#i changed expression cause i wanted to draw teeth

[grinu]

☄️Rin manga panel "redraw" for event on discord server ☄️

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #my art #grinuart #manga #anime #blue fire #i changed expression cause i wanted to draw teeth #rin

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Eddie first meeting Dustin and thinking yeah, he knows how this goes: he’ll be a larger than life, comical figure in this kid’s life for, like, not even a year before he leaves Hawkins High in the dust.

And sure, Dustin is, like, ridiculously endearing even when he’s being a cocky little shit in campaigns, and that suits Eddie just fine, ‘cause he can be a cocky little shit at the best of times, downright obnoxious really, he thinks—a part of him’s never outgrown the juvenile, no matter how many times he repeats senior year.

Plus Dustin is crazily good at solving riddles, so Eddie’s remaining months leading Hellfire are definitely gonna be a fun challenge.

Then March comes.

And Eddie’s shaking apart in a boathouse, seeing impossible, terrible things on a loop in his head, Chrissy, Chrissy, God no, please, and Dustin’s there, with a wisdom far beyond his years, calmly leading him out of the dark.

Eddie half expects it to be a trick, but no. Dustin Henderson believes him.

You don’t know me, Eddie wants to say.

But there’s a constant defiance in Dustin’s expression, even when he’s clearly trying to keep things light and breezy, there’s nothing to worry about! Like he’s just daring for Eddie to contradict him.

There’s something assured in how the kid does things, Eddie thinks. He can see how the years of all this shit have shaped him, have him flitting between maturity and earnestness: something born from a childhood that’s not been lost, just altered.

He watches Dustin walk with Steve Harrington in the woods—can read the shared history and fondness hidden in between layers of snark; they’re family, he knows that without a doubt.

What trips him up is that Dustin keeps looking back, keeps drawing him back into the group with complaints that he’s walking too slow, and his eyebrows are raised meaningfully, like he’s really saying that there’s room for Eddie here, too.

And Eddie doesn’t know how to convey the sudden gratitude he feels closing up his throat—feels too jittery still, too raw to do anything justice.

He keeps close when Dustin tears off through the woods, heart in his mouth as the night darkens, Dustin, can you slow down? Dustin!

He pulls Dustin back from the lake’s edge just in time, then feels Steve’s watchful eyes on him—spots a flicker of approval, like he’s passed some sort of test.

And that feeling only grows the longer he’s around Steve, lying through his teeth in The Upside Down, I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, and Steve’s giving him this knowing sideways glance, like maybe they’re something of the same; Eddie feels a sudden, unexpected rush of joy at the thought, dancing in and out of Steve’s space, still super jealous as hell, by the way.

“I told you, right?” Dustin says, grinning widely as Steve drives them out of Forest Hills at breakneck speed. “He’s awesome.”

And Eddie feels the fondness of his own smile, feels it right down to his core, because he gets that Dustin’s only being so forthcoming because Steve can’t hear him right now.

Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea.

It hits him then, while roughhousing with Dustin in the grass (a deliberate distraction, trying to make the kids forget about weapons and fire): that he’s never really been the kinda guy who people want to stick around, but now…

Now he’s starting to think that he could be.

Starts to imagine, starts to hope—and that’s huge, something that would’ve seemed impossible mere days ago—as he sees Robin and Nancy laughing at his antics, their weapon-making temporarily forgotten.

They like me, Eddie thinks with wonder, they really like me.

And he wants—sudden and fierce, with all he has—to change the world for them, to make it so Robin Buckley would just be spending spring break watching arty films, dreaming of Paris; so Nancy Wheeler would never need to hide guns in her bedroom, would never have to carry an unimaginable grief.

Steve looks over, too—his laugh carries across the field, and Eddie is caught by the warmth in his eyes; even as Dustin manages to playfully tackle him, he’s still thinking of Steve, and maybe, maybe…

The lightness fades as they go over the plan, but not the emotion: Eddie keeps that tucked away, safe, a promise to himself.

“Uh, are you sure about this?” he says in an undertone to Steve, when it’s first revealed that it’s him and Dustin paired up together.

Steve’s eyes are apologetic, “Sorry, man, I’ve tried every—if there was a way to just, like, sit it out, I’d have—”

“No,” Eddie says urgently, “I mean…” And he points at himself before nodding discreetly to where Dustin is—currently talking up a storm with Erica, something about vents that he can’t make sense of.

“Are you sure?” Eddie presses, trying to put all he’s not saying into the question, I can see how much that kid means to you, I’ve known him, like, six months, Harrington, that’s nothing, why, why do you—

Steve shakes his head. A little smile breaks through his concern. “Yeah, of course,” he says, like it’s nothing.

But Eddie can feel the weight of it. A passing of the torch.

And he doesn’t know how to put what he’s feeling into words: that, apart from Wayne, he’s never really allowed people in, never allowed them to matter like this.

As they drive back to the Creel House, as time runs out and nerves build, he tries to show everything he can’t say; he helps Nancy take stock of supplies, offers Robin his shoulder so she can sleep, and he knows that’s not enough, barely scratches the surface, but it’s all he’s got.

He sits in the back of the RV, watches Steve, tense and silent in the driver’s seat, and knows with certainty what his mission is: get Dustin Henderson safely back home.

And no, Eddie doesn’t know how any of this is gonna go.

But he can hope.

He can try.

#the dynamic between them all makes my heart ache. just working through some thoughts ❤️ #eddie and dustin #eddie munson fic #henderfam #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin fic #eddie munson analysis #dustin henderson analysis #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hcs #steddie #eddie and the party #eddie munson ficlet #eddie and dustin ficlet #implied steddie #pre steddie #eddie munson

[daisies-daydreams]

Swf please. Just want sweet fluffy

Miguel comes home from spider society after a week or so, just to find the heater is broken in the apartment again. Along his loving partner is burrowed under all his fluffy thick shirts and blanket that are fresh out of the dryer.

He finds it adorable

Hold Me Close (Miguel x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Like one swear word, suggestive content (nothing explicit), Spanish is not my first language (please let me know if I need to change anything in the comments) Word Count: 900+

A/N: Hi there! Thank you so much for your sweet request! I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy it! 💗

A/N/N: Y'all should definitely support @luxxtuxx! They're writing is super sweet.

“It’s been about a week, you know,” Lyla hummed as she hovered next to Miguel's cheek, the soft glow of her hologram reflecting off of his tan cheek. He grunted and tried to hide his yawn as he scrolled through the various screens in front of him. Lyla rolled her eyes, suddenly shutting off the screens with a snap of her fingers. 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned as his shoulders tightened. She teleported over to the front of his face wearing a stern expression.  

“Listen big guy: you haven’t slept or eaten very much in days. And frankly, you’re in dire need of a shower,” she wagged her finger in front of him like a mother chastising her child. Miguel sighed as he glanced away, pulling the screens back up with a few taps of his fingers on the keyboard. 

“I’ll get to it eventually, alright?” he grunted. Lyla snapped her fingers again, shutting off the screens. Miguel’s brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. 

“What about (Y/N), hm? You’ve left them all alone for a whole week!” she frowned. Miguel’s breath hitched as your despondent expression came to mind. His eyes widened before he ran a hand down his face. 

“Ay, Díos…” the man said [Oh, God]. Lyla clicked her tongue as she leaned her face on the back of her hands. 

“That’s what I thought,” she hummed. Miguel rolled his eyes as he tapped his watch, a portal spawning behind him. 

“Just make sure everyone stays on task,” he huffed as he strolled towards the portal to your shared apartment. He lumbered towards it, nearly tripping over his own heavy feet as he stumbled through the orange-glowing rim. Miguel suddenly shivered as he landed in the living room, his hands immediately flying to brace his upper arms. 

“¿Qué demonios?” he muttered, his teeth chattering as he glanced around [What the hell?]. His gaze flicked over to the heater...which happened to be coughing and sputtering. Again. He groaned and started to make his way towards it before the sound of rustling fabric drew his attention to the bedroom. 

“(Y/N)? ¿Cariño?” Miguel called softly as he approached your door [Honey?]. Even the doorknob was frigid as he turned it. Miguel blinked when he saw a massive pile of blankets and his sweatshirts stacked on top of the bed. A warm smile broke out across his face as he stepped inside.

“¿Donde está mi amor, hm?” he thought aloud [Where is my love, hm?]. 

“Estoy aquí,” he heard your muffled voice beneath the mountain of warm clothes and blankets [I’m here]. He chuckled as he dug through the pile, his eyes eventually falling on your sweet, sleepy smile. 

“Aquí estas,” Miguel whispered before planting a chaste kiss on your lips [There you are]. He loved the feeling of your smile against his skin, your kiss warming him like the summer sun. His hand came up to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch. 

“Your hands are freezing!” you laughed. Miguel chuckled and pecked your temple with his plush lips. 

“Lo siento, bebé,” he sighed before starting to slip away [I’m sorry, baby]. You shook your head.

"It's okay," you smiled. Miguel's smile faltered as a sudden pang of guilt plucked at his heart.

"I know...I'm just, I'm also sorry for being away for so long," he sighed, quickly getting lost in his regrets. He heard you click your tongue, drawing his attention back to you.

"It's okay. I know work has been one thing after the other this week," you said, your voice gentle and warm. He beamed.

"Gracias, mi amor," Miguel smiled [Thank you, my love]. He shifted his gaze back to the pile. "These clothes are still warm. Did you just pull them from the dryer?" he asked. You nodded again.

"Yeah, thank God I made today laundry day," you gaped. Miguel chuckled softly.

"Guess fixing the heater's my next project then," he grinned as he rubbed the back of his head. Your smile returned.

"I'd appreciate that very much, Mr. O'Hara," you winked. Miguel nodded before kissing the tip of your cold nose. You wriggled beneath the pile as he padded towards the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” you asked. He turned, the weariness from earlier returning to his face. 

“Just taking a quick shower-you’re welcome to join me,” he winked. You shook your head, sinking further into the soft, blankety abyss.

“Nah, it’s waaaay too comfy underneath here,” you replied, stretching your arms beneath the pile. Miguel laughed. 

“Alright. I’ll join you afterwards, then,” he said before sliding into the bathroom. After his shower he snatched a pair of his sweatpants from the mountain and began to maneuver his way next to you. You shifted as he pulled you close to his chest, inhaling the scent of your hair as he lovingly stroked your back. 

“I’ll make sure to fix the heater tomorrow,” he murmured. You pressed your face against his pecs, resting your hands on his upper stomach. 

“Why not fix it now?” you frowned. His eyes widened for a brief second before he smiled. 

“‘Cause I‘ve been wanting to hold you this close for too long, mi vida,” Miguel murmured [my life]. There was a short pause between the two of you.

“Well, in that case…it can wait until tomorrow,” you shrugged with a sleepy grin. Miguel smiled, stroking your back gently as he watched you close your eyes, your warm breath falling against his skin.  

“Buenas noches, cariño,” he whispered as he held your head close to his heart [Goodnight, honey].

“Goodnight, mi amor,” you hummed before you began to softly snore [my love]. Miguel kept his eyes on you as if he were making sure that you wouldn't disappear from his hold. Eventually, he smiled to himself before falling into a deep, much-needed sleep. 

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #spider man 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 x y/n #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you #spider man fluff #tooth rotting fluff #fluff

[starkskeep]

But if you hold me without hurting me (r. stark)

But if you hold me without hurting me r. stark imagine

Pt. 5 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop, And I might be ok, but I'm not fine at all, And the life I gave away

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - You have a long-awaited conversation with Robb. It changes things between the two of you.

Word Count - 1,133 words

Warnings - Angst, Possibly unbearable cheesiness

A/N - I broke the Taylor Swift title streak. In my defense, I have been a LDR stan since middle school and Cinnamon Girl makes me sob every time I listen to it.

Songs I listened to while writing: Like Real People Do (Hozier), Cinnamon Girl, Carmen (Lana Del Rey), Me and My Husband (Mitski)

Robb feels his heart start to beat erratically as he watches you and Jon. It is obvious that you care deeply about Jon as he does you. Robb knows that he has walked in on something private, feeling jealous but also wishing that he could be the one to comfort you as such. Your moment with Jon is interrupted when Robb clears his throat in order to make you aware of his entrance into your chambers. The sound startles you and causes you to turn in Robb’s direction. Jon also turns to look at Robb, his expression wary that Robb would misinterpret the scene.

Robb begins to speak slowly but his voice cracks ever so slightly, his heart contracting in his chest due to an onslaught of emotions. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You quickly regain your composure. “No, my lord husband, you are not. I lost a letter earlier today. Jon has calmed me down and agreed to help look for it.” You dismiss Jon from your chambers, assuring him that you will be okay. 

Jon locks eyes with Robb as he leaves. Tensions eased between him and Robb once he saw Robb trying to fix everything. However, Jon still continues to be an advocate for you. His brother looks back at him, eyes filled with questions he knows Jon cannot answer. Robb just needs to know that you are going to be okay, regardless of what happened. 

Your husband takes a step closer to you. He looks into your eyes, searching for the pain that he knows must be there. You are a strong woman but no one should be subjected to the kind of abuse that the letter contained. As he moves closer, you notice the letter crumpled in Robb’s fist. “Ah. It seems as I I do not need to search for the letter.” You say with a sad smile, “I take it that you have seen what my father thinks of me?”

Looking down at the letter once again, Robb scowls. The fury that had been burning inside of him returns to the surface. His head shakes in disgust and he quickly closes his fist tighter around the letter, as if the action would make the item disappear from existence. Robb nods once in acknowledgment of her question. “I did. It is nothing less than disgraceful.” He draws his eyes up to meet yours. Robb’s voice shakes with thinly veiled anger. “Your father is a cruel, cruel man. To say such things to you, his own daughter…well, it is unforgivable.” He says the last word through gritted teeth.

You motion for Robb to sit next to you. In your almost year of marriage, this is the first time that you have actually asked him to be near you. It seems as if he has realized this fact as well if his hesitancy is anything to go off of. Robb’s nervous movements are in stark contrast to your controlled stillness. A couple moments pass between you two before you begin to talk. Long-awaited and much-needed words begin this conversation. “It’s cruel but what he says is true. I have failed in my duty as a wife. I should have given you an heir by now.” 

Completely stunned is how the maesters would describe Robb if they were here to record this meeting. You are still calling him your husband, even after everything he has done, but you are voicing something that Robb would never want to believe. Yes, it is a wife’s and therefore your duty to give him an heir, but he would never, never force you to conceive if you were not yet ready. He turns to face the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames as he realizes how truly damaged you have been from a childhood in the Frey household and the months as his wife. Both of you have tried to do everything that has been expected of you, yet it is you who has suffered the most and continues to endure. Robb is angry at the world. Angry at the cruel words of your father. Angry at himself for the way he has treated you. Sighing deeply, he speaks after gathering his emotions. “Do not let them make you believe that this is your fault. It takes two to make a child. I am just as much to blame for the situation we find ourselves in…” 

Robb’s words trail off when he feels you place your head on his shoulder. It seems to be a night of firsts. Much like you never asked him to be near you, you have never initiated any sort of physical comfort. You both enjoy the feeling until you bring Robb back to reality with your voice breaking the silence. “I don’t blame you for anything. I want you to know that. You were forced to marry me, forced to make me your queen, while you still loved Talisa. Why would you want to leave her side for a Frey, especially when Talisa was carrying your child? I ruined your life.”

Feeling a tear soak into the shoulder of his tunic, Robb tilts your head up so he can see you clearly. “You didn’t ruin my life. I made a deal with your father. I knew what I was agreeing to when I crossed the bridge.” He reaches his thumb to brush the tears off your face. “This is not your burden to bear. It is something we must share. Something we must work through so that we can grow together. Something I should have worked harder on at the beginning of our marriage.” Your husband sighs deeply and shakes his head, trying to accept how much he has just spoken. Robb comes to the startling realization that he has never voiced this sentiment to you before, much less even admitted it to himself. 

“Thank you. I need to hear those words said to me.” You say and place a gentle kiss on Robb’s cheek. A blush spreads across your face as you do so.

He freezes when he feels your lips brush against his skin. A matching pink tint blotches his cheeks like yours did. This is the first time you have shown affection for him and it feels…good. Robb smiles and leans over to place a kiss on your forehead, wanting to continue this newfound physical affection that you have started. “I’m here for you. I know I haven’t been in the past, but from this moment forward, I will always be here for you my queen.” The increased presence of his Northern accent betrays the emotions that are overwhelming him. Staring into your eyes, his gaze reveals nothing but honesty and sincerity in his gaze. Robb meant every word he said to you tonight. 

A/N - Once again, thank you so much for reading. My ask box is always open for requests, comments, or if just want to gush about our lovely Stark boys.

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark

[niikosia]

; hotel room sex with sanzu haruchiyo.

synopsis: in which sanzu haruchiyo fucked y/n a real good one before letting her sleep.

warning: gentle to soft dominance sex, rough sex, use of drugs (hallucinogenic), blood.

He closed the door slowly, and as his gaze met mine, I began to undress, feeling his penetrating eyes roaming over my body. Sanzu approached me with a deliberate stride, his lips meeting mine in a tender kiss that overflowed with love. This kiss was different from any we had shared before, it was filled with an intensity that resonated deep within me. 

"I need you inside me, Haru," I whispered against his neck, my voice laced with desire, "I want you all to myself." My tongue grazed his Adam's apple, igniting a surge of passion within him.   "You're mine, Haru," I murmured, sinking my teeth into his neck possessively, leaving my marks on his skin. "All mine." Tilting my head up to meet his gaze, I demanded his understanding. He responded with a nod, obediently submitting to me. 

Sanzu effortlessly lifted me and gently deposited me onto the bed, a tinge of playfulness evident in his actions. Entwining my leg around him, I sensually descended onto his erection, feeling the tightening sensation in my core as I enveloped him completely. Pleasure emanated from us both, his fingers entangling in my hair as we engaged in a fervent, passionate kiss. 

While Sanzu's movements inside me retained a tenderness, they also carried a sense of power and control. "Sanzu," I moaned softly, his name escaping my lips as I reveled in the pleasure he provided. This version of Sanzu, who skillfully merged gentleness with desire, was undeniably exhilarating to me. 

Looking deeply into my eyes, Sanzu confessed, "You are the epitome of beauty," his voice filled with sincerity as he thrust into me. Waves of ecstasy coursed through my body, my nails digging into his back as he delved into the depths of my being. 

This experience proved to be the pinnacle of sexual pleasure, the best I had ever encountered. Yet, to my surprise, Sanzu's desire showed no signs of waning; if anything, it intensified. I met his gaze, noticing a shift in his expression as the twinkle in his eyes disappeared, replaced by an animalistic hunger. 

"I don't make love, I fuck hard," he declared vehemently. In that moment, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation flooded over me.   With a forceful thrust, he sent me reeling, a gasp escaping my lips as I experienced a surge of painful pleasure. "Sanzu!" I clung tightly to the sheets, my nails digging into the fabric. "Fuck! Right there!" I screamed uncontrollably, the intensity overwhelming me. Sanzu groaned in response, matching my fervor with faster, harder thrusts. 

"Change positions," he commanded, gripping my neck and pulling me towards him as he assumed a supine position. Crawling towards him, I took hold of his erection, guiding it to find its place within me. "You know my body is fragile," he confessed, his gaze fixed on me as his nails pierced my skin, inflicting a combination of pain and pleasure. "Yes," I admitted, feeling a mixture of sensations coursing through me, an intoxicating blend of pain and satisfaction.  

"You're hard," I murmured in awe as I tenderly traced my fingers over his scars, my movements matching the increasing speed of my bouncing. He tilted his head back, his hand instinctively finding its way to my clitoral area, eliciting a sharp gasp from me. Our moans intensified, filling the room with our shared pleasure. 

In a sudden motion, he flipped me beneath him, causing a jolt of excitement mixed with pain as his teeth sank into my breast, drawing blood. Despite the slight discomfort, his relentless thrusting only intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. The repeated rolling back of my eyes is a testament to the heavenly sensations he effortlessly brings me. 

With my head lifted, I eagerly met his lips in a passionate kiss. The words escaped his mouth, barely audible amidst the increasing pace, "I adore you." Our movements quickened, matching the intensity of his words. Pain mixed with pleasure as he gripped my hair, soothing the aching wounds on my neck. Lost in the moment, I continued to moan uncontrollably. 

A sharp sting tingled in my neck, and a surge of pain intensified in my sensitive area. Despite my immense pleasure, I was reaching my limits. 

The pristine white bed sheets now transformed into a vivid shade of red, a visual testament to the passion unleashed. 

He relentlessly continued his thrusts, leaving me only able to dig my nails into his skin, a desperate attempt to channel the overwhelming sensations that rendered me unable to vocalize further. 

Sanzu's body glistened with sweat, his exertion apparent in the sheen coating his skin. My fingers, unable to resist, traced the tattoo on his torso. In a moment of pain, I closed my eyes, seeking solace in his familiar touch. "What are you?" I questioned, partially lost in the intensity of the moment. His response came in a soft whisper against my ear, "A god." 

I knew Sanzu all too well. He wouldn't cease his passionate exploration until he was fully satisfied. Already having reached the peak of pleasure multiple times, my once energetic body now felt drained and weakened. 

"Please, stop," I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes. "I can't go on." With a sigh, he withdrew and collapsed momentarily, his voice filled with concern, "Oh, love, you've become so pale." 

As my consciousness began to fade, I wondered if I would pass out, succumbing to the intense sensations that had overwhelmed me. 

He handed me a small, pink tablet, offering it as a solution. However, I resisted, refusing to take the medication. Despite my protest, he gently forced my mouth open, delicately placing the tablets inside. "Sleep well," he whispered, his concern evident in his voice. 

don't repost my work to any platform. thank you!

© 2023 niikosia. all rights reserved.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #smut #tr smut #bonten #sanzu haruchiyo #tokrev sanzu #sanzu smut #tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #haitani brothers #haitani ran #ran haitani #rindou haitani

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 10

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: The Enemy Of My Enemy

Notes: Considering I'm near done with proofreading, I can give ya'll another chapter.

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  10/ It’s a secret.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You did not see the Monk again until hours later, and when he did walk into the tent you were huddled up into the corner of it.

When he offered you a bowl of soup, you refused to even acknowledge it.

With visible uncertainty he put the bowl on the ground and came closer, reaching down for your hands.

You recoiled, furious that him bringing you here had led to the Reaper finding you.

The feeling from earlier still ran through you, that powerlessness when they had dragged you to your worst nightmare…

And here was the person who had damned you to this fate.

You were on your feet instantly and approached him.

“You did this to me…” You gritted out through your teeth, despair blended with rage. “How could you?!”

It was the second time today that someone had asked him the question with such level of disgust and disappointment in their expression.

The spitting fire in your eyes warned him of what was to come.

And still, he caught himself to be reluctant to stop it.

His reflexes were slower, the first hit you gave landed to his jaw. The others he prevented by grabbing hold of your bound wrists.

Too angry to stop, you tried to set your teeth in his hands.

He was quicker and turned you forcefully, an arm across your arms and chest to keep them from moving, it put him into a safer position.

Even then, you jerked your head back and tried to knock it into his face.

The Monk must have known that the fury made you far more dangerous, he was able to avoid it from happening.

“Stop.” He warned.

He could not manage to sound threatening.

You struggled against his hold, the worst he could do was hurt you, it could never be worse than ending up in the Reaper’s hands.

The struggle got worse. If he took no control, this would get ugly.

Whatever action he had made to get the upper-hand, it worked and got you to your knees, but not without forcing him to his own as well.

He gave one firm pull and blocked your range of motion severely when bringing you completely against his chest.

He locked both of his arms around you like a chain.

Frustration set into you when your fury saw no way of release.

The struggle lasted for a moment longer, until the closeness of the Monk became overbearing.

“Let go off me!” You snarled.

“Once you are calmer.” He told, too close to the back of your neck.

Did he think this was helping?!?

You snapped at him, “I’ll be calmer once your filthy hands are off of me!”

He actually sighed.

You made another attempt to break free.

He prevented it. “If Father knew of this, he would send you to Brother Salt.”

You believed it to be a bluff. “I thought I was needed.”

His words came slow, like he wanted you to fully understand the consequences you could face, “Brother Salt knows many methods to cause pain, even ways that do not cause lasting suffering. Avoid them.”

After taking some deep calming breaths, you asked him, “Why is it, that you have never hit me?”

He went quiet…

Countless times he had been struck into obedience, a grave dislike for it had grown inside of him overtime. It was not the pain that bothered him much, it was the humiliation it brought.

The answer came. “I can restrain you without it.”

It was no lie…

He held on for a little while, whilst you tried to compose yourself.

Then he released you and stood up from the ground, less worried that another attack would come.

He kept some of his fingertips on your shoulder, perhaps to make sure he could respond in time if you made a sudden move.

Still, you smacked his hand away upon feeling it.

The Monk stood still and silent for what felt like minutes.

Your shoulders slumped forward a bit when the defeated feeling came down on you. Feeling the fight leave you little by little every day was destroying your spirit.

Your eyes pressed shut in disappointment.

Slowly he knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching to see the wound inflicted on your hand.

He sounded quiet and remorseful, “I did not know.”

There was a smudge of blood staining your jaw, he should have brought something to wash the blood off.

The never ending threats on your life were pushing you to the edge. “The Reaper has seen my face, he won’t rest until he has me.”

Was that how the Fey called Soran?

“The reaper?” He questioned.

Was he that oblivious?

You snapped at him. “Soran, the Reaper, is the leader of the Brotherhood. The Manbloods who hunt the Dawn Folk! Him and his predecessor are responsible for the erasure of my clan! And now he’s here to take me too!”

He hoped his words would be a comfort. “Father refused to give you to him. We need you.”

You hated to hear him say it. “I am being pulled between evil.”

The Monk foolishly tried to deny it, “We are not evil-”

No. You would not let him deny it any longer.

You all but shouted at him, “You may not burn the children, but your God expects it off you! You serve evil! You bring evil! The Fey who beg for mercy are struck down by the sword before they can even finish their plea!”

He had not expected the rage flying from your mouth.

You snapped your eyes away and caught a glimpse of the tearing in his sleeve where steel must have cut through them.

This time your curiosity did not win, you wanted him to leave you alone.

The Monk was quiet for a moment, then made the polite request, “May I see your hand?”

It struck you as odd that he wasn’t commanding you to show your hand, and actually asked.

That quietness in his voice… it had been like this since he walked in. Was something the matter? No…

No. You could not afford to be concerned for someone who willingly kept you into this hell.

To answer, you brought your hands in close to your chest.

He still tried to reach for it.

It came out viciously, “Don’t you touch me!”

He withdrew his hand fast, as if a cat had lashed out at him.

All he had heard these past few days was others lashing out at him. For his failures, for his actions, all of it.

He understood the response and remained silent.

You bitterly told him what you believed to be happening, “The Reaper and the Weeping Monk working together… how could you?”

He denied it right away. “I am not working with him.”

You pressed him with his nose on the facts. “You serve the same god.”

Another silence went and passed between you.

The Monk stood up, picked a dagger from his belt and used it to cut a piece from his cloak.

The piece was dropped down right into your lap by him.

A small advice came along with it, “Bind it over the cut. Do not let dirt get into it.” When you said nothing, he made another attempt to lighten the mood, “I will bring you something to eat when I return.”

In silence you picked up the piece of fabric and tried to wrap it around your hand. There was only one problem, your wrists being bound made the task ridiculously difficult.

You would not have said a word of it to him, but it must have dawned on him right that second.

He sounded far more uncertain now. “Let me…”

“No.” If that cut was what killed you, so be it.

The Monk gave up on trying to ensure that you did not grow an infection that could be deadly.

The question slipped from your thoughts, “What did he offer, in exchange for me?”

He took a few steps away from you. “A good word to the Holy Father and Abbot Wicklow. Father will not trade you just for words, you will remain with us until Soran proofs that his support will help the mission.”

Your tone grew colder when sensing he was withholding the truth, “What else?”

He had hoped you would not press on. “He vowed to capture and bring us three other Dawn Folk in exchange for you.”

“Like hell he will!” You snarled.

The reaction piqued his curiosity. “Those others, they are your family, are they not?”

The look in your eyes certainly gave it away. “It makes no difference to you anyway.”

He did not respond to the claim and stood there quietly for a moment longer, then turned and walked to the exit of the tent.

“Wait!” You called out and saw him turn to face you somewhat, “Did he say whether or not he knew where to find them?”

With a shallow nod, he confirmed it. “He did. But I believe he was lying.”

You kept eye-contact to see if the Monk was lying, but found no hint of it.

The persisting silence all but made him flee out of that tent. He did not like it, to have another pair of disappointed eyes on him, even though this time he felt like he deserved it.

The Monk walked out, leaving you alone in the guarded tent to return to his work.

Not long after, just before the evening, paladins came to collect you to heal just one of them in the infirmary. One stupid blister on a paladin’s foot, that’s why they brought you there.

At least it did not take long and on the short walk back you saw something shine a bit on the ground. Metal?

It was worth seeing if it could be useful.

You stumbled and fell to your knees on purpose, landing just where the shiny object was, quickly you picked it up and closed your hands around it to hide it.

The paladins pulled you up to your feet again, mumbling something you could not hear well.

It felt sharp against your palm, a good sign.

They dropped you off at the tent again and left, the sun had begun to set.

You opened your hand and saw that the metal object was an arrowhead.

It would take a few minutes to get through the rope, newfound hope settled inside of you.

You got to work right away, it was far from easy and you dropped the thing more times than one could count.

Halfway through the task, a voice coming from outside made you halt.

Someone was cussing up a storm, a boy… Squirrel.

~“Brother Salt will make sure he’ll never open that foul mouth again.”~

The paladins were laughing at the horrors that awaited the boy.

You were on your feet now, a flash of panic fueling you.

No, no, no… not him.

At this point you were cutting so fast that you nicked your skin, it did not matter, you needed to get out of those ropes. It was no longer about your survival, you needed to save Squirrel even if it cost you your own life.

The last string of rope snapped open and fell to the ground when you pulled your wrists apart with force.

Brother Salt’s kitchens were at the other side of this camp, yet they had taken Squirrel in the other direction.

You needed to get rid of the paladins guarding the tent outside to stand a chance to escape.

Often one of them at the entrance would be gone for a short amount of time, either to get a drink or when nature called.

This time you waited at the entrance for that time to come, the long piece of fabric that the Monk had cut from his cloak was ready in your hands.

Every minute you waited was a minute too long and you grew impatient.

Finally, you heard one say something to the other and he walked away.

With quiet steps you got closer and opened the entrance to peek through it.

The paladin stood with his back to it, and you waited until those other paladins in sight had passed by.

You wasted no time to catch the fabric around his neck like a noose and used all your strength to pull him inside the tent. This was life or death for Squirrel and you wouldn’t hold back on strangling a red drape to save a child.

The paladin tried to break free and you tightened the noose, the blows he delivered to your arms would certainly leave bruises behind. He scratched at your throat and drew blood, you felt him weaken and held on.

When he finally fell to the ground, you only let go off the noose when he no longer breathed.

His red brother would return soon and find him missing.

You would help him on his search. A deep cut to the paladin’s hand was enough to soak the piece of cloak in blood.

By squeezing it out just outside the entrance and making a trail his search would be much easier.

You tossed the bloodied cloth on top of the dead paladin and resumed your wait.

The other returned and as assumed found his red brother missing, it took him a few seconds to spot the blood drops on the grass. They led him into the tent, of course he was shocked to find his red brother dead on the ground. He was only a few steps into the tent after unknowingly having walked past you hiding at the entrance.

You took no risks, sneaked up on him and cut his throat with the arrowhead.

The tent was a mess, the wool was soaked in the blood.

There was no way back now, you doubted they would forgive you for butchering two of their comrades.

You stole the sword from one of them and got out of the tent when the coast was clear.

Finding the tent where they kept Squirrel in was not hard, the boy was still cursing his lungs out, staying out of the sight of paladins was another thing. Just like there had been paladins guarding your tent, there were a few guarding the one where Squirrel was.

The tent was near a hitching post where horses stood, seemingly bored by it all.

You went towards it and hid behind a barrel filled wagon. The first thing you did was loosen the reins from the hitching post. You could scare the horses yourself, but they had done you no wrong. It was rare for you to call upon the Hidden for help, but a Fey child was in danger and time was of the essence.

You closed your eyes and prayed they would listen, “Help me save Squirrel. Let me be your weapon…”

Your markings lifted to the surface of your skin and you could feel your eyes change to the green.

The Hidden could sense your intention and heard your plea, their whispers traveled from your ears to the horses.

Your eyes returned to normal and locked on those of a horse.

Now…

The horses became restless and stormed off, knocking over everything and everyone in their sights.

The paladins who had been guarding the tent were quick to give chase.

You used the chaos to quickly make your way over towards the tent and found Squirrel tied with his hands to one of the wooden poles in the midst of it.

“Y/n?!?” The surprise was written all over his face.

You held a finger to your lips and hushed him. “Shhh…”

You hurried to him and carefully cut him free from the ropes. The second his hands were free, he threw his arms around you in an embrace.

Squirrel could not believe that you were here and alive. “I thought they had killed you!”

You quickly looked over his face and hated to see how his eye was blackening already. “No. They are forcing me to heal them, it doesn’t matter now.”

Squirrel spoke ridiculously fast, “They caught the Green Knight! I was trying to save him but they found me and he could not walk anymore.”

The news seemed to greatly sadden the boy, understandably so. The Green Knight was a knight of the Fey, one of the only few left and now he was lost to the hands of the paladins.

You took hold of his hand. “We have to escape this place, Squirrel. Now.”

Surprisingly, he let you pull him along and out of the tent.

A horse would come in handy now, but they had taken some of them to chase the others.

It took some careful searching around the place to find an available one.

Squirrel was the one to point one out.

A black steed. You sighed, knowing exactly who’s horse that was.

It had not let you mount it before and you doubted the steed would allow it now.

“Not that one. He doesn’t like me.” You whispered.

Squirrel send you an odd look, like you were insane.

While sneaking through the camp and avoiding all red, you failed to avoid those in black robes.

Three Trinity Guards had spotted you and you moved Squirrel to stand behind you.

It could not have been more obvious to them that neither one of you belonged there.

“Run.” You urged the boy and gave him a nudge.

It took a second nudge from you before he even took one step away.

A guard spoke the command you already anticipated, “Seize her!”

You weren’t going to just let them and used the stolen sword in your hands to try and hold them off. “Run, Squirrel!”

They were brutal, as their reputation said they were. When you blocked the sword of one of them, another lunged and punched you in the jaw.

Brave young Squirrel did not hold back and launched himself into the fight, trying to hold back their arms as they fought you.

A guard grabbed him and got the boy to the ground and under control.

It only made you more vicious, your sword cut through the hood of one, sending the golden mask flying to the ground.

With a hard kick to your stomach, the other send you falling backwards and to the ground.

The kick had knocked the air out of you, and you saw Squirrel being handed over to the paladins again. “No! Squirrel!”

You wanted to get up but received a boot to your back.

A slash at the guards leg was the last thing your sword had to offer before they ripped it from your hand.

They twisted your arm on purpose when pulling you up from the ground.

Those damned bastards dragged you along and not a minute later presented you to Father Carden.

The Abbot was present and their conversation was interrupted by this.

Abbot Wicklow looked at you as if you were a strange curiosity. “Is the girl Soran spoke off? The Dawn Folk Fey?”

The priest confirmed it. “It is.”

To make matters worse, a panicking Paladin ran over and loudly exclaimed, “Father! Father! Two of our brothers were found dead in the tent of the Fey girl!”

The priest looked like he wanted to strike down the paladin for saying this while the Abbot was next to him.

Father Carden had no choice but to have you punished for this, the Abbot had already seen his Weeping Monk defy him publicly. Being lenient towards the enemy would not be wise now.

The priest began his judgment, “Brother Salt will see the boy after he is done with the Green Knight. She-”

The Abbot oh so kindly offered, “Perhaps the Trinity Guard can cleanse her of these violent tendencies with the whip? Forty lashes will suffice, I believe.”

Forty?!?

Father Carden agreed to the sentence and allowed two of the Trinity Guard to take you away. One of them took over a rope that a paladin offered and took it along.

They took you to another tent, the tallest collected a whip that was placed on what looked to be an alter of sorts, a cross was placed on the middle of it.

The other gave the order, “Face the cross and bare your back.”

You did not know how to respond, but you could sense that they would not take ‘no’ for an answer and ‘help’ you out of your clothes if needed be.

Your hesitation took too long for their liking and the one without the whip came to you, sword in hand.

You hated how you backed away from him, their reputation was known among the Fey. “I’ll do it!”

He barked the command, “Turn to the cross!”

Part of you was grateful for it, because your eyes were getting watery. If you obeyed and lived through this, if the Hidden had mercy on you, you could still try to save Squirrel.

You forced your hands to stop trembling when taking of your vest and letting it drop close to your feet. The bodice was next and you paused when it was the shirt’s turn, it was where your courage left you.

By praying quietly to the Hidden to give you strength you tried to calm yourself down, you did not want them to see you cry or pray.

You hugged the shirt to your chest after you took it off, and they ordered you to kneel down.

The cold air went over the skin off your bare back without mercy.

This was humiliating. You took solace in the knowledge that all they intended to do was punish you with the whip.

You drew in deep breaths, an attempt to try and prepare for the pain.

With the first strike of the leather on your back, you knew it was a futile attempt.

Within seconds, blood trailed it’s way down your back and your eyes stung with tears from the pain.

The second lash of the whip cut through your skin and you pressed your lips shut to stop the quiet scream that threatened to sound.

Just breath… just breath…

You shut your eyes, only two of forty and they did not hold back on using their strength to do this.

Sadists. Just as the Fey had always described them.

The Trinity Guard got the whip ready for the next lash, they were ignoring your silent prayers that fell to deaf ears.

You clutched the shirt to your chest.

Weak, exposed, humiliated…

And all you could think of was Squirrel on his way to be tortured by Brother Salt.

He had to be saved…

The third lash struck the air out of your lungs, your grip on the shirt was near painful.

You could hear him pull the whip back towards himself and prepared yourself for the next lash.

“Who-” One of them began to speak.

You heard a strange noise and the other cursed, it made you look over your shoulder.

The one without the whip was on his knees, trying to stop the heavy flow of blood from pouring out of his throat, it was a gruesome sight.

If you had blinked, you would have missed the Monk sinking the short sword into the other’s neck and pull it out again.

What was happening?!?

A freed Squirrel was about to run over to you but the Monk caught him by the back of his vest before he could.

The state you were in now… this was not how you wanted the boy to see you. Or the Monk for that matter.

He told Squirrel, “Wait here.” And came over to you.

You locked your eyes on his face. “Don’t!”

The Monk halted and kept his eyes on the ground. “Put your clothes back on.”

It didn’t need to be said to you.

You felt your face burn and that embarrassment shone through in your tone, “I will. Turn around! Both of you.”

The poor boy was looking at all the blood running down your back and the Monk turned him around by the vest and held on.

Putting your clothes on over those bleeding cuts was anything but painless. Your back burned from them.

Why was the Monk here?

Why was Squirrel with him?

Why had he killed the Trinity Guards???

Once you were done getting dressed in a hurry you walked over to Squirrel to pull him out of the Monk’s grasp, and you fired your questions, “Why are you here? What is the meaning of this?”

The Monk replied in a hushed voice, “The boy refused to leave without you.”

The child had threatened to shout his lungs out and make it known to everyone that he had killed Brother Salt to free him, if he did not free you as well.

It did not sound like a terrible idea to free you in order to ensure the boy could get to safety.

And now that he had seen what was being done to you…

He would not watch another suffer the path he had suffered.

You were staring at this enigma of a man.

He noticed how you were trying to keep the boy from being anywhere near him. “Remain quiet and I will lead you out of the camp. Not a word, not a sound! Follow me.”

You did not trust him, but you wanted Squirrel away from this place swarming with enemies.

When the Monk stepped outside, you looked down at Squirrel.

“He freed me… cut a paladin’s throat for it.” The boy seemed as baffled as you were now.

He. Did. What?!?

You had no chance to ask something, the Monk’s hand shot into the tent again and fished out Squirrel’s arm.

Quickly you rushed out after them and kept up with the Monk’s fast walking pace.

By the looks of it, he was marching right to the black steed.

He suddenly stopped and you nearly bumped into Squirrel.

First you looked at the Monk, then at what had stopped him dead in his tracks.

The Abbot stood there with a group of Trinity Guards, as if he always expected this to occur.

The Monk looked at you from the corner of his eyes, like he hoped you would not notice how he was keeping track of your exact location on the spot.

Abbot Wicklow saw the look in the Monk’s eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

It had been his intention to let go off the boy and let him run. But the Abbot made it no secret that it would mean certain death for the child.

He drew Squirrel back in closer and faced the Abbot.

Wicklow stepped closer. “Does he remind you off someone? This… Fey orphan?

The Monk moved Squirrel behind him. “You don’t need him.”

Not like they needed and chose him all those years ago.

Not this boy, not another child, no more.

The Abbot looked at the three of you as if you were the dirt beneath his boots, “Why? Can’t he smell out his own kind like some kind of animal?” Then he let it be known that he knew exactly what the Monk was. “Or is that just your species?”

You could feel the tension rise between them, this felt like a personal matter you and Squirrel were trapped between. You took a small step closer and formed a barrier between Squirrel and that infuriating disgusted look the Abbot was sending.

The Abbot put his attention on your presence. “Can he heal others, as she can?”

The child nor you should ever end up in the hands of the Abbot and the Trinity Guard. The suffering would be endless and cruel.

The Monk had his hand on the pommel of his sword and turned to you, pushing the boy into your hands. “Find cover.”

Your eyes locked on his, something in them had changed. The presence of fear in his reflected in your own.

You did not need to be told twice to get out of there and ran off with the Squirrel for cover.

Stuck in the middle of an enemy camp with armed paladins and not a weapon on you.

And the Monk faced a group of Trinity Guards ready to fight.

The Abbot offered a chance for the Monk to come to his senses, “You do have a reputation, but this is the Trinity Guard. You know their skill.”

You believed the Monk signed his own death sentence when he drew both his swords and accepted to fight instead of surrender.

It visibly annoyed the Abbot as well. “So be it.”

You were trying to think of a way to escape this hell when the fight commenced.

Never had you seen anyone fight like the Monk, the way he turned in the air…

He landed and made quick work of the first two, blood rained down upon the grass around them.

Six of them.

Six Trinity Guards fell to the sword of the Grey Monk, and not a single one of theirs had touched him.

For a brief moment in time, it made you forget the situation you were in.

By the heaven’s this man could fight.

Dammit…

You tried to keep your voice hushed, “Squirrel, we need to get to the horses!”

The boy did not let you pull him along, “What about him?”

When you turned back to look, the Monk was being challenged by the six remaining Trinity Guards.

These guards were smarter than the previous ones, flails were used to disarm the Monk of his swords, he was struck by one on his back.

They remained at a distance, like cowards, while beating him with the flails.

Even when they got him to his knees, they did not stop and aimed for his face.

Once across the jaw and the last strike of a flail hit him from below the chin at a force strong enough to break someone’s skull and neck.

The whispers of the Hidden rang in your ears, they fumed with anger at what was being done to one of their kind by the Church again.

Dammit…

You should not be getting involved, you could finally flee.

Just grab the boy and flee… just…

Dammit.

“Stay here. Stay hidden.” You hoped he would stay behind these barrels.

They kicked the Monk in his back again as you looked around for fallen weapons.

You ran over to the nearest sword you could find, you were not unskilled with the sword, but they were Trinity Guards.

If the Hidden insisted on the Monk’s survival, there must be a reason, you hoped there was. A moment of distraction was what you could offer and you attacked the nearest Trinity Guard.

“Seize her!” The Abbot commanded, knowing that a Fey with your ability was truly valuable to the Church.

The Trinity Guard had to block the blade of your sword with his arm and countered your attack.

With a kick to his stomach you send him stumbling backwards and another came to his aid.

A flail wrapped it’s chain around your sword and snatched it from your hand.

“Shit!” You cursed aloud.

The Trinity Guard you had attacked swung at you and you were just too late to avoid the blow completely, his fist still impacted with the side of your head and send you to the ground.

Squirrel hit the head of the Trinity Guard, who was about to give the death blow to the Monk, with a rock.

Then the boy ran over and picked up a fallen sword too, “Who’s first?”

It nearly gave you a heart attack to hear Squirrel challenging them with the sword.

Who would have thought that the sight of the boy risking his life, was enough for the Monk to find the will to fight again?

The Monk grabbed a sword from the ground and cut through two of the Trinity Guards by the time he was fully on his feet again. He blocked the attack of another and sank his sword into their back, then pushed the guard into two others to keep them at a distance.

With the strength in his attacks, the sword sliced through the golden mask of another and blood spilled through it. His sword returned and cut through the abdomens of the other two. One threatened to get up and was speared to the ground with the sword. Another that made an attempt got his neck snapped by the Monk.

It all happened so fast, by the time you were back on your feet, most of the Trinity Guard were either dead or bleeding out on the ground.

“Gods…” You muttered in shock and even secret awe.

The arrogant twat picked up his own sword and raised it, publicly challenging to fight the Abbot too. It was a miracle he was even on his feet but the second this man had a taste of battle…

Abbot Wicklow did not accept the challenge and fled the place in a haste.

It felt like the Monk found some joy in seeing the coward flee after this.

You saw the Monk sink to his knees, the sword fell from his hand.

He could barely keep himself up on his knees anymore, the injuries he had sustained would have easily killed anyone who did not wear such padded clothing to take most of the impact.

Squirrel was the first to run over to him and grabbed hold of his arm, “Come on, we have to go!” The Monk was visibly drowsy, “Come on! Get up!”

You went over to help and wasted no time to grab the other arm to put it over your shoulder to support his weight, he grabbed his sword up off the ground and clumsily got it in it’s sheath.

The rain made the ground slippery and it was not simple to keep your footing.

“To the horses!” You said, ignoring how odd it was that the Monk just let you drag him away for once.

Of course the Monk steered the two of you a little, first to the short sword he wanted back, then right towards the black steed who didn’t like you very much.

You felt your hands get covered in his blood, “Can you mount?”

He did exactly that, then reached a hand down and offered to let the boy ride with him, “Come on.”

The offer was made to you in silence as well but you did not feel comfortable with that idea.

So you took a sword from the ground again and stole your own horse, quietly disliking how quick Squirrel was to trust the Weeping Monk.

You rode next to them as he leaded you out of that camp, but you never took your eyes off of him nor Squirrel.

Just because he had betrayed the Church, did not mean that he would not betray you.

Taglist:

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#the weeping monk #lancelot x reader #cursed lancelot #cursed #cursed netflix #weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #weeping monk x you #lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman character #daniel sharman

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: afab/fem!Reader Character: Trafalgar Law Kink: #8 Breeding Kink Prompt: #9 "Fuck, you feel so good." Gift Giver: @jadedrrose

Summary: Law promises to attend to you thoroughly, after you spent all day wanting his attention.

Content Notes: vaginal fingering, light begging, praise, dirty talk, cream pie, soft dom Law

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Your hands were on the backs of your knees, holding onto your legs as Law’s hands pressed into your thighs, helping you spread your legs wider for him. The position was embarrassing, more so because he’d spent a few minutes just looking at you while you held yourself open for him. Those golden eyes didn’t seem to miss anything, and the tip of his tongue over his upper lip as he nearly leered at you already had your breath coming out heavy.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, hand running down your thigh as he unbuttons his jeans, pushing the pants and boxers down and stroking his stiffening cock slowly.  The way your expression changed when you saw his dick just turned him on more.

It wasn’t fear, not after the first time when the size had darkened your features a little, but now it was just desire. Greedy, needy, desperately obvious for him to see, and he loved it.

“Law, please,” you beg a little, shifting your hips.

“Begging already? Not even going to let me play with you a little first?” He hums the words, moving his hand from his shaft to your slit, pressing a finger against your lips. He moves it up and down a little, grinning as he pushes a long finger inside you.

“You’re already so wet.” He pushes a second finger in, causing you to gasp as a lewd wet sound fills the air. “When you said you’d been thinking about me all day, you meant you’d been thinking about doing this with me all day, hm?”

You avert your face, gnawing on your lip a little. You hear Law chuckle quietly, leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

“I’m flattered,” he assures you, leaning back and lining himself up with your soaking pussy. “If you’ve been wanting this all day, I won’t keep you waiting.”

He pushes in a little, grabbing onto your thigh once the tip’s in, and pushing your legs back as he sinks into you slowly. You let out a shaky breath as he fills you up, feet flexing as you try your best to stay still.

“That’s my good little snowdrop.” He sighs, moving your legs so your ankles are against his shoulders, threading his fingers through yours and holding your hands as he begins to move slowly. Your legs trembling against his chest make it difficult for him to continue his slow pace, but he’s not ready to rush yet.

“You always… feel so good,” he says, leaning over you. The motion presses your legs back, though not any more than they had been earlier. “Everything from your trembling limbs,” he teases, kissing your ankle. “To your tight, trembling, sweet fucking pussy.” He nearly growls the words, pinning your hands into the bed and snapping his hips into you to punctuate each word.

Law grinds his hips into you, pushing deep and leaning into you more. You gasp at the sensation, squirming under him as he begins to thrust into you, leaning low enough your legs slip off his shoulders and rest into the crooks of his arms.

He slows a little, lips brushing against yours, following behind an airy gasp from you, and kissing you deeply. His hands hold onto your tightly as his tongue pushes in your mouth, hips pushing him deeper and grinding into your clit with each shift and movement. You turn your head to the side, drawing in a deep breath and shaking from the pleasure building.

“Please!” You gasp as he kisses and licks your neck, pushing pleasure into you as you twist and tremble under him. “Please, La-Law.”

“Mmm, please what?” He murmurs into your skin, teeth sliding against tender flesh and pulling shivering gasps from you.

“F-fill me up. Cum… inside me, please.” You beg, a moan rattling in your chest as his teeth press into your skin just deep enough to make your back try to arch, despite being pressed into the mattress.

“Anything for you, (Y/N).” He agrees, nipping at your earlobe a little before he adjusts enough to start thrusting into you almost roughly. His breath is coming out heavy and you realize he was holding himself back for a while, almost as though he was waiting for you to ask for it.

His hips buck erratically, thrusting almost harshly as you feel him empty himself inside you. His fingers tighten against yours, flexing jerkily as a soft grunt turns into a few heavy breaths. He shifts his hips slowly, grinding against your clit and keeping you on edge while he takes a moment to recover.

“I’m going to fill you up twice as much as I make you cum,” he insists, grinning as he starts to move his hips more. “Or maybe I’ll make you cum twice as much as I fill you up.” He corrects, leaning low and speaking right by your ear.

“I’m sure you’ll be too full of cum and pleasure to know which one it was by the end of it.”

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

#birthday request event #one piece drabble #reader insert #x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #oh jaded roses! this fell off my list!!! I am sorry it's a little delayed. #I've been trying to do these in order of receipt a LITTLE #and then by how easily an idea comes to me after that #but at some point a few fell off T-T I hope this was worth the wait #please feel free to make another request if you like #This was really fun to write - I don't really see Law as one much for dirty talk #but it just worked so well in the setup I couldn't pass it up.

[samodivaa]

I need you more than I want to

Soldier Boy x Reader

Jealousy changes you — it completely shifts your mind and paradigm. It makes your brain cloudy with anger, unable to think clear. His eyes are full of language, but what kind of lover is he? With all this love and no words for it?

Words - 3700

Warnings - lot of smut, angst, rough!Ben, bl00d k1nk, choking, fingering, degradation, breeding

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Set after the threesome with Bucky, Double Satisfaction

(no need to read it to understand the plot)

Ben is just jealous and rough af after Bucky made u feel good :0

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Ben needed some time alone. He tried to deny the truth, deny that maybe Bucky is maybe a better lover, pushing his desires to just fuck you aside and tucking them somewhere in the back of his mind until they were less fresh…until he could control the animalistic urges, he tried at least.

„ Hey, what-ts’ gotten into you? “ you say, carefully setting the knife down on the counter as you feel him against your back.

„ Shut up, doll “ he scolds, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

„Oh? Ben, if the threesome was such a bad as an experience for you, why didn’t you tell me, it’s been a week- “

„Who said it was?“ he finishes, leaning down to bring his mouth to the back of your neck, tongue purposely likening the skin, you groan as blood drips hot and thick down your neck - breath hitching as you try to swallow while Ben sucks greedily. The pace is agonizing, his tongue dragging lines across your wounded skin – you moan under your breath, the feeling causing your knees to wobble.

You can't even feel the pain, your brain turns it into pleasure as you hear a moan of elation and satisfaction escaping his mouth, he loves tasting you.

„I am yours, you know that?“

„What the hell is wrong with you, why are you so–“ you whine as you try to rip away from his grip; you manage to turn around, facing him.

„So what?“ He squints his eyes at you, studying your expression.

„–not acting like yourself“ His lips softly brush against yours, the hum of your chests reverberating against each other, breasts push into his chest. Ben feels his rising manhood beginning to push into your leg, he is sure you can feel it too „What’s wrong with you today?“ You ask, your lashes fluttering softly; to not squirm away from his touch, it always drives you crazy, and he knows it – his hands digging a little deeper into your skin, not wanting to reveal his worries.

This fucker–he really got into my mind, the way he touched you. He touched you for the first time and he made you moan like a whore while calling you a doll, like he knew your body better than me.

He hasn’t braced himself enough, he realizes. Ben grabbes at the racing thoughts, struggling to come up with a retort that would let him leave with his dignity,with his ego.

„Nothing, why the fuck are you bringing it up?“

His voice comes out low like venom, empty of any mirth; profile is serious, jaw clenched - words pained you; it sends a chill down your spine. Your gaze flickers up to his green eyes – stone-faced. You can’t tell if he’s furious or sad, and it scares you.

He regards you thoughtfully and sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes.

You know exactly what he is saying and feeling. And it’s infuriating that his expression doesn’t change — remains cool and collected.

This is how he feels? Does he really think that you will give up this love?

„Oh, so how am I not jealous when we have threesomes with women?“ You shake your head, unable to believe anything that is coming from his mouth, confusion shining in your eyes.

„You are annoying” he mutters, scraping his teeth against the edge of your jaw. „Enough talking“ he kisses you, the taste of blood fresh in his mouth. It's deeper, passionate. Something that leaves you both gasping for air when you part.

„Fuck me then“ you whine through slitted eyes.

He looks at you looking at him. You could tell he is looking at you in a loving, passionate way that he had never looked at you before. Only his eyes can convey the fiercely intense, love and compassion he feels, words couldn’t describe how he feels.

You want nothing more than for him to kiss you more, but you are sure that he doesn’t want it vanilla, clearly – your heart pounds at the thought of what he is capable of when cornered by such jealous thoughts.

The green color eyes swallow you whole – they drift down to your cleavage, sitting there for a second before flashing back to meet your gaze. One hand stays against your hip, the other grasps the back of your neck tightly.

He can't suppress the desire to intertwine his fingers through your hair, tugging your head back and kissing you, the light pain forces your mouth open and uses that to savor it with his tongue. His need for air finally rips his tongue out from yours, sticky strands of spit spilling between your mouths as you share collective gasps of breath.

Your eyes open wide as Ben suddenly loosens his hold on your hair, allowing him to pull away as he slaps your legs softly, gesturing for you to jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you assume that he will take you to the bedroom, but he puts you on the countertop instead.

„I suppose you do love me, in your way“

„And how else should I love you – In your way?“ he speaks low, knowing that look all too well before he connects his lips to yours, biting the lower one slightly.

Ben is swollen with words he never says, swallow with horded love. And he thinks about – her love is all he knows in his new life; as his body falls silent, he knows this is love, but he has come too far in his distance to let tenderness rule him, all he needs is time. All he needs is time. The voice in his head tells him to say more, it trails behind like silk scarves, but the air stays wordless.

„All I want is your trust, nothing else, Ben“

Love and trust are not concepts or tactics. They are ways of being with someone, ways of being in the world, and ways of being in your body. For so long Ben felt like he should be somewhere else, with all the betrayal he experienced from people. He knows he is hard to handle, selfish and sad – he is incapable of communicating the depths of his thoughts, but he really tries. His reckless solitude in his own mind was there from the start of your relationship, a remnant of the war between his head and heart.

He initiates a bruising kiss to distract you from the hand that carefully moves to unbuckle his pants and he pulls them down and off, leaving him in his boxers, which he promptly takes off. His cock stands proudly as always, thick and long, leaking precum.

“You’re such a fucking whore” says Ben, breathlessly.

“Am I–?” you try to respond, artificially sweet.

His hand moves slowly in between your skirt, your voice cuts off into a squeak when you feel his wonderfully rough hand slide up your thigh.

„Yeah, but you are my fuckin’ whore“ Ben says, pulling your panties to the side, pulling apart your lips and sticks two fingers in you, rocking them slowly inside, seeing how tight and wet you are, pressing his thumb against the clit, rubbing in circles „You–“ He doesn’t want to picture you down on your knees again, sucking obediently on Bucky's cock – the image was scorched in his mind and he just couldn't shake it „fucking slut“ he is ashamed to admit his odd mix of arousal and jealousy.

His voice is still deep with anger and now the added lust sends a chill down your spin. He slides his fingers up and down, causing your lips to barely part as the audible sound of your wetness fills the room. He just keeps going, his pace triplicating in a moment, making your inner heat clench taut around him.

Your fingers trace the contours of his lean muscle of his shoulders and neck before your hands suddenly grab his face, forcefully bringing it up to your own, mouth hungrily devouring his lips. The kisses grow increasingly sloppy. Ben moans when you nib on his lower lip, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

A string of your spit bridges your tongues for but a blink and he grits out between his teeth, his eyes glowing.

„You look desperate,“ you say breathlessly, mind racing.

Ben’s lips curl into a forced smile, there’s no humor in it, no humor in the way his eyes drag over you, lazily as a warning – he pulls his fingers out of you, only dragging them across your folds, teasing.

He leans closer, brushes you ear with his beard „Can you say that again, sweetheart?“

You yelp quietly at the feeling of a large hand gripping your neck and fingers slamming back into your cunt – squeezing with as much pressure as he thinks won’t kill you. Then his hand picks up the pace, pumping fingers in and out of you. He watches as he pulls them out, hissing through his teeth as the suction only pulls them in as soon as he does so, watching how your body shudders while eyes water from the lack of oxygen.

„Ben, p-please–“

Mine, mine, mine—

How desperate your pleads sound, how pure and sinful all at once.

He brings his other hand up to your chin, keeping your gaze locked „I didn’t quite hear you“ His voice drops an octave, lips ghosting over your own. „Who is desperate?“

A blush found its way across your face as you averted your eyes from his unnerving gaze – dissecting you for an answer, mocking you.

You couldn't take it anymore. It is too much, too fast, and the way he is looking down at you is just cruel. You barely catch his last audible words before you give into euphoria. Slowly, methodically he pumps his digits throughout your orgasm.

Tears fall from your eyes, the pain and the pleasure mixing, making your mind all cloudy. Ben captures your lips enthusiastically, the hand from your chin returns on your neck, resting just below the hollow of your throat. You swallow his groan as your fingers snake through his hair, pushing yourself into the kiss.

Tongue and teeth pluck hard paths of possession down your shoulders and chest. Marks, raw and painful, are bitten on your skin. He blinks slowly, swallowing hard as he pulls back to look at his work.

My girl—

It is unhealthy, but you really couldn't deny him anything. He is carnal, animalistic, possessive. He can tear you into pieces and you would still want more. Depraved, lustful, not gentle, and jealous.

Ben gives up, finally done pretending like he isn’t as desperate as you are, as your hands in his hair grabs him and pulls him back for another deep kiss.

No words.

Nothing, but the mantra in your body, in time with your heartbeat. You are clumsy and eager and aching and needing, tempting as sin — you whine and spread your thighs apart.

Ben watches, a dark smile appears as he slides the tip of his erection up and down in his free hand, using both her wetness and his pre-cum as lubrication.

„Fuck…“ he mutters, eyes roving your face.

“I love you” you say, sparks in your eyes as the need for him floods your senses.

The length in his palm jerks and spasms.

He thrust into your body, groaning with a mix of pleasure and relief as he sinks into you, taking you in with slow but harsh thrusts, pulling out and slamming down, dragging needy sounds from you as your legs wrap tightly around him.

His hunger is finally satiated as he slides into you before setting a punishing pace that has sweat dripping from his scalp and pleasure shooting up his spine faster than he’d like.

He grips your hip, shutting his eyes with an exhale.

„You are mine, only mine“ His voice is rough, words forced out between sharp thrusts and harsh breaths and you squirm against the bruising grip around your neck.

„Yeah“ you hesitate, your hazy brain trying to decipher his tone, but failing “Choke me, just choke me harder” you gasp out, legs starting to quiver with the impending orgasm, feeling the skin beneath your nails split open as your fingers death grips into his shoulders.

„You can’t–get off without a little pain?” He chuckles, but it’s low and twisted  „ –me too“ pushing his hips forward and sinking his length even deeper, feeling the roughness of your pointy manicured nails. There is no denying that sliver of arousal that accompanies the ache – he loves it, he loves you.

He slows his pace down a little as he rubs his hand along your throat, you try to suck in air, but more moans come out instead, but any sounds strain as the hand constricts itself a little tighter, depriving you of air. Bright spots and tears swarm your vision as you fight to keep from passing out.

He pants against your lips, moving his mouth to the hollow between your shoulder and neck and absently nuzzles against the sweat slicked skin there with a contented hum, his hair clings to his forehead.

You begin to come barely a second before him, clinging to him, tightening your legs around Ben, his name dripping from your lips as your cunt clenches around him, and then he can’t hold on for anything.

His movements stagger, growing erratic and with a low groan he pushes himself flush with a sense of finality, coming deep inside you with a residual rock of his hips, multiple pints of hot slimy cum shoot inside her body, riding out your over-stimulated hole with a full body shudder.

You caress his cheek, and Ben finds himself leaning against the touch, his eyes closing momentarily to relish in the feeling. And something about this scenario — so domestic and vulnerable — makes him choke up, disgust curling deep in his gut. He heatedly ignores the longing feeling in his chest.

„Let’s sleep, I am so tired“

„Okay, sweetheart“ You raise an eyebrow at him, as if to see if he is kidding.

„Sweetheart is not better than doll though“

Startled by your comment, his widened eyes meet your neutral gaze.

„Just reminded me why I decided to call you a whore in the first place,“ he angrily spat, managing to keep his expletives inside, but mustered an icy and contemptuous reply that conveyed his feelings all the same.

„You are not the praising type anyways, if you call me sweetheart again in bed, I will just laugh“ You mutter bashfully and bit lightly on your smiling lips.

Ben shakes his head, not in ignorance, but in disagreement.

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  „What time is it?“ Smiling sheepishly, you ask, voice thick with sleep. The pitch-black room makes goosebumps rise on your entire body.

„Does it matter?“ Ben trails his lips up to your ear, tugging gently at your earlobe with his teeth.

You soak up the very essence of his voice. The slow movement of his hand snaking its way up from your back to your waist gives you chills.

„Yeah, I want to sleep more“

Ben pulls you into his frame with the hold on your waist, breath fanning across the back of your neck. You feel the bulge forming against your ass, grinding slowly.

„And I want to fuck you“ A laugh bursts from his throat. A scoff.

„Ben-“ you mumble meekly.

The melody of your weak voice cuts through Ben, familiar burning inside his gut fires up, where he can’t tell if he would like more to kiss you or to slap you.

„I. Will . Fuck . You“ he clips his words, hissing them into your neck. His voice is deep and husky, with a commanding and dominant tone. There is no escape from this.

The dizziness comes next.

He uses that moment to climb over you. He is anything but gentle as he nearly rips your night dress off your body, taking off his own t-shirt as well and stares down at you like an animal stalking its prey. His hair tickles your neck as he lowers his head, tongue licking at the bites, catching any stray drops of blood that he might have missed before pressing your lips together for a kiss, opening his mouth and you get the hint, doing the same and letting your tongues twist around each other.

„Why the fuck do you have a blood kink and why do I like it so much?“ His voice is low, a rumble in his chest.

He has already removed his boxershorts, shaft throbbing and glistening from a large quantity of pre-cum as he starts stroking it, making sure your gaze is there, watching him work himself up.

"Yeah, look at me. Such a good girl " he groans, eyes roaming over your naked chest.

His eyes settle on your face, but noticing movement at the bottom of his vision, his eyes move down your body, and he watches you buckle your hips upwards, silently pleading him to fuck you, wordlessly begging - he is on the brink; he torturously denies his own release and stops.

He lowers himself down atop you. His fingers then press against your wet panties, making you gasp at the sudden contact. His fingers make their way down to your entrance, dipping his fingers deep inside, eliciting a throaty gasp from you. Although, you nearly cry in desperation when he retracts his long finger. You just stare, biting your lip, breathing a deep lustful moan as the tip of his cock presses against your entrance.

You want to hold back your cries and you put a pillow over your face, but Ben is having none of that. He laughs softly as he pulls the pillow away, throwing in on the floor before brushing fingers against your throat „You are a shameless bitch, there is no need to hide “ he whispers sensually, tightening the grip.

It comes as a snarl and you suck in a quick breath as it makes you want to squirm, as you feel yourself throb down below. You are more desperate from him choking you, and your eyes prick with tears as your access to oxygen is restricted.

Without warning, his length thrusts deep inside of you, making you scream in both surprise and delight, the tip of his cock already hitting your cervix, and he hasn’t started fucking you yet. There is nothing sweet and slow about the way he grips both your hip and neck tightly - overwhelmed and long past the point of caring about the bruises he is causing , moans flowing freely from his lips.

He growls, biting at your shoulder „You are mine“

„You can just say that you are jealous“

A corner of his mouth rises a bit at your words. He is physically, mentally, and emotionally not ready to hear that you have figured him out. The gentle friction of your hand on his cheek is enough to strike a match inside him. Ben is unsure which pain is worse - the shock of your words or the ache to deny it.

Your mind blanks, his head dips into your neck, biting the skin slightly. The sudden burst of pain that accompanies him biting into the soft flesh of your neck makes you whimper, and he grips your hip, the other hand wiring in your hair. It hurts and tears prickle in your eyes, but you feel the pain fade slowly. A euphoric feeling replaces the pain, a certain type of indescribable pleasure.

He snaps instead.

He is furious, and ravenous for you. 

He thrust into you deeper, choking you so hard, you fear your neck would snap.

Your knuckles turning white as you grip the hand that is choking you, muscles locking in place.

„How dare you say stuff like that?“ he snaps, heart beating fast. „Nonsense, but what can I expect from a woman“ he adds, his brows furrowed and brooding.

He ducks down and kisses you somehow both soft and rough; The lack of oxygen is starting to cloud your mind – his thrusts grow clumsier, he is swearing even more violently – Ben finally loosens his grip, and your eyes close, breathing deep and uneven.

You are so warm beneath him, full of pushing and pulling and tension and fire – always plucking the vibrating strings of Ben’s mind. Your face is empty of the wild taunting from only a moment before.

Small throaty noises escape you, and he let his hand slips from your throat for a few moments.

But then - anger comes back, maybe too fast.

Your mouth clamps shut, eyes look straight through him as he starts choking you once more. Then your focus brakes due to the lack of air, jaw unclenching, mouth half open - trying to catch some breath. You lose a strangled sob when you feel his cock, thick and full, pounding relentlessly into your body.

The pain as well as the pleasure is intense, tears being to fall from your eyes, but it was nothing compared to the self-loathing he feels from when you mocked him.

He leans down, licking along the tendon in your neck, a smirk appears across his features as he listens to his favorite melody – your agonized whimpers.

He craves this...this release – directly into you. It's infuriating and so fucking hot, and the wash of shame that runs through him doesn't feel all that different from possessiveness anymore.

His eyes are full of language, but what kind of lover is he? With all this love and no words for it?

Ben gasps breathlessly, ejaculating inside of you with a sudden spurt. Normally he lasts much longer than – but then again – this whole situation and feelings are not normal for him – it's something else entirely.

Your eyes lock. You can see his desire, his jealousy, his want.

He is way too rough, aggressive, possessive.

He spaces for a few minutes, just floating in the endorphins before finally pulling out and he half-sprawls atop you, pressing kisses into the hollow of your neck, lazy and warm in the afterglow of his anger.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #the boys #the boys fanfic

[bangbangchann]

HARSH TIDES - DAY TWO

word count: 1.8k

cw: strong language, lots of dialogue, actual enemies no lovers (yet), hatred for reader, mentions of war, mentions of bombardment, mentions of shooting.

masterlist.

Both Admirals, Vice Admirals and the rest of the Rear Admirals of both the Second and Fifth Fleets had gathered in one of Chan's offices on his ship to conduct a meeting - a one over really - of the operation.

“As of this minute we have been informed there is a slight change of plans gentlemen.” You started off in a commanding voice, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, even - reluctantly - Chan's.

“Operation Spear has been officially changed to Operation New Moon. The offensive will take place as scheduled but now we also have the additional task and responsibility of rescuing stranded Crescent soldiers and personnel off the Fullmoon coasts.”

You moved from your seat to the very front of the room where a large cork board was situated on the wall. With a slim metal rod, you pointed towards the tactical figurines, emphasizing on the Crescent soldiers depicted on the board.

“We'll have to divide our ships west and east in order to execute the attack and the evacuation. I propose we split our fleets equally east and west-”

“Won't we need to have a larger amount of ships for the offensive though?” Seungmin - Rear Admiral of the Second Fleet - voiced his concerns to his Admiral.

"I initially thought so too," you spoke, "but the amount of damage we'll take during the offensive is inevitable and damaging the majority of both fleets is a stupid move."

"I agree with Admiral Y/L/N, we'll have to divide our forces evenly. I'd like to add that we will need air support on both sides." Minho said.

Chan squinted at his Vice Admiral, distaste evident in his expression.

Traitor.

"Having air support is a no brainer, Lee." The Vice Admiral of the Second Fleet deadpanned.

Minho kissed his teeth in annoyance, "You know what I meant, Seo."

Changbin leaned back into his chair with crossed arms and a satisfied smirk lining his lips, his plan of annoying his equal in position proving effective.

"Right okay, let's focus." Fellow Rear Admiral of the Fifth Fleet Jeongin said, "We'll undoubtedly need air support, especially before we begin any evacuation procedures out on the coasts. But I'm not sure how all of the stranded soldiers will fit in the ships, they're too many."

You smiled fondly at the younger boy, "That's a keen observation Jeongin. We have supplied some of my ships with smaller, lifeboat sized ships to sustain their number. Which brings me to the point I wanted to make."

You moved to the edge of table situated in the middle of the room where the rest were seated and leaned on it slightly, sternly emphasizing your next words,

"We will get shot at. We will get bombed at. We will even get torpedoed at. The Fullmoon forces won't be easy on us and will certainly not let themselves lose the battle. They won't want us to rescue our men stranded out there on the beaches so they can use them as leverage later on in the war. We have to do everything possible to not only save our men but also crush the Fullmoon forces."

“Let’s try to cause as little damage and as few casualties as we can while executing New Moon.” Chan added strictly, earning a judging look his way from you in the process.

“I don’t know if you know this Admiral Bang,” faux sweetness and sarcasm laced in your voice as you addressed your equal in power, “but we’re at war. There is no such thing as minimal damage and minimal casualties.”

“There is if you really try. And honestly Y/L/N? I don’t see you willing to try.” Chan raised his right eyebrow up at you, actively challenging your authority and passing a message.

I don’t like you.

“You don’t know me Bang.” Hostility evident in your voice as you addressed him, “You think I don’t want to advocate for peace talks and ceasefires? But we can’t all live in fucking dreamland like you do. Some of us have to stay grounded in reality and realise what’s at stake and what we can do about it.”

“Guys can we focus back on-“

“No Jisung wait,” Chan propelled himself using the table to stand and face you, his ears and face slowly turning red from anger - or increase in blood pressure. Jisung cowered back into his seat, exchanging glances with his fellow Fifth Fleet Rear Admiral Felix as Chan continued,

“You think you’re so much better than anyone else it’s honestly fucking gross. We get it Y/L/N you’re Admiral now, there’s no need to tell your minions to shoot and blow everybody up just so you can show off your power. Get your head out of your ass and think for one second that when this war ends and you’ve killed thousands, you won’t be remembered for what you hope for.”

Everyone in the room after that sat in stunned silence as a heated stare down took place between you and Chan. Changbin looked at Minho, signalling him to diffuse the tension or at least do something while Minho looked back at him with furrowed brows and shook his head incredulously, knowing that would be a suicide mission.

Hyunjin - also a Rear Admiral, of the Second Fleet - watched the two Vice Admirals engage in a humorous yet annoying silent game of ‘No, You Do It’. He couldn’t help but have a judging look on his face and with one final eye roll he slammed his hands on the table and yelled, “Enough!”

“You two!” Hyunjin pointed at you and Chan - which both stared at him wide eyed with surprise - “You’re both Admirals of the Crescent Navy and are acting like fucking children!”

Both Admirals blinked in surprise.

But Hyunjin wasn’t done yet, “And you two!” He then pointed at the Changbin and Minho, “You two are Vice Admirals of the Crescent Navy and you two couldn’t help diffuse the situation knowing damn well both your Admirals act like fucking babies!”

With an exasperated sigh Hyunjin sat back down, plunging the room in another deafening silence.

Hyunjin deeply inhaled and crossed his legs, massaging his temples in the process as he spoke, “Right.. just tell us the plan so we can go and get started.”

You cleared your throat, evidently embarrassed that you were called out like that.

“Right…” Chan mumbled as he scratched his nape. He slowly moved to the centre of the room where you were - which made him feel like he was walking on a minefield - and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Let’s start with the evacuation. Vice Admiral Lee Minho and I will be in charge and we’ll take Rear Admirals Yang Jeongin, Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix with us, since this operation needs more personnel to handle and take care of the soldiers on the coast.” Chan’s words were laced with definitiveness as he continued,

“I’ll radio for air support in case Fullmoon Air Force decide to attack us. I’ll need Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin to make sure that we take the ships that carry the majority of the lifeboats as well as make sure we have anti torpedo equipment.” Hyunjin, Jeongin and Felix nod in agreement.

You step forward next to Chan - albeit with hesitation - and address the remaining Admiral personnel in the room,

“Vice Admiral Seo Changbin and myself will be in charge of the offensive operation. A large number of the ships that are armed with the latest technology canons will be taken by us as well as the carrier ships. I, too, will be contacting air support if needed and if shit hits the fan I’ll be contacting the Crescent Bomb Squad. Vice Admiral Changbin has ensured beforehand that we have enough supplies to fight off enemy battleships, Fullmoon air shooters and bombers, as well as torpedos.”

“We’ll be taking Rear Admirals Kim Seungmin and Han Jisung with us as they are the best skilled in tactical and mechanical warfare. I’ll need you boys to aid me in loading the supplies and weapons as the Admiral plans the strategic attack.” Changbin addresses the two men.

“See how nicely we collaborate when the two of you don’t have sticks shoved up your asses?” Seungmin said as he eyed you and Chan, satisfied that the meeting for Operation New Moon had been over with.

“Seungmin.” You warned.

Seungmin couldn’t help but chuckle as he raised his hands up in the air to surrender.

“He’s right.” Minho voiced out, “A meeting that should have taken us maximum five minutes took us half an hour.”

“Whatever..” Chan grumbled, immensely annoyed by Minho, “Go complete your tasks and get into your positions unless instructed otherwise.” He ordered.

Soon, everyone had filed out the room and already started with their tasks at hand which only left Chan and yourself in the room.

You tried to ignore his presence the best way you could by studying the map of the coast - which you had already studied five times - and it only proved futile since your hyper awareness kicked in and the only thing you could focus on was his presence.

He tried doing the same thing, practically almost face planting into the cork board as to avoid unwanted eye contact with you. He stared at the pin on the board, trying to make himself look busy studying attack plans but his eyes weren’t really trained on the pin. His peripheral vision was working overtime trying to spot you.

With a sigh, you folded the map closed and started walking towards the door. Something felt heavy in your chest, however, and it was annoying you to the core because you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was. You stopped by the door and turned slightly to see if Chan was still face first into the cork board.

You - unwontedly - inhaled sharply when you found yourself to be making direct eye contact with Chan. He was still in front of the cork board, yet he had turned his upper body slightly to look at you.

You gulped, looking down and then back up again expecting Chan to have averted his gaze, only to find him still looking at you.

“Stay safe… out there.” You muttered awkwardly, looking continuously between the floor and Chan as you spoke.

“Yeah… you too…” he responded just as awkwardly, - finally - averting his gaze to the floor.

With a curt nod you exited the room and walked out to the dock area to go to your own head ship.

Chan stood there for a minute, examining the cork material as his brain turned into mush.

A sigh of his own escaped him as he plopped himself on the nearest chair and covered his face with his palms, rubbing them up and down in order to calm himself - or his racing mind.

What the hell is wrong with her?

all rights reserved 2023. no rewrites or translations.

TAGLIST: @lilybahng @miin17

#bang chan #bang chan fanfic #chan skz #skz #stray kids #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chris #bang chan angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #chan fluff #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x you #chan x y/n #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz angst #skz smut #skz x reader #bangbangchann

[soupbtch]

I’ve been having a really tough time parsing through my feelings about this because they keep changing. It’s kind of silly, too, when you put it under a microscope. All love is, I guess. That’s what this is. And I’ve had a lifelong track record of loving things too hard. Not to say that it isn’t always worth it, though it’s hard to feel that way in the immediate aftermath of things coming to an end before you’re ready.

(Putting the rest of this under the cut because it is entirely too long and personal and self-indulgent. Yes, this is about the OFMD cancellation.)

I’m not a superstitious person, with the exception of talking about things I’m excited about. If I’m waiting for an offer letter from a new job, or to hear from someone, something to happen, I have the constant feeling that if I open my mouth and express my excitement out loud, put my intentions out into the world with my own breath and teeth, push it out with my tongue, it means the thing won’t happen. My words will shift the air and it will bite back. There is shaky, empirical evidence for this. I know that, logically. In my heart, though, the fear of vulnerability lives on. Of being known and seen and disappointed.

The last several years, I got better at guarding my heart. I built strong walls. I’ve kept myself from touching things I know will draw me in too deeply, avoided looking at things I knew would break me in half. Preemptive measures to avoid potential heartbreak. (A large reason for this, I’m sure now, was the long-term (bad) relationship I was in until 7 months ago, which demanded all of my attention and emotions to maintain to the point that anything more pressing to my heart would cause the whole house of cards to collapse around me.) I kept my distance from OFMD until I was sure it wasn’t queerbaiting, after season 1 finished airing. And even as I watched it and immediately after, I kept my mouth shut about wanting a season 2. I wasn’t back on tumblr at the time (another instance of me keeping myself from touching things that will pull me in with crushing force). I only had one real life friend to talk to about the show, and even then, I held back. Only let the words whisper out of the corner of my mouth, eyes shifting. I didn’t want to let myself slip. I didn’t want to show my heart for fear of it getting ripped out. I kept the walls up.

When the season 2 trailer dropped, I felt it creeping in, despite my best efforts. I craved it. With an affable hand, it was tapping on the gate to my heart that had been shut since I left the depths of fandoms in 2013. My bad relationship had ended just a few months prior to this. I was free-falling. Vulnerable.

Season 2 reached for my heart. Tentatively, I opened the gate. I invited it in. I dove towards it. I rejoined tumblr. The brainrot set in not shortly after, a familiar friend. The truth is, it could have been anything. It could have been Good Omens, had I opened the gate a few months earlier. It could have been fucking Doctor Who again. But it wasn’t. It was the gay pirates, the middle-aged men, the nonbinary actor playing a nonbinary character, the people of color, the music, the writing, the story, the actors.

Stede and Ed were experiencing identity crises and so was I. One of the reasons my ex cited for dumping me was that he wasn’t attracted to me anymore after the years of me slowly discovering I was queer and nonbinary while we were together. After I had top surgery, he didn’t love me anymore. He broke up with me during pride month. My identity was coming into focus gradually as the foothold slipped out from under me. Simultaneously, on my TV screen, I see Stede realize he’s in love with Ed. I see Ed lose his grip when his foothold slips out from under him, too; his shaky, fresh identity and bravery free-falling around him under the words “I should have let the English kill you,” spat at him for being soft and vulnerable. I see him lose himself in suicidal patterns, familiar. I feel unlovable, and I hear Ed echo my thoughts. I see him come back from the ledge, healing slowly. I see budding happiness. I see love and self-acceptance. I see the crew experiencing so much queer joy it makes my heart ache. I see the fandom experiencing queer joy around me, too. I experience unbridled queer joy for the first time in my life.

I start reading fanfiction again (a door I kept firmly shut and locked for a decade). I want more, to chase the high of queer joy as I read Ed and Stede finding each other and falling in love again and again, in a million different universes. I deepen my connections. I’m finding my foothold again. I form tentative friendships with other people in the fandom. We excitedly post about the season 3 renewal announcement we’re certain is coming. We laugh. We count down the hours together every day for the first week and a half of 2024. A shared delusion, maybe, but all signs were pointing north, and we were traveling there together. I stand up a little straighter. I feel less afraid of being vulnerable. I feel a little bit more lovable.

I let myself hope. I get excited, confident. I talk about the show and the impending renewal announcement with my own mouth and teeth and breath to anyone who will listen. I push the words out with my tongue as the walls around my heart are reduced to rubble against my ribcage. My heart beats defiantly for the whole world to hear.

We know what happens next. I’m free-falling again. It’s silly, right? I wrote all this out to help myself process my emotions, why the cancellation hit me like a wrecking ball, and I feel sillier for it. I feel silly for my heart being so large, for feeling things too much. I feel silly for letting my guard down and letting myself get hurt. For loving things too hard with no plan of how to let go. After a lifetime of this, I should know better.

This show doesn’t define who I am; I already had a pretty firm grasp on that before I ever hit play on the pilot. It’s not life or death. But it helped me find my tender heart again, the me from 10 years ago, the fearless one. It made me fearless again. It made me love again. And at the end of the day, season 3 or no, that means the most to me, and I am endlessly thankful for this heartbreak.

If we’ve never talked before, hi, I’m Danny. Thanks for reading this. I love y’all, crazy little gay people in my phone. I will keep talking about OFMD until the day I die. Hold my hand, let’s be fearless together.

#ofmd #our flag means death #enby things #danny.xls

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Blaze in the Dark (3/8)

Chapter Title: An Incandescent Glow

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 3: Sunshine.

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

-

Sunlight shafted in through the great windows of the ballroom.

Elain admired its path from the glass panel to the floor, how it glazed over the wooden boards and glistened off the crystal chandeliers. It poured into the room, boundless in generosity. Some would say it was a blessing from the Mother for their wedding day to be so imbued with light. Elain might have previously agreed, except that when she moved her hand, it caught on the golden band of her wedding ring, and she had the distinct feeling that the sun was mocking her. That was a startling thought—how she now stood at odds against the sunlight.

But it was the sun that had brought this day to her. The sun that had yanked her too early from her dreams. The sun that would be the ever present barrier between herself and her true love. Fitting, then, that when she turned to her husband, it was the warmth of the sun that she recognized behind his eyes.

He was staring at her, a wry sort of smile twisting his lips as he considered her offer.

“You want to bargain?”

No. A bargain meant magic, and magic was too finicky.

“Just an agreement,” she said. “A deal made in good faith between husband and wife.”

Lucien quirked a brow. “Name your price, then.”

Elain glanced toward the table where Nesta had been strategically sat between their father and governess, as if either guardian were fully equipped to contain her. She was scowling across the room at Eris, who was returning the look with a slow, lazy smirk beneath his wine glass.

“Your eldest brother has expressed interest in courting my sister,” Elain said. “But as far as I’m aware, no betrothal has been agreed upon.”

Lucien turned his head, following her line of sight. It was fascinating to watch the way his expression changed when directed towards his family, how his eyes dimmed and his smile, without dropping, seemed to flatten.

“Eris is set to take my father’s throne. Whoever he marries will be the future Queen. Such a decision shouldn’t be made in haste.”

“And will he have a say in his future Queen?”

She would need to ask Lucien for a different favor, otherwise.

“My father, so long as he’s alive, would make the final judgment. But Eris is frequently the one whispering in his ear—he has more sway than any of Beron’s other sons, and I believe his opinion on his future bride would be taken into consideration.”

“Good,” Elain said, drawing Lucien’s attention back to her face. “Then I want you to dissuade your brother from pursuing Nesta.”

Lucien leaned in, laughing under his breath. “I’m afraid that my dissuasion would only pique his interest.”

“Then do the opposite.” Elain gritted her teeth. “I don’t care what you need to tell him, so long as he stays away from my sister.”

“So protective,” he crooned, close enough now that she could count the freckles dusting his cheeks. Elain stiffened from the proximity, but he slipped an arm around her before she could pull away. “Don’t forget to smile, Elain. We’re under show.”

Elain cast her eyes over her shoulder, to the table of Lucien’s family that was watching them—watching her. Something unsettlingly heavy sunk into her stomach. She darted her eyes back towards Lucien’s face and forced a smile.

“Good enough,” he said with a small shrug. “No one said you had to look happy—just obedient.”

All her life, Elain had swallowed similar remarks without protest. She didn’t know what was different. Maybe it was the build up of too many fractures, a crack that spread slowly over glass until it shattered. And it was Lucien, just looking at her with that overtly smug grin on his face, that caused her to finally kick her leg out beneath the table so that it knocked into his.

He glared her.

“Smile Lucien,” she crooned back.

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll see what I can do about Eris. And in exchange, you free me of my duties to you as a husband.”

That included faithfulness, she assumed. Elain thought only of Nesta, so close to getting tangled in this web of Vanserras and politics. The humiliation of an unfaithful husband would be worth it, if Elain could spare her sister of one. Especially if Lucien was going to be unfaithful to her, regardless.

“Fine,” Elain said. “We’re agreed.”

She hoped that maybe he would pull away, especially after she’d kicked him, but Lucien remained where he was, arm slung possessively around the back of her chair. He snagged at the dessert spoon laid out on the table and pushed it into the cake that the servants had already cut and dispersed. He held the spoon towards her mouth, smiling pleasantly.

“Here’s to our marriage then, wife.”

Elain held his eyes. He couldn’t really intend for her to…

“Open,” he prompted smoothly.

Eyes burning into his, Elain reluctantly parted her lips to let Lucien slide the spoon past.

“How’s our cake taste?”

Dry. Bitter. Like a lifetime of misery, with small pieces of glazed fruit baked in.

Elain took her time to chew and swallow, feeling her entire body slowly heat as Lucien watched her, waiting for a response.

Finally, she grabbed a spoon. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

His eyes flitted to her mouth. “Are you offering?”

“You are insufferable.”

“And you are excellent at playing the disgruntled maiden,” he said back. “Where’s the sweet, doe-eyed wife I was promised?”

Cauldron, how was she going to spend her life with this man? She could barely tolerate an hour. Deciding not to dignify his taunting, Elain huffed and grabbed again at her wine stem to take a big, pointed sip.

She could feel Lucien watching her. “For the record,” he said, voice softer now. “I’m pleased that there’s more to you than the rumors claimed.”

Elain didn’t return the compliment, though she thought about it the rest of the reception, how different he seemed from the cruel, vicious man he’d been painted. And though there was no comparing him to her true love, she could admit that there were worse princes she could have married.

-

Elain waited beside Lucien on the front steps of the manor, squinting against the glaring sun as she individually thanked each guest for coming. Most of them bowed to Lucien before filtering towards their respective carriages, and Elain watched them go freely, envy binding tightly around her chest.

The King and Queen approached them next. King Beron stopped first, with the Queen a healthy step behind her husband, arms clasped elegantly at her abdomen. They were both shorter than Lucien, though Beron Vanserra possessed an intimidating presence regardless of his physical stature.

“Your majesties,” Elain said, curtseying the way her governess had made her practice—over and over and over, until her knees had gone stiff. She did her best to do the instruction justice, lest her governess be hiding behind a bush to scold her for it later.

Lucien bowed as well, though he did not offer a verbal greeting. His posture had gone rigged, she noticed. He stepped closer to Elain once they both straightened, slipping an arm behind her back. For a moment, no words were exchanged as King Beron stared at his son and his son stared back. Elain opened her mouth, then shut it, uncertain of her place in offering pleasantries to soothe the simmering tension.

Finally, King Beron dragged his eyes to Elain. There was nothing cruel, particularly, about his expression. But he had unnerving eyes. The sort that could stare through a person as though he knew their every rotten, twisted secret and intended to exploit it. They were raking over her in appraisal, lingering at the neckline of her dress, the cinch in her waist.

Elain’s skin scrawled under the scrutiny, glancing warily to the Queen to see if she’d noticed the small infraction and subsequently passed judgment on Elain for her husband’s wandering eyes. But the Queen, either oblivious or simply passive to her husband’s behavior, fixed Elain with a watery smile.

“How did you find the dress?” She asked. “”The colors of our Kingdom suit you well.”

“Yes,” the King agreed. “You make a fine bride.”

Elain pretended not to notice the way that Lucien edged himself closer, or how the Queen was so thin that her too-forced smile was the largest feature on her pale, freckled face.

“I have never worn such fine fabric,” Elain said. “Thank you very much for your generosity.”

At this, the Queen nodded pleasantly. She was beautiful, like her son, though Elain imagined that what she was seeing now was just a shadow of the Queen’s radiance. Were her sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks simply the natural consequence of age, or was their cause something more sinister?

She already knew the answer, from the way the Queen stepped forward to grab both of Elain’s hands in her bony fingers. There was a slight tremble in her touch, and the Queen was blocking her husband’s line of sight far too deliberately to be a coincidence. “Take care on your honeymoon, dear. We will come to visit once you have had adequate time to enjoy each other’s company. Hopefully by then you will be blessed with children.”

It was an effort not to recoil, knowing the agreement Elain had made not yet an hour before.

Lucien kept his composure far better, stepping in to smoothly say, “Thank you, mother. We will enjoy this time together.”

The Queen stepped back, deferring to King Beron for their cue to leave. He gave a single curt nod, and it was only after they both left that Elain realized he hadn’t said a word in passing to his son. Lucien’s relief was palpable—and terrifying.

You know nothing of what it means to be the seventh son of King Beron Vanserra.

What did that mean, exactly? Her attention drifted to those three brutal scars on the left side of his face.

“Lucien.”

Elain’s attention jerked to the guest who had stopped in front of them.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth curled up. “Eris.”

Quickly, Elain curtsied. “Your royal highness.”

Eris laughed. “You’re certainly better bred than your sister.”

“Eris.” Lucien’s tone sharpened.

The crown prince held his hands up in surrender. “I am only saying I envy that you got the one with the better temperament. These months of courtship will be…” he paused as if searching for the right word. “Trying.”

“How diverting for you,” Lucien said. Then, with a dismissive nod to the carriage, he added, “Thank you for attending.”

“You shall see me soon enough, brother. I’ll be hosting a ball at your estate in three months' time.”

Lucien’s brows merged at the suggestion. “Why?”

“To give you sufficient time to enjoy your honeymoon.”

“No, why will it be hosted at our estate, Eris?”

“Ah.” There was mischief glinting in his amber eyes as he jutted his chin towards Elain. “To ensure this one’s sisters will be in attendance. I sense they will not miss an opportunity to see that she is suitably looked after in her new home.”

Elain flicked her eyes between the two brothers, trying to weigh the push and pull of their dynamic. It wasn’t the same tension that existed between Lucien and his father, it was lighter, perhaps even warmer, but still guarded.

She eventually fixed her eyes on Eris. He was slightly shorter than his brother, his skin much paler. He lacked all the warmth that Lucien evoked. His smile was crueler, his gaze far more cutting. Though Elain found that she could meet it steadily. “So what you mean to say is, we will be hosting a ball in three month’s time and you will have the pleasure of joining us.”

Eris’s lips—not so full as Lucien’s—twisted into a grin. “Oh, I like her.”

Lucien did not look pleased at this news. “We will not. Host it somewhere else.”

“Don’t be so antisocial, Lucien.”

“I am not—”

“I have bought you time, hosting it at your estate. It means that father will not bother visiting until then.”

Lucien’s hands clenched into fists. He turned his head away, nodding dismissively again towards the carriages. “We will discuss it another time.”

From the look of triumph on Eris’s face, Elain guessed that meant they would be hosting the ball regardless of Lucien’s reservations.

Eris offered a nod of goodbye to Elain. “Then I will be on my way. Happy blessings and the like.”

“Ass,” Lucien muttered, once he was well out of hearing distance.

Elain raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh and Lucien turned to her with a wide grin. “Now that’s not a very ladylike thing to laugh about.”

“Nor was it gentlemanly of you to say,” she countered, still smiling.

“I never claimed to be a gentleman.”

“Nor I a lady.”

“Are you always so contentious?” He turned his head to her, something sparkling in his eyes. “Considering how everyone spoke of your gentleness, I’m led to believe I get the unique pleasure of facing your temper.”

“Considering you are the most infuriating person I have ever met, I can assure you the pleasure is uniquely yours.”

“Come now,” Lucien said lightly. “You’ve just met Eris. Surely that qualifies me as the second most infuriating.”

More guests were passing them by. Lucien’s brothers, who hardly stopped to mutter congratulations, and the lords and ladies that her father had invited if only so he could later brag that two of his daughters had married princes.

“Not at all. Eris said he likes me. A mild compliment, yet more than my own husband has offered me on our wedding day.”

Lucien offered her a sidelong glance, which she returned in time to admire the wind lifting his hair. A woodsy scent drifted toward her, firewood twined with something sweeter. The icing of their cake still lingering on his lips, perhaps? Or maybe it was the sparkling wine. If she kissed him again, would she get dizzy from it?

She watched those lips part now, soft and plush and curling into a teasing smile. “You want me to compliment you?”

“Of course not,” Elain said, trying to shake the absurd thought away. “You’ve already accused me once today of being vain. I am simply explaining why I find your brother less infuriating.”

“I’ve been mulling it over.”

“Mulling over what, your highness?”

A warm hand found her elbow, turning her slightly from the departing guests. Lucien swept his eyes over her. Unlike the lingering glance from his father, this one didn’t make her feel as though a chill had cut through the air. Instead, it was like standing beneath the afternoon sun, heat trailing over her skin in each place his eyes touched.

“You truly look beautiful,” he said, “but from what you told me in the garden, I am hesitant to make such a remark. Especially given how many times you have heard that simple truth today. I fear complimenting your dress, as it was provided by my family, which marks it as just another facet of this day that you lacked agency over. I could compliment your eyes, which seem honest, or your words, which are even more brutally so. And yet I fear if I utter even one complimentary word towards you, I risk being bludgeoned to death by your bouquet. So I assure you, lady, it has been purely out of self-preservation that I have kept my flattery to myself. Do not presume that means I am not thinking it.”

“I am not a mind reader,” Elain said, meaning to disguise the words as a complaint, though they came out breathless. “A bouquet would make a terrible weapon to bludgeon you with, besides. Perhaps if they were in a vase.”

Lucien laughed. “When your husband gifts you bouquets without a vase to put them in, you will know why.”

Elain smiled, finding it odd that she was doing so on today of all days, with Lucien Vanserra of all people. He was not at all the hateful monster that she feared he would be, which was as much a relief as it was terribly worrisome. What would she do if she found that she actually liked her husband? And how would she survive the rest of his family?

-

It did not take long for the remainder of their guests to depart. Nesta and father were the last to see them off.

“Be brave,” Nesta said in her ear as they hugged goodbye. “If you need help, send for me. I will come.”

Elain nodded. There was not much else she could say in the company of Lucien, though Elain suspected she had an ally in her husband as much as she did in her sister. Or at least, that was her hope.

As soon as Nesta released her, Elain was pulled into the fierce—yet weakened—embrace of her father. “Elain, my darling. Take care.”

Consciously, she knew she didn’t owe him a single charitable word for marrying Feyre to the cruel Prince of the North and now herself to the youngest of the wicked King Beron. Feyre or Nesta would have told him to go to Hell, and he would deserve it.

Elain hugged him back carefully. “Stay in good health, father.”

Then that was that. Nesta and father went back inside the manor, and Lucien took Elain by the hand to help her into the carriage. Elain glued her eyes to the windows the second they were inside, watching in fascination as the carriage jolted forward, followed soon by the soft clop of hooves.

“Are you sad to leave?” Lucien asked.

It was strange to think she would not be returning. That tonight, she would go to sleep in an unfamiliar inn, and the night after she would go to bed in the Eastern Kingdom. And that would be her home.

But sad? Elain watched the ornate iron gates of the Archeron manor open, and she craned her head to stare at the large stone wall, towering as high as the tallest tree.

“I’ve never truly seen beyond the walls of the manor.”

“What?”

Elain turned to him. “Don’t misunderstand, we did journey to the nearby village on occasion. To be fitted for dresses and the like. But scarcely, and never more beyond that.”

“You’ve never journeyed outside Tamlin’s lands? You’ve never seen the world beyond spring?”

“No.”

“Have you wanted to?”

“Desperately,” she whispered. “I’ve read so many books about all the different places around the continent. I’ve seen drawings of the plants that you can find in other kingdoms—flowers that only bloom at midnight, trees with stumps as large as a turret. I’ve longed to see them all one day.”

Lucien leaned back in his seat, seeming to contemplate this as he flicked his eyes towards the window. She wondered if he was seeing the sprawling green hills with new eyes, imagining what it might be like for this to be the extent of his world, trapped in a temperate snowglobe boarded in lush hillside and wildflower lace. She imagined if she shook it, pollen would drift through the air in place of the shimmering crystals that fell from her father’s snowglobe collection. She used to stare at them whenever she was in his study, marking the white-topped mountains and frosted evergreens, wondering if there were places in the world that truly looked so different. So… serene.

“Is this your first visit to the Southern Kingdom?” Elain asked.

“No, not at all.” His voice was distant, attention still dragging over each glade they passed. “I’ve visited on many occasions, often to see the Duke of Carterhaugh at his personal residence. We are friends… of a sort. I can’t fathom why he’d never mentioned that Lord Archeron resided in his duchy, with three daughters similar in age to myself. And now that you’ve revealed you were never allowed to leave the manor, I grow curiouser still.”

“My father was not very forthcoming—”

“Your father is hiding something.”

Elain hesitated. She was well aware that her father was hiding things. All her life he’d been hiding things. Keeping secrets, like why magic was forbidden seemingly only within the manor walls, why they were never allowed to leave the duchy, why Feyre had a tattoo that crawled from wrist to elbow like a black lace glove. More importantly, how those things were all interconnected. Feyre was too young to remember a time before the tattoo, but Nesta and Elain were not. They were both there to witness their sister falling gravely ill. Their father had left to seek the healers of the continent and returned with Feyre miraculously recovered, yet bearing that dark, ominous tattoo.

It’s a sign of death, Nesta used to whisper. It had its grip around her. Father must have traded something awful to keep her here.

Whatever father had traded had kept Ferye alive—perhaps continued to. It was why, for all their resentment of the strict rules and the secrecy, Nesta and Elain had rarely questioned their father’s ban on magic. If there was anything father was an expert in, it was avoiding paying his debts. They were aware that the unusual rules were in service of that singular goal, and so they had played their parts, well aware the debts he avoided would one day fall to their own shoulders. It was almost certainly why she was in that carriage, sitting across from a husband who did not want her. Just as Feyre had been carted off to the Northern Kingdom with Prince Rhysand, and just as Nesta would be married off to Prince Eris.

“My father has never disclosed the burden of his secrets with any of his daughters.”

“Such is the nature of fathers,” Lucien said wryly. “The odds of disclosure would not be improved as a son.”

That small kernel of truth was edged in frustration, sharper than she thought he might have intended it. Elain thought she could use that to her advantage, thumb at the edges of him for the pieces that were the most worn, the most vulnerable. It was a trick she’d learned from Nesta.

“Perhaps our fathers share a secret.”

Lucien looked distinctly disinterested in the subject matter. “You’re referring to our marriage, I assume?”

“Clearly they made some sort of deal with each other.”

“I was not privy to the details.”

“Nor was I,” Elain said. “But I know my father had little that he could bargain with a king. I know that your father was the first to make contact—”

“Elain. My wife.”

That gave her pause. My wife. He said it with a hint of resignation, like she was exasperating him, and yet the words were so uniquely intimate that they burned as they settled over her ears. Would the tips be red if she glanced at her reflection in the window?

Lucien said patiently, “I have no interest in speculating how my father assessed your worth as my bride. I see no benefit in such a discussion.”

That was the sort of denial that would work with brothers, someone accustomed to dealing with gentlemen. But a lady, no less one with sisters, was well versed in dressing up one’s own reservations in polite reasoning.

“I see my father is not the only one hiding something,” Elain said disapprovingly. Lucien stayed utterly composed, betraying no sign that her accusation ruffled him. There was only the small, infuriating smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “No matter. If there’s any one talent the Archerons possess, it’s uncovering the truth.”

“Is that so?” He sounded amused. “Because the three of you are so clever?”

Elain smiled, sweet as a poison bloom. “No. It is because we are immensely stubborn.”

At this, he leaned forward. Elain was reminded of the men from legend who heard a beautiful call from the sea’s murky depths and crashed their boats upon the rocks in pursuit. She thought they must have had that same look in their eyes—awe and intrigue and the thrilling gleam of a challenge.

Nesta had warned them, particularly Feyre, that a husband might see their unruly spirits and feel determined to break them. Men are only interested in control, Nesta said. Wives are meant to be obedient. They might punish your defiance—or worse, make a game of it.

Was that what captured Lucien’s attention now? For all her talk, Elain was not nearly so unbreakable as Nesta and Feyre. If he decided to be cruel, or to exact any force with his hand, she could already see herself crumbling beneath it.

But he did not seem cruel, or violent. He seemed like a clever, cunning fox. And if she’d measured him correctly, Elain felt confident she could match him in a game of wits.

“Well noted,” Lucien said. He was not looking at her eyes as he spoke. Instead his gaze was trailing over her cheeks, her mouth, her collarbones. She watched the knot in his throat bob. “I’ll take that into consideration, should I feel compelled to hide anything from my wife in the future.”

“But we are not truly husband and wife,” Elain said. Like a gust of wind to a flame, his smile flickered then vanished. She straightened. “What I mean to say is, if we are living separate lives, then I suppose we’re owed our own secrets.”

“If that’s how you would like it to be.”

It sounded, oddly, as though that was not his preference.

“Yes,” she said. “But I’ll remind you that secrets are currency. And like currency, they can be exchanged, traded, lended.” Elain bit her lip, measuring her boldness before adding, “or even stolen.”

“Stolen?” Lucien’s brows shot up. And then he smirked. “My wife, a stubborn thief? What a picture you’ve painted of yourself.”

“Meanwhile, you’ve painted none. And because of this, I’m left to paint it myself, with whatever secrets I can steal off your words, your expressions. The things you do and don’t say. The way your hands tremble.”

Lucien raised his hand in the air, examining his long, broad fingers. Held in the light, she could see his palms were a shade lighter than the warm umber of his wrist. And as he flexed his digits open and closed, she recalled how sturdy it felt to have them wrapped over hers.

Confused, he said, “They are not trembling.”

“Not now.” With no thought as to whether she was being indelicate, Elain said, “You were touching me when we wished your mother and father goodbye. They were trembling then.”

His eyes flashed. Those fingers curled into fists, a moment before he snatched it back to his side.

“There were many guests coming to speak with us,” he said, feigning nonchalance, but his shoulders were drawn far too tight. “I get nervous in crowds.”

An obvious lie. Elain felt far too guilty to call him out for it.

Jaw set, Lucien fixed his eyes out the window, allowing a heavy silence to settle over them. Elain shuffled to the other side of the bench, perching herself against the opposite window with a small sigh. Perhaps she was the one who was cruel.

#A Blaze in the Dark #Elucienweek2023 #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

[nicki0kaye]

random kallus hc inspired by someone else's post #3

I think getting him to socialize will be like pulling teeth. It obvs depends on how you interpret his few lines in season 4, but I don't think he was doing the bond villain voice as a joke when he greeted the Spectres. I think he's just like that.

And I think he knows it's off-putting, and is using that as a shield of sorts so he doesn't have to go too far into the unknown after entirely uprooting his life and leaving the Empire.

the explanation I always come back to is 'be what they expect', like that's his strategy within the Rebellion. This is important bc my main hc for Kallus is that everything about his presentation is fake. His accent and cadence was taken from the big bad in a show he liked as a tween. His only formal education is from the Academy, so he lacks a lot of standard knowledge others take for granted. He was an entirely different person before entering the Empire (though it was the Republic at his time of enlistment), and even though he's been in character for the last 20-ish years, there's nothing stopping him from constructing a new one. Nothing but himself and his goals.

Now there's also the comfort aspect. Creating a whole new life is terrifying, and I do think there's a measure of comfort he takes for having 'valid reasons' for not reinventing himself. He's also been shaped by the Empire (and his life before, as a gang lord's son) to expect the worst of people--to make formalities weapons, to always expect the knife in the back, to take any opportunity to tear someone else down so he can rise higher. That's created a paranoid, hyper-alert state re: other people, and the people of the Rebellion have every reason to distrust and ostracize him bc of his past as an ISB officer.

All of this is to say, 'be what they expect' is both a strategy to lessen the friction between him and the Rebellion, and also as a means of protecting his own sense of stability. Changing shit up now could draw unwanted attention, give Rebels cause to distrust his goals and intentions, call into question who he is what he's capable of, and ultimately would be taxing and anxiety inducing for him.

I think he's a proud guy who doesn't do shit in half measures, and that means taking 'failure' very seriously, including social failure. If he's a stuck up asshole ex-Imp, he's not gonna win anyone over, which means he won't feel bad or like he's fucked up if no one likes him much. He's setting himself up for failure as a means of controlling the situation, bc he is very out of his depths and hyper aware of what a mistake could cost.

that isn't to say I don't love hcs where he loosens the sphincter and genuinely tries to socialize and make nice, I fucking adore those, I just think getting him there would be a process. He's a recovering perfectionist, he's gonna need the help.

I also just...look, one of my criteria for imprinting on a character is how likely they are to sit there with a neutral expression while mentally furiously playing 4D chess against themselves and their perceived opponent re: literally any social interaction. I love the mfs who look like they have their shit together but in reality are one misstep away from a meltdown over 'failing' at being a human. It's the autistic people pleaser in me.

and I love the idea of that person being worth saving. That they can bond and find love and friendship and learn to be better at this shit. I like exploring that process, warts and all. I like forcing them to admit they need other people, they want other people, even if it scares them shitless.

There's a song from the musical Company called 'Being Alive' that reminds me a lot of what I feel is the core driving force for Kallus' change. It starts with the character more or less listing all the reasons love sucks, actually, but there's a turn midway where he starts begging for all these little inconveniences because; "Alone is alone, not alive"

And I think Kallus is deeply embarrassed that he feels that way. That for all the perfectly understandable reasons to hate the Empire, he ultimately changed because he was tired of being alone and wanted to be alive. So there's also this layer of penance and self-denial that is informed by his guilt for all he's done, but is ultimately him punishing himself for wanting something so selfish and being so 'weak'.

He hasn't earned friends yet. He doesn't deserve to be loved. He has so much evil to make up for, so much work to do, it'd just be a distraction, and worse a selfish distraction.

And there's reason to consider him an inherently selfish character, I think it should probably be applied to him more, it's a much more realistic take on him, but I personally prefer the obnoxious martyrism of it all. That he's able to flip his morals because they were, ultimately, a put-on anyway. That he is aware of right and wrong and his ability to empathize hasn't withered into nothing after years of violence and cruelty. And even if he can't feel empathy as strongly as he once could, he is at least hyper aware he now runs with a crowd that draws strength from empathy and needs to readjust himself accordingly.

So I guess even if he is still talking and acting like a bond villain, he is tailoring his words and actions to suit the Rebel's sensibilities. And I think he's hyper aware that's a choice--that other people (like Zeb) are just naturally care about the right things and treating others the right way. That he's already deceiving them in a way, which inherently makes him a two-faced liar, and it would just make things messy if he added to that deceit by acting personable and kind and understanding. It's so important the Rebels trust him, so important that they not question his intel and motivations, so it just makes sense that he not push too far and make it obvious he can be anyone. That he could mirror them perfectly, say exactly what they want to hear just how they want to hear it.

No one knows he's a fake person, so he has to keep the mask on. He has to stay in his little ex-imp box and put the real reasons he defected on the back-burner so that this under-funded, over-worked, run-on-shoe-laces-and-hope band of misfits don't die on his watch.

And i really like it when he's proven wrong, and forced to abandon the box and face the horrible ordeal of being known better than he knows himself.

#kallus #nik v sw

[shuhwaa]

Ireh | First time marking you [M]

First Times Event Purple Kiss Ireh x fem-bodied!reader words: ~900 genre: smut (dom!Ireh being a bit possessive, fingering, marking (all reader receiving), a bit of begging) warnings: none

You’re sitting side by side on her bed at the dorms, thighs and shoulders touching, and both on your phones. That’s when suddenly you can feel Seoyoung’s gaze resting on you, and you tear your eyes away from the game you’re playing to look at her. There’s a mischievous grin playing on her lips - nothing unusual, but still a little unsettling considering all the absurd ideas that have caused this kind of expression to appear on her face in the past.

“What?” you ask, doing nothing to hide your worry and it makes her giggle. She puts away her phone and throws an arm around your shoulders, coming yet a little closer so you can feel her breath on your cheeks now when she speaks.

“I just had a thought.”

“I figured.” Once again, a grin on her lips.

“Wanna let me try something?” 

“Depends…” You feel like it’d be the smarter option here not to immediately say yes, so you try to get an explanation out of her first of all. However, all she gives you is a pout.

“I wanna surprise you!”

“But… fine,” you give in. “But if I say stop you stop!”

“Of course, baby.” She leans in to press her lips lightly against yours, causing your eyes to flutter shut. Then you can feel her mouth travel down, until she reaches your neck and begins kissing you there. Sighing at the sensation, it doesn’t take long for your position to change, her hovering above you now while you’re lying flat on your back. You have your hands rested on her waist, giving yourself up to the feeling of her lips against your sensitive skin, until you suddenly feel her teeth grazing the spot. You let out a yelp, and when she goes over to sucking on your skin it dawns on you what she’s trying to do.

“Babe…” You try to push her off you so she would look at you. “You can’t give me a hickey where it’s visible!” Seoyoung merely smiles at you.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she says as she shushes you with her index finger over your lips. “I won’t make it too apparent,” she chuckles, taking her hand away from your face to let it travel down your body instead. “And besides,” she adds when she slips her fingers under your shirt, “haven’t you ever wondered what it would feel like if, just technically, everyone could see that you’re mine?” You involuntarily press your thighs together tightly at the way her words make heat rush to your core. Seoyoung, who doesn’t miss your reaction, grins at you triumphantly. “Thought so,” she answers, before burying her face in your neck again.

Your clothes come off one by one eventually, until only your panties are left, and your girlfriend has worked her way down to your collarbones and eventually your chest. Sucking marks into your skin while teasing you with her fingers, drawing lines along the inside of your thighs or your hipbone, but never quite reaching where you need her the most, she’s definitely riled you up to say the least.

“Babe…” you call out to her, fire coursing through your veins. “Please, babe… touch me…”

“What?” she asks, smirking at you as she looks up. “But I am touching you!” You let out a frustrated whine, knowing full well that she’s playing with you.

“I mean… get me off… please,” you beg. Your plea makes her expression soften, and she trails a line of kisses down the valley of your breasts, before whispering,

“I’d love to.” You cry out from the relief when she finally presses her fingers against your folds. Teasing you through the thin fabric of your underwear makes you only want more, and so you continue to beg while she watches in contentment. As she slips her hand inside your panties, you moan her name.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Seoyoung mutters, watching you look away in embarrassment. “Did me marking you up turn you on that much?” 

“Y-yeah,” you admit. Your girlfriend merely grins at your answer, before pushing two fingers inside you with ease. You throw your head back, and while thinking that you could just cum on the spot, you find her lowering herself once again to nibble on your collarbones.

“You’re mine,” she mumbles while curling her fingers inside you, and you mewl in response.

“Y-yours,” you mumble, arms reaching for something to hold onto and eventually finding her body. She sucks on your skin harshly now, moaning at the way you’re desperately bucking your hips into her hand.

“Say it again, baby,” she encourages you as you’re racing towards your release.

“Yours… I’m yours…!” you repeat without thinking. And then you cry out her name as your orgasm hits, digging your nails into her clothes as you cling to her.

“That’s right,” she says. “All mine.”

As you’re coming down from your high, reality finally hits you and you realize that all the hickeys she left on your neck and the surrounding area will be very much visible to others once you have to head out the next day. So you look down at yourself, and then at Seoyoung.

“You’re gonna help me cover all of that up in the morning!” you whine at your girlfriend as she runs her fingertips up your body and then cups your face with her hand.

“As you wish,” she chuckles, lowering herself to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. And then, lowering her voice, she adds, “Any excuse to touch you more.”

#purple kiss smut #purki smut #purki x reader #purple kiss x reader #ireh smut #ireh x reader #purple kiss x fem reader #purple kiss drabbles #purple kiss imagines #purple kiss scenarios #purki drabbles #purki scenarios #purki imagines #smut #girl group smut #gg smut #girl group x reader

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Cursed

Summary: It's called a curse for a reason and when the werewolf escapes and causes harm Jack is left floundering.

Sequels bb!! Original story here. Also given the vampire a little more backstory here again for fun so sorry if you don't want LORE...or more cameos.

Vampire!Reader x Jack Russell

Warnings: animal death, blood, panic attacks, angst, once again these idiots are in love

Translations right at the end 👍

It still felt odd to say you and Jack were dating now but what else do you call two people who love one another and live together.

"Married." Ted chimed in, laughing when you almost dropped your phone. Your frowned at him from your pacing but his smile was infectious and you found yourself laughing with him.

"That make you my new brother in law then?" You joked. Ted gripped your shoulder, shaking you gently as the laughter continued. Since learning how to understand him you'd become a double act, teasing Jack relentlessly. Though in his absence the traitor had turned on you. You flopped down on the sofa next to him, frowning at the lack of messages before tossing your phone aside.

It was another full moon tomorrow and Ted had returned to assist you at Jack's request. It'd been 3 moons since you survived a night at the castle with the werewolf. However each time since then he seemed to be getting worse. More violent and more aggressive with each change, howling behind the bars. It'd frightened Jack when you told him and you'd been banned from staying with him in the cellar.

It was strange, he'd been rather sweet once you'd found him again in the castle. He'd chased everyone else off and you'd spent some time tracking his heart beast. The wolf had stalked towards you in the dim room you'd finally found him in. The moonlight filtering in from the stain glass window and illuminating his soft expression in a rainbow of colours.

He was still stunning like this, bright amber eyes and protruding teeth doing little to rob Jack of his beauty. You'd done as he had instructed you to, just in case of something like this. Keeping your head level and eyes on his as he sniffed the air.

You'd seen the recognition return behind the wolves eyes before he'd hunched back to all fours. You watched curiously as he tore the pillows from the chaise longue, pilling them haphazardly in the corner of this parlor. Then he'd pulled the curtains, tearing them down and padding atop them.

"You making yourself a little bed?" You'd asked at last. His eyes snapped to you and you stilled again. He moved back towards you, shoulders shifting beneath the fur. Stopping by your feet he let out a whine from the back of his throat.

"Oh? Right! yes, thank you." You smiled closed lipped, worried a flash of fang might be seen as threatening to him like this. You followed the wolf back to the pillows, sitting crossed legged with him squatting by you.

He was close, inhaling deeply as he appraised your reaction. You patted the pillow ahead of you humming your approval. Then when his gaze persisted you shifted to lean against them. He'd settled at that flopping hard beside you and burying his nose to your neck.

It tickled as he rubbed against the skin there, huffing hot breathes before moving higher to your jaw. He repeated this for some time before he seemed satisfied and curled against you.

When back to the cabin you told Jack about this. He seemed appreciative that you'd not been in danger. However that didn't change how he treated the next moon. After all, he'd explained, an animal can be unpredictable.

Jack returned the next morning to find you asleep against Ted's arm. He said his greetings as you awoke, kissing your temple.

"You trying to wait up?" He smiled. He moved around the room, drawing the curtains against the rays of dawn. Your groaned, stretching before flopping back against the chair.

"Yeah...Was your trip nice?" You asked, rubbing your head against the throbbing headache.

"Yeah, Lissa was happier than I thought she'd be to see me." Jack admitted sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Been a long while since we celebrated together."

You hummed as Jack ran his hand through your hair. "Told you so."

He laughed lightly, leaning back down to kiss your forehead.

"Oh Ted, I got you some records. Left them by the player outside." Jack said, earning an appreciative sound from Ted. He wandered up and out, the shadow from his frame better at blocking the suns glow coming from the curtain.

"We really need to get new ones." Jack hummed as he took Ted's place by your side.

"You think Lissa would like to meet me?" You asked suddenly.

"Oh... I don't see why not." Jack fumbled at the odd question. You'd seemed very supportive of reconnecting when he'd told you about his sister. Even insisting on helping prepare sweet treats for their family's graves before he left.

"If you don't mind me asking, where's this come from?" He questioned.

"Well you met Eric, suppose that's it for family for me. Still feels odd, last time I courted we were calling it courting." You mumbled.

Jack knew well enough now that if a blush was possible it'd be burning your ears right now. Your arm had come to rest over your eyes and Jack pulled it gently away. He reveled in your embarrassment for a moment before leaning down to kiss you gently.

"Suppose at some point I could introduce you to my oldest friend, he's still alive." You hummed when you parted.

"I'd be delighted to meet him." Jack smiled. "And as for Lissa if she doesn't call there's always next Día de Muertos. Speaking of which I have something for you too..."

Something was an understatement. Jack seemed to have spent most of his trip picking up little trinkets and souvenirs to show you on his return. You shared the day listening intently to stories from his trip but all good things come to an end.

When your strength was returning and the daylight ebbing Ted ushered Jack down to the basement. Then when he returned Ted was frowning at you.

"I know, I know. I promised I'd hunt tonight. You think it'll help?" You asked as you moved to the door.

"Help you for sure." Ted grumbled. He was right, in your concern for Jack and joy of living here you'd forgone your own health. Your eyes were bloodshot, red rimmed and bruising eye bags surrounded them. You'd felt sluggish all week and despite Jack's absence had not remedied it yet.

"You know what I mean Ted." You probed. His shoulders shrugged as he made his way to you.

"I think your scent being further might, yes. Now go before I shove you." He pressed ushering you to the night.

It was cool, the November air almost biting but it'd been a long time since that'd bothered you. The stars twinkled in the clear sky and a low breeze sent the promise of deer through the pines.

You didn't begrudge Jack his condition but in moment like this you did wish yours was more temporary. You scolded yourself for the thought, at least you go to keep your right mind. For the most part anyway.

This thirsty? A hunt was a rather dangerous proposition. Your throat burned all afternoon, your stare catching on Jack's jugular more than you'd admit. You promised years ago never to touch human blood again and you'd been true to that. Sure you were weaker without it but you slept soundly.

The deer you stalked traveled alone and was stationary as you approached. It's head bent as it lapped at a puddle. In a rush of air and fang it was down and twitching. In your right mind you didn't relish the struggle but now its fresh blood washing down your throat thrilled you. You were snarling against its throat when you heard it.

SNAP

Your head whipped up, wide eyes searching for the interruption. You were painfully aware how this looked. The blood dripping down your chin, cooling in the night air. Moments passed in silence until you heard the heart.

By now you'd recognize it deaf, Jack or specifically the werewolf. You rose a fraction at a time, keeping your eyes on the glint of his eyes in the dark. He'd gotten so close and you cursed yourself for being so distracted.

A shame burned through you and you glanced to your bloody hands. It was barely a second but it was enough. Your stare no longer holding him in place the wolf pounced.

He was heavy, crashing into you and sending you to the ground. You shrieked but his hands grabbed your own pinning them to either side of your head. You stilled, his heaving form hunched over you, face wild with frustration. The bright amber of his eyes was lost behind the swell of dark from his blown pupils.

"Jack?" You whispered but he roared into your face. You squinted against the sudden rush of air. Still he didn't attack just huffing above you before his nose was on your neck. It was warm and almost pleasant, tickling up to just under your chin before his hot tongue swiped out.

He lapped against your bloodied face before his attention returned to your throat. A deep rumble came from deep in his chest and his tongue dragged across your skin. You shivered under his touch before you felt the nip of fanged teeth.

Suddenly he wasn't Jack, he wasn't the wolf, he was your sire. Pinning your struggling form into the dirt as you screamed and he bit. Pain erupted, cold blood oozing out from fresh indents in your skin. Your chest heaved and fell in quick succession, blinding pain in your skull like midday exploding behind your eyes.

You managed to pull your legs between you both and kicked up hard. He went flying, crashing against a tree with enough force to fell it. A howling yelp shot straight through your skull as you scrambled back.

Jack, the wolf regained his footing, shaking his head. In the light of the moon he was whining and limping back towards you. You blood continued to ooze coolly, saturating the shirt you wore and the skin around the wolves lips.

Ted's roar sounded and when the wolf turned to his approach you ran.

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

Jack awoke with an ache in his chest that he couldn't place. Blind in the sun he reached out for you only to find dirt beneath his fingers. He tore his eyes open, the glare all he could see for just a moment.

Ted was there, hunching low into his line of sight, brows pulled in concern. He was in the woods, not your bed, not the cage and that fact was hell. Before he could even speak your name the taste hit him. Metallic and sharp on his tongue but awfully familiar.

Shakily he brought his muddied fingers to his lips. The dried blood caked to them flaked off and sat russet in his palm. Tears welled as his chest spasmed, he couldn't speak his throat was far too tight.

"They're okay." Ted spoke at last but the relief only lasted a moment.

"Where?" Jack choked out but Ted just shook his head.

The walk back to the cabin was slow going. Each step felt like he was moving towards something awful. All the same he needed to see you, see you were alive. Even if it meant seeing the hatred in your eyes, the disgust.

Nothing could have prepared him for the empty house. For the closest doors open and clothes missing. Ted tried to speak to him, to show him the note but Jack's world was crumbling and he couldn't hear him.

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

"Well we were called the howling commandos" You joked watching the man opposite you stare back in disbelief. You weren't sure his gaping mouth could get any wider but you were eager to test the theory.

"There were no werewolves on the squad, leave him alone y/n." Bucky grumbled next to him.

"Spoil sport." You frowned. "Don't believe him, Steve was a mummy." You joked.

"Hey I just found out Bucky and him were fighting Draculas so don't!" Sam quipped as Bucky groaned.

"Just Dracula singular." He stated.

"Eh think Draculas plural is more accurate." You added.

It'd been a long time since you'd seen Bucky in person. Not long after he got back he'd stopped responding to your calls and messages. You figured he needed time to adjust and didn't want to push it. When you saw his message you it was the perfect excuse to run further.

"God I need another drink" Sam got up to head back towards the bar as you poked at your glass.

"So you gonna tell me whats up?" Bucky asks. You raise your brows to him but he scoffs. "Come on Y/n, you're both the happiest and saddest I've ever seen you. I just wanna know if there's someone I gotta beat up."

"No! no...." You blurt before laughing a little. The humor doesn't reach your voice but you cave. "I fucked up I think."

"Okay... how so?" Bucky asks leaning closer. All at once you feel 100 years younger, sitting with Bucky in a Polish bar, trying to figure this whole vampire thing out. He'd been the only commando not afraid to join you for a drink and the rest was history.

"Things got complicated, messy... I ran." You admitted.

"They hurt you?" He asked pointing to your bandaged throat. It no longer bled through but it was far from healed.

"You don't understand, he's like me, he's not always in control!" You snap to Jack's defense. Bucky's jaw ticks and your curse. "Sorry..."

"You know I know a thing or two about that, and if you want to make amends you gotta let him do so too. He's probably hurting real bad right now." Bucky says.

"Considering I probably broke his ribs I'd say so." You muttered as you let his words sink in. He was right, Jack held a very low opinion of his werewolf side he probably felt pretty bad about now. If he didn't feel justified in attacking another monster that was. Still you wanted to apologize and that was enough reason to head back. Even just to confirm that home was no longer yours.

"How'd he manage that anyway? Pretty sure I saw you shrug off a mortar shell... is it the blood thing?" Bucky asks taking a long swig of his drink.

"Kinda? I mean I'm keeping my promise to Steve but I think it's more because he's a werewolf." You admit. Bucky chokes in his drink, spluttering as Sam arrives back with the next round.

"Werewolves are real?!" He coughs.

"I knew it!" Sam boasts.

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

Ted doesn't leave the cabin. You've been gone for a week now and Jack's barely moved. A part of him worries this has broken him, that his friend will never recover. The other stays hopeful you were being truthful in your note.

"SOS from friend. Be back ASAP."

He curses that friend for their timing, though he wouldn't blame you for leaving. After a water fight he'd finally seen the bites that littered your body. Then the face you'd made in the woods was still burned in his mind. Utter pain and betrayal. Sure was glad Jack didn't remember that, though the taste of your blood on his tongue did enough.

Jack was asleep. He'd been drinking the night before and Ted had to put him to bed. Now he was alone again in the stuffy cabin taking care of the mess as the dusk cast long shadows through the windows.

Ted had gone to open the window when he saw you shifting over a fallen log. Bags in hand, sunglasses in place and stumbling on the overgrown trail. He's outside in a second, door slammed and bouncing back in its frame.

Ahead Ted stares at you and you can't help but drop your bags, surging towards him. Ted grips you the moment you fling yourself up onto his chest, holding you to the soft moss.

"Did you walk here in the sun?" Ted scolds and you laugh into his shoulder. "You should've called!"

"I know, I'm sorry." You say as he places you back onto your feet. "If it makes you feel better I got a lift to the trail start."

Jack stirred from his sleep, head pounding and throat raw. The front door slamming against the walls pierced like a lance to the skull. He groaned, rolling to his feet and stumbling into the brighter living room. The last light of day didn't help his headache but he continued until he heard your laugh.

His feet move of their own accord, the siren song drawing him to the porch. Ted's shoulders hunch low as he leans over to talk before he turns. The light hits your hair, haloing around your face and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Jack's stare cuts deeper than any knife, any stake, any wound you've ever felt. Bucky was right, he was so right. Jack's a mess, red tiered eyes, unshaven, mess of greying hair sticking up at every angle and he's the most perfect thing in the world right now.

You don't know how to start. What to say to him or even if you should approach. Though when his knees buckle and he slumps to his knees your rushing to him. Sliding to your knees and pulling him to you tightly. His arms don't wrap around you though and you shift back as if stung. His glassy eyes are on your throat and a shaking hand rises to the wound.

"No, no. See its okay." You babble out as your own tears well. Pealing the gauze away you reveal the scabbing wound. Its still angry, still raw but no where near the puffy bleeding mess you'd left with.

Not to Jack though. Who'd seen your stake would close and disappear without a trace over the course of a few days. This brutal mark he left on you. Another bite from a monster scarring your skin.

You cannot bare his silence, the thundering of his heart nor the guilt stricken face. You ramble half incoherent apologies between sobs, for not running, for hurting him, for leaving. He doesn't touch you but you freeze under his eyes, finally meeting yours.

"You have nothing to apologize for..." He chokes out. His voice is gruff, raw in his throat. "I'm the one who..."

Jack crumples and his head is on your lap, burying into your stomach. Hot tears soaking into your trousers as he digs his hands into the fabric of your coat.

"Te pido disculpas de corzon, No te imaginas cuánto lo siento." He wails against you. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...I"

He doesn't get to finish. He's being lifted under his arms and tackled back against the cabin floor. Your holding him, hugging tightly against him. This time his warm arms embrace you back, his hands stroking your hair as you cry harder.

"I thought you'd hate." You finally mumble against his chest before rising to see his face.

"I thought you'd hate me!" Jack responds his hand brushing against your cheek. "I'm an idiot."

You laugh lightly, leaning into his touch. "I'm an idiot."

"Your both idiots now get off the floor." Ted huffs.

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

Jack doesn't leave your side the entire night. Your legs flung over his and resting your head against his shoulder. A few times you catch his eyes on your neck again and you kiss under his jaw.

He still looks pained, guilty but he's holding onto you. His hands hot against your body and pulling you flush to him. You'd joke about evening the score but it's too soon you can tell. So you just let him hold you, not that your not enjoying it.

"Is your friend okay now?" Ted asks. He hands you both a cup of tea before settling on the floor. You perk up at his question.

"Yes, thank you. He's actually the one who drove me here." You say. Jack shifts under you, rubbing his face into your hair again.

"Your old friend?" He asks softly.

"The very same, he's was pretty worried about you actually. Eager to get me home quick." You admit. Jack kisses your head again before sipping the tea.

"I'll have to thank him, perhaps get his blessings." Jack hums.

"He's still in town actually, you could?" You phrase it as a question but you can feel Jack nodding against you, drinking his tea again when you speak.

"How do you feel about meeting an Avenger?"

He chokes.

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

Te pido disculpas de corazón, No te imaginas cuánto lo siento - I sincerely apologize, you can't imagine how sorry I am

#werewolf by night #jack russell x reader #my fics #teeth for hire

[lvenha]

I DON'T DO DR*GS!

SUMMARY: Partying is not your cup of tea but not when there's your childhood best friend, lee heeseung that will protect you. What if heeseung suddenly receives a call from you who wants him to help about something. You're not taking dr*gs are you?

🍒 PAIRINGS: bestfriend!lee heeseung x fem!reader

🍒 WARNINGS: SMUT! teenagers partying, use of viagra, reader is under influence of dr*gs, mentions of alcohol, unprotective s*x, p*netration, oral s*x - f receiving, nipple play.

"Jay, punta muna ako sa baba" Paalam ni heeseung sa lalaking pinaglalaruan ang lollipop niya as an alternative for cigarettes. Jay just nodded at his older friend flashing a smile that looks like a smirk because of the lollipop's stem between his teeth.

The music became loud as heeseung descended the stairs to the first floor of sunghoon's house. He sighed, he was always a party person pero minsan nakakasawa na.

This should be more enjoyable if Y/N was here, he thought looking around hoping to see some familiar faces from his friends. Heeseung started to walk toward the living room and luckily, he spot jungwon sitting on the couch in the center of the room.

Natawa si heeseung nung makitang nakaheadphone ang bata at nakapikit pa, badtrip na naman siguro 'to. He tapped his young friend on the shoulder which made the boy look back at him, Jungwon was annoyed at first. He thought it was someone he doesn't know but when he sees it was heeseung, his facial expression calmed down.

"Ubos na battery mo?" Tanong ni heeseung bago sumalampak ng upo sa tabi ni jungwon. "Ubos na ubos na." Jungwon replied getting his hyung's metaphor, his eyes involuntarily rolled around his skull.

Heeseung's forehead draw lines as he looks at the younger, "So, bakit di ka pa umuuwi?"

"May inaantay ako pero di na ata dadating" Jungwon replied that made the older one think. Ah, badtrip nga.

Heeseung was about to ask when someone abruptly sits on the other side of jungwon which made his words got cut. "Hinihintay niya crush niya, hyung. Loverboy na pala si jungwon" Niki said before plopping down beside jungwon and snaking his arms to its shoulder. The latter on the other hand glared at the youngest seemingly giving warning, not really sure if it's about the mentioning of his 'crush' or the way niki called him informally.

The glare made the youngest shut his mouth and heeseung released a chuckle, "Is this about that cute student council secretary?"

Hindi nagsalita si jungwon but niki nodded his head aggressively still not saying any words, afraid that it will push his cute hyung's buttons.

"Don't worry, won. If you want, tulungan kita na mayaya mo siya ma date?"

"It's not about that hee hyung. Badtrip si jungwon hyung kase nakita niya na dikit ng dikit yung P.R.O natin dun sa crush niya and then nagselos siya-"

"I'm not!" Sigaw ni won.

"Kung hindi, so tell us the reason bakit mo siya pinapunta dito sa party kahit alam mo naman na never siyang naging party person?"

"Wala... gusto ko lang iparanas sa kanya yung paraan natin ng fun"

"Eh ano naman sayo?" Tanong ulit ni niki. It was obvious that the youngest gain enough confidence to push won's buttons, lalo na ngayon, Jay is not around. If nandito pa si jay, niki would never do this.

Hindi na sumagot si jungwon but niki is still staring at him, a teasing smile on his lips. Pinalipat-lipat ni heeseung ang tingin niya sa dalawa, "Eh bakit? Nagseselos ka, niki?" Tanong niya sa kaibigan.

"Luh, asa ka hyung!" Niki immediately replied which made jungwon smirk, "Bahala nga kayo dyan, hanapin ko muna si sunoo hyung" He added before walking away and never look back even once to his friends which caused Heeseung to laugh.

"Siraulo talaga yun" The older whispered making jungwon nodded his head.

"Nga pala, hyung. Nandito si Y/N kanina ah..." Jungwon said changing the topic. The sudden mention of heeseung's childhood friend's name made his ear twitch. "Nandito si Y/N?"

Jungwon nodded, "Oo, di mo alam? I thought kanina pa kayo magkasama since hinila siya nila sunghoon hyung sa taas para maglaro and di ko na siya nakitang bumaba."

"Eh kasama ko sila sunghoon kanina eh. Kelan siya pumunta?" Heeseung asked who's standing up now ready to run to any rooms upstairs just to find you. Jungwon, on the oher hand, looked at his wristwatch. "I think... almost 1 hour ago na?" Jungwon answered, making heeseung whisper a 'shit' before shouting a 'thank-you' to jungwon and bolts towards the stairs and into the 2nd floor.

Fuck, bat di ka niya nakita kanina? Sunghoon was there in the room playing some games nung dumating siya and you are nowhere to be found. Heeseung did invite you to the party but you said you need to finish an output first that is due next week- which Heeseung didn't really understand, so akala niya hindi ka pupunta. Hindi naman sa wala siyang tiwala sa mga kaibigan niya, he did trust them but not sunghoon, most especially not the DRUNK sunghoon.

Jay looked at heeseung wide-eyed when the older suddenly stormed from the door, "Hyung, gago-"

"You saw Y/N?" Heeseung cutted jay, if it was a normal conversation and Heeseung didn't frantically looking for you then for sure, makakatikim si jay sa muntikang pagmura neto kay hee but this is not the case. He needs to find you, he needs to ensure that you are safe.

Kumunot ang noo ni jay, "Si Y/N? Nandito si Y/N?" Heeseung didn't answer, he seems impatient from the way his wide eyes stared at Jay and how his hands grip the door handle as he peeks into the room, ready to run again once he got the answer.

"No, hyung. Magkasama tayong pumunta dito kanina, right?"

Heeseung muttered a silent 'thank you' kahit na hindi naman talaga nakatulong yung sinabi ni Jay sa kanya. He runs towards the other rooms na katabi lang ng kwarto kung nasaan si Jay. Heeseung was about to open the door of the last room to the end of the hallway when he felt his phone vibrate.

Inis niyang tiningnan ito para i-reject but then he saw your caller ID. Heeseung pressed the answered button and immediately put his phone to his ear. "Fuck! Y/N, where are you?!" Sigaw na tanong ni Heeseung. Y/N didn't answer, he just heard some shuffling and heavy breaths. Tangina, are you fucking someone right now? Kumukulo ang dugo ni Heeseung sa naiisip niya.

"Y/N, answer me right now. Where are you?" Heeseung's voice was strained, it was full of worry, care, and... jealousy? May karapatan ba siyang magselos eh hindi naman kayo? But at this moment, Heeseung didn't really care. He needs to find you and know that you are safe. If you're really fucking someone nga then, so be it. He can deal with his heartbreak later after he knows you're safe.

"Heeseung..." You called, heavy breaths were heard after that. "Yes, Y/N?!" Heeseung almost shouted, he was getting more impatient. Almost like he's on the thin thread. It's a good thing that he's at the end of the hallway and hindi na masyadong rinig yung music sa baba but his feet can still feel the soft vibrations of the floor, that's why he can hear you clearly. "Help me please... so hot"

"Nasaan ka ba?"

He heard another sound. Did you just moan? You moan on the phone with him and he's not the one who's making you make that sound. Damn, He was so fucking offended.

"T-third floor..."

Heeseung didn't even wait for your sentences to finish, "Don't you ever move from there and wait for me. Papunta na ko." He replied before running towards the 3rd floor, the one that is restricted from outsiders other than sunghoon's circle.

"Y/N?!" He shouted before barging into the nearest room. Heeseung was ready to throw his hands on the man but there was no one other than you. There you were sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. Your back was resting at the end of the bed, legs folded as you hug your knees close to you. Your head was bent over, covering your face with your hair. Heeseung heard a muffled sound from you, "Y/N?" He called, walking closer and sitting beside you.

Tinapik niya ang ulo mo that causes you to look up. You are so red, so flushed and your breathing was heavy as you look at him. "What happened? May masakit ba sayo? Should I take you to the hospital?" He asks voice full of concern and worry. You shook your head as an answer. "S-sunghoon, made me drink..."

"He made you drink what?" Tanong ni Heeseung, his brows are furrowed. Ano na namang kalokohan ginawa ng kaibigan niya?

"I finished my o-outputs early and... decided to go after y-you. I met won and d-decided to wait for you to... together with him. Sunghoon saw me- and told me an nandun kana so s-sumama ako." You released a heavy sigh before continuing, "But w-when we got there, wala ka dun. I don't want t-to be kj kaya naglaro ako ng isang round ng truth or dare, n-napili ako for a truth na a-ayoko sagutin and ayoko din namang uminom ng alak so si-sinabi ko kay hoon. H-he told me to drink milk na lang so I did, after 30 minutes of waiting for you... I felt something di-different so I hid in here" Y/N added, she looks like in pain which made heeseung worried more. Her eyes have some tears as she looks at him.

"That's- ha!... that's when I realized... sunghoon put viagra on my drink. It's been an hour, hee and I can't... I just can't, please help me"

"Let's go to the hospital" Heeseung was about to lift Y/N into a bridal style but she stops him. "No, hee. I wanted YOU to help me out"

Heeseung's mouth opened for a minute. Believe him he wanted to but you're not in the right state of mind. Kumbaga, you can be compared to someone who is drunk and should never decide on something like this. In short, your consent is not valid.

"But Y/N as much as I wanted to, you're not on the right state of mind. Hospital ang kailangan mo, hindi ako."

"Ikaw ang kailangan ko!" You shouted at him. "Just fuck me good, hee... please?" You said voice feels like a whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes. Heeseung can feel his blood rushing down until at the very tip of his dick.

"You're saying that you don't want to but... that, says otherwise," You said nodding at his pants causing heeseung to look down at his pants. Tangina, tinayuan na nga siya. Paano bang hindi? Ang hot mo kaya.

"I don't want to take advantage of you, Y/N."

"You're not! Believe me... you're not. Please, take me, Heeseung."

Heeseung can't stop himself as he groaned, pulling you up before gently pushing you to the bed. "Are you really sure about this?" You nodded as Heeseung got on top of you, kissing you on your forehead before sealing your lips with his. You moaned in between you making out that made heeseung smile. You pushed heeseung on top of you causing him to lay on his back beside you, his eyes are wide as he looks at you get on top of him before sucking the sweet spot on his neck making him moan.

He loves this new you. Heeseung can't even imagine that he can be a witness of you being so bold and hot as fuck. You press your lips on him again. As you two make out, your hands travel down before grabbing his clothed dick. Heeseung groaned as he looks into your eyes, "Do you want to suck it?" He ask and you nodded, heeseung hummed, "Maybe, next time. This is about you and your pleasure, Y/N." He said pecking your lips and angling his head to suck at your neck that surely will leave a hickey tomorrow.

"Hee... nakikiliti ako"

"Tiisin mo, I need to mark you up real quick." He said, his tongue wetting the spot that he had just bitten. Heeseung's hand came into your top, grabbing your breast over your clothes. "Let's get rid of this" He whispered, unbuttoning your crop top and then removing your bra in front which made your tits fully exposed to him. Heeseung licks it with his soft tongue before pulling you into his lap making you strangle him. Your undone crop top and bra are messily hung from your arms.

Heeseung didn't waste any second sucking as he enjoyed playing with your tits while you hissed in pleasure. You can't help but to completely remove all your clothes from your body.

Fuck, it feels so good but the throbbing pain on your pussy made you need heeseung more. "Hee, quit teasing..." Heeseung chuckled and muttered a 'sorry'. He lays you on your back again before standing up and undressing. He remove his striped turtleneck before completely removing his jeans and boxers leaving him entirely naked. You watched him as he did and you unintentionally, swallowed your saliva when you see his girth and length.

Heeseung gets on the bed as he pulls your skirt and panties, you didn't even wait and just spread your legs to him which made heeseung laugh as he shakes his head. He didn't say anything and just pulled you in a kiss, "I'll make you feel good, Y/N." Heeseung whispered to your ear before his lips traveled south to your body, mouth not separating from your skin as he left soft butterfly kisses on you before kneeling on the floor, face in front of your pussy.

"Fuck, ang basa mo" He said, his hot breath making contact with your cunt. You were about to complain when heeseung lick your folds before completely drowning his face on you, mouth sucking your clit while you moan. Both of his arms, wrap around your legs to lock it.

You can't help yourself but snake your own hands under your own legs to try to steady and spread you further for heeseung. You felt him smile on your folds, pinching your nipples as a sign of thank you, now that his hands are free. It travels on your pussy again, getting some of your juices to spread with his index finger before shoving it.

Heeseung felt your tightness, your walls didn't want to let his fingers go. He pumped it a few times before adding second then third, you moan in response as heeseung shushed you. Departing his lips from your clit, "Shh... I need you to be ready for me" Bulong ni heeseung bago ipinagpatuloy ang pag pleasure sayo. The only sound na maririnig sa apat na sulok ng kwarto ay yung wet noise from your pussy and your heavy breaths.

Heeseung was like in heaven, you're voice sounds like heaven... you felt like heaven. It was just a fantasy nung una, he was just imagining you writhing from pleasure under him... the pleasure that comes from him. "Ah, fuck!" Another rush of blood came in his dick as he heard you moan. Your voice became loud as your walls clenched his fingers.

He look up to you, you were so fucked out. Hands turned white while gripping the pillow under your head, and your face was tilted to the side as if you want to hide. With one swift movement of heeseung's fingers, you finally came. Back arching as you squealed trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck... ugh...." You whispered as you close your eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, i-i still feels hot so... just please fuck me now." You breathlessly said before removing your wrist over your eye to look directly at heeseung. "Mas lalo akong natuturn on sa pagiging straightforward mo"

"Pansin ko nga..." Sagot mo at inilipat ang tingin sa boxer niya. You're face is so sexy, you're glowing and you look like a goddess.

Heeseung followed your line of sight and there he see his own weapon, looking so good and red as precum ooze from its head. It was obviously screaming for some pussy to suck him off that's why heeseung give in. He turns you around making you lay on your stomach before getting on top of you. "You ready?" Heeseung asks and you nodded then you felt him stretching you up to the fullest. "Fuck!" Both of you groaned.

"Tangina ang sikip mo!" Sabi ni Heeseung as he tried his best to fill you. Siguro dahil na rin sa fact na you just cum kanina ay mas nag double yung init at sikip ng puke mo, idagdag mo pa na it's been almost 6 months after your last sex. "Fuck, hee..." You whispered, your eyes closed as you whimper in pleasure. Heeseung kisses your lids allowing you to adjust to his length.

"Ha... you can move hee" And heeseung gratefully heed your plead. He pulled his hips back until tip na lang yung natira and then pushed inside again slowly, which made you sigh in satisfaction.

"Sarap?" He whispered on your ear. You hummed before nodding, "Masarap"

Tangina, hindi mo naman first time pero dahil sa laki ni heeseung ay parang ganun na lang din ang nangyari, though it was not a painful feeling. It was weird but more on the pleasurable side.

As much as you want heeseung to be rough with you dahil na nga rin sa effect ng viagra ay hindi rin pwede. You don't want heeseung to be burdened with guilt after, just for your pleasure. Alam mo na, in the first place it's your safety that he thinks and nothing else.

After some time, heeseung picked up his pace when he felt you relax around him. As his thrust escalated so are your cries of praise for him.

"Ah... Ah! Fuck, Hee! Yes! Please faster, baby!" And again heeseung heed your demands pleasuring you to no end while you moan for him. He suddenly pulled out of you which made you whine and before you even process it, he suddenly turn you again making you face him into a missionary position. Walang sabi sabi ay ipinasok niya ulit ang tite niya sayo na naging dahilan ng pag sigaw mo, not in pain but in pleasure.

"Tangina, Heeseung!" Sigaw mo as you felt him thrusting in and out again. He adjusted himself, putting both of his hands under your leg before pushing it to spread you even further as he fastened his pace.

The stunt made you scream in pleasure, you even bet that you are slowly but surely losing your sanity as he fucks your brain out m. Heeseung looked at you, you are so lost in the black hole of glee. Your eyes are closed, and your mouth was opened as you moaned.

He then takes it as a chance to grab your breast, squeezing it. His hands left your legs as heeseung felt that you were spreading it yourself. Heeseung's lips came in contact with your neck, as much as he wants to kiss you ay ayaw niyang mawala ang tunog ng ungol mo. It was turning him on so much.

"Open your eyes, baby..." You tried but you can't, it was so good that your eyes can't help but be glued together tight shut. Nilakasan mo ang ungol mo in response, hoping na makukuha ni heeseung ang message mo but he didn't, "Open your eyes for me, Y/N" He said, voice strained as he release a groaned. After some seconds your eyes were slightly opened but you're still having a hard time, "Now, scream my name, baby. Let people hear how good I make you feel, how good I fuck you as you look at my eyes."

You compose yourself, opening your eyes more than before as you look at heeseung's eyes still moaning. Your face was contorted with pleasure all over it, "Ah! Fuck, Heeseung! Ah!" You screamed as heeseung released a low moan. The intensity of pleasure, heeseung's presence, and demands doubled your bliss as you moaned his name nonstop, still trying to look at his eye while tears came down from your lids. "Tangina, it feels so good, heeseung! Ah!" You were trembling, your whole body trembled while heeseung change his thrust. It became more faster and shorter, sobrang feel na feel mo siya sa pinakadulo ng pagkababae mo and it made you feel so fucking good. Para kang nasa langit, feeling mo sasabog kana.

"More! Heeseung! Ah! More please! Faster!" Heeseung did as he felt your walls clenched around his dick together with the feeling of a knot inside him. "Come inside me, heeseung!" You moaned to his ears which made both of you let go and cum. Heeseung's hips didn't stop as he rides his high, cumming inside you. When he felt that he was done, he then finally collapsed beside you pulling you closer as he spoons you. You two are still trying to calm your breathing. Heeseung kissed you on top of your head and you felt yourself calming under his touch.

"I'm gonna kill sunghoon tomorrow. Good night, baby" That's the last thing you heard before sleep comes for you.

You hummed as you slightly shift and felt some arms around you that also shifted together with your body. Your eyes looked up to see heeseung sleeping, his breath and heartbeat are slow. His other hand is behind your head pulling you closer to him.

"Morning?" He said in a raspy voice na ikinakunot ng noo mo. "Hoy, bat hindi mabaho hininga mo tuwing umaga?"

Halatang nagulat si Hee sa sudden outburst mo but he finds it cute, "I just did you last night tas yan yung unang sasabihin mo sakin?" He said smiling, you can't help but remember all the things he did last night that made you blush.

"I think it's because I drink so much water everynight?" He said not really sure. "Pero bakit ba hininga ko pinag-uusapan natin?"

"Ano ba dapat nating pag-usap-"

"Yung tungkol sa'tin, ano ka ba?" Kunot noong sabi ni Heeseung sayo, "Did I fuck you so good that your brain isn't fully functioning?" dagdag niya habang nang-aasar. Parang sira.

"Wag nga masama ugali, Hee. Napaka naman, ang aga aga."

"So?"

"Ano?" Heeseung rolled his eyes, "I like you, ever since highschool." Upon hearing those words your world seems to stop. He likes you? You? Prank ba 'to? Heeseung noticed that you freeze, his lips parted before averted his gaze. "I-I don't care if you don't like me-"

"I like you too, Hee!" Sigaw mo sa kanya as both of you panicked. "Sabi ko nga- Wait... Really?!!!"

You rolled your eyes at him and said 'yes' again. "I can't believe that you like me all this time. Ang dami mo kayang girlfriend na pinapakilala sa'kin"

"Masisisi mo ba ko? Sa gwapo kong- ARAY!" Sigaw niya nung hinampas mo siya sa braso. "On a serious note, I tried to move on that time kase as cliche as it is, ayoko masira yung pinagsamahan natin. You remember those times na umiiwas ako sayo...?" You nodded at him as your remembered those times in your highschool time. Bigla na lang umiiwas si Heeseung sayo, biglang nawawala and then after a week magpapakita na parang walang nangyari.

You didn't confront him about that until now since that time, you wanted to give heeseung his own space. You thought na ganun lang talaga, na nagbabago kayong dalawa. Hindi naman kailangan na porket magbest friend since you two remembered ay need niyo nang sabihin lahat sa dalawa. Of course, you two will have your own world.

"...I tried to forget those feelings by avoiding the person who I felt those feelings for pero di ko pala kayang di kita nakikita or nababadtrip sa isang araw. The next thing I knew, my feelings grow ng walang pasintabi." Heeseung explained as he carresed your hair. "Tayo na, ah! Wala ng bawian!" Sigaw niya na parang bata. Gusto mo mang umirap sa pagka-childish niya ay tumawa ka na lang at tsaka yumakap sa kanya. Buti na lang gwapo ka.

You two stayed in the bed for some time, both are engulfed in a comforting silence as you lay your head on heeseung'a chest while his hands draw small circles or pinch your arm while the other was scrolling through his phone. All of the sudden, Heeseung get up, leaving the white sheet for your naked body since nakaboxer na siya. He stands up and started to walk towards the door.

"Saan ka-"

"Dyan ka lang. Kukunin ko lang yung breakfast..." Kaya pala nagscroll kanina, sabi mo sa isip mo habang nagsusuot ng tshirt si Heeseung "And I'm gonna kill someone"

"Huh?" Nagtatakang tanong mo sa kanya, you were about to add a question but your voice was cut off with the sound of doors closing. It was silent for a moment until you heard a pterodactyl-like scream was heard from downstairs.

"Sunghoon..." You muttered as you laughed. For sure, Heeseung was the reason why he screamed. Medyo naamazed ka pa since nasa third floor ka pero rinig na rinig talaga. Suits him right.

EXTRAS:

"Y/N! Ikaw na!" Sunghoon shouted pointing at you before he chugged his drink. Lasing na nga. "Okay, so truth or dare?" Sunghoon asks, eyes boring into you. "

"Truth" The whole circle shouted, "Okay, so do you like heeseung hyung?"

Natigilan ka. You won't be surprised if one of your most observant friends, sim jaehyun, knows about your budding feelings for your childhood best friend. Halata na yung feelings mo but you are hardheaded, you refuse to confess your feelings to people that is not heeseung.

"No"

"Ey, Y/N. Wag na tayong maglokohan dito- oh shit, wait may tumatawag sa akin." Medyo nakahinga ka ng maluwag when jake excuses himself. "If you don't want to answer the question, then do the consequences" Sunghoon chimed in before sitting beside you.

"And? What is it?"

"You drink milk" He answered, his hands giving you a glass of white liquid. You sniff it and wala naman siyang kahit an among amoy, that's when you chugged it in one down.

"Hoon, musta ka na?" Sagot ni Jay habang nakangiti, "Masakit pa rin... ang kirot." Sagot niya habang inaabot ang ulam.

"Siraulo ka kase." Heeseung chimed habang nilalagyan ng kanin ang pinggan ko.

"Do you know that viagra is dangerous? Buti na lang at gatas pa yung pinainom mo kay Y/N at hindi beer. Lagot ka talaga kay Heeseung hyung if nagkataon" Dagdag ni Jake.

"Wala akong excuse, it's my fault naman talaga... sorry ulit, Y/N" I smiled at Hoon, "Okay lang..." I felt heeseung's eyes on me as if tinubuan ako ng buntot. "But... ililibre mo ko for the whole month" I added as I doubled my smile, heeseung laugh together with the boys as he looks at me as if he was proud.

"Mamumulubi ka, sunghoon hyung" Sabi ni Jungwon habang tumatawa.

"Wait, teka nga... so ano na status niyo?" Sunoo asked as he point at me and heeseung. "Kami na" Sagot ng katabi ko at naghiyawan ang buong barkada. "Congrats lods di kana torpe" Sigaw ni niki na nakapagpatawa sa akin.

"Let's celebrate!"

"Sige ba! basta ikaw magbayad, jay. Ikaw nakaisip eh" Heeseung told as we all laugh again.

"Teka... curious ako, anong palang ginawa ni heeseung hyung kay sunghoon hyung? Ang lakas ng sigaw niya kanina ah" Niki asked as I looked at heeseung also curious.

"Kinurot ko sa nipples" Walang pasintabi na sagot ni Heeseung that causes jake to spill the water that he was drinking on jay's face that made us laugh. "Tangina, pre ang baboy!" Sigaw niya habang kumukuha ng napkin.

© lvenha 2022 | tumblr

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#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen imagine #enhypen drabbles #enhypen filo smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung #park jeongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaehyun #enhypen

[crimsonlyinglilly]

DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"

Day 22 of Febuwhump.

@febuwhump

from Familiar faces, set after 3x05 Vampire Dairies,

As Klaus has no care as he stamps all over Elijah's life, Rebekah is forced to try to mediate between them instead of enjoying her reunion before Klaus cost them their brother again.

—-

Elijah was trying to finish some paperwork for the school, things to help him complete the year quicker with extra credit for college and Uni options. The sooner he left school and the further he went it was better for his friends if he could lead Klaus away with him.

Mystic falls was his home, several times over but it would be safer without Klaus, and Kol if he ever managed to get Klaus to free him as well.

He wanted his family, all of them, he just had to keep them apart.

“You weren’t meant to be there.” Klaus told him, as if that made the night any better, it still hadn’t beaten the ritual but it was close.Tyler’s still body, Stefan blood covered face, two dead classmates.

He wasn’t left with funerals to arrange this time.

His reunion with Rebekah hadn’t made up for any of it in the least.

“That makes it better.” he remarks sarcastically “I wasn't meant to be there when you killed one of my friends and terrorised the rest, were you going to hide it and hope I wouldn't notice. Who else would have turned him into a hybrid, Niklaus?” he asked looking up from his paper to stare at him unimpressed

“Your friends needed motivation.” Klaus shrugged

“And now you're just going to use Elena as a blood bank for your pets?” he asked,

“Pets? Your calling your friend a-” Klaus started to say with a surprised innocent expression.

“He’s sirebonded Niklaus.” he told him, the others hadn’t noticed, likely didn’t know or understand what it meant, which meant Elijah was going to have to explain. He snap his pen when he noticed the growing smirk on his brother’s face. “That’s just better for you isn’t, killing him and then gloating about him as you flaunt the fact you took his free will from him too.”

If he was in his original body he would have hit his brother, thrown him into the wall and made sure the contact hurt, bared his teeth in a snarl to show his rage, but if he was in his original body, none of this would ever have happened and Tyler, Elena and the rest might be fine as he wouldn’t have been there to draw Klaus to them.

He wanted to throw Klaus out a window, with telekinesis but Klaus had already left bruises where people would see after he did it twice after he killed Tyler, forgetting human limits.

Once was fine, twice resulted in a tight grip on the back of his neck and on one of his shoulders.

He‘d save that for another time, perhaps with more time Klaus could relearn to take more care.

Otherwise he was going to have to get his cheer uniform top changed but he had to hope Klaus would learn soon.

He’d laugh at himself for being naively optimistic, but he had always been with his family, it was a good job Elijah was experienced with bruises, past lives and current one.

It made accepting Damon’s worse easier since that was the tip of his first family and his own crimes.

Being a younger brother was easier.

At least Damon could be reasoned with or guilted if Elijah used the right sad look.

He doesn’t let that remind him of the other problem that Klaus had caused, Stefan without his humanity back on human blood, it made his throat ache and left him cold.

“Think of it this way, you’ll still have him when you return to your original body.” Klaus’s words drew him out of his thoughts and he started packing about his things, there was keeping his temper and there was sitting there to be taunted.

“You think I'm scared of burying my loved ones Klaus, it’s not new.” he said thinking of the evenings he and his wife had laughed about their plans, they were old, it was natural, he was pleased he won in the end and died before her. 

“I settled Zee’s estate and arranged his and uncle John’s funerals after the last time you messed up my life.” he reminds him as zipped up his backpack, “Burying them after a long life is far better than watching them struggled to deal with the fact their future is gone, changed irrevocably.”

He had seen and failed to really help Vicki and Caroline.

“Where are you going?” Klaus asked, as he stood up.

“Out” he said as he swung the backpack over his shoulder.

“Where-” Kluas took a step towards him

“None of your business, I agreed to live with you, not belong to you.” he snaps back, smothering the panic at the memory of living with another vampire, ‘they are nothing alike,” he reminded himself but if emotions followed logic life would likely be easier for everyone. ‘Tristan was a broken mirror of himself. But Lucian-’ he ended that though ruthlessly before he ended up throwing up, that night was made far worse now he understood why it had left him feeling wrong and sick.

He also hated that he knew Klaus had caught something from a change in his heart beat as he stopped his movement to look at him.

“You're going to them-” Klaus started after a moment of watching and Elijah hears the petulant child Klaus used to be as children on the few times Elijah was invited to go with the neighbours his age and mother and father allowed it.

“Maybe” he shrugged as he passed Klaus “What does it matter they’re my family too.” he called back as he reached the door.

Because Elijah wasn’t going to give them up, yes he might have to move away in hopes to spare them from his first siblings but he loved them, if they needed him he would be there.

Klaus was going to have to learn to share, Elijah had indulgened him too long.

‘Look what happened last time.’ He thought,  losing Celeste, abandoning Marcellus, and the chance to raise a child, to keep Klaus happy, he had still ended up cursed and Klaus still hadn’t learned a thing.

Elijah had missed so much.

Marcellus had grown up, been turned and became someone Klaus had respected. 

And died, another death on Father’s tally.

Elijah doesn’t let himself wonder if thing would have been different if he was, if he would have been able to prevent Father from find their home.

“Brothers.” Rebekah’s voice called them, just before he reached the door. Elijah plastered on a smile and turned back, returning to her to pull her into a hug, there wasn’t as much of a size difference as there used to be, he still had some growing to reach his final height,  but that didn’t matter, he had missed his little sister.

She returned hugging slightly too tightly, which he wouldn’t blame her, if he had lost her he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

Rebekah as alway was better than him though and released him from the slightly too long hug eventually, accepting his excuse to leave and letting him.

—--

“Maybe you should try to be nicer to his new-” Rebekah started to tell him.

“Like you and Elena.” he interrupted before before she went on raising an eyebrow that she would try that , he wasn't sure if her anger at the doppelganger was due to her relationship with Stefan or the risk of Elena taking her place as Elijah’s sister.

“I’m working on it.” she replied glaring at him adding “She matters to him, they all do.”  

“He’s had pets before, he’ll move on.” Klaus smiled at her, filling a glass from the cabinet.

“How did that work out after Celeste?” she snapped, twisting him and pushing him back against the wall, he grimaced as the glass fell shattering and sending red liquid to stain the wall and floor. “I won't have you cost us him again, we lost him once already, do you really want to lose him again?”

She released him after she said her piece, storming away and following Elijah out of the house.

Perhaps to buy more clothes, start making things up with Elijah’s new people or just to follow their older brother, unwilling to risk the idea of having him there and real, wasn’t a dream to fade away.

Klaus let out his breath after the door shut and he was alone, the memory of a too young Elijah in his arms threatening to swallow him.

His unnatural hearing, catching the sound of broken ribs cracking with each tiny gasp.

No words made it past the blood flecked lips even though Klaus could see him try, he was left with a small smile and a hand reaching for him before the tiny failing heart stopped and the hand fell.

Elijah died in his arms.

The same way Henrik had.

Elijah as a human was too easy to lose; it was better if he gave them up and returned to his first family, let him return him to his proper body.

One that didn’t bruise or break so easily.

They would find a way to return him to his Original, stronger, better, safer, body and Klaus would never have to think about any of this again.

Elijah would accept it.

It would be easier if the witch had managed to seal all the unneeded memories away but Elijah power had come as a surprise, no matter Klaus would try other ways to get Elijah to understand he only needed them.

His first family and the only one that mattered.

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