#pleased with my decision to make it a dark grey

[0turnthelightsout0]

Day 12

" *humming* "

[eevees-hobbies]

Honeyed Kisses Against Tender Flesh (Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo) - NSFW

Author’s Note: I got carried away with this one. But shoutout to those of us who write for Hayato Suo cuz we really are working with crumbs. Like he’s whatever we say he is until we get more information. 

Synopsis: Your friend Kotoha and brother Hiragi are worried about your relationship with Suo. It all comes to a head at the beach, to your embarrassment and Suo's delight. No big deal, though; you’ll just have sex against Hiragi’s truck or whatever. 

Content Warning: I’m a really bad judge when it comes to dark content. To me, it’s a spectrum and while I don’t consider this particular story truly dark, others might. So I encourage you to read the warnings and make the best decision for yourself:

Smut with a plot, the obsessive kind of love, possessiveness, hickeys, bruises, biting, spit, enjoyment of public humiliation, teasing, licking of blood, sex/nudity in public, super brief mention of a golden shower, praising/worshipping language, unprotected sex, no-pulling out despite being asked (wrap it up, folks!), like he straight up says “nah.” 

Also, please note that you are written as Hiragi’s sister in this story. I do not expand on your relationship, so you might be his half-sister, full-sister, step-sister, adopted sister, etc. I say this for my readers who may hold a racial/ethnic identity different from Hiragi, hoping that you can still feel like this story is for you (because it is <3). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 3.2K

Divider by Saradika. Story banner by me.

On a day when you and your Bofurin friends decide to visit the beach, the unforgiving intensity of the sun makes you feel as though you’re simmering in a boiling pot. No one except you is ill-prepared; the men are wearing various colored shorts that seemingly match their personalities, and their unclothed torsos are on full, unapologetic display.

Kotoha, sitting on a beach towel next to you, is in a three-piece halter bikini set with a sheer sarong skirt that accentuates her curves. Even your brother Hiragi has abandoned his usual band shirt to showcase his well-toned arms and abs. You find it pretty horrifying but good for him, you think. 

It’s hard not to be jealous of all the bare, suntanned skin as you take inventory of your fit. You are wearing an oversized grey hoodie and sweatpants combo that covers every inch of you. Underneath your hefty clothes is a simple but cute black two-piece bikini you originally planned to show off that day. 

You are roasting under the sun's rays—and in your anger—as you glare at the person responsible for your attire: Hayato Suo. 

He’s sitting on the beach towel with you, his perfectly parted hair blowing softly against the breeze. Despite his attempt at trying to appear inconspicuous in reading his book, you can tell that he’s very much aware of your disdain for him with the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. 

Kotaho lowers her sunglasses so she’s looking at you over the rim of the frames.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants at the beach of all places? I’m getting hot just looking at you.”

You shift uncomfortably, having hoped that this was not a conversation that would come up. You instinctively pull the collar of the sweatshirt higher until it’s tucked snuggly under your chin. “It’s not so bad! I just have to stay hydrated!”

Kotoha leans closer to you and lowers her voice, obviously trying not to catch the attention of Suo. “But why? Is this a cry for help because of you-know-who? Say the word, and I will scream.”

You and Kotoha have become close since you applied for a position to work at Cafe Pothos. She was your boss, but she’s also the embodiment of a girls-girl. You bonded over cooking and annoying brother figures; there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about each other. 

So color her shocked when one day she picked up her cell phone after receiving a series of texts that were coming in rapid succession. She had assumed the sender was Umemiya, but instead, they were from you!

8:50 PM: OMG 8:50 PM: You won’t believe what just happened to meeeeeeee ihfdnf 8:51 PM: SUO! SUO! 8:52 PM: He KISSED me!  8:55 PM: HELLO?! The love of my life just put his tongue in my mouth and you HAVE THE AUDACITY TO NOT ANSWER!? I’m heading to the cafe right fucking now.

Kotoha was confused, not because she didn’t think you deserved the world—you deserved the world and more. She was confused because she couldn’t picture you and Suo together. He was pleasant whenever he came into the cafe, only ordering tea and always leaving a big tip. But other than that, she didn't know much about him, and no one did, and that was a difficult thing to accomplish in a small town. 

So when you finally ran into the cafe, practically colliding into the glass door as you shuffled in, Kotoha poured you a fresh cup of coffee, sat you down, and asked if you were sure about this.

Were you sure it was a good idea to date a guy who wore an eyepatch, had never been seen eating, and had a different story about his life every time he was asked? You assured her that Suo was the man of your dreams and you’ve never been more sure of something in your life. And while Kotoha may not know much about Suo, there were small moments that felt as though you were gradually building up to this kiss all along. 

The way he’d offer to walk you home even though it was out of his way, how his hand would brush up against yours and linger when passing you coins to pay for his tea, and god, that smile of his that usually didn’t reach his eyes but did when he was talking to you.

You were adamant that this was something you wanted.

You didn’t exactly come out as “official,” though. In a strange way, your relationship just “was.” 

Your friends acted as though you had always been together, and the way Suo became a constant in your life—walking you home after every shift from the cafe, texting and calling you more often, holding your hand in public, and taking you out on dates to your favorite places—made it difficult to remember what life was like before him. You quickly became the shadow of the other, and not without concern from Kotoha and Hiragi. Some would call your love for each other smothering, but to you; it was anything but that—it was perfect. 

“Everything is fine, Kotoha, I promise.”

She lets out a sigh and pulls her sunglasses back up. You can see the reflection of the guys in her dark shades—Hiragi, Umemiya, Sakura, and Kaji playing volleyball, sand kicking up as shouts of, “get that, doofus!’ and “who are you calling doofus!?”  traveling over to you but being drowned out by the roar of waves breaking shore.

A bead of sweat travels down the side of your face, and you look up at the sun, hoping to will it away with a pitiful look.

“Why not take off that burdensome outfit, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps in the direction of Suo, the tone in his voice–thick with faux concern–alluding to the pleasure he’s getting from watching you like this. He’s all too aware of what you’re hiding—he’s the culprit who put you in this situation.

He shrugs innocently, “you’re developing sweat stains,” you follow his finger as he points at you. To your horror, giant wet spots have formed at your armpits and collar. You groan, the realization that if you don’t shed these clothes soon, you’ll likely meet your untimely demise via heatstroke—and that’s a very unsexy way to go. 

A shaky hand grips the drawstring of the sweatshirt, and you peel it off with the sweatpants following shortly after. Before you can set the clothes beside you, Kotaha lets out an audible gasp. You wince, knowing that your movements and her sharp intake of breath will surely draw the boys' attention—a result that you were trying your damnedest to avoid.

You thought Hiragi’s booming voice would be the first to reach your ears, but instead, it’s Sakura’s. 

“What happened to YOU?!” 

The volleyball spinning through the air hits him square in the chest; a loud thud has him doubling over in pain, but it’s not enough to break away Hiragi’s stare from the bruises and hickeys that litter your neck, chest, and thighs.

After gathering himself, Sakura stands up and turns his attention to Suo, “You should really keep a better watch over your girl. She’s obviously getting her butt kicked somewhere-”

Sakura is unable to finish before Hiragi interjects. He takes a step forward, and if you weren’t on sand, you’d be almost positive that the sheer force would shake the earth. “Suo, what did you do to my sister's skin?”

You stare at Hiragi, deep veins already protruding from his forehead. If looks could kill, Suo would be dead right now. You give a sideglance at your boyfriend, who has two hands raised near his head and his shoulders shrugged up to appear non-threatening. 

“I am NOT doing this right now!”  You proclaim, hurriedly picking up the keys to Hiragi’s car and padding through the sand, trying your damnedest to escape the sound of rising voices. 

Suo follows you soon after de-escalating the situation. Assuring Hiragi that he may have gotten carried away with the amount of hickeys and bruises he left on your skin wasn’t easy by any means, but you two were both consenting adults, so there wasn’t much Hiragi could do anyhow. He desperately wanted to add that you didn’t mind the bruises when they were happening to you—but that didn’t seem wise.

Hiragi’s truck is parked next to the property line between the beach and the expanse of forest. When you arrived, the parking lot was full of people, but beach-goers packed their belongings and left as the day neared its end.

Suo can’t see you as he approaches the truck's passenger side, so he assumes you’re on the driver's side. As he rounds the corner, he’s met with the sight of you bending over and attempting to fish the keys off the ground, which must have fallen. The sight of your ass completely swallowing the seat of your bikini bottoms has him suddenly leaning against the car for support and blood flowing south. Even with one eye covered, he can see the outline of your puffy pussy. The bikini is much better, he thinks to himself.

You turn around, hearing the sound of gravel shifting quietly—hoping that your brother hasn’t followed you, but it’s Suo. 

“Well, that was awk-“ you begin, but you're cut off. The fluidity and quickness of his motions still surprise and catch you off guard. He pins you in place to the truck with his body—chest to chest.  

You can see arousal churning in his eye as his now rock-hard cock presses against your thigh. At that moment, you’re thankful that the shade of the trees shrouds this side of the truck and that anyone coming from the beach would need to walk around the vehicle to catch you in the act.

For Suo, the build-up of knowing what you were trying to hide from the group and the eventual reveal of his handiwork had given him one hell of a rush. Being in on the secret was fun, but the way Hiragi’s eyes darted over your skin, the way he caught Kaji’s cheeks reddening as his eyes swept over your exposed and marked-up flesh, it was practically unbearable.

Suo’s hand tugs at the string of your bikini top, and it doesn’t take long before the flimsy fabric releases and drifts to your feet. You shiver as cool air licks at your breasts and nipples, hardening the sensitive buds upon contact. It isn’t until Suo’s warm hands cup and massage your breasts that you let out a whimper; his touch feels firm and needy, delivering pinches and squeezes to the over-sensitive and bruised flesh.

“S-someone could c-catch us!” You protest in a hushed whisper, but you’re not pushing him away—you tilt your head back to rest it against the truck and arch your spine to give him more access to you.

“They’d be so lucky,” he growls softly into your neck.

As your stomach twists in arousal and nervousness, you know that the Hayato Suo who is fondling you in the parking lot against your brother's truck is a different Hayato than the one your friends interact with. 

Suo is often poised and has immense control over his emotions, but sometimes, he gets so overcome by desire that it feels like a gaseous cloud is seeping into your pores and lungs. 

You’ve become a welcome victim to the Suo that likes to grip you so desperately that he leaves bruises, bites you so hard that sometimes it breaks the skin, and fucks you so roughly that you’re confident that you’ve experienced the closest thing you can to death.  

“Suo, we shouldn’t. They saw my bruises and the hickeys. Toma might kill you.”

“You can’t convince me that this isn’t something you want. This,” he presses two fingers against the seat of your bikini, which sink into the moistness of you, “tells me otherwise.”

Your face grows hot because he’s right. You’re not innocent in your shared dynamic like Kotoha, and Hiragi would like to think—you crave him just as much as he craves you. 

You’re just as much of a thrill-seeker as he is but you two have to be quick; anyone in your group could come looking for you any second—and nothing would destroy your arousal more than Hiragi seeing your boyfriend fucking you in public. Suo would enjoy that, though. 

It’s as though he can read your mind because Suo is pulling down your bikini bottoms so that they hang around your ankles. 

His lips are on yours, his kisses somehow hungrier than his touches. Suo kisses you as though he’s found solace against the plush of your lips and the treasure housed within your mouth. He tilts his head so his tongue can explore every inch of you deeper; he’s unapologetically devouring you.

When he finally pulls away for air, his voice is low and almost gravelly, a departure from his usual calm tone.  

“You make me become the most disrespectful version of myself, Y/N.”

His fingers roll and pinch at your nipples, but his eye is on yours. His gaze is intense, and even though he looks at you as though you are his prey and he is your predator, the last thing you want to do is look away.

He continues, “I want nothing more than to be the nice, sweet boyfriend your friends and brother want me to be, but you turn me into someone I don’t recognize.”

He’s pushing his shorts down, and you groan at the sight of him. His dick sits straight up against his abdomen with a slight curve, an aggressive vein pulsates on the side, and the crimson tip of it is smeared in an ungodly amount of precum. How can such a pretty dick look so angry? 

Without much prep or warning, he pushes into your wet sex; he’s so deep so quickly that your body jerks reactively. 

He can’t hold back the moan that escapes his lips at finally burying himself in you. His mouth has found purchase against your neck; both he and you can feel your pulse quickening, firing rapidly against his tongue as it reaches out to lick at your skin. 

“When I look at you, just as you are, I want to ruin you. So if that means I’m covering you with bruises, hickeys, or the most intimate parts of me, so be it.” 

He sinks his teeth into your neck, and the sharp pain makes your eyes roll back. The searing sensation doesn't last long as his tongue laps up the droplets of blood that bubble from the punctures.  

“Tell me that you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you,” his fingers are digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he holds your legs around his waist, allowing him to bounce you on his cock.. 

“H-Hayato, I’m just as obsessed with you, baby. I promise.”

And you mean it. You’ve never felt a love quite so all-consuming and suffocating. He’s explored every inch of your body; at first, the way his eyes drank you in made you squirm, but he assured you that he was simply appreciating what was his—you wouldn’t fault an art curator for appraising the Mona Lisa, would you, Y/N? No? Then let me be.

Suo has licked parts of you with enthusiasm, parts that you’d be embarrassed to admit to anyone. 

And for you, the taste of him is just as nourishing. When he pulls your head back by your hair,  his hungry eye communicating to you without him having to say it, you find yourself eagerly opening your mouth and accepting his spit on your outstretched tongue. 

The good girl muttered in his smooth voice afterward, and his infamous smile that reaches his eyes when he looks at you makes your clit twitch. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s his spit, cum, or other golden liquid of his, you want it all. 

During intimacy, Suo tears you down to the most basic, hedonistic version of yourself—his delivery never includes harsh language in the traditional sense—he would absolutely never call you out of your name. You are far too important to be called something derogatory. Sometimes you’ll refer to yourself as “his whore” or “his slutty girl,” and it will make him leak so much precum he has to catch his breath, but he hasn’t reached a point in which he has personally referred to you as those titles…yet.  

For now, he uses deft fingers and honeyed words dripping in veiled threats of orgasm denial and overstimulation to push you to the precipice of your pleasure—and you trust him to build you back up afterward with softly cooed hymns of worship and strokes of your tender skin. To Suo, you are a goddess, a deity to be revered. To Suo, you are everything. 

And it isn’t until moments like this that you see his mask slip. Your usually stoic boyfriend's mouth opening and closing in pleasure the same way that yours is, soft guttural moans escaping his lips and his brow furrowing, obviously about to lose control to you—-for you.

“You are everything, dove. You are my everything.” He groans as your silky walls clench around him, clutching him for dear life.

“You like it when I compliment you, pretty girl?”

You give him a grunt of approval, feeling yourself so close to becoming undone as he fills your head up with chants of his devotion.

At this point, each thrust has his dick bottoming out into your sopping-wet cunt. Pelvis to pelvis, you can feel every inch of you stretching to accommodate him. His maroon-colored pubic hair tickles at your skin, dampening at the contact of your slick as deep thuds from frantic thrusts fill the air.

And even though you’re only participating in a quickie, a rarity for you both, your cunt still drools just the same, streaks of it managing to glide down your inner thigh and leave droplets at his feet. 

“S-suo,” your nails dig into his shoulders, resulting in a delicious hiss from his lips. “Y-you have to pull out! You aren’t wearing a c-condom!”

Suo presses his lips to your ear; you can barely make out what he’s saying over the soft gasps and the way he’s suckling at your earlobe that he has pulled between his teeth.

“I can’t. You’re mine, and I want to fill you up. So you have to take it, dove. Take all of it.” 

And the way Suo says it, you know that he isn’t asking; he’s telling you what he plans to do to your body because you are an extension of him–you are his, and it’s his right to cum in you without silly obstacles like “protection.”

His pounding against your cervix feels animalistic, and the force of him fucking you is making the truck rock back and forth. 

You bite your lip and hold onto him for dear life as that oh-so-familiar feeling takes over. Your thighs squeeze him, and to muffle the scream bubbling up into your throat, you take a note out of Suo’s handbook and bite his shoulder so hard that he sees a hot, white flash. 

In that moment, you give each other everything—all of you becomes all of him—mixing into a mess of creamy, frothy white essence that drips down balls, legs, and thighs.

Between soft kisses on the fresh hickeys and bite marks along your neck, Suo chuckles, “Hiragi is going to be upset.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 9

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.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

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 ❤️

You wake with a start from your dreams of intruder bears and scattering birds. The night’s been no more restful than the one before. Your mind is a whirlwind, mashing together visions of reality and anxieties of tomorrow. 

Another thunk has you sitting up with a huh trapped in your throat. You rub the stitch from between your brows as you groggily shake your head. It’s so early, the windows are grey blue and grim. What the hell is that? 

You get up and go to the window as the noise comes again. Bucky stands over a stack of long boards near the shed. You frown. What is he doing and where did those come from? 

He turns and you give a start. He sees you between the curtains and gives a two fingered salute. You lift your hand stiffly and quickly turn away. You grab a zip sweater and pull it on, hiding in the baggy fabric. You’re all too aware of the brush of your hard nipples against your thin tee. 

You head out through the fog of your unceremonious awakening and open the back door to peer out. Bucky appears from around the side of the house, carrying a stack of half a dozen boards easily. He sets them with the rest and faces you. 

“What’s all this?” You cross your arms, chattering in the brisk morning. 

“You need a fence,” he says. 

His answer is annoying. It’s half an explanation. 

“Okay, and... where exactly did you get all this wood?” 

“Your neighbours recommended a guy; Maurice?” 

“Maurice,” you repeat. The old man doesn’t have much else going on. He’s always happy to deliver. “Right.” 

“Give me something to keep busy,” he shrugs. 

“Makes sense,” you rub your cheek. 

“Coffee in the pot. Should be warm still,” he comes toward you. “Did I wake you up?” 

You shake your head. It doesn’t matter. You weren’t sleeping well. 

“Thanks. You want more?” You point to the mug on the small wooden stool. 

“Good for now,” he assures you. 

You nod and turn away. You stop halfway. You withhold a sigh, “hey, thanks. You don’t have to... do all this.” 

“It should save you having to witness another wrestling match,” he says. 

“Right,” you scoff. 

You go inside and pause on the other side of the door. Did he overhear your conversation with Sam? Is that what he meant? Even if he did, you didn’t say anything bad. You only told Sam that the man he left on your couch is fighting the wild. 

You pour yourself a coffee and drink it alone, grateful for the moment to yourself. You hear the wood clatter outside in a steady rhythm. Just long enough for him to make a trip between the back and front lawn. 

If he’s busy, that means you can be. You’ll get some work done while he’s outside. You have some toast as you get everything set up then sink into your focus. It’s all simple. You have it by rote. You save as much as you can, not trusting your connection to maintain the cloud’s autosave. 

You get up to make another coffee and nearly shriek. You didn’t notice the sudden silence. No wood falling, no footsteps. Bucky stands in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes on you. 

“You looked... intent, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says. 

“Right,” you shake off the fright and go to the counter, “want more coffee?” 

“Sure. If you’re busy, I can take care of it,” he nears you as he speaks. 

“I can handle it. Won’t take me very long.” 

“I don’t mind,” he gets closer and closer. 

“Really, it’ll take five minutes. I need the break--” 

He sidles behind you as you reach for the canister but he’s quicker. He swipes it out of your grasp. You feel him behind you, penning you in as he snatches up the coffee ewer with his other hand. 

“Hey, I’m the one crashing. Trying not to feel useless here,” he insists. 

You grip the counter, suffocated by his closeness. 

“That’s nice, but...” You press your elbow into his side, a soft nudge to say, back up. He doesn’t. “Can you--” 

“How long you been here alone?” He asks, standing strong like a wall behind you. You lean forward, trying to make space. 

“Bucky--” 

He moves aside casually and sets down the coffee and he brings the carafe to the sink and rinses it out. “Kinda eerie, isn’t it? In the city, there’s always noise. Up here, the silence is... dense, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” you agree quietly as you quickly retreat from the counter. That was strange. He can be a bit... odd but that was very obvious not normal. 

“I had to walk thirty minutes just to get to your neighbour. All those trees too, they’ll catch the sound,” he speaks as he weighs out the coffee grounds. “You ever run through a forest before? And that one’s dark even in the day. If you’re not dodging trees, you gotta make sure there aren’t roots to trip over.” 

You’re quiet as you listen, unsettled. Why is he saying all this? 

“And well, you gotta worry about whatever’s in there to chase you, don’t you? Bears, coyotes... you got wolves around here?” He asks. 

You clear your throat, “I... I think so.” 

“Mm, and they hunt in packs. Mostly. But even one is dangerous.” He fills the water tank as you stare at his back. “If they get you, they go for the shoulder and flanks. Get your strongest tendons. Can’t move your arms, can’t fight. Can’t move your legs, can’t run...” 

“I’ve never seen any though...” you croak. 

“Wolves don’t really chase their prey though, they stalk it. The prey doesn’t even know it’s being hunted. They sneak up so they don’t have to run.” Like he sneaks up? “Take their time.” 

You chew your lip. You look around and listen. It is really quiet. The click of a button makes you wince. 

Bucky turns to you. You blink and quickly turn to your computer. Just a glance and the vision of him is stamped in your head. The tension in his jaw, the glint in his eyes, and that shadow that seems cast by his aura alone. 

You’re pretty sure he’s not talking about real wolves. 

[lizslibrary]

Facade

Summary: Bucky x Reader fic where Reader is sick but decides to go on a mission anyway.

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, please comment or critique it; I am always open to suggestions. I also struggled on finding a good ending, so I just decided to leave the rest of the story up to the imagination of the reader. 🥰

Warnings: assassin!reader, Sickness; flu, overexertion, guns, fighting, fainting, Slowburn (Picks up in the end,) angst, fluff, guilt, angry Bucky

Word count: 2,007

---------------------

I lean my back against the side of the jet, trying to appear as normal as possible. We were going on a HYDRA intel mission and I was sick. I knew going on this mission was a bad decision, but I couldn’t let my team down.

 As I took a deep breath, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me; I didn’t even have to look over to know it was Bucky. He stared at me with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted slightly backward. I could tell he knew something was wrong, but I didn’t bother meeting his gaze.

A few minutes later, the plane landed in a remote location, and slowly, the back door dropped with a soft hiss. I unstrapped my seatbelt and hoisted my gun over my shoulder walking down the ramp and into a thick layer of snow. The cold air felt nice against my flushed cheeks, and I sighed as I watched the rest of the team trail out of the jet.

Steve stood confidently as he began giving orders, “Sam and Natasha, patrol the outside; make notes of everyone entering and exiting the compound.” “y/n, Bucky and I will take the inside, working on containing and evacuating evidence that may be crucial to Hydra’s destruction.” Steve stood silent for a moment. “Does everyone understand?” 

Everyone nodded and stood next to their partners. I notice Bucky watching me from behind Steve. I turned my head away from him so I wouldn’t give myself away. I knew that if he found out I was sick, he would stop the mission and make us turn around.

“The snow is thick, walk slow and conserve energy…we have the whole day ahead of us,” Steve says, beginning to walk forward.

Everyone trudges behind Steve in silence, our footsteps making quiet crunching sounds through the snow. I follow closely behind Steve, while Bucky trails closely behind me. I make sure to place my feet in Steve's already deep footprints, the last thing I wanted was to be drained of my energy before we'd even reach the compound.

I look up at the dark gray sky; we must be high up in the mountains, looking down on what seems like endless miles of nothingness.  It wasn't surprising that HYDRA would be located here, being a rather isolated organization.

A little while later I began to make out the rectangular shape of the compound through the dense snow that was falling from the sky. My hands were getting numb from holding onto the straps on my gun holster and my legs ached from walking through the snow. Steve looked over at me, I saw concern but I just gave him a reassuring nod and pushed forward.

As we got closer, I noticed that the base was a massive, grey complex. The building was made of concrete and had no windows, just little square holes that littered the walls...it reminded me of a prison.

Steve came to a stop and crouched behind a concrete barrier, he motioned for us to do the same. The team huddled beside Steve and watched the camp, it was only a few yards away allowing us to see movement from behind the large, barbed fence.

"Send Redwing out, we need to see the safest route for entry," Steve ordered. Sam was quick to oblige, sending the drone into the snowfall.

It hovered above the entrance to the complex, giving us an accurate view of how many guards there were. There were three men posted around the entrance, all wearing black helmets. One of them remained stationed by the gate while the other two patrolled around the gate.

Sam watched the feed from the drone, scanning the screen for any more guards, "Seems like there are only three near the entrance...if you can take them out you have a clear path to a set of double doors." Sam said looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye "The problem is...how are you gonna get in?"

"Tony said that there should be a keypad on the outside, luckily for us he managed to find the code," Steve said with a small grin on his face, I could hear a small chuckle come from Bucky.

Natasha shook her head "I wouldn't expect anything less from that man."

"Sam, keep a watch on Redwing and head to the left side of the building. Natasha, you take right." Steve says "Bucky y/n, follow me...be aware of your surroundings."

As soon as the plan is said, we jump into action. Steve begins creeping towards the front of the complex, with the sound of our footsteps ringing in the snow-covered ground, while Bucky and I cover him. Steve slams his shield into the neck of one of the guards while I wrestle another to the ground and knock him unconscious. My head is spinning as I stand up but I help Bucky take care of the last guy.

With the first threat taken care of, we hurry over to where Steve is standing, "This way," Steve points at a door on the side of the building. We follow closely behind him and watch his back as he types in the code on the keypad.

  He grabs the handle and turns it.  The door creaks open slowly, revealing a very dimly lit hallway. Steve leads the way down the hall.  The smell of damp stone fills the air, with the faint scent of blood and gunpowder lingering in the air.  We follow silently behind Steve until we get to the end of the hallway, where it opens up into two different hallways.

“I’ll take the right side, y/n Bucky go left,” Steve says

Bucky and I walk down the left hallway and I can feel my palms getting sweaty with each step. Something felt wrong, where was everyone? Why were there no HYDRA agents? I glance over at Bucky and see that he has a crease in his eyebrows, I could tell he was wondering the same thing. I grip my gun closer to my chest, it was eerily quiet and something felt off…very off. 

As we near the end of the hallway we enter a large room. It was filled with old dusty computers and lots of filing cabinets. I approach one of the computers and take out the hard drive making sure to put it in my pocket in hopes that it will be important intell. I watch Bucky enter a side room and suddenly the lights turn off and I jolt when I hear the loud slam of a door shutting.

It’s pitch black and I can hear footsteps circling me in the room “Y/N!? Y/N!” Bucky is pounding his fist on the other side of the door. 

I feel disoriented and dizzy as I try and move around the room “Bucky!? Where-?” I am cut off by a gloved hand covering my mouth; I scream and slam my elbow into the person behind me.

My breathing becomes more labored as I try and fight off the people attacking me. I feel myself on the verge of passing out.

 I grab my knife out of my pocket and slam it blindly into someone's torso. I lose my balance and I fall backward, causing my head to slam against the corner of the table. I let out a yell of pain and felt a warm liquid running down my neck.

I scramble back into a wall and feel someone else's hands on me, I try and fight back but my movements are disoriented; I am helpless. 

As soon as I feel all hope is lost, the door bursts open filling the room with light. Before I know what’s happening gunshots ring out and silence fills the room. My vision is swimming and I see a familiar, blurry silhouette approaching me; guilt fills my stomach.

“M-..sorry Bucky…” I slur as fight from blacking out.

Bucky scoops me up in his arms, and before I know it he is sprinting out of the compound and into the snow. My body is limp in his arms and I can hear him murmuring incoherent prayers as he runs.

Soon, we reach the jet, and he quickly puts me on the medical table. Everything around me is blurry and I don’t know what is happening.

I am so tired. Maybe I should sleep. Bucky wouldn’t be mad if I just slept for a minute…

--------------------------------------------------

My mind is pulled into the dark, tempting world of sleep.

A bright light fills my vision as I wake up. I blink a couple of times in an attempt to get my eyes to adjust to the light. What happened? Where am I? Several thoughts plagued my mind all at once and my body flings itself into an upright position.

Bucky stands up as soon as he sees me awake "Hey, hey! You're okay, you are safe.." Bucky says, gently trying to get me to lay back down.

The memories of last night flood my mind and I feel an intense wave of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I take a small glance at Bucky and notice the relief in his eyes quickly turn to that of hurt, maybe even anger. The look in his eyes pained me to see, I knew he felt upset about my actions.

"Bucky...I-"

"Why?" he says suddenly, staring me straight in my eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

Bucky closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself "Sorry doesn't cut it." He says sharply "You almost died y/n."

I look away from him and shake my head "I know...but if I hadn't gone someone could have gotten hurt."

I watch anger form in his expression "Liz." His serious tone forces me to look at him "Are you not listening to me? You almost died!" His tone gets louder as he talks, "When I brought you back on the jet you were burning up and sweating...did you know that your fever almost reached 103."

Bucky takes a step backward and faces the wall, he rakes his fingers through his hair. "Do you understand that had I not been there and broken through a metal wall, you would be dead." He turns to face me again "Do you not understand that if you had died in that room; I would have blamed myself?" He looked me in the eyes "Do you not understand that if you died, I would have nothing else to live for?"

"Better me dead than you," I say quietly.

Bucky clenches his fist and inhales a sharp breath "Never, and I mean never, say that shit to me ever again." He grabs my hands and stands silently. "y/n, you give me a reason to wake up in the morning; the feeling I get when I see your gorgeous, happy face in the morning makes me feel alive."

I stare at him speechlessly and he continues "I know this is a terrible place, and a terrible time but I have to tell you..." The look he gives me makes my body tingle "I love you. I love you too much to the point where it hurts...and when we were in that compound I watched as the life drained from your eyes, and I felt more scared in that moment than I have ever had in my entire life...because I knew that If you were to die, I would have nothing left to get me out of bed in the morning, I would have nothing left to get me home safe from missions, I would have no more life because without you; I have none."

Bucky's words make it feel like the world has stopped, like it's just me and him and nothing can stop us from being together. I stare at Bucky's beautiful eyes, and he stares at mine; they tell me that I am here, that I am alive, and that I'm next to the person I love and care about most in this world.

[internet-ink]

Misunderstanding

Warnings - Angst…kinda, first story after like a year, happy ending 🥳

Summary - Leah thinks you’re cheating.

A/n - I didn’t die…

———

“What the hell is this?”

The sound of your normally content girlfriend’s angry voice bursts through the door to your shared home, disturbing the peaceful vibe in your house.

You placed your book down and sat up properly on the grey sofa you and Leah had purchased when you moved in together six months ago. The two of you had been in a relationship for three years when you both made the decision to buy a house together and everything had been going so well, up until now.

When Leah finally made an appearance in the living room after chucking her training bag on the ground and stomping through the hall, your eyebrows furrowed as you saw the fuming look in your girlfriend’s eyes. You knew this was serious.

“Le what’s wrong? what’s happened?” You asked quickly as you stood up in anxiety, not knowing what to do or what the fuck was happening right now.

The confusion you felt grew when Leah scoffed at you. “Don’t call me that.” She snapped.

“What? Leah what’s going on? I’m worried.”

While you stood awkwardly Leah began to pace in front of you, still giving you no indication of what had gotten her so worked up. “Leah?” You whispered.

She stopped completely and just stared at you with tears in her eyes.

“So was this all just a lie then? The ‘I love you’s? The promises? Everything?” She spat at you, making your heart drop to your stomach and a nauseous feeling wash over you.

“Babe what? of course I love you, what are you on about?” You replied, getting more and more worried.

Leah chucked her phone at the sofa and when you turned around to look you honestly just felt more confused. It was a photo of you and another woman eating lunch together. The photo was taken a couple of days ago as you had recently cut your hair and you were confused on why Leah was so upset over you eating lunch.

“What’s that then? Got nothing to say for yourself?” Leah asked after a moment of silence, her tone sounding very angry.

You handed Leah’s phone back to her before looking at her with that same confused look you’ve had on your face since she had came in.

“That’s me eating lunch with a friend. How did you even get that photo?” You replied. You technically weren’t completely lying, you knew this woman from some of the previous events you had attended with Leah, however she wasn’t necessarily a friend. She was an event planner who also happened to dabble in proposals.

You had wanted to propose to Leah since last year, however you both didn’t live together and you wanted to see how that went before popping the big question. After three months of living together with Leah you got one of your friends to get her number for you and you met up with her a couple of times to plan the proposal.

“A concerned friend sent me it.” Leah replied sharply.

You sighed. “Look I’m a little confused on why you’re so angry at me over having lunch with a friend. Maybe you could explain more before you start screaming at me again.”

Leah shook her head at you before replying. “Is this her?” She asked in a shaky voice.

You put your head in your hands and groaned. “Who? Is that who? Leah you’re not explaining anything.”

“A message came up on your phone last week from Darcy. ‘does she suspect anything?’ So, I clicked on it and looked at a few messages-”

You interrupted Leah. “You went through my phone?” You reply in an annoyed tone.

This seemed to make Leah more angry. “Oh please! You have no right to be annoyed at me for that, you fucking cheated on me!” She shouted at you, making you flinch a little.

“No I didn’t. What the hell, Leah?” You replied back in a slightly raised voice.

She scoffed. “Shall I read you out the messages you sent? ‘Nope she’s in the dark,’ ‘She’s asleep I can call now.’ Are you fucking serious Y/N? Screw you!”

You sat down on the sofa with a groan. Out of context those messages did sound bad, however they were purely just about the proposal.

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realised that the only way to resolve this would be to tell Leah about your plan to propose to her.

The sound of Leah laughing made you look up at her. “Oh so now you’re crying? You cheat on me and you’re fucking crying? Pathetic.” She replied harshly, making a few tears roll down your face.

“I didn’t fucking cheat on you Leah.”

You wiped your eyes before continuing.

“Fuck I really didn’t want you to find out this way-”

Leah interrupts you. “Oh so you did cheat on me, great.”

You groaned again, “Leah let me finish.”

“Yes the woman in that photo is Darcy, and yes those messages do sound bad, but I promise it’s not what it looks like. Darcy is an event planner, I hired her to help with something.” You explained calmly with a few sniffles. You got your phone out and clicked on your messages with Darcy before handing it to Leah.

“Read all of the messages.” You whispered.

While Leah read through all of the messages more tears began to roll down your face as you thought about how your whole romantic plan was ruined. You had wanted to bring her to the restaurant where you had your first date together, have the whole place booked out and filled with pictures and memories of you both.

After a few minutes of silence Leah talks. “Y/N…oh I’m so sorry.” She whispered, she tried to pull you in for a hug but you shook your head and snatched your phone out of her hands before grabbing your car keys and storming off.

“Y/N wait!”

———

You drove and drove and drove for two hours, trying to calm down after that whole situation.

As you parked up somewhere you finally looked at your phone and saw 50 missed calls from Leah and numerous texts from her.

My Le 💕

Baby I’m so sorry

Please come home I love you so much

Where are you?

Y/N I’m really really worried please just let me know where you are

I love you so much baby girl

Please just let me know you’re safe

I wanna marry you too, please Y/N can you come home?

I didn’t mean any of it

Please come home

You sighed before you started the car again, deciding that you were calm enough to go home again without crying.

As you pulled into the driveway of your shared home with Leah the front door swung open and a crying Leah ran to your car. You opened your door and got out in time for her to tackle you in a big hug.

“Don’t do that ever again. God, are you okay?” Leah cried into your neck. You closed your eyes and let yourself relax into the hug.

As upset as you were, you could never stay angry at Leah.

“Physically I’m fine. Emotionally…not so fine.” You whispered, making Leah kiss your cheek before pulling away.

She pulled you into the house and dragged you to the sofa where she was previously shouting at you two hours ago.

“I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. So sorry.”

Leah took your hands and you let her, which made her smile a little bit before she went back to serious.

“I just saw those messages and I was so confused and hurt and then when I saw that photo I exploded. I should’ve let you talk and I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” She rambled, sounding more and more like she was going to cry the longer she went on.

You look down at both of your hands. “Love you too.” You whispered.

“Yeah? Still?” Leah whispered back, squeezing your hands a little.

“Always. You were fucking stupid and you should’ve talked to me the minute you saw those messages and let me explain but I will still always love you. You’re my Le, that’s for life babe. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You replied, feeling less sad. You smiled a little at her as she giggles at your last sentence.

“Would you still be interested in marrying me?”

“Would you still be interested in me asking you to marry me?”

Leah smiles lovingly with tears in her eyes as she nods.

You tightened your grip on her hands and sat up properly. “Okay, well I don’t have a ring yet but here we go. Leah Williamson, will you marry me?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes!”

[jaywonjuice]

📄🖇️ — bf!jake making sure you eat; taking care of you

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre non idol/student au, angst, fluff, drabble

requests: [here] & [here]; prompt #2 comforting you when you’re crying; #18 them making sure you eat.

WARNING tw! disordered eating!! we do NOT romanticise EDs over here please n thank you but pls pls pls skip on this one if you think you might find it triggering <3; sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 595

as you surveyed the sea of notes and past papers that were spread out in front of you over your unmade bed, your heart sank in your chest.

still so far to go.

rubbing your temples in a bid to ease your rising headache, there came a knock at your dorm door.

‘come in,’ your voice trembled a little involuntarily.

you watched as jake let himself in, closing the door gently behind him before turning to face you.

god he was a sight for sore eyes.

he looked like a dream just stood there in front of you in his sweatshirt and jeans, hair a dark ruffled mess, his eyes… full of concern.

you watched as he took in your appearance; you had dark circles under your eyes, your face was grey. you’d done your best to hide your weak frame in one of his oversized hoodies, but by the look on his face you could tell it hadn’t worked.

‘baby, i’m worried about you,’ he said softly. ‘your flatmates say you’ve hardly left your room all week,’ he pushed some papers aside and sat down next to you on the bed. as you looked up at him to meet his gaze, you could just feel how tired your eyes must look to him right now. you thought you might cry when you saw his face so full of worry as he watched you, soft brown eyes not leaving your face for even a moment.

‘you’re not eating again, aren’t you?’

the question fell over you like a wave; you hadn’t prepared yourself for him to be so straightforward with you. all of a sudden you couldn’t hold it in any longer, and hot tears came rushing down your cheeks. alarmed, jake pulled you into him and wrapped his arms round you tightly. as you buried you face into his chest, breathing in his comforting scent, wracking sobs took over your entire body.

‘shhh, oh baby,’ jake’s voice a near whisper as he kissed the top of your head. ‘please tell me what’s wrong?’

‘i’m sorry,’ you sobbed quietly, your entire body still shaking. ‘i’m really sorry i- i’ve been so stressed. i’m just so stressed all the time what with finals coming up and when i’m stressed i get this knot in my stomach, it makes me feel sick, and i- i just can’t.’

jake stroked your hair gently as he held you to him. ‘it’s okay baby, you’re gonna be just fine,’ he paused, thinking. ‘but you gotta eat.’

‘i know,’ your voice came small, barely audible. slightly calmer now, you pulled away a little and met his eyes. ‘i know, jake.’

he reached out a hand to stroke your cheek lightly. ‘okay here’s what’s going to happen,’ he said decisively. ‘i’m gonna go make us some pasta, and we’re gonna watch a movie, okay angel? all of this can wait til tomorrow. you need a break,’ he leaned in, bringing his lips to yours in the gentlest kiss. relief flooded over you as you kissed him back softly, feeling the tension within you melting away.

‘thank you,’ you whispered.

he nodded with a small smile, and started gathering all the papers up from the bed, placing them in a neat pile on your desk. ‘i’m going to be here to take care of you, but you gotta start taking care of yourself, too.’ he leaned down and placed a firm kiss on the top of your head. you smiled gratefully.

‘i really love you jake,’ you whispered.

‘i love you so much, angel,’ he replied.

a/n i’m so so thankful for this request, tysm to both anons who asked for jake with these prompts! i honestly think that jake would be the most caring boyfriend so this just suits him so well. pls remember to always take care of yourself (you know jake would want you to ♡).

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

[the-phantom-peach]

I really like your four swords art but why is shadow (the "evil" one) the only one with dark skin?

Hi thank you for your question!

I’m offering the benefit of the doubt when I say you probably didn’t mean to ask this with the “undertones” that’s implied here, but as a short answer is there is he has dark skin because, as a PoC, I like him and I wanted him to.

I definitely see where you’re coming from, but there really aren’t any racial implications here. To me, shadow is more complex than just being “evil,” but even if he was there’s no reason my (hopefully) non-offensive iteration of him can’t have dark skin lol. I got a similar question about my shadow the hedgehog gijinka being darker-skinned than my sonic gijinka, but the simple answer is I am a PoC that likes to show representation with characters I like. The fact that my shadow link is darker skinned has less to do with his character and more to do with the fact that many in-game representations of shadow links have black or grey skin which could naturally translate to a darker skinned character in a realistic portrayal. Could he be white? Of course, I guess, if you wanted him to be. It was simply my decision to make him have dark skin haha.

I hope I don’t offend you with this answer, but please be sensitive about sending these kinds of asks! :)

[the-fiction-witch]

In The Eyrie P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Sharra Arynn (OC - Dark Hair / Plus Sized / Pale Skin) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1261

Plus size OC described as 'Chubby' not meant in a derogatory way

Part One

As the guard led him out of the throne room and through the halls, Jace felt himself with mixed emotions at what was to come. When they reached the door to his betrothed, he was given a look by the guard. A silent warning to be on his best behaviour. The door was opened and Jacaerys moved inside the door slamming shut behind him, he found the chamber to be very beautiful, the grey Vale stone with curtains of blue and white, many windows and sweet stains and silks, furniture of dark wood and blue fabric, two balconies one to the courtyard and he thought of the woman who he had seen looking down at him, to think that may have been her and another balcony to the outside of the castle. He looked around and saw no one but he heard singing like a sweet songbird from the open balcony door. Jacaery’s eyes were drawn to the balcony he stepped out curious about the sight he might see.

The sight in front of him was not a surprise but the voice and melody were one he could not resist, he was stunned. He saw the grey stone balcony that overlooked the Vales rolling hills, birds came to a birdhouse built into the balcony walls, birds settling in before the storm took hold, and on the balcony stood a woman. She looked his age, with long dark brown hair, pale skin, and a beautiful gown of blue velvet and silver embroidery, She had a voice like an angel, but immediately he noticed she was chubby, she had wide hips, broad shoulders but she had freckles she wasn't a Westeros standard of beautiful by any means.

Jacaerys knew in the moment that this was his betrothed. After a long stare, he felt a knot fill his stomach at her curves. She was chubby, he didn’t know how to feel about this, it wasn’t like terrible but mildly disappointing to him, but he felt bad immediately for thinking that, she was still a beauty in that as well. She possessed a charm and a comfort that he had never seen before. As he stared at her, his eyes wandered over her form, from head to toe. She was not what he pictured as his wife but she was a welcome change of pace from the typical beauty of the realm. He took a deep breath and tried to settle the nerves in his stomach as he finally spoke. He didn't want to appear rude or disrespectful to his betrothed, there could be a chance that their romance could bloom. He took a step forward to the woman.

"My Lady." Jace bowed his head formally, He tried his best to ignore it and appear respectful.

She gasped as he spoke as she hadn't heard him arrive, "My prince," she bowed her head as she kissed the head of a baby bird before helping it into the birdhouse and closing the small doors, she turned to him her hands Infront of her stomach picking at her nails as she can barely met eyes with him,

Jace would chuckle gently to himself at the sight before him. The way she took care of the birds and how she fiddled with her fingers. It reminded him of his mother in a way, she had a delicate manner about her. He had not expected this girl to be his wife, but she had captured his attention. The way she looked at him was what caught him most. "You care deeply for those birds don't you?"

"I do, I have watched over them in my room now for six generations. I make sure to take them in before each storm," she answered "I'm - forgive me but... Please do not feel you need to make small talk with me,” she said which stopped him a moment, “I understand that the meer sight of me is likely enough for you to make your decision please do not feel you need to be polite to me. You may just go,"

Jacaery’s heart skipped a beat at the words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was she really allowing him to back out if this arrangement made him uncomfortable? That moment was all it took for him to understand what kind of person she was. A kind, sweet, generous woman who was undeserving of anything but the best. At that moment, Jace knew he had to try and make this one work. "I won't be leaving, my Lady."

"why ever not?"

Jace's smile grew upon his face as he looked her in the eyes. "Because just from what you have shown me, I can already see that you are more than what I ever could have hoped for in a wife. I have never had the opportunity to choose my bride, and you were not in my mind as what I sought after, but you seem to be exactly what I need."

"Please... Do not toy and tease me Prince Jacaerys"

Jacaerys paused at her words. She seemed very guarded and he thought he could fix that. He took a few steps toward her, she had a beauty about her that was much more than looks. "I do not toy or tease, my lady. You have captured my eye, my heart, and my interest. I have no desire to joke in this matter."

she stepped back widening the space between them "I offer this to you now. You may go. Now. And I will think no ill of you, you have my permission to go, to leave, and I will not argue with you. Please go. I could not bear another jest..."

The Prince's smile faded as he saw the terror in her eyes. She truly believed that she was unlovable, he could see it in her eyes like she was damaged from previous rejections. He could see a part of himself in her. A part that hurt, felt unwanted, unloved by the realm and even his own blood had called him a bastard, and he felt somewhat unwanted becuase of it. "I do not joke in this, nor do I wish to mock you as some cruel jape. I came here and I saw you, the sight before me was all I needed to see. A beauty that makes everything appear dim by comparison." he explained, "I came here to wed you and I'll be damned if I leave without you by my side as my wife. Let the world mock and laugh at us, but I would rather have someone sweet, and kind, that I can love by my side instead of one who fits their mould of beauty with no way of kindness of conversation. I see a beauty and a strength in you that others may not. I would marry you tomorrow if I could. But I beg of you, give me a chance."

she nodded and after a moment offered her arm to lead them both inside

Jace was stunned when she accepted, taking her arm as he followed her inside. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest, she had offered him the chance he had been looking for his entire life. She wasn't beautiful by Westerosi's standards but that didn't matter, she was beautiful to him. He glanced at her as he walked beside her, noticing her hands once more. They were soft, feminine, and full of beauty. Once inside, he couldn't help but notice the smell of the chamber itself and how it mixed with her sweet perfume. Everything about her was perfect.

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

Tags (Sorry didn't see them till now)

@astarborntowrite

@ximetrevino2021

Commission Page

[kalki-tarot]

What your spirit guides want to say to you? 🤍

By : @kalki-tarot

I'll use tarot and my own intuition. So, this may not resonate with everyone. My readings should be taken for entertainment purposes only. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of my readings.

Pick a picture that calls you the most down below :

1 - 2 - 3

PILE 1

Initials : V, K, B, L, M

Angel numbers : 44, 55

Colors : Purple, Grey, Dark green, Black

I sense that this spirit guide is an old lady, who's sweet and cute. They love you and wants the best for you.

"Stop fighting, stop resisting change dear. You are not letting the cycles to close or end itself. The time is here. Go for it! Whatever you think won't work out for you, will actually turn out to be great for you. Libra season was significant in closing off this cycle, but you're still holding onto things that you should not. Please accept that the past, is in the past. You're ruining your present and consequently your future too. It's time to walk away. The bad times will soon turn into good times. You'll celebrate in the near future. You can manifest marriage by visualizing or meditating on it before sleeping. It's the best time for you to do that. If you're preparing for an exam or a competition or if you wanna go study or travel abroad, then your hardwork will pay off and you'll be traveling overseas soon. You need to stop being passive aggressive to people. You need to be more expressive to the people around you. Only this way, people will know what's going in your mind."

PILE 2

Initials : V, S, K, D, M, P, Q

Angel numbers : 44, 444, any mirror numbers.

Colors : Black and white, purple.

This spirit guide is an old man, he has dark eyes, he is also blind. Like he has no eyes. He may look scary and strict but wants and helps everyone to reach their highest potential. My feet is suddenly getting a warm sensation from him lmao.

"I know you're emotional right now. There's no clear picture in front of your eyes. It feels as if you're walking in a dark cloudy room and you don't know where you're being led to. The cycle ended for good. Your life will turn upside down. You've seen it all. Now it's time for you to rise from the ashes, like a KING! You have to stand up for yourself, you're alone in this battlefield. The faster you understand this, the better. Don't hope for someone to help you. You may meet your future husband/wife in a bank. Or they work in a bank or some finance related work. You have a lot of options, keep that in mind. You're exhausted, take some rest and start again. New offers will be provided to you with emotional fulfillment and success is at the door for you. Listen to your intuition. Reach the highest self of yours, you are your own competition. Become better than your past self. That's all I have for now."

PILE 3

Alright this one is a fox! Or a wolf like animal. They are here to teach you wisdom and connect to your higher self. They are very fast and quick. They look white or silverish with black grey stripes and yellow shining eyes.

"You should go out and meet your friends. Someone in your friend circle is being toxic to you or sending you negative energy. Please be careful. Do not spend too much on a marriage ceremony. You may get tight on money later on. You will go through an awakening. It'll be very shocking for you. If you're going through a breakup, your partner will realize their mistakes and will apologize to you. Your life is soon gonna be very balanced."

[girlinwoods]

{ the dark side...}

{Dom sadistic jungkook x reader } non con

.. Jeon jungkook the biggest superstar in the world...or innocent kook... that's what people call my husband...but I am the one who's living with him..I know him .... he's not pure..or innocent or even a good human being.....

He don't even let...me wear clothes at home... he's so controlling...

"..koo breakfast is ready"..i said while making some pancakes and he came down stairs wearing a grey suit that matches with his Rolex watch...his hair all done... And i was Naked totally just a small apron that was covering my chest little bit ...

" koo.. can I ask you something"

" sure go ahead" he said while scrolling his phone as he was eating his breakfast..

" I don't want to be... with you anymore....i..i..need divorce"

He stare at me for a while...and started laughing

" I am not joking kook" i said a bit harshly

He stare at me again with a blank face...

" why"

" i-its my decision"

" and who are you to talk about decisions ?" He said in very polite voice that scares me....alot...

" i wanna live my life too!"

" seems like you need some attention hmm" he said as he took a bite of pancakes

I know what he...mean by that

" I want divorce please"

He didn't said anything this time... Just stood up from his..seat and removed his belt

" maybe that's what you really want right now"

And he started beating me .. with his belt i..was screaming for help for... someone to save me from this monster....

After 20 minutes he stopped....

" honey i didn't hear you...?.did you asked for something?"

" n-no.."

" stupid cunt...." He removed his pants down as.....he started jerking off while making an eye contact with me..." You deserve this...y/n"

And he cums on me ..i cried more harder in disgust....

" now...y/n ..baby..do you think you are even enough to stand for your self look at you.... looking like a whore.. who gonna trust you?? ..like think yourself .. are you gonna trust on ...a woman who look like a whore .. who's Naked on the floor with cum ..all over her body or...on a gentle educated man..? Hmm..." He smirks on his own joke....

His eyes... travels on her chest....and he grabbed her nipples hardly...as he ...started sucking on...them...

" l-leave...me please" she tries to stop...him...but she couldn't....

And ....he fucked her...in every position he could do...while all she can do is cry... begging for help for... someone to save her from this monster....and...in the end she gets pregnant with twins...

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

You're Losing Me Analysis

Ok, you got me, enough people messaged me with cute gifs and pretty pleases asking for this analysis to motivate me to finish it. So, here it is, my lyrical analysis of You're Losing Me.

I will stick to my interpretation of this song NOT being about a romantic relationship, the poll I did a while ago showed that most people interpret it to be about a romantic relationship breakdown. I will explain why I don't think that, but if you do, the main lyrical themes will still apply. (Colour coding of main themes at the end)

Before any lyrics, this songs starts with two sounds: A heartbeat and a massive sigh. Like, a really big one, you can even hear the inbreath. Something I've only ever experienced when someone is really, really exhausted and annoyed. I've sometimes made that noise when I'm standing in the pieces of something my children have broken, after I've told them a thousand times not to break it. The non-verbal expression of 'I f*cking told you this would happen'. So, before we even hear any words, I'm able to tell that this is about something that has happened before. We've been round and round this thing a million times. This breakdown has been a long time coming, a death by a thousand cuts if you will ;)

The heartbeat also sets the scene for the main lyrical theme before the first verse starts: A patient in an emergency situation, I envision a hospital room with a heart monitor. Over this heartbeat (and minimal production) we hear Taylor addressing her audience by saying

You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't"

The You and the I are having a disagreement, but it's not so much an argument, as a miscommunication. They don't understand what she's saying but Taylor was already expecting that. Immediately, the first line confirms what the sigh was already indicating: This is not a new issue, we've been here many times before so Taylor is well aware that this communication isn't working. Then in the next line

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

She introduces the medical theme in the lyrics with the word 'cure'. The metaphor is that the relationship that's being described here is the patient that's dying in hospital. This theme is incredibly present throughout the entire song, there is a constant 'brink of death' threat, with mentions of 'gashes', my face was grey' and 'too far gone to bring back to life'. And then, of course, the chorus is the culmination of this with the repetitions of 'Stop, you're losing me' and 'I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore'. This gives me images of an emergency room situation where the patient is flatlining and the doctors are trying to revive them. Or maybe a battlefield, as the last line of the first verse introduces the secondary theme of war or combat with 'You might just have dealt the final blow'. Taylor has of course used the war imagery many times before when talking about conflict, such as in All Too Well ('I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight'), Call it What You Want ('I brought a knife to a gun fight'), The Great War, and the Archer ('I'm ready for combat').

So, despite the initial resignation, Taylor is fighting with the person/people she is addressing here. They are the one that's injuring the patient to the point of near death. And in the chorus she is telling them that, asking them to stop, because the relationship is dying. But we don't yet learn what she is asking them to stop doing. She does, however, show the problem in the relationship when she says:

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

It's a WE versus I situation: We used to love this room, but now I (and only I) am left sitting alone in the dark. And only I get to make the decision about what to do with all the stuff we built together, because you're not even here to sit in the dark with me. Also, notice the light versus dark comparison. You are only there for the light (easy) parts, and not the dark (hard). In that context, I am inclined to interpret the room in this line as her stages and the light being the spotlight. We loved standing in the light together/You loved seeing me in the light, but now you've left me in the dark. This is why I really think this song is about the relationship with her majority fanbase and not a romantic relationship. Since 1989 she's written about her romantic partner in a way that makes it clear that this person is with her through thick and thin, on reputation we had End Game and New Years Day, the ultimate song about being there after the party when the glitter fades and it's not glamorous anymore, and in CIWYW she literally says her lover's 'starry eyes sparking up my darkest night'. So, I don't think it's her partner who is leaving her in the dark here, it's the fans. And the 'everything we built' is of course the fame/sold out stadiums etc. And that theme continues in the next verse:

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

Now the picture is becoming clearer as to what the 'you' here is doing that Taylor is asking them to stop, or better what they're NOT doing. She's glaring at them, sending signals and biting her nails, using all forms of non-verbal communication, but they're not being received. Or she's being willfully ignored. The 'I sent you signals' is a screaming parallel to 'I gave so many signs' from Exile and 'sending signals to be double-crossed' from Evermore. And I think in all three cases, it is referring to queer flagging. And just like in High Infidelity (a similar song thematically) she says 'There's many ways that you can kill the one you love/ the slowest way is never loving them enough', here she's saying 'How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?. Both boils down to the same thing: Your ignorance is killing me and it's a slow and painful death. She ends the verse on the medical theme which has now slightly shifted to Taylor being the dying patient ('My face was grey' - corpse) and the relationship being sick. Over the chorus we still hear the heartbeat though, so she's dying but she's not dead yet.

Let's talk about the bridge. This is juicy, as Taylor's bridges always are, but this one, of course, had the one line that sent all the swifties into an angry rampage against Joe Alwyn. But we'll get to that. The first line is in fact my favourite:

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

She calls the relationship a 'sad song'. And that's obviously an interesting thing for a songwriter to say, and I've seen many good interpretations of this line, but mine is this: Taylor is the girl who made her name as the young country singer who writes sad breakup songs about her past relationships. And she owned that for a while, until she openly discussed how much it trivialises her writing and that songs are more than just the person she's writing about (not as simple as a paternity test etc.), but have people stopped making her songs about men? When the Joe breakup hit the news, wasn't the first thing the swifties said 'Oh, the next album is going to be soooo sad...."?? So...for some people she still is, and will always be, just the girl who writes about breakups. And she's saying to those people 'how long can this relationship last if that's all you'll ever see me for?' She also, once again uses the medical theme of 'bringing the relationship back to life' when it has in fact died multiple deaths already. But this time it might just be 'too far gone' to be revived.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

She also continues the war/combat theme with being the 'bravest soldier' who is bleeding whilst on the frontline 'fighting in only your army'. This is also important. Taylor is the soldier but she's not fighting for her own cause, she's fighting in the other person's army. She's making herself bleed, for the other person's sake. Much like a closeted gay person pretending to be straight for the mass appeal. It's making me bleed for your benefit, but you don't even notice, DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!! And then we get to the ultimate bait and switch line:

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

Where you will all shout at me 'How can it not be about a romantic relationship, it has the line about marrying!!!'. Relax, I think this is intentional. What an easy way to make the whole song sound like it's about a breakup with just one line when the rest of the song suggest something else (to me at least). I don't see this as being about a literal marriage proposal, more like a 'I wouldn't choose me either'. Very much along the lines of Anti Hero, I'm the problem, why would you choose me, but I'd still love it if you did. And she even says in the next part 'I have nothing to believe, unless you're choosing me.'

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

(POV changes, addresses self:) "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing) "To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

So in the imperatives, the direction of address changes and she's now thinking to/addressing herself with these commands: 'DO something, SAY something, LOSE something, CHOOSE something, RISK something.' Almost like she's trying to jumpstart herself into action. This all screams BE BRAVE to me, especially the 'say something' because in the previous verse she was communicating in all these non-verbal ways (glaring, signals, nail biting) and that wasn't working. She's telling herself to be brave and SAY something, make it unmistakably clear, but that may well mean risking something and losing it. Also, choose something babe, you can't play both sides forever. In the last line she then addresses the audience again by saying 'I have nothing to believe unless you're choosing me.' She wants to be chosen by her audience as her authentic self, not as the 'sad song' girl. Once she's said all those hard hitting truths, what follows is a massive pause, a moment of total silence. Like the moment when you've finally said all you wanted to say and now you're waiting for the reaction. And when you almost think the song has ended, we get the heartbeat again and one more chorus.

SILENCE You're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me I can't find a pulse (HEARTBEAT STOPS) My heart won't start anymore

In this last chorus the Stops are now echoed twice to increase the urgency in this plea, it sounds almost like she's saying 'stop, stop stop! It's really about to be over!'. And it is, as the heartbeats stops on the word 'pulse' and the patient has finally died. She concludes on what we have just witnessed 'My heart won't start anymore' but there is no 'for you' this time, because the relationship is dead now. No more coming back this time.

Thematically, to fit into the concept of midnights, this could be a song set in early 2019 when she was planning her coming out, or it could be more recent, as an internal counter piece to Anti Hero. I hope this lived up to what you hoped for, people who asked so nicely :)

blue - medical theme/imagery

orange - direct address to audience

green - war/combat theme

[3473-warrior]

Escaping the Dark Lord

Wolfstar and Sunseeker | words: 1,818

"How are you?"

"Oh, you know, as best as can be, I guess." Sirius pauses. "Fuck! James, I have to go. Someone's coming."

"Wait, Padfoot-"

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" Sirius hangs up the mirror and shoves it into his pocket before Walburga enters the room.

"Downstairs."

"I don't-"

"Now, Sirius! We have guests." Sirius gets out of bed and follows his mother downstairs. He abruptly stops when they enter the dining room. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Mulciber, and Avery gather around the long table full of food. Along with Sirius' parents and brother and someone he doesn't know.

"Ah, Sirius. I'm so glad you could join us," the unknown person speaks, but his voice has a hiss-like undertone. He's tall with thick, chestnut hair and a sharp jawline, but that's where his similarities to any human end. His eyes are deep red with snake-like pupils. "I believe we have a lot to talk about."

"Who are you?" Sirius blurts before he can bite his tongue.

"You dare-" Bellatrix starts to spit, standing, but the unknown person settles her with a simple raised hand.

"It's alright, Bellatrix. I look a bit different than before, don't I, Sirius?" Sirius watches in awe as a glamor shimmers over the man, covering his eyes and making him look more human. "This is what I looked like when we first met if I'm not mistaken? Yes, I have changed my appearance some. Have a seat, please." The unknown man waves his hand, and the chair beside Regulus slides away from the table, putting Sirius between him and Orion. Sirius takes the seat with more apprehension than he wishes he displayed. The man lets the glamor drop, "You're an intriguing young man, Sirius. Weren't you born with an inclination for Dark magic?"

"I was." The man hums low in his throat and gazes at him.

"It seems you don't ally yourself with other people born like that."

"I don't see any need to. James Potter and Peter Pettigrew are brilliant wizards without the proclivity for darkness."

"But not Remus Lupin?"

"He leans more towards Grey."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Well, it would be the magic he's leant toward since birth."

"It isn't. You see, most werewolves are lucky if they lean towards Grey magic." Sirius choked on his bite of food.

"I don't have any idea-"

"I think you do. Remus Lupin is one of Greyback's, isn't he, Rodolphus?"

"Yes, my lord. He turned when he was four because the boy's father couldn't hold his tongue."

"Hmm, Sirius, I don't appreciate liars. Do you?"

"No, sir."

"But you lied to me."

"I-I did."

"Why?"

"Because I want to keep Remus safe." Sirius holds still under the sharp, red gaze.

"I have a favor to ask of you."

"What kind of favor?"

"The kind of favor that will put you in my good graces and keep all the people you care about safe, including those mudbloods."

"If you harm them-"

"I won't... if you do this one little thing."

"It's not that little if you're willing to let muggle-borns live. You're Voldemort."

"I prefer the Dark Lord, but yes, I am."

"What do you want from me?" Voldemort lifts his hand again and points to the people across from Sirius.

"This." They roll the sleeves on their left arms up.

Sirius pushes away from the table and speaks before he can think better, "I won't."

"Sirius!"

"I knew you would ask a lot of me being the heir, Mother, but this is low, even for you. I refuse."

"Oh, well. I suppose... I can always make Regulus do so." Regulus pales but tightens his grip on his silverware and doesn't let his resolve waver.

"No! That isn't happening."

"You can't make that decision for me, Sirius. You aren't my father."

"Oh, because our father did a great job of raising us?" Sirius spits. "Touch Reggie, and I'll blow your head off. Can't exactly run an army of Death Eaters if you don't have one, can you?" Voldemort sighs deeply.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this. Mulciber, Avery, if you would?" He waves his arm at Sirius, and they stand with nasty grins.

"Oh, it would be our pleasure, my lord." Rodolphus and Rabastan circled the table quickly and pulled a confused Regulus out of his seat before forcing him to his knees and uncovering his forearm. Sirius doesn't have time to react before being forced to his knees by Mulciber and Avery.

"Don't touch him," Sirius snarls, struggling against their hold. Bellatrix cackles and shoots a spell at him.

"Crucio! Maybe that will shut you up, you little blood traitor." Sirius screams himself raw and tries to curl away from the pain, but Mulciber and Avery hold him tightly. The spell ends and leaves Sirius gasping in deep breaths.

"Now, Sirius, you can either take my mark, or Regulus will." Sirius glances at Regulus and steals his resolve. Regulus looks terrified by everything happening around him but doesn't seem to be doing anything. Barely able to look around the room, Sirius sees his parents standing in the corner. Of course, they wouldn't be doing anything in this situation but leaving it up to Sirius to get himself and Regulus out of this.

"Go to hell." He spits a mouthful of blood from biting his tongue at Voldemort's feet. "You can't have either of us."

"Is that right?" Voldemort turns and walks toward Regulus. He grasps his chin and looks into his eyes. "What do you think, Regulus? Will you take the mark?" Sirius can see Regulus starting to crumble under the pressure of that stare. He's about to speak up when another glamor covers Voldemort. Sirius sputters when a replica of James takes shape. "What about now, Regulus? Will you now?"

"I- James?" Sirius scrunches his face at the way Regulus says his best friend's name.

"Regulus, look at me." Regulus' attention wavers. "Regulus!" Sirius isn't afraid to be harsh with his brother right now, and Regulus' eyes snap over to him. "That isn't James. Would he let us get hurt if it was?"

"No," Regulus mumbles. Some of the fog starts to clear from his face.

"Love, I'm doing what's best for you and Sirius. Can't you see that?" Sirius makes a hurt noise when Regulus immediately looks back at Voldemort, and the fog reappears. How could Voldemort figure out their one weakness? And how does he sound and look exactly like James? "You'll join him eventually. Don't you think it'd be easier to just give up and give in?"

"I don't- James, I don't want to do this. I don't like this feeling." Shit! Sirius forgot that Regulus was a sub. Of course, he'd fold for someone looking like James when he's so confused and lost.

"I know, love, but it'll be better once you accept the mark. I promise."

"Regulus Arcturus!" Regulus wrenches to look at Sirius with a whimper. He can't not when Sirius sounds like that.

"I'm scared, Siri. What's going on?"

"James isn't here, baby. Do you think he'd make you do something you don't want to if he was?"

"No," Regulus whines and struggles against the hold on his face. "James wouldn't make me do that."

"You're right. I wouldn't." Sirius snaps his head to the door so quickly it sharps. He heaves a relieved sigh when he sees James standing in the doorway with a group of aurors behind him.

"James?"

"You always were horrible at hanging up that mirror, Pads." He smirks, "You can drop the glamor, Voldemort. It doesn't suit you." Voldemort wrenches away so quickly Regulus falls to the floor with a hurt whine. "Do you need any more proof than that, Auror Moody, or is this enough to arrest the lot of them?"

"This is more than enough, Mr. Potter. Men." Voldemort disapparates when the Aurors start flooding into the room. The others try to do the same, but Sirius wrenches out of their grips and causes them to lose focus. He crawls to Regulus and pulls him into his arms.

"Shh, you're okay. I've got you, Regulus. They can't hurt you. They're gone, baby. I promise." James drops heavily to the floor beside them and yanks them into his arms.

"Are you hurt?"

"I was crucioed, but I think Regulus is okay." James pulls back slightly and gazes at Regulus.

"Love, look at me. It's me. I'm right here." Regulus pulls out of Sirius' neck and looks warily at James. "Oh, angel." James reaches toward the bruises starting to rise on Regulus' face. He whimpers when Regulus shies away. "I'm not going to hurt you, love. It's me." Regulus nuzzles into James' palm. "I promise." Regulus throws himself into James' chest and inhales deeply.

"It's you. It really is." James' arm wraps around Regulus, and he holds Sirius' hand with the other.

"It's me, love. It's me." Regulus whimpers and breaks down in James' arms.

"Sirius?" Sirius turns away from James and finds Remus standing in the doorway.

"Go on. I've got Reg. Your sub needs you, Pads." Sirius drops a kiss on Regulus' head before going over to Remus.

"I'm okay, love. I'm alright." Remus whimpers and crumbles into Sirius. "Alright, alright. Shhhh, you're alright."

"They were hurting you. I could feel it." Sirius pulls back and grasps Remus' face between his hands.

"I'm okay. Moony, I'm fine." Sirius kisses him softly. "I promise. I'm alright."

"I was so scared when James called me."

"I know, love. I'm sorry I scared you."

"Don't do it again."

"I'll try." Remus accepts that with a nod and folds back into Sirius.

"You better." Sirius chuckles softly and bundles Remus into his arms.

"Lord and Lady Black, you're adding to the mess by resisting. It would go more quickly if you accept your arrest easily."

"Sirius, we did nothing wrong. What were we supposed to do? He said he would kill you and Regulus if we didn't agree." Sirius looks over at his mother.

"You knew what you were doing when you let them into your house. I won't play the stupid little heir anymore, and there is no way in hell that I'm letting you get Regulus instead." Sirius looks softly at Regulus, curled up in James' arms. He's not letting his little brother get hurt. "Auror Moody, take them away. I'm filing charges of abuse for myself and Regulus."

"Of course, Mr. Black." Sirius looks back at Remus as the free Aurors step toward his parents.

"Do you want to go to yours?"

"Can we go to James'?"

"'Course, love. James, is it okay if we go to yours?"

"My parents are expecting all of us. Pete's already there."

"Hang on, okay?" Remus nods against Sirius' chest, and they disappear with a pop. Sirius relaxed, knowing he wouldn't let anything hurt his sub or his brother.

[llama529orange]

Part 2.Part 3. Part 4

•What's that sound? Where is it coming from? It's like a drip, the same drip as rain, but why does it feel heavy? And it's so cold the drip is cold, not like normal rain, but like something heavy and burning. Strange. When I look at the drop, it's grey, shaped like a raindrop but grey. And why is everything black? Wait, where am I? Is this a dream or reality? It feels so real. I open my mouth to speak, but I hear nothing. Or do I hear? Did I actually speak? I don't know.

•The dark place keeps filling up; the rain is filling the whole area. I’m drowning in it. My whole body is now under the water, covering me, but strangely, I can breathe or maybe I just make myself believe that. Huh? When did I get to the bottom? It's strange; the place is all foggy. I can't see anything; it's so thick, but I can see some trees. Am I in a forest? Is this what it looks like? Trees, paths, flowers, and the sound of animals but barely. The forest is too quiet.

•Is that a mirror? In a forest? Did someone throw it here? That's polluting, but why does that person look like me? It's me from my real world. Is that how I look? Did I start to forget? Wait, why is the person changing? Oh, it's me not truly me, but them the antagonist. I wonder why I see them. Oh, it's changing; it's a memory. They seem sad. Oh, right, the antagonist doesn’t get love from their parents. It must be a painful memory, begging for their affection, pleading for them to look at them or spend time with them.

•"Mom, Dad, please. I will be a good child. I even top everything in lesson. Please love me... please." The last word echoes through the whole forest, leaving you feeling sad as the antagonist’s parents are nothing but cold, like statues judging with disgust. "I'm here. I promise I will give you a happy ending."

•The mirror is cold at first touch, but then it becomes warm. And oh, that's a hand. The true owner, the antagonist, smiles at me. "Thank you..." and suddenly, they disappear. Huh? The mirror changes again it's Riddle now, and me. No, it can't be. The Queen is yelling at us. Why? Did she find out? It must be. She takes Riddle away, scolding while yelling at me, and all I can hear is, "HOW CAN YOU DO THIS?! YOU GUYS SHOULD STUDY, AND ALL YOU DID WAS EAT A BUNCH OF SUGAR?!" The scream echoes through the whole forest, even cracking the window a bit. But what? What's happening? She takes Riddle away while he tries to come to me. Wait, don't take Riddle away! Please don't! Riddle is calling me, using the same nickname. "ROSIE!" I can hear him! I can hear RIDDLE'S VOICE! WAIT, DON'T GO AWAY! RIDDLE! Even when I reach out, I can't reach him! RIDDLE, DON'T LEAVE!

•"RIDDLE!" I scream again, suddenly being shaken awake. It was just a nightmare. I had a nightmare, but my heart is still pounding, and my breath I can barely breathe. It must have been a nightmare, but it felt too real, way too real, leaving me crying and shaken, unable to think. What was that supposed to mean? Will the Queen find out tomorrow morning? Will everything end? Please no, I don't wish for that. Please.

I woke up the next day without realizing that I had fallen asleep after that nightmare, hugging the pillow as the image remained fresh in my mind. All I could think about was that no matter what, the Queen must never find out, and I had to make sure that Riddle would have Chenya and Trey by his side to help him.

•The day continued as normal, with another "study" session with Riddle. But this time, I needed to stay here, keeping the Queen away a decision that could lead to serious consequences for me, like being taken away or losing my title, or even my parents sending me away. This could serve as a perfect excuse to get rid of me, but I was ready to face the consequences, even though it hurt my heart to think about it. I would miss Riddle, but I had to do it.

•"Riddle, I want to stay inside this time," I said. Riddle looked at me, confused, not understanding why I wanted to stay inside. He asked, "But why, Rosie? You always come and play with me, Trey, and Chenya. Are you feeling alright?" I looked at Riddle and saw an opportunity to use this as an excuse. Even though I felt guilty about lying, I still went ahead. "Yes, I feel unwell. I think I might be getting sick," I said, faking a cough, hoping to convince Riddle. He looked at me with concern in his eyes and said, "Then I will stay with you, Rosie."

That caught me off guard I didn't expect that. "No, no, Riddle! It's okay! I can take care of myself!" I tried to convince him, but I didn't expect the determined look on Riddle's face; he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "No, Rosie! You’re unwell, and you should never leave someone alone when they feel bad," he said, pouting like a child who wants something, but in this case, Riddle just wanted to care for me.

•"But Riddle—" I started.

•"No!" Riddle interrupted, and I spent several minutes trying to convince him, but Riddle wouldn’t budge. Then Trey and Chenya came to play, only for Riddle to refuse, explaining that I wasn’t feeling well. They understood and left us alone.

My plan didn’t work; instead, Riddle ended up taking care of me while I pretended to be sick. I could even hear the true owner laughing at my failed plan, leaving me embarrassed. My face turned red, and Riddle thought I had a fever, fussing over me more, bringing me tea, and trying to give me medicine, which I awkwardly refused while trying to convince him I was alright.

•To my surprise, the Queen didn’t come, which left me confused but also worried. If the Queen didn’t come today, then something bad was bound to happen. I hoped that Riddle would never be found and would remain the same Riddle I knew as he grew up. Most importantly, I wanted to save him from his fate and tyranny. But as much as I hoped, I feared that fate would bring about the worst, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, 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.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

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 ❤️

You sigh and back up through the file explorer. Come on. Your frustration bubbles up until you feel sweat on your scalp. You squint at the screen, searching for what you need. You blow out through your lips and reach for your mug. The white one with the small agency’s logo on it. 

“Mr. Brenner,” you pivot your chair as you put your cup down, “I can’t find the Dubeau files. I was almost finished--” 

“Dubeau? Never heard of ‘em,” he doesn’t look away from his screen. You tense and nod. 

“Of course, sir, I must be misremembering.” 

You don’t argue. Not out loud. Just like always, you roll over and take it all. You hold it all in. When you lost something, you resign yourself to it. When you miss the train, you sit down and wait for the next, and when you’re told something is a certain way, it must be. And if not, you’ rather wait for the truth to leak through then speak up and make yourself the fool. 

You click around the files. That means you can move on. There’s a backlog of accounts to get through as it is. Ever since Wallace quit, you’ve been doing his work too. It was so unexpected. Strange how abrupt that was. He left his jacket behind but he still hasn’t come to get it. Well, once you find a better firm, you’re out the door just as fast. 

“Carson. It needs to be done,” Brenner says as he clicks his mouse lazily. 

You glance over. You can see the reflection of his screen in the glass of his framed accountant certification on the wall. It doesn’t look like a spread sheet. The colours move and you try not to think about what they resemble. 

“Got it, sir.” 

“What about Williams?” Geraldine suggests. 

Brenner clucks, “delete that. Thought I already did.” 

The tapping of keys continues. Geraldine is old and slow. Her work is reliable but not timely, and Brenner, the senior accountant, tends to do better at sweet talking clients than the paperwork. 

You focus on the Carson file. Like many of the clients, it’s a mess. Assets all over. Photos of wrinkled documents and few of loose cash on indeterminate surfaces. You don’t ask questions. You just figure it out. The place isn’t your first choice but with zero experience, it’s the only way you’ll have any. It’s a pathway to a better destination. 

The office is stagnant but for the clacking of keyboards and clicking of mice. Only Brenner’s heavy huffs and Geraldine’s incessant sniffling interrupt. You lean on your elbow as you compare your two monitors and input values. 

The front door opens and Geraldine stands. She deals with the walk-ins. She enjoys chatting with them. Sometimes too much. You suspect she doesn’t get much conversation with her two cats. 

“Oh, hello, aren’t you a strapping young man. My, oh, I know you,” she chimes, “Mr. Rogers. Yes, I recall.” 

The man sighs in response. You glance over as Mr. Brenner stands so quickly that his chair rolls back into the wall. He clears his throat and hurries around his desk. You haven’t seen him react like that for anyone. 

You stare at the man across from Geraldine. He’s tall and well-dressed. He wears a pinstripe suit with a pressed white collared-shirt, a sleek grey tie down his chest. Despite his tailored attire, his hair is overgrown, his beard too. There’s a permanent stitch in his forehead. 

Rogers... it sounds familiar. 

“Sir,” Brenner extends his hand as he approaches the other man, “how are ya? What can I do for ya today?” 

The other man looks at him dully and ignores his handshake. He sniffs and peers around at the beige walls. The place is enough to drive anyone mad. 

“I need an accountant.” 

“I didn’t know you were looking? Brian--” 

“Shut up about Brian,” the man snarls. “I’m not hear to chat.” 

“Well, I can take care of it--” 

“You won’t,” Rogers insists. “The things you click on, I don’t need that risk. It’s off the books. No digital trail.” 

“Right,” Brenner agrees, “Wallace is... gone--” 

“Didn’t ask,” Rogers turns away from him and looks past the empty desk to you, “her. Come on.” 

He snaps then curls his fingers. Brenner bounces on his heels anxiously, “um, right, but Geraldine is more experienced--” 

“She’s wearing orthotics. I need someone who can run around,” the man snaps.  

“Yes, sir, of course, sir. I don’t mean to overstep,” Pete shows his palms. “Get your bag, sweetie. You’re gonna help Mr. Rogers for the day.” 

“More than a day,” he says as he checks his watch. 

“As long as you need,” Brenner agrees. 

You save the spreadsheet and slowly close down the Excel sheet. You wheel back in your chair, unsure, and reach beneath for the leather briefcase you splurged on when you got the job. When you still thought it was a professional office. 

“I heard about the engagement,” Brenner lowers his voice but the place is too small not to hear, “Sorry, buddy, that’s tough--” 

“I didn’t ask what you think,” Rogers bristles. 

You peer over again and find him staring. Impatiently. 

“Right, right, was just saying--” 

“And I’m not your buddy,” he growls. 

“Of course, sir,” Brenner preens. “I’m digging the new look. Growing out the hair. Very in vogue--” 

“Enough,” he waves past Brenner to you. “Let’s go. Boss is waiting.” 

You get up and snap the clasp on the plum briefcase as you shuffle in your kitten heels. You approach the man as you grip the handle and offer your other hand formally. “Hi, sir,” you introduce yourself. “What can I help with?” 

“We’ll get to it. For now, stay close,” he looks at his watch again. 

“Glad to be of service, sir,” Pete says. “I’ll waive the invoice--” 

He’s once more ignored as Rogers spins and marches for the door. Tension curdles in his wake and you look around. Brenner gives you a toothy cringe and shoos you, “don’t keep him waiting and for god sakes, smile.” 

You raise your brows as Geraldine returns to her desk. She sits stiffly as she rubs her hip and offers a sheepish look, “good luck, dearie.” 

Their nervous demeanour fills you with dread. Who exactly is this Mr. Rogers and why are they all so afraid of him? You can only be sure that you should be too. 

[differenteagletragedy]

Teen angst Our Life Swap AU! I will never stop!

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Positive."

You looked down at Baxter, then to the box of hair dye in your hands.

"Ok, here goes nothing."

If someone had asked you to describe what your best friend looked like, "black hair" would be near the top of the list. You knew he had an issue with it -- he thought it was grey, not black, and so he saw it as an imperfection. Fourteen-year-olds didn't have grey hair, so it must have meant there was something wrong with him.

There wasn't, you knew that. Baxter's hair may not have been jet black, but it wasn't nearly light enough that anyone would notice. Besides, regardless of hair color, he was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. You didn't know why the color mattered so much.

But it did. It mattered to him, deeply. And he mattered to you. So you opened the box of dye and started reading the instructions.

He was uncharacteristically silent as you sorted all the little bottles then mixed things together. Sitting on the edge of the tub in the upstairs bathroom at your house, an old towel wrapped over his narrow shoulders, you could tell he was upset about something.

Before you slid on the gloves that came in the box, you took one last opportunity to check in on him.

"You sure you're ok?" you asked.

He nodded, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. That's when you sat down next to him and, after a moment of hesitation, reached over and grabbed his hand. He held it back automatically, giving it a squeeze out of second nature, but when he did look at you, he was confused.

A moment of silence passed. You knew he knew that you knew him well enough to see through this.

Finally, he sighed. His eyes went back down to his lap.

"I'm fine, it's just ... I want something to be different," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

He squeezed your hand again then slipped it out of your grasp, folding in on himself, and said, "I don't imagine it will come as a shock that I'm unhappy with certain things in my life."

You nodded. It didn't come as a shock. He didn't get along with his parents, he didn't like his private school and most of his classmates there. The only time he really seemed happy anymore was when he was in the comfort of your home, or really just in the comfort of you.

"I can't change so much," he continued. "I can't make most decisions for myself, I'm at the mercy of my parents which is ..." he looked off and scoffed, "not ideal."

"So what's the hair dye got to do with it?" you asked.

"It'll be one thing fixed. One less thing to think about --"

You cut him off to say, "It doesn't need fixed. Your hair. There's nothing wrong with it."

Baxter smiled at you, but there was a sadness behind it. He looked deeply in your eyes, and you knew that he was desperately trying to see himself the way you saw him -- despite his own self doubts, you'd always made it abundantly clear how wonderful you thought he was. He wanted to see it too, and he tried, but he just couldn't.

His eyes fell, and he said, "I believe I'd still like the black, please."

You took one more moment to look at him before standing up and putting on the gloves. You couldn't reach him today, but you felt confident that someday he'd grow to love himself as much as you did, if by no other means than your own dedication to him.

After going over the directions one more time, you got to work. You'd never dyed anyone's hair before, but it seemed straightforward enough. The two of you stayed silent as you went, working the dark liquid into his locks. It didn't take too long to get a mostly even coating everywhere, and then it was time to wait.

There was some idle chitchat, but he stayed quiet for the most part. It wasn't an easy silence like the kind you normally shared -- you were aching to make him feel better, and the concept of "feeling better" wasn't in the realm of possibility for him at the moment. When the timer you'd set on your phone went off, indicating it was time for a rinse, it was a relief.

After a slightly awkward bit of scrambling, Baxter ended up on his knees, his chest resting on the edge of the tub and his head down near the faucet. You pulled the showerhead down close to him, turned on the water and started spraying it over his hair, which was already clearly a pitch black. You stayed like that, not talking but just pulling him gently where you needed him, until the water ran clear.

"Ok, that should do it," you told him as you turned the water off. You pulled out a fresh towel so he could dry himself off.

He stood up, careful not to look in the mirror just yet as he scrubbed his head with the towel. But you could see everything.

The smoky grey you'd always associated with your best friend was gone, and in its place was a flat black. It was strange, and it didn't look like it belonged: what it looked like was an outward expression of the darkness that had seemed to be taking him over on the inside. You didn't like it.

When he finally put the towel down, took off the one around his shoulders and looked in the mirror, you saw that he didn't like it either. Or, as you suspected was more likely the case, it wasn't the automatic fix he'd hoped it would be for how low he felt.

Bravely, he put on another smile at his reflection, then turned it to you and said, "Well, that's something."

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. He was surprised at first, then brought his arms around you to return the hug. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that -- you were too focused on trying to press some warmth into him. Something to fight away the sadness.

"Not that I'm complaining," he eventually said, "but to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You pulled back enough to look at him and blurted out, "I love you."

His eyes widened and he flushed bright pink across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. You felt your own face turning hot -- no matter how true the sentiment was, it wasn't one you were ready to share with him.

"You're my best friend," you quickly added. "You're like family. I love you. That's all."

After a pause, the corners of his lips stretched upward. There was a little light in his eyes -- for the first time that afternoon, a smile had reached his eyes.

"I love you too," he said softly, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

He pressed himself back against you, holding you tighter than he had before, and that was fine by you. Maybe someday you'd see that familiar, pretty grey again, and maybe someday you'd be able to tell him the real nature of the love you had for him. But for right now, just in this moment, he was right -- this was something.

[autumnshighlady]

Wildest Dreams (Feanor x Reader x Fingolfin)

summary: you've been caught in the middle of a competition between Feanor and Fingolfin's, and you can't imagine having to choose between the two. Thankfully, they make things easier

warnings: SMUT (kinda incest/y i guess since they're half brothers but nothing happens between them I swear), oral sex (m and f recieving), dirty talk

word count: 6k

requests: I’m not sure if you write for threesomes in this fandom (and if you don’t, please feel free to discard this ask): requesting Feanor x reader x Fingolfin, smut, where both of them are in love with the reader but reader doesn’t want to offend one by choosing the other, so she chooses to keep her difference, and Feanor and Fingolfin seduce her and agree to share her? Turn pleasuring her into a competition to see who is the better lover once and for all?

professor tolkien I am so sorry for this ily

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You wandered down the paths of the gardens, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of the flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. The air was sweet, something which you normally would have cherished on such a fine afternoon. But not today. No, today was different. Instead of appreciating the beauty of the nature around you like you usually did, your mind was far away. It was swimming in the afterthoughts of the dream you had last night, one that sent a blush to your cheeks at the mere thought of it.

That morning, you had woken up with a thin layer of sweat on your skin and a flush on your face. But it was not the product of illness, nor the result of a nightmare. No, it was from a dream filled with lust and pleasure. In this dream, your deepest, most shameful desires had come to light. You had been at the mercy of the princes Fëanor and Fingolfin, the two eldest sons of Finwë himself, as they performed acts on you so sinful that the mere thought of them sent shivers down your spine.

You could still feel their mouths on your skin, their fingers working magic and tongues hot against your body. The sensation of the princes inside of you lingered as if it had actually happened.

It had almost felt real. 

You had dreamed of them before, but last night was the first time it had turned that sexual. For weeks Fëanor and Fingolfin had been competing for your affections, each trying to outdo the other with flirtatious comments and gestures. It had begun when Fëanor interrupted your lunch with Fingolfin, stealing you away from his half-brother to show you his work in the forges. The next day, Fingolfin had appeared at your door to personally escort you to dinner, gently placing a flower in your hair, claiming it complimented your eyes. Their competition had grown less and less subtle, and was beginning to irritate you. At first, it was flattering, but now it had become more of an inconvenience. Truthfully, a small part of your heart had always harboured a crush for both princes, and up until now, you had thought it easily concealable.

And so you continued your path down the garden, head in the clouds and paying no attention to the world around you as you savoured the sensations lingering on your skin from last night’s dream. Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your daze as you collided with a tall figure, your head smacking into a very muscular chest. Startled, you stepped back and looked up at the living obstacle, only to be met with the amused gaze of Fëanor himself.

“My Lord,” You stammered, dipping your head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”

Fëanor snorted, “Clearly.” He said, obviously finding the situation rather entertaining. You dared to look up at him, but regretted your decision immediately. His lips were smirking with their usual arrogance, his grey-blue eyes piercing your very soul. His dark hair was loosely hanging around his face, which was not covered in ash from the forges for once. The mere image of his face looking down on your much smaller frame only brought back the images in your mind from your dream, and it sent an instant blush to your face. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping Fëanor would not notice.

Unsurprisingly, he did, as his smirk only grew more arrogant. His hand grazed your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. You bit your lip, desperately trying to force the sinful images from your mind. 

To make matters worse, Fëanor moved his hand from your chin to your face, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek. “Are you alright, my dear?” He said, the curiosity in his voice obviously feigned. “Your face appears rather flushed.”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m fine.” You said, much harsher than intended. The arrogant asshole knew exactly what he was doing. You hated the effect he had on you, how a simple touch could make your body react in such a strong way. 

And Fëanor knew that. He removed his hand from your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost your collarbone has he brought them back down to his sides. “Perhaps you did not sleep well enough…” He mused. You stiffened at the mention of your sleep, and Fëanor noticed immediately and cocked his eyebrow. “Or perhaps, you slept rather well…”

The both of you knew what he was getting at, and at this you squirmed even more, mind racing as you tried to think of a response. Usually you were much more composed than this, but not today. Much to your annoyance, last night’s dream continued to cloud your judgement. He extended his arm and you took it, and the two of you continued on your original path through the garden.

“Did you dream of me, dear Y/N?” Fëanor inquired as you walked, noting the blush that had returned to your cheeks. 

“I do not remember.” You stated, hoping that would be sufficient enough to make Fëanor drop it.

Oh how wrong you were, for your vague answer merely encouraged the prince. “Or perhaps you dreamed of my brother,” He sighed dramatically, but continued to watch you from the corner of his eye, studying the every reaction you produced.

This only made you squirm even more, as if he was reading your mind, delving into your deepest desires that last night had uncovered. You felt ashamed at your current state, how Fëanor was able to read you as if you were an open book.

“Uh…” You stammered. “I… I do not think so, my Lord.”

At this, Fëanor hummed, looking straight ahead. “So your dreams were not of me, nor my brother, then who? If you hold affections for another, Lady Y/N, I would have you tell me…”

“It’s not that.” You snapped, interrupting him mid-sentence.

At this, Fëanor stopped you both, turning around so that he faced you. He leaned down,   lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, my dear, perhaps you dreamed of us both…”

You breathed in sharply. It was all too much for you, his lips whispering things into your ear just as he had in your dream, his presence so close and threatening to consume you. You stepped away before your body could react further. “I… I am sorry,” You stammered, bowing your head with as much dignity as you could muster. “I must go.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walked away as quickly as possible. You knew it was rude, but you did not care. You hurried away before anyone could see your flustered state, mentally cursing at both yourself and the arrogant prince.

*************

You spent the rest of the day avoiding both Fëanor and Fingolfin, knowing that if Fëanor continued to further inquire about your dreams, he would end up with a broken jaw, and the guards would almost certainly throw you into a cell. You had skipped lunch, sneaking out into the forest through the kitchens and grabbing a loaf of bread from your friend on the way out. You chose to spend the next few hours under your favourite tree where you knew the princes would not look for you, letting your mind drift off again once more. Desperately, you tried to keep your thoughts civil, planning out your next letter to your mother and debating whether or not to continue the song you had been composing. But your consciousness would simply not allow you to focus on such trivial matters.

After a few hours, you finally surrendered to your thoughts, tilting your head back and resting it on the tree as you closed your eyes. You let out a sigh almost immediately, letting last night’s dream replay in your head over and over as you let the world around you fade away.

Unbeknownst to you, Fëanor was watching you from a distance. He had known of your favourite spot in the forest for some time now, but dared not disturb you. Normally he did not particularly care for the boundaries of others. He was a prince, and may inherit his father’s crown and titles one day and could do as he pleased. Fëanor would never admit it, but a small part of him feared that if he approached you in your secret spot, you would lose respect for him and become distant, which was the opposite of what he desired. 

So he instead grew content with simply observing you from a distance, something which had become a daily occurrence for him. He noted the content on your face, and the hint of a blush on your cheeks, reminding him of your earlier state in the gardens.

Fëanor relished in the memory. Normally you were much more composed, but he liked the way you squirmed beneath his gaze, unable to hide the obvious thoughts that were racing through your mind as his lips brushed your ear. At this point he was almost certain that you had dreamed of sharing your bed with him, and possibly his half-brother, and that was why your encounter in the gardens had been so unusual. But the prince was not quite prepared for what he would hear and witness next.

It was faint, barely audible even to his elven ears, but you let out a breathy whisper: “Fëanor…”

His name coming from your lips in such a manner sent an all too familiar sensation down Fëanor’s spine. He held his breath as he saw you ever so slightly press your legs together, chest rising up and down intensely. Countless times Fëanor had imagined you beneath him, his name spilling from your mouth as his hands explored your body. He had thought about the ways he would claim you, and while part of him wanted to take you from behind and fuck you until you screamed, the other part of him wanted to see you beneath him, receiving the most satisfaction and pleasure you’d ever had in your life.

He bit his lip, relishing in how blissfully unaware you were of your surroundings until you whispered another name, “Fingolfin…” 

Under any other circumstances, hearing your sweet lips whisper Fingolfin’s name would have sent Fëanor into a murderous rage frightening enough to make Morgoth cower. But not this time. Instead of being filled with jealousy, a brilliant idea came to his mind and he smirked. Your whispers were all the confirmation he needed to know exactly what you had dreamed of last night. Satisfied, Fëanor turned away and headed back to the palace. 

He needed to talk to Fingolfin.

**********

After a while, you finally opened your eyes and sat up straight. You did not know how much time had passed since you had drifted off into your haze. You felt a cold breeze, realizing it was about to get dark soon. Collecting your skirt, you stood up, shivering slightly at the cold as you headed back through the forest.

When you arrived inside the palace, you did not bother to see if there was any food left in the kitchen. Instead, you elected to return to your chambers, where you hoped to have a hot bath and go to sleep. You arrived at your door and pushed it open, but nearly shrieked in surprise at the sight before you.

Fëanor was lying on your bed, legs crossed as he casually fiddled with the corner of one of your pillows. He was not dressed in his usual fancy robes, but rather a simple pair of trousers with a loose white shirt. He gave you a smirk as you entered, noting the surprise on your face.

“Good evening, my dear Y/N.” Fëanor said innocently. “What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if you got lost on your way to bed.”

After a few moments, your shock subsided. “What the fuck, Fëanor?” You snapped, not bothering with your usual polite greeting. “Why the fuck are you in my chambers? You can’t just walk in whenever-”

“Oh, but I can.” He interrupted, dismissing your outburst. “But that matters not. Perhaps now you will tell me more about your dream, little one.”

At this, you rolled your eyes, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. This time, Fëanor and his half-brother’s competitiveness had gone too far. “Seriously?” You said in an exasperated tone, your hands defiantly placed on your hips, all sense of embarrassment gone. “That’s what you came here to ask? Are you not capable of just dropping the subject?”

Before Fëanor could answer, a deep voice came from the darkest corner of the room. “I, too, would like to know about this dream.”

You practically jumped out of your skin. Out of the shadows emerged Fingolfin himself. But it was not the Fingolfin you had grown accustomed to seeing - the noble elf who always had a stoic expression on his chiseled face, consistently dressed in robes more elaborate than that of his brother’s. No, this Fingolfin was clad in similar attire to Fëanor, his toned chest showing behind the thin fabric. His dark brown hair was smooth, making you want to run your fingers through it. His eyes were even more silver than his brother’s, making contact with yours as he stepped closer to you.

“Okay….” You stuttered, beyond confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

Fëanor sighed dramatically, kicking his legs off the bed and standing up. The sons of Finwë walked towards you like predators stalking their prey. You felt your heart race, trying to step away only for your back to meet the wall behind you and you gulped. Simply seeing the princes like this was enough for all your sinful thoughts created by your dream to surface at the front of your mind. You pressed your legs together as they drew closer, stopping less than a foot away from you. 

“The thing is, my dear,” Fëanor said, reaching out and brushing your fingers against your wrist before slowly dragging them up the length of your arm. “I have come to the conclusion that the reason your head has been in the clouds all day is because of the dream you had last night. It only took one touch from me in the gardens this morning to figure out all I needed to know about it…”

“My brother tells me that you dreamed of the two of us.” Fingolfin said, his voice feigning innocence just as his brother’s had earlier today. “And what do you presume we did to our lovely Y/N in her dream, Fëanáro?”

Fëanor chuckled, his movements on your arm not ceasing. “I think we fucked her into oblivion.” His voice dropped an octave. “Is that correct, meldenya [my love]? Did you dream of being at our mercy as we worshipped that pretty body of yours?”

By this point, you could resist them no longer. All day you had been fighting the sensations and emotions that stemmed from your dream, but between Fëanor’s teasing touches and Fingolfin’s lust-filled gaze, you finally caved. 

“Yes.” You muttered meekly, face flushing with embarrassment. You felt arousal pool between your legs, and for a moment you hated yourself for reacting to the two noble elves so strongly when they had not really done much.

Fingolfin chuckled lowly, reaching up to cup your face with his left hand. “Do not be ashamed, my dear,” He soothed. “We only wish to give you what you desire.”

Fëanor leaned in, as he did earlier in the gardens, but this time his teeth gently grazed along the outside of your pointed ear. That sensation alone sent shockwaves through your body, every nerve in the sensitive area screaming that it was too much and not enough at the same time. “What is it exactly, darling, that your dream revealed your desires to be?” He murmured against your skin. “After all, we are generous elves — tell us exactly what you want, and you may have it. So, my dear, please do reveal exactly how that little dream of yours went down.”

Everything was spinning. Any sense of composure you had was  gone under their touches. Fingolfin’s left hand trailed down your neck, brushing against your breast before settling on your waist and giving it a firm squeeze. You sighed, allowing Fëanor to continue his ministrations along your ear as you let your head rest against the wooden door. The air felt hot, your clothes too tight - if you could only just slip your dress off…

Your thoughts were cut off but a sharp squeeze by that large hand at your waist. “Your prince asked you a question,” Fingolfin all but growled, his voice full of dominance and leaving no room for debate. It was akin to the tone you had heard him use when giving orders, only this one was dripping with heat. “Answer it, darling, before we take matters into our own hands.”

The image was tempting — to allow the two elves to make the choices for you, doing with you as they pleased. But then the reality of the situation set in: here you were, a common-born elf with no noble family, with two of the most desirable elves in Arda ready to comply with your every wish. They held such control, such respect everywhere else, except for at this moment in your bedroom. In this space, you made the decisions.

They were yours to command, to wield like a sword.

You smirked. “Well, in my dream you both took my clothes off and carried me to the bed,” You began, hearing Fëanor hum his approval. “You took turns tasting me, as if I was your last meal on Arda. I dreamed of you both on your knees, allowing me to get lost in the pleasure of your fingers and tongues. Then Fëanor took me from behind, while Fingolfin claimed my mouth.”

The words tumbled out of you like a river bursting free from a dam. So long had you contained your desires, but no longer. Evidently, your words had an effect on the two princes. Fëanor’s breathing had become more noticeable, his attention on your ear diverted to your neck in the soft spot beneath your jaw, making you see stars. Fingolfin’s right hand had come up to knead your right breast, his left hand migrating to your ass with a firmness and assurance that made your knees go weak.

“See?” Fëanor purred. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now let us take care of you, darling. Let us give you everything and more.”

You whined as he pulled away, but it was cut short as the two elves began working in tandem to remove your dress. Fëanor pulled your arms out of your sleeves with a shocking tenderness, while Fingolfin’s thick fingers worked at the laces on your back. Within seconds, your chest was left bare. Instinctively, your arms went to cover your breasts, but strong hands clamped down on your wrists.

“Now now, let’s not be shy,” Fëanor mockingly chastised. “Let us see you, princess.” Before you could even comprehend a response, your arms were back at your sides. You almost sighed with relief as you were free from the constricting top of your dress. But what happened next nearly made you climax on the spot.

Fëanor got to his knees, pulling your dress past your waist and down to your ankles along with your panties. Fëanor, son of High King Finwë, the Prince of the Noldor, was kneeling before you as if in worship. His grey-blue eyes, which normally were clouded like the sky of an oncoming storm, were clear and looking up at you — still arrogant, but with a newfound awe as they surveyed your figure. You stepped out of your dress, moment of awe cut short as Fingolfin, determined not to let his brother have all the attention, swept you up into his strong arms. 

He carried you over to your bed, placing you down on the mattress as if you were a piece of glass threatening to break under his strong arms. Almost immediately, he was on top of you, his muscular frame so close, but not close enough. Fingolfin leaned his head down as if to kiss you, but instead put his lips to your ear.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His deep voice was like velvet, a silky fog wrapping around all your senses. “How many nights I have pictured you under me, those starlit eyes staring into mine as I enter you? How I have nearly dropped to my knees just to beg you for one taste of you? How I’ve pumped myself dry imagining those lips around my cock? My sweet Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“To us.” Came the other male’s voice. Fingolfin’s confessions had you reeling, to the point you had almost forgotten Fëanor was there. You turned your neck to the right, allowing the elf on top of you to press warm kisses down the left side of your neck, nipping and sucking as he went. In turning your head you were faced with Fëanor, who had discarded his shirt. His muscles looked like they were sculpted by Aulë himself, each one toned and defined in ways you didn’t know possible from countless hours spent in the forges. Parts of his loose hair hung over his shoulders, framing his angular face as he stared at you.

Naturally, the eldest son of Finwë almost preened at the lust-filled look you gave him. Under normal circumstances you would have mentally smacked yourself for so easily stroking the prince’s already inflated ego, but it mattered not in this moment. All you cared about was that he touch you with those strong, practised hands. You whined as Fingolfin’s teeth grazed a sensitive spot along the column of your throat before moving down to your collarbone, sucking and biting gently as he went. One of his large hands had come up to your breast, kneading the flesh and causing you to gasp. 

“You look so exquisite,” Fëanor purred as he approached the bed, looking down at your flushed form unabashedly. “Just laying there for us to ruin you. You are lucky Fingolfin is much gentler than I. He shall warm you up for me so I can make you scream loud enough for all of Arda to hear you.”

You yelped as Fingolfin harshly bit down on your nipple while boldly cupping between your legs with his free hand. “Do you think me unable to make her scream?” He growled, a dark glint in his eyes that sent chills through your body.

Fëanor smirked. “Not as well as I can.”

“Challenge accepted.” Fingolfin said boldly as he swiped a finger up your slit, collecting the ever-growing pool of wetness there. Your responsive noise was cut off as Fëanor’s large hand wrapped around your throat, his mouth swallowing your gasp and claiming your lips. He tasted like spiced wine and embers, encasing all your senses at once. The Prince groaned into your mouth, squeezing your throat harder. Your head spun between the dominance of Fëanor’s lips on yours and Fingolfin’s mouth slowly descending towards your core. 

“Watch it,” The younger elf growled, lifting his lips from your stomach. “You said we’d take turns.” 

Fëanor removed his lips from yours, rolling his eyes as he released your throat. “Get over it.” He said. “If you get to taste her pussy first, then I get to taste her mouth first. Fair is fair.”

Fingolfin huffed, but didn’t argue. With a new level of determination, he placed his lips back on your skin. You moaned, the sensation of his lips on your stomach making you tingle. The Prince’s hot breath fanned over your core, causing you to inhale sharply. “Ask me nicely.” He said, the closeness of his lips to your wetness making you squirm.

“What?” You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Fëanor, who had sat himself on the bed and was stroking your hair. Every so often, he tugged gently.

“I said, ask me nicely.” Fingolfin repeated, more sternly this time. The authority in his voice went straight between your legs, slick tracking down onto the soft sheets below.

Fëanor’s grip on your locks tightened as he chuckled again. “We’ve barely touched her and she’s already incoherent. Perhaps she cannot handle us and we should stop—“

“No!” You cried out, embarrassingly fast. 

Fingolfin rested his cheek on the inside of your thigh, and you peered down at him. The sight of the towering, noble elf on his knees with his chiselled face mere centimetres away from your pussy made you dizzy. You had fantasized about this moment more than you cared to admit, alternating between the two princes most of the time. “Well, my love, if you want me to taste your sweet pussy, you have to beg for it.” He said lowly.

You whined, pouting a bit. You were a proud elf, and begging was not your strong suit. Sensing your hesitation, Fingolfin smirked, and began snaking his way down the bed towards your feet. He grabbed your ankle and lifted your leg up, placing feather light kisses along the inside. Slowly as ever, the prince made his way down your leg, kissing and nipping as he went. Right before he met your core, he pulled away and repeated the pattern on your other leg, causing you to whine. 

“Poor thing.” Fëanor said in mock sympathy, stroking your face with his calloused fingers. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he bent down and whispered in your ear. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll throw him aside and show him how it’s done. You won’t need to beg, I’ll give you whatever you want, sweet thing.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Fingolfin said sternly, drawing your attention back to the elf between your legs. “Focus on me. Once you ask, I will be yours to command. All you must do is beg for it.”

“She won’t break.” Fëanor snorted impatiently, clearly waiting for his chance.

Fingolfin responded confidently. “Yes, she will.” Lazily, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue around the edges of your core, centimetres away from where you needed him most. You let out a shaky breath, toes curling as your eyes squeezed shut. It was torture — blissful, but excruciating torture. It wasn’t long before you felt your pride begin to crack, the tough facade you thought you had slowly crumbling.

“Please.” You mumbled, voice breathy and barely above a whisper.

The Prince smirked in satisfaction, kissing your mound lightly. “Please, what?”

“Please, Fingolfin,” You gasped, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around him and drag him closer. “Please use your tongue on my pussy. Please, my lord.”

Satisfied, Fingolfin finally lowered his mouth to your cunt, licking a bold stripe up your slut. You cried out, nearly in tears at the overwhelming pleasure as the prince began to skillfully devour you. Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in his hair, earning a heavenly groan from the male. He was taking his time with you, each movement confident and strong and eliciting an intense reaction. Your head spun, legs weak already with the pleasure Fingolfin was bringing you. 

“Open your eyes.” Fëanor’s strong hand tangled in your hair again, tilting your head down and forcing you to look down at the sight before you. “Is this what you dreamed of, darling? Being our little plaything, begging for us to make you feel better than any other male could? How many nights have those little fingers taken up residence between your legs as you imagine this very scene, trying to find relief but never quite scratching that itch?”

You garbled something of a response, but you weren’t even sure what. Fëanor growled, tightening his grip. “I asked you a question, pet. How many times have you touched yourself imagining this?”

“Many nights…” You managed to gasp, ensuring to keep your eyes on Fingolfin, who took your clit between his lips and sucked.

“Good girl.” Fëanor purred. “But I bet your fingers aren’t nearly as satisfying as our tongues, or our cocks, are they?”

“No.” You arched your back, feeling that tightening buildup inside your body as you approached your orgasm faster than you’d care to admit.

“Naturally.” Fëanor loosened his grip on your hair. “Now look at Arakáno as you cum on his face.”

You obeyed without thinking, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as Fingolfin’s tongue tipped you over the edge, sending shockwaves through your entire body. Fingolfin moaned with you as you tugged on his dark locks, the animalistic sound echoing throughout the chamber as you rode out your climax.

Panting, you caught your breath as he pulled away, leaving your legs trembling. He climbed up your body, his massive form towering over yours as he leaned down and kissed you. You felt in a trance, body a trembling mess. You wondered how you would endure multiple rounds if you were this weak already.

You didn’t even realize how Fëanor had slunk down to take Fingolfin’s place until firm hands snaked under your thighs and gripped your hips firmly. Without a warning, he dove into your still sensitive pussy like a man starved, loud slurping noises filling the room. You cried out, trying to squirm away, but Fëanor’s grip was like iron and you couldn’t move. 

“That’s it, darling.” Fingolfin purred. “Let us hear you. Let the whole palace hear you.”

You no longer attempted to bite your lip and conceal your noises. Your moans sounded throughout the room as Fingolfin firmly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. You whimpered, almost completely immobile. You were overstimulated from your first orgasm, yet the older prince had no mercy on you as he continued to devour your wetness. While Fingolfin was like the water’s current, calculated and steady, his half brother was akin to a hurricane of fire. His movements were fast and unpatterned, designed to send you towards the edge as fast and as ruthlessly as possible. A single tear ran down your cheek as you pleaded — not even sure what you were pleading for.

“Ease up, Fëanor.” Fingolfin said sternly, noticing your tear.

The heir lifted his head for a moment and scoffed. “She can take it. Can’t you, pet?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, I can take it. Please, just don’t stop.”

“Thought so.” Fëanor smirked triumphantly before delving back between your legs, doubling his efforts. Two of his thick fingers found their way inside your tight walls, causing you to cry out even louder. Quickly, they found that spot deep inside you that made your entire body jolt.

You could practically see Fëanor’s ego inflate at your reaction, feeling the satisfied smirk of his lips on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your release approached at light speed within minutes, but just as you were about to fall over the edge, Fëanor pulled away.

“No!” You cried out pitifully, wanting to kick him in the face at your loss of an orgasm. Before you could protest further, those strong hands on your hips flipped you over onto stomach. Fëanor yanked your hips back so you were up on your knees, and Fingolfin released your wrists, allowing you to push yourself up onto your hands. 

“Are you going to take our cocks like a good little slut?” Fëanor cooed, unlacing his breeches and pulling them off. Fingolfin had also begun removing his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor to reveal his toned body. Your mouth watered as he began removing his breeches, his large cock springing free. He smirked with pride as you drank in the sight of him, giving himself a firm stroke as he walked towards the edge of the bed.

You gasped as Fëanor pressed his thick cock into you, rutting back and forth and caressing your ass with skilled hands. “We’re going to stuff both ends of you, pet. I’m going to fill that tight pussy of yours with my cum, and you’re going to take every drop of it with pride Understood?”

You nodded, pressing your ass eagerly into Fëanor’s cock. He chuckled, slapping your ass one last time before pressing the head into you. You moaned at the stretch, forcing yourself to relax as the Prince slid himself into you with surprising slowness. “Gods above,” Fëanor groaned behind you. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Your toes curled at the thought of the Prince fantasizing about this moment just like you did. Your thoughts were interrupted as Fingolfin brought his cock to your lips, gently tracing them with the head. “Open.” He commanded, gently but sternly. 

You obliged without thinking, body responding to his orders on its own. Eagerly, your jaw stretched to wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. Fingolfin sighed deeply, the noise sending pleasure down your spin. You inhaled through your nose, opening your throat as best you could to accommodate his massive size.

“Good girl,” Fingolfin praised as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. It was a sight that took your breath away — the noble prince with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered shut in bliss at how you made him feel. “Look at you, taking me in that smart mouth of yours so well. It’s like you were made for this, weren’t you?”

Fëanor grunted, beginning to move his hips and thrust in and out of you. He swore, picking up the pace. Fingolfin did the same, gently fucking your face. You were in heaven, the two elven princes filling you up as they found a rhythm that made you see stars. Your body jostled between them like a rag doll, your arms fighting to keep yourself upright as they increased the pace.

The room was filled with the sounds of sex as they mercilessly pounded into you for what felt like hours. Tears spilled down your throat as you gagged on Fingolfin’s cock, taking breaths through your nose whenever you could. Fëanor gripped your hips so tightly you knew there would be colourful bruises the next day — bruises you would be proud to stare at in the mirror.

Your body crescendoed to the release you were denied earlier, beginning to shake as you approached it fast. You began to clench around Fëanor’s cock, and he moaned. “That’s it, pet.” He growled, ploughing into your cunt. “Cum all over my cock like the slut you are. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, screaming around Fingolfin’s cock as one of Fëanor’s hands reached down between your legs and firmly rubbed your clit. That was all it took for you to explode, shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm took over. You saw white, Fingolfin letting out a loud groan as the vibrations from your noises consumed his cock. Fëanor moaned fiercely, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you. 

Fingolfin followed a few minutes later, and you eagerly swallowed every drop he spurted down your throat. Your jaw ached and every bone in your body was spent, but you were in heaven. A thin sheen of sweat covered the Princes, their long hair clinging to their muscles as they panted. You collapsed as they pulled out of you, landing on the soft bed as you caught your breath. Wordlessly, the princes began to tend to you. Fingolfin grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and gently brought it to your lips, smoothing your hair as he did so. Fëanor brought forth a damp cloth, gently wiping you down. They murmured gentle praises, and you basked in the glow of their attention. They settled you under the sheets, each prince taking up residence beside you and caressing your body.

“So…” Fëanor hummed as you began to drift off into sleep. “Who won?”

Fingolfin’s quiet but stern scold was all you heard before you let yourself slip into unconsciousness.