against the denim.

"Take them off," she whispered against his mouth, her breath hot and inviting.

Lewis groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. He sat back on his heels, allowing Y/n to tug his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Y/n licked her lips, her eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathed, marveling at the size of him.

She gathered some saliva in her mouth, letting it pool on her tongue before leaning forward and spitting it onto her fingertips. She wrapped her slick fingers around Lewis's cock, using her own spit as makeshift lube.

Lewis moaned, his hips twitching at the sudden sensation. "Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back as Y/n stroked him slowly.

"I want to feel you inside me," Y/n purred, her voice low and seductive. She released his cock, shifting her hips to align him with her entrance. "I want you to fill me up, Lewis."

Lewis pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "I want you on all fours," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see that tattoo while I fuck you from behind."

Y/n eagerly complied, rolling over and presenting herself to him. Her spine tattoo was on full display, the intricate design seeming to dance across her skin as she wiggled her hips invitingly.

Lewis ran his hands over her ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. He positioned himself behind her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," Lewis praised, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. "That tattoo is so fucking sexy."

Lewis traced the intricate lines of Y/n's spine tattoo with his tongue, his lips pressing reverent kisses to her skin as he thrust into her from behind. Each word he spoke was punctuated by a deep, powerful stroke of his hips, driving his cock deeper into her slick heat.

"So... fucking... sexy," he groaned, his breath hot against her spine. "Love... this tattoo... love how it looks... on your perfect body."

Y/n moaned, pushing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her tattoo sent electric shivers down her spine.

Lewis continued to praise Y/n, his words dripping with lust and admiration. "Fuck, you're so good for me," he groaned, his hips snapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. "Such a perfect, sexy little thing."

Y/n's hands gripped the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. The pleasure was overwhelming, building and building until she thought she might explode.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," Lewis commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how good I make you feel."

Y/n's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch. Her moans filled the room, her hair falling in wild disarray around her face as she shook and trembled with the force of her climax.

Lewis grinned, praising Y/n as she came hard on his cock just as he told her to. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, his hips still rocking into her as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. "You did so well, cumming just like I wanted."

Y/n's moans were loud and promiscuous, echoing off the walls of the apartment. Her body shuddered and twitched, her pussy clenching rhythmically around Lewis's shaft.

As her climax began to subside, Lewis pulled out, his cock slick with her juices. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final grunt, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's back and painting her tattoo in pearly white streaks.

Y/n collapsed forward onto the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was a sweaty, disheveled mess, her hair matted and sticking to her forehead. But the satisfied smile on her face said it all - she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Lewis gently rolled Y/n onto her side, concern etched on his face as he brushed a few strands of hair from her flushed cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked softly, his thumb caressing her skin.

Y/n nodded, a lazy smile spreading across her face despite her labored breathing. "Mhm," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse from all the moaning. "I'm more than okay."

She shifted slightly, her leg brushing against Lewis's thigh. The contact sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins, and she knew she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"I think," Y/n began, her voice low and seductive, "I think I need a round two."

Lewis gently flipped Y/n onto her back, his strong hands guiding her until she was sprawled out on the couch cushions. Y/n let out a small protest, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Lew, wait," she said, her voice breathless. "I want this, but... my couch is gonna get dirty."

Lewis silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her side. "I'll take care of it later. Right now, all I want to do is make you feel good."

Lewis's fingers traced delicate patterns over Y/n's sensitive pussy, eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. The delicate folds were puffy and tender from their previous activities, but that didn't stop Lewis from exploring every inch of her.

"Shh, relax," he cooed, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. "I've got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before slowly pushing inside. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the intrusion. Lewis held her down with a firm hand on her hip, his fingers curling and stroking her inner walls.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers so deep. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n moaned softly as Lewis's fingers continued their gentle exploration of her sensitive folds. "Your rings are cold," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of discomfort and arousal.

Lewis leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "You can handle it," he murmured against her mouth, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Lewis groaned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Fuck, I should've done this sooner," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm getting addicted to how good you feel, baby."

He curled his fingers, stroking her inner walls in a way that made Y/n see stars. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Lewis purred, his thumb circling her clit. "You love having my fingers inside you, stretching you open."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, her hips rolling against Lewis's hand as he continued to work her over. "Yes," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "I was so jealous of your ex, hearing you guys fucking while you were in the studio."

Lewis grinned, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat. "You should've been there with me," he growled, his thumb pressing down on her clit. "Should've been the one taking my cock, screaming my name."

Y/n moaned wantonly, her body writhing beneath Lewis's skilled touch. "Lewis, fuck that feels so good," she panted, her hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "I won't stop, baby," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling under Lewis's touch. "I was so jealous of your ex," she confessed, her voice breathy and strained. "I wanted it to be me, to have you all to myself. To feel your tongue worshipping my body."

She emphasized her words with a roll of her hips, grinding against Lewis's fingers. "I wish it was me, Lewis. I wish I could've been the one to make you feel good, to hear you moan my name."

A wicked chuckle escaped her lips as she added, "It's her loss for breaking up with you. Because now, I have you all to myself."

Lewis grinned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Mhm, it's such a win for me," he agreed, his voice low and rough with desire. "Now I have you, all to myself. So good, so tight, so fucking mine."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips. Her walls clenched around him, as if trying to keep him inside her forever.

"You feel so perfect, baby," Lewis murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "Like you were made just for me. And now, I'm never letting you go."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as her orgasm approached. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. "Lewis, I'm gonna cum!"

Lewis held her close, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and soothing. "My good girl, squirt for me. Let go, let yourself feel it."

With a final cry of ecstasy, Y/n came undone, her body shaking and trembling as she squirted onto Lewis's hand. He worked her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the waves of her climax.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're doing so well, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n's moans grew louder as Lewis continued to pump his fingers in and out of her sensitive pussy, even as she rode out the waves of her intense orgasm. "Lewis, stop," she pleaded, her voice strained. "It's too much, I can't take it anymore."

But even as the words left her lips, Y/n found herself grinding against Lewis's hand, her hips moving of their own accord. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Lewis grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "You're such a pretty liar," he teased, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. "Your body doesn't lie, baby. It knows what it wants."

As if to prove his point, Y/n came again, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's fingers as she squirted onto the couch once more. The sensation was almost too intense, but Lewis held her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Y/n was still shaking from the intensity of her orgasms, her body sensitive and overstimulated. Lewis rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds, teasing her entrance with the promise of more.

"Do you want me inside again, baby?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "Do you want to feel my cock stretching you open, filling you up?"

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes glazed with lust. Despite the sensitivity, she craved more of Lewis, more of the pleasure only he could give her.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips lifting to meet his. "Please, Lewis. I need you inside me."

Lewis slowly pushed forward, his cockhead parting Y/n's slick folds. He went inch by inch, savoring the tight heat of her pussy as it enveloped him. Y/n moaned, her walls fluttering around his length, still sensitive from her previous orgasms.

"Fuck, so good baby," Lewis groaned, his hips rocking shallowly. "You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock."

He set a slow, teasing pace, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Y/n whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his, desperate for more. Lewis grinned down at her, loving how responsive she was to his touch.

Y/n arched her back off the couch, her body undulating with each slow, deep thrust of Lewis's cock. "Oh god, Lewis," she moaned, her voice high and breathy. "Feels so good, so deep. You're hitting all the right spots."

Her hands fisted in the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. Each drag of Lewis's cock against her sensitive walls sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her whimper and praise him.

"Yes, just like that," she panted, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. "Don't stop, please don't stop. I need more, need you deeper."

Lewis moaned Y/n's name, his hips snapping forward as he drove into her. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Not even my ex could make me feel this good."

At the mention of his ex, Y/n felt a twinge of jealousy. She tightened her walls around him, clenching down on his cock. "Well, you might as well moan out her name if you keep bringing her up," she said sarcastically, her tone a bit sharp.

Lewis grinned, undeterred by her comment. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "I'm not thinking about her," he murmured against Y/n's mouth. "I'm only thinking about how perfect you feel wrapped around my cock."

Lewis thrust sharply, making Y/n moan loudly. "You don't need to worry, baby," he assured her, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not thinking about anyone else but you. You're the only one who makes me feel this way."

To emphasize his point, Lewis changed his angle, hitting a spot deep inside Y/n that made her see the heavens. She cried out, her back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through her veins.

"Oh god, right there," she panted, her nails digging into Lewis's shoulders. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis grinned, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He could feel Y/n's pussy fluttering around his cock, her walls tightening with each thrust. He knew she was close, and he was determined to push her over the edge.

Lewis continued to thrust into Y/n, his cock hitting all the right spots inside her. Her breasts were still constrained by her bra, the lacy fabric a tantalizing contrast to her flushed skin.

"Fuck, your tits look so good from this angle," Lewis groaned, his eyes dark with lust. "Maybe later, I'll bury my face in them, suck on those perfect nipples."

His words of praise sent Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch.

"Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her voice strained with pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis pulled out of Y/n, his cock still hard and throbbing. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final groan, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's stomach in thick, white ropes.

Y/n lay there, panting and trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She looked down at the mess on her stomach, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Mmm, you made quite the mess," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "But don't worry, I'll clean it up later."

Lewis grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "I'll help you clean up," he murmured against her mouth. "And then, maybe we can go another round."

Y/n laughed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. "My pussy can't handle another round," she admitted, her voice breathy and strained. "You've worn me out, Lewis."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

kinktober masterlist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[vanillabat99]

Now that I've beat the main storyline of Pokémon Scarlet and unlocked 5 star raid battles, I have some opinions on the raid battle mechanics. Short Version: I think they suck.

Long Version:

First off, the difficulty jumps between 4 Star and 5 Star is outrageous. I am able to do a 4 Star den with the AI team, and it might take me another try. So far it has been genuinely impossible to do a 5 Star den with the AI team, as well as taking at least 5 tries with an online lobby. The only time I've been able to do a 5 Star den in one try is when my lobby makes me wonder if they're cheating. I shouldn't have to hope for a lobby full of exploiters if I want to have a reasonably fair fight.

I've also encountered many moments (regardless of difficulty level) where the health bar of the opposing pokémon will jump up to a seemingly random point, without the use of a healing move or effect. It's also really hard to tell how accurate the timer bar is when my team's health status doesnt seem to be displaying properly throughout the battle. I've had the display say they had half health, only to see they didn't have a pokémon out whatsoever.

The lack of structure has caused a lot of issues. I have sat through 10 seconds of "opposing pokémon removes negative effects" and other such text, and watched as the timer ticked away, only to have to wait for another 5 to 10 seconds with no battle displays for (again) seemingly no reason!! It's never clear if I'm simply taking too long, have unfortunate timing, or if there's been a bug.

What little structure is there has such poor prioritising that it almost doesn't matter it was there to begin with. The "running out of time" warnings are often so late they're just delaying the "you've been kicked out" text. There's so many moments where there's genuinely nothing happening whatsoever, and so many moments where there's so much status text I'm not even playing the game anymore.

I am of the opinion that every game should be playable without having to purchase extra features. I shouldn't need an online subscription to have even the tiniest chance of beating a 5 Star Raid Battle.

In conclusion, it appears that removing the turn-based function of battles causes things to fall apart. And it sucks.

[lightfeltmemories]

dungeon meshi | delicious in dungeon; reactions to reader having a crush on them / having a crush on reader

dungeon meshi various x gender neutral reader

note: hey everyone, please be mindful that this is the very first time writing for these characters, i have watched every available episode but i am still reading the manga (though i do have a general idea about the setting and the characters backstories and personalities) so if any characters are ooc to you my apologies, don't be harsh im new here lol. sorry some of them are shorter than others i kind of ran out of ideas when it came to certain characters :p let me know in the comments or reblogs or more preferably in my ask box if you want me to do any other character.

characters: laois, falin, chilchuck, marcille, senshi, namari, shuro, izutsumi (i'm adding her here because feels weird leaving her out when i've added former members of the party, also this is purely sfw so nothing weird will be aimed towards her.)

trigger warnings: nothing out of the ordinary but just read the manga or watch the anime before reading this.

if you like this and my other fanfics, please be considerate to reblog my work, it not only helps reach a broader audience but it also motivates me to make more content like this!

laois touden

reader's crush: when laois finds out that you have a crush on him, his reaction is.. well, how do we put it this way? is he flattered? yes and no, he doesn't see himself as ugly but also doesn't look at himself as the most handsome guy in the world, but someone straight up having a crush on him is kind of new, he doesn't really care much for relationships at the very moment but has thought about settling down with someone he likes, will it be you?

laois' crush: when it comes to having a crush, he tries to be his normal self around you, but sometimes can't help but be a little nervous especially when the two of you are alone, sooner or later he comes to the conclusion of realizing the he indeed, likes you, but confessing is the hard part, he's never thought much about rejection, it is a normal part of life after all, but when it comes to you? it's an entirely different ball game.

falin touden

reader's crush: falin already has someone chasing after her; shuro, theres a 50/50 chance of her reaction to reader's crush being the same as shuro's, but could there be a different reaction this time?

falin's reaction: surprisingly less shy than her brother, when she comes to this conclusion she'll build up the right time to actually confess, not wanting to rush things, just watch out for shuro i guess.

chilchuck tims

reader's crush: chilchuck learning about reader's crush is a bit sad, though he's no stranger to romance as he not only had a wife but also three whole kids, he's not really good with emotions so he's kind of scared you'll leave him just like his wife did, so, if reader confesses, there's gonna be a high chance that you'll be rejected, just give it some time.

chilchuck's crush: this weird feeling in his chest whenever he see's you will confuse him at first.. there's no way he has a crush on you?? after his wife leaving him he didn't really have any interest in romance, he might as well just focus on his work at the moment, one of these days he'll bring up the courage to confess, just not right now.

marcille donato

reader's crush: she can't really decide on whether she'll return the feelings or not, definitely flattered is what i'll say.

marcille's crush: she's similar to falin, she'll build up a better relationship with you for the right time to confess, she tries to make it seem as if she's not into you but it's quite obvious to the other party members.

senshi of izganda

reader's crush: out of everyone, he'll definitely be the most flattered, someone having a crush on him wasn't something he put much thought into, not to mention romance kind of isn't his thing, nor does he think he have the time for a significant other.

senshi's crush: i don't think this is the very first time he's ever had feelings for someone, but it's definitely a special feeling, he's not nervous of confessing his feelings at all actually, and he's not that sensitive to rejection.

namari

reader's crush: namari wouldn't really know how to react, honestly, she's never given the idea of someone having a crush on her much thought, she won't care much about rejecting the reader, at least she's honest.

namari's crush: her crush will be a bit hard to spot but when it comes to you, there will be a notable soft spot, she treats you like everyone else and isn't afraid to scold you if you do something wrong.

shuro | toshiro nakamoto

reader's crush: in an au where he still has feelings for falin, he immediately rejects you, telling you boldly that his heart is for falin and falin alone, but lets go to an au where he either loses interest in her or doesn't like her at all; definitely flattered, someone liking him (back) isn't unheard of but it is... nice?

shuro's crush: just look at what he does with falin, he will propose to you at some point, of course when time goes by and he starts to fall for you harder and harder, until he just can't contain it anymore.

izutsumi

reader's crush: very, very strange, someone having a crush on her is.. almost unheard of, or she doesn't pay much attention, anywho, she doesn't know... how to react? she knows what to do if she doesn't return the feelings but... someone liking her is just weird lmao.

izutsumi's crush: she won't make it obvious.... or try to at least, she accepts affection from you much more than she does from the others and sticks by your side more.

[angelwhisp3rs]

✧˚ · . 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon gave his girlfriend the best gift ever - his virginity ❤

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (f); loss of virginity; leon is desperate; they are in love your honor

Notes: IM BAAAAAACK! Had to take a week off to focus on my studies, but now im free! Was supposed to post this earlier, but i got lazy!

Minors do not interact!!

After dating for quite a while, it was visible that Leon was a great boyfriend, he was confident in everything he did, he paid attention to the little details and was always surprising her. That’s why, on her birthday, he decided to give her something much more special - his virginity.

At first, it was weird talking about it, he was a grown adult, with a job and everything, and he still had his v-card intact. He was so focused on his career that things like that never really mattered to him. That’s until she came along, and he knew that he wanted to share something so personal with her, and only her.

Setting the mood, he woke her up with a nice bouquet of her favorite flowers and a warm breakfast, the meal eaten while they shared sweet kisses and sweet nothings. He hated that both needed to go to work, the day passing slower in his mind since he was anxious for the night.

When the night fell, both felt giddy - Leon because he was finally getting a taste of sex - something his colleagues always boasted about - and her because the man was making her day so perfect, she had no idea how it could get any better.

At dinner, she noticed him more fidgety, as if he had something on his mind. At first, Leon wanted to play it cool, being a gentleman and serving her for the entire night, but the moment he saw her red inviting dress, his dick decided that he wanted to do the thinking, not his actual head. The slit on her dress showed her soft thighs, and he could only wonder how good they would feel wrapped around his head as he fucked her with his ton-gosh, he needed to focus.

“Baby, you seem worried. Is something the matter?” She quietly asked him, worried that something might have happened.

“No, it's fine, love. Just thinking how pretty you look” he half lied, smiling sincerely at her as he caressed her hand, looking completely smitten by the woman sitting in front of him.

She blushed at his comment, he was always an expert in making her feel so loved.

For now, she chose to drop the matter, just wanting to enjoy the evening with him.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Dinner was amazing, the food was spot on. They walked around a park nearby, enjoying the flowers falling and making the scenery movie-like. They talked and laughed, now filling their hearts after filling their stomach.

As they headed home, Leon felt his heartbeat quickening, but took deep breaths- the night wasn't over yet.

He softly guided her near him, wrapping his arms around her as they shared a deep and passionate kiss, moving his hands all over her body and tightening his grip around her hips.

“Love, want to go to our bedroom? Don't want this night to finish yet” he whispered against her lips, their saliva making everything more wet and intimate.

She looked surprised at him, since she knew from the beginning that he was still a virgin, and was always supportive and patient with the man, never wanting to rush things. The woman nodded, being guided to their room as they still didn't break their hold and deep kisses.

Feeling a rush, Leon pushed her into their bed making her yelp a bit, earning a sorry look from him. God, she was not a ragdoll Leon, stop thinking about porn!

“Baby, we don't need to do this, you know that, right?” She asked him with a smile, watching as he moved to hover her body

“Really want to… I’ll be good to you, baby” he whispered as he pressed kisses to her neck, clumsily pushing her dress up

If it wasn’t such an intimate moment, she would’ve laughed as he tried to push her dress out without even realizing that it had a zipper on the back. Ending his misery, she gently pulled him back and zipped the clothing down, laying on their bed in her black underwear (thank god she decided to wear matching ones today!).

Like a poor and desperate horny boy, the first thing he did was press his face against her tits, wanting to suffocate himself on her chest. She giggled at his eagerness, watching as he mouthed and pressed open mouthed kisses on her cleavage, as his hands kneaded them. 

Not waiting anymore, his hands traveled to her back, reaching her bra clasp. He grunted in dissatisfaction as that task proved to be harder than it looked - god, are those things indestructible? Once again, pitying him, she simply reached back and undid her bra in a swift moment, making Leon look at her dumb founded “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Practice” she giggled “you’ll get to be as good as I am the more you do it”, and then gave him a wink

He chuckled, but turned his focus back to the task at hand, and threw her bra somewhere along their room (he genuinely had no idea where it went). He tried not to be a creep, but he couldn’t help but stare at her boobs for a long time, only breaking the spell when she giggled at his hungry eyes. Her chest on show, his mouth worked directly on her nipples, sucking and wetting awkwardly. The man was just too eager to try to get a taste of her, and the soft feeling of her buds on his tongue made his hips twitch, desperate from any friction.

Even if it was messy, she could only moan and tug his hair in pleasure - even if uncoordinated, his tongue felt so delicious, her cunt gathering arousal quickly. “F-fuck, baby… more” she moaned as her hands didnt leave his blonde locks.

He was completely in ecstasy as he heard her needy voice, nodding as he kissed his way down her body, playing with the lace on her underwear. He softly kissed the fabric and pulled it down, almost ripping it because of how excited he was. He looked at her wet cunt and gaped, as if he was seeing paradise for the first time.Quickly, he fumbled as he removed his shirt, opening his belt and laying on his front, putting her legs on his shoulders.

What now?

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Well, Leon had to think of every porn he has ever watched - not that those were accurate and all, but he could at least mimic the movements. But as he watched her wet cunt throb, everything flew away from his mind, he just craved her, and her taste. Before she could say anything, his face moved forward and he licked her clit wantonly - he wasn't even timid about it, his tongue was firm and sure, making her body arch from the bed, her gentle hands moving down to tug his hair.

“Fuck, Leon!” she whined, sensitive from his eager muscle moving against her bundle of nerves

“Wanna make you feel good, baby… need you to drench my face” he said in muffled words, as he still ate her out, his hands holding her hips and thighs tightly.

The only thing guiding Leon was her reactions at where his tongue passed, her moans getting especially louder when he rolled and sucked the little button above her cunt lips, so he kept his work there. If Leon died now, he would die as a happy man. Her pussy tasted sweeter than his favorite candy, and the wet sounds caused by the suctioning sounded so, so sinful, he just couldn’t stop. 

He was so focused on the sensation that he didn’t even realize when her legs started shaking around him and the grip on his hair grew tighter. “B-baby, G-gonna cum!” she moaned desperately, looking down at him and biting her lips, her cheeks being fully flushed.

“Please, cum on my tongue, need it, need to taste it…” he rambled as he sucked and rolled his tongue viciously, his rough hands holding her hips down, not letting her squirm away from his grasp. 

Soon, she saw fireworks and exploded against his mouth - of course that man made a woman cum on his first time, he was Leon S. Kennedy after all. She laid shaking on the bed, pushing his head away and closing her legs for the moment, as Leon had to lower his pants and underwear, watching her explode almost made him cum in his pants, he needed to feel her now.

He gently parted her legs again, his hands caressing and feeling up her body as he was addicted to the feeling of her skin, as they shared soft kisses. When they felt she was ready, he slowly rubbed his head against her entrance and clit, making both moan - Leon  had to think about very disgusting things, otherwise he would cum like a horny teen and he wouldn’t even be inside her. 

“Are you ready, baby? We can back down if you want to” she assured him once again, caressing his face lovingly as both looked at each other with a shared and intense passion. 

He shook his head, smiling and kissing her forehead “love, I adore when you are sweet, but I need to fuck your brains out or i’ll go insane” he chuckled, and his hand guided just his tip in.

Just the tip, and she swallowed him with vigor, making Leon let out a choked out moan. It was only the head, and yet, he felt his cock throbbing and twitching, he really needed to hold back, otherwise this would end sooner than he would’ve liked.

Slowly, his entire shaft was inside her, and Leon swore he was seeing stars, just like those old cartoons. Holy shit, is that what sex was like? Now he gets it. He should call off work this week and spend with her in bed, fucking and working up his stamina.

“You can move, baby” she whined impatiently. God dammit, woman, mind your tone! If she kept talking to him like that, he would absolutely blow in his first thrust.

He nodded and began moving, and if he wasn’t hitting that gummy spot, she would be laughing, the sight adorable - his face was red as if he was holding his breath, and his mouth was hanging open as he watched his cock slide in and out, getting creamier and creamier with her cunt juices.

Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled the man into a kiss, making his knees buckle and his hips move in a grinding motion, his hair ticking her puffy pussy as their moans were drowned in their kisses. Her nails scratched his back, being enough to create red lines but not really hurt him. 

While both were losing their minds, the only sounds in the room were loud moans, some bed rattling and their skin slapping. His hips - thankfully - met a more pleasurable rhythm, not too fast or slow. Enough to make him feel his cock on her cunt, while she felt her wet pussy molding into his dick.

“Fuuuuck, can’t hold it, can’t hold it” he moaned in almost unintelligible moans, holding their hands together as his hips started to falter and her thighs went more rigid as the pleasure waves flowed through them.

“Come inside, baby, mark me, let it all go” she said aiding him

Soon, like her words casted a spell on him, he filled her up as her walls closed on him, thankfully cuming together. Both laid there regaining their breaths, Leon resting his head right against her heart beat - the best song he has ever heard. She guided him for another gentle kiss, both smiling like idiots in satisfaction.

Leon was a full man now! And he didn't even embarrass himself, knowing he made her come and fucked her properly! He looked at the wall on the nightstand to verify how long he managed to go and… wait, what the fuck? Only seven minutes? No, no, he needed to do better! 

Pulling him away from his paranoia, she looked at him with heart eyes and whispered “That was the best birthday ever. Thank you for making all of this special. it was perfect”

For the first time in the night, he blushed and nuzzled into her neck, whispering back “It really was. Couldn’t imagine doing this without you. Thank you for being so patient and staying���

“Would wait forever if it meant being with you” she simply answered, making his heart soar.

Leon was fine with the seven minutes now, after all, they had a lifetime to make up for it.

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out

“Riley! Bad dog!”

You don’t have time to look up before a familiar German Shepherd barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your keys skittering across the sidewalk. 

You sputter as the dog licks your face before a hand grips Riley’s collar and pulls him off you. You wipe the dog slobber from your face and look up expecting to see Simon, instead you see a broad man with a short mohawk, attempting to reign in the overexcited dog. 

“Sorry leannan, dinnae mean fur ‘im tae get away from me,” he said as you started to get back on your feet. 

“S’alright,” you say, brushing off your pants. You give him a quick once over. He's wearing jeans and a tight fitting navy T-shirt with the fire department’s emblem on it. 

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Lek whit ye see, bonnie?” He teases. 

Your face feels warm as you attempt to stutter out a response. 

“I'm only joking, lasso,” he chuckles at your embarrassment. He glances at the bakery door. “Gett’n off yer joab? Ye must be that wee thing the LT acts so sweet aboot.”

You stare at him for several moments, having little idea what he's saying. “I uh… I was just getting off work yeah,” you finally say. “Bakery's closed for the day, sorry.”

“Oh naw, I wasn’t look’n tae buy anyfing,” he said warmly. “Jus’ walkin’ Riley ‘ere.” He stuck a hand out. “Ye can call me Johnny.”

You shake his hand, giving him your name as well. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I don’t mean to rush off, but I need to get home.” You stick your hands in your pockets, finally registering that your keys weren’t in their usual place. You pat your other pockets before looking around at the ground. 

“Whit ye look’n fer?” Johnny asked. 

“My keys,” you say. “I think I dropped them when Riley ran up.” Your eyes scan the sidewalk before spotting the storm drain by the curb. Johnny seems to read your mind as he walks over and looks through the grate. 

“Wee charm oan it?” he asks. 

You groan. Of course your keys had fallen into the storm drain. How were you supposed to get into your apartment now? Your landlord was away on holiday and he hadn’t left a spare behind. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. You’d just spend the night in the bakery, but you’d already locked up for the night and no one would be back until morning. 

Johnny seems to sense your distress as he claps you on the back, knocking you from your thoughts. “Ye can stay wi’ us at th’ station house,” he suggested. “We can even get yer keys oot th’ drain fur ye.”

“I don’t wanna be a both-” you start to say but are cut off by Johnny. 

“Dinna fash!” he beamed at you. “ Nae trouble at all.”

Before you could protest, Johnny wraps a muscular arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you back to the station, grinning to himself as Riley trotted happily next to you. Simon was going to love this.

---

As a treat, here's a second one today <3

[silverstonesainz]

orange peels

ᡣ𐭩 it's the worst best soft launch yet

pairing. . . lando norris x reader face claim. . . tingting lai (tingting_lai on instagram)

lnfour just added to their story!

lnfour ✓⃝

Liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 38,044 others

lnfour Busy week for Lando & the team. Swipe to the end to see how he really feels about it 🫢

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user2 pls the last photo 🤣

landonorris i thought we agreed not to use that photo ╰ lnfour landonorris idk what you're talking about 🫣 ╰ landonorris lnfour suddenly i need a new admin ╰ lnfour landonorris no you dont 🙂🫶🏼

user3 not the flirting in the comments!!! ╰ user4 literally where????

yourusername

Liked by yourbff and others

yourusername lots of orange & oranges 🍊🧡

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user6 you're so cute!! ❤︎ yoursername

landonorris orange is a good look on you

landonorris i think orange is a great color ╰ yourusername landonorris i think youre biased 😗 ╰ landonorris yourusername i definitely am 😉 ❤︎ yoursername

yourbff do you like this little life??? ╰ yourusername i love** this little life ╰ yourbff gross!

landonorris ✓⃝

Liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername, and 721,371 others

landonorris i'm definitely loving this little life

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user7 now wait a MINUTE

user8 is..... is lando in his soft launch era?? ╰ user9 user8 but is it really a soft launch if we know who it is??? ╰ user8 user9 lmaooo pls theyre doing their best 😭

yourusername no photo creds??? ╰ landonorris yourusername i feel like it goes without saying at this point ╰ user10 landonorris yourusername OH?????

yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

yourusername living the sweet life

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user14 getting one step closer to the hard launch 😮‍💨

user15 lando's fingers must be sore from all the oranges he's been peeling ❤︎ landonorris

landonorris cuz the oranges? ╰ yourusername landonorris among other things 🤫

d rambles. . . im sorry if this seems rushed i did what i could with the photo limit 😔 but i hope you guys like this one, and as always feedback is always appreciated!

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

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