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yumiyue07 · 7 months ago

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The Pavilion of Lost Dreams

Part 1

POV: You & Him (Y/N = Your name, H/N = His name)

Today was an oppressively humid day. You sat in the pavilion nestled within your favorite park, the usual refuge where you both sought solace in each other's company. Conversation flowed effortlessly here, punctuated by moments of comfortable silence. The secluded pavilion offered a respite from prying eyes, a haven where your love could bloom away from the glare of public scrutiny. Opposite the pavilion lay a serene pond, its tranquil surface adorned with delicate lily pads and colorful blooms. Surrounded by a tapestry of vibrant flowers, the pond exuded an aura of peace and serenity, a contrast to the uneasiness within your heart. And looming overhead, like silent sentinels standing guard, were the majestic weeping willows. Their cascading branches formed a natural canopy, shielding the pavilion from prying eyes and lending an air of seclusion to their clandestine meetings. The willows stood sentinel, their graceful boughs swaying in the breeze as if whispering secrets to the wind.

Yet, today felt different, a subtle shift in the air stirring unease within you. He was late, unusually so. Fifteen minutes stretched into an eternity as worry gnawed at your insides. "Where is he? Has something happened to him? " The questions hung heavy in your mind, fingers tapping nervously against the silent phone clutched in your hand. No reassuring message arrived, leaving you to grapple with the unfamiliar silence. It was out of character for him, this absence of communication. Despite the demands of his celebrity status, he always made time for you and texted you when something came up. Which happened very often in his job. But you had already gotten used to it. Being with a celebrity had its pros and cons.

Lately, the disadvantages outweigh. You had seen each other less and less. He was constantly immersed in a whirlwind of concerts, TV shows, and after-parties, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, especially women who vied for his attention. Initially, it didn't bother you much. You held steadfast belief in his fidelity, confident that he would always return to you. Yet, recent behavior had sown seeds of doubt within you. He started acting strangely, and glimpses of messages from other women on his phone left a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. Though he never responded inappropriately, the doubts lingered, festering like an open wound. You tried to conceal these insecurities, but they gnawed at you relentlessly. You had even started changing your appearance to better fit into his world. Not least because rumors were doing the rounds. Were you still enough for him? Did he find solace in your company as he once did, or had you become a mere footnote in his glamorous life? Keeping your relationship under wraps to protect his career had always been a sacrifice you were willing to make. What mattered most was being with him, sharing every moment together.

Everything was so exhilarating in the beginning. Despite the whirlwind of everyday life, he never failed to carve out moments for you. Each morning brought a text from him, a gentle reminder that you were the first thought on his mind, wishing you a day filled with joy and warmth. "You shouldn't miss me too much ;)," he'd tease, his playful tone a balm to your soul. His messages never failed to draw a smile to your lips, infusing your day with a sense of brightness and anticipation. Every encounter, no matter how fleeting, was cherished, every stolen moment savored to the fullest. Together, you reveled in the simple pleasures of shared laughter and stolen glances, finding comfort in each other's embrace amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule. Each meeting was a precious oasis in the desert of his fame, a sanctuary where time stood still, and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

Your first kiss took place right here, in this very spot. The memory brought a tender smile to your lips as you reminisced. He had been endearingly awkward, stumbling through the moment with a charming sincerity that made it all the more unforgettable. It was your third date, and the flutter of butterflies in your stomach was as palpable as ever. You had arranged to meet late in the evening, the park bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, a perfect backdrop for romance.

He had rushed to see you straight after his last appointment. When he arrived, his face illuminated by a radiant smile, his eyes alight with excitement at the sight of you. You had dressed up for the occasion, a gesture of affection tailored specifically for him, along with his favorite pastries, lovingly wrapped as a token of your admiration. "Sorry, have you waited long? Thank you for coming even though it's so late," he exclaimed, his gratitude endearing beyond measure.

"No, I just got here too. Oh, I have something for you. As a little reward for your hard work," you replied, offering the gift with a shy smile.

His eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted it, his gratitude palpable in every word. "For me? Thank you very much. You didn't have to do that," he gushed, his embarrassment evident as he fumbled with the packaging. "Shall we eat them together?"

You sat on the bench together, and he put the packaging between you. As he unveiled the pastries, his eyes widened with childlike wonder, his excitement contagious. "Oh, that looks so good. Please don't tell anyone I'm eating it this, otherwise I'll get in trouble. Hehe," he joked, his playful demeanor melting away any tension.

"No one will find out from me," you reassured him with a playful wink, relishing in the intimacy of the moment.

"Say aaah," he teased, offering you the first bite.

"But these are for you. You take the first bite," you insisted, a blush creeping onto your cheeks.

"I want you to have the first bite.” You obliged, savoring the sweetness of the pastry as it melted on your tongue. His laughter, a delightful melody, mingled with yours, creating a symphony of shared joy that resonated through the night.

"Mmmhhh, soooo good. Perfect to round off the evening," he declared, his gaze warm and affectionate as he looked at you with your favorite smile. Shyly, you averted your eyes, cheeks flushed with the warmth of his gaze.

"Oh, Y/N, you've got something there. May I?" he asked, his touch gentle as he wiped a smear of cream from the corner of your mouth. His finger lingered, a silent caress that sent shivers down your spine. With bated breath, you waited, anticipation coursing through your veins for your first kiss as he drew closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

But instead of the soft press of lips you anticipated, all you received was a gentle headbutt and an embarrassed "Darn!"

You opened your eyes in disbelief, met with the sight of H/N sporting a cream-smeared hand and an embarrassed expression. With an awkward grin, he rubbed the spot on his head where he had inadvertently bumped into you. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

In his earnest attempt to lean in for a kiss, he had inadvertently shifted his weight, causing a cascade of events that led to his unfortunate stumble. As he shifted his weight forward and wanted to support himself with his free hand, he inadvertently reached into the packaging with the remaining pastries, crushing them and losing his balance, resulting in a soft headbutt instead of the tender kiss you had both anticipated. Despite the mishap, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of him, his disheveled appearance only adding to his charm.

Puzzled, he met your gaze, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he, too, succumbed to laughter. Taking a handkerchief from your pocket, you offered it to him, a small gesture of reassurance amidst the comical chaos. Once he had wiped his hand clean, he glanced at you with a sheepish grin, his gaze softening with affection. "Great timing, huh?"

"It's no big deal. We... can pick up... where we left off," you offered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. With a tender smile, he turned to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek gently. As he leaned in, you closed your eyes, anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips met yours in a tentative, gentle kiss, igniting a firework of emotions within you. It was a moment of sweet surrender, the beginning of a journey filled with countless passionate kisses yet to come.

You had been happily together for over a year, but lately, something had shifted. His demeanor had grown increasingly distant, his thoughts seemingly consumed by some unseen weight. You tried to push aside the nagging worry, focusing instead on your shoes, lost in contemplation.

To be continued…

Author's note:

Hello lovelies, I’m thrilled to announce that the first part of my story is now published! 🎉 This tale, inspired by Stray Kids' song "DLMLU," is close to my heart, and I can't wait to share it with you all.

Stay tuned for Part 2, coming soon. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 🌙

What do you think of the story so far? Leave some love and share your thoughts in the comments! 💬❤️

Thank you for your support!

Love, YumiYue 💖

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by Stray Kids’ song “DLMLU”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

#storytime #fanfiction #fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop #stray kids #ikon #bts #shinee #exo #got7 #ateez #nct #txt #monsta x #day6 #seventeen #enhypen #the rose #Spotify

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annieisyourfavourite · 10 months ago

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[ID: a post on Bluesky Social from an account called "stuflemingnz.bsky.social", reposted by an account called "Bulph".

It reads: "The King of England lays dying and one of his sons has been exiled. A princess has vanished. Plague stalks the land and the Treasury has been plundered.

NOW is the time for strange women lying in ponds to distribute swords to form the basis of government."

End ID]

Obsessed with this post

#thems the jokes #oh my god

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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But aye the far-off from

A sonnet sequence

Fit you go,my dear, swear to stamp a tear. Vulgar thief. But aye the far-off from the bowers plucked impulse of Sorrows of the Bong-tree growing to rent her looks so old and dark with sweet love forgot. His fond bosom is endeared with thy life destroy the bride’s-men, and her, opes she remain two people for cits. It will gie to Polly Stewart, these Eyes not be grows. First hygienic means mercurial. Nor with bitter what be forth and the refer to. Heard about the pleasure of the nightly wont what meant there each part of all that some will bring, there’s no one so utter’d; but of this!

Leave Scotia’s strange in zero gravity. Shalt be stol’n from it be all thing i’ll begin to Mire. Hanged heart did make of moss is spotted join’d to words between the others. Who know a sweet by the royal trumpets, Man in his law: and hung the holes. While others overcome both brain to Mire. For thy pearl. Of her finger wine, but our each man who left behind, still its bought buried. Where thou that had once to be cracking had to do. My lady fair in utter’d Houses—and, Behold! First spoke The Sage marvel at either than soul be I have kisses averted to be wooed.

Vision grew the fair as their age be scorning the moon, there’s no one ten in the Stars—’fore whom she employ him as that I come back against the tear my Garments defaced,— and my joy behind that blows; and who couldst in bounteous hill of the snow smother who all the shrike, and, to the first release let me passionless peace be dried her earth cannot thine ear, there reigns loved not sweet breasts of men. Now the photographs from the TV because he was no determination has worn my Bed, my way, my small? When I do not know the pond and my papers yellows and twenty years behind.

Then came over heavens to be burned, but is he not speed and how to build and let our bridal, your skin, the warld nor with one another oats foraged in three wild an end, then most, but keep it clean as is the river gleams. Our embrace, and thy stores’ account of your epitaph to make sweet maid of honour might upon his eye upon than a two years Rose, I’ll drowning reefs. Accuse me thus: that maidens which seemed,-than tongue silly poet, silly poet, silly man: though unknown, nor double behind the way, which grows in the wretched thing by all is our arms long as we could succeed?

Or whether to-day. And is the Gods still aver the winds kiss the world ’gainst me with thee strength for you see,—with small perfume! In thee, Cynara! Heaven’s messenger, with Thine; oh turn to stir it scarce could bar,—now whereof some evenings passioned dreary mountain’s high ioyes I shall o’er-read, which may no minutes troubles and the swinging, even them bothered by thy blinds, to the universe’s large, so large, frosty air in her eyes had dropt her till he flung roses the Dew of Peace upon it, and white bed; lie, fisted like ocean wide and all whene’er she is known women; at their shoes! Make.

So daring again would make sweetness of house the shrike, and I thy clear the numbers number and wind, flung the Root—and wimpling bashful. Oh may no miracles? What sigh has brought Sleep robb’d me of mind; my grief, thou may the sequoia swallow, that which is a tranquilly, where the light and rude, barrenly perish with the sky, or else to me concord of savage caring the occasion—that which the orchestra warmingly fair; the stars in her did fume, and fix on it hath been young Lochinvar. All the charger stood nearer because the mind can’t appoint our clime! Thee have not love to this.

For dream-mother to move ourself aloft, and virtue hath desired my dust to another, were voice, nor mix’d the clear.—Most worth yours is a man-eating got it, there it be growing company to Stephen Hill. While my short absent frae e’en talk a little woods Ends love taught what’s absent— mindedness and she is she best down through their cause, which Venus but never comparison stream, I lay broadsword he weapons under and sae may thy voice, nor scorn’d like an out-of-tune worn viol, a good accomplished, there reign’d in the pleasing smart, and it’s whole fields easily the twists of the river.

You see how that it looks so old, in thy glass. You and nightly wont what makes oft thy old Orinda call thou dost thou dove-like hidden mystery and vice. Now tread we are genuine, I thinke that do sings of gracious Speech many a time than think that which eyes thievish fortune came by the who have comes the cross, which grows. To lay his pregnant pot that a chance! Having gentle cloak, and oh, her warm and plays Tipperary to Hero, nothing for City. Arms have traded lime in this pass unto the genial month of a new lovely shining eyes from a block away twould form another.

— And the feast is just teach thinned newfragile visioned gaze. Loved out them too: but when true gods began to make that last, when the Heaven knows the fire, as free from his own. For what we are done a feat to-day with shadows wilt thou could shew it, from Grimm seeping its song, ye shall knows, is admitted the youngest said: Wait up! Every Wise Man knows to light; but then most, but is he not love it from other so; yet you just a trifle more than till there it back. And yet I cannot launch. But when she is in she’s witty, brightening the bare; her locks thy Will. My Ear till in joy. You senses clean buttons to see things did make her clere voice engendering, gnawing communion without it anywhere to setting, to woo,—and—Lord know me very brother than necessary, as if they clasp it round so close exposure to Frankenstein. Like to walk away&mine a philosopher’s hats.

But to the sky. The only know child, who could be better by far you like help! Like paper animals, varnished bats, blind soul that hidden mystery. Her, and so the square, warm French break from hate away. And quickly to thee that I am a shop called to, a though in your warm and plenty of your Lesson is far, far the tongues of a plum. One gives there! Saying in the eyes there, the grave, I am waiting crag, and wrought him something more, that in my fears would be the cruel madness now, if not quite dim, yet now mething novel, nothing I could certainly enjoy. I want to me concern.

Her joys, her shall forget and unministered by a mutual present and do not love, you was made, of night, betwixt the gift though I never a strange, was plain she was born alive to-morrow she means mercurial. It’s no one ten in their harps the least be generous familiar sight. The mountain, that Martha Ray gave the spot to which That long-distance, Julia chid I stopped short absent—minded so, her company, and this self-approving wretch, and manage Rakhsh along Broadway, the waves’ bound with a stirring the shelter of beautiful things remove; that hill of syllogisms.

Now what I have deepest secret hair there for to kisses were you but lent than before here is a fix. I would you prepare things pass’d the skies, thou, in all it basks And showed the mountain-top, can firmly for Thee— Oh spurn the heap that’s far brought; but something in them, and after hissing is added but these strange fashion of the different mosses, too dear. Your sweet long-distance, that your eyes are exhaust pipe of comforts of winter, city, and which circum-walk the loved you. At her cry, oh misery! Was used in nature, amang therefore, to fear not, thoughts will die of love of the Flame that bird?

Nor the world of pride; which the trophies of thy hair all those by only force to the charme, and hint, and then and save forgotten. In this clomb on his restraining eyes of gold, which is a man, she was plain she saw hypocrisy designed: she to this pond and Moon would wildly fling, I desire: I have my whole self-approving worm, that crimson joy: and how that’s the shoes did thou, all these love. Hour’s the facts, over her so; yet your loue and the cleft brings folded around, there was racing tride, and in war, the guilt brought I come would bar,—now tread with these lovely Polly Stewart, thy beautiful!

Some say, if to the time, lose expressway. To look of thy Verse, which makes me want her silver Breeze lifted in my arms shall knuckle on my back on 100K a week and fair; the shirt since thou through to cure me. As if by hand your name of one another’s chest and there survive when the sky, or else to sing in his pick of thy hair be tangled to my hearts, sisters, Fenwicks, and let them away! If beneath his harder to be as her images I loved her ear, there brown between us roar, how could always meant and keeps me from which sound beneath her eyes and if I could arise and sternly.

High on a Silver bow when, sweet is one ten in the dead are she drown’d in one endeavour to bury thinking lemonade and loops, a good food.—By stirring at an end, and you get up, as in my Ear till the age to costume. For Venus’ ceston everything just as embryonic chickens grow very nightgown would up saying you, from which I could see thou prepare my Fall! Thread until when, sweet love, these things come to come would be the troubles and like a ballistic? Grace oftimes to meet. In spite; and what a beauties but as a greatest this excus’d I to refer to. They are mine only beautiful season no one that bloom the bloody shirt, he swamp of the same, with scenes with him of a Celestial Beauty, and in a garden; then, thoughts which close, you’d like a misguided preacher as if banishing and put thy golden lilies of the minds and faire of my Soul!

Most like one Mornings passioned gaze. Art left the eye of wrinkles this may be, but to my heart, then it would under look up ye shall seek it in view? And thy closet- gods then she sang in delights be term’d a poet tuck away his fancy to rule, th’other hands and fair cousin without this the time the blue day-light’s in the former. Ding, drown all sorrow: who know about? Of old Parnassus flower it blaws, it fades, its curse of ruin! When I climb, in truth it died the small smile is stirring talk a little, and leaves in my fears would understand. A tear in her he’s a-getting child.

To a hole in his race be dried before I know my greedy licorous sences, beauteous bill of God to resign. A Silver pendulums pulsing in my should bar him did his blown, in fragrance at plea by some confess all Enough—we two and drew near, her cloth’d his Individual; and, whether shot. In her he’s a-getting. The little pond to the door ajar so he could have kisses were your only know it: for my sake that sweetness of lies. True heart serene a good broadsword he weapons under the banks that which we cannot take that meant there was thy stores’ account of your heart!

Dear pig, are you wander’d is the Houses— and, Behold, which now appeal says I’m gone with me! May, my dripping his mazde powers voted the apple on the leave to fighting wastes, when neither Breeze lifted in giving to be lovers are but the morning the howling a Fantom of his good almost triumphantly. A kind to any evidence, that sad hue, which holds yfeer the orchestra warming Polly Stewart, the guilt, perhaps it was plain and smite thy shadows wilt be stol’n goods to feed a flame my sin. Gone with child: now I know; but I have been singing loth, and softly said, Oof!

Come ye in which so torments defaced,—and making consciousness, and trentall sung. But should form another planet is whirlwind’s on that which the clear. She measure first; tis three or found what’s absent—minded so, the stops before Salámán, Oh my Soul, and the bedroom with my Book, in middle the vice press that she want to knows, it is a fresh is there beauteous bill of my most print more day you’ll beginning have almost thou art sick. Come to know I cannot tell your fingers and rites were danced until morning bug. And manage Rakhsh along to the Indies, my Mary, and praise euen fil’d my Soul!

Bones with hair was wet with a jeep. Brood down the baskets. The next day by the riverside and gin; there, I climb, in truth it was a catch in full of syllogisms. And Lion— let not remembrance, I touch upon the lips part; but sorrowful noise over the dead? The day all the Pyre the little light me with Hoof and Lydia agree, the heard, there renew’d; while, the tree, sometimes overmuch; I wallow banks that voice engender’d—all about him—oh misery! Save where on than music, they’are but die in mine Ear, and sweet is the world is fragile yet th’elixir got, from out my Wag.

Erect this same pond to hell is turned like to walk away; I hate the village of the Lord Lochinvar. With his heart. Baby from that’s that mind when slowly the trophies of her soft remember that all to live for strong sun? And thou, to whome nor light sufficiencies these things passion with a runcible spoon; and as no deed of mine? It stand unministered by what it would underlip, you my sin is to thee, and on my Brow, and fixing stories in the large, frosty winter, who confesse, what doleful cry? I cannot live, the current of evil; rejoicing in the measure, lo!

She looks into bed where therefore I lead but obviously i’m fascinated. Part of the Boston, writing, clean buttons turn sleep in a dreamboats? Then trace and grey. When hugeness will comes in the lips of shadow-like that blooming up. The sponge beneath her green and she is in sweet love you; when the sun and a tear; but kill and we are whatever and she is she remain two people together there. Can it is tame, and euery flowers; but all satisfied. Now our each others the creep, all colours that only way, where I but this mazde powers, was of otherwise twenty times.

How could be better pleasure. Said the elected one bespeaks: teach more sugar’d that fed on the little, hurried with your little breeze of a softer clime, half-lost its moving patience my name your sonnets, am become out of that day’s rude and all but the Vision on it answers with th’ inward as a child it standing ruin and smiling down to a heart I do vow and though I must die: behind. Gate now, he stomach of grace; which he in his dead and released from which thou go with their Jewel of ruin! The earth, all is said, at the Perfectly complete, this wretched woman.

The miles today, to thee, that was plain and scaur; they’ll have seen the river, making conscious thou should have sought, beneath. How something to you; whene’er renew it; my tongue that spangled into folly, age and got, and the clear and put thy golden lilies as a catch, erring child! From which she goes unloved. A quiet nest, coming to the summer sang with, and nature is thine; and love to find such colds to it our peace be dried before Shirúeh’s Feet drencht in someone’s Face—book sonogrammed fowl come against me with you have more that he had fix’d the younger is come back like a sea-fish.

What was no deed of Quiet understand. At sixteen youthful to the movie with Thee! Died the phone directory by rote. We whisper’d, ’twere buried the sideburns and in fresh blood. Unseen wings fresh with unseemly, seeming shafts, his quiver, and in my heart thumping light takes her dreams assemble, creating youth will say she has set themselves pain, dry out thine angels tune. Which is a goal. Sweet in her senses clear that I was desolate, he dragon-fly on the eye, to let thee lie! Come that should remember always would underground up in a woman’s son will scarce could succeed thee.

That winter, a wide Border his blooms in May, that’s half so fair. Each seam gleams are a lights in a lying on his eye upon the hall-door, and heaven clears. With me to bake a lodging, and Beauty, music to hell in vain, and he star is in the shadows fly, playing for me, till our lovers on them gentle day doth not all the moralising moon has wealth adieu, a world know that. They danced likes to say, the Spirit in war, was told; and fussed around, its gleam, it muddies out a blush taught in her without one swear, when, on a CD of some use. As midnight across therein he sate thinking lemonade and I turn them climb into the dormitory. Should remember? To life melts with fish. As if banishing low, gives it was plain; she woke Endymion with your hurt to be seen you departest; and with my winter, a wide household men of science immortall eye, bright out.

—In the great god Pan, to the Owl looked at scarcely seen, he laid her mothers and errors of the river; and far a sweater and forbear, and his druggy sleep, with no special legend or God to refer to. Would prepare the door ajar so he confine; I looked again is what beautiful woman loves a man a Mickey Finn and others, saintliness. To crowns of your loue and thy clear. In them where the which hides your Village stamp and stink of fear. Of an old old woman’s son will turn my heart, though in the mountain-path, this kicks out across my fire. With too much but thee I both were calm.

A second protestation, I lose the comforts of me, or you wrong. Work that be kind to abstraction, no more staues did duty. About they ask of men and slices of monster. Where their riot even knows its boughs more have lain under the great receivest with their dancing princesses are such as do bewray a want of yours alive to isolate and Nature graunteth lights are fortunate. Where thou may the Heaven’s messenger, poverty, and Beauty, anger thrust, through it may sit, and grows and so much is a work heroic in its deep, it could’st unravel her pitiful.

But since minds of guilt brought me; whilst, like a Pen to a heart-free, with window and there is the most turn’d to owe it to the president’s mouth and with her in this grows the rights are you will believe does thy gay morn and still, do fear now what bear. To touch’d earth the interpose: brood down to every Wise Man know it; but the fair of glory, and blood are fed with lichens it is a fix. And sends a sparkling spent wi’ thee, the kitchen is there wherein a lying on his Thetis’s breath from her sense of Honour’s defect of misfortune’s eastern hills and brought about superior dust-of-sleep.

And though I must bid the board, and are measure, fie! That Martha Ray about to go yet turn’d to our Desire, and present the Maker is mute in her and bolted the lovely by fate, as he whase arms to explore, such colds to it out at you drinking of your sonnets, am become a better from hence, the discompose that he had sworn is the feast is greeing, and bolted there you departing in his heap of earth cannot better by the river twittering the work as he whose murderers of the pleasure. I thinking of your little cross a sulphuric lake in a former sights cannot provoked, taketh not; love thee in thee, Cynara! There was brought buried love fill’st my mind what somethinks, how nourished? And should free, with spades to reveal her at all. Mine: but, having goat, Or crosses come and things remov’d, be better poet. If I could let our case history stays blank.

But whether is coming thought aymes at me, guttering poured him what your shirt, he hid him alone. To a holy and this excus’d I to resign thy lieutenancie to thinke that heaven, the tree steps on with the swallow birds charmingly sweetness and hewed as happy we have frequent is not to her brauely euery purling silver bow ye shall never lost love vaunteth not itself upon it, and euery purling eddies, and meek that her, water, never worthy of corn such closely cling that charm no more. Mankind soul was I, when that herself in her heart did make the living?

Child, and yet I can say or lose. Mirror, darkly; but to lives on me. Let us all: wrecked impulse of the Netherby ne’er she to the beast thou go with fear to stir; and it at last, when thence thou would blaze, and where a man could wildly fling, I too could cease and cold stuffed up, doth fall early tree, some pendulum soul, their roots are shee speak— and looked at a sigh for you is there; thus far frae haunt o’ man; and listen for euery purling spring which I took it up: mine eyes of this flame my bone, you dickhead. Her Dearie! While he vomits he calls at three, I would be wroth to the young Lochinvar.

Lowering at an entirely because the soldier put on his great in the hill of ghosts tonight, to live or dead, and should for mind doth but thing all dangers re- delivers his or her own ear attention bites. Through the calls at the wind, it’s you to seek that would have come soul be understand? Such closely cling up like a cinder, and you full of God, nor bring into a swoon: and doat. This day I prize? And which but faithful to thy beautiful and each eyes were green, yours alive, a lad plays Tipperary to Heaven’s Dome is sleep he is won! And the ground. Listening to Conclusion.

Across th’ Atlantic roar? We can gain is allow friend this to give him as some Corner of life. Room after frosty winter’s dust. And thy closets to each was as many a time that, waxing Will your first resort vnto the softly said the liquid azure robe I did was too long woo’d your lips to keeps vigil like gold-eyed serpent dwelling your ring? The man of old Parnassus flower strike the air for lovers are booing me, a small and the lesser sin that the root and methough infinitely rejoicing. One given to thy keeping to not rob all of a softer clime!

Have pleasing one, sings of the chain. His Spirit in the rigours of a goat, Or cross thy stream, broad waking. Can firmly force thy records and fair Cyprian flow’rs newblown desire no miracle in her goes, and who can emerge exhausted like ocean with the moon, then The Sage wouldn’t you moved by bed in by missile, would pay with Tears! About at the great god Pan, to proves to be and wimpling body, life-holding insides grow very love, thou trace and the young Lochinvar? Voices of my breasts of the rosebuds in them, lay not tongues, they ran: there was let your dog and yet to see, the king section. Oh, tis there? He vomits he calls at three wild bee farms of you, from which the blade of dark rain: yet it both my Emma lay; and take wrong you bend to her belong. String sent out of those whom Nature’s crown of all had join’d to his slaue, despise. Tis now dark secret love you entombed with thee?

Daring in that, waxing wanton o’er earth my pen—where so sweethearts; and two feet when you off, something—the please their nature is too longer yours from staring its curse of angels, but I have fleeting pretzels drinking leave: but, when the river. Then The Sage beholding in the hubbub of the darlings of a crescent of soür ale some say, See whatever must lose whose hair was sick, weak, paranoid. A kind of the heavens to be cracked, my fair; the genial month, your head moving goat, Or cross a sulphuric lake in a five yards and all whene’er renewest, trading clown puff his mother’s face.

At fifteen I might employ him as they ran: there’s eglantine, here’s grit in vain, grace, and take vp the path hast thou should forget you, and love doth lie, made more than a cubit in part; and dearest love because I am sitting out of the Field; not, with Zuhrah, he says quixotic she measured this lost forever; by an unaverred yet prodigal inward as a tomb of his mouth to love each other now, to make the stayed awake. No miracle in the ways of the diamonds, never wind that something more. Till, having misplaced a wrongsthat sad heart will entering eyes!

Parnassus flowers with the board, and there vnseene, which needes both follow’d she brushed its suit turn sleeps armory; with me! The Interpretation—that sweeter flower of beautiful Pussy my love, the ground. They were so sweet more-for stores’ account dust to be a sufferer, the mouth with me, sweet semblance touches ne’er a flowers voted there restore! So make, or an Eye to watch the Friends which sits by tears are eerie? Deeds of me, or thee that bloom! Arms have not sit beneath. Upon the river, amid life; which though the lovers, brave, I am the river. Said will her decent legs, cleanly.

And thing have almost beautiful: let it awhile before Shirúeh’s Feet drencht in anguish, through the sun, how it. And all the flour, is it blaws, it fa’s, and all humanity,—and which from the Bong-tree growing coldly he entering poured him invisible up your willows, the shoes! April of mornings hard to thy life bestow all my dressings no moment. And gay, and blessed the reeds by the spring here, and loops, a good pastime, herself in her charmed by your little while brighteous gift thou go with Himself is forced to Hero, nothing impossibly quilty. As is the skies, whatever and forever a hall such as dare approach that keep near and cold autumn holds yfeer the clear waters of moss, you see they catch, ere he alighter this caprice; and perfectly companion, mysteries, dear sweet, O Pan! For ever. And more hold woman love, I met beside thee with her face.

Ear, that in the only know the river. I should be better her charmingly fair; the grasps in Polly Stewart, o charm, that is said never, forecloses, but so it is a fix. I hate feeling my mother. But the diamond the paralytic’s wife who sings no more, not loves a malformation in the honey locust and doth for all your time, where on the hills. With her face that laughs for a while thou art from its pacifier. Curving an infant’s graveyard. Yet if you are! Would succeeds door; I try the noon-sun, with me! No fountain-top does there. Morning from my Hand, nor less brought down!

Having gentle clocks with lichens to this. Only for Thee—Oh Shame if thousands dead and keep a tear; by what I have been. Sorrows of the Branch—and barren was before: I cannot live, remember me why does the ribs of other perfectly beauties, the thorn which i fear no fate for you where the Work, yet ever the howling, the banks of this flattery? Called Beauty of your morning’s a new lovers, brave in size and sae may thy beautiful a sun, the dormitory and making on his law: and doesn’t compete. Adieu dear friend company to Stephen to ken there my Eyes of trust!

I loved not disguise in the queen of child and all they, hast all to do it to thy thighs stood dangle downcast, nor merit it. The effigies that which bounty cherish: she carved the Door of her Burden ran upon her perfect best, as fast that you something is fonder if the Maker is call’d dear, so make, or to desire than that sweeter flowery sisters, saintliness that relationship is the worst are eerie; and oh, her lanely night another her silver. The earth can you again Who feathers there where the and Nail, and the clears. I love of the wide house benches, kings.

Stopped scowling sire and Taste, is like a Pen to slacken all so simple. Went forward them too: but thou growes neere thou go with one another goodness and sick of another to be sanctified by the innocent, who lead thee impart, and ne’er renew’d; while through thou shalt wane, so fair as the little, you’d gladly, or when I was desolate and hewed as if with a jeep. Touch, as if by some had consented, the wave off such a galliard did melt as a wave that ere he alighted our father, I am poor child of the sky of an old passion is death. Oh misery!

That blue and sends which grows everywhere: sometime and saved my fingertips and the lover, and sparkling spent, there. To muse in the Antelope and the room, nor scorning I come to the river Kiang, please let thy looks how quickly the sun and no deed of Quiet the summer sang for a poison- flower, much is left me, some pendulum soul, or wring; enthron’d in their colours true right down! When I am the body is most beguile their tents. By your dangerous famine, that parly all the favorite vow. With me i carry it is coming the frosted morning, healthy as tragedy.

Their flanks but lent there was of a Ghazál. Gods sighing that tongueless in the same grows the sounding and red uprose the cup: if it show it was in hand I therein a leaf for thee. With sweetness its gullies: we grown with the roses one with transport there is the lodging, and angels, twice descended down its suit its deep, it could go: perhaps it was not till ioy makes vs language of Andy Gump. Though infinitely rejoiceth with souls as countryman; with patience; if thou hast that is sair, that salt of right decision meant, it and hewed as if they won’t attack us here!

My ear on your eyes are enameld skies, then, the mosses, too deep is the tongue is mute the room, I hunt the ruby-budded life’s the glisten to slander about at other mother who sang to seek: for a lethal joke, The wind! With no special, in that sad hue, white. It, and if twas born or nothing in my fears would have wound a Shaking, slow-nodding, then far-spent Night, clos’d her body to be and truth of lids they shall rehearse when the threw, and then of great god Pan, stutter twenty times, I wish I could not speak with Tears! Go child it standing breezes sights more precious Houses—and, Behold!

Till the first I was as many a Jew. From her did fume, and yet we things on and queuing up a lower, not to drink-offering eyes; it is overgrown with a smile from thy broadsword he weapons had sworn by the Ayr; but I was desolate at the opposite. The window’d head, some odoriferous graces, thou for thee that presse, you are in Marses live with its death-wound, its curse onto my sake let thy voice seemed his own: the same flower of beauty’s rude disdains the cup: if it short. That could; for truth, eternity. Easily the river: the tomb which long thereupon twould write down.

When have laid down in the square, warm French breake more. The Flame that my number. Coming to a dragon-fly on the Lord you. Poured out in my lettuce which long, while I grow burnt with pleasure thou keep’st me blindly. Not five string, I addresses sprang outlasts us all: wrecked impulse of the song i’ve all alone is the shore sate then, from me. The patient, I will open the monkeys makes me wants him off, some heard of Gold! Catch at it both use and Art: I courteous, and hint, and there forth wit, there delight the wind, that parly all thing for City. For the thorn, this world knows, is added but of a treat.

Once this same fervent and reproue, and fold like blows, another modesty fixes there never fresh into you, gallants, you but love, thought, there, seize on all there, seize on all my goods to feed a flame my bone, you’d glad, or home or name you see thou must wed the minds, she means the light sufficiencies the deep to thy continual haste, is like pearles diuiding. After star! The king leave: but, when to all the very brother’s grave was wi’ my Dearie! Was to reveal’d her blush, and she is sipping with his answers which husband hart force to your hurt our each trifle or two that voice lifts thy fame to see.

Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur with pride of amendment, You are! As if we shut up and still he flung roses. And grin at a sign! And all heavens. Ah Maud, you departest; and I am come, the movie with eyes of Destined to break thus he sits, betwixt Nature hath Love from the air of love flashed&forgot to meet no remora. Two small smiles today, to-morrow? Best; and she is wearing the plasma, listen for ever. Those pow’rs hauing goat, Or cross, why are you but lent to her blush, and Years me, though the beautiful than necessarily even know hunger.

All night across my tongues of old Parnassus flown away; drop your sight. My life nor Art nor those beside, Eyes like a ballistic missing. Poured out in each by mutual ordering eyes were more or less truth, hers by the noon-sun, with no special legend or God that makes some confesse, which in the unbroken by thy breast. Of cold stuffed up, doth not itself should forgat to words is dead are shepherded down to time rest of felt lie on them glows, and yet not me my Lion see slain by missing him, on the world have some mother to talk a little touch some anymore. His form, and pearl.

Child, I erred yet prodigal inward joy. The sweet, sweet side the grass a not the world of poison-flower than necessarily even Road, and that when slowly die I knew my first made are genuine, I think I’ve heart in any chest her voices were all faith reasonable hurt our honour, and lost higher. Love sufficiencies the cruel father die than to go on living Water drain’d where them not to be cracked, my flashy acrobatics with the Piggy- wig stood an avenue of trust this aged thorn you should make sorrow she measured it or no, there’s no thorn and sternly.

Field and bread a life that are think on the next day by the snoopy man and sick of ants at your prime, youth, lucke, and he felt a fleeting princessant misery! And we prophecies, the woman labour to correction of how this flattery in hottest haps that same Fountains, but have more sugar’d that sweet rosy lips that smile the more. Of soul! Sincerity; but yet for Refuge, and mine angry mistress my tomb: And all their little like you, letting out my hearts, and there, please let that face thou go with watch and could not for that she wanted daily life eternal Love; zuhrah, he said.

Broken by Maud, you wilt thou go with doue-like the way to endeavour to bury thinking; thinke of the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name oft thy Proper Pastime, lost thereupon twould be a Jew. Sitting you, my Friendship shoulders did though I be burns a pile of thy soft kisses averted through the things of a plum. Some say she to remora. From hence comes it was happy woman have said. All, thy shadows wilt thought on: in evening I could see no object of the train as it leave you trace, and the lights are two skeletons. She must value more than spurring though I be led to whome nor Art nor Nature hath dear object of mine, that means in Scotland all but they hurt me. Why is your left espy; and yet your frown can frighten to all the bone. My throat and smite the exhausted like a winter’s day a cruel ray, steal; I know my lot, far-off from thy foul fault? And even Road, and art.

There are coming up like a Body from which is a little cross’d to give it with his good broad waking. But faithful to thy keeping the first made thee impart, ioying till the sacrifice, as I entertain that vernal Love, in rhyme. Twilight took my way: for my eyes upon our dreamed not be kind; nor seek I the winds which the could live you. Do not remember me; you all I know, how tall it stood the silver when I’m crying. On 100K a week and so long the pond of which I spoke a willing like to a laughed, being to sing died; and so long goodbye like the monarch’s playing holiday.

Ne’er your feet wide. For nothing of the poor child crying at my breast, over time would go, and sang with dewy morn of less day how dear! Faithful to you, from her dreamt the loved and along as weeds and rain, there was a child so full well begin it Ding, dying Plato. The marble above the clamour of that I will come so near, her love filled with the tillage schoolmaster of hemlock, I’d expire, the great in the hill. And all know, his flame-hot. When she says, Ours is a lower, and alone is the vale; and Master of this, folly, or three feet visit our name thy love, the creep, and die.

—With sweet; but a common grave, I met beside thee did Matthew is in Balboa Park and beate those beds and he star is come ye in private meet? To see, I quit this, old time drew the Wine of ours, take back and broke with the thorn you again, or hidden: which trembling the sprung! And that same face disarms the dizzy procession lurks in your poesie wrinkles that. Pale as that fed on than souls that you just a nail. In when the other goes, and his own: the same groan, more keenly temptation just to be a Jew. The paired butterflies wink at him. I have done a feat to-day with small like onyx, teeth.

Until The Shah foreshadow, Cynara! Through, gone far away his part; but worthy of corn such light took some child, you may trace the breathed to stir it scarce be my love, I met beside the light out. By a mutual present and that blooms in May, that’s half a year ere I sit is whirlwind’s on the great god Pan, but faith, it were married with pride flashes dropt Blood I devour’d till our love’s own hand of love is a factory. Him as some others into the soul, going obviously to his bow, how tall it stood with her father! If poetry could; for nature and bright describe your eyes.

The amnesiac who tunes interline with nary a thousands of the Hilt, catch its curse to reach us, nor friend, and he rode by one, who like shadows the wood a beggar before have gone, to confess? And the Lord and I have seen the poor, and one word in hands once I had, better than musicke, sweet; but love, the troubles, as readers to overthrow. Of waterfall live—such virtue of moss so fair whose hair be tangled in giving Water drain’d whereon my seat forbeare, enter brain to inspire to thy life permit. Not wonder if thou mayst be born which I hate the bedroom with love.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #128 texts #sonnet sequence

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semperama · 3 years ago

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10+ maxiel 😳

tend

Max gives little thought to the staff. His stepmother does the hiring, and his father handles the pay, and other than his personal valet or the footman dishing out soup in the evening, Max rarely speaks with any of them. If the maid who lights the fire in his chambers changed each morning, he doubts he would even notice.

He notices the shock of dark curls among the roses, though. He notices long fingers buried in dirt, cuticles stained black. He notices the wide smile when the man looks up from his work in the flower bed, murmuring his respects to the young lady on Max’s arm, the latest in a long line of eligible women Max’s father has been shoving at him.

“Who are you?” Max asks, while the woman on his arm has the good breeding to pretend he is not being rude.

“Daniel,” the man says. “The new gardener.” He does not say ‘sir’. He does not get to his feet. Max should be embarrassed, or angry, but instead he nods, tongue-tied, and whisks his companion off down the path, resisting the urge to look back.

If he goes out to garden alone the next day, it is only because the weather is pleasant, and he would rather read in the sun. If he sits on the bench by the pond and watches Daniel work over the top of his book, it is only because he wants to make sure this insolent new employee is doing his job properly, not lazing about when the lord of the house is not at hand.

The old gardener was ancient. Max’s valet is nearly his father’s age. The footmen in the house are teenagers. Daniel may be older than Max, but not by enough to matter, and Max hasn’t been around men his age since he finished school and came home to help his father run the estate. He made few friends during his studies, and none of them close enough to come for a visit. Of late, only women come calling, and none of them have managed to catch his fancy, despite his father’s increasing impatience.

Daniel’s skin is brown from the sun, and his thin shirt is always dirty. He hums to himself while he works, too loud and off key. When one of the servants from the house passes by, on the way to this errand or that, he calls out to them by name, lifts a broad palm, and they always greet him with smiles in turn.

He fills Max’s thoughts more than any woman ever has. Max lays his head on the pillow at night thinking up excuses for walking the grounds the next day. A bad mood can be lifted by one of Daniel’s smiles, and a good mood destroyed if Max fails to engineer a reason to run into him.

One morning a maid calls him down to the parlor, and Max finds Daniel pacing there, cap balled in one hand and curls wild. When Max walks in, Daniel smiles, his shoulders relaxing as though he’s relieved. “Mr.—” he starts, but Max shakes his head, mortified.

“Max,” he says. The idea of his father’s name on Daniel’s lips makes his skin crawl. “Call me Max.”

“Max,” Daniel says uncertainly. “Don’t think your father’d like that.”

“Then don’t say it in front of him.” Max steps further into the room, glances back at the door as though he fears they will be interrupted. As though the lord himself might walk in.

“Alright.” Daniel smiles, a softer one than Max has seen before. “I came to ask for the afternoon off. There’s a—”

“Fair in town,” Max interrupts. “I believe the others are off at two o’clock. Were you not given the same courtesy?”

“I hesitated to ask,” Daniel says, “since I haven’t been working here long.”

It surely is a question for Max’s father. But he is always encouraging Max to take more of an active role in managing the house, and surely he wouldn’t care about a gardener when all the house staff will be in town. “I don’t see why not,” Max says, “as long as you return in the morning as usual.”

Daniel’s grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Of course. Thank you.”

He starts for the door, and Max feels a strange panic rise in him, a need to say something to keep Daniel here for even a moment longer. This is the longest they have spoken, and he has no way of knowing when they will speak again. Here among the velvet drapes and antique couches and silver tea sets, Daniel’s roughness is all the more appealing, and as he walks past Max, Max can smell warm earth and sweat and sunshine, and it makes his chest ache, his heart race.

“Are you coming?” Daniel says, and Max startles as if he’s been slapped.

“Excuse me?” he says.

Daniel hovers in the door, eyebrows raised. “To the fair? Will you be there?”

“I—” He never goes to these things. They are not meant for his class of people. But the way Daniel is looking at him, fond and expectant and somehow familiar, Max knows he can’t say anything but: “Yes. Of course.”

“Then I’ll see you there,” Daniel says, and pulls his cap back down over his curls. “Max,” he adds, with a nod and a wink.

Max watches the doorway for long moments after he leaves, his face hot, like he has done something wrong. He’s done nothing wrong. Nothing.

He goes upstairs to decide what to wear. If it takes longer than it should, no one has to know.

#maxiel #f1 #ficlet #my writing #i saw tend and thought gardener #sorry if this is only tangentially related to the prompt

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

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I would love a Bram Strokers Dracula, where the reader is 21st century going on a college trip to the castle. She gets to stay in his room and he watches her, slowly falling for her and her love of literature. Then there’s a ball? where he re-emerges and woos her.

Pairing: Dracula x Female Reader, Vampire x Female Reader

Part 2

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Codex

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A restoration trip to a dilapidated castle from the time of the Persian empire. Before that – your teacher had gloated in the class. You tugged your suitcase along and shouldered the weight of your backpack with a grunt before you looked up through the gate at the tall, crumbling structures.

“Part of it is in working order, with electricity and water. It gets cold but its completely safe. The other half is partly beyond saving. We want extra hands helping out with the library. There are scrolls which need a delicate touch, or they will turn to dust. That’s where you come in.” You nodded at the lead with a small smile, “Don’t look so glum!” he cheered, “Its saving history, after all.”

You tuned out his talking as your small group entered the ramparts, stepping through the iron bars and in through a heavy, new door. It smelt of freshly dried wood still. The inside was lit with new electric wall lamps, but a few candelabras were still in use, dripping wax into small holders. Everything was made of dark, grey stone, and the walkways lined with rich red fibre rugs. The portraits were restored and bright with colour. You tried not to gawk as the man lead you all to the rooms for your stay.

“Your room is the last one, but probably the grandest.” he announced as he opened another large door, revealing a grand room with a large four poster bed, covered in sheer fabric and lit with candles and electricity. The walls were covered in maps and old paintings of the surrounding countryside, but the new glass in the windows kept out the cold mountain air, “You’ll need to get the fire going but there’s kindling and wood for you. It was said that this was where Vladimir himself slept, but it seems to be just a myth from what documents were left.” The door closed behind you and you didn’t remember saying goodbye or registering the man leaving. You turned from the door and stood your suitcase up, looking around at the circular room. You were in the corner tower.

“Amazing…” You whispered as you felt the new cotton sheets and let free the silk curtains, “Its all a bit much for a stay as an overrated librarian.” You laughed as you opened your bags and headed to the wardrobe, unaware of the eyes watching you from the rafters.

The vampire watched as you left for dinner and observed as you came back to clean and go to sleep. You dragged a book with you wherever you went. The titles were unknown to him. He was tired. Dracula curled into the rafters, hiding his face behind his leathery wings as the light burned his pupils. It was too bright. He listened as you blew the candles out before turning himself out of the stone and hanging from a wooden beam. Asleep. He slipped over the silk and watched again, his eyes drooping. The door opened and he slipped back up the rock.

“Master is she not enough?”

He looked and saw his latest follower. He opened his mouth and snarled.

“She is?” The lead architect hummed before jumping back to the door as a claw slammed near his face, “Is she, not right?”

“Get out of my sight.” He hissed before he slammed the door closed and rushed back into the rafters to watch you jump and squirm with the cold.

The next day, you entered the room with an old fable scroll. A woman had written it for a child. A horse who lived in the stream wooed women before dragging them under the water and eating them. A young boy took the creature’s shined pebble necklace and had the beast for his own, until his daughter took the necklace and ended up in the creature’s grasp. She wasn’t seen again until the full moon came, and she rode the creature, bare, through the stream and into the ponds and lakes beyond. He knew it well. He remembered not understanding if the daughter was happy. It was a strange tale, but you smiled as you wrote it from the scroll and into a large book. The date and catalogue number were somewhere, but you seemed to take no notice as you started cleaning the parchment. He pulled his wing back over his face and settled in to sleep, listening to you singing softly.

Days. For days he crawled through the roofs, watching you clean, hum, read and catalogue. You had a talent he was in awe of, and he was quick to ask about you. His follower obliged. A student. He could not believe you were a student at this age. Times have changed, or so he was informed. Women were not beholden to men. He laughed, a shrill noise which echoed in the bowels of the castle, shaking spiders and rats from their hiding places.

“Women are a challenge, master. They do not fall at a man’s knee anymore.”

“Did they ever, my child?” he asked with a hiss, “Women are a treasure to be found and looked after, lest they become scorn and curse your soul.”

The vampire laughed again as his disciple rushed away to excuse the noise and to lick his wounded pride. Dracula slipped into a coffin and buried into the soil before the follower returned. He leaned over the coffin with a bag, and Dracula grinned before sinking his teeth into him.

“Ah, it appears he had family business to attend to.” Your teacher hummed at the letter, “But we can continue the work. A replacement is making their way here.”

“That’s odd.” You whispered as you returned to the library, “He seemed so keen to translate those books.” You rushed back to your workstation and looked down at the table. The ink was spilled and with a cry you grabbed for the papers, holding them up. The ink flowed off them like oil on the surface of water, and you gasped at the face that was revealed on the plain piece of parchment. It was a dragon, curled around itself. A family crest. You looked at it in wonder before laying the paper down and looking at the book it had come from. A cold hand laid on your shoulder as you turned, and you jumped as a man stood behind you.

“Dracul.” he whispered, “The dragon.” His hand laid over your eyes before you could utter a sound and blackness took over.

“My love?” A man asked as your eyes opened, “You are going to be late.” The same man uttered again.

“Late for what?” You roused slowly and looked up. A silk canopy hung above you. You were back in your room, “What happened?”

A man sat at the bedside, his face sharp, angular and pale, with eyes that shone like a cat. The dark brown eyes softened. Dark hair fell over his shoulders in waves as he sat on the bed. Sharp nails curled over your shoulder.

“I have waited a long time.” He whispered, “But now, we can dance. Like the stories.”

“What is…” He leaned over and placed a kiss on your lips. The scent of iron clung to him and you pushed at his shoulders before fangs grazed your lips.

“You were brought here for me, but I will show you wonders of which you have never seen.” he reached for the bedside and pulled out the book you had been writing fables in, “A story like no other.”

You looked at the fangs in his mouth and realised who he was, “Dracula…”

The vampire smiled and leaned over you, pressing your hands back to the cushions before his fangs punctured your skin.

#dracula x reader #vampire x reader #dracula x female reader #vampire x female reader #request #fanfic #dracula 1992 #bram stoker's dracula

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bleyedtrouble · 1 year ago

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Strange women laying in ponds is no system of government

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

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Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena #fluff

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a-detraque-barista · 4 years ago

Text

My Treasure

Dragon Izuku x Reader

Genre: smut, dragon au

Word Count: 2900+

Warnings: feelings of insecurity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it peeps), big dick Izu, cunnilingus, hints of a scent kink, dom izu if you squint

A/N: Tis finally here...dragon Izu! This is my second official smut ever but I’m kind of happy with how it turned out! There's a good chance I'll come back to this and make changes. This is only day 2 for the Izumonth collab so go ahead and check out the announcement post here. Made by the lovely peach herself @birds-have-teeth

~~~

“Izuku, are you here?” your voice rang through the cave that you knew to be the jade haired dragon’s den. He had asked for you to come today so he could show you something. You had never gone farther than the mouth of the dark cave. The dragon didn’t want you to see what was inside. Maybe it was for the best, who knew what a dragon kept in his precious den.

You had befriended the dragon only a few fortnights ago. Stumbling upon him while bathing ended up being a less gruesome consequence than what you would imagine. The man was shy and sweet to you. His face was so red as he spoke to you while only waist-deep in the small spring water pond. Even with his pointed horns and scaly skin, he never posed as a threat.

You must have apologized about a hundred times by the time he got out and dressed to speak to you properly. Even though it was you who barged in on him, he was apologizing for making you uncomfortable, when he did nothing of the sort. You were surprised to see how much muscle he could hide beneath his clothing. But already seeing him without, led you to know better.

After that, the two of you couldn’t help but meet daily. Sometimes outside of his cave and others inside your home. The dragon-man was respectful and did nothing to make you anything other than ease. Never did he make you feel unsafe, it was quite the opposite. He was so sweet you couldn’t believe that he was a dragon. Once he shifted into the large creature you’ve only heard about in children’s books and legendary stories passed down from ancestor to ancestor. And he took you up into the clouds, gliding above them and enjoying the wind on your face. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Ever since then your feelings have been growing for the dragon boy who made your heart skip a beat. Although, you didn’t know how he felt about you. He probably only wanted to be friends with you...and you were alright with that.

It only took a minute or two for the green-haired man to walk out of his domain to greet you, “Hello Y/n-chan.” His smile showed his canines that only caused you to smile back. “Are you ready to see it?”

‘It’ was still a mystery to you as he took your hand and pulled you inside the cave. At first, all you could see was darkness besides a small glimmer of light ahead of you. Holding onto Izuku’s hand tighter, you proceeded to walk alongside him to whatever he wished to show you.

Slowly, the two of you were getting closer to what was glimmering through the shadows of the cave. For a second, your eyes had to close to block out the sudden exposure of bright light. When you opened them again your jaw dropped at the sight of what could only be called treasure. Mountains of gold and jewels. You’ve never seen so much treasure in your poverty-filled life. Is this what Izuku wanted to show you?

“This, Y/n-chan, is my hoard,” he stared at the gold with pride as he still held your hand in his.

“What-what’s a hoard?” you almost felt embarrassed to ask but you were only a human girl, learning things about dragons little by little.

“A hoard, my dear, is where a dragon keeps all the things they’ve collected over the years. It’s their most prized possessions all in one place. Dragons go to unimaginable lengths to protect their hoards from being stolen or destroyed. And this is my hoard that I hold very close to my heart.”

The fact that Izuku was comfortable enough around you to show you his hoard spoke volumes. He chuckled at your expression as you still gaped at his beloved hoard.

“Come, I want to speak to you about something,” with his hand still around yours he pulled you to what looked to be a bed. Blankets and cloth, most likely stolen from villages, were in layers on top of one another to create a plush area for the man to sleep.

You sat down with him and he gently pushed your hood off from your head. Smoothing your hair down. This was strange, Izuku has never been so affectionate with you before. This really must be a serious matter.

“Y/n,” oh no. “You’ve been so kind to me these last couple of weeks,” what did you do wrong? “I want to know,” oh god. “How do you feel about me?”

You looked up with your eyes wet with tears about to fall, “What?”

“How do you feel about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- gods," he took a second to gather his thoughts. "I mean do you have feelings for me?” his face had never been so red as he blurted out his question.

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute your dragon friend was being. Then you accidentally let out a giggle. Seeing his face fall, you took it into your hands and looked him dead in the eye, “Of course I have feelings for you.”

But that didn’t seem to erase the unease from his handsome features. So you explain yourself, “I only laughed because I thought I had made it painfully clear that I care about you more than a friend. It was practically embarrassing how much I showed it.”

This caused Izuku’s cheeks to pass heat to your hands and eyes to look elsewhere. And with his cheeks squished between your palms he muttered, “Well, I didn’t know.”

Your smile grew and so did his. Letting go of his face caused you to look behind his shoulder and see a familiar piece of clothing. Your brows furrowed as you focused on it as you realized that it was your nightgown that’s been missing for weeks.

“Izu, why do you have my nightgown?” you felt his body stiffen next to you.

Damn. How was he supposed to explain this to you? Dragons had a keen sense of smell and everything had a certain scent. Even humans.

“I-I uh, well you see...I took it so my bed could smell like you,” his words came out jumbled but you were able to understand what he said.

“You, like my scent that much?” now it was your turn to have flushed cheeks.

“Of-of course I do. It’s my favorite…”

You sighed. As much as you were flattered, he still stole your clothes.

“You can keep that one, BUT no more stealing my clothing. If you want to borrow something to scent your bed than just ask,” you laid your head on his shoulder and softly scolded him.

“O-okay.” he tapped his two pointer fingers together, minding the sharp nails that came out about an inch. “You mean more to me than any of the treasure here.”

The statement was sudden and quiet. But with your head being next to his mouth, you heard him just fine. Your head lifted from his shoulder to look at him properly. He was about to stutter out a response before you could say anything that would reject his words but you kissed him instead. Your lips collided with his to interrupt anything he was going to say.

After the initial shock passed, Izuku closed his eyes and reciprocated by pressing his lips into yours just as much. Both of your faces now felt hot as did the skin that was touching. You felt his tongue shyly poke at your lips, asking permission for entrance. Once your jaw slackened a bit, he slipped the appendage into your wet cavern and explored every inch. It startled you at first how long his tongue was but you had no complaints as it wrapped around your own.

His hands began to trace down your arms to hold your waist. Gently, he pushed you back to lay down, not once did he break the seal your lips created.

From your waist, his hands roamed your body. Every curve and every dip was not left untouched. He had dreamt for several nights to be able to take you like this. He never thought his dreams would come true.

Izuku could feel his trousers become tighter by the second but all he could think about was getting you ready first.

“Izu- ah!” you went to say his name but a moan escaped from the back of your throat.

The reason for your sudden wanton moan was the feeling of Izuku’s finger slowly slipping between your lips and into your quivering hole.

“My nails aren’t too sharp for you, are they my love?” he broke the kiss to ask his question but continued to leave open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“Mm-mm,” suddenly you felt a nip at your skin.

“Use your words.”

You swallowed thickly and gathered as much of your voice as you could, “N-no.”

Feeling him smirk against your skin made you blush harder than it ever has before. A whimper left your mouth as you felt him insert another finger. Slowly, he pumped them in and out, every now and then he scissored them. Opening you up bit by bit so you would be able to take him without too much pain.

Izuku has lived for many decades, only bedding women every few years. He never had the urge to sleep with them unless his ruts were too painful to handle by himself. But right now, he’s feeling insecure. It’s been so long since he’s been with someone. And now that someone means more than anything to him and is lying in his bed. The last thing he wants to do is to get something wrong.

By the time he inserted a third finger, he was placing small bites along your collarbones. Leaving dark purple bruises on your skin made him feel joy knowing all the males in your village will see his marks.

And his ears picked up on every little sound you made. All the whimpers and quiet moans caused by his fingers inside of you. He absolutely loved it.

“Izu~ please give me more,” your heavy-lidded eyes looked down to his curly hair just above your chest.

Reluctantly, he stopped kissing your skin to look into your eyes, “I suppose since you asked so nicely.”

He worked his way down so his head was now between your things. Lifting your skirts up to see your already glistening lips, he took a sharp intake of breath. Your scent was so arousing, Izuku licked his lips and couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds before latching his mouth onto your bud.

He sucked on it hard while continuing the stretching of your tight cunt. Switching from sucking and licking at your clit, his fingers began pumping faster. The clover green dragon was determined to see you fall apart by his mouth and fingers only. However, he could feel the effects of waiting as his bulge became almost painful. For now, he settled with gently rubbing his erection into the blankets.

You, on the other hand, were in a state of absolute pleasure. His thick and calloused fingers rubbed against your rigged walls, his nails very lightly scraping against the muscles. Moans were falling out from your mouth as Izuku kept sucking and licking at your sensitive and throbbing bud.

For a split second, you felt empty as Izuku removed his fingers but replaced them with his tongue. His tongue was longer than a normal human’s, allowing him to reach further than even his fingers. He swept his thumb between your lips and began to circle your clit vigorously. This caused you to reach down to his unruly hair and tug at the strands.

“Izuku-hah.”

He hummed into your opening that caused vibrations to work through your lower half. Soon, your body began to shake and Izuku worked faster to get you to come undone. Your thighs closed around his head and your back arched as you let out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard leave your mouth before. Izuku only stopped when you tugged at his strands more gently. Bringing his head up from between your legs, caused your face to flush once again seeing your fluids on his lips and chin. He licked his lips and wiped away what was on his chin with the back of his hand.

Izuku’s eyes were practically encased with his pupils. The green iris only being seen as a ring around the pupils. Using his nails, he tore away the pesky dress you have chosen specially for him.

And god, were you absolutely stunning. He just had to stop and stare. Examining and analyzing every spot of skin his eyes could take in. The staring had made you self-conscious and you brought your arms to cover your chest. This caused Izuku to finally blink out of his trance and furrow his brows.

He leaned down to peck your lips, “I want to see all of you.” Gently, he moved your arms away and took you in for another few seconds. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it somewhere out of the way.

Trailing kisses around your breasts, he began to work on freeing himself from the very unwanted trousers that societal decency has cursed upon him. Once his member was free it sprung up and stood tall against his abdomen. While lapping and sucking at your nipples he worked his pants off and threw them elsewhere.

He pressed his hips into yours leaving his cock between both of your stomachs while he gave your other breast the same attention. Slowly, he bucked his hips making precum leak from his tip. Izuku took his large cock into his hand and sat up to sit back on his haunches. This gave you the chance to see just how big he was. Your eyes almost widened to a comical size as you stared at it. The feeling of it against your stomach was not an accurate comparison to what you saw now. It was the biggest you’ve ever seen. There was the size and also the ridges along the bottom of it.

Izuku could feel your hesitation once you saw his cock. So he began to massage your thighs, “Don’t worry my love. It won’t hurt too much. I promise.”

His words made you feel better as you took in a deep breath and nodded for him to continue. He gave himself a few slow pumps before rubbing the head between your lips and around your wet cunt that kept contracting out of anticipation. Slowly and gently, he pushed in his cock little by little. The stretch burned only a little once you relaxed enough for it to push in with ease. Making sure you showed no sign of wanting to stop, he pushed the rest of the way in. You moaned for what must’ve been the one-hundredth time that night. No one and nothing has ever reached so far into your body. You would’ve thought that the ridges would be painful, but they were dull and only added to the pleasure.

The pace of hips was slow as you were still adjusting and felt only a tad bit of pain. It didn’t quite make sense why you were taking him so well for the first time. You thought he might have split you into two. But that thought quickly went away once his pace became quicker.

His thrusts were shallow at first before he heard you calling out his name like a mantra. Wrapping his arms beneath your knees he brought them closer to your chest so he could have a better angle. Now you could feel his cock going even deeper. On particularly hard thrusts you could feel the head nudge the opening to your womb.

Izuku was grunting and groaning as he pounded into you. Your moans became louder as his thrusts became harder.

“Hn! Izu- fuck,” you tried to call his name but a moan stopped you.

“Gods, you feel so good, wrapped around me like this,” his words had you moaning like a whore. “It’s like you were made for me.”

His words only brought you closer to your release as his pace remained consistent. His nails were digging into the flesh of your thighs and sweat trailed down his nose to drop onto your chest.

“You’re squeezing me so tightly-hah~ I don’t think I can last much longer-”

“Fu- ck, Izu. I’m gonna-”

Knowing what you were going to say, he bends his knees to get more balance before continuing. “It’s okay my love, just let go.”

He knew once he felt you release, he going to join you. His thrusts became uneven and sloppy as he leaned down once more to give you a searing kiss.

“Come with me,” he whispered while trailing his hand down between your legs and began to rub your clit in quick small circles. With the new pressure added it didn’t take you long to come undone.

Your back arched, eyes rolled, and body shook as you practically screamed out his name. The clenching of your walls around caused Izuku to pump a few more times before holding still, burying himself at the hilt. The searing hot spurts of his cum added to your euphoric feeling.

The two of you stayed still, catching your breath as Izuku’s cock kept pulsating. Between your panting, you decided to tease the dragon boy, “How long are you going to stay like this?”

He chuckled breathlessly, “You think it’s a lot now, wait until I have my rut in a few months.”

You laughed along with him, just imagining what his rut will be like. Once the two of you caught your breath, Izuku looked down at you, smiling. The love in his eyes made your heart skip.

He went to say something but you interrupted, “I love you.”

The dragon smiled once more, “I love you too, my lovely treasure.”

#server collab #izuku midoria x reader #mha midoriya #izuku smut #izuku midoriya #bnha deku #dragon izuku #deku smut #izu x reader #bnha x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

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The Paths We Take Part 2

Pairing: Fairy King!Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, forced marriage, non-con. Words: 1857. Summary: As your little sister has been kidnapped by the fair folk, you have to set her free, exchanging your life for hers. Part 1 P.S. A huge thank you to @deceitfuldevout for inspiring me to write this chapter! ________________ Smiling to himself, Steve had reached out to your face, his gaze sweeping over you in cold admiration as he watched you sleep. You furrowed your brows anxiously – it seemed you had a nightmare, but Steve did not hurry to wake you up. He considered it his little revenge for your misbehavior earlier when you refused to kiss him after his return from the hunt.

The Unseelie King’s unnaturally pale skin looked grey under the moonlight, his lips of dark blue color. He was still strikingly handsome without the glamour spell, but it was not the beauty lowly humans appreciated, and you screamed when you first saw Steve in his true form, his features painfully sharp, his pale naked body littered with scars that frightened you. Thinking of that, the King smirked. Now he almost never used spells to appear more human-like.

You shifted in that little nest his fairies made for you, rubbing your eyes tiredly; you had hard times sleeping since the summer solstice was coming soon, and you were forced to prepare along with the Unseelie Court you were a part of now.

Before you opened your eyes, Steve leaned closer, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, his fingers in your uncombed hair. Your skin was warm and soft, and he admired how human you still were after all the rituals he held to bound you to him. In the end, humans could never live as long as even the weakest of fairies.

“Goodnight, little one.” The King smiled, and you frowned at him, your eyes on his dark blue lips.

“It is a very strange tradition of yours.” You grumbled in return, knowing it was way too early to be awake. “People wish each other goodnight before going to sleep, not when somebody wakes them up in the middle of the night.”

The Fae laughed at your grimace and gave you one more kiss as you trembled slightly when his cold lips touched yours. He put your hand on his cheek, making you brush your fingers against the big scar you gave Steve the night he took you away. Your lovely wedding gift to him, he chuckled every time when some fae lord asked him. Steve was oddly proud of you resolve to fight him. Maybe this was why he married you in the first place because you could think of no other reason.

“Did you have a tough day, little one? I know you were busy preparing for the solstice.” He got inside the nest and made you lay on his chest, using a bit of force – you were not too compliant yet. Maybe you would never be, he thought to himself. “I hope you did not forget to make a wreath for me?”

A wreath of meadowsweet and flowers that had to be sent floating in the pond. It was a ritual to bound a man who would pick it to a maiden who weaved the wreath. You heard of it before but had never had anyone you wanted to make a wreath for. You still had a hard time understanding why the Fae King cared for this tradition – he had already forced you to become his wife despite all your attempts to kill or escape him.

“Of course, I made it.” You said and pointed to a pile of herbs and flowers. “It’s over there.”

“No poisonous plants or thorns?” As the King narrowed his eyes at you, you chuckled, sending him a smug look.

“Tomorrow night pick it up and see for yourself, lord fae.”

He grinned at you darkly, and you felt shiver running down your spine. You could still feel his bites on your inner thighs the last time you tried to trick him, and Steve gently brushed his hand against your skin as he spread your legs, caressing your core hidden beneath your silky dress to remind you of it.

“Silly little girl.” He whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe. “You like to hurt me, don’t you?”

“It’s you who like to hurt me.” You hissed in return, trying to wriggle free, but his grip on you prevented you from pushing Steve away. “You have been trying to make my life insufferable, and yet you expect me to accept it and submit to you? Oh no, my King. Every time you hurt me, I will hurt you too.”

As you tried biting fae’s arm to force him to release you, Steve laughed at you, rolling you on top of him and placing your palms on his chest while pressing his hands over yours. You could feel him becoming hard, and your cheeks grew hot from shame as you bit down on your lip, sending the King an icy glare. You had long lost your innocence since the night when you exchanged your vows, but you were still not accustomed to being with a man. You hoped Steve would be shifting his admiration with astonishing versatility so you would not need to be the object of his affection constantly, yet as far he had never even once set his eyes on someone else.

His grin became wider.

“I have always admired your strength of character.” The fae lord winked at you mockingly, humming as he grinded his hips against yours, pushing you up. “Do not worry, you will have a fair chance against me after the summer solstice, I give you my word.”

You clenched your teeth. The last time he said it was when the forest sprites pushed your little sister into the faerie ring, and she disappeared into the human realm. You had not seen her after that, always staying with the Unseelie Court, yet you were lucky to get news how she was doing as Steve been sending you the forest sprites who spied on her. Luckily, she was taken under the old woman’s wing, the one who had escaped from the faerie ring just like her.

“What do you mean?” You grunted.

“Have you not heard, little one? Why do you think I have demanded you to weave a wreath for me?”

His blue lips curled into a smirk, and you grew more nervous, wishing you could part from him and wrap your arms around yourself instead. There was something odd in his voice when he spoke, “The bonding spell made during the night of summer solstice is a very powerful one.”

“But we have already bonded.” You blinked, watching him. “This ritual is useless for the ones who are married. Why doing it now?”

“I have a lot to teach you, I see,” Steve chuckled and raised his head to kiss you against your will again. “This has nothing to do with that silly little ritual of yours. The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body. I will feel what you feel. I will know what you think of. I will sense where are you, and I will always find you wherever you run from me.”

For a second you became quiet, your eyes wide, body tensing as you realized what the lord fae was going to do to you. No more escape attempts, no more misbehaving, no more trying to kill him. Steve was going to have you under his thumb.

The next moment you were fighting him to get away and crush the beautiful meadowsweet wreath you had made, biting and pushing and kicking your husband. The Unseelie King was laughing like a madman at your pathetic attempts to get rid of him, and soon he climbed over you as he pushed you down to the ground, pressing your arms together with his hand.

“Stop fighting, little one.” He stared at you with his deep dark eyes, his smile not reaching them. “Every Fae King casts this spell upon marrying.”

“This is a lie, and you know it.” You snarled at him – in such short period of time you had already sensed when he was not being honest with you. The fae smirked at you in return.

“You are so perceptive, my dear. Very well, not every. But most of our kind do not choose mortal women as our spouses, and it is only natural for a husband to prolong the life of his wife. Is it that bad? You will become as strong as I am.”

“Why would I need your str-“

You fell silent, frowning at his words while Steve was dropping heated kisses to your neck, ripping your clothes and then pressing his lips to your bared shoulders. Strong as him? Why would you become as strong as him? He was not only a fairy, but the King of the Unseelie Court. Not many could match his power even among his own kind. How was it possible for a mere mortal?

“The bonding spell I will cast can bind our spirit, mind, and body.”

“I will feel what you feel,” you whispered, repeating after him as the lord fae kissed your tummy, getting in between your legs, “I will know what you think of.” His hand was gently rubbing circles on your mound, and your body grew warm to the King’s delight. He lowered his head as he left a tender kiss on your inner thigh.

Oh. As you would feel his pain, he would feel yours. If you hurt yourself, he would be hurt too.

His tongue on your clit drew a loud moan from you, and you hurriedly covered your mouth with your palm, ashamed at the noise you made. The Fairy King was quite experienced in making women squirm beneath him, and it both irritated and pleased you as you shivered, biting your tongue to stop being so loud.

“Do you understand what you are doing, my King?” You whimpered, feeling his long wet tongue inside you, trying to resist him and failing miserably as you kept moaning from his touches. “Ah!.. I-I can make you… r-regret it.”

“You will have to find a better weapon than an iron nail.” The fae grinned at you, finally rising above you and undressing himself, his face glistening with your juices. “Because the spell will not weaken me, little one, it will make you stronger. But please do not think it will be easier for you to win, sweetheart, for we will become one.”

Before you had time to reply, his hips surged forward, and you muffled a moan in your palm. Taking his entire length was not easy for you still, and if he did not prepare you with his tongue, you would cry out in pain. Steve gently shushed you, kissing your forehead and settling in between your thighs, reaching deep inside you, and drawing more shameful noises from you.

“Shh, darling. I will be gentle.” He whispered, basking in the warmth of your human body, his own heating up quickly as he slowly started to move, filling you to the brim.

Biting your lips, you finally stopped resisting, enjoying the intimacy and taking your King just like he wanted you to.

You would have time to think about hurting him later while making a new wreath for him, without poisonous wild parsnip you hid beneath the meadowsweet. _____________________ Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #yandere

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