#i seem to be a walking armrest for tall people

[ay4tou]

miniskirt | gun park x reader 🔞 MDNI

summary: you wear a miniskirt to work one day. all eyes are on you, but... why does it seem like gun's thе only one who doesn't notice?

author's note: 3.3k wc, not proofread (im too lazy) 🙏 anyway miniskirt by aoa is kinda trending on tiktok and i have never felt the urge to write gun with this song so bad 😫 | masterlist

contains: smut, afab!reader, blowjob, oral (f and m receiving and giving), cunnilingus, degradation, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, creampie

You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to wear the miniskirt today. You hadn’t initially planned for this to be the day you’d do it.

Maybe it was a burst of impulsive confidence or maybe it was just your growing frustration with Gun's complete lack of acknowledgment of you.

Gun wasn’t like the others in HNH. His tall figure, sharp jawline and slicked-back black hair, the faint scar tracing between his eyes only added to his allure. And his smug smirk was to die for.

You knew what he was.

He was your exact type.

Then you found out he just works as a bodyguard. You were devastated because you were hoping he would be your boss. But right after heaven gives you a miracle because you found out he's your coworker for reasons unknown.

But why was he working in an office? Wasn't his job as a personal bodyguard not making enough money for him already? You never asked, but you never complained either so it's a win in your book.

So every damn day, he drove you insane.

He was the reason you now found yourself walking into the office wearing a skirt that was shorter than anything you’d usually consider professional.

When you walked into the office, you felt the shift immediately.

People whispered, exchanged glances, and a few bold ones even gave approving nods. For once, you were the center of attention. Heck, even Goo commented on your appearance!

Except for the one person who mattered.

Gun didn’t even look up from his desk. He remained glued to his screen, typing on his keyboard. You walked past his office deliberately, letting your heels echo a little louder than usual.

Nothing.

Frowning, you dropped a file on his desk with a bit more force than necessary. “Here’s the report you asked for, Mr. Park.” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Thanks.” he replied without looking at you, his tone as casual as ever.

You stared at him for a moment, willing him to glance up. He didn’t.

You left his office fuming, and spent the rest of the day stewing in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

Was he really that oblivious? Or worse... was he purposefully ignoring you?

But you didn't give up because you actually caught a few subtle shifts from him — his jaw tightening when you leaned over another coworker’s desk, the fleeting flicker of his gaze in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking.

But he gave you nothing else.

By the end of the day, you were ready to throw in the towel. As you packed up your things, you told yourself this was the last time you’d try. Clearly, Gun was either oblivious or uninterested, and you weren’t about to humiliate yourself further.

Then, just as you were about to leave, your screen pinged with a message.

Gun Park: My office. Now.

Your stomach flipped. His messages were always cold, but something about this one felt different. You stood, smoothing your skirt and trying not to overthink as you made your way to his office.

When you stepped inside, Gun was leaning back in his chair, his arms resting on the armrests, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Close the door."

You did as he asked, the quiet click of the lock unnervingly loud.

“Lock it.” he added, his tone so demanding it sent a shiver down your spine.

When you turned back, his gaze was on you for the first time all day.

“You’ve been trying to get my attention all day.” he said, his voice smooth and steady, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Why?”

Before you could respond, he stood, his towering frame making the office feel smaller. He closed the distance between you, his hand grazing your waist as he backed you against the door.

The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, almost testing, before he deepened it, his hand sliding to the back of your neck.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless.

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Let’s see what you do with it.”

You kiss him back rough and demanding while his hands grip your hips tightly. He pulls you closer, pressing his hard bulge against you as he messily bites your lip.

He brings you to his table and stands in front of you. "Turn around."

You turn away from him, facing the desk.

Gun looks at your back and then slowly lets his gaze travel down, taking in the length of your legs and the way the skirt hugs your curves. He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt.

"Fuck..." he mutters under his breath.

"What are you doing?" you asked, flustered.

He doesn't respond, too focused on his sudden urge to touch you. Gun's fingers slowly lift the hem of your skirt, exposing a pair of black thigh-high stockings and a hidden garter belt. "Shit." He whispers, his breath hitching in his throat. "What are you wearing?"

"I thought it would be a good idea."

"Wearing this underneath since this morning..." His voice trails off as he imagines every moment you've been bending over, walking across the office. "Christ. Were you trying this hard to impress me?"

Gun's breath catches in his throat as the thought alone sends electricity through his body. He thinks to himself, "Me? Gun Park? The Gun Park? Being a pervert?"

Whatever.

"You know what?" He pauses, his professional demeanor cracking as desire takes over. "Bend over the desk."

His eyes lock onto the lace panties that are now stretched across your backside. He steps closer, his knees hitting the back of your thighs and spreading them wider. "Lift your skirt."

As you lift your skirt higher, revealing more of your thighs, he can't hold back a low groan. He runs his hands up your thighs possessively.

"C'mon, spread your legs wider."

His hands grip your thighs as you spread your legs wider, giving him an even better view of the lace that's now stretched obscenely across your backside. Gun can feel his pants tightening.

Without another word, he reaches between your legs and grasps the fabric of your panties, tearing them clean off your body, and discards the ruined lace to the side.

"Shit... I'm so hard..." Gun mutters, his gaze fixated on your bare, pink flesh.

His hands dig into your thighs as he holds you down while kneeling, his mouth and tongue working furiously between your thighs.

He can feel you trying to squirm and close your legs, but he keeps them spread wide open, his face buried between them as he devours you like a starving man.

Gun hooks his arms under your thighs and wraps them around his shoulders, pulling your legs up higher and opening you up even more. He plunges his tongue inside you, curling it upwards to hit that spot that makes you whimper and try to pull away. "Stay."

Without breaking contact, he stands up and spins you around, bending you forward over the table.

Your bare ass is now on full display, your pussy glistening with your arousal and his saliva. He unbuckles his belt and pants quickly, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

Pulling your hips back against his stomach, he rubs his large, thick head between your wet folds before aligning himself and slamming inside you without warning, filling you up completely and stretching you wide open.

"Ngh- Ah! You could've warned me first!"

"Not when you look so pretty like this."

He leans forward, pressing his muscular chest against your body as he continues to fuck you.

One hand releases your hip to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly as he speaks in your ear. "You're so tight..."

Gun growls in your ear, hand tightening around your throat as he speeds up his thrusts. "Pathetic. Look how tiny you are."

Suddenly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. He grabs his office chair, spinning it around so the backrest is facing you. Gun sits down, and pats his lap, smirking. "Come here, and sit on my cock."

His eyes darken with desire and amusement as he watches you hesitantly move towards him. He spreads his legs wider, giving you room to sit.

As soon as you're close enough, he grabs your hips roughly and lifts you up, settling you onto his length.

"Ngh..." He groans in satisfaction as he feels your tight, warm pussy envelop his cock.

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you in place as he starts bouncing you up and down on his lap, the chair creaking under the force of his movements. "I love this position."

Gun's hands splay across your stomach, pulling you down onto him harder and faster.

He looks down between your bodies, watching as his thick, veined length disappears inside you over and over. He wraps his fingers in your hair, tugging sharply to pull your head back and arch your back, forcing you to sit up straighter on his lap.

He uses his hold on your hair to control your movements, pulling you down onto him brutally as he thrusts his hips up to meet you.

*knock *knock*

Well shit.

Freezing, his hand still grips your hair tightly, and whispers in your ear.

"Don't move. And don't say a word." His free hand moves to cover your mouth as footsteps approach the door.

"Yes?"

The knocking persists, and a muffled voice calls out, "Sir, I have those important files you requested. Can I come in and leave them on your desk?"

Gun reluctantly disentangles himself from you, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. In swift movements, he helps you off his lap and starts hastily buttoning his shirt. "Damn paperwork... Always ruining my fun."

He quickly ushers you towards the small bathroom right next to his office, his voice barely audible. "Hide in here." As you scramble inside, he straightens his rumpled shirt and strides to the door.

Opening the door, Gun greets the assistant with a strained smile, one hand subtly adjusting his slightly disheveled appearance. "You're fast, I'll give you that. Come in, lay them on the desk."

After ensuring the assistant has left, Gun lets out a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the files.

Once he's finished reviewing them, he calls out to you in a low tone. "It's clear, you can come out now."

As you emerge from the bathroom door, embarrassed, his frown lessens as he stacks the files neatly. "Work is giving me a headache today. I can't concentrate on anything with this constant stress."

He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an impending migraine.

"You know, I could really use something to relieve this stress." He says, a mischievous glint emerging in his tired eyes. "Any ideas?"

Suddenly, a light bulb turns on in your head. The cogs in your head started turning, forming an idea.

"I have a great idea."

Gun smirks widely as he sees you kneeling before him, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

A very great idea indeed.

He had never seen a woman this ambitious and hot both at the same time before all his life. He shifts slightly in his chair, already growing hard again at the sight of you.

He lifts his hips to help you remove his pants and boxers. "Well... I suppose that is one very effective stress-relief technique."

As you free his length from his pants, Gun lets out a low sigh of relief, his eyes drifting shut as you begin to stroke him. "Fuck, that feels good." He groans, his hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair.

His breathing quickens as you speed up, his other hand gripping the armrest. "Just like that..." He pushes his hips forward slightly, matching your rhythm. "You're going to make me cum..."

Gun inhales sharply as you suddenly bury your face into his cock, sending jolts of intense pleasure through his body. "Shit!" He gasps, hands gripping your hair as you begin to bob your head.

Groaning, Gun throws his head back.

His hips buck instinctively, fucking your face with increasing urgency as he races towards his impending orgasm.

With a final thrust, he comes undone, his hot, thick cum spilling onto your waiting tongue and down your throat. "Ngh..."

Gun shudders violently, his fingers tangled in your hair as he rides out his intense orgasm.

Still panting heavily, Gun scoops you up into his arms and kisses you deeply, his tongue swirling with yours as he feels the lingering warmth of his cum on your tongue. "I need you so bad." He murmurs against your lips before gently adjusting you to enter his still-hard cock.

"W-wait... I need time to prepare..."

"You're already so wet and stretched out for me."

Without missing a beat, he sheathes himself fully inside you, the sensation exquisite as your wet heat envelops him once more. "Mhmmm..." you groan. Pulling you closer, his hands grip your hips firmly.

Gun starts thrusting vigorously, his thick cock pounding into you relentlessly as if driven by renewed vigor. He grunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down onto his lap.

"I'm gonna fill you up until you can't walk straight."

He maintains his relentless pace, sweat beading on his forehead as he fucks you.

With a growl, Gun suddenly stands, taking you with him. "Hands on the desk." He commands roughly, bending you over the desk again. "I need to fuck you deeper."

He enters you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Fuck! Do you like it rough like this, baby?" He curses under his breath, slamming into you with all his strength.

His rhythm gets messy until his seed spills into you once more as he moans, hands tightening painfully on your hips. Gun pants, pulling out slightly before slamming back in, trying to go even deeper. "I can't stop..."

"Mr. Park, I think- Ngh~ I think we need to stop... I need to- Ah~ to go... home..." You attempted to form a coherent sentence as Gun rams you inside out. "Please..!"

"Just one more."

He pants heavily, slowly pulling out until just the tip remains inside before slamming back in. "I swear, this is the last time. But your pussy is too good to stop."

Quickly setting you sideways, his pace becomes frantic, hips slamming against yours as he chases his release.

Gun buries himself deep inside you, semen pumping out aggressively.

His muscles tense, and he slowly withdraws, watching in satisfaction as his cum leaks out around your entrance and onto the table.

"Look at that mess..."

Gun watches the cum drip with a look of pure satisfaction, taking in your used but satiated expression.

His hands move teasingly over your folds, mixing his cum around.

"Sir. I really need to go home now."

A bit startled by your response, Gun helps you sit up, wrapping his arms around your waist to support you as you wobble slightly due to the aftershocks and his excessive release inside you.

"Damn, you really look wrecked... Can you walk straight?"

"Uhh... yeah. I think I can."

He gently wipes down your sweaty form with a towel, making sure you're at least cleaned up enough for travel.

"Let me drive you. You're in no state to drive safely." He helps you get dressed, acting surprisingly tender for someone who just fucked you so hard.

As you stepped out of the office, your cheeks still warm and your shirt slightly rumpled, you quickly tried to fix your hair and smooth your skirt. The worst part was that you felt there was still fluid coming out of your pussy and onto the underwear Gun made you borrow.

In front of you, your boss walked ahead, looking far too composed for someone whose belt was now crooked, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves slightly rolled.

The moment some of your coworkers caught sight of you, their eyes widened, and sly grins began to spread across their faces.

You tried to keep your head down, but it was impossible to ignore.

As you both stepped outside, you dared a glance at the disheveled man, but Gun's face remained impassive, his usual unreadable calm in place. He walked ahead to his car, unlocking it with a press of a button before holding the door open for you like nothing had happened.

As he pulls up to your apartment building, he turns to you, his hand resting on the steering wheel. "Are you going to be able to stand up straight without collapsing?"

"Yeah... nope."

Gun lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head, getting out of the car and coming around to your side to help you out.

He supports your weight as you enter the building, helping you to the elevator.

"Which floor?"

"21st."

He helps you out of the elevator and supports you as you stumble down the hallway to your apartment door.

He waits for you to unlock the door before helping you inside and kicking the door shut behind you. "Okay, bed. Now."

"Can you carry me?"

Taken aback by your request, Gun half-carries, half-drags you to your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist.

As he lowers you onto the bed, he accidentally ends up on top of you, his large frame sprawled over your smaller one. "Damn it, you're too light."

Gun looks down at you, his face inches from yours. His eyes drift over your messy hair and flushed skin, a spark of something dangerous flicking in his gaze.

"Fuck, you look- nevermind. Too tired for this shit."

His large hands roam over your sides possessively as he tries to shift off of you, but his body seems to have other ideas.

"Damn it, I really need to leave."

Despite his words, Gun's body lingers atop yours, his muscular form pressing you into the mattress. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "You gonna be alright like this?"

"Mhmm, I guess so."

"Okay. I'm leaving."

"No... Stay. I still want you."

A dark smirk spreads across his face as he realizes what you've said. "What was that? I don't think I heard you clearly."

His hands slip under your shirt, slowly pushing it up. "You want me to stay or are you too tired?"

"Stay. Pretty please?"

His fingers trace the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment before he decides to ignore your silence.

"Fuck it. I'll stay." He pushes your shirt up further, revealing your stomach. "But just because I want to, not because you asked nicely."

His smirk grows wider as he helps you out of your shirt completely. "Not so chatty now, huh?"

His lips trail along your collarbone while his hands work on removing your miniskirt the second time this day. "Though I gotta admit..."

"Hey, stop. I didn't mean it like this. Just stay until the morning comes around."

He pauses, his fingers brushing against the waistband of your skirt as he looks at you, a bit disappointed.

"Oh. Alright." Gun leans down and captures your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

"Just gonna make out with you all night, then."

[castdust]

under the mistletoe.

✩ pairing : manon bannerman x annoyed!reader

✩ about : going to a party and just sitting alone was just the goal for tonight’s party, but kissing someone wasn’t really your destined plan for tonight.

✩ genre : fluff

✩ a/n : this shit be cute asf | 993 words

♫ playing : mistletoe by justin bieber

It was one of those parties that Y/N didn’t really want to go to but found herself attending anyway. The kind of party where laughter echoed through the room, and strangers brushed past each other with quick smiles. Y/N glanced around the living room, lit with warm yellow string lights and adorned with ornaments that shimmered under the soft glow. The scent of pine mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies, and the muffled sound of a cheesy Christmas playlist filled the space.

She nursed a glass of eggnog and found a corner to retreat to. Being surrounded by unfamiliar faces wasn’t her ideal way of spending Christmas, but with her family miles away, it beat sitting alone in her apartment, scrolling through social media and feeling sorry for herself.

And then, Manon happened.

“Hey! You’re the quiet one, right?”

Y/N blinked, looking up to see a girl with long haired curls bouncing as she approached. She had a bright smile that somehow made her look both approachable and intimidating. She wore a red sweater with a cartoon reindeer and had a plate of cookies in one hand.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Y/N sipped her eggnog, hoping it would signal she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

Manon didn’t get the memo. She plopped herself onto the armrest of the couch Y/N was sitting on, nibbling a sugar cookie.

“I’ve seen you at this party every year,” Manon said, leaning closer. “Why do I always see you here? You never talk to anyone, and you’re always just… there.”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/N said, her tone blunt. She immediately felt guilty, seeing Manon’s smile falter for a split second.

But then Manon’s grin returned, wider this time. “Well, then! Good thing you came! I’m Manon, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Manon repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “Cute. Anyway, since you’re here, why not make the most of it? You should mingle! Or at least try one of these cookies. They’re amazing.” She held the plate out to Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Manon didn’t seem fazed. “Suit yourself. So, what do you do, Y/N? Like, for work. Or fun. Or life.”

Y/N sighed internally.

This girl talked too much.

“I’m a graphic designer,” she said, keeping her answer short.

Manon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! Do you make logos and stuff? Or is it like posters? My cousin’s friend is a graphic designer, and she—”

Y/N tuned out after the first sentence. Manon was still talking, her words flowing like an endless stream, and Y/N found herself growing increasingly irritated. Why did people feel the need to fill every silence with chatter?

“…and that’s how I accidentally set my toaster on fire last month,” Manon finished, laughing at her own story.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Never mind,” Manon said, waving it off. “The point is, you should come out of your little corner and actually enjoy the party. Life’s too short to sulk, especially on Christmas.”

“I’m not sulking,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

“Sure you’re not,” Manon teased, nudging her playfully.

Before Y/N could respond, a new voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, look who’s finally socializing!”

Both girls turned to see Lara, the party host, walking over with a knowing smirk. Lara was tall, with sleek black hair and an effortless elegance that made her the center of attention in any room.

“Y/N, you’re talking to someone?” Lara teased. “This is a Christmas miracle!”

“Ha, ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Don’t give her too much credit,” Manon said with a grin. “I’m the one doing all the talking.”

“Of course you are,” Lara said, rolling her eyes fondly. Then she pointed upward. “By the way, you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe, right?”

Y/N froze. Her eyes darted up, and sure enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway above them.

“Oh,” Manon said, blinking. Her grin turned sly. “Well, you know the tradition.”

“Nope,” Y/N said immediately, stepping back.

“Oh, come on!” Manon said, laughing. “It’s bad luck to ignore it!”

“That’s not a real thing,” Y/N said, her cheeks burning.

“Actually, it is,” Lara chimed in, her smirk widening. “You don’t want to tempt fate, do you?”

Y/N glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

Manon stepped closer, her playful expression softening. “Relax, it’s just a kiss. We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

For some reason, that made Y/N pause. Manon was annoying, sure, but there was a kindness in her eyes now that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking anywhere but at Manon. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Manon’s smile returned, and it was somehow both mischievous and gentle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

Before Y/N could overthink it, Manon leaned in. Their lips met in a soft, fleeting kiss, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. Y/N’s heart raced, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, she felt… warm.

When they pulled apart, Manon grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Y/N’s face was on fire. “Whatever.”

Lara burst out laughing. “You two are adorable. I’m gonna leave you to it.” She winked and walked away, leaving Y/N and Manon alone.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Manon spoke again.

“So… you wanna grab some cookies and keep talking? Or was that kiss too much excitement for one night?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But no more weird stories about your toaster.”

Manon laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter. “Deal. Let’s go.”

And just like that, the night didn’t seem so bad anymore.

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Fraud

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: Amycus Carrow wants to prove that you can walk. [wordcount: 1.8k words] Tags: fem!reader, wheelchair user!reader, ableism, protective!marauders, hurt/comfort Series Masterlist

The echo of your wheels against the stone floor is a steady rhythm in your ears, emphasising the silence that fills the vast corridors. It's a quiet day at Hogwarts; the castle's usual cacophony is subdued to a hushed murmur, almost peaceful.

You're humming a little tune under your breath, the melody weaving through your thoughts like a comforting friend. The Gryffindor common room waits for you at the end of this journey, a sanctuary filled with laughter and warmth. You can already see James' eyes lighting up as he recounts his latest Quidditch manoeuvre, Sirius' infectious laugh bouncing off the ancient walls, and Remus' soft smile as he listens, content.

But before you reach the familiar portrait of the Fat Lady, you sense a change in the air, a shift that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. A presence, unseen but palpable, looms behind you, the slow, deliberate footsteps growing louder.

You stop, your heart pounding against your ribcage, and look over your shoulder.

There, standing tall and menacing, is Amycus Carrow. He's a seventh-year Slytherin, known not for academic prowess or sporting achievement, but for the cruelty that seems to radiate from him like a dark aura. His eyes are cold, devoid of empathy, and his lips curl into a sneer that sends shivers down your spine.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice slithering through the corridor like a serpent stalking its prey. "If it isn't the Gryffindor girl who plays the perfect damsel in distress."

His footsteps draw closer, deliberate and menacing, blocking your path to freedom. Your heart pounds in your chest, a rabbit caught in a snare. He shouldn't know this. Only the boys have seen you walk, and you trust them implicitly—they wouldn't betray you.

You keep your face smooth, knowing that any sign of fear will only fuel his sadistic pleasure. "Out of my way, Carrow."

He doesn't move. Instead, he steps closer, a dark cloud casting shadow over your world. His hand twitches at his side, and you notice the wand loosely held between his fingers. The air around him feels charged, like a storm ready to break. "I've been hearing rumours. Interesting ones. That our little Gryffindor here can stand up just fine. Walk, even."

You swallow hard, a knot forming in your stomach. "I don't know what you've heard, but it's none of your business."

Carrow's smirk widens, and he twirls his wand lazily between his fingers. "Oh, I think it is my business. I don't like liars or people pretending to be something they're not. So why don't we find out the truth?"

You grip the armrests of your wheelchair, feeling the tension build in your body. You've dealt with people like him before—those who don't understand or care about the complexities of disability and see it as something to challenge. But this feels different. More dangerous.

"Let's see what happens when I remove the chair from under you," Carrow proposes, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "Perhaps your legs will remember their purpose."

Suddenly, the sensation of being lifted from the ground fills your senses. It's not right. Your body is still, yet it feels as if invisible hands are tugging at your limbs, pulling you upward. Panic seizes you, and your fingers dig into the armrests, knuckles white with strain.

"Stop!" you shout, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "You have no idea what you're doing!"

"Oh, but I think I do," Carrow retorts, the corners of his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. "I'm testing the validity of your claim. We'll see if the 'crippled' Gryffindor is as helpless as she says."

The pressure increases, insistent, and you feel your body rise ever so slightly from the chair. Your legs dangle uselessly, a stark reminder of their betrayal. You will yourself to remain calm, to think, but fear is a wildfire, spreading through your veins, consuming all rational thought.

Then you hear it—a sound that pierces through your terror. Voices, familiar and strong.

"Put her down."

It's Sirius's voice, sharp as a blade, cutting through the haze of your fear. You twist your head towards the sound, and for a moment, your heart dares to hope. There, just steps away, stand James, Remus, and Sirius, their faces twisted in anger, their wands raised and ready.

Carrow seems taken aback by the sudden interruption, his grip on your arm faltering ever so slightly. But he recovers quickly, his sneer returning as he keeps his wand trained on you. He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Well, well, what have we here? The brave Gryffindors come to play? I was just seeing if your little pet here is as helpless as she seems."

James is the first to move, stepping forward. His face is a mask of fury, but his voice remains steady, laced with an authority that belies his age. "Put her down, Carrow. Now."

Sirius follows suit, wand already drawn, pointed directly at the older boy. The threat in his eyes is as palpable as the magic crackling at his fingertips. "Touch her again, and you won't be walking for a long time."

Carrow's wand wavers ever so slightly, the beginnings of uncertainty creeping into the edges of his resolve. He glances from James to Sirius, then back to you, clearly weighing the risks of pressing on.

Then Remus steps up, placing himself between you and Carrow, his usual calm demeanour hardened by the situation unfolding before them. His voice cuts through the tense silence, carrying a note of danger seldom heard from the quiet Marauder. "If you want to hurt her, you'll have to get through us first."

Carrow's eyes flicker between the three of them, his grip on his wand flexing. There's a change in him, a falter that speaks more of caution than bravado. He's outnumbered, outflanked by their united front.

Before of your floating form, they stand like sentinels, each bristling with an energy that pulsates through the room. Their faces are masks of determination, hard lines and narrowed eyes speaking volumes of their readiness to defend. The air shimmers with tension, and for a moment, it seems that Carrow might push back against the tide rising against him.

Then, abruptly, the levitation spell is released, and you're falling. A gasp escapes your lips as you land heavily back in your chair, jarring your already bruised body. Carrow's wand lowers, the sneer on his face deepening into something even more unpleasant.

"Very well," he says, his voice dripping with disdain. "Keep your secrets for now. But don't think the others won't start asking questions about what you're hiding."

James steps forward, wand raised higher, his stance unyielding. There's a new hardness in his eyes, a promise of action should Carrow overstep his bounds. "Leave, Carrow. Before I make you."

Carrow's lip curls into a sneer, but he remains silent, weighing his options. He casts one last glance at you, a look that speaks volumes of unfinished business, before turning on his heel and marching down the corridor. His footsteps echo off the stone walls, a fading reminder of the threat he poses.

As soon as Carrow is out of sight, you release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, fingers still clenching the armrests with white-knuckled force. The boys are instantly at your side—Sirius drops to his knees in front of you, hands resting lightly on your own, while James and Remus hover nearby, their concern etched into every line of their tense bodies.

"Are you all right?" Sirius's inquiry is softer now, though the anger hasn't entirely left his voice.

You give a small nod, even as your pulse continues to race. "Yes, I'm fine. He didn't... he didn't harm me."

James's fingers tighten around yours, offering silent reassurance. "We should've hexed him on the spot. The nerve of him—"

A pause hangs in the air, long and heavy, before Remus speaks again. His hand remains steady on your shoulder, but there's a flicker behind his normally calm eyes—a hint of the storm raging beneath the surface. "If he so much as looks at you wrong, we'll deal with him."

"I could have handled it," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper. You force a smile, but it wavers, unconvincing. "I just didn't want to... escalate things."

Sirius shakes his head, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to shield you from the world outside this quiet corner. "You shouldn't be dealing with this alone, Y/N," he says, voice rough with unspoken emotion. "We're here. We've got your back, always."

James leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment—a silent promise of solidarity. His breath is warm and steady against your skin, a stark contrast to the chill that has settled in your bones. "No one has the right to treat you like that," he whispers fervently, his words laced with an anger not directed at you, but fiercely protective of you. "Especially not some bloody Slytherin."

Your lip worries between your teeth, and you glance at the three men who have formed a protective barrier around you. In their eyes, you see not only concern but also a fierce determination to keep you safe. "I didn't think it would be this bad," you admit, voice barely a whisper. "I didn't tell anyone I could walk."

Remus's gaze softens even as his brow furrows deeper. "We didn't breathe a word of it either," he assures you, his tone gentle yet firm. "Carrow must have suspected or deduced it on his own. It doesn't matter now. He won't get another chance to harm you."

Sirius rises from his chair, crossing the room in long strides until he stands before you. His hand lifts, hovering for a moment before finally settling on your cheek—a touch as light as a feather yet grounding in its familiarity. "You don't owe anyone an explanation," he says, his voice a low rumble that reverberates with the promise of protection. "Especially not him."

A lump forms in your throat, but you manage to choke out a response. "I just... I didn't want anyone to think I was pretending."

James's lips press against the top of your head, his voice a low rumble that resonates with the steadiness you've come to associate with him. "No one who matters would think that. You're not pretending. You're just being you, and that's all we could ever ask for."

Sirius nods, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, a silent pledge of solidarity. Remus continues to rub soothing circles into your back, his touch a grounding presence amid the tempest of your thoughts.

They are here—standing guard, standing with you, ready to face whatever may come. With them, you know you won't have to face it alone.

[jonathan-cran3]

[[*get to this when you can :D*]]

10:15 AM, the agreed upon time, Crane sat in his office awaiting his "new patient" to arrive. His pen was clutched in his hand against the clipboard which was securely held against his forearm. Which a knock at the door, Nashton had walked in- his cane supporting his moments. Standing at what looked to be about 6 feet tall. Maddening. The man wasn't unfamiliar as they had unfortunately met before on vast occasions. With only a basic greeting, crane gestured towards the seat in front of him as Naston sat down his cane now leaning against his armrest, his expression seemed irritated as he leaned back into the chair- crossing his his legs. His brow furrowed.

"Why waste my time with this, crane? I have better things to do y'know..."

@e-ny9m4-d0t-or9

It had been a slow morning. The kind that made the ticking of the clock seem louder, and the air in the office feel heavier. Crane had spent the better part of it going over case notes, and reviewing past sessions, that would change since his new patient has arrived.

This was nothing new to him. He’d grown accustomed to stubborn patients those who resisted, who believed they didn't need. People could be incredibly stubborn, and Crane knew better than anyone how to handle it.

"You say that as if this was my idea," Crane said, his voice calm and collected, unwavering despite the tension. "I'm just doing my job." He paused, letting the words hang in the air before continuing, "i understand your frustration, Mr. Nashton, but your employer seems to disagree, which is why we’re here." He clicked his pen, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "We can start simple. I’ll begin with a few questions, just to get the ball rolling." He looked up, locking eyes with Edward his expression professional.

"you’re aware that your presence here isn’t voluntary. But even so, I’d like to hear your thoughts. What brings you to this office? What’s the issue you’re unwilling to confront?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The wine coats your empty stomach sourly. You mourn the forgotten protein bars in your glove compartment. You suppose ten minutes can’t hurt. You prefer the brief venture to the headache nipping at the base of your skull.

You take the room keys with you and slip into the hallway. Without that big lug to distract you, you can’t help but admire the decor. It isn’t entirely outdated. Your heels click along and you turn at the top of the stairs, looking down on the airy lobby.

You descend, a hand on the railing, and recall the directions issued by the front desk agent. You glance over as she smiles and flutters her fingertips at you. You spin and march past the lion statues, the savoury aroma of food drawing you in.

It isn’t what you expect. At the most, you thought it would be some steaming buffet where you could scoop up what you want and retreat to your bedroom. Instead, there’s a long table set with plates, glasses, and the full breadth of cutlery. There’s no one else there.

There’s a sign in delicate calligraphy; Take a seat. You peer around and strut along the table, claiming a tall-backed chair from the bunch. Before you, there’s a printed menu. Beside each course is listed a time. You check your golden watch; you’re early.

You instinctively reach for your phone before retracting your hand. It’s next to useless here where the reception wavers in and out. Even on the hotel’s network, you can’t get a proper signal.

“Excuse me, miss,” a dulcet drawl interrupts your inner griping, “would you like some wine?”

You look at the man, buoyant in a white jacket and gloves; like a pig in a suit. You look at the bottle in his hands. It isn’t inexpensive. And it’s red. 

“Thank you,” you tap the base of the glass by your plate. He pours and takes a step back, “I’m Gavin, if you need anything else. Dinner’s almost ready.”

You nod and stare at him until he fidgets. He walks away and you reach for the glass. You taste the nearly black wine and give it a swirl. You admire the dregs sticking to the crystal. 

“Ah,” a birdlike tweet carries across the room and you look over at the new arrival. A woman in beige and pearls. Her golden hair is silver at the roots and her lips are painted coral, “you must be the guest.”

She claims the seat next to you, of the dozens lined on either side. You sit up stiffly and put the glass down before you succumb to the urge to empty it. She’s unexpectedly elegant as she crosses one leg over the other. She signals in the air and Gavin appears to fill her glass in kind.

“Welcome to Hammer Ford,” she trills, “how are you like it, dear?”

You look her up and down. She has an aristocratic air to her. You exhale and turn your head straight.

“Passing through,” you answer.

“Yes, my son mentioned you had some car troubles,” she tuts, “not to worry, Vol is a saviour.”

You try not to cringe and plant your elbow on the armrest. Your stomach rumbles as if to drown out your doubts. You need to eat. You’ll have the appetizer and retreat.

“Frigga,” she offers her name and a lithe hand, “I believe my son, Thor, helped you with your bags.”

You face her and reticently pronounce your name, giving a quick squeeze of her hand. She seems to mean well. You can assume these backwoods people have a rather keen sense of etiquette.

“He didn’t lie, you’re very pretty. I adore that necklace,” she praises and touches your sleeve, “is this Chanel?”

“Givenchy,” you correct her.

“Oh yes, I have a few handbags,” she chimes.

You squint at her. She does share the same fair colouring with that brute but you fail to see any further similarity.

“That was your son?”

“Ah, the eldest, yes,” she grins, “my other one may be slinking around. He takes after his father.”

You nod and look at your empty plate. Your stomach gives an unattractive grumble and you rub it lightly. 

“Oh my, you must be starving, you’ve had a long day I’m sure,” she gestures again, “why wait? I’m sure the rest will be late.”

Gavin rushes out and you flinch. There’s something eerie about it all. So refined and precise. In a village like this. As if the palatial hotel was plucked out of a different time and place.

“The crab is fresh,” Frigga offers as she glances down at the menu, “our chef makes fabulous cakes.”

You nod as if you care. You will eat anything at this point. Were it an option, you’d gladly take a Big Mac to go. You’d prefer the greasy mess if it promised privacy.

“Mother,” the booming voice jars you and you bite down on your cheek.

Thor strolls in as your lips seal in a tight line. Is there anything this man does that isn’t entirely irritating? He nears the table across from you and drags out the chair, the feet scraping loudly.

“I see you’ve met our guest,” he proclaims as he drops unceremoniously into the seat, the frame creaking dangerously beneath his weight, “ma’am, I must say, this light looks well on you.”

You merely stare at him. He isn’t as charming as he thinks. You’re certain the country girls, like the one behind the desk, find him rather endearing but you can hardly bear the sight of him. 

“She is so lovely,” Frigga chirps, “and just as gorgeous as you mentioned.”

You grab the glass of wine. They are so stupid. What are they expecting, you to gobble up their redundant compliments eagerly? You put yourself together in a very particular way and you know it. You don’t need their bumpkin reassurance.

“Ma’am,” Thor tilts his head coyly, “how do you like your suite?”

“It is adequate,” you answer dully.

He laughs, thoroughly amused. 

“Where did you put her? Not in Isaz, I hope?”

“Berkano,” Thor corrects.

“Oh, yes, lovely,” Frigga says, “I’m certain you’ll love it, darling.”

You hum and empty the glass. It swishes in your stomach with the first you had up in the room. If you don’t eat soon, you might just vomit from their boorish company.

[yellowsugarwords]

Not sure if your requests are open rn but if they are could I request you to do if the Ericson kids prefer a s/o who’s either taller, shorter, or the same height as them? Thanks!!

omg omg this is so fun

Marlon: “Shorter.” Marlon said with a smirk. He liked the dynamic it gave to a relationship. Plus, he loved being able to set his chin on top of his partner’s head, if he could. He always saw couples in movies or in books do it. “I just think it would look,” he hesitated to find the right word. “Sweet.” He finally settled on.

Louis: Louis smirked hearing the question, already knowing his answer. “Shorter.” He liked the teasing power it gave him over his partner. “I’ll have a walking armrest.” He teased with a chuckle when asked. Noting the way the others were looking at him, he cowered. “Uh, the same height is great too.”

Violet: Violet would smile at the question. “Taller or the same height.” The thought of looking up into her partner’s eyes seemed sweet, as well as being the same eye-height. There’s something that Violet just found charming about tall people. She would feel so loved by their hugs and affection.

Mitch: Mitch would smile. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.” However, the thought of a shorter partner that he would kiss the forehead of gave his stomach a small burst of butterflies. But then again, he could go forehead-to-forehead with someone the same height. He thought it would be sweet. Cute, even. But he wouldn’t say that in front of anyone.

Aasim: Aasim would pause, considering the question. “It’s not a deciding factor to me, but the same height.” He smiled to himself. “Equality!” The others rolled their eyes at his corny joke, some even nudging his arms and scoffing teasingly. Truthfully, looking into his partner’s eyes was the most important thing to him.

Ruby: Ruby smiled to herself and giggled. “Taller.” Aasim shot her a glance, stunned, but said nothing more. “There’s just something cute about being able to look up at someone - literally - and feel their love for you. It feels so safe.” Unlike the others, she had definitely thought about this before.

Omar: Omar thought about it, ears growing warm as he weighed the options. “Shorter or the same height.” He finally settled on. “I just think it would be cute to have someone smaller than you to tease. Especially since you all always do it to me.” The group chuckled happily, some members cheerily embracing him in a side-hug.

Brody: Brody’s eyes widened. “People think about things like that?” Suddenly nervous, Brody shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, uh,” she gulped. “Taller. Definitely taller. Yeah.” The thought of it was already making her flustered. She didn’t realize she even had a preference until this moment.

James: James smiled hesitantly. “Anything, I guess,” he said softly. “I’ve never thought about it before.” Finally, considering it, he closed his eyes. “Taller.” He chuckled softly to himself, the thought making his chest warm and happy. “I would like that. Someone taller.”

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[shimmerbeasts]

❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ for zariel

EPIC: The Musical Sentence Starters||Accepting.

His words caught her attention. Zariel's fiery eyes drifted across the people in her throne room. Slamming her hand onto the armrest's edge, the fifteen-foot-tall solar stood up. "Everyone out", she commanded.

Her generals and her bridge officer Nariangela exchanged looks of mild curiosity and surprise before they complied with her request and exited the throne room. Staring at the double-winged door, it took only the blink of an eye for Zariel to shut the massive metal doors. Low clicking and rattling sounds filled the air as the Lord of the First locked Asmodeus and herself in her throne room.

Zariel descended down the small staircase and walked over towards Asmodeus. Her armour was almost identical to the one, her usual disguise wore, though this one had a more tattered skirt and very tense sleeves. Her flail swirled around her, shortening itself in length as to avoid its mistress tripping. The black leather and cloth were bare of red highlights, though the large, blood-red, horrifically singed wings and her draconic legs made up for this.

The archduchess stopped next to a large war table in the middle of her room. It shimmered oily and seemed to shift around in regular intervals, splots of colour dragging their way over the stone. Zariel placed snow-white fingers on the edge of her table. Her expression softened somewhat.

"What is it that ails you, old friend?"

[excessive-vampires]

Dealing With Demons Chapter 5: Hope This One's Interesting Par 1: Riley

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump

Riley had never seen Director Coleman look this angry before. She was gripping the armrests of her wheelchair so tight it looked like she was about to launch herself forward to strangle them. Her face was red, the veins in her forehead bulged, and Riley was sure that everyone on the building's main floor could hear her yelling at them.

"So why, Agent Bishop, did you not think to tell me any of this?"

"I, um—"

"Or at least warn me that you were bringing a demon in on the investigation?"

"I didn't want to give Bell time to—"

"Do you have any idea the sheer amount of paperwork I will have to do to explain how a routine interview turned into a demonic incident? Involving multiple demons?"

"I didn't think it would turn out like this!" Riley pleaded desperately.

Coleman paused and took a few deep breaths. "You... improvised. You used an unorthodox method to aid in the investigation and that's fine, usually, but for god's sake keep me informed about stuff like this!"

"Yes, Sir," Riley said, looking down.

"At least everything turned out okay."

Their head snapped up to face the director. "What? But someone lost her soul!"

"Clara Bolton made a choice. One that saved her life when I don't know what else could have. She chose her life over her soul, and we can't judge her for that or ignore that she made that choice of her own free will. So take the win, Riley."

"Yes, Sir."

"Besides, whenever demons are involved I consider it a win when all of my agents come back alive. Also, you're suspended for a month."

"That seems about right."

"Now, I can't stop you from keeping in contact with this demon, no matter how much I wish I could. But if you want to bring them in on any more missions or investigations once you get back you will inform me first. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir. But trust me, I don't think I'll be contacting them again."

"Good. Now go home, Bishop. I'll see you in four weeks."

Riley left Coleman's office. Just as they reached the elevator Sil grabbed their shoulder to stop them. It was a bit of an awkward angle because of how tall Riley was, but she managed to turn them around to face her.

"Look," Riley started. "I know I should have told you, and a part of me wanted to, but it all just seemed too crazy. I'm sorry."

"I would have done the same."

Riley's train of thought went off a cliff. "You what?"

"I would have done the same. I mean, I also would've told Coleman what I was doing, but you were trying to turn a threat into an asset. It was dangerous, and stupid to try alone, and not the job of a researcher at all, but I get it. I just thought you should know that."

"Thanks. That really means a lot."

"But seriously don't talk to that demon again, it's not worth it. When you yelled at them earlier I almost had a heart attack."

"I won't. And if they try to contact me I'll call you right away."

"Good. Sounds like a plan. Take care of yourself, Riley." Sil squeezed their shoulder and smiled.

"I will."

Riley left and started walking toward the subway station. As they walked they opened up Spotify and saw that several of their playlists had a new like. And they had a new follower. Someone with the username Aureum and a profile picture of a gold coin.

Well, whatever else the demon was, they had good taste in music. Riley checked out Avi's profile out of a stubborn curiosity in the back of their mind--a part of them couldn't help but still see Avi as a possible font of information. Avi had no playlists of their own, and only followed one other person besides Riley. Their username was CosmicCat and their profile picture was the night sky. They had over fifty playlists--more than twice what Riley had--all of them dedicated to podcasts and tv shows and books, many of which Riley didn't recognize. They had other followers, and followed other people, they seemed like an actual human being who really loved music.

Avi's words from the day they met came back to Riley. "I only really have one friend at the moment." This must be that friend. Riley was insanely curious now, this appeared to be a normal person who was friends with a demon of avarice. They wanted to know how and why.

Riley glanced up at the time and cursed. They had to hurry or they would end up walking home in the dark. They followed CosmicCat and made a mental note to check them out later.

......

When Riley was twelve they came across a word they didn't recognize in one of their grandmother's old spellbooks. She let them read the magical tomes as long as they kept their promise to not attempt to perform any kind of magic unless she was with them.

They went up to where their grandmother was making dinner and tugged on her shirt.

"What is it?"

"What's a warlock?"

Riley's grandmother froze for a moment then turned off the stove and put down her wooden spoon. "Let's sit down at the table to talk about this."

Riley was nervous. They were worried they'd somehow messed up by asking that question, and as they sat down at the kitchen table they fidgeted and fiddled with the hem of their shirt.

"You're not in trouble, sweetie, this is just a serious topic, okay?"

Riley looked up at her. "Okay."

"A warlock is a mage that doesn't get their power from runes, or from genetics."

"Where do they get it from?"

Riley's grandmother paused. "Have you read about the different planes of existence?"

"Yes." Riley nodded enthusiastically.

"And you know what the psychic plane is?"

"It's where all our feelings go when we feel them."

Riley's grandmother smiled. "That's right, sweetie. And sometimes we can feel certain emotions so strongly that it creates a living creature in the psychic plane."

"Like a person?"

"Not exactly. Depending on what feeling created it, it can be either an angel or a demon. These creatures live in the psychic plane feeding off of the impressions left by people's emotions until someone summons them to this plane. A person who wants something enough can perform a summoning ritual that will find the angel or demon that can best grant their wish and bring that spirit here. Then, the person can sell the creature their soul in exchange for what they want. That's how warlocks get their power, through deals. Usually with demons."

"What do the angels and demons do with the souls they buy?"

"When the person who makes the deal dies the angel or demon takes the soul and eats it."

Riley's face was a perfect mask of surprise. "But I thought angels were good, not evil!"

"It's not that simple, it's... hmm..." Riley's grandmother thought for a moment. Then she left the room and returned carrying a fluffy gray cat with one eye. She deposited the cat in Riley's lap and they wrapped their arms around it despite it's distressed meows.

"Is Florence evil for eating mice and bugs?"

"No!" Riley insisted and snuggled the annoyed cat tighter until it slipped out of their grasp and ran off. "That's what cats are supposed to do!"

"Well, angels and demons are supposed to eat souls, you can't call them evil for that, only very very dangerous. Probably the most dangerous creatures in existence. Because they aren't good or evil, they can't be, because they aren't human. They're predators. And they don't act like humans. Do you understand?"

Riley nodded. "Yes. Don't worry, I'll never ever ever make a deal with a demon or an angel."

Riley's grandmother smiled. "Good. Now, I had better get back to dinner. And you had better make sure Florence doesn't scratch up my books." Riley nodded and ran off back to the living room.

Sixteen years later, on the subway ride home, Riley wondered what their grandmother would think of Avi.

......

There weren't a lot of ways to find out information on someone from just a Spotify account. Riley looked up the username CosmicCat on every social media platform they could think of, and found nothing that seemed related to the demon. The only possible lead was an abandoned Twitter account full of mostly quotes and song lyrics. At least that Twitter account let Riley know that CosmicCat used she/her pronouns.

If Riley were still at work they could maybe justify using the Bureau's resources to track her down, but they weren't at work. And anyways, doing so would be messy in terms of paperwork as well as ethics.

For now, all Riley could do was think. And they certainly had more than enough time for that

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Youngkyun has no idea how he got into this party or why he was even there. When the hostess invites him to a private party, who is he to refuse? Pairing: Youngkyun (Hwiyoung) x fem!reader Tropes: spring break au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: parties, language, kissing Smut Warnings: dry humping, size kink, hair pulling, balcony sex, unprotected sex Word Count: 1,368

Chapter 5: Change of Pace ៚ WITT Masterlist ៚ Chapter 7: What are the odds?

Youngkyun snakes his way through the crowded mansion. He could not tell you how he found his way into this part of the island and into this party. He really was enjoying a leisurely week relaxing on the beach, but it’s probably about 2 am, and he’s here instead of in the beach house with the others. He doesn’t know where exactly he’s trying to go, but somewhere slightly less crowded would be lovely right now. Youngkyun pushes his dark hair back and out of his face, but it still falls back down in his eyes.

“You lost?” he hears a woman’s voice shout over the music.

He turns around and sees a rather beautiful woman, tiny but gorgeous. You’re dressed to impress but still in the appropriate attire for a house party. You offer him a sweet smile that makes him feel comfortable with you.

“Just trying to find somewhere quieter.” he yells back.

“Follow me!” you reply.

You offer your hand out to him, and he takes it. You guide him upstairs, weaving through the sea of people as best you can. Taking him up the grand staircase, you do your best to ignore the not-completely-sober people making out all over your house. You guide the tall man into your bedroom and shut the door tightly. The pulse of the music downstairs still comes through the walls, but it’s very diluted.

“Better?” you ask, leaning against your door.

“Yeah, thanks.” he responds, throwing himself back into the desk chair, “You know the host?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You just seem to know this house really well.” You chuckle, “I’d hope I know my house well.”

“Yours? Damn, nice place you have.”

“My parents just wanna keep me out of their hair, honestly. Thanks though.”

You sit on your bed, lean back on your hands, and sigh. He seems to study your body language and your relaxed energy. You’re studying him just as much. He’s trying to figure you out and if you’re down to do anything. You absolutely are. You guess you just need to show it. Standing up, you walk towards him. His eye follows you. Even when you’re standing directly in front of him, he’s looking up at you. It’s something you shouldn’t get used to with his stature, but you enjoy it while you can. You place your hands on his shoulders and climb into his lap. He keeps his hands respectfully on the armrests until you give him a clear sign that it’s okay. You lean in, leaving barely any space between your lips, allowing him to stop you if he wants. When he doesn’t, you connect your lips to his. He practically growls into the kiss and finally places his hands on your hips. You find yourself sinking into his lap more and grinding against him.

“Ya know, you’re so tiny.” he muses through the kiss, “I could probably pick you up and split you open like it’s nothing.”

“Yeah?” you sigh back, “How about you show me that then.”

He smirks at you, “Look at you, leaking all over my pants. You don’t have any upper hand here, doll.”

He takes your words as a challenge, lifts you up, and presses you against the wall beside the door to your balcony. You aren’t sure what he’s planning, but you couldn’t care less. How he’s kissing you has you on cloud nine, maybe even higher.

“How do you feel about getting fucked on that pretty balcony of yours?” he rasps.

You nod, “If you don’t, I’ll leave right now.”

“You’re a bad liar, tiny.” he chuckles, “You go on out there. I’ll be right behind you.”

You thank whatever higher power there is that you opted not to wear anything under your short dress. You lean your arms on the cool stone balustrade and have your dress hiked up over your hips. You feel his presence behind you, but he isn’t touching you yet. You can hear his footsteps approaching you, then his slightly rough hands on your ass. His other hand rests on the stone beside your arm. He leans down, so his face is next to yours.

“You look prettiest like this, tiny. Are you sure you’ll be able to handle getting fucked by me? You won’t break the moment I’m inside you?”

“I won’t break, please, get inside me already.” you whine.

“Whatever you wish.” he chuckles.

You can hear the clink of a belt being undone, and soon after, you can feel him grinding his bare cock against your pussy. You whimper at the sensation and push back against him. He chuckles and gently pushes in. You gasp at the intrusion and place your forehead against your arm.

“That’s just the tip, angel. We have quite a ways to go. You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” you gasp, “just be slow.”

He does just that. After each inch, he checks on you and reassures you that you can stop whenever if it’s too much. You tell him to keep going every time, though. Once he’s fully inside you, he places a hand on your hip and rubs small circles into it. You’re more than ready to move on, though. You thrust yourself onto him with a wanton moan. He doesn’t stop you, either. You fuck yourself on him as if your life depends on it. You know you probably sound and look desperate, but that was the least of your worries right now.

“You’re doing so well. Tight little pussy keeps sucking me in.” Youngkyun muses.

He grabs your hair and drags you up to be flush against his chest. Now he takes over and thrusts into you at a bruising pace. You absolutely love it. The slight pain of him pulling your hair, combined with how roughly he’s fucking you, makes you feel amazing. You’re hardly staying on the ground at this point. You’re on your tiptoes just to stay in the right position for him. Everything about him is so big you can’t get enough of it. The sound of his hips meeting your ass with each thrust makes the situation more arousing. The beach breeze makes goosebumps rise on your skin, but it’s more than welcomed with the heat of the moment. He tugs your hair slightly harder, and you make eye contact with him. He looks completely lost in lust, just like you.

“Where do you want me to cum, tiny?”

“Anywhere, just let me cum too.” you moan.

“Go on, make a mess on my cock.” he muses, “As much as I’d love to stuff this tiny pussy full of my cum, I doubt you want to go back to your party dripping all over the place.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you drop your head further against him and enjoy the feeling. He doesn’t take much longer to make your orgasm come crashing over you. You babble out nonsensical words and moan. Youngkyun follows not long after, pulling out and cumming across your ass. You cringe slightly at the feeling of the pearlescent liquid dripping down your thigh but not enough to feel disgusting.

Youngkyun retreats into the room momentarily and finds a random piece of fabric to clean you with. You appreciate the gesture. Not many hookups, let alone ones who are nameless to you, do this. He gently kisses your shoulder and offers to take you to your bed. Accepting his offer, you are now cuddling with this unnamed man under your blankets. Even though neither of you is wearing very comfortable clothes, the room’s energy is comfortable.

“You wanna stay the night? It gets lonely in this place all alone.” “If you wish me to, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, um-”

“Youngkyun.” he smiles, pulling you to lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Youngkyun. I just hope you know once I’m recovered from round one, we’re going at least another two times.” you smile as if you’re talking about a perfectly innocent topic.

He raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs. Yeah, he isn’t going back to the beach house tonight. He’ll deal with the interrogation tomorrow. Right now, all he can focus on is you.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted.

Networks: @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​

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[2frosty4you]

Scorched | Chapter 3

| Ao3 | Wattpad | Masterlist | Fic-Masterlist |

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Tf2 x Female Reader Words: 1248

Warnings/notes: Implied character death, and me writing accents :)

Chapter 3 | Stranger's Room

Now that (Y/n) was left alone in front of the door she took a single step forwards and turned the handle on the door, hearing the sound of the handle squeaking as it allowed her entrance into this stranger’s room. Now pushing it open with the handle she peered in, feeling for a switch on the wall and flipping it on. Blinking as the bright light filled her eyes, making her cover them for a moment as it was a large contrast between the hallway’s light and the room’s. Finally moving the hand away she could see the inside of her new room.

The walls had random pits of dark remnants of burnings and various random brush strokes of bright pink covered the walls. There was no furniture, except for a new single bed which sat in the right corner of the room, no blankets on it as it was left with its bare skeleton of wood and a basic white mattress settling on it. “What the-” (Y/n) muttered to herself, letting her feet take her into the room and turning behind her. The door was pink, the side which faced the room at least. Whoever’s room this was loved pink or seemed to.

“You seemed confused fille”

(Y/n) head slowly turned, and she knew who that voice belonged to. “You.” She muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. The tall Frenchman stood there, holding a lit cigarette in two fingers while using his other arm as an armrest. “Me?” He asked her while raising an eyebrow, and she stood there in the empty room, looking at him like he had just broken into her room while having a moment. “Who else would I be talking about? Why am I here, in this room, no less” She questioned, looking at the burn marks and pink paint. “Didn't Miss Pauling tell ‘ou?” “No? She had to do other stuff.”

“Hm,” He left off, taking out a folder and throwing it at her. (Y/n) fumbled but caught it, some photos falling out as the folder lay in her hands. She bent down to pick them up and opened the folder. ‘OFFENSIVE CLASS PYROTECHNIAN (PYRO)’ The title wrote in a large bold font, and (Y/n) looked at it and placed the photos in, getting a look at the polaroids, which had photos of a person inside a fireproof suit. She stood back up and backed onto the bed to sit and read the information in the folder. Holding it with a heavy grip, she looked through the words, skimming at most to read some words like ‘insane’, ‘mentally unfit to work’ and ‘addicted to fire starting'. Ruffing through the papers, she came to the last one, which had an incident report form.

“Ze man before ‘ou had died while respawn was turned off. 'Orrible, but it happens,” The Frenchman explained to her. Now stepping into the room, (Y/n) look at him with a confused face, holding a photo of the ‘pyro’ alongside a group of men. She could see the Frenchman there and heavy. They all looked so happy, but they couldn't tell what pyro felt behind the gas mask.

“He was a mystery, and only medic knew what was behind that mask” Spy took a drag from the cigarette between his lips, (Y/n) placed all the photos back into the folder. And then punished the dammed information sack away from her spot on the bed. “So I’m expected to take over his place? I've never really fought, I just like burning down houses, not shooting people,” She stressed, looking at the folder, and Spy stood still, staring down at her. He knew why she was here but didn't want to tell her. Why would he even bother telling her, she wouldn't understand something that complex if she couldn't shoot a gun.

She looked at him and threw the folder his way. “If you’re going to stand there, get out”, She grumbled, wanting to be alone to soak in whatever this group or company wanted from her. He caught the folder with ease and walked out. Shutting the door behind him. (Y/n) sat there, eyes focused on the door.

After some time, (Y/n) stood up from the bed, walked over to the door and took a breath in she twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. Poking her head from the room, she looked around and took one step out of the stranger’s room, her room. Closing the door, she looked up and saw the metallic emblem shining in the dim hallway, a soft glare on her eyes.

‘Okay, know what did Ms Pauling say, down to the right or left?’ She stood there looking down at each side in confusion. God, she didn't remember what the woman had told her to do. ‘Okay okay, let's see uhhh, we walked in through the right, so it must be left then’ She thought, taking off in that direction, hearing the sound of laughing and yelling down the hall. She slowed her walking and stepped slightly forwards when she saw a group of men all around a rectangular table. She looked over them. All wore red she could clearly see heavy laughing the loudest, no sign of the spy, but she could see the two other men who had taken her sitting at the table, the taller bean poll looking one sat holding a bunch of cards and grumbling to himself while scout threw all his down yelling about ‘soldier’ cheating or something.

She assumed it was the man with the helmet covering almost his entire face who stood up suddenly, making his chair fall backwards with an unsavoury screech on the metal. She stood there uncomfortably, making if she got her pocket knife shed feel safer, but even if she had her lighter, nothing about this group, aside from heavy, made her feel safe. She slowly slinked around the corner and silently walked along the wall towards another hallway. She swears the one with an eye-patch saw her. They stared at one another before she took off down the hallway. Not bolting but quicker than how she was creeping towards it. ‘So I need to get a respawn chip and ubercharge? What the hell did ms Pauling even say’ She then turned another corner, and there stood double doors, with around eight chairs around it, four resting along either wall.

She stopped at the door and looked up through the window, it was blurry, and she couldn't see anything clearly, only the figure of a person rushing around the room with a flurry of white surrounding him. She stepped back slightly, then hovered her hand over the door, curling her hand up and knocking on the door, two hits to the door. Then she heard shouting, swearing is what (Y/n) presumed was being said as the sound of heavy boots against the floor came closer to the double doors, she backed up quickly before they were thrown open. “VHAT DID I TELL YOU IDIOTZ” He shouted, looking around to see who had knocked while he was getting ready for surgery. Then he looked down, (Y/n) smiled awarkely. “Hiiiiii....”, She drawled out, giving him a small wave. He lowered his arms. “You are the new pyro, ja?” He asked, and she nodded. He straightened his back and moved to the side. “You may enter then” (Y/n) walked forwards quickly, entering the doctor's(?) room. He closed the doors behind him and clapped his hands together. “Vell let's get this started.” He said happily, with a big grin on his face.

“Take off your shirt and get on the table.”

[stargazingellie]

lazarus is risen

chapter five: the theseus problem

(masterlist) (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

hello beautiful people! here's the fifth installment :)

synopsis: After deciding to let Abby live, Ellie has returned to Jackson. But given everything she's lost, it no longer feels like home. She's sad, she's confused, and above all else, she is so, so very lonely. So when a group of strangers shows up and offers her a second chance, she might just take them up on that. Ellie must decide between staying in Jackson – and living with the ghosts of her past – or leaving in search of new meaning. Whatever she decides, her choice will have far-reaching consequences – not just for herself, or for Jackson, but for all of humanity.

Or,

Ellie saves the world, maybe?

(ellie williams x reader, post-tlou2, useless lesbians, slow burn, cross country road trip, lots of references to greek mythology, etc.)

Theseus: Legendary Greek hero known for his many deeds, including slaying the Minotaur in the Labyrinth of King Minos.

[Lucy]

As she packed their belongings next morning, Lucy noticed the large water jugs in the back of the truck bed were beginning to run low.

“Hey, is there a river or something around here? We could use a refill,” she said, motioning to the jugs.

Alvaro pulled a map out of the glove compartment and held it flat against the side of the truck. He pointed to a spot near some intersecting highways and said, “We’re right outside of Cheyenne. Looks like there’s a big lake a few miles north of the city. Some kind of nature reserve, maybe. Could be worth checking out.”

Within a few minutes, they were on their way. Lucy settled into the middle seat with her feet propped up on the armrest in front of her. To her right, Ellie let out a wide yawn.

“Hey, no yawning allowed,” Lucy teased. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” Ellie replied, trying to stifle another yawn. “Just haven’t slept outside in a while.”

“Well, we’ll have to find you some coffee or something.”

Ellie scrunched her nose in disgust. “God, no. Anything but coffee.”

Lucy laughed. “Okay, not coffee. How do you feel about tea?”

“Better than burnt bean water.”

Lucy looked at her inquisitively. “You know tea is just leaf water, right?”

Ellie shrugged and smiled, looking out the window. “I said what I said.”

A short drive later, they got their first view of the lake in question. A large building with a glass roof stood on its shore with tall trees and long vines growing out of holes in its shattered roof. On the side of the road was a weathered sign whose letters were still barely visible:

Cheyenne Botanic Gardens Visitors Entrance

“A botanical garden! Alvaro, did you pick this just for me?” Dr. Reynolds teased. Alvaro stayed silent as he drove, but in the rear view mirror Lucy could see a small smile creep onto the officer’s otherwise stern face.

When they got out, Alvaro and Jacobs immediately retrieved the large jugs from the back of the truck. As they made their way to the edge of the lake, Lucy asked, “Can we help at all?”

Keeping his back to her as he dipped the first jug beneath the water, Jacobs said flatly, “No, we’ve got it under control. We’ll get going after an iodine treatment. Just sit tight.”

Lucy shot Ellie a knowing look and rolled her eyes. “That’ll take at least half an hour. Can we walk around at least?”

“Sure, just don’t wander too far. Stay within earshot,” Jacobs replied.

Dr. Reynolds pointed to the path skirting around the lake. “It looks like there’s a nature walk along the shore. There are signs posted about local flora and fauna.” He began down the path to the right without bothering to see if anyone was following. “You know, plains wildlife is incredibly fascinating due to its…” His words became unintelligible as he walked away, leaving the two girls standing alone together.

Lucy looked at Ellie, who seemed amused by the older man’s behavior.

“He really loves his job, doesn’t he?” Ellie asked.

Lucy watched her father as he became engrossed by the leaves on a nearby tree. “Yeah, he does.” She looked around, taking in their surroundings. “There’s a sign that said ‘Labyrinth’ that way,” she said, pointing down the path behind them. “That could be interesting, right?”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah, I’m cool with whatever.”

Lucy gave the other girl’s arm a playful nudge. “Well don’t sound so excited.”

Ellie laughed. “Sorry, sorry.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “I have literally never heard something more interesting in my entire life. Is that better?”

Lucy grinned. “Much. Let’s go.”

As they walked, they came upon the large building with the glass roof. Around the back, a large door stood ajar, revealing the overgrown foliage within the building. Lucy stopped and peered at the towering plants inside. 

Coming up behind her, Ellie motioned to a sign just inside the entrance pointing towards the gift shop. “Think there’s anything good in there?”

“If you’re in the market for a souvenir t-shirt, maybe,” Lucy replied.

“You wanna check it out?” Ellie asked.

Lucy suddenly felt her pulse spike and palms start to sweat. As much as she loved the idea of getting lost among the dense greenery, the enormous plants blocked most of the sunlight coming from above, making it especially dark in the shadows.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Jacobs said not to wander,” she said uneasily.

“Okay, no worries. We can keep walking,” Ellie replied nonchalantly as she turned back towards the path.

Lucy’s eye caught on the faint scars lining Ellie’s arms from past encounters. She looked at the worn backpack slung over the other girl’s shoulders, and at the canvas shoes which seemed on the verge of falling apart. Everything about Ellie indicated that she had lived a long life outside the protective walls of a QZ – exactly the opposite of Lucy. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly insecure, and – though she couldn’t quite explain why – felt like she needed to prove herself to Ellie. Impress her, even.

“No, wait,” Lucy blurted out. “We should look around. There could be some useful stuff in there, right?” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Ellie casually reached into her belt and pulled out a pistol. “Yeah, could be. You have a gun?”

Lucy reached in her bag to retrieve her weapon. “Oh, uh, yeah.” But I’ve never needed to use it, she thought to herself. 

Ellie stepped through the door and said, “Alright, c’mon.” Lucy took a deep breath, then followed Ellie inside.

From what they could see, the main room was empty. The only noise was the sound of a light breeze rustling the impressively large leaves of the overgrown plants. As they quietly made their way through the aisles of the exhibit, Lucy became transfixed by the girl in front of her. Her strong arms, the tattoo on her wrist. The way the green light of the foliage brought out the green of her eyes. Lucy shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts.

They came to the wide entrance of an adjacent room whose contents were completely obscured by the thick offshoots of a low hanging tree. Ellie stood to the side and pulled back a branch to make a small hole. “Ladies first,” she said with a playful smile.

Lucy met her gaze and felt a sudden warmth rush to her cheeks. She returned a shy smile and ducked under the branch. When she stood up, she noticed a large fern to her left. She pointed to the plant as she turned around and whispered, “Look, you’re matching!”

Ellie made her way under the branch and rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny,” she whispered back, flashing a grin.

Suddenly, Ellie’s grin disappeared as her eyes caught on something over Lucy’s shoulder. Lucy spun back around and saw exactly what Ellie was looking at. Lucy almost let out a small cry, but before it could escape her Ellie’s strong hand clamped over her mouth. Ellie kept a strong grip on her as they watched a clicker pass just a few feet in front of them.

Lucy’s heart was beating so loud she was surprised the infected didn’t attack them right then and there. Lucy felt Ellie’s chest pressed against her back, and noticed the other girl’s heart beating just as hard. They stood there, frozen, until the clicker was far enough away and Ellie could loosen her grip.  Ellie quietly replaced her gun with a knife, and gave a stay here signal as she moved away from their hiding spot. Lucy watched Ellie silently follow the clicker,  put it in a chokehold, and sink her knife hilt-deep into its neck. She slowly lowered it to the ground as it gave a few final twitches. Once it lay still, Ellie gave the O.K.  for Lucy to follow.

Lucy made her way over to where Ellie stood, heart still pounding. “Thanks,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Don’t mention it. Look,” Ellie whispered as she pointed across the room to a doorway labeled Gift Shop. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” Lucy repeated, more to herself than to Ellie.

After carefully making their way through the overgrown aisles, Ellie slowly pried one of the Gift Shop doors open. Lucy flinched as the door gave a loud creeeeak, but nothing stirred. On the opposite wall, glass doors leading back outside allowed sunlight to spill in and cast a warm glow around the room. Ellie investigated the wall to their right as Lucy wandered to the left, letting her fingers trail over the racks of clothing. She made her way to a display near the register, which held packs of wildflower seeds organized by climate region. She found the packets labeled Southeastern United States and tucked them in her bag.

A voice came from right behind her and made her jump. “Find anything good?” it asked. Lucy spun around to find a pair of green eyes looking down at her.

She laughed at her own jumpiness and replied, “Yeah, I found some wildflower seeds. What about you?”

Ellie held up a t-shirt that read:

I SURVIVED  THE CHEYENNE LABYRINTH

“I win,” she said with a smirk.

“Woah, okay. Didn’t realize it was a competition.” Lucy took the shirt and held it up to inspect it. “Guess we really have to see this labyrinth now, huh?”

“You know, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.” Lucy frowned.“I mean, they could at least have a Minotaur statue or something.”

She and Ellie walked along the edge of a circular clearing. In front of them lay concentric rings sandwiched inside of each other, forming multiple circular paths. Knee-high strips of grass formed buffers between the cracked cement walkways.

“A Mino-what?” Ellie asked.

“You know, the half-man, half-bull who lived in an underground maze. The Athenians had to sacrifice kids to it until some guy named Theseus killed it.”

Ellie winced. “Oh, yikes.”

“Yeah. Its mom fell in love with a bull and gave birth to a monster. There was nothing else to feed it so it just ate people.” Lucy shrugged. “The Greeks were unhinged like that.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Ellie thought for a second, then said, “You think it knew what it was doing?”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s half-human, do you think it felt bad about hurting other humans? Like was it aware of what it was doing?”

Lucy pondered her question. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that. I hope not. I mean, he didn’t choose to be born like that, right? It just happened to him. It’d be kind of horrible if he was just stuck watching himself do those things without being able to control it.” She shook her head. “I can not believe you’re making me sympathize with a cow right now.”

Ellie held up a finger. “Half-cow,” she corrected.

Lucy rolled her eyes and gave Ellie a playful smack on the arm. “You know what I mean.”

As they meandered their way through the rings, Lucy stopped abruptly at one of the cracks in the pavement. Weather and time had worn away at its edges and loose pieces of cement lay scattered around the seam. She crouched down to inspect a golf-ball sized chunk in her palm.

“That’s some interesting, uh… cement,” Ellie said.

Lucy remained silent for a moment as she gazed at the object in her hand. Memories of her brother floated around her head. “Do you think people are like that?” she asked, almost inaudibly.

“Like… what?”

She tore her gaze away from her hand and peered up at Ellie. “When people get infected, you think they’re still in there?”

Ellie’s face fell as she understood what Lucy was asking. “I don’t know. Maybe for a little bit, but I hope not.”

Lucy looked back at the object in her hand. “Yeah, me too.” She placed the piece of cement in her bag as she stood up. “I hope I never have to find out.”

Ellie pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. As they walked back towards the truck, Lucy felt Ellie nudge her shoulder.

“Sooo… what’s with the cement? You building a road or something? ‘Cause you’ll need more than just that piece, you know.”

Lucy smiled to herself. “No, it’s for, uh… it’s for a collection.”

“A… cement collection?”

Lucy laughed. “No, wise guy. A rock collection. I know it wasn’t really a rock, but it’s close enough.” She paused before continuing, “My brother… he used to collect them around the QZ and from little research trips our dad took us on. Said it was a reminder of everywhere he’d been. After he died I started doing it to feel closer to him and I just… never stopped, I guess. It sounds dumb when I say it out loud, though.”

Ellie shook her head. “No, it’s not dumb. It’s… sweet.” She smiled warmly. 

Lucy felt herself blush and quickly averted her gaze. “Thanks,” she smiled.

They rejoined the rest of the group just as the water jugs were being loaded back onto the truck. Dr. Reynolds smiled at them as they approached. 

“You missed out on some very cool trees. Did you see anything interesting?”

Lucy looked at Ellie, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, You wanna tell him? 

“Uh… no, pretty uneventful,” Lucy said. “Visited the Labyrinth over there. Pretty underwhelming.”

“Ah, bummer. Did they at least have a Minotaur statue?”

“No! Can you believe that?” Lucy laughed.

Alvaro locked the gate on the back of the truck. “Alright, we’re good to go.”

They all climbed back into the cab of the truck and took their usual seats. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Lucy resumed her usual position with her feet on the middle console. And, as usual, three people squished into the back seat meant her and Ellie’s bodies were forced to touch. 

Un-usual, however – and slightly unnerving though not entirely unpleasant – were the butterflies Lucy felt in her stomach because of it.

[marshwatz]

𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 | I. ͶOITPƎƆͶI

in·cep·tion /inˈsepSH(ə)n/

noun

the establishment or starting point of an institution or activity.

Now Playing:

Inception - ATEEZ

“Guys, we should check out this warehouse I found!” Wooyoung said in-between Yunho, San, and Seonghwa walking down the street. “Warehouse?? How the fuck did you find a warehouse..?” Seonghwa asked, puzzled. “I found it while looking for a place to practice dancing.” He laughs. “Is it far from here?” Hongjoong yawned. “Not really! C’mon!!” Wooyoung pushes the three down an alleyway far from the main street. He takes them to a fenced property, with multiple warehouses, some being used, others abandoned. He lured them to a dark metal ware-house, with a fence against it, the doors shut with a big metal lock on the handles, now broken off. He pushes himself through a gap cut into the fence and pushes up against the door opening it. The doors creaked “C'mon in!” He yells as he gets inside. The other three push themselves through the same gap and doors.

Inside, spiderwebs and dust all built up take home. “Dude… isn’t this kinda illegal it seems like it’s barely been touched in here,” Yunho says while Seonghwa starts to cough due to the amount of dust. “Probably but the door and hole in the fence were already there when I found this place so we aren’t the first ones here.” He sits down on a somewhat used couch that’s been dusted off. “He’s right, there's some music sheet on the floor here..” Hongjoong mumbled kneeling looking at a crumbled now turning yellow piece music sheet for Dvořák’s Symphony No.9 “From the New World”. “It’s still kinda illegal.. but who are we to care I guess” Seonghwa laughs sitting down next to Wooyoung. “This could be our little hangout spot!” Wooyoung smiles at the three. “Hmm.. you're right” Yunho laughs sitting down on the armrest next to Seonghwa. “We could practice a little in here right now if you’re down Wooyoung..” Hongjoong mentions picking up the music sheets and putting them in a corner. “Hmm I guess so..” He says getting up. “I’ll play the music!” Seonghwa says, taking out his phone and now playing some hip-hop music. Yunho starts nodding his head slightly to the music getting up. Wooyoung smiles and starts to dance to the music. “There you go!” Seonghwa smiles, hyping Wooyoung up. Hongjoong and Yunho start dancing with him, all of them laughing.

“Wooyoung you're next!” his friend next to him smiles, laughing, pushing Wooyoung into the middle of the circle. “Wait what-” He looks over to his friend, the music playing loudly. The dance crew decided to meet up in a parking lot later in the night, Wooyoung just happened to tag along with a friend. He looks around him hearing the music slowly fade away turning into a long ringing. He feels all their eyes on him. ‘What happened to the music? Why is everyone staring at me like that?’ He felt small. He felt anxious and shaky. He looks down at his hands and sees them shaking, he looks back up and everyone just stares at him waiting, they all stop moving, looking at him with pity and concern. He feels his breathing get tighter. “Wooyoung are you okay?” His friend goes up to him. “What's wrong with him?” Another says in the crowd. He feels his anxiety take over him and runs out of the place. He ran into an empty alleyway and just let himself drop to the floor hugging his knees.

About an hour later he hears a small crowd down the alleyway and some music playing. He looks up and hears cheering. He slowly starts to head to the corner, and once reaching it he sees a small circle, maybe about 15 people, smaller than the other dance crew he was with. He sees a tall blonde boy, around his age, dancing in the middle hitting every beat, making every move clean and sharp. Wooyoung stays at a distance from the group. “Go Yunho!!” a slightly short blue-haired boy in the crowd chants. Yunho, the one dancing, smiles and pulls the guy next to the blue-haired into the middle, “You're up Seonghwa!” A silver-haired guy chuckles and continues off where Yunho left the crowd all cheering and jumping in their spots. “Hongjoong when did you get here?” Yunho whispers to the blue-haired. “A little while ago, you were so into the music you didn't notice me?” He laughs.

Wooyoung is now closer to the crowd standing next to Yunho. He looks at Seonghwa in awe. Yunho looks over at the new face and laughs. “He’s really good right?” Wooyoung out of the trance flustered at the sudden question, he nods. “I love how confident all of you guys are.” Seonghwa now back with the crowd, and another person dancing, goes up to the two.

“Who's the new guy?” “I don’t know he just got here,” Yunho laughs. “I'm Jung Wooyoung. I was on the other side of the alleyway and came over when I heard the music.” He looks and points in the direction he came from. “Well, I’m Jeong Yunho, The one who was just dancing is Park Seonghwa, and this guy next to me with the blue hair is Kim Hongjoong.” Wooyoung bows and nods at each one of them. “All of you guys are amazing dancers.” He says quickly to compliment them. “Do you dance?” Hongjoong asks. “Yes, but not in front of crowds” He nervously laughs. “Stage Fright?” Seonghwa asks, grabbing a bottle of water. “I guess so? I just found out about it.” Yunho drags the three off to a corner farther away from the music to hear them better. “What do you mean you just found out?” He asks. Wooyoung looks down, somewhat embarrassed at himself of the thought he couldn't dance the one thing he loves most in front of a small crowd. “ I went with a friend to a nearby dance crew meet and he pushed me into the circle and I just froze. It felt like I was so small and everyone around me was twenty times taller. The music also faded away. All I heard was ringing, but I knew the music was playing and I just got extremely anxious and ran out.” “Ahhhh…” Yunho says out loud. “Sounds like the classic stage fright to me,” Seonghwa says. “Have you danced in front of a group of people before?” He asks. “Not necessarily I've danced in front of some friends but never in a group that big..” “Here's my Kakao, we can help you with that” Yunho smiles passing Wooyoung his phone.

They continued to hype him up, all laughing when Hongjoong made a move wrong and fell down the two others dancing with him. Seonghwa smiles looking at them, laughing. Wooyoung grabs his hand and pulls him in with the other two all dancing together. He sees a notification from his phone, “TO DO” He lets out a small sigh before Hongjoong grabs his phone and changes the song. “Don’t think about that stuff right now and enjoy the music.” He smiles, putting Hwa’s phone in his pocket. Seonghwa chuckles and starts to feel the rhythm of dancing to the music.

“Do the Laundry. .check. Write an Essay…check. Meet Friends… check.” Seonghwa sighed, checking off only a third of his one of many to-do lists. Many repeat the same things like Do Laundry. He laid his head on the edge of the desk pulling his hair. “There’s so many..” He mumbled to himself. Around him all over the walls, To-do Lists. Not one completely checked fully. Not a single spec of the actual wall showing up anymore. Some lists were now yellow due to the lack of sunlight. On the floor even more Lists. Some important tasks like reminders to eat and work out. He looked at the next thing on the list ‘Get Groceries.’ He sighed, one out of many to come. He grabbed his belongings and went outside. He kept thinking of what was next on the list as he walked to the convenience store. Outside the convenience store, he heard music. He saw a girl dancing her heart out. Nothing bothers her at all. No To-do lists, just music. He looked at her with envy?.. jealousy? He wasn't sure what it was. He saw as she moved her legs, and arms, and spun to the music leaking from her headphones. He saw her continue to live like a free spirit due to the music. He saw her dance as she walked away. He sighs and walks up to the convenience store door, but something catches his eye. A silver bracelet. The girl must've dropped it while dancing. He picked it up and looked in the direction the girl left. He looked back at the bracelet, the engraving on it said, BE FREE. That's when it hit him. He wanted what he did not have, he needed music. The one thing he's always wanted but the to-do lists took over his life.

There he found himself going to dance crew meet-ups. Some small, some big. “Hey! What's your name?” a shorter blue-haired guy went up to him. “Seonghwa but you can call me Hwa.” He was kind of shocked that someone was talking to him. “My name is Hongjoong. I’ve seen you at so many meet-ups but I’ve never seen you dance. Are you just a viewer?” Hongjoong laughed. “No, I can dance, I’ve never really thought about going in..” He laughed nervously. “Why not do it today?” Hongjoong smiles, nudging Seonghwa to take the center. “I’ll dance with you.” He laughs bringing Seonghwa into the center. Seonghwa gets a feel for the music and starts letting loose. Letting the music take over. Not a single To-Do list in sight or his mind. He smiled dancing with Hongjoong hearing the others in the crowd hype both of them up. He felt free.

That’s it for now!! Thanks so much for reading and sorry if it’s a little short :( it’s only the first chapter but I hope you enjoyed <3

- Mars

[jooheonspinky]

Kpop Dream Log 67: with Beomgyu

August 6, 2024, Tuesday

I was at a party sitting on a couch when I look up and see a TXT member. He is tall, and thin, has on a light grey almost white muscle-t that is very loose on him and he has a pair of white-washed light blue jeans that are super baggy. They reminded me of the pants skaters wore back in the 90’s. His hair was yellow but with a tint of orange. He was on his phone, holding it with both hands as he typed. 

To my left were two young girls, maybe in their late teens. One had straight black hair while the other had long brown curly hair. They looked Hispanic. They were giggling and daring each other to go up to him.

He looks down at me and asks me something and soon we start a conversation. The black haired girl finally comes up to him talking about how she’s a huge fan and wanted a picture and autograph.

“No picture,” he tells her, but he accepts the photo cards from the girls and signs them. “I’m sorry. I’m busy,” he admits with a quick smile.

The girls scamper to the other side of the room and he returns his attention to me. I can see them out of the corner of my eye scowling at me in jealousy.

Though I don't remember much of our conversation, I vividly remember asking him, “Tae-hyun. That’s how to say it? Not Tae-hyoon, right?” He looks taken aback and instantly his mood darkens. Trying to smooth over the moment, I add, “I only ask because I always like to make sure I pronounce people's names correctly.”

He stares at me blankly and I apologize.

“It’s Taehyun,” he deadpans and then returns to his phone.

(That part made me laugh when I woke up. The reason this part is funny to me is because now that I’m awake I know it’s Beomgyu I'm talking too and not Taehyun. I don’t know if I was just curious on the proper pronunciation of one of his members' names or if I actually thought he was Taehyun in the dream.)

Anyway, he ends up crouching and leaning over the armrest of the couch I was sitting on.

“Do you want to come hang out with me at my room tonight?”

He asks it quietly and I try not to look down at his hand because the backs of his fingers were inconspicuously brushing back and forth over my own hand leaving me not having to guess as to what type of hanging out he wanted to do.

I panic and reply before I even know what I’m saying.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Ok. I get it.”

He stands up and I do the same. I go to my sister and tell her what happened and she tells me I better go back to him and say yea. I argue back that I just got divorced and it just doesn't seem right.

“So," she counters. "What better way to celebrate than with one of your Kpop people? Go back and say yes!”

“Ok," I relent. 

I breathe out nervously and head back to Beomgyu.

“Hey.” He looks down at me and waits for me to continue speaking. “If you were serious, about me coming over…then I’d actually like to accept.”

He smiles brightly and nods. “Yeah. Yes!” His hair is long and silky and when he nods the lights shine off of it at how sleek and silky it is. “Come on.”

As he hooks his elbow with mine to walk me outside, I wake up.

>—————> ✨ <—————<

Moodboard Credits

I generated the mood board using:

Typic for hello and the sparkles 

InCollage for the Moodboard shape and pictures

Except for Beomgyu’s pics.

Blonde Beomgyu @bamgyuuuu on IG

Brown Hair Beomgyu @bamgyuuuu on IG

>—————> ✨ <—————<

Dream Log Masterlist

[stanislawkowalski]

Nastka listened to Atticus’s words with a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The deadpan stare from Atticus, the measured drumming of fingertips against the cushioned armrest—it was all so perfectly calculated, so carefully designed to exude control and detachment. Delicious.

He let the silence hang between them for a moment longer, drinking in the tension that rippled through the air like a taut string, ready to snap. Then, in that same sardonic, almost languid tone, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that seemed to slip into the very shadows of the room.

"Ah, Atticus," he began, his gaze never wavering from the other man. "You speak of caution as though it’s a shield that can ward off every blow, a fortress that keeps the world at bay. And perhaps it has, for a time. Perhaps that empire you’ve built, brick by careful brick, stands tall because you’ve refused to take unnecessary risks. But tell me this—does that fortress of yours not grow cold in the dark, unlit by the fire of passion, unchallenged by the thrill of what lies beyond its walls?"

Nastka leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as if to pierce through the carefully constructed façade that Atticus presented. "You say you are not a soldier, not my soldier, and I would never mistake you for such. No, you are far more… refined, more strategic. But even the most cautious of men must feel the pull of the unknown, must wonder if there isn’t more to be gained by stepping into the darkness rather than clinging to the safety of the light."

Nastka’s voice grew softer, almost a whisper, but with a bite beneath the surface. "You may not be a soldier, Atticus, but you are no mere bystander either. You walk among the common people, yes, but do not mistake that for safety. The common path is paved with mediocrity, and mediocrity is its own kind of danger—one that creeps in slowly, unnoticed, until it’s too late to turn back."

He reclined back in his seat, mirroring Atticus’s earlier posture, though his movements were deliberate, almost predatory. "So tell me, my cautious friend, is it the consequences of the gamble that you fear? Or is it that, deep down, you know that the thrill of the unknown, the very temptation that makes the prize so enticing, is something you’ve been denying yourself for far too long? You say you have more to lose, but what is it you’ve truly gained by playing it safe? Is that empire of yours truly worth the cost of what you’ve yet to discover?"

this man seemed to be the overly poetic, philosophical type, it so seemed. with a deadpan stare, atticus reclined back in his seat, fingertips drumming along the cushioned arm.

" that talk may work for your men and those else beneath you, but as someone outside of your organization, i am less emboldened to heed you. i have built an empire with my caution and foresight--not by constantly diving headfirst into the unknown. "

it may work for those who never saw the sun, who only knew risk and danger, but for a man who walked among the common people still? who was public-facing and had more to lose if his image was smeared?

" i am not a soldier, nor your soldier. if a deal does not benefit me enough to counterbalance the potential ramifications, naturally will my interest wane. "

[platoandbooks]

20 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @aikastudies, thank you dear :)

Rules: answer the 20 questions and tag 20 people.

1. Name: Marie-Madeleine 2. Nickname: I don’t have one, except you count everyone just calling me Marie instead of my full name 3. Zodiac sign: Gemini 4. Height: 155cm or 5′1′‘ (to the delight of everyone) 5. Orientation: Straight 6. Nationality: German 7. Favourite fruit: Tough one.. Probably bananas and blackberries 8. Favourite season: Spring 9: Favourite book: I can’t pick one, so here is a small list of a few favourites of mine: Les Miserables, Metamorphosis, the ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas, the Six of Crows duology, The Hate U Give, and Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse 10. Favourite flower: White roses 11. Favourite scent: The smell of rain in the summer 12. Favourite colour: Black, white and grey, as well as red 13. Favourite animal: Tigers (also serves as my Chinese zodiac) 14. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: Tea (But only on days ending on -y) 15. Average hours of sleep: Depends on my anxiety-levels, but I would guess about 5 hours on average 16. Cats or dogs: Both? 17. Number of blankets you sleep with: 2 in winter, 1 in summer 18. Dream trip: Spending a night in the Sahara, watching the sun and moon rise and fall.. 19. Blog created: Like... Last week? 😅 20. Number of followers: 18 (thank you lovelies 😘)

I tag:

@study-to-panic-less, @lawandlit, @onestepatatimeworld, @wavy-mayor-n-student, @the-desi-desk, @friedrich-x, @techstudyblr, @prettyboistudies, @hufflepuffscholar, @warmhealer, @annes-studies, @my-little-studyblr, @aou, @studydiaryofamedstudent, @revisoin, @thestudyingtiger, @phctcsynthesis, @teatimestudier, @slytherin-psych-studies, @teaandstudying

[plush-rabbit]

Gang Orca Headcanons

Request: Can I have King Orca with a Small husband S/O SFW and NSFW headcannons?

A/N: I went to the beach today and I think he'd have a lot of fun there and would love to swim with you on his back and that's on me being self-indulgent because i can't swim(❁´◡`❁)

-

SFW:

It isn’t that he’s particularly shy about the relationship, but rather that Kugo isn’t one to want to boast about being in a relationship. Of course, he wants to show you off, to dress you in fancy clothes and take you to the banquets held for heroes, or take you to nice restaurants and bring you flowers for every outing, but he isn’t one for those big showcases. It all feels wrong for him, that it isn’t him. He takes you out and he holds your hand, but he can never seem to bring himself to kiss you in any sort of way- no kiss on the top of your head, or on your hand, or his snout pressed against your face. It’s something that he doesn’t want people to see. He has no qualms about you kissing him, in fact, he looks forward to feeling you lift his hand and kiss the back of it, or even reach up and cup his face with your hands.

On your dates, the hero likes to take you out- to have you enjoy whatever it is that you want. Whether it’s to go on a walk through the plaza or in the street lined with vendors he wants to see you enjoy yourself. When in public, it’s common to find him attached to you, hardly ever leaving your side and a part of him teases that it’s because you’d get lost in the sea of people, but really, he just likes to have you close to him, knowing that he can protect you. He wants you to rely on him in the way that he relies on you- he wants you to find comfort in him, to know that you can go to him whenever you need and that you don’t have to worry about getting a step ladder to reach the tallest shelf, because he’ll be there for you. He wants you to rely on him and he’d show that through his wealth and his commitment towards you, going out of his way to know that with him, you don’t have to worry about anything since he’d be there to catch you.

It may not seem like it, but he’s rather playful with others. His air of authority dissipates when around you, his grin wide and tone with a lilt at the ends of his words. It isn’t meant to be in mean spirits, but he does love to tease you about your height. He’ll cup your face in his hands, fingers splayed towards the back of your head as your cheeks squish together, commenting on how you’re so small, and why you’re like that with a little coo in his voice. He gives you all sorts of nicknames in private, a swell of pride in his chest when you respond to them and coo back your own nicknames for him. His hands often just find themselves resting on the crown of your head, covering you completely in a  way that you never seem to mind. It comes so naturally for him to always be touching you, that he can’t help using you as a makeshift armrest.

You’re so much smaller than him, your hands barely covering his palm, and your wrists small enough that he can wrap his hand around it, and have his own fingertips curl over the back of his fingers. There’s a sort of wonder in his eyes everytime he holds your hand, the tip of his index scratching over the lines on your palm and the ones that cut horizontally over the back of your knuckles. He loves to hold your hand and compare sizes, muttering under his breath how you’re so small. You’re much frailer than him, his quirk gives him such a boost of power that he’s so careful around you, treating you like glass under his fingertips. He holds you softly, tightening his grip on your little by little, feeling your own arms around him tight and bursting with all the strength that you could muster.

Kugo’s stature towers over most people due to his quirk, and you are not exempt from that. He’s tall, and his fin makes him look even more so. He knows where he stands in hero society, a society with quirks, a published article even going as far to comment at how much of a villain he looks like. And yet, you still look up at him with a smile, clinging to him during movie nights, wanting to be held by him. He knows who he is, and he knows how he looks, and despite all that, you still want to be with him. He takes good care of you. His salary as a hero is immense, and he spends it on you. If you’ve ever commented on wanting something, he’s quick to go ahead and find it for you, putting the item in a nice bag and fluffing it with colored tissue paper. 

NSFW:

Kugo’s size affects many of his daily activities; from clothes having to be tailored to fit his build, to cars that can feel a bit snug, to sex. He is a massive man, in every way and shape. Before any type of penetration, he makes sure that you have at least climaxed once or twice beforehand. His nails are sharpened to the point that claws would be an accurate way to describe his hands, so any type of penetration is either done with a toy to stretch you or with his cock- possibly tongue at times. He doesn’t want you to feel any type of discomfort and was very hesitant onwards having sex with you in fear that he would harm you. Stretching you beforehand with a toy makes it so much easier to slip into you without fear that he’d tear something. 

Due to his size, he can be rather rough. While he’s done his best to hold back, there are moments where his strength overcomes him. He can be rough without intending to be- a grip on your waist may appear in a purple mark that spreads against your hip bone. He’ll turn you over to bury your face into the mattress, your drool darkening the comforter under you as he holds onto your hips, his tongue fat in your hole, stretching and spilling with spit down your thighs in heavy, syrupy strands. He can feel you squirm, shaking your body and muffling your cries into the bed under you, and you’re bucking yourself much too eagerly against him. His hands give you a squeeze, claws pinching into your soft flesh and dotted with crimson. The next morning, with your body tuckered out and the blanket covering the middle of your back, he takes a peek, a voyeuristic one at first, until he notices the bruising starting to take color, and finds a warmth of arousal jolt at his awakening cock. 

Whether it’s calling you pretty or moaning, something is always echoed out into the room. He’s a vocal man, making some type of noise that has the tips of your ears burning with a fever. There’s something rather erotic about hearing such a poised man become so vulgar, grunting out like a cat in heat, his nails leaving lines in it’s wake as you can feel everything happening in you. He can never find a way to be quiet, telling you in a sinful voice about how soft you feel, wrapped so tightly around him, how he can feel you clench around him and that it’s making his head spin. His voice is low, a husky tone to it that makes the words feel rougher than the bruising grip on your hip. It’s this innate urge in him to want to tell you how pretty you are with tears in your eyes, that he can see how he’s bullying out of you, and that he’s so proud that you can take nearly all of him and still look so endearing with spit and tears shining on your face. 

You clasp onto anything of him whether he’s on top or you are, scratching at his smooth skin, your nails barely able to make a dent in him. You kiss his lips, muttering seconds before how you want a kiss, grasping onto his shoulders, dragging your hands down his biceps, hooking your hands on the crook of his elbows. He adores you when you touch him. He could get drunk on how needy and feverish you are, unable to think straight, pulling him close to you and moaning about how good he feels. On this type of high, he’s much too sensitive, feeling every way your insides are pushed, how they cling and stick to him, the grooves of your walls and your rim clenching around the base of his cock. In a sitting position with your legs locked around him, your hands find their way to his back, fingertips brushing along the base of his dorsal fin and he’s bucking sharply inside of you. His find is far too sensitive, reacting in a way that feels as if he blood is pulsing enough for you to see.

With his quirk giving him enhanced strength and enhanced stamina, Kugo can go for multiple rounds before he tires. It’s rare for him to actually get tired, and he doesn’t usually go for as long as he could. He’s satisfied with just orgasming a few times, as long as you’re satisfied. He’s deep in you, seeing your dazed face, and open mouth, your sex dripping with cum weakly, in spurts that hold no real potency for much. He pulls away, letting the seed that is already buried deep in you, squelch out of you in a wet sound. You’re barely cognitive, slurring your words and reaching out for him, but you’ve been much too abused, your hole fluttering around nothing and rimmed with red from the stretch, and lowers your hands. Once you’ve calmed down and your body isn’t as sensitive as it was before, he’s bringing a cotton towel to clean you, shushing you when you try to grab at his still erect cock. He can go for hours without a doubt, but he’s already satisfied, lying beside you and bringing your flushed body close to his.