#PROCEED WITH CAUTION

[cam3ron77]

[your-astro-mami]

For anyone wanting to get back together with an ex:

The period between November 21st to December 5th will have a Venus-South Node conjunction which is very plesant for reconnection, focus on past relationships, giving an old relationship another chance. However it will be making a square to Pluto so if the relationship was previously unhealthy it could lead to more damage. Proceed with caution

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted — Betrayal (Chapter Twelve)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach, but everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found. Not beta'd.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations

It's another long one 😬👉👈🥹. Oops.

Liam and Drake closely followed as the guards led Bastien into the depths of the Portavirian estate. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept; not a soul to be found other than those involved with Penelope’s homicide investigation. Neither male spoke a word, but both reeled in this blindsiding revelation.

The betrayal Liam felt was like no other. Bastien was like a father to him, always around when he needed someone, but now he wondered if he ever knew him. Bastien saw him at his lowest and protected him at all costs, but somewhere along the way he changed; he couldn’t determine when that shift happened or if his guard was that good of a deceiver from the start, and felt like a fool for not seeing his insubordination sooner. It didn’t matter what he said, nor how much he pleaded; Liam already knew he was guilty, but didn’t know the extent of his involvement.

So many unanswered questions ran rampant through his mind, but ultimately the one he cared about was, where is Riley? The scandal was no longer relevant; all that mattered was finding her and ensuring she was safe. Justice would be served to all who deserved it later but right now, she was the top priority. That wasn’t a new revelation, but the urgency suddenly skyrocketed.

Liam did his best to stay afloat, but couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. If Riley was still in the country, what did that mean? Was she being held hostage somewhere? Would a ransom note appear at some point? Is she even alive? The continuous spiral intensified and formed a vortex of frustration and confusion, enveloping him from the inside out. He wanted to scream and cry to the heavens, anything to relieve some of the never-ending tension slowly constricting his muscles. Every second that passed without knowing she was safe, he grew weaker, feeling control slip right through his fingertips. The never-ending vat of unanswered questions took their physical and mental toll on Liam as a monarch and man alike.

However, every ounce of strength that remained pushed him forward. The adrenaline coursing through his veins mindlessly carried him, as he and Drake walked in deafening silence.

They continued until they entered a dark room with a table and two chairs. The guards sat Bastien down on one side and secured shackles in place over his wrists, much to his displeasure. Liam took the seat that mirrored his, shooing the bystanders out as he did. Drake lingered close by, reeling in his feelings of hurt, betrayal, and anger. Bastien quieted, but his entire body went rigid after his former subordinates exited the room. Liam placed his hands on the table and stared at them for a long while, trying to slow the wild rush inside his mind.

He finally raised his head and spoke to Bastien in the flattest, calmest tone he could muster. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I don’t, sir.”

“First, let’s talk about Penelope. You and I both know she did not take her own life, so I’m curious to know how you came to that conclusion.”

Bastien furrowed his brow. “Not to be forward, but she was literally hanging from the ceiling… We found a note in her room, and she had every reason to want to do it — considering she was about to be arrested.”

“Right… Speaking of that… I want to see that report again.”

“Pardon?”

“The report — the one that says Penelope’s DNA was all over the murder weapon because honestly, I think you’re full of shit.” Liam hissed.

“I most certainly am not, sir. The documents are in the security office. If you remove these cuffs, I will gladly retrieve them.” Bastien confidently responded.

“That won’t be necessary.” Liam knew if he told the truth, Olivia would find them and if she didn’t, Bastien just caught himself in another lie. “Now, the next order of business — where were you the night of the jamboree? I don’t remember seeing you at all.”

Bastien stiffened. “I was doing security checks around the estate—”

“If you were doing security checks, how’d a rogue photographer make it in?” Drake interjected.

Bastien swallowed thickly, his gulp echoing in the silence. “... What?”

“You heard what he said — answer the damn question.” Liam snapped.

“She must have—”

“She?” Liam interrupted with a chortle. “That’s funny — because I never mentioned gender. Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I only took a guess — there was a fifty percent chance I would be correct.” Bastien calmly, yet firmly, answered with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not precisely sure how they breached the perimeter, but we’ve been working to strengthen our units ever since.”

“Right…” Liam nodded and forcefully clenched his jaw. It took every ounce of his restraint not to reach across the table and wrap his hands around Bastien’s throat because he couldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth.

Drake spoke again before Liam could act on his intrusive thoughts. “What about the Apple Banquet? Where were you then?”

“I was with His Majesty while he spoke to the Beaumonts. Someone alerted me to the body, and I immediately sprung into the proper protocol.”

“No, not when the maid was found — earlier. Where were you before that?” Liam demanded.

Bastien hesitated, but quickly fixed his features. “I was addressing an issue regarding Countess Madeleine’s security arrangements. Her old guard needed to take personal leave, so I had to find a suitable replacement.”

“... And she will vouch for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam’s frustration skyrocketed, as he didn’t know how to take that statement. The number of people he could trust seemed to only shorten by the day, yet Madeleine was never present, nor even an honorable mention on that list; the time to trust her word was not amid this chaos.

“Okay, then—” Liam started again, his agitation noticeably rising. “Do you know where Riley is?”

“I don’t, sir. All I know is she returned to New York, and—”

“How did you come to that conclusion, exactly? Because I’ve done some digging and found nothing to point to that. There are no traces of her after she left the jamboree whatsoever, Bastien; not flights, not vehicles — nothing.”

Bastien shifted in his seat. “My information led me to that conclusion, Your Majesty.”

“Well, your information was wrong, and I can’t help but feel you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but—”

“You knew she didn’t return to New York because you took her away, right? Is that how she made it out undetected? Or are you the one who assaulted her?” Liam thought back to his out-of-body experience and remembered the shadow lingering in front of her door. “Or did you stand guard while it happened? Is that it?”

“I did no such thing.” Bastien hastily replied, but cleared his throat and added, “What would I gain from any of this? Why would I give a damn who you choose?”

“That’s kind of what I’m wondering.” Drake inserted with a skeptical eye. “Look, Bas — I don’t want to believe you had a hand in all this, but it’s not looking good, man.”

“What doesn’t look good?” Bastien returned. “All I’ve done is look for her! I’ve been trying to help you!”

“Bullshit,” Liam seethed. “You know something and I demand you tell me — right now.”

“I know nothing, sir. I’ve kept you updated on every piece of information uncovered.”

“You need to understand something —” Liam's breaths turned heavy and his face flushed every shade of crimson. “I am not fucking around. This is your final opportunity — if you know something and do not tell me, I will serve your head on a silver fucking platter at the next state function. Is that clear enough for you?” He rumbled through clenched teeth. The hand he raised to point at Bastien visibly trembled, as the dam broke and rage flowed freely through his body.

Bastien’s eyes widened, and he visibly swallowed. He quickly composed himself and softly answered, “I understand the circumstances have been — tense — for everyone involved. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and —”

Liam slammed his fist onto the table and shot up from his seat. “Do NOT fucking patronize me!” He bellowed.

The door suddenly swung open and Olivia marched inside. In her hands, she carried a folder along with a few smaller items, but her facial expression was the picture-perfect image of unrestrained fury. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” She rumbled as she bore her eyes into Bastien.

Never could she have imagined the man sitting before her would betray them in such a way, but now they had proof; undeniable, unavoidable, but yet — incredibly unsettling evidence.

Bastien audibly gulped as he recognized the documents and all traces of pigment in his complexion vanished. With so much going on, he didn’t have the chance to dispose of everything properly. Liam and his group of friends moved faster than anticipated, and with their unexpected changes to the tour, he fell behind. The important information was extracted long ago, but what remained was still very incriminating — for Bastien.

Powerful forces expected him to pull off the impossible, but he was only one person — how was he supposed to fend off four people, plus a hired professional? Multiple ends that should’ve received immediate attention didn’t. Penelope ranked fairly high on that list, but his concerns got cast aside. His instructions were to deflect, deter, and stay silent regarding the madness; trust the process and your reward will be bountiful, they would say. Regardless, he didn’t want to aid in this crazy scheme, but had no choice — they knew information about his past nobody should have uncovered, so he found himself backed into a corner.

But as Bastien stared at the evidence of his transgressions, he realized silence would no longer be an option. He knew one way or another at that moment he was as good as dead; the question was would it be at the hands of his seething monarch, the man he practically raised, or the people who made his life a living hell to begin with?

Olivia rifled through the things on the table until she found what she searched for. “Remember when Bastien told you he disposed of Riley’s phone and her note?” She held both items up to show everyone along with her letter, noting how the guard immediately tucked his chin into his chest. “The penmanship matches mine, meaning it’s the same as Penelope’s.”

Liam forcefully clenched his jaw. “You lied to me?”

“That’s not all,” Olivia continued. “Bastien told us Penelope is the one who killed the maid, but that’s not true. Sure, the gum was hers — hair too — but the funny thing is that as it turns out, there are two sets of results on that knife.”

“There’s not—”

Olivia cackled, cutting Bastien off. “Don’t even try to lie. I’m holding what appears to be the real results in my hands. What kind of moron keeps the original if he’s planning on cloning it to frame someone else? Fucking nitwit.” She shook her head, distaste lacing her words. “Of course, we’ll have these confirmed for legitimacy, but considering who this one lists as the culprit, I can see why you’d want to cover this up.”

Liam snatched the documents from her and scanned them. His eyes widened as he went through the text, his jaw falling further and further the longer he read. Penelope's fingerprints were on the murder weapon, but unlike the last report he saw, this one went more in-depth. Her DNA might've been on the knife, but only one or two barely distinguishable smears on the blade itself belonged to her. However, the lab noted prominent traces from someone else located everywhere, but mostly on the handle, indicating that their person of interest should be whoever the second set of prints belonged to.

But Liam never received this report, and when he read who the database found as the owner of that second set of prints, he realized why he wasn’t shown.

“It was you…” Liam gasped, finally tearing his attention off the file to center his glare on Bastien. “Why?”

Bastien remained silent. He kept his gaze locked on the table, but the sweat forming on his brow wasn’t unnoticed.

“We know why, Liam. He was trying to shut her up because she spoke with us. And that’s why he offed Penelope too — right, Bastien?” Olivia answered. “Dispose of the loose ends before they can out you?”

“I did not harm Lady Penelope in any way,” Bastien stated with utmost determination, looking directly into Olivia’s steely eyes as he did.

“But you know who did, and you were working to bury that too, correct?” She quickly retorted, arching her brow.

Bastien clenched his jaw and looked away, refusing to speak, but he didn’t need to — Olivia knew she was right.

“You can deny those accusations all you want, but the next ones will be fairly difficult to talk yourself out of,” Olivia snapped as she produced another file and showed it to everyone.

“Operation Ghost?” That title caught Liam’s attention, and his mouth fell agape when he read it. He flipped through the papers inside and realized this was a meticulously planned mission, not a coincidence. While he spiraled deeper into the abyss, further away from reality, intentional carnage ran rampant within his court, and it was all a part of the elaborate plan from the beginning.

Someone plotted to hurt Riley and take her away from him, and that thought momentarily left him breathless.

“Apparently so,” Olivia answered, remorse cracking through her stony features upon seeing Liam’s broken shock. She’d already searched the file and knew what lay ahead, but didn’t know how he would react; it wouldn’t be good regardless. “Someone altered or destroyed most of this —” She paused to throw a death glare at Bastien. “But… There’s something else…”

“What is it?” Drake inquired as he and Liam took in her hesitancy, causing the hair on the nape of their necks to stand at attention.

With a heavy sigh, Olivia opened an envelope and produced a few smaller documents. She slammed them down on the table one at a time, directly in Bastien’s downward cast line of vision. “Here’s Riley’s ID, her passport, and even her goddamn credit cards. Now tell me, Bastien — how did you think she got to New York without those?”

Liam snapped his head over to her. “What?!” He snatched the items off the table and stared at the photo on Riley’s passport in his trembling hands, his heart rate taking flight.

His worst fears suddenly became reality, because he knew it would’ve been impossible for her to get out of the country without identification. This confirmed that Ray was right; she never left Cordonia. Of everything he suspected of Bastien, the things he knew and worked to cover up completely blindsided Liam. It hurt him in a way he didn’t know was possible, to be betrayed by someone he put every single ounce of his trust in.

Plus, had it not been for Olivia and Ray, he probably would have gotten away with it, too. The thought alone created a forceful swarm of guilt as Liam realized once again — this was what he ignored for so long. His breaths turned shallow as his mind took this new information and ran with it, automatically assuming the worst and with no signs to point in a different direction, he couldn’t find any strings of hope no matter which way he looked.

The waves came crashing down, sending him into an instant spiral of equal parts devastation and fear. He swayed on his feet, but eventually lowered himself back into his chair, willing the wild rush to slow.

“What the fuck is this?!” Drake exclaimed, smoke nearly barreling out of his ears. “Where is she?!”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! She couldn’t leave without this! You’ve been lying to us all along!”

“I did what I had to,” Bastien returned, his voice devoid of all emotion. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What did you do to her, Bastien?!” Olivia reiterated. “You can’t deny you know something — if she’s in danger, you need to tell us so we can find her!”

“I did nothing to her! All I did was escort her from the premises to the airport — that’s it.” Bastien huffed, immediately regretting the slip-up, which earned him a unanimous gasp.

“What did you just say?” Liam rumbled with clenched fists, his daze of self-hatred shattering on the spot.

Bastien hesitated but realized it was useless to redact. “I said I escorted her from the premises—”

Liam lunged for him without a second thought. He slammed his face into the table and held him there with all his might by the back of his skull. “So you not only knew, but you fucking helped too?!”

“I did what I had—”

“You son of a bitch!” Liam yelled as he lifted Bastien’s head, only to bounce his cheek against the table with increased force. “I trusted you!”

Bastien tried to respond, but Liam swiftly continued. “You have manipulated and made a fool of me for the LAST fucking time! I told you what I’d do, yet you still lied to me? YOUR MONARCH?!”

Again, Bastien attempted to speak, but Liam wasn’t quite finished. “This WHOLE TIME… You’ve known — you fucking helped — but you continuously led me astray.”

“Sir—”

“YOU DO NOT SPEAK OVER ME!” Liam bellowed, slamming Bastien’s head a third time.

A long silence passed as Liam securely held Bastien by the back of his neck, using more force with every passing second. He saw nothing but blood — everything that would’ve gotten covered up ran through his mind; the murders, Riley, and what seemed to be a never-ending list of other possibilities.

Finally, Bastien timidly sliced through the tension. “Sir, I’m willing to tell you what I know and what I’ve done in exchange for safety. If you do not ensure my life, I will be dead within hours.” He pleaded, preparing to meet the table again. “You have no reason to trust me now, but I will tell you what I can…” He emphasized.

Liam met eyes with Olivia and Drake, a silent conversation taking place. In all honesty, nobody cared what happened to him after the fact; all that mattered right now was getting Bastien to talk by any means necessary. Whoever wanted him dead was more than welcome to finish the job, but not until after he confessed.

Liam released him with a shove but never said a word. Instead, he strode back to the chair across from Bastien and slowly retook his seat. When Liam lifted his head, the pure fury staring back at him slightly took Bastien aback. The patient presence he’d grown accustomed to was long gone, replaced by a man driven to the brink of insanity. Those typically bright baby blues were now dark, vicious, and wild — nearly animalistic as his stare tore through Bastien. It sent a shiver of dread down his spine and made him momentarily fearful of his usually calm and composed king. His head throbbed, but he knew that would not be the worst of what he received — regardless of whose hands he suffered from.

Liam intently held his gaze for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw, but finally spoke in an eerily calm voice. “... Tell us.”

Bastien strode through the country jamboree with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he recalled what would happen tonight. A suitor would be removed from the competition, with or without her cooperation. The trap was loaded and ready to go; all they needed was the prey — Riley.

Bastien located Penelope in the crowd and watched her approach Riley. She was deep into a conversation with Maxwell, but Penelope slipped in and played the part surprisingly well. He recognized her shaky hands even from afar, but she discreetly slipped at least half of the pharmaceuticals into Riley’s drink, unbeknownst to her or Maxwell. He didn’t think that part was necessary, but the force beyond insisted it was essential so they would force her to her room before everyone else.

After a time, Bastien observed as Riley hugged Maxwell and headed toward the estate. He quietly followed behind in the shadows as she walked through the deserted halls to her room, cursing the creaky floorboards underneath his feet, but the woman he trailed didn’t notice a thing. Riley skipped, hummed a tune, and even did a little twirl; she had no cares in the world and had no clue that her perception of a fairy tale was about to be shattered.

As her door shut, Bastien took position outside, crossed his arms, and waited for the job to be completed. Everyone else remained at the party outside; it was his assignment to ensure the vicinity stayed clear. He knew who occupied the room neighboring hers, which only fueled the need to get this done and over with as quickly and smoothly as possible.

People spoke behind the door — the voices escalating by the second — but Bastien made it a point to drown them out. The situation could go one of two ways, depending on Riley's cooperation, and it didn't take long for him to realize she chose the hard way. Although he found it difficult to ignore her pleas for help, his allegiance aligned elsewhere.

After a time, a few gentlemen approached but Bastien allowed them access, as he expected them. He didn’t know who they were, just that they would deal with ‘relocating’ Tariq; his task was Riley. One had jet-black hair, while the other donned a baseball cap. They wore a matching dark ensemble, aside from the hat and one having thick, circular lens glasses. A holster of weapons surrounded their belts, making the hair on his arms stiffen. The pair went inside without a word, but Bastien felt their eyes on him as they entered.

The deafening silence hung for what felt like centuries, but eventually, they re-emerged with their cargo in tow.

“Unhand me this instant!” Tariq demanded as the muscles dragged him away.

“Not a chance, fancy boy.” The man with glasses snickered. “Got a special place for you.”

“I did what I was supposed to do!” Tariq pleaded, his tone changing once he realized the seriousness of his situation. “Please — have some compassion!”

“No can do. Boss’s orders were strict — toss you in a hole and throw those God-awful loafers into the ocean.” The dark-haired male snapped his fingers before adding, “I can leave the shoes on if you’d prefer — put some cement in them and send you both on a journey to the bottom of the Mediterranean.” His delight showed brightly, causing Bastien’s pulse rate to skyrocket.

Tariq suddenly planted his feet firmly on the ground. “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! OR WHO MY FATHER IS?” He bellowed. “You won’t get away with this — I WILL ENSURE THAT YOU—”

Out of nowhere, the male with the ball cap hit him with the butt of his pistol, silencing his tirade. Tariq slumped to the floor with his eyes rolled back, blood gushing from his nose in an instant.

“Thank you, Claudius. I couldn’t stomach another second of his useless ranting.”

“You and I both.”

“Get him loaded up — we’re on a schedule and need to move.” Claudius hefted Tariq on his shoulder with ease and quickly left out the servants’ exit. As he disappeared, the remaining man shifted his attention to Bastien. “So… You’re prepared to handle the fallout?”

“Of course.” He confidently responded.

“Are you sure? Because I don't think you understand how messy this situation could get in the future… And honestly? If the boss hadn’t enlisted little Miss Penny, this entire operation would’ve crashed and burned before it even took off.” He rolled his eyes. “You thought she would agree to this just for a spot beside the queen?”

“It might surprise you what people will do to get ahead around here.”

“Yes, but they’re willing to execute better with a little — added motivation.” He flashed a wide, sinister smile. “You should know better than anyone…”

Bastien swallowed thickly, his entire body going rigid. “I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“Of course not.” He snickered. “I don’t blame you — I wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re the one who mur—”

Bastien held a hand up. “That’s enough.” He spat out.

The male’s smile widened. “As I said, people execute better with added motivation.” He patted Bastien’s shoulder with a little too much force.

“Was there a point to this?” Bastien rumbled through clenched teeth, shaking off the man’s palm.

“I just wanted to make sure it’s one hundred percent clear — you need to ensure anything regarding this stays buried. If too many people ask the right questions before we reach the finish line and the boss has to get involved again… Well —” He grinned, baring his teeth. “That’d just be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

A chill shot down the length of Bastien’s spine. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me?”

“You may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that stupid — you know what will happen.” He responded, amusement written on his cold features. His almond eyes deepened to black, leaving Bastien momentarily speechless.

“I’m certain that won’t be necessary.” Bastien confidently answered after he regained his composure. His companion nodded with an eerie smirk but casually lingered around the door. “Is there something else I can do for you?”

“I was just wondering about Lady Riley… Where you’re planning on sending her since you received the — opportunity to handle her?” He nonchalantly inquired, acting as disinterested as possible. “Such a great honor you have… One I practically begged for.”

“The States, where she came from.” Bastien’s direction was to ship her back to New York as discreetly as possible. Even though the plan took a drastic turn, that was the one constant that couldn't change because otherwise, they would out themselves for taking the reins and disobeying a direct order. She would land on her feet, start a new life, and forget all about Cordonia. Liam would surely want to search for her, but all Bastien had to do was stall until the coronation, when their cover for removing Riley would come to light.

“I see, I see… Well, hopefully, that works out for her.” He smiled, the sight raising goosebumps on Bastien’s arms.

Before Bastien could respond, the door creaked open, and a hooded presence strode out. He paid Bastien no mind, instead focusing on the dark-haired male. “Let us vacate. The party is nearly over, and we have tremendous amounts of work ahead of us if we want to pull this off.”

“What about the court? We can’t go back to —”

“Do not fret, Anton… We have a plan… Trust the process; this is only the beginning. Everything will work out as it should in due time, but we must move — now.”

The pair quickly walked away, but not before Bastien heard Anton loudly whisper, “About that — pit-stop…” to his companion.

Bastien momentarily pondered that statement, but shook off the queasiness inside his stomach, concluding they must be referring to Tariq. As he stared at Riley’s door, a brief flicker of guilt traveled through him. Riley did nothing wrong, and he knew that, but this is the task he regretfully accepted. It was not a personal vendetta, by any means, but this clueless woman aimlessly landed herself in the middle of the nobility; she didn’t understand the untold, dark side of the court and its inhabitants, but would learn on this day.

Bastien cautiously opened the door and entered to find Riley on the edge of her bed, cradling her side. She snapped her head over to him as she heard his footsteps, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears when she met his gaze. He once again fought a wave of remorse at seeing her hopeful expression, knowing he was not the knight in shining armor she assumed he was.

“Bastien, you—you have to help me… Please…” Riley croaked. Her words came out slightly slurred, although it surprised him that the earlier sedatives hadn’t taken a harder effect.

“I’m going to, Lady Riley. First, I need to ensure you’re not carrying anything on you.”

Bastien assisted Riley to a standing position, which she slowly did without question. He didn’t know exactly what transpired, but she had a gash on her side, blood soaking through the thin hoodie she wore. With her permission, he checked the wounds, none of which were bad enough to seek immediate medical attention. Her face was littered with cuts, surely bruises to follow with time, as one of her cheeks was already tinted with a light purple. He started at her shoulders and patted down to her abdomen, but stopped when he felt something in her pocket and pulled out her phone. He nonchalantly slipped the device into his jacket, but despite his best efforts, Riley watched him do it.

“That is my property! You can’t take that!” She protested.

“I’m afraid I can… You are to leave completely empty-handed. Now, we have to get going — you have a flight to catch.” Bastien placed a hand on Riley’s arm to lead her away.

Riley firmly planted her feet in place, shaking away his grip. “Don’t do this, Bastien!”

“You have no choice in this matter and we’re on a time limit,” Bastien replied as he checked his watch.

“What about all my stuff?”

“As I said, empty-handed.” He didn’t understand that part either, but concluded it was easier to shove her on a plane with no items to accompany her.

“On whose authority?!” Riley exclaimed. When he didn’t answer, she reiterated, “Who told you to do this to me, Bastien?!”

“That is confidential information.”

Riley snorted, her frustration written all over her face. “Bullshit! At least be man enough to tell me!”

“Fine. You want to know who did it?” He held her glare, letting the tension linger, but finally answered, “It was Liam.”

Riley stepped away as if she took a blow to the gut, but her devastation quickly morphed into the polar opposite.

Riley laughed; hard enough that tears spilled down her cheeks. “You expect me to believe that? Liam? Of all people?” She shook her head, slightly bouncing from her chuckles. “You think I’m that naïve and stupid?”

“Believe what you will, that matters not to me but my instructions were simple, so we must get moving.” He stated, very matter-of-factly.

“Bastien,” Riley pleaded, any signs of amusement suddenly disappearing. “Don’t do this. I’ll just — I don’t know!” She cried, anxiety prominent in her features. “I won’t say anything to anyone — I swear on my grandmother’s life! Or–or we can tell Liam! Whatever got you wrapped up in this, he will understand.” She reasoned. “Please — you don’t have to conform. We can find a way out of this together.”

Bastien considered it for a second, but ultimately gave Riley a sad smile and nudged her toward the door. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but he remained firm. He quickly dropped her phone and the pre-written note he received inside her bedside table and went to the threshold, stepping over shards of glass from a broken planter and a bloodied garment.

Leaving her phone there meant it would be an immediate dead end for Liam and her sponsors. He would want to call her — possibly track her — but this ensured that door was closed before it could even be opened. It was a distraction tactic to keep the prince occupied until his reason for her departure would present itself to him, where hopefully, he would drop the matter for good.

Bastien held her stare for a moment before he cleared his throat, emphasizing the need to move. Riley hung her head and eventually slowly walked out the door, quietly sobbing as she did.

Bastien led her down the long hallway toward the servants’ exit, as their SUV waited close by. Riley was incredibly unsteady on her feet, whether it was from the earlier medication or her injuries, he wasn’t sure, but he held his hand out to steady her wobbly steps on multiple occasions. He glanced back and locked eyes with the maid he summoned to clean the area, and even with his dark sunglasses, he still spotted her apprehension. The interaction was brief as he and Riley reached the end of the hallway, but something in his gut said he would have to deal with that later.

Assisting Riley down the stairs turned out to be tricky, as she was in an incredible amount of pain. By the end, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way down. She didn’t yell or scream, not that it would have mattered if she tried; the party still ‘raged’ in the opposite direction, leaving the vicinity barren of wandering ears. If she got combative he had a plan for that as well, but was glad she opted to cooperate, instead of throwing a tantrum and meeting a fate similar to Tariq.

He sat her on her feet when they emerged outside and escorted her to the vehicle, quickly securing her inside. He used no restraints, but she didn’t resist one bit; almost as if she’d accepted her fate, or her body just didn’t have the strength to fight back. There were no remnants of Tariq or anyone else, but Bastien moved with fire under his feet as if someone lurked right around the corner.

Within the blink of an eye, they were at the airport, where Bastien unloaded her from the back of the car. The entire ride he heard Riley’s sniffles from the backseat, but he drove faster — to unload this package and hopefully, this would be a straightforward operation. Once she was out of the vehicle his job should be done, unless too many questions arose.

Bastien parked toward the back of the abandoned parking lot so the only thing on security footage would be Riley entering the airport. With his connections, he knew exactly where the cameras were and discreetly slipped into a blind spot. Riley could hardly stand as he pulled her from the vehicle, but that was not his concern.

He did his part — all she had to do was walk inside and leave Cordonia forever.

He shoved a small envelope into her hands and said, “Here is your ID, passport, credit cards, and a ticket to New York. It’s been a pleasure, Lady Riley.” And with that, Bastien turned on his heel and returned to his vehicle, speeding away before he could second guess his decision.

He glanced back in the rearview mirror and saw the silhouette of a woman standing there disoriented, wounded, alone, terrified, and defenseless, but quickly averted his gaze, centering on the road. He nearly pushed his foot through the floorboard to get away faster, but bile rose into the back of his throat as a chilling realization sat in; he didn’t know how, but this was far from over, and the chances of him making it to see his next birthday just substantially dwindled.

“I assumed she boarded the plane, but I later received her identification and credit cards in a sealed envelope from an unidentifiable source. I tried to help her… I really did…” Bastien finished with his head bowed.

“No, you sure as shit did not!” Drake bellowed, a mix of fury and shock written on his features. “I can’t believe you!”

Bastien flinched. “I did what I had to do—”

“Where is she, then? Because she never got on that fucking plane, Bastien!” Olivia hollered.

“I don’t know! I told you everything I know about it! I tried to find out, but I can’t!”

“This is fucking unreal.” Drake shook his head and scoffed. “You expect me to believe you really don’t know? You have her ID! Her goddamn passport!”

Bastien forcefully clenched his jaw. “I received them before the tour in a sealed envelope. I don’t know where it came from and I can't trace its origin.”

Drake scowled. “We’re supposed to believe that?” He looked away and rubbed a hand down his face, his frustration steadily rising. “Let’s say I do — you chose to keep that to yourself? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning when we opened an investigation into her goddamned disappearance?!” He over-enunciated, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

“What was I supposed to do, Drake?!” Bastien responded, but couldn’t fathom meeting his eyes for even a brief second.

“Not be a spineless piece of shit, for one,” Olivia answered. “For two, you could’ve refused to cooperate from the beginning. Or, told the truth, regardless of what would’ve happened to you then… Or, made sure she got on the plane, at least. You drugged her and left her for dead, Bastien! Who knows where she’s at by now?! Do you realize how much time we’ve wasted because of you?!”

“I did not drug her or leave her for dead—”

“But you didn’t fucking stop it either, and that’s just as damning in my eyes,” Drake spoke in a bland, empty voice as he tried to comprehend this betrayal. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re not the man I used to look up to, not anymore… I can’t believe you did this and continuously lied to us about it!”

Bastien slouched. “I never lied—”

“Bullshit! You’ve done nothing but lie! You’ve gotta stop and tell us the truth for once!”

“I told you everything I know, everything I’ve done. I killed the maid and had every intention of Lady Penelope taking the fall — I’ve led you astray and tampered with evidence — I admit it.”

“I don’t care about any of that shit right now!” Drake shouted. “We wanna know what you did with Brooks, Bastien.”

Bastien sighed. “Drake, I told you, I don’t know where she’s at! She was supposed to go inside and board the plane!”

“But you didn’t wait and ensure she did, at least?” Olivia asked with an arched brow.

“I didn’t think I needed to! After what I heard coming out of that room, I assumed she would run inside to get away… If anyone knows, it’s probably that Anton character!”

“Anton…” Olivia repeated, her curiosity peaking. “What do you know about him? And the other guy? Claudius?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’d never seen them before and haven’t since. All I know is they were in charge of relocating Tariq.”

“And you don’t know where that is, either?”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t ask questions, and I wasn’t told. I ran their names in the system to see if I could figure anything out, but they’re ghosts — there aren’t even medical records with either name on it.”

Olivia scoffed. “So, why do it, then?”

“I have my reasons…” He finally gathered the courage to take a peek in Drake's direction, but when he spotted the wild blaze of fire in his eyes, swiftly glanced away.

“Yeah… Okay…” Olivia indignantly laughed. “So was this your idea, or were you working under someone else’s watch?” He didn’t reply, but she and Drake noticed his shoulders tense. “That’s all the answer I need. So who is it? Who’s pulling the strings here?”

Bastien shook his head. “That I can’t tell you.”

“You’re already a dead man no matter which way you look at it, so you may as well just tell us. If you do, there is the tiniest chance that you may receive mercy,” Olivia growled as her hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden in her waistband.

“I’m aware of that, but I cannot tell you.”

“Bas, you need to fucking—”

“Damn it, Drake, I can’t!” Bastien shouted. He knew the pain Drake felt was nothing compared to what he’d feel if he knew the truth, but he refused to open that can of worms.

Liam remained eerily quiet as he listened to Bastien retell the events of that night. To say he was fuming would be the understatement of the millennium. Bastien’s continuous misleading and knowledge of Riley being drugged, assaulted, and potentially still in Cordonia sent Liam overboard. Not to mention, he basically left her for dead in a parking lot. Bastien did all of that; he may not have physically harmed her himself, but he stood guard, let it happen, and actively worked to cover it up, making Liam physically sick to his stomach.

The all-consuming rage he tried to control reached its boiling point. He was no longer asking nicely — he was demanding.

Liam slowly stood from his chair, the loud screech halting the surrounding bickering. He leaned over the table on his knuckles and positioned himself at eye level with his former guard. “You told her that I did it?”

Bastien’s eyes spread eagle. “I just needed to get her out of the door… I assumed that would get her to leave willingly, but she didn’t believe a word I said.”

Liam indignantly laughed, the sound sending waves of uncertainty through everyone in the room. “So it wasn’t enough to physically break her — you had to pile emotional pain on top, too?”

“Sir, she did not believe me,” Bastien reasoned. “She knew you would never do such a thing. It was only a last-ditch attempt on my part to get her out.”

Liam mindlessly nodded, ignoring the new wave of dread filling his veins. He’d convinced himself even through all this madness, when they reached the bottom of this intricate web, there was still a slight chance Riley could love him back, but that hope burst into flames instantaneously. Regardless of whether she believed the lie, he was more determined than ever to find her, ensure her safety, and make sure she knew he played no part in this. He had no intentions of hiding his prolonged negligence of the situation from her, but wasn’t willing to let her hate him over something he had no part of.

Liam took a deep, steadying breath and spoke in a low, timbre rumble. “I’m ordering you to tell me who orchestrated all this, Bastien — you owe me that much.”

Bastien remained silent for a long moment as he held his monarch’s intent gaze. Eventually, he sat back in his chair and broke eye contact while pursing his lips together. “Damn it, tell me!” Liam shouted, his voice echoing against the concrete walls.

Bastien hesitated, as he quickly planned his path from here. The potential to get caught was always there, and he thought extensively about what he would do and who to say in this situation. His secrets fueled a small portion of his decision, but the majority centered around fear. He wouldn’t be safe either way but would take his punishment from the crown. Aside from keeping his skeletons inside the closet, to defy the — others — would essentially put nails in his coffin, just waiting to be hammered in. He’d seen firsthand the carnage they were capable of; a couple of treason charges were nothing in comparison.

But if he pointed them in the right direction, it wouldn't be him outing the culprit.

The tension lingered but right when Olivia opened her mouth to push, Bastien quietly answered, “It was your father…”

The room went silent; not a single breath to be heard. Olivia took in the steadfast determination in Bastien’s features and knew for once — he wasn’t lying. And it made some sense; Bastien was purely manpower, not an active brain contributing, and Constantine had the power to force him into anything. However, she instantly knew the former monarch was not the person behind that door with Riley.

Constantine was in high demand and there was no way he could’ve slipped away from the jamboree that early unnoticed. Olivia recalled that night, and to her knowledge, Constantine retired at the same time as Liam. Plus, if they believed Liam’s out-of-body experience to be reality, Constantine was right beside him while the attack took place.

She believed him but also realized while he told the truth, he didn’t tell all of it. There was more to the story, and she intended to get any and every ounce of information out of him, no matter what it took.

Olivia opened her mouth to address Bastien, but Liam beat her to it. “My father?” He repeated, confusion showcased brightly on his face.

“Yes, sir,” Bastien softly spoke. “I know that may be hard for you to hear, but—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam suddenly bellowed as his shock quickly morphed into dangerous fury. “You’re still trying to lie?!”

Bastien’s eyes widened. “I swear to you — he’s the one who told me to send her back to New York.”

Liam shook his head, his face reddening with every sullen breath. “No… You’re just trying to cover your own ass, that’s it!”

Bastien sighed. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but that is the truth. Your father is the one who—”

Liam paced the small area, his racing thoughts spiraling out of control. “My father would not do this, regardless of how strongly he felt about it. This is fucking evil and deranged — he is a lot of things, but he would never do something like this to me.” He seethed. “So I will ask you one final time — who was it?”

Silence commenced once more, but Bastien eventually answered. “I told you who it was. If you choose not to believe me, that’s your prerogative. I did what he ordered me to do.”

Fast as lightning, Liam brought his fist up and connected with Bastien’s jaw. He went around the table and hit him again, and again, until Bastien was on his knees with his head dangling in between his still cuffed hands. Liam didn’t care if he killed him or not at that moment; all that mattered was exacting revenge on behalf of his beloved, even if she wasn’t there to witness it. The monarch checked out, replaced by a vicious beast — a starved one, at that.

Liam saw nothing except Riley’s face, the sound of her cries from his out-of-body experience echoing in his mind. His hand throbbed as he relentlessly took his frustrations out on Bastien, but he barely felt it because of the pure hatred and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Olivia and Drake watched, exchanging worried glances as Liam continued his assault. Both felt incredible amounts of anger toward Bastien, but they saw the bits of truth. Liam might not want to believe it, but Constantine made the most sense.

However, Olivia wholeheartedly believed Constantine was not the one in that room. He may have ordered Bastien to engage, but deep down she knew he was not the one calling the shots that night. As Liam continued to pummel him, she had half a mind to stop him, but the person taking out his anger on his crumpled guard was not her childhood friend, and even she was hesitant to interfere.

It was Drake who finally intervened, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. “Li…” When Liam shook him off, he tried again with more force. “Liam!”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Liam shouted, quickly returning to his mission. Every bone that snapped underneath his fist soothed a portion of his soul, but he wasn’t willing to stop until Bastien felt even a small portion of the pain enveloping his entire being.

The door crept open and Leo went to step inside, Maxwell close behind, but halted when he spotted a bloodied and battered Bastien dangling from the side of the table. Liam continued his attack, completely oblivious to the additional presences in the room. Leo noticed the mixed expressions from Olivia and Drake and quickly pieced a vague conclusion together. Never in his life did he think Bastien could be capable of such atrocities, but clearly they found something to tie him to it.

Leo stepped toward Liam and timidly tapped his shoulder to gather his attention. “Li, we found Penelope. She was headed to the palace with orders for incineration upon arrival, but we stopped it and she should be back soon. I talked with Landon and Emmaline and they’ve agreed to send her wherever you see fit for autopsy. Ray recommended a specialist, but I wanted your input before I started the process.”

Liam finally stopped his assault and stared down at Bastien’s crumpled body with labored breaths. “The amount of which you’re willing to go to bury this is ridiculous! WHO could be that important that you would do all this — risk EVERYTHING for?!” He bellowed, his voice booming against the walls.

Bastien never answered, whether by choice or from his injuries, but a silence took over as Liam really pondered that question for a moment. This wasn’t just some measly scandal anymore; this was an extensive operation concocted to remove the top competitors and ensure he married Madeleine. At first assumption, it would be easy to point a finger at Madeleine herself, but Bastien held no allegiance to her, and the two hardly spoke before the start of the engagement tour. She held no power over him and had no way to get him to bend to her will.

And that was simply too easy — right?

Bastien’s involvement suddenly narrowed down the potential list of suspects, as Liam knew there was a very short number of people he would have no choice but to obey. Despite everything, he didn’t want to believe Bastien willingly did all of this. He expressed feeling some kind of remorse while it was happening, but he still aided and lied about it afterward, making his guilt irrelevant.

He had no reason to trust Bastien, but the more he thought about it, the more his heart accepted the tale.

The betrayal from his former guard was a lot to process, but knowing who could have ultimately constructed the whole thing shredded him into a million tiny pieces. Half of him was ready to unleash a wrath like no other, while the other half wanted to crumple into a ball and cry. His already fragile heart couldn't take the strain; right when he thought this situation couldn't get worse, it did. Someone so close forcefully took something so precious, knowing how much Riley meant to him, and it completely blindsided him.

His back hit the wall and he slid down it, clutching his chest. Leo and Drake quickly moved to catch him, thinking he was having another episode, but Liam shook them off. As everyone took in his dejection, they realized he accepted who their next subject of questioning would be.

“Leo…” Liam swallowed thickly, his breaths rapid and labored. “Tell me — tell me our father wouldn’t do this… He’s not evil, just hard-headed — right?”

Leo winced. “I… I wish I could, Li, but…” He didn’t want to believe it but with Constantine’s infatuation with the throne, he couldn’t put it past him. Their father was never malicious, but he had a control problem regarding the crown; Leo knew firsthand.

But would he go this far?

Liam let out a forceful huff of air and ran his hands down his face, trying and failing to keep his tears at bay. “I — I thought it was bad that Bastien betrayed me, but — him? Why would he do this?”

“I want to answer that, Liam, but I’m not the person to ask… One way or another, you know we have to confront him…”

Liam grimly nodded. “I know… I just — what if he is the one who did all of this? What am I supposed to do then, Leo?”

Leo remained silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts, but was to no avail, as he genuinely didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know, Liam… I really don’t…”

[magicxc]

Safe Word Ignored

Pairings: Survey Corps x Reader

Word Count: 2606

Warnings: DUB CON, NON CON

A/N: As the name suggests this excerpt will be non con so do proceed with caution or not at all.

For a softer, consensual version of this, check out my aot x safe word headcannon. 

Headcannons Masterlist

Safe word - sparrow

Eren  - Eren strikes me as rather dismissive. He’s not necessarily nasty about it, but he’s also not too interested in opposing views, especially when he feels this good.

Face buried into your supple skin, Eren rocked his hips repeatedly into your warm walls, melting with each stroke he delivered. You smelled so soft and powdery - his favorite scent on you actually. He could stay like that forever, inhaling your hypnotic fragrance while your pussy squeezed him just right.

Your long nails slid down his back incessantly, stiletto shaped nails no doubt drawing blood from his tender skin. Eren was no stranger to scratches on his back, in fact he welcomed them, the marks an ego boost and a great addition to his battle scars. But these scratches signaled something else entirely, something a lot less elated.

Your strangled moans are music to his ears. But the record scratch comes in the form of the safe word, just barely audible enough for him to hear.

“Huh?”

“Sparrow.”

“Sparrow? Oh honey, no! Just hold out a little while longer for me, yeah?”

Face cradled into his fingertips, Eren swept away at your wet cheeks, pushing forward until he had reached his peak.

Do you really need the safe word? he thought to himself. It’s me. Safe words are meant for strangers or friends with benefits, testing the waters of what feels best. There’s no need for that in a committed relationship. Your partner should know exactly which buttons to press to get yours ticking and by the convulsing of your body, it’s safe to say that Eren’s found yours; yet again. 

“Honey, I know what you want before you can even think it,” he boasted.

Why would he give you what you want when what he wants makes you both feel great?

Levi - Levi’s blunt can sometimes double as your mean. While you're used to his word choice, it feels very different to be on the receiving end of them. 

Sweaty bodies molded into one, you couldn't tell where yours started and Levi ended. Your skin had begun to stick to the sheets and droplets of sweat gathered in dots littered around your forehead. Head sinking into the pillows, you couldn’t find the strength to raise it up if you wanted to, sad attempts to connect your lips to Levi’s long gone. Though the feeling was great, it had slowly started to take its toll, your body unable to keep up with Levi’s stamina.

“Sparrow,” is the safeword that so wearily tumbles from your lips, exhausted beyond comprehension.

“Really?” Levi questions. “I didn’t peg you for such a weak brat”

The sentence stings and you find yourself too tired to retort, tears kissing the back of your eyelids at Levi’s harsh words. While you were ready to tap out, you supposed offering your body was the least you could do in support of humanity’s strongest soldier - opting instead to lie there until he was finished; hoping that sleep would find you soon after.

Erwin - Erwin isn’t much for the long talking, therefore radio silence is all you get from him.

Thighs clamping his face firmly between your legs didn’t quite give you the reprieve you were looking for; Erwins thick muscle relentless against your clit. He works his tongue to perfection, your pussy dripping its praises in the form of soaked sheets. But it’s not enough for Erwin, its never enough for him. Ever the achiever, it takes more than shaky legs to get him to ease up, your vision darkening on multiple occasions at the sensory overload.

Teeth scraping against tender lips, you’re hesitant to mutter the safe word, but the next rush of fluids has you screaming it before you can stop.

“SPARROW, UHNNNN SPARROW. FUCK!”

Tongue reattached to your pussy, you just about passed out at the discomfort; what once felt so heavenly now feels borderline sinister. Twist and turn as you might, Erwins heavy hands pressed firmly against your thighs to hold you still, intent on eating to his heart's content.

Black dots dance around your vision, relief filling you to the brim. It doesn’t take long for the next wave to hit, knocking you unconscious as you welcome the darkness with open arms.

Connie - Connie hates the idea of you using the safe word but he hates the idea of stopping even more; so he’ll pacify you with soft words of encouragement until he’s finished. 

In the heated moment of roleplay you found yourself bent over Connie’s knee, a stinging sensation left behind after each slap to your ass. Hands clamped over your lips at first stifled light giggles, excited at the persona Connie had picked up - now they stifled your groans of discomfort, eagerly waiting for your 'punishment' to be finished.

thawck

Oh that seemed to do it. The final slap to your ass had tears sliding down your cheeks quicker than you could stop them, your feet shuffling about the floor to get a good balance. But Connie’s arm tightened around your waist, another crackling smack booming throughout the room without missing a beat.

“Not you running," Connie chided. “Bad girls don’t get to avoid punishment.”

“M’sorry Con, but it’s just too much."

thawk

“Sparrow,” you squeaked, lips quivering from the tingling ache.

“Awww buttercup,” he condescendingly cooed, rubbing soft circles on your butt. “You talked all that big talk earlier and now you’re calling it quits? C’mon just five more minutes, can you at least give me that?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head, lips tucked carefully between your teeth as you stared at him through wet lashes.

The eery grin that he sends your way is indication enough that his five more minutes will last anything but; and it did. For how long you couldn’t tell, but you’d definitely be sore as hell in the days to come.

Jean - Jean can get gaslighty for sure. It's to the point where you begin to question using the safe word in the first place. 

The moisture that gathered between your thighs was the cherry on top of the pride that swelled within you for making Jean feel so good. His breathy moans, his heaving chest, his fluttering eyelids - it gave you such a dynamic feeling. And apparently it did the same to Jean, his high so good he intended to chase it.

Hands buried in your hair, he used it to guide your plump lips to the very bottom of his shaft, the spongy feeling of your throat he once described as ethereal. Jean was a big boi and by all means required some prep; prep you weren’t entirely done with.

So the unexpected intrusion hits your esophagus in all the wrong ways, the feeling pushing your gag reflexes past its limit. The gurgling of your words and the spit that eases you down his dick no doubt makes for a delightful experience only it has you feeling the opposite. 

Fists tightly balled, you use them to beat against his legs, hitting just hard enough to catch his attention.

“Talk to me my love, what’s the problem?” he asked, hands still bobbing your head, only a little less vigorously.

Enough time goes by to where you realise he’s not letting up, so instead you try your best to mumble out the words around his dick.

“Sp- sparr- ow,” is the best you can manage under the circumstances.

And as muffled as it came out, there’s no doubt that Jean heard you, disappointment clear in the lengthy breath he blows past his lips. You’re sure he’s annoyed, but what's the point of the safe word if you can’t use it?!

“You do love me, don't you?” he asks in between bobs. “You are mine are you not?”

Fingers gathering your hair into a ponytail he pulled it back, just enough that the head of his dick rested on the tip of your tongue, steely eyes glaring into your soft ones.

“Uhh huh,” is your mumbled response.

“Then why would you put me in such a predicament? I’m so close already my love, couldn’t you stay put a little while longer?

Wide doe eyes meet his, trepidation keeping you from uttering the word once more; his shaft wasting no time in making a home at the very back of your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for Jean to loudly sing his praises, his boisterous moans dripping from his lips the same way his precum drips down your throat.

“There ya go. Good fucking girl,” he commends. “Besides, girlfriends can't say no.”

Onyankopon - Ony can come off snarky and sarcastic to mask his irritation.

Sex with Ony typically felt hot and sexy. The pure lust and raging desire usually made for a good time. It felt like a movie scene where the couple was so eager to be with one another that it got messy - missed kisses, sloppy hair, wet lovebites, tangled limbs. 

You tended to be in lights, camera, action heaven but today felt unusual. Understandably prep was a must when it came to Ony and you hadn't have much of that in the heat of the moment. It wasn't until he was fully seated inside of you that you’d realise the wetness at the center of your core simply wasn't enough.

His thick fingers delve into the softness of your flesh, dragging your hips up and down to a fierce rhythm. Eyes clamped shut you bounced until the feeling had become too much; too intense to ignore. 

“Sparrow,” is what you breathlessly pant through thrusts. 

“The fact that youre not my wife bothers me at least once a day,” he confessed. “But how can you be when you pull shit like this. 

“Ony I-“

“Do you really want me to stop?” he taunts between languid thrusts. 

Ony had slowed down considerably from the overwhelming force that he once delivered to your pussy, reaching up to swirl his tongue around the lobe of your ear. It soon lands on the sweet spot beneath it as his thumb rubs figure eights on your clit.  

“Is that what you want mamas? Hmm?”

Intellect had long since left you and now all your body could focus on was the mind numbing sensation. No matter how good it felt, a break was still in order but Ony wasn’t in the mood to be convinced. 

Reaching up to the shell of your ear, his lips ghosts against the tip whispering, “yeah, that’s what I thought. The ‘a’ in my name stands for always right; now gone ahead and come for me.”

Reiner - Reiner can't think of a way to justify his lust over your comfort so he’ll opt for tuning you out, physically if he has to. 

The squelching of your pussy made it clear that Reiner was putting in work. Your body would happily create the moisture it needed if meant that he could drive into you at the angle that made your eyes cross over. While you normally didn’t mind helping Reiner with a little stress relief, today he'd made you feel low.

Physically you felt euphoric, but mentally you felt degraded. You felt cheap; almost like someone he threw money at to remedy his frustrations. He’d treated your body so recklessly it brought tears to your eyes; scared to blink at the off chance that you wouldn’t be able stop them from flowing. So you settled for the safe word instead. 

“Sparrow,” you whispered. 

Face scrunching in confusion, it was the first emotion that you were able to clock aside from the blank stare he previously offered you. His thrusts never waivered and you briefly wondered if he had heard you. Lips parting to utter the word once more, Reiner planted his hand over your mouth, grunting out his disapproval.

Shock stiffened you to a standstill, feeling only the way that his hips drove into yours. You lied there, taking every thrust and listening to every moan. Reiner continued to touch you in all the ways that brought you pleasure, and when you finally found yourself tipping over there edge, there he hovered; a twisted smile curled onto his lips.

Armin - Armin is distraught, but somehow not enough to comply. He’ll apologise profoundly while still inside you. 

Armin loved having sex with you. The feeling was immense, but it was the actions that brought him the greatest satisfaction of all, like how you would wildly writhe beneath his body when you were almost to the finish line. He enjoyed seeing you reach out for him when you wanted to feel close, moan his name after he'd made you so cock drunk that it was all you could muster up the strength to repeat, cum around his dick over and over again, sink your nails deep into the flesh of his skin - Armin looked forward to it all.

Hands tugging on the clamps attached to your nipples, he admired how sexy they looked. Swollen enough to seep through the clamps, it took everything in him not to dive down and add to the excitement, his thoughts racing with ideas on how to make you feel even better. Thrilled at the possibility that your lust would trickle down at the base his dick, he just about came right then and there.

But the enjoyment wouldn’t come this time around as the clamps added a layer of pain that felt far from blissful. If anything they hurt, and combined with the tugging you figured it best to cut the night short.

“Sparrow,” is what slips from the confines of your throat.

Ashamed is the emotion that you make out across Armins features, but not for the use of the safe word, rather it seems to be in response for his lack of concern.

"Ohh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he repeatedly murmured.

Forehead pressed into your cheek, his tears mixed with yours as he rode himself to completion, apologies never ceasing even as he went flaccid inside you.

He could scream his regrets until he was blue in the face, but it meant very little when his body found pleasure at the expense of yours; especially considering that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

Floch - Floch will outright blame you for feeling so good. Shame has no place in his house nor heart.

Floch was an ass man through and through. He loved claiming you in the forbidden hole. And you’d gladly comply; giving your heart and your body in service of him. It was one of those things where his pleasure intensified yours. 

The grunts and growls, moaning and howling - you were always a soaking mess long before he could make you cum. However, this time felt a little different. You couldn’t place it exactly but you just weren’t feeling sex at the moment. You’d held out for as long as you could, hoping that maybe you needed to be warmed up a little more, that maybe Floch just needed to lay into you just right; but, nothing. 

“Sparrow.”

“No can do sugar,” he scolded from above you. “You see I’m just getting started and I ain’t letting up until I’m done.”

You wanted to be shocked, to be disappointed, but unfortunately you weren’t the least bit surprised. Floch had this determination about him to see things through to the bitter end, even when all the odds were stacked high against him; even now when you strongly opposed his selfish desires.

But he somehow always managed to get what he wanted. And there he stayed, buried to the hilt as he continued to thrust into you from behind, smugly whispering about how good you squeezed him, as he kissed along your heated skin.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Superbad (Dark Smut)

Summary: You were Hanzo's even before you know but he takes it upon himself to prove it to you.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Dark Yandere Hanzo, Lovestruck! Hanzo, Kidnapping, Talk of reader being property, Dark Smut, Rape, Reader saying no to sex and it still happening, Nipple Play, No protection, PWP, PnV, Crying, Lack of pulling out.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mortal Kombat character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Hanzo, a dark and intense yandere, had been quietly stalking you for months, his obsession growing with each passing day. He would watch you from the shadows, his eyes fixed on your every move. He would analyze your habits, her routine, and every little detail about your life. He would wait patiently for the perfect moment to make his move, to take you away from the world and make you all his. A person who was completely unaware of the sinister presence following you, went about your daily routine, blissfully ignorant to the fact that you were being closely watched. Hanzo, the dark and intense yandere, continued to observe you from the shadows, his obsession growing with every passing day. He would analyze your habits and routines, searching for the perfect moment to make his move.

Hanzo's patience finally paid off when he noticed an opportunity arise. It was late at night, and you were walking home alone after a long shift at work. The streets were empty, providing the perfect cover for Hanzo to strike. With a swift and silent movement, he emerged from the shadows behind you, a chloroform-soaked rag in hand. He wrapped his arm around your neck in one fluid motion, pulling you back against his chest while pressing the rag firmly over your mouth and nose. You struggled briefly but soon succumbed to the powerful sedative, your body going limp in Hanzo's grasp. A wicked smile spread across Hanzo's face as he scooped up your unconscious form, ready to carry out the plans he had so meticulously laid out. His heart raced with excitement knowing that you would soon be his forever, no matter what it took. Hanzo's body thrummed with anticipation as his plan came to fruition. With a firm grip on your unconscious form, he effortlessly carried you away from the empty streets and into the darkness. Within the shadows, he had meticulously prepared a hideout, a place where he could keep you all to himself. As he entered the hideout, he laid you down on a soft bed, gazing at your peaceful face. Hanzo's eyes drank in every inch of your face, memorizing the curves and contours, committing them to memory. He then carefully removed the chloroform-soaked rag from your mouth, ensuring you didn't wake up too early. He wanted this moment to last, wanted to savor the feeling of having you all to himself. His hands gently caressed your cheeks, tracing the outline of your lips before leaning down to press a tender kiss onto your forehead. "Mine," he whispered softly, his voice filled with possessive desire.

Hanzo's touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he continued to trace his fingers across your cheeks, his eyes never leaving your face. He leaned down once more, his breath warm against your skin, and whispered, "Mine. All mine." His voice was filled with a possessive desire that sent chills down your spine, even in your unconscious state. Hanzo stood back up, his gaze roaming over your motionless form. He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you were completely at his mercy. And as the days began to pass, your eyes slowly fluttered open, your vision blurry and disoriented. As your surroundings come into focus, you realize you're in an unfamiliar room, soft sheets caressing your body. Confusion and dread flood your senses as you try to remember the events that led you here. Suddenly, the door creaks open, and Hanzo walks into the room, a small smile on his face. "Ah, you're finally awake," he says, his voice dripping with a menacing sweetness. Hanzo approached the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Welcome back, my love," he purred, sitting down beside you. "I'm sure you must have many questions." He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "But don't worry, we have all the time in the world now." Hanzo's gaze intensified, his pupils dilating with a mix of affection and something far more dangerous. "I've been watching you for so long, waiting for the right moment to bring you here, to keep you safe with me." His fingers trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "No one will ever separate us again. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, even if it means keeping you locked away from the rest of the world."

The room felt suffocating as Hanzo spoke, his words laced with a dangerous possessiveness. You tried to sit up, but his firm yet gentle hand pushed you back down onto the bed. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to be afraid," he murmured. "I'm doing this all for your own good. To keep you safe, to keep you mine. No one will ever hurt you again." Hanzo's other hand found its way under your shirt, his palm pressing against your stomach. "Just relax, my sweet," he cooed, his fingers beginning to unbutton your clothes with practiced ease. "Let me take care of everything. I know exactly what you need." As he stripped away your layers, exposing your skin to the cool air, Hanzo's lips trailed down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses. "You're so beautiful," he breathed against your skin, his hot breath sending tingles through you despite the fear coursing through your veins. "And soon, you'll be mine in every way possible." Hanzo slowly leaned closer to you, his hand delicately caressing your cheek. "I've waited so long for this moment," he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive undertones. He gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on your skin for a few extra seconds. "You have no idea how hard it was to resist touching you all this time, to keep myself from devouring you completely." Hanzo's words sent chills down your spine, his intense gaze seemingly staring straight into your soul.

As Hanzo continued to strip away your clothes, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, your heart raced with fear. His words echoed in your head, his possessive undertones sending shivers down your spine. You tried to resist him, to push him away, but his strength was overpowering. "W-wait." Hanzo paused, his lips hovering just above your collarbone as he looked into your eyes. "What is it, my love?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Don't tell me you still doubt our connection, still question why I did what I did to bring you here?" He pressed a lingering kiss to your skin before trailing his lips back up to your ear. "Because I needed you. I needed to feel your warmth, to taste your sweetness. And now that I have you, I won't let you go." Hanzo's hand slid lower, cupping your breast through the fabric of your bra. He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened beneath his touch. "You're so responsive, so perfect," he groaned, his breathing growing heavier. Hanzo's touch was both gentle and possessive, his words sending mixed signals through your mind. Your body reacted to his touch, betraying the fear that coursed through your veins. "Please… don't," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't want this. Let me go." Hanzo froze, his hand still resting on your breast as he stared intensely into your eyes. For a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features before his expression hardened once again. "You don't mean that," he growled, his grip tightening on your sensitive mound. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet." He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue demanding entrance as he plundered your mouth. Hanzo rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head as he deepened the kiss, drowning out your feeble protests. When he finally pulled back, his eyes gleamed with a fierce determination. "You belong to me. Whether you accept it or not, I will make you see the truth." Despite your protests, your body responded to his advances, heat pooling between your legs. Hanzo's hand moved from your breast, sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your pants. He began to unfasten them, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

You tried to struggle underneath him, but his grip on your wrists was unbreakable. His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of intense devotion and possessiveness in his gaze. "You'll understand soon enough," he whispered, his voice strained. "Once you realize how much I desire you, you'll want this just as much as I do." The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else you couldn't quite place. Hanzo ignored your pleas, his fingers deftly removing your clothing until you were bared to him. His eyes devoured your exposed flesh, drinking in every curve and valley. "So perfect," he breathed out, his voice thick with lust. He released your wrists, only to slide his hands down your sides, gripping your hips firmly. He positioned himself between your thighs, his erection pressing insistently against your core. "Feel that? That's how much I want you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. He shifted, aligning himself with your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. "I can't wait any longer," he groaned, pushing inside you slowly, stretching you deliciously. The pain of being stretched combined with the pleasure of being filled made your head spin. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your body betraying your fear and resistance. Hanzo's possession of you was undeniable, his presence overwhelming. "Stop…" you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hanzo paused, his eyes narrowing at your plea. "Why?" he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Is it because you want me to stop? Or is it because you're enjoying this too much?" He began to move, pulling back slowly before thrusting back inside you. His rhythm was slow and measured, each stroke filling you completely. "Tell me the truth," he growled, his pace increasing slightly. "Do you want me to stop, or do you want me to fuck you like you deserve?" His words struck a chord within you, making your resolve waver. But you knew you had to fight, to resist. "I want you to stop," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan. The combination of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, your body responding to his every movement. You could hardly form coherent thoughts, let alone words. "It doesn't matter what I want," you managed to whimper out. Hanzo snorted, his thrusts becoming more forceful. "Oh, but it does," he argued, his voice a low growl. "Everything about you matters to me. Every moan, every tremor, every quiver." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he pounded into you relentlessly. "And right now, your body is screaming at you to surrender," he groaned against your mouth. His hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing circles around it. The sensation sent sparks shooting through your nerves, making your legs tremble.

The combination of his relentless thrusts and skilled fingers was too much. Your walls clenched around him, your body betraying your mind once again. "Please…" you gasped, your voice breaking. "Please… I can't take it anymore." Hanzo's eyes flashed with triumph as he felt your climax approaching. "That's it, my love," he purred, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "Give in to me. Let go and feel every inch of me claiming you." With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed. "Mine," he roared, his voice echoing off the walls as he collapsed on top of you, still buried within your quivering depths. Panting heavily, you lay beneath him, your body twitching with aftershocks. Tears streamed down your face, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you. Fear, humiliation, but also an undeniable satisfaction. Hanzo's weight pressed you into the bed, his softening member still nestled inside you. You wanted to hate him for taking advantage of you, but your treacherous body craved his touch. Slowly, you turned your head away from him, unable to meet his gaze. "Get off me," you muttered weakly, your voice hoarse from crying. "Just get off me already." You closed your eyes tightly, praying for this nightmare to end. But deep down, you knew it was only the beginning. Hanzo would never let you go now that he'd had a taste of you.

Hanzo remained still for a long moment, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Finally, he lifted himself off you, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. He reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Shh, don't cry," he murmured softly. "I know it was intense, but that's only because the passion between us is so strong." He leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "I meant what I said earlier. You're mine now, and I'll never let anyone hurt you again." He pulled you close, cradling you against his chest as he stroked your hair. "Rest now, my love. We have all the time in the world to explore this new bond we share." Despite yourself, you found comfort in his embrace. His warmth surrounded you, offering a sense of safety that was hard to resist. You forced yourself to be held, your body relaxing despite your mind's protests. "This isn't over, is it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Hanzo tightened his hold on you, a low chuckle vibrating through his chest. "Of course not," he replied, his voice rich with amusement. "We've only just begun." He planted another kiss on your temple, his fingers continuing their soothing strokes through your hair. "But for tonight, rest easy knowing that I'll protect you with my life. And tomorrow, when you wake up, I'll show you just how good things can be between us."

[generic-whumperz]

Wyatt (Character Sheet)

Picrew

Playlist | Masterlist | Character Info |

⚠️Proceed with caution, Wyatt is a Grade-A asshole⚠️

Here's a lengthy list of his TWs in lieu of a character overview. This is everything you need to know; when I use #cw Wyatt, it encases the following:

Murderer and mock executioner

Slaver (although, in his defense, he did not buy one, his mom willed him one)

Torturer

Rapist and sexual sadist with a blood kink (hematolagnia)

Gaslighter™️

Misogynist and egotistical predator who objectifies, demonizes, and degrades those he views as lesser (which is damn-near everyone)

Has anger issues and can’t chooses not to control his temper. Exploiter and raging narcissist (has anti-social personality tendencies + probably some other shit but I’m not a psychologist) who victimizes himself in every scenario despite him being the canonical villain in every sense of the word—he would win a gold medal in mental gymnastics.

Mentally, physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive. Bully and mean-spirited, humiliates people for fun (especially The Aid).

Drug addict and alcoholic, smokes weed (the only chill thing he does) and cigarettes, chews tobacco, consumes copious amounts of cocaine cut with meth and/or who knows what, and has picked up the habit of consuming Mystic blood (no, he's not a vampire, just a hematolagniac) to get out-of-this-world high he now can’t function without. Uppers > Downers.

Dabbles in cannibalism (a few times, but it does happen, so on the TWs it goes because wtf)

Porn addict

Gambling addict

Absent father

Mommy issues, Daddy issues, was abused and neglected as a child but never processed it healthily and sought help, so now he's just a menace to society and repeating fucked up trauma/abuse cycles (hello generational trauma). Has major beef with his older brother, Waylon, and was horrible to his younger sister, Winny, when they were kids.

Drunk driver (shouldn’t be driving because DUIs)

Owns firearms and weapons but definitely shouldn’t (although everyone does in Apocamerica)

Spoiled rich guy with a complex, doesn't accept "no" as an answer

Pretty much the worst person you'd ever have the misfortune of meeting

All-in-all: bastard-ass, creepy, intimate, sadistic Whumper

Full name: Wyatt Wilder Sullivan (Wy)

Role: main antagonist, Whumper

Date of Birth & sign: April 16, 1975 (56-57), Aries (story takes place in the year 2032)

Gender: cis-male

Sexuality: thinks of himself as just hetero, but falls under general sadism and dominance.

Height: 6'10"

Weight/body type/build: approx. 350lbs (I'm bad at guessing weight, take this with a grain of salt). Giant, solid build. Broad-shouldered, burly, and more heavy-set with a semi-prominent beer gut. In his youth was more brawny and muscular, now is a bit more flabby cause the only work out he’s doing is running to the liquor store, but still maintains a bulky physique.

Hometown: San Diego, CA

Family Members: Sullivan family tree. Has a daughter, Haylee, with ex-wife (how the fuck was this man even ever married is beyond me). Lost visitation rights to see his daughter and blames the Aid for it, but has made no effort to be a better person and reach out. Lives with The Aid in Eleanor's old house.

Left/right handed: right

Fav genre of music & anthem: classic rock, Ramblin' Gamblin' Man by Bob Seger

Occupation: trust-fund nepo baby. Used to be head of logistics security for family business. Now claims to be in finance and an investor (really sir, during the apocalypse?), and self-proclaims himself as a professional gambler and "independent media producer" (makes torture porn for fellow pervs on the internet—again, during the apocalypse no less). Barely graduated high school.

Ethnicity (+ American): Italian, French, Greek, North and West European, English

Hair color & length: ashy brown, silver-striped, cut short, combed to the right to hide his cow lick. Uses pomade. Facial hair: grown-out chevron mustache; rest of face clean shaven but gets 4 o'clock shadow soon after. Usually has stubble since he shaves about once a week. Body hair: moderately hairy with chest hair.

Hygiene: leaves much to be desired. Showers when sober enough to do so—or more so is sober enough to care that he reeks of BO, cigs, and beer, or after he's woken up in a pile of his vomit. Poor oral hygiene from chewing tobacco, drug use, smoking, and alcohol; thinks whiskey counts as mouthwash. Teeth yellowed and crooked with irritated, swollen-looking gums (from drugs and lack of daily care). He’s just a hot mess. The Aid has tried to clean this man up, but Wyatt ain’t having it.

Eye color: wide-set icy blue, downturned, deep sunken eyes under protruding brow.

Skin tone: light, apricot-colored skin with warm, reddish undertones. Face usually red and puffy (substance abuse)

Facial features: wide, triangle-shaped head. Thin-lipped downturned mouth. Prominent, hawkish, and rubescent nose. Arched, bushy eyebrows. Bigger ears with droopy lobes. Broad and heavy chin, slight underbite. From age, substance abuse, and lack of skin care (+ living in a dry climate): frown lines, forehead lines, crow's feet, blush-burned and puffy cheeks from constant flushing

Mannerisms: always scowling and glaring. Sniffling and wiping nose. Clearing throat. Hocking loogies and spitting chew in an old beer can. Scrunches nose with curling upper lip. Pinches bridge of nose. Loud, overly dramatic sighing. Tsks a lot. Grinds teeth. Rubs chin with index finger, rubs forehead with back of hand. Loud, heavy steps when walking. Crosses arms. Sucks teeth. Uses height to initiate others and takes up a lot of space. Constantly smokes cigs and probably has a beer in hand. When loaded and buzzing: jittery manic energy, crazy eyes, random face twitches. Bursts of movement in sporadic jolts, such as slapping or pounding fists on a table/nearest object.

Nervous ticks: nervousness presents more as nervous anger or agitation. Throws things. Grunts. Yells. Curses. Kicks, hits, punches whatever is closest to him (or uses his human punching bag, The Aid). Long car rides with blaring music, reckless driving. Tries to self-soothe by doing lines or watching porn.

Posture: carefree but domineering. He acts like he owns the place wherever he's at.

Style: basic T-shirt, collared cotton shirt with jeans and boots, casual leather oxford shoes (Dr. Martens), plain jackets. Very basic, solid-colored clothing, no fancy patterns or fun colors. Will wear a suit on occasion, but isn’t happy about it.

Health: amazingly, he hasn't had a heart attack (yet). Has had a fair share of overdoses. How is his liver still working? He doesn't take care of himself physically or mentally and should be dead, but he has the durability of a cockroach. Please drop dead

Piercings/tattoos: none

Birthmarks/scars: refer to the scar chart below that totally isn't an autopsy template (shout out to my boy for fucking Wyatt up as much as he has, I'm proud of you bby!)

Language(s): English

Personality: domineering, addictive, disagreeable, aggressive & argumentative, selfish, short-tempered, reckless, greedy, narcissistic, possessive, cruel, dishonest, grouchy, moody, violent, vulgar, prideful, dismissive, unpredictable, cold, impulsive, over-indulgent, jealous

Vices: addicted to everything he can get his hands on. Hardcore addict, and latest fixation is Mystic Blood cut with coke. Drinks more alcohol than water. Will fight and fuck his way to get what he wants. Will thrash and destroy everything when pissed off, then makes The Aid clean it up and beat him up if he doesn't do it fast enough; likes to wind down with a foot rub and/or full body massage from The Aid (*gag*).

Voice: gravelly with a tinge of teasing sarcasm, it ranges from monotone to raucous and taut. After a night of bruising and boozing, it can sound more strained and raspy/horse. (In my head he sounds something like Thomas Church?)

Smells like: as described from this scrapped excerpt left on the cutting room floor: "On a good day, Wyatt smelt of generically fragranced clean linen laundry detergent, slightly masked by an ever-present light odor of dewy sweat, salted sunflower seeds, and worn-off Old Spice. On a bad day, he reeked of one part odious stress sweat, three parts foul breath—a coalesced stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and beef jerky."

Face claim(s): John Goodman (I'M SORRY JOHN), but specifically these pictures below. Honorary mention, Douglas M. Griffin.

Character inspiration: Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall (Outlander), Ramsey Bolton (GOT), diabolical combination of Homelander and Billy Butcher (The Boys). Biggest YIKES.

Other: irredeemable POS; please openly hate this man; he's made to be shit on. That being said, as I mentioned many times above, Wyatt struggles with substance abuse, and there are references to drug use in text. But just to be crystal clear, he is not a bad person because he uses substances, and I do not intend to vilify individuals dealing with substance abuse. His purpose aims to illustrate the destructive nature of addiction—the monster it can create—the compounding impact of unaddressed trauma, and the correlation between the two. (I come from a long line of addicts and have lost family members due to overdoses; this is how I’m dealing with it; you don’t need to like how I’m going about it, but I don’t need anyone getting on my ass about it either. I’m working through some shit. To me, Wyatt is the personification of the disease of addiction and how it will drown anyone it comes in contact with.)

While the drugs exacerbate his behavior, it's important to note that he was already struggling with personal issues and has fully embraced his negative traits, and is incredibly self-destructive. Wyatt is a complex character, albeit a deeply flawed one who consistently makes poor choices and is a massive piece of shit. But deep down, he’s a sad, unfulfilled man who got the shit end of the stick and is the byproduct of bad parenting and abuse himself. He is not for the faint of heart; I think his character inspos say all you need to know about the kind of person he is. But still, fuck him.

Cursed mood board

Honorary tag request: @whumped-by-glitter

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Sarah and Simon’s wedding. Any hints on how it went for them?

...Well! 🫦 *draws breath*

First, they frolic around Florence all cute and happy before the ceremony. Simon takes her to galleries -> somehow the idea of this giant soldier listening to his enthusiastic, sparkly-eyed wife-to-be giving him a monologue about a painting like Birth of Venus does things to me. He def. gets a hard-on from that, and Sarah gets all flustered when she notices. ("We're in a gallery, for god's sake" or "I should've known you can't behave yourself" while her eyes are just wide and shining from love)

As for the wedding: nothing too fancy, nothing too luxurious or overly elegant. Instead, crazy romantic – nothing is official and there will be no legal documents on any marriage taking place, but Simon would do his all to make the day memorable for the both of them. He loves to pamper and spoil Sarah, even if she gets shy about it (she loves it actually). So good food and a beautiful dress are a must, and the venue has to be something Sarah would love – something historical, from the romantic period, perhaps. Some old villa with lemon trees or magnolias, a wild garden that is overwhelming to the senses, nothing too pruned or symmetrical. They spend their wedding night there, too, sleep late in the morning and have a hedonistic 2-hour brunch in the garden.

I don't know if even Soap would be present because we're talking about a secret elopement here. Simon would have a hard time asking John to be his best man, and Sarah has yet to see him too many times, so it might be just the two of them + someone suitable to conduct the ceremony. After all, the marriage is mainly a powerful symbolic gesture from Simon that he is dedicated to Sarah and wants to grow old with her (I see them planting those apple trees in Simon's "hideout" later that summer: one for her and one for him).

But what would be even more monumental than the actual wedding is the honeymoon that follows.

Simon takes weeks, almost a month off his work to explore Italy and especially the seaside together. There is an overdose of art, culture, good food and wine. Sarah tries to teach Simon to appreciate a good Amarone or Valpolicella and he's just like I'd rather not but gives in like he always does (*sigh* "Let's try it then, dove"). There's lots of swimming and hikes in the woodlands and just all kinds of fun under the sun, and all around them, the nature is blooming. 

Sometimes they are too tired to even make love because they've been too busy going around yet another bend or a corner to see if there is a great view or a better restaurant or a hidden beach empty of people. But he brings her breakfast in bed, and it usually ends in slow, passionate sex before they venture out again. Or then there's the occasional quickie in the shower just before dinner. Her cheeks are still flushed when they rush to their reservation and the waiter brings the menus to the table (Simon only looks annoyingly content with himself). 

If one thing is sure, it's this: Simon gets actual dimples on his cheeks from that honeymoon, and Sarah teases him about it for the rest of their lives. 

Every time the weather turns cold and rainy in London, they remember their Italian summer and the gardens filled with foreign scents and their wedding night which was a little too hot to get some sleep, not to talk of making love (of course they still did and were all sweaty and spent afterward, poor things), they remember their walks on the beaches filled with beautiful sea shells and how they should go back there someday, but Simon says it would never be the same... so they decide they will explore a new country and a new place every year. A few weeks, almost a month off from work, no matter what, so they can go and have some adventures and a slice of peace and live their lives to the full. 💞

[powerful-niya]

— (тнε gιяℓ ιη яε∂.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚hαppч nαruhínα mσnth єvєrчσnє!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟺: 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚘𝚘𝚍 + 𝚄𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 - (𝙽𝙷𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝟸𝟹)

Link To Oneshot Below ↴

Part 1: Wattpad|AO3

Part 2: Wattpad|AO3

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡Naive and innocent, Hinata sets out on a selfless journey to aid her ailing father. However, she makes the mistake of crossing paths with Naruto, the big bad wolf.

Now, in his presence, she faces a daunting proposition: win his harrowing game of survival to return to her father, or lose, forfeiting something uniquely her own—her innocence.

Content Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Adventure • Alternate Universe - Fairytale • Angst • Chilling • Dark • Dark Fairytale • Dark Romance • Dark Secrets • December 24 • December 25 • Forests • Heavy Angst • Horror • Human/Monster • Human/Werewolf • Hurt & Comfort • Monster • Nhmonth • Nhmonth23 • Non-human AU • OOC • Psychological Thriller • Red Riding Hood • Supernatural • Thriller • Urban Legends • Werewolf • 2023

NSFW Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚  Biting • Claiming • Coming Untouched • Coercion • Dirty Talk • DubCon • Fantasies & Fantasizing • First Time • Fuck-Or-Die • Forest Sex • Innocence • Loss of Virginity • Marking • Mating • Monster Sex • Multiple Orgasms • Oral Sex • Orgasm Denial • Outdoors Sex • Ownership • Power Play • Scent Kink • Scratching • Size Difference • Tail(s) • Vaginal Sex • Virgin • Werewolf Bites • Werewolf Mark • 2023

((For My Dark Readers Only))

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Part #1: 12.8K

Part #2: 19.3K

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚5.1K

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with a rich palette of amber, gold, and crimson hues. Its waning light stretched long shadows across the dense foliage surrrounding a quaint little village. 

Accompanying the gentle sway of the trees was the soft caress of the breeze, carrying with it the earthy aroma of pine needles mingled with the damp, fertile scent of soil. 

A young woman strode briskly along a meandering trail branching off from the village behind her, her midnight blue hair trailing like ribbons in the steady wind as she walked. 

The woman?

Hinata Hyūga, the girl in red. 

The young woman, sweet as can be, wore a vibrant red cloak that flowed behind her, a gift from her dear late mother. Underneath, a white blouse with ruffles peeked out, paired with a swaying red skirt. Black fishnet stockings hugged her legs as she walked with grace in her Mary Jane pumps. 

Very picturesque. 

Hinata's steps were determined, moving steadily onward and upward, unfaltering even in the face of the whispered fears that hung in the air. She's been walking for quite some time, long enough for a dull ache to settle in her ankles and a persistent soreness to nag at her lower back. 

Still, she pressed forward.

She must. 

She had only one thing on her mind, and nothing else, propelling her to keep moving forward…

Her dear father: Hiashi Hyūga. 

He's fallen ill. 

An unfortunate turn of events.

In the early stages, his illness seemed rather mild, to say the least. Just an occasional cough here and there, nothing too alarming for Hinata. She brushed it off as a common seasonal nuisance, just his sensitive sinuses acting up again. 

So, she would make it a routine to brew her father a steaming cup of chamomile tea three times a day, meticulously steeping it to perfection. By his bedside, she would softly hum melodies she learned from her mother as she helped him drink the tea, all in hopes of soothing his cough and ushering him into a peaceful slumber.

At first, the tea seemed to do the trick.

However, as time passed, the soothing properties of the tea sadly began to lose their effectiveness. Before long, his symptoms began to worsen, escalating into something far more serious.

Pneumonia. 

His ailment turned into pneumonia. 

Hinata found that out on her own, having managed to piece it together from her father's symptoms—persistent coughing, difficulty breathing, and a stubborn fever that just wouldn't go down, no matter what she did. 

She tried everything to bring his many fevers down—cool compresses, damp cloths on his forehead, and even making him sip on ice-cold water or mint tea from time to time—but nothing seemed to work.

Her father was an old man, brittle and fragile. There was only so much that he could endure. 

As the days went by, her father's appearance grew more haggard and feeble, like a shell of who he once was. It pained Hinata to see him fading away, inching farther from his usual vibrant self. 

He hardly spoke, hardly laughed, and hardly smiled…

Each day, each hour, each minute, he battled with all of his might against the cruel pneumonia. But it seemed like it was gaining the upper hand more and more each day.

Hinata truly feared that he just might…

She shook her head, suppressing tears. She shouldn't think that way. 

It was this sense of urgency that drove Hinata forward, motivating her to hasten her return home with the supplies she had collected for him.

In her delicate hands, Hinata carried a woven basket brimming with vibrant vegetables, fruits, and an assortment of herbs and medicines—collected from the settlement a few miles away.

Konoha Village.

Hinata's father, Hiashi, resided in a charming cottage on the outskirts of Konoha village, nestled by a tranquil lake. His cottage, though old and weathered, had a cozy charm that was rather inviting. 

The quaint home was surrounded by blooming gardens and a cobblestone pathway, providing a peaceful sanctuary for him to live in peace. 

But his cottage wasn't just any place; it was Hinata's home as well. 

There, the two lived, accompanied only by one another. 

After the mysterious death of Hinata's mother, her father made the decision to leave Konoha. The memories of her and the village itself became too painful, a constant reminder that Hiashi simply couldn't bear.

So, they moved. 

That was many years ago, back when Hinata was just a child. 

But since then, Hinata has taken on the responsibility of looking after her father, especially now, as he lies sick in bed. 

She's grown pretty good at it, which just goes to show how much she learned from her mother. Her mother made sure Hinata could handle looking after both herself and her father on her own, and it's definitely paying off now.

Those teachings were priceless, worth more than gold itself.

And though her dear mother had passed away, Hinata found comfort in knowing that she was still with her; guiding her hands, and blessing her with patience and strength. The wisdom and love she instilled in Hinata were like permanent marks on her soul, destined to remain for as long as she lived. 

And so, no matter the challenges she faced, no matter how heavy the burden of her father's illness, Hinata managed to maintain her positivity. 

Her inner light remained undimmed.

Her radiance was so powerful that it seemed to push back against the encroaching darkness, even now, as she walked the trail all by her lonesome.

But as she walked, the hushed voices of the Konoha townsfolk echoed in her ears, refusing to fade away.

She couldn't shake them off.

The midnight blue-haired woman noticed, as she inhabited their lands, that they constantly spoke of a beast lurking in the nearby forest.

Their fearful gossip painted a picture of a fearsome predator, a freak of nature that had made the once-tranquil forest a place of dread. 

And as soon as word spread that Hinata planned to return home through this forest, the villagers became… 

agitated.

They pleaded with her to wait until morning, to stay safe in the village for the night before venturing near those dangerous woods or traveling at all, for that matter. 

But, Hinata stood firm, adamant.

"I've been away long enough," She had told them, sweetly and earnestly. 

"I can't bear the thought of anything happening to my father while I'm away. He needs these herbs, and I won't let fear keep me from him."  She also told them.

"Thank you for all of your concerns, but I must go. Please, wish me luck!"

However, thinking back on her own words now, Hinata couldn't seem to forget the image of the wide-eyed stares brimming with intense fear and concern etched on the faces of the villagers as she finished speaking. It lingered with her even as she turned away from them and left their gracious company and then village behind.

Little did she know, a touch of naivety tinted her determination.  

The village of Konoha had long battled with the mysterious beast, for several generations, in fact. Its existence was deeply embedded in the memories of its residents, intertwining with the essence of the village itself. 

Its claws dug deep. 

Whenever someone mentions Konoha, the stories of the forest-dwelling beast immediately come to mind soon after. Some dismiss it as an urban legend, while others see it as a cautionary tale passed from adults to children, who eagerly swap it like campfire stories whenever they get the chance.

People simply referred to the creature as "the beast" or even "the big bad wolf," depending on who you asked.

Nobody knew the beast's real name, where it came from, or what it looked like—just where it lived and what it did at night, specifically on nights of a full moon. 

According to the local lore, it was said that on full moon nights, a chilling wolf-like howl could be heard echoing through the forest and into the village. Farmers reported instances of discovering their chickens mauled and their crops raided. Some villagers even claimed to have seen claw marks on their doors, and others reported the disappearances of loved ones, or so the tale goes.

But none of that mattered to Hinata. 

Sure, Hinata had caught wind of rumors about this beast when she was younger but her parents always shielded her from such tales. 

"It's all nonsense," Her mother would always brush off when a teary Hinata sought comfort in her after being scared by the other children's tales of the beast.

Children could be quite scary, Hinata recalls how they would often use the tale to frighten other kids for a good laugh, presumably targeting her as well. They'd swap and switch details so often that Hinata couldn't distinguish fact from fiction anymore. 

That's why she felt it best to heed her mother's advice and ignore the tale altogether.

Though, she still made sure to stay as far away from that forest as humanly possible.

As time passed and Hinata eventually moved away from Konoha, the legend faded from her thoughts, becoming a distant memory. So hearing it again after so many years, Hinata couldn't help but take it with a grain of salt. To her now, the legend seemed more like a tactic to keep youngsters in check—a cautionary tale spun to prevent them from wandering too far and stumbling into trouble.

It was absurd. 

Hinata has no time for legends and myths. Her father's illness is her reality now, not some spooky ole beast, and she must reach him as quickly as possible.

And so, venturing through the forest will fulfill her wish.

With one hand, Hinata clutched a lantern, its flickering flames casting dancing shadows along the trail, guiding the way with its light. In the other hand, she tightly gripped her basket, finding comfort in its presence—a constant reminder of the purpose driving her to continue her journey. 

With each squeeze of the basket's handle, her father's image appeared in her mind: sick, bedridden, and sound asleep for days on end, his hand limp in hers.

She whimpered. 

'I'm on my way, father. I'm on my way.' She thought to herself, finding another surge of motivation. She trotted onward, each step she took resonating with a thud on the stoned pathway.

The chilly night breeze constantly whispered through the rustling trees, sending shivers of its cool touch through any openings in her clothing, such as her arms and legs, causing goosebumps to rise on her porcelain skin.

Hinata shuddered, her red hood steadily flying in the wind. 

While she traveled, the fading sunlight caught the glimmer in her lavender eyes—eyes that reflected only innocence and purity, unaffected by the darkness surrounding the tales of the lurking beast or, perhaps more notably, the harsh realities of the unforgiving world she lived in. 

Her kindness and determination were guiding lights for her, yet they also rendered her vulnerable to the ominous unknown that awaited her. 

Eventually, the trail led her to the entrance of the forest, where the ancient trees stood like silent sentinels. Their gnarled branches seemed to reach out at her like spectral fingers, casting eerie shadows on the ground by her feet. 

Immediately, Hinata's steps came to a sudden halt as she locked eyes with the looming forest. Her lantern and basket swayed due to her abrupt stop, her gaze transfixed on the eerie expanse ahead. 

Shallow breaths escaped her lips in quick succession, and her hands began to tremble.

This is it. 

The forest the villagers warned her about.

The urban legend, the tale of the beast—she never paid it any mind before. She outgrew that silly old tale, and it never made her shed another tear again. She wasn't scared of it anymore.

So, why was she feeling scared now?

Hinata couldn't tell if it was her instincts kicking in or the return of her childhood fears, but her body's peculiar reaction was unmistakable. She was trembling, shaken by the sight of the spooky forest that all of Konoha spoke about with such fear, now standing before her very eyes.

Tangible and real. 

Shakily, through the strands of her midnight-blue hair, Hinata raised her head and surveyed the eerie forest. 

Instantly, she realized the gravity of her situation. 

There were no other trails to consider, no detours, no shortcuts, and no hidden pathways to divert her from the ominous woods. The trail she had followed led her directly to the heart of the very forest that was said to dwell a beast. 

The forest stretched wide before her, its dense canopy casting shadows over the trail, which seemed to vanish into the darkness ahead.

Her heart began to race. 

Once again, the villagers' warnings echoed in her mind, a constant murmur urging her to retreat, turn away, and think twice about going any farther. The echoes just wouldn't quit, persistently nagging at her consciousness, like a chorus of annoying voices that just wouldn't go away.

But, her father….

Hinata's mind drifted back to her beloved father, who she knew was eagerly awaiting her return home. She knew he longed more than anything to see her walk through the door with a smile, bringing the supplies she had traveled far and wide to acquire.

It was at that moment, the fearful echoes of the villagers' pleads faded away.

Hinata exhaled a long breath in an attempt to calm the rising tide of anxiety within her. She even bit her lip nervously, gripping the handle of her basket tighter.

'You can do this, Hinata. You can do this!' She thought, once more trying to motivate herself.

Hinata knew she had to be brave, to summon strength from within the depths of her being to go on—for her father's sake.

She must.

So, with newfound determination, she steadied herself, taking a few more deep breaths before she planted her eyes back onto the spooky forest before her. 

She was ready. 

And with that, she summoned the courage needed to finally step into the darkness that lay ahead.

To enter the forest. 

The moment Hinata walked inside, a profound stillness descended around her like a heavy blanket, muffling even the slightest sound. The light that lingered behind her at the forest's entrance seemed to be instantly swallowed by the darkness within as she took a few more steps.

One step. Two steps.

The air seemed to shift, the pressure weighing her down and prickling at her skin like tangible dread.

Three steps. Four.

Above her, towering trees with branches covered in ancient moss loomed from all directions, their shadows stretching and swaying in the flickering light of her lantern.

The scent of damp pine grew stronger now, filling her nostrils with its earthy aroma, saturating the air all around her. 

Hinata's footsteps slowed, becoming cautious, as if the ground itself conspired with the looming shadows to keep her alert. With each step, she felt as if the ground might open up beneath her feet and drag her under, never to be seen or heard from again.

The path stretched ahead beneath her, shrouded in darkness so deep that even her lantern struggled to penetrate it, casting only a faint halo around her that the darkness seemed eager to swallow up. It called her onward into its endless black depths, demanding a courage she hadn't known she had.

Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage, aching with each beat, a sensation that felt suffocating and very unfamiliar to her. 

After all, panic, dread, and fear were never her friends, more like acquaintances she encountered every once in a blue moon in her otherwise normal life.

But now, she felt it all tenfold. 

Hinata had always prided herself on her composure, but here, surrounded by looming trees and engulfed in an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional rustle, she was beginning to crack.

The longer Hinata lingered within the forest, the tales of the lurking beast seemed to materialize all around her, like a ghost slowly encroaching upon her senses. They echoed in her mind and in every rustle and shadow. 

'Is it there?' She questioned in her mind as she heard a rustle of bushes to her left. 

'Was that it?' She questioned once more, as she heard another rustle behind her. 

Hinata shook her head, letting out a sigh.

She was being ridiculous. 

Glancing up hesitantly, her lavender eyes fixed on the twisted, moss-covered branches overhead. They snaked together like thick vines, blocking out the moonlight. 

She caught only glimpses of the sky, but even those revealed the truth: it was already night, which explains the darkness befalling the forest, swallowing it up whole. 

She squinted, barely catching sight of the full moon above. Its ethereal glow attempted to pierce through the dense foliage, but only succeeded in casting eerie shadows in the forest that only freaked her out even more. 

Hinata tore her gaze from the sky, fixing her eyes solely on the path ahead. Remaining alert in her surroundings was wise; after all, it wasn't just a scary ole beast that might roam these woods—other ordinary animals could be lurking as well. 

Predators. 

She raised her lantern higher. 

But that's when she began to notice something.

As she moved forward, the trail ahead became increasingly narrow, almost disappearing under the tangle of roots, dead leaves, and thick undergrowth. Hinata made sure to tread carefully, even stepping over the tangled obstacles, mindful to avoid tripping and risking a nasty fall.

That would be terrible.

She tightened her grip on her lantern and basket, drawing comfort from their warmth. But she struggled to steady her trembling breaths against the creeping unease that seemed to seep from the darkness itself.

Genuinely, Hinata was spooked. 

Goosebumps prickled her skin, making it feel like a million bugs were crawling across her flesh, all stirred up by the soft murmurings of the night wind.

It just made her feel even more isolated, like an eerie reminder that she was completely alone here.

Hoot! Hoot! 

Hinata shuddered, her senses rattled.  

Maybe not completely alone. 

She couldn't help but notice the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of creatures in the bushes. She felt so silly thinking what she just did. 

The silence felt thick, disrupted only by the eerie sounds of the night: crickets chirping, frogs ribbiting, and owls hooting in the distance. 

Hinata strained her ears, half-expecting another unsettling noise to break the stillness. Her mind was buzzing, not at all helping her situation, with the villagers' warnings echoing louder in her mind, now than ever before.

Doubt flickered, like a wavering flame, her heart thudding like a drum.

But amidst it all, Hinata clung to the image of her father, frail and ill, relying on the supplies she carried.

So, she continued on. 

She proceeded on the path forward, taking one step at a time.

'Just stay on the path, Hinata. That's all you have to do.' She reassured herself, glancing at the familiar stoned trail beneath her feet, or at least the bits of trail that her light graciously illuminated. 

But no matter how close she huddled to her light, Hinata could not shake free from the unseen eyes watching her every move. 

Her eyes darted between the trees, catching glimpses of elusive shadows that seemed to retreat as soon as they caught her gaze.

She clutched her lantern tighter.  

Awooooo!

Abruptly, a distant howl of a wolf shattered the silence, disrupting Hinata's fragile calm. Startled, she leaped in fright, struggling to stifle her whimpers, but a few hushed squeaks escaped nonetheless.

The eerie cry echoed unnervingly close, as though it were just a few steps behind her, prompting her to instinctively whip her head in that direction. 

Yet, all she saw was darkness, a vast expanse of black. 

She aimed her lantern in that direction, only to see nothing, just more… trees.

Shivers ran down her spine, her sense of imminent danger heightening. 

But she kept on.

'Just a few more steps, I'm sure. The forest can't be that big, right?' Hinata attempted to reassure herself as she pressed forward on the path again, cutting through the forest with the vision that the clear path home lay just a few steps away. 

She wasn't sure how long or how far she had walked into the forest. Every tree looked identical, and the forest seemed to stretch on endlessly, making it impossible for her to identify the distance she had covered.

Branches creaked…

Leaves rustled…

But that's all there was—rustling.

No beast. 

No monstrous entity lurking in the shadows. 

Nothing.

'See, Hinata? The villagers were just overreacting. There's nothing to worry about.' She reassured herself yet again. 

But just as she convinced herself that the villagers were simply letting their fears get the best of them and that there was no beast, she was startled by a chilling surprise that shook her to her very core. 

A surprise that made her doubt everything. 

All of a sudden, she caught a sound—a haunting, guttural noise.

And it spoke to her. 

"I see you there, little one." 

It was a voice, other than her own. 

It was a deep, booming voice that shattered the silence, its words lingering like a sinister whisper long after spoken, chilling her to the bone. 

In an instant, Hinata found herself completely still, every part of her body, from her nerves to her bones, locked in place. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She couldn't even—

"I can smell you too." 

The voice spoke again, slicing through her panicked and scattered thoughts. Any notion that what she just heard was merely her imagination or a trick of her mind vanished completely, leaving her with the chilling reality of her fear.

"You don't belong here." 

The voice spoke once more.

"Tell me, what's a frail little thing like you doing here in my woods, huh?" 

The voice exuded a creepy mix of menace and curiosity, and it spoke like it was coming from all around her, as if the very trees themselves whispered such ominous words.

Hinata's heart began to hammer faster, thudding against her chest as if trying to escape. 

Every instinct screamed at her to run, to sprint back to the safety of Konoha village or if not that, find cover to escape the unseen menace that lurked in the shadows. But, her legs refused to respond, rooted to her spot, bound by an invisible force that held her captive.

She tightened her grip on her lantern and basket, seeking solace in their familiarity, but the chilling reality of her fear seemed to seep into her bones, draining her determination with each passing second. 

It's the beast. 

It's real and it can talk! 

It's alive, and out there—Lurking. 

Somewhere among the trees, it was hiding, waiting, and watching. 

Probably done so all along. 

It was the very beast that the people of Konoha feared, the one they had warned her about. It has finally revealed its presence. But it has done so in a way that brought upon a mass of terror upon her poor soul. 

"Aw, what's the matter? Cat's got your tongue, little one?"

This time, amusement tinged the beast's voice, and Hinata caught it instantly. But her mouth remained clamped shut, her voice stolen by the fear that gripped her.

The creature seemed to take pleasure in her silence, its tone becoming increasingly mocking.

"You're a surprising one, coming here. I'm not sure if you're brave or just…"

A menacing chuckle was made. 

"stupid." The beast finished, a taunting challenge that further tightened the knot of dread in Hinata's stomach.

The beast's words seemed to linger in the air, and Hinata found herself grappling with the urgency to respond, to defend her purpose for being there—right in the middle of the very domain it inhabited. 

A whimper escaped Hinata's lips as she glanced anxiously around.

"I-I apologize for d-disturbing you." Her voice cracked hard. It was like all the saliva in her mouth dried up, leaving her throat scratchy and parched. But she continued, kami, she didn't know how she did. 

"I-I'm merely delivering f-food and m-medicine to my f-father." She stammered, managing to maintain a fragile steadiness in her voice despite the trembling in her limbs.

"H-He's sick, and I m-must get to him as q-quickly as p-possible, please."

The forest seemed to hold its breath as she spoke, the ancient trees and whispering leaves hanging on to every word and gentle breath she uttered with eager attentiveness. 

Her purpose for venturing into the forest had been announced. 

Her soft voice had been revealed. 

It was like a melodic lullaby—her voice. It echoed timidly, carrying a soft cadence that seemed to harmonize with the natural rhythms of the forest, soothing the very leaves around her.

Her ears caught a low chuckle, almost a growl, rumbling through the air, echoing ominously among the shadows.

The unseen beast truly found the sound of Hinata's voice rather… captivating. 

It responded in turn.

"Your father, eh?"

Another menacing chuckle. 

"Let me get this straight."

The beast paused, as if it was thinking, before its voice arose again. 

"You've traveled all this way, wading through my territory, doing what many wouldn't dare, just to deliver supplies to your sick father?"

The beast's deep voice rumbled through the air like distant thunder, its tone laced with a genuine sense of confusion as it questioned her.

Hinata nodded shakily, as if the beast could see her response.

Her lavender eyes scanned her surroundings once more, her head whipping about, unable to pinpoint where the voice was. Sometimes it boomed from behind her, startlingly close; other times, it seemed to fade into the distance, only to return with an unsettling proximity. And it even seemed to whisper with an eerie clarity right beside her ear at times, sending shivers down her spine.

Hinata didn't know where the beast was; quite frankly, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to see it. 

Once more, the trees rustled in a mysterious dance of leaves, stirred by an unseen breeze, prompting her eyes to shift rapidly, whimpering. 

Soon after, the voice echoed through the silent forest once more.

"Mmm, what a devoted little thing you are. I must take a closer look."

Instantly, panic surged through Hinata the very moment those words left the beast's mouth. 

It felt like a threat, triggering a primal urge in her to flee. Her mind raced with the urge to run, hide, do something, but her body couldn't keep pace with what her mind was screaming at it.

Panic. 

That's all she felt. 

She was overwhelmed by panic—relentless, heedless of reason or necessity—just raw, clawing panic, gnawing at her insides.

Panic gripped her fiercely, its tendrils wrapping around her mind and squeezing tight. Her heart raced like a drumbeat, each thud echoing in her ears. Every breath came in short, shallow gasps, her chest tightening with each inhale. 

Hinata felt trapped in a suffocating embrace of fear, unable to think clearly as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

'Oh no. Oh no!' She repeated over and over in her head as she whipped her body around, trying to anticipate where the beast might reveal itself.

A hushed silence fell upon the forest, as though nature itself had fallen completely still. 

Frozen in time. 

No shuffles, no rustles, and no sign of life resonated through the entirety of the still forest, leaving Hinata wrapped in an eerie quiet that heightened her anxiety to the extremes. 

She began to hyperventilate. 

Hinata glanced around anxiously, scanning every direction—left, right, front, back, up, and down—hoping to catch a glimpse of the lurking creature before it leaped out at her, a preemptive move to spare herself a heart attack. 

But the forest remained eerily quiet.

And there was no sign or sound of the beast anywhere. 

Suddenly, a sensation washed over her, as if the very air had shifted—and in an instant, Hinata sensed a presence behind her, looming over her petite frame.

A warm breath gently brushed against her neck, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

"Behind you."

The booming voice reverberated behind her once more, but this time, it was unmistakable.

It echoed directly into her left ear.

The realization struck her like a lightning bolt, causing Hinata's heart to race even faster, its beats resembling the fluttering wings of a hummingbird against her chest.

Ba Boom!

Ba Boom!

Ba Boom!

Hinata's body froze in place.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see or hear. Was she still alive? Was she still here?

She wasn't sure.

In moments of fear, they say the body responds with fight or flight, but Hinata was currently experiencing the lesser-acknowledged third option.

Freeze.

It was a primal reaction her body had never felt before, muscles locking rigidly, breath held tight, senses hyper-alert.

Hinata hesitated hard, finding it difficult to accept that the real beast—the one feared by the villagers, the one that had spoken to her moments ago in the night's shadows, the same one even she was afraid of as a child—was now standing right behind her.

No one had ever seen it.

No one even knows what it looks like.

Yet, now it stood behind her.

Hinata couldn't even begin to imagine what the beast looked like. 

Her innocent mind couldn't conjure a clear image, only a chilling certainty that whatever stood behind her at this very moment would surely petrify her, plunging her into a pit of regret for even venturing into this forest. 

But, she gotta. 

She gotta turn around. 

Slowly, with trepidation, and a shaky, desperate "I-don't-want-to-die" whimper, she turned, shedding the cold chains of fear that gripped her. It took all of Hinata's strength to turn her body completely around, stretching her neck to face the beast head-on.

But when she did…

What she saw instantly spurred her to fight against the darkness that threatened to cloud her vision and plunge her completely unconscious to the ground behind her. 

She fought everything not to faint. 

Instead, Hinata jolted back, away from the hulking figure of darkness, stumbling over her pump heels. 

"O-Oh my kami. Oh k-k-kami!" She panicked with a scream, lips trembling, teeth chattering against one another. Her abrupt movement caused her lantern and basket to rattle in her clammy hands, nearly slipping from her grasp. 

But that was the least of her worries. 

There it stood, in the flesh. 

The beast. 

The big bad wolf. 

Continue Reading On Wattpad Or AO3.

— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)

[bitacrytic]

Please DO NOT keep reading if you do not want to see me reading too much into MSI's silent commentary on pairings onscreen and offscreen in the bl industry.

MSI is set in the film industry that is rife with abuse and exploitation. Yet, we have executives like Joy and Wut (and the two directors) who are genuinely good to thier actors at best, and argumentative with thier actors at worst.

But that's it.

Because everytime there's been a bl set "in the horrible bl world" all I've heard has been "Oh the real truth behind the bl industry". And that's well and good. Because it's a shit industry. No doubt.

But...

I just wanted to point out how this show is focusing on how abusive INDIVIDUALS can be, instead.

Ming is a rich kid whose family sponsors projects. He started six months ago but his face is already everywhere.

His private life is fucked up. He's an abusive piece of shit. And he's not afraid to mention his money. Oh, and he studied "abroad".

Like... am I the only one who finds the situation of a super-rich superstar living with his "partner" a little too familiar?

The actor who "only smiles when he's working with so and so..."?

Am the only one wondering about the possibly abusive dynamics between bl pairs that we assume are oh-so-cute when one of them acts possessive in front of the camera?

As of right now, watching two guys be friends when they're not working seems like the safest and sanest situation to me.

After seeing Ming's display at the bar in front of that other actor, I'm not sure how to watch another fancam where we see one actor drag his costar away from conversing with another person.

Because when we call out the bl industry for abuse, sometimes we forget that it's an industry made up of people. And guess what, actors are people too.

[mexxs-blog]

she contemplates for a minute, rage filling her. She wanted to walk over and rip the little mutt away from damian (before bending her over in front of everyone, and spanking the little bitch,) but no. she’s going to wait. before making her unloyal little bitch pay.

When Rhea leaves the lockeroom she’s fidgeting with her fingers and wondering how and why the fuck she is able to endure this but her thought were soon misconstrued

Becky: have a good talk with Damien

(TW: HEAVY ABUSE, DARK THEMES, IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS, DO NOT READ. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.)

rhea jumps, her eyes widening in fear. “i-i-“

becky stands up, causing rhea to shrink back in fear, backing up into a wall as becky approaches her. “you really thought i wouldn’t find out you crawled back to them? You’re fucking PATHETIC-“ she yells, kicking rhea in the stomach, making her double over in pain with a small groan.

becky pushes her down to her knees by the back of her head, shoving her face into the ground before putting her boot onto the back of her head. rhea cries out in pain as becky applies pressure, tears starting to drip onto the floor. “I should be hearing you apologising, you should be fucking begging for me to forgive you, shouldn’t you, mutt?” becky growls, a feral look in her eyes. rhea struggles for air as her face is slowly crushed against the floor, the pressure growing into pain.

becky then pulls her foot off of rheas head, watching as she lays still at her feet, before curling up into herself, pathetic little sobs escaping her. “i should leave you here, let you fucking cry. but you and i both know, rhea..” she crouches down , pulling rheas head up by hair, making the tear-stained creature face her before continuing, “..that you’re nothing without me. your little friends can’t fill the place i fill. and they never will. nobody will. you are NOTHING without me!” she yells, before smashing rheas face straight into the floor, rendering her unconscious.

[thegamingcatmom]

How do we feel about bitey!Tanya? Not an actual bite, ofc. She'd never turn you without your consent, no matter how...heated things get between two of you.

I might feel inclined to write out that exact scenario at some point though. Because why tf not?

Nibbling though? Hell yes. She's all for that. I imagine it's her preferred way to, y'know, get things going.

It doesn't always have to be sexual in nature though. Sometimes she loves to clamp down - very carefully - and just...remain like that for a bit. It grounds her, in a way. Not unlike a babe suckling on its pacifier.

If she catches anyone referring to her in such a way she's gonna make them pay-

Besides, it's vampires. Biting is in their nature. Why should it be used solely for feeding? It might be their love language as well. Like, I wouldn't be surprised to see Carmen tilting her head back, having a quick nibble at that chiseled chin, and receiving a forehead kiss in return. All whilst they're out in the open for anyone to see - and that's the point. People are supposed to witness it.

Vampires are possessive creatures. What better way to show your bond, mark your territory, than leaving teeth marks all over?

Affectionately, of course. Humans are quite breakable, after all.

...Tanya does tend to get carried away from time to time. Affectionately though!

She's gonna make it up to you if she's been a bit too rough.

...With more biting. Most affectionate.

You're gonna forgive her anyway, as you always do. Who could stay mad at that face?

Look at those hands. They be like-

👉👈

"Forgive me, my love..."

(She totally didn't mean that. Just look at her face, that minx.)

THAT LIL BITEY BABY. 😭

[walter-hotgirl-white]

not me making multiple posts about this server

join if u so desire its a really good time

‼️18+ ONLY‼️

[allieisacrybaby]

tw: death, cancer, grief

​a girl i knew for a short period of my life, and even shorter amount of her’s recently passed away from cancer and, her passing was really sudden too. it’s such a weird feeling knowing that she was my age when she passed and that someone i have memories with but haven’t been in contact with for years has passed away. it’s weird to feel so much sadness for someone i haven’t talked to in years but it still hurts??? idk i don’t need to validate my grief but it’s still so weird?? i think this was the wake up call i needed to start living life to the fullest because your time here is so short and can be ripped from you in an instant.

[jitterbugbear]

⚠️ new elf oc ⚠️

[zero06iranosaurusrex]

new angst for new year... yeah

[sandwichsugarbong]

"Female Face Breaker" is a track from Mutilated's album "Devirginated Genital Pulp," released in 2010. The song is a brutal example of slam death metal, characterized by its slow, heavy rhythms, guttural vocals, and crushing breakdowns. Lyrically, it explores themes of violence and gore, common in the extreme metal genre. The track exemplifies Mutilated's signature style, known for its intense and aggressive sound.

Another favorite of mine, and the album is pretty good as well. 7.5/10.