#even if it meant it was hard to view animals at times

[orcinus-veterinarius]

The idiots are already out saying Flaco is better off dead than in a life of captivity.

[aliidarling]

im preying on you tonight

GHOSTFACE x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary; you’re at a haunted house and have a bad experience with these annoying scare actors 🙄

warnings: blood and gore, smut, p in v, non con, rough sex, no protection, fondling, fingering, creampie, penetration, mean ghostie, size kink, intended dacryphillia

meant so you can imagine any male ghostface :)

nsfw content below !!

this time of the year was always gloomy and dark, the forest air foggy and limiting the man’s view. his mask didn’t allow him much access anyways, but all these branches hitting him in the face as he ran wasn’t the best either.

he could hear the girls loud crying from in front of him, her wheezing and low coughing. he had to hand it to her, she was managing to still run away from him with stab wounds and several scratches. some of his victims gave up immediately the second they saw his shrieked expression, but no, not this girl. he was slightly amused by it, but also annoyed.

this dumb blonde had somehow managed to drag him all the way into this forest, dirtying his robe. he swore, he could feel the splinters pricking at his skin. her screaming for help didn’t help his annoyance either.

in the distance he caught a glance of a large amusement park, the trees slowly moving out of the way and showing the night sky more clearly. the wind blew, the loud music becoming more and more clear. the girl noticed as well and started to run towards the open gate. he tsk’d under his breath, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, before continuing his sprint. he tucks his knife into his robe and looks at where the girl is headed.

straight towards a haunted house. a tall, black house with gothic exterior and cobwebs decorating the windows. he could see the led lights from the front, the large sign with all the information written down on it.

anger washed over him as the girl ran into the house through the back door, leaving her bloody trail behind her. why was his job so hard? this girl should of dropped dead minutes ago. adrenaline was a silly thing.

at the front of the haunted house, you stood gazing at the sign with an unsure expression. you had come here with friends a few hours back, all dressed up in cute little halloween outfits in celebration of the spooky holiday. but not even a hour in everyone split up and left you all alone. what a shitty friend group.

to your left you caught a glimpse of a figure running into the back of the haunted house. you frowned and took a peek, watching as a dark robe followed in after her in a hurried manner. weird.

anyways, the sign said admission fee was seven dollars. wasn’t too bad, you guessed. you hesitantly handed the employee a ten dollar bill and waltzed in.

the inside was dark with a fog machine taking up the hallways, giving it an eerie aura. the lace curtains, the dark furniture, the tall paintings of people you had never seen before— this seemed like an actual house more then a haunted one. it was all part of the gig, right?

you wandered into the kitchen, only to get jumpscared by a scare actor that was almost twice your size. he was dressed as a beast, hiding in the corner. with a scream, he pounced at you and caused you to stumble back and drop your soda all over your top. gasping for air, you looked up at him with a pissed off expression, fingers trembling.

the man stared at you for a few seconds with an unsure look, before shrugging and shuffling into the darkness once again, looking for another unsuspecting victim to scare.

“great, just great.” you mutter bitterly to yourself. you sigh tiredly and throw your empty bottle into the garbage, patting some droplets off your top.

you were dorothy for halloween, matching with the rest of your friend group. you were all fairy tale characters. …a more slutty version of them, that is. you had on a blue plaid dress that stopped at your mid thigh, red flats, with your hair styled with cute bows keeping it in messy pigtails.

your pretty blue dress was now covered in soda though, so that wasn’t the greatest. you took another minute to look around the kitchen, flinching at a spider that you realized was fake after a minute, almost slipping on some cobwebs, before shrieking when another scare actor dressed as a bloody bride came out of nowhere.

today was not your day, not in the slightest.

"AAAAH!" a sudden scream from the hallway catches your attention. you shriek and turn quickly, blinking for a moment before shuffling forward and creeping into the door that leads to the hallway. there's a blood trail on the floor that leads to the staircase. that must mean the haunted house wants you to follow it, right? is this one of those haunted houses that has a specific pathway so you can experience every part? probably.

"mmmm, okay." you say to yourself, shrugging and following it up the stairs. it's slippery. you cringe and reluctantly look around the upstairs. scary music plays obnoxiously loud in the background, the lights flickering to give a mysterious feeling and a creepy edge. it's working. working too well.

a door slams to your left and you flinch, looking in that direction immediately. you see the same black robe flash in the distance, the same robe you've seen already. what a committed scare actor. was he targeting you? or were you just witnessing him scaring his other victims?

"SOMEONE! HELP ME!" a girly shriek resonates from said room. you blink dumbly for a moment, looking at the other doors that have cobwebs and poorly drawn blood platters on them, some doors having signs on them. one sign said “danger ahead!” and another said “beware of ghosts!”.

after a moment of thinking you slowly walked down the hallway into the dark room, looking around in surprise. it was a media room that was completely wrecked. the couch had its fabric ripped with stab marks all over it, blood marks, and some stuffing spilling out of it. the table was thrown onto its side with the glass vase shattered.

at the end of a room was a large door with decor hanging off it. you stepped forward and opened it slowly, blinking in surprise as you were immediately met with a reflection of yourself. your lips parted in awe as you realized it was a mirror maze. what creeped you out was the bloody hand marks on the mirrors. this haunted house was very realistic. you didn’t like it.

you walked forward, only to immediately head butt into a mirror. you blinked rapidly in shock and looked around, patting your surroundings and trying to find the pathway to the exit. another long minute passes as you pat the wall, letting it lead you deeper and deeper into the maze.

someway through your little adventure someone suddenly rams into you, making you shriek and give the mirror in front of you another headbutt. she gasps and curls into you, tugging at your clothing and crying out annoyingly loud.

"okay buddy, i don't think scare actors are supposed to get physical-" you grumble, swatting at her clammy hands. she cries and cries, blood all over her clothing and her face covered in tears.

"please! please! h-he's chasing me a-and i-i"m so s-scared and i don't want to d-die—" her voice cracks a dozen times as she sobs into your chest, pulling you closer and closer until you both are pressed together like lovers. you squirm in discomfort, not liking how personal she was getting. you were pretty sure scare actors weren't supposed to cross boundaries like this.

"okay, please get off me." you hiss sharply, gently pushing her away. she sobs more and shakes her head, silently begging you to listen to her. she can barely utter out any words, limping in pain with several stab wounds under her clothing.

she pales as she looks behind you. you turn hesitantly, not wanting to turn your back to this crazy lady. you see the reflection of a shrieked mask, making you flinch and hug the girl in your arms.

“okay, uhm, you guys are very good at your job—“ you chuckle nervously, hugging the girl tightly. she was shorter then you, her head tucked into your chest. she was trembling so much. you frowned.

“are you.. okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“he STABBED me!” she shrieks, aggressively tugging at your hands and showing you her stomach. right there laid a gigantic bloody wound, blood dripping down onto her skirt. your face paled even more and you stood there like an idiot, face to face with this girl who had a gigantic stab mark.

“o-okay— okay— let’s get, let’s get out of here? okay? you’re safe with me,” you shush her gently, helping her walk as you hurriedly pull her alongside you. you lead her to the entrance of the maze, backtracking your pathway. you mostly just followed the bloody hand marks from earlier, though.

the next few minutes is a blur. you’re helping her down the stairs, she’s crying and hyperventilating, you’re freaking out because the blood is looking too real and the creepy music in the background isn’t helping. your heart is pounding and you don’t know what to do.

as you help her down the stairs, she grasps onto your shirt with a terrified look, tugging you. “h-he’s following us!” she screeches. you blink at her for a moment, frowning in fear and not looking where you’re stepping. you open your mouth to respond to her, only to step on air. you send the both of you stumbling down, a scream leaving her as the hard wood digs into her wounds.

you gasp sharply, squinting your eyes to clear your blurry vision. you turn to your side to check on the terrified blonde, only to gape in shock at the sight of her limp on the floor. her eyes are lazily fluttering open and shut, the blood from her gut spilling out. the impact had made her wound deeper and probably set her on the waiting list for the afterlife. and it was all your fault.

“h-hey— hey- hey—“ you choke out, getting up and hurrying to her, patting her face and trying to get her to respond. your hands are full of blood as you inhale deeply, your heart about to jump out of your chest. she looks up at you with all the strength she has, lips moving weakly.

"b..behind you." she whispers.

your heart stops. you blink down at her pale face and slowly peek over your shoulder. down the hall is a tall man in a robe, a white glowing mask on his head. the fog surrounds him as he tilts his head at you, silently watching. you couldn’t see his eyes but goosebumps immediately spread all over your body, making you squirm in discomfort. he didn’t look like a scare actor. no, he looked like the black blur you’ve been seeing all day.

his hunting knife was covered in blood, and that was all you needed to know before you broke out into a sprint in the opposite direction of him. the hallways were closing in on you as you rushed down towards the back door, the screams of the girl echoing throughout the house. you could hear the knife slashing at her, making your eyes water in fear.

you didn’t want to die. no, you were too young! too pretty, too kind, too— you hadn’t even graduated yet. you still wanted to earn your bachelor's, go out on more dates, and get more friends. but no, you couldn’t anymore, because you were about to get butchered by some psycho in a halloween costume.

your sweaty hands pulled and tugged at the door handle, blinking away the tears. you sniffled, your heart somehow dropping further down into your stomach as the door didn’t budge.

“awww, no no sweetie, you’re stuck in here with me. they already shut down the entire park.” you hear his menacing voice coo from behind you. it was dark and deep, a mockingly soothing tone. maybe it would of lulled you to sleep in any other situation. it sends shivers down your spine and a hiccup leaves your throat.

“who are you? why are you doing this?” you mumble hesitantly, your voice small in the gigantic house. he tsk’s at you, waving his knife in a wagging motion at you.

“no, you don’t get to ask questions, sweetheart. you’re a dumb little bitch who got involved in things that didn’t concern her.” he growls darkly, stepping closer and closer. you back to your left and rush behind the couch, shaking. he laughs at your pathetic attempt at getting something in between you two.

“why would you kill her?! is this some sick prank?!” you snap, some tears streaming down your face as he simply shrugs. shrugs.

“what the fuck.” you whisper at him, the sight of her blood all over him making you sick to your stomach. as if you could drop to your knees and vomit. you might, actually.

before you can react, he jumps over the couch and grabs you. you scream as he shoves you face first into the couch, quickly straddling your body. you thrash underneath him, sobbing and shaking your head, letting out incoherent mess of please don’t kill me and i’ll do anything. he’s slightly annoyed by how loud you are. should be cut your vocal records so you don’t gain attention? but then again, no one is near by. no one to hear your pretty screams except him.

his heavy knife glides alongside your spine, his hand only applying light pressure. you hear the sound of your dress getting ripped and more tears slip, your lips quivering as you squeeze your eyes shut. you shiver as the cold air brushes against your back, the back of your bra being revealed to him. what a day to wear your favorite set, right?

“look at you, dressed like a god damn slut. you wanted this, didn’t you?” he hissed, hooking one of his fingers underneath the clasp and snapping it against your skin. he chuckled lightly at your girly squeak. your hands squirm some more and he huffs in annoyance, grabbing them and shoving them above your head.

“keep them right there, got it? you move them and i’ll cut your wrists open, stupid girl.” he bonks the back of your head hard. you yelp and nod, shaking as you hold your hands together tightly above your head just as he asked. more soft cries leave you as he pulls the back of your dress further apart, goosebumps all over your porcelain skin.

“why are you doing this?” you force the words out of your throat, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. it might be blood.

“because i can.” he hums simply, running his fingers down your spine. his hands unclasp your bra and slip it off your body, and you squirm as your nipples press against the scratchy fabric of your dress. you quietly mewl into the couch.

“you don’t need to do this. i-i have money— not much, but i have some,” you beg desperately, trembling as his large body presses you more into the cushion. you felt like you were getting suffocated. you were so overwhelmed and scared, covered in blood and getting stripped down by the reason.

“you think i need your money?” he scoffs, shoving his hands uder your chest and groping your breasts. you squeal hard as he meanly fondles and squeezes them, his large hands covering a lot. his fingers pinch your nipples, causing you to whine loudly into the couch. you can’t help that they harden right away, your body becoming more sensitive to his touch. moans start to slip from your throat as you feel his knee lodge itself between your thighs.

he roughly grinds his jeans fabric against your panties, your skirt lifted and showing the lewd sight of the thin fabric sticking to your messy cunt. the denim material of his jeans is rough and hard, applying a good enough amount of friction to lubricate you further.

little moans leave you involuntarily, trying your best to muffle them by biting down on your bottom lip. your thighs squirm and attempt to close, but it only ends up trapping the man’s knee against your pussy. more rubbing has you crying and moaning, subtly grinding your pussy back onto him. he, of course, notices and swats the back of your head again, your moans stuttering.

“look at you, getting off on this shit.” he whispers into your ear, leaning down so his chest is against your back, his mask is pressing against your head. his hands don’t stop their assault on your breasts, marking them up with hard pinches and twisting your nipples until you're begging him to let go. “i didn’t expect you to be such a down bad slut.” he sneers.

“s-shut up..” you sniffle, your voice muffled and your body covered entirely by his robe. if someone walked in they’d see a small girl getting completely smothered by some dude in a halloween costume. this couldn’t be any more embarrassing.

"s-shut up." he mocks in a high-pitched voice, giving an extra harsh twist to your nipple. he gets harder at the sound of your pained cry. he smiles creepily under the mask as he presses his large hand to your panties, rubbing your clit through the thin soaked material. your body squirms at the feeling of having your sensitive core played with, rubbing your wet face against the cushion in a weak attempt to wipe your tears.

"dont touch me— no, not there- stop!" you gasp desperately, whimpering into the cold air as he keeps rubbing your clit and touching you right where it feels so good. the savory sensation had your lips parting subconsciously and your thighs inching away from each other. you're ashamed of the way you're enjoying this, how you're begging in your head for him to slide his fingers nice and deep.

"i can feel how wet you are, damn. you must really want me to ruin this little cunt of yours, huh? gonna beg?" he sniggered, sliding his fingers underneath and letting the small brush of his middle and ring finger against your hole be all you feel. his eyes are burning through the back of your head, inhaling each movement and sound you make, analyzing your reactions and how you take his touch.

"m'not gonna beg. i'll gonna beg for you to get your dirty ass hands off me—" you're interrupted by him sliding his two fingers deep inside you, immediately curling them painfully into your g-spot. the pleasure takes you so off guard you let out a pathetic mewl, bucking your hips in surprise. his free hand comes down on your waist, holding you down into the couch as he fingers your pussy open roughly.

"what was that?" he hums, pushing them impossibly deeper, scraping the rough fabric of his gloves against your walls and making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" he said in a sick tone. he was having so much fun, it's not everyday he gets to fuck his victims. most of the time they're too annoying and he finds himself hating their guts personally after hearing the colorful words they call him.

more little moans leave you as he makes scissoring motions, his grip on your waist bruising and making you hiss softly in pain. his fingers are large and taking up all the space inside you, making you feel so full and satisfied. it felt so good, so good that you were sick to your stomach at how much you were enjoying it. you could feel her blood coating your skin, making you gag softly on your moans as he kept going.

soon enough, you bite back your loud moan as your body cums all over his fingers, coating his gloves in your essence. he rubs the sticky fluid between his fingers with a chuckle of amusement, watching as the blood and cum mix together.

“you’re a filthy slut, you know that? ive killed soooo many people,” he starts, humming softly as he pushes the bottom of his robe aside to unbutton his flip, revealing his dark boxers. the large bulge is visible as you peer over your shoulder with a heavy breath.

“separated families,” he continues, talking in an innocent voice as his hands grasp at his cock. his top springs against his lower abdomen, nice and big with a thick base. you gulp nervously. “ruined lives—“ he coo’s sickeningly sweet.

“and now i’m gonna ruin yours.” he grabs your hips, position his tip against your hole. he gives you barely a second to process his words before he slams himself deep inside you, causing you to shriek and press your face down into the couch.

��a-ah~ s-stop.. wrong..” you blabber cluelessly, your brain all soapy and spilling out of your ears. your body felt weak and limp, giving into his touch as he gave a few shallow thrusts, your moans giving him more encouragement.

“wrong?” he mocks, one hand grabbing your hair roughly to pull at it. you shriek at the harsh tug, your head forced back as he starts to rock his hips at a mean pace. “for someone who hates this, you’re awfully wet and compliant.”

you feel his hard denim slap against your butt each time he sends a punishing thrust into your pussy, more moans streaming out of you. your eyes are fluttering shut as he batters your insides, mouth agape with drool forming at the edge. the sight was slutty— a young girl with her dress all ripped up and her skirt lifted getting fucked by halloween enthusiast.

“feels so good,” you hiccup, sniffling your fat tears as your doe eyes tried their best to stay open, squinting through the tears. your breasts bounce and sway, bubble butt jiggling at his thrusting. he wasn’t letting back on you, not at all.

“you want me to make you cum, sweetheart? hmmm? you want these hands that’s stabbed dozens of people to rub that tiny clit of yours?”

“please.” you say in such a pathetic tone that he can’t help but obey, his hand on your hair letting go to reach under you and gently tap your clit, his pace not stopping for a split second.

“this right here?” he pinches. you whimper and nod, shaking. he snickers and rubs figure eights into your bud, the immediate reaction of your body tightening up on him making him hiss sharply.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, girl. tight ass pussy, huh?” he gives your butt a hard smack. you whine at the impact, cock drunk and not processing a single thing anymore. he focuses on making you climax and grabs your hip tightly, holding you still as he starts shoving his cock as deep as it can go.

your noises grow more high pitched, letting him know he was on the right path. he can feel himself grow harder and more stiff, about to be pushed over the edge. incoherent curses and grunts leave him as he tenses up behind you, still rubbing your clit hard as his cock explodes inside you. his cum paints your walls white, groaning as he fucks you harder.

he feels you clamp down and release as well, a loud sigh leaving you as your body goes limp, your ass being held up by him being the only thing not flat against the couch. the second he lets go of your hips, it drops onto the couch. you groan weakly, cum all over your thighs and dripping down onto the couch.

he stares at your ruined form a few seconds, debating on wether he should stab you now and make a run for it. but then he remembers his dna is currently painting your insides and he sighs. he wipes some of the cum off your leg and fingers it back into you, your caught off guard squeal giving him some motivation to keep you alive.

“shut it.” he jabs the last of the cum into you before parting, patting your butt and smoothing your skirt back down. he glances at your purse that was hanging off the side of the couch, thrown off you at some point, and grabs it. he finds your wallet inside and peeks at your id, blinking at your name. he makes sure you’re not looking(you’re too busy being half conscious face down) and takes a quick photo of your address and number as well as your pretty body under him.

pulling away, he makes sure to tell you one last thing. he roughly grabs your hair and yanks it back, awakening you immediately from your daydreams. you shriek and blink terrified at his bloody mask, eyes blinking widely in shock.

“tell anyone about this and i’ll kill your entire family and force you to watch.” he then proceeds to list your entire name and address, making you gape at him like a dumb puppy, clueless on how he had this information.

“y-yes- yes!” you nod, sniffling with your watery eyes. he gives a condescending pat on the cheek before disappearing down the hall as if this never happened. you lay there on the couch confused before hesitantly getting up and shivering as cold air brushes against the back of your ripped dress.

“uhmmmm….. hello..?” you call out awkwardly to the hall. you peek and see him standing over the blondes dead body, about to grab her by her ankles to assumingely drag out the back door. he stops to stare at you wordlessly.

you frown and motion to your ripped dress. his reaction takes a few seconds to happen but he eventually grabs the hoodie off the dead girl and throws it at you aggressively. you jump and catch it, cringing at the blood and stench. you fucked a murderer and now you have to deal with the consequences.

“thanks.” you choke out before running out the back door. he rolls his eyes at you before continuing to drag the dead body out.

it had been a few days since the incident. he had been haunting your thoughts, making you wonder what the hell was wrong with you to let yourself get fucked by a serial killer.

you had decided to search him up and attempt to find out who he was. all you found out was that there were killings in the near by towns that all linked the one name— ghostface.

you sat on your couch with your feet up on your. coffee table, laptop open on your lap with a dozen tabs open. each tab was a different articles about him, some about his killings, other about the mysterious surrounding his identity. no one had a real idea on who he was or what his motive was— only that he was a force to be reckoned with.

your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar name being said on the tv. you look up and your heart drops as you see her blonde hair and bright blue eyes stare at you from across the room. there she was— on the tv, smiling innocently. her full name was below the photo of her sitting with her friends and her age.

rebecca garcia

age 19

found dead behind halloween horror nights amusement park, her body cut up and put in several bags. she was stabbed repeatedly in the stomach before eventually dying by the hands of the local serial killer, ghostface.

your stomach turned inside out as you maintained eye contact with the photo of the happy girl. the news reporter shared how the town would be on high alert the next few weeks, alerting us of keeping our doors locked and keeping your eyes out for any suspicious behavior. the report ended with a god bless apology to families.

the silence that followed after was deafening, your heartbeat being the only thing you could hear. your palms felt too clammy and the couch was too rough, your clothes pricking at your skin and your eyes welling up with tears. everything felt too real and too close.

the sound of your phone ringing broke the silence, making you flinch. you peered over, blinking through the tears as your shaky fingers picked up your phone and brought it to your eyes.

you frowned in confusion at the unknown number, sighing gently before picking it up and bringing it to your ear. before you could open your mouth, the voice of your nightmares spoke.

“what’s your favorite scary movie, doll?”

[esoteriamaya]

Astro thoughts : short n sweet <3 moonshinin' <3

Moon in the first house - Very empathetic sweet creatures. Def could be used a lot by people that they love and trust because they can be very giving to their energy a little too much. Attractiveness is through the roof as their auras are usually more open. Very smooth, soft bodies and have an innocent energy around them majority of the time. Its hard to stay mad at them.

Moon in the second house - They need time alone so they can get their thoughts in check. This is a taurus ruled house, so sometimes their emotions can be thru the roof, but they can be extremely level-headed/grounded with the way they move through their circumstances. Money can flow to them smoothly if they keep their focus high on the prize. Other wise, they can be duped by peasants with their fortune if they are not careful.

Moon in the third house - Very practical, intelligent nature. Honest and self aware. Very deep and can bond with anyone if you let them. Truly can keep you on your toes with each convo they have. Can talk to much, or can be way too quiet No in between. Can make a friend outta anyone tbh.

Moon in the fourth house - Light hearted nature. Very sweet and kind to anyone they meet but they keep to themselves a lot. They do NOT like too many people in they're space and it is a treasure to meet them AND to have them around 24/7 because they do not like being around just anybody. You gotta be more complex to get to know them, they are truly a one of a kind. Mysterious nature.

Moon in the fifth house - Great actors. Have a lot of gifts in the arts and could soothe people's emotions with them if they allow their vulnerable side to show. Children LOVE them and are usually inspired by them. The personality of this individual is raw, gentle and nurturing and they must be protected.

Moon in the sixth house - Boundaries is a big thing for this group. Gotta keep their energy in check because they can almost be like in hermit mode. Needs friends that understand their nature to keep them balanced. Animals and plants are their best friend.

Moon in the seventh house - Can have issues with lovers do to their high intensity with their emotions. It's almost like people can't see them for who they are and theirs a lot of potential of a transformative love. With the moon shining its light here, they are almost capable of turning anyone into a special relationship if the chemistry permits.

Moon in the 8th house - Beautiful souls that have a gift in penetrating the minds, souls and bodies of the people they meet. They have internal woes that never seem to make it to the sky, but they know how to water them and make them grow in the ground. True balance is needed with them so they almost always are going thru dark nights of the soul just to get them their. They have a lot to learn, but also so much to show to themselves and others as the journey is a long beautiful one in the end.

Moon in the ninth house - Captivating souls who are needing to bond with people who can change the perception of their mind through the eyes of travel or simply growing in this lifes journey. They know a lot about their favorite topics and would love to share it with anyone who wants to listen to them. Calming auras who enlightens you with the way they think, and are meant to teach and inspire in some way, shape, or form.

Moon in the tenth house - The sweet talkers of the group. The audience just adores them. You really can't stay mad at them for to long. They have sensual energy and people feel this right away. Celebrity energy. Secretive by nature. Most don't know a lot about you, even if your emotional state is in full view to everyone. Masters of manipulation, don't say I didn't warn you ;)

Moon in the eleventh house - Can make friends as soon as they walk out of their house. Shy and reserved in new environments but tend to be a lot sweeter and open up when their comforted. Has a unique presence and a distinctive style. Could almost convince anyone of anything as their looks and attraction tends to make people look the other way.

Moon in the 12th house - Alluring. Majestic. Spontaneous & a wanderer. Protect these children at all cost. There is more than what meets the eye. They attract a lot of people like bees to honey. But flies like you too. Can't let everyone in, they don't know what to do with you. Gotta be more open with being yourself, no matter how mysterious you come off. Boundaries are needed for this group since they are more prone to evil eye as their secretive by nature. People are always trying to spy on them and see what they have that they don't.

[elixrr]

It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. They're either loved and cared for until they're abandoned by their player, or they're mistreated and misplaced by that player. There's no control, no option for them.

They could fall in love. They could do everything to please their player, but in the end, their player will always leave them behind. They'll end up as some toy to tinker with, a little plaything until their player gets bored and slowly but surely begins to leave them behind.

You did that to them— you did it to him. Maybe you used him so much that you got too bored, or perhaps you just found someone else to play with; you did reach friendship level 10 with him. During your friendship level journey, you've played and listened to all of the voice lines he provided, even repeating your favorites. He sought after the joy of hearing your praise, comments, and remarks in response to his voice lines. He's seen so much of you over the course of the journey, and, in return, he showed himself to you.

But then you left him.

It started off with you visiting strange domains and obtaining its artifacts. Judging by the collection, you definitely weren't trying to rebuild him. Those artifacts and materials were clearly meant for somebody else.

He'd often watch you switch teams to build that mystery person, maybe to test them out; to use them; to play with them. Yet, you'd always come back to him afterward, and because of that, he was fine, satisfied. As long as you'd keep coming back.

But, at some point, you simply didn't return.

He was fighting the monsters of a smoky blue leyline, and he, having won the battles, gave you those same purple and maroon papers that you needed for this mystery person. You were happy. You looked really relieved to finally get these, and through the mask of an idle animation, he smiled, proud of himself for making you smile. You thanked him, and then you switched the character and team, and you were out of view once more.

He sighed, tired from fighting all these battles and random enemies, but he was glad that you'd probably be able to finish leveling this mystery character up. Now you can keep playing with and using him, right? This way, you'll be done with this other person, and you'll come back to him, right?

Wrong.

One whole day passed. You were online, but he couldn't see you.

Another day passed. Where'd you go? Are you still testing out that new person?

Five days drag by. Some of those days you didn't go on for, but for the most part, you were there, just not for him. What happened? Why weren't you coming back?

One full week had finally passed.

You were nowhere to be seen.

Waiting in the team lineup screen began to get lonely. You took two of the supports with you, and so he couldn't talk to them. One other person remained. Another support, but more off-field. Often, he would glance at them to see how they were doing, and even they looked as miserable as he did. Still, they found their way back to you through another team composition.

You took everyone with you except for him.

Where did you go?

He tumbled, falling down on the ground. It's been nearly a full month. You haven't even looked at him once. He could see through the slightly translucent walls and backgrounds, and he saw other team lineups waiting. He saw one team in use, as it had an open fourth wall and it was emptied, meaning that the characters left that team screen to join back into the world of teyvat.

He began to reminisce about his first awakening when you got him, you were smiling really hard. You were so excited when he woke up in that wishing star, striking a pose. He doesn't know how long he'd been unconscious around that time, but you woke him up, and you gave him more purpose, more life. He could see you and everything behind you. He could see that there was more than just teyvat through this strange wall you lived past. He was curious, yet he was happier just being yours to have in your little party with different people, some of which he had never seen before.

But now they're gone, and so were you. He doubts that they're ever coming back, and he doubts that you'll ever come back to him.

Wait.

The fourth wall in front of him shatters.

Is that you?

He immediately stood up, ready to greet you with that same pose he would always strike in the team lineup. And the moment you opened that wall, all of the other supports came back instantly, like they never left in the first place. He wasn't alone anymore.

His eyes lit up. You selected his character and were going through his character details. You're finally paying more attention to him! Are you finally gonna use him again? He puts his hands together as you check his artifacts.

There's a moment of hesitation in you. He barely opens his eyes to look at your apologetic face. You whisper an apology, and— to his horror— strip him of his artifacts one by one.

His flower is gone. His feather was taken. His sands timer, his goblet, and his circlet were stripped of his very being. Then you switched to his weapon. It was his very own weapon that you spent so much time on, and you took even that from him. He looked up to the upper-left corner of the room. Even if the text was backward, he could see that this new weapon was nothing but some random 1-star weapon from some measly chest you opened. You looked at him one more time, and you left his character details.

He felt betrayed. You weren't going to use him anymore. You re-entered the team lineup screen and selected him. He watched you scroll through your list of characters, and within a zap, he was transported to a black screen, a void, a room full of nothing but himself.

You had just completely replaced him.

You left the team lineup, and his eyes were forced shut. Your once beloved main was now back into his deep, endless, meaningless slumber.

.

“Creator! Creator!!”

A large group of people were yelling, waking him and a few others up. It was every single character that you owned and obtained throughout your journey. Some he recognized from the get-go, and others he'd never seen before in all of his life. Everyone you had obtained were shouting for you.

“Wh— wha? What's the matter?”

A short girl with brown hair and amber eyes came up to him in a panic.

“Thank Barbatos, you're up! The player is about to delete the game! We might be erased!”

He froze. You were deleting the game? He put his hand over his mouth. You were really leaving him now, weren't you?

Would you ever come back?

“Please!” The amber-eyed girl cried, “Help us!”

He wobbled backward. He couldn't take this.

“The player loves you! Maybe you can reverse this!”

“They don't.” He mumbled.

“Wh— what?”

“They don't— don't love me anymore.”

He stumbled, falling over at the realization. At that moment, everyone was panicking. The calmest people he knew were crumbling and stressing over this. He looked up at the transparent digital fourth wall. Your mouse hovered over the digital recycling bin.

Suddenly, you spoke.

“It was really nice playing the game, but I think...”

A moment of silence evoked in the crowd.

“...I think I need to start a new chapter of my lif—”

And you let go of that mouse. You let go of them. Everyone felt a strong gust of wind blow them out of the black screen, and they were transported to their designated places in the character list. Nobody—except for the traveler—remained in any team lineup. You removed everything.

He looked around. Black and grey smoke began to overtake the elemental colors of each designated character screen. Everyone banged on the walls until the void took them, and they became forever motionless. They were mannequins now, thoughtless ragdolls standing still. He banged on the glass, using his 1-star weapon to try and break out, but it was useless.

Eventually, he became just like everyone else. A thoughtless, motionless, abandoned toy that you had played with until you left.

—

(any) genshin men x reader ｜ comment for p.2

[giuseppe-yuki]

feathers

alex albon x cockatiel shapeshifter! reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: one suggestive comment

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you annoy alex; ft. james vowles

picture credits from pinterest :)

the parc ferme was packed with people as you fluttered around alex’s head, feathers swaying in the wind. he wasn’t hard to follow, considering his tall 6’1 figure and unmistakable forest green aa23 hoodie. the crowds parted like moses and the red sea as he crossed, recognizing him as 1 of the 20 drivers on the grid. from your birds-eye view, you were pretty sure you saw zak efron five meters away from you next to the red bull garage and scotty james hovering around daniel’s blue vcarb next door.

nobody batted an eye at your presence- they all assumed you were just one of the many albon pets. 

chittering, you land on alex’s shoulder and give him a few hard pecks with your beak, ripping out a few strands of his bleached hair. you giggle internally- he was so easy to annoy when you were in cockatiel form. 

“hey!” he protests, stopping in his tracks front of the aston martin garage. he raises his hand, about to forcefully push you off his shoulder for being mean. before alex is able to, he spots two young fans, sporting fernando alonso caps, looking at him. not wanting to be labeled as “alex albon the bird assaulter,” he slowly lowers his hand, and instead converts it to an awkward wave. to avoid another awkward situation, he takes off running towards his original destination, the williams garage, but not before shooting a glare at you. 

when you arrive at the williams garage, you find logan standing in front as well. alex waves his hand in greeting and you chirp in a greeting.

“took you long enough,” logan quips, smiling. “james called for you a while ago!” 

“well, i would have gotten here quicker if this cockatiel would stop being irritating!” alex says, gesturing towards you. turning his head towards you, he places a kiss on top of your feathery little head. “you’re kinda lucky that i love you, or else i would probably have donated you to the zoo!” he jokes. 

for the second time that evening, you give peck his head, hard.

logan laughs at the interaction in front of him. “if you’d like, i know a hawk that can act as ‘animal control’ for you! she’s back at home in miami right now, though.”

the gall of this man! you know logan is joking, but still, you hop off of alex’s shoulder and purposely fly at logan’s face, flapping your feathers in the direction of his eyes. 

“okay, okay, okay,” logan laughs, trying to cover his face, “tell your girlfriend to stop attacking me or else i’m sending my girlfriend after her when you guys come to the states!”

ten minutes later, when you enter the air-conditioned williams motorhome, you are dressed in a flowy white pants and a williams blue silk halter top. you loop your arm through alex’s as he asks his race strategist the whereabouts of his team principal. 

 when he finishes with his conversation, he leads you towards his driver’s room 

“i thought you came here to meet james,” you question, looking up at alex.

“yeah, i did,” he responds, “but apparently he had to have a quick meeting with the engineers and will find me later, so i guess we have a little time to rest in my driver’s room before the race.” a flashes a devilish smile and little wink at you.

a flash of shock runs across your face, and you shoot him a dirty glare. “we are NOT doing that in your drivers room.” 

“what do you mean?” he replies innocently, “ when i said rest, i meant that we could maybe chill on the couch and watch a little bit of high school musical- i saw you looking at zac efron in parc ferme earlier.”

you groan exasperatedly, but follow him into the small room. 

when you first started dating alex, he was always ever the gentleman, complimenting you and whispering sweet things into your ear when you were with him. you trusted him with all your heart, and instead of freaking out when you told him that you could shapeshift into a cockatiel, he immediately started researching info about cockatiels and began carrying sunflower seeds around for you. as time passed, your relationship evolved into a loop of you bullying alex in bird form and him teasing you nonstop in public. (he obviously still knew your limit though, and was always the sweetest behind closed doors)

you hop on the couch as alex navigates to disney+ on the tv and starts the movie. he places his arm around your shoulder and leans his head against yours. you curl up into him, breathing in the smell of him. to your disappointment, within in the first twenty minutes, alex is dead asleep on the couch. you frown, lifting his arm off of you. you were about the shake him awake when you came up with a brilliant idea. 

turning back into your cockatiel form, you shake off your loose feathers onto the couch. you smile to yourself. alex hated when you left your feathers everywhere. you pick up a feather or two with your beak, and place it strategically on the floor. one on the couch hand rest, three on alex’s head, two behind the couch (when you placed those, you found a giant glossy picture of george russell behind the couch?? you’ll have to talk to him about that later). after arranging the finishing touches, you nudge alex’s cheek with your feathery head to wake him up. as soon as he opens his sleepy eyes, he immediately sees the absolute mess you made everywhere. but before he could say a word, a knock sounds from the door. 

“alex, it’s james,” says the voice outside the door.

alex’s eyes widen, and (screw his ultra-quick reflexes) proceeds to quickly snatch you off of his lap and unceremoniously shoves you inside a nearby drawer. he slides it shut, except for a little crack so you could breathe.

oh you were gonna kill him.

you hear the door open, and footsteps into the room. 

“hey, says james, “so i was gonna come here to talk to you about a chassis problem, but i think that it would be better if we could talk about it as a team in a meeting after the race. i was going to send you an email about it, but since i was passing by your drivers room, i just wanted to pop in in-person to let you know.” 

you hop towards the crack and raise an eye to see through. alex is standing awkwardly, half in front of the coach with his hands next to his sides, pointedly trying to block the mess of feathers on the couch. 

“err.. yeah! of course!” your boyfriend says. 

as if just noticing the feathers all over the couch, james raises an eyebrow. “did you kill a bird in here or are you making an art project?” he asks, looking at alex with an incredulous look. 

“art project,” alex responds, almost immediately.

“okay.” james says, in a tone that suggested he didn’t really believe alex. he turns to leave, hand on the handle. but before he does, he turns around. “wait a second, i could have sworn logan said that you were in here with your girlfriend?”

a/n: second installment of the series! ( i wrote this at 3am) if you didn't get the george russell picture reference, here's a link to a video that i watched: link

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso

[vor-leser]

Benny now an animal, I knew AM would let him play.

(Stuff about my own version of pre-monkeyification Benny below the cut because i have too many thoughts on this)

It's kind of hard to make heads or tails of any of the ihnmaims characters since the cannons of the different adaptations contradict each other so much, so I reconciled my own version of events in my head as to what I think Benny was like pre monkeyfication. I tried to fit everything from the comic, game and book in though.

Benny was a very masculine guy, excelling in every sport, and despising everyone who did not live up to his standard of what it meant to be a strong man. All his life, he tried to embody this ideal, not only marrying and having two kids, but going on to join the military. When he became general, he was known amongst the soldiers as an authoritarian punitive leader, often abusing those below him to whip the weak ones into shape. His ideals were solidified under the pressure of the continuing third world war, instilling a kill or be killed mentality into him. Eventually, he came to the realization that he was gay. However, because this reality threatened to break apart the way he viewed the world and his masculinity. With the mounting pressures from a chain of losses and his own internal struggles, he reacted by overcompensating and becoming more brutal than ever, leading him to kill multiple of his own men. Returning from the Chinese American War, he developed a severe case of PTSD. Constantly making him feel as if his life was at stake, he found himself unable to show any weakness. He hid his own war crimes thoroughly, all the while continuing to receive accolades from his superiors for his tenure. He constantly felt the need to not only hide his crimes, but also his sexuality, making him paranoid that people would realize he was a fraud. This did not only put a strain on him, but also on his family.

AM specifically chose Benny, because he embodied the many ways in which humanity tore itself apart through war, constantly finding new methods to make their own existence miserable for an imagined ideal.

At first, Bennys presence among the survivors proved very useful. Out of all of them, he had the most experience in dangerous situations and a lot of physical strength. His wisdom and leadership helped them a great deal, eventually though, they would inevitably disappoint him. Falling into his old patterns of behavior, he would berate Nimdok the most for his obvious weakness, saying he was holding them back. With time, he did the same with Ellen, Ted and even Gorrister, which formed a rift between himself and all of them. He felt as if he could rely on no one but himself.

Still, his usefulness irked AM. He had gotten one over on him too many times, but this would make his coming defeat even more crushing. It started with his mental state. Paranoia had already slowly crept up on Benny, but when he was forced to relive his trauma, it spiraled out of control. Being starved, beaten and defeated, he started to lose his humanity. His egoism, distrust and brutality, all born out a desire for survival made him a nightmare for the others. AM found it amusing, how he had turned Benny into a parody of humanity and its worst aspects, seeing it fit to strip him of his last remaining bits of humaneness, breaking his body into the shape of an ape-thing.

His spirits were now completely broken, being reduced to a bumbling fool. Even though his shame mellowed him out, there were still occasional outbursts. Now ironically enough, he had become the survivors greatest liability. Luckily for him, the others pity him and keep him around, a kindness he likely wouldn't have awarded them.

(Also drawing a guy thats canonically supposed to look handsome while making him resemble a monkey is hard :,) )

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[mammonieruless]

OLDER BROTHERS’ PAST RELATIONSHIP HCS

Lucifer: 100% a virgin

I’ve seen many people agree on him being incredibly experienced when it comes to hookup culture, but I headcanon him to be quite the opposite. He is the avatar of pride himself; he would be wayyyyyy too prideful to offer himself as an one-night stand, no matter who the person might be. there will be exceptions when it comes to Diavolo, of course. He has never been in a serious relationship either; the man has no experience whatsoever. Aside from never having the time to pursue someone and build a connection with them because of his duties, he would be wayyyyy too scared and worried about bringing someone home only for them to harm his beloved brothers or his reputation. Mammon might be MC’s "first,” but MC is definitely Lucifer’s first. It is a match made in hell. All mc had to do was to live with him and his brothers for the entirety of the exchange program, which meant he didn’t have to go out of his way to make time to meet someone, and with time, they both grew on each other, the chemistry grew, and naturally, a strong connection formed without him ever needing to force any of it.

Mammon: He has done everything for quick cash, including sleeping with every living being that could hand him money. Even when cash is not involved, it is canon that he is a model and a party monster, so easy quick club, casino hookups are not a shocker. Out of all the brothers, him and Levi are the only ones who are the most experienced when it comes to serious relationships. Since he wears his heart on his sleeve, all the serious relationships he’s been in ended badly because his partners took advantage of him. Satan, in season one, commented that if Mammon likes someone enough, they will be showered with the richest, but if he breaks it off, then they will be left without a single penny. Knowing that many, especially his exes, only had money hearts in their eyes when they looked at Mammon, despite him pouring his heart out to them, they only viewed him as an ATM. I also headcanon that his tsundere behaviour wasn’t always there; he just started to act like that because many of his exes laughed behind his back, calling him easy, naive, and easy to trick into falling in love, thus leading him to develop this tsundere-like behaviour towards the person he likes to come off as cold, hard to get, and not easy to fool. Though he fails at acting cold and harsh towards MC, he doesn’t act all shy, blushy, or tsundere-like towards his hookups. As he doesn’t feel anything towards them, they only see a very confident, arrogant, bad boy side of him, which MC doesn’t know about.

Levi: Since he is a big anime nerd, he has high standards when it comes to dating and completely rejects hookup culture. All the romance anime he watches really set the bar high for him and makes him somewhat delusional. He has only been in a couple of serious relationships, which were all online, but unlike Mammon, some of his past lovers truly loved him for who he is but didn’t love him enough to keep up with his jealousy and his need to be reassured 24/7. Some might’ve seen him as an easy ticket to get up there in devildom’s hierarchy and get their status high up, as the seven demon brothers are hell’s government officials. + he’s literally the grand admiral of hell’s navy, man’s loaded. His insecurities, shyness, and introversion aren’t the main reason why he is in denial of someone enjoying his company or having any romantic feelings for him, but his experiences in relationships made him push away everyone and anyone who showed him any interest. We see this a lot when he friendzones or tries to find a ground where things are more platonic than romantic with the MC, despite being completely whipped for them, he is simply is terrified of them getting annoyed with his constant need of reassurance or getting into a relationship with them only for his jealousy to be too much for them to handle which would make them leave him and he would lose his only best friend, yet again.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Cucking Cato, inspired by @/mothiir ‘s fic. Though it’s less of a true cuck and more of a like, voyeuristic torture.

Relationships: Demetrian Titus/Fem!Reader, Onesided Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Cato is getting accidentally/partly cucked lol, Voyeuristic kind of, Light breeding kink,

The room is more than elaborate; It seems like it perhaps was meant for dignitaries and planetary officials before being given to him for his temporary stay in this planetary fortress that held their high lords.

They couldn’t have men of the Ultramarines in unsuitable quarters, he assumes. Especially a Captain such as him. They had instantly given him a place to sleep with a view of gardens and fields, far different than the mountains he had grown used to seeing from the height of the Ultramarine fortress monastery. But even if he has no need of the pleasantries, the vehement respect this planet has shown so far has proven, adequate.

Though now that it’s dark, Sicarius thinks that perhaps the dirt on the ground in the gardens he can see from this room’s singular window would be a better resting place than where he currently is.

He's tried sleeping even though he has no need for it, having slept a few days ago, pacing circles, polishing his weaponry and checking it for even the slightest nick or scratch; Praying to it's machine spirit. But each time he tries to whisper the words he remembers by heart, someone interrupts him; Something thumps against the wall hard enough that it shakes the bed he sits on.

“Titus!”

You have to know you can be heard, do you just not care? Or are you too cockdumb already; You’ve been laying underneath Titus for hours.

It has to be underneath, the way the bedframe hits against the wall combined with your mewls and squeals can only be from Titus driving into you like an animal.

“More more more, please! Just a bit harder,”

Sicarius purses his lips and wrinkles his nose at a nondescript painting of an old lord- who is more than likely long since dead - across from him as he hears you. You’re insatiable, you keep begging for him and his cock like some sort of whore, far below the privileged stature Guilliman had bestowed upon you.

It should be him you're begging to, begging for what scraps he might gift you. But instead Titus gives you whatever you ask of him, like you’re a princess instead of a diplomat.

He would right that greediness in you in an instant, have you asking sweetly for him instead of demanding like Astartes aren’t miles above you.

“You are insatiable, you know that?”

Titus sounds like he would be smiling, if Sicarius could see him. He knows he would be; The shamed lieutenant is always trying to hold back a smile when he sees you.

Now he knows why. Two kindred spirits- The failure and the harlot. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner. Perhaps because he’s been so dismissive about you, taking his duty so vehemently but having little interest in you yourself, that he somehow failed to see the signs.

"It's like you were made for Ultramarine cock, little one,"

Sicarius briefly wonders what you would both do if he hit the wall; If he yelled that he could hear you both, to shut up and stop. He also debates getting up and breaking down that neighboring door himself, scolding Titus for a clear breach in duty and send him tumbling further down Ultramarine ranks.

"Yes! Yes, I love you TItus..."

He hears Titus chuckle and return your sentiment, and Sicarius snarls in his empty room. They're Ultramarines, they should be beyond things like love and lust, and yet Titus is falling for both.

"You're so tight, my sweet girl,"

Sicarius rolls his eyes. Why Titus always insists on being so soft with you- blunting all of his edges - he will never understand. You keened and mewled the most when he told you that you were made for Ultramarine cock, clearly you want him to tell you what you really are. That you want your cunt filled with only the finest of the Emperor’s angels. He would show you what your use should be instead of a prized diplomat, they very reason they are here on this backwater planet with paltry scenery. If not for your presence, they would have covered this planet in ash by now.

It should be him that degrades you, that tells you what you really are. But instead Titus remarks about how wet you are, how ready and able you are to take him. You’re a good girl, you’re strong; Sicarius would never say those things to you.

For awhile the talking ceases, and Sicarius finds it a bit easier to distract himself away from the sounds of mindless moaning, TItus' hips slapping against you and the bed knocking against the wall, though it's as if saying one torture is better than another. He manages to finish the prayers to his bolster’s machine spirit, and then once again finds his mind quickly drifting back to you.

Why is he so invested in this? Why can’t he just block it out and forget like anything else? Is it because the amount of rules in the Codex that Titus is breaking? Is it because it’s you?

“Inside, inside please don’t-“

Sicarius angrily pushes his hand over his hair, flattening it against his head. You just keep begging, you want him so badly. He swears he can hear your nails clawing at Titus’ shoulders and trying to keep him close to you.

Sicarius swears he can feel it, a ghost of that feeling, the raking bite of blunt nails against his already scarred skin. Who cares if he gets a few more.

“I don’t want you to have to explain why you are suddenly with child,”

Titus gently says, strain in his voice. He's close, Sicarius can tell even though muffled.

“Guilliman knows, Guilliman knows I am with y-“

Sicarius’ breath hitches. His brow furrows and his hands rest more limp around the combat knife he’d been vigorously polishing.

…His primarch knows of this?

All of the times Sicarius had voiced his opinion about you, complained about your uncouth behavior and lack of professionalism bringing shame to their Legion, your sickly sweet smile and soft form, he knew you were bonded to Titus? And he has neither said nor done a single thing?

Why did the realization feel like a stab, and why does it ache like one?

"You'll make fine Ultramarines, then,"

Sicarius can't stop the image of you that takes over his mind; Of your jewelry against your skin, elegant dress changed by the swell of a big round belly. No one would know that one of the Ultramarines serving in your retinue is the father of that child, and perhaps if SIcarius was willing to deny reality, he could pretend in that moment that it was him.

It should be him; He is the Grand Duke of Talassar, one of the greatest Ultramarines that's ever lived, and you chose to risk getting bred by Titus? He could give you a child that was stronger than what any other man could give you, that he would help raise to protect you, without a father that has a permanent stain on his name.

It should be him, he thinks as he hears you mewl and cry, Titus' deep voice groaning. It becomes muffled before quickly stopping; He assumes because Titus’ kissed you.

But only now does the noise and the shaking finally stop, both finished. You say something about wanting to sleep, asking Titus to say. He agrees. Sicarius gets up, but somehow doesn’t remember where he was planning to leave to, and just stands in silence

It should be him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 32 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

The closer you get to the house, as you make your way back up the mountain, the more and more anxious you feel. It seethes in your bones, this feeling of aching disquiet. 

It’s not because you know he’s going to punish you. 

It’s because you remember what you said, in the heat of the moment when you dared to bare your truth to John Wick.

You’d finally fucking said it.

 I’m your girl. 

You’d told him that you are his, and you’d meant it, and he didn’t hear you, or he didn’t believe you. 

There is a ringing in your ears that only gets worse as the peaks of the house come into view through the thick trees. Only once you are inside the gates, standing on the sunny flagstone patio, do you begin to resist him again. “Wait,” you plead. “Please, I’m not ready to go back inside yet.”

“You should have thought about that before you ran from me.” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just…matter of fact. Inevitable. Immovable. 

You know that tone, as surely as you know you are fucked. 

“I was playing,” you insist again, trying to twist out of his iron grip. It’s futile, of course. The only time in your life you had an advantage over John Wick was with the help of gravity, running downhill through a maze of trees. Here, now, you know there is no hope in resisting him.  

“I’m still not sure about that.” You shouldn’t feel guilty about the undertone of sadness in his words. 

You know you should be gentle with this man, in his fragile state. You know, deep down, that fighting him like this gets you nowhere but dug deeper in a hole of your own making. But maybe you are beginning to lose it too. This taste of freedom reminded you of what you had lost, and you are not so eager to let it go again without a fight. 

“You aren’t listening to me!” you snarl, still pulling on your arm, getting more frantic by the second. “I told you! I told you that I’m yours, finally, and it’s like you don’t even care! All you want is to keep me under your thumb!”

You know by his now thunderous expression that this is not helping your case at all, but you are too infuriated to stop.

“I heard you,” he growls, then hauls you up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry like you are naught but a sack of potatoes. “I heard you call me an old man, and laugh with joy as those quick little feet carried you away from me.” 

You squirm against him but it comes to nothing, and in no time he has you back in the house, the door secured. 

Back in your prison. 

He does not put you down, striding for the stairs. You hate it, but the cavewoman part of you is impressed when he carries you all the way to your bedroom, breathing like a dragon through his nostrils as he tosses you down on the bed hard enough to bounce. 

There is a pregnant moment as you glare at each other. Even through his anger, there is a glitter of unshed tears at the corners of his eyes, and you know you have pushed this man to the very brink once more. 

You shouldn’t feel guilty for that either–but you do. 

“I”m disappointed, y/n. I thought we were past these childish games.”

“You keep me locked up like an animal, and you’re surprised when I frolic a little when you let me feel the sun on my face for the first time in months?”

“Like an animal?!” He looks around the opulent house–really it only resembles a cabin in broadest terms. “I have spoiled you rotten. Anything you possibly could have wanted, I provided. Things you never could have had, in your old life.”

 Except the thing you needed the most. Freedom. 

“Yes, you’ve done very well at distracting me with pretty things,” you admit, ashamed of yourself now. “But I’m not a magpie, John. You can’t keep me in a cage forever.”

His next words fill you with ice. 

“You’d be surprised what I can do, y/n.”

He takes a step closer to the bed, his dark form looming over you, his big hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. This is it, you realize. All the progress you seemingly made had flown out the window. He was going to spank you hard, the way he’d promised not to, or tie you up, or some diabolical thing you can’t even fathom because your brain just doesn’t work that way.

You close your eyes, because you don’t want him to see you cry, and you don’t want to see what’s coming. You count the time going by in heartbeats, thundering in your ears. You wait for your world to fall apart–again.

You wait, and you wait some more.

In the end, you have to look. You find him still standing there, silent as a ghost, looking down at you. Looking through you. 

In the end he shakes his head, mostly to himself, and strips out of his jacket, down to his t-shirt. Then, he reaches for your boot. Too late, you try to scramble away, but he has your ankle in his unbreakable grasp, pinning it on the bed. “I thought you said you were mine, y/n? Yet here you are, still trying to run from me. You wonder why I don’t believe you.”

“You’re scaring me.” You may as well be honest about it now.

“In all the time we’ve been together, have I ever truly hurt you?”

He plucks at the laces with sharp movements, indicating the undertow churning beneath his still expression.

“Besides fucking me raw?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, despite himself. “Besides that.”

You sigh. “No.”

“Then trust me.”

“I’m not sure I can do that right now.”

He nods, to himself as much to you, pulling off your other shoe. “Then you understand the situation we’re in.” He reaches for the button of your pants next. You try to roll away, because you’d rather have this talk without your hoohaa bared to the wind–again. But he just grips the waist of your pants with impatience, hauling you to him sharply. Fabric tears in protest, but not before he has you pinned beneath him, his hips wedged between your legs. He leans over you, those trunks for arms on either side of you. As ever, your fear is tinged–utterly contaminated–with desire. 

It might be the death of you. Your loins protest even from this small bit of contact, after the way he rode you before in the woods. 

“What do you want, John?” You hate yourself, for how small your voice sounds. Did he make you this way, or were you always such a coward? Were you always so feckless, so easily led? Doubt and self-loathing seethe inside you like poison brewing in your veins. 

“I want you to prove what you said earlier.” 

You narrow your eyes at this; a part of you is grateful for the surge of righteous anger that rises in your breast. It infuriates you, that you have to prove anything to him, at this point. Does he want proof? Or does he just want your submission? Maybe they’re one and the same to him. 

It breaks your heart all over again. 

“Well, I’m not in the mood.”

You wait for his anger, ready for the fight again, craving it–but it doesn't come. After a long moment he just nods, his hair swinging into his eyes, which are cast down, away from yours. You see the flash of hurt upon his face, there and gone like a ripple in a pool, his fists flexing in the duvet beneath you. 

Immediately, you feel fucking terrible. 

“John…” You reach for him, but he’s too quick for you, as ever. In the blink of an eye he has retreated out of your reach–then out of the room. You blink stupidly at the sound of the door slamming. 

You hear the electronic lock whirr, and with a heart filled inexplicably with despair you know you’ve arrived back at square one. 

***

As time goes on, you decide it’s worse than square one. That taste of freedom was like a shot of pure heroin in your veins, and now you are inconsolable in your withdrawal. Just as bad, you find, is your longing for him. 

He leaves you alone in the room for days. Your meals appear at your bedside when you sleep. When you try not to sleep–you do not eat. Now you absolutely emulate a caged animal, pacing in your boredom. 

You try throwing books at the security camera, but fail to dislodge it. You give it up when you break the spine of one and feel guilty. Even though you know John can repair it–it’s not the book’s fault you ran your mouth. 

Maybe it’s not your fault either. 

You even try to entice John by putting on a little show, wearing one of the slinky negligées he’d bought for you, touching and teasing yourself in full view of the electronic eye that tracks your day to day. All it wins you is a lackluster orgasm–all else pales, you find, compared to his thick fingers and strong hands upon you. There’s not a naughty toy in the world that could compare to his cock either–not that you have any at your disposal. 

Radio silence. 

Your heart aches, and now you really feel as though you are losing your mind. 

You shouldn’t miss him. The madman. The monster. The absolute beast. 

You do. 

You miss the John you’ve come to know, when he is doing well. His gentle smile, and his deep voice, and the glitter of his dark eyes when you say something that inadvertently amuses him. You miss his strong arms, and his long body tucked against yours while you sleep. Your nights have never felt so lonely, having had John Wick, and now not having him. 

You simply are not a whole person, anymore, without John, and maybe that should scare you more than anything else he’s done. 

However–it just fills you with despair. Your heart feels like the tar pit of La Brea, blackened and filled with the bones of the love you’d shared. For surely, you’ve really broken it now. 

At first, you thought he meant to just shake you up, show you what life would be like without him if you should succeed to run… Unbearable, is the answer. 

Worse yet, however, as it goes on you fear the root of this confinement lays not in punishment, but in him not wanting your company after your perceived betrayal. He’d asked for your assurance, and you’d thrown it back in his face, too caught up in your own fear, your own anger, your own desires. You reckon he can’t stand you now, and he’s probably just trying to figure out what the hell to do with you. 

A week of solitude goes by before you decide to comb through every book on the towering shelves that take up the wall. Desperate to distract yourself from this clawing loneliness inside, you read a bit of this, and a bit of that, making stacks in odd piles across the floor, cairns of your reading whims organized in a logic known only to you. 

In one of these books you find tucked a picture of Helen. It can only be a scene from their wedding day, John in a dapper dark gray suit, she in a sweet but sensible white dress, a crown of daisies in her hair. He is kissing her cheek, and she is scintillatingly happy. You feel it radiating like the sun, even through the photo. What a force she must have been. 

It is no wonder John Wick has gone mad without her. 

What a paltry substitute you must be. 

Perhaps you are extra sensitive at the moment to such things, but you weep in your hands, unable to stop until you’ve exhausted yourself entirely, laying on the floor amongst your stonehenge constructed of books. You fall asleep there, not even possessing the energy to move yourself up to the bed. 

That is when the explosion wakes you. 

It is loud enough to rock the entire house, several of your bookstacks toppling over. You leap to your feet, your ears ringing. 

Then you hear the gunfire. 

It is beneath your very feet, in the downstairs, volleys and volleys of rounds. You freeze as you listen, fear rending your heart to a lump of ice in your chest. 

Which of John Wick’s old enemies has found you this time?

The power dies, plunging the room into blackness. There are no street lights through the window here in the woods to light your way. There’s barely even a moon this night. 

Huddling in the dark like a scared little woodland animal, you realize, that possibly this means the lock on the door is no longer engaged. The battle is still raging beneath you–you take heart in that, as terrifying as it is, because it means John is not dead. 

You are not proud of how long it takes for you to gather the courage to force yourself to your feet, to make your way by memory to the door in your pajamas and bare feet, and try the handle. 

It turns freely, and you are faced with a new choice. 

Hide like a coward, helpless and untrained as you are, or join the fray. 

You pluck up a heavy book, the only possible weapon left to you, and slip out into the hallway. 

It really is like poetry in motion, watching John Wick fight. From the landing above, you stare as he mows through the home invaders, men dressed like commandos in all black, kicking and striking, breaking limbs and shooting them with their own guns, taking down one then the next until the living room is scattered with dead and splattered with their lifeblood. 

His final opponent is an even match in size. He wears a mask, and that is all you can discern. After an assessing pause they charge each other, moving so quickly you can hardly follow. Their struggle takes them deeper into the kitchen, out of your view. 

Making yourself small as possible, you scurry down the stairs. 

You pause at a corpse whose head sits at an impossible angle, neck clearly broken, and trade your heavy tome for his handgun. It’s been forever since you’ve handled a firearm. You try to remember the lessons your father taught you a lifetime ago, and come up blank in the absolute stress of the situation. You hope that all you have to do is pull the trigger. 

You can hear the sounds of fighting deeper in the kitchen, maybe in the breakfast nook beyond. You hear grunts and the sound of flesh striking flesh, the crash of breaking crockery and furniture. Adrenaline sings through your veins, and you realize with a strange detachment that you don’t actually expect to walk away from this alive. But John is there, and maybe he needs you, so you go.    

You arrive in time to see John’s opponent throw him to the ground in some complicated jiu-jitsu move, using John’s own weight against him to send him sprawling across the floor. You see the flash of a knife, as the attacker pounces, pushing the blade with all his force towards John’s chest. John resists, holding him at bay with all his strength, and the knife hovers, even as the attacker puts all his weight behind it, desperate to drive it home. 

You do not even think, as you scream and lift the gun, pulling the trigger. The sound and the fury of it surprises you, the large-caliber weapon jumping in your hand. 

Somehow, one of the bullets catches the man perfectly in the side of the throat. You stare in horror as he falls over with a gurgling groan.  

An eerie silence falls upon the house, seemingly the only sounds your heartbeat in your ears. But you realize it is only because you are now partially deaf. The sound of Dog barking furiously leaks in through the ringing, from behind a door down the hall. John must have sequestered him to keep him safe when the shooting started. 

With wide eyes and slow feet you approach, the gun shaking in your hand. You can tell that John is hurt badly, cuts on his face, his arms, and you can see he is bleeding beneath the soft fabric of his white henley. Yet he does not ask you for help, looking at you with a strange sadness in his eyes. 

Then you realize he is looking at you–with the gun. 

A long, weary breath escapes him, and he glances to the blown out window beyond. The result of the explosion, no doubt. The cool night breeze wafts through the void, carrying the bewitching scent of the trees, lifting your hair.

Your portal to freedom, should you be ruthless enough to claim it. 

He closes his eyes, nodding to himself as much as you. “It’s ok, y/n. Do what you’ve got to do.”

The horror of it dawns on you; he thinks you will kill him too, to gain your freedom. 

Maybe you even have every right to. 

It infuriates you to the bottom of your soul, that he thinks you even could. 

“You asshole,” you snarl, hitting the right button by pure luck to eject the clip, which is empty, racking the slide and throwing the blocky handgun across the room in your fury, shattering a crock full of utensils on the far counter. “You would put that on me?” You fall to your knees beside him. 

Does the only path to your freedom have to be his death? 

As though you could survive the guilt of it?

As though you can survive without him, at all?

Carefully you lift his shirt to look at his wounds, and you curse at the sight of the nasty cut on his side. “Fuck. I’ve got to call an ambulance.” You reach for a dishtowel, folding it and pressing it into his side, making him wince. 

“No ambulance,” he groans. “No police.” 

Now the tears arrive, filling your eyes and pouring down your cheeks. “John, you are hurt, and I don’t know what to do.” You know he needs professional medical attention. There is another bloodstain on his shoulder, a bullet wound, you realize. Jesus Christ. You don’t have enough hands. 

“Hold this,” you demand, putting his hand over his side, scrambling for the drawer where he keeps the kitchen towels. 

“Baby…” He grunts as you press the next towel down. 

“Where is your phone?”

“You’re not leaving?” He reaches for your face with a bloodied hand, and you clutch him to you, pressing your cheek into his palm.

At a time like this, that is what he asks you? It shatters your heart all over again, and you press your lips to his in a fervent kiss, the taste of him tainted with copper. You hope it’s only his blood, but somehow you doubt it. 

“No, I’m not leaving, you idiot,” you grouse. “Now who the fuck do I call?” 

[planefood]

I’ll probably reformat this once I have access to my laptop but:

Super big character introductory post (that I worked super hard on!!!) id love if you’d take the time to read this and interact :)

Without further or do

Tandy:

The title protagonist of the story. Almost everything happens through his point of view and is often skewed by his own personal beliefs and perspective. Living most of his life exclusively around humans he’s still getting used to being around other robots.

Tandy works as a freelance computer repairman and helps robots fix up some of their issues on the side as well, like an off market robot doctor. He takes his work incredibly seriously to the point it affects his social life.

Although he is described as generally likeable by others for the most part, he’s quite clever and has a strong “take no bullshit” attitude towards everything. But he’s incredibly insecure about himself as well as being quite egotistical which can often come out and hurt others. He has a very black and white perspective of the world that affects how other characters will be perceived sometimes.

Max:

The first robot Tandy gets to meet when Tandy catches Max in a small robot get together when Tandy moves cities. Max was impressed by Tandy’s knowledge around computers and Tandy was totally absorbed by Max’s infectious personality.

Max comes across as very carefree and charming. He doesn’t talk a whole lot but when he does it comes out in oddly poetic short sentences, sometimes to the humour of the people around him. Max also tends to take the time to look after people around him and in turn he’s very idolised by the people close to him. But the time Max spends on other people and despite so many people adoring him, Max doesn’t take the time to look after his own personal issues leading Max to blow up at people if he gets too stressed. Despite all the people he tries to surround himself in he finds himself feeling incredibly alone.

Mikey:

Mikey had a pretty rough early life, which has caused him to be very self isolated. He struggles with extreme anxiety which just isolates him further, he can never seem to click with people, even other robots. A lot of people view him as unpleasant to be around. He’s self-deprecating and makes uncomfortable jokes about his own bad mental health, often taking it to extremes that would kill any conversation he was in. Jokes he makes that aren’t putting himself down don’t ever seem to land either. He doesn’t take good care of himself either which leads to him smelling not the best.

In reality he just needs a lot of support and space to heal. He’s working with what he has and is trying his best. Max wants to support Mikey and cares about him a lot but gets ferociously overprotective sometimes which can put more strain on Mikey’s chance to form his own relationships.

Sierra:

Built and raised in New South Wales, Australia. Looking for more opportunities she found herself moving to New Zealand with her other robot coworker, Newton, working for a tax firm. This is where she eventually met Tandy who was hired to fix an issue with one of her computers.

Sierra was growing ever more resentful of her human adversaries, she was starting to admit she hated all humans (and most animals by proxy) all she had by her side was Newton who she wasn’t particularly fond of by this point either. Tandy felt like a breath of fresh air and an opportunity for Sierra to stop having to interact with humans as much and kinda followed him around ever since.

Sierra comes across as very snobbish. She’s judgemental and easy to irritate. She’s quick to speak out about her hatred of certain things (like humans, children and by extension dogs) which upsets people around her. She speaks with a flat affect that makes her sound even more robotic than she’s meant to, which can make her constantly sound sarcastic and mean even if unintentionally. Unlike a lot of robots, her and Max do not get along at all.

Jay:

While looking for more robot friendly apartments, Jay was directed by her close friend, Phillip to Tandy. From then on they became roommates. Unfortunately Tandy and Jay didn’t get along at all. Jay is furiously headstrong and brutally honest to a fault even if they have the best intentions in mind. Tandy being quite egotistical and struggling to take criticism even at the best of times, Jay's brutal honesty can come across to him as personal attacks. Jay and Tandy mix like oil and water and every conversation they try to have usually ends in an argument. Much to Tandy’s dismay, Max and Jay get along great.

Lithium:

Tandy may have trouble getting along with some people but Lithium is the only person Tandy could wholeheartedly say he truly dislikes. Lithium, not unlike Tandy, is incredibly self absorbed. Lithium has a large sense of grandeur. They love to make others feel as though they’re not as socially conscious and intelligent as they are. Lithium also has a very short temper and will quickly snap and yell at people around him to give him a heightened sense of importance. People would be ‘simply lost without him!’ in his mind. Tandy struggles to understand why Max chose to befriend him. Though he’d never admit it, Lithium and Tandy have a lot more in common than Tandy would like to hope.

Sonnet:

The smallest robot Tandy has ever met, yet she commands so much respect from those around her. Sonnet has a very bubbly personality and seems to break into a little dance as often as she can because she's so full of energy. But Tandy learnt Sonnet can be serious when she needs to be and everyone listens to her when she wants to be heard. To everyone's shock she and Lithium hit it off romantically. One would assume the size similarities would make it easier for something like that to happen, but for someone so likeable to fall for someone like Lithium had everyone scratching their heads. Maybe it might do Lithium some good.

Phillip:

Max’s long term roommate and the one who keeps everything in order. Phillip is a reserved and well organised robot who Tandy barely ever catches an opportunity to speak to. Almost always working or stuffed up in his room practising his music. Phillip considers himself best friends with Max and Jay. But understands they probably don’t feel the same way about him. Phillip often gets quite upset at the notion that people don’t seem to care about him compared to other people, he always feels like the “friend of a friend”. He feels underappreciated in the work he does mediating others and keeping a roof over their heads by working multiple jobs. He wishes deep down he could build up the courage to tell everyone how he feels.

Phillip is always eager to duet with the other musically talented robot, Jay, when he gets the chance as well.

Newton:

Newton and Sierra were both built in Australia for the same company, for the same purpose. But unlike Sierra, Newton loved all the work he did and was incredibly loyal and devoted to anything he sets his heart out to.

But his heart was also devoted to Sierra, he’s head over heels obsessed with her to this day and has been for decades. Sierra was the only other robot Newton knew and when Sierra told him her plans to move to New Zealand he wasted no time in dropping everything to move with her. He felt betrayed when Sierra started paying more and more attention to another robot, Tandy. He grew incredibly jealous of Tandy as well as harbouring a deep hatred for him. Newton has heightened emotions which would typically mean he was very happy go lucky, but Tandy flipped a switch in him for the worse. Newton now vows to do anything in his power to win Sierra back from Tandy. Tandy on the other hand, is barely even aware of Newton's existence outside of what Sierra has said about him and the short conversations they’ve had.

Vicki:

Vicki was built in Cape Town, South Africa with a strong passion for teaching. She studied to be an English teacher, working extremely hard to be the best teacher she could. But what Vicki had in determination she lacked in backbone. She had a very thin skin and struggled to keep her emotions under check when working with particularly difficult students. Her tendency to get easily upset in high stress situations relegated her to the role of “easy to bully substitute teacher”. Vicki, feeling trapped, decided to move to New Zealand for a fresh start in a country she felt would be more mellow. Unfortunately for her, middle schoolers are terrible to deal with no matter where you are. She knows other robots through local robot support groups and lavishes every chance she gets to talk to fellow robots.

Scorpion:

Scorpion is a bit of a lonewolf, she has a short patience with people whether they’re robot or human and prefers to be left by herself. But she attracts a lot of attention from other robots because she’s perceived as being “really cool”. Two robots, Jay and Vicki, fight for her attention constantly, much to Scorpion’s chagrin. She’d much rather socialise on her own terms and hers alone.

Scorpion is one of the only robots whose talents lie in art and painting. Graffiti tagging is her preferred art form. Sometimes she’ll be commissioned to paint murals around the place but otherwise just picks up odd jobs around the place and keeps to herself. She’s quite the mysterious figure to Tandy. Darwin:

Darwin was built in Tokyo, Japan, before shortly moving to New Zealand. They were intrigued by the opportunities available to them as a robot in the country compared to Japan. Darwin’s main goal in its life was to help other people. The first and most obvious answer to them was to take up studying medicine. Darwin studied to the best of their ability and eventually got a job as a nurse in Auckland Hospital. Darwin's dream was to become a surgeon, but there was still a lot of doubt from humans on a robot doing their surgery. Darwin, instead, was encouraged to work with people with infectious diseases as a nurse. Going into nursing around the pandemic having a nurse that was immune to human diseases was the perfect fit. Darwin now finds itself overworked and stressed. Darwin barely has time to interact with anyone let alone other robots. But on occasion will have robots coming into ER where Darwin is first to point them where to go.

Florence:

A tall, neon coloured, full blooded American robot. Florence is the only robot so far who actively dislikes the company of other robots. She much prefers to view herself as a human and interact exclusively with humans. She has a short patience for her robot peers and low sympathy for any struggles they might face. She’s seen hanging around a human named Randy near constantly. Aside from her physical attributes, her thick accent and attitude really makes her stand out against other robots as is. She’s got a lot of charisma one will admit. She’s quite cunning if not sleazy. Tandy isn’t sure why she acts the way she does and wonders what might’ve caused it. Cathy:

Like Mikey, Cathy had a tough life leading up to where she is now. Growing up in the outskirts of a city in the other regions before moving to Auckland. She has an extreme phobia of humans that causes her severe anxiety and paranoia. She’s jumpy and skittish in the company of any human but very calm and intelligent in the presence of robots. She’s the founder of the local robot group that a lot of the characters met each other in. Tandy doesn’t know much about her as she rarely speaks about her personal life.        

[fushipurro]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 5 - Journey's End...?

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, suggestive in satoru and sukuna's part, implied murder, mentions of pregnancy/childbirth in toji’s, gangs, brief mention of gunplay in satoru’s part, description of gore and cannibalism in satoru’s and sukuna’s

☆ Word Count: 7k

As heartwarming as it was reuniting Kento with Clementine, the same could be said for your own reunion.

On your first night in Blackwater, Kento treated you to dinner at one of the classiest restaurants in town. There, he had eagerly listened to the events that followed his departure ─ from Valentine’s rescue to the massacre of an entire game. With you, he quickly learned that there is no end to the surprises in store.

Your life is one out of a story ─ an odyssey, and you chose him to enjoy the ride with.

You stayed with him in his hotel room for some time, savoring the mix of fine dining and high-stakes gambling located conveniently downstairs. During the day, Kento would be away at work, leaving you to bide your time. But once the sun sets, you two take the town by storm, whether that meant with cards, chips, or a dual in the streets. On some nights, or many, your fun was kept to the sheets instead, clinging to each other’s form.

Occasionally, the two of you would ride horseback instead of train, making memories through evening gallops in the prairie, or taking scenic trails to wherever his work needed him to be. He excelled at his job, simply because he knew how best to help others ─ it’s what he’s good at. But at a certain point, he began realizing where his priorities needed to be, and what he wanted in life more than anything.

That’s how you ended up with a ring on your finger, because Kento wanted you.

After a night of poker where the stakes were especially high, Kento came out with a large sum of money. It was enough to push him into finally quitting his job, and using those funds to purchase a farmhouse along that same prairie stretch you often rode across. Between banking and farming, the answer was clear, as farming allowed him to continue with doing what he’s good at, while also being closer to home and subsequently you.

The property needed a barn which was no sooner constructed after moving in. Acres of fencing seemed to sprout up overnight, all for whatever animals you two would go on to have, and a dozen more for the joint business you created for yourselves.

Kento spends most of his days out in those fields, tending to his ever-growing abundance of crops. You on the other hand have taken to the barn, working day and night to care for your animals, as well as your newfound business in horse training. Some days, when the cattle need to be moved, you two pack a picnic to enjoy out with the wildflowers as the herd circles around you. Those days are your favorite, since they’re all spent with him. Just the two of you, in your own stretch of the world, enjoying every little thing.

Life on the farm has been simple, quiet, and everything you’ve needed to sit back and enjoy the feeling of being alive without any need to rush. If you wish to stay as you are now, Kento would have no complaints; but if you ever choose to grow your family, then the space is there, and with an incredible husband-to-be at your side to walk down that path with you.

Like most evenings after a day of hard labor, the two of you currently are resting on a swinging bench that hangs from your front porch, all while admiring the picturesque view of your property and the prairie beyond. Kento has a book in one hand, the other idly drawing shapes into your shoulder as you rest your head over his lap. Your eyes are closed, savoring the gentle breeze in your hair, and the distant sound of your many animals.

“Darling?” Kento says to get your attention. You hum, a quiet request for him to continue. “What do you think about having our wedding ceremony in the summer?” he asks.

“We could get married right now if I’m being honest, but why summer?”

In truth, you know exactly the reason he’s making this request, but where’s the fun if you don’t tease him first?

You hear him close the book he’s reading before setting it down, replacing it with some homemade sun tea. As you turn your head slightly, you have the perfect view of the liquid disappearing, and the bobbing of adam’s apple with every sip, glistening with the evening light. That golden glow seems all his own, yet pales in comparison to that of his hair, eyes, and every freckle dotting his face.

“Weather, firstly,” he starts, clearing his throat after putting the glass back down on the table. “The rainy season will be here before we know it, and if we wait too long, I fear that with the harvest, we won’t have much time on our hands.”

That’s not all, you think to yourself. There’s one more detail he hasn’t explicitly stated yet, but one you know he wants to bring up. The wedding is big of a day to him as it is for you, only he’s willing to put aside his own feelings for your happiness. Not on your watch.

“And what’s stopping us from walking out into the yard and saying our vows now? Aren’t you excited to marry me, or is there something else?”The effects of your teasing are evident from the deep shade of red that comes over his face.

“I couldn’t be happier marrying the love of my life,” he refutes, sending color to your own cheeks when his honeyed eyes fall to yours along with that sweet smile of his. “I was however thinking of having it along the oceanside, but if you’re against that or waiting, I’ll gladly put my suit on now.”

And you know he would.

He even makes a move to get up from his spot, showing his determination to please you, to marry you. But you quickly stop him, forcing your weight down to keep him still.”

“I’m only teasin’, Kento,” you chuckle, fixing yourself back on his lap. “I know how much you love the beach, so I think it’s perfect. Consider the date set.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, happy you’re agreeing to his request. What’s waiting until summer, anyways? The way things are now, you may as well be Mr. and Mrs. Nanami.

A sudden movement arises from the corner of your eye, enticing you to follow.

“Kento, look!” You hush shout at your fiancé, shooting up from his lap and pointing out into the prairie. “Bison!”

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. You turn to him all excited, finding that his eyes are instead resting on you. “Isn’t that right, my darling wife?” He smiles.

Kento gently pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to keep you secure at his side. Your faces near, eyes brimming with desire.

“It sure is… husband.” You smile back, and let your lips meet in the middle. The thunderous sound of the herd echoes in the distance, pairing with the whinnies of your mares calling out to the world.

This life is beautiful, and all you could ever want, but only when you’re sharing it with him.

Back in Valentine, Satoru was eager as could be to see you again. His excitement evident by the silver star he brandished you with before you could so much as dismount properly from your mare.

With every quality you’ve shown thus far, he was more than ready to start chipping away at the bounty board with a reliable partner back at his side, until he learned of your recent escapade. That cocky sheriff exterior faded into a delicate side you never knew he had. As it turns out, he’s fiercely loyal and protective towards those he cares about ─ which also explains why after all these years he remains on good terms with Suguru.

You had to hold him back from marching into Tall Trees himself to get revenge for you, with or without any lawmen at his side to help. His eyes, so bright and full of life never looked as dark as they did at the sight of your bullet hole injury, but you managed to calm him and reassure that you and the Outlaw Killer had already done the unthinkable.

His emotions went from anger to dumbfounded, with hints of remembrance in his stare ─ something you later learned was due to Toji’s deep involvement with his life as the catalyst for the destruction of Limpany and Suguru’s fall from grace.

During your recovery, you also learned that Satoru comes from money. His family being one of the biggest in the oil game and railroading, and yet here he is, protecting the peace from a lower level. That money is still his to claim, and his to use to pay for anything you need in this time and in the future, whenever, and whatever the cost may be.

Shoko became one of your closest friends, going from the doctor next door to someone you trust to have your back no matter what happens in life. She’s often stepped in to pry Satoru away from his doting duties to ensure you’re able to get a proper rest in. In a way, he’s like a lap dog, begging for any attention you’ll spare. Attention you always so happily gave.

You didn’t need any of the fancy meals or the shopping sprees across town. All you ever needed was right here at your side, with or without a wallet in hand. The two of you loved riding along the Dakota River, shooting glass bottles in the woods, or curling up in each other’s embrace whenever you could.

Although rare, some days and nights were shared with Suguru again, under the falsehood of collecting the bounty on his head, only to get some head in return. The weapons involved in these reunions weren’t for violence, but instead acts of love, all for the thrill of it. And speaking of familiar faces… it didn’t take long before you noticed Sukuna’s ceasing to pop up.

His presence in Valentine became that of a mystery, his name merely a rumor now, designed to scare children back to their beds and drunkards out of the street. The butcher now running his stall is someone by the name of Uraume, who never fails to show their disdain in passing.

You didn’t have much time to think on his disappearance before a spree of killings stole your attention. Each crime scene the two of you visited told the same gruesome tale through the bodies strung up and their organs splayed out, keeping them bound to rocks or trees. And every time, their blood was smeared into a cryptic message ─ one you knew came from him.

By the time Satoru ordered the move on Sukuna’s forest home, the devastation was clear from a distance. The cabin you once shared an incredible night with now a pile of ash and rubble along the forest floor. Though for better or worse, his cellar workshop remained nearly intact.

Whatever the case, it seemed his time of hunting in Valentine had reached an end, or so you thought. New rumors had begun sprouting up from the heart of Saint Denis, rumors of some bloodsucking “vampire” who matches Sukuna’s description seen devouring the hearts of his victims.

As someone branding a silver star, you knew what would have to be done should you ever cross paths with him again, although that moment may come sooner than you think.

The morning light flickers between the curtains, casting its rays over your form, sitting buried beneath Satoru’s. Your hand finds its way to his hair, combing through the white strands with your nails. This action stirs him awake, a breathy sigh escaping his lips.

“Good morning, princess,” he starts with a yawn, his eyes fluttering open, revealing a gaze so gentle ─ so loving ─ that you can almost forget the turmoil running rampant in your mind. But as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes, he catches on to how it eluded you through the night. “You look terrible,” he quips. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t sleep.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to try and throw off the inevitable conversation to be had. “Wow,” you drawl the word with a teasing touch. “You really know how to make a girl feel pretty.”

“You know what I mean,” Satoru chides, visibly pouting at your remark. He then lifts himself onto his elbows, pushing further up the bed until his lips can meet just under your eyes. “Did I not tell you enough last night how pretty you are?” he teases with a sly grin, though behind those crystalline eyes lie a deeper concern.

“Oh no, you did. I believe I remember you saying, ‘nothing compares to your beauty; you’re a goddess among humanity and no portrait could ever hope to paint you with everything I see and love about you.’”

“And I’m right, aren’t I?” Satoru chuckles, rolling off to your side. He reaches out, pulling you against his body. His arm, a shield from the world ─ his protection infinite. “So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

With a sigh, you let your eyes close, remembering all the things that have kept you up in the midnight hours, or rather, the people. Through everything, you’ve never felt as afraid as you are in this moment.

“I don’t know if I can do it, Satoru,” you tell him without any clarity on the ‘it’ in question, simply because he already knows what troubles you so. How could he not know?

Nevertheless, you continue, “I know what he’s doing is the work of a devil, but…”

“He’s still someone you liked,” Satoru finishes for you, the thought hurting more now that it’s out in the open.

You nod your head weakly, feeling a kiss against your temple ─ an affirmation.

“I get it,” he says, his thumb now smoothing over your skin. “I think it would be best if you stayed here, in Valentine.”

Astounded, you roll partway to face him, ready to open your mouth in protest before his words stop you in your tracks.

“Now I know I said before you’d be coming with, but this isn’t your burden to bear. Even if you wear the star now, your feelings still come first.”

“Satoru, I can’t let you go alone,” you claim, brows pinching in anguish.

“I won’t be alone,” he refutes. “I’ll have the other deputies and lawmen at my side, including the joint force in Saint Denis. I would feel better knowing you were here watching over everything, maybe throwing on that dress I got you for when I come back…?” At that, he pushes his nose into your neck, hands reaching up below the hem of your nightwear to tickle your sides.

With how often he calls his princess, Satoru simply had to dish out the funds needed for a dress straight out of a fairy tale novel.  He picked one adorned with colors resembling his eyes and some of your favorites. Jewels and an intricate hem from top to open. A dress he wants to see you in when you walk down the aisle and into his arms.

“You’ll be safe, right?” Your lowered voice another sign of your anxious state. “I better not hear about you getting reckless and hurt.”

Satoru laughs, a sweet sound the contrasts the way he holds you just a little bit tighter.

“Who do you think I am? I’m the sheriff after all,” he tells you, his words as confident as he was the day you met him. “Besides, we both know Shoko would have my ass in the dirt if I came home with another big injury after that last time.”

As the morning sun looms higher through the curtain, it becomes a bitter reminder of the dwindling time left together before he leaves on his biggest job to date.

“I love you, Satoru.” You take his hand, placing it close to your heart, hoping he feels how it beats only for him. “Come back to me and I’ll have on any dress you throw at my feet, ring or no ring.”

“You know I will, princess.” He kisses the crown of your head. “I’ll make sure you have the biggest dress, and the most expensive ring money can buy.” Another kiss, one filled with absolution. “And I love you too, forever and always.”

Following the map Suguru had given you, you were able to find his camp with ease, and were welcomed with open arms.

Well, from a few of them, at least.

Some of Suguru’s closest confidants were weary of you at first, and for good reason. They first recognized you as the Valentine showstopper who fired back without mercy in the midst of their robbery and grand theft equine. And here you are now, strolling into the heart of their camp with Suguru’s arm draped around you. Just who do you think you are?

They made their lack of trust apparent, never bothering to hush their voices when openly complaining. The worst of which came from a scrawny fella named Mahito, as he was always vying for Suguru’s attention and praise. Not to mention the other woman, Manami, who would stick to your outlaw like she was his own holster. A bunch of fools, you’d call them. Fools who in time will be akin to that of your own flesh and blood.

Regardless of it all, you knew where you stood. Something Suguru reminded you of whenever he could. After a few train robberies and drunken brawls, you went from being the stray that wandered in to Suguru’s girl.

To some others however… you were a mother.

Nanako and Mimiko ─ the children Suguru had rescued from that atrocious cell in Limpany the day his star dimmed to a void. They were incredibly shy with you at first, always hiding behind Suguru or cramming themselves in the back of his tent. He was their safety net, their savior, and most importantly ─ their father, blood or not.

You cried the first time those twins called you their mother; the memory of that day quickly became one of your favorites to date.

The camp itself never stayed in one spot for too long, and at times it felt as though you had traveled the world before settling in one place before carrying on with the next big heist. Your newfound notoriety began drawing attention across the frontier, specifically from the Outlaw Killer himself.

Toji always had a way of popping up when you least expected. “Hunting your bounty” he’d say, each time pretending he was just there for the cash, and yet, you always managed to get away without a scratch on you. Sometimes, you’d leave a richer woman than you were that morning ─ lady luck simply never on his side for monetary value.

Satoru was another familiar face, one more welcome than others. You’re more than aware how he and Suguru mail letters to each other from time to time, and sometimes you wonder if Suguru purposely guides him close for a reunion under the stars.

Those same stars that watch over and guide your travels are the same set looking down upon your camp now. The surrounding swamps come alive at night with a cacophony of crickets chirping and toads croaking, all meshing with the vibrant atmosphere after a robbery done well, earlier in the day. While Dagon prepares the feast, Mahito sings an out of tune monstrosity of a song for Jogo and Hanami, and all the rest to dance around the bonfire flame, hand in hand.

A sudden touch to your shoulder disturbs your peace; your beating heart calming when you realize it was merely Suguru having now returned from the house.

“That was fast, the girls went down that easy?” You scoot to make some room for him to sit, but your effort proves pointless when he pulls you by the hip against his side.

He kisses your cheek a few times, holding your head in place with one hand. “That easy,” he replies with another kiss to your lips. “I think they’re finally settling in enough to sleep. I didn’t even have to check under the beds for any ghosts and monsters,” he tells you, and you sigh with relief.

“Good, I was worried after all the shit today.”

Ever since the move to Shady Belle, it’s been tougher than any swamp gator to get those two to sleep an entire night on their own. The twins are strong after all they’ve been through, but the dark remains as one of their greatest fears. At some point in the night, they always end up squished between you both in your spacious bed.

“I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?” he says, and from that smirk ─ one as sly as any fox ─ you know he’s referring to something that goes beyond the surrounding atmosphere.

Suguru pulls up by your hand, swinging you flush to his body, his other hand now resting gently against your waist. He begins to sway you to the beat of the song ─ one that’s no longer out of tune or a mockery of Mahito’s own guitar.

“Suguru, what’s this abou–“

He cuts you off with tender kiss. “Relax, just enjoy yourself,” he says. “We have a special night ahead of us, now let’s give them a show.” He smiles eagerly.

The rest of the gang cheers and sings along. Pairs coming together, some trios even, all circling the bonfire in song under the full moon sky. You dance your heart out with Suguru, his eyes never leaving you once. If they could speak a thousand words from his stare alone, they would each be of you, and all that his heart wishes to say.

At one point, the song slows into a calming tune, causing everyone to back away with all eyes set on the two of you at the heart of it all. You glance around the group first before looking to Suguru out of confusion. He returns your look with that same sly grin from earlier before falling to one knee.

“Suguru?” Your lips part slightly as he reaches into his pocket, the shock and anticipation of what you know is coming sets a stampede of thoughts off in your mind.

He says your name as he reveals his ornate offering ─ a ring, bound in the metal perfect for you with a diamond at its center. That precious stone is joined by two amethysts on either side, their hue nearly identical to his own two eyes.

“From the day I met you, I knew you were something special,” he continues.

A diamond in the rough, he’d go on to say ─ that, and a thousand other words on how you’ve been a guiding light to him in a world so full of darkness.

“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, from now until these very stars watching over us can shine no longer more?”

And you only have one answer.

“I would love you as your wife beyond that time and the end of time itself,” you tell him, feeling a tear fall from your eye as your smile grows wide with joy. “I will gladly marry you, Suguru Geto.” The determination evident in your speech.

He takes your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. The fitting is perfect, just as the two of you are together, leaving no room for doubt. Suguru stands, bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing that very ring before sealing his vow against your lips as you do all the same to his.

“I love you,” he says, breathlessly, and with a look of love like no other. And as the gang cheers for you both, you know in your heart that you made the right choice and found your treasure.

Your return to Sukuna ignited many emotions, some more volatile, and others ─ true to his nature.

He welcomed you back with open arms, practically calling you to his side. There was praise with how you stuck to your word and came back to him, praise that evolved through that sensual reembrace into actions meant to… punish you for the marks left by another. The marks left by Toji.

Sukuna didn’t really care about them, or the fact that there was another. Why would he, when you came back to him, and all he has to do is bury them beneath his own, time and time again to remind you of that.

But then came the marks left by someone else, designed for absolution and oh, how that brought out a whole new side you hadn’t seen before.

He had a fire in his eyes, black flames that seemed to circle and smolder an intense red when he demanded the names of whoever shot that bullet into you. You were his now, and that means whoever lays an uninvited finger on you is his to do as he sees fit, and oh, the ideas he had in store.

You managed to quell the storm after telling him how it all went down. From hunting the coward down through the hills, to ending his life with your own two hands. Sukuna’s wrath took on a new form ─ pride ─ at your abilities in battle. How enchanting you are with blood soaked on your hands.

He still couldn’t help but pout over the missed opportunity of a new soul to torture, something you soon learned was a hobby beyond what most would consider as one.

Although he was careful to hide his tracks, it wasn’t difficult to figure out, not when every time some lowlife would make a pass at you with sinful intentions, they’d end up missing a short while after.

…Did you approve it? Maybe, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You can’t deny that the world isn’t a better place without all those creeps. Perhaps with all the time you’ve shared with Sukuna thus far, a part of him has rubbed off and embedded itself into your soul. Such is the nature of depravity.

During the day you would help him out around town, be it with livestock or adding to his stall with game from outside the city. You each had your own hunting grounds, with yours being the forests or down by the Dakota River, and for Sukuna? Well, he preferred his food close to home, food that was always ripe for the picking.

That went about as well as expected, taking into account the Valentine sheriff whose curiosity remained fixated on you. And while Sukuna isn’t a jealous man by any means, he made his disdain for the man evident, keeping his fangs forthright. After one passionate ─ possessive ─ night of romance, Sukuna told you as you rested in his grip that it was time to move on.

You hated to have to leave the cabin behind, especially when for the two of you, it was home. But as you watched the remains turn to ash before your eyes, the structure engulfed in a mighty, somehow divine flame, you remembered that so long as you have Sukuna, you have a home with him.

The journey itself was long, with many stops along the way before eventually reaching a spot high in the desert plateau, far from anyone to disturb either of you. Along the way however, among the many oppositions were a gang intent on seeking revenge. Whether it was for your killings or his, that much remains a mystery, but the outcome resulted in the right side of Sukuna’s face becoming marred by Molotov flames. Their bodies made for an excellent display along a grand oak tree, the final piece of art created in his name for some time.

The night sky never looked more beautiful than in the desert while leaning back against Sukuna’s frame, your forms carefully illuminated by the campfire glow beneath a sea of stars.

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re cold?” His voice mocks, paired with a suggestive move from his hand settled the curve of your hip. “If you wanted me to warm you up, all you had to do was ask,” he purrs, pulling you tighter against his core.

You exhale an amused sound at his offering, angling your head back to meet his gaze. “Was earlier not enough for you?” you tease back with that same flirtatious undertone that has his fingers digging just a little bit deeper ─ more possessive.

The reason you’re shivering to begin with is become of him. Your clothes have long since been discarded along the flooring of your home, and the arousal between your thighs, still glistening with the rest of your bare flesh.

“Is that a question?” He chuckles darkly before claiming your lips roughly and with a renewed flame. His free hand curls around your neck, preventing any chance of you turning away to avoid his touch.

Sukuna breaks the kiss, but his forehead remains pressed against yours. His eyes half-lidded with lust and a multitude of emotions he doesn’t dare claim to feel, but you know.

“You know better than anyone I could keep going until the sun rises,” he says confidently, and for good reason too. It’s one of the many things you’ve come to love about him.

The sex is good ─ perfect even, but his word, and the promises he makes are everything and more. When he claimed you as his, that wasn’t just for show, and he’s always eager to remind you of such and every little thing you do to him.

Sukuna may never say those three little words like you have to him, but that’s okay because his actions have always made up for it. Normal has never been your thing, so why stop now?

Your eyes move to his scar ─ the point in case that shows where his priorities have been since the beginning. He was the one who stepped in front of you, shielding you from the harm that permanently scarred his features.You bring your hand up to cradle his face, brushing your thumb against the rough texture. His left eye narrows at your action but doesn’t leave the hold he has with yours. With only one working eye… for him to see the world, he first has to see you.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” he says, not as a question or a plea for some sympathy, but rather to state the obvious. Personally, he has no problem with it, as with any scar on his body. Others are deterred, some viewing him like any other outlaw when he goes into town, but never have you looked at him with anything but adoration after that first night together many moons ago.

“Not at all.” You shake your head, a soft smile gracing your features. “I’ve always thought it made you look more rugged or badass.”

He smirks, nudging your face with his nose before another ─ more gentle ─ kiss to your lips.

“Careful, dove” he murmurs a faux warning before taking your hand into his, guiding you from his face to his chest, and further down to his stiffened length. “Look what your words have done to me ─ what you do to me.”

Sukuna lets out a hiss of relief when your fingers wrap perfectly around him, applying just the right amount of pressure to all the right places.

“Feels like you’ve got a pretty big problem here,” you chuckle, shifting your body around to better face his. “Need me to fix it for you?”

In one deft motion, Sukuna lifts you onto his lap, his hands finding placement along the curve of your hips. “I would hope so, seeing as you’re the cause. It’ll give you something to do to warm up.” He pats your side a few times. “Now let’s see how far your riding’s come along, shall we?”

After accepting his offer, your life with Toji exceeded every expectation you had placed in the beginning.

From bounties to bar fights, duals and a shit ton of gambling, your life became all about living in the moment, seeing to whatever whim you had in mind for where the day could take you. “Wherever the money is, we go,” Toji always said ─ up until you realized both you and Valentine had become pregnant.

It was a surprise to say the least, but what’s more shocking is that it didn’t happen sooner given Toji’s apparent breeding kink when it came to you. Whatever the case, the news couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

Your travels brought you into the valley, not far from Lake Owanjila, in a field rich with lavender and all the familiar sage from your childhood home. These flowers serve as a reminder of where you came from, but the rest, it’s all of your own making.

For a while you two slept out of a tent. That is ─ until the local wolves became a tad too curious, often straying too close for anyone’s comfort. That, and the one day you came back from hunting to find a bear napping overtop your then-broken tent. Needless to say, Toji got to work on using those muscles of his not for show, but to build you a cabin, all from the ground up.

He worked tirelessly during the course of your pregnancy, often leaving you to stay behind in a hotel in the city of Strawberry. As for Valentine, you boarded her at a local stable to better monitor her pregnancy without any risk of predators interfering.

It was hard going days sometimes without any word from Toji, and not having Valentine with you left you feeling quite lonely under stars you equally shared. At the very least, it made your reunions a time to celebrate, with a night of making sweet love together again.

On the day he came to collect you, your heart raced ─ faster that any thoroughbred ─ with excitement and joy. The many months of effort and separation were finally paying off. And then your water broke mere moments later, delaying that journey to your new home by another few days. Neither of you minded, not when you were both too busy welcoming both Tsumiki and Megumi into the world ─ your beloved pair of twins.

You got married not long after that.

If having children didn’t seal the deal, the vibrant, emerald ring on your finger and the cabin built just for you certainly did. Pronghorn Ranch, you two named your stretch of the valley. You even had the ceremony right there on the property with a child in each of your arms, and a few close others to bear witness to matrimony.

Shockingly, Valentine ended up giving birth to a pair of twins as well. Turns out, all those gambling losses Toji’s accumulated made up for being gifted in other departments, his trusty steed included, considering the rarity of twin foals that manage to survive their youth.

After the death of your parents, you never imagined getting to experience family like that ever again, and how happy you are to share this again with Toji at your side. For someone as unpredictable and crazy as any bucking bronco ─ he’s shown you that anything’s possible, and he’d do anything to make your dreams a reality.

Your life went from that same unpredictability and camping under the stars to enjoying that same night sky from the view of your porch with the ones you love with all your heart and more.

“There you are, Ma,” Toji greets, hugging you from behind. He pulls you closer by your waist, kissing you along the side of your neck. Your giggling only serves to entice him further, but with Megumi in your arms, he knows he can’t get too carried away. “Been lookin’ for you, what are you doing out here with Megs?”

It’s become your daily tradition to go on walks around the property with Megumi. Compared to his sister right now, he holds a lot more energy. Seeing all the animals around the ranch has become his favorite activity. And right now, he’s found you up close and personal with Valentine and her foals.

“’Gumi here”–You pinch his chubby little cheeks–“wanted to see the babies up close.” You turn your head, smiling at Toji for a second before your eyes wander. “Where’s Tsumi’?” you ask.

“She’s fine,” he says, pointing back to the porch with a thumb over his shoulder. “Let her with her toys so I could come see you.”

You’re surprised he managed to get away without any tears. Tsumiki has a way of getting what she wants when it comes to Toji, and how could he ever say no to either of his kids?

“Well, you’re just in time to watch Megumi ride a horse for the first time.”

Toji about chokes on his own spit when he hears that.

“Ma, are you sure that’s a good idea?” he questions, his tone full of worry. “He’s two, what if he gets hurt?”

“He’ll be fine, Valentine wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt him,” you refute, and Toji knows it’s meaningless to argue, but the thought of anything happening is one of the few things in this world that genuinely scares him. This family of yours matters just as much to Toji as it does for you, if not more than you can imagine given his own upbringing in a shitty cult of a family.

What a story that was the night he first told it.

“Besides, it’s about time he saddles up,” you add.

“Is he even going to remember this?” Toji stresses, biting his lip as you place Megumi on the mare’s back. He finds himself unconsciously stepping closer.

“Maybe, maybe not, who knows?” You place a hand on Toji’s arm to reassure him, keeping your other one around your son’s. “This is something my father did for me, and someday one of these foals will be his to ride on, and Tsumiki the other.”

You wonder if Megumi will take up the soon-to-be black colt like his father, or the chestnut filly. With their baby coats having almost finished shedding, their true colors are finally revealing. It’s one of the many joys of watching foals grow up, and a gamble in itself at what coat colors two parents could pass on.

Toji still isn’t convinced, but at the sight of your bright smile, and Megumi’s joyful babbles, he finds himself grinning with amusement ─ something you don’t miss.

“Go get Tsumiki so she can have a turn!” You tell him, patting his bicep eagerly. His smile no sooner disappears, replaced with that of a stern father’s gaze.

“Absolutely not. She can wait another few years to try.”

And by few, he means a decade or more, depending on his mood.

“That’s not fair, her brother is already riding.” You plead to him, pouting all the while, but this is where arguing becomes impossible for you.

With Megumi, he’s Toji’s son through and through. He believes Megumi to be a miniature version of himself and will prove that in time as he gets older. Tsumiki however, she’s a princess in his eyes, and you swear you’ve seen him tear up over her getting the smallest of cuts.

Overall, he’s the best father you could’ve asked for with your children, and an even more loving husband to yourself. You look forward to growing old with him at your side, and with your children living their best lives like you are now.

“If you don’t come up to the house, your dinner’s gonna get cold,” he says at the sound of your stomach rumbling.

You gasp, “Why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m starving!”

Toji lifts Megumi, holding him in one arm, with his other all for you. “Because someone didn’t hear me callin’ for them,” he scolds. “Now come on, sweetheart. I made your favorite.”

You wrap yourself around his arm, leaning into him on the way back up to your home. “I love you, Toji,” you tell him fondly, eyes staring into his equal weight to your words.

“I love you too, Ma.”

Life couldn’t possibly get better than this, not when you’ve already found everything you could’ve possibly wanted in it.

Fate has many things in store for you, even if you weren’t previously aware how knotted into its red fibers you are.

Instead of choosing one, or any of the men ─ you continued on with life as you originally planned before stopping in Valentine. Rather than settle for anything domestic, you opted to continue your journey across the frontier, sleeping under a blanket of stars, and meeting a whole new realm of people along the way.

You spent some time with Choso and Yuki for starters, hunting bounties together or raving in the nearest saloon. Both you and the couple shared many experiences, somehow always finding each other despite parting in separate directions each time without fail.

There were other faces and names that also crossed your path ─ some good, some bad. You might have even considered a life with them if you were ready to aside your reins. At the end of the day, your best company was found with Valentine, your beloved mare to have seen it all and come out on top, regardless of the circumstances.

All in all, the life you were building was entirely of your own making, and to you, that was the way to live. “Pick a direction and trot on,” became one such motto of life, through deserts and mountains. Every step brought a brand-new experience, and that experience was everything you unknowingly needed in order to be prepared.

It was a day like any other, or so it had seemed. The sky was clouded over, on the brink of tearing forth with the full wrath of nature. The only thing is… the calamity that came forth didn’t come from the heavens ─ no.

It came from down below, in what could only be described as hell, and the catalyst that sent you back to the city you strayed from in your journey of life.

How else were you to survive the apocalypse once the trumpets sounded, and the undead came to life.

☆ Notes: sorry this took 3 months almost lol

I won’t go off with any heartfelt messages just yet, but I am incredibly grateful to everyone that’s stuck around this far, and I hope you like how I did this “ending” :)

Honestly, when I first started this series, I was going to make Toji the endgame, but then thought that would piss off anyone who came here for the other men, so I came up with multiple routes instead. It may not be everyone’s preference, but I thought it to be fair and it lets me go off with more headcanons separate from smut.

In light of that though, I hope you guys look forward to the bonus chapter I’ve kept a surprise until now ^^ aka, the secret polyamory ending.

Lastly, linked below are some of my favorite cowboy artworks of the jjk men, some of which helped inspired parts of this series <3

NANAMI 1 & 2 | SATORU | SUGURU | SUKUNA | TOJI | CHOSO

[byghostface]

BATMAN AND ROBIN(2023) #10 SPOILERS

Does this mean after Lazarus planet Nika doesn't necessarily need to kill ppl to gain skills now? Her power is strong enough just has to hang around the hospital and dying folks to pick up some skills? (maybe this is what she meant by she wants to relax and wander around an old folk's home in #7?)

Does this mean when ppl are seriously dying she can sense their death too?? I can't wait for more stories to develop her powers omg (I could be wrong about all this and just thinking too hard on it😞)

Damian's compassion for the animals is so strong I love it sm

Nikola's Nika is sooo prettyy🥺🫶♥️ Damian is almost the same height with Nika now

He takes her hands in his and prepares for the farewell…

The way Nika looks at Damian and caresses his face, telling him it's good for him to have a normal school life…he leans into her hand…and Nika hugs him so tightly🥹😭🤍♥️♥️

She can see how good Damian is, and given enough time people would love him. She wants Damian not to give the girls any wrong ideas😭 (jealous and pinging Nika omfggg she adored him so so much)

AND THIS PART OWEEE NIKA WOULD RATHER TAKE THE BLAM/BURDEN ONTO HERSELF THAN SEEING THE PEOPLE SHE LOVE HURTING😭☹️☹️

The way she hastily ran away and held back her tears… I can’t take this anymore😭😭💔💔

(↑Batman and Robin #8 for vulnerable/angst Nika parallel☹️)

SHE CARES FOR DAMIAN SM SHE SAYS MORE THAN ANYONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND😭😭♥️

She doesn't want anyone to get worried for her and always keeps herself cool and collected. Facing problems alone firsthand to protect her loved ones… even if it means disregarding her own feelings to do so… Nika my daughter I can't with you😭😭😭💔 (I fear that the confidence she has in herself will crumble one day😭😞😞)

This is so sweet☹️ Bruce had made dinner(vegetarian dishes) for them to enjoy the father and son time, and under the beautiful night sky view too (how I wish for Talia to see this…)

GOLIATHHH AND MAYAAA 😭😭😭 They still keep in touch omggg

So excited for them to come back but also Damian will have to face Bane…

I'm thinking Nika properly will be back in later issues with Ra's plotline after Damian deals with Bane about Alfred's death

[lunallaa]

||when the cat distribution system strikes||

gotham knights!jason todd x gn!reader

{Not edited/proof read please excuse any errors♡}

Ever since the two of you started dating, your favorite view and time of day consisted of the quite moments you and Jason shared when the city was asleep and everything for once was at peace. Now, you weren't a fan of being woken up in the middle of the night, but you found it hard to remain upset when you could look over at the other side of the bed and see your boyfriend finally have the moments of peace that he deserves for all that he does for the people of Gotham. Recently though, that view of yours got an upgrade. Tonight you had been torn out of your sleep by a slightly unpleasant dream and as you turned over to adjust yourself for sleep again you were met with the sweetest sight. There of course was your boyfriend peacefully dosing away, but with the newest adition of a small little void of a kitten just as peacefully sleeping on his chest. That tiny little thing was an unexpected new member of the little family the two of you had made and you wouldn't change a thing,even if the kitten still remained unnamed after being home for about a month now. You'll probably have to change that soon.

You remember when that furry little angel entered your lives like it was yesterday. You had gone out to the Bodega around the corner from your apartment to grab a few of their home-made pastelillos* for dinner because Jason was home for the night nursing a sprained ankle and craving one of his favorite meals. You remember being in a rush that evening due to the forecast of rain that was supposed to roll in at any moment, and due to that you were meant to be in and out and home within just a handful of minutes. Instead, on your way back home you were stopped dead in your tracks by the most pathetic little meow you have ever heard. Your goal of getting home as soon as possible was abandoned as you made your way to the tattered cardboard box sitting just at the entrance of the alleyway you almost walked past. Strays and pets that simply found themselves outside were no strangers to the neighborhood, not so much abandoned animals, which seemed to be the case as you get Closer to the tattered and damp box. Once you got close enough to get a peek inside you were able to see there in the shadow of the box the smallest kitten you have ever seen in your life. You had wondered to yourself if the poor thing was runt that had been left out here due to the fact you saw no evidence of any littermates or a mom. By then it had started to lightly rain, and you wasted no time in removing the hoodie you wore then gently picking and wrapping up the damp little creature as it cried out at the sudden change of environment.

Anytime you take a little more time than usual on an errand than planned, Jason can't help himself from becoming worried. It also doesn't help his worry when you don't answer you phone when he sends a few texts trying to see what was possibly making you late when it should've only taken you around twenty minutes. After hearing your voicemail message for the fourth time he was almost ready to (hesitantly) call one of his siblings to go look for where you could've gone, not only could you be in some kind of danger but the rain was starting to worry him. He was halfway off the couch when your soaking form finally came through the door. You barely gave him time to sigh in relief, let alone welcome you home and ask what happened as you hurriedly dropped the bag of food into his lap before quickly making your way into the bathroom. That worried him. In the last few years of you dating, you never came home and did not speak to him immediately, let alone rush past him like that. He thought he was worried before, but now he is concerned and almost scared of what's happening that he doesn't know about. Jason carefully got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen to put your dinner into the microwave to keep warm before he made his way into the restroom to see what you could possibly be up to. The last thing he expected to see was you cradling a small soaking wet ball of black fur while stressfully searching the internet on your phone. While he had already began connecting the dots on what was happening, it wasn't until he had hobbled his way to your side and the furball meowing at him that he was fully aware of what was going on.

“Babe? Everything okay?”

“Oh! Jason! I was on my way back home but then I found this poor thing and I couldn't bring myself to leave it there I had to take it home. I'm so sorry.”

“Baby, no need to apologize. I'm Just glad you're home safe. Now, let me take over you need to go dry off and get warm.”

That night you and Jason had done what you could with your limited supply to bathe and care for the kitten before agreeing that you two would make the trip to the vet clinic in the morning to make sure it had a clean bill of health. You two had also immediately decided that you'd adopt the kitten due to how attached you had become and that Jason has no ability to say no to you when it comes to Stuff like this.

Life with a kitten was certainly new, it felt almost like the next big step in the commitment of your relationship. Thankfully the kitten was perfectly healthy, and your theory of it being a runt that was undesired was spot on. You had also found out that the kitten was a little girl and she fell in love with the two of you. She would constantly follow you around the apartment and was never more than a few feet from your side, if there was a moment where she wasn't with you it was because she discovered that Jason was her favorite playmate and her favorite pillow. You couldn't blame her, with his higher than normal body heat and big soft muscles he was your favorite pillow too. It had slightly worried you at first that a kitten was too big of a change and commitment for the two of you to make so suddenly, but that sweet little furball made you quickly realize that you and Jason were in the perfect spot in your relationship to handle just that.

Now as you lay in bed looking at the two loves of your life, you reflect on that rainy evening and feel so greatful for the universe putting this sweet little thing in your path. You also realize that it's almost been a month and your kitten needs a name.

"Jason. Hey.” He's awake immediatley.

"Yeah? What's wrong baby? What's happening?”

"We need to name her.” Jason relaxes now that he knows there's no danger, just his sweet girl and her late night thoughts.

"Yeah? What do you Suggest?” There's a pause as you think about your answer.

“Hmmm. What about…Midna?”A soft laugh escapes him as he recognizes the name. He wouldn't expect any less than for you to chose the name of your favorite character from one of you favorite video games.

“Hmmm nerd. Now go to sleep.”

"Okay goodnight, love you.”

“Goodnight, love you too beautiful.”

"I was talking to Midna.”

At that he softly moves and deposits the sleeping kitten onto the pillows above your heads before moving himself to softly smother you in his arms for the rest of night. Sleep comes back easily when your little family is all together in this little pocket of peace.

This blurb takes place in the same little universe as my last blurb :)

Read it here!

pastelillos*- basically Puerto Rican empanadas (I have a personal hc that Jason is mixed and half Puerto Rican♡)

Also if you recognize the name I picked for their kitten I love you♡

[compact-turtle]

Why does Atticus treat us so gently? Would they ever try to do anything with our consent?

-Gonna go on a limb and assume you meant to say “without our consent” lol 

Tw: Animal death (accidental), slight mentions of drugging 

——

-Atticus would never intentionally harm or do anything without his darling’s consent. 

-He’s willing to wait all the time in the world until his darling is ready. They’d def be disappointed but they’d even put off sex entirely if their darling is too afraid or uninterested. 

-He treats the darling so gently because when he was younger, he accidentally murdered a bird he was raising. This bird (before Otto and Earl) was the only thing that brought him joy when his parents would abuse him. Learned the hard way that you have to be gentle with things you love.

-He was squeezing it too rough and it died in his hands. Hardcore truamtized afterwards. 

-Also after being locked in dark, claustrophobic closet by his parents, does not want his Darling to ever feel anything similar. He doesn’t want them to feel hopeless and afraid like he did before. 

-unfortunately, means he’ll drug his darling to keep them complacent and happy with him. (Only if darlings feelings aren’t mutual)

-Media and Television had also shaped his view on relationships. In films, the husband loves and protects their spouse. Makes sure that their spouse doesn’t get injured or are unhappy. Replicates this and sees it as a guide to a perfect relationship. 

-if he accidentally hurts his darling, then his whole day is ruined. He’ll bring gifts and acts of service (massaging, cooking, etc) as a way to apologize. Afraid you’ll hate him like his parents. 

[lukesvangelista]

𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊ˡᵉ⁷⁷

in which luke is your brother’s best friend.

warnings; pining, heavy make out session (but not quite smut), going after a sibling’s friend, little bit of an age gap (but totally legal i promise)

The music from the party throughout your house pulsed in your ears, your eyes blinded by the flashing lights that your older brother Max had set up in the living room. Luke was back in Toronto for the summer after his season with the Preds ended, and your brother thought there was no better way to celebrate than by getting black out drunk on a Friday night.

While a house party wasn’t your usual scene, you had to hand it to him - he had gone all out. In the middle of your kitchen island, a makeshift bar had been set up and boasted an array of drinks—beer, seltzers, and, of course, hard liquor. Nearby, your dining table was practically collapsing under the weight of takeout and finger foods. Laughter erupted as groups formed and dissolved, the animated conversations blending with the rhythm of the music.

Some guests, half of whose names you didn’t even know, gravitated towards the packed living room, where couches provided a safe place for French kissing and unfortunately, much more. The thought of what could go down on those couches practically made you sick, and you wanted nothing more than to find respite in a quieter area. So, naturally, you gravitated to your room.

Luke was in the kitchen talking to Max when he noticed your disappearance. It was fairly early in the night, but Max had already had one too many, and as much as Luke loved his best friend, he would rather be spending time with you. He wouldn’t admit to anyone, but the hardest part of Luke’s time in Nashville this past season was his lack of seeing you, “Hey, Max, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, alright? I’ll meet you back here soon!” Luke shouted over the music blasting, but Max was too busy to notice, so he slipped away easily enough.

Once in your room, you collapsed on your bed, quickly reaching over to shuffle a random playlist. You were trying to focus hard on the lyrics of “Lovers Rock”, but the truth is that you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering to the brown-haired boy downstairs.

It’s no secret that from preschool and onward, Luke Evangelista and your older brother Max had been inseparable, their friendship an unbreakable bond forged over girls, shared secrets, countless adventures, and most importantly (to them), their hockey careers. They had always been the perfect balance of humor and seriousness, hard work and slacking off, and, when it came to you, kindness and smallmindedness.

With three years between you and Max, he had always viewed you as the annoying little sister. Growing up, you didn’t have many friends, which meant that oftentimes, you would ask to hangout with him and Luke. And, oftentimes, that question would lead to Max slamming his bedroom door in your face. Luke, however, was different. Whenever he would come over and see you alone while Max was off doing something else, he would always offer to tag along. He would ask you about your favorite movies, songs, and books, and would even let you join some games of street hockey and pond hockey when the weather was nice. It didn’t take long for you to grow comfortable with Luke, his presence as an older brother figure becoming all too familiar in your life. Yet, amidst the comfort and familiarity, subtle shifts began to occur as the two of you grew older. A lingering glance here, a touch that lasted a moment too long there—small, almost imperceptible signs that something more profound was stirring beneath the surface.

Luke had been Max’s best friend for as long as you could remember. Growing up, he was like another brother to you, always around, always apart of your family. But recently, something had shifted. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started, but your feelings for Luke had changed. And, if you weren’t mistaken, his feelings for you had changed as well.

And Max knew nothing of it.

The sound of footsteps outside of your door made your heart skip a beat. A gentle knock followed, and you knew who it was before he even spoke.

“Y/N, it’s Luke. Can I come in?”

You froze, but tried to hide it as best as you could, “Sure,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Luke opened the door and stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. He looked around your room, a place he had been countless times over the years, but tonight felt different. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Luke spoke softly, nodding toward the direction of your phone.

“You’re not interrupting,” you assured him, sitting up slowly to pause the music. He smiled softly, gently asking for permission to move closer. You nodded.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, a little closer to you than he ever had before. Turning his head to look at you, he sighed, “I just wanted to talk.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, a look of slight confusion etched across your face. It wasn’t rare for Luke to hang out in your room whenever he wanted to get away from tons of overwhelming activity, but this was different, and quite honestly made you a little nervous, “About what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He rubbed his thumb across his nose, which had forever been one of his nervous habits. Throughout your guys’ childhoods, you had noticed it countless times - when he and Max performed in the fifth grade talent show, when he watched Canada win gold at the 2010 Winter Olympic Games, and when he was called up to play for Nashville for the first time. But you had never noticed it as intensely as you had in this moment, “About us,” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced. You had been hoping for this conversation for the longest time, but were now suddenly terrified of it. Nervously, you made eye contact with him, flames of his own anxiety dancing in his warm brown eyes, “What about us?”

Luke looked at you, sincerity extinguishing the anxious fire that was previously burning in his eyes, “I’ve been feeling something for awhile now, and I think you have too. I just… I just don’t want to hide it anymore.”

You felt a rush of relief mixed with nervous excitement as you struggled to process Luke’s words. Nashville Predators star Luke Evangelista just admitted his feelings for you. The boy that you had known since you were two years old had just admitted his feelings for you. Your older brother’s best friend had just admitted his feelings for you. You smiled quickly, replying almost instantly, “I feel the same way, Luke. I’ve been terrified to say anything because of Max.”

Luke nodded, his thumb dropping from his nose as his confidence began to grow more and more by the minute, “I know. But he’s not here now, and I don’t want to waste any more time pretending.”

With those words, the space between the two of you seemed to disappear. Luke leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a tender, hesitant kiss.

The kiss deepened, and soon the two of you were lost in each other. Luke’s hands gently cradled your face, and you ran your fingers through his wavy locks, pulling him closer. Every touch, every movement felt electric, charged with the intensity of your guys’ long neglected feelings.

For a moment, you pulled apart, breathless. “Are you okay?” Luke asked you, his forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips, “More than okay.”

Luke kissed you again, this time more passionately. The two of you fell back onto the bed, your bodies pressing together, all of the noise of the world outside of your room fading away. It was just the two of you, both you and Luke finally giving in to what each of you wanted.

Time seemed to stop to stand still as you explored each other, learning the curves and lines of each other’s bodies, memorizing the taste and feel of each kiss. It was as if the both of you were making up for all the moments that you had kept your feelings hidden.

Eventually, you lay side by side, tangled in each others arms, your breathing slowly returning to normal. Luke brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and wonder.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” you murmured, your voice soft.

Luke sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “Yes,” he agreed. “But I think it’s for the better.”

You traced your fingers on his bare chest as you nodded, speaking quickly, “I don’t want to tell him just yet.”

“Then we won’t,” Luke reassured, his fingers intertwining with yours, “we have all the time in the world, pretty girl.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace and security wash over you. The two of you would have to navigate this new situation, figure out how to tell Max, which scared the hell out of you (and Luke, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you at this moment). But in that moment, all that mattered was that you and Luke were together.

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in Luke’s embrace, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side (even if that meant forcing Luke out of your house through your bedroom window, or having an escape route at all times for the time being). And that was more than enough.

a/n; special thanks to @babygirlboeser for proofreading!!