#shard eruption

[skycotl-before-and-after]

Got there just in time on Sunday!

[embersofhopevoltron]

Keef got a new cape and I think it suits him 🤔👌🤩 if only there were sword/dagger props you could pose or do tricks with too though tbh

He was watching for the latest shard eruption expected to land here

1/18/24

[skycotl-before-and-after]

Lol I’ve been trying to do this on purpose just to see how hard it hits.

I had no idea it was about to hit us until it hit us

[leahsskyblog]

Starlight Desert + shard eruption, so pretty 🤍

[spiribia]

MY RED SHARD..... MY 3.5 ASCENDED CANDLE RED SHARD

[skycotl-before-and-after]

Opening shared memories or shared spaces during shard events tends to either reset everything or freeze it so you can’t progress to collect the light or view the memory on a red shard.

Don’t tap on them. I know a lot of folks are trying to help, making memories of themselves running around, attracting the crabs while calling to recharge people, or setting up recharge stations, but it usually does more harm than good, IMO.

I opened a shared space during the shard event and everything disappeared…..

[the-honqueror]

I warned her standing was a bad idea.

[devotioncrater]

what do you do when you are about to see your friend for the first time in over a year again. like genuinely how am i supposed to act nonchalant when i know every single atom in my body will go nuclear like a star collapsing inward the second i lay eyes on him irl again. i will be vibrating at the speed of sound. what is the protocol here

[lightkidshenannies]

loading into the first krill area and the game forcequits bc my internet died

[ghostedbunnie]

nightmare in the daylight

knight!ghost x fem!reader

based on my prompt that you can find here.

warnings: non-con/dub-con, size kink, spanking, oral (f.receiving), fingering (f.receiving), thigh riding, biting, creampie, breeding kink

a/n: i feel so rusty so please be gentle i rewrote this way too many times, it was a lot longer and had more plot but i might just end up writing pt.2 if there is interest, I added a tag list for those who wanted to see this! 🫶

Ghost hadn't anticipated encountering a robbery on the forest trail while en route to collect his king's future wife. It was unexpected but not unwelcome; he was yearning for a skirmish, for blood and broken bones. The recent tranquility had left him restless. These bandits wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but they would at least satisfy his craving.

The skies began to pour as soon as he dismounted from his horse, startling the highwaymen. They were engaged in a one-sided fight with a few knights who had undoubtedly been sent to protect the carriage on its way to his kingdom. Before any of them could react to his arrival, heads started rolling. Chaos erupted once more, with screams of terror cutting through the forest and startling the remaining fauna.

After the final enemy fell to a sword through his abdomen, Ghost approached the carriage with slow, deliberate steps. As he opened the door, he was taken by surprise as a curtain was thrown into his face and a shard of glass was aimed for his neck by a scrawny, wild-looking maid. Despite your trembling, there was a fierce determination in your eyes, a vow that you would not give up without a struggle. Beneath his face plate, the corner of his mouth curled up, and with a wry snort, he deflected the shard from your bleeding hand. Seizing you by the back of your neck like a feisty kitten showing its claws, he pulled you out of the carriage and dropped you onto the chilly, muddy ground. As he turned back to the carriage to retrieve the princess, he realized she was no warrior; she had fainted at the sight of his imposing figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

As he carries your mistress to his horse, you launch at his back, kicking and screaming, trying to make him let her go. He unceremoniously deposits her on the horse like a sack of potatoes. Finally, he turns back to catch your hands, which have been beating at his back, with one of his much bigger hands. Your eyes go wide with terror as the reality of your position with this beast sinks in. He can't help but relish in the look of you now, wet hair sticking to your face, wild eyes, and scratches on your cheek from the broken glass. You look like a tasty meal for his beastly appetite and he's been starving for far too long. You are unaware of it but attracting his attention will be the worst mistake of your life. As he draws you closer with your bound wrists, he whispers into your ear so that you can hear him over the pouring rain, “Yer brave but stupid, girl.” After that, he hits the back of your neck and everything goes black.

The next thing you know, you are standing in front of the king who explains the entire situation. However, somehow that doesn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach, especially when the king mentions a reward for the behemoth of a man towering over you. He is still covered in blood, and daylight doesn't make him any less terrifying. He stalks around like a nightmare in black leathers that hug his form tight and emphasize his width. As if sensing your thoughts, he takes a step closer, taking up more of your space, and before you can move away, you catch the last words uttered by the king: “You brought me, my bride, Ghost, it's only fair you get a reward. Take your pick - anything you wish for will be yours.”

A weighty, gloved paw settles on the nape of your neck, causing you to startle. "I'll take 'er." Your mistress immediately starts to protest but despite her objections, the king simply nods and smiles, disregarding you entirely. You have no option but to allow the beast, that he called Ghost, to guide you away with a firm hand on your nape.

After navigating through several twists and turns, you find yourself in an unremarkable room. It contains only the absolute necessities—a bed and very little else. The one thing that draws your attention in the room is the sizeable tub that is still emitting steam, indicating it was just filled a few minutes ago.

Silently, Ghost pushes you towards the tub, and you promptly begin to retreat away from it. You refuse to bathe in his presence. Even though you are just a servant, you are still a virtuous lady.

“Either you go voluntarily or I'll throw you in kickin' and screamin'.” He growls and then says, "I'll relish it either way." You can sense the predatory undertone in his voice. You're fighting a losing battle, as going willingly gives him complete control, yet resisting might provoke an even more... primal response.

You break free from his hold, realizing that he let you go willingly. 

"Can you... turn around?" he scoffs, moving to a chair that creaks under his weight. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he gestures for you to proceed. Though you want to scream or lash out, you hold back, sensing that he's waiting for you to lose control. Instead, you turn around and slowly peel off your muddied and torn dress. As you reach the chemise underneath, you sneak a peek and notice he has removed his helmet and face plate, revealing short dirty blond hair, black coal marks around his eyes, and prominent scars cutting through his lips and brow. Despite his broken nose, he remains strangely alluring, which frightens you. Hastily, you turn back, slide the chemise down, and attempt to hide under the steaming water.

"Good girl," he growls, satisfied with your obedience. Just as the relief that maybe this is all he wanted starts to sink into your bones, it's replaced with dread when you notice he starts shedding his clothes too. He loosens up his dark, blood-stained leathers with ease and deftness you wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"What are you doing?" Panic is evident in your question, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all.

"Can't bathe with my clothes on," he answers matter-of-factly. Once again, a wave of indignation courses through you, but it's quickly overshadowed by a pang of heat that forces you to rub your thighs together underwater. Your eyes can't help but stay glued to him, just as he did to you when you were taking your dress off. He is now down to his breeches, and when he pulls them down his thick thighs, you audibly gasp when you notice he is not wearing anything underneath. This earns you an amused chuckle, especially when he catches you looking again through your fingers.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, but before your thoughts can drift to what lies between his powerful thighs, he steps into the tub with you. Water spills over the edges, though he doesn't seem to mind. He pulls you close, turning you so your back presses against him, your body nestled between his legs, leaning on his firm chest. The light tickle of his hair brushes against your skin, and his strong arm rests across your stomach, fingers splayed making you feel even smaller. The contact makes you squirm, but as you try to pull away, you only stir the hardening length behind you, making you flush with heat.

“Relax,” he grunts into your ear, more command than a suggestion.

“How can I possibly –ah.” Your reply gets cut off by a moan as his other hand falls from the edge of the tub and wanders between your legs. Your attempts at closing your legs seem futile even with one hand he is strong enough to force his way in and drag his fingers through your folds nearing the opening. Your spine arches instinctively and he answers with a nip to your neck and jaw, while forcing a finger up to the first knuckle in. 

“Gotta loosen you up a bit, pet.” You have no choice but to surrender to his touch as he sinks his finger in and curls it, drawing a moan out of you before you clap a hand over your mouth to keep the sounds in. But all that decorum is forgotten when he adds a second one and scissors them before slowly prodding you with the third making you see stars. The tension building in your body suddenly snaps, sending you reeling, legs going numb and your fingers digging into his arm still wrapped around your stomach. 

With your mind hazy from your first-ever orgasm, you don't even register that he pulls you out of the bath, drying you, and carrying you to the bed in the center of the spacious room. Your body already half asleep.

His gravelly voice pulls you out of your post-orgasmic haze. “Naive, little thing.” Suddenly he is trailing hungry, open-mouthed, and nippy kisses down the length of your body. Marking your neck and collarbones with angry red marks, biting down harder than necessary on the underside of your breast leaving behind imprints of his teeth, and making you hiss when the pain mixes with the pleasure, he licks a trail down your stomach and in a moment of clear-headedness you try to fist his hair and tug him up and away from your center but his hair is cut too short for any leverage. When you lock eyes with him, between your legs forcing them open with hunger and lust written all over his face you try to get away just for him to deliver a loud smack to your outer thigh before dragging you closer and licking a stripe through your folds with a loud guttural groan that you feel more than you hear it.

His thumb circles your clit while he alternates kissing, sucking, and fucking you with his tongue. When your squirming in an attempt to get away turns into grinding your hips against his face, his other hand rests on your stomach adding slight pressure and making you cry out which only spurs him on. The sounds that reverberated through his chest were nothing short of animalistic and when your second orgasm shot through your core, you fell limp against the sheets with a moan that would make you blush if at least half of your brain was still functioning properly. A new wave of panic sets in when you realize that he isn't stopping. On the contrary, he probes you with his fingers in addition to his tongue. You can feel the coil in your lower belly tightening again, heating up with his ministrations.

You plead with him, saying you can't take anymore just for him to disregard it with a growl, “You've got plenty more in ya.” 

You've lost count of how many times you came when he manhandled you around onto your hands and knees propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him standing behind you with his massive hand tugging at his thick, angry-looking, and leaking cock with his eyes glued to your core, still pulsing and wet from all your previous orgasms. Without warning he grabs your hips, aligns the blunt head of his cock with your entrance, and pushes in. Your fingers dig into the sheets from the sheer stretch as you mewl and whimper when he drags himself all the way to slam back in. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time, with every thrust his fingers dig into your hips and you are sure there will be fingerprints left with how hard he is gripping you and the idea makes you wetter. Prompted by the delicious drag of his cock your walls keep tightening around him, as he pushes you closer and closer to your release. One of his muscular arms circles your waist, his chest flush to your back, as his other arm comes to rest next to your head with one of his legs still firmly planted on the floor and the other resting next to you on the bed for better purchase. This new angle combined with the gravelly grunts so close to your ear become your undoing and you hurtle full-force into another mind-numbing orgasm with Ghost following close behind.

“Come f'r me, pet.” Again, not a suggestion but a command and who are you to refuse him? So you do as he says, pussy fluttering from the aftershocks as he fucks you through it, thumb circling your clit before he fills you up, not allowing you to move an inch, keeping your hips propped up and when he pulls out which drags another set of whimpers from you he meticulously pushes his spend back with thick, calloused fingers. “Gotta make sure it takes.” 

If your consciousness weren't slipping away, you'd likely be alarmed, but instead, your eyes begin to close again, and this time, sleep claims you.

You wake to a heavy weight pressing down on your back, and it takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the events of yesterday. When it does, your entire body flushes and you attempt to move out of bed, only to find it futile. You're pinned beneath strong arms marked with scars—some from arrows, large and small, and others older, circular, and still appearing raw.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted as a thick, muscular thigh presses deeper between your legs, forcing them apart. Without much thought, you begin to grind against it, a primal urge stirring within you. Despite the lingering soreness from yesterday, a fresh wave of need starts to build, and any trace of resistance fades in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It feels shameful, but you can't stop the tentative movements, slowly finding a rhythm—until the sudden flex of his thigh makes you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

“So needy,” he growls close to your ear but there's no trace of anger in his voice, if anything he sounds pleased. “Come on, ride it harder.” He punctuates the sentence with yet another flex of his thigh and a nip to your neck, making you shudder but follow through with his command. As you grind back against his thigh you take a note of his cock stirring, resting heavy and hard between your bare ass. You push against it absentmindedly and find yourself pinned under him, your legs still held apart with his thigh that's now embarrassingly slick with your arousal. The visual of it makes you turn your head away, eyes closed and whimpering. Ghost doesn't like that. His massive paw of a hand grabs at your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily while he grunts at you to keep those eyes open for him. As he licks into your mouth, it suddenly dawns on you—this is your first kiss. You had already let this beast inside you before even sharing a kiss, and everything felt so out of order, that it made you want to scream and cry. Instead, you settle on throwing your hands around him and clawing at his back as he aligns himself with your needy, sore pussy and thrusts to the hilt without so much as a warning.

Even after yesterday, the burn of the stretch to accommodate his length makes fresh tears spring up into your eyes and roll down the apples of your cheeks. You swear you see his scarred lips twitch up into a savage smile at the sight of them before he licks them clean off your cheeks with a satisfied groan. In retaliation you dig your nails deeper into his sturdy back, hoping to break the skin and leave a mark that only ends up urging him to fuck you harder, faster. The sounds reverberating in the room drive you crazy; over them, you don't even notice a soft knock at the door but whoever it was scurries away registering the sound of the moans he wrings out of you with one particularly hard thrust that pushes so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Effortlessly he manhandles your legs on his shoulders to hit a different angle. As you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of fullness he leaves a deceptively soft kiss on your ankle before he folds you in half again and wrestles another mind-shattering orgasm out of you and succumbing to one himself, painting your insides with his spent. Pulling out, he doesn't bother moving, he simply rests his head on your chest between your breasts, squeezing the air out of your lungs with the sheer size of him. “Rest now, pet. Plenty of time for more o' that later.”

At that moment, you know there is no turning back; you've been taken, branded from the inside out. You wonder if this is truly so horrible, perhaps this nightmare of a man will drive away all the other nightmares plaguing your mind.

Or perhaps he is even more dreadful than your imagination could have ever conjured.

taglist: @a66-1 , @ghostlythots , @rttxcmt , @september-22-1998 , @fluffysmiko , @gyusbrownie , @bumblebeesfromvenus , @magicalforestcat , @nommingonfood , @tami-doodles , @fateisnotafactor , @m-a-l-a-c-z-a-r-n-a , @nicolebarnes , @msdevil333 , @lilpothoscuttings , @tealeaftallulah , @not-reptilian , @moonfloweronmars , @aliceinwonderland-5678 , @marshmelloe , @i-love-you-just-the-same, @lazyperfectioniste , @tragedyinwaves , @thisisforthebest97 , @talkingcorn , @hxnneydew , @resplendantrosewood , @telvannitea , @the-casual-act , @hello-lemons, @kiwicopia , @just-a-sewer-goblin

[skycotl-before-and-after]

Today’s red shard eruption is easy, even alone. Plenty of birds to recharge, no crabs, only gotta watch out for the flying rocks.

[tittiesnhrtz]

ghostface!ellie x reader

minors & men dni , fingering, cunnilingus, knife play, nipple play, overstim

it's a chilly october night, the leaves are still vibrant with autumn hues outside your window. a crisp breeze weaves through the trees outside, sending a gentle rustle through the branches. the faint scent of vanilla, pumpkin spice and cinnamon hangs in the air inside your home, wrapping all the furniture and the trinkets like a shroud. you’re sitting on your sage couch, wrapped in a cozy crocheted sweater, wearing loose shorts and leg warmers to keep your feet warm on the cold tiles beneath you. your parents are away for a few days at your grandma's, with her health getting worse, it's been hard for her to take care of herself.

the glow from the TV feels distant now, the reporter’s voice filling the otherwise silent room. it’s the same grim news cycle: more bodies found, more gruesome and grotesque details of the dead bodies that should make your skin crawl and erupt with goosebumps. but honestly? you’re just tired. tired of the stories and the police coming up empty.

two of your friends from your friend group are dead, and what'd they have in common? you dated them both at some point. this detail shouldn't probably be necessary or even worth dwelling on, but considering how almost everyone who's either flirted with you or gone on a date with you has no doubt ended up dead—killed by the infamous ghostface himself.

yes, a him. that's what mostly everyone believes but you're somehow sure it's not a man. the way ghostface toys with his victims, the blackmail and emotional mind games—it all feels too calculated, too clever to be the work of a man. not that you think men are stupid, but something about this whole situation just feels... off.

the sound of the doorbell jolts you out of your thoughts. ellie, your best friend, is supposed to be here any minute. she's been your rock through the whole ghostface ordeal. and you think you might be catching feelings for her. her stupid puns and that goofy smile plastered on her face whenever she'd talk about space, dinosaurs, comic books or anything that interested her really, got to you at some point.

with a sigh, you push yourself off the cozy couch, and shuffle over to the door. but when you swing it open, what should've been ellie on the other side is just empty air. that’s strange. you step outside, scanning the porch and the yard, half-expecting to see some kids laughing at their ding-dong ditch prank. instead, you’re hit with a chill as a dark figure catches your eye. a ghostface mask. your heart drops. but before you can even process what you just saw, it vanishes into the shadows.

you stumble back inside and lock the door, but then you hear it—a crash from the kitchen. a china dish smashing to the floor. fuck, what if this is it? what if you’re ghostface’s next target? with a tentative breath, you step inside the kitchen, holding a lamp, ready to strike. except, it's not ghostface, it's just ellie, standing there with a sheepish smile on her face.

"fuck- i thought you were-" you start, your voice trailing off as the memory of the figure outside flashes in your mind.

"i'm sorry, jus' thought i'd surprise you and come in through the back." she explains, motioning toward the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar. "you should seriously learn to lock your doors."

her gaze then drops to the shards scattered across the kitchen floor, the delicate china dish now a jumbled mess of white and pastel blooms. "sorry 'bout that." she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.

you let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. lowering the lamp, you speak. "next time, just ring the doorbell?”

ellie grins. "yeah, sorry."

"whatever, just help me clean this mess." you motion to the mess on the white and black kitchen tiles.

"yep."

you can't stay mad at ellie and it's not the first time she's done something stupid like this.

𓍯𓂃

after what felt like an eternity of cleaning up the mess, you and ellie finally collapse onto your bed, grateful for the distraction of a movie. the small TV on the cabinet across the room flickers to life, and the eerie sounds of SAW II fill the space. you can feel ellie’s presence beside you—she’s sitting awfully close, her warmth radiating against your side. you steal a glance at her, and to your surprise, you catch her gulping, almost instinctively, not once, but three times already. though you're not sure if it's because of the proximity or the gore-y scenes displaying on the screen.

“not a fan of gore movies?”

she chuckles nervously, her eyes glued to the screen. “not exactly in love with the idea of people torturing each other.”  a hint of laughter in her voice, but you can sense something else underneath. something you pass off as anxiety.

you turn your attention back to the movie, but it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel the heat radiating from her. the scene on the screen darkens, and the tension builds as the characters navigate their terrifying predicament. you can’t help but steal another glance at ellie, who’s now looking directly at you.

the characters on the screen scream in despair, but you hardly register it. instead, your focus is drawn to the way her tongue glides over her plump pink lips. and god you want to kiss her badly, to taste the sweetness of her lips.

you don't miss the way her eyes dart down to your lips or the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. you take a breath, steeling yourself, and decide to be bold. you lean in slightly, heart pounding as you gauge her reaction. the air is tense, and you can see her breath hitch, taking that as an invitation, you close the gap.

her lips are slightly cracked but surprisingly soft. she makes a noise against your lips, hands gliding up to rest against your hips, but then they slowly start to wander. under your sweater, from your hips to your waist. ellie can’t help how warm her hands feel against your skin, how smooth, there’s not even callouses on them like hers. the kiss is a bit hungry and impatient, her tongue licking the seam of your lips. your hands move from your lap to cup her face as you part your lips.

the unexpected warmth of her tongue against your cheek sends a shiver down your spine, silencing the whirlwind of thoughts that had been racing through your mind. it’s a ticklish sensation, one that catches you off guard. you let out a small gasp which is muffled into her mouth. ellie continues to explore, her tongue tracing the soft contours of your cheek as if she’s savoring every little bump and curve. there’s a clumsiness to it, an awkwardness that feels endearing rather than off-putting.

when you pull away, a delicate string of saliva connects your lips. your cheeks heat up as you notice the drool glistening in her chin, a sight that is enough to make your panties wet. you lean in and lick the drool off of her, and you can feel her tense up, her hands on your waist squeezing gently. the only source of light is from the TV, and it casts shadows over both of your bodies, the screen and the voices of the characters now completely forgotten. you can feel her hands move from your waist and she’s suddenly cupping your breasts over your bra.

“is this okay?” her thumb traces circles over the soft mounds, staring at you for an answer.

you nod in return and help her remove your sweater and your bra, tossing it somewhere in the darkness. her gaze flicks down to your breasts and for awhile, she just stares. and then a quiet curse follows. her hands move to knead your breasts, watching the skin closely. then, she takes a nipple between her fingers and gently pinches it, watching your every reaction. her mouth latches onto your other breast, her tongue darting out to swirl around it and suck the hardened nub as she pleases, the soft symphony of your quiet noises echoing in the night.

you arch your back, pushing your breasts further into her mouth. she alternates between both of them, giving them both equal attention. her mouth goes dry and she has to pull away with a pop, her green eyes searching your own.

“i wanna feel you.”

her breath hitches and before she knows it, your hands are on the waist band of her jeans, fingers looping into her brown belt. her eyes darken with desire as she looks at you.

“yeah, baby?” she exhales.

the nickname makes your cunt tighten around nothing and you're hastily unbuckling her belt and tossing it away. your fingers work to unbutton her jeans and you slip a hand inside. she lets out a gentle groan as your teeth bite into the flesh of her neck. you leave a series of bruising kisses in their wake as your palm comes into contact with her boxers. to your surprise, she's soaking wet. you almost want to tease her but your desire prevails over it and you're slipping your fingers into her boxers, tracing her slick folds. she's making the prettiest noises too, already falling apart under your touch. but little did you know, she's spent years dreaming of this moment. paintings and drawings of you hidden under her bed, along with the candid pictures that she oh so eagerly waits to get off to every night.

"say you want me."

her breathing is unsteady as she opens her mouth to speak. "fuck." she grunts softly and leans her head into your shoulder. "i want you, baby. please."

her pathetic begging and whines are enough for you to give in, her cunt throbbing as your fingers rub her slick along it. it greedily sucks in your digit as you slowly add it. she feels ecstatic because this isn't a dream anymore, it's real. you add another digit, eliciting a pornographic moan from her. it isn't long until your fingers are curling around her g-spot and her walls are squelching around them.

""m close..s-so close."

"i know. just cum for me, yeah?" you coo into her ear before nipping at the skin just below her ear. and she does exactly that, letting out a strangled sob as her body gets the release she's been chasing for. you take your fingers out of her boxers and suck them clean. ellie still has her eyes shut and her head against your shoulder but she can hear the way your mouth wraps around your fingers and sucks her juices off. she's pulling away and looking at you.

and then, she's guiding you down to lay on the bed, lifting your hips up to remove your shorts until you're splayed in just your cotton panties and leg warmers in front of her. she almost moans at the sight.

"you're so-" she starts, but cuts herself off. leaning down to hover over you and planting a kiss on your temple, on your cheek and one on your collarbone. one of her hands starts rubbing the inside of your thigh as she leans in and kisses you, sloppily. her hand comes to rub your clothed cunt and you feel her muffled moan inside your mouth, as you swallow the noise. she pulls back to look down at you.

"look how wet." she smirks and you almost regret not teasing her about her own drenched underwear.

you can only whimper and lift your hips up in return as her hands hook under the waistband of your underwear and pull it off of you.

"god, so gorgeous and so wet....all for me." she murmurs, more to herself than you. her pupils are blown wide, lips parted as she moves your legs up and pushes them apart. your hands find purchase on her ass beneath her flannel as she mouths at the skin of your neck like it's her hobby. as you squeeze her jeans-clothed ass, you swear you feel an outline of something resembling a... knife. in her back pocket. you take the object out and it's indeed a knife. ellie was in a daze to notice or feel what you were doing— to busy enjoying your skin after only having imagined what it must have felt like in her dreams. your voice, however, causes her to look up from your neck. you dangle the knife in front of her.

"..why do you have a knife?"

her eyes widen a fraction before she smirks and takes the knife from you. "protection. why else?" she answers like you were dumb to even ask the question in the first place. “don’t wanna risk getting killed with ghostface on the loose.”

a pause. "but...it could come handy for other things." she glides the knife down your clavicle to your breasts, the hitching of your breath only serving to encourage her. she presses it down against one of your nipples before moving it lower— where you're aching for her the most.

the cold blade presses against your puffy clit and you moan loudly. "ellie..."

"shh." she coos, grinning down at you, almost sinisterly. she pushes it further against the bundle of nerves, making you whimper. "i need-" she cuts you off by lining the knife along your delicate entrance, you let out a cry and your eyes widen in fear and shock. she seems to notice it and pulls the knife away, but not before gliding it up and down your folds.

"i'm not gonna hurt you, baby." the words roll of her tongue like honey and you feel bad for fearing her in the first place. she places the knife beside you on the sheets and moves to place herself in between your legs. a couple of kisses to your clit before she's greedily licking at your pussy. tongue moving at a relentless pace against your clit as her hands come up to grope your tits. moans fall out of your lips like a prayer and she pushes her tongue inside your cunt before pulling back and lapping away at your juices. you're awfully close and she knows it, she can sense it by the way you're arching your back and gripping the sheets, your knuckles almost white.

"cum on my face, pretty girl." her words vibrate against your clit, causing you to moan out her name.

that elicits a moan from ellie, herself. something stirs in her, hearing you moan her name out like that. and she inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt. curling them graciously against your g-spot, hitting it over and over again as her mouth does the same to your clit.

"ellie..i can't..fuck-" your final cry of pleasure, reverberates through her body. she removes her fingers but keeps lapping at your pussy even after you cum. your weak cries do nothing to pull her away. her grip on your thighs tighten and she pushes them apart from closing. you squirm and squeak due to the overstimulation, nudging her away with all your force, but it's too weak. she doesn't seem too keen on stopping, a hand pushing down on your stomach to stop you from squirming.

"s-stop." it isn't until that word comes out of your mouth that she stops and pulls away to look at your wrecked form. cheeks flush and hair tousled. you don't know how much it affects her. you never do.

"sorry, got too carried away." she murmurs. but she's anything but sorry. after helping you lay your head down on the pillow, she pulls the covers up your body. she can tell she's tired you out by the way your eyes are half lidded and your limbs look sore. she soothes you by wrapping her arms around you, intertwining your hands, and placing a kiss on your forehead. eventually, you drift asleep.

the longer she looks at you, the world outside fades further into obscurity. you, who's sleeping blissfully, completely unaware of the fact that the knife that was pressing against your clit a few minutes ago was the same knife that she used to brutally stab and dismember the body of a classmate who dared flirt with you. you, who's probably having sweet dreams while she has to go and take care of the unconscious body of the guy who rang your doorbell this very night.

this is my first time writing smut or anything close to a fan fic!! so if you see any mistakes js ignore it :3

[logansdoll]

thank you

you never thought you'd be murdered in the middle of an alley... but you also never thought you'd be saved by a man with knives in his fists so... yeah.

CW: suggestive, profanity, the dude that attacks you is clinically insane, Logan's a little socially awkward, your power is kinda bad but kinda good, etc.

It was amazing how quick your day could go from fantastic, to an absolute, fucking shit storm.

Waking up that morning, as you went through your morning routine, something in the air just told you that everything was going to go right.

Your curls turned out perfect after your nightly twist, your makeup flawless, accentuating your natural beauty, and your breakfast sandwich tasted especially delicious.

That, along with the relatively quiet day at the hospital, left you leaving work with a certain pep in your step that made you feel like you could take on anything.

So not once did you plan to end up in the middle of a dark alleyway, and not once did you plan to stand off with a shady, seemingly dangerous, man because of it.

You were too lost in the music of your earphones to notice you had taken a wrong turn, a rookie mistake to make so late at night.

A mistake you were currently cursing yourself for.

"Look," you started, hands up and voice calm in an attempt to placate the irritated man. "I didn't mean to walk over here. I'm just trying to get home."

Slowly, he stalked closer, stance low and beady eyes staring at you in a way that made your stomach drop, and blood run cold.

'Shit.'

"Please... I don't want any trouble," you continued, taking a few steps back, "Just let me pass."

He tutted in response, wagging his finger as a sadistic grin slowly rose to his lips, "People who trespass on my territory gotta pay a toll, sweetheart," he licked his teeth, words slurring together, "and I can see you got more than enough..."

Shamelessly, his eyes dragged over your body, the surface of your skin erupting with a feel of grime and dirt.

You'd need a serious shower when you got home.

If you made it home...

As he drew closer, your hand discreetly slid into your jean jacket pocket, latching onto the cool, metal handle of your switchblade.

You were hoping to de-escalate the situation, but with the way things were looking, you knew you'd probably have to fight your way out.

"I'm only gonna ask one more time," you warned, your tone curt as your expression sharpened into a glare. "Let me go."

Without warning, he let out a manic shout, charging for you at full force.

You let out a shriek of surprise, quickly moving out the way before he could tackle you, whipping your blade out your pocket and flicking it open in one fluid motion.

Quickly, he turned around, expression furious as he ran again, hands out in an attempt to grab you.

And as you tried to dodge, he managed to latch onto the back of your scrub, roughly throwing you to the ground with a grunt.

"Fuck!" you spat, head throbbing as you attempted to sit up, your chest pounding as he grabbed your ankles and dragged you closer.

Fear struck your heart like a freight train, and in a bout of panic, you swung your knife, plunging it into the closest thing you could reach.

He let out a roar of pain, dropping your ankles as he nursed his injured foot, and the handle sticking out of it would've been funny were it not for the dire situation.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, stumbling towards your purse which laid on the ground not too far away.

But the man took notice, his foot becoming a thing of the past as he chased you again, scooping up a large shard of broken glass as he ran.

"Get away!" you cried, hugging your purse into your chest as his charge backed you into a corner, your legs giving out as you slid down the wall.

Horrible visions of your fate flashed through your mind as he approached, images of your lifeless body plastered on the nightly news, or your smiling picture on a missing persons poster.

What a fabulous time for your power to chime in...

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever was to come, when a loud shink and a pained grunt cut through the air.

Forcing your eyes back open, they landed on a figure, who stood over the dead body of your attacker.

The way the man laid, and the way he was injured, made it look as if he was mauled by some sort of animal.

'Holy shit...'

Pulling yourself back to reality, you realized the figure was now standing right in front of you.

He held his hand out for you to take, sharp, brown eyes flicking between you expectantly.

Finally having the chance to get a good look at him, you took in his appearance.

With his broad chest and strong jaw, you'd think he'd be on the cover of Sexy Bikers weekly, arms and legs thick with muscle under his leather jacket and blue jeans.

Your eyes met in an instant, an electric buzz shooting up your spine at his features.

From what you could see through the darkness, they were sharp, but strong and hard, handsome in their own rugged way.

His lips pulled taut in a line as he stared back, brows furrowing while his eyes flicked around you, almost like he was trying to gauge your reaction.

Slowly, you placed your hand in his allowing him to pull you up to your feet.

"Thank you," you exhaled, shoulders dropping as relief finally sank in your shoulders. "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come when you did..."

His arms came back to his sides, tiredly, as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

As if he didn't expect you to actually talk to him...

"What're you doin' walkin' by yourself so late?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble. "You got a death wish?"

The sound ignited something in you, a sudden flood of warmth rushing to your stomach, your reply nearly dying in your throat.

"I just got off from work... I wasn't paying attention and turned the wrong corner," you explained, choppily, the embarrassment of your mistake setting in.

It was a stupid one.

Especially for someone who's mutation gave her the ability to see the future.

Or variations of it, at least.

"You got a way to get home?" he asked, resting a hand on his hips.

His arms flexed with the motion, his bicep straining against the jacket sleeve, your eyes drawn to it almost instantly.

You'd never seen a man as handsome as him before, and while you felt bad for gawking, you were more concerned by the flurry of feelings swirling in your chest.

"Cab," you blurted, snapping yourself out of it, "I can hail a cab."

He nodded, smoothly and, to your surprise, silently, stepping to the side and out of your way.

You were ready to head back toward the street, when you suddenly remembered something.

"My purse—" Jittery, the man nervously shoved it into your arms, averting his eyes from your thankful expression.

Your gorgeous, thankful expression.

God, he didn't understand what such a beautiful woman like you was doing in a place like this.

"I found it on the ground over there," he cleared his throat once again, shifting his weight on his feet, "I put your knife back in, too. You might wanna wash it—"

Without warning, you pulled him into a hug, nearly sending his heart into a frenzy.

He kept his hands up, quite confused and unsure of what to do, especially since your impossibly soft cheek was pressed against his chest.

"Thank you... really," you smiled, warmly, as you looked up at him.

God, he was handsome.

Though, you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

"It was nothin'," he assured, awkwardly, as you backed out.

"I don't suppose I could learn your name, could I?" you asked, a small smile rising to your lips at his social graces.

It was adorable.

Someone so big and strong being so nervous.

Instantly, he tensed, completely taken aback by your bold comment.

Maybe he was imagining things, but he could've sworn your tone made it sound like you were flirting with—

"Logan," he blurted, stiffly.

You grinned, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "(y/n)."

Slowly, you started toward the mouth of the alleyway, his eyes following you intently, "Well, Logan, I hope we meet again... Then I'll pay you back."

"Not necessary," he assured, shaking his head.

You paused your walk for a moment, turning to glance at him with a devilish glint in your eye.

"We meet again... I'll have something for you," you promised, crossing your fingers.

A shiver rolled down his spine at your words, and you continued on your merry way, exiting the alley and hailing a nearby cab.

Once he was sure you were gone, he let out a loud sigh, allowing his shoulders to sink and a tired hand to run through his hair.

You were something...

One conversation and he already knew you were going to be trouble, the smell of your perfume and the warmth of your smile already plaguing his mind.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath before turning to walk out the alley.

But just as he stepped forward, he felt something under his foot, lifting it to reveal a necklace.

You must've lost it in the melee...

Carefully, he picked it up off the ground, placing it in his pocket before walking out the backstreet.

The next time he saw you... he'd have something for you, too.

[fear-is-truth]

❝ WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS ❞

warnings — murder mention. s2 spoilers. suggestive pairing — nam-gyu x f!reader word count — 745 a/n — english is not my first language sorry

THE DORMITORY IS UNNERVINGLY QUIET TONIGHT, just the occasional cough or the faint rustle of shifting blankets break the stillness, but even those small sounds seem out of place. the events of the night before hang like a disaster on a frayed piano string, threatening to snap at any second. bodies are still sore, bruised, and battered from the chaos that erupted when the lights went out—violence erupting in the pitch black, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. the air reeks faintly of sweat and fear, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that had dried into dark brown stains on the floor.

the thanos team is completely disbanded, not that you cared. you didn’t much like the rapper anyway, but his death felt like a strange relief—a violent severing of a bond you never wanted in the first place. se-mi, though. your chest tightens at the thought of her. se-mi didn’t deserve what happened to her. you don’t even know how she died—no one does.

now it’s just you, min-su, and that asshole nam-gyu.

min-su doesn’t say much these days. he sticks close but keeps his distance at the same time, like he’s not sure if you’re allies or just temporary survivors sharing the same sinking ship. nam-gyu, though, you don’t trust that prick.

you’ve learned to sleep lightly, one ear always tuned to the sounds of the room. and tonight, something feels… off. the faintest sound of movement makes you jolt awake, fingers instinctively curling around the shard of glass tucked in your sleeve.

“relax.” even without seeing him, you know it’s nam-gyu. the last person you want to deal with in the near darkness. “what are you doing?” you whisper harshly, fear twisting into irritation as his silhouette moves closer. he doesn’t answer, just shoves your legs aside like he has every right to be there. the audacity of this man.

“move.”

“get off,” you shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a wall. he wedges himself onto your narrow bunk, his body pressing flush against yours.

“someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“not after what you did last night,” his arm bumps into your ribs as he makes himself more comfortable. “you’re better at playing dirty than i thought.” you bristle at the words. from anyone else, it might sound like begrudging respect, but from nam-gyu, it feels like a thinly veiled insult. after all, you were just trying to make it out alive.

“then keep an eye on me from your own bed.”

“what bed?” he snaps. you realise belatedly that his mattress must’ve been stolen during the free-for-all. you open your mouth to argue further, but nam-gyu suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the mattress with him.

“shut up,” he hisses, breath warm against your cheek. “you think i trust you after everything? you’re lucky i’m still on your side, or you’d already be dead.”

the shard of glass digs into your palm, and you loosen your grip, debating whether to stay still or stab him. the latter is very tempting. a chill runs through you, but it isn’t fear. not entirely. his grip on you is unyielding, almost desperate, as if holding onto you because he doesn’t know what else to do with thanos gone.

“this isn’t necessary.”

“stop moving,” he hisses. you shift again, uncomfortable because there’s something hard pressed against your lower back. “unless you want to wake everyone up. trust me, they’ll have a field day when they see us all cuddled up.”

“this isn’t cuddling. it’s you being a creep.”

“call it what you want, just quit squirming for god’s sake.” he grouses, “you’ll just make it worse.” nam-gyu moves again, adjusting himself discreetly.

“make what worse?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, but the second they do, you freeze.

then it dawns on you.

oh.

heat rushes to your face, mortified as the realisation settles in. you freeze, hyperaware of every inch of him against you—the solid weight of his chest, the curve of his thigh pressed to yours, and now… the unmistakable press of his hardened cock slotted firmly against your ass. nam-gyu clears his throat awkwardly.

“just go to sleep.” the edge in his tone is softened by exhaustion, one that mirrors your own. “we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[needmemberwolfboi]

on one hand, I feel bad about feeling bad that the season of assembly spirits are back because now I'm not the only one with the torch prop to help people regenerate light. on the other hand, maybe people will stop putting other props in the polluted geyser and start helping more with shard eruptions 🙄

[misswynters]

Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

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