A Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of That

20 Hyperfixations change on a seasonal basis

[waywardsummoner46]

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Created: 01/10/2021

Updated: 03/10/2022

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[waywardsummoner46]

to tame a stray cat

pairing: clark kent x black cat!reader

tags: dom!clark vibes, clark swears once, sexual tension like a lot, very mild predator/prey vibes I guess? reader has sexual energy and uses it like a weapon, allusions to s*x, part two???

word count: 1525

a/n: thank you @solarseastar for this request! I had so much fun writing this and I hope it follows something you had in mind.

"Superman! What a lovely surprise," you purred, clawed hand twirling the massive diamond you had procured from your... visit... to the museum. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Superman slowly descended onto the rooftop of the building you had climbed, cape billowing as the late night breeze whistled in your ears. His feet landed with a soft thud. Arms crossed in that delectably righteous way of his with his eyes disapproving and mouth downturned into a frown.

His gaze turned pointedly to the pale blue gem in your hand, light reflecting off of it and onto your face. It made you look ethereal under the moonlight, though voicing those thoughts were the opposite of his intention tonight and would most definitely end up in someone's bed.

"Black Cat, wonderful to see you as always." Oh, Superman, always so polite.

It was painfully dull.

You levelled him with a flat look, looking up at him through the darkness of your domino mask. "Let's cut to the chase, pretty boy."

You stood, pocketing the diamond in a pouch attached to your belt. Then, you straightened, and began to prowl. You kept your distance as you circled the Man of Steel, swaying your hips with every step with a playful smirk on your face.

"You're here because some insignificant mouse at the museum ratted me out." You brought a hand up to your ear, mimicking a phone. "Hello, police? Yeah, this is the museum of blah blah blah, our big, beautiful, irresistible diamond has just been stolen from our awfully insecure display. Could you send someone to investigate? Thanks," you mocked, voice pitching higher as you watched his jaw tighten.

Stopping with a self-satisfied grin, you tap a clawed finger to your lips. "Then, you - in all of your righteousness and drive for justice - decided you'd handle the problem all by your lonesome. Ain't that right, handsome?"

Something dark and dangerous was brewing in his eyes. Something absolutely delicious.

He hadn't moved in the moments you were circling him. He was used to how you liked a little show - or as you put it, foreplay - and he was always willing to indulge.

"That diamond doesn't belong to you. Hand it to me to return, or better yet, take it back yourself," he tried. He knew it was in vain. Stealing was one of your favourite pass times. Had been for years, probably would be for a lot more.

As predicted, you only laughed, a cruel twist in your tone. "Oh, Clark, you do know how to make a girl laugh." Your laughter stopped, gaze falling into something more serious.

"Make me."

Then, maintaining direct eye contact, you stepped onto the edge of the roof and jumped, summersaulting into the air.

Superman yelled your name as he lunged into the air after you. His gaze turned worriedly to where you were surely plummeting to the bustling streets of Metropolis, picturing your body in a bloody mess on the street below.

There was no body. Only the sound of faint laughter from the next rooftop over. Clark's head whipped to the sound of it, relief flooding through him at seeing you perfectly healthy only a couple hundred yards away. Irritation and the familiar feeling of growing desire soon followed it, tenfold.

"You really think I'd fall after all this time?" You raised a hand to your heart. "You wound me, hero."

Clark huffed under his breath, not dignifying your teasing with an answer. He watched as you slipped back into the shadows of the rooftops, the light from below not doing much to illuminate the ascended space of the city. But Superman had many abilities to use in this game and he intended to use every one he needed to win.

After all, you'd had your fun. It was time for him to have his own.

Superman let a smile cross his face and cricked his neck. Yeah, this would be fun.

He darted into the sky, on your trail like a hound caught the scent of blood. Despite how fast he could go, he chose to hold back, if only a little, just to make you squirm.

His enhanced vision picked up on your black clad form in the distance, weaving and dancing your way over and under any obstacle that came your way, all the while that diamond stayed perfectly safe in its temporary home.

Over the sound of wind whistling in his ears, he picked up on the fast beating of your heart. He could've chalked it up to just normal bodily reactions to exertion, but then he caught your scent.

That sickeningly sweet scent. The scent of your wetness beginning to slowly seep into your panties like the nectar from the tree of the gods. And, oh boy, he couldn't wait to drink from it.

Clark entertained your escapade for a few minutes, knowing that the longer this lasted, the better the reward he would reap later would be. Even his seemingly endless patience ran out.

And it did. Exactly when you turned mid sprint and flashed him a wink.

He caught up to you in less than a second.

Stopping directly in your path, you barrelled straight into his immoveable chest. The only thing that saved you from collapsing in surprise were your unnaturally quick, feline reflexes.

Your breaths were quick and loud in the silence of the late night. Clark didn't say a word as he watched you regain control of your breathing.

It looked like the fun was over. But, you wouldn't be the Black Cat if you didn't like to push buttons.

Your eyes rose, and you heard how your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. Clark towered over you in the pale moonlight, his cape a powerful shadow, the wind making it its puppet.

His mouth was a straight line, nostrils flaring slightly as his arousal climbed, but his eyes...

They were dangerously dark.

And, for the first time that night, your confidence faltered as you felt your throat bob as who exactly the other half of this dynamic was dawned on you with crushing force.

"Clark, I-"

"Here's what's gonna happen," he began, voice devoid of its previous good nature. He eliminated the gap between you, clenched jaw and black eyes piercing down onto you. The size difference, had it been anyone else, would have terrified you.

Once he knew for certain you were listening, right where he wanted you to be, he leant down as his lips touched your ear.

"You're going to return that diamond to the museum, and then you're going to go home, where I will be waiting to strip you bare and fuck you within an inch of your life over every counter in that apartment."

Holy shit. You had never heard Clark swear before.

"Do I make myself clear?" He said your name in the deepest gravel you'd ever heard from him.

Your whole body shivered. The vulnerable stupor that had overcome you feeling completely alien as your wide eyes looked up at him.

His hand reached up, thumb coming to trace your bottom lip. Then, softer, he repeated, "Do I make myself clear?" It was a double laced question. Clark always making sure to check up on you in his own way.

Swallowing another lump, you looked into his eyes, and God help you, you nodded.

With a satisfied smirk, he withdrew his hand and stepped back, eyes filled with approval.

"Good kitty."

[waywardsummoner46]

Send in requests

Can be absolutely anything for absolutely anyone. I am incredibly bored and trying to get out of a writing slump

[waywardsummoner46]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | Six | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

 

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 2406

「✦」 A/N - Hey, hey, heyyyyyy, sorry guysssssssssss

「✦」 TAGLIST - @yandere-stories - @adorawritesalot - @yoongisgirl69 - @sadtoru

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five • six • seven •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

You entered the shop with a sigh. A dull ache had begun on your neck since yesterday and you scratched it absentmindedly. 

  Life Rose On was empty today. The typically bustling labyrinthian paths of flowers and vines were completely devoid of customers. While it diverged from the norm, you couldn’t help but be mildly relieved. If Jung-Hee was in fact not working today then you would have to press Yeosang on the issue. You’d forgotten his reasoning for her not being on shift yesterday but you’d bought it because you had no reason not to. But Yunho’s words… “If there was anything wrong, you’d know about it.”

  Why did he say that? 

  You worried your lip between your teeth as you thought about it. It was quite possible he was simply trying to reassure you, unnecessary as it may be from a borderline stranger. Then again- no, you couldn’t go down a thought path like that. Yunho didn’t know you. He didn’t know your relationship with Jung-Hee. There was nothing wrong and that’s how it would remain. 

  And yet, you couldn’t quite let it go. 

  A faint throbbing began at your temple. You winced with a grumble - first a phantom itch on your neck and now the beginnings of a headache. You decided to get to the centre of the shop so you could figure out what was happening and go home as soon as possible. It was still relatively early but all you wanted to do was sleep. 

  You began walking through the shop, appreciating the silence and admiring, as always, the creative displays in the shop. You passed a few aisles, stopping on occasion to smell a flower that piqued your interest in particular and taking a few pictures so that you could revisit them when you came for a new bouquet. 

  The centre drew closer and you could see Yeosang sat at the counter. Cursing under your breath, you tried to quell the growing sense of dread in your chest. “Hey, Yeosang,” you said as pleasantly as you could.  

  He jumped as your voice pierced the silence of the shop. His eyes grew wide and he placed a hand to his chest. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he processed his reaction. “(Y/N), hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Almost unwillingly, a smile crept onto your lips. He was so endearing you just couldn’t help it. He was wearing what looked like a white collared shirt with white trousers and a sheer green material acting as a form of shawl on his shoulders. The outfit reminded you of a flower.

  “Busy day, huh?” He huffs a small laugh. 

  “It’s been out the door all day,” he responded with equal jest.

  “Uh huh, it shows,” you say with a grin. 

  Yeosang mirrors your smile and there was a couple of seconds of a mirthful silence that dissipated any prior feelings of worry in your chest. The vibe was almost… familiar? Not in a way that reminded you of yesterday but as though you were struck by a sense of Deja vu. 

  Yeosang seemed to have a similar thought pattern to you because his head tilted slightly and his eyes turned contemplative. His smile turned melancholy and a glint entered his eyes that made them shine in a way you hadn’t seen before. 

  He really was captivating.

  “And what can I do for you today?”

  Ah. Right. Jung-Hee. “Well, I was actually going to ask you about Jung-Hee again? I’m a bit worried, she never usually leaves without telling me - well, she never really leaves at all - and–”

  He cut across your rambling with a patient smile. “Jung-Hee is perfectly safe and fine. I promise you, there is nothing wrong.”

  “If there was something wrong, you’d know about it.”

  Yunho’s words played like a daunting echo in your mind. Yeosang’s phrasing nearly parroted it. The words were reassuring but you couldn’t help but read a little bit more into them. Something was off and it irked you beyond belief that you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

  With a strained smile, you responded. “I’m sure she is, but I would like to talk to her. I’ve tried her phone a couple of times but she hasn’t answered. I was hoping you could either point me in the right direction or, I guess, tell her I’m asking after her.” Your hand reached up to scratch your neck again.

  Yeosang’s eyes seemed to follow the movement and stayed glued to the movement of your hand. “-young,” he mumbled. 

  “Sorry?”

  He blinked, hard, and sat up a little straighter. “Hm?” 

  Suspicion lurked at the edges of your mind. “You said something. I didn’t quite catch it.” 

  You could tell by his body language that something was incredibly off with him. His smile turned uneasy and his eyes darted in every which way. He began fidgeting with the ribbon he’d had as you entered. “Yeosang, if there is something wrong with Jung-Hee I really need to know.”

  His smile grew more strained, eyes making more of an effort to look anywhere but at your eyes. He looked like he was being caught doing something he shouldn’t be. 

  Something was very wrong with Jung-Hee, and his reaction only cemented that in your mind.

  “I can assure you, Junghee is safe-”

  “My question, Yeosang,” you cut across him with a force you rarely had to use on anyone. “Was not about whether or not she was safe. It was if you could point me in the direction of contacting her. I don’t quite understand why you’re so insistent on it.”

  Whilst you did feel bad about talking to such a seemingly kind person in such a way, Junghee was basically a family member now and nothing came between you and your family.

  Yeosang’s hands had been playing and pulling the ribbon so harshly that he had somehow managed to rip it in a few places, almost separating whole sections. He began to shake his head and murmured indistinguishable things under his breath.

  “Tell me where she is, Yeosang.”

  “I don’t know!” He yelled, voice cracking. When his eyes finally met yours, you gasped and took a couple of steps back.

 One had turned entirely black. 

 The other, the brightest white.

  Yeosang began thumping his fists against the side of his head with agonising screams and whimpers that tore a hole in your chest. The colours in his eyes were ever changing. They’d gone from being completely separate shades to now intermingling and mixing to form a cloudy grey. The pigment, or whatever it was, looked to be alive. It was moving as though it had a will of its own, waging war across his scleras and eradicating any trace of his brown eyes.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know! Stop asking me! I don’t know!”

  Tears rolled down his face, marring his unblemished skin with streaks of black and white. Muscles seemed to convulse as agony puppeteered his body to writhe and tremble.

  “Please, I don’t know! I promise I don’t,” he wailed. Though it looked to pain him, he stood on unstable legs to walk out of the booth. 

  You could only watch in mild horror as he walked towards you and collapsed to his knees. His head crashed to the floor and his hands were elevated as though he was offering something to you.

  He knelt there for a bit, the only sounds echoing through the flower shop were your mildly hyperventilating breaths and the remnants of his powerful sobs. Cautiously, you cleared your throat and whispered his name. “Yeosang?”

  He froze. Tensing as though he was expecting a blow.

  Overwhelmed, through barely composed breaths, you reached to grasp Yeosang’s outstretched hands for yourself. “Yeosang…” Words were beyond you. There was nothing you could think of to say in such a strange situation.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. There was more composure in his words this time. “I’m sorry, my Lady.”

  Your brows furrowed at the strange title. 

  He brought his head up, forehead mildly dented with the floor’s patterns from having been placed there for so long. His eyes were still consumed by grey pigment, for lack of a better term, and you felt your face twist into an expression foreign to the emotions you were feeling. 

  A fond voice left your mouth that was not your own. 

  “Yeosang-ah, there is nothing to be sorry for,” you heard yourself say. You felt like a prisoner in your own body, watching as someone orchestrated your body from beyond the veil of your own perspective.

  Yeosang’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  You felt your mouth twist into a melancholic smile, hands squeezing his almost placatingly. 

  “You cannot tell her where her beloved shopkeep is, can you?”

  Had you been in control of your lungs, you would've sucked in a bated breath. He knew? Why couldn’t he say? Where was Junghee?

  A slight twitch. You got the feeling he was talking to you when he spoke, not answering the person using your body.

  “I cannot. I am sorry.”

  And you believed him.

  Then a name was spoken. A name that, for the second time in three days, had caused you to feel sick to your stomach. 

  “Hongjoong is here.”

  The grey in Yeosang’s eyes, where it had been growing lighter and breaching the verge of becoming more white than grey, sank back into darkness. His whole body shuddered, movements becoming robotic. “You should leave, Lady Light, before it’s too late.”

  A sadness overtook you. Something older that had festered, something you had never experienced so powerfully before. It was your turn for a stray tear to fall as you gazed adoringly at Yeosang.

  “My Yeosang…” 

  The shadows around you seemed to bend as the light was swallowed.

  You snapped to attention, as did your puppeteer. A mutual understanding passed through you both; you had to leave and it would need to be now.

  Your lips met Yeosang’s forehead. The sadness panged with the understanding that it would be the last for a while.

  “Farewell, Yeosang,” you said.

  He nodded, body becoming increasingly stiffer the more darkness consumed the humble shop. 

  With one last glance, your body leaped to the overlooking balcony of the second floor. You, actually you, were reeling from the experience. Puppeteer you seemed unfazed as she reached for an open window tucked in the side of the upstairs area.

  Yeosang’s voice rang out for the last time, “It won’t be long before he learns the truth of who she is, who you are, Light Goddess. I wonder, when the time comes… 

   Will you finally sink into the darkness?”

  You didn’t look back at him. The clench of your jaw, the only reaction you deigned to give before you left through the window, fell to the floor without as much as a noise, and left the events of the night behind you.

   When you returned home, you collapsed into bed. The Hidden War Within glowing an incandescent white from beside your pillow. Tendrils of pure light energy began to slowly worm from the book and towards your face.

  The forced slumber you were experiencing provided one of the last moments of peace you would experience. The tendrils, with a conscience of their own, stalled in the task as they watched you sleep, for they knew the responsibility soon to be thrust onto your shoulders.

  For a few minutes, they were content to be surrounded by the peaceful cusps of sleepy breaths from you. Then, they began their task.

  The thin tendrils slithered and glided over the pillow and through the air towards your face. They lay delicately over your face, leaving only your mouth uncovered for you to breathe. The blanket of light over your eyes caused you stir but the magical grasp over your subconscious forced you to stay asleep.

  The tendrils grew sad. The light dimmed in their sorrow. They did not like doing this to you. Nor did they like knowing why they had to.

  Tonight had been too close of a call.

  “Do not be afraid, my little loves. You know what must be done,” your voice said. The light seemed to relax slightly at the voice of their creator, though they retained some anxiety at the task. 

  “She requires recovery faster than I had expected. The King and his Princes are becoming more apt as time continues,” another voice spoke from the corner of your room.

  Ji-Ah stood, leaning against your wall as she watched the light begin to pulse over your eyes. Worry was etched into every angle of her body. 

  “I fear this one may be the last.”

  A heavy silence fell across the room.

  As your memory of the previous night was slowly plucked from your brain, the gravity over those words nearly suffocated everyone there.

  “... she will not sink, Ji-Ah.”

  Ji-Ah knew, then and there, that this time around, her role in the unfurling of this tale would be very different. The Light may not sink. No matter the cost. 

  “No. She will not.”

  - 

There were not eight bearers of corruption at the dawn of time. The King had only six vessels of power, not seven.

  The Lady of Light was accompanied by her General for eons. A kindhearted, genuine soul. Gifting Light to everyone and anyone he came across. 

  The King observed him for centuries. Every tense union between the two fundamental forces of the universes, he watched the General. His princes watched the General. They grew quite fond of him over time. They grew to obsess over him as a consequence.

  The King saw the opportunity to gain advantage over Lady Light and took it in his dark grasp, filling every crack of the General’s armour that he could, even the ones no one thought possible to be there.

  And so, when the Lady saw the change in her General’s eyes, she knew that soon, a monumental shift would occur across the stars as the Darkness had acquired another for its cause.

  She would be alone for the rest of time, never truly trusting anyone ever again. And though she sensed no corruption in any of her Generals after that, the damage had been done.

  And Hongjoong knew it was only a matter of time before her cracks would become open to his will. He need only wait.

Downfall of the General, 1924.

[waywardsummoner46]

Soldier boy and a Wonder Woman esc (maybe the movie version or absolute series one) reader?

content warnings: mdni 18+ humiliation and degradation, slight sadomasochistic vibes, dom/sub dynamics, dom!soldier boy, choking at one point, objectification, but they love each other I promise

word count: 2766

____________________________________________________________________________

Ben watched you from across the room. Homelander was blabbering on as he usually does, and Ben had developed an increasingly efficient method of blocking him out.

Namely, oggling your tits.

You, on the other hand, were very efficient at pretending to listen to Homelander and his delusional ramblings regarding Godhood and his newly established Church. Even for you, that was too far out of pocket delusional.

Concealing a smirk behind a cleverly timed cough, you caught Ben's eye. He did nothing to hide how he was feeling in the moment - the boredom or the growing arousal beginning to tent his suit pants - and you resigned yourself to the fact that after this meeting, the only productive thing happening would be you and him, either fighting or fucking.

Probably both in that order.

And so, just to make things interesting enough to pass the time, you hid a hand under the table and with the abilities Compound V had graced you with, subtly moved your hand in a way that would stroke Ben's cock in the way you knew he loved.

His composure shattered momentarily as he felt the phantom hand grip his girth and slowly move up and down. He cleared his throat and readjusted himself at the table, bringing his chair in just so that his crotch was hidden from view of everyone. Homelander was too preoccupied to noticed anything amiss, anyway. You would know, you'd done this countless times before.

Ben looked up at you through his eyebrows the same way he looks at you after a kill. Hungry for more and unwilling to let anything come in his way.

"So," Homelander clapped his hands and smiled at the rest of The Seven. "It's settled then. Firecracker will work to spread the word of my second coming, Soldier Boy and Themyscira will track down William Butcher and the rest of his merry band of men and Deep..."

The Deep sat straight in his seat and angled his head forward. You, and everyone else, barely concealed judgement, "Yes, sir, anything you want, sir."

Homelander's lips curled mildly, "Just don't fuck anyone else up."

Deep deflated. "... yes, sir."

Soldier Boy stood without acknowledging anyone else and left the meeting room. You smiled politely, donning that same carefully crafted mask of devotion and blind obedience that had got you so far up to the top league in the first place. You were about to take your leave when Homelander raised a hand.

"Please, sit."

And so, you did. "Is everything alright, sir?" You watched his posture very carefully. A skill anyone directly involved with Homelander needed to develop in order to at least try and save themselves.

He stood straight, posture as pristine as ever. But his face was twitching in a way you rarely saw. Homelander was nervous.

"I'll cut to the chase, Themyscira. I suspect that my father is planning to betray me."

...what?

He licked his lips and tightened his hands together. "I am aware of the nature of your relationship with my father. As such, I am asking you to use your lasso during... intimate relations... and try and extract if and why and when he plans on betraying me."

Ah, the lasso of truth. You had many different lassos. Something for you to channel different aspects of your power into and a way of lessening how overwhelming their clashing voices got in your head.

You took a composing breath and nodded slowly. You knew he was scoping you out, too. Afterall, what you and Ben had went a bit beyond just fuckbuddies. But this was Homelander, and you needed to remain in his good books - if only until Billy and the rest of the Boys could stop him.

So Homelander was looking in the right place, yet no treasure for him just yet.

You looked up into his eyes with fake reverance glistening in them. He was a very easy man to please if you could read people, and luckily you could a bit too well.

"Of course, sir. My devotion to you is what gives me meaning in life. Soldier Boy may tidy the leaves but you, sir, give me the seed to grow, the water to flourish and the sun to thrive under you."

Dear god, sometimes you hated how you could bullshit your way through things.

Luckily, Homelander seemed eternally pleased and seemingly unsure of how to fully accept such blatant devotion. "Right, fantastic. Thank you. You may leave."

~

And leave you did, good god. What a nerve-racking fucking experience that was.

You walked down the hallways of Vought Tower, every inch of the bastard place plastered with religious imagery and the brand that is Homelander. Truth be told, he made your skin crawl. The only good thing about him is the ballsack that half of him came from.

Speaking of said ballsack, "You got some damn nerve, you know that?"

Barely two seconds after reaching your room and unlocking it and the sight of him lounging on the couch greeted you, cigarette lit and a pile of ash growing on the floor.

"You're lucky that isn't carpet, otherwise you'd have finances up your ass."

He took another drag and then pointedly tapped the ashes onto the hardwood. "You gonna lick it up, doll?"

A humourless laugh left your throat. "Why? Worried that if you tried to bend your fossilised knees they'd buckle?" Faux sympathy graced your features and you jotted your bottom lip out. "Poor grandad, can't even clean up after himself."

You shut the door behind you and stalked towards him.

Sometimes it was hard to tell between the two of you who the true predator actually was. You weren't going down without a fight. Neither of you ever did.

You came to a stop just behind where he was sat on the couch, forcing him to angle his head slightly to keep an eye on you. You reached up to the headpiece your costume included - apparently symbolic of the high status you held within The Seven, though it was only a cheaply made black spray-painted thing with a red gem in the centre - and unbuckled it. You loosened it and waited for Ben to exhale his puff of smoke before you slowly, very slowly, lowered it in front of his eyes and placed it around his neck.

You leaned down right next to his ear and whispered, "No better than a dog."

He said nothing, merely bringing up the foul smelling vice to his lips once again and exhaling with a sigh. "You know, sweetheart... you really know how to push my buttons."

You smiled to yourself, excitement and arousal brewing with the knowledge of what was about to occur next. "Is that right? Well, Soldier Boy..."

Your fingers danced along his neck, dusting the top of the temporary collar before tightening it suddenly.

He groaned, fag falling to the floor at the sudden tension around his neck. He began to chuckle, a dangerous sound that went straight through you.

If there was on thing you knew about this little game of yours, it was that when Soldier Boy was challenged he did his best to grind that challenge under his boot. Or perhaps in your case, underneath him on the bed getting railed within an inch of your life.

The chuckling ceased. He clicked the joints of his neck. "Alright. Time to cut the bullshit."

His hands flew to where your own still lay behind his head. With a good grip and a stronger throw, he forced your grip from the collar and threw you back in the direction of the door.

You felt the air brush against you as you were hurled, the only thing stopping your body making a silhouette hole in the doorway was your ability to fly. But Ben knew that. That's why he did it.

After regaining your composure, your eyes now focused on the newly battle-ready Soldier Boy. His face was set in an expression of focus, but his eyes were swallowed by his pupils.

"Oh, what's that I hear? Oh," condescension dripped from like poisonous nectar from your tongue. "Is the mutt getting excited? Careful, doggy, I heard that too much physical exertion can kill an old man like yourself."

A lip curl was the first response. A slight adjustment in stance was the next. "When you're under me, writhing on my dick and whining like a snivelling bitch, we'll see who the real animal is, doll."

You shivered, only half sarcastically, "I guess we'll just have to see." You withdrew The Nemesis lasso, one of many in your arsenal, but the one that would cause Ben pain. A gorgeously designed channel for your power - the woven purple and black handle cruelly juxtaposing its intended use with its regality.

Eyes flashing, a clear tent began to grow once more within his pants.

"Careful, sweetheart. Someone might get hurt."

You scoffed, raising a brow. Another retort was on your lips but Ben lunged before you could get it out.

He ran at you, jumping over where you'd swung the lasso at his legs, hoping to trip him by catching his feet. He landed with a roll, narrowly dodging a stomp to the face.

"Stop wriggling, bastard," you seethed, glaring daggers that were hot on his tail as he regained his stance.

He smirked and readied his fists. "That's no way to talk to the guy who's about to dick you down so good, you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Barely any time had moved when Soldier Boy had crossed half the room towards you. Senses kicked into overdrive, you fell left away from the fist barrelling towards your face. The speed he had approached and threw that first punch had faltered your balance. You knew it and he knew it.

Ben followed where his fist went, sensing your attempt to catch him within the lasso and, in a bizarre twist of events, wilfully grabbed the lasso, if only to stagger your balance even more.

The effect was immediate. Strained groans left him and veins had begun to pop within seconds from the agony running through his nervous system. Yet, he persisted well enough to draw the lasso of truth from your belt and loop it around your wrist.

He pulled and the grip tightened.

Scandalised, you looked to him. "You cunt, that was filthy."

"Only for you, doll."

Taking stock of the both of you in that brief moment you had, a daunting reality slowly dawned on you. Ben would win this, unless you could get your hand free. He had every limb in perfect condition, his focus was only barred by warring off the effects of the Nemesis' power but-

Ah. That was your opening.

The Nemesis worked in a peculiar way; it would inflict pain unto its victim based solely on what sins they had committed.

And Ben had commited a lot of sins. But what to choose?

Whatever it was, you had to choose fast. You could see him placing more weight onto his right leg for support for whatever he was planning next.

You chose the sin of lust, ironically.

Ben's knees gave out as a wave of almost agonising overstimulation spread over his entire body. "You bitch," he seethed, spit shooting from his mouth.

Though your wrist was still bound, you paid it little mind and leant over with a pout.

"Aw, did your knees buckle like I said they would? Bless your little cotton socks."

Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead and a pang of genuine sympathy hit your heart. You knew how overwhelming it could be to be at the other end of it. Alas, nothing is fair in love and foreplay in the form of war.

He fought the power of the lasso's will. Hair had begun to cling to his damp forehead and you were growing concerned he'd break a tooth with how tight he was clenching his jaw.

Victory tasted so sweet.

Too bad you'd underestimated how stubborn that man was.

"Now, where did that collar go-?"

Without letting you finish your sentence, Ben yanked on the lasso. Hard.

You fell to the ground and landed on your side. "Fuck."

He wasted no time in removing the Nemesis from his and your bodies, tossing it to the side with no care for where it landed.

"Hey, that is not a t-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Ben kicked you so that your chest and stomach were to the floor. Observing your winded form, his mouth curled in disgust. "Pathetic."

A knee was pressed between your shoulder blades, ensuring no escape and putting you in the most vulnerable position you had been in so far that afternoon. Tension was applied to the lasso around your wrist once more as Ben worked more of the length around his wrist, forcing your hand behind your back.

The threat of a broken arm, no matter how irrelevant to a supe, was enough to still you. If only to avoid the pain.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he started.

"I am not listening to- ow, ow, ow! Okay, okay!" The bastard had begun to overextend your arm.

He heaved a breath.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he started again, pausing for a split second to see if you'd try anything. "I'm gonna ask you questions and you are going to answer them like the obedient little bitch I know you can be. Got that?"

You could smell the remnants of smoke in the air and it was making you cranky. With the intention of lying, you opened your mouth.

Unlucky for you, Ben had played this game with you too many times and he knew how to bend the lasso of truth to his will. Partially because you secrelty allowed it.

Your tits had spilled over the skimpy outfit you were wearing and the cold floor was the only sensation grounding you in that moment. No question had been asked that demanded an answer yet, but you knew that peace was going to be broken.

The satisfaction from your silence was basically radiating from Ben as he asked his first question.

"Are you going to listen?"

Golden shimmer glistened from the lasso and you gritted your teeth in a vain attempt to not answer.

"Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. I asked you a question," he tightened his grip just the slightest bit more. "Are you gonna listen?"

And god, did you want to say no. "Yes!" You cried, nerve endings being tortured with the effort of trying to withhold the truth from such a powerful artefact.

Pleased, he continued. "You enjoy this. Stuck beneath me, snivelling like a whore, tits spilling out for the whole world to see, don't you?"

A sob tore from your throat. "I... fuck you!"

"In a bit. Answer the question first." The calm control he had when he said it was infuriating. It was as though he was bored. The humiliation began to rise.

Through a pathetic cry, you whispered, "Yes."

You should have known that wouldn't satisfy him.

"Ah, ah. What was that? I couldn't hear you."

You grit your teeth. "Yes," you managed, though the syllable left through globules of spit.

Ben removed his knee from your back and placed a hand on the back of your head, smudging your face even harder into the floor. Tears rolled steadily down your face as you were forced to lie in a disgusting growing pile of your own bodily fluids.

His deep voice spoke close to your ear. "Last question. And think very carefully about this."

Short breaths left your mouth, the sensation of warm air mixing with sweat was growing increasingly awful.

"Are you gonna be a good little hole for me? Or am I gonna have to break you in?"

The pulse from your cunt suddenly became the only thing you could focus on besides his words.

"What's it to be, sweetheart?"

You both knew the answer. You'd known the answer since the first time you'd teased him that early afternoon in the meeting room.

Still, you gulped and took a deep breath. Struggling to grasp on to the last remaining shreds of your dignity.

The answer that left you was weak and pathetic. No other words could describe it.

"I'll be a good hole for you."

The shift in his demeanour was palpable. Heat seemed to radiate off of him in waves, mirroring his pulsing arousal and fully throbbing dick.

He groaned low and utterly pornographic. "In that case, doll...

You'd better get on that bed."

[waywardsummoner46]

HARDCORE….fluff. Pls just give us some domestic Clark

You were sleeping soundly in your shared bed. Clark had only just returned from his Superman duties and despite not feeling physically tired, his line of superhero work took a major emotional toll.

Silently as not to wake you, he slowly stripped out of his Superman costume and placed it neatly to the side. Then, gently, he reached for the duvet cover and climbed into bed, situating himself as close to you as he could without disturbing you too much.

The sun had just begun to rise over the roofs of Metropolis and so only a slim line illuminated the room. The way it captured your features, however, well... Clark was breathtaken.

His eyes drifted adoringly over every feature and admired how beautiful you looked when asleep. You were beautiful always, but Clark could take his time appreciating it now.

"Mm... Clark?" You murmured, peeking a sleepy eye open to look. A small smile crept over your face. "Hey, baby, when did you get back?"

He smiled, because what else could he do?

"Only just got back, sweetheart." He pulled you close and positioned your head against his chest. "Go back to sleep, baby. It's still early."

So you hummed and acquiesced. Then soft, slow breaths left you once more. And Clark smiled, and drifted to sleep for the few precious hours he had left. Because what else was he supposed to do?

~

"Clark, you're going to make it splat all over the floor!"

"You dare to doubt me and my pancake flipping abilities?"

Waking up early before work was a rare occasion you both decided to take advantage of... with pancakes for breakfast. The batter and the whisking of somehow went smoothly with minimal mess. The cooking? Not so much.

You glared at Clark, though a genuine smile radiated your face. "Clark Kent, if my pancake hits that floor I will personally pick it up and force you to wear it as a hat," you threatened, pointing a finger at him.

Clark didn't usually care for competition, but moments liked this just triggered it. Grinning, he turned his attention back to the pancake and tried to cool his expression into one of concentration. "Alright, are you ready?"

"No," you laughed.

"One. Two. Three!"

Time seemed to slow as you both watched the pan move and the pancake fly into the air. Except, the problem didn't seem to be the pancake. The handle itself had broken from the pan and the pancake splattered to the floor.

You both paused and looked slowly at each other. Then, giggles ravaged the small apartment you shared. You both resigned yourselves to having lacklustre toast from now on until you found the time to buy another pan. Hopefully one that doesn't break.

~

Visiting Clark's Ma and Pa was always a delight. For the both of you. Clark maybe suffered just a teensy bit more.

"Gosh, Clark, you haven't baked her banana bread yet?" His Ma scolded. "If it weren't for how happy she looks whenever you walk into the room, I would assume you two were constantly spatting!"

You stifled a giggle into your hand. Clark, with his superhuman hearing (also, you were not subtle) caught it and glared at you with a delighted shine in his eyes.

You knew he adored how you seemed to effortlessly fall into the peaceful family dynamic he had with his parents. Despite no enhanced senses of your own, you could basically hear his heart singing with joy after interractions such as these.

Then, Pa Kent turned to you, face mirroring the jest of his wife. "You know, dear, if you're ever neglected of Kent banana bread for too long, you could always stay here."

You finished your mouthful of the casserole they had cooked for the evening, and set your cutlery down. You grabbed Clark's hand from across the table. "Thank you, Mr Kent, but I'm hoping this conversation nudges a certain someone in the right direction," you said, winking at his parents obviously enough for Clark to notice.

"I didn't even know you liked banana bread!" He sounded scandalised, bless him.

"I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

And Clark sighed, but squeezed your hand back just as Ma diverted the conversation to how the crops were thriving this time of year.

And he smiled a private smile, silently thanking whatever luck had been on his side the day he met you.

~

You groaned for the umpteenth time that morning. After moving into a new flat last week, you very quickly realised that putting off the financial burden of acquiring a broadband router was very much a null point. You'd have to do it at some point, especially with this new job next week.

So, you found yourself navigating the bustling streets of Metropolis with absolutely no idea of where to go and how to go about navigating the city.

Glancing at your phone, you realised you'd already spent an hour and a half aimlessly wandering. "Fuck this, I need a drink."

Lucky for you, there was a coffee shop on the corner you could barely glimpse through the swarming masses of heads. As you waded through, a very large, hulking figure bumped into your side.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, miss. Are you alright?"

And, aw, if your heart didn't swoop a bit at how sweet he sounded. And, woah woah woah, if your heart definitely did not skip a beat when you saw the face of the man who'd nearly caused your downfall.

Curly black hair, glasses, and blue eyes.

"-miss?"

You snapped out of it and fought the blush on your face. "Yes! Yes," you cleared your throat to eliminate the embarrassing crack. "Yes, I'm alright, are you?"

He obviously was, he bumped into you after all. But your words seemed to catch him off guard as he straightened momentarily and fiddled with his tie as he seemed to think about it.

"Well... I suppose I am," then, with a charming grin and shy eyes, he continued. "I would feel better after treating you to a coffee as an apology?"

And well, how could you refuse?

Thus, began your relationship with Clark Kent.

~

"Are you nuts? It's freezing out there!"

Clark leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and an expression that said 'you are being dramatic'. "Sweetheart, there are people in shorts outside."

You shook your head. "Doesn't matter. It's propaganda, I'm telling you." Petulantly, you crossed your arms and slumped further into the couch. "But Clark, isn't it so warm and cozy on here? With me?"

You looked up at his face and deflated. He was not in the mood to entertain you. "Aw, man. Fine. We'll go flying."

Like the conniving man he was, his expression split into a massive, overlypleased with himself, smile. He walked over to kiss you on the lips and grabbed your hands.

"Let's get you your coat." He guided you to the coat rack by the front door to the apartment and helped you into it.

You had to tease him. "Mr Kent, please, if you wanted an excuse to touch me, the bedroom is right there."

He paused where he was about to zip up the coat and looked deeply into your eyes. "You know, you're awful at hiding that flying makes you antsy."

"Now, you listen here, buddy-"

He zipped up your coat and scooped you into his arms. "Listening," he singsonged, even angling your head closer to his ear.

You scoffed and wriggled to be more comfortable. "Nevermind," you muffled. Then, you kissed his cheek and he carried you all the way until the lift reached the ground floor, out of the building and around to the back alley where he'd be able to take off without anyone noticing anything.

The sensation of flying was incredibly odd. Mostly incredible but very largely odd. You gripped tighter around Clark's neck even though you knew he would never let you fall. Then, you chanced a glance down at the city you had left and immediately regretted it.

Everything looked so far away and so, so small. You think perhaps it was the contrast of how it should look compared to how it did look that put you off. You didn't care much about the fall (at least, only because you weren't falling).

As Clark ascended through clouds and into the last part of the atmosphere where you could breathe with relatively no issue, he came to a halt.

You looked up at his face, noticing he was already looking at you with fondness painted across his features. He said your name with breathless adoration. Licking his lips nervously, he readjusted you so that he could support you with one arm.

Being that the main thing you could suddenly focus on was the absence of anything beneath your feet and the very sudden realisation that it was one of Clark's arm that came between you and imminent death, you failed to notice when he reached into the pockets of his jeans.

He said your name again, this time with more certainty and confidence. Then, you saw the ring.

"Oh my god!" You gasped.

"You are the most precious person in the world to me," he began, a slight watery shine beginning to appear in his eyes. "And every day, I fear that something might occur that seperates us, something I can't control."

Your heart cracks along with his voice. You place a hand against his cheek and he leans into it quite heavily.

"But, I have been working on taking control of that anxiety, rather than letting it control me." He took a very deep breath in. "And so, whatever time we have together, whatever gets thrown our way... I want to face it as your husband. If you'll have me?"

Gulping around a sob, your face twisted into something ugly. "Oh, Clark," you sputtered. "Of course, I'll marry you."

And then, you both kissed, fuelled by a love neither of you had ever felt before and were both eternally grateful you'd have for the rest of your lives. Because what else were you supposed to do?

[waywardsummoner46]

Soooo….. obsessed clark kent okay?

Clark who works with reader and has her pretend to be his gf because hes been talking about her like a little creep and now they want him to show her at dinner and clark just doesnt stop pretending 😛

Ifffff smutttt begging munch clark 😛😛😛😛

Just trowing it out there for your beautiful mind…

Clark Kent had a secret.

Now, it wasn't that he was living a double life as Superman or the fact that being said hero came with powers of indescribable ability and prowess. It wasn't that whenever someone got too close to the truth he had to tell a white lie every now and then. He was oh-so sweet and oh-so lovely that no one would ever suspect the farmboy from Kansas who stuttered every other sentence or spilt coffee at least once a day.

Clark had the perfect cover from the reputation he'd built since he'd joined the Daily Planet.

But then you had to come and nearly thrust it all into ruins. Clark was obsessed the moment he laid eyes on you. Almost possessed as he smelled your scent for the first time.

Little doe-eyed you with your black skirt and blazer, clutching onto a notepad and nervously fidgeting with your fingers when someone addressed you for too long. Clark watched you (smelled you) from the moment you entered their corner of the office building and he felt his cock stirring dangerously in his suit trousers as you sat on the desk opposite him.

You glanced up, smiling softly, shyly, innocently up at the man you had no idea who had set his sights on you as though you were prey.

You might as well be against him.

So, Clark readjusted himself in his pants, donned his clumsy and charming persona once more and smiled back.

"Nice to meet you," you said and gave your name. And the moment it left your lips, your fate had been sealed. You just didn't know it yet.

"Clark. Welcome to the team."

...

Clark had a secret. One that he was keeping from you, specifically.

See, Clark Kent, nearly five months since you'd joined (five months since he'd started flying to your balcony every night and jerking off to the sight of you stripping for bed and pleasuring yourself on rare occasion), had begun to spread a little rumour to everyone that you and he were an item. A couple. Together.

You just happened to be away on a business trip, researching relations between Metropolis and Gotham for a new report you had been tasked with. Clark took the opportunity and ran with it.

It was The Daily Planet's newest gossip. Two of the sweetest coworkers had finally gotten together. It was celebrated and Clark was awarded with pats on the backs and enthusiastic congratulations. You were none the wiser.

And you wouldn't be until a work-do the day after you returned from Gotham, celebrating how the agency had won an award for consistently profound articles.

The cab dropped you off outside of the venue and you smiled genuinely when you saw Clark waiting out the front. "Oh, Clark, hey! How have you been?"

Clark was captivated. Had he less self awareness, his mouth would have been near the floor when he saw the outfit you'd chosen. You looked gorgeous and smelled even better.

"Better now that you've arrived!" He replied and offered his arm for you to hold. "How was Gotham? Hasn't been the same since you left."

So you regaled him of your time there as you walked into the building and he guided you to where the dinner was to be. The moment the door opened, however, you were met with something you did not expect. (Neither did Clark.)

The team had decorated with banners of congratulations and champagne had been fizzed and was being opened. There cards and a couple of small gifts in people's hands.

"Congratulations!"

You glanced at Clark in bemusement, wondering just what on Earth was going on, only to pause when you saw pride was strewn across his face. "What's going on?" You questioned, laughing, spiritis high from how jovial everyone looked.

Clark leaned down to whisper into your ear, "This is for you." Then, he turned to address the whole room. "Congratulations on your first major article!"

And so, the night devolved into drinks and food and dancing and laughter.

But Clark? Watching you get progressively less sober and lose your inhibitions more was beginning to cause his dick to stir once more. The scent of you... he took a deep inhale in and shivered. His eyes flashed.

Yes. Tonight would be the night he had you. He just had to be patient. But first...

"Woah, hey, you're looking a little peachy there. Want some help?" Clark asked you, who was clearly struggling to dance straight due to the alcohol.

You merely giggled and tried to shoo him away, except your hand on clumsily hit his chest and slid down. Almost brushing his cock. Clark's eyes flew open and he hastily took the opportunity to grab hold of your hand.

He pulled you in close and whispered darkly into your ear. "Do not do something you will regret."

Your eyes flew open at his words. "Clark?" You slurred. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He pulled back marginally. Enough for you to see how engulfed his irises had become from his pupils. The hunger within them was so intense it pulled you out of your drunken stupor.

Suddenly, he pulled back and addressed all within hearing distance. "Sorry, everyone! I think it's time I get this one home," he said completely innocently.

"What? Clark, no, wait-"

Jimmy screamed from across the dancefloor. "Get your girl home, Kent!" You froze, as did Clark.

You expected him to deny or protest the choice of words but he only laughed and nodded before his hands landed on your waist and practically dragged you out.

"Clark, answer me, what the hell are you doing?"

Then, the floor fell from beneath you. Or rather, as you looked down, you realised you were travelling further away from it.

You glanced up at Clark and as the wind whirled and blew through his hair, you realised just who was carrying you. And for the first time since hearing the name Superman, you didn't know if you could trust him. He flew you both to his apartment as he held you until he could place you on his bed.

You sat there, unsure and trembling, scared and... well, unfortunately for you, fear is a form of physical arousal. And Clark could smell it. His nostrils flared and he ripped off the suit he had donned. Left only in his boxers, you finally saw the massive tent that was his cock straining against the fabric and the beginnings of a wet stain at the peak.

"You have no idea what you do to me." His voice was devastating. His eyes snapped to yours, hunger and insatiable lust meeting fear and immense confusion. "None."

You gulped harshly, wishing upon God that you could sober up and deal with this clearly out of character Clark with your best mind. "I don't understand," you said meekly once more.

The sound he let out was guttural. Almost a growl with how low it was and you trembled once more. Holding eye contact, Clark began to approach the end of the bed. Both hands were placed on the mattress.

"Tell me you want me."

...what?

"Clark, I-"

"Tell me you want me!" He shouts. "Tell me you need me! Tell me that I am the only one who can please you!" His hands left the mattress and he stalked the side of the bed until he was standing directly to your right. He leaned down, his nose almost touching yours and when he spoke, his breath was a warm threat mingling with your own. "Tell me that you love me."

Your eyes darted between his, hoping to see a shred of the kindness you were familiar with. "Clark, please," you whimpered. "I'm scared."

He went chillingly still. Then, he began to coo. "Baby, no, please don't be scared. I promise I won't hurt you, I love you. We were made for each other." He sat on the bed and stroked your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. "Let me take care of you? Please?"

And God help you, maybe it was the way he said it or maybe it was the alcohol clouding your judgement, but you nodded.

Clark wasted no time. He ripped your clothes off of you, shredding the fabric in half as he manhandled your trembling body how he saw fit. He threw your legs over his shoulders and his tongue met your clit in such desperation that your body instinctively tried to get away.

A rumble of dissatisfaction left him and the vibrations stimulated the most sensitive part of you directly. His hands gripped your legs as he refused to give you more than an inch to move.

"Too much," you mewled as his tongue began to penetrate your increasingly wet hole. "Clark, please, it's too much."

His mouth was like a machine. He slurped and sucked with the desperation of a starving man. It was sloppy and disgusting and a little sob made its way from your mouth as you felt your juices mingling with his saliva and running down your inner thighs.

He ignored your protests. He brought one hand from your legs and positioned his head so that he could rub your clit with his thumb and tonguefuck your aching hole with his mouth. You cried out at the dual stimulation and slowly a pressure began to build within you.

"Clark, I'm gonna, I can't, I'm-" you pleaded and tried to warn him as it all came crashing down on you. You came. And he paused.

Clark withdrew his head and in the dim light of the bedroom his eyes looked downright predatory. He kept eye contact as he brought his tongue down to do a rough and thorough swipe through your juices.

He groaned hoarsely. "Oh, sweetheart," he said sweetly, hungrily.

You trembled on the bed, breaths heaving and eyes struggling to focus on anything. You tried to hone in on Clark, relieved that it was over. But then, he laughed.

"Don't look so relieved, pretty girl. You can give me more." His head went back between your legs, right where it belonged, right where it would remain for hours into the morning.

__________________________

Please send more!

[waywardsummoner46]

Send in some Clark requests. No limits...

[waywardsummoner46]

will you finish Sink Into the Darkness, My Light? i’m so eager for another chapter!!!

Eventually. The recent comeback has disheartened me a little bit I won't lie. Life has been supperrrrrrrrr hectic but when I get the motivation, I promise I will.

[waywardsummoner46]

Send in some Soldier Boy requests. No limits...

[waywardsummoner46]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | Five | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 3188

「✦」 A/N - Hey...

「✦」 TAGLIST - @yandere-stories - @adorawritesalot - @yoongisgirl69 - @sadtoru

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five • six •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Listen, I don’t know what else to tell you. My friends and I were sitting at that table right here and he lost his phone,” frustration was clear in your tone of voice. “Has no one seen it? At all?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one has handed a phone in.”

  You shake your head as you look down at the floor. Perhaps Wooyoung hadn’t lost his damn phone and had just misplaced it at home. They definitely looked as though they’d be doing more than sleeping after you and Ji-Ah left last night. You wrinkle your nose slightly at the thought. The last thing you want to picture on a weak stomach is whatever compromising position those two got into. It was none of your business, anyway.

  You look back at the receptionist, “Well, thank you anyway.” Pulling out a pen from your pocket, you write down your number on an old receipt you found in your pocket and handed it to the receptionist. “If anything pops up, let me know.”

  You glanced around. Siren’s Den looked completely different during the day. A large dance floor, plenty of comfy, dark red booths for people to sit at, all with a perfect view of the incredibly elaborate stage that was the pinnacle of the whole place. 

  You wondered, briefly, why such a stage might be familiar to you, but that thought was gone as soon as it came. You chalked it up to the fever dream of a night you’d had.

  It was honestly quite nice; like somewhere a sociable child would have a disco party. You laughed mirthlessly at the thought, what a fucking birthday you’d had. 

 You sipped the drink you’d been poured - one they’d offered complementarity - and pondered over the past… well, day. Again.

 It was definitely a birthday unlike any other you’d had, for numerous reasons. Could you say you were grateful for them all? No. Definitely not. Meeting Wooyoung, or even learning of his existence was provoking feelings in you that you did not like, regardless of his kindness and friendliness last night. He was charming, you’d give him that. He had to have been in order to have charmed Jiwon into the closest thing to settling down she’d done since you were teenagers. And he had treated you and Ji-Ah with nothing but respect.

  So, why then did he make your skin crawl? 

  You swished the liquid around in the glass before downing it all in one. Maybe you’d just have to put up with it, for Jiwon’s sake. You wondered for a bit if you were confusing your unease for Wooyoung as worry for how he’d treat Jiwon but in all honesty, last night, you couldn’t pay attention to them in any capacity. 

  From the moment he had sat down, hell from the moment you had laid eyes on him, a strange feeling stirred in your gut. And then… eventually left your gut and onto the floor. 

  Something had triggered such a reaction, you were sure of it. It wasn’t like you to have such an aggressive wave of anxiety crash over you like that. As much as you disliked Wooyoung, you couldn’t blame him for the physical reaction you’d had last night. Maybe it was the drink you’d chosen? Doubtful. The atmosphere? It was rather suffocating, in all honesty. The lights and blaring music definitely weighed on your already stressed head more than you liked to admit. Yeah, you’ll go with that.

  Sighing loudly, you stood and thanked the receptionist once again. It was 11:17. Contrary to what you’d told Jiwon, you decided to go in the morning for his phone so you’d have gotten rid of the anxiety swirling in your stomach for the rest of the day. 

  “Have a lovely day, miss!” You hoped you would.

  “Thank you!”

  Ultimately, you decided to visit Life Rose On. You felt as though you should spoil yourself, as a late birthday present. Buying a new bouquet of flowers for yourself was a treat you didn’t often indulge in, but one you treasured all the more for as a result. And after the whirlwind of emotions you’d experienced within the past twenty-four hours, you felt like you deserved it.

  In the past, Jung-Hee always either picked out a bouquet for you herself or let you have free reign over what you wanted to create. Flower language was important to her so when she made the effort to navigate through her endless galaxy of different flowers, it really put into perspective for you just how much she genuinely did care. 

  You’d been touching up on it yourself, although not nearly as much as you’d like. You were doing it so that you could surprise Jung-Hee with your knowledge, something she’d always admired in you.

  “You should put your wits to use, honeybee. It’s wasted holed up in that apartment of yours,” she chided from where she was cutting the thorns from her rose bush. Your face turned exasperated, even if you were fond of her fretting. 

 “You know I’m searching for a job, halmeoni,” your gaze turns wistful. “The right one just hasn’t come up yet.”

  You knew she could sense the longing in your tone. All you’ve ever wanted is to be able to help people, really help people. You’d always had that natural instinct, always been naturally good at making people feel better about themselves and about their situation. Jung-Hee said it was a gift, you were inclined to agree, even if those urges were never truly sated.

  In your peripheral, you saw her lower the clippers in her hands and dust them off on her apron. She approached you and placed two callused palms on either side of your face and squished. The look in her eyes was the same love given from a grandmother to her grandchild, as though they could do no wrong and were yet to shed their naivety.

 “You will get the job you want, honeybee, there is no doubt in my mind.” She gave you a delicate kiss on your forehead. “Who knows? Maybe it will be sooner than later.”

  The familiar sign of the flower shop always put a smile on your face as it stood out amongst the others. The ivy clinging to the walls and the flowers dangling from the entrance an everlasting spectacle. You felt like you could finally relieve the weight from your chest at the sight of it.

  Glancing towards the opening door, the smile that had bloomed grew even brighter at the sight of who was leaving the shop. 

  “Yunho? Hey!” You exclaimed, happy to see his face again even if you’d only met him yesterday. Your mind couldn’t help but remember how reassured his words and voice made you feel yesterday. Yunho seemed to have a naturally soothing presence and, right now, that was just what you needed.

  His head turned in your direction with a slight scowl to his brow before it smoothed, finally seeing who had addressed him. “(Y/N), how lovely to see you again.” He stepped further from the door and tucked a hand into the pockets of his long, black trenchcoat. He was smartly dressed in a black suit but you could practically taste how expensive it was to tailor. You wondered what he did for work.

  His other hand came up in a wave, showing what you assumed to be pure leather riding gloves.

  It was then that you saw that there was someone with him. A man of a similar height in an outfit that looked to be worth more than your apartment. Yunho noticed where your eyes had strayed to and gestured kindly to the man as he moved to stand where you could both be introduced properly, “This is Mingi. Mingi, this is (Y/N). She’s the lovely lady I said I met yesterday.”

  You smiled at him and noticed how Yunho didn’t offer any more of an introduction past his name. Mingi attempted a small smile back but you could tell that he probably wasn’t the kind of person who would put himself into social situations like this very often. His body language was screaming ‘I am on a social timer and it is getting dangerously close to zero’. 

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mingi.”

  “You too,” and, oh, wasn’t that interesting? You had to fight to suppress the shiver that wracked through you as his deep voice reached your ears like a crushed silk and prayed that Mingi hadn’t felt the aftershocks as you shook hands. 

  You couldn’t quite temper the blush that dusted your cheeks, but you could play that off as a chill from the cold air. 

  “Mingi and I were just on our way to get a light snack before we visit a friend later. Did you, perhaps, want to join us?” Yunho asked you, drawing your slightly wide eyes back to him. Admittedly, it took you a few seconds to completely process his question but as soon as you did a pleasant warmth filled your chest.

  “Oh, I’d love to! I wouldn’t be intruding, would I?” they both shook their heads immediately. 

  “We insist. Please, it’d be a nice way to get to know each other better.” 

  A bright expression overtook your face. “Then yeah, I’d love to join you both. Where did you have in mind?”

  Yunho looked expectantly at Mingi, and you did the same, thinking that perhaps Mingi was the one with a coffee shop in mind. He wouldn’t meet either of your eyes, instead adjusting the collar of his creaseless shirt as though he was warm, even though the temperature outside was biting. “Any ideas, Mangi-ya?” 

  Your eyes looked between the two of them subtly. You noticed that Yunho was looking at Mingi like he’d hung the stars in the sky and your heart clenched at how adorable Yunho’s love for Mingi was. Mingi’s eyes darted to Yunho’s briefly, not meeting your own, and even in that minute locking of gazes you saw a desperate grasp for reassurance and maybe a call for help as well.

  Interesting, you mused internally. You weren’t about to speculate on the nature of their relationship as it wasn’t your place to do so - it was clear from a mile away that they meant the world to one another. Who were you to judge that?

  Yunho must’ve seen the same thing as you, most probably saw and understood more than you ever could, for he seemed to take mercy on Mingi and put the pressure onto you instead. “How about you, (Y/N)? Anywhere you like to go?” And he genuinely seemed to care.

  Thinking deeply, you listed mentally all of the immediate coffee shops you could think of in the area. There was your typical, universal Starbucks. There was a little shop on the main high street. Was there one on the same street as Life Rose On perhaps?

  Your train of thought screeched to an abrupt halt as you turned to them both with a regretful expression on your face. You’d forgotten the entire point of coming to this part of town today.

  “I’m so sorry but I completely forgot I was meant to be visiting Jung-Hee today, she owns the flower shop and she wasn’t in yesterday. We could go again some time? Maybe this week?” You looked up at them both with hope glistening in your eyes. You were genuinely sorry about the turn of events. Selfishly and selflessly. You’d love to spend time getting to know Yunho and Mingi, they both seemed like kind and genuine people, regardless of how reserved Mingi appeared to be, and you’d always clicked immediately with people of that description. 

  Not seeing Jung-Hee yesterday, despite how pleasant meeting Yeosang was, worried you a little bit. Coupled with how she hadn’t left you a text or even a little bouquet behind the counter with a note, her well-being couldn’t help but preoccupy your thoughts slightly. 

  Both men looked at you with a startling amount of attention in their eyes. You didn’t quite know what emotions were there, you weren’t sure you were quite comfortable with them though. Slowly, your apologetic posture began to angle towards the direction of the shop and away from them.

  “Hey, wait,” Yunho stepped closer to you. A large hand coming up to hover over your arm as though wanting to touch you but hesitant to breach what you were comfortable with. He ducked his head slightly to meet your gaze and, just like yesterday, the deep brown of them captured you once again.

  Voice soft, he murmured, “I’m sure she’s alright. If there was anything wrong, you would know about it.” 

  His words were so convincing. You could see the truth in them, the objective fact that you would know if something was wrong because you were her emergency contact for essentially everything these days. She’d always praised you on your reliability and you’d always appreciated her transparency when things were wrong as she knew that denying you insight into what ailed her would only worry you more.

  You maintained eye contact with him. “Why would there be anything wrong?” Why would Yunho jump to that conclusion? You had provided no indication you were worried about her. 

  Something… ticked in his gaze. As though you’d said something wrong. Or as though he’d said something wrong and wasn’t happy you’d noticed it. You weren’t sure which was more plausible, but you didn’t like either of them.

   Pursing his lips momentarily, he continued, expression as calm and controlled as ever and tone of voice reassuring and firm. “Nothing is wrong, I promise.” He dropped his hand and looked back at Mingi, prompting you to do the same. Mingi’s expression was one of intense curiosity and it was beginning to bother you that you didn’t know why. 

  “Yeosangie is a good friend of ours. He’ll be able to tell you that Jung-Hee is alright and I heard you and Yeosang met yesterday, no?” 

  You nodded in confirmation. “You know Yeosang?”

  A light smile spread across Yunho’s lips, yet it was Mingi who answered. “Our Yeosangie is very special to us. We’ve known each other for what seems like eons.” 

  “Eons, huh? That’s a long time,” you laugh, tension bleeding from your body. “My friendship with Ji-Ah is like that. She’s my best friend, I wouldn’t replace her for the world.”

  Mingi’s smile seemed to shrink slightly but his gaze remained sincere. 

  You still felt majorly apologetic. Their kind words meant a lot to you, and you were admittedly mildly shocked at how coincidental it seemed that the two handsome men before you also seemed to know Yeosang, Then again, you supposed it made sense. “I really must be going now, I’m sorry. I promised Jung-Hee I would visit this week.”

 “Jung-Hee isn’t there today,” Yunho said. “We went in to see if we could find any flowers for our friend that I mentioned earlier, and it was Yeosang who was at the checkout.”

  Yeosang again? Where on earth was Jung-Hee?

  “Come with us, (Y/N).”

  A strange sensation began tingling behind your eyes.

  “We’d love to get to know you better. Please.” 

  As though your eyelids were itching. On the inside. 

  You brought a mindless hand up to rub at them, sighing in contemplation. “I… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I should really check if she’s alright.”

   You turned to them both, hoping to emphasise your sincerity and regret through eye contact. Yunho blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Mingi stood stock still with his hands buried in his pockets and his eyes downturned towards Yunho. 

  “It’s alright, we understand,” Mingi placated like a warm blanket over your nerves and you smiled gratefully. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. “Would you mind adding your number to my phone?” You could’ve slapped yourself, how else were you supposed to organise another coffee grab? Bump into each other again? Doubtful.

  You added your number to Mingi’s phone and added his number once he sent you a message himself. Yunho still hadn’t said anything. Studying his expression, you could see nothing of the obvious that was wrong and you didn’t know him well enough to even begin to guess why he was suddenly silent. It couldn’t have been because you declined their offer, you’d already agreed to meet up the day after tomorrow. You’d have to refresh your mind on the name Mingi had mentioned, not having heard of the place before, but you saw a slight element of excitement in Yunho’s eyes at that announcement, despite his clear deliberation over something. 

  You all bid your goodbyes, you going into the shop and Yunho and Mingi heading off to meet their friend. 

  Hand resting on the door handle to Life Rose On, you hesitated before turning curiously to follow the two with your gaze. They walked closely together, turning heads as they walked which was unsurprising to you. 

  You were about to turn back, satisfied with whatever you saw them straighten and pause. They didn’t look back at you, thankfully. You saw them tilt their heads slightly, as though straining to hear something they couldn’t quite decipher. What was going on? 

  They stopped almost as soon as they’d begun. You noticed, in the small gap between both of their swishing trench coats, that they had taken to grasp each other’s hand. 

  And by the looks of it, they were gripping tightly. Huh…

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“That’s not possible.”

  “It’s not.”

  “That shouldn’t be possible!”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  …

  “And yet, she resisted.”

  A curiosity, but a fleeting one. They had rare butterflies like you flutter by on occasion, it made the high of the chase all the more rewarding. Yunho seemed to struggle to accept that it was he who had been challenged this time around and knowing how he was, how any of them were, in face of a challenge… 

  A sharp, cruel giggle echoed in their minds. A wince flying through them all. 

  “Fly high, little butterfly. I look forward to seeing your wings break.”

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It begins with the sweet scent of a soul, they cannot resist it. The smell, the sight, the taste. 

  As gluttonous as they claim not to be, it is in their nature. This I know. This you will know, my child. For they will come for you with all of their strength and manipulation and such beautifully twisted lies, simply waiting for the right moment to devour you whole. 

  The more you resist, the more they obsess and the more they crave the sins they will carve into your flesh. 

  But you must not give in, my light. You are too good, you are good. And it is that goodness, that light, that will either be your greatest strength… or the catalyst for your final downfall.

  Remember me, in times of struggle. Remember me when no light pierces the veil of shadow they have blinded you with. 

  You will not succumb. You will not surrender.

  I will not allow it. Not again.

A helpless lover, clinging to hope. 1117 BC.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

ORRRRRR if you’re looking for dom Yunho thoughts… hmmm

After a long day of responsibilities, meeting new people, having to make grand and elaborate speeches for the company you work for, all you want to do when you come home to Yunho is simply shut off. No speeches. No speaking. No thinking.

And he can get you there.

Speaking? Pfft, he tells you to strip when you come home and lay face down on the bed. His hands massage the tense muscles in your body but one creeps up towards your face. He knows what you’re asking for, and he’ll give it to you.

Stuffing your mouth with his sinful fingers and rutting into you with a dominance and force that leaves nothing for you to worry about. All you have to do is enjoy the pleasure he’s giving you and suck absentmindedly on his pretty fingers, slowly but surely getting lost in your own mind and all thoughts and responsibilities flowing out of your head.

Okay, I’m done now

ohhhh you get meeee

and you don't even have to tell him you've had a long day. he just knows. he'll text you to come to the bedroom when you get home. and he'll just undress you so slowly, making sure to kiss every inch of your neck and shoulders. guiding you to the bed where he's laid out the pillows and blankets just the way you like it, and you can tell he's freshly washed all the sheets.

he'll start massaging your shoulders first. applying just enough pressure for you to let out a soft moan. he smiles and leans down to your ear, "that it~ relax for me, baby. let me make you feel good."

and his hands make their way from your shoulders to your back and all the way down to your legs. working out the knots in your thighs and calves. and he'll even give you a foot rub too (he's very thorough).

but when he makes his way back up your legs, he spreads them just enough so he can have access to your pussy. and he keeps you on your stomach as he runs his fingers through your folds.

and when you gasp and start to squirm a bit he leans over your back and scolds you with a whisper right by your ear, "no no, pretty. i need you to stay still for my, okay? be a good girl and don't move."

and his fingers slide in so easily because of how needy his little massage made you. and he groans as he sinks his fingers all the way inside you. feeling how perfectly you wrap around them like you were made for him.

and he's sure to play with your clit, too. watching with a smirk as you try to hold yourself still despite the pleasure.

but eventually it all just falls away. after one orgasm. and then two. there's just not a thought left in your pretty little head. and all you can think about is the man above you who kisses you and touches you in all the right places so that you never have to think again.

[waywardsummoner46]

Yandere!Hongjoong x reader. Very vague ot8 x reader.

Warnings: drugging, nonconsensual restraints, hinted violence, major undertone of mind manipulation, mild violence

“Wooyoung, you need to let me go you don’t understand what he’ll do to me! Please!”

He stroked your sweat-drenched hair from your forehead with a gaze so tender your heart shuddered in disgust.

“Everything’s going to be alright, sweetheart. We’ll all take care of you,” he reassured misguidedly.

Harsh lights filled your vision as your restrained form was wheeled into what looked to be an abandoned basement.

Panic began clawing its way up your throat, its talons manifesting as a thick lump clogging your airway. You began to struggle, despite the haze of the sedatives still in effect. “Wooyoung-“

“Wooyoung, step over to San, please.”

If your heart had shuddered earlier, now it had sunk to the deepest depths of your despair.

You never thought you’d have to hear that voice again. Never thought you’d have to grimace at his devilish grin or to cower away from his confident stride once more.

He hummed lowly. The sound echoing ominously in the dark chamber. “Been a while, hasn’t it?” And then Kim Hongjoong himself sauntered into your field of vision, his teeth like glittering canines in the dim light.

You gulped. “Ten years and yet it still wasn’t enough away from you.” And just because you knew the rest of them were around somewhere, you added, “From all of you.”

In the stupidest move of your life, you spat directly in Hongjoong’s face. All he did was laugh.

It was that laugh that his enemies heard before their deaths, a torment so unyielding it follows them into the afterlife.

Today you would not die. Today you’d be subjected to something far worse.

“Yeosang,” he started.

In that moment, you felt every wall you’d built shatter. It couldn’t be him, anyone but him.

“No…”

“Come and help me with this, hm?”

“Hongjoong… please… I’m begging you,” and you seriously were. Every ounce of sincerity you could muster flowing from your eyes and mouth as tears and pleas. “Anyone but him, not Yeosang.”

He cooed down at you. His hand coming up to stroke your damp cheek, no semblance of mercy or pity on his face at all. “But, precious, who else would it be?”

Then, before you could blink, the needle was plunged into your brain stem from under your restraints.

A trembling gasp left you as every nerve in your body burned. Just when you felt Death’s hand creeping over your shoulder… nothing.

You’d lost. And you’d be trapped forever without ever being aware of it.

“Welcome back, my love. I’ll make sure you never leave me again.”

[waywardsummoner46]

[yunho+subspace+collars] - 01:30

He looked like an angel, knelt before you with his head resting delicately against the inside of your thigh. Yunho sighed as you ran your fingers gently through his hair, a small content smile finding its way onto his face.

“How are you feeling, pretty?” Your whispered question breaking the blanket of warm silence that had fallen over the room. Yunho had needed this today, badly; coming home with tense shoulders and restless limbs. Luckily, you knew exactly what to do to help.

You cooed as his eyelids fluttered open and his spaced out and glazed over eyes blinked heavily at you. Yunho was very deep tonight. If it took this much effort to open his eyes, all he needed was one last push…

He tongue poked out to wet his lips, your eyes following the motion completely endeared by how out of it he looked. You had done that. 

“Feeling a bit floaty, huh?” Yunho took a while to process what you’d said and giggled dazedly when it finally translated in his current state of mind.

“‘M not… ‘m not floaty, m-” he stopped talking. Your eyebrow raised in silent amusement. You knew what he was about to say, that one word that he only called you when he was completely submerged into his precious subspace.

Entertaining him, you pressed a quick kiss to his plump lips. “I think you are, baby.” One hand still stroking his head, you reached to your right with the other and grabbed the one item you knew would send him drifting blissfully over the edge and into the headspace he pleaded with you to put him in earlier. “I have your collar for you, but… if you’re not floaty, then you won’t be needing it.”

It was the perfect bait, and had he been in a clearer state of mind he would’ve noticed that and probably laughed at how poorly you were manipulating him. 

But he wasn’t. The sluggish furrow of his brow and heavy hands coming to paw at your thighs. “But, I want it,” he whined.

"Only my good, floaty boys get to wear their collar. Are you my good, floaty boy, Yunho?”

You didn’t get a response, you never do when you play this game time and time again. Seeing his eyes droop and head falling impossibly limper against your thigh would always be worth this cat and mouse phase of his submissive state. 

“Oh, you’re such a good boy for me. You deserve it, precious.” 

Meticulously and so slowly, you attached the black lacy collar around the perfect skin around his neck, watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, succumbing completely to the call of his submission. 

“Mommy…” he whimpered against the inside of your thigh,

You shushed him gently. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to bed.” Yunho, with a lot of your help, found his head gently resting against your chest. The calming beating of your heart sending him to sleep almost immediately.

No other thoughts sprang to your mind apart from how lucky you were to have him trust you with this vulnerable side of him.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and murmured a soft goodnight. His soft breaths lulling you to sleep, a smile staying on your face the entire night.

[waywardsummoner46]

Hello this a long shot call, am a citizen of Palestine. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin (Humalog), just an injection for today to save my life please I beg.I was diagnosized with type 1 diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week, am having a balance of$168. Am sorry if am sending you again this request, kindly donate any amount please. My donation link is in my pinned post. Thank you and be blessed

Please help this lady out if you guys are able to! These people deserve all the help they can get in such awful circumstances.

[waywardsummoner46]

Hi, I hope you are doing well.🌹

Can you help by sharing my story, reblog, and donating if you can, to keep hope alive for me, I'm type 1 diabetes. I am calling on your humanity and kindness to help me raise $340.

This amount will enable the approval of an insulin pump that will help me better control my diabetes. Although I am happy that I have been approved the hardest part is the money to pay for the pump and equipment, please your contribution is important. Be blessed ♥️

Hey guys! If anyone is able to help this person out with some donations, that would mean the absolute world to her! If not, be sure to spread this to wherever you can so she reaches as many people as possible. Thank you!

[oswildin]

The Battle of Sentiment (Loki x GN/ASGARDIAN!Reader)

Summary: You and Loki were childhood friends, but now he seemed more like a stranger. Sentiment… It wasn’t just your weakness. There was always something unspoken between you two. (Set during ‘Avengers’.)

Rating: SFW/All ages - brief mentions of injury/blood but nothing graphic. Angst, hurt, kinda romance if you squint.

A/N: Written more from Loki’s POV, with an ‘unspoken love’ between you both. No use of ‘Y/N’.

Based off of my POV

“I see they’ve sent in the cavalry.”

Loki slowly turned in his glass cell - or cage he should say. He wore a slight smirk on his lips, eyes faintly narrowed as the sound of his leather boots shifted on the floor, filling the silence in the room. There you stood, donned in the armour of a warrior. It seemed a lot had changed since he fell from the Bifrost. He was hardly surprised, you had always wanted to be a ‘protector’… Yet his tone as he said those words was one of mockery. He knew this was Thor’s doing, sending you to try and talk some ‘sense’ into him. The one person Thor thought maybe he would listen to…

“I assume my brother and his new friends believe you can, what?” Loki continued, tilting his head faintly, walking slowly closer to the glass. “Offer solace? Be a balm? Remind me of ‘who I really am’…?” His lips tugged into a sharp, sardonic smile as he shook his head, hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me how I ‘don’t need to do this’…” You had yet to say a word, simply observing the God turned attempted Ruler. “Thor told you of my true parentage, did he not?” Loki raised a brow. “I was never one of you.” A pause. “And I certainly will not be swayed with sentiment.”

It was a declaration. A hypocritical one at that. Every action since he found out about his true heritage had been born from sentiment, whether he liked to admit it or not. And the way you had yet to say a single word… It irked him more than he liked. His sharp smile slowly fell, a steely expression taking over his features. A low rumble left him, almost sound of frustration as he turned once again on his heel, slowly beginning to pace the round cage.

“It appears much has changed since I was cast into an abyss…” Loki’s voice held an edge to it, perhaps even the faintest traces of hurt at the memory of Odin’s last words echoing in his mind. The simple ‘no, Loki’ that had left his fath-… Asgard’s King’s lips. Rejection. “You don a warriors garb.” He paused his steps, glancing back at you. “Asgardian armour, a fierce expression and yet…” His eyes narrowed analytically. “Your eyes reveal your… disappointment. Your uncertainty. Your doubt.” Once again, his lips twitched upwards, this time into a slight smirk. “So, enlighten me…” He tilted his head. “What do you hope to gain?”

You had remained silent, watching the man you had once called your friend. Your dearest friend… Yet, somehow now he felt like a stranger. You had seen Loki be angry, jealous, cunning, manipulative… But never this detached. Especially, not to you. Your lips pursed as you dared take a few steps closer to the glass between you both, your leathers lightly creaking as you did so. Loki mirrored your movements, also taking a few steps closer. You were disappointed. You were uncertain. And your doubt was regarding your friendship with the God of Mischief.

“Nothing.” You finally spoke, voice low, almost quiet. “I came to Midgard to aid Thor, to protect the mortals-“ A breathy, almost mocking laugh cut you off. It was brief, Loki’s hands unclasping from behind his hand to fall at his sides. “And to ensure the Tesseract is secured.” You continued, trying to ignore his clear dismissal of your words. “This isn’t about what I can gain.”

“Hm.” Loki hummed lowly, smirk still on his face. You fought the urge to shift under his calculating stare, knowing he likely saw right through your words. Loki was adept at finding weaknesses, but you both knew he didn’t need to probe too much to find yours.

Of course, you were in love with him. He had been a constant in your life since you were children. You had seen him at his worst - or at least, what you had thought was his worst - and his best. Just as he had you. There was always something unspoken between you, but neither of you had ever admitted it openly or even really admitted it to yourselves - not fully. And now… Well, everything that happened before Thor’s coronation seemed like a distant memory. It felt cold. And that hurt more than anything. You didn’t know what was worse, the feeling of grief you had carried the whole year after his fall from the Bifrost or this, right now. It was a different type of grief.

“Could you do it?” Loki’s sudden question brought you out from your thoughts, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. Loki’s smirk had disappeared, replaced with a look that was somehow steely as it was curious. “Could you stop me? Any means necessary?” A pause. “To protect this-“ He gestured loosely around him with a hand. “-lost realm?”

Silence.

You raised your chin faintly, trying to remain composed and neutral. But of course, he knew what your silence meant.

“Just as I had suspected.” He murmured, almost softly. “You see… it’s where you and I differ.” He took a step closer to the glass. “I wouldn’t hesitate.” And just as quickly as the softer tone appeared, it disappeared. “Not even for a second.” He tilted his head downwards, the shadows from the holding cells lighting giving him a darker look, sinister almost.

“I don’t believe you.” You countered, although the slight waver in your voice said otherwise. There it was… That doubt.

“Sentiment is a weakness.” Loki continued lowly. “Foolish, dangerous… And it gets you killed.” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet held the edge of danger he had spoken of. You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a quiet breath.

“We were friends once.” You raised a brow, shaking your head faintly. “And now? We are… enemies?” There was that brief, breathy laugh again.

“Words spoken like a child…” Loki continued, taking another step closer, his shadow growing taller with each step. “Holding onto the memories of a lost boy.” His lips curled in what looked like disgust, his eyes flickering over you. “Pathetic.” The simple word cut right through you, making your composure falter. “You came to Midgard, not to protect but to try and reconcile. Letting sentimentality rule your actions. And it will be your undoing.”

You hadn’t even realised you’d been holding your breath until his fist suddenly collided with the glass, making you gasp, stepping back as he glared at you. It was cold, cruel… It was a side to Loki you hadn’t seen before.

“You stand in a warriors attire, yet you let emotion control your actions.” He snarled. “Your ancestors slain monsters like me and you came here to talk!?” He spat, his anger only growing. However, deep down, buried underneath all his animosity, his need for vengeance, his craving to be seen as a worthy ruler, he felt… hurt. Guilt even. The way you looked at him… Your eyes so expressive, so open like a book. His words were hurting you, just as he had designed them to. Then why did it affect him?

“You’re nothing but a child, interfering in affairs of Gods and Kings. If I were you…” His breath fogged the glass lightly from how close his face was to it, his fist uncurling as his palm pressed against the glass. “I would return to Asgard and stay out of my way.” It was a warning, not quite a threat. A quick breath left your nose, lips downturned, brows creased… Yes, it was a warning… But a part of you thought that perhaps… Perhaps it was born from care that he still felt somewhere inside.

“And if I refuse?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his. Loki’s hardened stare slipped for the quickest of moments, so quick that you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t have been staring at him so intently.

It was the same look he had worn when you had insisted to go to Jotunheim with him, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three. But that time… He was able to stop you, to keep you from accompanying them. This was different. You were on opposite sides, and he knew the mortals would not care what became of you in the war he sought to ignite.

“Then you would be foolish.” He finally spoke, voice a low murmur. “Return home.” He reiterated, more of an order than a warning now. Perhaps even a hint of a plea.

“Not without you.”

The words left you before you could stop them, the warriors facade completely melting away. Before him now stood his friend… The person he grew up with, the person he had once felt he could trust… But that trust broke with Odin and Frigga’s lie he had discovered. He couldn’t trust anyone. He wasn’t even sure he could trust himself anymore… His hand fell from the glass, his eyes blinking as he took a step back, chin raising as he spoke:

“So be it.”

The battle had begun.

Loki had once again managed to pull the strings, manipulating the team and getting the war he had wanted. He had fought his brother, and when Thor had forced him to look out at the world he was destroying… For a moment, the mask slipped. The vengeance, the rage, the envy… The craving to be a ruler… It disappeared for a second. In that moment, he felt like the lost boy. Destruction, chaos, death and pain… That was what he was inflicting. ‘Madness’ as Thor had called it.

Was it madness?

And for a second, Loki considered backing down. A part of him just… wanted it to be over. But the part of him, the logical part, remembered the consequences if he failed. And it surged him onwards.

But it was futile. The Avengers had won. He couldn’t help but feel some relief, the sceptres influence ebbing. It had bolstered him, intensifying his motives, his conviction… And now it was gone… Reality began to set in. As the Avengers stood before him, all ready for another round, Loki sat against the steps, cuts and scrapes littering his face from the fight. Exhausted. He was exhausted.

His eyes trailed over the triumphant team, before they flickered in your direction. His blue eyes took in your own exhausted face. You had survived… And the relief he felt at seeing you alive… It showed for a moment on his face. However, you didn’t escape unharmed. Your hand clutched your side, fingers bloodied and dirty. Your skin had sustained bruises, cuts and was covered in dust. Before him now was a warrior.

“If it’s all the same to you…” Loki’s eyes travelled back to the Avengers. “I’ll have that drink now.” He raised his brows faintly, noticing the small smirk Stark wore at his words. This was the Loki you remembered. Not the one you had been facing the last few days.

Thor didn’t waste any time in moving to apprehend him, although Loki had no plans of trying to escape. Punishment from Odin seemed a much better prospect than the consequences he would face at the hands of Thanos. As Thor hoisted him to his feet, Loki let out a quiet hiss, one of pain and frustration. It was then he saw you approaching, just as Thor cuffed his wrists.

“I’m impressed.” Loki raised a brow, eyeing you. “You survived.” He didn’t know what he expected you to say, but the look you gave him… told him everything he needed to know. “Well, you conquered your first battle.” He continued lowly. “I believe that is cause for celebration.” Thor glared at the God of Mischief, clearly not appreciating his candidness about his actions. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“You think this is amusing?” You breathed out, your own frustrations and anger rising to the surface. Loki’s face remained neutral. “You think I wish to celebrate after the horrors I have just faced?” You shook your head in disbelief, your voice raising slightly, causing a few of the others in the room to glance your direction.

“Uh oh, looks like we have a domestic.” You heard Stark mutter wryly as he closed the suitcase which was now housing the Tesseract.

“People are dead, Loki. Their home destroyed!” You continued, taking a shaky breath. Loki’s lack of emotion only reinforced your frustration. In fact, he didn’t think he had ever seen you so angry. “All this for a throne you don’t even want.” You narrowed your eyes, taking a step closer. Thor remained close, almost between you, worried it could quickly turn hostile. “If sentiment is my weakness, then what is yours?” You asked rhetorically, making Loki’s jaw twitch. “If my actions have been that of a child, wanting my friend back, then what are yours?”

He knew what you were implying. That his own actions were that born of the lost boy that was still somewhere deep inside of him. And it stung, it got to him… because he knew it to be true. His actions were born from bitterness, rage, envy and most of all… Sentiment.

Loki took a step closer, Thor shifting on his feet almost nervously, seeing the way his brother’s posture had tensed. But as Loki looked down at you, his features remained as composed as possible. The air was tense… His unpredictability weaving around the room. And then…

“I’m glad you did not perish.”

It was simple. But he knew you could read between the lines. It was an admission, in Loki’s way. Your tight features relaxed faintly, processing his words. And that doubt, that uncertainty you had felt before when facing him on the Hellcarrier… It began to ebb slightly. Perhaps… Perhaps he wasn’t a complete stranger after all… Maybe he still was your friend. Somewhere beneath all that hurt.

Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, steering him away from you. But Loki held your gaze as he was ushered towards the elevator, unspoken words being exchanged with just a look. It wasn’t quite an apology, or remorse… But it was similar to that of a plea. A plea not to give up on him as his father had. It hit you right in the chest.

There he was.

Your friend.

Perhaps it was foolish… dangerous… And maybe it would be your undoing… Or maybe sentiment wasn’t a weakness after all. And maybe… Just maybe… It was the thing that could give you strength.