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ot3 · 11 months

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The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

What is it, and why you should read it.

(Art by purple)

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere is a currently updating webserial by author Lurina. It's one of my favorite things I've read in a long while and I'd like to convince you all to give it a chance.

My elevator pitch is this: A time-loop murder mystery directly inspired by Umineko, with a lot of similar vibes to the Locked Tomb Trilogy - partially due to it's meditations on grief and mortality and partially due to it's far-future magical sci-fi world where we follow a fucked up lesbian necromancer on a task she is determined to see through to the end. A deeply complex, unique, and believable world that plays hosts to one of the best interpersonal dynamics I've read.

In a future so far-flung that it is past the heat death of the universe, humanity has constructed a new society that is post-scarcity but not post-stratification. Utsushikome of Fusai is one amongst a class of prodigious young medical arcanists (essentially grad students) who are invited to visit a recently legitimized conclave of top-of-the-line researchers studying immortality. Accompanying Su is her best friend Ran, a fellow arcanist. Over the course of the novel we begin to slowly unravel exactly what ulterior motives have brought them to this conclave and how events in their childhoods and years of working toward their shared goal has warped their relationship into what we now see. This relationship is the crown jewel of Flower's narrative, and getting to peel back the layers of it as you read is a delight.

Like Umineko, Flower is a murder mystery that prevents itself with in-universe Rules that dictate the murders' parameters, meaning there's a lot to chew on for anyone who likes solving mysteries. For those that don't, like myself, Flower offers instead a richly developed world and plenty of open questions about the sociopolitical and metaphysical implications of its own worldbuilding.

Below the cut, I'll go into more detail about the series (without spoilers!) for those of you whose interest has been piqued.

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere is currently ongoing, updating every few weeks. It's several hundred thousand words, so if you're looking for something substantial to keep you entertained, you've got it. As you might expect from the length, the pacing is decently slow. I don't see this as a bad thing at all, because within this pacing Lurina dripfeeds the readers enough new and interesting information at a regular rate that it never feels like your time is being wasted. But if you can't handle slow burns, I wouldn't recommend this one for you.

If you enjoyed the Zero Escape series and liked that they stopped solving murder puzzles to infodump about fringe science, I think you'll get a lot out of Flower. Characters are frequently interrupting their life-or-death scenarios to have lofty, philosophical and political discussions. It's a ton of fun if you like reading characters argue.

'People have to sleep.' 'People have to work.' 'People have to die.' But those were just vague rules, phrasing I'd used because it had been easier in the context of that conversation. What really mattered, on the day-to-day level, was the idea that it was all for something. If someone invented a elixir that made people not to need to sleep, it would, in retrospect, recontextualize all nights everyone ever wasted sleeping as wastes of time. Not something that occurred for some inherent purpose, but whims of circumstance, a tragedy of when you happened to be born. If you accepted that all unfair things in the world could be removed, if only someone knew how - fatigue, labor, death - then to exist in the world we had now, with all its grotesque imperfections, was to know that you had been violated by fate.

Along those lines it's just got a sense of humor I really enjoy. Pretty dry and cavalier. It manages to keep the mood light without feeling like it's undermining it's own stakes. I'm particularly fond of Su's penchant for telling incredibly depressing suicide jokes that just Do Not Land.

The peer pressure cut into me like a hot knife. I hesitated a little, biting my lip. "Well, uh, okay. I'll just tell a quick one." I swallowed, my mind quickly scrambling. "Okay, so, there's a woman who runs a dispensary for second hand goods. She sees a man come in who's a regular customer. He's kind of a mess-- Has a big beard, a bad complexion. He buys a razor, and tells her he needs it to clean himself up, because he has a date." I could see that I now had Ophelia's attention and that Kam was looking pleased with herself, but Ran was watching me, too. I could see the look in her eyes. It screamed at me, with such vividity that it could be sold at an art gallery: You better not be telling a suicide joke right now, or we're going to have a talk. But it was too late. The wheels were already in motion.

As I mentioned up top, the relationship between Ran and Su is just one of my favorite interpersonal dynamics ever. Period. The author is playing some insanely complicated 5th dimensional yuri chess and I am absolutely here for it as someone who likes characters who are deeply devoted to each other in a way that is deeply deeply fraught. I cant emphasize enough how obsessed I am with what they have going on.

Additionally, as stated, the worldbuilding in Flower is top tier. The author clearly understands how every part of her world functions, which makes the moral quandaries and politics presented all the more impactful because they're very believable. It's hard to talk about Flower's world without spoiling too much of the specifics that get slowly revealed, but it doesn't fall back on any typical sci-fi standard fare and feels like a breath of fresh air amongst recycled and repetitive worldbuilding tropes.

A lot of really fun side characters. Strong voices for all of the supporting cast (♥♥Kamrusepa♥♥) and even though not every character gets their own arc, they all clearly have plenty of interiority. Once again, another thing that makes Flower feel very believable despite it's absurdities.

Autism

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary with anyone?" She eyed him. "Anyone who seemed tense?" "Saoite, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but half of our class is so autistic that they constantly seem tense. You might as well ask me to find a specific turd in a sewer." "Just answer the question, please," she replied flatly.

Guys it's really good just trust me I don't want to spoil you for the more intricate plot beats but they're doing some crazy shit here. It's never a bad time to support an independent author's project. If you're sick of corporate mass-media and stuff needing to be marketable, getting into independent works owned and supported by individual creators is a great way to push back against that. I highly recommend it.

#media recs #the flower that bloomed nowhere

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vixstarria · 6 months

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What do you want to do with it?

My headcanon is that over the course of the in-game romance with Astarion, when you stop having sex in Act 2, he still pleasures Tav, but draws the line at himself being touched below the waist directly, gradually exploring and expanding his limits.

Up to you to decide how far in the game this might be appropriate.

18+, smut, Astarion x GN!Reader, Astarion x Tav, explicit, porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda?)

Approx 900 words

Tags: @thisisew - I'm not sure this is what you signed up for, but this is what you're getting today.

All under the cut.

Astarion had just brought you to another climax, using his lithe, skilled hands.

“I love doing that to you... Your moans, the way you arch against me...” He continued to kiss your neck and stroke your body, clearly not content to be finished with you yet. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. You turned in his arms to face him and drew him into a deep kiss. Once he pulled away from you, he gave you an intense and sultry look. He looked like he wanted to say something but was hesitant.

“Can we try something?” he said, finally.

“Anything, if you think you’re up for it.” You tried not to sound too eager, your heart suddenly picking up pace again.

“I thought we could put that tongue of yours to good use,” he grinned.

Oh? Just like that? Now? There had to be a catch, you thought.

He took your hand and ran it down along his shirtless torso until it rested over the bulge beneath his pants. This was the first time you’d felt it with your hand in what felt like eternity.

“Feel how hard I am for you? How bad I want you?” he breathed, hoarsely, maintaining eye contact. He held your hand there, letting you squeeze and lightly stroke his erection through the fabric. The material wasn’t nearly thin enough for your liking.

"Gods, I miss your cock,” you found yourself saying. Astarion just chuckled in response, his lips curling into a playful smirk.

“What do you want to do with it?” he drawled.

“Mmm, everything.” You were caught very much off guard, albeit pleasantly so.

“Be specific.”

He guided your hand, controlling the pressure with which you groped him.

Hmm, where should I start...

“I want it in my mouth again.”

“Details, darling,” he whispered, rolling onto his back.

So that’s what it was going to be. Very well.

“You want details on everything I want to do with your cock?” You flashed Astarion a devilish grin as you hooked one of your legs around his and sank against him, to whisper in his ear.

“Every filthy little detail, love,” he breathed, pleased that you took the bait.

“Nothing filthy about making you feel good like you deserve,” you purred. “First, I'd want to take it in my hand and stroke it, while I licked it starting at the base of your balls, tracing that beautiful vein that runs along its length with my tongue.”

Astarion hummed approvingly.

“Then, once I worked my way up, I’d lick and suck lightly just around the head.” Astarion laid back and shut his eyes as you continued to whisper in his ear.

“Tease its underside with my wet tongue until you start leaking precum for me.“ You nibbled lightly on his earlobe as you said this, making him groan. “I'd lick it all up.”

You were starting to breathe harder, getting carried away by your own imagery.

“Gods, I want to taste you again,” you whispered, licking the inner shell of his ear. You were starting to grind against his leg. “Touch me,” you pleaded.

“And distract you while you’re doing such a good job..?” he smirked, his breathing hard too. “I think not. Keep going.”

You whimpered discontentedly but continued. He still held your hand on his erection, letting you stroke it lightly through the fabric.

“Then I'd put my whole mouth on it, working it deeper and deeper in, inch by inch, until it hit the back of my throat.”

“How fast?” he asked, starting to lightly roll his hips into your hand.

“Slowly at first, running my tongue all around the head each time I got to the tip.” The look on Astarion’s face was of agonised bliss. “Are you laying or standing in this little fantasy of mine?”

“Standing,” he whispered, without hesitation. You grinned at the certainty with which he said that.

“Oh? With me on my knees before you? Is that how you want me?” you teased.

“On your knees like the good, dirty little devil you are. Keep going.”

“I’d cup your balls in one hand as I sucked you, playing with them.”

“Like this?” he asked, guiding your hand lower on the bulge in his pants.

“Exactly like that. Then I’d pick up pace, sucking you wet and sloppy, humming and moaning around you, until I couldn't do it anymore.”

“Couldn't do it anymore? You’d give up after all that hard work?”

“You are a lot of hard work, love. I'd need you to grab my hair and fuck my mouth yourself, as fast and as long as you needed, until you came.”

“Came where?” his grip on your hand tightened.

“My mouth, of course. I want to swallow every last drop of you.” Your voice dropped lower as you murmured in his ear: “Do you want me to look you in the eyes while I do it..? I will.”

He groaned and pulled your hand away, pinning it over your head, as he rolled on top of you, trailing open-mouthed kisses up your neck, over your jaw and up the side of your face.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?” he growled in your ear. “I’m going to be thinking about that ceaselessly. Until I finally let you do it.”

“Good,” you said, biting his lip. “Now touch me again. I think I've earned a reward.”

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, check out my other work

AO3

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion smut #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 11 months

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lesson (still not) learned

part one: lesson (not) learned *** read note below wc: 2k reader: afab (i don't think i used any pronouns so i don't think its femme? just warning you just in case!!) warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT MINORS DNI!!! (detailed warnings below cut) summary: hao convinces poly!reader to help him tie up dom!hanbin when he least expects it SO. this is PART TWO to lesson (not) learned. *** it got c*mm*n*ty l*b*led (lmao i don't want them to find this one) so PLEASE if you wanna go read that one just turn off/enable your l*b*ls on your account to read it. you can always change them back lol. i might repost a version with warnings under the cut since i was stupid and forgot to. oh well. also does this need a part 3 where hao and hanbin get their revenge?? lemme know. anyway i love this one ENJOY!!

SMUT UNDER CUT MINORS DNI!! you have been warned 🚨

warnings: established poly relationship, oral m!receiving, brief mxm (oral), handjob, pussyjob, p in v intercourse— riding, orgasm denial, hanbin and hao’s wrists are tied to the bed, brattysubbyswitch!hao that attempts to dom, switch!reader that doms towards the end, dom-leaningswitch!hanbin that “subs” for most, pet names (baby, angel, honey), they talk in the third person a lot bc they’re all horny messes, obviously swearing, this is not dubcon-- hanbin loves it he just has to keep up his dom persona… also unprotected sex (be smart, stay safe or whatever). i think that should cover it?

“i’d double-knot that if i were you, angel,” hanbin suggests; a broad, cocky smile now gracing his lips. you reluctantly obey— knowing he’s right. how hao had talked you into tricking hanbin, you had no idea.

sure, the idea of tying up hanbin and using him however you liked was incredibly intriguing, but you knew the punishment for it would be more intense than you’d yet to experienced it was both terrifying and thrilling.

plus hao promised to do your laundry for a month if you helped him. so now, here you are— the element of surprise the only way you managed to secure both of hanbin’s wrists to slats in the headboard of the bed with two silk ties. you tuck the extra one you’d brought in case of an emergency under hanbin’s pillow, safely out of his reach.

“no talking,” hao barks, starting to unbutton hanbin’s jeans and pull down the zipper. you can tell that hao is doing his best to imitate how hanbin usually talks to the both if you. it’s cuter than he intended and, from the chuckle that escapes hanbin, you can tell he thinks the same.

“and no laughing,” you add, crawling over to help hao tug hanbin’s jeans down past his hips. “if binnie makes a sound, he’ll have to be punished.”

“yeah? and what will be binnie’s punishment?” hanbin asks curiously; smiling softly at you.

“he’ll find out soon,” hao answers, shimmying hanbin’s jeans and underwear down his legs and discarding them carelessly on the floor, “since he just earned one.”

“ooooh,” hanbin mocks, eyebrows raised in a challenge. though he’s pretending to be annoyed by this stunt, his cock is already hard. “i’m very scared, hyungie.”

“and another,” hao replies before spitting in his hands and wrapping them around the base of hanbin’s length— starting to gently wring them as he takes the tip into his mouth.

hanbin doesn’t react at first, but the farther hao shoves his cock down his throat, the harder it is for him to continue maintaining his composure. once hao starts sucking, the older boy taps hanbin’s hips quickly to signal you to come help him hold them down.

“don’t play with him though,” hao warns as he comes up for air. “binnie’s mine right now.”

you roll your eyes as you crawl back over, placing a hand over hanbin’s lower abdomen to keep him still for hao. the younger boy’s face is screwed up in pleasure— a rogue moan escaping him every now and then despite his best efforts to keep quiet.

it’s not long before the sight has you rubbing your thighs together— the need for friction getting the better of you. hanbin eyes you tentatively, gazing at your core as you feel yourself starting to grind into the sheets.

it’s only another minute before hanbin is cursing— warning hao that he’s about to cum. “g’nna cum, don’t stop! g’nna— NO, NO FUCK!”

hanbin lets out a frustrated cry as hao removes his length from his mouth. hao kisses each of hanbin’s thighs, laughing meanly, “should’ve kept your mouth shut, huh, binnie?”

a particular grind of your pussy against the mattress causes you to moan and hao’s eyes dart to you. his attention falls to your core— practically sticking to the mattress from all of the juice pouring out of it.

“did you like that, baby?” hao asks, lips parting as he continues to stare at your heat. “grinding your little pussy watching us?”

you bite your lip, nodding shyly as hanbin continues to seethe.

“well are you gonna keep it all to yourself or are you gonna share with the rest of us?” hao asks, prompting you to take your index and middle finger and swipe at your slick— starting to hold it out to hanbin.

“ah-ah,” hao shakes his head. “i taste first today, remember?”

you blink back at him, bringing your fingers up to hao’s lips. he takes them in his mouth; sucking them as he lets out a throaty moan. when he releases them, he licks his lips— praising, “taste so good, baby. now give hanbinnie a bite.”

you bring your fingers back to your core, coating them again and extending them to a slightly calmer hanbin. he doesn’t take them in his mouth, but he does lick them clean. “thank you, angel,” he says softly, clearly trying to get on your good side.

“my turn now?” you ask, turning to hao.

“i guess,” the older boy huffs reluctantly as you switch positions; throwing a leg around hanbin’s lap to straddle him. “gonna ride binnie?”

“i don’t think my angel is ready to take m—,” hanbin starts to tease when you hold his cock to your entrance, but as you sink down onto him, his sentence is cut short. “oh, fuuuck.”

letting yourself adjust to his size, you slowly start to bounce up and down— finding a good rhythm as hanbin’s eyes roll back at the feeling of your tight walls around him. hao strokes his cock as he watches the scene— tough guy act thrown out the window within minutes as you continue to ride hanbin.

“perfect,” hanbin pants, a light glisten of sweat starting to form on his skin. he’s getting close again as he’s already riled up from his first orgasm denial and you moan at his praise. “pussy s'perfect.”

“fuck, i wanna see binnie cum,” hao whines from beside you; his pumping of his cock getting sloppier. you shake your head at his infuriating need for constant attention. “baby, please— wanna watch binnie cum inside you.”

“are you kidding me!? this was all your idea,” you yell back at him. hanbin laughs under you and you squeeze your walls tightly to shut him up. he throws his head back in a strangled moan— tugging a little harder on his wrist constraints as his desire to get his hands on you grows even stronger.

“i know, but,” hao replies and a quick glance at him tells you he’s just as desperate as hanbin is for release. you should’ve figured hao would cave under the pressure. “binnie wants to cum so bad.”

you turn back to hanbin. he’s whimpering now; biting his lip hard to keep from coming undone. as his hips lazily trying to fuck up into you, you realize that hanbin must be enjoying this much more than he’s been letting on.

“is it good, binnie?” you ask, running your hands up his chest. hanbin nods wildly; tugging against his restraints again. “does binnie wanna cum?”

hanbin nods again— pressing his lips together to keep from answering. you remember now that hao’s rule for hanbin had been not to talk. but now that you had obviously been handed the reins by your irritatingly needy partner in crime, you were suddenly excited to switch things up and play the game your own way.

you lean forward, pressing a messy kiss to hanbin’s lips. he accepts greedily; thrusting his hips harder as your tongues fight hungrily for dominance. before anyone can win, you pull back slightly. “you can trust me, binnie. i’ll let binnie cum if he tells me he wants to cum.”

hanbin searches your eyes; so overcome with desperation that he doesn’t care whether you’re telling the truth or not. “oh my god, yes— wanna cum inside you, angel.”

his cock twitches inside you and you whimper in response. reaching your left hand out now to cup hao’s jaw beside you, you run your thumb across his cheek soothingly. “does hao wanna cum, too?”

with wide eyes, hao nods— nuzzling his cheek into your touch. “please, baby!”

“come here, then,” you instruct as hao eagerly crawls towards you— positioning himself on his knees to bring his cock more level with your mouth. you wrap your hand around the shaft and bring the tip to your lips; lapping at the head as hao’s right hand caresses your cheek carefully. taking his full length in your mouth, hao gasps when he hits the back of your throat.

the sound makes you clench around hanbin, which causes the younger boy to inadvertently buck his hips up into you. you gag a bit as hanbin cries out pitifully— his abdomen shaking a bit from the pleasurable sensation. removing hao’s cock from your mouth, you continue to pump him.

“look at binnie, honey,” you say, watching as hao directs his attention to hanbin. “this is what you wanted, hmm? to see binnie all squirming and helpless like this?”

as hao reaches his hand towards hanbin’s face, hanbin quickly understands what the older boy is asking for— taking his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. a fresh flood of desire warms your core as hanbin swirls his tongue around hao’s fingers— sucking on them until hao’s jaw drops at the sight.

“mm, binnie’s so pretty sucking my fingers while you fuck him,” hao whimpers as you pick up the pace of your hand; continuing to fuck yourself on hanbin’s cock. the two boys in front of you are starting to get messy in their need to cum. “baby’s so nice to let binnie cum. w-wanna cum, too!”

“lie down, honey,” you suggest as you watch hao’s thighs start to shake— unable to stay propped on his knees as he gets closer to his high. with a mischievous look in your eyes, you continue, “hao can cum, too.”

“hyungie, i wouldn’t do that if i were— oh fuuuuck,” hanbin starts to warn, but you cut him off by milking his dick with your walls again; an absolutely pathetic moan escaping his throat. “do whatever you want, hyung— oh my god.”

hao must not hear any of what hanbin says over the throbbing of his cock, because he collapses on his back next to the younger boy almost immediately— nearly out of his mind as he looks up at you through dark, lust-filled eyes.

“our hao doesn’t know what’s good for him, huh, angel?” hanbin whispers, smirking at you as if he thinks he’s on your team now.

he’s not.

a hard smack to the side of his ass sends him reeling; crying out at the pain that’s followed quickly by pleasure. hanbin looks up at you; bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he mewls. smiling at him innocently, you reply, “neither does binnie.”

“touch hao’s cock!!” the older boy huffs; starting to throw a tantrum at the lack of attention on him. “been so good, just wanna cum.”

hanbin starts to laugh again, but his laugh turns to a yelp at the loss of contact as you lift up off of his length. “no, no, no, nooooo,” he whines, thrusting his hips up to try to find your entrance again but you’re already climbing off him and hooking a leg around the older boy to straddle him.

“didn’t binnie hear? hao wants to cum,” you say to hanbin, nearly giggling at how angry and wet you’ve left his cock. you’re surprised when you see hanbin’s eyes water in frustration. he had apparently been holding it together on the outside this whole time far better than he was on the inside. “and hao’s been so good.”

hao hums; biting his lip in a sweet smile as you lower yourself down towards his crotch. grinding your warm, slick folds on hao’s shaft— both hanbin and hao moan at the contact. “s'amazing, baby. love it s’much, thank you."

taking each of hao’s hands in one of yours, you gently pin them above his head— holding both of his wrists in your left hand as you stealthily reach for the extra silk tie under the pillow that hanbin is resting on.

“could you cum like this, honey?” you ask hao, trying your best to keep your poker face as the veins running up his shaft tease your clit while you grind against him.

hao nods; his eyes closing from the pleasure. “please keep going, baby,” he begs as you wrap the tie around his wrists— taking advantage of his state of blissed-out state of distraction. “g’nna cum if you keep going.”

securing hao’s wrists to a slat in the headboard; you tie the second knot on the far side so its out of reach of his fingers. sitting back up straight, you continue to grind on hao’s cock; reaching over and taking hanbin’s in your hand as well.

hanbin sighs in relief, meeting your gaze. “my angel’s so smart, huh?”

you nod as your hand works the same rhythm as your core. hao hasn’t noticed the constraint on his wrists as his moaning grows even more uncontrollable. the twitching of hanbin’s cock against your palm alerts you that he, too, is dangerously close.

“fuck, g’nna cum, baby,” hao cries, only now attempting to move his arms. his brow furrows confusedly amidst the pleasure as he tugs at the silk tie holding his hands to the headboard. “what the—... mm, when did—… NO, PLEASE! BABY, PLEASE!”

just as hao is about to cum, you pull off of him and crawl back over to hanbin. he immediately begins to cry; babbling absolute nonsense in a hopeless plea to make you come back and finish him off. hanbin is concerningly silent, lips pressed together and brows knitted-- seemingly praying that he’s been nice enough to you tonight to avoid meeting the same fate as hao.

you continue to pump hanbin’s cock; speeding up the pace as he stifles his moaning.

“THIS ISN’T FUCKING FAIR!” hao wails next to hanbin—hiccupping through his tears. “this was my idea!”

“shouldn’t have pussied out so early then,” you reply with a glare, sticking your tongue out at him childishly. brushing hanbin’s bangs out of his face, you tell him sweetly, “don’t worry. binnie gets to cum.”

the younger boy’s face lights up at your words as he melts into your touch like the prettiest puppy— hao still throwing a fit to your left.

“but not yet,” you say with a wicked smile; removing your hand from around hanbin’s cock and quickly hopping off of the bed.

hanbin yelps angrily; thrashing at his wrist restraints— definitely wishing now that he hadn’t reminded you to tie a double-knot. menacingly, he growls, “get your ass back here right now.”

from the doorway, you giggle. “it’s okay— i’ll be back in a little bit! and then whoever can last the longest inside of me can go free.”

running out of the room before the boys can protest further, hanbin and hao are left lying next to each other on the bed— wrists tied up behind them to the headboard.

“you’re a fucking idiot,” hanbin huffs, kicking hao’s shin with his foot.

the older boy pouts, mumbling as the tip of his cock leaks sorrily onto his stomach:

“takes one to know one.”

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calummss · 9 months

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PREY | FLIP ZIMMERMAN

masterlist

summary: never trust a charming man. his charm might turn into your worst nightmare when the man seems too good to be true

pairing: fem! reader x flip zimmerman

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is the weirdest idea i’ve ever had, do not ask how i came up with it…i wrote this for english lit so if there a name or description to the my oc i changed to ‘y/n’ please ignore since i didnt proof read!!

TW! kidnapping, implied cannibalism

"I can hear you, sweetheart," taunting words fell between the rapid rustling and crunching of the autumn leaves, creaking branches, and the smell of wet weeds and newly bloomed wild flowers.

A thin layer of sweat covered the nape of your neck; your hairs stuck to the side of your face as you twisted and turned to see what direction was the way out of the forest maze—quickly and safely. Every second you pondered, you wasted time. Every wrong turn you took, you wasted energy. Every second, you were hopelessly running away from safety.

You felt a surge of adrenaline as the cold air bit into your lungs. You forced your legs to push harder off the muddy ground and slippery roots, anticipating the relief of finding someone who could help. A sudden ringing noise penetrated your ear; a waft of air shot past you. Your heart sank into what seemed like a bottomless pit in your stomach when you saw a shotgun shell embedded in tree bark. A meaningless piece of brass and plastic, the colour of gasoline fuel, but its shape solid; red like blood.

Your screaming burst through your lungs; it was the only weapon you had. Your breath was sharp and frantic, your eyes wide filled with tears. Fear washed over you as you thought of the possibility of your life being cut short just because you had trusted a man who turned out to be the kind of charming until he got what he needed.

"You broke my trust, Y/n." His voice sang through the thick air. "You know, my favourite game as a boy used to be hide-and-seek. Always played with my brother, friends, family,” A short but taunting silence made your heart race. "They always complained because I played unfairly and cheated," he said, to the sound of his gun clocking. "I disagree."

The soft ground blurred below you. You continued running for what seemed like longer than it should have, figuring it was because of the psychopath on your tail. The only things that could hinder you from survival were your physical limits and your doubt. But your exhaustion also came running after you, and your cramping legs gave in, falling into the pile of wet leaves. Your body shook as you pressed your back against the tree trunk, trying to regain some sort of power to keep on running, but it was no use.

His frame edged closer and closer, his black shoulder-length hair blowing in the low wind. His dark gaze fixed on you as his twisted smile sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind went frantic with the thought, ‘weak.’

He looked at you, jaw clenched, inches away from you. Nostrils picked up the scent of his cologne as your lips started to tremble, knowing you had failed to outrun him. What would he do now that you had tried to run away? You didn’t know.

"You look beautiful when you're scared," he crouches down, cocking his head. "But the fun is over now and I get really angry when people try to outsmart me. Will you try to outsmart me again?"

"Please!" Your voice cracks. "Please, you don’t have to do this!" You cry out, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

"But I do," his voice now soft like it had been before he opened up the door to his cabin. "I have to do this."

Your crying intensified; your chest grew tight as bile rose in your throat. Blood pounded in your ears. Your hands shook. Your feet tingled. Your vision was disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish tank. There was nothing else you could do but give up. His strong arms scooped you off the ground and started carrying you away.

Your heart pounded even harder when you could see a street poking from behind the branches, realising you had given up before the finish line. Darkness was torn from your face, and a matrix of lights blinded you. Groaning, you shifted, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids. Your hand hits your face, the drowsiness making you feel like a marionette. But even though your limbs feel heavy, like they had piled on imaginary weight, you tried to pull herself together. Pushing your torso off the ground, you noticed you were back in the living room you had been in moments before you took off running. Your eyes scanned for restraints—none.

But there he was. Tall, broad, muscular, wearing...black? A black blazer buttoned over something white, dark trousers, black shoes, all melting together into one until you blink a few times.

He must have noticed your surprise.

"Don’t worry," he took a swig of beer. "This manor is human proof. Both escaping," he huffed out, placing his hands on his thighs before talking towards the kitchen counter, "I mean like escape proof, soundproof, everything proof." He laughed.

"Why are you doing this?"

You spoke, your heart pounding and your voice cracking. "What the fuck is happening?"

He cackled, like he had one too many drinks, and laughed at a terribly awful joke. "Something very unfortunate for you."

"Let me go. Please. I swear I—I won’t tell anyone."

Silence.

“What happened, Flip?" Your gaze dropped to his frame, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. His hands engulfed the beer bottle he held. "What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong, Y/n." Monotone. Dry.

"Then please tell me why you are doing this to me." You couldn’t stop your chin from trembling or your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. "You treated me so well. We slept together. And now. What is this?"

Flip scrambled out of his seat.

Your eyes darted across the room—the drawing room at the cabin, nothing but miles of land and sheep. It stood close to the sea, just off the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, which at this time of year had the strongest and toughest currents.

Flip placed the beer on one of the coffee tables and braced his weight on the gold-encrusted sofa that stood perfectly opposite you.

"I mean don’t get me wrong, dear, the sex was incredible and probably some of the best I ever had but it was part of my scheme."

"What scheme? To lure me to the woods?” You wanted to shout, but every bit of effort you made to speak or move was tripled against the weight of you building fear.

"Look, it’s nothing personal, Y/n," he said, lifting the corner of his lips. "You took my bait and now it's on you. It’s not my fault when you’re so gullible when it comes to love. I mean seriously, falling in love within three dates?"

"Is Flip even your real name?"

"Yes. My full name is Philip Zummerman."

"You give your victims your government name?"

"Well, it’s not like any of them will ever tell the police," he chuckled, his white teeth shining between his black moustache and beard. "You asked me before why I am doing this. I have an answer to that but I don’t think you’ll enjoy it as much."

"What is the answer?"

"I am handsome, well proportioned and insanely wealthy. Those two components work rather marvellously together. I either charm my way out of any trouble or I’ll just pay off what I need to. Humans are leeches by nature, you know," he took another sip of his beer. "Humans crave luxuries and comfort, and what else?"

"I don’t know."

“Yes, you do. C’mon!" He slouched down with the biggest grin he had yet given.

“Ehm,” pause, “Money?"

“Ding Ding Ding…money. How much money do you think it will take to buy an ordinary man’s silence? Say less than a thousand dollars? Maybe even two if he’s desperate enough."

You had no idea how to behave. You felt like you were compelled to listen to him.

Flip stood back up again, beer in his hand, his back facing her as he paced around on the dark ebony floors, the squeaking penetrating your ears.

“And how much do you think you will need to persuade that same man, so dull and simple, to take a life?" His feet stopped moving.

A deafening silence.

What?

"Those dirty old men rummaging around the dirty cities of Colorado would do it for 5.000? Maybe 10. But in their eyes, you are worthless. Not worthy of anything except the price tag above your head that has compelled them to blindly follow any orders given to them. Just like dogs. I think there’s a psychology behind it but then again I am no psychologist,"

“What are you going to do with me?" You asked once more, collecting every ounce of calmness you had left, forcing yourself to make contact with him.

He sighed in response. Like he was... bored, annoyed, rushed? Perhaps all three?

"I’m going to kill and eat you."

His gaze went through you like a blast of ice, his sick smile making your stomach churn. Your muscles stiffened, paralyzed by fear. You could hear the slow, dragging beat of your heart. Fear became a tangible living force that crept over you like some hungry beast, immobilising you and your brain, holding you captive. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to try and escape again, but you remained frozen.

"What…" Bile started to rise again.

"I will kill you, and I will eat you." The clicking of his tongue enunciating his pointed finger on you. "A simple concept really."

Panic started to settle in again. Fear creeping from behind, the hair on the nape of your neck stood up.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Nothing but high-pitched whimpers. Shallow breaths made it impossible to think clearly.

Your mind was scattered. How to escape? What had happened? Was your hand numb? Why did it feel like little pinpricks?

"This isn’t happening."

"It’s happening." His dark, monotone voice penetrated past your thoughts.

"It’s not happening. It’s not happening. This is all a bad dream."

You never had a heart attack but if someone had told you this is what it felt like, you wouldn’t doubt them. Your breathing was laboured, and your palms felt wet. You couldn’t think of anything but that your chest might get crushed any minute. "Oh, Lord," you started, "save me just this once."

You were trying to breathe, but you couldn’t. Someone was clutching your throat, stopping you from taking full breaths. But there was no one stopping you. Tears started trickling down your cheeks as panic crept over you again. This time, panic was unavoidable. It felt like forever. You sat there and panicked. He kept trying to say something, but nothing but mumbles made it past your ear. What he tried to tell you was inaudible.

‘Y/N!’

So suddenly his shouting erupted, bringing your mind back to reality as you stared blankly at him. You could feel a tear sitting at your lower lash line.

“There you are," Flip’s voice was half way between a whisper and a shout, deep and rumbling like the earthquake below you but still full of the danger you felt whenever you noticed his eyes on you. "Y/n."

“You’re a cannibal?" You choked back the fear and guilt you felt in your heart, speaking to yourself .

“Don’t insult your own intelligence," he tuts. "I do have a tendency to strongly dislike people who belittle themselves for the sole reason of incompetence or lack of confidence."

“And you just eat people?"

"I have refined tastes," he answers, his expression emotionless, but you could see the coiled tension in his body, the rage ready to spill forth. "You have complimented me on my cooking just earlier this evening. I remember the way your eyes fluttered, enjoying the thigh fillet. I would say your tastes are the same as mine. Why don’t we get you relaxed, dear? Hm? I have a room just for you and we’ll talk about this once you are back to normal."

"Normal. Normal."

You could feel his arms underneath you as he brought you to his chest. Feet dangling in the air as he made his way towards a wooden door that led down a spiral staircase, a red carpet greeting you as he walked past another long hallway until he came to a halt in front of the second-to-last door.

"You know, my dear, normally in these types of situations there would be some revulsion at the revelation that you’ve consumed a person. I see nothing of that in your demeanour. You don’t seem to care about the fact that others have suffered to land on my plate, yet you only seem to panic after you found out that you would meet their same fate... Tell me why? Do you think you are more important?"

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esthermitchell-author · 3 months

Text

Not sure if this turned out the way I originally intended, but you tell me if I should leave it in or not when I go to put the explicit version of Born of Starlight up... Should I include it? Comment with your opinion

The scene (NSFW) is below the cut.

Aziraphale collapsed prone on the bed, breathing heavily as perspiration cooled on his skin. He bit his lower lip against the blissful smile trying to break free as he stared at the gold ring on his left hand and trembled beneath the tender touch of his husband's mouth pressing kisses up his spine. His husband. Just the thought that he and Crowley were now officially joined in the eyes of Heaven caused his heart to skip all over the place as a dizzying blend of joy and relief danced through him. No one could hurt his demon, now. Not without bringing down the wrath of Heaven upon themselves.

Did Crowley even realize the significance of their vows, last night? Had he felt the presence of the Almighty in those moments, sealing the words they shared into the Book of Life, giving them permanence?

"You're awful quiet, all the sudden." Warm breath brushed his ear, before Crowley traced nibbling kisses over the shell of his ear and down his neck, dragging a small moan of hedonistic pleasure from the angel as his exhausted body stirred again.

"Mmhmm." The feel of Crowley's hands against his skin as they skimmed over his arms was as soothing and intoxicating as always. Overwhelmed by the power of his own relief, Aziraphale smiled and murmured, "It still feels like a dream."

"The best kind, yeah?" Crowley, to his credit, didn't try to make light of or avoid what the angel really meant. Aziraphale drew in a small gasp of air and nodded as Crowley's hands briefly curled around his wrists. Intimate flesh hardened and a warm shiver spread over his skin as he shifted the entire length of his naked body into the likewise-naked body pressed against him.

Crowley chuckled and clicked his tongue in mock reproach against Aziraphale's ear, even as the demon's hands covered the angel's against the bed, interlocking their fingers. Aziraphale's gaze fixed on their joined left hands, the soft lamplight now winking off both of their wedding rings, their fingers side-by-side. The Archangel's heart swelled until he feared it might break free of his chest entirely, now that he knew Crowley had loved him enough for the past eighty-four years to want to marry him. His vision blurred, and tears dripped over the bridge of his nose to land without sound against the bedclothes.

Crowley still noticed. Not surprising. For at least the last century, Crowley noticed every minute change in his expression, tone of voice, or twitch of his body. It was a minor miracle all its own that he'd ever succeeded in keeping his true feelings from the demon. Not that he ever tried all that hard, either. He trusted Crowley to rescue him -- especially from his own thoughts and feelings when they got too overwhelming to handle.

Now, his husband shifted, pressing a comforting kiss to Aziraphale's cheek and whispering, "What is it, angel?"

He couldn't explain. It sounded daft to his own brain, trying to explain the swell of so many emotions all at once. The sheer magnitude of the love he felt, his absolute trust and contentment beneath Crowley's touch, and the relief of knowing he and Crowley now belonged to each other in a way nothing in all of existence could destroy was too overwhelming to feel. He didn't know how to explain it to Crowley without worrying his demon. Instead, all he could manage was a mumbled, "The rings."

Surprisingly, Crowley neither laughed nor panicked. He was silent for a moment, his lips brushing in light passes against Aziraphale's shoulder and only the infinitesimal tightening of his fingers on the angel's giving away that his attention was also on their joined hands. Then, the angel felt a familiar hardness pressing against his lower back, even as Crowley pressed his forehead into Aziraphale's shoulder and rasped a shaky, "Fuck, angel."

He could feel the love pouring from Crowley, but worried for a moment it was the byproduct of the desire still hovering in the air around them. Until he felt the damp evidence of Crowley's tears dropping against his bare shoulder and the tremble of the slim, muscular body pressing down against his back.

"Are you all right, love?"

A faint, watery laugh answered him, and his new husband's hands tightened around his as Crowley pressed heated, tender kisses to his skin.

"All right? Angel, you drive me wild," the demon husked, his warm breath sliding over Aziraphale's skin, sending hot shivers of delicious want straight to the growing knot of desire settling deep within his being. Every word Crowley spoke fed that knot, as he continued, "I thought it was enough that you love me and opened your life to me. Then you go and willingly bind yourself to me... Fuck. You made yourself mine, forever. Angel--"

"I was already yours, my love. I always have been, and now I always will be." He was tired of talking. He wanted -- needed -- more. Turning as much as the weight of Crowley's hands and body holding him against the bed would allow, he met his husband's mouth with his own, silently demanding more, even as he lost himself in the passion steadily pulling him under.

#Born of Starlight (Explicit) possible scene #good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #azicrow #ineffable spouses #fanfic #gomens #good omens fanfic #gomens fanfic #go fanfic

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suspendedcosmos · 2 years

Text

Nightlights and Nail Polish

"I like pretty things." Yuuri breathes, forgetting himself, and blushes when Viktor laughs quietly into the minimal space bridging the gap between them, running his thumb over the soft line of Yuuri's jaw.

“That's wonderful, Yuuri."

word count: 2k

open on ao3 or read below the cut;

“Viktor,” Yuuri asks, eyes closed against the brush Viktor dusts over his eyelids, “When you had longer hair, did the ISO ever try to make you, uh, change it?”

“Hm?” Viktor’s hand pauses briefly, and then starts back up again in the same moment. He tips Yuuri’s chin up with his hand, and Yuuri blushes down to his toes. “Yes, they didn’t really like it. I was encouraged on more than one occasion to cut it, you know how they are. They like to promote athletic masculine men, and I wasn’t that. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well, I just remember that your scores dipped a little when you were eighteen or nineteen? It didn’t seem justified to me since you were clearly improving — I guess I’ve always wondered if the way you presented yourself at the time had something to do with it, since they improved again later.”

Yuuri also remembers being fourteen and picking fights on skating forums with malicious posters who insisted that not only were Viktor’s lower scores deserved, but that they should actually be even lower?Leading to Yuuri spending extensive amounts of his free time in adolescence personally scoring Viktor’s performances correctly online to defend his honour.

“Yakov implied to me once that they had offered a score boost in exchange for me keeping my hair at a more traditional length. He wasn’t happy about it and I certainly wasn’t either.” Viktor chuckles quietly, and when he moves his hand away from Yuuri’s face briefly, Yuuri’s eyes open to see that he’s now fishing for something else in his kit. “I love this sport dearly, Yuuri, but you’d be hard-pressed to find its integrity sometimes.“

He takes gentle hold of Yuuri’s face again and tells him to close his eyes but not too tight. The little brush is cool when it makes contact with his eyelid, and the air reaching the liquid left behind on his skin leaves him soothed.

“So, you refused and your scores went the other way?”

“It wasn’t a particularly severe reduction, I still won most competitions because my scores were typically a lot higher than most in the first place. But it was enough that people noticed, I suppose. They might have improved again when I did cut my hair by my own decision, but I made sure I continued to wear dresses and glitter and all kinds of pretty things in my programs so they knew that I wasn’t doing it for them.”

Yuuri had particularly fallen in love with Viktor’s exhibition costume from last season. Royal blue has always been his colour, especially pooling around his thighs in light imitation of a cresting wave. He toes the line between femininity and masculinity masterfully, in a way that Yuuri has admired and envied for many years.

“I like pretty things.” Yuuri breathes, forgetting himself, and blushes when Viktor laughs quietly into the minimal space bridging the gap between them, running his thumb over the soft line of Yuuri’s jaw. It doesn’t matter how much Yuuri runs or how healthily he eats, his face is always a little round. Viktor says he likes it though, likes squishing his cheeks because they’re so adorable, apparently, so Yuuri doesn’t mind too much.

“That’s wonderful, Yuuri. You’re certainly beautiful yourself, the seductress is the perfect role for you.” He moves over to the other eye with the brush, “What made you decide to embody her instead?”

Yuuri furrows his brow, taking a few moment before he speaks, “When Minako helped me learn how to carry myself in a more feminine manner, it felt like something was slotting into place that I hadn’t realised wasn’t right before. I think I like being able to embody multiple genders, I like being the beautiful woman.” Viktor hums quietly, like he understands, and then, holding onto that shred of comprehension, he asks, “What do you feel?”

“I don’t suppose I feel much connection to any gender. Of course, sport demands that we pick one so we have a category to compete in, but I don’t mind since I choose what I want to do regardless of expectation, and I don’t feel inclined to publicly explain my attitude towards my expression anyway. I just think of it as something fun to play around with in performance.” He speaks fondly, a warmth to it that makes Yuuri wonder if he’s turned those words over in his head plenty of times before, never having the chance to actually speak them, the way Yuuri has too.

He hears Viktor set the brush aside first. “You can open your eyes, now. Oh! This suits you perfectly, I was right.” And when he opens them, Viktor’s sitting in front of him again, this time holding out the compact Yuuri knows he likes to keep with him at all times. He drags his eyes from the snoozed little heart of Viktor’s smile and takes the compact, peering into his newly painted reflection. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri nods slowly, glancing up, “Thank you for doing it for me. I haven’t used much makeup in years…”

Viktor looks awfully pleased with himself, and Yuuri’s heart aches wonderfully, “Of course, Yuuri, I’m happy I could do this for you.”

He lets Yuuri stare into the miniature mirror a while longer while he puts his brushes away in his ridiculously large makeup kit, with lots of little shelves and dividers for all kinds of things Yuuri doesn’t know the name of. He stands to set it back down on the vanity behind Yuuri and goes to retrieve a box from the mahogany cabinet he’d had imported from Saint Petersburg in April.

After turning off the room’s main light — full lighting no longer necessary with the makeup finished — and switching on his nightstand lamp, he plops back down into the chair across from Yuuri with an accomplished sigh and balances the box on both of their thighs between them. Leaning into Yuuri's space a little, he lifts the lid off of the box to reveal an array of small glass bottles, arranged by the looks of it in order of brand and then colour. Yuuri notices three bottles of silver polish — metallic, glitter, iridescent. There’s one hardly used bottle of metallic gold next to them.

“Which colour would you like? It doesn’t have to match with your costume — we’ll probably use black or red for performances — this is just for fun.” Viktor jiggles the box and the bottles clack together quietly, a sound Yuuri finds he likes both for its nostalgia quality, and how it makes his tired eyes droop a little.

He spots a pale blue polish in the corner of the box — Hasetsu’s ocean, Viktor’s eyes. “This one, please.”

Viktor plucks the bottle of blue and two others of clear polish from the box and leaves them on the vanity. Once he’s put the box aside, he sets to work applying a clear base coat of polish to Yuuri’s nails.

Viktor has a delicate touch. He presses his upturned hand to Yuuri’s, strokes Yuuri’s wrist bone with his fingers and carefully picks up any stray polish from his skin with his thumbnail. They bask in the quiet for a while, listening to the gentle bustle of customers in the common room downstairs and Yuuri watches Viktor smile softly to himself for the entirety of the base coat application.

By the time he’s finished and reaching for the blue polish, the clear coat has dried on Yuuri’s right hand so he starts there again, and before Yuuri can fall back into a daze of watching the quirk of Viktor’s lips, Viktor decides to speak.

‘’Thank you for asking me about those things, Yuuri. It's rare to have someone to share them with, even less so with someone who understands. I feel very lucky that you do. Can I tell you a secret? Sometimes, I think about growing my hair long again. What do you think? Would l still suit it?”

Yuuri practically swoons. Maybe if Viktor stuck around long enough, Yuuri could brush it for him… “Yes, I loved your long hair, just as much as your short hair.” And then, a little more hesitantly, he adds, “I grew my hair out when I was fifteen because of you.”

And Viktor glows from his dimpled cheeks to the corners of his eyes. “Really? Wow! Does Mama Hiroko have pictures? I'll have to ask her to show me.”

It takes everything in Yuuri not to flail his hands abortively and ruin Viktor’s neat work, so he just shakes his head as much as he can without jostling himself, “Oh God, please don't ask! I'm not very photogenic now, much less back then. They're all really embarrassing.”

Viktor tuts, pointing the nail polish brush at Yuuri, “Now, now, Yuuri. You are nothing less than gorgeous, on and off the ice. Don't be mean to my favourite skater, he’s very special. His coach is tough enough on him.” And then he winks, and Yuuri knows it’s only a gentle reminder.

“Sorry. Sorry, you're right.”

”We all have things to work on, zolotse, it's okay. You've already become much more confident since l just got here, I can see it in your skating. I'm proud of you.”

Yuuri’s stomach flips at that. He hardly remembers to speak, his brain so close to shutting off. “Ah, thank you.”

And then Viktor, who never seems to miss a thing, tugs Yuuri closer by his hand and murmurs, gleeful, “Still so shy, Yuuri. Am I embarrassing you with my compliments?”

Yuuri’s left to stammer for a few moments, brain completely wiped at the sudden closer proximity, but he’s saved by beloved Makkachin nudging open the cracked door. She pads along the floor, looking just as worn out as Yuuri suddenly feels, and flops down by Yuuri’s legs, closing her eyes. Viktor forgets to expect an answer from Yuuri as he leans down to scratch Makka behind the ears, cooing probable Russian nonsense to her. Yuuri mourns his inability to join in with the petting for now, lest Makka’s fur be matted with nail polish.

They’re mostly quiet through the remaining application of the polish and then the clear top coat, making passing comments about what they can cover tomorrow at training, where they’ll go to eat lunch, cooing at a sleeping Makka. Viktor finishes the last nail with a flourish of his fingers on the brush, because of course, and closes the final bottle of polish with a quiet “Ta-da!”. He turns Yuuri’s hands this way and that, peering closely most likely to check for any spilling into his cuticles. “There! That looks great. We just have to wait for them to dry now. I asked Mama to make us katsudon for dinner, are you hungry?”

Yuuri blinks, “But it's the off season, l haven't won anything.”

And Viktor waves him off, “Finding a look you feel comfortable performing in is an achievement in my opinion. We’ll run it off together tomorrow. Now, do you want to keep this on for going downstairs?” He holds his hand out, touches the backs of his fingers to Yuuri’s cheekbone. Yuuri barely hesitates to lean into it. He doesn’t hesitate much at all these days.

“Yeah, Minako and Okaasan would like to see, I think.”

“Great! Thank you for spending the evening with me, Yuuri, I love this kind of thing.” He presses a soft kiss to Yuuri’s brow then leans back enough to face him, tapping his own cheek.

“Viktor, I’m wearing lipstick.”

“That’s the fun part, Yuuri!” So with a little embarrassed huff he leans closer and opts to leave a very quick kiss high on Viktor’s cheekbone, a saturated wine crimson imprint left behind. Viktor leans around him to look at the vanity mirror, delighted. Yuuri’s heart soars.

“Thank you, again. I had fun too.”

And now, they’ll clean everything on Viktor’s vanity away and go downstairs to eat, Yuuri will flush under complimented from his parents and Minako and undoubtedly Viktor again. They’ll take Makkachin for a walk by the beach after eating and run around with her for a while and return by sundown. But the part Yuuri most looks forward to is sitting back in Viktor’s room tonight, a hand under his chin and another removing the makeup from his skin delicately with a wipe. He looks forward to the heart of a tired smile and arms around him and sleeping next to the person he likes best. It’s only a few sweet hours away, now.

#yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yuuri katsuki #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #victuuri #victuri #vikturi #myfics

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wartakes · 10 months

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Conflicts to Keep An Eye On (October 2022 Edition) (OLD ESSAY)

This essay was originally posted on October 28, 2022.

There's not a lot to say about this one. It was just another one flagging some potential and emerging conflict zones of note. A couple have panned out more since then, one not so much, and others are still brewing.

(Full essay below the cut).

Well folks, there’s been a lot going on in the world (obviously). There’s also been a lot going on in my life (don’t worry, nothing bad for the most part; just super busy), so that made deciding on what I wanted to write about (and what I was capable of writing about satisfactorily) very hard this month. So, I decided to bring back a previous idea I had so I can make it a semi-recurring feature: pointing out conflicts that you might not know about or be as focused on but that you should be aware of.

Since the start of the War in Ukraine, there’s a lot of crises and conflicts that seem to have slipped under the radar (or sunk even further below if they were already low down there). While the War in Ukraine is absolutely important and worth your attention, I worry it – and other high-profile events domestically and internationally – have led to a lot of other crises and conflicts that could have far reaching implications to be drowned out in a sea of noise.

I could write at length about a laundry list of various armed conflicts and ongoing crises that are worthy of attention, but this would rapidly turn into a book at that rate. So – as with my previous iteration of this kind of essay – I’m going to point out a small handful of conflicts and crises that I think are particularly worth monitoring due to the potential scale and scope of their impacts. This list is completely subjective and based purely on my own personal judgements and assessments. I’m not trying to say these conflicts are the ONLY ones you should be keeping an eye on and that no others are worthy of attention or action, but I’m just trying to focus your effort and attention on ones that I happen to think are noteworthy in particular.

Also, I’m going to try and do something that I didn’t think of with the last version of this essay: where possible, I’m going to try and give you sources you can go to for information on the status of these conflicts and crises, whether they be on social media or elsewhere. Just be aware that due to the fog of war and deliberate efforts at controlling the narrative by all sides involved in these events, information still may be hard to come by and you should always consume information carefully and critically and check your sources before you assume anything.

With all those disclaimers out of the way, let’s get right to it:

1. Ethiopia

Ethiopia is the first of two returning conflicts on this list, which I am restating because I think they definitely need more attention due to the fact that they are entering new stages and that their impacts could be severe not just for their own populaces but for the wider regions they’re in. Ethiopia’s internal conflict has already had a number of twist and turns and now is experiencing fresh ones.

If you want a recap on the early phases of the war and its causes, you can read my original hot spots piece, but to provide a very quick summary: the ongoing conflict in Ethiopia began late in 2020 when political differences between the government of Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) – the ruling party in the Tigray region and former ruling party in the prior governing coalition of Ethiopia – came to a head and turned violent. Since it began, the war has seen fortunes shift dramatically between the forces of the Ethiopian federal government and its supporters and the TPLF and its allies, before settling into a stalemate for months with no substantial activity on either side. Coverage has been further complicated over the federal government’s media blackout, with many international journalists being thrown out of the country and those remaining being prohibited from visiting the areas of the country affected by the conflict.

In recent weeks, the conflict has flared up again after a large scale build up by pro-government forces (which was detected by third party satellite monitoring). However, there is a new wrinkle in this phase of the conflict, as the government of neighboring Eritrea appears to have thrown itself wholeheartedly into the war on Ethiopia’s side, with large numbers of Eritrean forces launching offensives into TPLF held territory in conjunction with the Ethiopian National Defense Force (ENDF) and its own allied paramilitary forces. After months of relative inactivity, pro-federal forces now appear to be capturing numerous towns and key positions from the TPLF.

The involvement of Eritrea shows how quickly geopolitics can sometimes shift from being intractable to flexible. For years, Ethiopia and Eritrea were solid adversaries – with Eritrea once having fought a decades long battle for independence from Ethiopia. It was only in 2018 that Ethiopian PM Abiy negotiated a peace deal with Eritrea after years of off-again on-again war (for which he won the Nobel Peace Prize a year later). Now relations have improved enough that Eritrea is willing to send thousands of troops into battle to help preserve the government that for years it saw as its primary threat. Much like with Russia as it persists in its invasion of Ukraine, Eritrea – which is widely considered one of the most totalitarian governments in Africa – has mobilized a large number of reservists and is continuing to intensify its call-up efforts to extent that – like in Russia – many Eritreans are attempting to flee mobilization as the government attempts to crack down on draft dodgers – which include both men and women.

While the TPLF certainly aren’t giving up yet and aren’t going quietly into that good night, these new developments on the front lines bode ill for them. Reportedly suffering a “four pronged” offensive by Ethiopian and Eritrean forces, they now have to spread their forces among even more fronts. While this war has seen fortunes shift dramatically before even in the face of overwhelming odds, the situation for the TPLF looks darker than it did before. The situation also looks darker for the people of the affected regions, who have been the victims of armed atrocities by both sides as well as humanitarian deprivation. While the African Union has started peace talks in South Africa aimed at bringing an end to the conflict, the federal government continues to advance on the ground and seize towns from the Tigray forces and their allies.

This is one of the few conflicts where I don’t really have a side I’m definitively “on” as both have significant sins from both this war and past conflicts, but where I hope a lasting peace can be achieved due to the severe impact that it is having on regular people in Ethiopia who are just trying to survive – and the impact it could have throughout the rest of the region if it persists. With that in mind, there is a severe lack of good credible sources – both in mainstream media and social media – that are keeping regular track of the goings on in the Ethiopian conflict (partly due to a lack of interest or being drowned out by other news, and partly due to the federal government media blackout). One of the few good sources I’ve found just for keeping track of movement on the ground is the Twitter account EthiopiaMap, which tends to be pretty reliable and honest about its sources and when it can’t be sure about things. It offers updates on military movements, shares relevant articles, and more. Otherwise, big media outlets only tend to maybe publish a story when there’s suddenly some big activity on the ground and then lose interest.

2. Iran

This is one of the items on my list that – while not yet a conflict, is certainly a crisis that has the capacity to turn into a conflict and is worth keeping an eye on as it continues – time of writing – to persist with no end in sight despite government efforts to clamp down on it. I am of course talking about the ongoing protests and riots in Iran.

The current protests against the government in Iran began with the death of a Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old woman who apparently died after being hospitalized for brutal injuries suffered at the hands of Iran’s so-called “Morality Police” for purported violations of Iran’s hijab rules. After her funeral in her native Kurdistan region, protests began to rapidly spread and continue to grow and persist. While women’s rights and the religious rules imposed by the regime appear to be focal points of the protests, the protest movement now appears to have evolved into a more broadly anti-government movement against the authoritarian nature of the Iranian regime. The protestors appear to come from a wide variety of backgrounds and are generally advocating for more rights and freedoms. The protestors have even gone as far as to call for the downfall of the government and the death of its leaders – including the ailing Supreme Leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

Violent anti-government protests in Iran are not new, of course. 2019 saw a significant protest movement against the government that started with a spike in fuel prices – one that was brutally put down by Iran’s security forces. Iran was also famously wracked by months-long, widespread protests in 2009 revolving around accusations that the regime had rigged the presidential election in favor of hard line incumbent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. However, this movement seems to now have developed a more explicitly and overtly anti-government character and has already lasted longer than the 2019 uprisings did. While it has not yet reached the level of the 2009 election protests, it continues to intensify and grow even in the face of government efforts to quash it – including security forces beating and firing at protestors with live ammunition and shutdowns of the internet to prevent communication and to try and stop accounts of the protests getting out. The regime has also been working to discredit the legitimacy of the protest movement, accusing them of being organized by “foreign powers.” The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps – the military force assigned to protect the Islamic Revolution and its leaders – has already launched attacks into Iraqi Kurdistan, accusing Kurds there of supporting the uprising.

Its hard to say how far the current protest movement will go. It could easily go the way of the previous protests and uprisings against the government. So far, it has been resistant to regime efforts to snuff it out, though the regime still has many additional resources at its disposal it could bring to bear against the protestors (even with how heavy handed its response has already been so far). I certainly would like to see the current government in Iran gone and for the people of Iran to choose a more fair and equitable system for themselves as they should have had seventy years ago (before the United States and the United Kingdom decide to fuck it all up). While I’m somewhat jaded and cynical on this topic, I do still hold out hope for change as I always try to do. Crazier things have happened. Iranians can achieve a better life for themselves. Even if it doesn’t pan out this time, I have every confidence that eventually the people of Iran will prevail. Every authoritarian regime has a shelf life, the Iran’s may be rapidly approaching expiration.

While government crackdowns have been a complicating factor, information on the Iran protests seems to be getting out easier than it has from Ethiopia. Jake Hanrahan of Popular Front has shared a number of videos from the Iran protests, as has the OSINT account Aleph. Tammuz_Intel is another useful account to watch, as it focuses on events in Iraq – which due to the influence of Iran among political factions there and the presence of a large Kurdish population there, events in Iran have a significant potential to spill over into Iraq as well.

3. Armenia and Azerbaijan

This section is probably going to be shorter only because I’ve already written at length about the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan – including in my most recent essay and one of my first. None the less, I want to make sure no one forgets about this one, especially as it is guaranteed to flare up again (and likely to do so sooner rather than later).

This September saw the heaviest combat between Armenia and Azerbaijan since the war that was fought in the Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh region two years prior. Setting aside the debate over conflict in that “disputed” region (which is functionally independent and overwhelmingly Armenian despite being recognized as part of Azerbaijan), this time Azerbaijan committed outright aggression against the internationally recognized territory of Armenia proper, attacking within Armenia and seizing territory recognized as part of Armenia (a fact that can actually be verified from space by way of NASA’s FIRMS satellites).

The international response to this aggression has – of course – been largely lackluster. Armenia’s erstwhile ally and security guarantor, Russia, has done basically nothing in response (largely due to the fact that the vast majority of its military resources are now dedicated to its failing war in Ukraine). When Armenia appealed to the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) – the military alliance led by Russia that Armenia is a member of – for direct assistance, the organization refused and instead opted to send a “fact finding” mission. The United States has been more vocal in decrying Azerbaijan’s actions this time around, allowing Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi to visit Armenia and condemn Azerbaijan’s attack. However, it’s hard not to be cynical and see US outreach to Armenia out of anything more than great power politics to screw over Russia – especially as the EU continues to cozy up to Azerbaijan in order to find a replacement source of oil and natural gas as Russia is steadily closed out of the European market.

Much like with prior Azeri aggression, the weak response of the world has assured that it will happen again and will be worse. Every time Azerbaijan is allowed to get away with attacking Armenia, its emboldened and goes even further the next time. While the series of flare ups that have occurred since the 2020 war have not risen to the level of full-scale war again just yet, it is unfortunately only a matter of time as long as nothing is done to stop Azerbaijan or bring it to heel. The ultimate goal of Azerbaijan – and its patron, Turkey – is the elimination of Armenia and the Armenian people. Azerbaijan doesn’t shy away from its racialized hatred of Armenia and will continue to nibble around the edges of Armenia until it finally feels it can launch a full-scale war of destruction to finish the job that’s been underway for years. The world must pay attention and be willing to speak up and do what it can to help Armenia to try and prevent this from happening (and if it does come to pass, to do everything it can to stop it in its tracks).

With all that in mind, fortunately I have a lot of sources here for you to turn to for this. A major one is one of my favorite people on the internet, Joe Kassabian (podcaster, author, historian, and more), who now lives in Armenia. Another excellent source is Neil Hauer, a conflict journalist that not only covers Armenia heavily but also reports on events in other parts of the former-Soviet Union that often are neglected news wise. Jake Hanrahan of Popular Front also routinely reports on events in Armenia and has also made a documentary on the 2020 Karabakh war.

4. Burma (Myanmar)

Burma is the second returning conflict on this list from the last time I wrote it and is returning for the same reason as Ethiopia – in that it is entering a new and intensifying phase. Unlike with Ethiopia, however, momentum seems to be going against the government in this case and there does not appear to be any end in sight for the near future, with more bloodshed ahead.

When we last left this conflict back in the summer of 2021, it was still very much in its early phases following the February coup. With the exception of the previously existing armed groups that had already been active in the country (mostly formed by minority ethnic groups that had been fighting for greater autonomy or independence from the central government for years prior to the coup), armed opposition purely on the basis of democratic resistance to the coup was still in its early stages. The conflict wasn’t yet considered to be a full-scale civil war.

Now, in late 2022, the time for protests have long since passed and armed rebellion has become the primary means of resisting the junta maintained by the Tatmadaw – Myanmar’s armed forces. This has ranged from hit-and-run attacks on outposts and checkpoints by urban guerillas to full on coordinated assaults by rebel forces against Tatmadaw held towns. The rebel movement is not without its problems, lacking in supplies and struggling with unity among its various different participating groups. Its individual battles with the junta are also still relatively compared to a larger conflict – like Ukraine. Despite all this, clashes between the junta and the various forces opposing it is gradually growing in size and intensity throughout the country and armed resistance gains further momentum.

While rebel activity is slowly but steadily expanding and intensifying, the junta also seems to be showing no signs of giving in despite reported setbacks in the field and as its physical control over the country slips away. While there have been unverified reports of several thousand defections among the ranks of the Tatmadaw and police, the military and security forces as a whole continue to fight on in defense of the junta – committing brutal atrocities in the process.

The junta also still has some important allies, despite both regional and worldwide condemnation of its activities. Neighboring China is the junta’s most prominent ally one of its main arms suppliers. While it does publicly push the junta to engage in dialogue with opposition groups to “achieve political reconciliation,” this is done more out of a desire for stability in a nation on its periphery rather than any desire by China to see an end to bloodshed and oppression. China has already made it clear that it will back the junta to the hilt “no matter how the situation changes” in the future. Russia – to the surprise of absolutely no one – also continues to back the junta, which has sought closer ties to the fellow rogue state even after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine (with Russia being another key arms supplier for the junta). While shunned by many and lacking recognition, the junta maintains just enough support from the right powerful players to continue fighting back against the opposition forces for the foreseeable future.

Much like with Ethiopia, coverage of goings on in Burma is complicated by the junta’s tight control over media access to the country. However, there are still some good resources out there for getting information on the status of the struggle. Nathan Ruser from the Australian Strategic Policy Institute routinely covers new events in the conflict, as well as other conflict and geopolitical news throughout Asia. Conflict researcher War_Noir also includes research and analysis on the conflict in Burma – along with numerous other conflicts worldwide. Once again, Jake Hanrahan of Popular Front has also taken time to cover the conflict (I honestly don’t think there’s a conflict – internal or interstate – that man isn’t tapped into at this point).

(Dis)Honorable Mentions As I mentioned before, this list is by no means all-inclusive of all the conflicts going on in the world – and certainly not all-inclusive of all the conflicts you should care about. Clearly, war is still raging in places like Ukraine, Syria, and Yemen – among others. The only reason I didn’t write about these is that they’re all either front page news still or are still getting enough coverage that I didn’t think they needed a spotlight. Also, with most of them, the situation hasn’t shifted enough on the ground recently to necessitate a re-assessment (like with Ethiopia and Burma). With those conflicts, consider the situation normal: all fucked up.

There are other crises that have not yet spilled over into war that are worth noting. One example is Lebanon – which I wrote about previously and is still teetering on the brink (the only reason I didn’t include them there is I didn’t have enough of a change in the situation there to push me to do an update). Iraq is also in the midst of a persistent political crisis that has already temporarily dipped into open conflict this year and has the potential to do so again – in addition to the already mentioned potential of further spillover from the unrest in Iran. Despite the Taliban’s victory in the Afghan War, their control is not absolute and resistance to their rule remains active (and may strengthen as disillusionment with their government rises). Consider these to be (dis)honorable mentions for conflicts you should keep an eye on if you’re not already doing so.

At the end of the day, I realize we all only have so much emotional energy to devote to keeping appraised of all the horrible events going on worldwide and at home. Hell, international relations and the study of war are my passions, and even I have been having to take more breaks from looking at Twitter or thinking about the state of the world for the sake of my own mental health. I’m not shoving these conflicts in your face to demand that you constantly stay appraised of every single shot fired or you’re some kind of horrible person. I just want to make sure people are at least aware of them and know to look out for major developments regarding them, as their outcomes could potentially have a significant impact on their lives. We’ve already seen how Ukraine – in conjunction with other factors – is affecting the world in terms of energy prices and other spillover effects. Plus, it never hurts to throw a little solidarity the way of those in these conflicts that are fighting for their rights and freedoms against authoritarians.

I am extremely low on energy this week so I’m afraid I have no snappy or thoughtful conclusions for you this time around. I’m just gonna wrap it up before my writing’s quality suffers any more. I promise next month I’ll be more on the ball. Until then, take it easy and stay safe out there.

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flamebearrel · 2 years

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Considering I've had several of my LD OCs for over a year now, it's high time to publicly start sharing their lore (orrrr at least the basics). Let's start with these guys!

So to keep it short there are two types of creatures that live in the mindscape: Imaginary Friends/IFs, which come and go at different points in peoples' lives, and Critters, which everyone has but few get to see since they stay in the deeper levels. Both the specific IF from "Your Imaginary Friend" (they/them) and Corey the armadillo from "Neverending Hum" (it/its) belong to the character from "Vow of Silence" (Vow, he/him). The IF used to terrorize Vow as a child, until Corey revealed itself to fight them off... now years later, they're back, and much more powerful!! Vow tries to keep a vow of silence and think in "mentalese" to strengthen Corey's protection, but he has WAY too many opinions to be at all consistent

(Comic transcript below)

A car stops at a red light, its driver inside subtly shaking as they think to themself.

Narration: This has not been a great day for me. They won’t leave me alone. I could barely speak in class without them on my back. Even now, I can’t clear my mind... I just need to...

The driver, Vow, a young adult with shoulder-length hair and a lip piercing, starts to lean back in his chair and clear his mind - until being interrupted by a ringing phone.

Vow: $%!#. Heeello?

A voice on the car speaker replies, "Afternoon, sir! My name’s Ivan. Might I interest you in some mushroom removers?"

Vow: Mushroom... removers? Is that a product or a service?

Ivan: Both, actually!

Vow: How does that work?

Ivan: Our technicians have very specialized training.

Vow: Yeah, I’m gonna take a hard pass. The flat my roommate and I share doesn’t even HAVE any...

He trails off upon spotting a small creature - similar in appearance to a ladybug - grinning up at him from the windowsill. Vow stares in silent terror.

Ivan: ..."Any"...? Honestly, sir, this is my last call of the day, so I’d appreciate if you could work with me here-

Suddenly, Vow flinches back in a panic as the creature floats towards him.

Vow: EEK! I-I-I have to go-!

Ivan: Eh?! But if you could just give me one second—

Vow: I’ll call you back later-

Ivan: But-

Vow: I’LL CALL YOU BACK!!!

With a “click!”, he hangs up, and a short amount of time passes; the car is now parked by a meter and Vow has collapsed in the back seat.

Vow, trying not to cry: ugh... Some white noise should do the trick.

He turns the dial for the radio to an ongoing argument.

Radio Show Host 1: kssHKKmost outlandish theories I’ve ever heard!

Ivan: D-do you think I’m just making this up?? This is serious!

RSH2: (Seriously out there, more like...)

Ivan: No, wait! They don’t- [his speech bubble is cut off]

RSH1: Hey actual listeners: call in and come laugh at this guy!

Assorted voices call in and laugh, while the host says, "At least try and make some sense!" The caller quietly hangs up.

Vow: That caller... Doesn’t that sort of sound like...?

He barely finishes this thought before getting yet another call, to his frustration.

Vow: What do you not understand about “I’LL” call “YOU” back-

Ivan: I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!

Vow’s imaginary friend respawns behind him at his words, and he clamps a hand over his mouth. Again they near.

Imaginary Friend: Come on, Vow... Let’s go back to how it used to be.

As a last resort to block out the IF, Vow starts humming... and another imaginary creature, this one armadillo-like, tackles them from out of nowhere. It pins them down and wordlessly reassures Vow; he gives a relieved thumbs up in return, then brings his focus to his phone. Over all the action, Ivan continues his angry rant.

Ivan: They all cut me off, always cut me off, and keep living their lives like nothing! Can’t they see what is at stake?! It’s like I’ll never get a word in before THEY come for me... You aren’t listening either, are you? Hello...?

Cut to a semi-obscured shot of Ivan slumping in front of a conspiracy board.

Vow: ...Look, man. There’s honestly not much I can say.

Ivan, lowering his touch-tone telephone: oh.

Vow: But...

Vow steps out of his car, shutting the door behind him.

Vow: IIII needed a break anyway. Alright Ivan: Tell me more about those "mushroom removers". I won’t hang up on you.

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butteredpenny · 1 year

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Sourdough Garlic Parmesan Twists

I don't want to yap, but I'm putting the full recipe under the cut since it might be annoying for screen readers. Long story short, mama bragged to her friends that I could make really good parmesan twists, meanwhile I have never made them before. Some trial and error later the friends really liked my twists, just wished I had used fresh garlic. Sadly this recipe still uses dry granulated garlic. Also, one member of the household couldn't eat them because they were too hard, so I adjusted the recipe and this is the soft version. They still couldn't eat them unfortunately; I'll have to make some sort of gravy to go with it. The twists are pretty tasty soaked in milk, so a basic white sauce should be fine.

This recipe makes about twenty four 100-gram twists. Recipe below:

The dough:

25.5 ounces (not fluid ounces, just ounces. or 722 grams) of milk. You will need a very big bowl. Humongous. The biggest one you have probably.

1 ounce (28 grams) of salt

1.55 ounces (44 grams) of brown sugar

5 ounces (144 grams) of sourdough starter, made from equal parts flour and water by weight

2 eggs

48.4 ounces (1372 grams) of flour, also using a large bowl.

4 ounces (112 grams) of butter, AKA a whole stick of it, chilled.

The butter spread:

8 ounces (224 grams) of butter, AKA two sticks, melted. Sheesh! Also I'm using salted butter because it's cheaper where I live.

4 grams of dried granulated garlic

2 grams of dried minced onion

2 grams of salt.

And of course the topping:

6 ounces of parmesan, although I'm thinking maybe more. In brick form so you can grate it. You could probably choose some other dry flavorful cheese if you'd like.

Instructions:

The day before, feed your sourdough starter in the morning or at noon. Before you go to bed, make the dough as described below.

In the largest bowl you possibly have, measure out the milk. Be sure to use little separate bowls to measure before you add the salt and sugar, in case your scale acts funny. Add the sourdough starter. I didn't use a separate bowl to measure the starter because I hate doing dishes and a little too much isn't going to hurt anything. Stir until the salt, sugar, and sourdough starter are at least partly dissolved. Now add the eggs and flour. This is a lot of dough, so take your time stirring and kneading. You may need to let it rest for half an hour before continuing to knead. The dough should just be nicely incorporated. Cover the bowl and perform your nightly rituals.

In the morning, or whenever you wake up, put the dough in the fridge and eat breakfast (very important). Clean your workspace, lightly flour it (I use parchment paper instead), and pull out your dough.

Flatten the dough into a large rectangle-ish shape. This may take several rests since the dough likes to keep its shape and resist stretching.

Once the dough is flattened out, shred the butter over it with the large end of a cheese grater. Try putting the butter in the freezer between applications to keep it solid. Slap the butter pieces a few times to stick them to the dough, then fold the dough into thirds. Let it rest and then flatten it out again. I believe this process is called 'lamination'. Keep shredding, slapping, folding, resting, and repeating until you run out of that one stick of butter.

Now preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, or 177 degrees Celsius. I find my fam's oven runs a tad cold, so I set it a little higher so the thermometer we placed inside reads the correct temperature.

Oil a glass baking dish or be prepared to use the parchment paper to line it.

In a cup or bowl, melt the butter and combine it with the dried onion, garlic, and salt.

Cut the dough into equal parts. I like to measure out 100-gram pieces. Roll them out into ropes. I don't have an exact science here, but about twice the length you want the final twists to be. Twist the ropes together like this:

Fold each rope in half with the ends facing towards you. Gently twist both ends clockwise, just until the dough wants to kink up. Do not let it do so (yet). Pick the center point and keep an eye on it while you cross the ends, right over left. You should have the loop at or near the center point. Keep gently turning the ends clockwise and crossing the new rightmost end over the left, until you run out of rope. Pinch the ends together. You can choose to leave the ends alone or try to tuck them under.

I bake about a quarter of the dough at a time, or six 100-gram twists. If you would like to do the same, grate about 1.5 ounces of parmesan for each tray, using the fine end of a cheese grater.

Warm the butter mixture again, if necessary, and smear a small amount onto the twists to coat them and sprinkle on the parmesan. You may have to directly apply the cheese to the twists to get it to stick. Dribble some more butter mixture over the cheese. I like to just make a thin line of drips.

Bake each set of six 100-gram twists in the glass baking dish until lightly browned or to your desired level of doneness. I prefer 30 minutes for the first set, and 25 minutes for the next ones. You might be able to go as low as 20 minutes if your glass pan is already warm, but they may be slightly under-cooked, I'm not sure.

If you would like to make a gravy, it could probably be done during the latter two sets' baking times. I haven't tried yet. The last time I made these I was quick to hide them in the freezer, since the time before that, they barely lasted two days.

#sourdough #sourdough starter #recipe #parmesan #cheese #cheese twists #breadsticks #bread #garlic bread #garlic #garlic knots #I hope I'm tagging this right #metric #metric system #to heck with the imperial system #all my homies hate the imperial system

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zaneaonc287 · 2 years

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sugarcause · 2 years

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My corruption kink is getting out of hand. Down boy 🤺 down I say 🤺

Might I request corruption with albedo ?

Yh albedo is all like only interested in experiments, I'd like to experiment and see how fast I can get him cock drunk.

DOWN 🤺 I 🤺 SAY 🤺

Ty and have a great day!

🔞 corrupting albedo ✉

includes: albedo precis: he really should learn how to take a break from his experiments or else this'll happen. take note of: corruption, anal sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampies, hair pulling, belly bulge, overstimulation, raw sex, sub!bottom!albedo, dom!top!reader, finger sucking, degradation + praise, desk sex, crying reader gender: gn voice mail: SO TRUE!!! 🤺 let us step on these men AHAH

you glanced upon albedo, annoyed.

the two of you were in his lab and it was already late in the night.

he barely noticed you, only shuffling through his documents while occasionally scribbling some notes down as he stared at his various concoctions.

"bedo... i'm bored...'' you complained, standing up to stretch.

''i know, just wait a bit more...'' he responded, distracted.

your eye twitched. he had been saying that repeatedly for a while now.

you sighed, but smirked.

you knew exactly how to get him to pay attention to you.

you approached him slowly, like a predator and its prey, as you stopped in front of him.

he looked up at you with a questioning gaze.

you then grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it as you shot him a grin below you.

''can't you entertain me for a bit, baby?''

he immediately gave into your touch, flushing.

"i guess just a bit is alright..." he whispered.

you let go of his hair as you moved your hand down to his mouth, slowly inserting two fingers as he instantly wrapped his lips around your digits.

he looked quite lewd, sucking on your fingers, covering them with his spit as he ran his tongue over it.

you pulled them out with a smack as you bent forward to kiss him.

he kissed back sloppily, grabbing onto your shirt to pull you closer as your tongue swirled in his wet mouth.

you broke away to catch your breath, albedo looking disheveled.

"a-are you done?" he asked, still blushing.

"do you want to stop?"

he shook his head bashfully, but quickly nonetheless.

"j-just a bit more..."

"alright then, come over here."

he circled around his table to stop in front of you.

"good boy." you praised.

you grabbed onto his waist and pushed him up against his desk, caging him with your arms as you opened up his collar.

you latched your mouth onto him and started sucking and nipping on his pale skin.

he let out small gasps as you left red and purple hickeys all over his collarbone.

he held onto your shoulders to stable himself as you kissed him all over.

you pulled yourself off of him as you spun him around to bend him over his desk, scattering his papers onto the floor as he eyes them.

"focus on me." you ordered.

you pulled down his shorts as spread his plump ass open, kneading it as you slowly slid two fingers into his tight, awaiting hole.

he let out a breath he was holding with a yelp as you pushed your digits deeper into him, curling them slightly.

you scissored them, moving them in and out of him until you felt him get looser.

you pulled them out and positioned your length behind him.

"you ready?" you asked.

"y-yeah..."

you inserted yourself into his tight hole as he let out a loud moan, gripping onto the table.

you started thrusting deep into his body, the outline of your cock bulging from his stomach.

he placed his hand on it and he could only moan with how perverted this all was. he was so small compared to you, you completely dominated him and he loved how it felt.

the way your dick slid against his walls, pressing against all the right spots, was perfect.

you pinched and squeezed his pink nipples as you knew he was incredibly sensitive.

"ah! s-stop! too mu-!" he yelped, getting cut off by his own high-pitched moan.

"you're such a slut." you mocked. "you keep telling me to stop but don't actually do anything.''

"i-i'm not a slut..." he whined.

"still denying it? how cute. but how can you say that when you're clenching onto me?" you mocked, pounding into him deeper as you pressed onto his lower stomach.

"fuck!" he gasped, legs tightening.

you grabbed his hair and pulled him to your chest, watching the elegant curve of his back.

you slammed into his hole even rougher as you saw tears spill out of his eyes. he felt like he was being stretched open by you.

with every thrust, you reached so deep within him and he was going through new sensations. he practically trembled every time your hips pressed up against his backside.

you smacked his ass hard, leaving a red mark as he jolted and squealed loudly.

"still saying you're not a slut? you asked.

"ah! ah! ah!" albedo could barely think straight.

you cupped his cheeks with your hand, and turned his head to face you.

his eyes were rolled back as his eyebrows furrowed.

"answer me." you growled.

"i-i'm a slut! p-please keep going! my hole needs you!" he moaned.

"really? do you like it?"

"i love your dick sho much!" he drooled. "feels sho good!"

you chuckled, "wow, you're so drunk on my cock bedo. such a whore."

"y-yesh! i'm your whore so fuck me harder!" he yelled.

obeying, you fucked into him relentlessly, almost frenzied. he clenched so hard around you, keeping your length in him.

"i'm g-gonna cum!" he yelled, feeling his climax near as your pace only got faster.

"go ahead baby." you allowed.

with your admission, he released all over his desk, ribbons of white splurting out of him as he squealed. his body quivered as he jolted, mind blanking with pleasure.

you came soon after, filling him to the brim with your cum. it was paradise and he was so full, feeling your seed start to leak out of him.

you only stopped for a split second and immediately continued moving your hips back and forth, skin slapping against his.

"i-i'm sensitive! 'm gonna cum again!"

he couldn't help it and came again, squirting as his back bent even further.

he was so overstimulated and he could only cry as you continued to use his body. his small dick kept on leaking as he could feel you drip down his leg.

you pulled out with a squelch as you looked down at his puffy hole, satisfied.

"p-please! m-more! i need your cock!" he suddenly cried out.

"are you sure you want more? don't you have experiments to do?" you asked, smirking.

'experiments?' albedo thought,

but you were all he needed.

making my 101th spotify playlist 👍👍

#albedo x reader #albedo x gn reader #albedo x male reader #albedo x female reader #albedo smut #sub albedo #bottom albedo #genshin impact smut #bottom genshin impact #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #bottom genshin

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miekasa · 3 years

Text

love talk

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: it’s not important that eren is a tattoo artist i just wanted to share bc i gave him tattoos here :’), fluff i think, smut/nsfw content, if you see a hint of eremin then no you don’t </2

+ word count: almost 2k, sickening innit luv

+ notes: yeah, still thinking about eren speaking german during sex bc he’s losing his mind hehe. i suppose this is the… softer version. might post another one later, who knows. and yes, i did almost name this pussy talk.

Unbeknownst to him, Eren Jaeger speaks three languages.

The first two are obvious, but English is his preferred language; the one you’ll find him speaking most often. It only makes sense, seeing as it’s what the overwhelming majority of people, media, and signs spew at him.

The second is more reserved; something you might assume given his name, but not know for sure unless you asked, or stuck around long enough to catch him rambling excitedly to Armin in German, with broken slang phrases of English interspersed. It’s fascinating—cute, moreover—the way he stumbles back and forth between both tongues; and the difference in tone between them. You’re not sure if your own bias is peeking through, but you’re certain Eren and Armin both sound a little… meaner in German; more sarcastic, at the very least—and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were talking shit the whole time.

Though, there is a special, reserved intonation to his mother tongue that shows itself when Eren’s around you. It doesn’t seem to be by choice—gone beyond comprehension that he’s forced to revert to grunted expressions and curses in a language foreign to his surroundings. You assume them to be curses; you never can confirm, and Eren seems to not even be aware of his switching in the heat of the moment, can never quite recall what he was saying to you.

There are times when he’s reduced to mere sounds, no comprehensible words between the hundreds of thousands he knows—only guttural moans, and breathy sighs, and he seems to not even be able to understand himself. You have to admit, it’s a bit of an ego boost to be able to fuck your boyfriend stupid in two languages.

And at first glance, Eren doesn’t seem like the type of guy to know about anything outside of himself. He doesn’t seem like the full-sleeve, three ear piercing, tattoo artist kinda kid; but Eren Jaeger speaks the language of pictures, of symbols, of images, that he is able to decipher and give meaning to upon creation. He’s got a penchant for art, and a vision bigger than himself, so it’s only right that he takes his knowledge and applies it in its most permanent form. The tattoos are more than a hobby for him—they’re an extension of himself, his art, his language; and his body is the only canvas fit enough to capture them.

So, here, with Eren laying on his back, chest exposed, arms bent for his hands to rest against your waist, you get to see the culmination of all the words and all the pictures, from all the languages he’s deemed important enough to find a place on his skin.

“Do all of your tattoos have a meaning?” you question, reaching your hand up to trace over the delicate waves that ride along his right collarbone.

“No,” Eren winces when you move—just enough of him to feel an ounce of friction inside of you, but not enough to give him what he wants. He wiggles himself a bit, desperate for something, “Not at all.”

It makes you chuckle, with a sort of disbelief, at both his words and his actions, “You get things tattooed on your body that don’t mean anything to you?”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, followed with a boyish smile. He blinks at you slowly, lids fluttering and hands gripping tightly at your body, “Learned that not everything has to have a deep meaning to want to keep it around,” he tells you, right palm moving to venture over your tummy, and up your sides, “Somethings you just love.”

You don’t miss the lilt in his voice on the word ‘love,’ but you play it off, rolling your eyes at his deliberately sweet affections, and then, gently, your hips, “Pretty poetic for something with no meaning.”

“Yeah, well, Armin taught me that,” Eren grits, hands fastening themselves at your hips again.

“You talk about Armin a lot when we’re in bed you know,” you taunt him, moving your fingers to trace over more of the tattoos that litter his right shoulder, “Something I should know about?”

Eren shivers at the feeling—of your fingertips on his skin, and what he swears was an intentional clench around him, “You don’t seem to mind.”

You smile at him, enjoying the contortions of his face when you run your hands down his chest, palms pressed lightly against his pelvic bone. Eren bends a knee, but does he best to remain still, and you can’t help but to chuckle. He looks pretty when he’s trying his best.

“I’m greedy,” you tell him, raising your hips, and pausing in your words as you slowly lower yourself back on to him.

“Trust me,” Eren scoffs, a façade to cover up his reddening cheeks and shaky thighs, “I know.”

He tries to move his hips up, desperate for something more; for you to fucking move, but, you keep your hips perfectly still. Instead, you reach your arms behind you, and onto Eren’s thighs, cementing them to the bed. He groans, his hands sliding down to your own thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh.

“And you called me greedy,” you huff, amused, as Eren rolls his eyes beneath you. When you’re sure he’s not going to move, you bring your arms back around, palms splayed on his stomach, “Relax. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, in an ideal world, this would be happening when I was playing COD, not when I was already impossibly hard with morning wood. And with a lot less teasing on your part.”

You have to laugh—genuinely giggle—at Eren’s blunt honesty. He’s unintentionally charming; another linguistic skill he seems unaware that he’s proficient in. You can tell he doesn’t understand the source of your amusement, but the look in his eyes, the twinkle in his irises lets you know he’s too far gone to even care.

“Call it a lesson in self-control,” you say, moving your hands to his sides in time with a shallow grind of your hips, “Besides, I’m admiring you.”

Eren keeps his hands anchored on your thighs, shivering at sensitivity of his dick coupled with your hands stroking over his pecs, “Lesson fucking learning—babe, fuck, please—”

“Shh—not yet,” you coo, and reach to pull his arms off of you, leaving you with room to admire his sleeve. You take pity on him, holding his right wrist with both of your hands, before slowly beginning to bounce on him.

Eren squirms, his free hand reaching to grab at the flesh of your ass, eyes blinking open to watch his cock be buried inside of you. The relief is instant—for the both of you—immediate groans and shallow profanities slipping past your lips as you build a steady pace to ride him.

“Tell—tell me what this one means,” you question slowly, keeping your right hand around his wrist, but using your left to point to the tattoo; a stylized line art of crossed wings.

“Some shit about freedom,” Eren grunts, fingers twitching, “Fuck, babe—more, please, I’ll—”

Eren cuts himself off with a whine, and you hiss yourself, lifting your body all the way to the tip, before lowering yourself again at an agonizingly slow pace. At this rate, you can feel everything; every vein on his shaft, every twitch of his cock. You feel Eren deep inside of you, even see where the bulge outlines your tummy.

You still yourself for just a second, catching your breath, anchoring yourself on Eren. You’re pretty far gone yourself, but you want more; for yourself, and for him. You do your best to stay coherent, slowly grinding atop of him, questioning him about another tattoo on his arm, ignoring the way his palm grips at your bicep. It’s a small one, with detailed Japanese characters that you can’t understand, but appreciate anyway; it’s one of your favorites, and you ask Eren about its meaning, clenching yourself around him as punctuation to your question.

Eren sucks air between his teeth, left hand pulling back to run his fingers through his hair, a grunted word in German falling from his lips. You smirk, but let him try to answer you.

“I don’t fucken’ know,” Eren grumbles, head thrashing from side to side, “It’s really fucken’ hard to remember anything—shit—like this. S’fucking torture.”

“Hm,” you hum, not satisfied; eager for more of Eren’s love language, “Tell me something in German, instead, then.”

But Eren can only babble beneath you; sounds incoherent in either language—reduced to desperate whines and grabby hands at your thighs, waist, boobs—anything. You lean forward, letting go of Eren’s tattooed wrist, and reaching to ghost your fingers over his lips.

“Come on, Eren, you’re usually so good at it when we do this,” you taunt him, words coated in sweetness that distract you from keeping up your pace, “Just want you to talk pretty to me. Tell me something, baby.”

Eren’s eyes travel from your fingertips, up your arm, neck, and to your face. When he meets your gaze something shifts; eyes heavy with want, and bitter with dissatisfaction.

So, he reaches for your extended hand, laces your fingers together, “Something like what?”

You wrap your fingers around his, then do the same with your left hand, “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a smile, finally satisfied.

Eren grunts, bending his right knee for leverage before he flips you over, hands still intertwined, but now pinned over your head, harshly pressed into the pillows below. He buries his head into the crook of your neck; licking a stripe along your collarbone, where you’d teased him minutes before. Then up, up, up, your neck to the shell of your ear, retreating downwards to suck on the skin just beneath your ear, nipping with pointed teeth.

Eren keeps his weight on you, the length of his cock sliding over your slick folds while he bites angry, red blotches into your skin—a kind of impermanent tattoo of his own making on your body. The friction is good, but not enough, and you wonder if Eren intends on teasing you as long as you’d done to him; but, he breathes heavy breaths up your neck again, before mumbling a series of foreign syllables into your ear.

He hovers over your face, satisfied by the daze in your eyes; the slight openness of your mouth. It’s you who looks dumbstruck now, a foreigner to his ministrations; and for once, he’s in control with his second tongue.

“What—what does that mean?” you finally ask, squeezing your eyes briefly when Eren teases the tip just past your entrance.

Eren chuckles, airy, gritty, and cocky all at once. He pushes his cock inside of you, balls deep, only to pull out almost all the way, before leaning forward just slightly, so that his bottom lip grazes over yours.

“It means I love you,” he whispers, hips bucking forward, “Try to remember that, ‘cause I swear I’m gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #levi x reader #aot smut #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

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849 notes · View notes

luimagines · 3 years

Note

oooh i have an idea, how would dear reader reacts to the chain's secrets? they could be canon like wolfie being twi, or something you headcanon!

Masterlist

I procrastinated on this one admittedly because I had no idea where to take it but after writing out a list and appointing a secret to each boy. I have it done.

Some things are definitely headcanons.

Part one will include Hyrule, Sky, Warrior, Four and Wild.

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

The battle wasn’t necessarily hard to deal with- the monsters weren’t difficult to deal with and there weren’t a lot of them to begin with.

You slashed, dashed and kicked every enemy away from you and watched as they fell to your blade. Every new step revealed a new purple cloud as you danced around the battle field.

You saw Wild and Twilight fighting back to back with practiced ease and handling it as well as you were. Warrior and Sky was side by side closer to Time and Legend than the rest of the group was and Four and Wind were up in the trees striking the enemy down at a distance and no doubt scheming something while the going was easy.

The only one you had no idea where he was, was Hyrule.

And that didn’t take a lot to dive into your brain and wriggle uncomfortably until your own insecure thoughts pushed you to go look for him.

Between the monsters and the land mines of purple smoke, it was a little difficult to find him.

But when you do- he does something you don’t fully understand at first.

You manage to run into him in a clearing, but he doesn’t notice you at first. Instead, you see him take his sword and run it through his palm. His blood coats the length of his blade, and it drips down his hand onto the grass below.

He watches the monsters in front of him and dances for a minute around them before he takes a breath and kills them effortlessly.

You frown and step toward him. “Why did you do that?”

Hyrule jumps higher than should be physically possible and doesn’t catch himself on the way down. He falls flat on his butt and looks up at you with wide and startled eyes.

“Are you ok?” You kneels next to him and go to take his injured hand. “What on earth were you trying to do?

Hyrule jerks his hand back like you’ve burned him and you see the magic flow through the air around his wound- closing it like it never happened.

“Link?” You frown again and slowly place your hand in your lap. You’re confused and a little afraid for him. You know that blood magic is taboo for a reason and is typically avoided more often than not because of its’s dark nature- but you never thought Hyrule of all people would dabble in it.

“I’m fine.”

“Link.” You stress a little more. “What were you trying to do? I didn’t think you were capable of blood magic... At least you don’t usually use those kind of spells. Is that why you fight on your own for a while each time?”

“I’m not using blood magic.” Hyrule frowns and stands abruptly.

“Then why-?”

“It’s not important.”

“Hyrule, you’re hurting yourself. I’d say that that’s pretty important.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t make me get Time.” You threaten. “I’ll get Legend too. I bet they’ll get some answers out of you.”

“You won’t just drop it, will you?” He sneers

“Nope.” You stand and cross your arms. “What were you trying to do?”

“I was just checking something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like if a curse would work or something?”

Hyrule tenses and he crosses his arms- instantly looking away from you.

“WERE YOU ACTUALLY TRYING TO CAST A CURSE?!” You screech.

“THE CURSE WAS CAST ON ME!” He yells back.

You both still for a moment and wait for the forest to show any signs that others might have heard you.

The sounds of distant fighting continues and after a minute of waiting some more, no one shows up to check on either of you, so you’re safe.

You turn back to your companion and furrows your eyebrows. You lower your voice just above a whisper just in case someone might be on the way but now you need answers. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He scowls- a face you’re not used to seeing on him and throws his arms down his sides in anger. “Back home, Ganon cast a curse on me. The monsters need my blood in order to resurrect him and I can’t risk letting any monsters from my time getting to me. I need to check if the other monsters will follow suit.”

You blink, not expecting that answer but your anger flares up regardless. “So you go out on your own to check this curse because your blood is needed to resurrect hatred incarnate? What if you’re overpowered? What if they do react to it? How are we supposed to help you if you’re alone?”

“It’s my problem to deal with. I don’t need-”

“Shut up.” You scowl and grab him by the shoulders. You shake him roughly for as long as you speak. “We are your friends! We care about you! We don’t want to see you hurt! We’re going to help you! Whether you want it or not- we’re not to let you deal with this alone. Not while we’re here.”

“Stop shaking me.”

You let him go.

“I won’t tell the others because I know you wouldn’t like that.” You say. “But this stops today. You hear me? None of us are just going to let these freaks near you and this is not necessary while you have a whole team of heroes just as pissed about the situation as you are. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“How clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

Sky

Sky wakes up one day with a far away look in his eye which immediately puts you on edge.

Not only that but to make it worse, he doesn’t stop looking at you.

He looks scared.

Every five minutes you swear you catch him looking in your direction only to look away in haste when you look back at him.

No one is saying anything and it doesn’t help your paranoia.

With some people walking ahead you, you step back and take a spot next to Sky. You notice that he’s tense and walking robotically, and trying to match your pace. “Dude, what’s up? You’re freaking me out.”

Sky trips over himself and finally looks you in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“You woke up like you saw a ghost. You’ve been looking over to me every five minutes and even now you look like you want to sprint away from me. Did I do something?”

“I.. Ummm...” Sky stutters for a minute before swallowing whatever lump was in his throat. “I just had a dream... is all.... I’ll get over it.”

“I’m assuming it had something to do with me then.”

“No, not exactly.” Sky’s quick to speak even if you can see the beginning’s of sweat collect on his brow. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Want to talk about it?” You tilt your head. “It looks like it really shook you up.”

“Oh, um, I-”

“Maybe you died and Sky freaked out.” Legend pushes you forward and away from Sky. “He doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.”

“Ok, my god, Legend slow down! Not everyone is as emotionally constipated as you! Talking about things is healthy and important!” You shout over your shoulder, trying to dig your heels into the dirt with little to no luck.

Legend seems a bit stronger right now that he usually is, you bet it’s his power bracelet.

If Sky actually looks a bit paler at Legend’s claim than neither of you notice.

The day passes a little calmer after that, Sky seeming to have calmed down enough to not be so weird and it something you’re quick to forget about.

By the time the afternoon hits, a bunch of dark and foreboding storm clouds roll in.

Somehow, Sky manages to find it in himself to walk next to you again and does his best to stay close.

You don’t mind it and even jokingly pull his sail cloth over your head when it begins to rain on your group. It’s not particularly strong and there’s not a lot of options to rest and take cover, so you bare with it. Sky lets you keep the sail cloth over your head surprisingly.

But then there’s thunder and you see lightning in the distance and bite your lip. “Maybe we should hunker down or something?”

The rain goes from gentle drops to a down pour within seconds and the group runs a bit to gain as much cover as you can in the nearby tree line.

Sky pushes himself in front of you and shoves you behind him with enough force that you’re fully knocked over. In one fluid motion he lifts the Master Sword skyward and charges the blade, tossing it away from the group in a glowing blue arc. It cuts through the grass and even splits the first tree it strikes in half before dissipated into the air.

You would have been struck by lightning if he didn’t do that.

“Sky?” You get up and try to wipe as much mud off of your pants as you can. “Are you ok? How did you know that would happen?”

Sky gulps and takes a deep breath as he looks at you with wide eyes and understanding. “I saw it in a dream.”

“Oh...” You gasp and reach out to him shakily, putting your hand on his shoulder. “You have dreams then?”

“Yes.” Sky looks at his sword and hesitantly puts it away. “Sometimes.”

“Ok then...” You nod and look around the group. They’re all in varying stages of shock, surprise and concern.

Everyone is looking at Sky.

“We need to get out of the storm.” You say in lieu of changing the topic. ” Who knows if there’s more lightning on the way and there’s a lot of metal within the group.“

“Right.” Time nods and does a not so subtle double take in his attempt to leave it be. “Let’s go.”

You nod back and nod once more to Sky and wrap your arm around his shoulder. you lead him forward and lean into his space to whisper into his ear. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad I made in time.”

“We’ll talk later ok?” You smile in hopes of alleviating some of the tension. “I have some questions if you’re willing to indulge me.”

“I suppose it’s only fair.”

Warrior

“He’s a cute kid.” Warrior mentions randomly one day.

You startle and jump, nearly dropping the image. You scramble to catch it and successfully do so after playing hot potato with yourself.

“Warrior, a little warning please.” You sigh and attempt to clean your finger print smudges on the glass. “But yeah, my little brother is cute. I hope he stays that way.”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Warrior shrugs. “He grows up to be a fine and upstanding young man. Good looks run in the family. ”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Thank you, I’m sure they do.”

Warrior comes to stand next to you and gently turns the glass over to see the image better.

“Warrior?”

“Hm?”

“Am I doing the right thing?” You sigh.

“What do you mean? I’d say you are. Sacrificing yourself for the good of a better tomorrow- for your family- for your loved ones- but that’s not what you’re talking about are you?” Warrior lets you take the image back.

“But he’s so young... and I’m supposed to take care of him.” You gulp. “I just want him to be safe and sound and healthy but I can’t really do that from- from... I’m here instead.“

“Well... no said it was going to be easy.” Warrior offers lamely.

“What if he grows up to hate me?” You clench the glass tighter at the thought. “I just abandoned him, didn’t I? Oh my god-”

“Hey. He loves you.” Warrior takes your shoulders in his hands and shakes you somewhat. “He admires you greatly. You’re his hero. He looks up to you even now. He’ll understand when the time comes.”

“Even now?” You sniff. “What does that mean?”

“Years have passed and he hasn’t stopped looking up to you and how you did everything you could for him, for Zelda and he’s trying to make you proud-”

“Warrior he’s five, how do you know this?”

His mouth shuts with a click of his teeth.

“Warrior.”

“Um... I... He...”

“Link.” You pocket the glass and face him head on. “When did you meet my brother?”

He stares at you for a moment and deflates. “During... during the war of my era.”

“...What?”

Warrior hisses and brings his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “He showed up around the same time that Wind did but he talked about you.... and I guess you talk to him about me because he wasn’t really surprised at what was happening.”

“How old was he?” You bite your lip, already dreading the news.

“Older than me actually.” He offers with a tight smile. “I never asked him but if I had to guess I would have put him in his mid twenties. The oldest Link to start his adventure compared to the rest of us...”

“But he still...” You deflate as well and hug your arms around yourself. “He still has to go doesn’t he? I can’t save him from it. Even now, I... I can’t- I fail him in the end then.”

“He doesn’t see it that way at all.” Warrior catches you before you fall to your knees in despair. “He admires everything you’ve done for him, everything you’re currently doing. You kept him from danger for as long as you could- until he was old enough to take on his destiny. That’s more than any of us could say.”

“I don’t want him to go through any of it though.” You sob and lean into Warrior for support. “That’s my baby brother Warrior- how am I supposed to be ok with this?”

“I don’t think there is a way.” He admits. “Nor do I think you should be.”

“I can’t keep him from it.”

“But you can and have been postponing it.” Warrior rubs circles into your shoulder as you cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

“I miss him.”

“You’ll see him again.” Warrior grips you tightly. “He also did very well all things considered. He became an older brother to me and to Sprite and Wind... I don’t think Wind has figured it out yet that your brother and Lucky are the same Link though.”

You sniffle and calm down slightly. “Was he awesome?”

A laugh is startled out of him and he chokes on the snort and cough that tries to leave him at the same time. “I’d say he was better than me... And he claims to have never held a sword until then.”

“Good.” You nod. “He’s the best brother in the whole world.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Four

You’re walking on a random trail as the day dies down and you’re partner is Four for the hour.

The sun rests behind you comfortably and you talk about the different weapons from each others Hyrule. You’re no smith- but you do think it’s an interesting process and try to take notes where you can.

As you trade your notes and laugh at the more ridiculous stories from one another, you look down and notice something weird with Four’s shadow.

It almost looked like it was laughing along too... in the opposite direction that Four was looking in. But you blink and it’s as if it never there.

Maybe you’re tired.

You have been walking all day and perhaps it was a trick of the light.

You don’t think on it too much and go back to talking with your friend.

Hours later-you’d think that it would be the end of it but it isn’t.

In fact, you can’t sleep. And the way it moved was different than it should have been and the more you look into the memory there more obscurities than there should be. Not to mention that Four gets weird around shadows or whenever they are mentioned.

You stare up at the star filled sky as you think about the incident.

“I’m telling you I think they saw me.” A new voice says.

You’re thrust into the moment and attune your hearing to the direction it came from.

“I think you’re thinking too much into it. How could they have seen you?” It’s Four.

You close your eyes and roll over in the same direction, pretending to still be asleep.

The voices take a minute to pick up again when you do that.

They were watching you.

“They stared at me for a solid minute- how did you miss that?” New voices hisses.

“They were laughing-”

“You were laughing, you love sick fool. They looked at me. They saw me. I’m going to blow the secret and you’re not even listening to my warning.”

Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up as quickly as you can.

You instantly spot Four sitting by the fire, but you’re not surprised by that. What really takes your attention is the new person next to him- who looks uncannily like your friend.

But with purple hair...

And red eyes...

And darker skin...

“Four what the hell?” You blurt.

Four responds quickly and as intelligently as he can manage. “Uhhhh...”

The person next to him curses and runs a hand through his hair. “I told you. I told you. I told you.”

You lock eyes with the new guy and introduce yourself.

He huffs and crosses his arms, his face darkening slightly- or again- maybe it was a trick of the light. “I’m Four’s shadow.”

“His... shadow...?”

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

You nod, wide eyed before turning to Four with a million questions in your eyes. He can see it and holds his hand up to his mouth, pressing his knuckles harshly against his teeth as he waits for them to start flowing out of your mouth.

“Love sick fool?”

“Shadow you snitch!” Four screeches and takes a swing at him.

His cry is loud enough rouse some of the others but only really wakes up two of them. You stare tensely as Time and Legend sit up fast enough to nearly throw themselves into the fire as they turn to Four.

“Sorry.” You whisper yell to save his honor.

Shadow is nowhere to be found.

Time and Legend turn to you as the only other one awake and each raise an eyebrow in tandem.

“Ni-nightmare. I yelled. I’m sorry.” You try to act like you just woke up as well and try to hunker down into your blankets.

Time sighs and wipes his eyes. “You ok?”

“I will be.” You try to smile but you’re too nervous and it comes out more forced than it should- but perhaps that helps you sell your little fib.

Legend for his part glares at you before he sits down with a solid thump and throws himself dramatically back into his bedroll.

No words are exchanged between you two.

“Everything alright Four?” Time yawns as he also begins to lie down again.

“Yeah. All good here.” Four laugh nervously and waves him away.

Time nods, no longer paying attention and slowly... nearly half an hour later, you see that the two of them have fallen asleep again. Thankfully neither of them seem to realize that it didn’t sound like your voice at all.

Shadow appears again from somewhere and takes his spot next to Four. “Nice going.”

“Shut up.”

“Four, I have questions.” You sit up and make your way over to the two of them.

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What’s there to explain?”

“Everything?”

“Ok. Ok. Both of you, don’t start. You caught us fair and square. Sit down.” Four sighs and gestures to the other spot next to him. “It’ll take a while.”

“Done.” You grin and nearly run over a sleeping Sky in the process. “Tell me everything.”

Wild

“Has anyone seen Mr. Champion?” You glance up after doing a supply check through your bag. You’re running a little low on rations and know the resident cook usually has some to spare.

But you haven’t seen him in a while.

“Didn’t he go to get fire wood?” Wind tilts his head.

“Wasn’t that at least an hour ago?” You respond, furrowing your eyebrows as you think about it more. Where did Wild go?

“He hasn’t come back yet?” Warrior sits up straighter. Now the rest of the group is a little more aware of their missing member and each start subconsciously checking the tree line as if he were about to come back that very second.

“I can go look for him.” You offer, standing up. “Maybe he got distracted. We are in a new area.”

“Oh great, he could be miles away and we’d never know.” Legend groans and throws his head back. “Just what we needed.”

“Have a little faith Vet.” You snort. With a quick jump and skip over the supplies, you begin to leave the camp behind. “Try calling him Wind, I’ll see if I can go find our missing chef before dinner.”

“Please do.” Time nods. “We’ll start a full search party if you’re not back within the next hour though. It’s getting too dark.”

“Noted.”

“I could find him faster.” You hear Twilight say but you’re already too far away to back down now.

Truthfully, you have no idea where to start- but you imagine that to find Wild- one must think like Wild.

You pick a direction and stick with it.

At some point maybe fifteen minutes in you reach a small creek and begin to follow to stream upwards.

It’s really more like you’re taking a hike than searching for your friend and you begin to feel a little stupid even if realistically there’s no other way for this to be done.

That is- until you see him anyway.

He’s seems to be frozen in place, staring off into the distance with his hands still held mid air, gripping the canteen he appears to have been filling up.

It confuses you and you stand there staring at him to move- to blink- to do something. But he doesn’t. “Wild?”

No response.

“Champion?” You call a little louder and begin to tip toe a little closer to him. You’re afraid that even the slightest snapping of a twig would break whatever spell he’s under and you don’t fancy a violent reaction out the man who can easily blow the whole area up with little to nothing.

But still no response.

“Link!” You hiss and eventually reach his side. He hasn’t once turned in your direction or even acknowledged your presence and you begin to doubt that he’s even conscious.

His eyes are open and he’s knelt beside the creek but maybe he got hit with some magic or something- you don’t know.

You gulp and place a hand on his shoulder. You shake him lightly but when that also proves to not do anything you begin to shake him more and more until you nearly throw him over-but he does not react at all.

“Oh boy... What on earth happened to you?” You bite you lip and begin to look around. He’s too heavy for you to carry on your own and also too far away to yell for help or assistance.

You should have dragged Twilight with you.

Suddenly he takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly, shaking himself back into the present.

You freeze and tense up considerably as you watch him come back to himself.

Wild stretches and looks up at the sky before standing up. “Twilight’s not going to like this.”

“No. I don’t think so.” You reply.

He freezes as well and looks at you by only shifting his eyes. “How long were you here for?”

“A while...” You admit. “Maybe fifteen minutes. You were gone for over an hour. I got worried.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad then.”

“You ok?” You gulp and slowly drop your shoulders from your ears and unclench your fists.

“Yup. Peachy.”

You nod and continue to lower your guard- not trusting this one bit. “May I ask what that was?”

“Just a memory.” He shrugs and tries to walk past you.

“A memory?” You frown and turn on your heel to follow him. “A memory? I shook you head enough to nearly throw you into the water and you claim it was because of a flashback? I’ve heard of disassociation before but I think this is more like astral projection through dimensions. You were completely gone!”

“It happens from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

“What if something came up behind you and killed you?” You argue. “I’d say that’s something to worry about. Does this happen often?”

“Everyone once in a while. Maybe once every other month. It depends really. It doesn’t happen as often as it did in the beginning though.” Wild admits and gestures for you to follow him.

You do- but you keep asking him questions.

“So this is normal?”

“For me? Yes.”

“For you?”

“I...” Wild hisses slightly as another thought comes to his mind. “I never told you did I?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m going to assume that no, you didn’t.”

“I get memories from my old life from time to time when something triggers them. I used to have amnesia but I’ve got most of the my memories back at this point... By now it’s just filling in little blanks.” Wild shrugs. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh...” Understanding calms you somewhat. At least it’s not a magic spell or anything. “How did you get amnesia? Do you remember that?”

Wild stops in his tracks and looks at the ground momentarily before looking up again and walking forward. “I died.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I died.”

“Huh?”

“I. Died.”

“WILD!” You tense up again and follow him without hesitation. “What do you mean you died? Did you heart just stop or were you like blow up or something- Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’m being super insensitive right now, aren’t I? But I don’t understand! I don’t- Wild- Link- you can’t just drop a bomb like that. Are you like a ghost or something? No. Wait. You can bleed and I’ve seen you crash into more walls and rocks than I care to admit.”

“This isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Wild frowns and cuts you off.

“ArE YOu oK?!”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“But that’s not what I mean- How can that even make sense-”

“Where did you think I got my scars from?” Wild cuts you off once more with a barely restrained snort as he bites his lip.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m fine I promise.”

“Wild nooo....” You whine and Wild thinks for a minute that the information upset you so much that you’re going to cry. “Who did it? I’ll kill them with my bare hands. Who hurt you?”

Wild comes to a full stop again and sighs. Deep and tired but he tilts his head and offers you his hand. “Do you want the short story or the long?”

“Long story please.”

For the first time since this conversation started, Wild smiles even if it’s faint and subtle. “Alright, let’s take the scenic route back. This might take a while.”

Part 2

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #linked universe #is my personal plot line growing #maybe #maybe not #those you have been following for a while will take Warrior's call back for what it is #can't fully break away from god given duties can you?#Link is no exception #also #Apparently Sky gets prophetic dreams #i've never played skyward sword #but I've been meaning to get it for the Switch #so soon!!#Maybe Sky will be easier to write after I play it

238 notes · View notes

raggaraddy · 3 years

Note

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you.

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

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