#he builds ever on a crumbling foundation

[muzzleroars]

[ihnmaims]

the constant perfecting of the divine form

[drurrito]

Crash

Summary: Pulling this from the vault, I don't have the will to come up with a better title.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing...

--------

This was supposed to be an easy job.

You curse loudly while crouching behind a desk, loading your clip and shoving it back into your gun.

“Cover me,” the woman across from you demands and you don’t have much of a choice--watching a flash of red sail through the room and incapacitating one of the guys shooting at you. You manage to gun the other one down and take the lull in violence as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

“Don’t,” she warns. 

“I’m here on other business, this is your mess,” you hiss.

“You’re staying where I can see you,” ignoring her, you clutch the briefcase and dash towards the stairs. You can hear her footsteps coming towards you for a few seconds before a loud blast makes your ears ring. You look back, she’s out cold and there’s a rather large green man howling over her motionless body. 

“Shit,” your legs won’t take you any further and you mutter another curse as you charge towards the man. He’s huge, you might just die, you think to yourself while raising your arms, here goes nothing.

“Hey!” you shout, even his eyes are a deep green, reminding you of what the sky looks like before a tornado spawns to pummel a landscape.

He growls and takes a step towards you but is quickly barraged by bullets from the other end of the corridor. Now’s your chance, you’re quick to scoop up the woman’s body and make your way down the stairs to the next floor.

You can feel the cries of the building’s foundation when you realize that taking the stairs will lead you to someplace six feet under. You find the nearest elevator and pry the door open with a gadget, using another to zip you and what you wished was anything but an unconscious woman down and out of the building before half of it crumbles down to nothing.

-----

She thanks you with a fist to your face as soon as she wakes up.

“Hey! Chill out!” you spit, you focus so much on detaining her limbs that you don’t account for her head.

You stumble back a few steps and she tackles you to the ground, not feeling half as light as she did when she was limp in your arms a few hours ago.

“If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked,” you grunt, still struggling underneath her when she shoves a candle stick against your throat. Her legs are hooked under your hips, not giving you much room to maneuver-usually this position is followed by something a little more pleasant than this, you think.

“Who are you?”

“Y/n," you strain.

“Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” you yelp out in pain as she twists the candlestick a little farther into your neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“I just told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be--I have a quasi-handler and that’s it. I’m a one woman show,” you grunt, the candlestick loosens a bit against your neck.

“That building-”

“I was applying for a job, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Stealing.”

“You’re good,” you wince instead of wink, you’re throwing out that candlestick the first chance you get.

“How did we get here?”

“Ever heard about the theory of evolution?”

“Shut up, tell me what happened.”

“It’s hard to talk with you trying to put a hole in my neck,” she finally lets you up and you gasp, letting the air fill your lungs. You make your way over to your chair, reclining with a huff. She stays on the floor, bracing herself against a bruised and bloodied arm.

“Some big green guy busted in, knocked you out cold.”

“Bruce,” she whispers quietly enough that you don’t hear her.

“Looked like he was gonna crush you so as soon as someone started shooting at him, I grabbed you and left.”

“Where am I?”

“At least 25 miles away from the building,” you glance at her, “it’s gone, building folded in on itself as soon as we touched the pavement outside.”

“I need your phone,” she tries to get up but is quickly seated by the shooting pain in her torso. You’re out of your chair and by her side, she flinches away from you, the fiery look in her eyes makes you restrain the urge to try and find the source of pain, you’d like to keep your hands for just a little longer.

“You’re hurt,” you slowly reach for her this time. You mentally give yourself a gold star for helping with a steady grasp on her pinky while she dragged the rest of herself onto the couch.

“Phone.”

“Doctor first.”

“No,” she holds up the candle stick as a threat and you scoff before you realize that she’s too stubborn to be couch-locked by whatever pain she’s in. 

“Fine, be my guest,” you hand her your phone, “try not to die on this carpet, I just had it cleaned,” she glares at you while the phone rings, you barely hear a man’s voice on the other end.

“Clint? I’m okay, can you get my location?” you almost don’t recognize this new shade of voice on her. It’s soft, laced with a little worry and care--you decide that kind of tone would have made the candlestick sting a lot less.

“That’s the only easy part, we’re still trying to recover the asset and Bruce is still on the loose-can’t get you until tonight.”

“I’m not alone,” she tips her head in your direction.

“Friendly?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do what you gotta do and hole up, we’ll get there when we can.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better,” Clint hangs up and she breaks the phone with such ease that it takes you a second to realize you’re without a phone now.

“Right, I didn’t need that anyway,” you mumble, she tries to get up again and you calmly press a palm against her shoulder.

“Unexpected guests are still my guests,” you insist and she shoots you a look. If you’re going to be a hostage in your own home, you might as well be a good host.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some things, I need to call the doctor anyway.”

“Don’t call anybody.”

“Relax, he has to come get this briefcase, he’ll be discreet,” you head upstairs and she stubbornly lifts herself off the couch and takes a look around the room. Her gun and batons are on the counter but are quickly reunited with their respective holsters on her body. She notices a file with papers spilling out of it and opens it up to skim over the contents.

“Like a modern-day robin hood,” she mutters, almost feeling guilty for giving you such a hard time.

“I never got your name,” you call out from the top of the stairs. You let out an unamused sigh when you see that she is up and about. You figure if you had half of the resolve she does then maybe the trash would get taken out a lot more often.

“You don’t need it.”

“But you asked me for mine?”

“I didn’t need it either, you gave it to me anyway.”

“You had a candlestick to my neck,” you retort, she shrugs and you throw everything in your arms onto the counter.

“Clothes, towels, trauma balm,” you make your way to the fridge and push a truce-flavored bottle of water towards the woman before turning your attention to the fridge.

“I’m making tacos,” you don’t catch the high arch in her brow, too focused on filling the room with something much more delicious than the tension between you.

--------

“A few broken ribs, bruising, and some stitches for your head but you’ll live--I gave you the good drugs too,” the doctor stands up to leave when you hand him the briefcase.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously--I don’t need people knowing I make house calls.”

“I hope this has everything you need,” you shake his hand.

“You always get it done,” he leaves without another word and you approach the woman splayed out on your couch. Heavy drugs giving a mild effort in wearing down the stoic look on her features.

“When are you getting rescued?” 

“Few hours,” she grumbles.

“Here,” you put a plate on the coffee table, “shower’s down the hall, let me know if you need help.”

You grab your own plate and put on some music, figuring that your guest wouldn’t be much of a talker. 

“You help people,” her voice a little raspy from exhaustion and the drugs.

“I try to, yes,” you sit back down, “and you?”

“Same boat,” she cracks, sitting up. You don’t see her briefly inspect the food before taking a bite out of a taco.

“Natasha,” she says, her mouth full, “Natasha Romanoff,” the corner of your mouth ticks up into half a smile, a small celebration for a rather monumental victory.

--------

Natasha towels off her hair and hobbles back to the main room.

“I told you I could help,” you catch her in time to see her wave you off.

“Maybe next time,” she gives you a smirk and before you can even process what she said there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find a man with a messy mohawk, muscles bulging out of his vest.

“Tash?”

“In here, Clint,” he briefly meets your eyes while you step aside to let him in.

“She’s only a little broken, but she’ll make it,” you joke and your newest house guest is unimpressed.

“Christ, Bruce,” Clint grunts.

“Bruce, the big green guy?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief, not expecting this to be the product of some friendly fire.

“Let’s go home,” Clint swiftly throws Natasha’s arm over his shoulder and they make their way towards the door, you walk with them.

“Sorry about your phone, and your face,” Natasha’s lips pulse with guilt.

“Better than some broken ribs and stitches,” you tease, thankful to be just out of her reach when you see her arm twitch at her side.

“Don’t crash any more missions,” she says somewhat sternly.

“I could say the same to you,” you smile, she scoffs as Clint carries her to the car. You don’t move until they disappear down the road.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Sooo my Ghoul idea! So fem reader, the ghoul takes an odd job unlike his regular job with just killing people for money. A employer hires the ghoul and pays him BIG BIG “money” Caps to bring his daughter home safely across the dangerous wasteland. The reader is a vault dweller and so is the father who has outside connections so he knows who to contact and bring his daughter back. She snuck out to see what up top was really like, and to escape an assigned marriage. Reader is not so bright, basically a bimbo 😅, first time for reader, reader actually finds him attractive, cream pie, Dom Ghoul. Hopefully this is something you’d like to write! ❤️

Thank you for this request!! I hope I did it justice 😁🥰

~~

Over Your Head

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Loss of virginity, degradation, thigh riding, a little of the Ghoul’s self-loathing, painful sex (that becomes not painful), nipple play, dacryphilia, spitting, creampie, copious dirty talk

The Ghoul heaves a world-weary sigh. “Listen, darlin’,” he starts as he grips your ankle to shove your foot away from where it teases his inner thigh. “Your daddy’s payin’ a hefty sum o’ caps to bring ya’ back in one piece. I don’t think he’ll appreciate me deflowerin’ his lil’ princess.” The last word is said with so much contempt even you can’t miss it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whine, bottom lip protruding in a pout.

“Means you’re gettin’ on my last goddamn nerve.” The inhaler hisses when he sucks down a hit. Outside, the wind howls and rattles the foundation of the crumbling office building in which you’d taken shelter. He assumes the dust storm that kicked up and trapped the two of you here, alone, is some kind of divine punishment for his misdeeds. “I know there’s some fuckin’ smooth-skinned brat down in your vault who’s dyin’ to fumble around with ya’. You’re better suited for him.”

The Ghoul watches as your disappointed frown morphs into one of determination. He can almost see the gears working in your head as you try to think up a way to get what you want. You aren’t used to being told “no,” that much is clear.

Never has he regretted taking a job more than he does at this moment.

“I don’t want someone from my vault,” you say as you move onto your hands and knees. Languidly, you crawl through the sand and he can’t help the way his gaze falls on the sway of your hips. He grits his teeth when you slide into his lap, the warmth between your thighs settling right against his clothed cock. “I want you.”

“Did ya’ hit your head on the vault door on your way out, sweetheart?” he questions as your palms come to rest on his shoulders. His own hands, rough from life on the surface and scarred from rads, smooth over your hips and slide down to cup your ass. Irritation shifts into bemused resignation. Admittedly, it’s been a long, long while since he’s been intimate with anyone, and the way you’re writhing in his lap chips away at the last vestiges of his resolve.

“No?” you reply, obviously confused. Pretty…and dumb. Though, he’s still not convinced this isn’t some kind of elaborate prank. Why you’d want him of all people—when you could have anyone you want—is beyond his comprehension.

But, here you are, apparently ready and quite willing. Who is he to snuff out your hopes and dreams, as misguided as they are?

Slowly, the Ghoul inhales through his teeth as one of his hands slides up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb brushes over your nape and he feels a shiver zip down your spine. “I don’t think ya’ know what you’re gettin’ yourself into, sugar.”

Already, your eyes are half lidded and hazy, your plush lips parted to allow for quick breaths. Desperate. Innocent. “Pretty please,” comes your tremulous whisper.

He’s going to make you regret every decision you’ve ever made.

The hand on your neck twists so he can gather up a handful of your hair. He brings your face inches from his own so his lips hover just out of your reach. A grin pulls at his mouth when he feels you test his grip, desperate to close the distance.

He leans in until he’s a hair’s breadth away, until you can feel his exhale ghosting across your panting mouth. “Ain’t no backin’ out a’ this once I tear into ya’.” Hastily, you nod and a breathy whine sneaks past your teeth. Your unbridled enthusiasm is going to be the death of him.

Or you.

The Ghoul’s lips crash into yours in a searing kiss. He swallows your sweet mewl and the sharp gasp that follows when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. The feeling of your hips bucking in his lap and the taste of your blood on his tongue rips a rasping groan from his throat.

“Get up and strip,” he orders. He releases your hair and lands a stinging swat on your ass for emphasis. You yelp but scurry away, apparently determined to prove your obedience. The slide of your zipper fills the small space and the Ghoul’s eyes rake over your body as the vault uniform is peeled away, little by little.

The clink of his belt buckle follows and it’s nearly impossible to contain his snort of laughter when your eyes grow comically wide at the sight of him. He palms his cock and slowly hisses through his teeth when you squirm impatiently on the spot, now as naked as the day you were born. Even from here, he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs.

“Come take a seat, kiddo,” The Ghoul says as he spreads his legs and slaps a thigh. Eagerly, you straddle his quad. He wraps a hand around your throat as the other settles on your waist. Slight pressure urges the roll of your hips and soon you’re grinding your slick into his pants.

“What would your daddy say if he saw ya’ actin’ like such a desperate little slut, huh? For a ghoul, no less.” As he speaks, the hand on your waist slides up to roughly tweak a nipple. You squeal and attempt to twist away, but his grip on your throat prevents too much movement. The Ghoul clicks his tongue, “I thought I said no runnin’.”

“It hurts!” You whimper when he turns the same mean treatment on the other nipple.

“Then why are you soakin’ my pant leg, baby?” The moan you loose when his fingers slip down your belly to prod your clit heats the lust burning in his gut. He snatches one of your hands, wraps it around his length, and uses it to stroke himself. The slide of your soft palm along twisted flesh earns you a strained grunt and the briefest fluttering of eyelids.

He watches you from under the brim of his hat. Your eyes are locked on the way your hand works up and down his shaft, your bottom lip glistening where you’ve wet it with your tongue. You’re damn near drooling at just the sight of his cock. The Ghoul has had about all he can take.

“C’mere,” he growls as he grabs hold of your waist and hauls you flush against him. An anxious squeak leaves you when the head of his cock nudges your slick hole. “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

You only manage half an inhale before the Ghoul digs his nails into your hips to spear you on his girth. Your pained shriek echoes off the walls and you scramble to pull yourself up and off, but his grip keeps you seated and forces inch by punishing inch through spasming, untouched muscles. Too soon, you’re impaled up to the hilt, your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your jaw working open and closed like you can’t find the air to scream.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, nearly overwhelmed by the death grip your hot, slippery insides have on his length. A steadying inhale allows him to turn his attention to you. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Gettin’ split open by my cock not what you’d hoped it’d be?”

The Ghoul tugs you closer to drag his tongue through the fat drops now rolling down your cheeks. Pinching your face between thumb and forefinger, he forces your mouth open and spits your anguish onto your tongue. This seems to shock you enough to draw a choked, furious sound out of you.

“F-fuck-stop-it-it’s too-so full,” you stammer, your thighs shaking like the shingles on the roof above. The Ghoul chuckles, dark and low, as his teeth find the soft flesh of your throat.

“I told ya’ t’breathe, baby,” he reminds you between teasing nips and licks. Your skin is rich like the food they feed you down in that vault, your scent lacking the taint of fear that comes from living life in the Wasteland. Good enough to eat….

Laboriously, you gasp, each breath minutely relaxing your cunt, just enough for the Ghoul to give a few experimental thrusts. The sound you make is distressed, yes, but now there’s something else there to, something akin to that desperation you showed him earlier.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Learnin’ how t’relax and take it. We’ll make a good lil’ whore outta ya’ yet.” Slowly, he moves your hips back and forth as he speaks. Eventually, you get the message and clutch his shoulders to attempt a few tentative undulations of your own. The Ghoul growls, his nails digging crescents into your skin where he holds you.

Soon, no pain remains in your vocalizations. You whine and moan and keen so sweetly, your cries filling the shelter and mingling with the wet squelching of your cunt. You find your rhythm and bounce, unrestrained, in his lap as your juices soak into his pants.

Pressure builds in his groin. The Ghoul can tell by the way your hips stutter and your sweet hole clenches that you’re about to finish too. Hastily, he pulls you against him, plants his boots in the dirt, and hammers up into you until you’re screaming all over again.

You cum a half a second before he does. You freeze in climax, your back arching, so the Ghoul must dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass to work you up and down his girth. With a growl on his lips and teeth bared, his cock pulses to paint your guts in thick ropes of ecstasy.

Long seconds pass as you both hover together in that liminal space of bliss. “Ohh…oh god…” you sigh finally, slumping, boneless. He mirrors your sentiment with a pleased groan that rumbles in his chest.

A hand in your hair tips your head back so the Ghoul can assess your dazed expression. “Fucked what lil’ sense ya’ had right outta ya’, huh?”

“You don’t have to be mean about—

A yawn overtakes your affronted huff. You move to scoot off his lap. “God, I’m so tired now.”

The Ghoul hums disapprovingly and maintains his hold on your hips. “We ain’t done here, sugar. That dust storm is still howlin’ and you got two holes left for me t’abuse.”

Nervously, you laugh and shake your head. “But, I thought…I just wanted—

“A big, bad man t’pop your cherry so ya’ had somethin’ t’brag about back in your vault. Well, I intend on doin’ just that and there ain’t no sense in doin’ somethin’ halfway. Not my problem ya’ bit off more than ya’ could chew, sweetheart.” A chuckle bubbles up from his throat at your horrified expression.

“On your knees, sugar.”

[zedif-y]

…Sometimes, Joel isn’t sure it’s worth it.

It being– well. Him. Which, bloody hell, that just sounds depressing, innit? He’s not– he’s fine, really, in all the ways that matter. Good looking, smart, humble. What’s not to love. He’s fine, great even, so there’s no need for any worrying. No need for that at all.

He just wonders, you know? Everyone does. (Probably.)

But also, he’s phrasing it weird. It’s not that he questions himself, it’s more like… Hm. 

Let’s use a metaphor, all smart-like. Joel thinks of himself as a lot of things: The howling, blood-hungry chase of wolves, the business end of a knife. That razor-sharp feeling of teeth sinking into flesh. A forest fire out of control.

(Yeah, yeah. He’s got issues, whatever.)

That’s not the point. The point is this:

Joel’s more of a hunter than the hunted. At least, that’s what he likes to think– don’t even argue. He knows he’s unhinged, revels in it, thrives in it. Hard to put out a fire without getting burned.

And that. That’s the thing.

Because Joel thinks that sometimes he burns too bright. Like a flame– no, like the sun. A point of pride on a good day, something to hide on the worse ones. Fire doesn’t get to keep things. It burns what it touches, spits out the remains. Charred and blackened and what-have-you.

The thing is he can’t make a home without smelling the faint scent of smoke, ash lingering in the air that makes him cough and wrinkle his nose. He builds a foundation, lays down the plans, thinking maybe, this time–

He’s always wrong. Stupid, stupid. He’s always blummin’ wrong.

The thing about Joel is he’s never held something that didn’t crumble into ash. The thing about Joel is that he doesn’t know when that’s gonna end.

So is it worth it, then? To be his? 

He knows the tight grip of loneliness, the heavy chains of solitude. He knows what it’s like to curl up on the floor with his dogs— don’t you dare laugh— his back screaming at him for the night spent on a cold floor. Loneliness is as familiar to him as bloodlust, but he’d rather rip out his teeth than admit it, swallow his own tongue.

(A thought comes, and it’s stupid– no, really. It’s stupid. Stop asking.)

(Why do people think the moon’s lonely? Joel wonders, a scowl on his lips. The moon’s got like, loads of friends. The stars are right there.)

(You get too close to the sun and your wings melt.)

(Joel tugs at a piece of loose string, and he thinks that maybe the sun just wants a friend.)

(…See, he told you it was stupid.)

Joel doesn’t want to be alone. Alone alone, not regular alone. Nobody does, okay? Sue him, it drove him mad.

Whatever. Whatever.

Joel doesn’t want to be alone, not again, not ever. But he gets close to people and it’s like he can just see them burn, wax pouring down their backs and plummeting to their deaths. He gets close, gets attached, and suddenly everything’s burning all over again, and all he can do is laugh and try to put it out as it sizzles at his fingertips.

Until everyone he loves is swallowed by the sea.

(Maybe a submarine, he thinks, eyes-wide and half-crazed. Maybe that’ll be safe, he should try that next game. He should.)

(Maybe’s better than nothing.)

So yeah, Joel wonders if it’s worth it, having anything at all. He wonders if it’s worth the effort, wonders if it’d hurt less to have nothing to lose– though he already knows the answer, and for goodness sake, he wishes it were different.

Joel sighs. This whole thinking thing is exhausting.

To be his is to burn. To reach out is to doom them. But Joel’s too selfish– too much, too bright, too hungry– not to do it anyway.

…Dammit, this got depressing anyway.

Joel swallows through the lump in his throat, and he reminds himself to breathe.

He’ll keep trying, is what he thinks in the end. He’ll keep trying. ‘Cuz what else can he do? Mope, cry about it? What other choice does he have?

Maybe one day he’ll make something, and he won’t have to see it be destroyed. Maybe one day he’ll go out peacefully.

Maybe one day people will stop making their wings out of stupid, meltable wax–

Yeah, okay. He’s getting sick of this metaphor too.

But like– he can’t help but think, you know, about that fall. About Icarus, and how he laughed as he fell into the sea. People say he was happy, even in the face of death, even as his wings burned and turned into soot.

A joy worth losing. A friend worth dying for. A home worth its destruction.

Tentatively, he lets himself think: That maybe, at the very least, that’s what it means to be his.

The thought makes him relax. (If only for now.)

…He hopes so. He really, really does.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Agnus Dei - Kaz Brekker x Grisha!Reader

[vulgar language, unresolved grief]

SUMMARY: When one of his Crows is revealed to be a Grisha on the run from the Black General, Kaz needs to make a decision: their lives or hers?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

[PART 2 RIGHT HERE]

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Everything is going according to plan: the guards didn’t change their routes, the vault was where it was supposed to be, the lock combination Inej acquired worked, the necklace and documents were inside. And yet, you can’t help but feel that something is off as though you have forgotten a pair of socks when packing for a trip - a detail small and unimportant, while capable of making a substantial difference. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

A tremor shakes the manor down to its foundations. Dust and pebbles fall off the ceiling in an ominous cloud. Overhead crystal chandelier rings as the small gems clatter against one another.

Blyat.

There it is. 

“What was that?” Jesper asks an octave higher than he normally would have.

“The dynamite must have compromised the stability of the building,” Kaz says as his eyes trail the cracks forming along one of the walls. “We need to leave.”

“Are you saying-”

“Crushed to death, Jes,” you cut him off.

“Why can’t you ever give me a nice surprise? It’s always death and injury.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “Do I look like Ded Moroz?”

Jesper gives you a childish, playful smile. “I wish you did.”

“Come on,” Inej impatiently rushes the two of you. “You can biker when we’re out.”

Everyone follows Kaz, who weaves and turns through the palace corridors as though he knows them like the back of his hand. Considering how much time he had spent staring at the blueprints, it might well be true.

The tremors only grow in strength and frequency. The low hum of crumbling foundations is interrupted by the heavy, rushed footsteps of the guards. You are yet to run into them but considering they thunder somewhere above your heads, it’s only a matter of time before you look down the barrels of their muskets.

You jump to the side when a boulder falls next to you, a mere inch from crushing you. The muskets have to wait.

It’s hard to walk straight when the ground is shaking so much. Pieces of the ceiling and upper floors have you weaving and running into whatever hasn’t fallen yet.

“We won’t make it out in time!” you yell over the noise of crushing foundations and an avalanche of rubble coming your way.

“We will!” Kaz yells back. You’re unsure who he’s trying to convince more: himself, you or the decaying building. “Just go!”

“The entire ceiling’s coming down!” Another block of stone falls in your vicinity, throwing dust and ground bricks into the air. The flecks claw at your throat as you cough. Your eyes burn. “We need to find cover!”

Brekker stops. He lifts his head to look at the cracked bricks above the four of you. In the cloud of dust and refracted, dim light, you notice his face losing colour. 

“Hide!” he interposes. Jesper and Inej waste no time curling up underneath tables and fallen shelves.

You’re almost under a desk, sheltered from the rubble about to fall on your head but something stops you from seeking safety - sudden confusion at your own actions. The realization creeps up on you, making you surprised that at some point you really have forgotten that you don’t have to hide from overgrown pebbles and crushed chandeliers; at some point, you have truly believed the lie you’ve been telling everyone for so many years.

Time seems to slow down as you stare at the crumbling ceiling. You don’t breathe, your heart doesn’t beat. Just the rubble above you and the ringing in your ears. Something tingles in your fingertips when you absentmindedly rub them together.

Do it.

Your thoughts float towards the three Crows. Sure, they’re criminals but do they deserve to die for that? Should they perish, so you can take your secret to the grave? Casualties of war they didn’t wage?

Do it.

Perhaps this day was always coming.

Jesper pushes his head further between his knees, awaiting the final blow. But it doesn’t come. Hyperventilating and confused more than ever, he opens his eyes. The floor is covered with dust and pieces of bricks. Maybe he’s already suffered brain damage or maybe those pebbles and shards really were floating an inch above the ground.

“What in-” he whispers to himself.

The dust collecting in his lungs throws him into a coughing fit. He manages to get on his knees and stand up holding the desk he’d been sitting under. Jesper’s eyes meet Kaz and Inej, who appear just as confused at the fact that they’re still alive. Even more - not a stone threatened their well-being.

Inej suddenly gasps, vaguely pointing away from the three of them. The men’s gazes follow her hand right to the tip of her finger and that’s when they see it:

You’re standing a few meters away from their hiding spots, hands lifted over your head as though you were lifting something. Boulders and falling furniture hang mid-air, stopped by a mysterious violet flame pushing them away from the floor. With a small hop to the side, you swing your hands, making the rubble fly across the already-ruined hall. The remnants crush against the wall, breaking into smaller pieces before settling on the ground. Not a wrinkle, not even a bead of sweat runs down your skin when you turn around to look at them with guilt and apology painted all over your face.

Jesper is the first to break the silence of flabbergast:

“What was that?”

Inej stares at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly agape. "You're Kosomova.” It’s a statement, not a question. She seems to still be deciding between awe and disbelief. “The Lost Dynasty of Sankt Mikhail."

"What's dormant is not lost, Inej,” you say while awkwardly rubbing your hand. There’s no point in lying anymore. “It's just hidden."

You feel his stare boring into you but you don’t dare meet his eye. Just like this beautiful manor, the foundation of his trust has crumbled. It’s hard to estimate the damage and the prospect of whether it is possible to raise the palace once more. Perhaps he’s silent for now but you know this knot must be untied; a cast-aside viper always slithers back to bite.

The boulders and furniture you threw at the wall have breached it in a rather impressive manner. You can leave and disappear in the crowd before the guards even get to this part of the building. There is something positive to barely escaping death, after all.

"Mikhail?” Jesper repeats, his eyebrows furrowed. Walking through a gaping hole in the wall, he squints his eyes when daylight hits his face. “As in Mikhail the Unbowed? Didn't the Black General issue a bounty on his whole bloodline?"

"And it keeps growing every year or so,” you say indifferently while dusting the flecks of bricks and stone off your dark clothes. “Honestly, I'm kind of flattered he thinks I'm worth seven figures in Kruge."

People of Ketterdam stop by, look at the palace and then at you, only to shrug and carry on with their daily lives. Something about the malice residing in the air of this city makes everyone aloof to the plight of others. Most of the time you think of this tendency as wretched and heartless but today you can’t be grateful enough. Soon, all four of you are part of the uninterested, grey crowd flooding the cobbled streets. 

“But why?" Jesper coaxes, "What did you do?”

“I control gravity, making me a catalyst for any summoner,” you answer quietly in case someone can hear your conversation.

“Make or break the Fold,” Inej interjects.

“Probably, yeah.”

But his curiosity is not satiated just yet: “He already has the Sun Summoner. What does he want with you?”

Suddenly, you stop walking and Jesper almost runs into you. You look at your friend with a morbid seriousness he has never seen from you before.  “A man as ambitious as him will not stop at the Fold. He could turn the whole world into his own empire with me and the Sun Summoner at his service. Mountains will bow before him, oceans will separate so he can pass. No one should have that power.” Your gaze lowers, too ashamed to meet any of the faces staring hard at you. “Make arrangements to flee Ketterdam,” you interpose before taking a few steps backwards. A turn, a rushed step, a rounded corner and suddenly you’re gone as though you were never there.

The stairs creak under someone’s weight. Irregular footsteps grow steadily louder until you hear a soft whine of the hinges as the guest pushes your door open. 

"You're leaving."

Hearing Kaz’s voice makes you stop in your tracks for a second, hands filled with clothes and trinkets hover right above the bag. A sting in your chest, that you wave away; you can’t get hung up on your feelings, not now. Not when they inevitably lead to tears.

"Once the news travels across the Fold, the Black General will be here in no time,” you say without looking at him. With a newfound will to get away as quickly as you can, you continue packing up a lot faster than you did before. “Promise me that you will do everything to survive that. Sell me out, I don't care. Just promise me you will be fine."

"When were you going to tell me, Kosomova?"

Surprised, you drop the utility belt you were about to toss on top of the heap of clothes already in the bag. The hint of angry disappointment, a bitter betrayal, in his voice makes your heart break.

You give him a quick glance, only to pick up the belt and resume packing as though you’re absolutely fine with this strange situation.

"Please, don't call me that, Kaz.” No matter how unbothered you want to seem, he’s a bit too observant not to notice the pleading tone hiding between words.

"It’s your name."

You let out a sigh. Standing up and straightening your back, you finally dare to divert most of your attention to him. Face-to-face, as befits something between companions and colleagues.

"I haven't been Kosomova in over a decade. The life I lead and the people I'm grateful to love, I've done all of this as Zavrazhny. So that is my name.” Your eyes escape his face for a moment when you feel embarrassed at your own naivety. “And I wasn't going to tell you. Ever.” Awkwardly rubbing your arm, you look at him once more. To your own horror, his expression doesn’t falter, stuck in this indifferent frown he wears most of the time. What is he thinking about? “It was stupid of me to think I could actually escape my ancestry but a girl can dream."

Too ashamed to look at his face any longer, your gaze falls to the floor. Maybe this day was always coming. 

You fasten the bag and throw it over your shoulder. It’s grown heavy since the last time, pulling you down with the weight of both your useless souvenirs and the memories they hold. Some of them you can probably sell for a nice price, earning you a night of rest on something better than a haystack.

When you’re about to walk past Kaz and out of your room, surely to disappear from Ketterdam and resurface on the other side of the world with a new name and backstory, he suddenly lifts his cane in front of you. Frustrated, you look at the symbolic blockade and only then at him.

Turning his head to the side to look at you, his gaze appears even angrier than before. "You are not going anywhere,” Kaz nearly grits through his teeth.

Why won’t he just let you go?

Your voice is equally low when you answer him. "This isn't the bloody time to play broody and bossy, Kaz. I'm endangering the entirety of Ketterdam with my presence, I'm-...” you stop yourself from finishing the sentence, wondering if you really want to float along this wave of honesty. He slightly lifts his eyebrows, egging you to continue. Your voice is suddenly very quiet, as though you’re afraid someone else might hear you too. “I'm putting you at risk. And I can't have that."

"Have you any idea how much I have invested in you?" The stress he puts on the word is odd as though there is a hidden meaning behind it - one he can’t quite make himself say outright. You feel your chest tighten at the realization. It’s not a monetary value he’s speaking of. No, it’s something he’s too afraid to name correctly even inside his own head. "You're staying here, even if I have to make you."

You shake your head. "I don't want everyone sticking out their necks for me. It's not worth dying for. I'm not worth dying for. Save yourself, Kaz. This is not your fight."

"If it’s you the Black General is after, it is my fight."

His intense gaze makes you break out a flustered smile. "You have a very strange way of saying you care about me, you know?"

Reprieving your decision to flee, you toss the bag back on your bed. Kaz follows your movements with a questioning look on his face as you drop onto the chair by your working table. He thinks the scattered papers on your desk and notes pinned to the wall are very befitting - mind working faster than a steam train, albeit slightly chaotic.

For a moment you’re not saying anything. Slouched and with a vacant look in your eyes, your whole persona just screams defeat. None of the three Crows has seen you like this before, making you realize that this unusual demeanour is going to change a lot on its own. Once shown vulnerability can never be taken back, for the better or worse.

"I’ve never told you how I got here in the first place, have I?" you ask. Kaz catches your gaze once more, only to realise something about it has changed. The fire that once resided inside you is nowhere to be found, its place taken by something chilling and haunting. "Around a decade ago, the Black General caught wind of my family. We knew he was coming. One day, my mother packed all of my belongings and told me to leave. I won't ever forget that look on her face - the anger, the shame, the guilt…” Unknowingly, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head slightly. As grief’s fangs gnaw at you, her face appears before your eyes like a mirage; someone’s reflection on the surface of disturbed waters. “She grabbed my shoulders and said 'Forget your pedigree. You have to go out there, see the world, live how you want and be who you want. This family has suffered enough.' So I did. I didn't hear from her ever again. When I was boarding a ship from Novokribirsk to Ketterdam, I overheard the sailors talking about a slaughtered village in the woods. And I knew…” You take in a ragged breath, feeling emotions flooding your head. Even after a decade, this wound hurts just the same. “I knew I couldn't go back. There was nothing to go back to, so I moved forward. It was the only direction left."

It’s too late. You can’t stop it. Tears sting your eyes and you look away from Kaz, grasping at the serious and professional demeanour you’re so desperate to keep. Alas, it has escaped your shaky hands.

A sob violently shakes your body. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to stop the sounds of agony from reaching his ears.

“She died alone, Kaz,” you whisper in a weak voice. Anguish clenches your throat, making you unable to breathe for a moment. Tears stream down your face, salty taste on your tongue. “Rotting in the middle of the woods because there was no one to bury her. Abandoned.”

“If you were there, you would have died, too.” His tone is strangely gentle but you don’t notice it at the moment.

He grips his cane tighter when you look at him with red, glossy eyes. “You can’t know that.”

“Then the Black General would kill your mother just to get to you.”

“Maybe he’d spare her if I agreed to go with him. Or I would have killed him.” You take in a deep although ragged breath, trying to calm yourself down. Kaz wishes he could do something. With the sleeve of your coat, you wipe your face. “She died because I ran, didn’t she? So, maybe if I stay… Maybe I have a chance at redemption.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault.”

Your eyes snap back to his face. They’re still red but not sad anymore. No, something strange clouds them, something Kaz sees only when he looks in the mirror. “But yours will be if I don’t get my shit together. I can’t just keep running. It’s not who I want to be.”

“If you kill General Kirigan you will be running for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll be doing it anyway. Might as well earn the right to the name Kosomova.”

Suddenly, you rummage through the plethora of pockets you have in your layers of clothing. Something gold glints between your fingers but it’s so quick he can’t even begin to guess what you’re holding in your palm when you offer it to him.

“Kaz, I want you to have something. Just in case anything happens to me.”

You open your hand to reveal an antique pocket watch. It looks worn out, a thin layer of verdigris discolouring the keepsake. Golden coating lost its shine and the decorative engravings are nearly completely smoothed out as though someone had been rubbing its surface. For good luck, perhaps. Although barely visible, three cursive letters on the front are still legible: K. M. V. 

Kosomov Mikhail Victorovich

Kaz takes the pocket watch, for a moment examining your face in detail. Do you not expect to survive the Black General? Or perhaps this is a token of your trust if not affection? 

He gently presses the button on top of the watch and the lid pops open. On the right side is the face of a clock but the hands aren’t moving. Judging by the engraving on the front, the watch has to be several centuries old, making it impossible to say when exactly the mechanism has given out. His gaze follows to the other side of the keepsake, where a message was crudely carved out with something sharp: Я ранен был, но не упал.

“I was wounded but didn’t fall,” you quote. “It’s a family motto.”

Kaz closes the watch with a loud clasp. His gaze returns to you and for a moment you think there’s a shadow of dread dancing across his irises. Then his face turns nearly into a scowl. What fine smithing it really is, to reforge affection into anger.

“Make sure you stick to it,” he orders while stuffing the keepsake in his pocket. “We need a plan.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

“A week at most.”

A half-smile crooks your lips. “Then let’s make it count.”

______

Yes, there will be part 2.

[bedoballoons]

OMG I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW MY REQUEST TY!!!

Ok so I have another one, This time it’s Shinobu kocho like reader x anemo characters (including my bb wanderer and albedo) and so basically shinobu is VERY short like 4’11 short, she uses poison to kill demons, she is always smiling Hashira has a cheery attitude even though she’s burning with rage on the inside, she is a doctor (technically) and her katana only the tip is blade because all she needs to do is stab her opponent to get poison injected into them, and she is also technically a alchemist. I’m sooo sorry if this is too much you don’t have to do all of it!!

fun fact: I only have one eye 👁

IM SO GLAD!! I love Albedo and the anemos so much oh my gosh!! Again this was a blast to write and I hope you enjoy!!

Also that's extremely cool! You totally don't have to answer but I'm just insanely curious...why do you only have one eye? 👀

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Shinobu Kocho like reader!~༺}

CW: Mentions of fighting, reader with rage on the inside and slight teasing for being short, overall just super fluffy! Xiaos is a whole oneshot because it was super intense to write!

(Includes: Albedo, Xiao, Kazuha, Heizou, Venti, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo glanced in your direction and instantly became mesmerised by you, your hair clipped up in your butterfly clip to keep the strands out of your face while you worked away concocting the next deadliest poison. To anyone else you'd most likely look like just another alchemist at work, but in his eyes, you were the most beautiful when you were experimenting. Especially when you were so deep into your discovery like you were currently, your attention completely focused on your potions, making you completely unaware of just how much he was unable to take his eyes off you.

Eventually he looked away, his face slightly pink as he went back to his own studies, only now he couldn't concentrate, his eyes drifting to you ever so often.

𑁍༄Xiao:

You knew Xiao could take on almost any beasts the world threw at him, but that didn't mean he had to do it all alone, especially when he was incredibly out numbered and injured from a previous fight. "Xiao! Stay back, let me finish the battle for you!" You shouted jumping in front of him as more hilichurls crowded around you both, swinging weapons of fire and shooting arrows in every direction, one wrong move and it could all be over in seconds.

"I can handle myself, you should be the one staying back!" He swung his spear, the blades slashing through the air as he sent another beast flying, no matter what he'd make sure you left alive...even if he couldn't join you in the end. "Always so stubborn." You muttered, as you went to work, your movements quick and thought out, the top of your blade sinking into hilichurl after hilichurl, poison draining them of their life force before they could even defend themselves.

You and Xiao fought side by side while your opponents numbers steadily decreased, his injury slowing him down as the seconds ticked by and your own body loosing its momentum as exhaustion took its place. Just as the battle began to reach its end, the walls around you began to shake, their once sturdy foundation now crumbling from the heavy burden of filling in for a arena. "Xiao! The place is going to collapse!" You screamed for him, but you couldn't see where he was, your eyes searching for him frantically.

Then suddenly arms wrapped around you, the battleground fading away while he teleported you just outside of the building, using the last of his strength. "Are you, alright?" He asked falling to his knees, making your mind cloud with worry as you kneeled beside him. "I'm fine...are you?"

"I'll be okay. Don't worry."

𑁍༄Kazuha:

You looked at the butterflies surrounding you, their bright purple and blue hues standing out against the rising sun, while the wind flowed softly, carrying them to their next destination. "You remind me of them, the beauty of a butterfly and the gentleness they bring as they flutter by, but unlike them, you have burning rage on the inside and I don't think you truly know how to handle it." Kazuha sat next to you, his eyes never leaving you as he spoke what had been on his mind for some time now...the things that made him worry everytime you two weren't together.

Your cheeks felt warm, partially from his compliments, but also from the slight embarrassment of just how well he knew you and how right he was about your situation, you didn't know how to handle the anger and every day you got closer and closer to loosing any control you had. "I don't..know how to...to help myself." You whispered, you sounded so weak in that moment and you wondered if he'd look down on you for that, but of course he wouldn't.

He put his arm around you as you leaned your head on his shoulder, the cold morning air making you snuggle up to him as the two of you watched the sunrise. He'd do anything to help you, especially because you didn't know how to help yourself...

𑁍༄Heizou:

Heizou held your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you walked along the soft shore, sharing a stick of fresh sweet dango and talking about the most recent mystery he'd been investigating, one that just so happened to involve you. "And you're sure you had nothing to do with the toxic flowers going missing? You could tell me you know, just because I'm a detective doesn't mean I'll arrest you right away." He attempted, his sweet smirk and charm almost enough to make you share your little secret, but you simply couldn't.

"Heizou, I have nothing to do with those flowers disappearing and even if I did, you know you don't have enough evidence to actually put me at the scene, the only way you'd have enough grounds to take me in, is if I confessed. And we both know I wouldn't do that..." You smiled sweetly at him, placing a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled in defeat. "One day I'll catch you for your crimes."

"How about you just catch me in general?"

𑁍༄Venti:

You danced around happily, your hair slipping out of its clip as your jacket flowed around you with every movement, your smile bright while you hummed the words to the song that was playing. It wasn't often you got to be like this, free to have fun and dance without a care in the world, and you owed it all to the musician himself, the one you held so dear to your heart after just a few outings with him.

You couldn't really explain it, but he had a sense of wonder that you couldn't get enough of and as the song came to a end you hurried up to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug while he laughed happily. "Venti your performance was incredible! I loved it so much!!" You couldn't contain your excitement, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek as they turned a light shade of pink, "Awe thank you, honestly seeing you dancing brought me alot of inspiration, I wanted to match the joy you were giving off and sing the words with as much enthusiasm as your movements held."

Your face instantly went red, you'd inspired him...

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"...you can't reach it can you." Wanderer watched in amusement as you attempted to stand on a chair to get something out of the top cupboard, but to no avail, you just weren't tall enough. "Shhhh, how is it I could kill multiple enemies at once with only the tip of my blade, but my height is enough to stop me from reaching the sugar?" You sighed in defeat, slowly climbing down and putting the chair back in its rightful place at the table.

"You just have to find a poison that makes you taller." He chuckled teasingly as you shot him a playful glare, "Actually...I don't think I need to. Wanderer, oh please, please can you, my hero, get me the sugar....I will forever be indebted to you!" The amount of sarcasm in your voice made him roll his eyes and yet, you calling him your hero...still made him feel good, he kinda liked being someone's hero, even if it was for something silly like this.

"Alright alright, I'll get it shorty." He smirked at you the entire time, even though he had to use a chair as well and when he handed you the sugar, you could tell he was absolutely filled with pride. "Thank you my hero!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[aledanshi]

One of my favorite things about the QSMP in terms of narrative construction has to be the Ordo Theoritas.

It's just something that has so much depth attached to its creation and impact on the server and I feel that it is not appreciated enough, so here are my hyperfocus-based thoughts on it:

It all starts with the Theory Bros, Max, Foolish and BadBoyHalo gathering together as a group of friends to investigate the mysteries of the island, and although I wasn't present to witness its creation, I feel that until the arrival of the brazillians it was something that would have passed as innocuous in terms of storytelling, its potential would have gone unnoticed and it might have never grown past the point of just being a group of friends theorizing about the strange things of the island.

But then the brazillians arrived, and things began to escalate dramatically.

Cellbit, ever the intellectual and curious individual, wanted to find answers to some of the questions he also had about the island, he builds his own investigation office after he gets to meet the Theory Bros' own underground bunker, all of them saw the potential in unifying their forces to get the answers they wanted, and they payed the price for it. Cellbit got to experience first-hand what the Federation is capable of after the Chainsaw Incident™️ and it made him scared, traumatized him, left permanent scars on his body and mind, and he's not going to let them just brush it off.

They know they're not going to the answers they want if they're alone in this fight, and if the Federation's white walls and bright fake smiles will blind them to the truth, they'll thread the shadows of fear and uncertainty where it won't dare to reach them:

Cellbit, Max, BadBoyHalo and Foolish become the founders of Ordo Theoritas, and with that, the number of people dissatisfied with the Federation is slowly increasing.

The Federation's pillars are built on long lost secrets and truths locked with keys that have been thrown out, but they still crack, they still crumble with time. Ordo Theoritas will poke and prod those cracks, scraping in the rubble for bits and pieces of information that was once marked and then erased, until it all comes tumbling down.

The Federation likes to hide their cards and pawns, but Ordo Theoritas is different, it opens its doors to any newcomers, and it will be there for its members when they most need it, even if it seems that all is lost.

Having each other's backs is the core foundation of the organization, and the Federation knows this, it will fire back by turning friends against each other, dividing families, taking what's most important to them, but it doesn't always work, because when you wake up on an island that took away your freedom, your past and your identity, there's only so much that one can loose.

And what happens when nothing's holding you back?

Well, only time can tell, but they certainly won't go down without a fight.

Ordo Theoritas will be the hand that will push you towards the darkness, and it will pull you back if you get lost.

You don't have to fear the light anymore.

[mintedwitcher]

So where do they go with Eddie from here? Because it’s clear he’s never going to get over Shannon

Therapy. A LOT of specialised therapy.

He can eventually move beyond the hold that Shannon's memory has over him right now. Remember it's only been five years since she died, and they were married for a long time, they were highschool sweethearts. Eddie loved her, and she loved him, and no matter the faults in their relationship, that fact still holds true.

But it's going to take a lot of therapy and time to fully heal from the wound that Shannon's loss has caused in his heart.

This is why I've been saying that Eddie needs to be single, and that he needs to learn how to be fully comfortable and at peace as a single man - not just as a single dad, but as his own individual person.

How is he meant to hold a healthy relationship when half of his heart is in the past?

It'll take time. It'll hurt a hell of a lot more, but as we just saw, Eddie has more repressed trauma in regards to Shannon's death - and Shannon in general - than he ever admitted to before. He doesn't know how to cope with her death, because he never got closure. He never got to grieve - properly grieve - the end of their relationship before she died. And he'll never have the chance to do that as long as he's chasing these other women, desperate to fill the void Shannon left behind.

He's dealt with his anger at her. Now he has to deal with his grief over her leaving him and then dying. He has to find a way to cope with all of this.

Smoothing things over, patching the proverbial wall here is not the solution. Because the holes are still there. And all it'll take is one misplaced hand to send the whole thing crumbling in again.

Eddie needs to rip down that wall, right down to its foundations, and build anew. That is the only way he will be able to move forward in a healthy way.

And then, maybe one day when his meddling aunt sets him up on another blind date, maybe his first thought won't be "I can't marry her."

[sluttyten]

My Everything

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Twenty-Two: Cuckolding w/ Jaehyun & Johnny (& XJ, HD)

Words: 3,796

** cuckolding (in this case, consensual), voyeurism, degradation, gets fluffy towards the end though

Cuckold (noun)

a man whose wife is sexually unfaithful, often regarded as an object of derision. OR A man who finds arousal in watching his girlfriend/wife having sex with another man.

The first time was with Hendery. 

Jaehyun was out of the country, you were horny. Hendery was just… there.

You didn’t know him well, neither did he know you well. You’d met him on a few occasions when you were with Jaehyun, and he was handsome and funny. It was a coincidence that you ran into him, that you recognized each other. 

The better coincidence was that Hendery didn’t seem to hesitate in accepting your advances. He wanted you too.

He had the dorm all to himself for the better part of the day, and he took you there. He showed you to his bedroom, and he let you push him onto the bed and kiss him. He touched you, he kissed you, and he fucked you right there like he didn’t care that you were in a relationship with Jaehyun. In fact, he made light of the situation.

“Does Jaehyun hyung not fuck you right? You have to come find it elsewhere?” He’d said as he bent your knee up to your shoulder. “What would he think if he knew you were fucking around with me?”

Little did Hendery know, Jaehyun probably wouldn’t care too much. 

Your relationship with Jaehyun was embedded in solid rock foundations. It wasn’t going anywhere. There was no chance of it crumbling around you. He knew that you loved him entirely, and that nothing and no one could change that. You’d joked with him before that if he’s ever gone for too long touring or anything you’d have to find someone else to fuck since your sex drive wouldn’t be able to handle him being away for so long, and Jaehyun had just kissed you long and deep, passionately stealing your breath away before he’d told you that you’d just better not fall in love.

You’d taken a selfie in Hendery’s bed before you left, catching a snapshot of his chest and his arm, a hint of his jaw. He’d fallen asleep, and you slipped out before any of his other members could come home.

When Jaehyun finally returned to you, you showed him the photo and told him, “I told you I’d have to find someone to fill me in your absence.” 

Jaehyun’s ears had gone pink, and for a moment you worried that it was anger and not embarrassment, that his previously cavalier attitude about you sleeping with someone else hadn’t been as easy-going as you’d assumed.

“Did he kiss you?” Jaehyun asked, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Yes,” you speak truthfully. You’re not going to lie to Jaehyun about any of this. Even if you’re not staying totally faithful to just his cock, you’re going to be honest about it.

Jaehyun kisses you, hand pressed to your lower back, stealing your breath away. When he breaks the kiss it’s only to lean his forehead against yours. “What else did he do to you?”

You smile, and then you tell him everything. Every action, every word, every feeling that you felt with Hendery. Jaehyun replicates it all, marking you again as his.

And the next time he sees Hendery at the company building, Jaehyun tells you about how Hendery acted so cocky around Jaehyun, smirking at him like Hendery knew a secret Jaehyun didn’t. And it’s only a few days after that Jaehyun comes over to see you, all dimples and giggles as he throws himself down on your bed and tells you that he overheard a whispered rumor from around the corner earlier.

“They were saying I’m a cuck,” he laughs. “That Hendery had sex with my girlfriend while I was gone, and I’m totally unaware.”

“You find it funny?” You ask, climbing over him. “They think your girlfriend is a cheating slut? That you’re insufficient in bed, so I have to go seeking good dick elsewhere?”

Jaehyun laughs. “Well, I know the truth, don’t I? You just missed me. You told me it was going to happen, you just didn’t say with who. Like I said, just don’t fall in love with anyone but me.”

The second time it happens, it’s Xiaojun.

Much like Hendery, you don’t know him all that well. Unlike Hendery, Jaehyun suggested Xiaojun to you.

“If you’re interested while I’m away,” he says one day while you’re in bed. “I heard a rumor that Xiaojun thinks you’re sexy. And after hearing about you and Hendery, he wonders if he’d have a chance.”

“How do you know this stuff?” You ask.

Jaehyun shrugs, massaging a hand over your bare thigh. “I just hear about it. Everyone’s whispering constantly–the members, the managers, staff members–they all gossip. I just have to be quiet, and I hear them. Now, what do you say? Xiaojun? He’s fit.”

You do it because Jaehyun’s right. Xiaojun is fit. You like his muscles, his eyebrows. You like the sound of his laugh, and you really like it when he plows into you, when Xiaojun holds himself above you with his muscular arms around you. 

It’s fun and different with him. You get to go home afterwards, knowing that you’re going to call Jaehyun and tell him about it, that Xiaojun is going to spread more of the gossip that you’re having affairs, that you’re a slut that can’t keep her legs closed while Jaehyun is traveling. 

But at the end of the day, all you want is Jaehyun. 

You don’t mind using the others' cocks to get off, but the only one that means anything, the only one that you have any kind of attachment to, is Jaehyun.

So even though you fuck Xiaojun twice more while Jaehyun’s away, the moment that your boyfriend is back, you tumble him into bed and you don’t let him leave until late the following morning. 

“You’re mine,” you tell him, clinging to him from behind as he sits up in bed. “I love you.”

The third time involves Johnny. 

You know Johnny. You’ve met him countless times when you’ve been at the dorms, when he’s been out with you and Jaehyun, a few times when he’d dropped your tipsy boyfriend off at your place for a sleepover. He’s a good friend to Jaehyun, so you’d never have imagined him as a possibility. 

Until he’s right there. 

The guys didn’t all live together anymore, and even the last time they’d lived within the same building, Jaehyun and Johnny hadn’t lived within the same apartment. But for some reason, Johnny had come over to Jaehyun’s this morning, just letting himself into the apartment. 

You’re actually in the midst of giving Jaehyun a very thorough good morning, head beneath the blanket when the bedroom door suddenly pops open. 

In walks Johnny, his face pink from the blustery winter air outside. He frowns when he sees you sitting up, your hair in disarray, and your lips slick with saliva. 

Jaehyun doesn’t bother covering up. 

“Hyung?” 

Johnny stares at you for a long moment before looking at Jaehyun’s face. “Dude, you know she’s cheating on you, right? I thought you broke up with her.”

Those words make your heart plunge into your belly. But Jaehyun laughs, smiling over at you as he runs his fingers back through his hair. 

“No, she’s not.” Jaehyun locks eyes with you. 

Johnny, growing more frustrated by the second, argues, “Have you not heard the rumors? Everyone’s talking about how your girlfriend fucked Hendery and Xiaojun. How every time you’re out of town she fucks someone new.” He waves an accusatory hand in your direction. “I know you’ve heard about it. Doyoung said he’s told you about it all.”

“I know.” Jaehyun nods. “But it’s okay.”

“So… What? You like her getting dick from other guys?” Johnny makes an incredulous face. “You know you’re not enough for her? So you let her get fucked by guys you know, who are just gonna shit talk you behind your back?”

“She’s insatiable, hyung.” Jaehyun reaches over to you, his hand patting at your thigh. “If I’m not enough to fill her appetite, I’ll let her snack elsewhere. As long as she comes to me for her main meals and dessert.”

You like the way he phrases it, like you’re just a glutton. In some ways, you suppose you are. 

“But everyone knows,” Johnny says. “By now even the fans must have heard rumors that you’ve got a girlfriend who’s sleeping around. Xiaojun has pictures and videos, you know.”

Jaehyun sits up in bed then for the first time, staring stiffly at Johnny. “Well, have you seen the videos or the pictures, hyung? Because that would make you just as guilty as him.”

“He’s not showing them to anyone.” Johnny looks quickly at you. “How can you sit here beside him, looking perfectly fine as I tell him about you?”

“Because it is fine.” You shrug. “Do you think he doesn’t know? Jaehyun’s already told you he knows. I’ve told him. I’ve shown him pictures and videos. I’ve told him about what we did. Jaehyun likes knowing about my escapades with other men. Why does it bother you so much?” You pull yourself out from beneath the sheets, crawling slowly across the bed toward where Johnny’s standing. “Haven’t you wondered, in all of your listening to these rumors, and not being able to see the evidence, if you could get away with it too? If you could fuck your friend’s girlfriend behind his back?”

You watch Johnny’s face as he looks quickly over your face before glancing back at Jaehyun behind you. 

“Jae tells me that you’ve got a big dick, Johnny.” You settle onto your knees on the mattress right in front of him. “Won’t you show Jaehyun oppa how to fuck me?” You reach for his hands as you pout out your bottom lip, begging. 

Behind you, Jaehyun makes a quiet groan, settling down into the sheets a little more, just watching. 

Johnny looks like he’s at war with himself. You can see the want, the temptation tugging at the strings of his morals. 

“Make him watch,” you tell him, “Make Jae watch as you fuck his girlfriend.”

When you lean forward, passing your hand over the front of his pants, tipping your head so you can kiss right above the waistline of his pants, Johnny snaps. 

He grips your hair, all but dragging you off the bed. Rough, but you like it. And you like it even more when you look up and see him pointing at Jaehyun over your head as he says, “You just stay right fucking there.”

You keep your eyes on Johnny, touching Johnny, and you moan for Johnny. “Fuck, Johnny, let me have your cock,” you beg, “Let me see it.”

You ignore Jaehyun, knowing that he’s going to get off on just that aspect alone—getting to view you cheating on him. He likes it. And now, with Jaehyun’s permission, Johnny likes it too. 

Kneeling there on the floor in front of him with his fingers still twisted in your hair, your mouth waters as Johnny drops his pants with one hand. His dick is pretty big. Heavy and tasty, you want to have him in your mouth. 

Luckily, that’s exactly what Johnny wants too. 

Johnny fucks your mouth, holding your mouth down around him to deep-throat him all while Jaehyun watches. And when he cums, he covers your lips with it so when you turn around and pull yourself back up onto the bed, Jaehyun can see your lips creamy with Johnny’s cum. 

“Pathetic,” Johnny says from behind you. “Fucking shameful, Jaehyun. You really just let me fuck your girl right in front of you? Cum on her like she’s mine to do that to?”

Johnny smacks your ass, handprint burning, but you don’t mind. You just moan for more, dropping your head down onto Jaehyun’s thigh, and that eggs Johnny on even more to degrade you and Jaehyun in the same breath—calling you a whore and Jaehyun a pathetic cuckold. 

You love it. 

Judging by the press of Jaehyun’s erection against your cheek, he loves it too. 

Johnny smacks your ass again before he grabs both of your hips and pulls you back towards him. You beg for more from Johnny even as you look at Jaehyun. 

“Just watch,” Johnny growls, “Listen as she begs me for more, Jaehyun-ah. Are you so pathetic you can’t even show your girlfriend a good time? She’s so desperate for a good time, look at her, she’s about to start humping me like a dog.”

The degradation Johnny’s pouring on your both is just the icing on this very sweet cake. 

He’s making you feel like a dirty, rotten whore but in the best possible way—the way that means you just want to be face-down ass-up with his cum dripping from your pussy before he throws you back into Jaehyun’s arms. And the way he’s treating Jaehyun gets you hot too, especially because you know the rough way Jaehyun’s going to make up for this later, his reassertion of dominance with you. Just the way you like it. 

Johnny gets rough with you now, grabbing at your hips, pulling your back up against his chest. He grips your hair to make you stare right at Jaehyun while he whispers in your ear, “You’re both so wrong for this. He wants to watch you get fucked, and you want him to watch you get fucked. He wants to be made to feel like he’s not enough for you, like he’s not worth it. Does Jaehyun ever submit for you, angel? I feel like he would if you just asked.”

You don’t want Jaehyun to submit for you. You like him dominant with you, but you like him like this too—powerless while you take your pleasure with a mother man. It’s a power trip kind of thing, but one that you wouldn’t care to replicate when it’s just you and Jaehyun. There’s a different dynamic at play right now, that’s what makes this so thrilling. 

As Johnny reaches down, guiding his cock inside you, you reach back, touching his hair, trying to pull his mouth down against yours. You want to kiss him, want Jaehyun to watch you kiss and get fucked by one of his best friends. 

Johnny folds around you, his cock sliding inside you as his arms wrap around your chest, and his mouth meets yours. 

It’s instant, the heat that floods through you based in hunger for Johnny. Still your mind wanders to Jaehyun who sits not two feet in front of you, who’s likely distractedly watching your tits bounce as Johnny starts thrusting, or perhaps he’s watching Johnny’s fingers drive down to your clit, taking the scenic route as he brushes his hand down from your collarbone, around a breast and detouring to thumb over your nipple, down over your ribs and the expanse of your belly, into the valley between your thighs at last. 

You sigh into Johnny’s mouth, the sound twisting into a cry as he really leans into this. He thrusts in more powerfully, stroking his fingers over your clit roughly. It’s a lot, and you curl back against his chest, rocking back to meet his thrusts. His mouth slips from yours so each cry and moan and whimper is open for Jaehyun to hear, each plea and praise from your lips.  

Hands and mouths move all over, you gasp Johnny’s name, body rolling to meet Johnny’s thrusts. Jaehyun watches, his hand fisted beneath the blanket, and you can’t tell in the brief glimpses you get, whether he’s just got his hand in a fist or if he’s touching himself. 

Johnny brings one hand to your chest, and he roughly takes a handful of your tit, your nipple pinched between two of his fingers as he squeezes your breast in his hand. It hurts a little too good, and you roll your head back as your orgasm mounts, peaking when at last Johnny pitches forward, flattening you down against the mattress with your head landing right between Jaehyun’s legs. 

Johnny’s hand rests between your shoulder blades and he fucks in hard and fast and deep with smooth thrusts that push you over the final brink of your orgasm. 

You’re still recovering from it, heart pounding like a wild beast in your chest, when Johnny pulls out and cums over your ass, lower back, a bit on your pussy. 

“That,” he groans as he smears his cock through the streaks of his cum, “is how you fuck your girl, Jaehyun-ah. Leave her breathless, messy, and a little boneless afterwards. Ever seen her like this?”

He leans over you, brushing his fingers along your cheek. You blink slowly and lick your lips. You feel good, buzzing down to your fingertips and toes. 

“Get out.” 

Jaehyun’s voice is hard now, possessive and done with this game for the day. Johnny makes a questioning noise, pulling his hand away from you, and Jaehyun repeats his command. “Get out, Johnny hyung. And don’t tell anyone about it. Okay?”

You feel Johnny’s weight withdrawing from the bed, and you lift your head from the bed long enough to look over your shoulder at him. He’s moved off and is stopping to pull his pants up. 

“Dude, you told me to—“ he starts to say, but Jaehyun cuts him off. 

“We’re fine. I just need you to leave now.” Jaehyun’s hand rests on your head and you lower it back to the sheets. “I’ll talk to you later, but right now, I just need her.”

You close your eyes as Jaehyun pets your hair, and you can hear the sound of Johnny redressing, the sound of him leaving the room and closing the door behind him again. 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun sighs as soon as you hear the distant sound of the apartment door closing. “That was really fucking hot. I’m so hard right now, baby.”

With your eyes still closed, you hear the rushed, wet sound of him jerking off close by. You open your mouth some, not enough to necessarily be an explicit invitation, just enough that you seem enticing. 

Jaehyun gets it. 

You feel the bed shift as he moves up onto his knees. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, and you open up more, holding out your tongue for him as Jaehyun sinks his cock into your mouth. His hands spread across your body, touching you everywhere that Johnny did—your face and your neck, your chest and ribs and belly. He touches your hips then tickles his fingertips over the tops of your thighs until you part your legs in welcome. 

You squirm and moan and choke around his cock as Jaehyun just teases his thumb right over your clit. A slow back and forth, toying with you. He rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock down your throat slowly in time with the movements of his thumb on your clit. 

It’s a cruel tease, but one you enjoy. The slow rise of toe-curling pleasure. 

Jaehyun cums down your throat, flooding your throat with it, forcing you to try to swallow down everything he gives you, though you cough and gag a fair bit too. Especially when his light touches on your clit finally amount to climax, your knees drawing up, thighs twitching as Jaehyun flattens his fingers to rub smooth circles against your clit. 

And afterwards, as your body quakes with aftershocks due to his hand still moving in leisurely, light circles, Jaehyun moves away from your face, slinking down beside you. He doesn’t let up on touching you, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you,” he says the words like a promise, an unbreakable vow to you. 

“I love you,” you promise right back, leaning your forehead against his. A soft moan escapes from the back of your throat, more whine than anything else. “You’re mine, Jaehyun.”

“I’m your what?” He asks, sliding his hand away from the constant stimulation of your clit. 

You roll against him, pressing your face down into the space between his neck and his shoulder. Your body meets his, warmth caught between you. “You’re my everything,” you murmur, tucking the words there against his skin like a solemn confession. “Even when I’m with them, everything is you.”

When you closed your eyes that first time with Hendery, you imagined he was Jaehyun. That his hair that brushed your skin was the soft brown Jaehyun’s was dyed instead of Hendery’s silvery-blond. The same with Xiaojun: his hands were Jaehyun’s, his muscles beneath your fingertips were just similar enough to believably be Jaehyun’s familiar contour if your eyes were closed. You never allowed yourself to moan when you were with them because it would be Jaehyun’s name falling from your lips because even when they were inside you, making you fall apart, it was Jaehyun you were thinking of. 

And with Johnny just now, it was different but the same. Jaehyun was right there with you, he was a big part of it. He was all you could smell with your nose pressed into the bedsheets. His gaze, his hand beneath the blankets, the spread of his legs. You’d been locked on these little details of him, of how he was feeling in witnessing this kink of his that you’d both tapped into. 

“Everything, Jaehyun.” You press your lips to his skin, wishing you could sink impossibly closer. “Absolutely everything.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, tangling his legs with yours. Jaehyun kisses the side of your head, breathing in deeply. 

It’s still morning, just maybe an hour since Johnny barged into the apartment unannounced. You could go back to sleep, you could stay right here and just lie awake in each other's arms. You could start the day. 

That last option sounds the least appealing. 

You know today wasn’t the last time that you’re going to sleep with someone else. Instead, you have a very strong feeling that today was just the first time you’re going to do it right in front of Jaehyun. Doing this today with Johnny just gave you a taste for having Jaehyun involved in your infidelity to him, making him watch. 

Perhaps, next time, you could convince Xiaojun and Hendery to tag-team you while Jaehyun sits back to observe. Or bring Johnny back again. 

You’ll talk it over with him, but not right then. 

No, for the rest of the day, or at least for a few more hours, you want to stay just right here.

[sheloves-toomuch]

Chapter VI: A Deal With A Devil

Raphael is growing increasingly impatient (dare I say jealous?) with Astarion's interference into his plans for the little mermaid. How convenient for him that the Spawn and the Siren need his help...

Flashbacks and memories are written in italics.

TW: Mentions of Astarion's past abuse, blood and mentions of violence, some sexual themes.

(Gif isn't mine)

In the brief time that Zenosyne and Astarion had grown to trust one another, the party made progress through the underdark, through the shadowlands, and towards Moonrise towers. They pushed forward day by day on foot, ever on through the sun and the moonlight, making camp where and when they could find a haven.

Ever astute and perceptive to his surroundings, Astarion was quick to bring it to the attention of the party that there was a presence following them as they trudged through the darkness...

“It always feels like we’re being watched here. The shadows have shadows.” Gale replied, keeping his voice low despite the seemingly empty landscape. As if the bone chilling darkness wasn't enough to leave him unsettled, he didn't want to believe that there was someone watching him from afar without his knowledge.

“No, there’s someone following us… a woman.” Astarion challenged, concern etched into his brow. He looked forward with a hand outstretched to keep the others back. Keeping his lithe frame low, he inched forward without making a sound- his breath held fast and his feet completely silent in the dry dirt. Coming up behind Zenosyne, he leaned down to the level of her ear:

“A dwarven woman. There.” He whispered, his unnaturally cool body putting a shiver down her spine... Or, was it how close he had gotten that made her shiver like that…?

Zeno strained her eyes against the fog and the darkness that kept the air thick with mystery. She leaned in, as though it would help her see past the endless dreary landscape. Finally, she managed to spot a robed woman- her face obscured by two heavy leather gloves- crouched behind a broken wagon near the abandoned blacksmiths’. She blended in well enough alongside the craggy, open walls and crumbling foundation of the stone building. What would have been an incredibly impressive hub of machinery and commerce was now nothing but an empty, open-air nest for birds and the stray cats that hunted them. With all the care she could muster, Zeno stepped one foot over the other towards the figure. At only a few feet away, she heard the deep, gravely voice of the dwarven woman rise up from behind the dilapidated wagon- something completely unintelligible. With a cloud of smoke and sulfurous odor that blended in well with the ominous surroundings, she vanished into nothingness.

“Sulfur?” Zeno questioned out loud.

“The hells.” Wyll said with resolution. “She’s a spy from the hells.”

“Raphael.” Zeno said with surety. “He’s still watching. Waiting for someone to make a deal with him…” She sighed.

An uneasy silence befell the adventurers.

“I’m ready to head back to Last Light Inn.” Karlach said, a hint of disgust at the topic of devils and the hells. “I’ve had enough of this reeking wasteland for one day. Not to mention, I’m starving.” She shook her clanky armor to get the attention of Zeno, who had been gazing off into the distance again.

_

It would be a few hours before they returned to Last Light, the open fire and half empty bar welcoming them to sit and rest. It was always a pleasure to get to sleep in proper beds instead of in tents and bedrolls, no matter how modest the lodgings. The warm air smelled richly of cooking sausages and potatoes, butter and bread. His Majesty, the inn’s resident feline stalked back and forth along dusty wooden planks without a sound, watching the lack-luster crowd with quiet interest. His light pink wrinkled face upturned at any who approached him.

Zeno wasted no time in climbing the rickety stairs of the inn and closing the door to her room, her back resting with exhaustion on the wooden frame as she shed her clothing. Gale was always kind enough to make sure there was a hot bath for all who asked for it- creating water and warming it up using his arcane tricks, and tonight was no exception. Zeno was infinitely grateful, especially at the end of such a tiring day. Hells, it had been a tiring few months. She closed her eyes and swayed back and forth on aching feet- letting them soak for a few moments before she sank deeper into the steaming waters.

However long she lay there, basking in the steam and smelling lavender oils was not enough in her opinion. She fell asleep there, enveloped in the rich scents and relaxing salts. As she closed her eyes, she saw visions of purple and blue waters- pearls and clouds, stars and galaxies. They all blended into a surreal and inviting world for her to find some temporary respite in, her dreams hardly making sense these days. It would be all too soon when she heard a knock at her door- prompting her to jolt upright in the now cool water.

“Yes?” She cried out, startled.

“It would seem you have an uninvited guest.” Astarion said, his voice calling out with a teasing tone.

“Well, you’re always invited in, you know.” She replied, sinking back into the water for a few more precious moments.

“Oh, me?”

He stepped into the room, closing the door quickly behind him when he realized she was lying there in the bath. His face held no surprise, he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest that his actions might be interpreted as less than gentlemanly to any outside observers.

“Well, I know you’ll always invite me in. Even if I no longer need an invitation to cross the threshold.” He teased, walking over to her as she finished rinsing the suds from her long hair. He reached down and grabbed the comb that lay on the little table nearby, making the burning candle wicks jump and wave with his passing through.

“However,” He said, leaving Zeno in suspense for a few moments. He knelt by the tub, reaching out to comb her wet locks as he ran his fingers through the wavy strands. The tips of his fingers found her scalp, gently rolling circles into her skin. She sighed into his touch, letting her head fall in his direction.

“I’m not talking about myself.” He finished, continuing the work at her hair.

“What?” Zeno asked, suddenly having forgotten what they had been talking about.

“The uninvited guest? It wasn’t myself I was referring to” Astarion reminded her.

“Oh?” Zeno seemed lost in his soothing, gentle little strokes through her tresses. Seemingly unbothered by this statement, she closed her eyes again. “Do tell.”

“Raphael.”

Zeno’s eyes shot open, her heart suddenly racing at the name. She turned to look at Astarion suddenly with worried eyes, the previous fatigue seeming to leave her in an instant.

“Now hold on, hold on. I was thinking. You remember the runes?” He asked, not getting too specific in his inquiry. He didn’t have to elaborate. Zenosyne knew right away what he was referring to. The infernal text that was carved into his back. She had asked about them the first night she saw them-

“What are those scars?” She had asked, laying on the wet rocks by the river, him rested atop her bare body as he quietly dozed off.

His eyes shot open, and a look of disgust came over him. She suddenly feared the worst. She had asked too much. He sat up to look her, his still wet hair clinging to his pale neck.

“A gift. A poem. From my old master, Cazador.”

“I'm so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“He spent the entirety of an evening carving that into my flesh- making many mistakes along the way- correcting them as he saw fit.” He interrupted; his voice was laced with bitterness as he spat the name of his tormentor.

Zeno let him speak, her heart breaking at the realization that she had uncovered a difficult subject for him, one that unearthed horrible memories, no doubt.

“In infernal?” She dared to asked.

“Infernal?! Gods!” He said in surprise. “I had no idea.”

Zeno nodded, surprised that he could carry these scars for so long without knowing what they meant, but not pressing the matter further.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I will listen, but don’t feel obligated to burden yourself with things that haunt you right now, for my sake.” Zeno said. “If anyone knows that trust has to come in your own time, it’s me.”

Astarion blinked a few times at her statement. His thoughts were shaken, caught off guard by her understanding nature. He hadn’t ever told a soul about his scars before. He also hadn’t drunk from another person before, but, here he was- doing all sorts of new and strange things. What a day.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked, unable to face the uneasy feelings he had when accepting her kindness.

“I…” She struggled. “…Should, but I don’t. It’s unlike any other infernal words I’ve ever seen written.”

His shoulders slumped at her confusion.

“No matter.” He said, trying to push aside this and any other unwanted feelings he was having. He had been doing a lot of that lately, since the first night he came to her in the river. Since that night they shared so much- their bodies and their secrets. He was no stranger to sharing his body- and yet, this felt unlike anything he had ever experienced before with a lover. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea that he was becoming vulnerable with her. With every late night they spent together- sneaking off into the trees for hushed jokes and laughter- and, sometimes more- he realized he had passed the point of no return with this one. Whatever that meant, or whatever it was that he felt, he wasn’t sure any longer.

“I remember.” Zeno said, letting Astarion continue to comb her hair as she dried off. It was a small act of intimacy that wasn’t lost on her.

“You know who knows how to read all kinds of Infernal texts?” He asked, and Zeno stopped drying herself- standing still at the suggestion he was making.

“He’s a devil. What kind of terrible price will he make you pay to translate it? You’ve already suffered enough! You don’t need to be indebted to him!” She argued, “I’m not looking to scold you for what you’re thinking, I know how desperately you want to know what they say. But I am trying to impress upon you the severity of such an exchange.”

“Let’s just hear what he has to say. Who knows? It might not be so bad!” Astarion said, twirling the comb around in the air in circles as he elaborated upon his line of reasoning.

Zenosyne shook her head with concern in her eyes- “We may listen to what he has to say but don’t underestimate him. He is cunning, and will sneak details into the contract that we never even dreamed of considering.”

We.

Astarion sharply inhaled at the statement. She was in this with him. He always knew she was, but hearing those words from her yet again left him with too many unanswered questions about his own feelings.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.” He quietly said, “I promise you that.” He looked to the side as if thinking deeply for a moment, then said with a chuckle, “It’s all so tempting… But, I think he’s here to see you.”

-

As they made their way down the loud and creaking stairs of Last Light, Zenosyne and Astarion felt watched from every angle as their companions waited with little patience for their arrival. None had approached Raphael in their time there, instead waiting for a plan. He had been seated across from a young Tiefling girl named Mol, playing a game of Lanceboard with her this whole time. As they made their way over to the table, Mol smiled at them, thinking that they were interested in her Lanceboard skills. Zenosyne didn’t bother with any niceties, she spoke up right away to quell her curiosity.

“What are you doing here, Raphael?” She asked.

The pensive devil smirked, his eyes darting from Zenosyne to Mol, then back at the board. There was only one more move to be made before the game would be over.

“Just a game with a friend.” He drawled. His chin rested in his hand.

“Then leave it and follow me. We need to talk” Zenosyne demanded, no patience in her tone whatsoever.

“There’s just ONE more move!” Mol said, with a whiny tone. Her face showed disappointment at the thought that it would go unfinished.

“Go on then.” The siren sighed, her eyes never parting from Raphael’s.

Mol defended her Mystra, leaving Raphel wide open to attack her King.

“Damn!” She cried out in frustration.

“Don’t doubt yourself, little one. You faltered there- when you could have gone for the offensive move instead.” Raphael said, a finger held high. “Next time, remember that. I trust you will remember that, too, when you consider my offer.”

Mol said nothing, instead walking away, huffing at her loss.

 “She’s just a child.” Zeno said, her tone unsurprised. Flat, even.

Raphael finally looked back to the Siren who had been demanding his attention. He stood, making eye contact with each of the party members as he did. Then, he paced a little as he made quiet conclusions about each of them in his mind. There was no doubt he was sizing them up one by one. Finally, his gaze rested once again on the siren he had known so well. Once.

“A blushing apple, just waiting to be plucked… you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He looked pointedly at Zeno.

“The difference between you and I, my dear, is that I always know what I’m getting into before I bite the apple.”

“Please. Let me smack this creep.” Karlach growled through gritted teeth. She looked as though she were about to melt the floorboards beneath her with untamed rage.

“Have you considered my offer, then, my sweet little mermaid?” Raphael purred suggestively, ignoring the impossibly angry Tiefling.

“I have… but I’m not quite ready to accept it.” Zenosyne admitted. “I have more to ask of you, first. So I suggest you take us somewhere private.”

Raphael laughed heartily at her directness.

“You are always welcome in my house.” He said.

In an instant, the warm surroundings of Last Light Inn began melting away as they found themselves once again in his lavish House of Hope. The impossibly high ceilings felt so jarring when replacing those of such a humble inn. Not to mention the smell of sulfur that suddenly assaulted their senses. The deep, sensual red of the curtains and the gold trimmed furniture lined with plush pillows were almost tempting enough to make them all wish they’d lodged there instead. Almost.

“I’m listening.” Raphael continued.

“Ethel. The hag. She mentioned someone from my past- someone that she said would pay a fine price should she reveal my whereabouts to them…” Zeno said nervously, her pulse quickening with anxiety. Raphael’s attempt at a comforting gaze did little to lessen her uneasiness.

“What makes you think she didn’t already? What makes you think he didn’t pay the price?” he asked, in an uncaring tone. He shrugged his shoulders as though it were nothing.

“So, it was you. You’re the prince I spoke about in the visions from my past.”

Raphael smiled a wicked grin, and with all the charm of a snake said simply,

“I am he.”

“Why? Why did you want to find me so badly?” Zeno pressured him, the urgency in her tone palpable.

Raphael’s glee was hard to hide. He had something to work with, now.

“Hah! That’s not for me to reveal. Time will tell, and all will be revealed in its’ due course.”

“That’s not reassuring!” Zeno exclaimed, frustrated at his lack of a reply. She stayed silent for some time as she thought about everything she had just found out, and everything she had yet to discover regarding her mysterious past.

“Well” Raphael finally said, “If that is all”

“Actually” Astarion spoke up, “I do have a question for you.” He stepped forward. Raphael looked at him with interest.

“It’s about the runes… carved into my back.” Astarion began to falter now. He was sharing something all too personal with this devil, and now with everyone present. It was all moving so fast for him, this trust thing. Yet, he felt that if he didn’t take this chance here and now, he may never find out what it is that he had been carrying with him for 200 years. He took the leap.

“It’s written in infernal. I want to know what it says.”

“And who carved these runes, I wonder?” Raphael asked with a quizzical brow, seeming very comfortable where he stood, looking the spawn up and down with a judging gaze. He had already sized him up before. The spawn was stronger than he looked, and he was enslaved to his sanguine hunger. His mask of confidence didn’t work in the face of this devil. What was more, Raphael noted, the smell of Bergamot and Rosemary that was uniquely his was now on Zenosyne’s skin. In her hair. On her lips.

“My old master, Cazador.” Astarion replied, bravely. He wouldn’t show weakness now. Not when this much was at stake.

Raphael grinned slowly, the ends of his lips curling into a suspiciously satisfied and twisted look.

…Cazador? Oh, I have him now.

“Scars do tell such wonderful stories. What do yours tell, I wonder? A love poem? A curse?” Raphael teased, trying to get Astarion’s imagination going and his fears to heighten.

“Enough games, Raphael.” Zeno said with anger. She despised how he was toying with Astarion’s personal demons.

Raphael rolled his eyes dramatically, “Very well! You always were impatient, you know, little mermaid.” He said. Zeno’s quick defense of the spawn told Raphael all he needed to know. Luckily, though, the pale elf would be out of the picture soon enough…

“I will translate these runes for you, on one condition.”

A heavy silence filled the air as they waited for Raphael to finish his offer.

“There is a… creature. One with whom I have a storied past with. I want him dispatched and disposed of.” Raphael said, simply.

“Well, that’s… fairer than I thought.” Astarion said, a bit of hope in his words.

“You wound me, spawn. I am always fair.” Raphael said, feigning offense.

“What kind of creature? Speak plainly.” Zeno pushed for more details. There was no way she would walk into a fight with no clue as to what she was facing. Especially not at the behest of a devil.

Raphael paused, as if to place a dramatic effect on his already haunting narrative. 

“There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow- a creature who, like me, is very much of the infernal persuasion… Should it make its way out through the very doors you are about to brazenly swing open, you will have unleashed a pestilence upon this realm… In truth, it is carnage incarnate. So, if you meet the devil of which I speak, kill it. Consider no other course of action.”

The tension in the air was thick, and the silence was palpable.

“Sounds like an acquaintance I’d rather like to make, actually.” Zeno teased, trying to break up his tense glare.

In an instant, he lunged forward, baring his teeth.

“Listen here, little mermaid.” Raphael’s eyes darkened- he leaned in close so that his face was mere centimeters from her own-

‘That damned Bergamot and Rosemary’ he thought, his senses assaulted by yet another reminder that she wasn’t the same woman he knew before- she wasn’t under his thumb like she once was.

“Do not. Underestimate. This opponent… Strike first, strike true. Defy the odds. For they are distinctly in its favor. That much I owe the bastard to concede.”

Zeno felt her face grow hot. Now thoroughly frightened, she nodded, swallowing her ego.

“I accept. I’ll see it done.” She said, unable to hide the insecurity gnawing at the back of her mind. Astarion was watching closely before- but now his face turned completely to her. He stopped himself short. He might have objected. It felt wrong asking this of her.

“No games, Raphael. If we defeat this old nemesis of yours, you will tell Astarion all of what is written. You will leave no important details out of the translation- and you’ll speak honestly about all that it says.” She said, maintaining a bit of calm in her tone. She wasn’t boldly mocking him or playing along anymore. She was very serious, almost pleading with him to hold up his end of the deal. She was certain that everyone could feel the hint of desperation behind her words, especially the devil before her.

“So it is done.” Raphael agreed, keeping his face close to her own- smiling now with a broad grin.

In an instant the grand surroundings of Raphael's abode melted away, and their bodies were engulfed in roaring flames that did not burn them. The tongues of magical fire licked towards their frightened eyes- and when they opened them once again, the party stood in the plain old inn once more.

--

Raphael stood proudly in his dining hall. He cleared his throat, content with the show he had made in front of his guests. He turned around to face the massive hearth that flickered with everlasting fire, its ornate trim glowing in its infernal light beneath the massive oil painting of the devil himself. He let his red wings spring free from behind him, his horns manifesting on his skull.

“How much luckier could I get?” he asked aloud, hearing small footsteps from behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Korilla, his stealthy spy stood in the entryway. Her hands clasped nervously in front of her as they so often were.

“A contract on his skin, to of all people- my own father. He will be destroyed in Cazador’s ascension… and removed from the narrative altogether.”

He spoke directly to Korilla,

“You’ll keep an eye on that damned spawn and my little mermaid, won’t you?”

Without a word, the dwarven woman disappeared into a cloud of black sulfurous smoke.

[pascallllllll1]

“I Thought I Lost You”

König x f!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: smut, typical cod violence, feel free to let me know anything else I might of missed!

The blades are still whipping around hazardously, landing gears nowhere near touching the tarmac when König’s large frame jumps from the helicopter landing straight into a sprint once his boots make contact with base grounds. He sees you sprinting towards him and slows himself down to a steadier pace to catch you, wrapping you up against his broad torso. The overwhelming scent of blood and detritus fills your senses. For a brief moment König wishes he could squish you inside him, carry you with him always before silently chastising himself for such a ridiculous thought.

Much quicker than he’d prefer your bodies are separating, before König has time to dwell you’ve already reached for his hand fingers intertwining as if it was a simple action that’d been practised on many occasions previously. (It had not.) You proceed to zone out your fellow combatants as you lead the confused but obedient Austrian towards his private barracks.

For the first time ever, the possibility of losing König and him not being some invincible beast of a war machine, immune to a death sentence similar to the many ones he served others, became painfully real. In reality he’s just a man. Men and women die everyday in your line of work and there’s no way around it, but for some naive or optimistic reason you’d excluded König from the group of people you had come to terms with having to mourn someday.

The mission hadn’t been one of huge concern regarding Königs safety, yes there’s always the possibility something unplanned could go down, but nothing raised any alarms for you three days prior while listening to the confident Captain Price brief Kortac and 141. The task at hand was simple. Infiltrate a decently guarded building to retrieve vital documents for Laswell, then get out. After securing what you’d come for, König and Bravo team were cleared to move out of the old office building and regroup with the rest of the team including yourself at the evac site ten clicks out. You’d been hidden amongst thick shrubbery at a high vantage point watching the mission unfold down the sight of your scope, ghost silent and stiff by your side when the command was given over the comms. Before anyone had the chance to reply to the Captain a previously undetected bomb planted on the main floor on the building goes off, causing the structure to break apart and crumble down at the loss of its foundation. Smoke and dust rise from the rubble. A god awful ringing sound brings you back down to earth.

“König… no.. nonononononono.” Slinging your sniper rifle over your back you tried to run to him before a strong grip on your shoulders pulled you back in place with a gruff, I’m sorry kid. Ghost radio’s Price to inform him of eight armoured vehicles rapidly approaching the site. With over half the team buried beneath debris, Price makes the difficult call to continue on to the evac site. Once all remaining soldiers are clear from the area and safe they’ll be able to regroup and call in medevac. You knew leaving König behind was wrong, that you were betraying him, it broke your heart.

Hours after returning to base you’re sat outside hunched over on a crate with a smoke in hand when the medevac team notifies they’re on route to base with surviving soldiers, seven casualties reported as well. You look up at the clouds above, shielding your eyes from the bright sun with your unoccupied hand waiting for a glimpse of König coming back to you— if he was coming back to you.

•••

As you lead your best friend through the many twists and turns that are military base hallways you can’t help but think about what you’d be doing at this moment if he hadn’t come home to you. If you never got the chance to tell him how much you love and cherish him with every fibre of your being. If you never got to experience sharing a life with König, maybe even a family down the line, who knows? One thing’s for certain, you need him by your side.

The door to König’s room swings open before you slam it back shut after pulling said person past the threshold and flipping the heavy lock in place. You spin around to face König, hands patting him down checking for injuries, they move to cup his masked face and your eyes mirror his own glossy ones. He reaches up and begins removing his helmet and diy sniper hood. You like to joke that he’s cosplaying real snipers such as yourself to tease him— but if anyone else ever attempted to make fun of him for it, there’d be hell to pay. There’s been rare occasions when König removed his hood for you in the past, of course you’d seen his face before but every time felt so short and far between each other it’s hard to remember all the beautiful little details. Hood now gone, you wish you had more time to appreciate it before your hands resume their lingering paths over his body. König leans into your touch, head tilted down at you.

“Please,” you plead, big doe eyes begging him for it. Your hands grip the top straps of his tac vest tugging him closer.

“I need you. König i-I thought that was it, I thought.. I lost you. I need you… show me you’re still here with me.”

König gulps. The internal battle within his head is rapidly nearing its conclusion between desperately fighting to keep you in his life, and if that despite what König wishes for is best achieved by remaining friends then so be it, or saying fuck it and seize the chance to possibly turn the friendship you both share into the loving relationship he’s daydreamed about non stop since meeting you at risk of losing it. His mind is made up the moment he feels your lips meet the sweet spot right under the right side of his jaw.

König instinctively shoots his hand up to the back of your neck, fingers sliding through your soft silky hair before digging in and pulling hard. König closes his eyes and leans down to drag his large defined nose across your cheek until his plump lips meet the shell of your ear,

“I’ve wanted you for so long süße Mädchen.” Causing a shiver to shoot down your spine, you lean up closer to him, his warm breath ghosting over your lips waiting impatiently for you to kiss him.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you.” You confess.

König groans softly as he braces his free arm on the door by your head, the sound makes a echoing thud, the other is still tangled within your hair. You’re surrounded by him.

“Don’t apologise to me. You kept yourself safe, that's all I ask of you—“

“I love you.” You cut him off. He holds eye contact with you until it becomes too intense and breaks it off with his lips hungrily chasing after your own. In a quick, ever efficient manner König’s hoisting you off your feet and into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist as you’re carried to his narrow bed. You can’t help but wonder how the hell this giant of a man sleeps comfortably in it, you’d bet that he doesn’t. The springs squeak from under you when you land, bouncing a little on impact. König makes himself comfortable standing at the end of the bed between your legs, tall frame towering over you as you sit up to begin unbuckling his belt. He tries speaking before he’s cut off by you freeing him from the restraint of his briefs pushing the fabric down his long legs to step out of, your hand instantly finds its way to his throbbing member, thumb circling the head of his cock smirring around the dribbles of pre cum.

“I-if it wasn’t clear…uGH-“ König gasps out trying to regain control of himself. “I love you too, liebling.”

Both your eyes meet as you change your ministries, giving him a few tight gripped strokes.

“I know.” The smile you send him has his palms sweating and heart racing.

Lust fuelled motives have König switching up the current pace of things, his growing desire for you clouding his mind from any other thoughts than his need to be inside you and feel your soft walls clenching down on him.

König, gaining more confidence in himself, climbs onto the bed trapping you under him. He hiked both your legs high up his torso, the head of his cock drags teasingly over your clit before he’s reaching down and lining himself up, pushing just the head in before pausing. You’re confused initially when he doesn’t immediately slide in, separating your gaze from his member resting at your entrance, looking up at him you see König placing a hand on either side of your head, white-knuckled grip. You have an exciting idea of what’s to come next and in preparation for it you wrap yourself around him tight and brace for impact.

The air is knocked out of your lungs in one hard thrust of his hips leaving you gasping for it to be returned. Your head is thrown back into König’s pillow surrounding you in his woodsy scent and helping distract you from your love’s massive length filling you completely down to the thick base. König gives a few shallow thrusts to help you adjust comfortably to his size before pulling back and increasing the speed the louder the sounds spilling from your parted lips become.

The sounds coming from König sound so primal. All guttural moans, raspy breaths and whimpers that have you dripping with wetness. Your juices soak his cock and run down his heavy, full balls. You dig the heels on your feet further into his back, grasping at any and all parts of him you can reach.

You’re on cloud nine. 

“Mein mädchen,” König’s thrust are becoming more desperate and sloppy. “Mien gut mädchen.. bitte. Bitte für mich!” He begs.

“Touch me, please baby I’m so close, I need you!”

Like the good little soldier he is, König follows your command and crashes his mouth against yours bringing you in for a passion filled kiss to make up for the words he lacks to explain how strongly he feels for you. He outstretches a hand down to play with your pretty little clit with vigour bringing your rapidity approaching release forth.

“Ja just like that.. Ja.Ja.Komm mit mir-“ together you fall over that waterfall of pleasure, crashing and running through you like rough waters and drowning in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Glistening in sweat and still deep in the after sex foggy haze König remains cock semi hard stuffed inside you, shifting his head down to rest against your chest to enjoy the thump of your heart beating for him. Just as his does for you.

“Ich liebe dich, so sehr.” His voice barely even whispers.

“I love you too.”

Later, quickly you decided. You’d both have plenty of time later to discuss everything. Right now you just wanted to enjoy the weighted Austrian blanket currently draped over you.

Ahhh! I haven’t posted in a while and this was kind of just something I wanted to share that I enjoyed writing. This is my first time writing for König or any COD characters, as well as only my second time writing smut, so I’m sorry in advance if something sounds wrong or off!

Also I’m still not taking requests, maybe I will again eventually just not atm! Sorry!🫶🏼

[crystalfic]

The Witch House

One morning there’s a cottage where there wasn’t one before, and you’ve heard this story before, so you’re wary. But it’s an elderly couple who live there, and they’re lovely people if a little odd sometimes, and somehow the sudden appearance of the cottage just isn’t important enough to investigate.

Years go by, and they’re part of the village. She makes the best food you’ve ever tasted, and you’re pretty sure that she bakes extra cakes for those children bold enough to steal a cooling one from the window sill. Oh, she’ll yell at them, but nothing bad ever happens. (Except when Henry fell face first into a cow pat, but you’re pretty sure that was an accident.)

He’s the one that people go to for advice; everyone, not just the adults. Children ask questions, and he takes them seriously, and his knowledge is beyond any other person you know for sheer depth and breadth. Teenagers confess their troubled hearts, and he tells them that they are not the first to feel this way and that they need to talk to whoever their feelings are about. Adults, who are not so different from children and teenagers except in scope, come quietly in the evening and leave looking less stressed. (Or, sometimes, more.)

A few years down the road, the village loses him. Your village gives him a good burial, and you all look after his widow because you know what’s owed. The house starts to need maintenance, after that, but no matter what people do to patch it up, it never quite takes. She just smiles and offers them a fresh pear from the tree in her garden. (It’s always in fruit, and people carefully do not ask.)

One day, the door falls off, and your neighbours go in to find her lying peacefully in bed. You bury her too, next to her husband, and when you return to the house you find that the walls have begun to crumble and the pear tree is dead.

It’s next spring before anyone has the heart to tear down what’s left of the old house. The people of the village will build a new one, you decide, for whatever wanderer next comes through needing a home.

When you dig down for the new foundations, you find enormous bones, bent as if some monstrous chicken died sitting. After some discussion, you bury the bones next to the old couple’s graves. It takes five strong adults to move each one, and each claw is the size of a tall man’s leg. You do not comment on this, nor on how the old pear tree has entirely dissolved away in the winter storms.

The day after the new house is finished, you wake up to find bright curtains at the windows and a round-bodied young woman living there. She has a smile like spring, and the cherry tree in her garden never runs short of fruit.

~

(This story was inspired by a sculpture made by hellenhighwater, original post is here.)

[terushimooo]

aloe vera and tsukki 😁🤭🤣⛷️🥳🥳🥳

ALOE VERA

What's something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

Tsukishima x f!Reader

t/w: implied murder of secondary character, blood, implied abduction, yandere, stalker tsukki, unedited

a/n: this is dedicated to a special bug in my life &lt;3. I hope you like it! I am very much praying it was bug™️ who sent me this ask, and if not I’m so sorry I called you a bug… fbdshbfhjbfhjdsbjh

w/c: 584

Prompts can be found HERE! Send an ask! 2 spots left!

Tsukishima is like black licorice: salty, bitter, and definitely not for everyone. 

When asked to describe their classmate; students often label him as arrogant, rude, smug… Antagonistic even. 

But the most commonly flaunted word, worn proudly by the blond himself, is the name of bully.

It took years for Tsukishima to build up his walls, to carefully lay his foundation, weatherproofing, and countless layers of brick and mortar. It’s gotten to the point where even the sun is blocked by this metaphorical wall’s looming presence. And yet, underneath that fickle facade is a man who sees himself as inferior—a being riddled with insecurity and uncertainty. 

All it would take for his walls to crumble is a gentle caress, the soothing of kind words and encouragement, the touch of fate—all he needed was someone to give him a chance… 

But just as life would so often have it, instead of a chance, Tsukishima was given a challenge.

How different his life would’ve been if he had only met you sooner. 

If only you’d remembered, if only you hadn’t abandoned your oldest, most dear childhood friend. 

Tsukki’s never asked for much. 

Not truly. 

He doesn’t have some grand bucket list. He isn’t asking a genie for unlimited wishes or billions of dollars! Instead, all Tsukishima really wants, what he wishes for the most, more than anything in the entire world, is mundanity itself. But only if that mundanity includes you.

All he wants is a quiet life, a quiet year, a quiet moment—hell!—even a quiet second, if only it be beside you, his best friend. 

His true love. 

But how could he have that when you’ve forgotten who you are to him? When you cling to the pariah he’s forced to call his coach? How can Tsukki ever forgive you when he sees you loyally and continuously packing his coach’s lunches, when he sees you acting like a falsity, like the dutiful wife you supposedly are—not the whore he now knows lives beneath your skin.

But what irks Tsukki the most is when he sees the glint of ownership, the taunting scrap of metal you like to call a wedding band sticking tightly around your finger.

As Tsukki stands under the waning moon of a cool autumn night, a dented aluminum bat hanging heavily in his hand, he can’t help but think that this is all your fault. 

You made him do this.

And yet, he doesn’t feel anger. And he certainly doesn’t feel regret. His coach, now laying cold and lifeless at his feet, he got what he deserved. There’s no contesting that. 

No, all Tsukishima feels is a sense of narcissistic sadness. 

Sadness for the man he was, for who he could have been, and for who will never come to be. 

In Tsukishima’s mind, all of this—a whole lifetime's worth of suffering—all of this was leading him to this moment, to the moment he finally gets to take you in his arms (albeit unconscious from head trauma) and back to the home he’s so carefully prepared for you.

A frown plasters his face as Tsukishima takes in your appearance, as he takes note of the deep and oozing wound on your forehead, the one he placed there only moments prior. But fear not, Tsukishima thinks to himself in an effort to ease any guilt he’s been repressing, solely from the mere thought of hurting you, his most precious darling. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a regular dab of aloe vera… 

.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Eobard Thawne risking his life to save you.

Eobard thought he knew what it was like to lose everything. All of the times that The Flash had humiliated him, made him lose faith in himself, lose faith in the only idol that he ever had, he was sure that he had felt it all. He lost his job while working diligently on creating on his own suit, he lost touch with his family because he was so busy building this persona, this superhero. He thought he knew it all, until you came into the picture.Until you became someone whom he could lose.

He had three choices ahead of him, and none of them seemed ideal. He could a) save you from the fire that he knew that you were caught in because you had called STARLabs looking for help, though this would mean potentially putting himself in the hands of Barry. b) He could stop Barry, and knew that if there were any fatalities in the building because of their fight, Barry would blame himself which would work well into his plan. Or c) he could stay here in his Harrison Wells disguise and do absolutely nothing.

“I have to use the bathroom, excuse me,” He said to Cisco, and wheeled out of the room while Cisco was on the comms to Barry, leading him to the sight of the fire. He didn’t go to the bathroom. He went to his secret room, clamored out of the chair, and pulled on the yellow suit. You were the only good part of the timeline. The glue of the team, the one who took care of everyone. You had been taking care of Harrison for a while now, never suspecting that he was anything or anyone other than who he had said that he was. You were the only person he felt guilty lying to. You were almost as important to him as his mission.

There was no other real choice but option A.

A yellow light streaked through Central City as he arrived at the fire. He couldn’t slow down, even if that meant giving himself away. You said you were on the fifth floor, having come for an appointment about something or other. Barry couldn’t show favoritism. He couldn’t just get you out. He was too good. He had to try to get everyone. But Eobard wasn’t the good guy here. He could be selfish. He could just get you.

His particular light was noticed, and Barry steered in his direction, trying to push him away, out of the building, somewhere else to fight. Or at least to distract him from the fire so he could get the citizens out and then fight. But Eobard was not to be put off. He crashed into Barry’s side, pushing him into the flames and kept going, up the stairs, his feet barely touching the ground, fifth floor - he saw the sign through the heavy smoke. And then it was his turn to be hit, to be thrown off of his guard and slammed into one of the walls which had a weak foundation, crumbling away and causing him to be thrown to the ground, nearly to the window. He got up, having to focus on moving his face to keep the blur up, then speeding past the flash to search through the rooms. It was like that game, Beyblades, with the way that they were bumping into one another, trying to throw each other off of the path. But it was, ultimately Eobard that found you first. Who scooped you while Barry was distracted by trying to get a hold of himself after a particularly nasty push, and brought you down to the ground safely.

You were in shock, to say the least. Barry, you expected. The Man in Yellow? Not so much. But he had saved you, despite his reputation for violence and hatred. “Umm - thank you,” You said. You couldn’t see his face through the blur that he was causing, not a single feature could be made out but you thought you were looking at his eyes. “Thank you,” You said, more stable this time. He didn’t say anything, didn’t dare, just made sure that you were on your feet, and then rushed off without another word, straight to STAR Labs, straight back to his Harrison clothes, to the wheelchair, and wheeled himself out.

“What did I miss?” He asked, returning to Cisco’s side, looking at the monitors.

“Man in Yellow, y/n is safe,” Cisco muttered, distracted. “I don’t see any sign of him anywhere. Looks like he left the scene Barry. I can’t find him.”

“Okay, I’ll just take care of the rest of the survivors,” Barry’s voice came through. Eobard didn’t sigh in relief, at least not audibly. On the inside though, yes. You were safe. He wasn’t caught. The risk had all been totally worth it.

[omgstarks]

In Another Universe (Sinister Strange x Reader)

Summary: You and Stephen are stuck in Sinister’s universe. He agrees to help you but at what cost?

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, creampie, unprotected sex, masturbation, jealous stephen

A/n: @sherlux’s idea. I need to write more sinister fics. I got lazy at the end sorry..

——

This New York was a ghost town. The winds blew, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your armed around yourself, trying to keep warm. You looked up around you, the sky was dark and gloomy. In the distance, you saw the city deteriorating in the horizon.

“Are you sure your variant would even be alive in this universe?” You asked Stephen who walked ahead of you.

Stephen sighed with a shrug, slowing his steps until you caught up. “We can only hope.” You walked towards the Sanctum, standing desolate in the distance. The foundation of the building looked unstable, crumbling into the sky above.

Walking closer to the building, you saw a silhouette moving from the third-floor window- someone was indeed alive here.

“Stay here.”

“What? Why?”

“We don’t know who is in there. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Stephen, I am not leaving you. I came for a reason.”

“Y/N…” He takes you by the shoulders and looks at you deeply. “I’m glad you’re helping and all, but we don’t know what we can expect here. I need you alive.”

You sighed. You really didn’t like it when Stephen went off on his own. Things always seemed to go wrong, but you trusted him. You always did. “Fine. But please be careful.”

He nodded, and you watched as he walked into the doors of the sanctum.

Time passed, and you were growing weary by the second. Something must be going on, and restlessness built within you. You couldn’t just stand here alone, waiting for him to die. Next thing you knew, your intrusive thoughts led you inside the sanctum. You quietly followed the sound of muffled voices, trying to distinguish what was being said. It sounded as if Stephen was talking to himself.

The floorboard under you creaked as you took a step, making the darker version of Stephen look up from your Stephen.

“Oh, hello there….” He smiled with a sinister grin. He looked exactly like your Stephen but darker. His robes were much darker than Stephen’s. You could feel the dark, unsettling aura emanating from him.

“I told you to wait outside.” Stephen scolded.

“Yeah, well, you were taking too long.” You stepped into the room, keeping a careful distance from this strange variant.

“Ahh, Y/N. Stubborn as always.” The sinister version of him smiled.

“How do you know my name?”

“How could I ever forget it? You meant a lot to me, but I sense that is something that my variant and I don't share.”

“Stephen is my friend.”

“Yeah, well, you never wanted just that, did you?” Turning your head slightly away from Stephen's eyes, you swallowed, unwilling to deny or admit to it.

“We were never ‘just friends’, Y/N.” He spoke. “This universe crumbles because I could not accept a world without you, I loved you.” You inhaled sharply, your hands fidgeting at your sides.

You always wanted to hear those words out of Stephen’s mouth, and even though this wasn’t your Stephen, the sound of his voice saying those words fill you with a sense of relief that your love for him was reciprocated.

“Y/N.” Your Stephen called. “You need to go back outside. Now.”

“Don’t tell her what to do, Stephen.” His sinister version told him. “She should know the deal we talked about.”

“No-” Stephen shook his head.

“What deal?” You looked at Sinister, then turned to your Stephen. “What’s he talking about?”

Sinister stepped closer, “Well, I was telling Stephen here that I’ll be willing to help bring you back to your universe.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I did not accept this deal-“ Stephen interrupted before sinister could respond. Whatever it was clearly made him angry. You turned to sinister, who was smiling, clearly enjoying Stephen's frustration.

“Tell me .”

“No-” Stephen went to grab your arm, but he was too late. Sinister had grabbed you first. While he shared a similar face with your Stephen, certain of his features were very different. His hair was longer, with strands falling over his temples. His beard had become overgrown and scruffy. Although he shared the same cold bluish-grey eyes with Stephen, the only difference was their emotion. With your Stephen, they were filled with stubbornness, concern, and compassion, but Sinister’s were filled with manipulation, obsession, and desire.

He leaned closer, whispering against your ear. “You let me make love to you.” his hot breath caressed the skin of your neck and ear. You pulled away from him, but he only smiled with a hungry, devious expression.

“Don’t deny it, Y/N. I see how you look at him. You’ve thought about it.” Your face grew red with warmth, and you avoided your Stephen’s eyes that were boring into you. You always maintained a professional relationship with your Stephen, but soon your feelings for him started to blossom. He was never over Christine. It broke your heart knowing that nothing would ever happen between the two of you. But listening to Sinister and his relationship with this universe’s you, sparked hope, and you felt a weird sense of temptation from his offer.

“You let me have you, and I’ll let you two be on your way back to your universe. Or I’ll kill Stephen, and you’ll stay here with me.”

“I will not offer up Y/N as a pawn for your own selfish desires- she-” You turned around, stepping towards him.

“Stephen…” you sighed, and he immediately realized you were actually considering this offer. You were reluctant to agree to his terms, although a part of you felt a hint of arousal that Stephen, variant or not, wanted to bed you.

“Y/N…” He warned. “You’re seriously not considering this.” Disbelief washed over his face.

“Yeah, well, what other choice do we have?” He shook his head, glaring at his variant. “I’m going to kill him.” He tried to storm past you, but you grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Stephen, whatever will get us back, we have to do.” He closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t you understand what he’s proposing? He means to use your body-”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a choice, do I? He gets me at the end.” You stressed, but Stephen remained hesitant.

“Let me save you, Stephen….”

“You remind me of her… willing to do the most for us.” Sinister interrupted. “I may have to steal her from you if you don’t want her.” Before Stephen could react, you squeezed his arm, reminding him to stay calm.

He sighed, you could tell he was frustrated he had no options, no alternatives. “Fine-”.

Stephen turned to walk away but was halted. “I didn’t tell you to leave…” Sinister called. “You’re going to sit there,” he pointed to the chair. “And watch.”

“We did not agree to this.”

“I must’ve forgotten to mention the fine text of the agreement. My mistake.” Before long, Stephen stormed towards his variant, lunging at him.

“Stephen!”

You stood between them, facing your Stephen to calm him down. “No- I’m not doing this. I am not watching you fuck that man!” He pointed to Sinister, who was softly chuckling behind you.

“Why? Jealous?”He continued to tease, enjoying seeing how he was able to torment his variant.

“Of course not. It’s, it's sick-”

“I'm not letting him kill you, Stephen.” He shook his head, feeling defeated.

“I- we’re doing this to go home. Focus on that.”

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed and angry. But you did have a point. As heinous as it was, there was no other way.

“Just get it over with.” He scoffed. He took a seat, crossing his arms, looking over at you and his variant with an aggravated expression. A part of you felt ashamed doing this, especially in front of Stephen. It worried you it made you seem like a whore. Would this push him away from you even further?

Sinister came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders before placing a kiss on your skin. It sent chills down your spine, you held in your sigh, feeling shy about Stephen seeing you in this intimate state. His hands started to move down your sides, resting on your waist, just above the hem of your pants.

“I also forgot one other thing….” He whispered against your ear. He grabbed your chin, tilting it down, so you were facing forward. “I want you to look into your Stephen’s eyes while I fuck you. If you lose eye contact, then the deal’s off. Do you understand?”

You nodded. “Use your words, Y/N.” He nibbled at your ear lobe, and you moaned softly. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl.” He kissed your cheek. “Now. I want you to strip for me, show Stephen what he’s been missing.”

You swallowed, staring at Stephen as you slowly removed your clothing one by one. Your top and pants pooled around your feet. He shifted in his seat, trying to avoid your eyes but also not wanting to stare at your most intimate areas. To you, it looked like he was uncomfortable. I mean, you were too. But a part of you was aroused to be standing naked in front of Stephen.

His variant walked around you, his eyes drifting down, admiring every inch of skin on your body.

“Sweetheart- fuck, look at you. Is this all for me?” He walked up from behind you and pulled you close until your back was flushed with his body. You could feel his growing bulge on your lower back. He reached down and slid his fingers against your pussy, slowly rubbing the pads of his fingers between your lips, making you grow wetter. Your rocked your head back and sighed softly.

“He is missing out, is he?”

“Yes..” you breathed. You tilted your head up, keeping your eyes in contact with Stephen’s. You noticed he was starting to grip the chair’s hand rests while his eyes started to darken with an expression you hadn’t seen on him before.

Sinister continued to rub his fingers against your pussy lips, starting to thrust them inside you, causing you to moan louder.

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s only us in this universe, you can be as loud as you want.” He smirks. With his other hand, he pulled down his pants, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it against your ass. The heat of his member made you drip with arousal even more.

He pushed his cock into you with no hesitation. Your eyes widened as you gasped at the sudden contact. It was painful at first, his cock was just so big, but he stretched you out so good. A part of you wondered if Stephen’s cock felt as good as this.

Stephen’s stoic demeanor slowly turned into silent jealousy, watching you being fucked by his variant's cock and hearing the moans he was causing you.

He took note of how your skin looked- smooth and wet, glistening with your sweat. He watched your breasts, moving with every movement, your hair, and the delicate line of your collarbone. He was enthralled by you. For the first time ever, he saw you for who you were. Who you wanted him to see. His cock twitched, and his cock grew, straining under his robes.

“Look, kitten. Look what you did to Stephen. See how frustrated he is? Tell him to touch himself.” Sinister whispers into your ear. Stephen looked at you, his legs started to widen, his hips twitching. You could see the obvious bulge between his legs. Was he getting off to this?

“Go on.”

“Stephen… please.” You whimpered. You stared at him through hooded eyes until his eyes softened. “Touch yourself for me...”

He mouthed an ‘okay,’ and you watched as he started to undo his pants, pulling out his semi-hard cock. His member was dark pink, thick with veins along its length. He moved his hand up and down, and you could see his tip already dripping with his arousal. It was even better than you imagined in bed every night.

Your mind started to spiral with fantasies of him. You wished it were him you had inside you. You wanted him inside your mouth while Sinister fucked you. You wanted him to spill every single drop of cum he could offer you.

You moaned his name with Sinister’s every thrust, looking down at Stephen’s cock, as he fucked his hand at a growing tempo.

“Fuck it- look at me.” Sinister turned you around roughly, taking your head in his hands and forcing you to look at him. He pushed you until your back hit the edge of the piano. He lifted your leg and hooked it around his hip before fucking you against it. He pounded into you so hard it made the keys sound with every thrust. You cried out into his mouth, feeling pressure build rapidly in your stomach.

Watching from the side, Stephen stroked himself. He wanted to take you away from his variant and fuck you himself. His breathing grew heavy as he urged himself not to cum until you did.

“Oh, kitten, I’m so close.” He breathed, grunting with every thrust. “Tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close, Stephen.” You moaned. Sinister growled, lifting you up and sitting you on top of the piano. He stood between your legs and pushed himself back into you.

“You’re going to look right at me while I fuck you, kitten. Understand?”

You nodded eagerly, just wanting him to move. He continued his pace, staring right into your eyes as he fucked you full.

“Tell me where you want my cum.”

“I-inside...Inside me, please.” You pleaded.

Sinister’s thrusts grew sloppy, but he maintained his speed like he was desperate to cum inside you. With each thrust, he hit that sweet spot inside you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

He gripped your waist with one hand, rubbing your clit with the other. The pressure in your stomach continued to build until it all came crashing down. You cried out in ecstasy as you wrapped your legs around him tight, grinding your hips against his cock to ride out each wave. The throbbing of your pussy was enough to make Sinister cum after you.

“Fuck-“ he grunted. His cock twitched, spurting his seed deep within the walls of your pussy. His thrusts slowed but continued to fill you up as if he was emptying years' worth of cum inside of you. He stilled after a few moments, breathing heavily against your lips.

Stephen watched you closely. Your hooded eyes, the rise and fall of your chest as you neared and reached your climax. The room sounded with your moans, and it was what sent him over the edge. He followed shortly with a choked grunt, thrusting into his hand until his cum ran down it. Sinister pulled out of you, and you glanced at Stephen, seeing the white liquid coat his right hand and base. Oh how you wanted to get on your knees between his legs and clean him up with your tongue.

Sinister, pulled you towards him, placing kisses along your shoulder and whispered “You fuck better than her.” The hairs on your skin stood, and your face grew warm with blush.

Stephen stood up, magicked away his mess. “Now, your end of the deal.” He extended his hand towards you to pull you away from Sinister, but before you could grab it, Sinister blocked the way.

“Actually, after that, how can I ever give her up?” He looked at you, the same lust in his eyes. He grabbed you, his grip on your arm tight.

“New deal. I’ll send you back to your universe, if Y/N agrees to stay with me” You looked at him, then to Stephen who was shaking his head. Before he could get any closer, Sinister bounded him with magic, stopping him.

“What do you say Y/N? You’ll be appreciated and loved here. I’ll give you everything he can’t.” He took your hand and held it softly this time. His eyes genuine with hope. You nodded slowly and he grinned, but his satisfaction would be cut short by you pulling your hand away from him.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly conjured up a spell, sending him flying out the window to his death. Stephen watched in shock, turning to you, speechless at what just happened. You walked towards Stephen, removing the binds he had.

“You couldn’t do that earlier?” He groaned in annoyance. You rolled your eyes but smirked, walking out of the sanctum with him.

You grabbed the dark hold from Sinister’s body, handing it over to Stephen. Before he could cast the spell, he turned to you. “Would you have done it?”

“Done what?”

“Stayed here?” you contemplated for a moment, but shook your head.

“No, I like our universe too much….and there is one thing I still need to do.” You grabbed his hand, pulling into a kiss. He froze for a moment before moving his lips with yours. Pulling away breathless and cheeks a flustered red. He looked down, feeling his cock twitch under his robes once again.

“I- we will continue this later.” He gave you a quick kiss and you smiled, feeling a sense of excitement for what was to come.

[lazuli-writes]

Sighs

summary: San scolds his duckie

pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Choi San

genre: smut / porn with barely any plot

estimated word count: 1000 words

a/n: Merry Christmas and happy holidays 🩵 This was inspired by their majesty themself, @atiny-piratequeen mahalo nui loa for both the inspiration and positive energy sharing you’ve given me to be able to complete this—I can’t believe this wip was born in late October… and I actually completed it, thank you so much motha!! Remember folks, copying other people’s works is plagiarism and that’s illegal. Don’t be that kind of person. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it :)

©little-lazuli. Do not copy, repost, or translate without permission

Donghyuck’s grip tightened as time seemed to halt. The sensations that danced in and around him, swallowed Donghyuck whole. Consuming him and leaving him nearly pliant, with all his strength being used to ground himself in his embrace of San.

“P-plea-”

“Quiet.”

One command. One simple command was all it took for Donghyuck to mentally retract. His mind rushing to fill his train of thoughts, left empty by his gradual impaling upon San’s cock.

The elder lathered his neck with love bites. Lips, tongue and teeth all gradually traveling across Donghyuck’s neck and collarbones like a calligraphy pen, imprinting its identity upon its canvas.

“I told you to trust me”

Donghyuck whimpered, the spearing upon his core barely starting and already he was breaking at the seems. His limbs that trapped and locked itself around San’s neck and waist shivered under the desired invasion.

“I told you to be quiet… why couldn’t you?”

“I-I-“

“Quiet!”

Donghyuck screamed as a spongy head first kissed the realm of his prostate, before suddenly weighing down upon it viciously. San, leeching harder upon the younger’s neck, paid no mind to the pleasurable wails coming from the one sitting upon him.

Spots and darkness started to flood Donghyuck’s vision as he still awaited for San to fully sheath himself. This was the deed that almost always took the longest. San was nothing short of impressive in all that he did and all that he was.

And it left little for Donghyuck to wonder on why the simple act of inserting himself into the younger was always a prolonged activity.

“One thing I asked of you tonight. One thing. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Donghyuck was trapped between heaven and hell. The immeasurable divinity he felt under San’s every kiss, bite, touch and caress clashed with the sharpness of his lover’s words. He should have been able to do it. He should have kept his bratty mouth shut. He should have kept those mean and jealous words from spilling.

And yet he didn’t.

And now he would pay back what was due.

“I’m s-sorry… I’m so sorry h-hyung.”

Donghyuck’s struggled to voice his thoughts through the hiccups that infected his vocal cords, a side effect of the ever growing tension building within his core. Growing like a wildfire. A volcano simmering and stewing in its heat. Pressure building from within, awaiting for the prime moment to rupture and explode.

The sudden press of San’s hips against his shivering rear left Donghyuck’s sanity nearly depleted, with San as the only foundation left for him to mentally stand upon.

“You know… that was very bratty of you. To run your mouth to your dongsaengs like that.”

Each word from the elder became pronounced with a thrust of his hips into Donghyuck. The younger could barely maintain what little sanity he had left with every new bruising kiss to his core. Only tears could spill down his naked form as Donghyuck hid his face in shame and pleasure within the crook of San’s neck.

San eased his grip on his mate’s waist as his thrusts slowed to a halt, the elder’s nerves finally thawing with every sob Donghyuck struggled to hide. The elder’s once vexed demeanor crumbling under the weight of Donghyuck’s tears.

“Duckie… why didn’t you listen to me? I told you to trust me. To let me handle them. Why could you not do that… just this once?”

Pulling back to gather a look upon the other half of his soul, San would thank their current bodily position—with his cock cradled by the gods gift to him—for it was the only reason his heart didn’t shatter at the sight before him. Of his Donghyuck falling into the depths of his emotions, tears staining his cheeks and soft hiccups choking his baby.

“B-because….”

Donghyuck paused, taking a second to gather the last of his thoughts as a finger that wasn’t his own wiped away his tears. The younger’s grip on the elder didn’t falter in its desperation in being close to his mate, tightening as Donghyuck accepted the weight of San’s forehead upon his own. The two sharing a breath, with only each other in their entirety.

“Because you’re mine.”

Donghyuck barely spoke those words aloud when the sudden crush of San’s lips met his own. A warmth consumed Donghyuck further and further as he suddenly found himself enclosed between the sheets beneath him and San blanketing him completely.

And with barely a moment to catch his breath, Donghyuck felt San’s apology and adoration.

He felt San’s apology with the fingers that danced upon his skin. Traversing from its place upon his hips until it secured itself upon Donghyuck’s neck and jaw.

He felt San’s adoration when the elder’s other hand grasped Donghyuck’s cute cock. Fondling the adorable appendage, circling its head and stroking it to a desperate completion.

Donghyuck could only hold on tighter to his hyung before his lungs let loose a torrent of pleasured sighs. With his mind slowly ascending too high in the clouds and his release painting much of San’s navel white.

“My duckie.”

San almost chuckled at the way his words went unheard, as the now relaxing form of his boyfriend began to slip from its embrace to the elder. San was quick in maneuvering his love to lay limply upon their bed as he hovered over Donghyuck, like a beast delighting in its prey before completely devouring him.

“I-I… I sorry hyu-“

Donghyuck’s slurred words were cut off with another soulful kiss from San. The elder’s lips and tongue controlling the younger completely. Forever breathtaking, all consuming and irrevocably powerful in leaving San’s soul imprinted upon Donghyuck’s very own.

“I forgive you my duckie.”

And with those last few words, Donghyuck granted his beloved hyung a soft smile of acceptance before using the last of his strength to interlock his fingers with San’s as he awaited for more.

A sigh was all Donghyuck could grant San as the elder soon closed the space between the two.