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after-witch · 5 months

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Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]

Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader

No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon.

They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell.

At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays.

There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.

“Yes?”

The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.

“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”

You clear your throat.

“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”

It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.

“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”

You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now.

The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--

No.

People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor.

She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,

“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”

The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known.

Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed.

From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.

“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”

Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”

You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.

“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.”

You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do.

Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch.

Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed.

When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well.

Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug.

“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.

You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.

Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat.

Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--

His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.

“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.

But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family.

The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.

You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.

“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”

You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….

“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky.

The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.

“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers.

“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves.

Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”

You hate him so much.

“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’

Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.

“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”

Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this.

“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest.

It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children.

But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes.

He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.

“You said you just wanted to look.”

He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”

Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.

He smiles when you sit.

“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.”

“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened.

“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”

It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts.

“That’s not why you did it.”

Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.

“No?”

You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--

But he doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, he shuts it.

“Gojo--”

He gives you a look.

“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

Your heart thuds, one, two, three.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”

He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.

“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”

If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.

“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss.

The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss.

“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him.

Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says.

He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.

His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak.

“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.

You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.

Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”

You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head.

He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”

You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing.

“Wh--What?” You hiss.

Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh.

“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively.

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl. “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”

“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.

He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.

“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?”

Humiliation blooms in your throat.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”

Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”

It does. You shake your head. But it does.

Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.

“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”

Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again.

Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you.

Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.

“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.

“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.

“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.

How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.

“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous.

And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.

You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm.

“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.

“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.”

You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.

It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.

Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.

It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.

“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there.

It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.

You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does.

But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.

You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.

The realizations hit you like slaps in the wake of your orgasm.

He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again.

You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything.

How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included.

There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.

“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.

He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache.

“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”

His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.

“Fill me… up?”

His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”

Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.

“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?

Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.

“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?”

You don’t answer.

Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.

“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”

Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”

Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby. You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now.

No birds on the ceiling.

There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up.

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes

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wynnyfryd · 7 months

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Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #tw: guns #tw: death

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l4nd0n0rr1s · 4 months

Text

the chapter of charles | CL16

SUMMARY: in which charles leclerc falls in love with y/n the booktuber PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!booktuber!reader AUTHOR'S NOTE: time for a little charles moment! LINKS: add yourself to my taglist here! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

yourinstagram

liked by y/n'sbookmark, fan385, charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 3,649 others

my next video is due to be posted tomorrow! swipe to the end to see a sneak peek of the books i've been reading to prepare myself to have this video's guest on 😉

view all 4,253 comments

yourbestfriend hands down my favourite upload of the year

fan452 THEY'RE TO DO WITH F1? OHHHH SHIT

y/n'sbookmark my two worlds of f1 and y/n colliding oh my god

norrispapaya do u guys see charles in the likes????!!!

yourusername

tagged: charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, fan523, scuderiaferrari, norrisbabe and 39,424 others

a few of you managed to guess them, but this week i have formula 1 driver charles leclerc on the channel! i hope i've converted him into a bookworm ;) find the video link down below!

view all 73,624 comments

charles_leclerc thank you for having me! it was a pleasure, who knew reading was actually fun!

⤷ yourusername reading has always been fun charlie.

⤷ lightleclerc THE NICKNAME?? OH THIS IS SERIOUS

norrisbabe they'd be a power couple, that's all i'm saying

CL16.updates

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

liked by user284, charlesmybae, lightleclerc, yourusername and 394,432 others

After his impressive win in Monza, Charles is seen blushing and getting shy after being asked about the YouTube video he appeared in with @yourusername

Leclerc was quoted saying "She's given me the reading bug, if I'm not driving then I'm reading, that's what gir- I mean friends do to you!"

view all 463,914 comments

leclercbabe DID YOU GUYS HEAR THE LITTLE SLIP UP HE DID?

⤷ charlesmybae HE WAS 100% GOING TO SAY GIRLFRIEND ARE U KIDDING ME

fan434 he was so flustered bless him :(

yourusername

liked by: fan394, leclercbabe, yourusernamefan, charles_leclerc and 43,172 others

being a booktuber and having to travel is the worst. how am i meant to choose what books to take??

view all 32,914 comments

fan394 TRAVELLING? TO WHERE?

⤷ leclercbabe IT WOULDN'T BE THE MONACO GP BY ANY CHANCE WOULD IT Y/N?

charles_leclerc just let me buy you a kindle and take that

⤷ yourusername how d a r e you even suggest i use that monstrosity of an invention. physical books for life.

⤷ lightleclerc HE'S OFFERING TO BUY HER A KINDLE????? OH HES SO WHIPPED

charles_leclerc

liked by: scuderiaferrari, yourusername, carlossainz, fan395, lightleclerc and 652,513 others

C'est pour cela que je suis fier d'être monégasque. Avec un merci spécial à mon porte-bonheur. Forza Ferrari Siempre

carlossainz Proud of you!

leclerc_pascale Les mots ne peuvent pas décrire à quel point je suis fier de toi

fan395 PORTE-BONHEUR? LUCKY CHARM???? WHO OR WHAT IS THE LUCKY CHARM

yourusername

liked by: yourusernamefan, fan495, charles_leclerc and 395,239 others

feeling lucky 🏎️

fan395 Y/N??? ARE U THE PORTE-BONHEUR?

charles_leclerc better than the book?

⤷ yourusername hmm.. debatable

any and all feedback is highly appreciated!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

add yourself to my taglist here

love lauren x

if your tag is not underlined, it means you have sent me the wrong username. please resend it!

TAGLIST: @dr3ln4ml @itscrzy @nichmeddar @chonkybonky @raizelchrysanderoctavius @panicsinvirgo @randombugg @ctrlyomomma @tbsloneely @lichterfee @mochimommy2002 @landosgirlxoxo @celesteblack08 @mickslover @d3kstar @nichmeddar @laur20a23 @ssprayberrythings @simsimpgoodoldsimp @iloveyou3000morgan @ateezseoenghwanot @cherry-piee @darleneslane @parislovesf1 @awhbigail @Nelly-belly @x-bubblegum-x @multixedmund @bunniparadise @flannelforthetoads @Kapsylia @isabellem2909 @riverxsq @zjpg @cixrosie @deephideoutmilkshade @samaibx @slutforsleeping @joyfullymulti @eviethetheatrefreak @jensonsonlybutton @illicitverstappen @andiehanson @hopelxssromxntic @celestialams @laiba26 @evie-119 @Yourrrrpurrrrfecf @cyberbl4de @theonlyadrienne @gh1239 @GWginnyweasley @noncannonships @ilahatesyou @Lan4Cha16stanley @ironmaiden1313 @caseket @scenesofobx @fangirl125reader @morenofilm @lilyalbon @kave18 @Enewi @Lan4Cha16stanley @deephideoutmilkshake

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circle-with-me · 1 month

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make me feel like a god - noah sebastian x g/n reader

pairing: noah sebastian x g/n reader (no use of pronouns)

content warning/tags: 18+ MDNI!! handjob, spit as lubricant, use of sex toys (anal plug), overstimulation, whining/whimpering noah gets his own warning <3

word count: 1.6k

tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy @to-be-written @sitkowski @tearfallpixie @collective-heartbreak @cookiesupplier @cind6547 @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants @jilliemiw86 @sammyjoeee @collapsedglasshouses @broken0mens @itsafullmoon @bruisedleftknee @0fth34byss @unicornfairytail @catharsis-in-darkness @agravemisstake

if you would like to be added to my tag list please sign up here.

author’s note: this idea came from a fun little fever dream i had when i was sick with strep throat last week. so, shout out to fever dreams, i guess.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Noah mentioned the idea to you in passing. It came a few days after the two of you had spent an evening together watching porn. One particular video had a man using an anal plug during sex. A vibrating plug, specifically.

As you watched together, you noticed how it intrigued him. How sensitive it made the man on the screen, the intensity of his orgasm. By the end of it, he had hit replay and pulled you on top of him, desperate to be inside of you.

So when he sidled up to you in the kitchen a couple of days later, you had to hide your knowing smile. He struggled with his words, wringing his hands together like it was the world’s biggest favor. It broke your heart a little, knowing he was so nervous to ask you for something he wanted.

Finally, he managed to ask. He told you he had been thinking about it all week, making sure he really wanted to do this. He had done research. How he needs to prepare, the best kind of lubricants, even the best toys for beginners.

Once he’s finished you sneak down to the hallway closet. You pull a small black gift bag out and return to the kitchen quietly. Noah gives you a quizzical look as you sit the bag down but he opens it without question. His eyes bug out of his head when he realizes you’re already one step ahead of him.

“It’s simple.” You say, bumping your hip into his. “Nothing fancy. The shop owner said to start small.”

It was indeed simple. A black slender device with a flared base about 3.5” in length. Noah comments on the different speeds and pulses. You look over them together and he seems elated. You can’t help but feel excitement pool in your belly.

Noah nearly shoots through the ceiling when you ask if he wants to try it out. He tightly grabs the bag and bounds up the stairs to shower, but not before kissing you on the cheek.

Nearly an hour goes by and you’re getting worried. You consider going up there to check on him but you don’t. If he needed help he would ask. Plus, you know how he is, if he said he’s researched it he’s definitely a pro by now.

No sooner do you finish your thought does he call down the stairs for you.

He’s sitting in the chair by his desk when you enter your room, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He sees you watching him and flashes a nervous, crooked smile at you, your heart fluttering in response.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Noah nods, straightening himself in his seat.

“Yeah, it’s um… it’s in. I haven’t turned it on. I was going to let you do that.” He stretches his arm out to hand you the remote and you take it. He looks at you expectantly as he glides his fingers down your leg.

“Do you want to stay here or move to the bed?”

He considers the question for a moment, looking to the bed and back to you. Eventually he decides to remain in his current position and you nod, bending over him to place the remote directly behind him on the desk. His gentle touches against your thighs become more insistent, dragging you to sit down with him.

Settling onto Noah’s lap, your hands drift into his hair. The locks at the nape of his neck are still damp as you twist your fingers through them. You nuzzle against his neck, inhaling his scent, catching your strawberry shampoo he used in the shower. The fruity notes blended with his own natural musk has your head swimming.

You trace your tongue along the outside of Noah’s ear, feeling him shiver from your touch. As you graze your teeth over his earlobe he whimpers, the chair creaking underneath the two of you as he shifts. He’s so sensitive already.

Tonight is going to be even better than you imagined.

Noah attempts to slot your hips over his but you resist. He tries again and you refuse, focusing on marking up his neck. His frustration is clear but he doesn’t try again. Instead, he lays his head back against the chair giving you more access to explore. His fingers tighten then relax around the back of your neck while his other hand ventures up your shirt.

He whines when you don’t remove your shirt as quickly as he wants and you quietly scold him. He apologizes with the prettiest little pout and you reward him by removing the rest of your clothes, returning to your seat on his lap. His breath catches in his throat when you glide your hips over his, grazing his half-hard cock.

His hands shake as he reaches for your hips to guide them over his own. You allow him to indulge for a moment, getting your own satisfaction out of it as well. It takes all of your willpower to stop, however, reminding yourself that this is about him, not you.

Noah is easily soothed when you ask if he’s ready to turn on the plug. He nods enthusiastically, dragging his lip between his teeth in anticipation. Running your fingers through his hair you ask him if he’s ready. He takes a deep breath and nods, telling you to continue. You grab the remote and hit the button.

Noah's moans quickly mute the quiet pulsating buzz from the device. Every muscle in his body tenses as he gasps for air, reaching out for you desperately. You allow him to pull you close, snaking his arms tightly around your center. He crashes his lips into yours, prying your mouth open savoring your taste. You press the button again, and the vibration speeds up slightly, making him quiver beneath you.

He holds you against him so tightly you find it hard to breathe. Nothing but quiet gasps and whispered curses escape him as he hangs off of your lips, trying to regain his composure.

“Please..” Noah pitifully chokes out. You kiss the sides of his mouth repeatedly in an attempt to coax out his words but it’s of no use. He’s entirely too blissed out to speak. Adjusting yourself on his lap just so, you move your hand between the two of you.

“Shh, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Sweet words of praise spill from him as you take him in hand. His words are cut off by a moan when you spit on his cock, spreading your saliva along his length. He calls out your name, resuming his praise. Stuttering how good you are to him as he digs into the meat of your thighs.

Noah watches you jerk his cock slowly, begging for you to go faster. Quieting him with a kiss, you ask him to be patient. He tries to relax and be good for you, but you can’t help but notice tears welling up in his gorgeous brown eyes, his desperation evident when he raises them to meet yours.

Saliva pools at the edges of his open mouth and spills onto your hand. You speed up your movements, forcing a strangled whimper from him. Writhing beneath you, he leans back against the chair, head lolling over the headrest.

The orange glow in the room lights up his tattooed body. Beads of sweat glide down his heaving chest. His muscles contract with every new sensation he feels. You watch as his jaw clenches tightly, only to relax again as he cries out for you. The man before you is so strikingly gorgeous everything that surrounds you fades and disappears.

Noah’s efforts to speak come out as incoherent nonsense. Seeing him so completely subdued and in this euphoric state stirs up feelings inside of you so intense you can’t place them. His half-lidded eyes bore into you and it becomes clear to you that he’s surrendered himself to you completely.

You soothe his face with your hand, kissing the tears cascading down his cheeks. The intimate act is in stark contrast to the way your hand is furiously maneuvering over his cock. For all of the beautiful sounds you’ve pulled from him, you get a sense he needs something else. Something in the way his hips stutter into your fist indicates he needs more.

As you whisper into his ear, he nods, a pitiful “mm-hmm” falling from his lips. Reaching for the device behind him, you press the button one last time. Instantly his back arches and he cries out, his warm release erupting up and over your hand. His hands grip your thighs, the sides of the chair, any surface he can find to ground himself.

You talk him through his earth shattering orgasm, uttering praise after praise into ear. His body convulses so violently you’re afraid the chair will fall over. Finally, he begins to come down, body still jolting occasionally with aftershocks. He threads a hand through your hair, blindly searching for your mouth unable to pry his eyes open.

Giggling, you attach your lips to his and he sighs, bringing you with him as he melts into the chair. Noah shifts, placing his hand between the two of you and you gasp when he touches you. He grunts, feeling how affected you are from your activities.

“Baby…” Noah breathes. “Let me return the favor.”

As tempting as it is, you turn his attention to the mess the two of you have made and he chuckles, agreeing that it needed to be dealt with first. Once he regains feeling in his legs you run to the shower to get cleaned up, making sure to bring the remote with you.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x gender neutral reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #fic: make me feel like a god #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

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skipppppy · 7 months

Text

Something about BMO and The Lich being friends in the Jerry world is so interesting to me. That episode where he’s stuck in the corner of the wish room, Prismo explains that because there’s no mortal life around him to destroy, he’s like a computer bugged out, frozen in place, no function to serve. They’re both machines but with opposite purposes. BMO exists to give love and make people happy. The Lich exists to destroy all life. Thematic contradictions. Two sides of the same coin.

In regular Ooo, BMO thrives because their job is to make connections. It’s as easy as going out and saying hello to a stranger. Their purpose is to make friends. But even if the Lich wins, he loses. He isn’t a malevolent person, he is a literal force of nature performing his function. His job is to take life until there’s nothing left. If he follows his programming with no obstacles, his purpose will cease to matter anyway. Which is what happens in Jerry world. BMO gets to grow and change and mature and find personhood outside their original programming because it’s easy to do what they were created to do. The Lich could’ve easily killed Simon, Fionna, and Cake when they ran into him. He says so himself. But he doesn’t. He actively chooses not to. Simon outright says they aren’t in danger and that he looks depressed. He finally fulfilled his purpose and got a sliver of autonomy and realised there was nothing left to live for because he destroyed it all doing his job. Everything died, except BMO for some reason. There was literally nothing else to do but hang out with them.

I wonder how much of the Lich showing mercy was their influence. How much did BMO rub off on him? Did they just say he was their friend because of their childlike view of the world? Or did the Lich actually acknowledge them as a companion? It’s not like they can’t die. He must’ve liked them a little bit, otherwise they would’ve been dead long before that episode. Which makes me SO INTERESTED to see where they’re gonna go with this

#the lich is fundamentally a tragic villain. his existence is doomed from its inception #adventure time #fionna and cake #the lich #bmo #jerry #simon petrikov

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blimbo-buddy · 1 month

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concept ideas for the Carpenter Ant Colony ruler, Queen Mother Gnash

(her antenna aren't in her front facing head shot because I couldn't fit it in right without it disrupting the top image)

#blimmy art #bug world no mercy #queen mother gnash

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saffronscales · 2 months

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hi @blimbo-buddy I thought you might like me bug-posting….

here’s nephrite the warrior (june beetle) she was very often taken to other bug colonies for her fighting prowess which also caused her to uhhh detach from her peers and other forms of socialisation and as a result she’s not really sure what to do around other bugs including beetles :( luckily !!! bentonite the blacksmith is here to be friends (juno is trying SO hard not to put benny in a bug headlock right now)

also minor bug yuri. queen mulch x mother macerate II

#bug world no mercy #queen mulch #mother macerate II

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bogleech · 10 months

Note

ok i need to ask you something, is it just me or are a lot of speculations about alien life based on white euro centric behavoirs? Like i just cannot help but feel like all those scifi authors who write about how ALIENS HAVE TO BE HOSTILE TO OTHER LIFEFORMS AND AGRESSIVE all just feel very boring to me but also euro centric. Like white colonists enslaved and genocided the native people of the lands they went to, so now we're applying that assumption to all life.

In a lot of classic science fiction this was intentional as a social message; the concept of extraterrestrial invaders sprang up during a time when a lot of other fiction was glorifying war and colonization much more openly than it gets away with today. Some of the most popular fiction at the time was often about white westerners Heroically Defeating "primitive savages" or war stories in which America is framed as righteous for completely wiping out the "enemy side" with no mercy. So a lot of stories of alien conquerors were pretty much satire of this, challenging the reader to consider how it really feels to be treated like expendable lower life forms by a "more advanced" civilization. This continues to be the intention of a lot of villainous aliens, but then you'll also get a lot of dreck in which it's practically the same old nationalist fantasy again, just now it's our Glorious Superior Military saving the world from the Cruel Hideous Space Bugs. It can too easily go either way.

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cloudcountry · 10 months

Note

Aur naur requests are open!

Can I request Vil,Leona and Azul (separate) with a fem!reader s/o reading a horror novel and they ask what she's reading and she explains in great detail the terrifying disturbing things in the novel. I'm reading the novel Misery and I'd recommend it. It's a great horror novel!

SUMMARY: Their S/O describes something morbid from a book they're reading.

WARNINGS: Death (Azul, Vil.) Torture (Vil.) and Murder (Azul.)

COMMENTS: i pulled out my own horror novels for this (and some really freaky history shit. i'm going to talk about the bloody countess btw)

ALSO IF YOU CATCH WHAT IM REFERENCING IN LEONA'S I LOVE YOU

i took vil's in a different direction because i was inspired so yeah

When Leona asked you what you were reading, he didn’t expect you to absolutely light up. You scoot close to him and place the book on his thigh, and Leona decides to humor you even if he was trying to nap.

“One of the characters is running for their life right now.” you say, giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world, “There’s this creature that he’s hallucinating due to a goopy thing that got injected into him on a bridge—no I’m not going to explain so don’t ask—and it leaves goopy footprints everywhere. It goes from just standing there to running after him and when he looks back there are handprints on the ground too. It’s so creepy to think of something bounding after him that he can’t even see!”

Leona pauses to soak in the information you just dumped on him before groaning. If that’s what you’re into, he’s not going to judge. Just as long as you stop giggling so he can sleep.

When Azul asks you what you’re reading, it’s a simple attempt at small talk. He rests his arm on the booth you’re sitting at and leans over your shoulder, curious.

“This is a good part,” you beam, scooting over in the booth so he can sit down, “This guy just got killed and his corpse is all bloated. It’s like water has been forced under his skin and filled up his lungs as he gargled for mercy...his mouth is still open and everything too, and it's like his jaw has been stretched by all his screaming. His limbs are all twisted up and his eyes are rolled back and oh, don’t worry about it!! He was shitty and I hated him. He deserved it!”

Azul blinks, slowly processing everything you just told him. Ah, so that’s what you like to read. Very interesting, however morbid it may be. Perhaps you should talk to Jade, no? He would find this just as fascinating as you.

When Vil asks you what you’re reading, he does it as a way to start a conversation with you. You seem very intrigued by what you’re reading, scribbling down notes on a separate sheet of paper.

“It’s a biography on the Queen of Hearts.” you explain, not looking up from your paper, “I read a lot of novels about women who killed back in my world, so I wanted to compare her to them since she executed her citizens without much consideration for their lives. See, the Bloody Countess is one of the more notable ones, torturing her servant girls by pouring honey on their bodies and letting bugs bite them in the spring. In the winter, she would pour cold water on their bodies and watch them freeze. She would also jam sharp objects under their nails and—”

Vil nods along to what you’re saying, intrigued by your train of thought. He obviously isn’t aware of what your world holds, so hearing about it in relation to his world is fascinating.

#auburn's requests <3 #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar fluff #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto fluff #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit fluff #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit

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seaadc · 4 months

Note

hello!!! if you’re up for this, can i request any genshin men with a reader who feels like a horrible person because of things they’ve done in the past? i have a guilt complex lmaoooooo (i say lmao but it’s agony) (PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WITH A GUILT COMPLEX PUT YOUR HANDS UPPPP)

also this is a complete side note but i think this concept would be especially interesting with wrio since he’s always in the fortress or meropide, seeing people who have done wrong everyday in the fairly normal system (by jail standards) they have down there

guilt | wriothesley x reader

OH GOD THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A WHILE NOW IM SO SORRY MY NOTIFS ARE ALWAYS FILLED UP AND I DONT SEE ASKS ANYMOREEE T-T

angst w fluff at the end, soft!wrio, he’s comforting youu, gets a bit suggestive at the end, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as ‘my love’ and ‘princess’

it’s nothing to be concerned about really, if you were a criminal and probably rotting in the fortress of meropide for— archons knows how long, you would’ve just let your conscience be the death of you.

but you aren’t! your not sitting around and laying in the fortress of doom meropide, thank the archons.

though you can’t help but think if the seven are laughing at you, quite literally. your state isn’t so stable as it seems..

wriothesley, your partner, had called sigewinne ages ago to check on your health status. although it was all negative, the tests, the results, the examinations, all negative.

there wasn’t anything wrong with you, so why is there an aching pain in your stomach whenever your brain just relapses back to the past, the time where you had done such unforgiving sins, you couldn’t even do a whole statement word for word on what you had done to those poor victims.

one of them, someone special to you. someone special that you had lost because of your own carelessness, someone you had lost because you were being selfish, someone who you wished to cherish for a lifetime— though fate is mocking you unfortunately.

and the pain, the inkling pain deep inside that you cant ignore, it’s annoying. it’s frustrating. it’s … sad.

it’s a pity to see someone like you, a nice person who only wished to improve themselves and hope for a better future. yet it seems celestia didn’t approve.

your longtime partner, wriothesley, had been worried for you. ever since you met, you were always dozing off, not focusing, you looked uncomfortable yet he couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.

it was starting to piss him off, really. the way you doze off when he talks to you, when you two spend time together and your too busy in your own little world to pay attention to him.

wriothesley had decided to sit you down, like what any partner would do when they encounter a misunderstanding or a mishap. communication is key after all.

he couldn’t ever forget the look on your face, the day where you looked at him with such pitiful eyes and regretful ones while he just stared back at you with a stern look.

he feels pity, wriothesley feels pity. someone like him shouldn’t, so what is this he feels?

“tell me what’s been bugging you for months, [name].” wriothesley takes a deep breath, then exhales as you sat there, fidgeting with your fingers. “i didnt get the chance to ask you back then, since it was your privacy after all, hm?” he spoke firmly, his voice laced with curiosity and the tone where he just wants to know the truth.

just tell him, it wouldn’t be so hard. he’s your partner after all, you have every right to tell him so. “[name], i’m doing this to help you. you’re someone extremely precious to me and i can’t help myself just seeing you look so lost.” wriothesley explains, sighing deeply as he waits for your response.

how would he react? he’s the all mighty scary wriothesley after all. he’s known to have less mercy and sympathy on others. why tell? you’ll just embarrass yourself, you thought to yourself.

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep a secret, especially towards him. if he was any other people, a stranger, you would’ve kept it till the end of your life. but he’s not just a stranger.

he’s your partner, your loved one, your everything. wriothesley is someone you can trust, someone you care for. is it really worth keeping a secret from him?

you took a deep breath, letting the air get past your nostrils. “i have.. committed alot of unforgettable things in the past, someone like you wouldn’t like. someone like you wouldn’t appreciate.” you confessed, looking down and avoiding your beloved’s longing stare.

wriothesley looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. you? doing things that he couldn’t possibly imagine? “ever since i’ve started to open up a new path to walk on, the guilt in my chest still pains me. it’s almost eating me whole.” you continue.

he smiles at you, not a happy smile, a faint sad smile. he’s quite joyful about how you were guilty, and not like any other person who wouldnt even feel the slightest bit of empathy to what they’ve done wrong in the past.

this is the [name] he fell inlove with. the honest, confident, firm, one. there was no denying that wriothesley was hopelessly inlove with you. and he finds it lovingly amusing.

“if you regret it, then it’s okay. you don’t have to be in debt of a thing you regret on doing. if you truly feel guilt, then it just means your improving and want to be a better person my love.” he smiles, standing up and walking over to your seat, crouching before you as you were forced to look at him.

wriothesley holds your chin, going up to caress your cheeks coated with a red flush. “it may be your fault or not, but there will always be a way to fight back the sins of the past. you can get through it, i know you can.”

“your the strong and confident lady i love after all, hm?” he says with a grin, which makes your already flustered enough face go even more red.

you smile tenderly as he continues to caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch as you hear him chuckle lowly. wriothesley stands up straight, his hand now on your head as he ruffles your soft and silky hair.

wriothesley smirks, a teasing one. which means he’s probably going to say something just to tease you and to lighten up the mood a bit. “besides, i’m the only one who’s allowed to eat you whole, princess.”

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only !!

laughinf bc i made this at exactly 1am LMFAOO (i’m mentally unstable)

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