#& why he’s using x material for its purpose

[bonebrokebuddy]

@kodedgeekthings eyo you mentioned wanting a dpxdc prompt for Howard, Batman’s mechanic!

Harold misses fixing toys for kids and in his off hours has taken up the habit of answering questions on forums about machining, electrical, engineering, mechanics, and mechanical design that are often frequented by students.

One day, he comes across a request by a college student who is trying to assemble his own car out of scrap he bought from a local wrecking yard.

Ghostly_Boy states that he has previous experience in machining and can make replacements for broken or too-damaged parts if need be, but he doesn’t know where to start and what specific requirements he needs to reach to ensure it’s street legal.

Harold willing to help, he answers a few of Ghostly Boy’s clarifying questions:

- Great questions!

It’s good to note that if you’re not careful, fixing or making your own car from parts can be a moneysink and can cost you more than a brand new vehicle. - That being said, your first major step to ensuring you can drive the car is to get the title of the body/frame of the car you plan to build. It’ll have the VIN on a plate welded to the frame usually near the lower edge of the windshield wipers on the drivers side. It’s how the DMV identifies vehicles for licensing.

- Generally, you’ll at first get a “wreck out” title that shows the vehicle is listed as a total loss, but if you can assemble the parts for the car with that frame, the DMV can check if it’s properly running and road worthy & license for you to use it on public roads if you’ve done the proper paperwork.

- Once that is done, it’s largely a case of getting the right parts and assembling them. Depending on how much you have to repair, you could be taking on a task that could give a challenge to even a seasoned mechanic. There may be additional paperwork depending on what exactly you need to repair, like the breaks, lights, steering, etc.

- If you want to build the car entirely from scratch, chassis and all, that’s an entirely different story with a much more complicated list of requirements to make it street legal, so getting a frame from a junkyard is a great first step!

- Make sure to keep all bills of sale, junkyard receipts, invoices and manufacturers’ certificates on any major parts you used in building the vehicle to prove its road worthy to the DMV when it’s complete!

Harold doesn’t always answer first but over time he’s found the adventures of this kid amusing and keeps up with it.

Ghostly_Boy keeps the forum updated with his progress:

The kid spontaneously deciding to scrap the wiring system and make his own in a span of 3 days, leaving experienced mechanics on the forum practically screaming at the kid for his updates showing him using random wires he salvaged and pigtailing them together to get the length of wire he needed.

Mixing not only multiple types of wires but ones that didn’t have the protection needed for auto use. DIY-ing his own relay and fuses he didn’t have and connecting the wrong grounds and switches. And planning on leaving the wires unwrapped and loose.

Leaving Ghost to promptly redo the wiring, correctly this time, within 78 hours.

Making a repair of a massive rusted hole on the passenger side by the bumper and the front tire via cutting 1/2in past the rust, grinding it pretty and clean, tac & seam welding the vintage aluminum housing material of a toaster to cover the hole to the response of Harold and many others in the forum just going “… I guess that would work?”

Harold and many others telling the kid that this “ectoplasm” material wasn’t cleared through the EPA’s Clear Air Act and could be illegal to drive with it as it’s fuel source unless he got the emissions tested & the center of gravity of the car adjusted to have the center of gravity a gas car has, it wouldn’t pass Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards. Nor would the previously untested on material make it easy or quick to get an Emissions testing certificate. Best to just stick with gas.

Removing what he thought was a “skid plate” that turned out to be another rusted out section on the frame on the bottom of his car and repairing it with steel he salvaged from an old medical table he had laying around. (To the multiple slightly confused commenters asking how Ghost had a spare medical table, he replied, “eh, my folks visit every so often and they’ve been giving me things they’re clearing out of the house so they can move closer to my older sister. I just so happened to get the ye olde medical table. They’re an odd couple of folks but that’s why I love them.”)

People just crying at the kid to go to rockauto.com and just buy the damn parts he needs for his car. (A good resource btw)

The kid kept cutting corners to save cash but through the badgering of Harold and many others that he actually would have to spend money to make this car be safe to drive in, he finally got it completed.

Ghost’s post of him leaving DMV waving the updated title to the car in its envelope in the air, titled, “THE DMV FINALLY SAID IT WASN’T A FIRE HAZARD! ONLY TOOK 2 YEARS! THANKS EVERYONE!” Got the most amount of responses he’d ever had with congratulations from lurkers and previous commenters.

Over the course of those two years, Danny learned how to draw his own wiring diagrams, properly solder and weld, and learning to actually plan out his projects so he got it right at least the fifth time instead of the 20th. Not bad for a kid that went straight from graduating high school with a 1.5GPA to construction jobs.

But after finally getting the car approved, Ghostly_Boy returns to the forum with a new problem. Lamenting that his parents keep coming over and “modifying” his car to no longer make it street legal.

At this point, about half of the answers to the submission think it’s either a joke project taken very, very seriously with a good chunk of money behind it, or a kid with parents that have narrowly avoided falling completely down the mad scientist rogue rabbit hole.

After all, what sort of parent would think that the DMV would approve to “anti-ghost missiles” being attached to the outer body of the car? Either way, the submissions always had video attached showing a demonstration, proving that Ghost wasn’t just completely yanking their chain. And a good amount of money would have to be sunken in to not only pay for the fines Ghostly continued to get from the additions to his car, but to actually manufacture and make a unique working product for each plea for help request.

Harold is not only taking notes on some of these defense measures but also decides to bring up the boy to Alfred. Intrigued, they together keep an eye on Ghostly_Boy. Bruce may be their employer, but they can handle a case or two on their own.

- I wanted Danny to try to make smth for himself now that he doesn’t have access to his parent’s lab anymore but he also doesn’t have access to ectoplasm so he’s fairly unfamiliar how to wire things Not for ectoplasmic standards.

Also I wanted to make a prompt where Danny had a good relationship with his parents & went into a fairly realistic job after high school with his fairly bad GPA so he’s saving up for a technical school via construction jobs as he doesn’t like the idea of working fast food for understandable reasons.

#dpxdc #bones writes #i have about 3 dozen ideas for dpxdc ideas to do with Howard #I’m going to be a manufacturing engineer. #i got so many ideas for this dude teaching one of the batkids or a visitor to the batcave about how cad programs work #& why he’s using x material for its purpose #instead of y material #like this dude could just be any of my automation profs

[number1mingyustan]

With Benefits ☾

fwb!wonwoo x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, cursing, explicit smut, dom/sub dynamics, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, oral (m.), cum swallowing, squirting, overstimulation, use of a color system, spanking, aftercare

Summary: He may not be yours, but that doesn't exclude you from getting all the benefits

Word Count: 2.6k

_______________________________________________

“Come here,” Wonwo says quietly.

It’s almost eerie how he says it. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and his gaze follows you like a predator watching its prey.

You walk over to him, sitting yourself on his lap and straddling him. He holds you by the waist, cold fingertips pressing against your sides as he licks his lips slowly.

You and Wonwoo are not together. Despite that fact, the two of you find yourselves in a position like this one. It's more of an arrangement that the two of you have set in place.

You don't even consider it a 'friends with benefits' because well, you're not really friends either. You and Wonwoo share the benefits and the benefits only.

You were two people experiencing less than satisfactory sex lives and after one night together, decided the two of you were compatible in bed.

"You look pretty, wear this f'r me?" He questions, finger playing with the material of your nightgown.

"Not everything I do is for you," You snap back, a little too quickly for his liking. You've always had a sharp tongue and he's always loved putting you in your place because of it.

He lets out a 'tsk' of disapproval. "You don't wanna piss me off today baby."

He's not lying. Today wasn't a good day for him at work. Everyone and everything seemed to piss him off and it's the whole reason you ended up here at his place. He was in need of a release and texted you to come over.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Wonwoo pushes your hair back softly. "What are your colors baby?"

"Green means good, yellow means slow, red means stop."

"And if you can't speak?"

"One tap is slow, two is stop. No taps means I'm good."

"Good girl," He smiles.

Once he has the confirmation he needs, it's like a switch has flipped inside of him. He's pushing you back onto the bed and parting your legs slowly.

"Need you to be good for me tonight," He breathes out. "Take everything I give you like a good girl."

Your breathing grows shaky. He pushes the oversized t-shirt you have on up slowly, exposing your lacy black underwear. He licks his lips slowly before sliding your panties down your ankles and tossing them onto the floor.

Purely out of reaction, you press your thighs together, making Wonwoo frown. "Why are you hiding from me, baby?" He pries your legs back open, this time wider than before.

"Wasn't doing it on purpose, promise." You reply.

He ignores you, lightly tugging at the t-shirt covering your body. "Take this off for me."

You oblige, slipping the fabric off of your body and dropping it onto the floor. You're suddenly exposed in front of him. He looks down at you with lust clouding his eyes. He adjusts his glasses on his face once again. "On your knees."

Again, you oblige, dropping down onto your knees in front of him. You wait patiently as he undoes his belt and lets his pants pool at his ankles. His underwear is the next to fall and your eyes are glued to his cock in all its glory.

It's only half hard now, but you're quick to change that. You don't wait for him to tell you, immediately taking his length into your hand. You feel the way he hardens and grows under your touch.

You pump him slowly, increasing the speed of your movements progressively before taking him into your mouth. He lets out a satisfied breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth around him.

You start off using your spit to lubricate his cock before taking him deeper down your throat. His tip hits the back of your throat easily, he's trained you well.

You continue pumping him in your hand, taking the other half of his cock down your throat as you bob your head. Wonwoo groans, tilting his head back and gripping the bed sheets harder.

You look up at him, movement never faltering as you admire him. His adam's apple is prominent from this angle and you can hear the breathy groans he releases from his throat.

His hand tangles itself in your hair and he pushes down, forcing you to take his cock deeper down your throat. You gag, but you don't stop.

He continues pushing your head, lifting his hips to meet you halfway as he fucks deep into your throat. Your eyes are welling with tears as you struggle. Your throat aches and your nails are digging into his thighs but he's relentless.

"Cumming-fuck!" he groans. "Swallow it all f'r me, baby."

You don't get to react before his warm seed is filling your mouth. It comes out in thick spurts, coating the inner walls of your throat. He lets out a long groan of satisfaction when you swallow.

He licks his lips slowly, looking down at you with a grin.

"Open." He demands.

You pant a few times, trying to catch your breath before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.

"Good girl." He says. "Up."

You oblige, rising back up to your feet and joining him back on the bed. He lays you down and reaches over you, opening up the drawer next to his bed.

He pulls out a little pink vibrator that instantly has you throbbing and clenching around nothing. He presses it against your clit, rubbing it along your folds slowly.

He doesn't turn it on, however, simply watching the way your arousal coats the toy. Satisfaction courses through his veins knowing you're already soaked just from sucking him off.

"You gonna be good for me?" He asks, continuing to run the toy up and down along your folds.

You nod. "I'm always good for you."

"You're never good for me," He replies, pressing the toy down on your clit.

You buck your hips up instinctively at the new pressure. Wonwoo lets out a disappointed 'tsk.' "So greedy and impatient. You really aren't a good girl."

"I am!" You whine. "I am."

"We'll see."

Without warning, he's turning the toy on and pressing it down on your clit. You cry out, immediately trying to close your legs at the sudden stimulation.

Wonwoo is having none of it, prying your legs back open with his free hand.

"Cut that out, need to see how pretty she is when she squirts," He presses the vibrator down harder.

You grind your hips up, allowing the vibrations to spread across your clit needily. He allows it, pressing down harder to draw you closer to your orgasm.

He bumps it up another speed, which has you moaning and crying out even louder.

"Oh my- Fuck, Wonwoo I'm not gonna last much longer," You cry out. "Please let me cum."

You continue to buck your hips up, moving sloppily and desperate to get yourself off.

"Go ahead pretty girl," he permits.

You're letting out a string of hushed 'thank yous' as your orgasm overwhelms your body. Wonwoo hums in approval as he watches you fall apart. He applies more pressure onto your clit, allowing you a thorough orgasm and he only retreats when he sees the rush of fluid he's been expecting.

You grip the bed sheets with full force, moaning almost pornographically as you squirt everywhere.

It takes a few moments for you to recover from the intensity of it all. Wonwoo coaxes you back into your senses, turning the toy off and placing it on the nightstand before joining your side on the bed.

He strokes your hair slowly, kissing you from the top of your head down to your cheek and neck. "What's your color, pretty girl?"

"Green," You rasp out.

"You sure? That was a lot for you I know."

"I'm okay," You reach out to him and entangle your hands with his. "Haven't even had your cock in me yet. Can't tap out before then."

A grin spreads across his face. "Fuck, I adore you Y/n."

He's lifting you back onto his lap. You see his cock is standing tall and hard again, tip leaking with excitement for what's to come.

"Want you to ride me, fuck yourself on my cock. You can do that for me, yeah? Be a good girl and ride my cock."

You nod, lifting your hips so you're hovering over him and aligning his cock with your entrance. Your breathing grows shaky and gets caught in your throat as you sink down onto his length.

He stretches you open, filling you up to the brim. He guides you, placing his hands on your hips as he enters you. He sits up on the bed, eyes glued to where the two of you meet.

You take a moment to adjust to his size. You feel so full and you're already sensitive from your first orgasm.

He frowns, bringing his hand across your ass with a loud slap before reclining back down onto the bed. "Start moving baby, the dick isn't gonna ride itself."

His words send shivers through your body. You obey him like a dog, bouncing up and down on his cock and progressively picking up your speed.

"Fuck," You breathe out.

He continues ot hold you by your hips as you ride him. His cock buries itself deep in your walls, tip brushing against that sweet spot deep inside of you ever time you move your hips.

Wonwoo groans every time you sink down onto him. His head is tilted back once again as he relishes in your warmth. You're so tight and he can feel his length splitting you open every time you bounce on his cock.

An idea pops in his head and he's extending his arm toward the nightstand. You don't know it until he's turned the vibrator back on and pressed it against your clit.

Your hips jerk and lose their rhythm. "Wonwoo-"

He says nothing, simply grabbing you by the hip and forcing you back down on his cock at the rhythm you had previously. Your body is going into overdrive. It's too intense.

“I can’t…” You cry. “Fuck Wonwoo ‘s too much, I can’t.”

Wonwoo ignores your pleas, turning the vibrator up to its maximum speed. It catches you off guard, and you're so overstimulatedd that your hips come to a complete stop.

"You can, move." He demands.

"I can't," You whimper.

Jeon Wonwoo has never been the type of man to take no for an answer.

“Yes you can baby,” He coos lightly. He strokes your hair softly, pressing the vibrator against your clit harder.

You fall over into his chest pathetically and cry out. “Fuck- I can’t Wonwoo.”

“Color?” He asks, momentarily detaching the toy from your body.

“Green,” You rasp out.

A smirk tugs at his lips and he presses the vibrator against your clit once again. Your body jerks at the feeling, causing you to clench around him and he throbs inside of you.

“Liar,” His free hand lay on your hips, lightly guiding you. “Babbling about how it’s too much… but you fucking love this, don't you baby?”

You're too overstimulated to manage a response. Your body is nearing exhaustion but your orgasm is approaching even faster. You can only moan out, continuing to ride him desperately.

Your mind grows hazy and your body moves almost like it's on autopilot. You're trying to outrun the exhaustion your body is facing, you're so fucking close.

Smack!

A harsh slap lands on your ass, snapping you back into reality. Your back arches and your skin is burning.

“I’m fucking your pussy not your mouth, I expect you to speak back to me.”

"I love it," You slur. "You're right... I love it so much."

Your voice is getting whinier and pitchier. Your throat is sore and you're drenched in sweat. Wonwoo is doing nothing to help you and the vibrator against your clit is pure torture.

"I'm so close... please let me cum Wonu," You plead with him.

He nods, kissing your hair. "Only because you asked like a good girl."

"Thank you," You rasp out.

You lean into him pressing your chests together and wrapping your arms around his frame. Your body comes to a halt when you release. He lets out a groan when he feels the way you pulse around him. You don’t even realize you’re squirting again because your mind is so hazy. He lifts you up just enough to feel your release on this thighs with a satisfied smirk.

You cum around him with such intensity that it leaves you breathless. The pleasure is overwhelming and your body goes limp on his lap. He removes the toy from your body, turning it off the tossing it aside. He pushes your hair back out of your face and tilts your head so he can look at you.

You gives you a soft smile, and licks his lips. "How you feeling?"

You mumble. " 'M okay."

"Think you can keep going for me?" He asks, voice just above a whisper.

"Wonu," You groan.

"C'mon baby, I know you can do it for me," He coos softly. "Just a little bit more f'r me. You can do that right? I'm almost there, promise."

You whine. "Can't."

"You sure? You're already moving baby," He breathes out.

You didn't even realize your hips had picked up motion. You were subconsciously grinding down on him despite how sensitive you were. You were still coming down from your orgasm, but your body seemed to crave him more.

You let out a breath. "Shit."

"There we go baby," his hands guide your hips, slowly lifting you up and helping you bounce on his cock.

You're still sensitive, letting out gasps each time he fills you up again. He helps you through it, guiding you and lifting your body as you ride him slowly. He doesn't mind the pace, he knows you're gonna get him there sooner or later regardless.

He praises you, whispering in your ear ever so softly about how good you're doing for him and making him feel. He's more vocal, feeling his cock throb inside of you as his orgasm approaches.

A few more thrusts and he's spilling his load inside of you. His head falls back with a loud groan and he holds you still on his lap. The feeling of his cock throbbing nearly sends you over to the edge again and you relish in the way he fills you up.

He lifts you off his lap entirely and you cringe at the empty feeling. He's gentle with you, kissing your skin softly and telling you how well you did.

"Pushed your limits today, gonna take good care of you pretty," he pecks your shoulder.

You nod softly as he lays you down on the bed with the utmost care. He rises from the bed, putting on a pair of boxers before disappearing into the bathroom to start a bath.

He comes back a few minutes later. You're nearly asleep from the exhaustion. "C'mon."

He lifts you up, carrying you into the bathroom and joins you in the tub. He washes your body with gentle hands before slipping one of his t-shirts over your body. He changes the bedsheets and tucks you in.

He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with snacks. You give him a small nod when he extends a pack of cookies out to you. He feeds you and turns on the tv in his room.

The two of you spend the rest of the night in bed together, cuddling until you both fall into a peaceful slumber.

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo

[hearts4chriss]

Texas baby.

Angry!Boyfriend Chris x Needy Poc! Girlfriend

prompt: while Chris is filming with his brothers and Sam and Colby you send me a bunch of thirsty texts and images to distract him. Fortunately and unfortunately it works but at what cost?

Part 7

Contains: PURE FILTHY SMUT! humiliation, semi-public, balcony sex, ROUGH! CHRIS, degrading, hair pulling, dacryphilia, overstimulation, use of pet names, hair pulling, ass slapping, choking, photography, dirty talk, spanking, heavy aftercare

A/n: THIS IS DEDICATED TO THE AMAZING & TALENTED GIRL @luv4kozume I LOVE U SO MUCH MAMA ( my mother ) THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR ALWAYS BEING THERE IM SO GLAD I FOUND U AND IM SO PROUD OF YOU UR ALMOST @2k🤭🤭

Damnit Chris

Chris Matt and nick were here in Texas to film a collab w Sam and colby and he begged me to come along.

But since he left I’ve been feeling soooo horny for him, I haven’t been able to get him alone of course since he’s here for the collab and I wanted him to explore where I’m from ( surprise :) )

But it’s his fault, he’s been doing things in purpose.

The way he’d hug me from behind pressing his boner into my ass, the way he’d “accidently” grab my tit whenever I’d be out with him and his brothers since we got here.

Oh and his little flirty comments,

“Sorry sweetheart, my fault princess, you need something ma?, you look so pretty mama” all his stupid shit now has me wet and I can’t do anything for hours until he gets back

I had an idea. I was gonna make him pay

I knew how Chris felt whenever I teased him in public, which is exactly why I sent it. It would always end in really, really rough sex.

But we were in a hotel so I'm not sure how this would go but since he was filming with Sam and Colby I hope he doesn't get too upset.

Chris Pov

I was with my brothers and sam and colby as I had just seen the last of my girls texts.

My dick pressed achingly against my pants I swore I felt pre-cum in my boxers. those fucking pictures.

And it only got worse as I tried fixing myself when they weren't looking, just the though of her sitting on the hotel bed in a thong and a sheer black robe covering her made me almost nut in my pants.

I could not wait to bend her over the balcony and fuck her so good, let everyone know shes mine.

Throughout the rest of us filming, I began to get angry and even more pissed off with her sending me those.

She had me turned on, for hours, knowing I couldn't do shit about it.

I was gonna ruin that ass the second I got back. She wants to act like a slut? i'll fuck her like one.

1:27am

I was still awake, I had been laying on the bed before I heard the hotel room door open.

“Hey baby how filming.” I said turning around giving him a clear view of my plump breasts through the sheer material along with the thong hugging at my hips he tried to regain focus.

“You think that shits funny? Sending me that while im in public and making me hard hm?” He spoke in almost a growl his hand wrapping around my throat squeezing a bit and I shook my head and squeezed harder.

“N-no I-dont mphm think its funny-“ I choked out and he let out a scoff before releasing his grip.

“Outside, balcony, bend over.” Was what he instructed and I did so removing the robe walking outside as he followed me smacking my ass and I whimpered

“Faster, slut you wanna get fucked so bad I suggest you move quicker.” Chris said with a teasing tone as I scurried outside bending over and resting my arms on the rails the cool breeze hitting my nipples as they hardened.

“You know what's coming now baby?” Chris spoke in almost a baby-like voice rubbing his hands over the curves of my ass.

before I could speak he lays a harsh smack across my ass I jolt forward gripping onto the rail tightly.

“Don't make a sound yeah? Just be a good girl.” He speaks leaving a kiss on my neck before leaving another smack

“Your, smack, such, smack, a, smack, fucking, smack, slut, smack.” Chris said quickly through gritted teeth as I bit my lip from any groans or whimpers, also ignoring the way my pussy throbbed each time he smacked my ass.

“Fuck-“ he says under his breath fumbling with his pants undoing his belt letting his pants fall to the ground kicking them off before sliding down my thong letting his dick slap on my ass spreading the pre-cum a bit.

“You think you deserved to be fucked?” Think you deserve my cock hm? He said waiting for my answer as I tried to form the words he got irritated smacking my ass.

“You better answer me sweetheart, or you won't even get the tip.” Chris said in a mocking tone.

“P-please Chris- I'm sorry I-promise-“ I choke out my words falling out all over the place and he chuckles spreading my legs before forcing all of him inside me.

He normally would give me time to adjust but he was fucking pissed, he immediately began ramming into my pussy balls deep inside me, his hand grasping my shoulder making it easier to thrust.

“O-oh f-fucking shit Chris!” my jaw slack moaning his name loudly almost forgetting we were outside, but it felt so euphoric feeling him so far gone inside me.

“shit ma so fuckin tight on my dick, such a slut.” He grunted continuing to abuse my cunt letting it coat his cock easily sliding in and out, well pounding.

at the pace he was going, I could cum in probably a minute or two, and I knew chris was gonna make me his cum slut for my behaviour just a few hours ago, I was so fucked.

“shit shit- fuck!- feels so fucking good oh shitt!” I screamed biting my lip from my moans bound to has granted us a noise complaint but boy he did not like.

“Open your fucking mouth, you wanted this right? For me to fuck you like the whore you are?” He said smacking my ass again inserting his fingers into my mouth through my lips.

He continued his pace whilst I made a mess on his fingers from how hard and rough he was going I couldn't keep up as I drooled on his fingers, my ass slapping hard and quick on his pelvis allowing his cock to hit my g-spot every thrust, my stomach already gained the familiar sensation.

“Look at that, already about to cum so pathetic baby.” He chuckles removing his fingers from my mouth so he could pull my hair tightly thrusting harder making a clapping senation.

“FUCK im cumming f-fuck-“ cries of his name flew from my parted lips as my cum began dripping down his length allowing his warm thick load to shoot inside me, but he didn't even slow his pace allowing my eyes to shoot up from sensitivity.

“S-sensitive Chris!” I cried out gripping tightly on the balcony rails and feeling my legs already close in before he reached down spreading them apart leaning over to my ear.

“Nu-uh sweetheart, you wanted this remember?” He mocked leaving a lick on the sensitive spot on my neck making my breath hitch like he knew it would letting his cock ram deep inside me as our cum mixed creating a stick sound.

“such a dirty slut for me aren't you.” He sighs deeply allowing his eyes to roll back at the sight of me so fucked out on his cock.

“F-fuck yes yes- such a slut for you Chris-“ I cry out resting my head sideways on the rails and squeezing my eyes shut to let my mind drift away as it clouded it up from how he was fucking the shit out of me.

“Good girl, so fucking good f'me.” Chris's voice dropped an octave as he was so focused on fucking me till I saw stars it felt, thats when, The sticky sounding was replaced by a squelching wet sensation.

“Fuckk chris- I-“ I groaned my legs quivering as I began squirting over his cock and lower stomach, I could've sworn he would have stopped by now but he didn't

“oh god-“ I said feeling my eyes well up with tears as my legs nearly caved in at the overstimulation and he chuckle admiring how my wetness glistened in the faint light of the moon on the balcony.

“Love this fuckin pussy so much, fits so perfectly around me-“ chris moaned his brown locks sticking to his forehead as his arm wrapped around my torso to squeeze my tit making me whimper my legs began to shake a bit.

“come on ma one more, being such a good girl.” He praises his hand reaching down to rub my puffy clit chuckling at the heat of it as I squirmed tears falling down my face from the overwhelming pleasure.

Chris reached over to the hair grabbing phone putting it side ways and recording in front of me.

“Tell everyone how much a whore you were acting baby hm?” He said still thrusting deeply inside me.

“I-fuck- s-such a whore- for y-you-“ I said panting, almost like a dog my tears on my cheeks as I could hardly form a sentence.

Fucked her so good she can barley speak, fucked her dumb with my cock. He chuckled looking at the camera before setting it down as I could barley support my body weight at this point, my orgasm quickly was approaching.

“Oh fuck fuck I-its- so close-“ My toes curled into the ground allowing everything to entirely take over as I couldn't even process what was happening.

“fuck baby- cum, all over this dick.” He groans his teeth grazing over my shoulder as I shutter in his grasp.

“FUCK- C-cumming s-so fucking good-“ I squealed as I began to cream his dick for the 3rd time as he slowed his thrusts just enough so he could finish inside me again before slowly pulling out.

I try and hold my body up for a bit before chris pulls me into him, my chest heaving as my tears stained my face, our cum dripping out of my abused pussy and my body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“F-fuck Chris-“ I shake against the balcony rails barely holding myself up before Chris rubbed my shoulder placing a kiss.

“Shh I got you baby.” He whispered in a comforting voice gently picking me up bridle style allowing my head to rest on his chest as he carried me to the bathroom allowing a bath to run for me.

He got a warm cloth pushing my legs apart cleaning my inner thighs first since I'd be more sensitive in between.

“You ready? let me know if it's too much okay?” Chris kissed my forehead and I nodded as he cautiously pressed the warm cloth to my heat cleaning me up being careful to not make me wince.

My bath was ready so he held me again placing me in as i sigh leaning against the back of his as He sat behind me.

“Want me to take ur hair out mama?” or do you wanna keep it in.

“T-take it out.” I sigh tiredly and he smiles grabbing the baby scissors.

He was precise and careful taking my weeve out, I made sure to teach him how to do it so he wouldn't cut my hair and he didn't

Once taken out he undid the braids underneath it beginning to givev my scalp a small massage and I rest my head in his hands.

Your hairs gorgeous baby. He says quietly and I look at him and smile.

Eventually he got me out the bath allowing me to dry off with some support, he carried me to our bed.

“Here you go.” chris smiles handing me a pair of panties and one of his T shirts.

“I'll be right back okay?” He says and I nod as he leaves the room and I’m confused but I’m honestly too tired to even think

I put my bonnet on and wait for him

around 5 minutes later chris comes back with two cokes and a bag of takis.

“I know these are your favorite snacks so.” He shrugs handing them to me before taking off his shirt climbing into the bed with me in his grey sweats.

Thank you. I smile at him

“Of course ma, come here.” He says and I get closer to him laying my head on his chest.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me baby.” I say tiredly and he chuckled.

“Oh don't thank me, it’s my job sweetheart to do that and make you feel so good and plus I think we woke everyone up anyway.” He chuckles

“Oh shit- probably.” I shake my head as we both errupted into laughter.

The rest of that night ( 20 minutes )consisted of us watching TV and eating my snacks before I drifted off to sleep 20 minutes later.

“Goodnight gorgeous.”Chris mutters leaving a kiss to my clothed shoulder turning of the lights cuddling me as we fell asleep.

Taglisttt

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ratatioulle @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @blondiesjailer @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #smut #sturniolo fanfic #hearts4chriss

[ioveartfilm]

BEYOND THE GRAVE

Summary When he first dreamed about you, Satoru knew deep down you must be wandering somewhere in the world out of his reach. However, he never thought you were lying six feet underground.

Genre Romance, Drama, Historical, Thriller.

Additional Content Mature Content, Dark Themes, Murder, One Shot, Victorian Era.

Pairing Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Playlist ┊ Masterlist

Author’s Note Here’s the corpse bride AU fic I promised, enjoy!!

Satoru’s hand moved effortlessly while sketching the figure of a woman that rested in his mind. Capturing every detail of hers. Being a presence he had portrayed on countless occasions. Her features linger vividly in his memories, using her as a subject to relieve his turmoils. As his gaze remains, his lingering desires do too. A yearning for her to come to life. How does a woman attain such resplendent beauty and by what mystic grace did her presence weave its way into his thoughts? His wish for her to enlighten him about her purposes, passions, and dreams persisted. Eager to learn how she landed into his deepest dreams. Why his? His nonchalant mind of his, with no creativity whatsoever.

All his drawings are composed of her presence along with the illustrations of Morpho menelaus, species of the subfamily Morphinae. A striking butterfly species with a resplendent blue that brightens through the night with its vibrant colors. The beautiful butterflies that grace his window daily, he’s lucky to witness. Satoru was the age of eighteen when he first encountered her in his dreams. He remembers the moment vividly. For an inexplicable reason, she was dressed in bridal attire, highlighting her gorgeous collarbone while gracefully embracing her form, complemented by dainty ivory gloves. A bride. Perhaps someone else’s bride. He can’t tell why that thought pains him.

“This boy, engaging in artistic endeavors like a fool.” His mother entered his chamber with an air suffused with disapprobation. “Desist from your current occupation and prepare yourself. We cannot afford to be tardy!”

Oh, that's right. He's going to finally meet his fiance today.

“Ah, my beautiful and only son. Possessing a visage of such resplendence yet lingering in an unmarried state. What an anguish! It is our poverty that people look down on us. But again, If your father haven’t went bankrupt, we wouldn’t be in this situation! Now I’m stuck with a son that wastes his days, selling books, sketching nonsense and recite poems to no one.” Throughout the entirety of their carriage ride to their destination, his mother lamented their circumstances. Regrettably, his family lacks the riches to sustain themselves after his father’s death. However, his forthcoming matrimonial alliance holds the promise of a brighter future. “Now we find ourselves lucky! The Winchester Family finally grant us a chance!”

“Mother,” Satoru called with a furrow forming on his brow. "Shouldn't Miss Winchester be marrying a Lord instead of a common man like me?" He expressed his concerns, his words tinged with uncertainty. “Don't you find it a little odd?” Is he the only who find it suspicious about The Winchester family sudden interest in them?

His mother scowled, using her fan to deliver a smack to her son’s head. “Quiet boy! Don’t pry, and be grateful for what you have.” Satoru exhaled deeply at his mother’s words, sinking back into his seat as a whirlwind of thoughts spun through his mind, there’s no use talking to his mother about this matter. He may as well let it be.

“Adelaide, I implore you to ensure our son enters into wedlock for love, not merely for monetary gain. Guide him onto the right path.”

“Oh, Octavius don’t be ridiculous! Our son’s survival is paramount. Love alone cannot sustain him; it is a whimsical fantasy.”

Satoru recalled the moment he overheard his father’s dying wish for him. Octavius had fervently wished for his son to pursue love in marriage, unencumbered by material considerations. However, Henrietta held a contrary belief. Satoru lacks personal experience with romantic affection, so he cannot voice an opinion on that matter. Opting for a marriage driven by financial considerations is the most pragmatic choice for him at present. His artistic talents and poetic inclinations offered little sustenance for his practical needs. Resigning himself he now embraces the predetermined path laid out before him.

“Pay heed,” His mother's voice resounded with a sense of urgency, her eyes drilling into Satoru with a steely resolve. “Do your utmost to appease them. Whatever you do, do not falter! This is our last opportunity to escape the perpetual hardship we face daily. We cannot afford to let this chance slip through our grasp, do you comprehend?”

“Mother you expect too much from me. I haven't even spoken to Miss Winchester before, how will I know how to please her?”

“Ah, nonsense! Women aren't as complicated as you make them out to be. Just prioritize making a favorable impression on Mr. and Mrs. Winchester.”

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester proved to be not only reserved but rather, intimidating. Satoru stood still in the middle of the room with their discerning gazes lingering on him, scrutinizing every aspect of his presence, leaving him with a growing sense of discomfort. Mrs. Winchester emitted a satisfied hum as she began to circle his form treating him like an exhibit with her head held high.

“You possess striking height and distinctive features: white hair and blue eyes. Yes, these are splendid attributes for our future grandchildren,” Mrs. Winchester commented in a stern tone. “Yet, physical appearance alone is not what we seek. We seek discipline and determination above all else, a husband who is committed to providing for his family. Do you believe you possess such traits, Mr. Gojo?”

Satoru stood proudly, suppressing any doubts that lingered within him, meeting Mrs. Winchester’s gaze with composure. “Yes, ma’am. I assure you that I possess the qualities you seek. I am committed to meeting your expectations.”

The room descended into a profound silence as their eyes locked, seemingly exchanging unspoken words. Mrs. Winchester arched an eyebrow before nodding in approval. “Good. That’s precisely the response I was hoping for. Come along, let us delve deeper into our discussion over a cup of tea.”

As Mrs. Winchester led the way deeper into their sprawling mansion, Satoru’s attention was ensnared by the sight of a magnificent piano, standing behind until the voices of his mother, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester gradually faded away. His eyes were drawn to the instrument, finding himself seated on the bench, his gaze fixated on the keys as memories flooded his mind. He recalled the days of his youth, witnessing his father play with awe and admiration. While Satoru could play the piano, he knew he could never quite replicate his father’s talent. As he sat there before the instrument, memories of his father’s music enveloped him, stirring both nostalgia and longing in his heart. Oh, how he missed the irreplaceable bond they shared through the language of music. One evening, Octavius found young Satoru ensconced in the solitude of the gardens with tears cascading down his cheeks, as he grappled with the weight of his mother’s perceived disappointment in him. Unable to further witness his son’s anguish, Octavius led him to his musical sanctuary where he sat at the grand piano. He began to play with ease a melody he composed with each note a testament to the depth of his love for his son.

“You are kind, strong, and brave.” Octavius spoke with words of reassurance and wisdom. “Allow yourself to feel and express your emotions freely. It does not diminish your worth as a man.”

For years, Satoru devoted himself to the pursuit of replicating the melody his father once played. His fingers dancing upon the keys of the piano with practiced ease. As he closed his eyes, he surrendered himself to the echoes of the past in a bittersweet embrace.

“Mr. Gojo?” The sudden intrusion of feminine voice brought Satoru’s performance to an abrupt halt, his fingers freezing upon the keys as he turned to behold the unexpected visitor. Before him, a radiant apparition graced his sight—a maiden in the prime of her twenties, adorned with cascades of chestnut tresses and eyes of a rich, earthly hue. Her figure was adorned in a breathtaking violet gown along with a delicate necklace gracing her necklace adding a touch of refinement. Satoru then began to distancing himself from the instrument, standing before her. Is she really the woman he must marry? She’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Forgive me.” He speaks flickering his gaze between the woman in front of him and the piano, feeling slightly unease under her curious gaze. “I’ve used your piano without proper permission.”

She emitted a soft chuckle and shook her head with a serene smile. “That’s quite alright. Hardly anyone ever uses it anyway.”

“Really? Such beauty should be cherished and appreciated, not left idle.”

“I agree. Lamentably, my mother holds the belief that a lady like myself should not indulge in musical pursuits.”

"How so?" Satoru couldn't help but inquire.

"My mother believes playing the piano isn't suitable for a lady," Catherine explained with a hint of resignation, "and insists that I redirect my focus towards more socially acceptable pursuits."

"That's a shame," Satoru stated sympathetically.

"It truly is."

Now as both moved to be seated by side together at the piano bench, she cast a wistful smile in Satoru’s direction before speaking with a longing voice. “I’ve always imagined my wedding would be with someone I truly love.” She confessed. “Perhaps it’s an unrealistic wish, don’t you think? Nobody marry for love nowadays.”

“Yes, it is.” Satoru agrees immediately unaware he may have been a little blunt. “I mean! No, of course not. If it’s a dream you hold dearly, do not let go of it so easily.” Even though his hopes of marrying for love have dimmed, it doesn’t mean her hopes have to be.

She hums to herself with her gaze lowered. “I’ve matured and I have learned down the way I shouldn’t be swayed by a little girl’s dreams.” She then lifts up her eyes to meet Satoru’s. “However, that doesn’t mean we should treat each other as strangers. We will soon be husband and wife, the least we can do is treat each with familiarity.”

Satoru let out a relieved sigh upon hearing her words, feeling like he could breathe again. Yes, that’s something he needed to heard. “I will be pleased to do that, I’m not quite fond of formalities. Please reference me as Satoru from now on.”

“Satoru.” She pronounced his name like it was the sweetest flavor her tongue had encountered. “Call me, Catherine.”

“Catherine,” Satoru said with a warm smile, “perhaps after we are wed, I could impart upon you the art of playing the piano.”

“You will?” Catherine inquired, her eyes brightening with anticipation. “Will you teach me the previously melody you were playing?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru responded with a firm conviction agreeing immediately at her request, his demeanor exuding confidence as he reached out to intertwine his fingers with Catherine's, while their eyes locked into each other. Meanwhile, Catherine can’t hold that long her gaze feeling flustered under his clear eyes.

“What impropriety is this?” Mrs. Winchester's voice shattered the moment they shared, causing Satoru and Catherine to hastily pull away from each other. “You two cannot be seen alone before the wedding! I trust you are aware of that, Mr. Gojo.” Mrs. Winchester asserted, her tone carrying a hint of admonition as she reminded them of the proprieties expected before their impending nuptials.

Satoru rose from the bench, executing a polite bow as a gesture of contrition. “My apologies, Mrs. Winchester. It was imprudent of me.”

“I have taken a liking to you, Mr. Gojo. It would be disheartening to be disappointed so soon. Now, there's a few minutes before rehearsal. The priest will arrive soon, so come along, and let’s not waste any more time!”

It's only a few vows, Satoru thought to himself. He had recited numerous poems before; surely, this wouldn't be too challenging. Oh, but it was. Satoru realized with a sinking feeling in his chest. Despite his earlier confidence, the weight of the momentous occasion bore down on him, making the simple act of reciting vows feel daunting.

“Rehearsal in ruins as Mr. Gojo causes chaos!Wedding rumored to be delayed.” Bloody hell—

Satoru's frustration escaped in an audible groan, as the news of the disastrous rehearsal spread throughout the town, amplifying his embarrassment. Can his day get any worse? Now everyone knows what happened at the rehearsal pointing him like a fool. Wait.

Catherine. Oh, Catherine.

She may not want to hear from him after this. He could potentially be labeled as the worst groom in history. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for marriage after all. They were only simple vows—what had gotten into him today? It was completely out of his character! The words may have seemed clear in his thoughts, but as he spoke them aloud, they twisted and faltered, a stark contrast to the eloquence he had imagined.

“With this hand, I shall partake of your elixir.” No, that's not it. Think again.

How about, “With this hand, I shall elevate your candle.” Goodness, no that's not the correct sentence! Think again!

“Come now, Satoru,” he thought, "take a deep breath and orchestrate those vows into their rightful sequence. Do not be disheartened by mere vows. You wish to marry Catherine, do you not?” He does. He may not be initially in love with Catherine taking the fact he barely knows her. Though, that doesn’t mean he can’t learn how to. If you ask him, he’s a fast learner.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows,” Satoru recited, his voice steady as he embraced the weight of his commitment. He raised his ring, pledging to alleviate Catherine's burdens and share in her joys. He strides further into the depths of the dim forest he had fled, his voice a steady cadence amid the eerie silence as he continues to recite his vows with unwavering determination.

“Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I shall illuminate your passage through the abyss. And with this ring, I beseech you to be mine.” With his vows flowing smoothly from his lips, Satoru breathed a sigh of relief, a satisfied smile adorning his face. Proud of his accomplishment in regaining his confidence, he stood poised and ready to embark on his homeward journey.

“Catherine,” he ruminated, a fervent resolve kindling within him, “I stand ready to entreat you to become mine.” Catherine after all, deserves the best. He pledges to himself he will be the best version of himself so he can make Catherine happy. That’s the least he can do as her future husband. If the wedding is still up, of course. What’s he gonna say once goes back? “I’m sorry I ruined away in the middle of rehearsal like an idiot?” Oh, no. What’s Mr. and Mrs. Winchester gonna think of him now? Everything felt so suffocating! But, can you really blame him? It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against him today.

The sudden cessation of the breeze arrested Satoru's steps, preventing him from moving further. However, that was not the only oddity that caught Satoru's attention. The wind picked up, its mournful wail creating a chilling symphony in the air. Simultaneously, the ground beneath him trembled. A sense of uneasiness crept into Satoru's heart. Feeling a shiver run down his spine, sensing the increasing tension in the forest. He made the choice to turn back before it was too late.

“I do.”

The sudden dulcet tones of a feminine voice brought Satoru to an abrupt halt. In that suspended interval, the passage of time seemed to yield to the captivating allure of the unknown speaker, prompting Satoru to turn with cautious deliberation, his senses keenly attuned to the mysterious presence that had disrupted the tranquil solitude of the forest. His gaze widened in astonishment at the vision of a woman adorned in bridal regalia, her face obscured by a flowing veil. Yet, upon closer inspection, he noted the disarray of her attire, with torn fabric and absent embellishments. What calamity had befallen this woman? Despite her initial distance, a sense of trepidation gripped Satoru as she drew nearer, prompting an instinctive step backward.

“Who are you? Do not approach further!” However, the woman paid no heed to his warning and continued to advance. Feeling a surge of panic, Satoru turned on his heels and bolted out of the forest, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced to escape whatever ominous presence lurked behind him. Was it his imagination? Was he really going paranoid? He must be! He sprinted tirelessly until his feet throbbed returning to the bridge he originally was before delving into the forest. After his run, he paused to catch his breath, his hand resting on his chest as he briefly looked back at the cityscape before him. What was that all about? Perhaps his mind is playing tricks on him due to the stress he’s enduring. Yes, that’s it. There’s no other explanation. When he turned to peer back at the forest, his heart nearly leaped out of his chest when his eyes met the sight of the previous woman standing perilously close eliciting a startled reaction that drove him to instinctively press his back against the stone walls of the bridge in a state of bewilderment. However, as soon as her fingers started to reveal her face, time itself stopped for him.

Satoru could only manage to stammer, "You—" No it cannot be. “This…this isn’t possible!” He muttered incredulously at the sight before him. Before him stood the woman he had been sketching since he turned eighteen. As she was close, he could now have a better approach to her appearance. Noticing how the bridal attire was even torn apart, patches of her skin missing on her arms and ankles, revealed exposed bones. Resembling…someone who may be dead. How is this possible? How can a dead person be walking among the living!

“I know you.” Despite her ghastly appearance, he was certain of her identity. He knew her face. How can he not? She has been all he ever draws. What happened to her? He always thought that the woman in his dreams was wandering on the world out of his reach, however, he never thought his ideal woman was lying six feet underground beneath him. A Corpse!

“Yes, it’s me!” She spoke as if she knew him, but how could that be? They never had actually met before at least not in real life—she existed only within the realm of his dreams.

“I have dreamed this day to come. At last, you've found the courage to seek my hand in marriage.” She whispered with a yearning evident in her tone, her words echoing in his troubled mind. She then approached him and cornered him with no room to evacuate. She raised her bony hands clad in tattered gloves which had lost their pure white, as she tenderly placed them upon his cold face. Everything felt surreal to him, as though he were ensnared in a waking dream. She was the last image etched into his consciousness before slipping into oblivion.

“Mother, do you have any news of Satoru?” Catherine inquired, her voice trembling with worry as she spoke with her mother. It's late, she’s afraid Satoru may not come back after he left the rehearsal without looking back. Where could he be? Leaving Catherine filled with concern for his well-being. Perhaps, he had second thoughts?

His mother huffed in response, turning to sink into the furniture facing the fireplace. “No, nothing at all.” She replied. “I should have known that boy would only bring disappointment.”

“I couldn’t agree more. It’s utterly baffling that he doesn’t even know his wedding vows. What kind of man is he?” His father agreed, echoing her mother’s sentiments. “But given the inheritance from Octavius Gojo, he’s the best option available for us. We’ll simply have to endure his foolishness until tomorrow morning. If he bothers to return.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Catherine interjected puzzled. “what inheritance are you referring to?”

Her father shook his head irritated, avoiding his daughter's confused gaze. “Why do you think we arranged your marriage to that fool? Octavius Gojo before his passing, rumors were circulating about him selling his prosperous business and leaving the proceeds to his family.”

Before Catherine can respond to his father, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt as Mrs. Gojo enters the living room, her carriage having returned from a frantic search for her son throughout the city. “I’m deeply embarrassed by my son’s inappropriate behavior. Please accept my sincere apologies on his behalf. Unfortunately, I was unable to find him.”

Mrs. Winchester hummed, motioning for Mrs. Gojo to join them. As they settled in, a tense atmosphere waiting enveloped them all, as they awaited any sign of Satoru’s whereabouts. Suddenly, a servant entered the room to deliver his message to his masters.

“Pardon the interruption, but a guest has arrived.” Mrs. Winchester exhaled deeply upon hearing the following words, expecting news of Mr. Gojo. She can only sigh and nod. “By all means, show them in.” She instructed her servant to lead the guest into the room. As soon the unexpected guest made its entrance, Mrs. Winchester’s eyes brightened immediately with recognition as she beheld the guest.

“Ah, Mr. Zenin. What a delightful surprise.” She says with genuine pleasure. “What brings you to our home?”

He nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he addressed them all with a warm greeting. “I’ve come to visit and check on how things are for the Winchester Family, especially after the news spread about your daughter’s groom fleeing. Which was a surprise to me. Never heard of a fleeing groom before, not during rehearsal at least.”

Mrs. Winchester gestured to a servant to bring a cup of tea as Mr. Zenin joined them. “Yes, it was quite unexpected. I’m grateful for your concerns.”

As they speak over a cup of tea, Mrs. Winchester’s gaze fits towards Mrs. Gojo, observing her attempt to discern Mr. Zenin’s identity. “My apologies.” She interjected. “Allow me to make proper introductions. Mr. Zenin, may I present Mrs. Adelaide Gojo, the estimated mother of the groom. And Mrs. Gojo, it is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Naoya Zenin, a confidant of our family. His father used to be a business associate of my husband before his departure abroad.”

Mr. Zenin nodded from his seat, offering a congenial smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gojo.”

However, Mrs. Gojo remained composed, her expression unwavering. “Likewise.”

“Please excuse my inquisitiveness, but your surname strikes me as oddly familiar.”

“Is that so?” Adelaide replied. “It was my late husband’s name.”

“Ah, please accept my heartfelt condolences.” He responded with sympathy. I never meant to pry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Adelaide said, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing grief firsthand as yourself,” Mr. Zenin confessed, sorrow lacing in his words. “Not long ago, I had a fiancée whom I deeply cherished before she was tragically murdered.”

“Oh, my! That’s terrible.” She expresses with a sudden change in her demeanor.

“Yes, it was a devastating ordeal.” Mr. Zenin replied with a heavy heart. “However, learning to move on is a necessary part of life.”

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace, Mr. Zenin cleared his throat and began to speak again sitting up straighter. “Catherine, my dear. I neglected to inquire about your well-being. You must be experiencing a great deal of stress not knowing the whereabouts of your fiancé.”

Standing still where she was, Catherine lowered her gaze nodding in acknowledgment. “Yes, I can’t deny that I’m worried.” She admitted softly.

Mr. Zenin nodded gravely at Catherine’s words before speaking earnestly as he glanced back at them at once. “I’m not one to indulge in gossip, but before I came here, I overheard words of a gentleman seen near the woods, accompanied by another woman. I must tell you this before you hear it from someone else. Perhaps I am wrong, let me ask does the groom possess white hair, towering height, and striking blue eyes?”

“That’s my son! Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. My son doesn’t know other women. How can that be possible?”

“What!” Mrs. Winchester exclaimed with indignation in her voice, rising abruptly from her seat. “In the arms of another woman?”

“Satoru? No, it cannot be him.” Catherine muttered distressed.

“Mr. Zenin, are you certain about this?” Mrs. Winchester questioned anxiously. “We cannot allow this information to spread any further. The potential humiliation it could bring upon us is unthinkable!”

Standing up from his seat, Mr. Zenin nodded resolutely, certain of what he had heard. “I trust in the accuracy of what I’ve heard. Pardon me for burdening you with such troubling news,” He conveyed with sincerity. He made his way towards the door, glancing back at their uneasy faces. “I believe it’s time for me to take my leave. However, please remember, that I’m always available to lend a helping hand if needed. My assistance is unconditional.” He reassured them before closing the door behind him.

As Mr. Zenin bid his farewell, Mrs. Winchester’s hand swept through her hair in a gesture of exasperation, her mind grappling with the weight of the situation. “What steps should we now undertake?” She queried her husband, momentarily disregarding Mrs. Gojo's continued presence in the room.

Mr. Winchester’s fingertips grazed his beard as he pondered the situation. “I believe we must call the wedding off.”

“Such preposterous allegations!” Mrs. Gojo exclaimed, her demeanor now imbued with a regal air of indignation. “Surely, Mr. Zenin has been misinformed. You’re aware of how dangerous gossip can be. My son is of impeccable character; he could never stoop to such levels of promiscuity. I beseech you, to grant me a chance at least until tomorrow, so I can unravel this egregious misunderstanding. I’m certain by that time, I will be able to find my son.”

“Very, well. You have until dawn.”

With eyes alight with admiration, you behold his features closely, relishing the sight of his. Unable to resist any longer, your fingertips rested on his skin exploring the contours of his face. A smile adorning your smiles as you bask in the tranquility of the moment. Finally, he's in your arms after so long.

“What do we have here? A mere trinket for idle amusement?” A derisive voice interjects, disrupting your thoughts and your tender exploration.

With a heavy sigh, you stand to face your skeletal friend. “He is not an object for amusement. I would appreciate it if you refrain from treating him such.” He chuckles in response as he joins you by your side, and together, you cast a glance at the sleeping form of the man resting upon the furniture made of bones.

“Right. Pardon me for insulting your boyfriend over here.”

“He is not my boyfriend; he’s my husband.” You assert, shooting your friend a sharp glare. “Well, my future husband. He asked for my hand in marriage. Where are the others? I want to announce the news of our engagement as soon as possible.”

“What’s the rush, dear? Your fiancé seemed to be passed out. And by the looks of it, he may not be waking up soon.”

You scoffed in annoyance, your frustration evident in the curl of your lip. “Don’t you have anything else to do? Instead of being annoying around me.”

“Love, I’m merely just looking out for you. What business do you have with a living person?”

“I already informed you. He asked for my hand—”

“Yes. But do you truly believe he means it?”

"I'm not sure what you're implying." You replied skeptical.

Your skeletal friend shakes his skull, the hollow cavities where his eyes once were fixed on you. “I only want you to understand the magnitude of your actions. He may not mean those words, not to you at least.” He advises you with a solemn tone.

“That’s nonsense.” You retort. “I was the only one in the forest when he took vows, naturally those words were directed at me.”

“For two years,” you expound, delving into the intricacies of your relationship and the reasons behind your actions, “Satoru has been my steadfast companion. Since my departure, he has frequented these woods, pouring forth his dreams and aspirations. I've tried to connect with him through his dreams, and I'm certain he feels the same way. Now, here's the ring as a testament to our bond.” You announce, lifting your bony hand to showcase the shiny band nestled upon your finger.

“(Y/N)—”

The room fell into a reverent stillness, pierced only by the plaintive groan from the unconscious man who was now struggling to regain consciousness. You rush to his side, lowering yourself to kneel beside his prone form. “Darling, are you awake?” You observe intently as his eyes flutter, revealing his clear eyes clouded with an unfocused vision.

“It’s okay, just stay still. I’m here.”

As his vision clears and meets your gaze, you witness the shift in his countenance, from one of composure to one consumed by dread. In a rash impulse, he jolts upright, drawing in sharp breaths. His eyes are wild with fear as he scans his surroundings. When you try to reach out to comfort him, he recoils abruptly.

“Where in the world am I?” He exclaimed alarmed.

Before you can utter a word, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts, accompanied by the rhythmic chants signaling the arrival of a new visitor.

“A new arrival!”

“Fascinating, his skin looks freshly new!”

“He doesn’t look dead at all.”

“Oh! can I feel his skin?”

In a state of utter disbelief, Satoru beheld the eerie scene unfolding before him. The deceased, mingling and conversing as though they were living beings, circling around him like an object for amusement. Has he finally gone insane?

“(Y/N), darling. Who’s this one with you? Why don’t you present him to us?”

You nod, rising to your feet, proudly displaying your ring adoring your finger to the gathered crowd. “Everyone, I am honored to introduce you all to my fiancé and soon-to-be husband, Satoru.”

What! Satoru thought alarmed as he went to your side, taking your hand in his to inspect the ring with his own eyes. To his astonishment, there it was—the ring he was supposed to give to Catherine. What has he done!

“What a lovely couple, I wish for both of you endless happiness!” From admits the crowd, someone with their skeletal hands clapped.

“Thank you, Lady Brown.” You acknowledged with a smile, withdrawing your hand from Satoru’s grasp, leaving him staring at empty air. “You all should have seen him reciting his vows. It was the epitome of romance! It took my breathe away! Well, if I had any.” You chuckled.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows.” With a dreamy smile playing on your lips, you remark Satoru’s vows, each word spoken with heartfelt emotion. “Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I shall illuminate your passage through the abyss. And with this ring, I beseech you to be mine.” With eyes brimming with love, you regard the ring before you, your well, where your heart once swelled with unbridled joy, infusing every fiber of your being with an overwhelming sense of contentment. “Aren’t I the luckiest bride?”

“Wait!” Satoru’s voice interjected, cutting through the air like a blade. “Surely, this must be a misunderstanding,” he proclaimed. “Where am I? Is this the afterlife? What’s going on here?” Finally, his eyes met yours, and a flicker of uncertainty danced in his gaze as he inquired. “Who are you?”

You emit a soft laugh, as you approach him to close the distance between you two. Sensing his cautious retreat, you reassure him. “Love, it’s me. I understand that my appearance may not be what you expected, though I’m the same woman as I was in your dreams for two years.”

"But, in the realm of my dreams," he began, his gaze lingering on your figure, still maintaining his distance from everyone. "you appeared alive. What…What happened to you?”

You offered a rueful smile. “Well, it’s kind of a long story.”

She was a beacon of vitality, an intelligent young woman hailing from a respected and affluent family. Endowed with a myriad of talents, she possessed the ability to effortlessly weave melodies from various instruments and to navigate the intricacies of literature with finesse. Despite the throng of suitors vying for her favor, her heart gravitated towards a man of modest means, yet her parents weren't in favor of their scandalous relationship. Undeterred by their disapproval and driven by an insatiable thirst for freedom, she conspired with her beloved to elope, to meet beneath the cloak of night in the depths of the forest. Carrying her mother's nuptial attire, family heirlooms, and a trove of gold. Beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient oak tree, she awaited her lover's arrival, her spirit buoyed by the promise of freedom. Yet, fate dealt a cruel blow, veiling her world in darkness as a cold blade pierced her chest, Her precious jewels vanished, and so did the very essence of her being—her heart. Resigned to an eternity of solitude beneath the tree where her life was brutally stolen, she languished in desolation, believing love to be a distant memory. Yet, against all odds, her world turned for the better with the arrival of a gentleman with a white locks like the snow and eyes as clear as the blue sky. In his presence, she found comfort and companionship, her days enlivened by his constant presence. Now, he stands here after he professes an unwavering devotion, her once-forgotten heart fluttering with newfound hope.

Everything became overwhelming to grasp as their words echoed relentlessly within his mind. Proposing to a dead bride was a scenario he never could have fathomed. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he seized the fleeting chance to escape this strange world of the deceased in hopes of finding his way back to the land of the living.

Or that's what he hoped for. Somehow you managed to find him easily. Now he sat there on a weathered old bench while the deceased bride droned on about the beautiful view before them. From your spot beside Satoru, you stole a glance back at him and noticed his vacant stare. Clearing your throat, you offered an apology, “I'm sorry if I've been going on too much. I tend to do that when I am overexcited.”

Satoru snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your melodic laughter. He sat there, observing your features, marveling at how, even in death, you still exuded a radiant beauty, the same beauty from the dreams he had of you.

“I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for what happened to you. However, I really need to head home now.”

“What do you mean? This your home now!”

Satoru sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly before he met your gaze. “I don’t even know your name.”

You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before responding with a smile. “It’s, (Y/N).”

(Y/N).

“Now. I believe I’ve been talking too much. I will like to get to know my soon-to-be husband better!”

Satoru couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at your enthusiasm, avoiding your gaze as he glanced down at his joined hands. “Well, there isn’t much about me. You know some of it—how I used to retreat into the woodland to sketch, seeking solace in the verdant embrace of the forest.” He paused mid—sentence, stealing a fleeting glance at you before once more evading your eyes. “I never thought you were there all along.”

“What about your family?” You asked, curiosity piqued.

Ah, his family. Before he realized he started talking with ease. “I used to live with my mother and father, being the only child. But when I was seventeen, my father passed away,” he says, his voice carrying a weight of melancholy. “Don’t get me wrong, I hold a deep appreciation for my mother. But, the connection I had with my father was unmatched. While my mother often had expectations of me, my father always urged me to heed my own intuition, to follow the path that felt right to me.”

As he trailed off, your heart went out to him with sympathy. You lifted a hand as if to offer comfort, but quickly retracted it, mindful not to impose any pressure on him. “He sounded like a good man.” You whispered.

“He was indeed, one of a kind.”

Both of you sat in silence until a sudden idea struck you. You turned to meet his gaze directly and suggested. “I just had an idea! Tell me his name. Perhaps we can track him down together!”

Ah, yes. He had momentarily forgotten for a moment he was now in the realm of the departed, and his father was dead.

“Octavius Gojo.” He replied.

Your eyes widened in recognition upon hearing the mention of the familiar name. “Octavius Gojo, is your father?”

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

You gasped with exhilaration, clasping his hands in yours. “Of course. How could I not have realized sooner? You both are so alike! I had the pleasure of knowing Octavius when I was alive. He was truly the finest man I ever knew.”

“How…how did you come to know my father?”

With a wide smile, you released his hand to settle down your hands on your lap. “As you were told, I was born into a wealthy family with high expectations placed upon me. When I was thirteen, my parents sought the finest piano tutor for me, and fate led me to Octavius. From the outset, our bond transcended the typical teacher—student relationship. Octavius became a friend of mine, sharing countless stories with me. One day, he told me he had a son who shared a passion for music like myself, expressing a desire for us to meet. Unfortunately, we never got to do that as circumstances forced us to part ways. As I reached a marriageable age, Octavius faced daily challenges within his company. I was devastated to learn of his passing through the grapevine, never having the chance to bid him farewell. However, I died one year later after his passing so our paths aligned again. Now, I find myself engaged to his son!”

Satoru was rendered speechless upon learning this new revelation, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of emotions. Who would have thought, he was supposed to meet you ages ago? Thinking if he did, perhaps you would still be alive instead of falling into the wrong hands who led you to your demise. However, there’s time to think about the past and his accidental engagement with you later. Right now, he must see his father. Driven by a sudden wave of determination, Satoru firmly grasped your hand and rose from the bench. “Lead me to my father.”

“What’s our plan?” Mrs. Winchester as she paced the living room while conversing with her husband. “That boy still hasn’t returned. We can’t cancel the wedding; are you aware of the financial repercussions? We’ll be left penniless, thrown on the streets without that inheritance! And don’t get me started with Mrs. Gojo. She hasn’t even bothered to come back.”

As her husband remained silent, Mrs. Winchester’s frustration boiled over. “Say something!”

“Don’t pressure me, woman!” Her husband interjected firmly from his seat, his eyelid twitching slightly with suppressed agitation. “We will figure something out.”

“We don’t have time to figure something out! Where will we find another groom for our daughter in such short time?”

“It is lamentable for that young man to disregard dear Catherine in such a manner; it is an act that cannot be forgiven.” Mr. Zenin's refined voice interjected into their dialogue taking them out of surprise. “Please forgive my intrusion; one of your servants granted me entry. I couldn't help but overhear the woeful plight of poor Catherine, who has to endure because of the cowardice of Mr. Gojo. I have made attempts to locate him, yet regrettably, he remains elusive. It is conceivable that he has left town.”

“Oh no—”

“Nevertheless, as a longstanding acquaintance, I stand ready to assume the role vacated by Mr. Gojo, to spare Catherine from any further public humiliation,” Mr. Zenin declared. “Moreover, I am willing to extend a respectable proposal, one far superior to what the Gojo family could offer.”

“Your willingness to undertake such a responsibility is truly admirable, Mr. Zenin, but—”

“Will your father agree with your choice?” Mr. Winchester questioned.

“My father has always had faith in my judgment, trusting that I make decisions for the best. I believe he would be pleased if I had the opportunity to unite with the daughter of his trusted confidant.”

Mr. and Mrs. Winchester exchanged glances, a silent agreement made between them.

“Very well, then. Let us waste no time and proceed with the preparations.” Mr. Winchester declared decisively.

“Mother, father, who are you talking to?” Catherine's voice echoed as she descended the stairs, her dress trailing behind her in anticipation of news about Satoru. To her surprise, she found her parents and Mr. Zenin waiting for her.

“Darling, there's good news—there will be a wedding after all.” Mrs. Winchester announced.

“Really? You found Satoru?” Catherine asked eagerly, her hopes rising.

Suddenly Mr. Zenin stepped forward, and took Catherine's hand in his, pressing a kiss to its back. “I will be your spouse, Miss Catherine. I won't allow that Satoru boy to humiliate you any further.” he declared with a disconcerting smile that sent a chill down Catherine's spine.

“What?” she thought, her mind reeling in disbelief. “No, this cannot be happening. How could I possibly marry him?”

“I shall return tomorrow morning, please excuse me.” Mr. Zenin declared, as he bid farewell to the family.

Catherine immediately rushed to her parents after his leave, “Father, Mother, please don't make me marry him.” She pleaded earnestly.

“Silly girl, it's our only recourse.” Mrs. Winchester asserted sternly. “Or do you wish to witness your parents succumb to impoverishment? We can no longer wait for Satoru Gojo who has absconded from his obligations to this family. We must face reality. It was our mistake to pin our hopes on that family when we had a more suitable candidate for you all along. Mr. Zenin will undoubtedly make a fine husband his affluence ensuring our security.”

Catherine stood there, her words caught in her throat, realizing her fate had been sealed, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

“Take a good rest child, you will be marrying Mr. Zenin tomorrow morning. And that’s final!”

Is this really happening? Is he truly going to reunite with his deceased father after three years? Satoru pondered, feeling the relentless thud of his heart against his chest.

“He's typically lingering nearby, indulging in those rotten apples from the market,” you remarked with a gentle chuckle, reminiscing about Octavius's eating preferences. “Personally, I find the cherries to be far superior.” Satoru dismissed your words as you began to trail off, not bothering to pay full attention to you and your stories, his focus fixed on finding his father. Impatiently, he stopped his walking, retracting his hand as he shot you a glare full of annoyance. “Could you please take me where my father is? I don’t have time for idle chatter. We have been walking for a while, do you really know where he is?.” Taking in his words, your expression faltered before you quickly composed yourself with a nod. It was understandable, you thought. He hasn’t seen his father for three years. You’re his wife, and a good wife is patient and understanding even if sometimes your husband’s words may be hurtful.

“Of course, my apologies for the distraction. I completely forgotten why are we here.” Satoru realized he had been too harsh on you, and before he could apologize to you, you walked ahead of him prompting him to follow.

“What are you standing there for? Come along.”

After what felt like ages, you both came to a halt in front of a grand old library, as a rush of memories flooded Satoru’s mind. He remembered when he was younger after his lessons hours, his father would take him to buy books, nurturing his love for reading. His father harbored a deep desire for a library, along with the wish to immerse himself in the world of music. However, the demand of his job with his loan company has kept him chained to endless hours of work, until the company eventually went bankrupt. His mother claimed that his father was solely responsible for the mismanagement of his prosperous company, but Satoru thinks otherwise. He knew his father was well capable of the job. He knew his father to be intelligent and persuasive, qualities that didn’t align with the image of someone who would neglect his own company. Satoru had long suspected that something was behind his father’s bankruptcy. However, he didn’t have time to test his theories.

You stepped forward towards the door, turning to Satoru as you spoke. “Wait here. I’ll check if he’s inside.” before disappearing into the library. All Satoru could do now was wait anxiously outside the library.

As you ventured further into the library, darkness shrouded your surroundings, with only the feeble glow of the moon casting a faint illumination, making it challenging to discern your way through the dimly lit space. “Hello, is anyone here?” You called while searching for a match and a candle to provide you light. You paused your search as a faint light from upstairs caught your attention. Gradually, the silhouette of an older man emerged from the shadows, until his full figure was revealed with his inseparable crow companion perched upon his shoulder. A sense of warmth flooded over you as you smiled widely at the sight of your longtime friend.

“Octavius.”

Upon hearing your voice, Octavius turned his light towards you, his lips curling into a smile mirroring yours with the exact amount of affection. “Darling. It’s been quite some time since we last met.” He says with genuine appreciation, missing the days both of you spent together talking endlessly. It’s been months since he last saw you, as you insisted on staying buried under your usual spot under the tree, patiently waiting for Satoru’s arrival every day.

“I couldn’t agree more!”

Octavius chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet confines of the library. “What brings you here today, dear? Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, no. That’s not the case. I’m not here to burden you with my matters—”

“(Y/N).” his voice interposed disrupting your train of words. “You know very well that’s not true. Do not hesitate to seek my counsel, for I shall forever be at your disposal.”

Exhaling softly, you nod in affirmation to his discourse before commencing to elucidate the motives behind your visit to Octavius. “It’s a long story to tell. However, there’s someone outside whom I must introduce you—someone eagerly awaiting to meet you.”

“Oh, who might this eager visitor be?” Octavius queried with intrigue.

“You will see.”

“(Y/N), you're well aware of my distaste for surprises. Despite the fact my heart has stopped beating, this old man can still experience the sensation of a heart-stopping moment.” he quipped with a playful lilt adopting the tone of a father scolding his daughter.

You laughed.

“You're quite the dramatist, Octavius. Some things never change.” you teased, turning to exit the library and let Satoru in at once. However, just before departing, you glanced back at Octavius. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention. Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Splendid. It has secured a place among my most cherished literary treasures.”

“I told you, didn’t I? The book is sheer perfection. Experiencing the emotions of a wronged man through the book is an incomparable feeling.”

“Indeed. I couldn't help but empathize with Dante's plight. Having your planned life ahead of you only to be taken away from wicked men.” you replied, continuing your conversation with Octavius about the recently read book he recommended to you. Reflecting on the parallels between the book's narrative and your own experiences. Your voice trailed off, standing in a moment of silence before you began to speak once again meeting his gaze. “Remarkably familiar, wouldn't you agree?”

Octavius cast a glance back at you, his gaze softened, recalling the tragedy of your fate.

“Now, now. It's not the moment for dwelling on the past, my dear.” Octavius gently intervened, pulling you out of your reverie. “Let’s welcome this special guest you’re so eager to present.” You nodded, refocusing on the purpose of your visit: to reunite your husband with his beloved father.

Noticing your prolonged absence, Octavius made his way downstairs, using the flickering light of a candle to guide him through the labyrinth of books. He sought to recommend a novel with a lighter, and more romantic storyline to uplift your spirits. After feeling a twinge of guilt because of the earlier conversation you both exchanged. With the sound of approaching footsteps echoing softly in the library, Octavius remained absorbed in his search among the books, his fingertips delicately tracing the textures “Ah, darling, I was just perusing for a new novel for you to enjoy. Considering your fondness for romance. I thought 'Middlemarch' might be a splendid choice. It boasts an excellent plot and remarkable prose. I'm certain you'll adore it.” He trailed off, turning to face you taking the book in hand. Yet as he turned, the book slipped from his bony fingers, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before him.

“Satoru?” Octavius gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. How was his son down here? No, he cannot be dead, his son’s skin yet hasn’t lost its color. He’s too young to be dead! It’s too early for them to meet up again. His mind reeled with confusion as he struggled to comprehend everything. Satoru's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked back at his father, meeting the form of his father after three long years. His poor father appeared more frail, his white hair thinner, his skin paler than ever, his bones showing off from his arms and his once vibrant blue eyes dulled with age. Despite these noticeable changes, along with the fact he’s meeting the deceased form of his father, Satoru couldn’t care less.

“Father,” Satoru called out, his voice thick with emotion, as tears of joy threatened to spill from his eyes, unable to believe they were finally reunited. Setting aside his light and his animal companion flying off his shoulder, he hurried towards his son. Without hesitation, he enveloped the tall figure of his son, holding him tightly close, still in a state of shock. Satoru released a quivering breath, his emotions overwhelming him while tears streamed down his cheeks. “Father.” he cried out once again. Satoru's embrace tightened as if he feared that loosening his grip would cause his father to vanish into thin air.

“Satoru, son.” his father whispered, his voice filled with emotion, “what are you doing here? You can't be here, not yet.”

Satoru chuckled through his tears, shaking his head as he continued to hold onto his father. “Don't worry about it, Father. I'll explain everything to you.”

For what felt like an eternity, they lingered in each other's embrace, time seeming to stand still as they reveled in the joy of their reunion.

“What!” his father's startled voice resonated through the desolate library, shattering the peaceful ambiance that had settled around them. “You're engaged to (Y/N)?”

Satoru heaved a weary sigh, nodding silently from his seat. “Believe me, Father. Everything is so confusing to me.”

“But, how?” His father's question lingered in the air, demanding further explanation. “Were you acquainted with her? When?” His father’s gaze bore into him, seeking clarity. “Did you truly exchange vows with her?”

“No!” He exclaimed, the words bursting forth. “It was all a mistake! I was meant to marry someone else.”

“Someone else? What do you mean?”

“Mother had arranged a marriage for me with the daughter of an affluent family,” Satoru lamented, his frustration evident in his speech. “We were slated to wed, yet due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, I am now entangled in an undesirable bond with a mere cadaver.”

His father absorbed Satoru’s words in silence, his eyes focused intently on the table before him. “It appears your mother failed to uphold my final wish for your future.” Raising his eyes to meet Satoru’s eyes, he asked with a solemn tone. “Do you hold affection for this woman?” His father’s question caught Satoru off guard, causing him to pause and reflect. Did he harbor genuine affection for Catherine?

“Though, my acquaintance with her may have been short. I was willing to give Catherine a chance. Love doesn’t magically appears, it grows.” Satoru confessed.

“What about (Y/N)? She didn't mean any harm.” his father reassured “Poor dear sought comfort in your presence to alleviate her solitude. You've shared a connection with her for two years, cherishing the moments you shared with her through your dreams. In a way, you've held affection for her, even if the affection you believed was for someone who didn't exist. If you were willing to give Catherine a chance, why can't you give (Y/N) a chance? Or is it because she is dead?”

“Yes, precisely because she's dead!” Satoru's voice resonated with frustration as he emphasized his point. “Can't you see? I could never marry her!”

Satoru's breaths grew heavier as he released his burdens, however, the sudden sympathetic regard from his father made him redirect his focus. Slowly turning around, Satoru saw you. As you were silently listening to their conversation. How much did you listen to? Standing there, you gaze at both of them with an expression that tugs at Satoru's heartstrings. Without uttering a word, you approached him, while avoiding his intense blue eyes. Now in front of him, you delicately disengaged the ring from your skeletal finger, bestowing it upon his palm. Your voice, scarcely more than a fragile whisper, as you said the following words, “I believe this belongs to you.”

In silence, Satoru witnessed your departure while a soft breeze gently lifted your torn veil, carrying it aloft in a poignant farewell. Despite the apparent closure, an unforeseen melancholy enveloped his spirit. He ought to have felt emancipated, liberated from a commitment borne of misinterpretation. Yet, your leaving left him feeling strangely hollow. Contemplating the ring now nestled in his hand, he was unsure of who this ring belonged to anymore.

Catherine stood before her reflection, as her maid adjusted the final embellishments of her bridal attire. Despite the turmoil within, she dared not shed a tear, constrained by the expectations placed upon her. As a bride who harbored no aspirations for matrimonial bliss, she bore the burden of her predicament with a heavy heart. In her vulnerability, her thoughts wandered to Satoru, a luminary amidst the gloom of her circumstances.

“Where are you, Satoru?” she silently pleaded, her heart yearning for his comforting presence. Despite her initial reservations about their engagement, once she met Satoru, he managed to break her walls down. The idea of facing the challenges ahead with a friend like Satoru by her side offered a semblance of comfort. Now, on the brink of union with Mr. Zenin, Catherine's spirit breaks. The prospect of forsaking the bond she shared with Satoru rents her soul asunder. Expecting her wedding day to be a harbinger of happiness, Catherine now stood in the dimly lit church, her senses dulled as she absorbed the echo of Mr. Zenin's vows. While the attendees were wearing solemn expressions, appeared eager for the ceremony to conclude as soon as possible.

Catherine now finds herself enveloped in a state of detachment, her body present but her mind adrift in a realm far removed from the present moment. The touch of Mr. Zenin's arm around her waist repulsed her. Her spirit ached for liberation from the shackles of this marital prison, She dreaded the touch of Mr. Zenin, and its suffocating weight. Following the exchange of vows and the priest's proclamation of their union, Catherine raised her gaze, tears glistening in her brown eyes. Each tear bore witness to the silent suffering she is enduring in the depths of her heart.

“Catherine, you are finally mine.” Mr. Zenin declared, leaning in to place a kiss upon Catherine's cheek. Forcing herself to stay still to receive his displays of fake affection. At that moment, Catherine came to the stark realization that she was utterly alone in the world.

As Satoru trailed after you, a tumult of emotions churned within him, burdened by the weight of guilt for inadvertently causing you pain. He had never intended to hurt you, he never meant to hurt anyone. Satoru went to the lengths of seeking guidance from the deceased, after learning your popularity among them. A man with a sword across his chest confirmed he had spotted you near their bar—the very place where you bought Satoru. He made his way to the tavern, and upon reaching its entrance, he was greeted by the delicate tones of a piano resonating in the empty locale. The melancholy melody being played for an absent audience. Satoru stepped inside, and as he advanced further, he caught sight of you at the organ, your back turned toward him. He couldn’t see your face, however it was easy to guess how you were feeling by the tones you were playing saturated with sorrow. Satoru drew nearer, positioning himself beside the organ.

“I apologize for my earlier words. I never meant to hurt you. It's just...” He paused, exhaling deeply before continuing. “Everything happened so quickly. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts.” Taking a seat beside you at the bench, he sought your gaze, yet you remained focused on the instrument, your fingers gracefully dancing across the keys. “I'm sorry for any misunderstandings. I should have been honest with you from the start—”

“It’s fine.” Your soft voice interjected as the melody ceased, though your gaze remained fixed on the keys “I shouldn’t be so naive. There's no nothing to forgive; I was the one who forced you to come down here in the first place.”

In the hush of the moment, Satoru's gaze remained fixed on the keys before him as he summoned the courage to voice one of his lingering uncertainties. “During those two years, were you there, quietly listening, keeping me company in the woods?” Your lack of response served as an eloquent confirmation.

“For two years, you stood by me, unbeknownst to me.” Satoru reflected with incredulous laughter. “I didn't know you at all, not in the physical sense. Yet, you still awaited my arrival every day for two years.”

“Why?” Satoru's question lingered, leaving you unable to provide an answer.

With a shaky sigh, you eventually admitted. “I found solace in your companionship. While listening to your poetic ramblings, as well as the way you express your emotions in solitude, believing you have no one to share them with. And your drawings, the ones you dismiss as 'not accurate,' when in truth, they are the most beautiful creations I've ever seen. And the time we've shared, even if only within the realm of your dreams... was among the most cherished experiences of my life. I simply find contentment in your presence.”

“I desired you to witness the best version of myself, fearing you might be disillusioned by my true appearance. When I heard you speak your vows, pure elation swept over me. So, I brought you here, convinced those vows were meant for me. However... I was too consumed by my own happiness to discern that your sentiments towards me were quite the opposite.” You trailed off with a wistful smile danced across your lips. “You're light, illuminating the paths of those lost in the dark. Your presence has profoundly enriched my life, without you even realizing it. In many ways, you saved me. It's quite amusing to say that when I'm already dead.” After some moments of silence, your fingers rested on the piano’s keys once again playing your previous melody.

Satoru found himself taken aback by the profound depths of your heartfelt confession, his innermost sentiments stirred by the sincerity of your words, yet incapable of expressing the intricate blend of emotions swirling within him. Observing your resumption of the melody, he was overcome by an irresistible impulse to participate, delicately extending his hand to caress the keys from his vantage point, momentarily interrupting the ethereal ambiance of your composition. Startled by this unexpected interjection, you paused and lifted your gaze to meet his, curiosity reflected in your eyes. Satoru let out a relieved smile upon seeing your eyes again. When Satoru asked if he could play a piece for you, you nodded stiffly, your hands resting on your lap as you allowed him to take over the piano. Starting softly, his notes echoed the melancholic undertones of your previous melody, but as the piece unfolded, the volume swelled and his fingers danced across the keys with practiced ease, as though the music flowed effortlessly from within him. Listening to his composition, a sense of déjà vu washed over you, recognizing the melody as something familiar, yet unable to place it. Before you knew it, your fingers found their way to the organ, seamlessly blending into Satoru's piece as the two of you created a harmonious melody together. In that sublime moment of shared musical communion, your eyes met in a silent exchange, each glance suffused with an unspoken understanding and connection that transcended the boundaries of spoken language.

Both of your fingers ceased their movements, bringing the beautiful melody to a gentle stop.

Satoru's smile grew as he spoke, “Do you happen to recognize this piece?”

You nodded, allowing a smile to grace your lips as well. “I do, but strangely, I can't recall where I heard it.”

“It was my father's cherished composition.” His words hung in the air, and at that moment, a profound memory stirred within you, unlocking a hidden piece of your past.

The sunlight on that particular day felt unusually warm, its rays enveloping you in a comforting embrace as you made your way out of the gardens. Entering the musical room, you paused at the doorway, captivated by the sight of Octavius already engrossed in playing a melody you had never heard before. Respecting his concentration, you lingered silently, allowing the symphony of notes to wash over you in a mesmerizing wave.

When Octavius eventually ceased playing and glanced back at you, “How long were you standing there, dear?” he asked.

“Long enough to witness such a masterpiece.” you replied warmly, appreciating the sentiment behind his composition.

With a gesture, Octavius invited you to join him at the bench, which you accepted without hesitation. “I composed this piece for my son.” he revealed, prompting your curiosity.

“Your son?” you inquired.

Octavius nodded, a hint of concern resting in his eyes. “Yes, my 12-year-old son. Sometimes, I worry that he feels alone in this world. So I composed this piece, so when he feels lonely he can feel my presence through it.” A gentle smile graced his lips as he continued, “Would you like to meet him? He's a polite and friendly boy, with a great passion for music and books. I'm certain the two of you will get along just fine.”

Touched by Octavius's openness and the opportunity to meet his son, you nodded eagerly, grateful for the chance to have a connection with someone who shared your love for the arts.

Lost in thought, you hadn't realized you were zoning out until Satoru's worried voice broke through your reverie, calling out to you. Startled, you blinked and refocused your attention, turning towards him with a sheepish smile.

Standing up, you extended your hand to Satoru, with a determined gleam in your eyes. “Come with me.” Satoru sensing your determination, he took your hand, ready to follow wherever you led.

“Please, Octavius. There has to be something you can do.” You pleaded.

Octavius sighed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily as he wrestled with your request. "It is unnatural and perhaps risky, but surely there's a book for it.” he conceded reluctantly.

Satoru, perplexed by the exchange, he approached with a furrowed brow and a hand gently placed upon your shoulder, urging you to face him. “(Y/N). What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

Your response was but a sheepish smile, accompanied by a gentle pat upon his hand before withdrawing. “A solution has been found.”

“Here it is—” Octavius's voice interjected after some moments of searching and inspecting the book's contents, as he descended the stairs, carrying a large book with him. “This will do.” As Octavius presented the large book containing the sought-after solution, you stepped forward to retrieve it, walking towards Satoru and extending the book to him. Puzzled, Satoru stared down at you, his confusion palpable.

“This volume contains the pathway to return to the realm of the living. There is still time, but haste is paramount.” Satoru lifted the book from your skeletal hands, a sense of unease crept over him, a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

“I’m not going back.” Satoru declared firmly, his statement catching you off guard with its unexpectedness.

“What?”

“Son, what do you mean?” Octavius interjected, moving forward to stand beside you, both of you staring at Satoru with a blend of perplexity and apprehension.

“I said, I’m not going back. There's no point in returning.” Satoru clarified, his gaze locking onto yours with a poignant intensity. He gently took your hand in his and withdrew the ring from his pocket, the one you had given him earlier under the impression it didn't belong to you. With a tender touch, he slid it onto your finger.

“Satoru?”

“Marry me.” You stood rooted to the spot, enveloped by the weight of his request, feeling the gravity of the moment press upon you from all sides.

“Son, you must know what you are getting yourself into. As you can see, my dear (Y/N) is dead. Your marriage will pose complications; the vows are solemnized only until death do you part, and death has already parted her. For it to be an authentic union, it demands a significant sacrifice.” You released Satoru and turned to face Octavius.

“You mean?”

“Satoru would have to forsake the life he once knew and renew his vows in the realm of the living, partaking in the sacred wine of ages.” Octavius elucidated further.

“Poison.” you gasped, the word heavy on your tongue. Turning to Satoru, your eyes pleaded with him, filled with desperation., you begged, “Satoru, you see? You can’t do this. I could never ask you this. You’re young and have a whole life ahead of you, Our time ran out, but there’s still time for you—”

“I will do it.” Satoru interrupted firmly, his resolve unwavering.

“No. You don’t know what are you saying.” you protested.

“If it entails sacrificing my life to be with you and my father down here, then I shall do so.” Satoru declared resolutely, taking your hand once again.

Overwhelmed by his declaration, you turned to Octavius for support, “Octavius, you must get your son to think right.”

Octavius sighed. “I will respect whatever decision my son takes. There’s nothing I can do.”

Satoru pulled you towards him, his gaze softening with tenderness. “Marry me, (Y/N). Properly this time. I will not let you suffer alone anymore.”

“What about Catherine?” You whispered.

“Catherine is a part of my past, a chapter that is now being closed. What matters now is us.” Despite the sincerity in his eyes, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt that lingered within your heart. Yet you find yourself accepting in the end. For so long you have yearned for this moment, now that you have it, you can't let his chance slip through your fingers so easily.

“Gather around everybody. A proper wedding shall take place back in the realm of the living and each of you is cordially invited to bear witness. Let us unite in celebration and love as my fiancé and I will embark on this journey together.”

“Thank you all for gathering here today to celebrate my union between myself and my beloved wife, Catherine.” Mr. Zenin addressed the gathering, his words carrying a weight of solemnity. “I vow before you all to be a steadfast companion to Catherine, offering my unwavering support through every joy and trail that life may present.” As he raised his glass of champagne in a toast, the guest remained indifferent to the gloomy union, obligated to witness. As for Catherine, she was lost in thought, unmoved by her husband’s words, her gaze distant and unfocused. “This day shall forever be etched in memory as the day I am blessed to call Catherine my own, and I swear to all of you that I will—”

Before Mr. Zenin could continue, the moment was shattered by a cacophony of screams echoing from outside. Panic ensued as the guests scrambled to their feet, their expressions wrought with concern as they went out to see what was the commotion about. Once they did, their eyes widened in horror at the surreal sight that greeted them; the undead walking among them! Their grotesque forms descended upon the town. The guests fled from the wedding party seeking refuge from the nightmare unfolding before their eyes. Between the chaos, Catherine despite the lingering fear inside her, she remains calm. Her eyes fixed on the procession of the undead making their way towards the town’s church. Without hesitation, she followed in their wake, her wedding dress trailing behind her. She couldn’t care less now that her husband ran off scared. As she makes her way to see who this strange wedding belongs to.

Once their beloved guests were settled into the church of the living, Octavius stayed behind with his son before the ceremony, placing a comforting hand upon Satoru’s shoulder. “Son, are you absolutely certain about your decision?” He was sure. He was ready to take responsibility and form a life with you even if it meant he would die.

Satoru met his father’s gaze and nodded resolutely. “Yes, father. I am certain. I cannot deny that I was initially overcome by fear and frustration, unable to comprehend the unfolding events. But now, I’m sure she is the one destined to walk by my side.” He admitted, his tone tinged with a sense of vulnerability. “What I regret is that we did not cross paths sooner, thinking that if we did. Perhaps, she will still be alive. For two long years, she waited faithfully for me and now I refuse to let her wait a moment longer. Today, I shall stand as her husband.”

“Finally, my son is marrying for love. That’s all ever I wish for you.” His father expressed with a touch of emotion.

Satoru’s smile widened as he nodded at his father’s words. “I will make you proud.”

“You have already done so,” his father affirmed, his hand tenderly caressed his cheek before letting go. “Now, go and make (Y/N) yours.”

As Satoru stood at the altar, he learned a couple of things in this unexpected journey. Despite the barriers of physical appearance and mortality, his love for you remains. With a new clarity, he pledged to honor and cherish you for all eternity. That’s the least he can do for you. As you entered the church, holding the dead bouquet that had accompanied you since the day you departed from the realm of the living, Satoru’s heart swelled with awe. Despite your bones sticking out, you exuded a timeless beauty that took his breath away. He regretted not having noticed your beauty sooner. As you got closer, Satoru took hold of you, standing together now as you prepared to exchange vows properly this time.

“With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows. Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be your wine.” He recites now with ease the vows, holding the empty cup in his hand.

You found yourself gazing into those mesmerizing eyes, each hue reminiscent of the depths of the clear sky. You began to recite your vows as well, your voice carrying the weight of your love and commitment. “With this hand, I shall lift the burden of your sorrows.” You took hold of the wine ages, to pour it down Satoru’s cup. “Your cup shall never run dry, for I shall be—” For I shall be.

What are you doing?

You halted your vows, as your eyes fell upon a feminine figure observing the ceremony from the shadows.

Catherine?

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. This is wrong. Satoru’s smile waned as he noticed your hesitation. He shoots you an encouraging gaze urging you to continue. Though, you still were struggling to find your voice, stumbling over your words, unable to complete your vows.

“For I shall be your wine.” Satoru finished your sentence, his hand reaching for the cup containing the deadly elixir. But you intervened before he could take a sip.

“I can’t.”

Satoru’s beating heart shattered into a million pieces. “Why?”

“This isn’t right.”

“How so?” Satoru inquired, gently lowering the cup to grasp both of your hands.

“Satoru, I was intended to belong to another. Meant to be someone else’s wife. But my dreams were stolen from me, and now…I’ve stolen them from someone else.”

“I know all about your past.” Satoru interjected squeezing your hands together. “But none of that matters to me. All that matters is the present and what we can built together.”

You shook your head stubbornly, feeling tears welling up in your eyes, unable to hold back the emotions swirling inside you. “This isn’t love. What you feel for me is empathy. For a woman who met a tragic fate. You don’t love me Satoru.”

“I do love you,” Satoru exclaimed, his voice filled with desperation. “Don’t you see that I’m willing to die for you? I may have not realized my love for you before but now I’m here to redeem my actions. My heart belonged to you the very moment I saw you in my dreams.”

Your closed your eyes, your breaths coming out heavy. “You love Catherine. Not me.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

Both you and Satoru adverted your gazes as a female voice interrupted your conversation. Catherine stepped from the shadows, making her presence known. Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing with questions about her sudden appearance.

“We thought if we force this feeling love eventually it will turn real love so we wouldn’t be lonely. Satoru. He wants you.”

You couldn’t fathom her assertion, shaking your head with a resigned expression. “How could you possibly know?”

“I see it.” She insisted as she approached closer. Catherine then intertwined your hand with Satoru’s, her voice carrying a solemn assurance. “His love for you is genuine. Whatever sentiments he may have harbored for me were purely friendship.”

As she offered her reassurance with her kind words, Satoru’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, a profound sense of gratitude evident in his eyes.

“I love you, (Y/N).” Satoru’s voice was filled with sincerity and earnestness as he spoke, his eyes pleading with you to understand the depth of his feelings. “Please let me marry you today.”

He cradled your countenance in his palms as he inclined to savor your frigid lips bereft of vitality, while your tears entwined with the fervent kiss. You tried to resist him, yet you find yourself powerless, unable to deny the hold he has over your heart. Thus, you yielded, the profound affection you harbor for him overwhelms your every resistance. The embrace of the kiss loosens its hold, and he still cradles your face unable to let you go.

“Have you lost your senses? You've just kissed a dead person.” You uttered with a tearful chuckle.

“Dearest soon enough, I'll be in the same state.” He leaned in, his lips meeting the icy surface of your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“Ah, weddings! A scene that never fails to moisten my eyes. Yet, I must confess, a ceremony such as this—a bride from the realm of the departed, and a groom among the living—surely stands as a unique testament to the enduring power of love. Nevertheless, do we not all cherish tales of joyful resolutions?” Naoya's unexpected entrance into the church was marked by a calculated grin, his blonde locks framing his confident countenance as he surveyed the gloomy scene, his gaze inevitably drawn to his wife, Catherine standing beside the couple.

“Catherine, my dear, it is time to return home.” He declared, his tone tinged with an authoritative command. Catherine recoiled subtly at the sound of his voice, whispering a soft denial. Mr. Zenin, displeased by her response, advanced towards Catherine, seizing her wrist with an iron grip, compelling her to comply, eliciting gasps of astonishment from the gathered guests.

“You are mine to take! Where do you think you are going? Your dowry is my entitlement; do not forget the purpose behind our union!”

Catherine struggled against his hold, fixing him with a defiant glare. “What wealth? We possess none! This marriage was intended to salvage my family from ruin!”

“What!”Mr. Zenin erupted before he could respond further.

Satoru intervened, “Release her.”

Mr. Zenin turned to face Satoru with a scowl etched upon his features, his grip tightening around Catherine's wrist. “She's my wife, and I have the prerogative to do as I please with her.”

Amid the chaos, time seemed to pause as you recognized the man before you, memories of heartache flooding back at the sight of him. “Naoya?” Your voice pierced through the clamor, drawing his gaze toward you with immediate intensity upon hearing his name spoken by your lips.

“(Y/N)?”

“Our union shall forever be thwarted by the stringent decree of our family. My dearest, I find myself incapable of enduring another fleeting moment bereft of your presence. My affection for you knows no bounds, and I shall traverse any obstacle to claim you as my own.” Naoya proclaims, enfolding you closely against his chest, his lips tenderly grazing the crown of your head.

“Your sentiments mirror the intensity of my own, my beloved. The anguish of separation rends my very soul.” You reciprocate.

Naoya relinquishes the embrace, cradling your visage as his lips tenderly caress yours with fervent ardor, leaving you breathless.

“Let us elope. We must not allow ourselves to be ensnared by the strictures imposed upon us.” He proposes, his suggestion instilling a tremor of fear within you, yet overridden by the depth of your love for him.

“We shall convene within the bosom of the woodland at the stroke of midnight. Thereafter, we shall carve out our destiny together, emancipated from the shackles of societal convention.”

“Will you ever find satisfaction?” you queried, your voice trembling with poignant emotion. “I might have eventually forgiven your plundering of my riches, leaving me bereft and awaiting our union. But why… why did you have to snatch away my life as well?”

You can still keenly remember the feeling of his sword cleaving through your chest, the excruciating pain that tore through you, and the icy tendrils of the air wrapped around you while you lay there, bleeding out no one to offer solace or bid you farewell. Surrendering yourself to the inevitability of death, you found no escape, no alternative but to embrace the abyss that awaited.

“I didn't deserve that.” You whispered, tears tracing their path down your cheeks, a silent testament of your pain.

Satoru's inner fury simmered, his sense of indignation growing with each passing moment. He couldn't fathom the selfishness of the man before him, who callously stole your life for his own desires.

“Naoya.” a voice intervened, adding another layer of intensity to the scene. Naoya's grasp on Catherine loosened, allowing her to rush to your side.

“How's that bastard of your father doing?” Octavius now asked, standing before the blond man, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Octavius?” Naoya whispered, a flicker of recognition igniting within him as he beheld the deceased form of his father's former business partner.

“I see that you've inherited his foul blood, brimming with selfishness, ugliness, and pride.” Octavius spat, his words laced with venom. “You killed an innocent woman, deceitfully leading her on false promises—with the very things she held dear. Your family is nothing but a brood of vultures, feasting on the vulnerable. Your father ruined me, stripping away every ounce of my hard earned fortune, leaving my family defenseless. But that wasn’t enough, was it? Now you’ve followed in your father’s despicable footsteps by taking (Y/N)‘s life. I pray that you and your vile kin never found peace. For I know someone as wretched as yourself will never find redemption.”

Naoya erupted into laughter, his sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re a fool, Octavius.” He taunted. “My father merely exploited your naivety to his advantage. Don’t blame me for it.”

His laughter abruptly ceased as a firm grip seized his shoulder. “That’s enough.” Satoru interjected, his eyes ablaze with a dangerous rage.

Naoya scoffed, shrugging off Satoru’s grip on his shoulder. In a swift motion, he lunged towards one of the guests, seizing a sword protruding from their open chest. “I refuse to leave here without my wife!”

“(Y/N), take Catherine with you.”

You complied at Satoru’s command, positioning Catherine behind you.

Naoya’s eerie laughter rang inside the church, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Do I have to kill you too?” He sneered.

“Satoru!” His father’s voice thundered, hurling a sword towards his son to equalize the confrontation. Now both men were engaged in a battle of life and death, their swords clashing against each other, the metallic clang reverberating through the room. While Naoya was a skilled swordsman, Satoru was inexperienced in the art of combat. Though, he fought with raw determination, as they were both thrown around, refusing to yield. Blinded by rage, Satoru unleashed a fierce strike that sent Naoya crashing to he ground, his arm slashed by the force of the blow.

“What are you waiting for?” Naoya tainted with a mocking smile, challenging him to end his life. “Kill me!!”

He hungers to end his life for the pain his father inflicted upon Octavius, his malevolence in ending your life as well for forcing Catherine’s hand in marriage.

In a moment of clarity, the thirst for vengeance fades from his eyes, as he lowered his sword, catching Naoya off guard. “Your fate is not mine to decide.” Satoru proclaimed, turning away and motioning for you to take his sword. Descending from the altar, you approached, ready to meets out your own justice. Lifting the sword with both of your hands, you prepared to strike. Naoya gasped in fear, shutting his eyes together to the incoming attack, however it never came. Confusion etched across his face as he looked up at you, only to be met with a cold, unwavering glare.

“I refuse to let your blood stain my hands.” You declared, tossing the sword across the room, and turning to your guests with a serene smile. “My beloved guests, the celebration shall continue. Join us for an after-party.” They chattered among them with eerie and anticipated smiles, as they circled around Naoya’s fallen form. Naoya’s cries of desperation echoed through the hall, but you remained unmoved by his pleas, allowing the deceased to drag Naoya away to face the most appalling punishments reserved for those as wicked as him.

Approaching Satoru and Catherine, you initiated with a genteel squeeze of Catherine's hand, imparting a gracious smile. "I extend my deepest gratitude," you conveyed with earnestness. Catherine reciprocated with a nod, gently returning the pressure of your hand. “There's no need to thank me.”

Releasing Catherine's hand, you turned towards Satoru, who already held the chalice containing the wine of ages. Despite his prior avowal of readiness to offer himself for you, an insatiable need for confirmation lingered. Satoru nodded with a steadfast demeanor, his grasp on your hand unwavering. “Without a doubt.” he asserted with conviction.

Satoru remains true to his word, committing to spend an eternity by your side in the realm of the deceased. Perhaps, amid the vast expanse of eternity, both of you may find each other once more in another life, vowing never to forget one another. This time around, you plan to live a longer life, cherishing every moment together and appreciating the time you have without regrets.

Author’s Note Please don’t let this fic flopped I really worked hard on this one. Please check out my other works at my page, thanks for reading!!

All rights reserved © 2024 ioveartfilm. Please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my work on any other platform.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk masterlist #fiction #tumblr fyp #fypage #gojo x y/n #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x female reader #geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby x you

[leighsartworks216]

Designated Lockpicker

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Inspired by this post

Saw this and I HAD to write something about it. It only took me until 11:45 to finish it but it's okay I'll suffer the consequences

Warnings: one swear word, reference to Astarion's past abuse, mention of a terrible texture, innuendos

Word Count: 1,219

Masterlist

AO3

You poke your head into the room. Dust motes float through the air, which reeks with musk and mold. You'd probably cover your nose and seek fresh air if this wasn't the millionth time you’d smelled it.

Your eyes scan along the walls, floor and shelves, searching for anything interesting. Food would be nice - Gale wouldn’t stop pestering you for ingredients to cook with. Bandages wouldn’t hurt either if it would ease Shadowheart’s workload every time you got into a minor scrape.

The room was rather sparse, but it looked like it may have been a study at some point. Books were scattered everywhere, chairs were tipped on their sides or had broken legs, a desk was angled oddly for its placement. Whoever lived here before, they must have left in a hurry. Which was excellent news. Maybe they left something behind.

From the other rooms of the building, you can hear your companions’ muffled voices. You can only make out one or two words as they speak. Karlach seemed to be talking to Astarion; Wyll and Gale were going back and forth further away. You couldn’t hear Shadowheart or Lae’zel, but this didn’t surprise you.

The floorboards creak and groan as you step into the study. Stray beams of light keep the gloom away, for the most part. You can almost imagine how lovely it once was.

You go to take a book off the shelf, but immediately draw your hand back when the binding squishes at the slightest pressure. You scowl in disgust and wipe your hand on your pants to remove the gross sensation. Unfortunately, your more learned companions would not be getting any new reading materials today.

Against the far wall, stationed behind the desk, was a dresser with a glass case on top. All the case had was scrolls, damp and turning green. Any information they may have held was gone.

You grab the handles of each drawer in turn, sliding open the dresser to reveal its contents. A vial of ink here, another useless scroll there - nothing exciting. Until you open the bottom drawer.

Poorly hidden under some loose paper was a chest. It appeared to be made of metal, hardly rusted despite its surroundings. For its size, you were shocked how heavy it was when you lifted it out and set it on the desk just behind you. The lock didn’t look too complicated. You had some spare lockpicks in your pack, you could easily grab one and get it open. You could.

Instead, you leave the chest where it is and step into the hall. You try to listen for your friends, again, but they seem to have done deeper within the establishment. So you do the next best thing: “Astarion?”

The shout travels down the building, and from one of the rooms pops out the vampire spawn. He seemed confused why you’d be calling him of all people. But the confusion is quickly masked with suave confidence as he sauntered down the hall to you. “Yes, dear?”

You smile sweetly at him. “I found a locked chest. Could you help me open it? Please?”

He smirks and taps a finger under your chin, getting you to tilt your head upward with just one motion. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He follows you back into the room. His nose scrunches with the smell of rotting books, but the look is gone as soon as he sees the chest. You round the desk and turn it around toward him. He can’t stop his smile as you rest your arms and chin on top, still fixing him with that darling look.

This had become a habit, to his mind, anyway. For you, this was an enrichment of sorts to provide Astarion with a sense of purpose. Late night talks had made it abundantly clear just how much he loved feeling useful. For two centuries he was used, his autonomy stolen from him for the sake of his master. But little tasks like this did not feel like an imbalance in power. He would open whatever lock you wished for the praise you showered on him alone, but you also ensured he got his pick of whatever was inside. He was being rewarded for his services, something that never happened before - nothing good, anyway - and you loved giving him his moment to shine.

He just assumed you couldn’t pick a lot to save your damn life.

“I’m beginning to think you just like watching me,” he teased. He produced a pick from his pocket and began working away at the lock. “Trying to learn my trade secrets, are we?"

You hummed, looking down at his hands as they moved together fluidly. He could do this in his sleep. “Never. I just love watching you work, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Really now?” He lifts his attention from the lock to look at you, hands pausing in their ministrations. “And what is it about my work that you enjoy so much?”

You meet his gaze. He can only describe the look you give him as fond. Love seems to rest in your irises, gleaming back at him, on display for the whole world to see. “Your hands,” you answer, and while it was supposed to be part of your playful banter, you say it so genuinely. “You’re always so precise, like you just know exactly what needs to be done before you even start. It reminds me of your embroidery.”

“And here I thought it was for more depraved reasons.” It’s a deflection. He still isn’t used to being seen like this. Seen by you. He still thinks of the way you describe how his hair curls around his ears, and how his face wrinkles when he laughs. “I’m always happy to give you a hands-on lesson, my sweet. Just say the word.”

“And if I ask for you to teach me how to embroider?”

His devious smirk relaxed into a soft grin. He nods. “It would be my honor.”

Silence takes over as he returns to his work. It’s warm and welcoming, despite your surroundings. Basking in the quiet felt easy around him. He could be reading a book, and you’d slot yourself right next to him, and never was there an expectation for him to stop to entertain you. You just wanted to be around him. It meant more to him than you could ever know.

With a final turn of the pick, a faint click comes from the chest. He seems to puff up with the success, like an all-too-proud bird. He slips the pick back in his pocket and steps back as you round the desk. Instead of going straight for the chest, you cup his cheek in one hand and press a kiss to the other. His cheeks would be positively flushed if he had the blood for it.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper against his skin, pressing another kiss to his cheek right after. He leans into the heat of your hand.

“It was my pleasure, darling.”

You pull away with a grin that could put the sun to shame. You turn to open the chest, eager to know what hides behind those metal walls, and he cannot stop admiring how perfectly a stray beam of light hits your skin.

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #pov second person #second person pov

[lou-struck]

Operation: Stay Away Cupid

Obey Me Brothers and Datables x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

With Valentines Day Approaching in the Devildom, Solomon decides to play a little prank on others, with an oblivious you in the middle of it.

a/n: I wanted to do a little background before posting the little blurbs.

Introduction:

Solomon knows that all eyes are on him right now; 

"What is it, Solomon?" Diavolo asks, the friendly smile on his face making him feel almost bad enough to not go through with this little prank of his.

Using the poker face it had taken him, hundreds of years to perfect, he glances slowly around the room and takes a deep breath for suspense. "Valentine's day is fast approaching, so I need to warn you all about the danger Mc is in." At the mention of you being in any sort of danger, everyone sits up a bit straighter and stares at the Sorcerer intently.

"Oi, what do you mean MC is in danger?" Mammon yells, springing from his seat.

"Sit down, Mammon," his elder brother practically growls, yanking him into his seat by the hem of his jacket.

The crowd is silent and waiting expectantly for Solomon to continue. 

He grabs the back end of a podium tightly; if his little prank of his is to work, he needs to make sure that no one in this room has ever heard of the little tale he has spun. 

"In the human world, there is a creature that appears on Valentine's Day. Its sole purpose is to go around and shoot people with magic arrows to make them fall in love. But this creature is mischievous and likes to make people fall in love with the wrong sort of people."

"What exactly do you mean by the wrong sort of people?" the Demon Lord asks. 

Solomon lets his features fall as he meets the Prince's eye. "Someone who would mistreat them, Cupid thinks it's funny to see how humans come crawling back to someone who isn't worthy of their love.

Barbados furrows his brow, "A Cupid? I don't think I have ever seen one before."

Ignoring the butler's statement, he continues his lesson. "They also do not like it when someone has too many suitors to choose from." He adds, giving the group a once-over. With a wave of his hand, stacks of research materials magically appear in the laps of his audience of growingly angry angels and demons, who stare at the piles of cheesy Valentine's Day cards and short stories.

Fire blazes in Satan's green eyes as he speaks, "And that would be us, wouldn't it? "

'This little prank is going well.' Solomon thinks to himself as everyone is beginning to understand why their sweet human is being targeted.

"It would," he says solemnly, shaking his head. "Sometimes Cupid can get a bit jealous; I believe the reason why they are being targeted is that the creature wants Mc to be forced to fall in love with it instead."

"That kind of magic exists?" Simeon mumbles, staring at the image of the white-winged baby intently. "I never thought something that looks as innocent as this could be capable of such unthinkable deeds."

"So, if Mc gets hit with one of these Arrows, they won't love me anymore?" Asmodeus asks, his peach-colored eyes turning glassy at the thought.

"Should we tell them?" Beel asks softly; the snack he has been munching on now sits discarded next to him.

Before the Sorcerer can even open his mouth to object, he is cut off by Lucifer. "Absolutely not; if we tell them, they could get scared. Let's focus on keeping this beast away from them."

"Well, what are we supposed to do about this, huh?" Mammon says, staring at the other human exactly.

"Obviously, we are going to protect them," Levi mumbles finally.

The Sorcerer snaps his fingers, "That. Is exactly what we are going to do. So if any of us are out with them later, they'll have to protect them.

"Won't we be affected if we get hit by the arrows?" The youngest brother asks, clutching his large pillow with a vice-like grip.

Being prepared for this question, the Sorcerer shakes his head. "No, none of us are human enough to be affected by the magic."

He gives them each a conversation heart from the box he picked up at a Human world grocery store. "Take this; It will help you see through its magic and spot the signs that it's near; I wrote down a few other things to look out for," Solomon says, eating one of the candied hearts as everyone else does the same.

"So what now?" Mammon asks, swallowing the candy whole.

Solomon grins and clasps his hands together. "Now that that's settled let Operation Stay Away Cupid Commence."

~ How will everyone handle protecting you from Cupid's Nonexistent Arrows? Parts 2-4 to come!

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #Diavolo x reader #Barbatos x reader #Simeon x reader #Solomon x reader #Lucifer x reader #Mammon x reader #Asmodeus x reader

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

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You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush. 

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level. 

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders. 

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet. 

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult. 

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given. 

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night. 

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry. 

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all. 

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes. 

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone. 

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man. 

Why did they send you on this mission alone? 

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why? 

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction? 

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books. 

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted. 

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster. 

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night. 

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go? 

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing. 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble. 

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely. 

Into the belly of the best it is. 

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though. 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep. 

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally. 

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies. 

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another. 

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess. 

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome. 

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door. 

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon. 

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all. 

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you. 

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill. 

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised. 

“Step inside.” 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction. 

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy. 

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing. 

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. 

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’. 

“What’s new?” 

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.” 

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him. 

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship? 

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.” 

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come. 

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory. 

Maybe you really have been misled. 

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it. 

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes. 

“Alright…”

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding. 

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself. 

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one. 

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good. 

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again. 

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart. 

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame. 

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side. 

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body. 

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now. 

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered. 

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth. 

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his. 

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment. 

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty. 

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible. 

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride. 

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls. 

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements. 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths. 

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again. 

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside. 

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again. 

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[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I still can't believe that I've written 8 whole chapters for a oneshot that I never planned on making into a series! But I'm glad it's coming along well and that you're enjoying it :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @iimichie

@mxtokko

“Morning, Simon!” 

____ and Lindsey arrived at Simon's door at seven in the morning as planned. His crush was the one who excitedly greeted him, while her friend looked disgruntled and ticked at having to be up so early. 

“Morning,” he greeted them civilly as his hand instinctively ran through his hair, trying not to appear even the slightest disheveled or flustered at the sight of ____’s smiles, and moved away from the door to let the two in. 

“Have a seat. I'll bring you some tea,” he said, promptly moving towards the kitchen. 

The ladies, particularly the author, took in the surroundings of his little flat as they entered and sat down. The entire place as a whole was simple. The walls of the living room were empty and unpainted except for a singular, ancient grandfather clock that hung alone near his curtained balcony, filling the quiet room with its rhythmic ticking. She saw that he was concerned more with pragmatics than aesthetics; if it didn't serve a purpose, then it wasn't needed. 

She saw that he favored dark colors of blue and black, and neutrals, but found that bright colors were speckled throughout the room in his red floor lamp, the gold painted knobs of his brown television stand, and the red and white chevron patterned cushions on his grey couch. The simple state of his room made her wonder if his bedroom was more personalised. 

A hint of green caught her attention and she turned to the balcony. A few potted plants of mint, tomatoes, and coriander, all of which were healthy and green, swayed gently in the morning breeze. She smiled at this. “He’s a gardener,” she thought to herself, not quite expecting it.

The smell of lemon and mint wafted through the air, bringing her thoughts back. Simon brought out a tray of three mismatched teacups and a glass teapot filled with what smelled and looked like lemon tea. 

“Have some tea,” he set down the tray on the coffee table and poured out the tea for them. 

She, wanting to use Simon as a model for her character, Frederick, watched keenly as he poured with a thoughtful, concentrated look on his face. She wondered why he used a glass teapot over porcelain or any other material, but that was probably not important. However, she was not going to let even the smallest things about him and his choices escape her scrutiny. 

“When will Johnny come?” asked Lindsey as soon as she had her sip of tea. 

Simon glanced at the grandfather clock. “At six forty-five, he said he'd be here in ten minutes. He's picking up our other friend, Kyle too. Maybe there's some hold-up,” he answered. He felt a little strange; it was his first time properly speaking to Lindsey, and she seemed to look judgingly at him, as if to find a fault. 

____ was silent, as she was more concentrated on the taste and temperature of her tea. It was lightly sweetened and refreshing thanks to the lemon and mint. A mental note was already taken that Frederick too would be good at brewing tea. 

Simon's ringtone tore the silence and he immediately slid the phone out of his jeans. Thinking it was Johnny, he looked expectantly, but it was his mum. Looking back at the ladies, he excused himself and went out to the balcony to talk. 

“What do you think of him?” ____ asked Lindsey, who took slow sips of her tea as the two watched the man pace around the balcony through the partially drawn translucent curtains. 

“He makes good tea,” she answered, “I think I'll approve of him a bit.” To Lindsey, a man who could brew a good tea was worth marrying, because, according to her, it meant that he cared about the little things, like making tea taste good. As ____ smiled, she paused for a moment before quipping, “He seems nice so far, but I don't trust him just yet.”

____ shook her head, chuckling. Lindsey was always so skeptical of everyone and everything, both a vice and a virtue. 

Simon soon emerged from the balcony into the living room, brows furrowed with concern. He looked straight at ____ and said, “I need to have a word with you, darling,” and then promptly stepped into the kitchen without waiting for an answer, expecting her to follow. 

She instantly set down her teacup and followed Simon into the kitchen. “What's the matter?” she asked as soon as she entered, finding him leaning his back on the kitchen counter, arms crossed. 

He turned to her, almost opening his mouth to speak but cautiously glanced at the open door; he looked back at her, beckoning her to come closer. When she did, he said, “I don't know how you'll react to this but I need you to hear me out, alright, darling?” 

Her curiosity heightened and she nodded.

“Y'see, my mum just called and they're going to have a family reunion soon since my old man's come back home for a holiday from his military service,” he paused, sucking in a sharp breath, unsure about how she would take his next words, but continued anyway, “And my mum asked me if I found a girlfriend yet because she's worried I'm going to die single…” he paused again, “and I may have accidentally told her that you're my girlfriend.” 

“You what?” she stared incredulously at Simon, although she wasn't quite opposed to what he did. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head, embarrassed with himself, “I'm really sorry.” 

“Wait, does your mum know about me?” 

“Yeah, I told her a few weeks ago that I recently made friends with this lass,” he paused to sigh again, “And when she asked if I finally found a girlfriend, I accidentally said yes, and when she asked if it was you…” he paused again and shrugged. 

The lady paused. Now that he said it, it couldn't be helped and she had to play along. Not that it bothered her. She chuckled. “Well, it's alright. You take the trouble of pretending to be my boyfriend, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be your girlfriend for a bit.” 

Simon looked back at her, visibly relieved. 

“Now, what do you need me to do?” she asked. 

“That's the hard part. We'll have to make up a story of how we met and how we hit it off. And I'll have to bring you home and introduce you to my family. And not just that, you know who else will be there.” He pursed his lips tight. 

She immediately knew. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and nodded. “Right, yes.”

He could see the apprehension on her face and in her body as she crossed her arms. Feeling terrible that he dragged her into this, he said, “Darling, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. If going there and meeting him again will make you uncomfortable, then I'm not forcing you to come with me.” 

She drew in a shaky breath and pondered for a moment. Simon watched her, gulping harshly. 

“No,” she finally said, resolute, “I shouldn't be so scared all the time. If I'm going to be there as your girlfriend, I shouldn't be afraid of some ex of mine.”

Simon blinked in surprise at this response. He appreciated her bravery, and felt his admiration for her increase. However, he didn't show it, and kept his facial expressions neutral with a little smile. “I guess, yeah,” he nodded. He paused for a moment, wanting to say something else, but she beat him to it.

“If anything happens, you’ll stick up for me, won’t you?” she asked smilingly, “Since you’re my “boyfriend”.”

He felt his heart leap. That was the exact thing he wanted to assure her of, and it flattered him greatly to know that they had been thinking of the same thing. Even though he knew this was going to be a pretense, it rubbed his male instincts and ego right to be depended on for protection. 

He answered with a wide smile, “Of course, my love.”

“Why d’ye drive a manual?” asked Johnny as soon as he took the shotgun seat, watching ____ take her place in the driver's seat. 

“Tut tut,” she shook her head, bringing out a mini sombrero from her pocket which she placed on the gear stick, “It's Emmanuel.”

The three passengers in the back, from left to right– Simon, Lindsey, and Gaz, watched as Johnny burst out laughing, also making ____ laugh as she got the car started. 

“Ghosty, she's a woman of culture!” Johnny exclaimed, looking back at his best friend. 

Simon made no answer as he was upset that he couldn't sit next to ____. Lindsey felt similarly, but for Johnny. Regardless of that, the drive began with gusto, with Johnny and Gaz filling the time with their singing and jokes, while the other three listened. 

____ drove for the first hour, and Johnny took over for the second and the two switched seats, exchanging jokes and quips with ease, making both Simon and Lindsey at the back miserable and jealous. Simon drove for fifteen minutes in the third hour until he nearly hit a tree, but swerved back to the road right on time to avoid damaging both the car and his crush's esteem. Gaz took over for the remaining forty-five minutes, and Simon was banished to the back seat. 

Thankfully for him, ____ sat next to him to console him, “Don't worry. After all, you did say that if you tried really hard, you wouldn't hit a tree. You did great for fifteen minutes at least!”

Simon chuckled out of embarrassment. It didn't make him feel any better, but he appreciated her effort. 

The camping spot was soon in sight. It was around ten in the morning when Gaz parked the car in the shed of a little cabin. The ladies learnt that the spot belonged to one of Gaz's relatives, who was happy to lend it out to anyone who needed it. And from how the three men scampered around the place relaxedly, it was evident that they were regular visitors. 

The fenced piece of land was right next to a little lake which afforded a view of the distant green hills speckled with heathers and daisies. A lonely little dock hung over the surface of the water, which, as Simon informed the ladies, “made a nice fishing spot”.

The group first decided to begin their hike as planned before unloading the car. England's weather was notorious for being fickle and since the skies were currently clear of all rain clouds, the hike was chosen as the first activity. 

The trail was an easy one, chosen for the benefit of the ladies who were partially accustomed to walking on rocky, uneven terrain. The end of it promised a little waterfall, which Johnny was excited about showing them, as was evident in his constant singing of sea shanties while they hiked. Gaz happily joined him, while the ladies and Simon chose to be their audience like earlier. 

“Johnny sure loves to sing,” observed ____, who trudged between Lindsey and Simon. 

“He's a born singer,” replied Simon with a sigh, sounding both proud of and annoyed with his friend, “And he was a theater kid too. Acted in tons of musicals and plays, mostly musicals. Put him together with Gaz and they'll be singing and dancing all day.”

She chuckled. “How long have you guys known each other?” 

“Johnny's my childhood friend. We've known each other since we were ten years old. As for Gaz, both of us met him in university and we quickly became friends,” he explained, kicking a rock out of the way. 

The two ladies looked at each other. “That's a long time,” remarked Lindsey, “You all must be really close then.” 

“Too close,” Simon said dryly, but there was a hint of affection in his voice. He then turned to the ladies to ask, “And what about you two? How long have you been friends?” 

“Since high school,” ____ answered, smilingly linking her arm with Lindsey's, “She's basically my sister now.” 

Simon smiled. He could tell, for the moment he saw them together, they stuck to each other like glue and didn't leave each other's side for more than a few moments. 

Johnny looked back at the calm trio behind him and Gaz. “Jolene!” He called Lindsey by her nickname. When he had her attention, he beckoned her to join him in singing. 

“I don't know any of the songs you're singing!” she protested. 

“Dinnae ye worry, wee lassie!” he retraced his steps, put an arm around her shoulders, and dragged her ahead with him, making her squeal and stumble. “Gaz and I will teach you!” he promised, and kept his arm around her as they hiked up the hillock. 

While the two men busied themselves in teaching Lindsey to sing ‘Bully in the Alley’, ____ and Simon were left to themselves. The lady smiled at Lindsey's attempts to sing, though she was no singer. 

“Lindsey hates singing,” she whispered to Simon, “It's crazy how she's doing it for Johnny.” A girlish giggle escaped her lips at the thought of a romance blooming between the two. Her authorly brain couldn't help but conjecture all the sweet moments they would have, worthy of a novel of its own. 

“And I'll tell you what, Johnny's never been this fixated on one woman for this long either. He's normally a huge flirt, a ladies’ man, if you will. I'm just as surprised as you are,” answered Simon. 

The mention of Johnny being a flirt worried her. She knew Lindsey to almost easily give her affections to anyone who would look her way, starved for love as she was. But she decided to stay out of the way and watch the two for now. If Johnny ever did anything that would hurt Lindsey, she would not hesitate to confront him. 

The hike was now proving to get a little tiring, and ____ let out a sigh as she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. Simon stopped too, looking down at her from the slightly steep ascent. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” 

He bent his knee and lowered himself slightly, holding out his hand. “Come on,” he encouraged, “Just a little more and we'll be at the waterfall.” 

She took his outstretched hand, and no sooner they made contact, a jolt of electricity ran down both their spines. Simon gulped harshly at this reaction, and she felt an additional tingle in her stomach. His larger, more rugged hand held her softer and smaller hand in his, and he pulled her up the ascent with ease. She thanked him as soon as they were next to each other, Simon, eager to be of further assistance, held out his arm to her. 

“You can hold my arm if you want to,” he offered, trying to sound as casual as he could, though his thoughts begged her to give him the honour of accepting him. 

Her hand practically flew to his arm in an instant, wrapping just below his bicep. Simon never felt more depended upon than now as the two began walking together. And she was completely flattered by his kind offer, trying to suppress her smiles and blushes. The two were, without doubt, over the moon. 

The lady was sure to make mental notes about everything Simon did. Frederick would be tall and brooding, but a kind-hearted and observant gentleman with a soft spot for Adelheid.

“This reminds me of the Jane Austen novels where the men would offer their arms to the ladies when they got tired as they walked,” she commented with a bright smile and a certain twinkle in her eye as she moved closer to him, allowing her hand to curl tighter against his arm. 

He noted the expression on her face and the movement and instinctively flexed his bicep so that she could feel it. He smiled in response to her comment and said with a chuckle, his cheeks overspread with a light pink, “So it was a custom back then? Interesting.” He hadn't read a lot of Regency era novels to know of past English social customs, but he seemed intrigued by this one aspect that she mentioned. Wanting to know if she really approved of it, asked, “Do you like it?” 

She loved it, but for the sake of being mild, said, “I think it's nice, especially now when I don't see men doing this sort of thing.”

“So you like gentlemen then?” 

She giggled. “A lot.” 

Simon took note of this immediately. If she liked a gentleman, a gentleman he would be. If men of his day didn't do the things he did, like offering their arm, or pulling out the chair for her at a table, he most certainly would do it, for he didn't want to be like other men. He wanted to be special and singled out by her. 

They began descending down a slightly slippery, gravelly path that led to the waterfall, and Simon took hold of her upper arm this time as he led her down so that she wouldn’t fall in case she slipped over the loose gravel. He was reminded yet again of how much smaller she was compared to him, and it only heightened his desire to keep her safe. 

The gurgle and rush of water from the distant waterfall was soon heard, and a few meters of walking on level ground finally brought them to the waterbody familiar to the men. Johnny cheered like he never saw a waterfall before, loud enough for his voice to echo in the wilderness, and for Lindsey to cover her ears and curse under her breath.

“We're here!”

End of Part 8.

Part 9

Like always, leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

#call of duty #aoioozora writes #Simon series #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley

[artemisgrayy]

From One Hell to Another [Alastor x Reader]

Tags: Eventual smut, eventual romance, slow burn, Alastor & Fem reader, Soft Alastor, Parental Alastor/Cares about Charlie, Alastor is a cunty flirt, Alastor finds you entertaining

Chapter 2 is now live! I'd love to hear your thoughts 💖 I'm still new to sharing this stuff publicly so I still find it a bit spooky 😅

--

Pinpricks crawl up your spine, and you don't have to roll over to know Alastor has found his way into the chair beside your bed.

“Charlie’s taken quite a shine to you, doe.” Purrs the radio-filtered voice, “That must be a terrifying prospect, given your history.”

“Cute nickname. What do you want Radio Head?”

Shadow tendrils climb from the foot of the bed up to the pillow inches from your face, a materializing Alastor in its wake.

“Unfortunately, the answer to that question is something you can't provide, doe.” he coos, purposely using the pet name. You presume to garner a reaction. You won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Let me rephrase,” you reply with irritability, refusing to move despite the intrusion. “Why are you here?”

You can feel the warmth of Alastor’s breath against your face. He’s so close that the sharp edges of his teeth threaten your very existence but the strands of crimson and black hair falling across his face tell a different story – they provide a certain air of softness to the menacing demon. You can't help but feel slightly drawn in.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor is in hell for a reason #alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader #eventual romance #eventual smut #hazbin #alastor & reader

[yeollie-plz]

Let Me Go

Joel Miller x GN! Reader

Synopsis: Six reasons you wanted Joel Miller and one reason he wouldn't have you.

Genre: Angst, with some fluff for backstory purposes

Warnings: age gap, heart break, cuddling, mentions of fighting

Gif credits to owners!

When you had met Joel, he was this tough guy with a rough exterior. But as time went on there was something warmer about him. Something almost comforting.

This comfort soon turned into reliance and then dependence and sure enough you were in love with the older man. It wasn't just one thing that had led to the fall, actually it was six. You had counted them all, it was exact. Just like his exactly one reason to not have you. The one reason he broke your heart and ignored what he truly felt.

One: Little Gestures

The two of you had met in winter, the snow was falling lightly onto the streets of the Boston QZ. You were freezing, still not used to the chill of the winter air. Not to mention your jacket was thin.

You had met Tess a few times, traded a few things. But you had yet to meet her "guy". This "guy" was Joel, someone she had formed some sort of attachment to. This time Tess had brought Joel along.

He didn't say much, didn't really even make eye contact with you. Instead he sat there, scanning the surroundings.

You shivered slightly as a gust of wind passed the three of you. Not thinking much of it, you continued your conversation. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something grab Joel's attention as he sauntered off to investigate it.

When he returned, he passed closer to you dropping the jacket that was once donned his shoulders onto your own. Your eyebrows furrowed at the gesture and when you went to question him, he had once again disappeared somewhere. So instead, you gladly accepted the thicker material and its collection of body heat.

You also accepted the flutter in your heart the gesture had given you.

Two: Eyes

Number two was a pair of things: his eyes.

The brown orbs held so much pain, yet every time they passed over5 you there was a softness behind them. It was like he could read everything your mind was trying to tell him. Sometimes they were even trying to scream out to him.

You never needed to bring up the hard stuff to Joel, he just knew. He knew you had pain just like he did. He knew not to dwell on those facts. They were the past and although he didn't see his future he knew yours was as bright as your eyes.

Three: Protector

Tess told you Joel was a protector. He'd do anything for the people he cared about. Even more for those he loved.

"This is why he's so good to have around." She told you. You had always thought there was something between her and Joel. That was until she told you otherwise.

One night you had gotten yourself into a little bit of danger. Some guys were trying to rough you up for some ration cards and luckily Joel happened by the situation. He fought off the men and walked you home.

You were now safely inside your apartment and about to close the door, when Joel held it open with his hand. He looked like something was on his mind.

Neither of you said anything, just held eye contact. Until he finally sighed and let go of your door, leaving.

A few days later you had a meeting with Tess. She brought up the events of that night, apparently Joel had told her. She laughed as she recounted the way he told it.

"I don't know what spell you casted on him but he's entranced with you."

Four: Listener

Joel wasn't much a talked, but he would always listen. You had always had an inquisitive mind. When the world was normal it used to bother your parents and friends, even your teachers sometimes.

But all your questions never seemed to bother Joel. He would sit and listen to them all, even when he didn't have the answers. Even when there was no answers to be given!

And in the rare times he did know a thing or two he would respond, gaining a huge smile from you.

These were the times his heart fluttered.

Five: Cuddles

I know what you're thinking! Joel Miller, a cuddler? You didn't believe it either. But after one particularly long night, you had both fallen asleep on his couch.

There was still a bit of a chill in the air, so naturally your body had gravitated closer to his in search of some warmth.

You were never sure whether it was a conscious decision or not but by the time you woke up the two of you were intertwined together. And this became a habit of yours.

Even when it was no longer cold out, the two of you would cling to each other.

Six: Pretending

After a few months of hanging more with Joel and Tess, they invited you to meet Bill and Frank. It was nice to get out of the QZ and have a normal meal like the whole world wasn't a complete shit show.

At one point you had found yourself inside with only Frank. You had insisted on helping to wash the dishes. While scrubbing a plate, you had caught a glimpse of Joel through the window. Craning to get a better look, you smiled to yourself. All of a sudden Frank laughed, causing you to look over at him.

"What?" You questioned.

"You two are so in love with each other and neither of you see it. It's just funny."

Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could contest, Joel walked into the kitchen.

"Why don't you two go and chat with Bill and Tess? I'll finish this up." He suggested, holding eye contact with you.

Joel wouldn't take no for an answer and ushered the two of you outside. Only to stop you before you made it out the door. He bent down and tied your shoe lace, you hadn't even noticed it had come undone.

Across the room you heard a throat clear and your eyes met Frank's. He gave you a knowing look, mouthing a "see".

One: Heart

The very foundation of a human is their heart. If it stops beating, you no longer have a living being. Only a body.

Joel told you once that his heart had stopped beating a long time ago. And when he was about to leave he told you again.

"I haven't had a heart in years. I haven't felt anything in years. Only pain. Only desperation. But I met you and I had felt my heart beating again. It skipped a beat or two a few times." He let out a small laugh before continuing.

"But I'm not what you deserve. I'm not what you need. I've lived a life and yours is barely starting. You have a beating heart, mine is more like Frankenstein, stitched together."

You couldn't help but to correct him, "Frankenstein was the scientist."

He took a deep breath in, "Then I'm the monster and you're Frankenstein, you stitched me back together."

"But I don't understand, if I've done all this for you, why are you leaving?"

"I can't watch your heart stop beating because of me!" He almost shouted at you.

"You leave and it will stop!" Okay, you were shouting. Grabbing his shirt, pleading him to make eye contact with you.

"I need you to let go. Let me go, Y/N." Finally his eyes met your own and you knew that the man you had fallen in love with was no longer yours.

You had six definitive reasons why you loved Joel Miller, but he had only needed one to leave.

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x gn reader #pedro pascal x reader

[anon-sect]

PART ONE

Chaze had heard a rumor that there was a place that you could buy special clothes and footwear made specifically from human beings who either volunteer to become property of another person or was unfortunate to be forced to do so. He heard that once you bought it, human transformed clothes or footwear was yours to do with as you pleased. It no longer had human rights. It was an object for its owners' use and nothing more. At first, Chaze thought that was a bit cruel until he read the reviews about human transformed clothing and footwear. All the reviews stated that durability is way beyond normal objects. The level of comfort outmatched normal objects. Even though human transformed objects do get dirty, they still last for years longer than normal objects. Seeing this, he had to have some for himself. Even though he knew the objects would be former humans, whether voluntary or involuntary, he wanted to own clothing and footwear that he could keep for years without great damage.

Chaze found the address to the store and went shopping the next day. Once at the store, he saw it was unlike anything he expected. There were computer stations on the main floor with an attendant next to each one to assist each customer. There were no shelves with items. An attendant approaches him. "Are you looking to purchase items from our collection?" The young female attendant asked.

"Actually, yes. How does this work? I have never been in a store like this before." He spoke and asked. "Follow me." She directed over to her station.

"On the screen, you select the material you want. Once selected, you then pick what you want the object to become. And that is pretty much it. Our inventory has both female and male objects to choose from. All are over the age of twenty-five years old and nothing over fifty-five years old." The attendant reported while showing him the screen.

"Another question, which are voluntary and which aren't?" Chaze asked with curiosity. He just wanted to know since he was literally selecting people to become his objects and property.

The attendant presses some areas on the screen. "Those with a green check are ones who willingly want to be an object for another person's purpose. As to why they willingly give their humanity forever, I really don't know. Those with a red X are ones who unfortunately have no choice. Whether it be because of the justice system or they owe a lot of debt and this is the only way their debt collectors get their money. " The attendant paused as she brought up the payment screen. "The pricing depends on your choices. Males cost more while females are half priced. The object pricing also depends on what you want the object to be. Beside each selection is the cost, so you will know how much you are paying for someone's human life to be your personal property. If there aren't any more questions, you may begin shopping." The attendant let him have full access to the screen.

Chaze knew exactly what he wanted. A pair of new socks, new cowboy boots, and underwear that could handle his waist since normal underwear only lasted only three weeks at a time. He scrolled through the listing. He saw a couple of red Xs. One was by a criminal who was in his late forties that was serving a life sentence for murder of ten people over the course of several years. He selected him for a sock. He found the other red X to be a resent arrestee who could not pay his bail. He was arrested for stealing several high-end cars off a car lot. He selected him as a sock. He now had his pair of socks. Both lives cost $75 a piece, plus being socks was $10 apiece. He really didn't feel bad about taking their humanity to use as comfort for his feet. Both were criminals. They would serve society best by comforting his feet for the rest of their lives. He smiled at that thought.

Next, Chaze wanted a pair of boots. He continued to scroll through the list of material to pick from. He saw one with a green check. It was a young guy in his early twenties who wanted a life of no worries or having to make decisions. He quickly selected him. As a boot, he would definitely get that kind of life. His existence would only serve to support his feet. The next green check he found interesting was a woman that had gone into hiding from some crime syndicate. He didn't know why she would select this way of hiding, but no crime syndicate would be looking for a transformed boot. He selected here to create a matching pair. He now had two volunteers and two involuntary transformed objects.

The last object he wanted was a pair of transformed underwear. He continued to scroll till he saw a name that looked familiar. He brought up the picture. It was the face of his old high school bully that tormented his life all of middle school and high school. Apparently, he was in debt to several credit companies. This was their way of getting paid the money they were owed. He selected him to be his underwear. He added one note to his selection. He wanted the face to be at the rear end. He remembered the times that the guy would sit on his face and fart on him. It would be poetic justice for his old bully to literally be his underwear for the rest of his life. Now, he gets to sit on his face as often as he wanted. He couldn't wait for that part.

The one boot cost $100 plus the $20 boot transformation. While the other boot was discounted at $50 plus the $20 boot transformation. His underwear was more pricey with a $200 cost plus the $15 underwear transformation charge. Chaze selected check out to see his grand total. Even though his old bully was expensive, it was worth the cost to torment him the rest of his life. The full total came to $575 plus a $25 tax charge. He swiped his bank card, paying a full total of $600. He felt a little weird that he just paid $600 to forever own former human lives, but they now belong to him as the customer who just shopped for transformed objects.

"Your objects will be ready to pick up in two hours." The attendant responded as she let a new customer know her station was ready for a new shopper. Chaze got up so that someone else could go shopping online. As he walked around, he saw that every station was busy with others waiting to go shopping. The thought that he wasn't the only one buying human lives to use as objects astounded him. He waited at one of the bars while his purchases were being prepared.

Two hours later, he was called up. He came to the counter. The sales clerk behind the counter handed him a bag. Inside was a pair of white cotton socks, a pair of boots, and underwear. The sales clerk handed him his receipt.

Back at his car, Chaze pulled out the underwear from the bag. "Hello Blake. It's Chaze from middle and high school. It's the nerd you tormented for fun. You are my underwear now. My ass gets to torment you." He placed the underwear back in the bag and drove home. He couldn't wait to wear his new underwear. That one article he bought he would wear every for a solid two months straight. He smiled at that thought.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #sock transformation #boot transformation #transformed underwear

[dameronscopilot]

I would like to request Santiago degrading me…just fuck me up fam…..

eager

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

Summary: Santiago knows exactly why you're flitting about in a flowy little dress on football Sunday with the boys, and sure, he'll give you what you want. Just not quite in the way you expected.

Word Count: 1k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism kink, unprotected p in v, creampie

“Look at you.”

All of the air punches out of your lungs from where you’re standing on your tip toes attempting to reach into a cabinet when you feel the solid press of Santiago against the curve of your ass, his fingertips digging firmly into your hipbones.

You sink down onto your heels, the cup slipping from your grip, and you let your weight fall against your boyfriend as he cages you against the edge of the countertop.

“You fucking did this on purpose,” he rasps against the shell of your ear.

He roughly grasps the skirt of your dress, bunching up the material into his fist. The dress you’d opted to wear for a balmy football Sunday at Benny’s with the boys, if only because you couldn’t help your penchant for doing things that you knew were guaranteed to drag a reaction out of him. 

And while he’d managed to behave as you plopped down into his lap on the recliner earlier, and even throughout the multitude of times you’d bent over in front of him at the coffee table, the moment you excused yourself to grab a drink from the kitchen, all fucking bets were off. Especially after he was treated to a view of your panties as the meager hem of your dress rode up when you lifted your arms to open the cabinet. 

Santiago knew this game you were playing with him well, and regardless of the fact that your friends were but a room away, he’d give you exactly what you wanted—right here and now.

With his teeth grazing your neck, he murmurs, “I know you hate football, cariño. I bet you want me to find some excuse for us to go home so you can ride my cock.”

You keen quietly at his words, pressing back against his erection that’s currently digging into your backside.

He pinches your ass, teeth sinking into the junction between your neck and collarbone for a moment before continuing, “But that’s not what’s going to happen.”

Your face heats up as he reaches down, slipping both hands up under your dress and sliding his fingers inside of your underwear to cup your asscheeks. 

“Instead, I’m going to fuck you right here like the slut you are.”

While you’d half expected him to at least drag you into the bathroom down the hall, or even to the privacy of the laundry room, an unexpected thrill shoots down your spine at his proposition.

“But…” 

“But what?” He chuckles darkly as one of his hands makes its way to your cunt, two of his fingers swiping through your dripping folds—the arousal has been steadily soaking your underwear ever since Santiago’s thigh pressed against your hot core when you were situating yourself in his lap earlier. “You want to be fucked so bad, if I don’t do this now, this shit is going to be dripping down your thighs soon.”

As if to make his point even more abundantly clear, he removes his fingers from where they’ve begun prodding at your entrance and shows you the thick, sticky arousal coating them before popping them into his mouth. 

“I know it’s hard for you not to moan like a whore when my cock is stuffed inside of you, baby. But you’re going to have to be a good girl and be quiet for once,” he adds with a smirk and a wink. 

It’s almost kind of fucked up how much you love when he talks to you like this, something made increasingly obviously by the fresh gush of arousal now staining your panties. And he only does it because he knows what it does to you.

You hear the sound of a zipper, and Santiago presses your back down against the counter as he shoves the skirt of your dress up again, hooking a finger in your panties and pushing them aside. Before you can stop yourself, a gasp leaves your lips when he notches the head of his thick cock at your entrance and plunges inside of you without preamble.

Santiago folds his body over yours as he snaps his hips against you, roughly dragging his cock through your tight channel. Another whine tumbles from your throat when he reaches around to toy with your throbbing clit while he pounds into you, your sopping wet folds wetly squelching at the force with which he’s fucking you.

“Keep making noise, and someone’s going to hear us,” he mutters lowly.

Your next moan is an aborted sound, slightly strangled at the feeling of his cock slamming into your cervix.

“Unless that’s what you want. You want Benny to walk in here and see you being a slut for me in the middle of his kitchen?”

The countertop is cool as you drop your forehead against it, a direct contrast to the fire simmering in your belly, and you shamelessly rut back against Santiago at the accusation. 

He drives into you even harder as he whispers, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want him to see what a cock drunk little mess you are, begging me to fuck you stupid and fill you up.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers frantically gripping for purchase on the marble surface beneath them, legs shaking with the sparks of pleasure careening through your body.

“You’d probably let him shove his cock inside of you, too, while my cum’s still dripping out of your fucked out little hole. I know how bad your greedy little cunt wants to be filled again and again.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your vision goes white as the coiled tension inside of you snaps without warning, and Santiago’s hand reflexively covers your mouth as you clench down on his cock, your entire body trembling with the force of your climax. Santi follows immediately after, hips stuttering as his shaft begins to pulse inside of you, covering your inner walls with hot ropes of cum.

Santi wastes no time in flipping you around as you’re coming down from your orgasm, your chest still heaving when his lips seek out yours. The kiss is soft and tender, and he cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with a slight edge of uncertainty, unsure if he went too far.

“Yeah,” you nod, a sincere smile on your face as you brush your nose against his and kiss him again. "But we should probably talk about Benny..."

Santiago huffs out an amused response before nipping at your bottom lip.

Yeah. You'll talk about that later.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST » SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #dee writes

[writingsofwesteros]

Yandere/obsessed aemond x innocent reader smut?

she’s daemon’s daughter so he purposely takes her virginity and gets her pregnant so they can wed them

AN:Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“How long will we be staying here, father?” You whispered up to Daemon as you both moved into the red keep. You were 10 and 7; and still there was no betrothal in sight for the oldest daughter of the rogue Prince. “Your King would like us to settle our differences…until his death I suppose.” Daemon whispered down at you.

You hummed; it would allow you to keep yourself in the shadows. You hoped anyway as you walked behind your father. The black dress hugging you as your locks that were slightly darker than an average Targaryen from your mother’s side cascaded down your back. You began to nervously play with your fingers.

“How about you go and settle in your chambers?” Daemon softly asked but you knew an order when you heard it. “Of course.” You whispered and smiled over to your half sisters before moving past them. You looked over your shoulder once more and wondered why it was only you who had been dismissed. 

A soft look of confusion came over you as you followed the maid down the corridors to where you assumed your chambers were. “Thank you.” You gently smiled and moved into the large room. Gracefully, you placed the shawl from your shoulders and around the chair that faced the vanity.

“Hello Y/N..” A deep voice came from behind you and had you softly gasping when you turned around. You looked towards the much taller man; his eye patch giving his identity away instantly. “Aemond.” He bowed his head and you hated how breathless you sounded. Your heart is beginning to race.

“It is nice to finally meet you.” You whispered, clasping your hands behind your back like the perfect lady you were. “And you, Princess.” Aemond whispered as if his eye hadn’t been on you since you returned. “I am to be your chaperone.” The Prince announced and you fought against the blush trying to make its way over your cheeks. 

“That is kind of you.” You whispered, ducking your head for a moment. Aemond only hummed. You didn’t need to know that he had insisted. More than insisted; the Prince had practically ordered it. “Do I need to dress?” You locked eyes with him; unsure if you would need to do so after the solitude in Dragonstone. 

“I imagine so. You seemed to have ripped the dress.” Aemond gently spoke to you as he stepped forward. “Oh, probably Jace or Luke.” You softly babbled; missing a flash of a dark look coming over him. Your hand moved down the skirt of your dress. “I should try and find something.” You whispered mostly to yourself.

“Oh, I had something brought for you.” Aemond whispered as his eyes moved over your body when you turned from him. “You did?” You locked eyes with him; a soft smile coming over your face. “That is kind of you.” You whispered and nearly melted when his lips tugged into his own soft smile.

He stepped to the side and it was then that you noticed the beautiful, forest green dress staring back at you. “It’s beautiful.” You whispered and moved to touch the soft material. “It is.” Aemond responded; but he only had an eye for you. “Let me help.” The Prince had spoken before you could turn.

“Oh, I can…” His hands running down your back had you softly gulping. Your eyes so wide as you chewed nervously on your bottom lip. “It’s no bother. I help my sister all the time.” Aemond lied prettily. “Oh, that is sweet of you.” You whispered out as he slowly moved your hair to one side.

Aemond hummed and watched the sleeves of your dress fall down. The short small clothes covering nothing. His hands moved down your now uncovered arms. “Turn around.” He whispered. You nervously began to play with your fingers as your heart raced. “I..” You moved to speak.

“It’s fine.” Aemond whispered. You slowly began to turn around now and Aemond’s mouth was already watering. The intense feelings he had were already threatening to overcome his rational thoughts. His hands gently moved down your sides now; he faltered near the sides of your breasts.

Your breasts moved as your breathing only quickened. You watched as his hand moved to one of your ample breasts. “Aemond..” This was improper, you knew this. But his touches sent electric shots through you. “I should change.” You whispered out some more as his hand finally cupped you.

A soft whimper escaped you as his fingers moved over your already pebbling nipple. It was as if the Prince was in a daze. “Aemond..” You repeated his name once more as your eyes darkened in hardly concealed desire. He only continued to hum before finally collecting himself. His hand still palmed you.

“Apologies..I just couldn’t help myself.” Aemond purred. His free hand moving his fingers through your locks. “You do this with your sister?” You whispered out and began to wiggle but his free hand moved to your back. “Of course not.” He smirked as your body brushed against him.

His thumb moved across your plump, bottom lip that had you nearly whimpering. “I should get ready.” You whispered out as your hand moved onto his chest now. You debated on pushing him away before you were distracted when he pinched your nipple. “Aemond.” You cried out in new desire. The Prince only smirked. The noises you were making had his cock hardening easily. Your hand grabbed at his tunic. His free hand moved to cup your face now. “I was sure your father had told you.” Aemond began. He hid the enjoyment as a look of confusion came over you. “I don’t understand.”

“You have been betrothed to me.” Aemond softly whispered into your ear. His lies falling prettily from his lips but you would never know the difference. You thought back to how you had been dismissed only moments ago. Was this true? He gently cupped your face with both hands now and before you knew it; his lips were on your own.

Everything moved quickly from there as his hands moved down your sides before he tugged the cotton dress from you. You grabbed at his shoulders as he gently pushed you against the wall. “We can’t..” You whimpered and hated the desire racing through you. “Do you truly want me to stop?”

Aemond’s smirk only widened as your lack of answer sounded out. “Good girl.” He whispered his praises into your ear. The Prince had your legs wrapped around his waist as his hot mouth began to move over your chest. “Shouldn’t we wait for the bedding ceremony?” You breathlessly whispered out.

“Do you want to have people watching?” Aemond teasingly whispered. His smirk stayed in place still as you melted for him. He watched as you blushed so prettily as he subtly moved his hand down to unbutton himself. “No…I don’t want that.” You finally admitted with a soft gulp. “I won’t let that happen.” He promised.

“Only if I have you now.” Aemond whispered, brushing your noses together as his hand moved to cup your pussy. “Already wet?” He teased as ever as his thumb slowly began to circle your clit. Your eyes were so wide as the new feeling began to wrap around you. “Good girl.” He whispered as you fell apart.

His slender fingers moving through your folds as the soft sounds of your wetness echoed around. Your head moved to rest as moans of pleasure escaped you. Aemond couldn’t control himself; he had to have you now before it was too late. Another night, he would take his time and have you begging for him to stop.

His free hand moved to your breasts once more; you seemed to react so prettily, he thought as his hard cock brushed against your soaked pussy. “Oh…” Your eyes widened as his head hit your clit again and again. Your wetness began to soak him and yourself before he slowly pushed inside. 

The stretch had you whimpering some more but he captured your soft lips passionately. Your legs tightened around him as did your walls as they fluttered around. “Fuck..so tight.” Aemond mumbled to himself as he bottomed. “Oh gods..” You pant out as he touched your soft spot and your stomach was tightening already. 

You were so close to an edge you hadn’t experienced before. Your eyes rolled back whilst Aemond watched. His hips began to roll as you lost yourself. Oh, he was going to have so much fun. He pinched your nipple once more to gain your attention. “Aemond..” You whimpered out before the cries finally escaped you.

Your hand moved to his arse as his thrusts only quickened. The sounds of your bodies slapping against each other echoed around the room. Gods, he wasn’t going to last long. His hand slowly moved down your stomach until his fingers were once again teasing your weeping pussy. He matched his rubbing to his thrusts.

“Oh..no..I …” You cried out and your hands moved onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “Doing so good. Taking me so well.” Aemond whispered and passionately captured your soft lips once more. You could only whimper as your tongues danced and he took your breath away. He was so deep.

It was all you could think of as you squirted around him. His thrusts were deep and slow as he followed you closely behind.

~

“Aemond.” His eyes flashed open at the sound of his mother’s voice. He moaned and moved. His hand was wrapped around your naked body that you snaked around him. Your legs tangling around his own. You looked well and truly ruined. “What have you done?” Alicent continued as Aemond only brought you closer.

You softly hummed in your sleep before burrowing into his neck. “How long has this been going on?” His mother continued her assault and Aemond saw an opening. “For a while..she is pregnant now.” Aemond lied. It wouldn’t be long until you were with a babe; he would make sure of it. 

The look of shock on his mother’s face would have been comedic but he was soon distracted by you. “Aemond..” You whispered in your sleep and he gently shushed you. The Prince pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You will have to marry her.” Alicent whispered after a moment of silence. “I know.” Aemond hummed and hid his smirk. 

“I’m sorry, mother.” Aemond whispered over to her and watched as she bought his act. It wasn’t as if his sister’s family could act against them now. He was quite proud of himself, he thought to himself as his mother left the room. 

His stare soon returned to you and his fingers traced down your back before he gently placed you on your back. “Aemond…” You giggled out now as your eyes slowly began to flutter open. Your legs falling open for him to slide in. Your arms looping around his neck now as you prettily whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

#aemond targaryen x reader #request

[mrvenuspluto]

HIDDEN ( 12TH HOUSE SUN ) AGENDA

The soul might feel the power and authority within but cant project it into reality , which can cause self entitlement and distancing theirselves from others and social gatherings . They feel like they cant be seen or heard like their past life experience . This placement can bring an old soul who had many life time experiences and here to live out a last physical experience or not other factors can change up the observations . These souls may find greater outlets , opportunities and like minded souls abroad or in distant foreign lands . For example i have 12th house placement myself , life has been very interesting in a private , ether realm way , at times you may feel distance and alone in a room full of people you know or may not , even close love ones . Your senses are heighten you pick up on things others cant see , hear , smell or phantom . The sun here helps shine light on your subconcious , fears, gifts , talents , habits , and your new souls granted potential and mission . What i learned once you put in good deeds , accept change and live in your new spiritual light and journey you will regain all your positive , attributes , power , respect , and abundance that your soul has been yearning for , but in a new profound light . Balancing material realm from spiritual realm can be difficult for the unevolved and evolved soul , thats why its important to learn thy self , go within , understand , the subconscious realm and hear what its trying to tell you and teach you , follow your soul not your mind your mind and you will open doors you never knew existed . Your light will be like the light house on the ocean shore in the darkness , on a vacant island , where many lost souls end up coming to find answers , knowledge , wisdom , insight and the great beacon of light to help them back on their paths . It may be other people who have 12th house placements with personal planets like mars , jupiter , venus etc .... my opinion they dont compare to having the sun in this house . The sun is your vitality , essence , urge , identity purpose , life force , inner light , true expression ( thats why leo is the sun / 5th house expression ) which gets projected from your ascendant . I look at mars , venus etc... as attributes you use while you are in this body , so when they are in the 12th house its a lost of your attributes , and help from them on a material and physical aspect , but they are used in a spiritual way they are not here to be used physically . Certain placements like mars here could make a soul very frustrated and have alot of repressed anger and energy they cant express physically , and a unevolved soul would be in bitterness and self chaos in their own head , when they just need a self outlet and way to express it mentally , spiritually or doing a good deed that takes their mental strength and inner desire . This also may bring a father that was absent , intoxicated , addicted to something or incarcerated . At first i use to look at this placement as being bad but over the years of learning , self development and understanding this placement , i overstand , the deeper meaning . You are able to focus on you , your mental , spiritual nature , hidden gifts and get a break from material obligations and be of service to others who are dealing with 12th house issues as well , mental illness and depression etc. This placement can make you be a real life psychologist , medium , clairvoyant , clairaudience , claircognizance , clairsentient , i think professor x had a 12th house sun placement the way he could use his mind , and see into future , tap into others thoughts , manipulate things , and energy and know the rest of his students powers and know how to teach them how to control and balance them. remember you are not your natal chart you are you control your own destiny and create your own reality .

[aifanfictions]

Write a love story about (y/n) who becomes the newest member of Phantom Troupe from Hunter x Hunter and Hisoka starts to fancy (y/n) so he starts showing off in front of her and tries to express his feelings thru his actions because he doesn't seem like the type of guy that woud confess his feelings normally.

Enigma of Desire

In a world marked by extraordinary abilities, clandestine organizations, and enigmatic individuals, a tale of love was about to unfurl, woven into the very fabric of this intricate tapestry. (Y/N), a figure cloaked in mystery, had recently become the newest member of a notorious group of outlaws. Their past remained veiled in secrecy, making them an enigma even among their own companions. Each member harbored unique aspirations and desires, and (Y/N) was no exception. This group, in all its chaos, had become their sanctuary and a means to find purpose in a tumultuous existence.

And then there was Hisoka, a master of the uncanny and an enthusiast for the extraordinary. His relentless pursuit of formidable adversaries was rivaled only by his obsession with (Y/N). From the very moment (Y/N) joined the group, Hisoka found himself captivated, drawn to their presence in a way he couldn't quite comprehend.

Yet, Hisoka was not the type to express his emotions in the ordinary fashion. Instead, he channeled his feelings into extravagant displays and ostentatious exhibitions, all meant to captivate the attention of (Y/N).

During training sessions, Hisoka's acrobatics became breathtaking performances. His mastery of a unique power was showcased with an air of flamboyance that only he could muster. Every move was executed with precision, every technique honed to perfection, all to capture (Y/N)'s gaze and perhaps, their heart.

One day, within the confines of a dimly lit room, (Y/N) and Hisoka found themselves alone together. Hisoka, always one for dramatic entrances, materialized before (Y/N) with a flourish of his cards.

"Shall we engage in a game of skill?" Hisoka's voice oozed seduction and mischief, his eyes fixed intently on (Y/N).

(Y/N) raised an inquisitive eyebrow, intrigued by Hisoka's proposition. "What sort of game are you suggesting?"

With a sly smile, Hisoka introduced a complex card game, infused with their unique powers. As the game progressed, the atmosphere grew charged, a contest of not only strategy but also emotions, as Hisoka's subtle pursuit continued.

The culmination of the game was a spectacle to behold. Hisoka's cards danced through the air, forming intricate patterns of death-defying beauty. With a theatrical flourish, he revealed his final card, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

(Y/N) couldn't help but be ensnared by Hisoka's performance. His charisma and intensity were impossible to ignore. They sensed that beneath Hisoka's flamboyance, there was a hidden layer of emotion waiting to be unveiled.

After the game, as they sat in the dimly lit room, (Y/N) turned to Hisoka, curiosity in their eyes. "What is it you truly desire, Hisoka? Why all these elaborate displays?"

Hisoka paused for a moment, his usually confident facade faltering. Gazing deeply into (Y/N)'s eyes, he spoke from the heart. "I am drawn to you, (Y/N), in ways I can't decipher. You are not just another challenge; you are something beyond. I can't resist this magnetic pull."

(Y/N) was taken aback by Hisoka's unexpected confession. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from the enigmatic magician. Reaching out, they touched Hisoka's hand, their fingers intertwining.

"I may not fully understand your feelings, Hisoka, but I can't deny that there's something between us," (Y/N) said softly. "Let's journey into this unknown together."

Hisoka's usually devilish grin softened into something akin to genuine warmth. As they sat there, hand in hand, in a world filled with shadows and turmoil, they knew that their love story was as unconventional and unpredictable as the world they inhabited.

In this enigmatic realm, (Y/N) and Hisoka's love became a rare and exhilarating thread in the intricate tapestry, defying expectations, embracing the thrill of the unknown, and weaving its path through the complexities of their existence.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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