#Light to Dispel Darkness

[dwuerch-blog]

Living on the Light Side

Our neighborhood is well-lit—motion sensors flicker on whenever someone walks by. It’s a comforting reminder of how light dispels darkness, both literally and spiritually. After the Christmas season time-out, our Women’s Wednesday Night Bible Study is well underway at our church. It gives me so much joy to be in a group of women of all ages, all backgrounds and mostly — all loving Jesus with all…

[watercraver]

I was in the living room/kitchen at 12:00 AM and I am at the point in my tiredness where I become afraid and I saw a collection of shapes in the dark that looked like a spirit and I was so very brave in waking up my family to ask them to disrupt the shapes so I could leave the living room without risk of injury or death.

[vickihinze]

The Garden Tomb - "Peace be still!"

I’ve been blessed to be inside Jerusalem’s Garden Tomb several times. I’ve seen the extra space hollowed out to accommodate a man of taller than average height. Stillness and darkness ruled in that place for three days while guards stood outside to make sure nothing changed. Except they could not stop life from emerging, or darkness becoming light. Death can’t stop life. Nothing can stop a…

[yzzart]

Okay! Hear me out! Dante's s/o has angel lineage (bc if there's demons, there must be persons of purity right?) But is a fallen one unknowingly because they're in love and actively dating Dante, who's Sparda's son!

COME FROM WAY ABOVE... ── DANTE

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: F!reader, daughter of a fallen angel, mention of divine and demonic creatures and Sparda, Dante being a flirt, puns and pick-up lines, light content.

⭑.ᐟ No person had ever, under any circumstances, heard, witnessed or distinguished the factual — or safe, depending on who was telling it — story of your mother; and, not wanting to admit a banal, perhaps clichéd impact, you decided to continue the credibility in telling it.

⤷ Living, throughout your childhood, with the narrative that was handed to you in an institution, carried out by nuns, by a beautiful and unknown woman was enough to dispel any questioning.

⤷ But, how much longer, being extremely risky, could the truth about the woman who gave birth to you being an angel survive? — An angel, unknown to the tales of the human world; being kept only between the so-called paradise and the underworld. — Decreed to eternal suffering, alongside man, and being unable to even say goodbye, properly, to you.

⭑.ᐟ It wasn't something new, unprecedented for you — just some factors that contributed, negatively, and fatally, to you suffering persecution, threats and unlimited demonic attacks throughout your life. — It would be worse, much worse, if it were from DARKCOM, right? right.

⤷ The recent case — or attempted attack — coming from a creature, in your eyes considered a true horrifying and dark brute, fearsome knew how to corner your presence; as always, referring to you, with an altered voice, in complete exhaustion, as “daughter of a fallen one”. — What could you do with that title? — "creation of an irresponsible angel."

⤷ Before you could try to fight back, to question, just like previous occurrences, bullets began to pierce the damned demon; despairing and cutting the creature — The shots didn't stop, and you feared that you wouldn't be hit. — And, by the goodness of gods, that could exist, you weren't.

⤷ The half-demon and half-demon hunter, Dante. — Had practically saved your miserable life, during the ironic moment when, possibly, your past would come to light. — The white-haired man, so bold, killed the demon as if it were the most entertaining and relaxed thing in the world.

“So, ‘angel’, huh?” — He put his pistol in his waistband, kicking his dirty black boots against the ground as he crossed his arms. — “Funny, how did you stay so beautiful even when you fell from the heavens?” — Oh, you didn’t know whether to laugh, thank or punch him.

⭑.ᐟ Could it be considered ironic, — very ironic — biting and sounding like a clichéd and tasteless joke about the fact that the son of a demon and the daughter of an angel had created a bond and, possibly, a relationship? — It could, but it would be met with gunpowder and unfunny puns.

⤷ After the incident, you started meeting up, by pure coincidence — or it was just Dante, trying to bump into you, while trying to reach you — and you were always greeted by jokes, puns or pick-up lines that exposed the truth about your ancestry. — and, as time went by, occasional encounters turned into official ones.

⭑.ᐟ Dante never forced you to reveal, abruptly, or want any statement, about your mother; of course he was surprised, he had never heard anything like it. — He thought that, in the world of the “perfect”, it was not possible for it to happen. — And he always talked about the confidence about his father; you could not compare each other's situations but you knew how you felt about it.

⤷ That didn't stop you from approaching, trying to move some information and showing little knowledge about the hybrid connection; a naive manipulation of light between shadows, — reflecting the dark side of the fall — learning to establish a kind of energy field, something not yet certified. — Dante, most of the time, was a witness to your crucial attempts.

⤷ And, deep down, being unable to deny it, he knew that you could be exposed, more vulnerable, by creating a connection with the son of Sparda. — Adored by some human souls, hated by others and decreed a traitor by the demons. — But, that didn't mean he would give up on you.

⭑.ᐟ Well, losing count, considered mental, of how many times your boyfriend created those damn pick-up lines and puns for you; it was no secret that you liked them, more than you should. — It was a way of relaxing you, in an admirable way and in his own way, which Dante took very seriously.

⤷ And, unable to resist expressing a conspicuous, serious expression, your lips curved into an exultant smile, turning into a hilarious laugh. — Ensuring that Dante's mission was complete.

“If angels really do miracles…” — He put his feet on the old, dusty wooden table as he enjoyed the slice of pizza he had ordered for you and him — “you can only be living proof of that, pretty girl.” — The half-demon winked boldly, which you had learned to like, in your direction.

[juliaridulaina]

Conjurs de la foscor🎇Spells of darkness🎇Conjuros de la oscuridad🎇

Existeixen els poders ocults, els poders de la foscor, però mentre es mantingui l’honor espiritual de pertànyer a Déu, l’Ésser de Llum, mai cap foscor tindrà l’oportunitat d’entrar al meu interior, perquè, ni hi queda espai per allotjar cap ombra, ni li permeto d’entrar. Davant del dubte o la por que pugui generar qui practica aquells poders obscurs, sempre posar entremig d’ells i nosaltres a…

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[iheartmira]

Heeey! I heard ur requests are open! Noice! Btw I ♡ ur posts! They're very creative and makes my imagination happy! └⁠(⁠ ⁠＾⁠ω⁠＾⁠)⁠」

So, idk if u would do this request... (İt's ok if you don't want to do it, it's completely fine!) But what if...

Y/N was a angelic, parental figure to Ancient/Beast Cookies that they adored pretty much and now they having a lovely reunion after a long time? I can imagine Y/N being a very huge cookie with fluffy and long white hair that's hugging their children and giving them comfort kisses on the head like every mother does! (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Also, THERE'S A ROBBER SQUİD ON THE LOSE! CATCH İT!!!

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く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~~~

"reunion" ancients/beasts & motherly!reader

✧ ✧ ✧

the wind carried a scent of old magic: faint vanilla, scorched earth, golden dunes, forgotten flour… and tears unshed.

you stood amidst the blooming glade, the soft earth barely enough to cradle your massive form. your silhouette shimmered faintly with divine light, long white hair cascading down like waterfalls of silk, brushed gently by the breeze. wings no longer needed, but still ever-present in memory, you waited, sensing the stirrings of hearts you had once held close.

and then, one by one, they came.

pure vanilla cookie was the first, golden staff trembling in his grasp. his soft gaze locked with yours, and shattered. he dropped the staff and ran to you like the smallest child once more, eyes wide and glistening. you knelt, arms open, and caught him in a loving embrace.

"my little light," you whispered into his hair, placing a kiss on his crown. "you still shine."

he hiccupped a sob. "i thought i’d never feel this warmth again…"

hollyberry cookie crashed through the trees like a storm, shield discarded, arms spread wide. "i knew you’d come back!" she shouted, tackling you in a joyous, crushing hug.

you laughed, a sound like chimes carried on the wind. "my brave berry," you said, pressing a kiss between her curls. "still charging ahead without fear."

next came golden cheese cookie, half sulking, half radiant. "you took forever, you know…" but her voice cracked, and before another word passed, she melted into your embrace.

"my radiant treasure," you murmured, smoothing her golden hair. "even the stars would envy your shine."

a quiet hush followed, broken only by the softest footsteps.

white lily cookie stood at the edge, hesitant. shadows clung to her like wilted petals. you reached for her gently. "my sweet blossom… come home."

she trembled. "i don’t… deserve this."

but you cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “you always did."

she wept into your shoulder as you held her, light dispelling the darkness moment by moment.

then came the rumble of thunderous footsteps: dark cacao cookie, stiff and quiet. he stood for a long moment, watching you, unreadable behind solemn eyes. but the moment you whispered his name, "my quiet strength," he knelt before you and bowed his head into your chest like a weary knight.

you held him tighter than the blade he once wielded. "you carried so much. let me hold you now."

behind him walked mystic flour cookie, ethereal and pale. "i thought i abandoned all desire… but why does seeing you hurt?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

you smiled softly, pulling her close despite her resistance. "even apathy longs for home."

burning spice cookie emerged like a flame reborn, snarling as if to ward off weakness. "pathetic weaklings, shedding tears over this!" he shouted, which you were beginning to think that was just his regular tone. but you only opened your arms wider, undeterred.

"you’re still my wildfire," you told him, planting a firm kiss to his brow. "always burning. but you don't need to burn alone."

he collapsed into your hold, a slight sniffling noise present as he trembled.

eternal sugar cookie and silent salt cookie were the next to appear. the latter attempted to act too tough for your embrace, but the former welcomed and returned it, making you almost concerned that she could melt into a puddle while in your arms. "wouldn't it be nice to stay like this forever?" she wondered aloud.

lastly, the shadows curled and twisted. shadow milk cookie appeared like a mirage, smirking with practiced flair. "you’ve returned just in time for the grand finale," he said. "though perhaps i’m not who you remember…"

"of course you are," you said, embracing him even as he flinched. "my sweet trickster. every mask you wear, i see beneath."

for once, the smile faltered. "you always did ruin my illusions," he whispered. and he let himself be held.

you gathered them all in your arms, a celestial constellation of broken, brilliant souls. you kissed every forehead, every crown, humming a lullaby from a time only you remembered.

"my precious ones," you whispered. "my children. you’ve wandered so long, fought so hard. but you’re here. you’re safe. and i love you."

a pause.

then pure vanilla cookie spoke, voice hushed. "…can we stay? just for a little while?"

you wrapped your arms tighter around them.

"for as long as you need."

✧ ✧ ✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

© 2025, iheartmira

[lady-luckk]

Can I get more magical girl content? I love magical girls so much :3

lights, glitter, action!!!

# pairings: yandere batfam x magical girl reader

# synopsis: you randomly fall out of the sky and into the arms of the batfamily. now you get to experience wacky adventures with them.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

thinking of a drabble about a magical girl (aka you) who crash-lands—quite literally—into gotham, face-first into a rooftop during a red hood stakeout. your transformation sequence sparks brighter than the bat-signal, and jason todd immediately points a gun at you before you finish your glittery intro pose. “i am celestia radiant, guardian of purity and—” click “you’ve got three seconds to explain the sparkles.”

“do not shoot that sparkly person,” dick grayson says through comms, voice full of older brother exhaustion. “that’s not a sentence i thought i’d say today, but here we are.”

you insist your wand only “dispels negativity,” which doesn’t go over well when you try to boop jason with it and his helmet actually falls off. “what the—kid, that thing costs more than your tiara.”

tim drake attempts to scan you with his tech. the scanner explodes in pink glitter. he blinks. “great. now my system’s infected with lisa frank malware.”

“i can sense your inner turmoil,” you tell him, solemnly. “do you even sleep?”

“define sleep.”

“when your soul regenerates through restful peace.”

“yeah, no. i run on coffee, spite, and childhood trauma.”

damian challenges you immediately and calls you “a delusional pastel distraction.” you politely deck him with a glitter beam. alfred bandages him while muttering, “perhaps don’t insult people with projectile sparkles next time.”

you enter the batcave and gasps, “so much repressed emotion... this place reeks of unhealed trauma!” bruce walks out of the shadows and deadpans, “welcome to gotham.”

dick pokes your wand, curious. it responds by turning into a cat. neither of them say anything. they just nod like this is normal.

bruce finally sits you down and says, “are you a threat?”

“only to sadness, injustice, and tight schedules.”

“...”

you’re officially listed in the batcomputer as “magical girl (?) – harmless (???) – very pink (confirmed).”

after months of you showing up to “aid gotham’s bravest hearts,” the batfam starts developing a crushing, all-consuming soft spot for you—like an airborne glitter virus of affection.

jason is furious about it.

“they’re weird, they’re loud, and they smells like vanilla cupcakes!”

“you mean the vanilla cupcakes you keep stealing from them?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”

dick develops a habit of dramatically appearing next to you with his shirt slightly torn. “oops, must’ve gotten grazed again. guess i need magical healing?”

“you’ve got twelve band-aids on and none of them are real wounds,” tim whispers.

“don’t ruin this for me.”

tim claims he’s above it all. “we don’t even know what dimension they’re from.”

“your made them a custom batphone,” jason says.

“for tactical reasons.”

“it’s shaped like a heart.”

“tactical. heartline security.”

damian insists he feels nothing. "you’re a distraction." but when you calls him “gallant” after he saves a kitten, he literally freezes. the kitten escapes. he doesn’t notice. he’s still staring.

bruce has, very clearly, stated:

“i don’t care about you personally.” completely straight-faced. like he’s reading a grocery list. everyone heard it. everyone quotes it.

and yet… every time you so much as glance at something remotely out of budget, he’s already pulled out his black card.

“i’m just funding mission efficiency,” he says.

“that’s a limited-edition 40th anniversary magical cow figure from meow meow doki.”

“you seemed interested. we might need it.”

you mention wanting snacks once during patrol. the next day, the cave fridge is stocked with every brand you’ve ever casually mentioned.

“it’s for team morale,” bruce says, not making eye contact.

“you bought six flavors of celestial-themed ice cream.”

“they were on sale.”

you say it’s cold in your room once.

bruce upgrades the entire manor’s heating system by the end of the day.

“old wiring,” he says. “dangerous.”

over time it becomes apparent that they’ve grown an unhealthy attachment towards you.

whenever dick spots you, he clings to you like he can't bear to be apart. he’ll throw his arm around your shoulders with a grin, holding you a little too tightly. “did you miss me?” he’ll ask, leaning in just a little too close as he whispers in your ear. you can feel the weight of his gaze even when he’s not looking directly at you

jason has a habit of “accidentally” touching you. when you're walking together, his fingers will brush against yours, lingering just a second longer than necessary. he’ll give you a low, almost inaudible chuckle when you flinch. “i know you don’t mind,” he’ll say with a wicked grin, his hand remaining a little too close to yours.

tim loves to stand behind you when you’re busy, too close for comfort. you’ll feel his breath on your neck, his fingers lightly brushing against your back as he "casually" adjusts your chair. “just making sure you're comfortable,” he’ll say with a tone that feels like more than just a comment. when you turn around, he’s already walking away, as if he never meant to invade your space at all.

damian doesn’t shy away from showing his possessiveness. if you're out in public, he’ll stand a little too close to you, his presence always hovering just behind you like a shadow. sometimes, when you’re sitting, he’ll casually rest his hand on your knee, as if to remind you that you’re his responsibility. “stay close,” he’ll say, his voice unyielding.

bruce doesn't need to say much; his actions speak louder. he’ll touch your arm with a hand that's just firm enough to be a reminder. if you're sitting near him, he’ll make sure his leg brushes against yours, the slightest physical connection making it clear he's always aware of your presence. “are you comfortable?” he’ll ask, his gaze unreadable as if keeping you within his reach is the only thing that matters.

something that i've wondered was what people did during those long ass magical girl transformation.

imagine this: the city was in chaos. explosions echoed in the distance. the batboys were in the middle of a high-stakes battle against a villain whose name they still hadn’t quite figured out, but who was throwing around enough toxins and lasers to give gotham a new reason to be paranoid.

dick was leaping from wall to wall, trying to outmaneuver the villain’s henchmen. jason was head-butting a wall, making sure no one tried to flank them. tim was hacking into a control panel, eyes flicking between screens like a caffeinated squirrel. damian was already fighting the villain head-on, his sword clashing against their armor.

then, a voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the chaos:

“hey guys, be ready—i’m just finishing my transformation!”

everyone freezes. like someone hit pause on the action.

dick paused mid-flip, hanging from a ceiling beam. “wait—did they just say ‘transformation?’”

jason’s fist was raised, but he didn’t punch, staring at the comms like he’d been told the laws of physics were invalid. “they’re really doing this now?”

tim blinked. “are they seriously transforming? right in the middle of all this?”

damian, standing with his sword poised and looking perfectly ready to end the villain’s reign, sighed audibly. “this is… highly inefficient.”

but he didn’t move a muscle. not even to attack. he was waiting.

bruce, who had been silently observing the chaos and directing the others via comms, sighed too—his voice just low enough to avoid detection. “if we’re waiting, then wait. no need to rush this. hold positions. let’s see how long this takes.”

there was no mistaking it. he was as much a part of this ridiculous ritual as everyone else.

the villain, who had been watching the absurdity unfold, narrowed their eyes. “what are they doing? are they—waiting? are they—really pausing for a transformation?” the villain scoffed, clearly annoyed by the delay.

they pointed a glowing gauntlet at the group. “you’re all pathetic!”

but the batboys? completely unmoved. they were all still. all waiting. they were locked in place, every one of them silently enduring this ridiculous delay.

jason, gritting his teeth, turned to face the villain for the first time in a few minutes. “we’d love to keep fighting, but... you know. waiting on them.”

tim, flipping through some data on his wrist computer, half-checked out. “i’ll just optimize our schedule for the next one, but... they better have a good reason for this.”

dick was already making a list of things he could do during the wait. "i mean, it’s a whole process. at least we get a breather."

the villain, becoming increasingly frustrated, clenched their fists and began pacing. “no. i will not wait any longer!”

they leveled their weapon toward the batboys, preparing for an attack—but they didn’t move. everyone stood frozen—the batboys too disciplined to break formation, and you?

still getting ready.

there was another long pause. the villain shot a glare at bruce, who was calmly scanning the room, not even bothering to acknowledge the interruption. “are you all seriously letting this happen?” the villain snapped, voice rising. “i can’t believe i’m waiting on—”

and then it happened.

the unmistakable sound of sparkles filled the air. a soft chime echoed through the comms.

“magical girl transformation, initiate!”

dick’s eyes practically sparkled. “here it comes…”

jason let out a low groan, leaning back against a pillar. “this better be good.”

tim was frantically refreshing his mental list of everything he’d need to do to process this information later.

damian folded his arms and glared at the villain. “this delay better be worth it.”

there was a soft flash, a trail of glitter, and—there you were. in your full magical girl outfit, sparkling like a dream—the colors bright, the fabric catching the light, and your transformation complete in all its glory.

there was an awkward silence.

jason blinked, covered in what was still residual glitter from the earlier mishap. “okay, that... took a little longer than i thought.”

tim let out a long sigh. “i swear, the next time we’re scheduling this—everyone gets a 30-second limit.”

“done!” you announced, twirling dramatically. “let’s do this!”

bruce stared at you with a level of composure that barely hid his tiny sigh of approval.

“...now, we can continue.”

dick, ever the dramatic one, clapped. “absolutely worth it.”

jason just groaned and rolled his eyes, but the tiniest hint of a smile twitched on his lips.

“yeah, yeah, but next time, let’s maybe—i don’t know—not do this during a fight?”

the villain, now fuming, was clearly done. “this is your strategy?” they snapped. “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

they swung their weapon, clearly intending to take you down—but the batboys weren’t having it anymore.

in perfect sync, they moved, attacking from all angles.

you, of course, were already ready, using your powers to effortlessly counter their attacks.

the fight lasted all of five minutes after that.

once the villain was down, the batboys stepped back, eyes on you. jason let out a snort. “well, that was... something.”

tim raised an eyebrow. “maybe next time we make a better schedule for these things?”

damian just crossed his arms. “you’d think after all these months, we’d learn not to wait for their transformation.”

dick, flashed a smile. “what can i say? it’s worth it.”

bruce, just muttered, “next time, no delays.”

you, oblivious to their frustration and somehow enjoying the chaos, smiled brightly. “i’m glad you guys handled it without me!”

the villain, now completely defeated and embarrassed, could only mumble as they were carted off. “i cannot believe i lost to these people.”

and the batboys? they’d just endured yet another ridiculous chapter in their lives with you. but they all secretly agreed on one thing.

no matter how much it annoyed them… they’d always wait for your magical girl transformation.

[dwuerch-blog]

Christmas Turned Darkness into Light

It’s the most wonderful tiime of the year. Well, for some, it is and for others it may be the most challenging time of the year. I’ll admit I’ve been overreacting to all I need to do — the gifts to buy, the goodies to make, the activities and events to attend. BUT, for me and you, let’s get a grip, take deep breaths, and take one day or one minute at a time. We should really be singing “It’s the…

[sunshineangel0]

-control. ⋆｡°

pairing- mafia boss!bang chan x enforcer!reader summary- A business meeting turns violent when you—second-in-command of the Stray Kids Syndicate—break the nose of a man who dared to undermine you. The room watches in tense silence, but Bang Chan? Your boss? He’s amused. What starts as a power play spirals into something far more dangerous when Chan finally pushes back—and neither of you are willing to lose. genre- mafia au, workplace romance (???) word count- 2.1k warnings- violence (reader breaks someone's nose), powerplay, blood and injury mentions, implied dom/sub, heavy attraction, heavy make out, explicit tension, slight choking (light touch, not aggressive), strong language, bang chan being dangerously seductive a/n- part two of the stress relief series. that happens when i should be studying and procrastinate instead. part two

Blood smeared across your knuckles and your still perfectly manicured hands, a crimson testament to the chaos that had erupted. Whose blood it was, you couldn't be sure, but in this moment, it was irrelevant. The air hung heavy with tension, as if it were a palpable entity, and the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead did little to dispel the charged atmosphere. The meeting had unraveled into pandemonium, threads of order snapping one by one—all because of you.

Earlier, he had been sitting across from you, his voice slicing through yours, dismissing every word you said, treating you like an afterthought when you were the second-in-command.

"Look, sweetheart, we all know you're just here because Chan likes having a pretty face at the table."

"You should let the men handle this—it's not really your area, is it?"

"Tell me, does he let you talk this much when you're not at the table? Or just in bed?"

Now, he lay sprawled on the floor, a crumpled heap, his hands desperately clutching at his nose, which was clearly broken, blood trickling down his face. He groaned, voice thick with pain. "You— you crazy bitch—”

You tilted your head, expression eerily calm. “Crazy?” You took a slow step forward, watching as he flinched away. “No, darling.” You crouched down beside him, wiping your bloody knuckles against your sleeve. “What’s crazy is that you thought I’d just sit there and take your bullshit.”

His eyes widened, but he still had the audacity to glare.

"You think you can just—" You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up just enough for your lips to hover near his ear."I don’t think. I know." Then, just as easily, you shoved him back to the floor.

You stood above him, your breaths coming out in measured, steady intervals, your fingers flexing as if testing their strength. Your gaze bore down on him, cold and unyielding, seeing him as nothing more than an insignificant pest. "This was your warning," you had stated, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, I won’t be so nice."

And just like that, silence reigned. The room's occupants were frozen, eyes wide, breaths held, watching and waiting for what would happen next.

Because everyone in the dimly lit room could feel the tension crackling in the air, aware of what was about to unfold. Not from you, the one who had just thrown the punch. But from him. Bang Chan, the leader of the notorious Stray Kids Syndicate. He was the man you reported to, the one who held your fate in the palm of his hand.

Chan was currently leaning against the long, polished oak table, his arms casually crossed over his chest. His head was tilted slightly to one side, and his dark eyes were fixed on you with a look of unreadable amusement. He seemed unfazed, almost entertained, by the chaos you had just caused.

He hadn’t intervened. He hadn’t instructed you to take a seat. He hadn’t reprimanded you for the bloodied, crooked nose of one of his business partners, now gingerly nursing his face on the other side of the room. And that was what made the others shift uncomfortably on their feet, casting nervous glances at each other. Because Chan wasn’t displaying any signs of anger, and that unpredictability was unsettling.

No.He was entertained, and that was a far more dangerous state for him to be in. The room was thick with a tense silence, the kind that precedes a storm. Then, Chan broke it with a soft, low chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the dimly lit room. “Now look what you did,” he murmured, stepping forward with a casual confidence, his hands buried in the depths of his pockets. “You made them mad.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you locked eyes with him, your gaze steady and unyielding. “Them?” you questioned, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Chan's eyebrow arched in response, and he flicked his chin toward the man sprawled on the floor, clutching his ribs as he groaned in pain. “Your little punching bag,” he replied, the words dripping with a playful taunt.

You let out a short, breathy laugh, the sound echoing off the cracked, plastered walls. Then, with a fluid motion, you gestured around the room. “Well. I didn’t throw a chair across someones face when they got on my nerves like the last time” The edge in your voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.“That was very mindful,” you continued. “Very mature. And very stable.”

Chan halted just a foot away, his head tilting slightly as if contemplating a puzzle only he could solve.

He let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with an air of exasperation. "You love testing me, don’t you?" His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke. You leaned back in your chair, a smug smile playing on your lips. “And you love watching,” you replied, your tone playful yet challenging.

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching as he fought to maintain his calm demeanor. The room was enveloped in a tense silence, the kind that makes every breath feel loud. All eyes were fixed on the two of you, waiting to see what would happen next.

Chan, ever the master of composure, allowed a faint flicker of amusement to pass over his face for just a moment before he shifted back to his authoritative self. With a swift flick of his fingers, he signaled to two men standing like sentinels by the door. “Get him out of here,” he commanded.

The bodyguards moved with practiced efficiency, lifting the injured man to his feet without a word and dragging him toward the exit. Chan barely spared them a glance, his attention unwavering as he turned back to you. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a mix of amusement and intrigue that hadn't faded. “You.” His voice was firm, yet inviting, as he gestured toward the door. “Come with me.”

It wasn't a request. His voice carried the weight of authority, firm and unyielding. It wasn't a question. His eyes locked onto yours with unwavering intensity, leaving no room for negotiation. And yet—your lips curved into a subtle smile.

The heavy door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud that echoed in the quiet room. You stood frozen, your breath barely audible, while Chan remained equally still, his eyes fixed on yours. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, a tension palpable enough to slice through.

Then, Chan exhaled softly, a sound like a gentle breeze, and rolled his neck as if he were trying to dislodge the weight of the evening from his shoulders. "You're lucky I don't mind cleaning up your mess," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Mess?" you asked, your tone teasing. Chan chuckled quietly, a sound like distant thunder. "Come on, princess," he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He took a deliberate step forward, his shoes making a soft scuff against the floor.

"I let you do a lot of things," he continued, his voice calm yet firm. "But breaking noses in the middle of business meetings?" He took another measured step, closing the distance between you.

"That's pushing it," he added, his gaze unwavering, a mix of reprimand and admiration glinting in his eyes.

You hummed a low tune, remaining perfectly still, your eyes steady on his. "And yet, you let me do it," you said, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

Chan's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze unwavering. "I was curious," he replied, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes."About what?" you inquired, your heart beating a steady rhythm against your ribs.

Chan moved closer, reducing the already narrow space between you to a mere whisper. The air felt charged, like the tense calm before a storm unleashes its fury. "I wanted to see how far you'd go," he murmured, his eyes briefly flickering down to your knuckles, still raw and stained with dried blood.

You flexed your fingers, feeling the tightness in your skin, and tilted your head slightly. "Disappointed?" you asked, your voice carrying an edge of defiance. Chan's laughter was soft, a gentle rumble that seemed to echo in the charged silence. Then, in a voice so soft it was almost a sigh, he said, "Not at all."

The words floated between you like a whisper, yet their impact was profound, resonating through every fiber of your being.

Because this was the game you played with each other. The push and the pull, like a tide that never ceased. You tested him, throwing challenges his way, and he accepted them with a subtle nod, a glint in his eye. Deep down, Chan relished these tests, embracing the thrill of walking the fine line between control and chaos. He enjoyed the adrenaline rush, the challenge of it all. And he enjoyed you, the person who brought this daring side of him to life.

Your breath quivered ever so slightly, a tremor that betrayed the calm you tried to maintain. Chan noticed. His fingers, calloused from years of playing his guitar, moved deliberately but with a touch of hesitation. They reached for your hand, grazing your knuckles gently, brushing against the rough patches of skin that told stories of their own.

His voice dropped to a whisper, softer than you'd ever heard it, as he asked, “…Does it hurt?” The question hung in the air, not surprising in itself, but the way he asked it caught you off guard. His voice carried an unfamiliar tenderness, and his fingers lingered like a promise of comfort.

Because Bang Chan? He wasn't known for softness. But for you, he bent the rules, allowed a gentler side to surface. A breath escaped your lips, followed by a momentary pause as you absorbed the unexpected shift. Then, your lips curled into a smile, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between you.

"You tell me," you said, your words hanging in the air, charged with a palpable tension. It was as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for Chan's response. His eyes locked on yours, unblinking and unwavering. Time seemed to stretch between you, each second a weight pressing down.

And then, with a suddenness that left you breathless, he moved. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your throat with a swift precision, pinning you gently but firmly against the cool surface of the wall. It wasn’t a gesture of aggression but a silent assertion of control, a reminder of the power dynamics at play. His fingertips rested against the delicate skin of your neck, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath them.

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his lips, the corners curling upward with an ease that belied the intensity of the moment. "You like pushing me too, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble tinged with amusement. His breath brushed over your lips, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach, the proximity only heightening the tension.

In that charged moment, the air seemed to crackle with the authority he wielded effortlessly. And then, just as you braced for the inevitable clash, he kissed you. It was a deliberate, measured motion, a stark contrast to the chaotic fervor you had anticipated. His kiss was an exercise in control, calculated and commanding, as if every movement was part of a carefully orchestrated plan.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, seeking purchase, but Chan remained unyielding, dictating the pace with an unspoken resolve. His grip at your throat shifted slightly, his palm sliding down to rest against your collarbone, then gliding over your chest and along your waist—exploring, claiming territory with each touch. Your back met the wall with a jarring thud, but the sensation barely registered, overshadowed by the intensity of Chan's presence.

His other hand settled on your hip, fingers curling possessively, anchoring you to him. Your breaths came in shallow, quick succession, mirroring the rhythm of his own. Just as you attempted to assert your own tempo, to deepen the kiss and draw him closer, he withdrew slightly. His lips lingered against yours, a whisper of contact, his exhale hot against your skin.

"Be careful," he breathed, his voice a velvety warning that sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes darted up to meet his, a mischievous smirk of your own forming. "Why?"

A quiet chuckle escaped him, a low sound that carried a hint of mockery. His lips traced a path from the corner of your jaw to your throat, then to your ear, each touch soft and deliberate, as if imparting a secret. "Because, sweetheart..." His hand tightened on your waist, a subtle reminder of the power he held. "You’re playing a game you won’t win."

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

[twisted-affections-for-u]

Lost in the woods (pt. 1)

(Yandere!Werewolf!141 + Yandere!Werewolf!Nikolai + Yandere!Werewolf!AleRudy x injured!gn!reader)

Synopsis: Reader tries to walk home from a bar and is chased in the woods by a man with a knife. Unluckily for the man, the woods he is in is owned by the 141, Nikolai, and AleRudy. But lucky for reader as the men decide to help them.

TW: Injuries, blood, wounds, the man chasing reader is implied to be a k!ller, implied death, implied dead bodies, yandere themes, manipulation, gaslighting, werewolves, horror themes, no omegaverse, unhealthy obsessions, toxic love, the 141 + Nikolai + AleRudy are dating

A/N: I was supposed to write a Valeria x reader fic for pride but found the cod werewolf au and now it has taken over my mind. Feedback is apricated but please be kind! I have no idea how to write accents, so I apologize in advance.

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

It wasn’t often that they had an intruder in their territory, but it hadn’t been uncommon either. Kyle kept his guard up while keeping his footfalls light, not wishing to alert whoever was in their woods. They had picked a secluded spot after retiring to be left alone and far away from humans. Not that him and his boyfriends were violent to them, even on a full moon, but that humans didn’t understand them and would often end up causing flares of aggression to arise. His boys were rather dolce compared to most of the werewolves they had interacted with in the past, having been like this for so long and grown accustomed to hiding their true selves from the world. 

But now there was a threat, and Kyle was by himself on this one. His boys, having gone out to take care of various tasks, hadn’t returned home yet when the smell of an unknown human wafted through the forest. He could take care of himself just fine, but there was always safety in their numbers and that proved to be true time and time again. It could simply be a human who ventured too far off a trail while trying to find a spot to camp in. But if it wasn’t... 

The risk was simply not worth taking. He had to access the situation and dispose of any possible risks to his pack's safety. He could do it and make it back before the others returned.  

Atleast that’s what he thought, until a scream broke the calm silence of the woods. Every hair on his body stood on edge as he surveyed his surroundings, slowly creeping closer to where the scream had emanated from. Someone could have hurt themselves, twisted or broken an ankle with how dark it was. The taste of iron in the air quickly dispelled the thought of it being a clumsy human. Someone was bleeding and the scream was likely an indicator of the scene he was about to stumble upon. 

Kyle’s ears perked up and to the right at the sound of muffled sniffing and pained whimpers. His fears being confirmed for him as he peaked around a bush. Across from him, a human, who looked to have been thorough the ringer, had their back pressed against a tree. They kept peering around it like they were waiting for something to emerge from that direction.  

It gave Kyle time to survey the injuries. They looked to have gotten pretty banged up; multiple cuts and scrapes littered every available inch of their skin. The worst was their abdomen, where they kept their hand against a bleeding wound that Kyle couldn’t properly judge the depth or severity of from where he stood. He would have to approach the human in order to help them, except the human was obliviously petrified and meeting a giant werewolf would likely not make them feel much better. 

Kyle’s ear snapped from the human and towards the direction the human was staring in. The human attempted to muffle their sounds more by clasping a hand over their mouth and taking slower, yet shaky, breaths. Another human scent floated on the wind, this one reeking of the other human’s blood. They couldn’t see the other person yet, but they could hear him approaching. 

“Come out, little one. I promise to make your death quick.” The creepy man’s voice from the bar nearly sang as his steps grew closer to your hiding spot. You had made the dumb decision to walk home alone, swearing to your friends that you would make it home safe and that it was just a walk by some woods before you would be safely inside your home. You didn’t expect to be followed nor to be chased and stabbed in your side by a man who kept making more sickening comments the longer he chased you. ‘How sweet you smelled’, ‘how he loved the texture of your skin,’ and the worst; ‘how he couldn’t wait to carve it off of you.’  

You debated what your next move should be. You had injured him enough to slip away after he stabbed you in your lower left side. Unfortunately, now he was back up and still had his eyes set on you. He was too close for you to outrun, especially with the burning pain in your side. You could try to wait him out, the downside being that you were unsure of where you were and how to get back to the road you were walking along. 

Your musings were cut short, your arm roughly being grabbed and pulled back in an odd angle. You couldn’t suppress your scream of pain as you were dragged away from the safety of the tree you were using as cover. Your back was slammed to the ground, a boat immediately coming to pin down the shoulder to the arm that was just yanked. Burning hot tears streamed down your face as you attempted to wriggle away from the horrendous pain.  

“There you are! Told you i would find and catch you. Like a little mouse trying to outrun the big, bad cat.” The man taunted from above, his grin disgusting and unnerving. You were desperate to escape this nightmare. Wanted to beg for your life, wanted to see the next sunrise, your friends, your family. Hell! Anything else but the face of the man that was planning to kill you! 

Something seemed to hear your inner cries for help as one minute the man was practically leaning down in your face and the next, he was gone. You took in a deep breath before dragging yourself back against the tree. Panting as you frantically looked around for any sign of the man. 

Kyle was seconds for jumping at the man pinning down the poor injured human but was beat when a large fluffy body slammed into him, before dragging the man further into the woods and away from you.  

Kyle sniffed the air, relaxing slightly as he caught a whiff of Simon’s scent. He hadn’t heard any of them return yet; had they smelled the blood too before even getting into the driveway? He was unable to think on it look as a frightened gasped stole his attention. In front of the injured human laid Soap’s huge form, trying to appear smaller than he was. He could hear the small, dejected sounding whines Soap was letting out. Even though soap was trying to seem less like a threat, his display of submission wasn’t being perceived as that by someone who was looking at a weird human like dog. Kyle is surprised the human wasn’t screaming in fear. 

Thankfully though, Nikolai comes to join them. He gently shoos a whiney Soap while slowly approaching you. He kneels in front of you with his hands up in a show of peace. You try to focus on him, though it’s a bit hard with the MASSIVE wolf hovering over his shoulder and nudging him occasionally. He seems not to mind as he finally starts to talk to you. “Are you hurt?”  

When you keep staring at the werewolf behind him and not answering, Nikolai thinks it might be a good idea to reassure you about Soap. “He will not hurt you. Johnny smells the blood on you and wants to help.” 

Your eyes finally snap to Nikolai, seeming to still be on edge but more willing to listen. Your voice is quiet and shaky, but Nikolai’s heightened hearing let’s him hear you much easier than a human could. “Where is the man who was chasing me?” 

“Taken care of. You have no need to fear him; he will not hurt you again.” Nikolai states with conviction. He is unsure of what Simon and the others have done with him, but he knows that they will not let him leave these words. 

Nikolai reaches his hand out to hover over your arm that is still pressed into the stab wound. He asks, “May I?” and waits patiently for your response. 

After a small bit of hesitation, you nod and finally let up on the wound. Nikolai gently pulls your arm away from your body and rolling up your shirt enough to see the full scope of the wound. He gently puts pressure around it, causing you to let out a grunt of pain. 

“Hold on for me just a bit more, than I will be done.” Nikolai tries to soothe your cries of pain. Soap also tries to help, coming closer to you now that Nikolai isn’t paying attention to him. He starts to lap at your cheek trying to get rid of your tear stains. It causes you to let out a small lap. You hesitantly lift a hand and rub at Soap’s neck, that causes his tail to start to way. Maybe the scary werewolf was more like a dog than a beast. 

Nikolai pulls back down your shirt, looking off behind the tree to something you can’t see. He calls out to someone named ‘Kyle’ and you try to look back at what he is staring at. Only for your breath to catch in your throat as you come nearly face to face with ANOTHER werewolf. The new werewolf looks down at you, giving your nose a little lick and making you shriek in surprise. Kyle let’s out a small whine, but Nikolai, and you swear, Soap both laugh at the display. 

“Kyle, head back to the house. Tell Price we are bringing back an injured human.” Nikolai orders him, who complies without a second of hesitation. He takes off as soon as Nikolai goes back to addressing what injuries you have. He would like to stay and help but knows that letting the others know what is to come will keep any territorial instincts at bay.

[banananutmuffin28]

can I request for Se-mi x fem reader where the reader is one of the pink triangle guards? Where she protects Se-mi and helped her get out of the game by betraying the other guards.

First ever ask!! Ofc ofc :D

Player Se-Mi x FEM! Guard Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well…this became a lot longer than I anticipated! I hope you all enjoy!

Life has always been cruel to you.

And, you supposed you have been cruel back.

Your parents never cared about you, letting you wander the streets alone until you one day got lost.

You still remembered what happened, even though it transpired years ago.

It was dark out, and in the alleyway where you stood, not even the city lights could really dispel the darkness around you. 

Of course, like any child your age you were scared. Your hands had trembled, your lips curled into a sob, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents finally cared enough to rescue you.

But, that never happened, now had it?

You never were a stupid child; you were intimately aware of what horrors could unfold in this world -but you had never really, truly seen it happen firsthand.

Of course, that changed.

There was a clatter of metal against the dirtied cement, a scream, and then before you knew it you were face to face with a sad sod of a man. 

Though you barely remembered his words, you would always recall his hands-large and meaty-sinking deep into your delicate shoulders as he shook you with the desperation only a man in his final seconds of life could conjure. He was begging you to...save him, but from what you still hadn't known.

But before you could move, scream, or do anything of the sort, you heard a bang. Skin and flesh alike flew from his forehead, and his eyes rolled back to his skull as he suddenly slumped before you, coating your body with his blood.

And then, the man's limp body was pulled back, and as you cowered there in the dirt, you finally saw the face of the killer.

As he would later admit, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

The man readied his gun...but couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.

And so, instead, he gently ushered you to a black van parked by the side of the road, tied a blindfold over your eyes, and took you to the games.

He pleaded and begged the Front Man to let a child stay with him, arguing that you had no one left. And, in a way, you supposed that was true.

Eventually, the Front Man had agreed, and you would spend your formative years living with the man who saved you.

It was...certainly a sight to behold, watching a child roam the halls that, just hours ago, were soaked in blood.

And, when you were of age, you were granted a mask and an outfit. It was a triangle mask, just like the one of the man who saved you. 

In another life, perhaps you would’ve been happy, ridding the world of the trash with you and the man who had saved you.

But again, life struck, and this time it took away him too.

Apparently, he had spared a contestant he was meant to kill.

And, just like that, it was as if your world had crumbled all over again. At first, you were in denial. That man, whom you had grown to love as a father, was a ruthless killer. Surely they had misunderstood the situation? Surely, it was only a matter of time before he would've killed the player?

But, you soon learned that life had no time for your pondering. You would have to move on forward.

Your loss had...changed you. Soon, you would be known as one of the coldest of killers. You would spare no one, and relished in the panicked screams of the players.

After all, these vermin weren't human, right? And, those worms were what took your adoptive father away from you.

Not once did you ever question this sentiment. Sure, sometimes you felt fleeting sympathy, but that had never been enough to stop you from pulling the trigger.

You were a robot. You were ruthless.

But then, you met her.

The first time you two had locked eyes was outside of the games.

You were in a convenience store, buying some snacks and a drink for yourself. Hell, you were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even realized it was your turn to pay until she cleared her throat.

"Hey, are you gonna pay or are you content with keeping your head above the clouds?"

Her voice was...soothing. It wasn't gentle by any means, but something about it stirred something in your heart.

You scrambled back, nearly knocking over the bag of makeup items behind you.

You turned to her, cheeks flushed, trying to regain some ounce of dignity, but it was to no avail. People never talked like that to you anymore; they were either too fearful or simply thought you weren't worth their time.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a grin as she leaned onto the table.

"So...are you going to pay or what?"

You only nodded, too fearful that if you spoke you would sound like a diseased frog. Without even looking back, you slammed the necessary payment onto the counter and hurried out the door.

The girl was only wearing a standard employee uniform.

So how did she look so damn pretty?

Despite that lackluster first meet, though, you had always come back. When you had entered the shop the next day, her eyebrows had furrowed in surprise and a grin danced across her lips.

She set aside the plastic cup she was holding and made her way to the register.

“I hope you don’t run off staring at clouds again,” She drawled, running a hand along the buttons of the register. “What can I get for you today, beautiful?”

How your ice cold heart didn’t explode at that very second was beyond you.

The days passed into weeks and soon, you found yourself visiting the store—her—every other day.

Eventually, you learned her name to be Se-Mi.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi.

Her name dripped from your lips like the smoothest of honey.

You loved her piercings, her posture, and that damned smirk she always had.

She was so kind to you. You savored the quiet nights you'd spend with her out in the park, and whispered her name into your pillow before you slept.

Se-Mi had big, big dreams. Dreams of becoming a rockstar. Dreams of becoming a mechanic. Dreams of surviving this cruel world and making it out on top.

But, despite it all, you always kept her at an arm's length apart. After all, it was almost time for the games to begin. Soon, you would have to leave her to kill once again.

So, on the night before the first game would start, you left her a note on the convenience table where you two first met. You wrote of how you had to go, for your work was grueling and demanding, and you couldn't have her be caught in the crossfire.

You apologized for not meeting in person.

You never said goodbye. You couldn't. She needed to think of you as merely a fleeting presence, lest she catches feelings and finds out you're a killer.

You had planned on shooting your sorrows away.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw her wake up in the games.

Her? No, no, no, she couldn't be one of those disgusting vermin that plagued the streets. Se-Mi was so kind, so brave and headstrong.

She wasn't exactly well-off, but she couldn't have been struggling that much!

Surely, this was a mistake!

But, when you ran to the Front Man and asked him, he simply pulled out her file and handed it to you.

 It was not a mistake. In fact, SeMi was drowning in debt.

"I trust this won't be a problem to you?" He asked, leaning back into his plush chair as he swirled the liquor in his cup.

You swallowed.

"Of course not, sir."

The Front Man stood still for a moment, then sighed. 

“If you were anyone else, I would shoot you because clearly, this is a conflict of interest and we need to keep these games fair,” He finally said at last, shaking his head. “But…you have more than proved yourself to be loyal to us, to me. I trust you won’t abuse it?”

Your heart stopped when you felt his icy eyes on you. When you nodded, he smiled.

“Good, good. After all, I would hate to see you befall the same fate as 097.”

The Front Man motioned for you to leave.

“Do not fail me. 098.”

—

As you left the room, you could feel your heart racing. All of a sudden, it was so much harder to breathe, to walk.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced in your mind, though one drowned out the rest.

You wouldn't be kind to her. Your brief time with her meant nothing; after all, she wasn't human.

Right?

When you stepped into the area of the First Game, you could barely keep yourself upright. Your hands trembled, immediately flying to your face to make sure that your mask was still on. Your legs nearly buckled when you watched as Se-Mi enter the Red Light Green Light

The gun felt ten times heavier in your hands.

During the duration of the game, you would not shoot her.

Of course, you tried to tell yourself that you weren't giving her special treatment! 

Everyone trembled in the games; if you shot everyone who shook slightly there would be no one left to inherit the prize! You were still impassive, it was still equal.

You didn't care about her. You never had.

But...like most lies people tell themselves, it came apart in the quiet of the night. Your fear for her echoed in every beat of your heart, in every gasping breath you took. You saw her lifeless body in the shadows, watched as bullets tore themselves into her skin and blood ran down her wounds.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi. You couldn't let her die.

When the second game commenced, you could hardly suppress your nervousness as you watched her play Flying Stone.

It was a difficult game, after all.

And oh, when she passed through the finish line, you couldn't help but throw your hands in the air-much to the chagrin of your co-guards.

They stared at you questioningly, causing terror to sift in your heart.

During the third game, your eyes had met.

It was only for a split second, but feeling her gaze on you made you feel so...exposed. 

Your cheeks grew hot and your hands felt slippery.

You loathed how she looked at you, like you were some sort of monster.

Though, you supposed she wasn't quite wrong.

When you watched as Player 230 and his lackey dragged another man away, leaving Se-Mi alone, it felt as if your heart was breaking. It took every willpower in your body not to shoot them on the spot for doing such a thing.

Though, that willpower still wasn't enough for you not to intervene in some way.

After making sure none of the guards were watching, you waved at her in the shadows. When her attention turned to you, you acted. Frantically, you pointed towards a trembling duo in the far right corner of the carousel. 

The clock read ten seconds. If Se-Mi rushed, she could make it in time.

And, she did.

As you watched the door clamp shut behind her, a whirlwind of emotions appeared in your gut. What you just did couldn’t be chalked up to strictly following the rules.

You had helped her. You had tilted the odds to your favor by alerting her to safety. You had done the very thing the Front Man had warned you not to do.

So, why was it that you could barely summon any regret?

After Mingle had ended, you turned to leave, but stopped when you noticed Se-Mi trailing after you. Her arms were crossed together, and she chewed her bottom lip. 

And then, she gave you the tiniest of nods. 

Thank you, she mouthed.

You felt like your heart was exploding all over again.

For a brief moment, you thought that what you were doing was enough. You could oversee the games, and remain relatively impassive until Se-Mi was in danger, in which you could then give her a gentle nudge.

But then you remembered the next game.

The Special Game.

This time, instead of automated machinery, it was forks and fists. Instead of children’s games, it was pure, human violence. Instead of the threat of a bullet piercing through their skull, the only thing that would keep them going was their raw, unbridled rage for wanting to survive. Revenge would be enacted, and rivalries settled.

You couldn’t leave Se-Mi alone. There were too many unknown variables. Se-Mi never held back her tongue—it was one of the things you loved about her, in fact—but tonight it might also be what kills her.

Again, that terrible image of Se-Mi’s bloodied corpse popped into your mind. If she died, it would be all your fault because you let it happen. 

Fear flooded your veins. 

You won’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose someone else in this damned world. You couldn’t lose her.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the last of players were ushered from the bloodied bathrooms, you stared at the camera glued to the ceiling of your room. You knew someone was watching you on the other side, waiting.

Instinctively, you draped a blanket over your hands.

You couldn’t let them see how much they trembled.

Before you had meant Se-Mi, you never really cared about the camera in your walls. Sure, the lack of privacy was annoying, but in your mind, it also served as evidence to the higher ups that you were completely and utterly loyal to them.

In a way, they had saved you, after all.

But now? 

The way the camera was angled—tilted so that it could observe every inch of your room—made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the air was being choked out of your lungs. Obsessively, you grabbed your mask and held it up your face.

If you ran into the room and protected Se-Mi, you wouldn’t get another chance. The entire organization would be after you—he would be after you.

Were you really willing to betray everything you’ve known for a girl you’ve only known for months?

But then, you remembered the time you spent with her. You remember those starry nights, those quiet evenings, and those chaotic days that had you sweating with a stupid grin on your face.

Se-Mi made you feel alive. With her, you were no longer a robot, but a person, free laugh and giggle whenever you’d want without fear of losing face or risking a punishment.

It was then that intercom rang, its cheery tone a stark contrast to the indecision and uncertainty that broiled in your gut.

“Soldiers, please get ready,” It sang.

You let out a sigh and stood up, eyes trained to camera, to the Front Man.

Your decision was made.

—

 The stomps of the other guards echoed across the corridors. You stood motionless, a gun in hand, as you pressed your hands against the cold concrete walls hiding you.

Soon, they would realize your absence and a search would be dispatched. But, for now, you were invisible.

Quietly, you slinked to a shadowy corner of the room. When you heard footsteps approaching, you ducked down and readied your gun.

Within moments, you saw the growing shadow of the manager. You crouched down, waiting for him to turn, then—

Without giving your doubt any time to fester, you leaped out of the shadows and pressed the gun to his head. Before he could shout, you shoved him against a wall and pulled out the pistol from his hoister.

“Move, and you die,” You snarl.

You watched as the man stammered, recognizing the tell-tale sign of fear alighting in his eyes through the mask.

“Y-you! What are you—“

You clamped his mouth shut.

“Shut up and take me to the players.”

The man trembled in your hands and a choked gasp escaped his lips. But, with another nudge of your gun, you got him to move.

When he started marching to the double decked doors, you smacked his back.

“Not there,” You whisper, grabbing his collar. “Take me through the tunnels.”

The man stiffened. His lips twisted into a question, then froze.

He nodded, and began walking the opposite direction. 

From your adolescent years spent in the games, you had picked up upon your share of rumors. You heard of soldiers purposefully missing to harvest the organs of the eliminated, and you heard that there was a secret escape hatch hidden somewhere among the concrete walls.

But, what had drawn your attention the most, was the rumor that there was another way to enter the main lobby where the players slept.

A young, curious you had traversed through the halls and found that very corridor, though you soon realized that only a manager’s mask could open the door.

Now, an older and more jaded you stood in front of the same very doors, caressing the steel barrier with a new sense of urgency.

You had to move. Fast.

Already, you were hearing the beginnings of a brawl: A thump here, a curse there.  

If you wanted any chance of saving Se-Mi, you had to act now. 

Quickly, you shoved the man in front of the motion sensors and gestured for him to gaze into the center. It whirred softly, and then—

“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you knocked the manager out, and then ran into the tunnels. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t care.

The screams of fighting and flesh tearing bounced across the walls. At another time, you wouldn’t have cared, but right now, the sound terrified you to the bone 

Soon, you saw a regular wooden door and immediately twisted the doorknob. 

Immediately, you were met with the sight of utter brutality. Corpses littered the floors and blood soaked the survivors. Some screamed at the sight of you while others fell back, eyes trained on the gun in your hands.

“Where’s Se-“ You cut yourself off with a cough. “Where's Player 380?”

The woman closest to you fell to the floor. 

“Do…do you mean Se-Mi?”

Before you could respond, you sensed footsteps approaching behind you. Without skipping a beat, you turned and coldly shot the two men creeping behind you.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, you turned back and nodded. 

The woman stared at you, more frazzled than ever. Instinctively, she stepped back. 

“I…she should be over there,” She murmured, pointing to a corned of the room.

You nodded. 

“Thank you.”

As you ran, you tried to ignore the surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Most fell back when you aimed your gun at them, but some looked at you curiously.

You glanced back at the double doors, and cursed.

The cameras had no doubt exposed your location to the others. Already, guards were pouring in, guns at the ready.

You were running on borrowed time. 

You rounded a corner and stayed near the shadows. Then, you heard a piercing scream that belonged to Se-Mi.

Gasping, you bolted towards the voice. There, you saw a man shoving her against the wall, sinking something into her neck.

You didn’t stop to think about it. You shot him in an instant.

Se-Mi fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Blood was still flowing freely from the glass shard that lay pierced in her jugular. 

Fuck, you would have to take care of that later.

You looked back. The gunshot had alerted the other guards, who were now running to you, screaming.

Running in raw adrenaline, you hoisted an injured Se-Mi into your arms and zig zagged across the pillars holding the bunk beds. Bullets flew by you and one grazed your shoulder. 

You bit your lip, but didn’t make a noise.

“What are you doing?” Se-Mi demanded, fear lacing the edges of your tone. Her arms wrapped around your neck, angling her head in a way that rested against your shoulders. 

You stiffened. 

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

The second you whispered the words, you saw recognition flash in her eyes.

The beginning of your name was being murmured from Se-Mi, almost questionably, but the sound of footsteps approaching.

Cursing, you hid behind a pillar, and when their attention was drawn elsewhere you dashed to the corridor from where you entered.

The two of you were still breathing heavily when you set her down in the middle of the tunnel. You had locked the door, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you and broke in.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “A…are you hurt anywhere, Se-Mi?”

She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands together. Her lip piercing glinted in the dull light, and for a few seconds you were enchanted by her. Blood clung onto her tracker, and you knew she hadn’t showered in days, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

And then, she laughed.

Startled, you stepped back. 

“Am I hurt?” She wheezed, and you immediately cringed at your question. “Of course I’m fucking hurt. I have this bitch of a wound on my jugular and I’m covered with cuts. Everything hurts like hell!”

Despite yourself, a blush raged on your cheeks.

“I-I, okay, that was a stupid question-“

“Terrible, even,” She chimed in, the faintest of smirks curling at the edges of her lips. 

You nodded, “Yes, terrible and dumb but-“ 

You gestured towards her legs. “Are there any that would hinder you from running?”

Se-Mi frowned. 

“No, not really.”

You blew out a breath.

“Good, because if we want to escape this place we need to be able to move. Fast.” 

Gently, you helped pry the shard from her neck. It had stopped bleeding now, but it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound.

“We have to get going, now,” You muttered, and started marching towards the other end of the hall.

“Wait,” Se-Mi hissed, tugging you back. Her voice was softer now, but still held conviction. “Aren’t you going to…explain yourself?”

You stopped, dread pooling in your gut.

When you turned to look at her, you couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I…fuck,” You glanced at the door, fearful that it would break open at any moment. “Se-Mi, we should do this later.”

You swallowed.

“I promise that when we get out of here, I’ll come clean and explain everything. But, right now we need to hurry and run while they still can’t find us.”

Se-Mi stepped closer. She laced your fingers together and flicked your mask.

“Can you still take this off,” She murmured, tugging you closer. “I want to see you. Not some…pink clown trying to cosplay the Nintendo loading screen.”

You let out a snort. “Pink clowns? I’m rather offended.”

Se-Mi smiled coyly. “Don’t spit on your luck, honey, that was my nicest of comparisons. And besides.”

She paused, her face growing softer. “I want to see you. I…I missed your face.”

That blush on your cheeks was now a raging inferno.

 But, before you could reply, she added quickly, “Getting that letter really hurt my feelings, you know? I need to see your face again to make it easier for me to imagine giving you a nice, clean punch after all you did.”

You bowed your head. Despite the mirth, you could sense genuine pain hiding underneath. You knew you had a lot to make up for.

“I…understand.”

Tenderly, you unclasped your mask. Then, you slid down the jet black face covering, revealing your face to her.

Se-Mi gasped softly.

“It really is you,” She whispered.

Se-Mi cupped your face carefully, as if she was worried you were merely an illusion in her mind. You leaned into her touch, humming.

And then you felt soft lips on your own.

A gasp left your lips at the sudden contact, but then she kissed you again and suddenly all your thoughts vanished.

Roughly, she pinned you against the wall and laced your fingers with hers. The noise that left your lips was embarrassing. 

When she finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your cheeks were blazing, and you were sure even the tips of your ears and neck were tinted with pink.

Se-Mi smirked at you, and pulled you by the collar. Just then, you heard pounding on the walls.

“You sure have a lot to make up for me once we’re safe,” She cooed. “Put your mask back on and lead the way, beautiful.”

You nodded dumbly, and started running.

A/N: Oh my God. I still can’t believe this ask grew so much, haha! If you guys want a part 2, please do not hesitate to let me know! I hope you liked it!

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Caught In The Act | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, masturbation (f), use of toys, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, teasing, choking, power dynamics

Summary: A stressful week, a late-night release, and thin walls lead to her wildest fantasy—or is it reality—when her neighbour Terry intervenes.

Word count: 1.5K

a/n: chapter 4 of the reunion is underway but i'm procrastinating because writing a series kills me - i warned y'all lol 😩😩 but enjoy this nonetheless

The week had been unforgiving. Every deadline, every expectation, every passive-aggressive email seemed designed to crush her resolve. By Friday evening, she was a coiled spring of stress and frustration. The bourbon in her glass offered some solace, the amber liquid warming her from the inside out as she leaned against the kitchen counter. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough—to ease the tension thrumming beneath her skin.

She’d seen him earlier that day, crossing the car park with his toolbox in hand. Terry Richmond, the maintenance man for the complex, had a way of moving that felt unhurried yet commanding, as if the world bent to accommodate him. His low-cut black hair gleamed under the evening sun, and his stormy grey-green eyes seemed to see more than they should. He was a walking distraction, with broad shoulders that tested the seams of his work shirts and a voice that lingered like a touch.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the image of him. But as she wandered back into her bedroom, the thought of Terry lingered, simmering just beneath the surface. Setting her glass on the nightstand, she opened the top drawer, fingers brushing over the sleek contours of her favourite toy. Tonight, she wasn’t going to wait for relief to find her.

The dim light of her bedroom cast long shadows on the walls as she settled back against the pillows. The first hum of the rose-shaped vibrator sent a shiver through her, the tension in her body slowly unwinding as she focused on the sensations. Her free hand roamed over her skin, seeking out every nerve that cried for attention. The stress of the week melted away with every gasp, every arch of her back.

She didn’t hear him at first. The walls were thin, yes, but she was lost in her own world, her soft moans carrying through the quiet apartment. Terry heard them, though. Sitting on his sofa, he’d been nursing a beer when the muffled sounds reached his ears. At first, he thought it was the television, but when he muted it, the unmistakable cadence of pleasure became clearer. His brows lifted in surprise, a slow smirk curving his lips.

Curiosity got the better of him. Setting his beer aside, he crossed the hall, standing outside her door. He stood, his beer abandoned on the counter, and moved to his door. It was late, but curiosity—and something darker—drove him. He’d always noticed her in passing: the way her hips swayed when she walked, the curve of her smile when she greeted him, and those moments when she’d look at him just a little too long. Now, she was practically begging him to come over, her cries cutting through the stillness of the night.

 He could hear her more distinctly now, and the heat pooling in his stomach was undeniable. He knocked once, then twice, but there was no answer. The sounds continued, unabated, and something in him stirred—a mixture of mischief and possession. He reached for the master key on his keyring, rationalising it as a neighbourly duty. After all, what if she needed help?

The door opened silently, and Terry stepped inside. The living room was dark, the faint glow from her bedroom spilling into the hallway. He followed the sounds, his pulse quickening as he neared the source. When he reached the doorway, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re filthy, aren’t you?” he muttered under his breath, a dark chuckle slipping free. “Giving me this kind of show.”

He let himself in, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with something heady and warm. The sight stopped him in his tracks: she was bare, utterly exposed, her dark skin glistening in the soft light. One hand gripped the sheets, the other guiding the toy between her thighs as it hummed against her slick heat. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as soft cries spilled from her. Terry’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on the doorframe. He couldn’t stop himself; his free hand slid down to palm himself through his sweatpants, the sight before him stirring a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. His breath caught when she let out a desperate moan, her back arching.

She was close—he could tell by the way her body tensed, the way her cries grew higher, needier. He stepped further into the room, his presence finally cutting through her haze of pleasure.

“I knew you were keeping something sweet behind these walls,” he finally said, his voice teasing, cutting through the haze of her pleasure. “But this? You’ve been keeping this from me? Naughty girl.”

“Enjoying yourself?” His voice was low, rough, and it hit her like a jolt of electricity.

Her eyes flew open, and she scrambled to cover herself, mortification colouring her cheeks. “T-Terry?” she stammered, reaching for the nearest blanket.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Don’t,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm. “You’re going to ruin the view.”

She froze, her heart pounding. He moved to the edge of the bed, towering over her, his presence overwhelming. “You know there’s more to my job than being the handyman, right?” he murmured, his tone laced with innuendo. “If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, words failing her as he stepped closer. His gaze raked over her, dark and intent, and she felt exposed in more than one way.

“Now,” he continued, his voice laced with amusement, “you’ve got two options. I can stand here, and you can finish putting on that little show for me. Or,” he leaned down, his face inches from hers, “I can really make you feel good. Your choice.”

Her breath hitched, her body betraying her as his words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her. Her thighs clenching instinctively. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded, her lips parted.

“Good girl,” he purred, his hand sliding up to her throat, applying the faintest pressure. “You like that? Being handled like this?”

A whimper escaped her lips, and he smirked, leaning down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He tasted of beer and sin, his tongue dominating hers as he pressed her into the mattress. His hand trailed down her body, teasing, until he found the vibrator still buzzing against her clit.

“You can’t handle it, can you?” he taunted, his voice a growl against her ear. “You’re shaking, but you’re not begging me to stop, are you?”

He alternated between the toy and his fingers, driving her to the brink again and again. With the sheets soaked, her thighs trembling and tears pricking her eyes, he finally relented, pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. He positioned himself between her legs, his dick thick and hard as he slid into her, inch by agonising inch.

Her nails dug into his arms as he began to move, each thrust deliberate and punishing. He pinned her wrists above her head, his grip firm but not painful, and growled, “You’ve been doing this with me right next door? Thinking about me while you fuck yourself? Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you don’t need to be by yourself again.”

His eyes never leaving hers. “Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me.”

The night unfolded in a haze of pleasure and command, Terry’s touch igniting every nerve in her body. He teased her relentlessly, alternating between strokes, his mouth and the toy, pushing her to the brink again and again. His voice was a constant, low rumble in her ear, praising her, taunting her, claiming her.

He took her body as if he owned it, she was a trembling mess, every nerve alight with overstimulation. The world narrowed to the feel of him, the weight of his body, the rough timbre of his voice as he murmured filthy promises against her skin. His rhythm grew relentless, his hand sliding to her throat again as his other thumb circled her clit. When she shattered around him, crying out his name, he followed, spilling into her with a low, guttural groan.

The room was shrouded by silence except for their ragged breathing. But just as the pleasure began to fade, she woke with a gasp, her hand buried between her legs and the vibrator buzzing against her clit. Her chest heaved as she came back to herself, the haze lifting—and with it, reality came crashing in.

She wasn’t in Terry’s arms. She was alone, sprawled on her bed, the toy still humming weakly in her hand. Her climax had been real, but the rest? A vivid, all-consuming dream. She blinked, disoriented, her heart still racing as the echoes of her fantasy lingered.

A knock at the door shattered the quiet, and her breath caught. Pulling on her robe, she padded to the door, her pulse pounding in her ears. When she opened it, Terry stood there, a familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Evening,” he drawled, his eyes sweeping over her. “Everything alright in there?”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Her heart thundered in her chest as she met his gaze, her fantasy and reality colliding in a way that left her breathless. Maybe reality was about to be even better than the dream…

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo (i am behind on editing the taglist because there's a few more people who want to be added to it but let me know if you wanna join it as well)

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

A SECOND CHANCE

Chishiya x Reader

TW: Angst

------

"Where are you going now?" Chishiya asked from his spot behind the desk, not lifting his gaze from whatever invention he was currently working on.

"To Kuina's room. We're going to hang out since you're ignoring me," Y/N teased as she finished packing her backpack.

Chishiya raised an almost imperceptible eyebrow, still rummaging through the wires of the open walkie-talkie on the table.

The sound of the backpack's zipper closing made him lift his head, just in time to see her rushing out of the room. If it weren’t for the fact that he trusted Kuina, he might have started worrying that his girlfriend was leaving him for someone else—a fear that was becoming increasingly persistent during his lonely hours or when he saw her return after countless hours with a stupid smile on her face and sighs of longing. All that was missing was for her to start talking about how amazing the other woman was and how much she enjoyed spending time with her.

He knew Y/N spoke more to herself, thinking he wasn’t paying attention, when in reality, he absorbed every word, letting them sink into his soul and plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Doubts that were often dispelled with a soft kiss on the cheek and a promise to spend the next day together—a promise that never came to fruition. It was almost a tacit agreement between them: there was no need to be together all day to prove their love. They loved each other, and they knew it. That should be enough—or at least, it was supposed to be.

Chishiya sighed and stood up from the table. The screech of the chair dragging against the floor made him shiver. He stood still for a moment, his gaze fixed on his unfinished project, then took a deep breath and let his feet lead the way as he left the room with heavy steps.

He reached Kuina’s room and raised a fist to knock on the door. He froze mid-air when the voices behind the door grew louder. He sharpened his ears.

"What am I supposed to do if he doesn’t pay attention to me? He’s just like that," Y/N’s voice rang out, with a hint of frustration in her tone.

"Honestly? You should leave him. It’s not like he deserves you anyway," Kuina’s voice was unmistakable.

"Maybe…"

His arm fell heavily to his side, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Was she really thinking about leaving him? Chishiya looked around frantically, making sure no one had witnessed his moment of weakness, and then ran back to his room, unwilling to hear anything more.

That night, when Y/N returned to the room she shared with Chishiya, she found it dark. Only the faint glow of the pool lights filtering through the window revealed the figure lying in bed. She approached cautiously and saw Chishiya’s serene face, deeply asleep.

She climbed into bed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb his delicate slumber, and closed her eyes, unaware of the cold hand that hesitated to touch her as she sank into the mattress beside him, or the thousands of demons that had taken over Chishiya’s mind, turning his thoughts gray and pushing him into a silent chaos he couldn’t escape.

Morning arrived early, and when Y/N woke, she found the bed empty.

Chishiya’s side was cold, and a sense of unease settled in her gut. She got up in a hurry and left the room, heading toward the dining hall. It was still early, so it was nearly empty. Chishiya wasn’t there. She stepped outside and made her way to the pool—it was unlikely he’d be there, but there was no harm in trying. She was surprised to see him sitting at the edge of the water, his feet submerged, his gaze distant. No one else was around. The soft ripples in the pool, caused by his nervous leg movements, lapped against the edges with a gentle splash that filled the silence. She approached from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt the muscles beneath her palm tense, and the movement in the water ceased.

Chishiya turned, locking his gaze with hers, and in his eyes, she caught a glimpse of something she had never seen before. Doubt? Pain? Regret?

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he replied in a hoarse voice. He coughed a couple of times to steady his tone. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you the same," she replied, sitting down beside him and dipping her feet into the water.

The sound of splashing filled the silence as Chishiya contemplated his options in his mind, finally settling on the one that felt most foreign on his tongue and made his chest tighten just thinking about it: the truth.

"Are we going to break up?" Chishiya cursed himself mentally for how broken his voice sounded, for how childish that question felt. This wasn’t like him, but for some reason, he became someone else around her—a person he never thought he’d be: a human with feelings.

"W-what are you saying?" He was startled by the fragility and concern in her voice. "Do you want to break up?"

Chishiya quickly raised his head to look into her eyes.

"No!" he replied faster than he would have liked, as if the word had escaped his mouth before his brain could process it.

Before him, Y/N was breathing heavily, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes slowly filled with tears that she quickly wiped away when her hand moved instinctively to touch his face.

"I heard you talking to Kuina… I know I’ve been busy lately, and I barely have time for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t… that I don’t love you." The last words got caught in his throat, coming out as little more than a pained whisper.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N’s hand rose to capture his and intertwine their fingers. With a reassuring squeeze, she encouraged him to continue.

"I’m talking about how I ignore you, how I don’t deserve you…" Chishiya wished those words had stayed locked in the depths of his heart, where they replayed constantly in his mind. Saying them out loud felt like tearing his soul apart.

"What? No!" Y/N let go of his hand as if it burned and moved closer to him, cradling his face in her hands. Her touch felt cold, he noticed, though perhaps it was the warmth rushing through him at her unexpected closeness. "Chishiya, I… I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about that new guy, the one I’ve told you reminds me of my brother… He’s out partying every night and then expects to perform well in the games and survive. I know his body will give out someday, and I don’t want him to die! He has so much life ahead of him, but he won’t listen to me, no matter how much I try to take care of him…"

He had stopped listening, captivated by Y/N’s face. He had missed her. He couldn’t remember the last time they had been this close, when he had her this near—so close that if he leaned in just a little…

He watched her lips as they moved while she spoke. His mind wandered quickly to the unspoken desire to feel them, to taste what he hadn’t realized he had been yearning for since the last time they had been this close. Without thinking too much, he leaned in. With his arms around her waist and hers around his neck, they finally closed the gap filled with unspoken words and lost time that had threatened to tear them apart. Merged in the reunion of their lips, time granted them a second chance.

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

----

Hi everyone!

I know I was supposed to post Unfinished Business Pt. 2 and Night in the Library, but I haven’t had much time these days 😅. However, this is a little piece I wrote a while back and never shared. Since it’s been a while since my last post, I thought it’d be nice to upload this for you. Don’t worry—the next thing I post will definitely be what I promised! 😊 Thank you for your patience and support! 💕

[poisonlove]

My request for Wednesday,

I didn't find any hair on your shirt

And?

Who's the bald girl?

This, but Wednesday does an investigation and concludes it's Bianca. And Reader has to deal with that.

A funny, fluffy fic!

If you don't feel like it, just ignore this please!

Keep up the good work! <3

Stupid jealousy | w.a

A/n: i hope i understood the request, Enjoy! Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Y/N slowly pushed open the door to Ophelia Hall, her heart light and a smile on her lips.

“Hey…” she murmured enthusiastically as she entered the room shared by Enid and Wednesday, letting herself be enveloped by the unmistakable contrast of bright colors and gothic shadows.

Her eyes immediately searched for Wednesday, her girlfriend, always immersed in the writing of her book The Adventures of Viper de la Muerte. Wednesday’s posture was rigid, shoulders tense, fingers moving swiftly over the keys of her typewriter.

From where Y/N stood she could see her girlfriend’s profile: a small upturned nose, thick but well-groomed eyebrows, full lips pressed into a thin line as if weighing her words carefully. Her brows were slightly furrowed, a frown on her face—the only sign of humanity in an otherwise controlled expression.

Her long black hair was usually braided into two plaits that fell over her shoulders.

“Hello” Wednesday replied in a neutral tone, eyes fixed on the typewriter.

Y/N raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in confusion, the crease on her forehead marking the puzzlement painted across her face. What’s wrong with her? she thought, confused. She’s been like this for a week, she realized. She blinked and her eyes drifted to the left side of the room, immediately noticing the absence of her girlfriend’s energetic roommate.

She closed the door behind her and walked toward the middle of Wednesday’s room.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been like this for a week,” Y/N asked, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she voiced her thoughts.

She sat down awkwardly on Wednesday’s bed, the mattress sinking gently beneath her weight. A barely audible sigh escaped Wednesday’s full lips, her muscles tense like violin strings. Y/N tilted her head to the side and watched her girlfriend curiously, the muscle on her neck bulging like a silent warning. Wednesday stopped typing, and the clacking of the keys that had filled the room moments before abruptly ceased. The atmosphere shifted in an instant: heavy, charged, as if something unspoken was hanging in the air.

Wednesday Addams rose from her chair and slowly turned to face her girlfriend. Jaw clenched, expression seemingly calm, but it was her eyes that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine: dark, impassive, a vortex of fire and curiosity. Y/N swallowed loudly and moved awkwardly on the bed, leaning back to create some distance between herself and Wednesday’s restrained fury.

With slow, deliberate steps, Wednesday approached, the rhythmic stomp of her Dr. Martens echoing on the wooden floor—the only sound in the room thick with silent, palpable tension.Y/N’s eyes widened, surprise and confusion painted on her face as Wednesday stopped in front of her. Wednesday’s right hand rested on Y/N’s shoulder, helping her to lift herself slightly as she swung her leg over Y/N’s lap, eyes locked on hers. A trembling sigh escaped Y/N’s lips as she felt Wednesday’s weight on her. Instinctively, Y/N’s hand slid to Wednesday’s side, fingers tightening around the dark gray fabric of her uniform, pulling her closer.

Wednesday kept her serious gaze while the tension in her jaw softened just slightly.

Y/N’s heart hammered fiercely against her ribcage, blood thudding in her ears, breath catching just barely, her eyes flickering over Wednesday’s face, lingering a second too long on her lips. She swallowed loudly and blinked, trying to dispel the fog of desire creeping into her mind and forced herself to focus on her girlfriend’s face.

Wednesday blinked, her upper lip curling into what looked like a restrained smile. Y/N noticed the freckles scattered across her girlfriend’s nose, her black eyes gleaming with something unknown to her.

Wednesday’s right hand slid from Y/N’s shoulder and slowly snaked down to her tie, fingers curling tightly around the fabric. Her left hand rose dangerously close to Y/N’s face, fingers digging into her cheeks, black lacquered nails gently scratching the skin beneath. Y/N’s breath hitched; her insides twisted pleasantly beneath the firm but tender touch.

She tilted Y/N’s chin downwards, fingers applying gentle pressure to her cheeks.

“I don’t see a single hair on your uniform,” Wednesday said in a cold, monotone voice, a trace of curiosity and fury evident in her tone.Y/N blinked in confusion, her eyes darting quickly over Wednesday’s face, trying to decipher what she was thinking.

"and?" whispered y/n

“Who’s the bald girl? What did you do with Bianca?” she murmured venomously, her voice so low and threatening it could scare anyone to death—but not Y/N.

Y/N’s lips stretched into a smile before she burst out laughing, the incredulity of the question amusing her more than she ever expected. Wednesday jealous of Bianca? Y/N mocked. Ridiculous. Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she gently pulled away from Wednesday’s grip. Wednesday tilted her head, eyes locked onto Y/N’s with an almost animalistic ferocity.

“Don’t laugh, Y/N.” Her voice was a whisper sharp as a knife. “You don’t know how dangerous I can be when you underestimate me.” Her fingers tightened slightly on the tie, her piercing gaze daring Y/N not to break.

Y/N stopped laughing, a disbelieving huff escaping her lips as she leaned forward. Their faces were close, breaths mingling, blood racing wildly from the proximity, stomach clenched in a knot as she dared to invade Wednesday’s personal space. Y/N’s eyelids softened as she looked into Wednesday’s eyes. Her hand tightened on her girlfriend’s side and she bit her lower lip, amused.

“I never thought I’d witness a jealous moment from the formidable Wednesday Addams,” she whispered, “and relax, darling, I’m not underestimating you—it’d be stupid of me to do so.”

She tilted her head, the tip of her nose brushing against Wednesday’s.

“Just don’t kill her, okay? There’s absolutely nothing between me and her,” she murmured, eyes fixed on Wednesday’s full, inviting lips.They were close, yet somehow still distant—their desire and Wednesday’s need to preserve her personal space making Y/N hesitate.

“you better not,” Wednesday whispered before pressing their lips together in a sweet, desperate kiss.

[catboybiologist]

One of the most interesting facets of the human body is the way our brains sometimes "generate" information. The brain can't stand being unstimulated, so lacking sensory stimuli, it invents or exaggerates stuff on its own.

It's like the blind spot in your eye, which is filled in by the brain. But it manifests in so many other ways too. Think about getting up in the middle of the night, let's say to get a glass of water. It's dark, and silent. So your brain desperately tries to fill in gaps of perception.

As you slide off the bed, you'll swear your ears are picking up the sound of your own footsteps, even if you're stepping lightly and without any kind of footwear. In this case, there's very real senses that your brain is amplifying, and maybe even misinterpreting- the pressure of weight on your feet being "misread" as something different.

The kitchen is a place with so many smell-heavy memories associated with it. As you enter it with your empty cup, olfaction centers in your brain will start going wild trying to create something from nothing to fill in that gap. Usually, the experience of this is a faint, almost metal-tinged scent, kind of what you smell on the metal slide of a hot playground.

Your vision is not exempt from this as well, especially in areas of high contrast. If the interior of your apartment is dark, and there's soft light coming in from nearby windows, your neurons cling to that. At the periphery of your vision, you might start to notice the light "dance" a little. Shadows will blend just a tad as your sensory neurons try to keep up with changing lighting conditions. Sometimes, your brain fills in this "movement" as familiar shapes.

The burble of water coming from the sink is a comparative sensory feast for your brain, and it almost dispels all other "false" inputs.

When the sink is shut off, though, your brain is going into overdrive. It just got what it needed, and it now expects that level of stimulation- so it's gonna start inventing all sorts of things. You might start to see those dancing shadows in areas for smaller contrast now- lights from kitchen clocks, color changes or art on your walls, indicator lights on computers- coalescing into strange, thin humanoid shapes that dispel the moment you look at them. Makes sense though- humans are what we see moving around the most on a day to day basis, and our brains just work on pattern recognition. They fill in what you know, and when you add more information by taking a peek, your brain settles down.

Walking back to your bed, you might notice that the footsteps that once seemed so loud now don't seem loud enough, as if the sound is falling dead before it can carry. The floorboards, which used to make you jump when they creaked, now make no sound. Your brain is slowly normalizing, and doesn't need to fill in those gaps anymore. Hopefully that will help you get back to a restful sleep.

You lie down back in your bed, take a sip of that water, and for a moment look at the room around you. As you slowly fall asleep, the last errant "misfirings" of your brain will come together in more "comprehensive" ways. The dancing shadows from your peripheral vision might start showing up in your direct line of sight. They'll probably look like a figure coming towards you, as those shadows occupy more of your vision. Pattern recognition is a powerful thing!

The last moments before you fall asleep are where your mind is going wild, trying to put together so many different inputs, both real and false. You might feel chills, or even a cold hand on your leg. It'll pull from memory as well. As darkness falls across your vision, the shadows may contort into the face of a loved one you left behind long ago, sitting atop a wiery, inhuman body.

Make sure to get a restful sleep, and ignore these stimuli. Ignore the feeling of breathe in your neck when you close your eyes. Ignore the feeling of your blankets parting as you drift away. Ignore the figure that was formed from those shadows. They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come morning.

They'll be gone come mo