#the irony of the grim reaper

[valnyte]

No thoughts head empty, just Victor thoughts, mostly sad.

This man has the nickname of Grim Reaper for a reason. He and William founded Crown. He has access to the previous records of the Cursed who came before them. Furthermore, he knows how each of the suitors are going to die and has shared tidbits of it to the suitors and MC on many occasions.

What more, if any of the Cursed suitors are to die, it looks like it would be him who would be called on to collect their corpses given how he is one of the founders of Crown.

Thinks about how Victor despite knowing the fated ends of the Cursed, he still cares for all of them. Moreso, how attached he is to the entirety of Crown and despite how some of the cast do not like him meddling, he never gets mad at this fact.

It almost does not make sense for someone who could be the personification of Death/Grim Reaper would be so caring, because their deaths would hurt him. It is the price they pay for being Cursed after all, a cruel end. I wonder now if the reason why he cares so much for them at the present is a way to assauge the ever looming knowledge that they are doomed.

Oh, but the irony of a kind Grim Reaper who reaches out his hand in care for the living. When it is still the same hand who will take them when they draw their last breath.

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

[randomcartoonbro]

Okay, but is Jac Schaeffer a Simmer? Because like. Agatha Harkness 🤝 Olive Specter

A child born of supernatural force and bred of death lost to the mother at a young age, partly to do with the mother's hubris

A literal lover of death

A killing spree to bring them closer to their toxic and ill-fated true love and possibly grow closer to their child

Takes in a teen after a tragedy strikes and dies not long after

I'm sure I could stretch the comparisons further, but like-

[lilithfairen]

Also, little thing that's kind of neat when you realize it:

Hazel Rainart, the guy who joined up with Salem after he realized her immortality and the apparent futility of opposing her...

...went out wrassling with the immortal death witch, giving zero effs about said immortality.

[emilu-p]

Projet for one my art class : make an illustration with Adobe Illustrator.

(Plz don't buy your own DEATH this is a scam!! )

[miamicommune]

no bit in grim fandango hits like "nice bathrobe"

[skyrigel]

Grim Reaper! Simon x f!reader | tw: death

Grim Reaper! Simon who's supposed to take you away, between life and death, after and before, here and gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who watched you all day, couldn't help the cold dread that clouded him because you were so full of life, despite the mess, you woke up and made your coffee. Choosing your clothes and saving that very expensive dress for some other time, some special day — not knowing this is the last, your most special. Instead picking on that shirt you loved for it's colour, not knowing it would end up only red.

Grim Reaper! Simon who stood helplessly when life was squashed out of you. One moment of extreme pain and then nothing at all. People screaming and pitying and murmuring, while you clutched your chest and raised above, looking around — blinking and confused, until you looked down and your pupils widened. Oh..gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who clasped your hand as you cried and lamented, a life you hated so much and yet you loved it just the same. Glancing back at the flesh, hands outstretched as if begging you to not leave, same eyes, same face, same fucking everything — just lifeless.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held your soul as you wept and sobbed, it wasn't your fault...you were just trying to save the puppy, it wasn't — but now you were dead. No prayer would count. And these people around you, they're just watching your lifeless frame while you cry and cry.

Grim Reaper! Simon who knew how it went, one snap and you were truly gone to the other side. “T-this it it ? Is this the end ?” you sobbed more, remembering your goodbyes, did you tell you mum that you loved her, or did you tell dad his burnt toast were your favourite, did your friend knew they were so amazing and you loved them ?

Grim Reaper! Simon who could read your mind, “No. Come now.” he echoed, lifting you away from your dead body, just flesh that resembled you, all those things that made you a real person crumbled under those rubber tyre, now nothing but memories.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shaked his skeleton of a head, covered with his ghostly black hood, swaying like cloak behind him. You wouldn't stop crying, he couldn't bear that. “No, sweetheart.” He traced your jaw, letting those tears vapour in a whoosh,“Not yet. Not so soon. Not for you.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you back to your apartment, letting you take it all, your fingertips against smiling people trapped behind glasses, your cat purring in her cushion, notes sticked around, empty checkboxes that would never get ticked.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held above the dress you'd saved. “You would look so lovely.” he kept, ‘You always do.’ to himself, he sat as you licked the last bit of Nutella and patted your cat, oblivious to so many things.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you to the beach because you never got time to go one, never had anyone to go with you. Now was the time and company.

Grim Reaper! Simon who sat beside you watching the last bits of rays disappearing into nothingness, letting sky turn darker and stars twinkle in it's wake.

Grim Reaper! Simon who might be smiling just a bit when you want to go for a night walk, with no fear and no worries. He's swaying behind you, while you are almost flying with new freedom, a new sense of living or dead taking over you. There was a before that you loved but there's also an after that awaits. It's okay, Simon had said. It's going to be okay.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you on rooftop because you wanted to see the city, the whole fucking city. “How you wanted to go ?” He found himself speaking, he never did that, it's a simple affair — guide them to the other side, that's it. You rewarded him with a smile, “Like this.” You whispered, he would hear it anyway, “I wanted to be gone like this...on my own will, L-like —” You choked on your own words, “— to jump from a very tall somthing.” and that's the irony, your life was squashed out of you, no fall and no wind smashing your face and nothing like you thought.

Grim Reaper! Simon who would grant all your wishes, “Come” he said, the second time. First, he said it when he was pulling you back while your eyes were struck on those that belonged to you, the very same but truly empty — gone before it's time.

Grim Reaper! Simon who wanted you to be happy, forever if he could help it. He took your hand in his and floated to the edge, across the horizon. There's sun rising from new beginnings, “I can't die a second time.” you laughed, a soft choke in your throat. Your stomach twisted in your guts and it's shouldn't be like this. You should feel empty and whatever void meant to be, but this knot wouldn't let go.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shook his ghost of head, tilting his head affectionately to you, “No. but you can live.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took the fall with you, in the dress you always wanted to wear, smelling like all the things you loved, your city and salt and your favourite perfume. A smile that was forever young and true. There with him, between life and death.

Please always take care. Someone somewhere loves you so much and you mean the world to them. Please remember, please know you're loved and blessed and mean so much more than you think. Xoxo.

Masterlist

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[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

Impractical Magic

read here or on ao3!

“Can you believe this shit?” Taako demands, immediately jolting Kravitz from his totally-not-a-nap on the couch. He wracks his brain for what shit he should be in disbelief about, though nothing immediately rears its head.

“Believe what shit?” Kravitz asks, still riding the bleary nap energy. Based on the hare-like glint in Taako’s eye, he’s pretty sure his naptime is out to pasture. Rather than answering, Taako drops a glossy copy of the most recent issue of Waterdeep Weekly onto Kravitz’s lap.

“Page 27,” Taako says, all but dropping onto the couch beside Kravitz like a strong willed and weak constituted heroine on a fainting couch in an old movie.

“‘And the hottest attraction this fall isn’t the beautiful foliage seen in the forests outside Goldcliff, rather it’s the scariest haunted house in the plane nestled in the heart of the city. While the identity of the Shriek Shack’s proprietor remains unknown, tales of its electrifying frights drip from the tongues of its patrons—the minute that the team of onsite clerics are able to revivfy them, of course! That’s right, for fifty gold, you can have the chance to get scared to death???’ Taako, you’ve got to be joking, this is some elaborate prank you’re pulling on me, right?” Kravitz all but begs. He squints at the page in front of him as though it’s suddenly going to fold itself into a paper crane and apologize for rustling his jimmies like that. Sadly, no such luck. “Fifty gold is already highway robbery for a haunted house, but certainly this is false advertising. Certainly they don’t intend to make my life harder. I can feel my blood pressure going sky-high and I don’t even have blood.”

Taako reclaims the magazine and puts his head in Kravitz’s lap. “The audacity of this so-called publication to highlight this utter charlatan and yet my famous Halloween parties have yet to receive a feature.”

Kravitz pauses, weighing his responses very carefully. “The same Halloween parties that, while elaborate and spectacular, very purposefully have an extremely limited guest list?”

“Yeah,” Taako says without a hint of irony. He drapes the magazine across his face as though he could osmosis a story about himself from his brain and onto the pages.

“I thought you were happy to be out of the limelight for a while? I mean, as out of it as you can be for being one of the saviors of the universe. Just the other day we went to Fantasy Kroger and nobody stopped to ogle you or to ask for an autograph or to demand why their kid couldn’t enroll in your school.”

Taako pauses behind his paper fortress. “And that’s nice. Peace and quiet is nice. But, I dunno, it’s nice to have your hard work acknowledged. I don’t really know what more I cou—wait a damn minute.” He sits up abruptly. “Krav, we’ve simply got to get spookier.”

Kravitz frowns and looks around. “I’m…I’m the grim reaper. I don’t know how to get spookier than this.”

Taako smiles a smile that makes Kravitz think his skin’s going to be worn as a suit someday. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

—--------------------------------------

Taako paces the length of the dining room, waiting for the gaggle of people he's amassed to settle. Of course, why settle when he bribed them with a loaded hot chocolate bar? It's when Magnus's mug threatens to unleash a deluge of hot chocolate, marshmallows, whipped cream, sprinkles, and a quarter bottle of caramel drizzle on the freshly polished terrazzo tile that Taako formally calls the meeting to order.

“In front of each of you is a copy of the latest Waterdeep Weekly with a particular story earmarked and annotated for you.” A symphony of fluttering pages follows his perfectly planned pause. “Simply put, whatever clown is putting on this haunted house has another thing coming if they think they can be the biggest in the biz. Halloween is like my Fantasy Toyotathon or whatever boring people like. I refuse to be out done,” Taako says like a general readying his platoon for war.

“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish?” Lup asks, fruitlessly defending her mound of whipped cream from Barry's lactose-intolerant hands.

Taako shrugs. “I'm gonna make the best haunted house this side of the Sword Coast and I'm employing only the spookiest people I know.”

“Okay, team undead over there, I understand,” Merle says, nodding towards Lup, Barry and Kravitz. “But the rest of us? The kid? What exactly’s our purpose?”

Taako tsks and pulls a large dry erase board from thin air. He uncaps a marker with his teeth and does his best to talk around the cap. “Merle, Merle, Merle, each and every person here is vital to the plan. Yes, I've got the spookiest cadre in the planes over here, I've got Agnes getting intel on whomst exactly is behind the Shriek Shack, Magnus is here to move heavy shit and to make sure whatever we've got going on is very scary since he's a baby, and Lucretia is here to make sure I don't land myself in legal trouble with some of my ideas.” As he lists each person and their role, he doodles a little picture of them doing precisely that.

“Which leaves?”

Taako spits the marker cap at the table, sending it clattering onto the floor, surely never to be seen again if the cats have anything to do with it. “Which leaves you and Davenport to drum up business! Go spread the word. Let everyone know that Taako and Co., trademark pending, will be hosting the most exclusive haunted attraction Faerun has ever seen. There’s going to be frights, there’s going to be terror, there’s going to be free candy! Really lay that on thick to families with gaggles of kids, that’ll get them for sure. Frankly, that should sell it enough on its own. Everyone loves free shit.”

Merle nods along as Taako explains, seemingly at ease with the answer. The rest of the group squints at the exchange, more than a little unconvinced.

Davenport furrows his brow and taps his fingers a few times on the table. He pushes his now lukewarm mug of hot chocolate aside. “So let me get this straight,” he says at last. “You want Merle and me, coupla old guys, one of whom always smells like a dispensary, to go into town to drum up business by stopping kids and offering them free candy?”

Lup snorts, but quickly coughs and buries her face into Barry’s shoulder as a cover. Everyone else averts their eyes as Taako’s gaze threatens to burn holes into the walls. He’s partially through his doodle of Merle and Davenport handing out free candy to kids when Davenport finishes speaking.

“Well, when you put it like that, no I don’t. But I’m certain the two of you numbskulls can figure something out,” Taako says, taking a large and loud sip from his cocoa.

—----------------------------------

“Okay, let’s hear your haunt pitch.”

“Taako, do you really need our help? Lup’s been working on our costume for months. Do you know how many sequins she’s sewed onto those shorts? She’s been learning to tap dance for a costume,” Barry says from the couch.

“Barold, there’s nothing stopping the two of you from doing your Roxy Hoard costume—”

“Rocky Horror. Columbia and Eddie.”

“—sure, that, I guess. Never seen it.”

Barry sits up abruptly, looking at Taako with his mouth agape. “Sorry, you of all people haven’t seen it?”

Taako shrugs. “I don’t like musicals, they’re far too obnoxious.”

“You made us watch a shaky Sweeney Todd bootleg that looked like it was filmed on a Gameboy the other night.”

“You are deflectiiiiiiing,” Taako sing-songs, putting a kibosh on the musical discussion. “You can wear the costumes on Halloween, this event is the week before and just to prove a point. But I get it. All this obfuscation on your end is just because you’re scared that you won’t be able to bring anything scary to the table.”

Barry blinks once, then twice, then thrice. “You don’t think I can be scary?” He’s a necromancer, of all things.

“Oh no, dear Barry, I think I misrepresented myself. I know for a fact you can’t be scary. Remember? ‘Are you afraaaaaid?’” Taako mimics Barry’s red robed attempt at appearing fearsome.

His face heats up. A guy tries to be different one time and suddenly he’ll literally never hear the end of it. “I’m going to bring the scares in a very real way.”

“Uh-huh.”

—-----------------------------------------------

“Next! C’mon, keep the line moving! No pushing, no shoving, y’all are all gonna get to die tonight, don’t worry,” a gravelly voice booms from the striped ticket booth at the front of the line. Thick, dark smoke from some hidden smoke machines hangs around the ankles of those waiting.

Angus does his best not to fidget. The line seems to drag on for eternity, a fact others waiting make no secret of, complaining to high heaven about how long it's taken to move even a few feet. Angus isn't the most patient guy around, but he certainly isn't going around wailing and moaning about things nobody can control. Besides, it's mature to not complain and that, paired with Angus's perfect use of Disguise Self, there’s no way he's not getting inside the Shriek Shack.

The line trudges forward little by little, with the speed of people in line for the gallows, but after nigh an eternity, Angus finds himself at the front of the line.

He smiles cordially at the bespectacled high elf in the booth, but before Angus can even get a word out, the man points to the arsenal of signs around the booth.

“Absolutely nobody underage admitted, no exceptions. Go home, kid,” he says, sounding almost bored and absolutely annoyed.

Angus’s smile falters. “Um, I'm not underage. I'm a big b—um I'm an adult.”

The guy in the booth sends him a withering glare over the top of his glasses. “Yeah, and I'm Fareun's next top model.”

“Oh. Congratulations!”

The man taps his specs. “These puppies let me see through everyone's horseshit. Including yours. You. Are. Not. Getting . In. Now beat it.”

Angus squints at the man and his glasses. He drops his disguise and before he can even properly deflate, a small half-orc child sidles up beside Angus and pulls the booth attendant's attention.

Fat, wet tears are welling up in her eyes and the wobble of her bottom lip is almost earthquake-like in nature. “I-I can't find m-my mommy!” she wails, splitting the ears of those within a few feet. “Sh-she said she’d be back after she w-went inside, bu-ut I can’t find herrrrrr!!!!!”

The booth attendant looks alarmed, rips his glasses off, fiddles with a dial that cranks up all the fog machines, before rushing out of the booth. The line behind Angus groans with malcontent.

After a moment, a back door to the booth springs open. Before Angus can ascertain what's happening, a pair of the glasses are being tossed into his hands and Mavis is beckoning him behind the booth. Once his brain catches up, he meets up with Mavis. She drops a small pouch of coins in the hand of the half-orc kid who's in remarkably better spirits.

Mavis nods her head. “Bethany's kid sister, Marya, got recruited by some bard colleges earlier this year and it's clear why.”

Marya nods and saunters off.

“Mavis, you're a genius, but I thought your mom didn't want you doing recon with me anymore.”

Mavis grins. “Dad's weekend. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Now, put those on and let's find a different entrance.” She slips on a pair of glasses that match the ones in Angus’s hand.

He raises an eyebrow, examining the glasses. “Are these-”

“Glasses of True Sight? They sure are. Whoever's running this thing apparently has a lotta horseshit to see through. Let's take a look.” Mavis takes off, making a beeline to what looks like a brick wall.

Angus slips the glasses on and is surprised to see how small the entire Shriek Shack appears to be from the outside. He spies Mavis rushing towards a door. He follows behind her before he can think to do anything else.

—-------------

“This feels ridiculous.”

“You're too uptight.”

“No, I've suffered a lot of indignities and this is a new low.”

“This is a new low for you?”

“Well, Merle, I feel like a real horse's ass right now,” Davenport says, adjusting the straps on his shoulders. The fur of his costume might as well be made of asbestos with how comfortable it is.

“You said you didn't want to be the one talkin’ to anyone!”

“I didn't realize it would entail me being directly downwind of you. This whole suit smells like patchouli.”

Merle rolls his eyes and puts the horse head mask back on his head. “You're being a drama queen. Couple more hours and we'll have gotten plany of business drummed up for this thing.”

“I don't want to, is the thing.”

“I can't be an assless horse.”

“What about a reverse centaur?”

“....Yeah, okay.”

—-----

Taako roots around the medicine cabinet for Fantasy ibuprofen. Or the makings of an icepick lobotomy. He's trying to turn this haunted house into a haunted home goddammit, but it seems as though everything that can thwart him is dying to thwart him. Nobody has given him an idea scarier than having visitors stick their hands in a bowl of peeled grapes because it would, and Kravitz quotes, “Feel like sticking your hand in a bowl of eyeballs.”

Ugh. Taako loves the guy, but he’s been to playgrounds scarier than that.

Lup had some decent ideas, but Lucretia put the kibosh on Phantasmal Killer, Insect Plague, and Maddening Darkness. Fun police didn’t want them all to get sued.

Of course, Magnus thinks that all these ideas are terrifying. Big lug can charge headfirst into battle against the actual physical embodiment of apathy and destruction, but the sight of a rubber rat sends him leaping onto a table. Go figure.

A reasonable person would probably call the whole thing off; manifesting a whole haunted house in 36 hours is a fool’s gambit. But Taako’s never counted himself as someone reasonable.

And besides, he wants to win. Win what? That doesn’t matter. There is doubtless something here to win and he’ll know it when he gets it and he’ll win it and his victory will be sweet and well-earned and everyone will say “wow, Taako, you won! Great job!”

The very even keel of this thought rabbit hole he’s been visiting for days is interrupted by a knock at the door. He waits, hoping he doesn’t have to be the one to bother answering.

Another knock, more terse this time. Ugh. Kravitz must be at work. Need everything fall upon Taako’s broad yet soft shoulders? He shuffles slowly to the door, giving whomstever is disturbing his early evening plenty of time to think better of it and slink off. No such luck.

“No solicitors unless you want a taste of Scorching Ray,” Taako says before he can even get the door open fully. Imagine his surprise when he sees two Goldcliff militia officers flanking Merle and Davenport.

“Sir, these two gentlemen said they were working on behalf of you when we got some complaints of them disturbing the peace. That true?” The shorter officer says.

“Never seen them before in my life,” Taako says with an air of boredom.

“Taako!” “You sonofa—”

He waves off both of their objections. “Kidding. These are my old guys, they’re not like, actually in trouble, right?”

The taller officer grimaces. “Technically, on behalf of the mayor, we’re meant to hold cases like this overnight at the jail.”

“But you heard them talking up the entirely cool haunted house that’s going to be hosted here and thought that these nice geezers posed no harm?” Taako supplies helpfully.

“I dunno, we don’t really have that kind of discretion,” the shorter officer waffles for a moment.

Taako leans in to address the officers. “Listen. You’re already here, you probably don’t get paid enough to deal with their bullshit. Whattaya say I let you fools into the haunted house for free, plus a couple of guests, and we just forget this happened?”

“It’s gonna be better than the Shriek Shack,” Merle chimes in.

“Shut up,” Davenport says through gritted teeth.

The taller officer considers this for a minute. “Yeah, sure. Just. Don’t argue about the logistics of an assless horse that loud in a busy shopping quarter again. Or just take that to Waterdeep.”

The officers leave and Davenport quickly disappears inside.

“For the record,” Merle says, “I was just fine with the costume.”

Before Taako can even react, another loud knock on his door. He raises an eyebrow at Merle.

“Don’t ask me.”

Taako opens the door to find another pair of Goldcliff militia officers; this time, they flank Angus and Mavis. “You’re joking.”

Merle peeks around the door and his eyebrows do their best to join his hairline. “Mavis?”

“I can explain!” Angus defends. “I was trying to get to the bottom of who own—”

Taako shakes his head and holds his hands out. “Okay, I don’t have nearly enough caffeine in my system for this. Would the two of you be okay with coming inside for a cup of coffee while we all hash this out?”

The two officers look at one another. The man shrugs. The woman frowns, but ultimately nods. “I don’t see why not.”

Angus furrows his brow but says nothing. Taako ushers everyone inside and shuts the door tight behind him. “Here, let me take your coats,” he calls after them.

—--------

“So, Angster, Mavis, care to tell us how you ended up here?” Taako asks as everyone sips a steaming cup of coffee. He taps his ring against the mug to a beat and squints at Angus.

“Uh. Well, uh I-I heard all about the Shriek Shack at school and everyone was talking about how scary it was and how bad they wanted to go. And a couple of kids made bets about who could sneak in. And I wanted to look cool so I tried and I talked Mavis into it and we got caught and I’m sorry.”

Mavis glances sideways at Angus. “That’s not how it happ—”

“Mavis, there’s no point in trying to fudge the truth. Nobody’s mad, we’re just glad you’re back safe, right Merle?”

Merle finally comes up for air from his comically large cup of coffee. “Right.”

“Listen, sir, we’re glad this can be a teaching moment for you and your kid or whatever, but we confiscated a couple of questionable magic items from these children,” the woman says, crossing her legs.

“May I see? I'm something of a magic practitioner myself and I just want to see how big of an issue we're dealing with here.” Taako silently applauds himself on sounding so professional.

The man sucks in a breath and crosses his legs, mirroring the woman beside him. “Mmm, I’m not sure that that’s such a good idea.”

“Yeah, this is an ongoing investigation, after all,” the woman says.

“Is this going to go on our permanent records?” Mavis asks suddenly, her eyes going big as saucers.

“Shit, your mom’s gonna have my ass,” Merle laments.

The woman smiles for scarcely a moment before it disappears from her face. “Well, we really should be going, but we’ll keep in touch.” She and her partner begin to stand.

“Oh, could you stick around for just a few more minutes? I know my husband would want to be here to get some details from you. I promise he’s just tying up some loose ends at work.”

The officers look at each other again. “It’s not protocol, but I suppose.”

“Wonderful! While I’ve got you here, when did the Goldcliff militia change their uniform colors?” Taako asks innocently.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah, I recall a dear old friend of ours having a far more…subdued uniform. Don’t get me wrong, the two of you have impeccable style, but it seems a little too showy for the job,” Taako says.

“Well, things change.”

“They certainly do.”

Before Taako can say more, a familiar tearing sound rings through the entryway. The two officers don’t turn around.

“Taako, I got your text, what’s going on?” Kravitz asks, shrugging his cloak off. Taako stands to meet him near the door, taking his cloak and putting it on the coat rack. He presses a lingering kiss on Kravitz’s cheek.

“Awww, kiddos got their first escort home from the militia. Mazel tov, babes,” Lup says, stepping through the rift behind Kravitz and waving her hand at Taako.

“You didn’t talk without a lawyer present, right? I went to a semester of law school, I know kids have rights,” Barry says, ambling over to the couch. He levels a gaze at the militia officers on the couch. He squints and runs his tongue over his teeth, concentrating like he’s looking at an optical illusion. Over the woman’s shoulder, he catches a glimpse of Taako making a small gesture that looks almost like handcuffs before he slips on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Thieves Cant? Since when does Taako know a lick of thieves cant? “Um. Sorry, you just looked a bit familiar.” He sends a small nod to Taako, who creeps quietly to stand beside Lup.

“We have those kinds of faces,” the man says offhandedly. His partner fidgets beside him. She starts surveying the room.

“I’m being so rude, I’m Barry,” he sticks out a hand. For a moment, neither officer reacts. When it becomes clear Barry isn’t in the market to play chicken, the woman shakes his hand.

Lup moves to sit beside Merle, occupying the space left by Taako. She whispers something in his ear. Suddenly, he sits up a little straighter and blinks his eye a few times.

“Lauren. This is my partner, Evan.”

“You dumb motherfuckers!” Suddenly, Taako is beside Barry. Lup and Kravitz fall in line, manifesting their scythes from the ether as Merle yanks Angus and Mavis behind him. “See, something smelled rank about you from the minute you darkened my doorstep, but you’ve really made it all too easy. I mean, Evan and Lauren? You could have at least swapped initials.”

Lup flicks her hand and immediately Evan and Lauren are replaced with two technicolor nightmares.

“But you have to admit, it was so much fun,” Edward says on the verge of pouting.

“How’d you bastards get outta the Astral Plane again?” Merle asks, putting as much space between the kids and the Wonder Twins as he can manage.

Lydia grins wolfishly. “Oh, dear dear Merle, I think you’ll find my lovely brother and I are like crabs; try as you might, you can never truly get rid of us.”

“Ew,” Lup says, wrinkling her nose. “So you’re behind the Shriek Shack? Why? Why not just rebuild your stupid ass circus?”

“Wonderland,” Edward corrects, “Was a true work of art. The Shriek Shack is more like Fantasy Arby’s. Not what you actually want, but ultimately pretty edible.”

“You should be patting us on the back,” Lydia says. “You see, we’re milking these stupid customers for pure, ethical suffering!”

“And giving us a mountain of paperwork to do,” Barry pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Wait. Yeah, we haven’t had a single report of an escape in months, what the hell is this?” Kravitz exchanges glances with Lup and Barry.

Edward rolls his eyes. “Keep up, pretty boy. You reapers are great hired goons, but you’re not the most perceptive types.” He stands and motions for Lydia to do the same.

“I’d say we should do this again, but I find you all so tedious.” Lydia stands to join her brother.

Taako and Merle seem to move in near unison as Edward and Lydia are restrained by heavy chains and creeping vines.

“I’d really rethink the tone the two of you dipshits take with us from now on,” Lup all but snarls. “I ate your essence and shit it out once, what do you think I’m capable of now that I’m out of that thing?”

Despite the restraint and the very real threat of some of the most powerful magic users in the plane, the Wonder Twins still find it in their hearts to snark like children.

“It’s cute that you think a few decades of undeath makes you anything more than a common wizard bitch who’s bound to end up being her own undoing because she’s incapable of doing the dirty work to become a lich the real way. Sustained by love? Get a grip. You’re pathetic,” Edward spits at her.

Before Lup can hurl a fireball, Barry very calmly and deliberately takes off his glasses and hands them off to Angus. He rubs the side of his face, rolls his head around a few times to loosen up his neck, and tips his head back as he mutters something quietly. When he picks his head back up, his eyes are, with no exaggeration, voids. Inky black ooze dribbles out of his sockets and down his face like ichor. The darkness is contagious, dripping down onto the floor and growing impenetrable columns of shadow from where the droplets land. His mouth twists at an unnatural, profane angle.

At the sight of this production, Lydia and Edward attempt to tug at their restraints to flee from Barry’s presence, though it’s a futile effort.

“Are you afraid?” Barry hisses out, his voice echoing in a cacophony of whispers and of nails on a chalkboard.

“P-please, please,” is all the pair is able to babble out, their panic growing the closer Barry gets to them.

“I could put your worthless souls in the darkest recesses of this planet, never to be seen again. To remain forever conscious without even gaining the sweet respite of death.” His voice worms its way under their skin like thousands of biting insects.

“I-I’m sorry,” Edward chokes out.

“Spare us,” Lydia begs.

“Surrender. Unequivocally and entirely, never to even imagine stepping foot outside the Eternal Stockade again.”

“I do have a project I need them for before you send them back though,” Taako stage whispers to the eldritch horror formerly known as Barry.

“Once you help Taako with whatever project he needs.”

“Whatever you need,” they both parrot back, nodding emphatically.

Barry shakes his head and his lovely brown eyes return to their rightful place. “Can I get those back, Angus? That gave me a migraine, I think.” Angus obliges as he whispers something in Mavis’s ear.

“Don’t even ask, bubbeleh, I don’t do the creepy crawly kind of magic like that,” Taako shakes his head. “Can the two of you babble in continued terror a bit more quietly?”

“Okay, Taako, you do whatever plan you need to do, I need to be alone with my husband right now immediately,” Lup says, opening a quick rift before pulling Barry along behind her.

—-----

“Taako, hi, Max Madsen from Waterdeep Weekly!” A drow man with owlishly big eyes and bigger glasses shakes Taako’s hand cordially. “As I'm sure you know, I'm profiling the latest and greatest in Halloween attractions all across Faerun. I gotta say, this haunted house of yours is the hottest ticket right now, especially with the abrupt closure of the Shriek Shack in Goldcliff. The frights are frightening without feeling gimmicky and there's a pretty clear essence of humor throughout the haunt. But for me, what really sells it is the room towards the end, the one where your greatest fear gets sculpted out of smoke only for you to be able to kick the crap out of it. It's brilliant, but you know I have to ask, how's the magic happen?”

Taako zones back in just in time for the tail end of the question. Yeesh, does this guy like to hear himself talk. “Thanks Mac.”

“Max.”

“Whatever. As I'm sure you could guess, I can't give away proprietary Taako From TV, tee em tee em tee em, secrets like that. I gotta save the mystique for all the guests. Let's just say I'm cashing in a favor from some old frenemies. But if you think this is happening, just wait until you see the party.”

Max grins. “An invite to an exclusive Taako party? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming!”

Taako reaches over and pinches him, perhaps harder than entirely necessary. “No, no, no, that was a figure of speech. See, Max, I've discovered that sometimes it's not about getting a fancy write up in a magazine, it's about spending time with those close to us.”

“I completely get what you mean,” Max nods, enlightened. “I'll scrap the whole story.”

“Well, no need to be hasty.” Before Max can start talking again, Taako peels off to go make sure no funny business is afoot. After all, there's only two liches in the world he can trust, and they're both off convincing kids that reaching into a bowl of cold spaghetti is terrifying.

Not that he'd tell a soul, but he loves his weird little family more than he can say. Sometimes that can be the nicest treat of all, no tricks necessary.

[mercillery]

can you please write a series of headcanons for yandere Zenon falling for a nun female reader who is a friend of sister Lily and father Orsi?

btw i really love your writing 💕❤️

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + RELIGIOUS TOPICS + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: IM ALIVE GUYS I SWEAR IM ALIVE. ALSO, I DID THIS ON A WHIM SO IT MIGHT NOT BE THE BEST. SORRY AND THANK YOU.

Oh, you poor, unsuspecting soul.

You're about to hop on a roller coaster so wild and unpredictable that even the most hardcore adrenaline junkies would pause and reconsider their life choices before strapping in. Seriously, who could have predicted that someone as cold and ruthless as Zenon—yes, Zenon, the guy whose hobbies probably include brooding and looking dramatically into the distance—would ever let thoughts of anything other than his missions and duties creep into his mind?

And not just anyone, mind you, but a nun? The irony is ironing. Zenon falling for someone devoted to peace and virtue? It’s like discovering the Grim Reaper secretly volunteers at a kitten shelter on weekends. But hey, life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them, and Zenon catching feelings might just be the curveball of the century.

Zenon's interest in you doesn't start as love—oh no, that would be too simple, too human. Instead, it begins as a fixation, a curiosity he can’t quite shake. You see, he’s drawn to your purity, your unwavering faith, and that infuriating devotion to something greater than yourself. For someone like Zenon, whose life is steeped in shadows and bloodshed, these qualities are both intriguing and utterly alien. It’s like he’s found a rare, delicate flower growing in the middle of a battlefield—something that shouldn’t exist, and yet, here it is, flourishing despite the chaos.

Your kindness and warmth are stark contrasts to the cold, brutal world Zenon knows so well. To him, you're almost like a living embodiment of everything he's not—and, frankly, everything he’s never wanted to be. Zenon is perfectly content with his dark, brooding existence; thank you very much. The idea of being anything else? Laughable. But still, there’s something about your devoted nature that tugs at him in ways he doesn't fully understand.

It’s not love—at least not yet—but there’s definitely something there, something that keeps him coming back, if only to try and figure out why someone like you exists in a world like his.

Zenon doesn’t harbor any outward disgust toward religion—he’s not the type to waste energy on something as trivial as disdain. Instead, religion just makes him tilt his head slightly, those dark, intimidating eyes narrowing as if he's trying to solve a puzzle he doesn’t really care about. He’s genuinely baffled by how someone could be so dedicated, so selfless, so utterly consumed by their devotion to something intangible. How could anyone willingly bind themselves to something as abstract as faith?

If we're being completely honest here, Zenon probably finds the whole concept of religion utterly useless. In his mind, power is the only currency that matters, and in the face of overwhelming strength, everything else—including religion—seems trivial at best. He sees religion as something that would only hold a person back, a crutch that prevents them from grasping real power. After all, why rely on divine intervention when you can take matters into your own hands?

But does he care if someone else wants to cling to their faith? Not really. Zenon’s not interested in converting anyone to his worldview; he’s too focused on his own goals for that. If people want to hold themselves back with their religious beliefs, that’s their problem, not his. He just shrugs it off, filing it away as another incomprehensible quirk of humanity that he doesn’t need to understand and thinks it just holds everyone back.

But anyway—over time, this curiosity of his starts to twist and morph into something far more dangerous—an obsession. As this obsession deepens, Zenon begins to rationalize the strange feelings he's grappling with, trying to make sense of them in a way that aligns with his dark worldview. He starts to see your innocence as something fragile, something that needs to be protected—by him and only him.

Of course, Zenon’s idea of protection isn’t exactly comforting. It's dark, suffocating, and possessive. In his mind, the only way to keep you truly safe is to isolate you from the world, to lock you away where no one else can reach you or taint your purity. This twisted logic extends to everyone around you, even those closest to you, like Sister Lily and Father Orsi.

Sure, even if they’re like your family, even if you dearly love them with every fiber of your being, and even if Zenon knows all of this—he still sees them as obstacles. And let’s be real; that’s not exactly surprising. To him, they’re not threats, just hurdles he needs to clear before claiming his prize: you. I’m not saying he’d immediately jump to murder, but it’s definitely crossed his mind. Whether he goes that far depends entirely on how much resistance they put up.

Zenon isn’t one for subtlety or long-winded schemes. He’s not going to waste time orchestrating elaborate events to make it seem like Sister Lily or Father Orsi are in danger or untrustworthy—that’s just too much work for something he could easily solve by just killing them. He’s got power, and he’s more than willing to use it to carve a quicker, more direct path to you. If they become too much of a nuisance, well, let’s just say Zenon’s not above using lethal force to clear the way. Sorry, but in his mind, it’s a simple equation: they’re in his way, and he’s not one to let anything stand between him and what he wants. Of course, if by some miracle Sister Lily and Father Orsi step aside and let him through—though let’s be real, that’s about as likely as Zenon deciding to take up knitting—they might just live to see another day.

That being said, once Zenon realizes that he’s not just obsessed with you and that his feelings run far deeper than mere fixation, well, say goodbye to your freedom. Forever.

Zenon’s first move would be to isolate you completely, cutting you off from everyone and everything you’ve ever known. He wouldn’t hesitate to threaten the lives of those around you if it meant coercing you into submission. It’s just a necessary step to secure your loyalty and your obedience. He’d present himself as your only protector, the one person who can truly keep you safe in a world filled with chaos, danger, and evil—a world that’s constantly trying to kill that innocence you have. To Zenon, this isn’t just a twisted power play; it’s an act of love. He genuinely believes that by keeping you close, by holding you tight in his suffocating grip, he’s shielding you from the darkness that he knows all too well.

And yes, Zenon is the very embodiment of that darkness, the very thing he’s supposedly protecting you from, but in his mind, that’s just more reason for you to stay with him. You’re precious, sacred even, and he can’t bear the thought of losing you—especially after what happened with Allen. Oh how much you remind him of that sunshine boy, that bright light that was snuffed out too soon. He doesn’t want to experience that pain again, that devastating loss. So he convinces himself that this is the only way, that by keeping you close, he’s protecting both you and himself from a repeat of the past.

But while Zenon is dead set on “protecting” your purity as a nun, he's also not above trying to chip away at the very core of what makes you who you are. He takes a strange satisfaction in subtly undermining your faith, poking holes in the foundations of your beliefs whenever he gets the chance. He'll challenge your views on life, death, and the morality of your God, all while weaving in his own twisted philosophy, as if trying to make you see the world through his cold, unforgiving eyes.

As much as he’s intrigued by your devotion, it also kinda grates on him. How can someone be so unwavering in the face of a world as dark and merciless as this one? He might be your self-appointed protector, but there’s a part of him that wants to see you stumble—a lot, actually. Zenon’s not satisfied with just keeping you safe; he wants to break your spirit and mold you into someone who sees the world the way he does. He’s not just after your obedience—he wants your mind, your very soul, to align with his own warped perspective.

In fact, at some point, Zenon would likely want you to abandon your faith altogether. He’d see it as a weakness, something that blinds you to the harsh realities he believes in. In his mind, your faith and ideals are naïve, a set of fragile beliefs that will only lead to your destruction if left unchecked. He sees his efforts to sway you as an act of mercy, a twisted form of salvation. To him, if you could just shed those old beliefs and embrace his darker, more “realistic” worldview, you’d be stronger for it—stronger and safer, as far as he’s concerned.

So while Zenon might claim to be protecting your purity, the truth is much more sinister. He wants to strip away everything that makes you who you are, to rebuild you in his own image, and in doing so, bind you to him in a way that goes far beyond physical control. To him, that’s the ultimate act of protection: not just guarding your body, but reshaping your very soul.

Moreover, Zenon’s icy logic and emotional detachment would make it utterly futile to try and reason with him—even if you’re usually a master at persuading others. With him, all your skills in negotiation and reasoning would hit an unyielding wall. Zenon isn't the kind of man who can be swayed by emotional appeals or logical arguments. His mind is set, and once he’s decided on something, there’s no changing it. If you ever attempted to escape or reach out for help, you’d quickly learn just how unforgiving he can be. Any act of defiance would be met with swift and brutal consequences, the kind that would make you think twice about ever trying it again.

Zenon doesn’t see you as an individual with your own thoughts, feelings, and agency. To him, you’re a precious, pure possession—something to be guarded, controlled, and kept away from the world. He might speak of love, but his version of it is suffocating, possessive, and devoid of the genuine respect and care that real love requires. Instead of being cherished as a person, you’re reduced to an object of obsession, someone whose freedom and autonomy are sacrificed on the altar of his twisted affections.

In Zenon’s mind, the endgame is crystal clear. He’s convinced that by breaking your will and dismantling the person you once were, he can rebuild you into something that aligns with his dark, twisted worldview. If you were to ever fully submit to his control, he’d see it as a victory—a validation of his power and a confirmation that his way is the only way. But here’s the thing: that victory wouldn’t bring Zenon any real peace or happiness. Despite his relentless pursuit, Zenon is a man consumed by darkness, and even if he managed to break you, he’d likely find himself staring into an abyss of his own making.

The purity and innocence that first drew Zenon to you would be gone, stripped away by his relentless need to control and reshape you. In their place would be something hollow and broken—a reflection of Zenon himself. He might have you under his thumb, but the person he was so fascinated by, the light that caught his attention, would be extinguished. And what then? Zenon is too far gone to appreciate what he’s lost, but on some level, he would likely feel the emptiness of his so-called victory.

Overall, Zenon’s pursuit of you is more than just a desire to possess; it’s a reflection of his own inner turmoil. He’s a man who, in trying to hold onto something pure, only succeeds in dragging both you and himself further into the darkness. The very thing that made you special to him—your purity—becomes a casualty of his obsession. And in trying to mold you into something that mirrors his own brokenness, Zenon only deepens his descent into the void, leaving behind nothing but the remnants of what once was and what could never be again.

[screamingoverfiction]

The Reaper and I

Had this in my drafts FOREVER, finally decided to just finish it. Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!-reader

Word Count: 3.26k Heavy NSFW

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dark looming eyes of death watched her like a famished hawk. Not once straying away or even seeming to blink.

Her neck prickled as he slowly lifted the glass and raised the bottom of his balaclava above his lips, downing the bourbon in one swift gulp before slamming the empty drink on the wooden table.

His eyes were pools of black, darkened with anger as he pulled his mask back down. She swore she could feel a cold chill wash over the room.

Y/n finally tore her gaze away from the masked man, returning her attention to Gaz and Soap, who were arguing about something. Their silly bickering was the least of her growing worries.

There was always thick air between her and the tower of a man they called Ghost. She could never quite understand him as she did the other members of the 141.

He was cold, distant, and brutal, hesitant to even reveal his real name, which she still didn't know.

Usually, going to the pub after a challenging mission was supposed to be relaxing, a way for the team to cool off after the stressful nature of the field.

But Y/n was more on edge now than she had ever been in her entire life. Her fingers trembled when she tried to lift her glass, eyes constantly darting to glance behind her where she'd always find the same man staring.

He'd never even spoken to her other than when he was shouting orders or criticizing her efforts, and now it was like the grim reaper was stalking her, waiting for his chance to strike.

"Y/n? You alright there. Look like you've seen a ghost," Soap said, snapping her out of her paranoid daze.

She would've laughed at the irony if her heart beating a million miles an hour.

"I'm fine. I'm going to head back to base. It's been a long day," Y/n spoke, clearing her throat and standing up. The intense weight of his stare burned into the back of her head.

She didn't give them time to respond before she was out the door, practically gasping when the cold fresh air hit her skin. She took a much-needed deep breath, finally feeling safe in her skin.

That was until she heard the pub door open and the heavy sound of combat boots hitting the sidewalk.

She didn't need to turn to know who it was. His presence behind her was enough to send chills down her spine.

She heard the sound of car keys jingling and his footsteps passing by. His massive figure walked ahead of her and unlocked a car, opening the passenger door and lifting his dark eyes to her.

"Get in," His booming voice demanded, holding the door open expectantly.

There was no way she could refuse. If she did, he would probably drag her into the car anyway.

She slowly stepped forward, sliding into the front seat and keeping her eyes straight ahead.

The ride back to base was silent. Y/n didn't dare to look at him, knowing that if she did, it would be hard to look away.

His strong hand gripping the wheel, large biceps covered with tattoos, veins running down his forearms. He was sculpted like a god, and she wanted to kiss every one of his scattered scars.

There's no point denying her attraction toward her Lietenuant, only that it was childish and most likely forbidden.

She hadn't even seen his face, only glimpses of his lips in dark pubs, and even then, she couldn't make out the shape.

Once they pulled into base and stepped out of the car, that thick fog of air enveloped them, almost suffocating her.

They started toward the barracks in silence once again. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and sleep, but she didn't know if it was possible. Her mind would inevitably stray to Ghost, and her hand may stray too...

It was silly to think about him that way, but it was impossible not to. His eyes, hands, arms, torso, everything about him seemed to electrocute her senses in arousal.

"Sergeant,"

Y/n stopped in her tracks, swallowing thickly before turning around, her eyes connecting with his.

"We need to talk," He said darkly, crossing his arms over his broad chest and staring down at her.

Y/n pursed her lips and inhaled sharply, clenching her jaw before she spoke.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" She replied in almost a whisper, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," He spoke again, making her hesitantly raise her eyes.

"Do you think before you act? Or do you just do the first idiotic thing that comes to mind?" Ghost spat, venom in his tone. Y/n blinked once, sputtering over her words as the humiliation set in.

"Excuse me, sir?" She stammered, eyes going wide, a red tint slowly rising to her cheeks from embarrassment.

"You deliberately put yourself in danger," Ghost continued, stepping closer to Y/n, but she didn't back up.

Her eyes dawned in realization. He was talking about the mission a few weeks back. When she'd shoved him to the side and away from an enemy bullet, causing her to take a shot to the arm. But she wasn't harmed too much. The bullet was easily removed and stitched up.

"I saved your life," Y/n said with a scoff, shaking her head.

"You carelessly jumped in front of a bullet,"

"That was heading for your heart. I don't know why you're ridiculing me for saving you. If anything, you should thank me," She spat back, using her newfound confidence to stand straighter, narrowing her eyes.

"You got shot,"

"I was fine,"

Ghost glanced over at her arm, eyeing the scar just below her shoulder.

"You shouldn't have done it," He finally said, his voice as dark as his eyes, boring into hers like the devil.

"You're my Lieutenant," She answered simply. Like it was her obligation to save him if needed. In her mind, it was. She would take another bullet in a heartbeat, shoot an innocent man point blank in the skull to save him.

Ghost was caught off guard, not by her words but because of the way she said them, how her eyes softened as she looked at him.

It made him realize that maybe, just maybe, his confusing yet overpowering feelings for her might be reciprocated.

"I'd take a bullet any day of the week for you, Lt., and you don't even care about me," Y/n said with a breathy and dry laugh, looking away from him, a little embarrassed.

Now Ghost is mortified, her words soaking into him like a harsh slap to the face.

She thinks he hates her.

"Do you think I hate you?" Ghost asks, his eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion.

Y/n closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and cursing under her breath, biting back her stinging tears.

"Just forget it," She said with a scoff, turning around and starting down the hall.

Ghost was quick to follow behind, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. Before she spun around, he'd lifted his mask to the base of his nose, and his lips were on hers in a second.

To say Y/n was shocked would be a massive understatement. Her eyes were wide, and her body was ridged, but it only took her a second to melt into his touch.

His hand was cupping her face while hers went to the back of his neck, simultaneously trying to pull themselves closer.

The warm feeling of his lips on hers sent her into a frenzied daze. The thoughts rushing through her were dirty and vile. The feeling of his strong gloved holding her face made her imagine how it might feel elsewhere, stroking and touching.

Ghost almost slammed her into the nearby wall, her back harshly colliding with the drywall. The only breaks they took between kissing were to take small gasps for air before diving in once again.

His free hand drifted lower toward her waist, small needy gasps escaping her lips as his fingers wrapped around her hip.

Her back was arching into him, her pelvis brushing against his. Her hand ran over his lower stomach, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt before finding purchase on the side of his waist, holding it like her life depended.

Ghost groaned. His breath was rapid and desperate, his desire growing with each passing moment, his head spinning with lucrative thoughts.

"Fucking hell," He breathed against her lips, his hand leaving her hip to reach into his pocket, pulling out his room keys and holding them tightly against her waist.

Ghost hooked his fingers in her belt loops, pulling her across the hall toward his room, keeping their lips together.

He quickly unlocked his door, stepping inside with Y/n right behind him, reattaching their lips as soon as it closed.

"Ghost-" Y/n gasped, his hands clasped around her waist, keeping her impossibly close. She pressed her hips into his, his grip tightening from the contact.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that," He groaned, kissing her so ferociously that their teeth clicked together and their noses touched.

Y/n arched forward again, making sure she ground against his already massive bulge, feeling it grow even more.

"Needy thing, aren't you?" Ghost said darkly, walking them back toward his bed until her knees hit the mattress. She fell onto the bed, dragging Ghost along with her. His body hovering over hers.

Ghost dragged his lips along her jaw, his teeth nibbling and biting the exposed skin. A soft mewl escaped Y/n's lips, and her cunt ached with anticipation as his gloved hands slid up her shirt.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to see you like this- a mess beneath me," Ghost groans, taking the fabric of her shirt and tossing it away.

"Ghost-" Y/n pleaded, begging him to touch her more.

"Oh fucking hell, love. You're all worked up, aren't you?" Ghost says it's more of a statement than a question like he knows how much she wants him.

"Please-" She whispers, running her hand down his clothed chest, her fingers gripping the hemming of his shirt

Ghost quickly rips the fabric from his chest, kissing her again with a passionate force, like he's been denied his treasure for too long.

Y/n's fingers graze along his bare and muscle-toned chest. It's littered with scars, and a line of hair from his belly button down, his v-line accentuated. Her tongue moves with Ghost's as they moan into each other's mouths.

His hand wraps around her back, unclipping her bra with an almost concerning level of ease before tossing it to be forgotten.

He pulls back to admire her body, his eyes dark like the devil himself as he drinks in the beauty of her figure, his gaze hungry for her.

Ghost's mouth latches onto her left nipple, sucking and biting the skin as his other hand gives attention to the right.

Y/n moans, her fingers sliding under his balaclava to grip the short strands of hair on the back of his neck.

Ghost switches his lips to the right side, making sure that both of her beautiful tits are covered in his markings.

"Oh god-" Y/n groans as his lips trail further down her body.

"God can't fucking help you," Ghost almost hisses into her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

Ghost undoes her belt, pulling it through the loops before unbuttoning her cargo pants and practically ripping them off her legs.

"Such pretty fucking legs," Ghost says lowly, his lips planting kisses and hickeys all along her inner thighs.

Y/n lets out a shaky breath as his hand cups her core, his palm pressing directly against her aching clit.

"Already so needy and wet for me," Ghost speaks in a low tone, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear.

"You want this, love?" He asks before going any further.

Y/n nods quickly, swallowing in anticipation.

"I need words, Y/n," He says her name in such a low growl it almost makes her cum on the spot.

"Yes, yes, I want this," She whines, pressing her hips into his hand, aching for him to just take her panties off already.

Ghost lifts his hand up to her mouth, sticking the tips of his gloved fingers between her lips with a commanding look in his eyes.

"Bite," He says, watching as Y/n carefully sinks her teeth into his gloved fingertips, keeping hold of the fabric as he slides his hand out of the glove.

"Good girl," Ghost says with a smirk, his lips curling into a devilish grin as he hoists her legs over his shoulders before yanking off her panties. The soft little moan that leaves her lips is music to his ears.

He wastes no time burying his face in her cunt, making her squirm and gasp, but his strong arms keep her in place as he laps at her wetness like it's his last meal.

His tongue flicks at her clit, spreading her pretty pussy lips apart and then prodding at her entrance before licking a strip back up to her aching pearl. The mewls and whines that leave her lips are erotic and desperate, yearning for the promise of release.

"Ghost-" Y/n started to moan, her hips bucking into his face, eyes rolling back as she arched her spine against the mattress.

"'S not my name, sweetheart," Ghost says, head still buried between her legs, the movements of his tongue pausing as he waits for her to get his name right.

"Simon," Y/n corrects, biting her lip and subconsciously grinding her hips into his face.

"That's better," Simon says with a grin, spitting onto her pussy before he goes back in with his tongue.

The lewd, wet sounds of Simon eating Y/n out echo off the walls, and if anyone were in the adjacent rooms, they'd be able to hear the loud, needy moans that come from Y/n.

"Simon, mh- I'm close-" Y/n says in a high, breathy voice, her eyes screwed shut and her face contorted with pleasure, her hand tightly balling up the sheet, the hot bubbly feeling in her lower belly growing with each passing second.

"That's it, come for me, love," Simon says in a raspy voice as he easily slides a finger into her slick-soaked cunt, starting to pump it in and out, curling it against her g-spot.

The new sensation causes Y/n to cry out, her back arching and her vision going white as she finishes. Her come covered Simon's lips and chin, making his skin shine.

Simon smiles at his accomplishment, chuckling softly before hovering over her, his lips coming down to kiss hers.

Y/n moans as she tastes herself on his tongue, her face flushing hot as Simon hooks one of her legs over his shoulder, and her mouth waters as she watches him unbuckle his belt and pull his cargos down.

Y/n can't help but stare when he pulls his boxers down. Her eyes widened when his impressively sized cock is freed.

It was at least 8 inches long with an impressive girth she knew would burn as it stretched her out, but she couldn't help the wave of arousal that flooded her pussy when she thought about it.

"Ah, eyes on me, love," Simon tsks, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes, admiring the doe-like expression in her eyes as she silently begs for him.

"You ready?" He asks, brushing his thumb along her jaw, running it over her puffy lips as he waits for her consent to move forward, the head of his cock merely teasing at her slit, rubbing up and down.

Y/n quickly nods, biting her lip, and spreading her legs a little wider for him, one of her legs up over his shoulder and the other hooked around his waist.

"Yes, please, Simon," She softly begs, crying out a little as Simon slowly pushes the broad tip inside her. A low throaty groan leaves his lips as his forehead presses against hers.

"Ah- Simon-!" Y/n moans as he pushes the rest of his length inside. The head of his cock gently thrums against her cervix, adding a little bit of pain to the pleasure, not that it was unwelcome.

"Ohhh, fuckkk-" Simon grovels, his teeth clenching together as he starts to thrust, having to put all of his thought into not cumming in her tight little cunt right then and there.

His thrusts gradually pick up, and his cock moves perfectly inside her, the veins running against her gummy walls as his tip hits her g-spot, causing her eyes to roll back and her moans to become uncontrollable.

"Simon-" Y/n mewls, her head falling against his shoulder, her nails slicing into his toned back as she clings to him for dear life. Tears sting her eyes as the intensity of his thrusts picks up, and it's not long before she can feel her second orgasm approaching.

"'M close-" She whispers to him, her cheek pressed into his strong shoulder, feeling the muscles work and ripple beneath his skin. The thought only added to her arousal.

"Want you to soak my cock," Simon breathes, his palm leaving the sheets and pressing against her lower stomach as his thumb circles her already sensitive clit.

The weird sensation makes Y/n's eyes snap open, and her hand immediately flies to his wrist, her hips squirming at the overwhelming sensation.

"Simon- feel's weird-" She says breathlessly, trying to push his wrist off as she gets ready to come.

"I know, baby, let it happen," Simon says darkly, his thumb tightly circling her clit as he feels her pussy clench around him, her cries of pleasure drone off into a euphoric silent scream as she comes.

Her cunt pulses around his cock, squirting all over the fabric of his cargo pants, soaking everything. The feeling of her squirting and cumming on his cock makes Simon's balls tighten, and with a guttural groan, he buries his cock as deep as he can, cumming right against her cervix and coating her insides with white ropes.

Y/n's entire body trembles and shakes with pleasure as she comes down off her high, her pussy red and sensitive as Simon carefully pulls out of her, some of his spend leaking from her hole.

Simon gently takes his finger and eases his cum back inside, watching as she whimpers from the overstimulation with a proud smirk on his face.

He leans up and kisses her forehead, wiping the baby hairs that stuck to her sweaty forehead away.

"Did so well f'me, love," He whispers, kissing her lips before getting off the bed and walking to his dresser, taking out a clean shirt and walking back over to the bed, helping her slide it over her head before he goes back and changes himself.

Simon returns to his bed and pulls the soaked blanket from the mattress, tossing it into the hamper before walking to the closet and locating the spare.

He then gently tucks Y/n's exhausted body under the covers, and only when everything is situated does he join her, sliding under the sheets and pulling her close to him, kissing her softly on the forehead before murmuring.

"I could never hate you,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you all for reading! I am so sorry about not writing often and not being able to fill out requests. I promise I am going to try and start completing them!

[byeaaram]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)

Summary: In which death welcomes you in the cruelest way possible, and your girlfriend suffers the same fate. You don't know which hurt more.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Light Depictions of Violence, Reincarnation, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, OOC Wednesday Addams(?)

Notes: I don't usually write, but I couldn't get this out of my head. Maybe I'll start to use this space whenever I have an idea. I'm a sucker for reincarnation. Term dictionary at the end.

***

Your vision was tunneling in on you. 

It was a grueling battle. You had fought relentlessly for the place you had called home for years, as it crumbled and shook, threatening to destroy the very core of the Earth with its last gasp.

Droplets of blood cascaded down your face, while your fingers twitched in defiance of your failing body. Amidst the chaos, a voice called out to you, though it sounded distant and muffled. Your senses were drowning, as if struggling to grasp onto the fading presence of your girlfriend, whose lingering sensation barely registered.

Oh. Oh.

Wednesday. Weakly, you called out to her, your voice barely a whisper, as you stretched your trembling hand in a desperate attempt to grasp her attention. To your relief, your plea bore fruit, as she held onto you tightly, her grip firm, and with nimble strength, she pulled you into the shelter of her chest.

“Perdóname, cara mia, for I did not protect you with all my might. I failed you, and now I‘ll have to lose you to whom they call death.” 

Despite her habitual speech that rang through your surroundings, you sensed a break in her tone, one that felt unfamiliar too, as Wednesday Addams never cries. “W-Wednesday…?” 

With a trembling hand, you reached out once more for her hand, desperate for any connection in this moment of turmoil. As your fingers intertwined, you flinched at the unexpected warmth that greeted you, a stark contrast to the usual cold touch of your beloved's hands. Pulling your hand back, you mustered a gasp, realizing that your vision was now clouded by a crimson hue. 

Through the haze, you finally gazed upon your girlfriend, searching for an explanation in her eyes. “W-Wednesday, you’re b-bleeding!”

It was then, you noticed Wednesday’s fallen figure. She too was slumped to the ground, her body twisted at an awkward angle. The room's dim light cast eerie shadows across her fragile form, adding an unsettling aura to the sight. Your heart skipped a beat as you reached to cup her cheek, a mix of concern and dread coursing through your veins.

Despite her failing systems, Wednesday managed to muster a faint smirk, her hands coated in blood finding their way back to yours. With a gentle touch, her thumb circled your hand. Even in the face of adversity, she remained steadfast, providing solace in her touch, despite the grim reality of her condition.  “I’m so sorry, mi sol, but I am horrified to tell you that the both of us are knocking at the reaper's door.” 

Summoning all her strength, she pulled you closer, her lips tenderly brushing against every edge of your face. The sweetness of her touch and the soothing scent of her presence enveloped you, momentarily calming the storm within your mind. With heartfelt reassurance, she consoled your fears, but the bitter irony of the situation overwhelmed you, causing a pathetic sob to escape your lips.

Fading fast, the two of you clung to each other desperately, as if refusing to allow even the tiniest sliver of space between your bodies. The thought of witnessing the look of defeat and anguish on her face was unbearable, as you dreaded the worst outcome. 

Fear gripped your heart, the dread of being torn apart from the girl you cherished above all else. It felt as if the universe was cruelly signaling its intention, delivering a heart-wrenching message that threatened to separate you forever.

The thought shook your entire world. 

A voice pulled you out of your distressed wake.

“Ma non temere, la mia rosa appassita; perché cercherò e distruggerò ogni fessura della Terra finché non ti troverò. Questo universo crudele non ha nulla a che vedere con il mio amore per te, questo è certo. La morte può attenderci, ma non mi separerà mai da te. Ti amo. Tu sei il mio tutto. Il mio sole. La mia luce. La mia rosa. Non abbiate paura.” 

Albeit not understanding a thing she said, you let out a watery laugh, pulling yourself closer and nuzzling your head at the crook of her neck. “…I l-love you too, Wednesday.” 

Time felt slower this way. You wondered, if this was not the end, would this have been your future? Would you have been here, in Wednesday’s arms under the circumstances? Is this how your mornings would start? She would cite a proclamation of her love, adorning the sweet, sweet smile you would mirror, and you would sigh in contentment at the start of your morning. 

You let out a shaky breath, molding yourself closer to your Wednesday’s body. Your eyes began to flit to a close, and before you let sleep consume you, you reminded yourself to wish your girlfriend goodnight. 

“…Wednesday… ‘m tired now. Gonna go sleep…”

You feel her chest shake. She lets out a sigh, “…I will see you soon, l'amore della mia vita.”

In the morning, you'd find the sight of a petite figure racing towards you. Whispers and cries of joy, calling your name, would escape from the most exquisite lips you've ever seen. As your eyes lock, a powerful gaze grounds you to the Earth, and delicate hands reach for yours, gently pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I found you.”

An underlying sense of familiarity greets you in a new life. 

***

Dictionary: Unfortunately, I do not know any other language other than English, so I used Google Translate for these terms.

"Perdóname, cara mia" (Spanish) - "Forgive me, my love"

"Mi sol" (Spanish) - "My sun"

"Ma non temere, la mia rosa appassita; perché cercherò e distruggerò ogni fessura della Terra finché non ti troverò. Questo universo crudele non ha nulla a che vedere con il mio amore per te, questo è certo. La morte può attenderci, ma non mi separerà mai da te. Ti amo. Tu sei il mio tutto. Il mio sole. La mia luce. La mia rosa. Non abbiate paura." (Italian) - "But fear not, my withered rose; for I will seek and destroy every crevice of the Earth until I find you. This cruel universe has nothing to do with my love for you, that's for sure. Death may await us, but it will never separate me from you. I love you. You are my everything. My sun. My light. My rose. Don't be afraid."

"l'amore della mia vita." (Italian) - "Love of my life."

[bull-shit-suji]

not to like wax poetic about the literary nuances of Black Fucking Butler but i feel i need to point out how insanely campy it is. oh okay cool the butler is throwing butter knives at people with guns and winning. we're battling undertaker's zombie army by starting a boy band (we actually got the idea from the ZOMBIES' boy band). theres a curry making competition and its so important it needs an entire volume and a continuing motif dedicated to it. the Grim Reaper Death Gods are all cornballs with gardening sheers. the contradiction. the unintended irony.

i think the manga is like. toeing the line of camp. like its silly yet takes itself so seriously but its not too silly. my immersion is not broken by the silliness. but the anime is uncharted levels of camp. what the Hell was going on with pluto. you're gonna look me in the eye and tell me the phantomhives own a fifty foot dog thing and no one has noticed. simply one hell of a deer. ice skating. theres opium in funtom candy. the queen of england is maybe a little girl. speaking of which, the city of london just burned down. yeah the whole thing. the fifty foot dog was there too.

it's so ridiculously out of left field and the fact that none of the characters seem to notice or care feels like being gaslit. camp so visceral it's causing psychic damage. i am constantly begging the narrative to break character just once and acknowledge its silliness but doing so would negate the lack of awareness that makes it camp. its dated and timeless. an absolute milestone in camp history.

[7nessasaryevils]

We are back, my beloveds!!! Ep 8 what fresh hell awaits me??

- WE COMING OUT SWINGING SON OF A BITCH: yak's little smile and the immediate way he goes to take off the necklace cause he knows... his heart is someone else's now 😭😭

- bolster light effect my beloved... how I have missed you 🥺🥺🥹

- "if you take it back again, you're a dead man": tell me you're married without telling me you're married

- this boxer is yours.... FUCKING LET ME BREATHE ITS NOT EVEN A MINUTE INTO THE SHOW

- Dee taking accountability for how his words hurt Yak... ohhh emotional growth how wondrous you are

- man said "you broke up with me" SIR YOU WEREN'T EVEN DATING

- Dee leading Yak back home (count one of I'm so fucking fine)

- the Phadetsuk family is under my protection and if someone breathes on them wrong I'll sit on them NO ONE TOUCHES MY BABIES

- Yak's stomach growled and my dumbass thought it was my stomach growling....

- awwww family dinner time!

- Cher being fucking awesome as always

- Taem... darling... the sad glow in your eyes is hurting me 🥺 you had your chance with Yak...

- of course Yak didn't answer; he was too busy cuddling his Mho Dee ♥️

- Yak, sir... I see you... whatchu thinking in that pervy head of yours hmmmm? 🤨🤨🤨

- never mind... I know exactly what is going on in that PERVY head of yours 🤣🤣🤣

- OIL MASSAGES MY SEXY BELOVED

- gentlemen!!! Avert your gazes!!! 🤣

- awww Dee trying to understand more about Yak's world

- the most fashionable Grim Reaper is back.... and continues to scare the shit out of me

- Dee knows something's wrong!!! Yeah baby, get ready to call out your man!

- the fact that Dee knows about the hallucinations Yak saw... that means Yak told him!

- Ter... you lowlife dried up dog shit human turd crap being... may your scrubs always have a rip in them! May your phone never charge! MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE AN IN GROWN TOE NAIL!!!

- LIKE FUCK DEE IS GONNA GO WITH YOU YOU FLOPPY DICK

- hehehehehegegege jealousy my beloved how wonderful you look upon Yoryak Phadetsuk 🥰🥰

- I don't know whether to be endeared about how excited Yak is to eat Dee's cooking... or fucking terrified because Yak is about to eat Dee's cooking

- the food is edible???

- COSTUME FASHION SHOW (although Yak being unsure about the whole thing but still trying for Dee's sake 🥺🥺🥺 count two of I'm fucking fine)

- GRANDMAMAMMAAMMAAMAMAMAMAMA QUEEN I HAVE MISSED YOU GUYS SHES BACK

- the irony of Yak being able to coordinate fights but unable to dance in rhythm 🤣🤣🤣

- wha- wait- what do- WHAT DO YOU MEAN FAKE BOYFRIENDS!!! YOU KISSED!!! ON THE LIPS!!! YOU'RE MARRIED NOW!!! WHAT NONSENSE AM I LISTENING TO

- disappear comp- ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!?

- I'm about to commit violence... pretty sure Kao and Granmama would help me

- product placement... my goodness I forgot what you looked like 😅🤣

- nooooooooo cute product placement!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 I'm suddenly violently thrown back to the Miscellar water scene from BBS

- THE MARRIAGE EQUALITY BILL IM GONNA FUCKING THROW UP IM SO FUCKING GWENCHANA RIGHT NOW

- "let's register for marriage" NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH ME (this show better end with Yei and Cher having rings on their fingers, that's all I'm saying)

- you've never pro- oh gods oh gods is this happening is it it?!?!?

- ITS HAPPENING IT IS FUCKING FUCKING FUCK (COUNT 3 OF IM SO FUCKING GODDAMN FINE)

- speaking very honestly and seriously though: something in me breaks in the very best way watching Oyei ask Cher to marry him because they can. This is a thing that is very real for them. And it's beautiful.

- I love you Taem but girl.... you doing me a heckin annoyance- what is with that face???

- we're faking dat- sir when you start blow drying a dude's hair with that look in your eye YOU'RE FUCKING MARRIED!

- THAT'S A WEDDING GROOM OUTFIT YOU DUMB FUCKS WHY AM I SURROUNDED BY STUPID GAYS (all except Cher and Kao... they have all the brain cells)

- oh no... oh no no no no (remembers the scene from the trailer last week with Taem and Ohm) I do not like this nope nope no

- GET YOUR FUCKING HAND OFF HER IM GOING TO STAB A TWIN

- oh gods... the need in me to tell Yak to help Taem but also Dee's heartbroken face!!!

- THE DESI IN ME REJOICES!!!! I SEE YOU MY SARI WEARING BESTIE!!!!

- fuck no fuck no fuck no go away Ter curses upon you you flip floppy cock

- just one word- here's TWO words: fuck you

- also, Ter is an absolute asshole because Kwan is the one he's here's with and yet he goes to Dee to essentially say "oh I'll drop her for you in a heartbeat"... tell me you're an asshole without telling me you're an asshole

- Ter and Ohm sitting in a tree, both being A S S H O L E!

- GET YOUR HAND- YAK THROW HANDS NOW!!!

- fuck yeah report his fucking ass!!!!

- WHY ARE THESE ASSHOLES TOUCHING PEOPLE- where's my machete I need to chop appendages

- push him away push him away push him away for fucks sake Dee push him away

- oh thank fuck (could have shoved him harder is all I'm saying)

- THROWING HIS WORDS BACK AT HIM FUCK YEAH DEE THAT'S MY BOY

- Dee says it wasn't out of sarcasm... I don't care, I'm going to my grave with that broken look on Ter's face (honestly Dee, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you though; you know your worth)

- calling Ter pichai is perfect because Dee is finally distancing himself from this man; breaking the ties of familiarity and putting him where he belongs: in the trash as a fellow doctor

- if I had a quarter for every time I wanted to chuck my phone at a wall because a dickhead is touching one of my babies... I'd have a whole ass dollar... WHICH IS FAR TOO MANY QUARTERS!!!!

- Vivi.... remind me to erect temples for you too, my sweet desi wearing queen ♥️

- Kwan, you deserve better. The entire fucking hospital deserves better than that piece of shit quack doctor.

- wait is he.. he is... please let that be...

- FUCK YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

- look at my princes dancing!!! My kings!!!

- do I take extra joy in watching Ter shoved off to the side? YOU FUCKING BET I DO

- ohhhhhh sir... sir are you gonna ask him to da- oh

- SJNWHEENJDNWJSSNS FUCK YEAH I LOVE YOUS

- say it back Dee SAY IT BACK!!!!

- WHAT DO YOU MEAN END CREDIT?!?

- HPV info my beloved 🥰🥰♥️

- you're going all out to win him over: WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING BEFORE?!

- oh no oh no no no no that makes me scared...

Well, this episode had me wanting to bang my head into a wall thanks to two assholes but on the whole, a lovely episode!!! I cannot wait to see how next week fucks me up!

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Allow me to revisit this idea because I watched a video today about puss in boots: the last wish, and it got me thinking about all the other ways that could signify Sugarboo being the grim reaper to Derek.

Like them picking up a random shot glass, holding it up for a moment to perfectly catch Derek’s reflection, as if they’re literally holding his soul in their hands.

Or making some remark about the irony of his “debt” far outweighing whatever amount of money Jessie apparently owes him.

Despite whatever height or size different there may be, Sugarboo’s presence in the room is domineering throughout it all. Just picture Derek feeling even the slightest twinge of unease as they casually stand at the other side of the room, unshaken, staring menacingly at him, and he can’t help but notice the subtle ticking of the clock on the wall.

Perhaps Sugarboo even left the revolver in Alphonse’s car, already having a more appropriate tool of execution, like a sickle. How they were able to hide that on their person, who’s to say?

And let’s not forget about that iconic whistle we hear throughout the movie, signifying Death’s presence. Boo whistled a few times after getting into Derek’s car, like a way of wordlessly communicating, “You have signed your death warrant.”

Derek decided to mess with their family, and for one day, Sugarboo becomes death incarnate.

Of course, the clock gets turned back and Jessie takes the reins so Sugar doesn’t have to. But just picture Derek waking up from that.

HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO COOL!?!??!

[thecameronchronicles]

Pistol

TW: mentions of cocaine. Language. Mentions of abusive/toxic relationship. Smut. Dom!Barry.  Cheating. 

SUMMARY: The aftermath of your drug overdose brings you into a set of unlikely sheets...

WORD COUNT: 2200

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Pistol

You took the first line to forget. About him. About her. About going back home. About staying here. You took the second to feel anything but the pain the encompassed ordeals left behind. The dull sting of betrayal you shouldn't have been surprised to endure and yet it was somehow all consuming. All because you trusted Topper's words when he said he didn't care about her that way anymore. And yet, you found him wrapped around Sarah as if she were the only thing tethering him to reality. The irony of your need to escape reality not lost on you as you took a third bump. 

Then everything went black. The mix of alcohol and drugs along with your emotion and indifference for anything but the numb high your decision brought you tonight had been the medicinal edge you needed. And yet, it was taunting your morality. 

Those friends you made since wearing the title of girlfriend for Topper had fled the second you began to tremor. Not one lifting a phone for assistance as you were left to die on the floor of some unnamed Kook's house. 

The drugs and death danced a perfect tango with your life between their grasp, infiltrated by a grasp as unexpected as it was enigmatic. But your body and awareness were too stained to make out any of the lights as your eyes fluttered closed, your body left at mercy of the grim reaper himself. 

At least you thought. 

There wasn't a side effect you would be spared as you awoke in sheets vaguely familiar. A scent you knew to be marijuana set in the distance and music of an emo metal inspiration playing even further. As your head throbbed, you attempted to assist yourself to your feet before feeling nausea keep you still. It was only when looking down that you noticed the change of clothing and a sudden fear of being taken advantage of obliterated the thought of anything else. 

"You're gonna want to move slow." A voice explained over your shoulder as you chilled. It was such a set of unfortunate circumstances in which you knew his voice. That distinctive twang accompanying the way he spoke and you were well aware you were in the "care" of Barry. 

"What happened?" You groaned, a hand to your stomach as another came over your mouth. 

"You up and overdosed." You shot to your feet, the memories in fragments but returning slowly the longer you existed in consciousness. The details of how everyone abandoned you and the sudden presence of his strong grasp made you narrow your eyes in confusion. 

"Most people would say thank you..." 

"Most people would have left me..."

"Most people did..." He explained, upset at his own remark. 

"You need to eat...." He left you at the edge of his bed, the familiarity in his sheets reminding you of when you'd accompanied Topper and Rafe here to obtain the drugs a week prior. Never knowing they would be the first thing you'd notice added a near death experience such as this. 

"Not exactly the buffet I'm sure you're used to, but..." But the smell of half burnt toast only made your expression sour. 

"Why did you?" 

"Why did I what?" He asked upon pulling his own buttered toast between his former grin after his eyes had taken stick of the available skin his oversized shirt left on you. 

"Save me..." 

He scoffed. "Never thought of it that way...more of keeping future problems away from me. Your body and all...bad for business..." Your eyes lowered before moving towards the door. 

"Sit..." 

"I-"

"Wasn't a question." He explained, bringing a gun to view. You swallowed hard. 

"I'm curious...I have girls like you come through here every other day looking for an excuse...but why you? You seemed smart enough to know when to cut yourself off..." 

"I didn't want to think..."

"About which car to take to the club or-"

"What do you want?" You interrupted, frustrated by your mix of embarrassment and your pains. His jaw cocked to the side before he slowly nodded. 

"I would estimate a couple grand of my product was taken last night...by you..." 

"Topper and Rafe paid-"

"Pulled one over on me. Used it all without paying me what I was owed..." His head cocked. "Seems to me they take advantage of everything, don't they?"

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well you're gonna entertain me..." You swallowed hard as he pulled himself closer to the gun. 

"I'd start by giving me my shirt back..." You hesitated. 

"I'll just go...have Rafe-"

"He'll just have daddy bail him out...But I want interest even papa Cameron can't fix...something only you can offer..."

"How much?" 

"How much what?"

"How much was it?"

"I don't want your money..."

"You said-"

"I want my shirt..." He stood, moving slowly towards you as you swallowed hard. 

Barry was intimidating. Enough that his closing proximity or sole gaze kept you focused on him indefinitely, watching each and every move to ensure it wasn't fatal. 

"They should keep a close eye on you..." Your jaw clenched as he kept the gun at his side and yet you kept it on your like or focus. When he noticed this, he set it back on the table. His hand rested over the barrel as he sat on the edge of the surface, his second hand close enough to trace the hem of his shirt met with each of your strained breaths. 

"I'm not going to hurt you. Wouldn't make much sense to help you last night only to hurt you now. Just like it wouldn't make sense to take you by force when you'll give in to me anyway .."  He moved closer to you, close enough to press you into the very edge of the small table. 

"To be numb. Right? Country Club ain't treating you right and you shaking for me already in the way you only hoped to for him...So I'll ask one more time..." He lowered over you close enough to feel his breath on your parted lips. 

"Or you can go back to the same people who left you last night...or stay and find out what I can offer-" The unspoken depth behind his eyes along with the taunt of his lips sent you towards him. Fingers to his shoulders stabilizing you as his came to your hips. His thumbs hooked beneath his shirt as he lifted it from your body and left the bra you intended for Topper. 

"Show me..." Your fingers wrapped at your back to remove the clasp as he set you onto the counter. But he was not quick to fuck as you'd imagined. Instead, he lowered to his knees. 

"Bet they've never made you come this way without a bit of help..." You blushed as he pulled your panties away until you were completely bare. 

"And I could do it with only my tongue.." Your eyes rolled as he began at your clit. Your breath shuddering and sporadic before your hands ran through his hair. The slight grip you made over his tresses motivated him to deepen himself between your thighs as you were taken to the very edge, dependent on his hold of your thighs. 

"You a good girl?" Your eyes came open as he licked slowly, enough for you to witness each stroke. He widened your legs and slowed as your mouth drew slack. You nodded in fear of him withdrawing. 

"You never touch yourself?" Your eyes darted. 

"I want you to...I got another job to do..." He sucked two fingers, forcing them both inside you at once as you gasped. 

"Why would they be stupid enough to leave you alone when you taste like fucking candy?" He scoffed. "Bet you're perfectly tight, aren't you?" You nodded. 

"I want you to give me what I want...I wanna watch you rub it until you're dripping on my table for me...don't fight it...I know you want to..." When you hesitated, he pulled your hand between your legs. 

"Slowly...no coming." He lowered back down to you, sucking and fingering your entrance in exchanges as you rode into him. 

"Barry?" A knock came to the door as he deepened his ambitions. 

"Moan...loud." you obliged.

 "Again." He groaned, pulling honest reactions from you until he turned you over the edge of the table. Your breasts taken in sharp grasps. 

"Make it clear to them that I've got my own high right here..." His cock teased your core, a mystery when he had undressed, but not one you cared to question. 

"But I'm not gonna force you...no matter how you're dripping on it..." He brought it directly underneath you, your lips stroking him as he guided you to slip over his shaft. 

"Oh you feel good...like silk..." 

"I want it..." 

"Want what? There's a lot of things I could do..." He played with your nipples as you moaned. 

"Especially if it gets you sounding like that..." You nodded. "Mmm…yeah…like that…"

"Say it..." But you blushed. 

"I know you think you're a good girl, but you're too fucking wet right now to stay one...let me have the bad...give me it...tell me-"

"Fuck me...Please..." 

He answered with a thrust. A single thrust that bottomed out within. Your fingers pinned beneath his on the table as he began a steady pace. His thick cock making your eyes roll as he pulled you harder against him. 

"You feel expensive..." He spoke into your ear. "Worth the trouble of last night..." 

"Yes..."

"Thank me..." He pulled your hair when you hesitated. 

"For last night. For now. For being good and not forcing you on your knees..." He paused. 

"Show me. Show me you're grateful...be good." He teased as he led you to your knees. You licked your lips and took him in stride. 

"See how you taste? Think you deserve to come?"

You nodded. 

"Then rub yourself. Get real close...but keep those eyes on me. I wanna know why my floor's stained after I make you stand." You struggled to keep a pace as he instructed you faster. 

Faster. Your fingers were quick but the pleasure was enough to focus on him. 

"One finger. Two, just like I did..." You mimicked this as he groaned to the shift your suction made around him. 

"Faster-"

"I'm close-" 

"No." You slowed. 

"Did I say you could fucking stop?!" He lowered done to you, hand in your hair as another forced your fingers back inside. You were fucked thoroughly with your own fingers as he basked in the contortions made of your expression.

"You owe me...and I want my floor fucking stained as payment...yes…" 

"It's too fast!" 

"And you're gonna come hard!" He forced you deeper into yourself before directing your hand to his cock, still wet with your spit. The tip crying as he watched you respond to yourself. 

"I'm gonna-something else is...Barry!" You gasped, a foreign gush between your legs coating you both as he smirked wildly. 

"I was hoping you were a squirter...now do it again on my face..." You angled back as he tightness the hold on your hair. 

"Sit on my face, pretty girl..." You obliged as he took you again. 

"Slow-"

"You won't squirt again if I go slow...and you want to...don't you?" You hesitated. 

"I want to make you come..."

"Then make me..." He guided you to face his cock as you lowered over him, resuming your pleasure as he has to you. It became a game of oral fixation and ecstasy to see which one of you would expire first. 

"Mmm...Barry..." You groaned as he nodded, lapping you up. 

"I want you inside me..." He suctioned to your clit one final time before withdrawing with a popping sound. 

"Then ride me, pretty girl..." You sunk yourself onto him as he positioned himself upwards, enough to feel you against him. 

"Don't worry about them disappointing you again...you got me now..." 

"Fuck!" You hissed as he took a breast in either hand until you reclined against him. His hips raised, forcing your ass to follow as you relief solely on him. This position remaining until he came close. 

"Knees...I'm gonna come...then you're gonna squirt for me again..." You nodded as you finished him off with your mouth swallowing him effortlessly as he kept you wrapped around him. The gun now visible. 

"This turn you on?" 

You nodded as he traced your cheek. 

"Stand up..." 

"Barry..." You gasped as he traced your lower lips with the barrel. 

"I have another idea for you..." Your eyes widened as he set the gun in your palm before his middle finger came to your clit. 

"You deserve that money as much as I do after how they left you...So you're gonna go get it...and come back..and I'll show you how proud I am of you, baby..."

"Barry-"

"Ride my hand..." You mindlessly agreed. 

"You think you came hard before...just wait until you come back with my money..." He withdrew his hand, smacked your ass, and threw his shirt back at you. 

"And don't even think of cleaning up. I want them to know how you paid for their mistakes. And how I'll reward you for them…"

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[knightprime39]

I was thinking about this and doodled it for a VAILD reason being a Voice Actor Enthusiast. It's funnier in my head but yes a SimGuru confirms that Fred Tatascoire voiced Grim Reaper in the Sims 4 Life and Death Reveal and Gameplay trailers. The irony since 76 and Reaper fighting each other and used to be friends. The other doodle is Blackwatch Reyes if I gave him his old hairstyle back because I kept calling him bald despite shaven. Mostly dumb doodles and practise on drawing humans.

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