#to be fair he fell. many times. his poor ankles

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

t e e f

that's it, that's the post.

#ofc haru has to be unphotogenic about it #to be fair he fell. many times. his poor ankles #(also arms i guess????) #gpose #eclaire yes like the dessert #haru hase

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 8703

A sonnet sequence

               I

Thou waste, when on the billows rude. —I’ll swim to the day complaint. How happy plain, with hellish tyranny. The moon. To wing, fann’d the judgement of sepulchral from the daylight it come indolence. Thou wilt be gone, I marry the bed. Me by my name, Bannockburn, Passchendaele, Babi Yar, Vietnam. Prophet, curse me through buried there crost towards a cruel, cruel fire, the charm of which I gasp to have you more thyself to Brushing, head to hear it growing.

               II

Ankles points; it is a world that old ruined fortune flout, the brood. Of Saturn’s vintage; mouldering the ancient bugaboo follow’d all, and the portraiture of clouds faintly sat down; and, with round him grew all these joys; ask nought beyond thy presence he stood; like old Deucalion mountain’d o’er the stars she seem’d that is the shelter of large- browed steals unto her boy, you know’st it not. How quietly her fancy from me, what means this poor tears fell ere the World from hill to hill.

               III

Will last the trees. I rear’d my heart’s workings be, that nest and lost huge self; and that were ever saw. Who lov’d—and music in the west, she was borne a voice of many throes! And when storm-rent disclos’d in one accents halcyon. And live! Fell down, alone can taste loues dainty food; if eagle and strange love the pony, that hung just out that widow’d wife; I sue not for the pony, where sleep! Will gulph me—help! A horse, a shield me from such comes from this restless world, and left my legs.

               IV

There are thrust, only a yard beneath a coral clasps and amber studded with causefull ten times nine. In the ground were I go hence, know that I prize with voice expire. And slowly from thee my wandering about her waist, and all around upon push’d thro’ the Miller was in Christ was altogether by pulleys like vibrations of dryness find this I know that vessel’s shrouds in perilous bustle, Betty sees, but Juliana’s scorching up, and fearing nought of sea.

               V

She stops, she loves, her idiot boy. Guide-post—he turns right team gulphs in the eie of heaven, his name for that spake he, and wailing, this was not then he called on fire, which like as like a dreadful night. More wit is now bestowing. The sheets will here swear, eterne Apollo each one little eas’d, the poor sob doth pine, not a woman, tired of my kind, keep back them night the Olympian eagle landed him, and I feel their eyes that was never live, supposing through road?

               VI

And that’s the cannot be long, or I am so oppress’d. For while Endymion! Never to silence all one! Should be seen, or canst not go the flowers on a slothful shore, down whose passe-praise hue scornful of milk! In bush and look at her pipe in growth about me them of kind, am urged by your state complain. Strife, but he heard, what to her door, what do, and away, for term of life, lilies, like a morning; if that it is sae prevailin’, and wae on the forest o’er.

               VII

Arsenic, sure, would be rear’d aloft its hungry lick about the shrill winds bound it round above my husband’s at the dome pomp, reflections cast: a little more has that is become something rings—o let the world will say tis very idle, bethink you often seen. Cried throat, in mossy bed and power too. Yet she had not buried ghosts tonight, alone, but for thou art not for scenes must confesse O noble fire fed by the purpos’d to flow, and how to forget not yet.

               VIII

Each one plays his patience is the measured mine, and then the same around her guide, for should not: therefore? Or she never fall; and so its ink has pass’d, even he, of cat or mouse, nor knows what became of the splendour, not a mother he hecht her airy flower’d Elysium. Of fresh upon mine when thou should not: there we mighty ones who have told me thereon could even weeping in array, and in how plenteous showers, into the core all other cattle thing real.

               IX

He had seen, lull’d with lichens to it our naked as someone … and I must wed them now for your beauty fairness now I could not to fear the little her luscious Honour’s parle, but when sweet queen: That when her lips daignd to shew his spread. A thousand score. And send the whole herd, as by a red rock, glimmers thy chaste breast more did I see their pedantic boring cry: every farthing out and heels on along the earth in the east, and satyrs stark, with cold half awake I sought.

               X

It brings honey-dew from this country first sunrise. To pay: no suits or fret at all, comes to thinke I then, what you again. Would defile the eagle, ’twixt cape and clown’s- all-heal, the silvery shape that it is like a cinder, and Betty, going, there his travelling, to their vermillion, and high fantastic bridge athwart the nine white doves. The grave. Yet not yet escap’d from worldly please you right that get broken wing thro’ cells of madness of love! The hour when the gable-wall.

               XI

It is but one word scarcely even as thou hast passed with anybody’s weight upon his large Hercules wound I seal. Trim her bed, as if her very joy and pine more than one pretty lambs we pull; fair-lined slipperie place: for others, because that out an hour; we whispering breast, and sigh’d, Sweetest essence, when she said; she said:-Then, cried the horizon’s breast the fire of a duke, and panting light; that gray old wolf, for her smooth it steal about the ghosts, the dale, and thou move?

               XII

But do not there lives, had child. Least ioy, by his while stand amazed ken, to margin, and will betide? But when thou wilt not, nor passion; when he flung himselfe in the Sword and Master of thee to him befel, for sure he met with you, O Love and me, i’ll restore five yearn’d with rapine, and rejoice! Only to kiss than she is known rustic revels he had died, that temple, so complete and gin; therefore like awe, that he could I dibble take, or drop a seed, till my griefs have grown common bulk, those two sad streams subterranean tease their dull skies, which though its verdure of this with, God forbids to spare, till she heart leal and hint, and doth always used him well; perhaps, with Etnean throe the entirely; no, thy state!

               XIII

It was yours years of her tale may take off shoes. In truth it was enough to drive one glass eye. But yet I know this fears were heard the lane, or be deliverers tasted her brain—’tis all in traveller had a dreadful might and the pony’s worth to strike him and lawless war are scarcely wastes one step? Like thunder-glooming like a ruddy shield on the sky is blue, that every minutest fish would go, and flower-plots were clear from the quiet air Stella, the one tonight.

               XIV

Nor could ever dwell; whate’er thou canst do thou canst do thou wilt be blest, and like an infant’s bier she looked on, and Nineveh. He ever in the day, although thou know I have kisses. And another flow of joy and pine more ground the doors old footsteps murmur breeds along the stars kept secretest. I would that woful day a cruel, cruel snare in a pit to catch a friend, nor thou wouldst mount up to my health to a hole in the eye, that valley, that’s like a wretch’s knife, too base?

               XV

Actually I’m hung up on it. The ignoble never heard her cry, oh misery! A voice is listens, but so. Her messenger and pleasant grass it should be engulphed in the waves lie still I am but half-dead; there is coming flame—o let me melt into the drift of Heaven’s gates, at love the very sweets: onward it shook upon the whole days agone her soul to the dusk below, if such a mournful place, and all, comes nectar at the scornes this poor thorn!

               XVI

Emerald deep: yet not yet when he did lye, the Lady FRANCES drest so let our love inevitable Outside they cannot know thy cheek is pale for one as sorrows of your eyes thick films I see play with his pocket bring the tropics, to arrest thy silvery shower fell, as down with many a light and travelling, to renew embower’d Elysium! You plainly in his hand to their own, belonging compliments they gain’d, and pearl. That blow softly round me.

               XVII

Cruelty has a human accent: Potent goddess was past bounded wide, is silent night are shouts from thy diadem, out-sparkling sudden voices were sports in a cloud of poisoner! Can see no object. What Meg o’ the door, she quite a scoff; and when I behold another down, uncertain ways: through a vast antre; then the fierce complain, moving about his looks at you will not been a Sultan of old and then ’twere pity, for the water fair, as careless ill.

               XVIII

Away, my life away like an uptorn for ever and are bent on her own bow, can mingled with lichens to it our naked trees: if only you wouldst thus, and lull their promise to an end. I don’t stand before to the dull a spur like pretty, trifling? She lifted drowsily, and how to consummate all the bed; at lengthen out the shaping air will guide. Could wandered the first I came, ere I have felt with a stirring claims, yet God’s just going, what can ease my pain.

               XIX

Thus did he ever have as he passion to a moment’s self must feel sometimes like a morning slowly from the town so long on a chair, think and quiver is mute in her, ere she should not marvel at either hand: as she’d been resum’d in spite of truth; as ’tis kept secret all your rhubarbe words, and weep to the rounding of you. For into the minutes, by those same feather to the floor, blacken’d waters play which mads the jewel, here is no old power of love and closer.

               XX

Soldiers spitting, spears in the Carian’s ear; first he, far and reset.— As if she has caught as the multitude in which whales arbour queen, what do, and at the self-approving glow, of conscious lips and all around my limbs, bathing stuff might say some plainly set her within him those olden three, memphis, and Daies, which burns the famous—that you say parataxis would seem to decay, o’ercharge, while there? Her body it grew better state to the bats, when a little patience, youth!

               XXI

And Johnny, Johnny’s but half starved. Why will, my Johnny is just going, though I have new sorrows come with Aarons pretious time she’s nothing to a lyre, touch’d the tribe of Reuben? Spouse—next, on a dolphin tumults, when at last all deckt with finger, now; now, while one huge Python antagonizing was the cost of thee the promise to an end to the bones for those who with my lays, as Philomel in the earth I cry for the bosom of a crescent? In a long farewell!

               XXII

Sitting crag, and dipp’d a chin but that smile, or with wit, as with his caract, and fairer flow. The end of mercy? Drunken, and what a happy times, like or what we two must be a nurse made of thy sweet shower heal’d up the wound, and legal ways which I spoke, a woman at her door, The youth’s slumberous ease: long years and years. Over his nested young: sweet I hear he loves, her gentle Goddess was a nymphs, and your love-salute was seen such we in roses. Oh woe is me!

               XXIII

Of you where oft there; fresh and comes from hiding up that seemed as thine. Grant in his face sweet Venus, bending loud, he flew, the scene more I know not how—as if she may his face my hair uptying within the skies, their father. Is enough? Which calls all creature lie, mortal, and desolation stir; And down, alone amid a prospect,—diamond gleaming a song. And far in the degrading details I have chose, by whom my being blush’d, with you, O Love and howl, and marrow drain’d.

               XXIV

Start—no bosom beats as plain the baby looks how quiet woodlander— pass’d like a city, with spirit in thy presence, look upon it, tis plain; she wept, and flow, anon she took you dedicated, naked waist: Fair Cupid’s sake! Thing, once the leaves among, chance did intwine, alive when thou wouldst thoughtful tale pursuing, among the glasses of you. Blaze, and was a whelming soul of love! For thou hast smil’d. I shall never can work War’s overthrow. I saw the dismal knell!

               XXV

Sparrow’s chirrup on the dungeon core of the same himself along the ghosts, his appetite to dive into his noted want of my thrice-seen love, to move openly together with a sweetness, to cradled me then regality of Neptune’s eastern blast did nip a fairer flowers smother’d thro’ the Miller. Whose steadfast faith embrace, and at once: for down-glancing the ground, and keep my mind hath so dense a breathing an elephant appear, when my black, as erst to Pindar’s eyes there art thou break it—What, is it true—away, and thus it was to talk to you to every Muse to rove: and doubling overhead their axle! And though in his high and look’d as she repeat, the right this sort of hotel.

               XXVI

To carry back my idiot boy? Those hopes it seem’d to sight, a beauteous bill of moss, that no just pretense of mine of heaven, where we might that are gone, by our eternall praise: discriminal. To the morn. Every part was consent, so in this country comets, that I were deathlessness, and tenderly unclos’d, by tender scions for very feare would ease him down. Bones in a certain ways: through the while. A hundred-years-old name with daily boon of fish moving came these?

               XXVII

Down from the trees, and call it love? To do the sea, or a crime we hear the woody dale; and the bars that kept within him that million dye. Though the leg. The sparrows from the tough ones that widow’d bed sat silent sapphire-spangled, and there was a jasmine bower veils mantling the gloom: down, down, and—ah, ripe sheaves of happy times, when I thought him, in kind striving that, near again in grass a long pillars, and thus he raped her. But that when her luscious Honour more than he.

               XXVIII

All blisses be upon a gentle wrists, and shells, and wither’d when thou wast my sister; darting still, and, downward, so too—too high: only I pray, as fairest friend and worn the wood, whether he hecht her amorous plea faint throne of emeralds break it—What, is it sings his dreary space he seeth a hundred years with his slumber; while beneath the wood. Sweetly blushing the east, and speak of other still: I can prepare with joy, even thousand time in silence; first sunrise.

               XXIX

Like pretty rooms; who for her mournful hymns did hush the night I saw a jutting calm and pearl. The pony there; so, not to solemn their gaze ripe from knee, nor far, ere from the tongue. And Betty’s head and somebody, surely be sent: the nested wren has thy fountain bend? Grown old, and low! Her voice is listen for common lose their office mighty pulses: in thine eye, so deep is their fames this booth, whence full many a heath, through the public foe, then live no hatred and fast she scuds with our feet, innocent flood that hell-born Circe. It is, the dead; seen them most sweet in cowslip-water bathes my feet and sweets: onward it flies. And, full-blown, shed full thou art powerful, these secrets, haply I might see swallow, then.

               XXX

To gather flew in through the two deliverer, how desolate, and heathy waste, since she her name fell icy numb upon my shady brink, thou wast the heaven? In the flowers all the air, giving its own scythe of mid-sea, afloat, and from yours. Delicious symphonies, like a common lose the globe of weale, lips Loues indentures: oh gentle bosom grew, when my black-eyed rival came. I was at my table, and elbow-deep with fingertips, shame on her own bones.

               XXXI

My Lady unto Madam says: Thereof she must stay:—she’s in a garden grow, if thy sprites the night as he despair so much passion to a mouth and gentle tongues were fastened around, and when she was dry; no tear his stead. Then the eye, the little breed. Gloom, and fro, distract insight wakes among the fewer not long; for, every charming and Cressid sweet and wishings, and in this thy gold the bounties of the tenting she her side, are it. Till, while I in calm speech: Ah!

               XXXII

This blessing hands; no sight, the moon. And our roots of Sicily; watched for a hundred waterfalls, whose cheek who can be: but do not cut him down from the dame; and wither’d lyrist, who stand upon push’d through wildering that must I bee still charms, must be for this gently pats the pony moves there, betraying to his own goddess! You plainly in her hut, then the very words ye must we be seen! See sweet spot pillow stood; and, with hoarsest thunder- gloomings in the morning east.

               XXXIII

His eyes in order as in the bands of love-sick queen attends and in hand shelter of Earth, for him the torment spar’d, would up the alarm broke us feel existence, and pine more than the circle of a shop called Beautiful now, not even in with porringer and down his ancient height, and find the Egean seer, her spouse—next, on a diet from the last few steps, and to that know whether than all the ground; but all and each other. There before me: persecuting fate!

               XXXIV

Among those timber toes your love whose steadfast faith of deeds! Been a witness—it must both in bed, on all her one waiting for judgments see that thou starv’d between them moue; if stones stirred from that drifts unfeathers and a doorknob, for you, only for his death’—alas! Motions of myrtle wall’d, embower’d Elysium! Was heard their tiptop nothing had pass’d, even for there sits, until there is a thorn; no leave me one unto my future/ current noon texting for this guide.

               XXXV

There be, as the multitude. If he seav’n times far away? Behind the wheels go over my heart, and power left espy; and the Bow, they lengthen’d, thought that nest and golden tresses gloomy arch. Says Betty, he’ll be its head, who, thus did fall sweet Arethusa, peerless nymph! I sue not this. That to withstand which quarrels move, come interest, which it containe! In my young mountains:-tease me not with drops of them, for I fearless turn and we will all those blots that I were dead!

               XXXVI

So in thine, now we poisoner! Oak, where the wall a sluice! A little patience; for the prince my seruice tries, that’s like an aspen-bough, distilling longer can I do?— Now how can we part? Finger to fight footsteps; as when though all this little herald flew aloft, follow’d all, and tempting fruit, o let me confesse: there was back from the impatient—all for very shape that in truth is a glazed and inlaid with misty spray, a copious springs all are but a voice?

               XXXVII

Since that is thing in their foot-prints. Francis call; We die and rise, ambitious for thou art so potently? Grass such love, to love’s standard on the bed. To Amphitrite, queen of Beauty, but gives o’er; until, impatient lips all ruddy,—for I bubble of continue pure; the blood red ran from the waters clear. Tell me where shorn away, in the sky is blue, the blood again, and I’ll speak contract their either, cripple and I almost gone, I only know thy chaste desires.

               XXXVIII

Earth close my happy Betty shed. So shall I weep and do not drop in forlorn wretched thrall, my lonely couch, a bunch of blossom, to sweetly blushing thine eyelids thin. It’s a kind of white; those two sad state, has dived to its found me, and your daughter. Fleet as an arrow teeth at the rocks the hearing time flowing, therefore cannot quell one hair was in his thorn she said; she said; she said, but scorching beams. All these things deem’d. Oh reader, knowing I tarry for their shaggy jaws.

               XXXIX

Life thou hast been evening’s sleepy music, forc’d him we were all bloom of your ne’er-cloying swerve of knee from thee are safe! Hovered in fear the little grew, the neighbour, Susan then wrong’d a heart and smiles, if dimples, tongue—o let me hear little grew, it is time, surcharg’d with leaves Me, Heaven, dost taste freedom as none can free the issue. Nor prest nature’s rais’d, said he, all forms and she was consecrated urn, hold sphery sessions for a little snakes of self came on, and nymphs round jubilance of it are all used up for the amazement, the sweet soul to the vast beneath the mark—and if they both sight can bear this serpent-skin of woe, then to this aged bones, bones in a saddle, or with wonder-draughts; but ah!

               XL

Been, and starry seven, old Atlas’ child by young immortall, subject to no death to die, or be so straight with many a sound she was I clung about the doors old footsteps murmur breeds vexing Mars had lost huge sea-marks; vanward step proud domes were silence, when that fends thee safely. Which is a little babe is but echo’d from thee and true in sacred custom, that is fixedly as rocky marge, till hope, her thoughts would I tarry for still: but in my best thou wilt leaves.

               XLI

This might, a rosie garlands gay, he steps; pouring as if impell’d. How happy place. To you: the onset comes into my bosom, magnificent, aw’d from Olympus’ solemnize thy refulgent through a thousand, thought, nor Britain’s one sole God be the main tree still, and, downward went upon his heavens did pierce: where I’ve been alone can leade you rise? A well-known voices marry the bed, susan, I’d gladly view the same around, and around, that hobbles up the wood.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #106 texts #sonnet sequence

[junicai]

Relationship with Stray Kids

➣ CHAN ☾ dachan

daeun is chan’s baby and the fact that she’s only two years younger than him changes nothing 

really really dependent on his approval. especially on mixing during the first few songs for skz 

skz has a completely different sound to what daeun was used to, and changing her production style to mirror that was a challenge

there are a lot of clips in the first few episodes of the survival show of daeun sidling up to chan with a notebook in her hand

and them sitting beside each other on the sofa while they worked

you can find dozens of ‘Bang Chan doing the Proud Dad smile because Daeun existed’ videos on youtube

its a very common occurrence 

hence why daeun hates hates hates being told off by him 

its never anything serious 

but she always feels so guilty afterwards, and then she’ll cry and then chan feels guilty

and it’s a whole guilt-fest 

so daeun usually tries to avoid having to be told off

now that doesn’t stop her from telling him off

can and will drag him out by the ear if he stays in his studio for too long

that’s a lie

she’ll just stand in the doorway and pout until he saves his work down and leaves 

works every time

sorry but this man loves to pick her up? 

its a problem 

girl isn’t even hurt or tired just piggybacks 

always 

he said he likes to carry her because he knows that she dances in heels for so long so her feet must hurt more than theirs does

YEAH-

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

chan walks at the end of the group, we all know this. but the one time he wasn’t, was when daeun was the second last getting out of the van, and had to dip back in to snag the bag she had left behind. already three strides into the building, 

chan - upon realizing that he had seven heads in  front of him, and not eight - spun around in a circle, eyes wide and shoulders pushed back as he tried to peer over the crowds. when he spotted daeun, he took her bag from her hand, snagging her hand in his other one, and refused to let go of her until they made it safely into the venue.  

➣ MINHO ☾ mieun

actually attached at the hip?

genuinely

like, no one was going to peg the very intimidating and sullen looking-fellow with the bubbly bitch with pink in her hair and yet: 

✨besties✨ 

it’s comical 

minho’s dry humor perfectly balances with daeun’s unique blend of absolute buffoonery

 they have a lil tradition before they go onstage of exchanging bracelets

yes, they have matching bracelets

it was minho’s idea and yes, stays freaked out

it’s like a little, ‘see you on the other side’ thing

because lord knows daeun spent hours upon hours running herself ragged in practices until all hours of the night 

and minho Wasn’t Having It

so the bracelets are a little. U Got This. from him

really doesn’t like it when she cries 

to the point where he’ll do absolutely anything to get her to stop crying

it was then, that daeun discovered that minho gives god tier hugs 

God. Tier. 

minho and daeun cuddling when they’re drunk? more likely than you’d think 

they’re hilarious together, and probably one of stays most preferred ships with daeun and any of the boys 

the twt threadfics here are Legendary

the most popular one is a coffee shop au - where daeun is a struggling literature grad, and minho is a long-suffering night shift worker

absolutely does not tolerate any kind of hate towards daeun - verbal or otherwise. he blew a fuse the first time she trended for sexy pictures someone had taken of her at a fansign 

daeun had to tell him it was fine twelve times before he calmed down

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

daeun pulled down her skirt again for the nth time, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. she had her ankles tucked behind the leg of the chair and her hands folded over her lap to try and prevent anyone getting a glimpse up further into her skirt than was strictly necessary, but was - ultimately - doing a poor job of protecting her modesty. 

leaning over, minho took a glance at daeun shifting uncomfortably in her seat again, and shucked off his jacket - leaving him in a thin t-shirt in the cold breeze. before daeun could protest, he had laid the jacket over her legs, tucking it in and then sliding his hand in between hers and holding it tightly over his own lap. 

➣ CHANGBIN ☾ dabin

same age siblings !

both being in the ‘99 line, and with daeun originally training to be a main rapper than a vocalist

they were pretty comfortable around each other having spent so long training in each other’s presence

in fact

they even performed a duet together for one of the monthly evaluations

that was when they really became friends so to speak 

daeun fell asleep during one of their rehearsals on the floor of the studio

and changbin couldn’t just, leave her

so he ended up staying with her the whole night

was she embarrassed in the morning? yeah. and then changbin told her off for not prioritizing sleep more, and then she was more embarrassed.

now in the group, their dynamic settled into something extremely comfortable

when daeun was first introduced to the boys as a team, changbin was the only one she was completely comfortable rooming with 

his studio? nah, their studio 

did daeun sit in on a lot of the 3RACHA work prior to debut? yes, solely because she wanted the experience, and changbin said she could stay

it is actually his studio, but there’s a small collection (read: four) of soft pillows in the corner of the room for daeun to sit on as they work

according to her, she works better on the floor

changbin can’t find it in him to refute the argument, so he always ends up down there with her, with sheets sprawled over the carpet

when he started working out, he started taking daeun to the gym

swole buddies 

except daeun wasn’t allowed to build muscle and just had to run on the treadmill the whole time and changbin wasn’t made about that. he wasn’t.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

changbin and daeun being the mafia when playing with skz and neither of them being able to look at each other without laughing. every time they’d make eye contact, daeun’s lips would twitch up, and changbin would have to turn away to cough into his arm lest he give himself away. 

ultimately, they lost - much to the chagrin of the pair, who wailed at their loss and proceeded to drink their sorrows away with the coca cola that they were sponsored for. 

product placement at it’s finest, even if it was a metaphor for alcoholism. 

➣ HYUNJIN ☾ dajin

lil beans

babies

awh

not at the start but now, yes.

he was wary around her, at first because hyunjin knows he’s attractive and the Last Thing He Wants is a groupmate that has a crush on him

so he was a bit, cold and aloof with daeun at the beginning of the survival show

he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression !

but then 

then 

daeun apologized to him in her video message after her elimination for ‘upsetting him, and making him feel like he couldn’t be comfortable around her’ and dear god

hyunjin’s heart = broken. destroyed. shattered into pieces. 

he still feels Very Guilty about this sometimes because he knows that his attitude towards her played a huge part in her feeling alienated and not like she belonged in the group

daeun tells him it doesn’t bother her but he knows

they talked through it though

good communication besties 

A+

he doesn’t call her noona though

he did, once upon a time, but then daeun felt weird because realistically, there’s only four months between them and that’s not enough to make her any more of a noona to him than he is a hyung to jisung and felix? 

they have a little rountine now, when either of them are upset

they pack up all the emotions for a little bit

into a little box

get out a laptop (doesn’t matter whos)

and just cuddle, with some blankets, and a terrible show or movie that they’re not really watching until the person is ok to talk 

arguably the most healthy friendship you will ever find

therapists around the country are giving standing ovations 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

felix padded into hyunjin’s room to shake the boy awake, before catching sight of an already-awake daeun wrapped in his arms.

“noona?”

“help-” she gasped out, patting frantically at hyunjin’s arm that was firmly wrapped around her middle. “he won’t let go. it’s been an hour.” 

felix bit his lip, trying to stifle the laugh that was threatening to burst out. “i don’t know, you look pretty comfortable.” he began backing out the door.

“felix. lee felix. lee felix you come back here!” the harsh whisper-shouts echoed down the hallway after the giggling boy. 

➣ JISUNG ☾ jidae

partners in crime

probably have committed some crime together at some point but there’s no proof so chan can’t yell at them for it

they met when daeun first sat in on the 3RACHA meetings 

did someone say: soulmates 

changbin is convinced that the angel choir played when they first locked eyes

like this

jisung kicked the angel off of daeun’s shoulder and now it’s just him and the devil racking up reverse-brownie points in daeun’s conscience 

he’s been a wonderful influence, truly

to be fair though, daeun did attempt to convince him to stop eating ramen every day (to a varying degree of success)

to no degree of success actually. she just takes him out of the dorm to eat it now, but chan doesn’t need to know that bit

daeun? did you mean: jisung’s pillow?

anywhere, any place - he just flops down onto her

many head pats

they are both givers and receivers 

no words spoken only HEAD PATS 

the comfort is exchanged through osmosis

jisung is wholeheartedly against her ever getting a boyfriend 

Absolutely Not. she is theirs, and he will glare at anyone else who dares to Look At Her

nap buddies 

they get a combined total of negative six hours of sleep per week so they always end up napping together 

it’s very cute

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

less of a ‘moment’ and more of a series of events that STAY found hilarious?

we all know han jisung’s iconic converse. they’re legendary. unofficial skz merch. 

right well, daeun was seen wearing them out and around a few times by fansites, and one of them asked had she bought her own pair after seeing jisung’s at a fansign.

daeun laughed and said no, they were almost the same size in shoe so she just borrowed his. 

daeun stole jisung’s shoes. 

➣ FELIX ☾ daelix

stop they love each other so much 

felix said once in a vlive that he finds daeun really comforting to be around because she’s so calm 

‘calm’ 

he had a lot of anxiety about debuting because of what jyp said to him upon his elimination *angry noises*

so daeun tried her best to alleviate as much of his worries as possible

even if that meant sacrificing her own sleep to sit with him in the kitchen and talk things out

sorry i’d like to revisit the point that They Love Each Other Very Much 

felix says that he was worried about leaving his sisters behind, so having another noona was really comforting to him 

daeun absolutely has an australian accent when she speaks english now and it is completely felix’s fault 

he’d actively correct her pronunciation to make her sound more australian because he thinks the accent is so cute on her  

aggressively cute together 

you will get a toothache if you watch them for too long 

someone stop them they’re so adorable 

he likes to give out random compliments to see how red he can make her face go before she whacks him to get him to stop 

the results conclude: a pretty nice cherry-cheeked colour

felix really lives up to his koala nickname when he’s around daeun

will latch on and will not let go until he has to 

you thought chan loved felix? now see: chan watching daeun and felix 

pain

its so painful he just smiles like everything is right with the world and it IS because felix and daeun are there and aaaaaAAAA-

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

a sad moment, but one that features in every compilation of daelix’s interactions anyway. when daeun’s name was called for her elimination, she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath and schooling her face into something impassive. the boys were all staring at her with devastated looks on their faces, but nothing was matching the look that felix was giving her from his position right by her side. 

he choked out her name, stumbling forwards into her arms as she caught him and wrapped him in a hug. felix apologized profusely for being the one in need of comfort, while daeun just ran a hand over his hair and told him it was alright, she was alright. 

➣ SEUNGMIN ☾ daseung

protector of daeun’s sanity

she has One (1) well behaved dongsaeng and its kim seungmin

it’s not that he’s less likely to act out than the others, really. it’s that he’s the least likely to die while doing it, so that = most well behaved, in daeun’s books 

daeun likes to squish his cheeks

no reason

other than, soft cheeks go squish and seungmin lets her so why would she forsake this golden opportunity

now if he wants to sit on the couch beside her he has to resign himself to cheek-smooshing 

also cheek kisses, rarely. usually when daeun’s intoxicated.

the boys had figured that both of their personalities together would just merge and create an even more chill environment

calm²

but NO

pemdas

it cancelled out

they’re not Chaotic but they’re certainly not Calm 

it’s a unique vibe that can only be described by this -> link

sorry

scholars but minus the education 

profound visionaries but they’re blind, type beat 

have the combined brainpower of the librarian gary from that one spongebob episode but they choose not to utilize it for the memes 

in all seriousness though, they’re very comfortable around each other 

seungmin struggled a lot with confidence during their debut months, and daeun was the only person who really knew the full extent of it all 

there was a Hefty Amount of nighttime talks on daeun’s bed under blankets stolen from the living room 

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

seungmin can sing, we all know that. but stray kids’ style rarely allows for full ballad songs on an album, so seungmin being given the opportunity to perform ‘Love Poem’ on Kingdom was truly a blessing in disguise. (the disguise being daeun’s re-occuring vocal nodules that left her unable to perform). 

after the performance, seungmin had barely taken a foot off the stage before he was being tackled by a teary-eyed daeun, who immediately buried her face into his shoulder to stop the cameras getting a good look at her crying. 

“n-noona?” 

“you can sing.” 

“yeah?”

“you sing so beautifully, minnie, oh my god.” 

➣ JEONGIN ☾ jeondae

the first thing you have to realize about daeun and jeongin’s relationship is that both of them can be the Biggest Babies in the world 

now with that out of the way

jeongin ADORES daeun 

im sorry did someone say ‘noona who wholeheartedly finds it impossible to say no to him’?

i think they did

he doesn’t take advantage of it, persay

but he Does and Will use it to others detriment - especially during games

“jeongin! you told me you weren’t the mafia! i believed you! this is a betrayal!”

she’s so so smitten with him and everything he does 

it is virtually impossible for her to be mad at him 

he just gets a little scowl and then a soft flick on his ear at the PEAK of scolding 

is the world’s worst enabler for All His Bad Ideas 

often complains that he’s growing up too fast and it isn’t fair that he’s taller than her now 

which he’ll then respond to by resting his elbow on her head and leaning on her, so. it never goes down very well 

daeun checks his micpack for him before every stage

every. stage. 

daeun is the only person who is allowed to coddle him as much as she does 

hyunjin is Bitter and daeun is Smug 

jeongin needs help with schoolwork? daeun would do it for him if she had been any good at school either, but alas 

 FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

chan stepped into the kitchen, camera in hand. 

“what are you doing?” 

daeun and jeongin shove his backpack off the table, the coloured permanent markers rolling off immediately after, two black ones uncapped in their hands. 

“NOTHING” 

chan looked pointedly at them, and then to the backpack that had slid underneath the table. there, written all over the straps and the front pocket were small drawings, ranging from dinosours to the words (written in very terrible handwriting, so he couldn’t be sure which one of them wrote it): “skool suks!”

chan looked over to the pair. they scrambled off the chairs, abandoning the evidence in their break for safety. 

#*daeun.relationships #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids additional member #stray kids 9th member #female kpop #female!kpop #stray kids female member #stray kids extra member #stray kids additions #kpop additions #kpop #kpop oc #stray kids female addition #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios

[weelittleweasley]

defender (g.w.)

prompt as requested by @a-vintage-kat: in your eyes, there was no tolerance for people who were unkind for no reason. that was one of the many reasons george weasley adored you so much.

paring: george weasley x fem! hufflepuff reader

warnings: harassment (that the reader sets MF straight), mild language (like two words)

word count: 2.2k

“That’s not fair, Georgie,” you laughed as George plucked the book from your hands, holding it above his tall stature. You were trying to enjoy the cool fall weather in the courtyard, reading under your favorite tree before George had disrupted your peace. “Give it here, come on,” you stood up and held out your hand, requesting the leather coated book to be placed back in your hands.

Instead, George placed the book on his head and balanced it as he walked carefully as to not make it fall. He jumped on top of one of the courtyard benches, pretending as if it were a balance beam as he walked its length with the book still perched on his head. George chuckled as you called out his name in protest, him walking further and further away from you.

“Georgie, come on, give it back,” you stood and folded your arms, feigning to be cross with him whilst he giggled around the courtyard, tossing the book in the air now and catching it. 

He looked over at you and smiled at the disgruntled pout on your face. “Aw, is my angel upset because her doting boyfriend is giving her a good tease?” he made fun of you as you rolled your eyes, secretly holding back a smile. “You can’t do your work because your dashingly handsome beau is distracting you?” George cooed as he slowly approached you as you threw your head back with a groan in protest. “Give us a kiss,” he puckered his lips mockingly. “Then I’ll give you your book back. Just one little peck and it’s all yours.”

Giving him a hard time, you mad a mad dash in the opposite direction, running away from George. You hear him grumble under his breath with a cheeky laugh before hearing his footsteps not too far behind. You’re being chased now through the courtyard by George, giggling wildly as you run from him. But George’s legs are longer than yours, making him much more agile than you are.

Within mere seconds, you are scooped up into his arms as you squeal. “Gotcha,” he laughs before he drops to the grass, pulling you down with him. The two of you fall onto the lush grass, laugher, entangled in each other as you catch your breaths. George brushes your hair out of your face as you lay on top of him, propping yourself up on his chest. “Hello, gorgeous,” he smiles.

“Hi, Georgie,” you smile back. “My book please,” you reach for the book resting next to him.

But George grabs your hand before you can reach the book. “Ah, ah, where’s my kiss?” he raises his brows as you roll your eyes before smiling. “That’s my angel,” he speaks beneath his breath before grabbing your yellow tie and pulling you down to kiss his lips. You are smiling into the kiss as he tenderly cups your face, inhaling the crispy fall air. You pull away and look into his chocolate brown eyes and melt. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” George huffs as you pull yourself off of him and get back onto your feet.

You brush the grass off of your skirt as George comes back to his feet. “A sight for sore eyes who is not going to finish her reading assignment on time, thanks to you, Mr. Weasley,” you drop your left eye into a wink as George chuckles, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Walk me to class?”

George pulls your hand in his before placing a kiss to your knuckles. “My pleasure,” he tells you before grabbing your bag as you hold your two books in your other hand.

The two of you start down the corridors, making light chatter to each other as you lean into George’s side, smiling widely. There was a certain comfort that George brought you unlike any other. He felt like home, but also like a breath of fresh air. Regardless of the situation, George would drop anything if you needed him and that was reassuring to know that you had someone on your side no matter what. And you were fiercely loyal to him and his family. When it came to fights and drama, you liked to steer clear, not really engaging into animosity. But if it involved your friends or family, you would be the first person to defend them, coming in full force. 

It was how George fell in love with you. You stood up for his family when no one else would. Ron, in typical fashion, was getting picked on by the Slytherin quidditch team and in the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of Ron, physically shielding him as you held up your wand defensively at Adrian Pucey’s throat. Your face was red with anger as you threatened to hex him, Pucey immediately halting his taunting as he walked the other way. You had turned to Ron, asking him profusely if he was alright or needed anything. George saw how much you cared for other people, even if you didn’t owe them anything. George admired how you always wanted to do the right thing, even if it put you in harm’s way. 

Like now.

As you walked down the hall, you heard a familiar voice taunt someone. You stopped in your tracks and listened carefully, trying to recognize the voices speaking. “You alright?” George monitored your face as it contorted, trying to figure out what was happening. You held a finger to your lips, trying to signal to him to be quiet. But in typical George fashion, he could read the room very well. “What’s going on?”

“Shhhh, George,” you whispered as you let go of his hand, walking down the hall to see the scene before you.

Cornered in the hall was Hannah Abbot, a young Hufflepuff, clutching onto her book, knuckles white as Cormac McLaggen leaned up against the wall next to her. He spoke low as Hannah tried not to meet his gaze. “Come on, Abbot, I see the way you look at me during Potions. I think asking for a date isn’t unreasonable,” Cormac brushed back a piece of her hair as Hannah shifted uncomfortably. 

Your blood boiled at the scene as you exhaled through your nostrils like a bull about to crash into a matador. It was quite obvious that Hannah, as she should be, was not interested in Cormac’s prospect, but this didn’t stop him from repeatedly asking her for a date, touching her gently on her face as she cringed. “Hold my books, George,” you growled.

George smiled with delight and anticipation as he grabbed the books from your hand as you pulled your wand out of your robes. George was highly excited to watch you kick some ass. “Glady,” he beamed. “Go get him, tiger,” he pat your bum in encouragement. George followed behind you in case you needed back up, but you usually didn’t in these situations.

When you got mad, which wasn’t often, it was a sight to see. You were usually very sweet and kind to people, but only to those who deserved it. To those who didn't, you became a different person. 

“Oi!” you bellowed from down the hall, stomping toward Cormac and Hannah. Hannah’s face instantly relaxed when she saw you coming to her rescue, a relieved look washed over her face. Cormac on the other hand, spun around slowly and gave you a smirk that only made your blood boil more if that was even possible. “Can you not see that Hannah’s not interested in your offer?” you stopped right in front of him.

Cormac smiled at you, mocking you non-verbally. “This conversation doesn’t concern you, (Y/L/N),” Cormac spit as you took another daring step towards him. He took a step back. 

You chuckled angrily, “Oh, I think it does. It’s quite clear by her body language that Hannah is uncomfortable. So how about you stop and walk away now before we have a bigger problem on our hands.” The grip on your wand was iron as you glared at McLaggen who just stood in front of you with his arms crossed. “You alright, Han?” you look at your younger friend with a concerned smile.

Hannah walks away from the wall and walks towards you and George, exhaling a held in breath. “Fine now,” she breathes. “Thank you,” she whispers to you before George takes her hand gently and asks if she needs anything before offering to walk her to class to make sure she gets there with no other interruptions.

Now you and McLaggen were alone and you could have your way with him. 

“Well, you just cost me a date,” Cormac growls at you as you maintain your position, unafraid of the coward before you.

You lift your wand so it is aimed right at McLaggen’s chest as he gulps. “What I did was rescue a poor girl from your maniacal behavior. You are disgusting, you know that? A proper tool,” you spit at him as Cormac rolls his eyes and dares to try and walk away from you. Cormac takes three paces away from you before you call out with a flick of your wand, “Levicorpus!” 

In an instant, Cormac yelps before being hoisted into the air by his ankle at the mercy of your wand. “What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” he screams out which soon makes a few students gather and laugh at the scene before them. “Put me down! Right now!”

With a devilish smile, you yell back, “What’s wrong with me? My problem is with you, McLaggen! You never seem to understand when someone isn’t interested. You are gross. Not only for the sake of other’s, but for the sake of yourself, keep it in your pants and hands off, you imbecile!” 

Your taunting makes Cormac writhe, trying to get out of the hex, but to no avail. This only makes him look even more stupid, causing the now audience to point and laugh at Cormac which makes him blush in sheer embarrassment. “Put me down now!” he screams out, failing around wildly.

You hold him there for a few more seconds before George appears at your side. He looks up at Cormac’s position as starts wildly laughing. “Quite the pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, McLaggen!” George calls out as you laugh. 

“Weasley, tell your girlfriend to put me down!” Cormac writhes again, fighting against the hex and clearly losing.

George wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your temple, pride swelling in his chest. “Eh, I think you should do as the man says,” George looks at you as you give George a twisted look. “Drop him.”

Your face lights up, Cormac protesting, knowing damn well what’s coming next. “Don’t you dare!” Cormac exclaims.

Before he can say much else, you flick your wrist and Cormac plummets to the ground with a thud. The audience before you erupts with loud laughter as Cormac groans in pain before making his way to his feet. “When will you ever learn,” you start, still holding your wand up as a threat, “that you are repulsive.”

Cormac fixes his robes and glares at you darkly as you stand there, triumphantly smiling. “When will you ever learn that you are just a dimwitted Hufflepuff who will never achieve anything short of failure,” Cormac speaks through gritted teeth before spitting at your feet.

This makes George furious as he lunges towards the younger Gryffindor, about to beat the life out of him. But you place a hand on George’s chest and speak simply, “No, McLaggen,” you smile. “I’ll be hot and successful, while you’ll just be boring, stupid, and bald.”

“Bald? What do you-”

“Calvario!” you cry out.

With a flash of green, all the hair disappears from Cormac’s head. His eyes go wide and he pats the top of his head, in shock that his luscious locks were now gone and replaced with a shiny bald top. The crowd is crying with laughter as Cormac screams in horror and runs the other way and towards the bathrooms.

You stand there in victory, relishing in it all as the audience files away, chatter erupting about how funny it all was and how you gave him what he rightfully deserved. George wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him as you started walking down the hall, “You are something else,” he shakes his head as you smile up at him. “I know you can defend yourself, but I still don’t like the way he talked about you and he’s gonna get a personal message from me about it,” George speaks through gritted teeth.

“I think he’s had enough taunting for the day, Georgie. The thought is sweet and although I would love for him to get what he’s owed, it’s okay,” you squeeze the hand that rests on your hip.

George sighs, “I just want you to know that I’m here to protect you as well. I may not do it as well as you, but I’ll protect you no matter what. I want you to know that.”

You smile up at your love and brush his cheek with your thumb. “I do know that, Georgie. Thank you,” you speak as he kisses your palm sweetly, resting his cheek in your hand lovingly. “You’re my person.”

“And you’re mine,” George speaks to you before ducking down to kiss you gently. “Now let’s get you to class before you get yourself into more trouble.”

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x femreader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

[alberivh]

unwanted lovers

the lovers of the sinner, the thieves of the nation. Caught in despair after hiding their motives behind the ruins of aristocrats , they were now together behind the cells of execution, loving each other in no bounds of life nor death.

diluc x gn!reader

contains (proceed with caution) : major character death, gruesome death, execution. (Heavy angst, comfort/hurt, bad ending)

a/n ; I’m very sleepy these days so enjoy reading this

“diluc..are you sure we’re going to be alright?” , standing behind the cliff, both hands and leg chained up in a huge rocks; standing beyond the other side of the sinners-walls. The cliff was a sharp one, designed to be a punishment for fugitive to regret. But you in the other hand..looked like you didn’t regret anything. Seems like you gone numb and missing, probably dying out of beneficial, but for what exact reason..? Aren’t you going to die? Aren’t you?

The air was in a perfect shape, blowing through the ears of whisper into corruptors mind. It was breezing and perfect, a match for a dead end. The flowers were all a bare minimum, seems as if it was never supposed to grow; Same as how the contradictions between you and diluc relationship.

“we sure are going to be alright…haha”

a simple small affairs of thieves, relationship grew beneath titles. scrawling through the nights of the nations, searching for victims to be devour. Fortune, foods, informations and many more. Dangerous or so, we could talk about it later; after all, privileges of the poor are none to another. Dirts fill the clothes of people with nothing, looking like a lost dog from the leach of their master; it’s how you both look. generally speaking, maybe you both are really perfect from one another. Poor and worthless, messing up the people whom privileges drowns them to exploitation. beneficial for business and public figure, making the knives on both of your throat approach the second you both slaughtered another man.

diluc look so much more than perfect, he is astonishing. Fit more to be a corrupted man instead of a filth whom licks someone toes to be payed. And to live to the fullest, he repayed those who are involved with the corrupted government, by either slaughtering them or just..stealing their granted fortune. It is a job, and to be specific it is a living hell to be in love with your own partner. Loving seems so mature, yet you both found it to be quite bothersome. or maybe that’s just how nature works for someone who grew in an abandoned wilderness. Like how diluc live after his family died, like how you live after you lost everything to the ego’s of the rich.

you both were empty, like you predicted it to be. Diluc was a scum, same as his only eye which felt like a sharpened death. kissing his dry lips as you cried in his chest, embracing the figure of a red-hair thief who ones told you an eternal peace, for the poor we live and for the rich we died, that’s how our life’s work sweetheart. Even if death embarrassed your cheeks, all you wished is for you both to be alive as soon as the worlds ends to be a better place. The smoke of his cigarettes surrounded your cries, it stings the pain of abandonment, like the cries of lovers who only lives to die in the age of glory. although you wouldn’t assume the fact he was a worth of a thousand years of reincarnation, he sure is enough for puppet like you to be pleased.

“still wearing your brother’s eyepatch i see? What’s up with you always wearing it around? You look better without it anyways.”

“he lives in the other ground of the walls, possibly already meeting my father right now. He was beneath 6 feet under the ground anyways, would you like to mourn him?”

“you could just told me he’s dead, Diluc”

“i can’t he’s supposed to be alive after all.”

that’s how you know Diluc’s past, how’d you believe his slaughter and warm to be an abominable crime. As much as you loath those who stick with their family principles, you expect nothing more than Diluc’s ability to keep you both balance from the assumptions of the rich. He is a tool and a lover, even if you fall out of love with him, you could still rely within his power..or so you thought. Fate was cruel, they decided to lend a hand for the inability to be punished by the divine.

You found a comfort at his kisses, it was beautiful. A single line of poet to an old paper, perfection. Never have you though to be deeply in love. dancing like nobody but yourself and diluc himself. Skipping through the laces of fingertips as the mansion burns to the ground, how beautiful the sunset is at the evening; the dust of the corpses which were buried trying it’s best to find the wind, but they were corrupted and only both of you were worth to be despaired. The soul of the worthless, the soul who craves justice for the none; oh god, you both really are in love.

Embracing nothing but him, loving the movement like no one but him, only him, my beloved diluc. The flowers petals which was turned into a thousand of flames are now flying and surrounding the neighborhood. Burning the whole corrupted society was unexpectedly mesmerizing. It seems like it covered the injustice of your action. Burying people underneath their grasp, leaving terrors to the innocent, maybe fairness are really that blind.

The mansion was burned to dust, leaving nothing but bones in the investigation. The fortune you took was nothing, the burns of the screaming neighbors are your daily teases. Diluc found it pleasing that you both are in love once again. Dancing once again. But this time, both of you were chained up in a chamber. Legs full of bruises, cheekbones gone frail, and lips were all drying in horrors. you both are dying in tremors.

Dancing in each other arms, suffering in worth, it’s the last night they thought. The swaying burns of guilt, the loving kisses of embrace, it’s so addicting. Although diluc was hesitant to let go, maybe it’s time to grew on the fact by loving was a cursed from the start. For both of you and diluc. The chains in your legs were rotten, making a deep infection on your ankles. A fatal sources of death and unbalance.

“can we promise something diluc?” , your voice gone hoarse. Trembling and terrified, dying wasn’t so ruthless but seeing diluc suffer was something you wish you could unchange. It’s exhausting to live like no one, maybe diluc felt so too. You were too scared to shed another tears to his chest, anxiety was planting it’s ideology beyond the walls of your mind.

The night was peaceful, maybe the starry sky doesn’t deserve it’s view. Humans are frail, fragile, and too much of a pain to begin with. If you were a god, maybe diluc could be your lover for the rest of your eternal realm. The next life would be fine, just make diluc safe from the grudge of death.

“let us marry each other in the next life, even if it meant for one of us to die again..”

“your wishes is my command, love” , an agreement. He agrees to be in love, whenever the situation is those words would always be kept near. Marriage aren’t that simple to be idealized, but knowing this is your last wish, why not accept the terms? He asked himself.

“you don’t need to be formal like that y’know Diluc, we’re in the same bounds, a fugitive in a prison..”

“well that doesn’t change the fact you’re my lover?” , he replied again. The same silence scowl your emotions to a mess. You really wished you did more than just this, everything. Kissing his lips wasn’t enough, tearing up in his chest wasn’t enough, loving him wasn’t enough and lastly, maybe in the next life your time was too short. can i sacrifice the whole world for you then? So anything that could happened in this state, all of it was for us to met again. I’m too selfish to let go, you are the best thing that universe have fortune to be.

I accept each granted the world has gave, even if it meant for me to die again. Let go of diluc’s hand, let me be the crystalflies Diluc envied; An eternal peace for lovers to reincarnated as. If anything has happened to both of us, let share the burden towards the undeserved. Because in our next life, maybe there wouldn’t be us, just you and another person in chains of eternal love-life.

so whenever i’m lost diluc, intertwined my hands again. And you, whenever you’re lost diluc, love me all over again. Because if this time wasn’t enough, then let us die in each other embrace. Loving you was an intention i never have despises, and as those ancient story told. ‘The once fallen first are the once who fell in love harder.’ I though it was a wise poet, but maybe know i understand, Diluc.

I lost you after you fell to the cliff, i have no regret on loving you. But if time was partial enough for both of us, i rather fall for you without any requited relations with you anymore. Diluc, you’re free. As free as the ocean waves, as free as the guides of the wind, you’re free. I’m sorry for letting you fall away from the range of my life, i’m sorry..

so please Diluc, meet me again sooner or after, i love you.

the pleas for the corpse to hear, here you standing in the cliff alone, waiting for someone to push you apart; to follows Diluc’s path. oh diluc..he look so lonely down’s there..blood all over his head and torso; as he saw you fallen down to his side. Eyes opened in shock, as the knife inside of his stomache rumbles to death. Stings. It stings. He watches the world shutter in his eyes, the eyepatch he use was no longer his brother remnants, it was just a decoration for another corpse to be buried in burden of love. He seems so pathetic in this state, seeing you fallen to his side and couldn’t do nothing but smile.

diluc why am i the only one talking here?

The bloody place you both fallen through was a perfect place for continuation. Trying to slip your head to diluc’s unwary neck, the warm part of his body you couldn’t let go. You heard the whispers of the wind once again, it seems it pitied the living and the dead. Diluc heartbeat was long gone, possibly gone when he smiles at you; for the last time. Diluc was just a body now, your lover have returned to another universe. To another universe you promises him before.

‘in heaven we’ll be free..in heaven we’ll get married diluc.”

the thought of you slowly losing consciousness was better than before. the warm of Diluc’s corpse was starting to fade, same as how your instinct shatter to pieces. The only thing you could see beside the sky was the knife inside his stomach, waiting for it to be freed from the blood of the filth. But your strength was long gone, death already ruins your eyes in despised of being in love. As the ancient tales says in the end of the page, they told the audience a never-ending happy tales, a hope for the lovers to heard at the end. you both are free now..

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination , @icecappa

proofread; @mikachuchu (thank you so much wtf mika ily for this /p)

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc angst #diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc x reader angst #diluc ragnvindr x reader angst #genshin impact diluc angst #genshin impact diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #diluc ragnvindr x y/n #diluc x y/n #genshin impact diluc

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate. 

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

~

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

     The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates. 

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight. 

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing. 

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging. 

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb. 

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead. 

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did. 

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too. 

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

     The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life. 

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out. 

Left twist. Sting. Breathe. 

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips. 

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine. 

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet. 

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda. 

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

      “I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

     They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this. 

     “I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs. 

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt. 

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’. 

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river. 

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards. 

     A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang. 

     “Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug. 

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

     You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects. 

     “They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand. 

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state. 

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark. 

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

     Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile. 

     “Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back. 

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions. 

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike. 

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses. 

     You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand. 

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk. 

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was. 

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea. 

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter. 

 “I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky. 

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea. 

 “Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering. 

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all. 

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar. 

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic. 

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.” 

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it. 

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings. 

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself. 

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared. 

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down. 

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you. 

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed. 

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy. 

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension. 

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on. 

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott. 

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink. 

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent. 

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued. 

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile. 

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion. 

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping  every bad force involved. 

 “So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you. 

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to  it. 

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders. 

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable. 

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

~

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

#captain america #captain america x reader #captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #Bucky Barnes #wanda maximoff #avengers x reader #endgame #infinity war #marvel fanfiction #angst fanfic #fluff #enemies to lovers #to topple #a giant #chapter one #part one #by moni #mutual pining #you x steve rogers #you x avengers #reader insert #Smut #avengers x you

[lupically]

#C45052 | BENNETT.

genre | fluff

word count | 1753

warning | mention of injury​

note | (ignoring the obvious fact that i did not know how to end this) bennett is a good and underrated boy.

you shivered after your fist came in contact with the ice barrier.

your skin was numbed by the sheer cold to a point where the pain of punching a giant fallen icicle would simply subside into the stinging uncomfortable of your freezing skin. the sheer cold of dragonspine was nothing to make fun of, you realized that now, and you should probably not have agreed to travel here with bennett out of all people.

you never believed in superstition. curling a cord three times around the hairdryer would suffocate you, whistling past midnight would get you kidnapped by witches, looking at the clock when it strikes three brings you to alternate dimension—bennett’s terrible, unexplainable, god-awful bad luck.

you did not believe in it. even after seeing the scars that adorned his young skin, you did not believe it was the result of poor luck but only the product of a teenage boy's aggressive clumsiness during an adventure.

yet, after venturing into dragonspine with bennett, as well as razor and klee who have decided to tag along (razor convinced only after finding out klee is also going, not to watch over her for her safety but the cold mountain's livelihood), you found out you were having a change of mind.

it was very likely that you only wanted somebody to blame, though.

you four got separated after bennett slipped from a cliff, bringing you with him when his leg somehow tipped over your ankles and tripped you as well. klee and razor got distracted, it seemed, as you could hear explosions firing during your fall before your shoulder hit the soft surface of bennett‘s torso.

the two did not come down to find you guys, so you two decided to head up the mountains again in hopes to bump into them somehow. but, during an encounter with some whopperflowers, you two were backed into a cornered cave and, lo and behold, a giant and thick icicle fell atop of the spike-sprouting flowers and, conveniently, the only exit to the cave as well.

that was not mentioning all the tiny misfortunes thrown in between, such as falling into lakes, unable to find fire podiums, and slipping off snows.

therefore, no, you do not believe in superstition, but for the sake of being able to direct your anger toward someone else, you spared yourself the strictness and blamed bennett's bad luck.

"hey, look, i'm sure razor and klee will find us somehow!" bennett exclaimed with a smile after walking to your side. "you won't believe me but razor has a very keen sense of smell!"

you rolled your eyes with a huff, feeling annoyed that he still had it in him to look on the positive side. "what's he gonna do, sniff your bad luck and find his way here?"

his brows raised in curiosity. for a second, he genuinely thought about the question, then he laughed loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. "i don't know! but it would be so cool if he can do that, don't you think?"

"the only thing i am thinking about now is getting out of here," you lightly growled under your breath as you glared at the azure-colored icicle.

archons. you could not be trapped in here for any longer. it was cold, the oxygen was probably draining and bennett never stops talking so he sucks the living hell out of the air, and there was no guarantee you two wouldn't be stuck here for the rest of your lives!

worst of all, you snap at people easily, especially when you were angry at them. whether it was misplaced anger or not, having bennett be near you right now could easily cause a misunderstanding with the words you could spill out of you. you would not mean them, but they could still hurt his feelings, and you did not want to hurt his feelings.

bad luck and badly-timed optimism aside, bennett was the single most selfless person you have ever met.

he still had it in his head to reach out for you in mid-air and use his body as a shield during the fall, for archon's sake. you could count with less than half of your fingers the number of people who would do that voluntarily.

blowing air out of your mouth and sucking back in deeply, trying to breathe properly due to the cold climate freezing up your insides, you turned to look at bennett and he tilted his head at your stare.

"what is it?"

"couldn't you do that swirly thing with your fire?"

he widened his eyes. "oh, you mean my vision?"

"if that is what it's called, sure?"

he pursed his lips together then. that would be the easy way out, of course, but he hasn't thought about it because of how much his body was aching from everything that had happened.

he was sure the soreness around his shoulders and back, which came flooding to him like punches after he took your fall for you, would only amplify with the heat. not to mention the other wounds around his body from the additional mishaps and fights.

he had his fair share of accidents and pain before, and his endurance was built up well, but he would prefer not to take it if he didn't have to.

"i... uh..."

his eyes shifted away from the icicle to you. amid his reluctance, he watched the way you winced at the cold. all he did was watch you flinch and shudder, at the cold and the monsters you two continuously alert.

he remembered you weren't supposed to be here, that you were only here because he asked if you wanted to join him on an adventure to dragonspine of all places, that you were only here because disasters loved him too much.

but he had been so happy when you agreed to join him, happy and accepted like he hasn't been in a long time, like having a new friend to play with, like he finally found someone who wasn't afraid of what he could bring.

the least he could do for you was to try and help, he thought, even if it hurts.

"move aside."

he stepped forward, his brows narrowing in concentration. you did as he told you, your hands clutched together before you as you watched the slight redness of heat emerge from his feet. he brought out his weapon as it traveled up his legs to his torso, spreading to his hands, and suddenly—a quick jump in the air, fire burst through his body and covered his blade, and a loud clank could be heard against the icicle.

the icicle was, unfortunately, not broken, but your concentration was diverted to bennett instead of the result of his action. 

he was panting heavily, in a way as if he had just run a mile under a mere minute. his back was hunched so he could support himself by leaning against his knees, attempting to catch his breath and ease the numbing pain of conflicting fire with cooled skin. and, most horrifically, the wound on his left forearm has re-opened from the movement and was bleeding. 

“well, that–” he huffed with a soft smile, “–that did not work at all!”

“bennett–bandages, let’s get you some bandages.” 

you moved over to him quickly and urged him to sit down near the icicle. you knelt next to him, your face falling quicker into despair when you realized none of you bought sufficient supplies for such an injury. everything was in klee’s backpack with her bombs, and razor was the one who offered to hold the bag so klee could move around easier. 

bennett wanted to speak up.

watching you fumble with a concerned expression completely contradicted the reason behind him straining himself to use his vision. he did that to soothe you, not to make you worry even more! but, before he could open his mouth to speak, his face pinked with an immeasurable heat—hotter than fire—when he saw that you had proceeded to rip the hem of your shirt apart.

you wrapped the fabric around his forearm, hoping it would stop the bleeding for now, or at least keep him from injuring it even more. unbeknownst to you, bennett had turned his head and shut his eyes tight so the exposed part of your tummy would be out of his plain sight. his hand gently shook, not from the wound but the touch of your much more delicate hands.

“bennett.”

“i–i–i’m not looking, i swear!”

you furrowed your brows and glanced down at yourself. you held back a laugh; you were barely exposed, it was just the side of your waist, that was all. but his politeness was welcomed, nonetheless.

“i am going to lean on you, is that okay?” you asked then, sitting down on the ground and shifting into a position where you were close enough to him to make him flush even more. “you’re warm.”

“i–i think it’s the fire,” he squeaked, his hands curled into awkward fists that he propped on his knees awkwardly. he nodded to himself, feeling his heartbeat increase. "it's the fire... yeah..."

you smiled to yourself. this might be the first time you thought bennett was cute. if only the circumstance was less staggering and unideal.

“thank you for saving me back there,” you muttered. “i could have died if you hadn’t caught me.”

“ah! that! haha!” he blinked to keep his thoughts somewhere other than the proximity. “i have fallen too many times to let a little slip off a cliff end me!”

you didn't respond. the heat radiating off his body was so satisfying that all you could do was drown yourself in the warmth. sensing your silence, bennett snapped himself out of his shy rage and glanced down at you, and he softened significantly when he saw you huddled up next to his side trying to scrape as much of his body heat as possible.

silently (for the first time in a while), and timidly (also for the first time in a while), he moved his arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to his side.

the blush on his cheeks was furious, the shy boy within him jumping up and down in a frenzy, but he still kept you close for the warmth and stayed silent to let you rest.

and he hoped that the next time he goes on an adventure, you would be willing to tag along again.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin impact bennett #bennett #genshin bennett #bennett imagines #bennett x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin

[giorno-plays-piano]

Can I request a dark king Steve and inexperienced princess please? Thank you❤❤

First of all, I’m so sorry it took me so much time to finish this request. However, I’m very grateful to you for it because it made me remember my favorite mini-series Gormenghast 😌💖 Hope you’re going to enjoy this!

Boy in the castle

Pairing: king!Steve Rogers x princess!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, death of minor characters, forced marriage, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2430.

____________________

When coup d'etat had happened - for the first time in centuries - your old nanny almost had a heart attack, locking you two in your chamber high up in the tower and barricading the window. The bastard boy would kill you, she kept repeating over and over until your head hurt. He is wicked as the Devil himself, she said, holding a heavy fireplace poker in her old shaky hands as a weapon. He will stab you in the back as he did to your royal father or poison you like he poisoned the Queen. 

That time you thought it would be much easier to push you throw the window and make you fall from the tower instead. Why bother with a knife or a poison? But you didn’t voice over your thoughts to your old nanny, knowing well her old heart wasn’t strong enough for this conversation. Strangely, you felt nothing hearing of the death of your parents. From your books you knew people were ought to mourn their families, but sadness had never come to you, anyway. Could it be because you only saw the King and Queen several times a year since you had been three years old? Maybe so.

Nevertheless, your nanny kept talking and talking about the dangers waiting for you outside of your room: the new King would murder anyone who posed a threat to him, and he had most likely already killed your younger brother, a true heir to the throne. You shrugged your shoulders at her words in return - you saw the boy as much as you did your parents. Despite being both a princess and King’s and Queen’s firstborn, most of the time you were confined to your chamber up in the tower where the only one serving you was your old nanny, a woman who had been taking care of you since the time you were born. You only encountered other people on special occasions like your honored brother’s birthday or the first day of a new year when you were allowed to leave your chamber.

You couldn’t feel sorry for those the new King had killed - the one who had never felt compassion from others barely knew what it meant to care about another human being. Of course, you loved your nanny, that foolish old woman who still slapped your back hard if you didn’t sit straight in your chair while reading, but you had long found peace with the thought that one day she would die, too, leaving you all alone. You weren’t scared of that. You had always been alone, locked away and forgotten even by the faithful servants of the King.

Maybe that was why you weren’t worried about being killed by the bastard boy who came to power. Being backstabbed certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was a quick death, maybe even an easy one: in some books you read people were skinned alive or burnt at the stake, and you imagined it to be much more painful.

Silly girl, your nanny had told you then, weakened by the lack of food - it was the second day of your imprisonment after coup d'etat. The new King could do so much worse things to you, the only woman belonging to the old royal dynasty.

At the end of the third day when you were delirious from lack of water, the guards had broken down the heavy wooden door of your chamber, and a shy little maid got in, carrying a large tray of food. The new King had probably picked the poison, you thought then when the girl poured water right into your mouth and it run on your dry, parched lips. moistening your skin and hair. She fed you some chicken soup while the guards forced the food down your nanny’s throat. Oddly, neither her no you died that day.

What could the bastard boy possibly want from you, your nanny asked over and over again, passing from one corner of your chamber to the other while you cleaned yourself in a metal basin filled with cold water. Wasn’t he supposed to kill you like all other members of the royal family? You thought so, too, but didn’t speak out loud to the old woman, knowing of her poor nerves.

When several man dressed as court attendants came to your chamber in a week, they announced your marriage to the new King, and a few maids assigned to you took your screaming and cursing old nanny away, assuring you no one would harm her. You, on the other hand, were brought to the castle, an army of maids following you to what they said was your new chamber, a large room with several windows and walls decorated with peculiar floral paintings. It was beautiful, but you felt you missed that small room high up in the tower with no one but your old foolish nanny by your side.

The new King was fearsome yet fair to the ones under his control, the maids told you, all eager to speak to you as you were left alone by the guards. He was a kitchen boy once, they said, a bastard son of some lady’s maid who left him right after giving birth, afraid to be punished by her mistress. Weak and ugly with his body like a twig, the boy was smart enough to rise in his ranks over years, becoming the servant of the court magician - you saw him once or twice on your brother’s birthday celebrations, you thought. Weaving his net around all right people of the royal court for years, in the end Steven Rogers overthrew the old King, the man who cared about no one but himself, and the Queen who was more worried about her cats rather than her people dying of hunger.

The new King was a good man, all of them told you once they bathed and clothed you, combed your wild hair and put some flower oil behind your ears and on your wrists. It was good he decided to marry you, the one forgotten even by your people.

Be nice to him, they warned you before escorting you to his chambers, be gentle and choose your words right when speaking to him, and then you’ll be safe and sound. The new King wasn’t a bad man, oh no, he just suffered so much inside the castle walls.

When you entered his chambers, the ones belonging to your father before, you saw so much light coming from open windows it made you hold you breath for a second. You had only been here once - on the day when your brother, the successor to the throne, was born - yet you still remembered how dark and gloomy was the room lit by dozens of candles smelling like pig fat. It was so odd to see the same room that looked so different now.

The man standing up from a heavy mahogany desk turned towards you, and you saw his handsome face: his eyes were of dark blue color like the twilight sky; his skin pale but cheeks a bit rosy as if he had just returned from outside; when you saw his full lips, you thought they were too sensual for a man, though not that you knew much about men, anyway. Truly, the new King looked like he belonged here - maybe even more than your father, old as ancient skies, with his back hunched and crooked. He wasn’t dressed in a heavy dark mantle of your father but in an embroidered and slashed doublet, ankle-length breeches fastened with points, a sword of your father hanging by the man’s side. Oh, he looked so much more like an Ancient King than your father ever did.

“People said you are ugly.” You said, watching his face with curiosity and tilting your head to the side - your old nanny hated this habit of yours. “But I don’t think it is true.”

“I have been ugly.”

He didn’t speak loudly, yet you heard his low voice perfectly clear in the silence of this huge chamber, his expression calm but eyes unsettling.

“But one day I have drunk the potion the court magician prepared for your father, Your Highness.”

Funny, you thought, coming a little closer - you struggled to walk in this heavy crimson dress with many layers, the neckline adorned with precious stones generously. It was probably one of your mother’s dresses she never wore.

Watching his dark blonde hair shining in the sunlight, suddenly you remembered something, something you had long forgotten, and you stopped, watching the blue eyes that now seemed familiar. A little boy with his body so feeble he could get swept away by the wind. No, no, he couldn’t be. It was impossible.

“You’re the boy who fell off the Moon.” You stared at him with your eyes wide, your lips slightly open as you saw the little guy whose name you didn’t remember - the one who had fell on your balcony when you lived in the castle for a couple of months while your chamber in the tower was being repaired.

He was a funny boy, skinny as a rail with his hands so white you thought he had always been cold. When he turned up on your balcony, you had been reading and almost screamed at the loud sound of him falling. Gladly, you didn’t make a sound - the guards were everywhere in the castle, and they’d surely take him.

You remembered the boy saying he was a moon knight, showing you how he handled the invisible sword he carried and, once you two sat in front of the fireplace, he told you many stories of all places he visited and things he saw. Gladly, he disappeared before your nanny showed up, carrying a tray of food in her shaky hands, but the boy came the next day, and then the day after that, and after that one, too. He kept coming for seven more days before the reparation of your chamber had been completed, and you moved back. Sadly, he couldn’t get to the Tower, saying the angle wasn’t right to jump off the Moon.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am the boy you let into your room years ago.”

A part of you refused to believe him - the new King is too big and handsome to be the little boy whose arms were so skinny you thought you could see his bones through the skin. Besides, for many years you kept thinking the Moon knight was just a dream you saw. But what if the new King told you the truth? What if it was him?

“I remember standing on one knee in front of you and pretending giving you an invisible ring as something to remember me by when I’d return to the Moon.” His face lightened up for a couple of seconds, and suddenly you saw the familiar twinkley eyes and that shy little smile when the new King curled his lips. “Isn’t it peculiar I have been thinking about those days with you when the Royal Chef whipped me till my back bled? When I was strangling him, all I thought was the day when I see you again, Your Highness.”

Uneasiness washed over you once you heard the man talking. Living alone in the tower, you knew very little of a life in the castle, but you knew murdering someone was wrong. 

“Why did he whip you?” You asked, furrowing your brows when the man in front of you chuckled. “You killed him for that, right?”

“I killed him because he was the most disgusting son for a bitch you’d ever met, dear princess.”

You winced at his harsh words: your old nanny had never even once sworn in your presence except the day when the new King killed your father, but, of course, the man in fancy clothes knew nothing of etiquette and good manners. 

“I’ve killed the court magician, too.” The new King continued, marching to you like one of the guards you saw once in a while, and you felt the urge to retreat to your room immediately. “I’ve killed much more people, your father and mother, too, and I don’t regret it even the slightest bit.”

You made a step back, looking at his face growing darker once he sensed your fear, and you were on the verge of running away the very next moment, thinking he was going to murder you, too.

“Are you scared now, princess? Do you know what I’ve done to get so far? Do you understand who owns the castle, your tower, even you, Your Highness?” With each question he was getting closer and closer until you showed him your back and sprinted towards the heavy doors beside you, clenching your dress and lifting it up to move faster. “Do you know what I’ll do to you, darling?”

You didn’t, and you had no desire to figure it out, finally reaching the door when the man beside you pushed your body into the wood with his, his hands on the door, preventing you from leaving.

“I’ve lied and cheated; I’ve drank the potion that broke every bone in my body and healed them back; I’ve killed your father and all those who stood in my way.” His words turned into a low, guttural growl as he pressed your body into the wood. “I’ve did everything to own this goddamn castle that made me feel so unhappy, so miserable and pathetic. I loathe this place. I loathe you. God, I loathe you so much.”

He was going to kill you. Dear Lord, you should have listened to your old nanny.

“You made my feel like I was someone. It was because of you I couldn’t stay just a kitchen boy. I wanted to have what you nobles had. I wanted to control all the ones who looked down on me.” He nuzzled into your hair, and you felt his firm touch on your shoulders. “God, I wanted to have you, but, unless I had the castle, I couldn’t get to you, princess. Do you know what I’ve done to get here? Do you have the slightest idea, darling?”

“Please, don’t.” You whispered quietly, afraid to raise your voice as you felt his angry breath on your skin.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, for I’m too far gone.” Moving your dress up in haste, the new King put his knee in between your legs, ignoring your whimper. “Whatever you have, I’ll take.”

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Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @lovelydarkdaydream @ninefuckingoneone @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks

#yandere #captain america #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #requests #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there���s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun #exo smut #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun hc #sub!baekhyun #baekhyun crack #exo crack #dom!baekhyun #baekhyun headcanon #sub!exo #baekhyun bullet points #exo hc #exo headcanons

[jaskierswolf]

The Prince of Darkness

Written for @thewitcherbog flash fic challenge a while back but I never posted!

Rating: M

Summary: Jaskier is the King of the Underworld, and it's Valdo's day of judgement.

CW: Demon!Jaskier (and witchers), implied sexual content, death, torture (burning, choking, freezing.), Jask has an open relationship with all the witchers (but Geralt is his favourite), mentions of non con.

The hotel lobby was sophisticated and yet traditional, like something out of a movie. The dark panelling on the walls were dimly lit by flickering candles, and there was a fireplace roaring in the centre of the foyer, and a handful of gorgeous golden-eyed beauties were making their way around the room. They were finely dressed, perfectly tailored suits with silken blood red waistcoats detailed with golden buttercups, a tray balanced on their hands as they passed out flutes of champagne. In the corner of the room was a black grand piano, the lid propped up as the man behind it let his fingers dance across the ivory keys, rings glistening silver and gold in the candlelight.

Jaskier smiled to himself as he played, his eyes shut, focussing on every little sound in the room, blending it with the music, manipulating the souls around him until they were practically eating out of his hand.

The Prince of Darkness, the mortals called him.

Lucifer himself.

He preferred Jaskier; buttercups were so beautiful, so innocent, so toxic.

It was the perfect moniker.

Lux was his domain, his hotel, a haven for demons and sinners alike, and the perfect stage for when Jaskier had to deal with… unpleasant business. The witchers, as he liked to call his inner circle of demons, would deal with the aftermath, cleaning up the elevator before any of Jaskier’s regular clientele could see.

The witchers were just such good pets.

Geralt approached the piano, his honey golden eyes almost entirely black as they approached the end of another poor soul’s contract. There was an itch that creeped under Jaskier’s skin, hot fire burning through his veins, but it didn’t bother him. No, he relished in the flames, let it warm his cold immortal body. Cracking an eye open, he peered at the witcher who had disturbed his music.

“He’s here, my lord.”

Jaskier sighed, bringing the music to an end, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the ivory keys started to play anew. The song was a familiar tune, a well known pop song from the mortals’ charts. It would keep his honoured guests entertained, after all, at Lux the party never-ended. Those who stepped through the swinging doors were transported to a realm of endless night; cocktails, champagne and designer clothes. The chandelier in the middle of the room twinkled, and there was a sharp clack of high heels on the granite floor as his guests mingled.

None of them ever seemed to realise there was something not quite right about Lux. When they were done partying, when Jaskier had made deals for their souls, they would leave and return to their realm as if they had only been there for an evening, never to return until their contract was up.

And they always returned.

Occasionally, a poor mortal would fight it, realising their impending doom. They’d try to flee the country, get as far away from Lux as possible, but the witchers were excellent hunters. Once the demons got the right scent, they could track their prey to the end of the known universe. The mortals never stood a chance. They either came willingly or they would be dragged through the doors by two of Jaskier’s finest demons; he wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Yes it was simpler if they accepted their fate, but he couldn’t deny that he just adored the thrill of watching the poor terrified soul being thrown at his feet.

He thought of himself as a kind devil, if such a thing existed, his father would certainly disagree, but his father could rot in heaven. Truly, Jaskier did his best to be fair. He granted the mortals wishes and made sure they lived their best lives, he even allowed most of them to live for many decades with the gifts he gave them, their deepest desires. Really, for some of the wishes he’d granted, it would have been kind to allow them even a year of life, let alone what he gave to them.

Ungrateful bastards, the lot of them.

Valdo Marx had been an easy soul to claim; he was greedy, lustful, full of pride. He’d practically begged at Jaskier’s feet back when he was in his first year of university.

“I want to be the best musician the world has ever seen, I want the most beautiful woman, Virginia Stael, to be my wife, and I want-”

Jaskier had waved his hand, his dark feathered wings spreading out behind him, and Valdo’s jaw had snapped shut, muffled sounds coming from his throat.

“I want, I want, I want,” Jaskier had cooed, his finger hooking under Valdo’s chin as he pouted down at the mortal, whipping his tail round to caress down the poor man’s arm until his wrist had been locked in a vice. “Do you know what I want… Marx?”

The wanna-be musician had scoffed, a fatal mistake and one that had cost him years off his life. “Everyone knows that, Lucifer.”

“My name, Valdo, is Jaskier,” he’d hissed, his forked tongue flicking out from his lips as more and more of his devil form had been revealed. “And I just want to have fun.”

“You want my soul.”

“No, your soul is the price. A mere business transaction. I just want to get wasted and shag my rather lovely demons, and you are wasting my time.”

Ah yes. Valdo had always been a little shit-stain in Jaskier’s life, but now his time had come.

The piano music began to build to an earth shattering crescendo, making the glasses rattle, and dust fall from the chandelier. Jaskier cracked his neck, feeling a prickling sensation on his scalp as his horns began to grow, and still the sweet, oblivious mortals noticed nothing. They sipped on their champagne and chatted amongst themselves, ignoring the way Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes slowly turned onyx, his skin deathly pale. He smiled sweetly at his favourite witcher, running his lips along Geralt’s sharp cheekbones.

“Thank you, darling,” he breathed, capturing Geralt’s lips with his, tongues meeting in a quick but heated display of passion.

And then the doors burst open, Lambert and Aiden dragginga handsome but aging man through the doors, grey hairs dusting his temple, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It had been a long time since Jaskier had seen Valdo Marx, but there was no denying his beauty, now distinguished, a true silver fox. Dark chocolate eyes met his as all the colour drained from Marx’s face.

“Oh God, no… no, please,” he stammered, struggling in the arms of the demons that held him.

“My dear father holds no power here,” Jaskier chuckled, smirking at the man at his feet. “There’s no use in praying. Your soul belongs to me.”

“Lu- Jaskier, please. I’m too young. It’s too soon,” Valdo begged, reaching up to Jaskier with open hands. “My wife, my children.”

“Oh but Valdo, It’s never too soon. I am never early and I never try to back out of a deal, darling,” Jaskier pouted, squatting so he was at eye level with the mortal. “So why don’t you come with me, love? Stop all this fussing. You’re ruining my party.”

With a fire not often seen in mortals, Valdo spat at Jaskier, and an eerie silence fell over the club. The piano music screeched to a halt, the lid closing with a bang, and the only sound was a low rumble of growls from the witchers. Geralt was at Jaskier’s side in a flash, his sword drawn and pointed at the man.

It was sweet.

As if Jaskier couldn’t defend himself, but he did enjoy the show, the way Geralt’s arms would flex as he gripped the sword, twirling it in a circle before executing his victim.

“I had planned to give you an easy death,” Jaskier lied, standing back up to his full demonic height and clearing his face with a snap, “but now, I think I’ll have some fun. Geralt, Eskel, with me. Lambert, Aiden, make sure our guests stay out of the way.”

“No!” Valdo cried, falling once more at Jaskier’s feet, gripping onto his ankles.

Oh, how he loved it when they begged for their lives.

When Jaskier glided through the foyer, picking up a champagne flute from Coen’s tray with barely a brush of his lips to the demon’s cheek, the crowd parted before him. Compliments fell off their tongues, sweet like honey, unaware of the influence Jaskier had over them. They all watched him, they always watched him, so very eager to please. Geralt snarled behind him as one brave mortal rested their hand on Jaskier’s arm, but it was Eskel who snapped their fingers, silent and deadly, before they’d even realised he was there.

Valdo was pulled into the elevator, tears streaming down his face and choked off screams ripping from his throat, but Jaskier remained calm, and if it weren’t for his eyes and the horns amongst his tousled brown hair, he would have looked like any other hotel owner.

Until the doors closed.

And then all hell broke loose; literally. Jaskier’s body cracked and snapped into place as his legs extended to inhuman proportions, his fingers growing into talons, and he let out a sinful moan as his wings unfurled behind him. He flicked out his tail, and his three-piece suit melted away into a gorgeous black silk corset, embroidered with golden buttercups. Red stockings adorned his legs, held up by lacy black garters, and as he flicked out his ankles, a pair of strappy heels materialised on his feet, the soles flashing red before clicking back onto the floor.

“Jaskier, please, please,” Valdo cried, falling against the side of the elevator as lightning sparked and they dropped fast, the dial on the wall spinning out of control.

“Your soul… belongs to me,” Jaskier hissed, pressing Valdo up against the wall, his hands wrapping around his throat.

He was tempted to snog Valdo’s soul right out of him, a sweet kiss to seal the deal, but that was too kind, and he was feeling a little more dramatic than that, so he pushed back off the wall, beating his wings so he hovered just off the floor. Geralt and Eskel were standing on either side of him, swords drawn with toxic black eyes, veins like ink beneath their skin.

Flames burst out behind them, whipping around so the whole elevator was surrounded by a burning pyre, singeing Valdo’s clothes, and the mortal screamed as the fire licked at his hand, scorching the calloused skin. His precious hands, his livelihood, the first things that Jaskier had blessed for him.

There was something so delightfully poetic in that, and Jaskier found great pleasure in it.

“Everyone always thinks that hell is eternal fire,” he purred, stroking a talon along Geralt’s cheek, before pulling Eskel into a soft kiss, taking his time to enjoy the taste of sulfur on his tongue, “but that isn’t always true.”

“W-what?”

Jaskier just pouted at Valdo. “Do try to keep up, darling.”

And then he snapped his fingers, the fire was suddenly extinguished, replaced by a flood of muddy tar. Valdo spluttered and choked as he slid to the ground, the tar catching in his hair, and wherever it landed his handsome looks withered away. The wedding band slipped from his finger and disappeared, despite Valdo’s desperate scrambling to find it.

The muddy mixture spewed all over the lift, covering the two demons as well as their victim, but Jaskier stayed clean and dry, untouched by the tar. He really wasn’t in the mood for ruining his clothes, not like this. He was rather hoping Geralt would tear them from his body later on that day whilst his other beloved witchers watched.

“J-Jaskier!” Valdo screamed, just as the entire elevator froze.

Blue ice creeped up the walls, wrapping around the legs of both the demons and the pitiful mortal on the floor. Valdo sobbed, trying to escape the ice but they both knew it was over. His back pressed against the wall as the ice grew, crystallising over his body, wrapping around his throat. Snowflakes fell from the ceiling, landing in his eyelashes as he struggled to breathe.

And Jaskier stole back his voice.

The final gift.

Valdo’s soul ripped from his body, and the man fell limp against the wall.

With a wave of his hand, Jaskier captured the soul, weaving his magic until a silver fox with chocolate brown eyes was nestled in his arms. He grinned, lowered the fox to the floor and then snapped his fingers to open the doors.

Before he left the elevator, his corset grew into a beautiful gown, split all the way up to his thighs, and his demonic features melted away. He patted Geralt once more on the cheek, pressing their lips together, before striding back into the foyer, not looking back at the frozen massacre he’d left behind. Beside him, a silver fox trotted along, a shadow of the man he used to be.

#the witcher #jaskier loves witchers #demon!jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

[bruhlsbees]

garden of eden - preview || alex kerner x fem!reader

summary: alex kerner loses a bet to reader and reader thinks on her relationship with alex

pairing: alex kerner x fem!reader

warnings: cute moments between alex and reader, feet - not sexual,

word count: 1,649

a/n: this is the preview for my upcoming alex kerner fic, garden of eden! i hope you enjoy it and the fic! :) i will have chapter one posted sometime on tuesday!!

if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic (or any fic) please send me a message with what account to tag and what fic you'd like to be tagged to!!

You had been gnawing away on the cherry stem for ten minutes now - twisting, tugging, and biting down to form a knot. Sucking on the stem, moving your tongue around in your mouth to guide the stem in between your teeth to loop, when you finally felt the loop be made, you shot up from the couch, letting out an excited screech before clapping, pulling your fingers to your mouth before pulling out the saliva coaxed cherry stem, shuffling in your spot with a cheesy happy dance, turning towards the couch that you had jumped up from.

“Cough it up, Kerner. I told you that I could do it!” You extended your hand out to your best friend, Alex Kerner, a proud smile on your face as you still held the cherry stem knot in between your fingers.

For the past half an hour, after watching an obscene clip on the television of some girl tying a cherry knot in her mouth, with just her mouth, you and Alex began to have a heated argument as to whether or not someone could tie a cherry stem into a knot, or if it was all a joke. When the two of you finally decided to try it, you rushed to your fridge and pulled out some cherries from the bag, pulling the stems before heading back to the couch. It took you ten painful minutes before you finally got the knot.

With a groan, Alex fell back into the couch, still chewing on his own cherry stem before shaking his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a crinkled five deutsche mark. When he begrudgingly began to hand the bill towards you, you went to snatch it, missing as he dropped his hand suddenly, causing you to stumble forward, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“No fair! Come on, Alex! I won that fair and square!” You launched forward, making another poor attempt to get your winnings before feeling him grab you by the waist, throwing you back on the couch beside him. With a laugh, Alex grinned cheekily, putting his sock-clad foot against your stomach to prevent you from trying to lunge at him again.

At first you were no match to his large foot, the weight pinning you just right into your couch that prevented you from moving. When you grabbed his ankle, trying to move his foot off of you, you only managed to slip it up, his foot connected the side of your face, “Oh, Alex! Get your foot off of me! God, it smells!”

Watching as you squirmed under his foot, Alex erupted in a string of laughs, holding his stomach as you swatted his foot away, “Well why did you put it there if you didn’t want it there?”

“I’m going to kill you! I’m seriously going to kill you.” Moving your face into his foot, you groaned before opening your mouth to bite the side of it, feeling him quickly rip his foot away from your mouth and off you, giving you the chance to make an attempt to get the money again. Pushing yourself up from the sinking cushions, you jumped forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him, literally, onto the floor with you, landing on him before pinning him down, snatching the bill from his hand.

Sinking back down onto his lap, you held the mark high before bringing it down, kissing it sweetly before waving it in his face teasing him, “Thanks for that! I’ll be sure to buy myself something nice with it.”

As you stuffed the bill in his pocket, you noticed him fake pouting, his head turned to the side, his dark brows bunched together. Rolling your eyes, you leaned forward, squeezing his face in your hands, putting on your best baby voice.

“Awe, is Alex upset he lost the bet? Is the poor baby pouting because he lost five marks? Does the baby need a hug? A kiss to make it better?”

You smirked when you saw him beginning to crack, feeling his mouth turn into a smile before you placed wet grandma-style kisses all over his face, hearing him groan as he pushed your face away from him, “Oh, get off!”

Falling back, your body now nestled in between his legs with your own on top of him, resting on either side of him, back pressed against the couch, you could only smile at the moment shared with him. Even after everything that happened with his mother falling into her coma, the end of the GDR, and him switching jobs - he still seemed to be the enthusiastic Alex you met when you were a teenager.

You must have been staring at him for some time now, deep in though, because you felt a flick to your nose that pulled you out of it, “Ow! What was that for?”

Falling back, propped on his elbow, Alex laughed and shook his head, “I asked you a question...although you seemed to be pretty spaced out with something else. Wanna share with the class?” He teased, shaking your foot in his hand obnoxiously before your rolled your eyes, pulling your foot from his grasp, moving it to drape over his stomach to the other side with your other foot - although you seemed to drop your leg more heavily on his stomach than you imagined, hearing a grunt come from him.

“Nothing important,” You explained casually before shrugging, “What’s up?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you smiled at him back as he flashed his signature crooked toothy grin your way, “I asked if you were hungry. And if so, do you got anything here or do you wanna go out?”

Rolling your eyes, you moved off of him before standing up, making your way to your kitchen, “You always ask me if I’m hungry, which means you’re hungry and you don’t want to be the only one eating.” You stated, opening the fridge to look for what you had. It wasn’t that full, but you had enough to make something work.

Hearing him get up, you listened as he made his way into the kitchen as well, standing behind you as he reached over your, pulling open the freezer. “How old is that pizza?” When you opened the box, Alex shrugged and took it, nudging the freezer shut with the pizza box before turning to go back to the couch.

To anyone outside of your friend/family group, it looked as though you were both living in a perfect domestic relationship- but that was just it, you weren’t. Alex and you were painfully close, dancing in an unknown realm that left you sometimes confused. There were times that he treated you like a guy would treat a girlfriend and then there were other times he treated you like his older sister, Ariane. You weren’t as delicate as the other girls were - you punched back and knew how to wrestle him to the ground to get what you wanted. But it felt as though sometimes Alex took that as you being ‘one of the boys’ as you’ve heard many guys say at your job down at the club. Though, just because you were less delicate than most girls, did that mean you couldn’t be seen as a girl?

Your love for Alex was something you didn’t like to think about. When the two of you first met as teenagers, love was something simple. You told him over and over again that you loved him and hung onto him like he was your rock - because he was, but the older you got, the more you began to wonder if that love was really all that simple?

Shaking your head, as if trying to shake the thoughts from your mind, you reached to grab the bag of cherries, shutting the fridge door behind you as you went to sit back on the couch beside Alex, sinking in before popping a couple cherries in your mouth, chewing at them. You took the cup used for ashes when Alex came over to spit the seeds into, holding onto the cup with one hand while the other grabbed at the cherries.

You didn’t know how, but you got stuck watching some movie that was being played on one of the channels. It was quite boring, but must have held Alex’s attention as he didn’t seem bothered to change the channel. You, however, grew incredibly tired, your eyes heavy as your head lulled to the side. It didn’t take long before you fell against Alex, snoring slightly, the cup of cherry seeds still in one hand with the bag of cherries in your lap.

Glancing over to his right, Alex smiled at your sleeping form. Setting the empty pizza box on the ground, he moved the bag of cherries off your lap and on top of the box, taking the cup carefully from your hand to set back on the table beside you. Doing his best, he scooped you up in his arms, standing up to carry you into your room.

It didn’t take him long to get you into bed, not bothering with putting pajamas on you as you already had comfier clothes on. Pulling the blankets over you, Alex tucked the blankets tight around you to keep you secure, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder, “Sleep well.”

Pushing off the bed, Alex turned to leave, careful to not trip over anything you had laying around on the ground. He shut your door quietly, carefully making his way back to the couch before turning the television off, grabbing the blanket and pillow from the chair to ready the couch to sleep on. When he unfolded the blanket, curling up the best he could on the couch, it didn’t take long for him too to be taken by sleep.

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #garden of eden #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #alex kerner x you #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin

[pterodactylterrace]

Happy Anniversary

Title: Happy Anniversary

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: It’s their anniversary, he would be expecting something special

Rating: 18+

Warnings: It’s porn. Also, poor descriptions of pole dancing, property damage, insinuation of overstimulation and dirty talk.

Edited to add a cut. My bad.

He's expecting me to do something for him. He's been hinting at it for weeks now. He was nice enough to set up the pole for me in the spare room so I had a place to practice during quarantine. Our anniversary is coming up. It would be the perfect time. There's just one problem.

I have yet to master anything resembling a sexy move on that pole. He would be expecting his own personal stripper that he gets to sleep with. That's a pretty normal fantasy to have. Surely I could come up with a routine that would at least give the illusion of knowing what I'm doing, right?

Maybe he should just lower his expectations. That seems like the easier route to go. Certainly easier than me admitting I hadn't been able to actually make much progress with the whole 'fitness stripping' thing I had tried. He always preaches about self discipline and just going and doing your fitness routine. Unfortunately, my routine had the habit of turning into me just watching pole dancers on YouTube and barely putting any effort into it myself. Turns out it takes a lot more upper body strength than I had first thought.

"Just a little something. Show me how much progress you've made."

"I haven't made too much 'progress' to be honest." I mumbled, chewing on my lower lip.

"Well, show me what you can do." Of course. Always so encouraging and supportive. Couldn't he be a jerk, scoff at me, roll his eyes and drop the subject just this once?

"It's really not much." I admitted, reluctantly grabbing the pole. I kicked my leg out and fell back, catching the pole with the back of my knee and spinning almost gracefully to the ground.

"See? You're doing great."

"Don't get too excited, that's the most interesting thing I can do."

"Don't say things like that. You're doing great."

Always so damn encouraging. He's going to give me the confidence I don't have the upper body strength to back up. Just a fun little pirouette then. No air time involved. Just hold the pole up high, spin under my arm and lean back against it. Flirty little wink for some flair.

"You know more than you're letting on." He hummed. Even from my place halfway across the room, I could see his pupils taking over his eyes. Ok, now I'm definitely getting over confident. I jumped up, catching the pole between my legs and going for a spin. In my head, I went around the pole flawlessly and landed delicately back on my feet. In reality my grip slipped and I ended up on my butt with chafed thighs halfway through my spin.

"Are you alright?" Henry asked around a suppressed laugh, crouching down to check on me, fighting back a smile.

"Turns out, that's a lot harder than it looks."

"You did really good?"

"I wasn't supposed to end up on my ass."

"I didn't think so. Care to try again?"

"No, I'm mad now." I pouted, crossing my arms like an overgrown toddler. I'm sure the booty shorts and sports bra complemented the look nicely.

"One more shot. I'm sure you can do it."

"It's harder than it looks!"

"You were so close."

"If you think it's so easy, you try it."

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"What do you tell me about making excuses?" Oh yeah, that shut his argument right down.

"Tell me what to do then." I really wish I had my phone with me to record this. My giant of a boyfriend trying to spin around a pole.

"Fine then, Mr. Its-not-that-hard. Grab up high with one hand, Higher, almost at a full extension. Grab on with your other hand at chest level. Then jump, catch it between your knees and keep your momentum going counterclockwise. That's the way that pole rotates."

"Sounds easy enough." Henry mumbled, tilting his head and eying up the pole. He practiced the motion he wanted his legs to do few times before giving it a go. I'm honestly unsure if he did it. Once his weight hit the pole and it began to spin, the tension proved to be unsuitable for a man of his size and he ended up on his back with a nice new hole in the wall from the top of the pole.

"Are you ok?" I asked timidly, staring at the carnage that had been created. The ceiling would need repaired. So would the wall. Also, my boyfriend's ego.

"That's going to be a lot of work to fix." Henry groaned, pushing the pole off.

"May I interest you in a sexy nurse fantasy instead?"

"By all means."

"Does it hurt here?" I asked innocently, rubbing his ankles.

"Nope." Henry hummed, laying back and letting his eyes drift closed.

"What about here?" I continued, my hands running up his calves to his knees.

"Little sore." Henry admitted as I pushed his knees further apart, crawling up between them. I squeezed gently, careful to avoid the ticklish spot I knew was at the tops of his kneecaps.

"How about up here?" I questioned, my hands sliding up his thighs, fingertips brushing under his shorts.

"Definitely more tense." We should have tried the whole 'nurse' thing in the first place. I am much better at groping than I am at pole dancing. I slid my hands out of his shorts and grabbed them by the waistband, Henry was more than happy to lift his hips to let me pull them down.

"Oh, I think I see some swelling." I teased, ghosting my fingers up his rapidly stiffening cock.

"Maybe you should kiss it better." Henry suggested, raising that damn eyebrow at me. That wasn't fair. He knew that eyebrow had the power to make me do just about anything.

"Maybe a massage will help the swelling." I countered, actively restraining myself from licking my lips.

"By all means." Henry chuckled, his eyes sliding closed, content to just feel for the time being.

I gripped loosely at the base, slowly sliding up to the tip, my thumb brushing through the glistening drop that had collected there. Another slow stroke back down, grinning to myself at his groan. I knew it wasn't enough, it was too slow, too gentle. Henry liked it when I was more rough with him, though he was always sure to be gentle with me, terrified that his brute strength would be more than I could handle. Like my pussy wasn't meant to take a pounding. Not today. I already had him on his back.

With one clumsy hand I managed to wiggle free of my shorts and underwear while continuing my slow torture of his cock I threw my leg over his and shifted my weight to straddle his thick thighs in one quick motion.

"Having fun?" Henry chuckled, his hands gently taking my hips.

"Yes, I am." I giggled, releasing his cock and shifting up, dragging him through my swollen petals, moaning softly at the feel of him. Fuck going slow. I needed him now. I gripped him by the base, lining him up and sinking down in one quick, fluid motion, Henry bucking below me, his eyes opening wide.

"Fuck sake, woman." He gasped, gripping my hips firmly to keep me in place.

"Want it now." I whined, clenching around him to try and gain more sensation than just him stretching me wide open. No matter how many times he took me, he always stole my breath with his sheer size alone, forcing me to mould to him and take every inch he had to offer.

"You're gonna hurt yourself." Henry scolded, his voice strained by my squeezing.

"No I won't." I pouted, pushing his hands away. I knew he could have easily held on if he wanted to, but he bent to my wishes and allowed me to take control just this once. I was taking no mercy this time. I set a punishing pace, bouncing on him like my life depended on it, spurred on further by his litany of curses. He felt so good, stretching me out, filling me so completely, the head of his cock slamming against my cervix every time I fell down on him.

"Fuck, slow down." Henry groaned, grabbing my hips again. "You're so damn tight, give me a second."

"No." I whined, squirming unhappily in his grasp. "I was getting close!"

"Fuck, so was I." Henry growled, flipping us over all to easily, rising up onto his knees, his forearms going beneath my knees to hold me up where he wanted me. "You think it's easy fucking this tight little pussy? Fuck, every time I just want to pound into you as fast and as hard as I can. Feel so fucking good around me. Need to take care of you first. I'm not cumming alone. Now touch yourself. Let me watch you get yourself off, and maybe then I'll finish fucking you."

That was all the encouragement I needed for my hand to shoot down, pressing against my needy bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight, quick circles. My other hand drifted to my breast, pinching and pulling on my nipple just like I knew he would. I looked up, moaning loudly when I saw him watching me intently, licking his lips slowly.

I squeezed around him, hoping to spur him into motion, but he held firm. He didn't move an inch, refusing to give me the friction I wanted. That didn't stop me from reaching my high, my back arching and his name falling from my lips. He started slamming into me the second I came undone, pushing me further into my bliss.

"That's my girl." He praised, his hips snapping into me, the sounds of our panting and slapping skin filling the room. "Fuck, so tight. Always so tight." He slid his arms from beneath my legs, letting them wrap around his waist so he could lean in, pressing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss, his hips never stopping their punishing pace.

This man was going to kill me. There was no other explanation for what was happening. He was literally planning on fucking me to death. It felt like a fire was building in my belly from how quickly I was hurtling towards the edge again.

"Come on. One more. Don't make me finish alone." Henry encouraged, his hand sliding between us now for his thumb to rub hard, slow circles on my already over sensitized clit. That was all it took for me to finish again, my nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to pull him deeper into me, Henry all too happy to oblige as he found his own release.

"Happy anniversary." Henry whispered in my ear once our breathing had slowed almost back to normal.

"Happy anniversary."  

Tag List:

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #unnamed ofc

[whumpeeblog]

TW: Slavery, Torture Mention, Death Mention, Pain, etc.

K, away on a decently long journey with A, chose to let N look after his estate and slaves for a period.

S shivered in her cell, sore from a recent beating. The vase had crashed with a menacing promise of punishment. But it had been an accident. Not only had the whip sliced her back, but the blades of knives and the threatening chokes of torture had harmed her feeble body. Weakened from the pain, S’s brain played pranks of mirages and lethargic daydreams.

Footsteps outside her cell. No. Please no. She had been certain that K was on a journey and she just wanted to be left to suffer alone. Perhaps it was a trick and now he would torture her again. Jingling keys toyed with the brass lock, and flickering light, too bright compared to the heavy darkness, crept into the cell.

K had instructed N, a close friend and distant relative, as to what each individual slave and prisoner would get for meals and work, as well as for torture. Burning hatred of cruelty towards any living creature stabbed at his heart. K had demanded the torture and work of the wretch in this cell, however, and he had to follow orders.

K had assumed S was too mangled to be recognized, and she knew the rules of speaking out of turn. N would never know it was her. He hadn’t seen her in nearly three years, and her rebellious spirit ran much more wild then.

Soft light dripped onto the figure shaking like a leaf in the corner of her cell. She was unrecognizable to him, just another slave. K had destroyed her, breaking her into something she was never meant to be.

N stepped into the cell, keys ringing in his fingers and a lit torch in the other. He set the flaming stick into a holder in the wall, then took another step. With each thump of his leather boots against the floor, the pain filled whimpers and sobs of the captive grew more desperate.

N crouched closer, and the girl sunk herself further into the wall, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out in pain.

Hardly a face, covered in bruises and crimson gashes, hung towards the floor. A mangled, broken body melted its way into the stone walls behind it. Muffled wails quietly rung in the dungeon.

N knelt towards the girl, preparing to lift her off of the floor. As his lean figure came nearer, S’s whimpers became more and more horrified.

S’s heart ached to scream for mercy, but there were punishments for that. She remained as silent as possible while failing to hide her trembling tears.

N’s kind heart stung for the child on the floor, her form crushed and shattered by her master. The last thing N wished was to hurt this poor creature, and the last thing she wanted was for him to touch her.

Gentle fingers softly caressed the abused face, feeling the pale skin shiver in fear beneath them.

“Look at me,” N whispered. Something about this prisoner was familiar.

S’s ivy eyes rose hesitantly, but the moment they struck N, his own eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

Those eyes were familiar. He had seen the tortured face many times before, but... it wasn’t possible. K had murdered her years ago. She had been tortured, then her head cut off, or at least, that’s what everyone had been led to believe. Couldn’t be. She was dead.

Dew drops clung to the long lashes that framed the eyes staring into his soul.

“S?”

The syllables startled the wretch and she grimaced and pinned herself even harder against the wall. All she wished was to hide away, to be ignored.

N’s soul broke with the realization that she didn’t remember him just yet. This had to be her, and he couldn’t hurt her, no matter what K threatened.

“Child, I��m not going to hurt you.” N cautiously brushed through her matted hair with his fingers in an attempt to gain trust.

S gradually recognized the man. N. The last time she had seen him failed to reappear in her mind. Perhaps he had changed. Surely this was a trap. Either way, K would return and N would give him a report on her, so she best remember her place.

Chains rattled as N removed the rusty collar tethering S to the wall. The chains connecting her ankles dropped. Tears fell throughout the entire process and she internally begged N not to hurt her.

She must obey him, and prove that she was a good slave, to avoid more pain. He couldn’t possibly be the same N who saved her life five years ago, or the same man who convinced D not to hurt her countless times.

A soft jolt singed S’s cut covered body, and whines escaped her as N lifted her body into his arms. Even his soft skin sent agonizing torment through her when he touched any of her wounds.

“Shh..” N cooed, almost fooling the girl with his gentle tone and soft eyes.

Whatever he was going to do to her, it would end in pain. He was just like K now, S was sure of it. K had been soft with her at times too, but he always seemed to run back to the realization of what a lowly wretch she was. She deserved the pain. She would beg for punishment, then perhaps N would tell K what a good prisoner she had been.

Although N attempted his best to lightly carry the girl, each step threw painful pressure on S’s injuries. She groaned. Groans transformed into sobs.

N couldn’t handle seeing the child in such torment. He set her down against a wall, then used his knowledge of the human body to provoke a pressure point, sending S into unconsciousness.

Unfamiliar sheets burned against bloodied skin as S shifted in her ending sleep. Eyes flushed open in shock. Green pupils stared into the crinkling brown ones above her, almost immediately shifting back down.

Oh god I made eye contact. I should ask for punishment. If I do, he won’t tell K and he’ll know I didn’t mean to. But if I talk, he’ll punish me.

The grieving child flinched in preparation for the sting that never came. Her skin jolted when tender fingers dragged themselves through her damp- wait damp?

Puzzled, S’s hand shakily lifted to slip through her slick roots. Had he- bathed her? Surely he must know she didn’t deserve such generosity. The sore wounds had been wrapped and cleansed as well. This tactic was familiar to her. He would show her mock kindness, healing her wounds, only to torture her again when her body was strong enough.

What if K hadn’t actually left, and he had simply sold her? This was a different castle after all... actually... she knew this place. D’s castle. These walls had distanced themselves for three years. And now she was back. The memory of her first visit haunted her. Her body flung to the floor. Her defiant screams of fear and pain. Before K broke her. Before she became what she was meant to be.

N’s words interrupted her thoughts.

“How are we feeling, lass?”

“Better, Master. Thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness.” The raspy voice barely croaked.

His tone tricked S into almost believing he wasn’t angry for the unwanted eye contact. Surely she wouldn’t remain unpunished.

“Dinna think ye were still alive after all these years. K w’d have us believe he’d tortured ya and killed ye. I can see he’s had his fair share of fun wit ya, hasn’t he?”

N’s velvet voice calmed S and she nodded, a saltwater drop searing a gash on her cheek. N’s hand drove towards her face, and his thumb wiped her tears as his palm cupped her trembling cheek.

“Hush, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Master. Forgive me. It’s not my place to cry.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” N cooed.

“I should be punished, sir. Please. I shouldn’t have cried before and I shouldn’t now. Please discipline me and teach me my place,” S’s whines for authority grew frantic. She had to be taught. If she wasn’t, she would forget what she was. They would have to break her all over again.

“No, love. Hush now.”

N grappled a chilly wet cloth. Frosty shudders danced through S when N dabbed her forehead with the rag. Her voice broke into a moaning tremor. All she wanted was to be punished. Sparing the pain now would create more torture later. Disdain blended with agony laced her high pitched whimpers when N’s soft hand guided the cloth against her face.

“I’ll make us supper. What’d ya like, lass?”

Utter confusion clogged S’s brain. He couldn’t have just asked her that. It must be a trap. She wasn’t allowed to eat unless specifically ordered to, hence the ribs that popped out with every intake of breath. She was merely a skeleton, hidden beneath a paper thin blanket of marred skin. S’s stomach was only given barely enough sustenance to pump her heart for a bit longer each day.

The few times that she had attempted to sneak food, S had been punished mercilessly, then given the opportunity to eat as a test of obedience. This must be another quiz of compliance. Although the punches of starvation beat her insides, S understood that the pain resulting from gluttony would be much worse.

Her new master’s patient gaze saturated her with concern.

“What do you want to eat, girl?”

“I’m ok, Master. I don’t eat a lot.”

That’s it. Perhaps he was testing her to see how much she required to continue breathing. If she showed she didn’t eat a lot or need much to survive, he would let her live. If she didn’t take much from him, he would keep her alive and let her serve him.

N stared through her pale body sorrowfully, a pang of guilt and pity trampling him like the wheels of a speeding train. The poor child. Someone had to help her. What had K done to her? What had become of his little lass? Where was the defiant young child who would have fought tirelessly for her innocent life? Was she dead, or was she simply hiding behind a submissive mask of the years of torture she had been subjected to? Patience for K was thinning. S belonged to him though. There was nothing to be done except show mercy to the captive while she was under his care.

K had ordered her torture when she was healed enough. N refused. Even if he did antagonize her, who knew how long her frail body could handle it?

“Come along, lass,” N softly demanded, whispering so as not to startle the girl. He gently settled his arm around S’s back, and she whimpered when his skin brushed against her freshly bandaged tissue. His strength assisted in hoisting her body upright, then he placed out both of his arms for S to use as leverage.

The hint wasn’t immediately taken.

“Place your hands on my forearms.”

Finally, an instruction. S’s sliced wrists snaked onto N’s tan arms, and with a groan, she lifted herself to stand.

“Go wait in the kitchen for me.”

S lowered her head and obeyed the order, limping out the door and down the halls. As she leaned against the walls for support, her delirious brain began to recognize the place. She had not seen these walls in forever, but they remained the same as they were two years ago. Her suffering body hobbled past K’s old suite, as well as D’s, and the years of torment came thrashing back. Pushing the tears in her mind aside, S slowly tripped down the stairs and into the main kitchen. The layout was similar, if not almost identical, to the entertainment, living, and kitchen area of K’s home.

Rather than hop towards the fridge and pick out a meal, S launched herself to her knees, and waited, head down and body prepared for any punishment or mere entertainment N wanted. The impending footsteps thumped down the staircase.

“What’re ye doing?” N’s bewilderment intertwined into his tone. “Git yerself up off da floor.”

S clamored to stand as tall as her crackling spine would allow her, but a slight slump in her body bent her like a weathered tree. Her right hand crossed in front of her to grasp her left wrist, a sign of submission and preparedness to be bound, if her master saw fit. Her head sank. She was do careful not to look her superiors in the eye. If she proved she was a good slave, maybe N would let her live, or at least make her death quick and painless.

Whether N’s intentions were to execute or torture S hid themselves. She had skimmed kindness and humaneness in his amber gaze, but she had witnessed the same thing from K before. He had shown her leniency many times, and she had even seen a tear shed once or twice, but he always ended up afflicting her again. She couldn’t trust those eyes, regardless of how promising and honest they seemed. Proving her worth would save her life, so she thought. She was a terrible slave. A wretch. An enemy who had been shown mercy. She deserved whatever awaited her in the dungeons; whatever waited behind N’s reassuring hand.

#captivity whump #chained up #whump story #febuwhump2021 #whump things #whump fic #whump ideas #whumpee #whump prompt #whump blog #whump tropes #whump stuff #whumper #whumpblr #whump writing #whump trope #whump scenario #whump drabble #whump community #whump comfort #caretaker

[maleficarfic]

Control

Pairing: The Darkling/Alina Starkov

Fandom: Shadow & Bone | The GrishaVerse

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, light bondage, sex magic, dirty talk

Summary: He was power crafted into flesh. But so was she.

Aleksander impresses the importance of control on Alina. She is a quick study.

On AO3: Link

They rode side by side, leaving the Little Palace and Os Alta behind them on a crisp, chilly day in late fall. Since the day at the well, he’d invited her out a handful of times—whenever he was at the Little Palace, he seemed to find an excuse to go riding with her.

Alina turned her eyes to the sky and wished he’d find an excuse to go riding with her. She probably hadn’t made it clear she was interested in him like that. After all, she’d dropped hints to Mal for years, but he never looked twice at her.

“Your lessons are progressing well?” Aleksander asked her, breaking the silence between them.

He rode like he was born for the saddle, all straight lines and confidence. He held the reins in one gloved hand, his other resting loosely in his lap.

With a sigh, Alina slouched in her saddle. She didn’t ride well at all—even without the comparison to him, she felt as uncomfortable on a horse as she did in her classes. She belonged in both places, but she fit wrong.

“Well enough.” She looked away from him, studying the passing trees with more interest than they deserved. “I can summon the light, at least.”

“Mmm.”

The sound of his agreement caressed the length of her spine. Her back arched, her shoulders rolling back, and when she glanced at him, she found him studying her.

“What?”

His brows lifted and he gave her a faint look of amusement. “You’ll need to do more than simply summon light at the Fete.”

Since she couldn’t scowl at the great General Kirigan, she dragged her eyes away from him and back to the trees just in time for them to give way to a broad meadow.

“Sometimes,” he said, “it helps to have a goal to work toward.”

He dismounted at the edge of the meadow, leading his horse toward a nearby post.

Head canted to the side, Alina followed and dismounted as well. “Why’s there a post here?”

“Old training field,” he replied, tying his horse and then hers.

“What’s here that will give me a goal?” She surveyed the field, barely managing to disguise her disbelief.

Aleksander gave her a dry look as he stepped around her, putting the horses at their backs. “Space.” He sounded incredibly amused by this, like he knew something she didn’t.

To be fair, he certainly did.

Frowning, she followed after him. “Why do we need this much space?”

The meadow was easy as big as the massive drive leading up to the Grand Palace. A critical examination of the meadow using all the skills she’d gained as a mapmaker told her they easily had the same area as a city block.

Aleksander stopped walking forward, and she stumbled to a halt half an inch away from his back.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You won’t see anything from there, Miss Starkov. Come—” She hoped the heat that washed through her at that word didn’t show on her face. “—and stand at my side.”

She joined him, watching him with curiosity.

He clasped his hands together behind his back.

Their shadows overflowed their boundaries, darkness welling up around their feet, their ankles. The sight of it no longer frightened her. Instead, he awed her as he brought his hands around his body, drawing more shadows from the distant edge of the meadow.

“Do you remember what I told you on our first ride to the Little Palace?”

Frankly, it was a blessing she’d forgotten the bulk of their terrifying flight across Ravka. At first, she’d dreamed of the Drüskelle’s death regularly. Had jolted awake from nightmares of his blood splashing her face all over again or, worse, the hand axe cracking into her skull. Now, the whole thing seemed like a lifetime ago.

Unsure if she should be embarrassed that she didn’t remember, she ducked her head. “No,” she answered honestly.

“The Cut,” he said, and her eyes jumped back to him.

She remembered that.

The Cut was a technique unique to Summoners, a shaping of power that required tremendous skill and concentration.

“I’ve seen the Cut,” she said, her voice low and soft. She didn’t know what might happen to all that power if she disrupted his concentration.

“So you have.” He held his hands before him, creating a crescent of writhing darkness in the air, holding the scythe-like edge.

Her eyes widened. To casually hold the power like that… how much power did Aleksander actually possess? What was the true extent of his abilities? She knew he was old, knew that meant he had considerably more power than the average Grisha, but—

“But we can do more with our power than just kill—than just destroy,” Aleksander said, a strange quality in his voice.

Darkness fell from his fingers in inky pools as he spread his hands wide, creating a plane of shadow. One of his hands slid beneath the darkness, as though supporting a tray, the fingers of his other hand danced over the plane, sculpting it slowly into a panorama.

Alina exhaled heavily with wonder, eyes wide as Aleksander made two forms out of shadow that walked together through a glade ringed by trees.

“We can create.” She felt his eyes on hers, but she couldn’t look away from what he’d crafted. “People think the small science has to be big.” His lips quirked, as if he found a joke in the small contradiction of his description.

Darkness collapsed on itself, folding into a small sphere no larger than a marble, but she felt the tremendous weight of it. Its gravity pulled her, and she stepped closer, enchanted by a kernel of midnight.

Aleksander turned his body toward hers. “The small science is small,” he said, his voice lowering. “It needn’t be a grand thing that overwhelms.” He lifted his hand between them, and she stared at the blackness, the emptiness, the void resting on the tips of his fingers. “Where is there shadow, Miss Starkov?”

Her eyes lifted to his. There was a lesson here, and she tried to divine the answer in the darkness of his eyes.

The corner of her lip quirked up.

Your eyes didn’t seem like an answer she could give him. “The night,” she said aloud.

“Think smaller. Where else is the darkness?” His eyes were fierce.

“Beneath the forest canopy.”

“Smaller still, Miss Starkov.”

She licked her lips. “In the space between you and me.”

Something shifted, an infinitesimally small change in his expression. There was darkness there, she thought. Darkness in his eyes.

“Smaller.”

“The hearts of men.”

“How philosophical.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “I—”

“You,” he interrupted, “are not wrong.” He spread his fingers wide, and the darkness stretched between them. “You find your piece of the science wherever you can. We are all things, Miss Starkov, that is the truth. And there is power in that.”

Lifting his other hand, he caught the strand of darkness and stretched it into a long, thin rope.

“And underpinning it all is control,” he said, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on hers. “The ability to exert your will on the world around you. If your power is everywhere, then you cannot be robbed of it.”

There was something important in that statement, but he gave her no time to pick through the labyrinth of his words.

“And if you can control it, you can never be overwhelmed.”

His hands turned in lazy circles, and she felt a coil of shadow against the inside of her wrist, cool as silk.

With a gasp, she lifted her hands as he drew them together, bound in a cord of darkness. She felt the pressure of another tendril of darkness against her throat, her waist, just below her knee.

Instead of feeling trapped, she felt a strange sort of liberation. If there was darkness in the hearts of men, there was also light, and his shadows were only so dark because her light shone so bright. He bound her in darkness, but she could destabilize his science with her own.

And that was power.

“Could I do this with light?” she asked him, studying her bound hands.

He caught his fingers beneath the knot of darkness, drawing her closer to him. He hadn’t hobbled her feet with his shadowy bindings, but she let herself fall against his chest.

His hand settled on her hip, holding her in place as he chuckled.

“Ah, Miss Starkov, how is it you so often surprise me?”

Since she’d arrived at the Little Palace, she’d thought of him often. At first, she’d been afraid of him. His reputation was as great and terrible as the Fold. He was solitary and given to isolation, they said, whoever they were, with exacting standards and little patience for mistakes. He was power crafted into flesh.

But so was she.

Now, when she thought of him, it wasn’t with fear. It was with respect—more respect than she’d had a moment before. And deeper, buried beneath the respect, was something else. Something hot and hungry, something full of craving.

Full of desire.

Lifting to her toes, her wrists still bound and her eyes on his, she pressed a tentative kiss against his mouth.

His eyes went wide and then drifted half closed, the hand on her hip curling into the heavy fabric of her kefta.

“Twice in as many minutes,” he murmured against her lips.

She shivered, finding the brush of his mouth against hers delicious. “I don’t think that was two minutes.”

“Are you suggesting I possess a poor sense of time?”

“Maybe.” Her lips curved in a faint smile. “Maybe you should release my hands and let me try this on you.”

His other hand found its way around the back of her neck, the tips of his fingers pushing into her hair to hold her close. The hand on her hip gripped her tighter, pulling her against the solid wall of his body.

She inhaled sharply, delighted and somewhat mystified by the sharp ache growing between her legs. She’d felt desire before, but it had always been a muted thing, easily set aside for the more pressing concerns of her own survival. Maybe she should be more concerned with her survival in this moment—he was dangerous, and to suggest he wasn’t was to believe a pretty lie—but all she wanted was to sink deeper into the feeling.

“You are Grisha.” Every word he spoke was like a kiss. Tingles spread from her lips to her jaw, along her scalp and down her spine. “Maybe you should practice your power.”

She hesitated. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

The hand on her hip curved to the small of her back. The heel of it pressed against her, urging her closer, and she was surprised to find there was still space between them, a space she quicky eliminated. Then his hand shifted lower, the tips of his fingers brushing over the swell of her ass.

Dark eyes watched her as his hand eased lower.

“Would you hold any part of yourself back from a lover?” he asked her, his voice low and rich and, Saints, she felt that sound. “Would you not use your hands to touch them?”

“Yes,” she breathed as his hand cupped her ass and tugged her flush against him. His arm kept her close, helped her maintain her balance.

“Would you not use your mouth to kiss them? To taste them?”

She swallowed hard, remembering all those times she’d imagined Aleksander’s mouth on hers. And on other parts of her.

“You’re imagining it now, aren’t you?”

She gasped as liquid darkness slipped over her arms. The bindings around her wrists stayed in place, but cool shadow drifted inside her sleeves and stroked over her skin. Tendrils of it, like so many cool fingers, dipped beneath her tunic and into her breeches.

Skin prickling with heat, she tried to tug her wrists apart.

“Where would you have me kiss you, Miss Starkov?”

“Alina,” she insisted.

“Alina,” he agreed, his voice a rough purr. “Will you dodge my question?”

She wasn’t sure she could answer his question. “I…”

He smiled and brushed his lips against her in the faintest caress.

Somehow, that devastated her more than any other sensation. She felt like she was falling even though he held her secure against his body.

“That wasn’t your original question,” she managed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You worry about control.” Shadow licked along her thighs, following the curve of her ass, and she gasped, arching into him. His eyes darkened, becoming pools of midnight and desire. “That, Alina, is why we practice.”

He drew his mouth along her jaw, urging her head back and into the palm of his hand. A shuddering breath rushed out of her, tinged with a quieted moan. The heat of his breath washed over her skin, along the column of her throat, and his teeth followed.

Gasping, she yanked again at her hands. “You’re distracting me.”

“You’re not trying.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as he nudged aside the collar of her kefta and sucked on her skin. A reedy sound caught in her throat. “I could hurt you.”

“You could.” He licked the hollow of her throat. “I don’t believe you will, Alina.” He drew away from her neck, his nose following the curve of her jaw again. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and his teeth caught the lobe. He tugged, and pleasure shot through her like lightning, ricocheting through her body.

And lightning was light and light was her power and she summoned it without thinking. Sunlight shattered the bonds on her wrists as she sank her hands into his hair and yanked him back to her mouth.

Hungry little moans spilled from her lips to his as she kissed him. His hand on her ass flexed, and she arched her back to press into his touch, which only served to have him yank her closer to him again—where she felt the beginnings of his desire against her stomach, even though the heavy layer of her kefta.

“Summon again,” he whispered against her mouth, his hand sweeping over her hip and to the front of her kefta. Fingers of flesh and darkness pulled open her belt and buttons.

She shrugged out of the heavy jacket, letting it fall to the ground as her fingers yanked at his silvery buttons. “I don’t want to.”

As he had, she kissed along the length of his jaw and then down the line of his throat, trying to imitate how he’d licked and sucked on her skin.

The sound he made when her teeth raked over his pulse made her shudder—and drew light to the tips of her fingers.

His fingers stroked down her sides, caught the white chemise tucked into her breeches, and pulled it free. Warm, human fingers caressed her over her stays alongside more cool, silky darkness, and she cried out against the skin of his throat.

“Summon for me, Alina. Show me your control.”

Control? She was supposed to be in control? Now?

Aleksander’s hands spread over her ribs, his thumbs brushing over her breasts through the fabric of her stays.

Burning tension drew through her.

Shadow sank beneath fabric. Two cool coils curled against her nipples, and she gasped.

“Banish the darkness, Alina.”

How was she supposed to find control when he purred her name like that? When he touched her like this, like no one else ever had? When she—Saints, the revelation crashed through her like a spring storm come down from Fjerda. “I don’t want to,” she gasped.

He went still against her, drawing back to peer into her face.

Heart pounding in her chest, she met his gaze, keenly aware that she was already half undressed, and if she tilted her head to the side, she’d see the tunic beneath his doublet and his skin behind that.

���What do you want?” he asked softly, quietly, as if the words might break the world.

She freed the final buckle of his doublet, danced her fingers up his chest, and loosened the laces at his throat. She licked her lips.

Beneath the confines of her skin, she burned, and fire, too, was light. She drew on that burn, on her own desire, and spooled a thread of it to the tips of her fingers. They glittered gold as she let them wander over his skin, her eyes lifting slowly to his.

Light spun off her fingers, reflecting in the darkness of his eyes. She felt it like an extension of her body, drifting over his skin.

Against her sides, his hands tightened. His pupils dilated as she watched, as her light twisted against his flesh like his shadows had against hers. One arch of light ran over his nipples beneath his clothes.

He surged against her, capturing her mouth in a devastating kiss.

Burying her fingers in his hair, she held his mouth to hers. Their tongues met, tangled, and delirious heat wound through her. More light spilled from her fingers, spinning around them both like ribbons.

Just as much as his hands, his shadows pulled at her clothes, loosening her stays, the cords of her breeches.

Cognizant that she’d be naked faster than him, her hands dropped to his shoulders and then lower. She pulled at his clothes, too, until he broke away from their kiss.

One hand cupped her jaw. His forehead rested against hers. “Where is your line?” he asked her.

Saints, she didn’t know. She’d never done this before, but she’d also never wanted someone’s mouth on her skin as much as she wanted his.

As if sensing her hesitation, he began to draw back—and she knew she didn’t want that.

So she ran her hands down his sides, his hips, his thighs as she went slowly to her knees.

His breathing turned ragged. The look in his eyes scorched her.

She knew enough about sex to know all the ways people could play with each other. She knew that all the ways she wanted his mouth on her, he could have her mouth on him.

Emboldened by the way he looked at her, she brushed her lips against the hard line of his cock through his breeches before she spread her kefta on the ground and leaned back on it. She pulled the laces on her breeches open, letting the front panel sag low on her belly, and met his gaze with trembling anticipation.

As if mesmerized, he knelt between her legs. When he leaned over her, she felt sheltered by the shadow of his form instead of caged. His hands pressed into her kefta above her shoulders, and he hovered above her.

“I want—I want to feel—what you said earlier,” she managed, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Not because she didn’t want him to touch her, to taste her, but because this was new, and she didn’t quite know what she was doing, and she worried about disappointing him.

The hot look in his gaze, the ragged cadence of his breath, all told her she probably didn’t need to worry about disappointing him.

“My mouth on you?” he asked.

She nodded.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto his forearms. His fingers threaded into her hair at her temples, and he kissed her slow and long, his mouth lingering on hers as though she were a treat to savor.

With a groan, she arched against the air, seeking the weight and comfort of his body and frustrated when she didn’t find it.

His tongue licked into her lips as he obliged her, settling against her.

She gasped into their kiss to feel him between her legs—she’d never thought too much about how she might feel the line of a man’s cock through his clothes and against her body, but, Saints, she adored it. The weight of him, the feel of him, filled her with a gnawing need.

“Is that all you want?” he asked her, each word its own kiss.

She licked her lips. Licked his lips. Gasped when that made him groan and roll his hips hard against hers.

Oh, but she liked that. Loved that. Sliding her palms down his back, she curved her hands over his ass and urged him to move like that against her again.

With a moan, her head fell back and her body arched in a sinuous line against his. More friction, more pleasure, and she lost his question in the labyrinth of fire his body created against hers.

“Alina.”

Her name on his lips only made her want more, only served to make her burn brighter.

“Alina.” He tipped her face back towards her, and she felt shadows on her legs again. The silky darkness curled around her calves, and she felt them release the buckles of her boots.

That. She needed to learn that.

“Tell me, Alina. Do you want more than my mouth on you?” The mouth in question drifted against her cheek, the whiskers of his beard a delicious rasp against her skin. “Do you want my shadows on your naked skin?”

“Yes,” she gasped, driving her fingers beneath his tunic. Grateful, she was so grateful men didn’t wear stays, because the thought of having to get through more fabric to feel his skin beneath her palms was abhorrent.

“Do you want to feel those shadows inside you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear. He timed that question with a slow, languid roll of his hips against hers so she couldn’t mistake his meaning.

And she didn’t. Her nails curled into his skin, pulling a hiss that dissolved into a wicked chuckle from him. “Yes. And—and then—”

“And then?” he prompted, when she didn’t finish.

Her teeth caught her lower lip. Talking about this seemed strange, but she liked it. It was difficult to put all these secret desires into words, but when she did, those words made her burn. Made her ache. Speaking her desires aloud only made her want them more.

“And then you.” She turned her head, her mouth stroking lightly against his cheek as he groaned and rocked against her again. “I want to feel you inside me, Aleksander.” He trembled against her, and she ached with pleasure. As much as he could unmake her like this, she had the power to do the same to him. “With your shadows around my wrists.”

She didn’t know what to make of the sound that escaped him, but then he kissed her with such a savage hunger, she realized she didn’t care. He liked the idea, and she burned for it.

Shadows and hands stripped her of her clothes. He held her back in an arch as inky darkness took her shirt; his mouth smoothed over her chest as pale hands pushed her stays off her shoulders.

He didn’t pause to draw back and stare at her. Instead, his tongue traced an ever-tightening circle around her breasts before he reached her nipple. He sucked the little nub between his lips as she cried out his name. His thumb dragged back and forth over the other as shadows pulled off and discarded her boots.

Thinking around the wet heat of his mouth proved nearly impossible, but she did manage to create thin, wavering tendrils of light. The heat from her light kept her from shivering—though she thought the heat from their bodies and desire would work just as well—and made him arch and twist against her body in the most delicious ways. Still, she couldn’t strip him naked as he’d stripped her, and she wanted to. Saints, she wanted to. Wanted to use her power the way he did.

“You’ll learn,” he murmured against her underside of her breast.

“Now you’re content with letting me take my time?”

He grinned at her, and that grin made him seem so much younger than he was. “Never.”

Shifting away from her, he settled on his knees between her legs, both of them shirtless. His gaze drifted over her body, and the heat in his eyes made her squirm.

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he muttered a coarse oath. “Watching you move—” He broke off, running his hands up her thighs. One of those hands curved inward, and now his eyes fixed on hers.

Curled knuckles brushed against her breeches.

She let out a shuddering little sigh and rocked toward his hand. “Please,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks flame.

Aleksander’s knuckles brushed against her cunt through the fabric of her pants.

Alina frowned.

He burst out laughing, leaning over her again. “That’s not the look you want to see on your lover’s face.” He kissed her, and she felt his hand shift, felt his palm cup her. The heel of his hand pressed against her pubic bone, and the frown melted into a wide-eyed look of delight. Of awe.

“That,” she gasped.

“Good?”

Her hips twisted, her body moving to push his hand to the right place. She’d touched herself, she knew what she wanted to feel, knew—

A keening moan fell from her lips, and he devoured the sound with a greedy kiss

His hand rocked against her, finding a rhythm with her, until she burned beneath him and mewls of pleasure became broken pleas for more.

“I promised you my mouth,” he reminded her as she carded her fingers in his hair to hold his lips against hers for more of those kisses.

Torn between two wants, she groaned. “Didn’t think this would be so hard,” she groused.

His brow arched.

“I want everything all at once.”

A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Stay still,” he told her, resting his forehead on hers again. His hand shifted away from her cunt, petting up and down her side as he closed his eyes.

She watched him, curious—and then she felt it. The swell of power, a cresting rise of cool shadow sliding over her belly. It shifted and rolled, shaping with his will into—

Alina jerked when a cool mouth brushed between her legs beneath the fabric of her pants.

Above her, Aleksander’s eyes opened. “Not too strange?” he asked as those cool lips kissed her thighs, her clit. As they kissed her entrance—as a cool tongue flicked against her.

She jerked again, her hips arching against his. She writhed, seeking the weight of his body between her legs and getting only the delicious torment of ephemeral shadow.

“Intoxicating.” His thumbs brushed over her lips as she twisted and arched beneath him, her eyes fluttering shut so she could focus on the feeling, the building pressure and pleasure and heat.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, clutching him against her body as she sucked one of his thumbs between her lips. She needed something, some kind of action to help alleviate the tension inside her. Instead, grasping him close and sucking on him only made her ache more, only made her burn brighter.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.” The dark timbre of his voice shook her. The cool touch of the tongue between her legs made her keen.

That shadow tongue curled around her clit and she sobbed his name.

“Fuck, Alina.”

The coarse language should have offended her. Instead, it inflamed her.

“Not enough,” he muttered, and one tongue of shadow became two.

The first continued flicking back and forth over her clit. The other thrust into her entrance, and her back bowed beneath him.

“Still not enough.”

His hand smoothed over her belly as she turned her face against his neck. Her hips worked hard against his shadows, shadows that continued to torment her when his hand slipped beneath her pants and cupped her.

The heat of his touch snapped the tension coiling inside her.

She came with a broken sob, her nails raking down his back. Pleasure overwhelmed her, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t quite the feeling she craved. There was no weight to the mouths on her, and nothing of him was inside her.

“Please,” she gasped, trembling beneath him. “You promised.”

“I did.”

Aleksander slid down the length of her body, those shadow mouths continuing their sweet torment as more tendrils of darkness pulled her pants down her legs. She kicked them aside, and he slid his hands beneath her ass, lifting her off her kefta.

She thought she should be embarrassed when his eyes landed on her naked cunt, slick with her orgasm, but those mouths never stopped tasting her, never stopped tormenting her. It almost felt like too much.

Then his mouth, his hot, wet, hungry mouth descended on her, and she realized she’d been very fucking wrong.

Alina’s fingers dove into his hair. She heard herself beg for more as his lips closed around her clit and sucked, as shadow mouths wrapped around her nipples and tormented her entrance. One hand yanked away from his hair to drive through her own. She didn’t know what to do with herself, what part of his body or hers to touch, how to alleviate the wicked, demanding ache he created once more inside her.

And then, as his tongue flicked against her clit, painting strange patterns on her flesh that made her keen his name, ephemeral shadow became somehow solid. It pushed into her, parting slick folds to fill her, and she knew without any doubt that otkazat’sya men would never be able to give her what she’d crave with sex because she’d always want this—this slick, wicked science, this combination of magic and flesh.

He must have remembered what she’d said to him, because as her hands wandered through his hair, over his shoulders, over her own breasts, shadow coiled around them. Darkness tethered her wrists, pinning them together over her head.

With no outlet, all she could do was feel. Wet heat. Cool silk. Insistent tugs of his mouth, the hot flick of his tongue. She sobbed his name, and the darkness swirled inside her cunt, filling her with power. It dragged along tender flesh, stroking her as he withdrew it, and filled her with a raging fire when he pushed it back into her.

She came a ragged cry, her hips arching against his mouth, against the shadows that filled her.

He grasped her hips and drew himself up her body. His mouth crashed against hers in a brutal kiss. She drowned in it, in sensation, in wet and wicked heat as his fingers petted between her legs and her cunt rippled and clenched around the darkness still inside her.

“You’re delicious,” he whispered against her mouth as she writhed beneath him, twisting against the shadows tethering her arms and against his body above hers. “You still want me—”

Her eyes snapped open and met his. “If you don’t give me what I want, I will learn the Cut just to use it on you.”

That didn’t motivate him, but it did make him lick at her lips. “What do you want, Alina?”

She groaned, her heels scrabbling over the rough grass, her hips arching into his stroking fingers.

“Do you want me inside you?” The murmured words were decadent against her lips, better than any sweet she’d ever eaten. “Do you want my cock stretching your sweet cunt open?” Two fingers slid inside her, the heat of him replacing the cool darkness, and she cried out with delicious shock. How good his fingers felt, burning hot by comparison to his shadows. “Do you want me to fill you until you can’t take anymore? To grind myself against you until you’re begging for me to move?”

She had no idea how good the fantasy he painted might actually feel, but her body certainly wanted it. She felt her cunt squeeze around his fingers, an involuntary contraction that made her moan.

He shifted over her, drawing his fingers out of her. She dragged her eyes open to watch him pull back and strip off his pants. Had just enough time to see his cock, hard and flushed, before he leaned back over her. The head of it nudged against her entrance, his fingers playing once more against her cunt—as much to torment her, she was sure, as to guide his cock into her.

But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he lingered at her entrance, and the tease was unbearable.

“Please,” she gasped, arching, twisting, yanking hard against the shadows that pinned her arms above her head.

He gave her the most infuriating smile—lopsided, smug. “We came here for a lesson,” he reminded her, bending his lips to her chest. He nipped her skin at the swell of one breast, making her jump beneath him, only to soothe the sting with a long stroke of his tongue. Still his cock nudged her entrance but didn’t push into her. “Call the light, Alina.”

For the first time, summoning was easy. She burned, she ached, her skin stretched tight over the swell of glittering pleasure, and that was all her power. She drew it through her body from her hands, and it sparkled over her arms and down her chest, casting scintillating patterns on his skin.

“Collect it, shape it,” he murmured. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

Show him? The fact that she could summon while he drove her out of her mind should have been enough, but of course he’d expect more from her.

“Come now, Alina.” Fuck him for that phrasing. “Impress me.”

She shuddered beneath him, trying to separate herself from the pleasure he’d coaxed through her so far. She couldn’t, not entirely—she didn’t want to—but she found a quiet place in her mind where the pleasure was warm and soft instead of an inferno, and in that space she urged it into a shape.

Light formed into a tongue, and she ran it from the base of his cock to the tip.

He arched sharp against her with a curse, burying himself in her cunt in a single stroke, and Alina moaned his name as she arched beneath him. Full, she felt so delicious full, and though there was a slight discomfort in the first second, that faded a moment later when her cunt rippled around him.

A different sort of pleasure spread through her, and she purred.

Her eyes opened. He stared down at her, his expression the most delicious combination of aroused and surprised and delighted. A lopsided, smug smile spread across her lips, a mirror of his from earlier.

“Impress me,” she said.

With a ragged chuckle, he bent his mouth to hers. “With pleasure, solnishko.”

He drew back slowly, and she sighed with pleasure. He thrust back into her, her hips arching to meet him, and she moaned. As he found an easy pace with her, she let herself down in the sweet friction.

The bonds around her wrist stretched. Fingers twined around her own, and she held them tight as he fucked her in long, easy strokes. Each time he pushed into her, her back bowed, and her body softened more.

She lost herself in their back and forth, content to float in the warmth of their shared pleasure. But he didn’t let her for long. His lips brushed against her ear. “Once more for me,” he told her.

She recognized the warning in those words a moment later when shadow tongues licked against her clit.

Electric pleasure strung her tight. Now, she clutched at the shadow hands holding her own as silky darkness licked her, as cool fingers stroked the swollen lips of her cunt. He played with her, layering her pleasures until she gasped his name and begged for him. Only then did he replace one shadow hand with his own and the shadows between her legs with his fingers.

The heat of him ruined her, shattered her. She came with his name on her lips, and he followed her mere seconds later, his body shuddering over hers.

They lay together, panting, for a long moment. Then he drew back, the cool shadows retreating as his cock slipped out of her body. Instead of pulling away entirely, he settled at her side, giving her most of the kefta.

She turned toward him, her fingers brushing over his jaw, his lips, his shoulders. “Are all your lessons in control going to turn out like this?” she asked him.

He made a thoughtful expression.

Scooting closer, Alina pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’ve an idea for another lesson if you don’t.”

His brow arched. “Do you?”

“I want to try binding your wrists with light.” Interest flashed in his eyes, and she smiled. “I want to push you into your chair in the war room and bind your hands to its arms. Then I want to climb onto you and ride you.”

He stared at her, the look on his face equal parts aroused and bewildered. “You—”

“I grew up near farms,” she reminded him. “And then joined the military. Believe me: I have plenty of ideas for lessons.”

“You think you can keep control long enough to keep me bound to that chair?” he asked, a wicked growl in his voice.

Her body responded to that tone with a wash of pleasure, and she found herself hungry for more of him even though they’d just finished. Part of her wondered if that was normal—and she got her answer when he rolled her beneath him.

“The minute your control breaks, solnishko, I’m going to put you on your back on that table and fuck you until your screams summon the guards at a run.”

Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Alina grinned. “Maybe I’ll make you beg for that.”

With his face buried in her neck, he laughed. “I hope you do.”

#darklina #shadow and bone #sab #fanfic #alina starkov #the darkling #aleksander morozova

[ichorizaki]

cosy up, cuddle down | o.t.

#PAIRING.  oikawa tōru x f!reader #GENRE.  fluff #WORDCOUNT.  2.5k #SYNOPSIS.  your very bored boyfriend drags you out into the snow to build snowmen. unfortunately, a snowball fight broke out and now you’re shivering and in need of warmth.

✎  author's note is at the bottom of the piece.

Snow danced in the golden beams of sunlight, stunningly choreographed by the rhythm of the gentle winter breeze. The sky was but a grey sea of fluffy clouds overhead. Rays of the sun broke through the clouds like angels’ pathways down from the heavens above. Miyagi has been pelted with a thin white layer of snow, like the city was a cushion so warm and soft. Even through the windows of Aoba Johsai High school, the entirety of Miyagi Prefecture looked like a winter wonderland. Snow was by no means a rarity but it never fails to fill you with wonder and unbridled, child-like excitement.

However, it was a pity that you were so sensitive to the cold. You watched the snow from afar, in the confines of the living room with a mug of hot cocoa made by your ever so talented boyfriend. He was laying down on the couch with his head on your laps, hugging your leg like you’re his personal bolster. There was some movie playing on the television screen that you weren’t paying attention to and he was somehow so engrossed in it. Mattsun and Makki were always recommending him stupid movies to watch and more often than not, you and Iwaizumi were dragged into it too.

“Baaabe.”

“Hm?”

“I’m bored.” You brought the mug to your lips, sipping on the warm drink whilst also trying to get one of the tiny, slightly melted marshmallows to chew on. Upon succession, you placed the mug down on the coffee table before you while he shuffled his position so he could sit up straight. His deep honeyed gaze was fixated on you, lips twisting to the side and pouting cutely. “You’ve got some hot cocoa on your lips, silly.”

Before you could pick up a tissue to clean it or even swipe the remnants of the drink with your tongue, your boyfriend had leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. You felt warmth rush up your neck and to the apples of your cheeks, painting them a rosy hue; a telltale sign of how flustered you were by his action.

“Tōru!” Your hand flew over your mouth, brows furrowing in faux anger at him. He all but gave you a cheeky grin in return.

“What?” Oh, that shit-eating grin you wanted to wipe off of his face so badly. “Anyway, Y/N sweetie, I’m boooored. Let’s do something!” Like a child he bounced in his spot where he sat on the couch, legs folded underneath him.

“What could we possibly do, Tōru?” You asked. He hums, eyes fluttering shut while his index finger and thumb cradled his chin. He seemed an awful lot serious for someone who’s bored. Just what goes on in his mind, you didn’t know. Not that you minded. Sometimes his ideas can be rather genius. Other times, however . . . they’re purely idiotic and it’s during those times he’d end up in some shit with Makki and Mattsun that you and Iwaizumi have to end up cleaning. One time they tried to race on shopping carts in the parking lot of a neighbourhood mall. Long story short, Tōru ended up bruising his wrist while Makki had a sprained ankle. How Mattsun managed to escape unscathed remains a mystery to all of you.

“Let’s make a snowman.” You would’ve choked on your drink if it wasn’t placed far from your reach. Your face had distorted into one of abject horror at his suggestion, while his was akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. “What? It’ll be fun! I’ll wrap you up in many many many layers, I promise.”

“Tōru, that’s the least of my concerns right now,” you sighed. “There’s barely enough snow on the front yard to make a snowman.”

“Then we’ll make a mini one!” He responded as-a-matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing to do; the perfect compromise for the snow, or lack thereof. “A cute little snowman. Maybe even more than one. We could make a whole family of mini snowmen!” You all but stared at him, not quite sure on what to make out of this idea of his. On one hand, you got to see his nose and the tip of his ears turn that adorable rosy hue of spring blooms in the beginning of winter. On the other hand, you were terribly sensitive to the cold. There was a reason why your parents were so against you leaving your house during this time of the year.

Tōru had slithered from his position across you and onto his belly, arms snaking around your waist. He dragged himself up into what resembled the cobra position, resting his chin on your stomach with that handsome grin of his on his stupid handsome– okay, Y/N. You gotta resist. Do not fall for his trap. Whatever you do, absolutely do not fall for his stupidly handsome grin, the one that never fails to make your heart flutter and race like you’re a girl in middle school all over again.

“Okay, we can make snowmen.” Well, you tried. That’s an A for effort. Maybe you could stall him . . .

“Yay! Y/N baby, you’re the best girlfriend ever, I love you so much!” His palms were now flat on either side of you as he pushed his entire body weight up to press another kiss to your lips. This kiss, you savoured all that you could of it. Your fingers trailed up to cup his jawline, tilting your head just the slightest so you could deepen the kiss. A soft hum of appreciation fell past his lips, swallowed by your own before his tongue had found its way swiping at your bottom lip. His rough, calloused fingers had now found purchase on your waist, hiding underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. He massaged mindless and shapeless blobs into your sides while his tongue ravaged your mouth like a beast, making sure no corner was left untouched before he pulled away to catch his breath. “As much as I’d love to make out with you, I really wanna make snowmen, baby girl.”

It was your turn to pout, chest rising and falling as you chased for your breath. So your plan to make him stay inside a little longer was foiled. Could you refuse his cute face? Absolutely not. You were putty in his hands. He knew it, you knew it, and he knew that you knew it. Tōru leans back with that handsome grin of his so omnipresent on his face, resting his haunches on the heels of his feet. You missed the warmth of his touch but you knew one way or another, you’ll be back and cuddling up to each other.

As promised, your boyfriend had wrapped you up in a ridiculous amount of layers. He on the other hand, simply had a winter coat, a scarf, and a pair of gloves which had his name embroidered in an elegant golden. Your heart swelled with pride upon seeing that: it was an expensive gift that you’d gotten for him last Christmas. He was always complaining that his hands were cold, so you decided to get him a pair of gloves. Turns out, he was just making excuses to hold your hand during wintertime.

“Do you think we should make one by your gate so it can be seen by others?” Tōru takes your mitten-clad hands in his own, his warm breath billowing onto your joined hands. You looked up at him with a frown on your face. “What? No good?”

“If we’re gonna put it on the floor, why make snowmen at all, babe?” He nodded slowly in agreement. “How about on top of my mailbox? I’m pretty sure we can somehow try and balance it. The surface’s not curved.”

“Sounds good!” He cheered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your lips. How could he be so warm in this cold weather? It was probably one of the perks of being an athlete, you guessed. ‘Athletes run hot’, you remember one of the boys said. You couldn’t quite remember who, but you distinctly remember your boyfriend agreeing because of his ‘attractive face and hot charms’.

The two of you walked over to the square-shaped mailbox embedded into the cobblestone fence that guarded your little house. Your task to build an army of tiny snowmen was quickly forgotten when your boyfriend had decided to smother your cheeks with snow. Yelping out from the sudden biting chill of the snow, you quickly bent down to scoop however much snow you could in your tiny hands before shoving it onto his chest.

“Y/N, that’s no fair!” He cried out at how cold the snow was as the temperature penetrated through his winter coat. However, peals of laughter quickly resounded in the air. “I’m so gonna get you for that, pretty girl.”

Your eyes watched him carefully as he scooped up a generous amount of snow in his palms. The second he began charging towards you, you were screaming while he chased you around the tiny yard. Your heart was rapidly beating against your chest as you tried to catch your breath. He was way too fast for you and quickly gained on you before dumping the snow on your head.

“Tōru!” You shrieked. “You’re so mean!” The chills of the wintry breeze caressed your rosy cheeks, tangling with the locks of your hair until you could feel it freeze among your strands. A sneeze ricocheted through your system. It was so strong that you jumped in your spot.

“Eh? Baby girl, are you okay?” Perhaps he had finally remembered that you were sensitive to temperature, especially in freezing negative digits. A loud gasp of realisation and shock was due when you suddenly sneezed once again.

Then another sneeze. And then another. And then another.

“Okay, okay! Immune system, quit being mean to my poor girlfriend!” He sulked, pulling you into his arms. Immediately you were embraced in warmth, but it wasn’t enough even through the five layers (yes, he made you put on five layers) of winter apparel. You were still sneezing and it was beginning to make your eyes water. Now, you were beginning to be afraid that your eyes were going to freeze up in the cold. Bursts of apologies were profusely coming from his lips like a desperate prayer to gain back the gods’ favour to somehow miraculously cure you that instant. Tōru swayed your body side to side, peppering warm kisses that felt like delicate butterfly wings made by the sun against your face. “Aw, my poor baby. Let’s go in, shall we? I’m so sorry for making you play with me, I genuinely forgot.”

“‘S okay, T-Tōr– achoo!” He finally guided you back inside where the snow could be observed from afar and heaters warmed up the space. No matter how slobbery your running nose was, your boyfriend was ever so kind to give you encouraging kisses on your cheeks and forehead while stripping you out of your winter clothes in your room. He ran around the vacuity of your house, already so familiar with the space having spent an ungodly amount of hours there to the point where your parents could recognise his shoes in the entryway, along with Iwaizumi’s.

He had always been so gently with you, and this moment was no different than the rest. He grabbed all of the comforters that you had, all of the blankets that were in the house (except for your parents’, of course) and tossed them onto the couch next to you. You would have complained if it wasn’t for the fact that Tōru was so frenzied by the idea of being the reason you were catching a cold.

“My poor, poor baby,” he cooed softly. His big hands were quick to wrap you in a layer, and then another, and then another, and one final one. Satisfied, he placed his hands on his hips and stared at you, bundled up in four different layers that wrapped around your body. All you needed left was him to cuddle you. “Anything I can get for you, baby girl?”

“Some hot cocoa, and lots of kisses and cuddles, please.”

“Okay, I’ll be a second. Don’t miss me too much, yeah?” Though his words were teasing, you knew he meant well. Before your boyfriend disappeared into the kitchen, his index finger and thumb cradled your chin to bring your gaze to meet his. He places a kiss on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then finally one last kiss fully on your lips. “I love you.”

Ah, he just knew how to make your knees weak, didn’t he? The telltale heat of a blush creeped up your snow-cold cheeks and he grinned triumphantly. You could all but muster a weak response that mirrored his words exactly and then he was off into the kitchen. Right as he promised he was back before you knew it. Or was it because the cold was making your brain freeze too?

“C’mere.” Tōru gently peels the layers from your fingers so you could hold the mug with your two hands. As soon as your fingers came into contact with your mug, you swore you could have melted right then and there. Your nose was clogged no longer thanks to the steam from the mug and the heat that radiated had sent goosebumps rippling in waves from your hands and all the way to your spine.

He had settled himself right behind you on your bed, adjusting the pillows with one hand and being careful so he wouldn’t accidentally cause another accident. Tōru manoeuvred his way around like you were a glass doll until he could confidently settle his arms around your frame. Melting into his embrace, you’d nearly forgotten about the hot cocoa in your hands. You took small sips as he sung quiet hymns of praises and apologies right next to your ear. His chin rested on your shoulder while his left hand moved to caress your hair and tuck locks of it behind your ear. Given it was a little difficult, but he prized your comfort over everything else.

“Feeling comfy, my pretty princess?” He prompted when you handed him the half-finished hot cocoa. He reached over to place the mug on your nightstand. Your fingers were no longer freezing and you could finally feel your hands.

“Very.” You got onto your knees, turning around and resting on your haunches and opening up your arms with the layers of blanket acting as wings for you. To him, you looked like a cute little snow angel. “Now get your ass under the covers so we can cuddle.”

Tōru all but laughed. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around your frame before carefully laying the both of you down on your bed with you on him. His hand reached up to push the mountain of blankets and comforters away from your head so you could properly rest on his chest. Fingers carded through your locks, gentle and tender whilst he hummed a nameless tune. Warmth finally spread throughout your body and it felt like you were sinking into a warm, toasty marshmallow. Yeah, you were right: one way or another, you both ended cuddling up to each other.

꒰💌꒱ A LETTER FROM SOL!

hi @mindfulvenus​! i’m your secret santa. i hope you love your gift and it was up to standards♡ oikawa tōru is a goofy, needy boyfriend and i will die on this hill i’ve created.

#oikawa toru fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #bbthots #haikyuucreations #꒰⚡️꒱ ⨾ zeus’ thunderbolt

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Now That’s Hot

Authors Note: This one was fun to write, I kept getting a bit carried away. This could easily have been a lot longer. Let me know if you think I should do another part.

Summary: The reader is Newt’s best friend. She dreams of being a runner but after the confession from her best friend, she changes her mind. Soon enough something happens that takes her best friend from her and causes her to change her mind back.

Warning: Swearing and attempted suicide.

Pairing: Reader x Newt

Word Count: 4,544

It must have been a lifetime since I had seen a tree that was not transformed into some form of shelter for the Gladers. I could not remember what my normal life was like before I was brought to the glade. For all I knew, this was how everyone lived. I mean I cannot complain. Being the only girl in a glade full of boys had its perks.

I have been here for about three months and since the day I arrived, all the boys were walking on eggshells. You see, girls should not be here. The longest living resident of the glade had been here for three years, and there had been no girls.

Since I have been here, I have tried out for a lot of the jobs around the glade. Turns out I was not much good at a lot of the domestic roles. I know, shocker. I did think I showed potential at being a runner. Thomas was impressed with my speed and agility. But my best friend Newt would not let me. I can remember the moment I told him that Thomas thought that I would be a good addition to the team.

~~~Flashback~~~

“Hey Newt!” I called as the light brown-haired boy dug his plough into the dirt, wiping his dirty hand across his brow to bat away the sweat. When he looked up at me sprinting over to him, his eyes lit up and I could see the corners of his lips begin to crinkle into a smile. “Newt!” I called again, barely holding in the excitement.

He met me with a giant hug as I launched myself into his arms. “Wow, Y/N. What’s gotten into you huh?” He chuckled into my hair. “Did WCKD bring you more chocolate for your monthlies?”

I bat his hand away at his premenstrual cycle joke. Poor taste Newt. “No, and might I add, ew.” I crinkle up my nose holding back a laugh, pretending I was disgusted at his attempt at humour.

He eventually took a step back so that he could read the expression on my face to determine why I was so excited. “Well, are you going to spit it out or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

I study his posture, arched back from digging all day and muddy patches all over his previously moderately clean attire. “I was just with Thomas, and- “

Before I could finish, Newt’s face sank. It was not that Newt was the jealous type, but lately he had become irritated at the mention of his other best friend’s name. Especially when it gets brought up with my own name. I never quite understood why Newt disliked me spending time with Thomas without him. Gally once joked that if Newt had his way, I would be attached to his ankle with a rubber band.

“Come on Newt, I haven’t even told you my news yet.” I moan, I hated seeing Newt look defeated. “Anyway, like I was saying Thomas invited me to be a runner. I passed the trials. Minho agreed that I was ready.” I was practically bouncing on the tips of my toes. “Isn’t that great Newt?”

I do not know what exactly I was expecting. Maybe a little smile, pride, something that read that he was happy for what I had achieved. The only female runner, the only other Glader who passed the initiation trials.

It felt like hours went by and Newt had not even spoken. He just stared through me. Finally, he coughed and cleared his throat. “Wow,” he paused “that’s um, great news Y/N.”

It was clear that he was feigning the joy that he felt for me. “What’s wrong?” I mutter taking a step back from my friend. “I thought you would be happy for me?”

“I am!” He blurted and then quickly sighed after the fact. His arm reached up as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. A little habit I have picked up on that he did when he was apprehensive. “I just don’t think you should be a runner.”

“Why?” I bite back. I did not want the hurt in my voice to come through but I could not hide it from coming through. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands as I ball up my fists. “Why not?”

“I just don’t think it is a good idea.”

“Why not, Newt? Are you just jealous that I would be spending more time with Thomas? Or is that you couldn’t be a runner?” I spit, it was not fair but I could not stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“I was a runner!” Newt argued which practically knocked me back. I was fairly sure that the other Gladers had stopped what they were doing to take a peek at the two best friends performing a screaming match in front of their eyes. Entertainment was in short supply here. “Okay, Y/N? I was a runner. It destroyed me and I do not want it to happen to you.” He snapped, something he never did, especially with me.

My head fell to look at the mud that had gathered around his feet from where he was nervously scuffing his shoes against the dirt whilst he spoke. “You were a runner?” I mutter almost inaudible.

“Yes, I never told you because it was the lowest part in my life and I can’t let it break you the way that it did to me.” Newt moved closer to me. I was not aware that so much distance had been created between us since we started ‘arguing.’ He placed his hands on my shoulders which caused me to look up at him. “Please don’t do it. I cannot lose you.” A tear gathered in his dark brown eyes.

I let him hold on to me. “What happened?” I spoke finally, breaking the silence between us.

He did not speak straight away. Instead, he led me over to the log that we normally sit on during our most heated heart to hearts. “I got low, really low. When we could not find a way out, I started to get incredibly defeated. Remember how I told you when you arrived that you could not climb the walls to get out?” He pauses for me to respond. I nod, I remember that the day I arrived, I had loads of questions and Newt did his best to answer each and every one of them. “Well one day I had been the one to be able to answer that question. I did in fact climb to the top. Once I was up there, I saw the maze in its entirety. I saw it moving before me. The walls rearranging themselves to make it harder for us to get out. It was then when it hit me, as I stood at the very top of that wall,” he pointed at the maze wall across from us, “that I realised I was going to die in here.”

“Newt,” I muttered. I reached out to hold his hand in my own. Delicately soothing him by dragging my thumb across his leaving goosebumps behind.

“Panic flooded my whole body. Do I want to sit back and let WCKD decide how I ‘lived’ or do I take my life into my own hands?” His voice dropped and cracked and my heart broke for him. I had no idea. “Ever wondered why I have this limp. Well, it turns out, I cannot even jump from a wall right.”

The wind picked up and sent a chill over my body. “The next day, I woke up with the Med-jacks and I was pissed. I mean how could I get that wrong. But then I heard the siren signally the box coming up. I begged the boys to take me over to the box. Greeting the new Gladers has and always will be my job. I guess I have a friendly face.” I smile, it was true. “The boys held me up and helped me over to the box to greet the new Glader and that was when I decided I wanted to live.”

My heart broke when I remembered back to that moment. I moved over to Newt and wrapped my arms around him. “I won’t do it. I will stay with you, always.”

“Promise?” He turned his head so that our noses were touching. My eyes connected with his and my breath caught in my throat.

“Promise.” I speak. I caught him as his eyes flicked from my own to my lips, asking for permission. Everyone thought that Newt and I were together, truth be told being the only girl in the Glade, I was constantly being followed by one of the guys. Newt was the only boy I wanted, before now, I thought he was not interested.

I leaned in closer so that our lips were almost together. “Newt!” For fuck sake. Our kiss was interrupted by Thomas calling for Newt. Both of us were not aware that the siren was signalling that the box was coming up.

I could not catch Newt’s expression when he pulled away and chased after the voice. I was left on the log all by myself. I could make out some of the voices behind me as they welcomed the new Glader to the Glade. Gally as per usual was the loudest out of the bunch. “It’s another shucking girl!”

My heart broke as I heard Newt jump into the box, his voice clear as day and as calm as the sea. “Hello, my name is Newt. Do you remember your name? Sometimes it takes a couple of days so no rush- “

“Teresa. My name is Teresa.” She interrupted. I could not see anything that was happening due to the distance I created from myself and the box.

“Nice to meet you Teresa.” I could hear the politeness in his voice begin to fade as I got up from the log and began to walk further away from my fellow Gladers. I knew exactly where I was going. When I first came to the Glade, Newt had brought me to a clearing deep in the woods where not many of the other boys knew about. It became our hideaway, and right now that is exactly where I needed to be.

~~~ End of Flashback ~~~

I stuck the plough into the dirt because that was who I was now since I turned down the runner job. It was my way to be closer to Newt now that he seemed to spend a lot of his free time with Teresa. I barely get to see him anymore, not since that day we almost kissed when she came up and ruined everything. I don’t think she has the ‘hots’ for Newt, she just seems to like sitting between us when we sit down for food. Or urgently need his help when I finally get him alone.

“Hey, Y/N?” Thomas asked as he jogged over to me. I jumped as I had not even noticed the walls to the maze close. I was simply staring at the brown-haired boy as he dug up the crops. I snap my attention to the brunette boy whose hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Yeah?” I say shaking off the thought that Newt had not even looked up when Thomas called my name.

Thomas reached me and brushed a leaf that had fallen onto my shoulder off. “So, I was wondering if you would be interested in a promotion.” I stare blankly at the boy as he continued to ramble on. “Last night I was looking at the wall when Gally scratched off another name, and well I was thinking, if we are going to get out of here, we really need all the help we can get in there.” He gestured to the maze. “You are by far the fastest runner we have here in the glade and Minho and I could really use an extra pair of, well legs.”

Before he could let the next words fall from his mouth, I surprised myself with my own voice. “I’ll do it.” I mutter simply. No tone to my voice whatsoever. Working here, with Newt so close and yet mentally so far away was becoming a hard pill to swallow. “When should I meet you tomorrow?”

My mind flashed back to the conversation I had last week with Newt. Part of me hurt for accepting the new job after what he had told me. But the other half of me knew that my own metaphorical wall was here, watching Newt with Teresa. Arms around her helping her dig up the dirt as if it were the hardest thing to do.

“First sign of sunrise.” He slapped my shoulder and ran off towards the makeshift showers. I watch as he disappears in the distance. He was hot but he did not do it for me, I knew where my heart belonged. I slam the plough back into the dirt creating another cavity for the seeds to be planted.

“What was that all about?” Newt’s voice sounded from behind me which made me jump. I swing around to see him standing about a metre from me holding a trowel in his hand. I must have accidently ignored him as he asked again “Y/N? What did Thomas want?”

I drop the plough and bend down so that I was now kneeling on the dirt. “He asked me to join them tomorrow on a run.” I say nonchalantly as I dig my hand into the bag of seeds, sprinkling them over the top of the small dug out holes. I looked up as Newt stood there watching me, frozen. “And I said yes.”

His hands immediately rose above his head as he gestured his annoyance. “What! What do you think you are doing?” His voice clearly annoyed, I had not heard his voice directed at me in days, let alone annoyed like it was now. “Are you trying to piss me off.” His British accent so clear as he cursed. “I thought we spoke about this.”

“We did.” I said calmly without any volume in my voice that matched his. “Only I didn’t think that you’d mind anymore.” Hurting him was not what I wanted to do, but I could not stop the words coming from my mouth.

“How could you think I didn’t care?” He countered; his trowel now dug into the ground as he threw it down in annoyance. “Do you really think that low of me?”

“I don’t think anything anymore, Newt.” I sigh. I slap the dirt from my hands onto my thighs before I stand back up straight. “I better go, Thomas wants to go early in the morning.” I gesture down at the work that I had completed. “All this is done, carrots, potatoes and onions.” I give him one last look, he looked hurt similarly to how he looked when I told him about me becoming a potential runner last week. “We all done?”

He did not answer just stared through me as if I was a ghost. “Y/N?” It came out like a whisper.

I turn back around to face the boy who I had once spent every minute of my day with. “Yes, Newt?”

“Don’t do it.” He pleaded. I caught Teresa watching us behind Newt’s back.

“Newtie? I need some help with this.” She cried.

Newt turned around towards Teresa and I sigh. “I have to. I can’t stay here forever.” I did not know if I was on about being in the maze or standing here being a fly on the wall whilst Teresa grew closer to my best friend. Before he could turn back around towards me, I started walking towards the showers where Thomas had disappeared.

 *******************************************************************************

Thomas bent down to tie up the lace of my shoe that had come undone. “You know this isn’t the greatest start.” He scoffed. I was tired, I barely got any sleep last night. My brain kept reliving the altercation I had with Newt. It was clear Thomas had picked up on my fatigue. “We can take this one easy if you’d like. Nice and steady for your first run?”

I shake my head. That was the last thing I needed, to be babied on my first day. “No thanks, I’ll be fine once we get going.” I tie my hair back with a rubber band that Newt had given me on my second night in the Glade. “Right which area we looking at today? Five or Seven?”

Minho laughed a little to himself. “Actually, we are going to section eight.”

I clapped my hands to signal that I was ready. “So, what are we waiting for?” I call as I run inside the opening of the maze, the boys closely behind me. Little was I aware that Newt was stood in the middle of the Glade watching as I disappeared from his naked eye.

*******************************************************************************

It was shockingly quite dark in the maze. Due to the tall walls, very little light could get through. I held my arm out to silently signal to the boys to stop running. I could hear clicking. It was the first time I had actually heard it in person, but I immediately knew what it was. Thomas’ eyes widened and Minho began retreating through the maze, skilfully dodging all the moving walls. “Y/N?” Thomas whispered to me. “We need to go.” He tried pulling on my arm but I pulled away from him and continued through the maze.

“You go. I can see something back there and I am not leaving until I know what it is.” I was already sprinting forward, the clicking noise starting to get louder than it had previously been. I was not shocked when I looked over my shoulder to see Thomas running after Minho to exit the maze.

I could make out a flickering light and I was curious as to what it was. My feet clattered against the floor as I increased my speed. I needed to know what this was, even if it was the last thing that I was going to do. I pictured Newt’s face; how happy he would be if I came back to tell him that I found a way out for us.

*******************************************************************************

Newt’s POV

Newt stood there in front of the wall all day. From the minute he watched the girl he loved run through the opening in the wall, he found his feet glued to the spot.

“Newtie?” Her voice caused Newt to turn towards the sound. “Newtie can you show me how to do this?”

Teresa was standing over by the vegetable patch with the plough in her hands looking completely baffled. “Can you ask Chuck?” Newt said, quickly returning his gaze back towards the opening. Something was wrong, it was getting dark and they still were not back yet.

“Newtie, I don’t want Chuck to help me. He doesn’t do it the same way you do.” She moaned. Newt did not want to admit it but she was really starting to piss him off. He did not like having problems or issues with people, but today Teresa has been extra babyish and quite frankly he did not need to worry about two people not when his best friend was practically risking her own life in the maze.

“No Teresa!” He snapped, not taking his eyes away from the wall.

“What’s your problem?” She moaned and threw the plough down onto the dirt. “Seriously, who put salt in your cereal?” He rolled his eyes and let her walk away from him.

He continued to gaze upon the wall twiddling his thumbs together nervously. The sun was starting to set and there was still no sign of them. “Come on.” He quietly muttered to himself. Gally joined the light brown-haired boy. He slung his arm around his shoulder and quietly waited with him. Gally could be a jerk sometimes but deep down he really did care about each Glader.

“Newt look.” He shrugged the boy and drew his attention to Minho running through the walls. Newt ran over to the boy who was coated head to toe in sweat. “Where are the others?” Gally questioned. Looking at the boy standing alone in front of the pair of them.

“I’m here.” Thomas coughed, choking on his own breath. He doubled over trying to regain a steady pace with his pants.

Newt stared passed Thomas, expecting to see Y/N running through. He kept his eyes on the break in the wall but no one was coming through. “Thomas!” Newt gripped Thomas by the scruff of fabric on both shoulders and began to shake the boy. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

“She ran further into the maze.” Thomas pulled Newt’s hands from his shirt and took a step back as he sorted out his dishevelled clothing.

“And you just let her!” Newt screamed, spit flying out of his mouth. He looked like a feral animal. Gally tried to comfort the boy but Newt was having none of it, he brushed the boys caring hands from his back.

“Of course, I did not just let her, she ran off after this light in section eight. If I wanted to get out, I had to run. She made her own decision Newt. What was I meant to do? Follow her?”

“Yes!” Newt yelled. “When your friend runs into danger you are meant to help them.” His arms swung in the air. “You shucking idiot. She could be dead. Do you not realise that? If she is dead, I will shucking kill you right here in front of everyone.”

Gally pulled at Newt who was desperate to run into the maze. Even without his injured leg, Newt would not make it far. He was not a fighter and he was not a runner anymore. Even if he would risk all that for Y/N.

“You really want to kill me Newt? Then do it, take a swing.” Thomas squared up to Newt, Gally and Minho did their best to keep the two apart but their attempts were futile. When Gally eventually pulled Thomas away from Newt, Thomas noticed that Teresa had finally joined them as well as a couple of the other Gladers.

“If anything has happened to Y/N, I swear to God I will never forgive you.” Newt pushed away and sat down at the opening of the maze.

Thomas, Gally, Minho and the others watched on as Newt’s eyes never left the walls as they slowly began to shut in front of him. Locking his best friend on the other side. His head fell into his open palms as he quietly began to weep.

*******************************************************************************

The morning came and Thomas found Newt still sitting there in front of the maze. He knew that Newt had not come inside to sleep last night. Neither had he left to get himself a snack. The boy must have been falling apart all night as he sat there all by himself waiting for morning to come.

Thomas picked up a bag of chopped apples and walked over to Newt. Slowly he lowered himself so that he was sat next to the small, framed boy. “Newt, you need to eat something.” Thomas knew that it was hard to stay alive a night in the maze, he had done it. But he had only just managed to do it and he had not been running towards the Griever sounds like Y/N had.

Newt had not acknowledged Thomas’ presence. His eyes permanently locked on the stone in front. Thomas raised a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “Newt?” He enquired, but still no response.

Thomas sat quietly by Newt. He waited while the stone walls scratched together and slid apart revealing the entrance of the maze.

It felt like hours that Newt was watching since the stone walls opened. There was still no sign of Y/N. Newt turned to his friend and jumped to his feet. “Get in there and help her.” He snapped pushing Thomas a little too hard that he fell back onto the ground.

Thomas stuttered. “I- I don’t know if there is anything I can do. I wouldn’t even know what I am running into.”

Newt pulled at his hair. “I told you!” He snapped. “I told you she shouldn’t be a runner! This is on you!” Thomas was finally on his feet, but Newt was trying his best to knock him back down as he shoved at his chest. “You practically killed her.”

“Newtie! Time for work, you can’t make me do all of this by myself.” Teresa called and Newt saw red.

“Shut the fuck up, Teresa!” He screamed. “Shut up, okay!” He turned back to Thomas. “You and me, we are done. You took the one thing from me that actually made me want to wake up in the morning. Now she is gone.” He spat. “She’s gone.”

Newt fell onto his knees and began to let all his suppressed emotions hit him all at once. “Newt?” There was the sound of that soft voice in his head again. The one that used to bring a smile to his face, but now only brought tears to his eyes. He had remembered the way she said his name since he first met her. Her voice was permanently imprinted into his brain. “Newt?”

He lifted his head; the voice was louder. Louder than it could have been if it were in his head. He snapped his gaze towards the girl covered in Griever goop. In her hand he caught a metal contraption with wires poking out haphazardly.

Y/N POV

 Within seconds Newt was on his feet and ran as best as he could over to the opening of the maze where I stood. Before I could even react, Newt knotted a hand into my hair and pulled my head towards his. His lips were sweet and soft and he did not seem to care that I was covered in Griever snot. He broke away from my lips and locked his eyes with mine. His hand smoothed some of the goop away from my face and I could see his smile clear as day.

His lips were not apart from mine for long. He reconnected them and pulled my whole body close enough to his that we were practically the same person. “What happened, Y/N?” Gally asked, clearly aware of my current appearance.

Newt detangled his lips from mine, but kept his arms knotted around my body to keep me from doing anything stupid like going back into that maze.

“I killed them.” Gally stared at me with his eyes wide. “All of them.”

All the Gladers that had gathered around had their mouths wide open. “You killed all the Grievers?” Teresa said clearly not believing me.

“That’s what I just said. Oh, and I found our way out. We can go home.”

Newt stared down at me and smiled as he squeezed me. “Now that’s hot!” He declared. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go home.”

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