#the next song was from darker than black

[sigridhawke]

Repeat Playlist Tag Game

thanks to @ink-flavored for tagging me!!

Rules: Shuffle your On Repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people.

I am using my newly rediscovered ipod apparently named Terrance???? for this cause its a mix and have been using it at work so here we gooooo:

Don't Want It - Lil Nas X

Those Who Fight - Final Fantasy Advent Children

Sour Taste - Ironmouse

Bad Touch - Bloodhound Gang

ERROR 403 - Asian Hideout

Battle in the Forgotten City - Final Fantasy Advent Children

I'm Back, Baby - The Gregory Brothers + Markiplier

Call Me By Your Name - Lil Nas X

DAYWALKER! - Machine Gun Kelly + CorpseHusband

Room of Angel - Silent Hill 4

I'm not sure what I was expecting but it's a list lmao. You know the kitty meme is coming heh ✨

Tagging (no pressure!):

[urfavlarry]

How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3

The devil with his angel

Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’

a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.

In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.

Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.

The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”

Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.

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Joost Klein

@joostklein✓

It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.

Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others

user79107 and 568K others commented

bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3

user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND

fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12

——————————————————————————

{your nickname}

@{yourusername} ✓

I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..

You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx

Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others

hihixlovers and 567K others commented

lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr

apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!

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After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.

You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.

You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”

About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.

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[autumnalmoons]

Your late-night company (nsfw, mdni, +18 only)

It's smut bc I'm a horny bitch (lovingly), and because I want him to split me in half--I know he can, like c'mon

Viktor x fem!Reader | 2.1K

Notes: PWP, Established relationship, set kinda between act 1 and act 2, Vaginal Fingering, Innapropiate use of Viktor's cane (sorryyyy), Dom!Viktor if you squint, Cockwarming, Nipple play, English isn't my native language so lemme know if i messed up somewhere :)

Ever since he could hear the echo of your heels reverberate around the lab like a second heartbeat, Viktor knew you were onto something—and such rhythm makes his heart pick up speed too, though Viktor’s faster than each one of your carefree strides against the dark marble floor.

You go, smooching his cheek and surely leaving a pink mark on your lipstick. Not that he minds, of course, he's used to leaving his loving marks on you, too, and even now, he can see the now purplish hickey down your collarbone that you’ve been trying to veil with a silk scarf.

“What brings you here, my darling?” Viktor hums, unconsciously seeking your lips. Is that pink lipstick the one that tastes like cherry? He’s a man of science, he’s ought to investigate.

“Nothing much. I came to bring you home,” you say, hugging his slender frame from behind, your chin hooked in the crook of his shoulder, just over his back brace. “I miss my Vitya so, so much…”

Viktor shivers, trying to ground himself in the domestic, seemingly innocent gesture of a kiss over your temple. "I miss you, too, my jewel. Alas, Progress Day is in a couple of weeks, and we need to have everything ready in case a mishap happens.” He sighs, thick brows furrowing in focus. “As usually does.”

You nod. Of course, you understand that his work is a priority, but you also have a good memory; of those two past days when you went to sleep alone. There are those familiar purple bags under his eyes, only darker.

“Hmm, alright,” you say, massaging his scalp for a bit before wandering around the lab. “Then allow me to make you company. This place is filthy, handsome.”

“Chaos potentiates creativity.”

Your chuckle reverberates around the lab, which causes Viktor to lift his chin a little higher, how easily he can make you happy.

He turns back toward his desk, hearing you going toward the closet supply to get a feathery duster, mumbling a song under your breath as you hop around cleaning surfaces and wiping down machinery with a piece of cloth.

It's only a matter of time before your plan starts, and you have calculated it just as perfectly as Viktor's equations; using your knowledge of the man next to you, his existence is the most amazing creation you've seen—much to Viktor's attempts to surpass it with his machines.

You dust off the drawer next to his desk, ‘accidentally’ knocking off one of the pens tossed over the wooden surface, further down against the wall. "Oops!" you say in your best role of an actress, which isn't that good, only for him to look your way.

The floor is cold as you brush it with your fingers, a fine layer of dust and carbon covering it. One of the windows must be open because you can feel the cold autumn wind brushing under your mischievously short skirt, one of Viktor's favorites, right against your already wet folds that the underwear you chose today isn't meant to cover.

You want him to see. Swaying your hips playfully the moment you feel his gaze burn your back.

Over the purring of the machines, you hear his air leave in a sharp inhale.

Between not wearing panties at all, you choose ones made of black lace and cute, little black ribbons decorating the most… enticing areas. The cloth down your pussy was too small, and you had to choose or covering your clit, or covering your core—which of course, you choose the eager bundle of nerves, so Viktor could see you all wet and glistening for him.

Smiling, you push the pen further down his desk, a soft—very inappropriate—groan escaping your lips, copying my memory of one of the sounds you made every time his cock presses that special spot inside of you.

“I liked that pen a lot,” Viktor mutters, though you can hear the smirk in his voice.

By now, you have no idea where that damned pen had gone. “I’m sure I can make it up for you about that,” you say, knees bending slightly, so your pussy can open a little. Only if he ever tries to play the oblivious.

A chair squeaked, and it’s impossible not to start imagining Viktor’s lithe fingers caressing the curve of your ass. Instead, you got the cold metal of his cane’s handle.

“Ah!” He chuckled at hearing your surprised gasp.

“Is that disappointment I hear, my jewel? Or just cold?” He hums, dragging the handle along the folds of your pussy until it brushes your entrance, only the tip. “You’re all dressed up for me. And I wonder… why is that, hmm?” he says, the tip of the cane playing between your folds. “Is it because you’d like to ‘keep me company’?”

“I never told you how I planned to accompany you," You mutter, feeling your legs starting to shake as the cold metal meets your boiling core, thinking that you were about to melt.

“Use your words, darling. If you’re so eager.”

There is a certain edge to his words, the hoarse tone around his R replacing the usual soft tone he uses to whisper to you when you two aren’t in the privacy of your bedroom.

“I… I thought you may need… um…” you say, voice lost with each playful movement of his cane in and out your entrance; barely some inches in, but moving it just right thanks to the exhaustive research Viktor had conducted ever since he caught you with that vibrator. Little by little, your arousal warms the metal, and you wonder if Viktor can feel it, too. “Relaxing.”

“Relaxing? My, I’d say this is rather… distracting,” he chuckles, the wheels of his stool coming closer as you hold your hands against your burning thighs. “A pleasant one, of course, but still a distraction.”

“Oh? Then do I deserve a punishment?” You try your best to quip, though your voice quivers mid-sentence.

There’s barely a heartbeat of silence, and then:

“Bend over the desk,” he says, voice stern. You could almost picture him in one of the Academy’s auditoriums giving a lecture in that tone, absolute, bossy. He knows it, of course. He knows you, after all, just like any of inventions, he had spent several hours studying you. Loving you.

Your walls squeeze nothing at the words, but the light from the descending dusk is enough for him to see it.

“Hmm,” Viktor says. “I wonder how you’ve been pleasing yourself these days that I haven’t returned home, my jewel.”

You attempt to roll over—you want to see him, because he looked just so unfairly stunning with his brown hair stuck to his temples, beads of sweat running down his chest as he bit his lip as seeing you just so shamelessly needy for him, trying to contain himself just a little longer...

He pushes your back down the desk, pinching your butt once he catches you trying to turn your head to see him.

“Oh, no, no, my love. If you are going to distract me, then you must accept the consequences.” He bends down, biting your earlobe before nuzzling his nose down your neck, taking in the sweet essence of your clothes, of your hair, the same one he could always smell on his pillow. The mix of his shampoo makes his grasp on your hips tighten.

You whine, pouted lips parting in a breathless moan when he introduces the handler of his cane inside of you, his thumb lazily rubbing circles on your clit, first clockwise, and then in the contrary direction once he feels your walls starting to contract, ushering your orgasm away.

The wet sounds of the handle coming in and out your soaked cunt fills the lab, Viktor’s stool creaking as he re-position. From the sound of his pants unbuckling, you think you know what he’s doing that needed such a good grip on his seat.

“I wonder if you’d take me as well,” he mumbles, your wet sounds mixed with a new one that could only be Viktor starting to jack off from the view of you. "All those toys and they can't replace me.” He uses his left knee to part your legs even wider, his free hand making a wrinkled mess of your skirt, just above your hips.

You huff, fingers white from grabbing the edge of the desk. “As if I’ve ever disappointed you.”

Viktor chuckles, pinching your clit slightly before letting go. The emptiness fills you when he withdraws his cane, though the narrow length is soon replaced by the thick head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

“Mmmm,” you hum, satisfied. Your hips buckle against him, trying to take him inside of you in one thrust.  Sadly, Viktor’s punishment for keeping him away from his duties was never.-ending teasing.

Viktor caresses the curve of your ass, his hands going to brush the outline of your hips and waist until his chest is against your back once again, his big length teasing through your folds without actually giving you what you want—and yet, you know you could finish off with only this. Would he be so cruel, though?

“Come here,” he mutters against your ear, sliding a hand around your waist, and pushing you down the seat with him.

You hiss, feeling the quick buckle of his hips as his cock burrows deep inside of you, twitching at the welcoming, wet warmth of your walls. His hands take you by the hips to stop you from starting to ride him.

“Shhh, shhh. Patience, my love,” Viktor coos, nuzzling his face in the side of your neck as he bites a trail of kisses toward your shoulder, fingers gently pulling down one end of the scarf, brushing slowly down your shoulders to reveal the quite generous cut in your neckline.

Humming, approbatory, Viktor returns to his desk, with a firm grip around your waist to keep you still.

He kisses your cheek, putting his cane against the wall. The metal glistens, soaked with your juices against the reddish hue of the dying sunlight.

His right hand pushes your legs open, tangling your legs against the desk to keep them open when his fingers slide down your stomach, fingers lazily rubbing your clit.

Closing your eyes, your head lolls against his shoulder, letting him take your lips in a kiss that lets you taste the bitterness of the coffee he has just drank to keep himself awake during the night.

His tongue passes along your bottom lip, and it’s indeed that cherry-flavored lipstick, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as the hand grabbing your hip raises to grab your breasts when he grows needy, too.

“Vitya…” you moan, voice muffled as he kisses you again.

“My favorite blouse,” Viktor says, tugging down the smock of the front so he could see your lacy black bra. “So easy to access.”

You smile, hips gently swaying side to side against his lap each time he strokes your clit.

Viktor’s fingers work masterfully inside your bra, rubbing your nipple as your hands frantically undo the clip of your top so he can push the bra away.

It’s too much. Between his playful nibbles down your neck, the slow circles drawn on your clit, his fingers pinching your nipples and rubbing them to make the little peaks soft again even his cock filling you, although still, is enough to push you through the edge of pleasure. Legs shiver as your mouth stutters a moan, letting out a cry that Viktor drowned with his mouth.

“We can’t let the guards know what we’re doing, don’t you think, my jewel?”

“Why… why not?” you pant, kissing the mole peeking above his shirt’s collar. “My boyfriend fucks me so good,” you giggle.

Viktor smiled, his cock twitching at your lewd words. Your walls keep squeezing him, greedily wanting to be soaked with his cum.

"I haven't yet today," Viktor hums, deep in thought, kissing your sweaty brow. “Let me finish revising this blueprint, and we’ll go home.”

You pout, but only another heated kiss is necessary to make you respond:

“Okay,” you say, all doe-eyed now that you’re satisfied. Momentarily, of course. And that you had convinced him to go home. “But only this one blueprint. Or I’ll bite you.” You try to stand up, Viktor’s hand yanking you back between his legs before his cock could sleep out from your pussy.

“I never said you could move, my love,” Viktor says, squeezing your hips playfully. “I’d take you can be a good girl while I finish my work?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Viktor chuckles, his free hand starts to rub your overstimulated clit once again. His other hand quickly drops his pen to reach the bottom drawer of his desk, where you can see the outline of the vibrator Viktor keeps there ‘just in case’. “I suppose I just have to tire you up, then.”

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile X

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie it was a difficult chapter because Reader's psyche is changing but without this I loved this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did ! There is fluff but beware there are racism, killing envy and blood. But nothing too bad I think... yet. I really hope you'll love it, it's the turning point of the story !

You woke up against Alastor's naked chest, still enveloped in blankets. You could feel him playing with your hair while humming a song you’ve heard on the radio. You tilted your head toward him, watching his face wearing his usual smile. 

“ Hello, dear.” he whispered. You kissed his cheeks and put your head back against his warm chest. You could feel his body being more tense than usual, maybe being almost naked against each other made him uncomfortable? You tried to sit up but he pushed your head against his chest once again. “ Stay…”

You hummed, caressing his scars. It was strange, the skin color was different depending if there were scars but you were surprised by how smooth it was. You couldn’t tell the difference between his scars and his skin. 

“ Who did this to you..?” you whispered. Even though you both were alone in the cottage, cut from the outside world by the snowstorm you didn’t want to break the comfortable and quiet atmosphere. You felt like, if you began to talk louder, Alastor would shield himself from you. You felt him take a big deep breath before speaking a word you couldn't help but expect.

“ My father.” He sighed.

“ Do you wish to talk about it?”

“ What is there to tell, dear? The man who owned the title of being my father had my mother pregnant, he wanted to be a perfect man so he married her.  It was a gamble that failed. I was born and he would beat me or my mother if we were acting a little too “ black” for him, with his belt, his fists, cold water and so many other things. He teached me how to hunt, how to kill, how to hurt… I know so many things that would make you run away from me, my dear friend…” he hugged you tighter.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this angry. The man you have met many times, the very man who hurted Alastor, has always been close to you and you’ve never seen it. You tried not to imagine Alastor being alone in his room being beaten hard by his father while trying not to cry while holding onto Eamon. Had you hurted him when you would smash into his arms for a hug? Had you hurted him when you would jump on his back because you didn’t want to be walking because you were oh so tired. Why didn’t you realize that Eamon’s fur was getting redder and redder because Alastor was bleeding on him because of his father. Why did you not realize that Alastor didn’t want to let Marie alone in this house because there was a demon living among them.

“ Dear?”

“ I hope he dies during the war.”

There was a silence before Alastor tilted your head by your chin toward his face. His eyes had the same warm glint but there was something else, something darker that seemed to try to stay hidden. He was looking at you, observing you like he was searching for some kind of answer. You tried to show how angry you were, you wanted your eyes to give the answer Alastor was looking for. 

“ And if I told you I didn’t wish for him to be killed during war?”

Your eyes widened. What? 

“ Alastor.. I know he is your father and maybe you still feel some kind of bond with him but you shouldn’t. He doesn’t even deserve to be killed as a soldier, he should be taken by the enemy, tortured until he can’t even spell his own name. Being eaten by dogs. No, it would be bad meat for the dogs. He should just get his members cut off, his tongue eaten by rats, he shou–” you gasped as Alastor kissed you, pressing your body against his own. Why was he kissing you so passionately when you were talking about how his father should die.

He leaned back with a soft smile, that dangerous glint in his eyes back. You tilted your head, you didn't finish talking, it was rude of him.

“ Aah.. Darling, you are…” he sighed in bliss as you felt his nails dug comfortably into your waist.” What if.. What if I told you I didn't want him to be killed because..” he stared at you a moment before speaking again.”  I want to be the one to kill him.”

You shivered even though you were against Alastor’s warm chest and under several blankets. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? You were staring at him while he was observing you, waiting for your reaction. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? Well, you did want the bastard dead and Alastor deserved his revenge but to kill.. to kill another human being…

“ Killing him…? But …”

“ Don’t see him as living being my dear, he isn’t worth the title. Think of it.. Like I’m going to hunt a dangerous animal that needs to be put down. I’m just like your ideal Prince charming , aren’t I? Killing dangerous people for his loved one?” He tilted his head with a soft smile. 

You couldn’t help but nod. What he was saying was true. Killing his father would be a great thing. You were beginning to scared yourself as you felt no remorse or guilt to think about Alastor killing his father, his own blood. Why would you? He didn’t deserve to live after what he had done to Alastor and Marie. The idea didn’t scare you but your thoughts did. Deep inside you, you knew you weren’t scared because this idea was coming from Alastor. You trusted him with your life.

“ How would you kill him?” you asked, curiously. You giggled as he kissed you everywhere on your face. His body, once tense, was beginning to relax a little. You didn’t know what you had done but it seemed like your gave the answer Alastor was waiting for.

“ How I’m going to kill him, you mean. I have many ideas my dear! By knife, rifle or maybe by strangling him?” he pondered as he stared at the ceiling with a happy grin.

“ Won’t he be able to scream if you strangle him?” you asked. You remembered, when you were playing with your cousins, some would play a little too hard and would “strangle” you. You would just scream so your mother would come and scold your cousins.

“ Oh trust me dear, if you do it right, you can’t scream for help.”

“ How do you know?” 

“ Well, I tried to scream for my mother one day.” he smiled at you and you felt angrier than you were minutes ago. His bastard father had strangled Alastor when he was a kid. What a demon! He really didn’t deserve to be alive! “ I have so many ideas!”

“ You know, If you really happened to kill him, I wouldn’t tell a soul… In fact.. If you need me at that moment.. I promise, I’ll be there.” you said sure of yourself. You did not know if you could handle everything but you’ll be by Alastor’s side from the beginning. You didn’t know if you could kill… It was a thought too far from your morals but helping Alastor if he happened to be injured or something else… That, you would do it.

“ Oh dear.. Don’t tell me that, you’re going to make me say things I’m not ready to tell yet.” he sighed dreamily as he tilted his head backwards. Now, that made you curious. What could Alastor be hiding, he just told you he planned to murder his father, what more could you be hiding ? You smiled as you nipped his neck, making him shiver.

“ Like what? Tell me. Tell me!” you smiled as you kept kissing him on his jaws, his cheeks and his nose. “ Come on now, you just told me you wanted to kill your father, what more can’t you tell me ?” you whined before settling against him once more. You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat. It was fast…

“ Fine… Dearest, once I have killed my father,” you hummed while he took your hand in his. “ Would you marry me?”

…

Oh Lord.

You sat up, staring at him.  He was looking at you, kissing the back of your hand. You were shaking, did he .. did he..?

“ I won’t lie, I still don’t know what Love is about. I just know that I want you to be by my side, I don’t think I could remain sane if I were to see your attention shifting to someone else. Just like Narcissus with his own reflection, I can’t get enough of you and yet I feel so fulfilled when you are by my side. I’m… I think I may be obsessed with you. You are the person who brought my human heart to life, how odd. I know it’s not the love you read about or you wish for.. I don’t even know if this is love. But this is what I feel for you, and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel it for anyone else, heck, I don’t want to feel it for anyone else…I want you caged with me. I want you to think about me just like I’m always thinking about you.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer, caressing your trembling hand. His eyes were shaking but he kept his gaze on you, observing your reactions. “ Would you accept my mad affection?”

You were shaken. You were with Alastor, almost naked, sitting on his pelvis with a blanket around you and a snowstorm outside.You felt hot. So hot. Alastor wanted to marry you. He wanted you to be his wife? It felt like everything clicked in your brain. Each time you were running after him, each time you wanted to make him like you, each time you wanted him to see you as a lady, each time you asked him to let you enter into his mind, each time you felt anger when a woman would come close to him, each time you wanted him to watch you and only you.

You were madly in love and obsessed with Alastor.

You read so many love novels… The prince never asked the princess to marry after telling her he was going to kill his father. The prince never asked the princess to think about him only. Their love was pure, not tainted by obsession, not tainted by the immense need to be by their lover’s side… Their love was not like what was happening right now.

And yet you couldn’t be happier.

You smiled at him, your vision blurry because of the tears blinding your eyes.

“ Alastor.. I may be just a foolish sixteen year old girl. Maybe your obsession will pass when you see I have nothing to offer you but trust me, my affection for you has been present since the day I laid my eyes on you.” you felt him squeeze your hand harder as you continued your confession.” We are both young, so maybe you’ll change your mind. You’ll find a proper woman but I know that you are the only man I wish for in my life. The only man I wish I would marry…” you sobbed as you squeezed his hand back as he stared at you with clear obsession in his eyes. He leaned toward you, whispering against your lips.

“ Say it.. Say it..” he begged.

“ Yes, Alastor, I will marry you.”

He kissed you with a big smile you couldn’t help but imitate. He hugged you against him so hard you felt pain in your chest but you didn't care. You squeezed him as hard as you could, you’ve never felt happier.

“I feel like this is too good to be true…” you heard him say against your skin. You couldn’t help but laugh while wiping your eyes. You leaned back as you took both of his hands in yours.

“ It’s true.. I feel like.. Once we leave this place, everything would be a faraway dream.” you sighed with a soft smile. You felt like you were dreaming right now…

“ I.. May have an idea for that.” he smirked at you as you tilted your head, confused. “ I find myself being interested in voodoo.” he held his hand in front of your mouth as you gasped. “ No worry darling, voodoo is not a barbaric religion. It’s in my blood, I found books about it and where it came from. And, there are some rituals that can bind souls together… Would you like to try it?”

“ For real?” you said, astonished. From what you heard, voodoo was a banned religion because it was witchcraft which came from black people. You didn’t really find yourself into religion, men killed for religion no matter which one. But if voodoo was something Alastor’s looked into and was coming from his ancestors, that could be interesting.

“ Yes indeedy. They wrote it as a curse though but…” you peck his nose before he could continue.

“ Yes, I want to.” you smiled. “ How do we do it?”

“ I don’t have the book with me right now. But it’s very specific.. I’ll need some of your blood.” he said carefully but soon his expression turned to surprise as you ran toward the kitchen and gave back with a knife. “ Well, aren’t you in a hurry to be bound to me body and soul?” he said with a teasing smile.

“ Oh, you are right, we can wait.” you said and smiled delightedly when you saw his expression twitched. You knew that Alastor would be the less patient of the both of you for this kind of thing, for you, which was surprising, he was known to be patient, very patient. “ Here I was, ready to make my ring finger bleed.” you shook your head with a saddened expression. “ How foolish…”

“ Dear…”

“ Seems like I’m in no hurry to become your wife!” you squeaked as Alastor tugged you against his chest with a smile so big it almost looked like inhuman.

“ Dearest, don’t play with me. Not with that.” he gently took the knife from your hand. “ No need for this. If you accepted, I could cut you.” he looked at you, seeming unsure. You tilted your head, cutting yourself seemed scary indeed.

“ It’s going to hurt, right..?” you asked softly.  You watched as he played smoothly  with the knife in his hand. You wished you knew how to do it…

“ I’ll try to make it so you don’t feel anything.” 

“ No. I want to feel it. I want to feel this moment.” you said sure of yourself.  Tonight would mark the first step of becoming Alastor’s wife, body and soul. You would be damned together or go to heaven together, there were no in between. You saw Alastor’s smile widened, it seemed like he was sharing the same feeling as you about this situation.

You looked as he sunk softly the knife’s edge into your skin. You shivered as you bit your lips, you were feeling no pain. You remembered in your romance books, normally the woman would be crying as the prince would pass the ring on her fingers. And yet, here you were, letting Alastor cut your skin and enjoying it. 

He took a napkin from the table and held it against your bleeding finger. 

“ Are you okay?” he asked, observing your reaction once more. You nodded, you don’t think you could feel even better ! He put the napkin on this table with a satisfied smile before you pinned him on the sofa, hugging him against you.

“ I’m the happiest girl in the whole world !” you shouted before leaving the sofa, leaving there a confused smiling Alastor, and you jumped everywhere. You couldn’t wait to tell your mother, your father, Alice ! You squealed in delight as you jumped around under Alastor’s soft gaze.

“ You gave me the best birthday’s present.” he said as he stood up. You grinned at him, his birthday was tomorrow, you needed to prepare the food. Even if you knew nobody would be coming, it was for the better!

You took Marie’s recipes’s book, still with the blankets around you.

“ Let your future wife cook for you!” you smiled confidently.

Alastor let you in the kitchen for 15 minutes before running back because he smelt fire. You just smiled sweetly at him with a burned stove. Alastor sighed with a tender smile before helping you cook. You wanted to try to cook something spicy, that’s why you had asked Alice to bring hot pepper for his birthday.

“ Do you think you could eat one and handle it ?” you teased him. He just looked at you and ate a whole pepper without flinching. You stared at him in shock. He winked at you before giving you a hot pepper with a mocking smile.

“ Could you handle it?”

You scoffed and took the hot pepper in your hands.  If Alastor did it, you could do it! You took the whole hot pepper in your mouth and swallowed it. You waited a little then laughed at Alastor.

“ I had worse at my– Oh my god..” you stopped every movement as your felt pure fire began to grow inside of you. You felt tears streaming down your face as you coughed, holding on Alastor’s arms as he was laughing so hard you could see tears on the side of his eyes. “ Alastor, help me!” you tried to fan your tongue, jumping around as Alastor held himself against the wall, crying of laughter.

“ Haha! Dear, drink milk ! milk!” he laughed as he pointed to the fridge. You ran toward it and slammed its door open. Did you even have milk? Yes! You took the bottle and drank messily the milk until the bottle was half full. “ Oh dear… Would you like a kiss after this horrible experiment?” he smiled as he walked toward you, but as he leaned closer to your face you almost could feel the hot pepper still on his lips.

You ran away, screaming at him. You didn’t want to feel this pain anymore! You were screaming as Alastor ran behind you, his laughter echoing in the little cottage.You couldn’t help but smile, if this scene would represent your future with Alastor, you would love it!

After your battle, easily won by Alastor’s lips against yours, you went back to cooking. Alastor was showing you how to cook and you took notes. It seemed so easy from his movement. You were almost jealous but then you began to smile as you remembered that you would see this scene every day in the future.

“ You have such a big smile dear, does watching me cooking bring you such pleasure?” he asked teasingly. You stuck your tongue at him, you knew he was happier than he let on. His smile was more genuine and his body was more relaxed than you've ever seen him. 

After an hour you went back to the living room, near the fire and ate Alastor’s cooking. You called your mothers to reassure them that everything was good and you were safe. You gossiped, played a few games, like poker and Alastor was way too good about it , you would just throw a pillow at him each time he would wink at you, meaning he knew he had won. You took a nap against Alastor’s chest and when you woke up it was almost midnight. You stood up from his chest and were surprised to see Alastor asleep. Maybe being away from everything, with you had made him relaxed enough that his body could sleep? You smiled and went to the kitchen and took a cake out of the fridge. You tried to make a coffee cake two days ago, you hoped it was still good… You put the candle on the cake and lit them up before walking toward the living room. 

You saw an awaken Alastor turning his head toward you as you sat in front of him on your knees, with a soft smile and whispered in the quiet room.

“ Happy birthday, Alastor”

~~~

“ Happy birthday Alastor!” you all cheered and brough your glasses together. You were in a bar with jazz playing, celebrating the new year and Alastor’s 23th birthday. Alice was there, with some of Alastor’s friends, you didn’t really remember all of their names but one, Mimzy. It was a name you never heard of so it stuck with you.

Alastor has become a real man. He was taller than most people, his frame was deceivingly slim, his smile was as broad as ever, his hair were a little longer than when he was younger and as always , he had his glasses on. He was grinning as everyone congratulated him for his birthday. You looked at Alice with a soft smile.

Alice had changed too. Long gone was the sweet innocent looking girl, she was now a beautiful woman who was confident in any way. She had cut her long hair, now they ended toward her shoulder. She looked at you and winked.

“ Another shot?”

You laughed and nodded but Alastor stood up.

“ My dear friend, what a day to celebrate the new year and myself. I have happy news to share.” all of you looked at Alastor, waiting for him to tell you his news. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile, he was such an attention seeker. “ My voice is going to keep you company most of the day as I have been hired in a radio station.” he said with a proud smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. You shouted of pure happiness, standing up so abruptly the chair fell down behind you. You clapped just like the rest of the people around the table.

“ I knew you would do it, sweetie!” said Mizmy, giving him a side hug.

“ I'm paying for another round of shots!” you exclaimed with a big smile. You didn't even wait for everyone to tell you what they wanted. You were already going toward the barman. You were really walking straight but who cared, everyone here was busted. 

“ Heya doll, whatcha want?”

“ Give me your strongest.” you said while pointing to your table. He nodded and you went back to your table who were still praising Alastor. You sat back down next to Alice.

“ Hearing Alastor’s voice all day? Ugh, I’ll have to endure it.” she said with an amused expression. You laughed, Alastor and Alice always say they didn’t like each other but when it was for you, they would team up. 

“ I can’t wait to hear his voice on the radio. You don’t understand, we’ve been waiting for it since childhood!” you said with a nostalgic smile. You remembered your sleepover and your childish broadcast… Aah, how time flies. You smiled as the waitress put the shots on the table with a whole bottle of whiskey. 

“ Order from the house.” she said flirty before leaving. You all took one shot and drank it. You try not to grimace, this one was really strong. You laughed as you saw Alice’s head fall against the table.

“ Oh, this one was a bitch.” 

“ You need more training, love.” you heard Mimzy say to Alice as she tapped her back. You looked at Alastor who didn’t even flinch. He was talking with one of his friends but you knew better… Those friends must be useful in some way. Your expression lifted up as you heard a song you wanted to dance to. You moved Alastor’s friend out of your way and dragged him on the dancefloor. You laughed as he began to spinned you.

“ Are you sure you can handle me in that state, love?” he taunted you as he spinned you back against his broad chest. You winked at him, you may be more than tipsy but you weren’t drunk yet. You could handle him. You began to dance with Alastor, quickly being the center of all attention. You knew every step by heart, Alastor could throw you in the air you would just close your eyes and wait for him to catch once again.

After a lot of dances, you went back to your table as Alastor danced with Mimzy. You sat next to Alice, making air with your hand. So hot.

“ I won’t lie, there is so much tension between you I don’t know how you don’t just.. jump each other when you both are alone.” Alice said before drinking a glass of whiskey.

You laughed, smacking her arms. There have been moments where Alastor and you would make out so intensely you would get ready to give him your virginity but he always said to be patient and wait for your future wedding night even if it was killing you both. You respected his decision, you would wait for your wedding. The only person who knew what had happened in the cottage, the only one who knew about your promise, for Alastor 17th birthday was Alice, who almost broke every damn mirror with her screams.

“ What? Look at you ! You’re like.. ethereal ! And I’m the one saying that.” she said before slipping her hair to one side of her shoulder. You grinned, you did grow up well. Your mother was so proud of you and even your father. When your father had returned from war he was badly injured so you took upon yourself to be his personal nurse. You weren’t a perfect nurse but you knew how to clean wounds, do stitches, you weren’t disgusted by the sight of blood anymore. And to top it all off, you were used to seeing Alastor bring back dead animals from his hunt now. You weren’t the fragile little girl anymore. Something your parents would missed sometimes, but from your friends point of view and even Alastor’s, you could still be endearingly naive.

“ And what about you Alice? The jewel of New Orleans? No one fancied yet?” you smirked before taking a glass of whiskey. Alice had, as always, so many people who threw themselves to her feet but she didn’t care. 

“ No, which is infuriating , look at me ! Poor little me being single!” she groaned as you laughed before hugging her. You knew Alice would find someone, she deserved it!

You kept celebrating until 3 am before you knew it was time for you to go. You were tired and you knew you would have to take care of your father if needed. He was doing well but he couldn’t stay still so he went to work with the police. What a stubborn man. You kissed Alice on her cheek and smiled when you felt a warm hand on your back.

“ Ready to go, dearest?” Alastor smiled at you, he already had his jacket on his arm. You nodded and said your goodbye before leaving the bar. You were staring at Alastor’s handsome punchable face. He looked down at you with a teasing grin. “ Yes ?”

“ Nothing.. I’m just admiring your face.”

“ Oh, please, do continue.” he chuckled as he walked you to your home. In front of your door you hugged him as he kissed your forehead. You began to turn away from him, ready to catch some sleep but he took your hands.

“ I say I had good news right?”

“ Yes, you are now a radio host.” you smiled before giving him a peck on his lips. “ I’m so proud of you. We’ve been waiting for this, haven't we?”

“ We have, indeedy, dearest. But I have some other news, for both of us.” He took your hand toward his mouth and kissed the back of it, staring into your soul.

“ My father is coming back.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking Point (1/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Ghost x GN!Reader

Soap's version.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Ghost is... Ghost; taciturn, blunt, aloof, but Not An Asshole, protective, trustworthy, He's Trying ☆.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing. Ghost's part is significantly darker than Soap's (in terms of suicide ideation, not as in he's a yandere).

WORDS COUNT: 3.6k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃 Ghost role-plays (NOT SEXUAL) as the world's worst psychiatrist. Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

The sight of the dark, bulky silhouette standing in the frame does nothing to appease your worries - quite the opposite. Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be fucking Ghost. The most intimidating - not to say terrifying - man on the whole base, but also the most cryptic. 

Towering over 190cm and built like few were, even on a military base, you had recoiled despite yourself the first time you met. Every single detail regarding him was redacted - you knew because you had checked his file, consumed by curiosity -, including his own face - unvaryingly covered by a black mask adorned with a white skull. That semblance of halloween mask and an alias was all that he shared with the world. 

He dispensed his words in dribs and drabs to a handful of privileged people, which seemed limited to your supervisor, Captain Price, who was also his direct superior, and his teammates of the Task Force 141. He couldn’t have offered you more than ten syllables in the six months you’ve been there. Yet, everyone knew who he was, what he was capable of, and crowds systematically parted with his passage like the Red Sea. 

You had wisely taken the resolution to not heed the rumors about him, which ranged from hardly believable to frankly ridiculous, but you couldn’t help the knot in your stomach every time he was nearby. It wasn’t only his imposing stature that put you on edge, but mainly the fact that he was always impassive. His mask effectively hid his emotions, sure, but his voice didn’t let anything show through either. Most of the time you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, leaving you puzzled at how to interact with him. Not that there were that many interactions to begin with, but the few that happened left you with a lasting impression.

However you were pleased with yourself after you quit agonizing over his opinion of you, focusing instead on doing your best to treat him like the other soldiers. He may not be friendly, but he never had been disrespectful either.

You stare at him in horror, a deer in the headlights, unable to emit a sound. You didn’t even have the time to fabricate a bunch of excuses to get you out of this situation.

Shit, shit, shit. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?

“Ya good?” 

His tone is gruff, as it always is, but not hostile. The question feels like a way out of this awkward situation, a lifebelt. You cling onto it like you're lost at sea.

Maybe you can still turn this around - pretend everything is OK. He will follow the implicit rules of politeness and leave you to it.

You hasten to reply.

“Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I'm fine.”

As you finish drying your face, he steps into the room, stopping in front of your desk.

“Did you need something?”

Your voice automatically switches to “customer service” mode, and you plaster a fake smile on your face. The mental image of a puppet, strings forcing the corner of its lips to lift, comes to your mind.

Ghost doesn't respond. His eyes are searching your face like it's an encrypted message that could provide a target's position.

Your smile vacillates under his scrutiny. The examination is cold, clinical; there's no warmth nor sympathy in those brown eyes.

“Doesn't look fine to me.”

He announces the statement like a fact, voice dull, neutral. He doesn't provide sympathy, but he doesn't cast judgment either. It’s not less irritating though.

Your first instinct is to snap at him, tell him to mind his own business, ask why he even cares. You resist it. Picking quarrels will only make matters worse. You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Ghost turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced. He still recalls vividly the moment he stopped considering you like another faceless office worker amongst others and made an effort to remember your name.

He was mindlessly killing time in the break room with Gaz and Soap until you showed up at the door, a forced smile on your face, attempting to look casual but your body language betraying your nervousness. He spotted you first, the other two engaged in a lively conversation. Relief spread on your face when you saw he had noticed you, sparing you the trouble of having to call out for him, and you approached.

“Ghost, can I have a word? … in private?”

He straightened up from the wall he was leaning on and followed you wordlessly, feeling the prying stares of his teammates lingering on him. You stopped in the hallway to face him.

“You forgot to fill out the medical part in your last report.”

Fingers linked together, you were anxiously twiddling your thumbs. His eyes followed the movement unconsciously.

“I haven't.”

You frowned in uncomprehension. 

“Your medical file said-”

“I know what the medical file said,” he retorted firmly, hoping that you would understand his intention without him having to spell it out loud.

The furrow in your brows didn’t go away, quite the contrary.

“You want me to lie.”

The statement wasn’t an accusation, but a request for confirmation.

“You catch on quick.”

The sarcasm and patronization unintentionally slipped into his voice. You were just a newbie trying to do your job well, after all. However the others before you never took the trouble to confront him about this, either out of fright or negligence, and this felt like a waste of his time.

He watched you search his face for something, an explanation, a way out? You bit your lips, conflicted, before replying:

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow that you couldn’t see, crossing his arms. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He wasn’t used to being turned down anymore, except for so few individuals, like Price or Laswell, that they could be counted on the fingers of one hand. That the first person to oppose him in so long wasn’t an uptight high ranking or a gutsy enemy, but you, an average civilian, was definitely a surprise. 

“I'm not taking that risk”, you added with a determination he didn’t expect.

“Ya wouldn’t be takin’ any. Nobody will be none the wiser.”

“That's not what I- urgh. I am not letting you go back injured on the field! I don't care if you're the ghost or whatever, you’re not invulnerable. So either you fill that damn file or I'm telling Price.”

“Oh? You'd snitch on me?”

“I'd do it to save your life, yeah.”

And with that, you shoved the papers in his chest, turned around and walked away. You had barely disappeared around the corner that he was already mentally calling himself a bloody idiot. Why had it been so tempting to provoke you? Because out of nowhere your usually bashful self showed audacity? Because you were absurdly hellbent on defending his expandable life? No matter the reason, he started to look at you differently from that day on.

Clearly you and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

He deposits the stack of files he had been holding on your bureau, but as you reach to seize them, he covers your hand with his own and leans in.

You would have stared in disbelief at his gloved hand over yours if the proximity of his face wasn’t a much more pressing matter. You can feel your face warm up and you loathe it.

“Those'll still be there tomorrow, love.”

You blink in surprise at the pet name. It's like you're a spooked horse and he's trying to soothe you with sweet nothings.

“But the paperwork-”

“Fuck the paperwork.”

Easy for him to say.

“But Price-”

“I'll deal with Price.”

“My mom's in the hospital”, you brutally admit, having run out of pretext.

You look each other in the eye for what seems forever. 

“Ye take yer coffee with three sugars, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah?”

You reply hesitantly, stunned by the ask that, a priori, has nothing to do with your wholehearted confession. How did he even know that? The words have barely left your lips that he already disappeared into the corridor. You stare in disbelief at the door, mouth agape. You poured your fucking heart out and that socially inept bastard in his goofy ass halloween costume just ditched you after wringing the truth out of you like you were an interrogated enemy soldier.

Sipping the content of your mug with the Ghost's unblinking stare fixated on you is an unsettling experience, to say the least. Seated on the chair facing your desk, legs wide open, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and gray pants, one hand holding his mug of tea, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he sat down. 

Does he seriously not realize how unnerving his starring is?

He exudes an aura of tranquil power; the unchallenged authority of someone who is used to being obeyed without question, combined with the nonchalance that comes with being unmatched. Even casually sprawled like this, he remains formidable.

A few minutes ago, he set down a steaming mug in front of you and a box of tissues - a delicate attention that sent a pang in your chest -, before taking a seat. The fingers of his free hand are softly taping his knee.

“Guess I won’t need to kill anyone tonight,” he declares in a detached manner.

You blink in incomprehension at that.

“But you don’t have a mission tonight…”

“Won’t have to kill anyone for makin’ ya cry,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

What else can you possibly reply to that? The murder machine lounging in front of you has enough confirmed kills to make a sniper of legend green with envy.

“So…”, you initiate, not without uncertainty, “is this the moment where I get everything off my chest?”

“Do whatever ya want.” he placidly counters, shrugging.

It really, considerably, sounds like he doesn't care at all; but if he did, he wouldn’t be here.

You take a deep breath, staring at your desk.

“She's in the ICU. Paralyzed, intubated, put in a coma.”

Tears flood your eyes again. This time you don't try to fight them.

“I'm terrified for her. But, what's worse is…”

You swallow your saliva; blink in rapid succession - the tears sting.

“I can’t help but think the worst. About what'll become of me without her.”

Water overflows your eyes. The dam ruptures abruptly. Raw honesty spills from your lips.

“She’s all I have. Without her, I have nothing. I am nothing.”

The ensuing silence is deafening. You wonder what the hell you’re doing. There’s something about the man in front of you that, paradoxically, makes you want to confide in him. Despite his lack of warmth, he feels steady, reliable. A rock to lean on when your whole world is crumbling. Solid ground when it feels like everything is caving in around you. Like you could lay all your burdens on him and he wouldn’t even flinch under what feels like the weight of the world.

You feel awfully selfish to entertain that thought, but you doubt he'd ever give you the opportunity to return the favor. 

“Bollocks.”

His tone is surlier than before. You look up at him to be sure you heard correctly.

“What about yer job? Ye enjoy it, right?”

You scoff bitterly at that.

“It's just a temporary gig. I'll be kicked out in two months.”

“We can make it permanent.”

You shoot him an incredulous look.

“You're just saying that.”

“‘M not. Wouldn't lie just to make ye feel better. Not my style.”

A cynical chuckle escapes you before a mischievous smirk stretches your lips.

“I’m sorry big guy, when did you get nominated as the commander of the base? Cause as far as I know this is outside your jurisdiction.” 

A similar smile spreads behind his mask. He’d take your sass over your tears any day.

“I have my ways,” he replies tranquilly.

From anyone else, you’d call it bragging or bluffing. Coming from the Ghost, it doesn’t sound as anything but the truth. He stares at you intensely, as if daring you to doubt him again, or intent on proving you his integrity through gaze alone. 

You look away, your cheeks heating up.

Ghost never minded that you can’t maintain eye contact. Just like he’s not into small talk, or physical contact. He knows most people tend to take it the wrong way, interpret it as contempt, when it couldn't be further from the truth.

“Thank you, but I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’d feel like I’m manipulating you.” 

He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver crawling down your spine, one you do not know if it was born of fear entirely or attraction. 

“Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even if you tried.” 

Another tingle. Definitely pleasant this time. You desperately busy yourself with the content of your mug, the effects of that sentence on you too intense for the solemnity of the situation. 

Your strategy proves itself fruitful until a movement at the periphery of your vision attracts your gaze. You peek without thinking, and freeze at the sight of Ghost lifting his mask above his nose to drink from his cup. One scar crosses his mouth, another departs from the corner of his lips, both ancient but deep. They don’t faze you though - truth be told, the omnipresent mask made you expect him to look like a world war one veteran, so heavily disfigured that you wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?”

He doesn’t sound even remotely annoyed, but you lower your eyes in shame all the same.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“If I didn’t wantcha to look, I wouldn’t have taken it off.”

As you need a moment to take in the implications of that sentence, he talks again.

“What's your poison?”

“Pardon?” you reply, genuinely lost.

He snorts at your exaggerated politeness.

“Coffee isn’t gonna cut it. Whataya usually take when you feel like this? Alcohol? Cigs?”

A pause.

“Sex?”

You choke and set down your mug out of fear of dropping it.

“No, no… and no.”

“Nothing?”

He sounds doubtful.

“I… cry myself to sleep?”

It makes no sense to formulate it like a question, but everything about this is surreal.

He hums, contemplative.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“What?”

“Helpin’ ya.”

You scoff, suddenly irritated.

“You could lend me one of your guns and let me blow my brains off with it. That would help.”

 “Not gonna happen,” he counters with emphatic authority that leaves no place for rebuttal. 

“Worth a shot,” you say, trying to get the last word. “Ha, shot. Get it?”

“Very funny.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, like he’s a tired parent indulging you, a tireless child.

“You just don’t have any humor.”

The words left your lips before you could consider their impact. Yes, you never heard the Ghost laugh, but maybe he has a very good reason for that. Maybe several. Maybe you’re just a fucking asshole.

“Why are colds bad criminals?” 

Your head pivots towards him so fast you fear your neck is going to snap.

“Why…?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You stare at him in bewildered silence, not quite believing what just happened, before starting to laugh, first softly, then, carried away, louder and louder, bordering on hysterical. You don’t even giggle because of the joke, but because the contrast between the silliness of it and how deadpan Ghost was when enunciating it is simply too good. That, and the nerves are probably getting the better of you.

“Never had anyone laugh that much at this one before.”

You attempt to get your breath back, alternating between pants and laughs, wiping a solitary tear at the corner of your eye.

“It’s just… you… I didn’t see it coming, jeez.”

Sighing wistfully, you take in the quietude of this fleeting moment.

“This is nice.”

“I'm always nice,” grunts the lieutenant. 

You let out a good-natured scoff, then reality catches up to you.

“SHIT! What time is it!?” you shout in panic as you violently get up. “Maybe I can still catch a bus-”

You log out of your work session, turn off your PC and shove all your belongings inside your bag in record time. Ghost barely bats an eye, still like a languid cat; a very big, very dangerous cat.

“You can spend the night.”

“No I can’t!”

You push your chair under your desk and pick up your coat.

“We can make some sorry bloke sleep outside.”

“Noooo- That's horrible!”

You have no idea if he’s messing with you or not.

“Not worse than what's waiting for ‘em on the field.”

“Well, I still can’t do that.”

“Good for you that I can, then.”

You finally look at him, an half-amused smile on your lips, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Lemme guess. This is you ‘having your ways’ again, isn’t it?”

His offer is tempting. You really don’t want to be left to your own devices tonight.

He stands up and takes a step towards you while pulling his mask down and, oh, with him sitting this all time, you would have almost forgotten how much he towers over you.

“S’that a yes or a no?”

You could almost detect a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“It’s a yes, sir,” you retort while pronouncing the “sir” with as much impertinence as you can muster.

“Better keep up, then.”

And just like that, he vacates the premises, and you do have to focus to keep up because those long legs of his ain’t just for show.

As you two travel across corridors unknown to you, you wonder once again what the hell you’re doing, hanging out with this mountain of a man who’s more myth than human, and breaking the rules of a military base on a whim. Lost in thought, you don’t pay attention to the voices edging closer, and you’re completely taken aback when Ghost grabs you by the back of your shirt and drags you in a dark alcove with him. You’re so astounded, you don’t even make a sound. He takes hold of the back of your head and presses you against him to occupy as little space as possible, effectively hiding you from the men walking by. Only then you recognize Captain Price among other officers.

“Sorry ‘bout that, love,” whispers the man you’re squeezed against, barely audible, imperturbable as ever, like this is an everyday situation for him.

You don’t answer - you can’t, anyway, essentially muffled by his pecs. You should be more irked by those circumstances, but the sudden proximity set your face ablaze, therefore you’re very happy with its current concealment. 

“Price will have my head if he thinks I made you cry.”

You’re about to protest, but then you remember that one time when Soap tagged along when you were carrying a huge box back from the archives, and when Price saw you two, Soap unconcerned with empty hands, and your face almost disappearing behind the imposing cardboard, he called the sergeant a bloody useless muppet and then proceeded to call into question his ability to transport his rucksack for days. Nevermind that you were the one who insisted on carrying the crate on your own as it provided a nice workout, and that you had to bare your teeth at Soap to prevent him from taking it from you.

When the peril has walked by and Ghost releases you, you silently thank the shadows around you hiding how affected you are by this ersatz of a hug. Later, he drops you off at an unoccupied bedroom, small but including a bathroom and furnished with everything you could ever want. You say your goodbyes and your thanks at the door, and he. pats. your head. You don’t even have time to be outraged that he states he will see you tomorrow, something that sounds like a promise as much as a threat, probably in reference to the morbid fantasies you shared, and he vanishes into the shadows like a… ghost.

A/N : The real reason Ghost ran out:

He be googling “how to comfort female civilian age between 20 and **”

In the TF Group Chat (Price not included):

“We have an emergency.”

“Send as many kitten pics as possible to [Reader] … stat.”

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat. 

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that? 

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes,  strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

        𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation.  There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise. 

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour. 

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty.  “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs. 

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more. 

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below. 

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

 An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark?  You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it. 

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness. 

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal. 

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear. 

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower  in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them. 

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.” 

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch. 

“Then show me.” 

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving. 

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet... 

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you. 

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

 You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink. 

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being. 

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows. 

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood. 

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn. 

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs. 

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment. 

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand. 

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end. 

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself. 

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

[sscieloz]

Comatose

Ning Yizhuo x Reader

Synopsis: you and ning have been best friends ever since you could remember. but she’s been distant lately, and you can’t help but wonder where does she go to every single night.

Warnings: cnc (? maybe?). smut. nsfw.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m trying to get into darker themes for 2024. writing different prompts, challenging myself. I apologize if I it’s off putting. pls say something if it is!

Ning Yizhuo was a good girl.

She never skipped classes, never talked back or raised her voice at elders, never missed a day of bible school, and never forgot to flicker the lights in her room whenever you were going to sleep.

Yet, she earned for more.

She was ambitious. Has always been, ever since she was a little girl. She’s had this feeling in her chest for ages, a clear warning that she was born in the wrong place: she didn’t belong in this small town, surrounded by rich fuckers that did nothing but label people and gossip all day. She was more than a close-knit community that lived off balls and charity events to make up for the fact that everyone who lived there were scrumptious, vile people. Those people did not represent herself at all.

Someday, she’d be truly free of the chains that tied her to this place.

For now, she was content enough with adjusting the helmet in her head, hopping on her bike to seek things that would make her forget about the life she lived, even if just for one night.

—

“And where is Mrs. Yizhuo once again, Y/n?” Your teacher’s voice echoed harshly from behind you, as you positioned your hands on the piano to start your lesson for the day.

“She’s sick, Mrs. Lee.” You straighten your posture, hoping to get more credibility. “She took many meds this morning. I think she’ll be sleeping all day to recover. I’m sorry.”

The teacher gives you a knowing look, but says nothing once you begin to practice the same songs over and over, until your fingers hurt from the repetitive movements.

You send Ningning several messages as soon as the woman looks away. She’s your best friend, of course you’d cover for her even without her asking for it. Although you don’t think she cares, anyway.

She’s been acting so different lately. Like somebody else; a different girl, different person. It was as if you didn’t know her at all.

You’ve been next-door neighbors ever since you could remember, always there for each other. That, along with the fact that your parents are part of a close-knit friend group that has been friends ever since high-school, made it easy for her to be your other half, your soulmate. Her house was right next to yours, and you’ve developed a habit of checking if her room had the lights on whenever you were anxious. Ning was your best friend, and you did everything together: from hanging out at each other’s houses to attending choir and piano lessons every single day.

That was until she changed. Suddenly, she was distant: disappearing out of nowhere, not answering any of your calls and texts all day and coming back dirty, sweaty and breathless — her hair stinking with smoke. The only thing you could rely on was the flickering of her bedroom lights, every single day when the clock hit your bedtime. You were rigid with your routine, and Ning knew that. She’s never missed it, and it comforted your heart, somehow. To know that deep inside, she was still your Ningning.

You often had to make up lies wherever you went, making up endless excuses for her absences, but at some point, it got unsustainable— she stopped showing up, without saying anything to anyone. Ning wore all black, with tight skirts and black stockings, and often had a bored look on her face, silently challenging anyone to come at her and say something.

No one ever did, obviously. People merely stared as she passed by, disdain etched on their faces.

You knew she hated living in a small city, although, you didn’t mind living so yourself. There was something comforting in knowing everyone, and oddly enough, you felt safe to feel there was always a pair of eyes watching out for you — not watching you, no. Well, people could do that, too: be excessively mean and controlling at times, but you know how to set your boundaries well. You played your part, being a former straight A student who was now attending the local university, with plans to join your step-father at the architecture company he owned, once you were done with your studies. You had been the perfect little debutant, and could always be found next to your friends or your parents at the charity events and lavish galas hosted by the community. You couldn’t say it wasn’t suffocating at times, but it wasn’t like you completely hated it.

Clearly, you were unable to say the same for Ningning. What had stirred this change inside of her? Your chest burned every time you thought about it, eager to know. You yearned to be a part of her life again, yet a small part of your brain was too afraid to ask her about it, knowing she’d answer you wholeheartedly.

You hated the change. You missed your best friend too much. You missed the old her.

The Ning who would flick her lights to let you know she was there, whenever it was time for you to go to sleep. The Ning who let you cry on her shoulder for hours at your grandfather’s funeral. The Ning who would attend the school games to see you cheer, who stood by your side when your dad left, and who washed all of your fears away when your mother remarried.

That was your soulmate; the Ningning who was always there for you. Not the reckless girl with a blank face who didn’t seem to care about a single thing.

Although, you were beginning to think you did not know her at all.

—

“Can I come?” You ask, trying to suppress a shiver as the wind blows cold against your body. It had certainly not been the best idea to wear a white, short dress with even tinier undershorts and boots in autumn, but you couldn’t think about anything else to put on.

With only a leather jacket to warm off your body, your eyeliner, smudged, dark makeup and heavy jewelry mirrored the girl standing in front of you, and you can’t help but smile.

You’d fit in well.

“Excuse me?” Ningning exclaims, frowning in disbelief.

“I want to come with you.” You repeat yourself, holding your own hands nervously. “You’ve changed, Ning. I’m not stupid… I just want to understand. Would you show it to me, please?”

You hate the way she’s looking at you, like she’s still deciding whether to allow yourself into her new world. You also hate the way your voice cracks, always vulnerable when it comes to her.

After minutes of staring, Ning decides to give you a chance. Shrugging, she leaves you alone on the sidewalk as she returns to her garage, shoving a helmet into your chest.

“Fine. But say anything funny, and I’ll leave you there alone. Got it?” You nod, trying not to feel hurt by her indifference towards you.

After a few clumsy attempts, you manage to hop in on her fancy bicycle, hands trapped tightly on her thin waist. You often spied on Ning going out with a dark motorbike you were sure her parents hadn’t bought her. However, as the two of you go at full speed through the night, you feel like you understand her a little better: it’s so freeing, to just ride on the freeway as the wind messes up your hair. You laugh, hugging her tighter, the only thought crippling your mind being over how beautiful the moon looked in the cloudless night, alone in all its glory.

Before you register, Ningning parks her bike carefully. If not for the fact that the place was absolutely crowded, you wouldn’t be able to tell this was the place she’s been sneaking out too frequently. It’s simple: just many cars parked in a circle, occupying the large freeway as people stand against them like ants. You guess someone must’ve blocked the way so no unwanted cars would drive by, but that was a lucky guess.

Nevertheless, you’re struck by a sudden heat wave — being surrounded by a fairly large, energetic crowd was enough for you to feel your face getting warmer, much to your liking. The atmosphere was lively, electricity hanging in the air almost palpably. It was as if everyone were anticipating, waiting for something, and you were nearly sure Ning was involved in that.

“There.” She motions to the right area of the crowd, waving at someone unknown to you. “Let’s go.”

You try to act cool as she grabs your hand to guide you through the crowd, failing terribly. The truth is, it’s been months since she’s talked to you, touched you properly. Perhaps you missed Ningning much more than you could admit, judging by the serotonin boost you’d gotten by a mere touch from her.

Ning stops in front of a black Dodge, where three girls stand with bored looks. They’re all wearing black and red, in some sort of subtle color coordination. You notice Ning’s outfit follows the theme, too, her crimson crop top standing out from her black pants and leather jacket.

“You’re late, Ningning.” Giselle says, not bothering to look at you as she chews on her gum, hands brushing her hair ever so flawlessly. She’s beautiful — they all are, and there’s something in the way they pose; as if they’re royalty around the place.

“Hello to you too, Gigi.” Ning answers her, not affected by her dismissal in the slightest. Your best friend gestures to the other girls, then, giving your hand a squeeze. Even though it wasn’t needed anymore, she was still holding on to you. “Those are Karina and Winter.” They bow slightly, acknowledging your presence. “Girls, this is Y/n”.

The trio share a knowing look at the mention of your name. As if a spell had been cast upon them, the girls are all over you, swirling, giggling and speaking all at once.

“It was about time we met you, Y/n”. Winter giggles, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder.

“Right?” Giselle shakes her head, suddenly interested in the conversation, with her condescending tone. “Took Ningning long enough to bring you to the Underworld.”

The Underworld. The name alone is enough for you to shiver, shrinking under your oversized jacket. Like a reflex, you turn to your best friend, brows furrowed and mind seeking for answers. “The Underworld?”

As soon as she opens her mouth to explain, she’s dragged away by Karina, who sighs. “Tell her all about it later, Ningning. Giselle was right, you really are late, and we have to enroll you in today’s race right now.”

Ning stares at Winter with a serious look, waiting until the bob-haired girl nods to leave. “Take care of her while I’m gone.” Shooting you an apologetic look, Ning follows Karina to the heart of the crowd, not at all uncomfortable as you lose her amidst the sea of unknown faces.

You’ve been warned about such places before, ones where people go to lose themselves and do things they shouldn’t. Even though it’s dark, you’re able to see what every group is occupying themselves with, always good to notice details in a crowd. Some drinking, smoking, others doing drugs that were too explicit for such an open space. Many people acted borderline pornographic, too, engaged in heavy make out sessions and touching places that had you looking away, too embarrassed to lurk.

“I’ll go breathe some air.” You tell Winter, who’s now sitting on the hood of the car, furiously typing on a computer as big as her head. She must’ve grabbed it from the passenger’s seat while you were busy looking around, horrified.

You expect her to protest, specially since Ning had been clear in her words, but the small girl doesn’t even look at you for more than three seconds before answering, still heavily focused on the screen that lights her face. “Okay.”

Before she’s even finished, you turn around and dodge people as best as you can, barging towards the woods located on the edge of the road without hesitation. You walk until the lively event is just a faint noise, crippling your ears like a bug on a hot, sticky day.

Now, being able to breathe the cold air properly and free from the demons of the night, you try to understand your best friend. Ning has always been a free spirit, independent and strong-willed. But, while her wild nature did stir up some trouble in your community, she’s always been welcomed and loved. That’s how a family worked, right? You might fight, but you also sort things out, eventually.

The sound of dry leafs being stepped on startles you, but you’re soon at ease once you see Ningning’s silhouette coming out of the darkness. She sits by your side, both looking at the moon instead of facing each other.

She must be afraid too, you reckon. Of you judging her choices, turning your back on her like her family did, the moment she changed her attitude.

Well, you did judge, but you’d never leave her alone. You love her too much to do so, even if you couldn’t quite understand her ulterior motives.

Ning looks beautiful under the moonlight, her long hair shiny as she plays with her own fingers, hesitant to speak up. Her hair is one of the last things she’s kept true to herself after this sudden change. You let your hands run through, reminiscing the times when, not matter how impatient, she’d let you comb and style it.

Such memories must’ve been going through her mind, too, in a reassurance of the bond you shared. Gathering courage, she turned her face to you, smiling faintly.

“Ilegal fights and street races. That’s what we do here in the underworld, that’s what it’s about.” Ning keeps you from interrupting her, already aware of what you’re going to ask. “I’ve seen people do some darker shit, yeah, like drugs and stuff, but the girls and I stay far away from that. It’s not something you can deal with without falling into a hole, you know. And I’m not trying to dig myself a grave or anything.”

You breathe in deeply, acknowledging everything she’s said. It’s like you’re walking on thin ice: one phrase worded wrongly, and she’d shut herself off from you for good.

So you choose the safest route. “And… the girls? You, hm, you all race?”

Ning relaxes instantly at your words. Her shoulders fall off, glad you didn’t start screaming at her or try to brainwash her guts. She expected a far worse reaction.

Shaking her head, her tone is a little more excited as she answers. “I’m the only racer of the group. Giselle fixes the mechanics, Winter does the stats, and Karina handles the bets and closes off the deals. They are my girls, Y/n. My family.”

You stand up, unconsciously walking around in little circles as you try to think of the right words to not scare off your best friend. The truth is, this whole Underworld thing was not only scary — it terrified you to know Ning had found herself in such a place. She needs to think through all of this situation, and realize she’s losing herself badly, walking into a path set for destruction. She needs help, and she so desperately needs to come to her true senses. You have to save Ning from herself, and you’d do just that.

“We’ll take you back.” The words come out without you really thinking them through, not at all as careful as you wish to be. You turn around completely to face Ning, only to find her already staring, her big eyes as cloudy as ever. “We know you’re sorry, Ning, it’s ok. Just… let us go back, then it will all be just like before.”

She lifts her brows and takes a few steps towards you, not stopping until you’re trapped, back hitting the trunk of a tree.

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, Y/n.” She’s angry, and you hate seeing her mad. Specially at you. Ning never got mad at you. “I’m sorry that we were born in this shitty ass town with so many rich fuckers, and I’m sorry that stupid community has brainwashed you so much they can control you as they please. I apologize for being distant because I know it hurts you, but besides that, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She’s breathless from speaking with such fervor, both of her hands placed on each of your sides so you have no way of escaping.

And even though you gulp, you force your body to not have any fear. It’s Ningning: your best friend, your soulmate. She’d never hurt you.

She’d never.

“Ning.” You look down, failing to hide the tremor in your voice. “Ning, let me go.”

Something in her eyes shift the moment she noticed the fear in your voice. Her pupils are wide blown, and her smile is just wrong, staring at you from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the wind messing with your very short dress, and how hot you feel, despite the cool weather.

Somehow, you get the feeling she’s thinking the same thing, too. Time stops as her eyes fall to your lips, and she’s on top of you in a blink. Kissing, tugging, licking… Ning’s desperation is something you can taste, and it’s written all over. This kiss is not like the sweet, chaste experiences you’ve had before. Ning kisses you like a woman starved, taking until there’s no air left, and your lungs are burning, claiming for relief.

Her kiss is venomous, so sinful you fear what you’d do if you experience it again.

“W-what the fuck, Ning! Why’d you do that?” You manage to say, crossing your arms over your chest to try to get some distance between you. “This wrong, Ning. This isn’t y—”

“Did they send you here?” She ignores your words completely, hands assaulting your body as you try to move against her. “Is that it? Are they that fucking desperate, really?”

Perhaps you’re weak, or maybe she’s been putting some work in the gym, but the truth is she doesn’t move an inch, no matter how much try to pull her away. If anything, it only brings her closer to you, that wicked smirk still on her face.

“What? They… no! Of course not. I came because I want to understand you.” Her accusations hurt, even though you know she’s not entirely wrong.

The truth is, Ning’s too smart for her own good.

Surprisingly, her fingers are delicate as they brush one of your shoulders, playing with your dress sleeve before letting it slide midway, enough for it to expose yourself to the dark night. You shiver, not only due to the winds that cause your nipples to harden, but also because of the girl who stares at you like she’s gone mad. She’s salivating, and you watch her every breath until she lowers her head and latches her mouth onto one of your boobs, her teeth teasingly picking on your nipples.

It’s as if you’ve been electrocuted. Your back arches, and you try even harder to let go of the hand that’s keeping yours clasped together so tightly it hurts, but you can’t set yourself free. Did her touches always feel like that? So wrong, yet so… good, you look forward to more?

“Stop, p-please. Ning, my b-boyfriend…” It’s all you’re able to mutter, choosing to keep your mouth shut. You’re too afraid of the sounds that might come out of your lips if you continue speaking.

You’ve never felt like this before. This tingling sensation, erupting to all your body — specially to your core. The warmth that eloped your body like you were too close to the sun. It felt good, Ning’s touches are so good you itch with need.

It’s no surprise you’ve touched yourself before. You were no saint, either. However, it has never felt anything close to that. You would never be able to mimic Ning’s hands, cupping your breasts, pinching your waist, forcefully opening your legs to keep her knee seated between them… all while still trapping you, the burning sensation in your hands serving as a lively reminder of the situation you were currently in.

“Your boyfriend, yes. That fucking idiot.” Ning’s hands go straight to the hem of your shorts, forcing them down. “He’s never touched you like that, right Y/n? Surely, you’d tell me. I’m your best friend, after all.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as her hands pull down your shorts, fingers going all the way under your dress to find the bare skin of your abdomen. She scratches it slightly, even though you find yourself still struggling vigorously against her touches.

“Ning, you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m sorry, please s-stop…” Ning huffs, annoyed by your attempts to get her off you.

“No, Y/n. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She laughs as her teeth scratch your shoulder, and then she bites. It’s so unexpected you scream, ashamed to admit that her harsh touches are the reason your insides are embarrassingly wet. “I bet you’ve touched yourself thinking of me, too. God, Y/n. You act like you’re this good little example to others, but I know you better than anyone. You’re such a dirty, hungry whore.”

Ning’s wet mouth leaves a trail of saliva on your skin as you stop moving against her chest. Instead, you let your head rest on the corner of her neck, biting your mouth so hard you feel the metallic taste of blood in your tongue. Ning notices it, too — her eyes have never stopped observing you attentively, not from the moment she’s met you for the first time. Grabbing your neck possessively, she pulls you in for another hungry, aggressive kiss, her tongue forcing its way over your mouth until your taste was all hers to delight herself with, too.

Without an alibi to hide your pleasure, you moan against her lips, chest moving rapidly with the adrenaline. You feel her smile, too.

This doesn't seem right, in any way. Your best friend, forcing you to surrender against her wishes and talking to you like you were nothing… it is all wrong, deeply wrong.

But why is she making you feel so alive? Why is the burning sensation that expands over every inch of your skin so addicting?

If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?

“Does he touch you like this?” Ning asks with a sultry tone, as her fingers toy with your folds. The anticipation drives you insane, only intensifying your arousal. You gasp at the sensation of her fingers in your cunt, hovering and so close to where you need her. Your silence irritates her, clearly. “Answer me, whore.”

Her hands, God — her hands leave your cunt so quickly and reach out for your throat, squeezing on your pulse point with such precision you nearly cum on the spot. You feel lightheaded, unable to think about anything but how alive Ning makes you feel. In fact, it’s her touches that ground you again, reminding you of what is happening.

She kisses your jaw, her tone dripping with fake-sweetness as she murmurs. “Tell me what I already know, Y/n. Say it.”

With that, you’re aware of your current situation: Ning’s getting inside your head, distracting you with pleasure until you’re dumbed down enough to surrender to her wishes.

When did she become so evil?

“Stop— touching me.” You say, turning your head away from her. Still, you can’t help but obey, even though your voice is barely audible as you add. “You know the answer, already.”

Ning’s hand slides through your body, taking her time to grope, scratch and pinch as she pleases until she’s cupping your cunt again, her motion too sweet for the harsh way she’s been acting towards you. Two of her fingers go to your slit, taking all the air from your longs as she shoves them in and out slowly, savoring the sensation both for herself and for you. And you’re wet— so much her fingers slide easily, despite your lack of experience. It’s as though time had stopped: the animals have stopped making noises, the wind has stopped humming and all the people at the street have quieted. All you can hear is Ning’s breathing, just as erratic as you, and the lewd sounds coming out from your cunt.

It feels so good, you wonder how you've lived all this time without Ningning touching you like that. Like you were a secret gemstone she was more than ready to unravel.

“If you want me to stop touching you, then why are you so fucking wet?” She asks, cocky as you whimper under her. Your legs feel like jelly, and suddenly you’re so glad for the tree you’re relying on, and Ning’s leg between your thighs, forcing them open. “No, Y/n. You know damn well what you want. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” Her following words are what break you. As your thumb meets your clit, she adds, “You’re as rotten as me, filthy girl. I just choose not to run from myself anymore.”

You want to deny it. There’s nothing more you want than to pull Ning back and scream at her face, talking about how insufferable she’s become and how much of an asshole she was. But your brain has long been turned into mush, focused on only one thing: gathering the crippling sensation that was forming in your lower abdomen and let it explode, turning it into a mind-blowing wave of pleasure. It’s all you’ve ever wanted: to cum. Nothing else really matters.

You don’t even recognize yourself, clinging onto Ning as if your life depended on it. Her skilled fingers don’t stop their motion on your slit as her thumb applies more pressure to your clit, circling it harshly, so fast it makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull with pleasure. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: every inch of your body boils, and you’ve never wanted so bad to just explode.

Faint screams fill the background, with Ning’s name being called repeatedly, surely from the girls looking for her. However, you don’t pay them any mind. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are loud, sinful moans — the most beautiful melody to Ning’s ears.

“N-ning…” You whine, carving your nails onto your best friend’s skin. Sweat gathers in your forehead as you feel your orgasm close, but you’re too stubborn to say anything to her.

Ning knows you well, though. Your muscles tense, and you cum as she keeps her strokes hard and fast, just what you need to explode into waves of pleasure. It hits so good you scream, legs shaking as she holds you as if you weight nothing, keeping you from falling onto the dust. White dots dance around your vision, fireworks exploding inside you as the orgasm washes through your body, in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

It was borderline addicting.

“Ningning! There you are, fucker. We’ve been looking for ages.” Karina’s body appears from the darkness, her impeccable frame easy to distinguish from anything else. You’re so fucked out it takes you a few seconds to register her presence. By then, Ning has already covered you, adjusting your dress back on with precise movements. “Don’t be irresponsible just because of some pussy! You’re up in five, come on.”

You don’t miss the way Karina’s eyes stare at your body, not an ounce of shame in her pretty face. However, you don’t feel ashamed to have her attention on you. If anything, you can feel your face blushing, your body slowly feeling hot again.

Lust is a dangerous thing, indeed.

Ning doesn’t miss Karina’s cue either, judging by the way she scoffs. Dismissing her with an annoyed tone, Ning mutters, “I said I was coming.” She gestures to the trees and the wild bushes, then. “You can lead the way.”

Karina laughs, not missing her last opportunity to address you, as she turns around and waves. “Bye, Y/n. I hope you’re around more often.”

You giggle, too, amazed by how she camouflages herself so easily, lost amidst the night and the forest.

Still, the girl in front of you captures all of your attention. Like always, she’s already staring, her brown hair messy from your making out.

“This is the real world, Y/n. I’m not going back.” She says, not leaving any space for discussion. You know that tone too well; Ning’s already made her choice, and it wasn’t the one you wanted her to pick. With big, sad eyes, she adds, “I wish you would free yourself, too.”

Her delicate tone breaks your heart. Deep down, you know she means it. Ning’s following what she believes in, and she wishes she could share her world with you, too.

She walks away without looking back, sure of who she was and what she wanted for her future.

With a heavy sigh, you follow her towards the highway once again.

You’d follow her through it all.

[ponderingmoonlight]

I Love You When I Drink Champagne

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: In the late hours, with champagne in hand, Gojo’s teasing fades into something deeper. Beneath city lights and whispered confessions, you begin to wonder if his midnight promises mean more than he’ll ever admit in daylight.

Warnings: honestly none, this is pure fluff and ✨aesthetic✨ lol, it's getting a little heated y'all, you NEED to listen to the song that inspired this while reading I'm begging you guys

Inspired by I love you when I drink champagne by Eric Christian

It starts with the champagne. Always the champagne, the delicate pop of the cork that seems to echo across the room, as though announcing his arrival even when he’s already leaning against the doorframe, all tall and confident with that infuriating smirk you can feel even with your back turned.

The night is quieter than usual, just you, him, and the glow of the city filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment.

“Satoru,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder as he brings two glasses, the golden bubbles within catching the light like little stars.

He holds a glass out to you, eyebrows raised in that mischievous way that always makes your chest tighten.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on celebrating the small moments,” he comments, voice light, almost teasing.

You take the glass, but the moment your fingers brush his, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a warmth in his eyes tonight that feels... different, somehow softer, though his gaze is still as intent as ever. It’s almost as if he can see through you, right to where your heartbeat is pounding.

“You know, Satoru,”, the words spilling out before you can stop them,

“I feel like I’m always celebrating when I’m with you.”

There’s a brief flicker of surprise in his gaze before it’s replaced with something darker, a gleam that sharpens the lines of his jaw. He takes a sip of his champagne, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel the weight of that stare, like it’s made of silk and shadows, wrapping around you.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice a bit deeper, a bit closer.

“Then let’s make it worth celebrating.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his body radiating warmth that seems to mix with the champagne already making your cheeks flush. The air is thick, charged, and you realize you’re holding your breath as he leans down, his lips just inches from yours. His scent, a heady blend of something musky and dangerously intoxicating, fills your senses, making you dizzy.

“You know what’s funny?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your lips, making them tingle.

“I think I’m starting to fall for you, every single time we do this.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you can barely bring yourself to breathe, let alone speak.

“You say that… but every time we drink, you say things like this. And then the next day, you act like nothing happened.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes something twist inside you, tight and needy.

“You know I don’t just say things, sweetheart. Not to you.”

And then he closes the gap, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s both gentle and possessive, like he’s savoring the taste of you, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s soft, at first. Too soft. But you feel the tension in him, in the grip of his hands on your waist, pulling you close until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the intoxicating scent of champagne.

You melt into him, letting the spark between you flare hotter, brighter, as his hands slide up your sides, tracing a path that leaves your skin tingling beneath the thin fabric of your black dress. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes darker, more intense.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.

But you can’t. You don’t want to. Instead, you let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s not like you already know the answer.”

That’s all it takes. His mouth is on yours again, deeper this time, his hands moving with an urgency that has you arching into him, craving more of his touch, of the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. Your champagne glass is forgotten, left abandoned on the table as you run your hands through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers.

He presses you back against the cool glass of the window, the city lights sprawling out below as he kisses a path down your jaw, his lips tracing fire along your skin. His breath is hot, ragged, his hands roaming with a roughness that has you gasping, aching for more. His teeth graze your neck, sending a sharp thrill through you, and you can feel his smile against your skin, his satisfaction at each shiver he pulls from you.

Your hands move over his chest, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt, and you can’t help but trace the hard fibres of muscle beneath your fingertips. His breath hitches, and he captures your mouth again, hungrier this time, his kiss leaving you dizzy, your thoughts hazy and wrapped in a fog of desire.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me this isn’t just the champagne.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking into you, grounding you in the reality of this moment. Oh, it’s always in the champagne. It’s always when your heart wins over and you let yourself fall back into his arms each and every night just to act like strangers the next morning.

“I want this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper, but he hears it, and the look in his eyes softens just enough to make your heart ache.

“It’s never just the champagne for me. Not with you.”

The answer seems to set something free inside him, and his hands find the hem of your dress, sliding beneath it to brush against the bare skin of your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers are warm, firm, as he trails them slowly, teasingly higher, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to look away.

But you can’t. You’re completely intoxicated, caught in the fire between you, in the way he’s watching you, as though you’re something he’s longed for, waited for. His hands are everywhere: on your waist, your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, until you’re lost in him, your breaths mingling, your bodies moving in sync, pressed together in a way that feels both thrillingly new and achingly familiar.

It’s only when you’re completely tangled together, breathless and flushed, that he pulls back, just enough to brush his thumb over your lips, his eyes soft, almost vulnerable.

“I don’t just love you when I drink champagne, you know,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, his gaze searching yours.

“I think I love you all the time. Even when I pretend not to.”

Your heart skips a beat, the words sinking in slowly, warming you from the inside out. And in that moment, you know he means it - know that this is more than just a moment, more than just the champagne.

Satoru Gojo tells the truth.

And as his lips find yours once more, you realize that, maybe, you’ve been falling for him all along too.

His lips press against yours with renewed purpose, pulling you under, deeper into the whirlwind of his warmth. Your heart beats in time with his, the rhythm echoing in the hush of the room. You’re tangled in each other, fingers slipping beneath layers of fabric, hands exploring the expanses of skin that you’d only dared to imagine touching before the sun set.

Satoru’s fingers trace slow, teasing paths up your thigh, each touch sparking a blaze in your skin, making you arch into him, craving more. The coolness of the window against your back only heightens the warmth of his touch, his mouth moving along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, as if he can’t get enough. His lips, his tongue, the scrape of his teeth - they drive you to the edge, leaving you breathless and wanting.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.

“Because if you tell me to stop, I will.”

But there’s no hesitation in you, not with the way his touch has unraveled you, his words making promises that hang heavily in the air. You reach for him, your fingers sliding through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“I don’t want you to stop, Satoru,” you whisper, breathless.

 “Not tonight.”

That’s all it takes. His hands move with renewed urgency, his mouth capturing yours again, rougher this time, hungry in a way that speaks of all the times he’s held back, of all the moments he’s wanted this but held himself back. It’s like a dam has broken between you, and you’re swept away in the torrent of him, of his desire, of the fire that’s been simmering between you, now roaring to life.

His hands slide beneath your dress, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thighs, higher and higher, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch is firm, assured, yet gentle, as though he’s savoring every inch of you, memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

When he finally lifts you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and he presses you back against the cool glass, his body a solid weight against you, grounding you even as you feel like you’re flying. His mouth finds yours again, his kisses a blend of sweetness and heat, of promises and desire, and you lose yourself in him, in the way he’s touching you, holding you.

The sound of your soft gasps fills the room, mingling with his own ragged breaths, creating a rhythm that feels as ancient as it is intoxicating. You feel his hands slide along your sides, lifting your dress higher, his fingers splayed possessively over your hips as he pulls you closer, as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs your name, each syllable laced with longing, with need.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough, raw, as he looks at you with a reverence that makes your heart stutter, that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

“Satoru…”

Your voice is a soft gasp, barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send a shiver through him, his eyes darkening as he watches you, his gaze intense, focused, as though he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

You’re barely aware of anything else. The city lights outside, the distant hum of the world beyond his apartment - everything fades away until it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the warmth of his body against yours, in the taste of his kisses, the feel of his hands on your skin.

You sink into him, letting the last of your reservations slip away, trusting him to catch you, to hold you. And he does, his arms strong and steady as he pulls you close, his touch tender even in its urgency, his kisses a silent promise, a vow that he’s yours, that this moment, this night, is only the beginning.

By the time dawn begins to spill through the windows, casting soft hues of gold and pink across his skin, you’re tangled in each other, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath your cheek. The quiet is peaceful, almost surreal, as if you’ve entered a dream that neither of you want to wake from.

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your shoulder, his gaze soft as he watches you.

“You know, I meant what I said. This isn’t just the champagne talking”, he repeats all over again.

You smile, brushing a kiss to his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him beneath your lips, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I know. And I told you I feel the same way”, you whisper back, your fingers lacing through his.

For the first time, there’s no teasing smirk, no playful glint in his eyes. He just holds you, his expression open, vulnerable, and you realize that, for all his strength, he’s put his heart in your hands. And you hold it gently, knowing that this is the start of something you both know you’ve been waiting for all along.

And as you drift off to sleep, his arms wrapped around you, you can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally found where you belong.

And maybe tomorrow morning will be different from all those countless mornings the bedsheet was already cold next to you.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[digoutskin]

ₕₐₗf cᵣₐzy

Ony x Bestfriend!Reader

PART 1

masterlist:

black fem reader, semi set in college, friends to lovers, best friend ony, miscommunication, pet names (mama's, babygirl, ma) from both characters, coworker ony, reader is very quiet and a bit of an observer, so bare with me, and it's a lil toxic, also reader has a darker taste in music and style and smokes cigarettes (don't be mad it's just fiction) a little angsty, hinted at anxiety and depression. Reader is a loner and Ony is basically her only real friend, reader is a virgin, reader is a badass, has tattoos and piercings

A/N: this is my very first chapter of halfcrazy, It'll be 5 parts, and most of those will have sexual energy or just straight up smut. Not in this first chapter though, so enjoy (for now)

"Never thought that we would ever be more than friends

Now I'm all confused 'cause for you, I have deeper feelings

We both thought it was cool to cross the line

And I was convinced it would be alright

Now things are strange, nothing's the same

And really, I just want my friend back"

" You've been sittin' there quiet for hours ma, you ain't gone smoke with me?" Ony said, eyeing you from across the couch. You had been sitting there with him in practical silence, music playing from a bluetooth speaker on his coffee table. He took a puff waiting for you to respond.

You peered up from your book, acrylics flipping a page before responding "I'm good Ony. Jus' reading." you said.

He shrugged his shoulders and took a hit from the blunt, inhaling and exhaling. He then got up from the leather couch and flopped next to you, leaning over to look at your book.

"Looks jus' like a bunch of gibberish to me. You like readin' that french shit?" He tried to grab the book from you but you quickly snatched it away, slamming it shut.

Rolling your eyes and grabbing his phone to change the song "Hey don't change my shit to that rock shit, keep my rnb on fa' now."

"I told you Nirvana is grunge not rock, it's just similar." You said under your breath, changing it to Halfcrazy by musiqsoulchild.

You had been at Ony's for hours, making small talk and gossiping about your friends.

You had met Ony last year while working at your schools library. He didn't seem like the type that would fit in with your coworkers, so he immediately attached himself to you. Quickly all you two did on your shifts was laugh, put the books on the shelf and do recommendations for other students. That turned into a friendship, in which you became friends with his friends, and that was the end of the story.

Sasha and Mikasa had been blowing your phone up ever since you met, taking you out of your comfort zone and into clubs, going to Connie's trap house to smoke and eat every once in a while.

Ony nudged you bringing out you out of your thoughts and back into the almost one sided conversation. "You heard from that nigga today? Whas' his name, Hakeem? Raheem? Rak-"

"now you know that nigga name is not rakeem, it's Hakeem and no I haven't heard from him today. Why you in my business like that Ony?"

"I ain't in your business babygirl, but you need someone to look out for you because I don't trust that nigga. Always coming up to the front desk talkin' about do we have Karl Marx knowing he only read abc 123 shit." He retorted, chuckling under his breath. You giggled then side eyed him, knowing he was right.

Getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen table where your work bag was, you looked through the thing to find your phone. He eyed you from behind, eyeing you in your khaki's and tight collared shirt. Your sneakers made a sound against the hardwoods floors in the apartment, work attire draped on your body.

Ony has had feelings for you for a while, but he was 'in denial' as Eren told him time and time again.

He didn't want to admit that his crush turned into feelings, he didn't want to leave his little fling alone, fearing that the answer to his question would be met with your denying head shake and frown.

To him, why bother to even tell you? To possibly mess up such a rare friendship that he'd come across.

You scrolled through the group chat, Mikasa's text bubble a constant on the screen. She was ranting about how Eren had been entertaining other girls on the side. 'He ain't even big like that' and 'I don't need his gaming ass' Flashed onto the screen. You decided to be a little nosy and swiveled around to face Ony.

He cut his gaze away from you, pretending that he was only looking at the blunt he was now putting out. A grin flashed on your face as you went to sit down, folding your legs into a butterfly position on his couch. "You wouldn’t lie to me, right?" You asked, batting your eyelashes and him and throwing your jet black box braids over your shoulder.

"No ma, about what?" He questioned with a puzzled look. "So Mikasa think Eren been talking to another girl... Has he?"

"Look, all I know is when me and Eren went to go get tatted the other day, a fine ass girl did his tat. She was feeling all up on him and flirting. She did give him her number but ion know if he responded. Connie was laughing the whole time trying to talk to her but she ain't want him, she wanted Eren." he paused, glancing at you.

"Don't get in that messy shit, you weren't around the last time she found out he was fucking around on her. She slashed his tires, burned 'fuck you' into his grass. It was ugly. Mikasa is a crazy ass bitch that'll get you in trouble. You too reserved for that, ma." crinkling his nose at the remembrance of 2023.

"They gon' make up, fuck, and be done with it and back with each other again. Don't let her convince you otherwise." with that he let out a sigh, muttering 'shit' in response to his phone buzzing. You looked away from him, a little contact high from earlier.

-

-

-

Ony had always harped on you for being a bit straight edge, only smoking a few times since you've meet.

Each time, you found the warm haze that washed over you only made him look better than normal, made his voice deeper, made you wet when he would hold the blunt up to your lips and tell you to inhale. The first time you smoked together he helped you, coaching you on how to handle it, letting out "inhale ma. There you go, so good at it ion' even gotta teach you" into your ear in a hushed voice.

Before that the feelings that you felt for him were excitement, happiness, and borderline hysterical while talking to him. You could admit to yourself that he was an attractive guy, tattoo sleeve cascading down his arms, a clean cut line up with the two earrings to match. Pearly whites with eyes and a smile that made you melt silently when you looked at him.

He wouldn't, no, couldn't have known you like him in that way, shared the same throbbing feelings between you too.

As much as he wanted you to share them, he just didn't see it. You always had this unassuming face on, only sharing intimate information with him when it really affected you in the worse way. He couldn't remember the first night he got you high, but he remembered the second.

The heat was sweltering and the air conditioner in the dorms was cut off, so everyone you knew from school went to family, friends, or cool shelters over the weekend.

You went to Ony, promising him that you would play video games, watch movies, and just chill all weekend. By the time he got to the dorms to pick you up, your usual calm facial expression was contorted into a frown.

He could see the glossy tears gathering in your eyes and you slammed the car door after throwing your overnight bag in the back.

He decided against saying anything just he, he drove off, letting the sound of 'chicago' by micheal jackson play in the background. You sniffled, wiping away tears only to put the same expression back on, as cold as ice.

"Whas' wrong Y/n, forreal? You ain't said nun whole ride." He turned the music down, waiting for a response.

"Just some guy. I'm tired of nigga's, Ony. always wanting sex and nothing else. No intimacy, wanna hook up but don't want to actually get to know me for me. I enjoy being a loner, it's what I do, but I still want love. I feel like it's not even disappointing, it just makes me want to be alone for good." You ranted.

He kept his eyes trained on the road, and by the end of your conversation, you two had made it to the apartment. "That's why I told you to stop fucking with nigga's like that. He got you all upset and shit, you don't listen." He continued the conversation while gathering all of your things from the back seat.

Later that night, you two had eaten, played a few rounds of mortal kombat and super smash brothers, he had convinced you that the chill part of the hangout wasn't finished until he had properly smoked you out.

He brought you to the bedroom, set up some music and put on some cartoons in the background to balance out the tense energy you had from earlier.

A few crystals sat on his nightstand, a clear quartz, carnelian, and a rose quartz. You took mental note of that and decided to get comfortable, propping yourself up on the pillow you had brought along. He had already rolled the blunt and brought the ashtray out, placing it between you two.

Remembering last time when he called himself 'teaching' you, you quickly caught onto how to smoke blunts. The two of you passed it back and forth. You had the hidden habit of smoking a cigarette or two, so inhaling the weed was stronger but now next to nothing for you.

"That guy that hangs around the library has a crush on you. He down bad, ma. Fuck, what's his name?" he muttered.

"Hakeem. I'm not feeling him like that though." You said, eyes glazed over.

"I'm telling you he on that Joe shit forreal. Hanging around the library, peeking around shelves. He gone beck yo' shit, Y/n." He cackled, passing the blunt towards you.

He glanced down at the v-neck you had on, cleavage showing. The leggings you threw on showed the curves you had, and he hadn't noticed it before, but the twinkling in your eyes showed even more in the haze of the smoke. You closed your eyes and stayed like that for a second, letting the feeling of sleepiness wash over you.

After you dozed off he ashed the blunt, carrying it with him to the living room where he finished it, and began to clean up. Your phone was buzzing on the table, and he figured that you trusted him enough to open whatever it was.

So he did. The contact was labeled Hakeem, with a skull emoji next to the name. The text message read as the following, 'I'm sorry y/n I really am. I didn't know you were a virgin. When you rejected me it's because I thought you was talking to that guy that's always around. I promise you me and that girl ain't even sleep together like that'

He stopped reading the text and slammed the phone down. He knew that the nigga had pissed him off before with hanging around the job waiting for you to get off, but he didn't know you actually talked to him. You're virgin? Wasn't what he expected but you are private, borderline mysterious to him but still so comfortable around him like you've known him for years.

That was the day he officially decided he would leave you alone to just do you, letting whatever you had between you just be. The feelings wouldn't stop, No. They pestered and lingered, they are still there with him.

His plan was to lay in wait, let things happen on there own.

-

-

-

In the present, you two were currently at your shift. You were somewhere in the back sorting out the damaged books, student's reckless with the sensitive materials.

Ony worked the desk, flashing his smile at the pretty girls that would walk pass. He was a straight A student with a high GPA, unlike his friends he did plan on doing something with his life, so he took pride in his knowledge. Breaking his glance towards the back room where you were, he was brought out of his gaze by a grating voice.

"Sup' B. Where Y/n?" The light skin male asked Ony. He wore a Nike tech paired with black sneakers, his curly hair braided to the back with a fresh line up.

The sound of his voice just annoyed Ony.

His face contorted to one of disgust, and finally he answered the man "She's busy. Come back later." His voice bellowed out.

Hakeem's eyes pierced back at Ony, green orbs of his flickering darker in annoyance. "Whatever. Just tell her I was here." He walked away, out of the double doors, pulling his phone out when he got to the lobby of the school.

'Y/n text me back, you got this nigga covering for you and shit.'

He would get you back, and get rid of Ony too.

-

-

It was now hours later, and you were outside on a bench, smoking a cigarette alone. You watched as people passed by, some on bikes but most were hand in hand. You inhaled, taking some smoke in.

You had gotten the text from Hakeem earlier and, in a moment of weakness, texted him that you’d be at a local club tonight with a group, so you could talk to him there.

You shot Sasha a quick text about going out and before you knew it, everyone, including Ony was going.

Tonight would be a night to remember.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was an abandoned church where the faeries used to come out, tucked away in one of those neighborhoods in the city where only residents ever go. It was a beautiful stone building, covered in vines and ivy, half broken, resting between the corner stores and brownstones. They say it's so old that nobody even remembers the name of the god they worshipped there.

And there used to be faeries there. They would come out quite frequently. Nobody maintained the place, but it was ruined enough so you could just walk in through where the door used to be. And you could see them there, the kobolds who would sing their ancient songs in languages long forgotten. And the hollow backed women who would dance in the silver moonligh, and who turned men who tried to touch them into trees. There where spirits who'd look like dragonflies one momment, and than little winged people the next. And great dire trolls at times would come out and brew strange drinks from grass and root. There were mothmen who flew in the skies above the ancient church, looking down with big yellow eyes. There where witches who'd grant strange requests for strange prices, and who'd look like women from a far, and great mantises when near. And there were even darker things, faceless men, and black eyed girls, who'd come, but they never harmed a soul on those old church grounds.

They say it became a place where people who were grateful for such things would come. Urban sorcerers, and cryptid hunters, unmarketable artists, and outcasts and members of forgotten subcultures would come to. It was mostly just a place people in the city knew about, people who knew enough about the fae, people who had respect for the fae. A few faeries would let themselves show up in dim photographs, perhaps to appear on somebody's blog, but most people who would go there knew to ask first. And they say that. In her gratefulness to the ruins, for being a place where the children of Odin and the children of Gaia had found peace, the queen of the autumn faeries had gifted them a magic sword, that shined like sunset amber, planted forever in the ruins of the church's alter.

And once there was a magical sword there, something valuable there, the city decided it had to take notice. It wasn't just some worthless stone anymore, it was something with more money behind it now. They transfered the ruins' ownership from the underfunded historical society, to a successful real-estate company, who would know how to handle it well, and perhaps bring in some tourists.

And suddenly, things began to change. See, the sword needed to be well protected of course, so there were security cameras all over the place to keep out robbers, and guards of course to stand around and yell at people, and of course perhaps to fire iron bullets at any faeries who thought about hurting humans who wanted to be free to touch them and pet them and take pictures without consequences. And there were metal detectors of course, and there needed to be a closing time because suddenly there was a staff that had to be payed.

And somehow there were less and less faeries then, and the people who had used to come so often had gone away too. But that didn't matter, they still needed to turn a profit, and they had started advertising it, so soon tourists with their fancy cameras and expectations, and families with little children on leashes and dogs in their strollers, and fourteen year old boys who giggled because faerie could mean gay, all started to come, and waited on line to see the minority of faeries who were still there. And soon the walls of the old church had signs and ads and the walls were painted a green because the company thought grey was an ugly color, and the entrance had all those little marketable t-shirts and plushes for people to buy.

And soon there were no more faeries. They didn't want to come. The sword had turned black.

They say the last faeries to leave were the toughest of them, and that they didn't like the new type of guest, trolls would put human bones in their last stews, and witches would curse anyone who took pictures of them, and the black eyed girls and faceless men finally dragged people into faeland never to return. But even they left eventually, all of them did. They say the sword healed when it was bright and amber, but when it was black it's magic was no weaker, but it killed, anyone who touched the black sword would rot away. They say other magical creatures, meaner ones, found good homes in the church when it became so filled with the company's things, blood drinking vampires, and howling ghosts, and deal making devils, found the place to be a perfect hunting spot. The faeries never came back, and the church lost its profitability, they tried to rip it down, and use the land for some pretty shot or restaurant, but they could never clear the foundation, nobody could lift the sword.

[sh1-n0bu]

Ok, so uhm, I just saw your work and I loved and I want to make a request.

So, Sub! Kaeya x Dom! Reader, where the reader is edging poor Kaeya who is bonded to the bed, denying his release making him beg, basically punish him because he was giving more attention to some else rather then the reader. Thank you!

♡︎ 𝙤𝙝 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣! ♡︎

characters: sub!kaeya x nb!dom!reader

warnings: handjob, dacryphillia, overstimulation, begging, bondage, blindfold, toys, fucking machine (does it count as a warning tho?), lots of cum!!

notes: kaeya when becoming the cavalry captain rlly said “you can catch me in liyue, catch me in kheanri’ah, catch me in mond trynna ride that dick like YEEHAW”

walking into your shared home with the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, the first thing you did was call out to your beloved knight in white cape. continuing to call out his name in a sing song voice, you finally reached your bedroom door, opening it and letting out a relived sigh.

there he was! your sweet captain - being fucked stupid by a fake cock stuck to a fucking machine - relentlessly being pushed to his edge over and over as he let out a hoarse sob at the feeling of another orgasm being forced out of him. your usual tie working as a blindfold to exert his sensitivity really did it’s job! you can already see the navy blue color turned darker - almost black - around his eyes area.

walking up to his trembling, lithe body you could see that he was way far gone by the way he doesn’t seem to react to hearing your boots stepping on the hard wooden floor at all.

whining when he felt your hands taking off of his blindfolds, your sweet captain let out a louder sob as his teary eyes fell on your sweet smiling face leaning over him. placing a hand on his chest, you fondled his nipples, tugging on the sensitive buds which caused him to let out a sultry cry as his cock spurted another load of cum into his stomach.

“puh-leashe!! honey! ma-aanhg! make it staahp!!♡︎” pleading to you in a broken voice, you let out a hum at his pleas. his voice hoarse and tired, words slurring together due to all the hours you left him with the fucking machine on. you should really plan another trip to fontaine, these things are super effective to shutting up your whiny brat!

faking an innocent hum, your hand trailed down from fondling his nipples. slowly tracing his muscles, running your hand down to his abs - covered in pools of his own cum, starting to turn a translucent color - before grabbing ahold of his leaking hard cock. the tip was so cute and red from all the forced orgasms, still shaking and twitching in your hand as if excited to see you again.

“AANNGH!! NO! D-DARLING PLEAASHE!♡︎♡︎” tugging on the restraints on his wrists and ankles, kaeya let out a shrill sound akin to a squeal, wanting to stop you from overstimulating more than he already is but failing to do so due to the beautiful navy blue satin ropes binding him. kissing at the trail of tears running down his face, you gave him a sweet smile, completely opposite from the ruthless speed you’re jerking his cock with.

continuing to tighten your hold on his angry red cock, you jerked him off at a faster pace, almost matching the unrelenting speed of the fucking machine drilling into him as he let out another slurred sob before squirting out of the slits of his cock.

oh, he passed out.

turning the machine off, you took off the satin ropes off his wrists and ankles. rubbing some ointment on them to stop them from bruising, cleaning him up with a warm wet towel, changing the bedsheets before going to bed cuddling your sweet captain.

the next few days a certain cavalry captain had to take a few days off of his work because his legs were unable to hold himself up as the knights worry over his condition, completely unaware of what happened.

[yandere-romanticaa]

🍂 tear you apart.

❝ i want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart. as i whisper in your ear - i want to fucking tear you apart. ❞

yandere! various! ghostface! characters x gn! reader.

inspired by the song "tear you apart" by she wants revenge.

just a compilation of characters that i think would be interesting for this. happy friday the 13th!

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ! (genshin impact.)

After years of training and endless carnage, it's only natural for a person to develop specific tastes for the darker aspects of life. Battle and blood were Childe's bread and butter but due to his friendly and frankly charming exterior no one could tell that the young man was a ruthless killer.

Provided that he hides his Harbinger status that is.

There were times when his status was a hastle but there were always some perks, always some string for him to pull and make everything go in the way he wanted them to go. Sometimes, that would include people.

But now, that included you.

Upon first meeting him there was an addictive and boyish charm to the ginger haired man and he had you completely wrapped around his fingers. His pockets were deep but so was his heart and frankly, how dare you just steal it? How dare you be so careless? Don't get him wrong, he wasn't mad per say but he still wanted to teach you a lesson or two, just to make it all stick to your feeble little mind.

He started with your neighbors first.

Childe watches comfortably from high above, hidden away in a tea shop as natives of Liyue Harbor scamper back to their homes as darkness nears. A serial killer is on the loose and the shop owner in which Childe was in had no idea that he just served the man responsible for the deaths of 3 different families. He sipped his tea with content, his heart pounding with excitement. The blade in his pocket was itching for its next victim but he had to be patient.

Patience was a virtue after all.

And once he was done, he was going to claim his prize.

In the meantime, he was going to be nothing less than a sweet and doting friend who was just worried for you. It was only a matter of time when you would fall into his greedy hands and you didn't even know it.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐆𝐎𝐋 ! (bungo stray dogs.)

Meeting him was not by choice but you were bound by fate, or so the clown liked to tease.

He stopped you on the street in order to show you a card trick. It was simple but it did the job, he impressed you even if just barely. You'd sigh and turn your head but Nikolai did not fail to see the blush on your cheeks.

He was a man on a mission. Why not indulge himself, just for a little bit?

The public always was fond of a good show and why not give them one in the form of a crazy mass murderer? Donning on a mask and a long black cape his escapade began, his ability was so useful for this.

However, you were always his favorite target.

It started out small, at first. He would use his ability to touch you and to steal your things, particularly if he knew you were alone at home. Seeing that confused expression on your face became a past time of his. His fingers would brush against your cheeks, his touch barely there, like a wandering phantom. Sometimes he would be bolder and press his hand gently against your ribs, maybe even be cheeky and smack your behind ever so playfully.

After a few weeks of this song and dance, watching wasn't enough.

You answered his first call, which pleased him greatly. He gave you impossible riddles and forced you to answer humiliating and degrading questions, all under the threat that he was in your house and was going to kill you lest you complied.

Of course, he had no intentions of doing that. Perhaps he would one day. But for now, he would continue to paint the streets crimson with blood and make you squirm in your seat.

It became his reason for living.

𝐊𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐀 & 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 ! (honkai star rail.)

Ah, these two psychos. Where do I start?

Their plans are at first glance, all over the place. Attacks are random and they do not necessarily always go for the big fish too. Sometimes it's a poor street vendor who was just doing their job but his life meant nothing in the end.

Kafka was the main mastermind. Blade was the one who did most of the dirty work.

Her plans were meticulous, deadly. She would come crawling to you from the shadows, her jacket draped over your shoulders as she'd coo into your ear, her face bloody from her latest victim as she toyed with her mask, a carefree smile on her face. You couldn't see him but Blade was also behind you, his presence was impossible to miss. He was large and imposing, like a phantom that couldn't find peace.

Could you perhaps give him something that he couldn't have? If he can't have you in life, can he have you in death?

There was no escaping them, never ever. Dare to try and there would be consequences.

They were so in love with you to the point of madness. The question was - were they going to keep you alive and leashed or were they just that insane to stab you in the heart?

If they can't have you, no one can.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 ! (Moriarty the Patriot.)

The streets of London are filled to the brim with gossip and paranoia as the Lord of Crime made his move the previous evening, slaughtering yet another poor noble in his family home. The papers reported that his own children found the corpse, the poor little things.

You hurried to show William the morning paper, morbidly curious about his opinion on this.

Said man could be found lounging about in a cushy, plush red love seat, a hot cup of tea served in front of him by none other than his brother. The two were lost in their own chatter until you abruptly stopped them. Like a sudden storm you pounced on William, his red eyes widening in shock as he tried to calm you down with a sweet smile on his face. You bombarded him with endless questions - who could do something like this, why was it this messy, was the killer sending a message? - all of it came out at such lightning speed that William didn't really understand half of what you said.

It was wrong to corner him like this and let out your frustrations on the man this early in the morning. You knew every single person that died in these past few weeks, all of which were either minor annoyances or massive obstacles in your day to day life.

When it came down to it, their only connection was with you.

Was the police going to come knocking at your door? It was possible! You had no involvement with the crimes but it was incredibly suspicious how everything was connected, like a spiderweb that was being crafted day by day.

It was difficult for William to keep his smirk concealed that morning.

Hours had passed since that interaction and he was back at it, his new victim. He incorporated the fact that you were most likely going to be incriminated in this scheme but it was still in his best interest. It was not difficult to tamper with evidence and blackmail people if need be and best of all, you would always come running to him, scared and worried, for both yourself and the people around you. It was beyond precious how you tell him to not go after sun down, how you made sure to check to see if he was injured or ill.

If you kept doting him like this, he might just slit the throat of every single person that steps foot into London.

[alexsoenomel]

The Apparition (Dean Winchester x Reader angst-ish/fluff-ish/smut-ish)

Summary: Dean can't sleep, until you show up.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: just...sad. Dean is sad+ light smut.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: I was sad and listening to Sleep Token. Fic inspired by one of their songs The Apparition (my personal favorite) . Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

He tossed and turned for hours before he eventually fell asleep. Every night was the same; an endless cycle of sorrow and sleepless hours.  He would be exhausted the next day, barely keeping it together, even after his daily dose of black coffee, and yet he did absolutely nothing to change anything. Insomnia became his friend and he was more than happy to accept it. His brother tried to talk to him but he didn’t want to hear the sound of your name – hearing it would mean he had to face the truth and he wasn’t ready to open that box yet. 

Not until you came back. Not until he finally saw you again and your name left his lips. He was drinking beer in his favorite pub, when he saw you, beautiful as always and with a smile so otherworldly he couldn’t help but smile back. Like a drug, you went straight into his system and he wanted nothing more but to get another hit, and another and another…

“Why did you leave?” Dean asked you after you ordered the same beer he was drinking. 

You smiled softly. “I never left Dean.” 

“You were never a good liar, you know.” 

You were sitting in comfortable silence, drinking cheap beer, Dean swallowing every drop violently, trying to numb the pain that started creeping in all of the sudden. Your taste buds on the other hand were dull, so beer had a peculiar taste of nothing. Almost like water. Bar music was playing in the background, but you were too fixed on his gaze to distinguish what song was playing. 

“I told you, I’ll be back.” You finally confessed. 

Dean’s eyes softened, his jaw was tense and hurting. He ignored the pain, looking you in the eyes. He missed those eyes, but something about them was different this time – they seemed tired and the spark you once had was completely gone. 

“Will you stay this time?” His voice was weak. He swallowed nervously when he realized how pathetic his words were. 

“Take me home.” You simply said. 

Dean still wanted to know the answer, but was also pleased with what his ears heard. Like an addict he was, he immediately took your hand and went straight to his car. You were wearing your favorite pair of jeans and his old AC/DC shirt – the one you told him you would give back, eventually. That day never came.

“Nice shirt.” He commented. 

“Thanks. I got it from an idiot.” You smiled and went into the car. Dean looked down with a smirk before opening the door of his beloved Baby. He missed you dearly.

The drive was silent. No music and no words exchanged. Just his hand tightly holding yours. He missed feeling your skin under his fingertips. Your skin was cold but still familiar. Your touch was familiar. 

“Are you cold, sweetheart?” He quickly glanced at you before looking back at the dark foggy road. 

“No.” You answered.  

The drive seemed oddly longer than before or Dean was just impatient. It was the most important drive of his life. He was finally ready to feel whole again. He was ready to let go and just let you take the wheel. He was growing tired. 

The night was darker today, no stars in sight and everything around you just blended into black nothingness. 

***

The bunker was cold as always. A familiar smell of old books and booze filled your nostrils as you stepped inside. Your home still felt like home. 

The lights were off so you assumed Sam was already asleep, but didn’t ask. Dean took you to his room – his hands felt a little bit sweaty. He was nervous. 

He closed his door before facing you again. Without a word, in complete darkness he cupped your face and kissed you, finally reminding his kiss starved lips of the touch that once was. They were cold, but too sweet to pull away. You kissed him back, your lips perfectly melting into his as your body started to react. The vibrations of your heart beat spread all over your body, legs slowly giving up before Dean picked you up when you wrapped your hands around his neck. Sometimes you’d wonder if he could read your mind; always knowing what you needed, what you thought, or if you were just two lost souls that already knew each other in every realm of the universe. 

Clothes started slowly falling down from your bodies, desperation taking both of your touched starved bodies. You were hungry and each kiss, touch and bite satisfied that hunger, but it didn’t subside. It was only growing stronger. 

He was on top of you, whispering how much he missed you, asking you if you were still his, secretly terrified of the answer. 

“Forever yours, Dean!” You would tell him every time. Kisses were sweet and loving, his fingers tracing every inch of your body, mapping it, even though he already knew every nook and cranny. Every mole on your body was a little star he desperately wanted to reach, every scar was a reminder of your strength and resilience and he couldn’t get enough of it. 

The kisses became impatient, deep, while his hand went between your thighs, before feeling your wetness through your underwear. A sigh escaped your lips as he was exploring your sex with his index finger. 

“Fuck!” He whispered, placing a kiss on your neck. 

You cupped his face with both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. Even in darkness he was as beautiful as day. Every curve of his face perfectly fit in the palms of your hands. He was made for you. He was made to love you, just as much you were made to love him.

“I love you!” You whispered. He wanted to say it back, but you swallowed his words with a kiss before he could tell you. 

He took off your underwear as well as his boxers before finally entering you. Soft moans filled the room as he filled you up. 

“Move, please!” You said, kissing his shoulder. 

His pace was slow at first, he was worshiping every part of you, wanting nothing more, but for you to feel comfortable and loved. You were his home, his sanctuary and he was like a guard dog – loyal and there to protect you.

Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades when the pleasure started taking you over and his pace became more intense. Messy kisses were placed all over each other’s bodies, praises from his perfectly pink lips escaped; how good you were, how beautiful and perfect you were to him… 

“I love you so much, Dean!” You said. 

“I love you too, sweetheart!” He said it back. 

But it was too late.

You were gone. 

His phone was playing the same obnoxious melody he heard a million times when it was time to wake up. He was covered in sweat, panting and his blanket was on the floor.  He groaned and snoozed the alarm. Your side of the bed was empty as he instinctively went to hug you, but only felt the cold sheets next to him. He closed his eyes again and saw you in that oversized AC/DC shirt and underwear with bed hair, calling him – wishing him good morning but only in the past. The future didn’t exist with you anymore. All the what if’s died. 

He couldn’t sleep anymore, remembering your absence made his heart physically hurt. He sat up, morning erection already gone and rubbed his temples. The whiskey from last night helped him cope but didn’t make the pain go away; instead it just added more to it. His mouth was dry, but he was too lazy to stand up and get himself a glass of water. 

“Fucking hell!” He mumbled. 

Sam knocked two times before opening the door. 

“Hey!” 

“Hey!” Dean said. 

The sight of his older brother broke Sam a little. Seeing him getting consumed by grief and losing control over himself made him feel powerless. Dean wasn’t someone who would ask for help, not even his brother sometimes. Sam knew he had to let him ride this one out by himself. 

“How’re you holding up?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Peachy.” Dean said, looking at him with an empty stare. 

“We will get her back, you know!” Sam told him. First time he actually dared to say those forbidden words. Dean hated false hope and Sam knew that, but he also knew his big brother and his abilities. They both cheated death multiple times so believing in the impossible was nothing strange – their job was the impossible. 

Sam looked down, feeling nervous about his brother’s response. The last thing he wanted was to give Dean false hope and make him mad, but this wasn’t false hope. For him this was a fact. 

Dean just looked at him and without a word went to the bathroom. 

And with that, another day of trying to find a way to bring you back from hell had begun. 

[ad-astrah]

Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.

[rosynanapen26]

GANONDORF X READER

I was in hospital for 30 hours and had to start writting the smut part while I was on morphine. Really great decision... 👍 Anyway it's my first Ganon fanfiction so I hope I wrote the character well. I Imagined Ganon in Hyrule Warrior while writting this.

Warnings: SMUT Dubcon (kinda, I just want to be dominated by that man 😳), lust potion and use of force (I like things kinky and hard sorry not sorry) I ain't into villains and bad guys acting like puppies, so don't expect fluffy stuff. He's a bad guy. Not the Demon King for nothing.

On AO3 as well

It's being three years since Hyrule fell. Three years since the castle darkened. There was no sight of the princess anywhere after the king falls. Rumors has it that an evil Gerudo man took the place of the late king and that was the reason why the sun was never in the sky, replace by black clouds, especially close to the castle.

You were always taking a walk in the shopping district of the castle, taking in the songs of the birds and the voices of marchands urging people to buy their stocks. Everything, you would buy it there. But not anymore.

With no more exchanges between the four cities, there was nothing to buy in Hyrule. It was a dead place no matter where you lay your eyes upon. You had to go by feet in Goron city for the spices, Zora domain for the fishes, Rito village for arrows, sugar canes as well as oil and Gerudo town for the fruits. Only apples were growing close to your home and it was getting dimmer and dimmer.

You made plan to get to one place each five days since the travelling was taking you two and a half. One if you were lucky to not incountered monsters lurking.

Today you would be going to Gerudo town to restock. You didn't dare go for some days after hearing more beasts were in the region. Hopefully today it would be calm. You changed for the heat while hiding your head from the gust of sand that were frequent and made your way to the town.

You knew you were closer when the dried grass started disappearing and the rocks made their presence known with their massiveness. They were huge. So big that they curved in the center, almost hiding the sun for any light to go through. And no sunlight in the Gerudo desert meant a chilling cold. Fortunately your clothes were warm enough to support the drop of temperature.

It wasn't warm enough however to keep you from the chill that went all the way through your spine. It seemed darker despite the sun hidden already and the shadow casted next to you gave you the affirmation you weren't alone. With small steps, you turned face to face with a enormous horse. His skin as black as charcol and his mane like fire. Your breath stucked in your throat when you saw the rider.

Ganondorf.  

You would prefer being embushed by ten bokoblins than with this devil. You had at least a chance of getting away with the first.

"What is a girl like you doing here at night?" His gruff voice made the hair on your body stand as his eyes stared at you in the darkness.

You didn't like the attention on you like this, especially from this type of person. You stepped back, hoping to skirt around the man. "Nothing that concern you, sir." But he moved his horse in your way, halting you as the animal tapped its left hoof angrily with a whinny. You almost tripped at its actions.

"I insist." Ganondorf got down his mount, the clacking of his metal armor resonating in the silence as he made his way to you. He felt something special about you and despite having his doubt about a mere hylian, he would get to the bottom of this. Just like the animal was, the man was huge. Some hair escaped from the shawl on your head, his own red free in the wind. "I think you know who I am."

"I really do not know." You wished he would leave you alone. Ganondorf was gorgeous in your opinion, yes, but a danger. An evil being. It wasn't recommend to mess or less talk with him.

He gritted his teeth. "Do not lie to me, little girl." He grasped your wrist forcefully and you let out a painful whine. "Lying to me is like spitting on my face. Showing dirrespect will get you nowhere." Your body struggled against his hold, profanities leaving your lips every second for him. His eyes widened suddendly when a light blind the both of you, but not enough for the man to losen his grip. "That mark—" A twisted smile appeared on his face at the middle triangle glowing on the back of your hand. "So the legend is true. It does exist."

Confused and scared, you didn't falter your movements. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes met, the claws of his armor leaving a gasp from you. "Let me go!"

"I can't do that now with you in possession of something so important." There was a pregnant pause as his eyes gazed over your form. "You could still proved useful after I've taken it." Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words.

"What—"

Ganondorf reached for the glow with one hand while the other was still holding you in mid-air. It felt like he was piercing your skin and you screamed, the light around you growing bigger. By the time the light dismished, your body fell limp. The triangle that was on your hand turned grey, getting a scoff from the man. He smirked nonetheless knowing he was closer to get the power he wanted and deserved.

"Just two more."

•°•°•

Your sleep was over when you were throw on something soft. The action making your body bounced and mind alert. The hair on your skin rose up when your eyes made out a figure.

How long was he there?

"Look who decided to finally wake up." He sneered. You jumped from the bed but a yelp left your mouth when you were held back, tangling on the side of the bed. A gold chain was on your ankle, great.

Your eyes glared at him after colliding with the bedpost. Anything to be far from him although you knew inside that wouldn't stop this monster. "You got what you want Ganondorf. Why am I still here?"

The man chuckled darkly. "Feisty, aren't we?" He started to take off his armor, only the armsets with the claws staying. When he turned around however, red flood on your face. He already seemed built but without a top? The man was buff with muscles, red chest hair contrasting with his skin color. Your eyes broke from the sight immediately, hoping the Gerudo didn't see that.

But, oh, he did. "Enjoying the view small one?" Ganondorf threw the armor far while approaching your form dangerously. His eyes slit, challenging you to lie to him again and that shut you up. It only left you angry at yourself for finding this evil king attractive.

"You will stay here to keep me compagny and do as I say. Better started getting obediant now."

Keeping him compagny? "So now I am your pet?" You murmured unhappy, yanking the chain in resilience.

Ganondorf smirked devilishly, lookind down at you. He sounded condescending. "If you want to call it that way, pet." He emphasized the last word. "But you will watch your mouth soon enough."

"Or what?"

The door knocked suddenly, catching you on guard at who it might be. However, by the smile widening on the Gerudo man, you weren't excited to know. A sheikah entered the room. They look at you briefly and then at him. "Lord Ganondorf, I had found what you requested." The sheikah bowed down, giving the man a vial filled with red liquid.

Ganondorf didn't even look their way, his amber eyes on the vial with a twisted expression. "You're still being loyal after all these years, Sheik. I'm surprised."

"I follow whoever is the enemy of the royal family."

"That'll be all." The Sheika left in a puff of smoke.

"What is that?" Your voice was hoarse from the anxiousness, your gaze between the vial and the man.

"Something to keep you in line. It will bring great excitement to you, don't worry." The Gerudo man thugged the chain toward him, resulting in your body sliding to the end of the bed like a doll. It's like you weight nothing. It got a yelp from you and a booming laugh from him. He gripped the ties harder, bringing your face closer to his after the man crouched. "Open wide." But your mouth stayed close. Ganondorf growled at your disobience, irritated. "Don't start again, girl." He grabbed your cheeks and pressed with his armored claws digging into the skin. "Drink."

You finally let go after looking at him. The liquid ran down your troat. Instantately you felt hot and lighthead. "That fast huh?"

You couldn't keep your eyes off Ganondorf, your silent attraction reavealing itself so easily. "I feel strange."

He positionned himself on top of you, chest in full view. "You understand the effects do you, princess?" That nickname was new but it didn't bother you much as it turned you on more instead. Ganondorf cut the clothes with the sharp tip before grazing your nipples, eliciting a loud moan from you. Your voice ragged and reaching for air. The man continued to massage your breasts. "How does it feels?"

"You bastard—AH!"

He smirked triumphally while sucking the sensitive part. His tongue was hot and moving fast against your nipple. Your breath quickened at the attention your body was receiving. You hate that you love this. "Don't stop..." You whimpered, hiding your face with your hand.

"What was that girl?" You were interrupted by his hand caressing your lower parts. "Mh." Ganondorf gazed down a moment, his grin larger. "You're enjoying this quite a lot I see." The squishing sound of your garment and the juices were making you even more embarrassed.

"Just...." You try to ignore his eyes lingering on you. "Please continue..."

"Certainly princess."

Your lower body was naked as the air caressed your pussy. The man didn't struggle to take off partly his robe, revealing his member pulsing in front of you. Your pupils dilated and your mouth opened. "It won't fit—"

Ganondorf hands grabbed you easily by the hips, putting you on his lap, just over his member. Your owns instantly placed on his shoulders to create distance. "You were so excited to continue this little game." His voice resonated in your ears like honey, earning another whimper.

"I—"

His armored hand grabbed your cheekbones with power while you watched him with a mixture of lust and fear. "I'm in charge here girl. Don't command me, a king."

The intrusion was sudden but weirdly not as painful as you had thought. Maybe because your juices were flowing and cascading down the interior of your thighs. "That's it." He groaned silently, closing his eyes. The man's hands moved to your waist, applying more force before bringing your down again.

Your gasps filled the room. You were shaking. "It's too much! I'm too filled!"

"Perfect." Ganondorf replied and smacked his hips into you repeatively. He grabbed your hair from behind, another moan leaving your lips in exctasy. "You're mine to keep." He rolled his pelvis, touching new parts inside you that made you see stars. "Your power is mine. All of you—" He growled, changing position so you were now crouched on top of him, his arms snaking around your body and entering deeper than he had previously. "Is mine."

Your eyes rolled to the back, tongue out and sweat running down your body. "More....More please." You whimpered, shaking.

The movement stopped suddenly as his grip on you losened. You watched him with confusion and despair. You were so close! "Why are you stopping?" Your hands were on his pecks, his breathing moving your whole body to the ryththm.

"Oh, don't worry, princess. We are far from finished." He explained smugly. You were roughly switched on your stomach, your eyes half-lidded from the potion and the pleasure. Ganondorf fondled with your buttcheeks and you were vocal again after metal slapped the flesh.

"Ah!"

The man hips collided with your back, the new intrusion farther inside you. He gripped one arm, arching your body towards him while the other hand rest on the redened flesh. "How do you feel?" He huffed, his pelvis either creating round movements or entering forcefully, eliciting shocks across your body. "I sense your lust from your part of the triforce." He groaned, slapping harder but slower.

"I can't feel like this—I can't—" You mumbled inconherently and before you knew it, white filled your vision.

You rested there on the bed, panting and disheveled as Ganondorf looked over at you one last time then left the room laughing with an evil smile on his lips.

[mggsv]

THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF CHOSO ! ✭ <idol!choso>

f! poc!black reader x Choso (18+)

summary : they say never meet your idols..well, some people just talk out of their ass don’t they?

'Cause when the stars align

You might bring the beast out

One look and your're mine

Keep your eyes on me.

“God they’re amazing in person.” You let out a breath. Sitting front row at your favorite group’s concert was truly a dream come true. They were called ‘GROUP XO’, consisting of three members: Suguru Geto, Gojo Satoru, and Choso Kamo. You’ve loved the group ever since they debuted. You’ve had countless merch others couldn’t find anywhere else. Thank the stars your parents loved you enough to buy them at the time.

What particularly caught your interest was the main lead of the group, Choso Kamo. They all had their moments and shine, yes. You’re a girl, you’ve liked all of them at some point. With your signed cd’s of Geto’s name written across them, your signed Vinyls with Gojo’s and a little personal note ending with a heart (that was a bit more expensive then you’d like to admit), and your rare photo cards of Choso that only came with first edition purchases of their latest EP. The thought made your heart warm. Back to Choso however.

He wasn’t a womanizer, no, but he did date a few women in his career time. All of them like you, beautiful brown women of color. It wasn’t often seeing someone like that especially in groups like his. And it also meant you had a chance. You’ve been plotting to meet the man since they debuted. Discovering the group your junior year of college.

And now, there you were. Hard work paying off, sitting front row as Choso’s ringed fingers held the microphone. He rocked to the beat, eyes shut as he sang one of your favorite songs. You moved accordingly to it as you have done just the night before in your kitchen. You admired him so much more now that you could possibly touch him. How his hair looked more softer than it did in person. How he wore it to the back with hairs falling over his face..His scar across his nose. The way his eyes peeled open and landed on you.

“He’s looking at me!” you heard someone scream next to you. But no..they were definitely on you. He smirks and walks closer to the edge of the stage.

I'll take you down, down can you keep it up all night

Up all night, up all night?

Want you run run run baby give me what I like

He’s in front of you, doing the respected choreography. “Oh my fucking god.” You whisper.

“You here for me?” He asks. Bodies. Hands pulling at him and he’s talking to you. It was common. Gojo did it their last concert, and Geto the one before. But as they sang backup, the spotlight was on you being lucky tonight. “..yes.”

“Aren’t I a lucky man tonight. Huh folks?” the crowd goes wild. You loved that they interacted with their fans this.. close. Your brown eyes stare up at his darker ones. He smiles at you, and reality hit. “Oh my god,” you whisper again, earning a chuckle from him as he pulled out a vip pass from his pocket. “Will I see you later?” No. Hell no.

“Yes..y-yes-oh!” You mewl around his hand covering your mouth, free of rings. Choso’s other hand held the arm of the couch, shielding your body from the world. His cock slams angrily into your juicy cunt, your ass connecting with his happy trail. “Fuck..fuck you feel so good.” He shudders, flicking his lip piercing. The sound of your moans and the sounds of your skin slapping together sent him over the edge.

His favorite position with his new favorite girl. Everyone knew after all that Choso didn’t choose a fan often. He knew he’d keep you in his corner. Someone so beautiful he couldn’t help it, picking you so early in the show. Even Gojo was shocked, he’s done it plenty of times, early on in the show, but never Choso. Choso who saw you as soon as he came on stage. Choso who noticed you were alone, but having so much fun. Choso who laid eyes on your plump brown lips and it went on from there.

It was worth it, so..so worth it. Everything underneath that outfit was just as amazing. Your curves, your beauty marks, the beautiful stretch marks. He was in heaven. That’s what he called you as soon as he gave you that pass, Heaven.

Moaning softly, he pulls out, throbbing red cock leaking over your hole. He takes his hand away from your mouth, placing it on your hip- god your hips don’t get him started. Choso loved himself a thick girl. The way your ass bounced with every thrust.. “Taking me so well, I like that.” He leans down to kiss your shoulder. His hair fanned around your neck as he slipped back into your heat. Made for him. He fit perfectly inside of you.

“You feel so good…” A mess he was, but so were you. You couldn’t believe this was happening. “I’m gonna cum. Can I cum inside of you? Hm..?” His thrusts slowly down, but get harder. Sloppily he fucked your already fucked out cunt. You didn’t miss the way his slipped out and back in, how wet he made you just from that. How his big cock touched that spot deep inside of you. How could you say no?

“Yes! Yes Choso- please.”