#Same with my arms. From the wrist to the inner side of the elbow they feel so idk stiff???

[dragoncarrion]

fuck ass bastard muscles YEOWCH

[st7rnioioss]

✧˚ · . train ride

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warning: dom!matt, fem!reader, (light?) degrading, unprotected sex (guys don't do this, make sure to wrap it up🙏), idk bro, ur begging for him to stop.

word count: 2k (? i think)

DONT LIKE DONT READ

you and matt are on a train ride, but he teases u and fucks you in the public bathroom thing (idk wtf the toilets r called)

made this in school LMFAO anyways, hope you guys like it.

(btw, would any of u listen to it if i made a playlist to my posts? just a few songs that i think would be suitable to the fic?)

You and your boyfriend Matt were on the train. You had to travel for about 4 hours, so you were excited to spend some time with him, just you two alone, since you both often got busy. 

“Matt, I’m bored,” you whispered to him. “Hm,” he replied, one hand on your thigh, the other holding his phone. You turned to look at him, his focus on the phone in his hand.

“Seriously?” you asked, rolling your eyes at him, turning to look out the window instead. He noticed and turned his phone off.

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered into your neck. Your hand went up to play with his hair, tilting your head backward to kiss his cheek.

“It’s fine. I just want to spend time with you,” you smiled at Matt. He pulled away, leaning back in his seat. He reached his hand out to hold yours, smiling back at you. 

Matt knew exactly what he could do to "spend time" with you.

You turned from the window, reaching down in your bag to grab your book.

After reading for a bit, you felt Matt’s hand sneak from resting on your thigh, slowly making its way to your inner thigh. You looked up at him, whispering. “I’m trying to read, sir. Do you mind?” a playful smile on your lips. He acted as if he was thinking about your question, one of his eyebrows raised, followed by a stern “no”. You rolled your eyes at him, focusing back on your book.

༊*·˚

It didn’t take Matt 10 minutes to linger his fingers under your skirt, closer to your core slowly. You started to shift in your seat, repeatedly trying to cover yourself by coughing. You kept sending Matt looks, trying to make him stop. But of course, Matt had other plans. His index and middle finger made their way closer until he made contact with your clit through the fabric of your panties. His eyes were glued to your face, smirking himself, waiting for any sort of reaction from you. 

You inhaled sharply, trying not to make any noticeable movements since there were other people on the train, which Matt didn’t seem to care about. 

“Matt-” you warned him, his two fingers adding slight pressure against your clit. His only response was a quiet snicker. You tried your best to grab his wrist to get his hand off you, but he resisted.

Matt’s other hand went to your hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” he whispered. His whisper alone sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him for a moment, fed up with how he always got what he wanted.

You rolled your eyes at him, smiling because you deep down knew you also wanted to.

Matt grabbed your hand, and the both of you walked through the different wagons until you reached the toilet.

Luckily, there was no one in there, and nobody had noticed the two of you walking into the same toilet. Matt quickly locked the door behind you, his hands reaching for your cheeks. Your hands held onto his elbows as Matt kissed you roughly, not the sweet kiss he had given you earlier this morning.

His hands slowly went down your sides, gripping your hips to pull you closer. His sudden movement made you whimper quietly into his mouth, which only made Matt more eager.

“Take these off,” he demanded, his words still sweet, referring to your skirt and panties. You unzipped your skirt, slowly making its way down your thighs until it hit the floor. You did the same with your panties, your shirt still on. Meanwhile, Matt had positioned himself on the closed toilet seat, his erection clearly showing itself through his jeans.

“Now, sit on my lap,” he said, reaching his arms out for you to pull you closer to him. You positioned yourself on his lap, not able to hide the smile on your face. Matt’s hands rested on your thighs, massaging them. 

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered, now kissing you just below your ear. He knew that was your soft spot. You let out an exhale in response, trying your best to tease him by not moaning or whimpering at all. He must have noticed, because his hands reached further up your thighs, kissing your rougher, making sure to leave small purple spots that would surely turn darker sooner. This time, you couldn’t resist. You whimpered quietly, biting your lip to not be too loud.

“C’mon, let me hear you, baby,” Matt murmured, his thumb reaching for your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. His action made you audibly whimper this time. 

“That’s it,” he smirked, kissing your neck again. Your hands rested on his shoulders, one of them grabbing his hair to pull it gently, you, still a whimpering a mess. You tried your best to best to find any sort of friction on your clit, his bulge beneath you not being enough.

Matt noticed, pulling away from the kiss, and tucking your hair behind your ear. You opened your eyes, looking down at him. He reached for his belt. You got up from him, making him able to pull his pants and boxers down.

You looked at his dick for a moment before stepping closer to him. He helped you position yourself back onto his lap, both your hands resting on his shoulder for support. Matt looked up at you when you had sat yourself down, his eyes gazing into yours. 

“Just take it slow,” he whispered, as you lowered yourself onto his dick, stretching you out. Your grip tightened as you sunk deeper, needing to catch your breath a few times. Matt calmed you down by massaging small circles on your hip.

As the pain turned into pleasure, you finally lowered yourself as much as you could. The both of you let out groans and whimpers. “Fuck. You feel so good,” Matt groaned into your ear.

He gripped your hips tighter, helping you lower and raise you off of him repeatedly. Your whimpers turned into moans, trying your best not to be too loud.

You started riding Matt more eagerly as his dick hit your sweet spot repeatedly.

“Someone's eager, huh?” Matt teased with a sly smirk on his lips. You couldn’t even respond to what he said, thinking of anything to say.

“You’re so cute when you try to think. That’s good baby. You don’t need to think, you just need to do as I say. Isn’t that right?” he said, the smirk being almost audible in his voice. You nodded, the whimpering taking over once again.  He thrusted up into you which made you moan louder. 

“Be quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” you shook your head. Your eyes were shut, one hand on his shoulder, the other one on the wall, fighting for support. Your mouth was wide agape, panting for air as his cock thrust into your pussy.

Matt’s grip was on your waist, rocking you back and forth as you sunk deeper onto him. His head fell back, groaning as he tightened his grip.

“Matt-” you gasped. “I’m gonna cum,” you panted, opening your eyes to look at him. He hesitated for a second. “Let go, baby,” he groaned, his one hand reaching for your clit. 

It didn’t take long for you to release all over him, throwing your head back. He reached for your mouth, covering it.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, looking into your eyes. You slowly got off him, your legs feeling like jelly.

“Oh fuck-” you said, your hand reaching the wall for support. Matt chuckled at the sight. You went to grab your skirt and panties, but Matt cut you off.

“We’re not done here,” he said, standing up as well. You looked confused at him. “But Matt-” you said, snickering, pulling on your panties.

“Don’t make me rip those off you. Take them off,” he said, his voice stern. Again, you couldn’t believe you always made him get whatever he wanted, so you obeyed at took them off again.

“Now that’s better,” he said. “I want your hands on the counter of the sink. Bend over for me, baby,” he whispered into my ear, kissing your cheek,”

You gulped, unsure about what was about to go down. The counter was cold against your hot skin, making you shiver a bit.

Matt looked at you, his hands gliding from your hips up your waist, down to grab your ass.

“Now, be quiet, okay?” he groaned, lining his dick up at your entrance which made you whine.

Matt slowly pushed his cock into you. You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut, trying not to make any loud noises.

“You take me so well,” he said, cutting himself off with a groan as he pushed himself deeper into your slick pussy. The pain started spreading slowly. You let out a whine of pain, trying to close your legs to make it harder for Matt to enter you.

“Keep your fucking legs open. I’ll make it fit,” he said demanding. You quivered, opening them again slowly. He pushed his full length into you, making you gasp for air.

Matt started thrusting in and out for you, quickly making your legs shake slightly.

“Matt- oh my god-” you moaned, your grip tightening on the counter. The pain suddenly turned into pleasure, and your breaths got heavier.

“That’s right. Oh fuck- You're not gonna be able to walk straight for days when I'm done with you,” he whimpered, his thrusts getting deeper.

“Matt- fuck, you’re too deep. Please stop,” you moaned louder, your legs shaking more.

“Poor baby can barely take it, huh?” he teased, only thrusting harder into you.

You moaned again, your hips starting to slam into the counter in front of you.

“Matt- I’m close,” you whined, your head falling forward, squeezing your eyes shut. Without any warning, you came again.

“Holy fuck,” he moaned, still pumping into you.

“Please- please stop,” you whimpered, begging for it.

“Take it,” he said, his hand leaving your hips, moving to your lower abandonment. 

“You feel that baby? You feel my cock deep in your tight pussy?” he smirked, cutting himself off with a groan again, scrunching his nose.

You didn’t even moan audibly anymore. Your mouth was wide open, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth.

“Matt, I can’t take it anymore,” you whimpered, biting your lip. His thrusts got sloppier, and you could tell he was close as well.

Again, you came with no warning. Your legs were trembling at this point, and you weren’t even sure you could stand up straight anymore.

“Oh fuck-” he said, the cum dripping down your inner thighs. The sight only could make him burst in less than eight seconds.

“Matt,” you begged for him to stop, still a moaning mess.

“Say my name again,” he groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling it.

“Matt, please,” you moaned, knowing he was close.

“That’s it,” he moaned, his name still leaving your lips repeatedly. You could feel his cock starting to twitch,

“I’m gonna burst,” he whimpered, his hips bucking up into you. 

And he did. His warm cum filled you up as his head fell back, making him whimper.

“Fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he moaned again, letting go of your hair, pulling out of you with a "pop".

༊*·˚

You were both sitting down at your seats again, staring into the air, still trying to grasp what had just happened. You fixed your hair, occasionally sending small looks to Matt. He smiled, the type of cheesy smile.

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. “You look so good. Post-sex messed up hair, I like it,” you giggled, ruffling your hand into his hair, messing it up.

“Shut up. You’re gonna make me hard again,"

(i just noticed i fucking FORGOT to add the part where he fingers you🤣🤣😘 okay bye, imagine he fingers u when u sit on his lap)

[ariseur]

how about... a lazy, married morning w/ Nanami? i love your writing btw :3

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you admired him for the umpteenth time this morning ( which technically, hadn’t been a lot of time considering it was only about six in the morning ).

squinting at the brightness of the large window beside your bed, you blinked wearily, rubbing the slight crust from your inner cornea and massaging your temple to adjust to the sight better. enduring the sun’s hatred was instead considered a blessing as you looked down at kento — with what once was creased brows only holds serenity in place of it.

his hair, typically slicked back as you’d recall all the times you’d giggle as he’d frustratedly try to stick down that one cowlick, now bed headed and messy. your lips pulled themselves into a soft smile as you tilted your head at his stirring, his fingers twitching along in sync with his slow breaths.

your hand traversed from underneath the warmth of the comforter and into the foreign coolness of the new air, finding its home in kento’s golden strands. a small sigh left his throat as your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, the scent of tea tree seeping into the air. his hand reached up to grab yours, locking around your wrist as he heard your soft giggles through his slumber.

“ken? kento, baby,” you muttered — almost cautious so as to not interrupt the silence so abruptly.

he turned his head at the call of his name, one eye peeking open quickly once he recognized it as your voice; ever so sweet with a dulcet lilt. nanami gave a sleepy, “hm?” before letting his eyes close once more, sinking back into the comfort of your shared mattress.

“don’t leave t’day, please.”

again, his eye peeked open at you before turning back over towards the window — brown iris morphing into a honey gold. “i promised gojo i’d arrive at the school earlier to talk about some things.”

your elbow flattened from under you, allowing you to lean down and curl around his side.

you pressed a kiss to the tendon of his bare bicep, “please?”

“if i could, i—“

“at least, stay in bed with me a little longer?” another kiss.

“my love,” he began with a soft huff before you pressed yet another kiss; this time trailing up his arm to string along the cords protruding from his throat. you felt the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the way his mouth opened and closed in thought of a response, and you cherished all of it.

moments like these were rare with nanami, the pressure of your jobs always getting in between you two — not to mention the fact that somehow, as much as you loved those kids to death, ino and itadori would always somehow manage to cockblock you was frustrating. kento was grateful for whatever moments you had with each other, whether if they were spent in silence or filled with whispers of sweet nothings; anything was good when it came to you, he always told you.

“indulge in me for today, please? you’re just so wonderful,” a kiss.

“. . and sweet,” another kiss.

“. . and sexy—“

“i think i get the idea, sweetheart,” he laughed. you turned fully on your side to face him, your kisses coming to a half as he propped himself up on his elbows. your eyes couldn’t help but roam around his figure, lips subconsciously curling into a grin at the sight of your beloved merely existing.

“i’ll stay for a little while longer, but don’t be so sad when i leave, okay?” now both of his eyes fluttered open blearily to look at you, crinkling with the gentle, meager smile that flashed upon his face.

you nodded as you laid belly-up, sprawling your limbs out as the soft bedsheets rustle from your stretching.

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you watched in awe at how the sun managed to perfectly reflect off of him. he was an angel to you, even with bed head and indents on his arms from how well he had slept. little did you know, that he felt the same way, and he spent the whole morning admiring you two, simply with his eyes half lidded enough for you to believe he was asleep. sometimes, witnessing something beautiful must come from being a little sneaky, he must admit.

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @ch3rryfiles

𐙚 requests are closed — july first, 2024 ( 2:02am )

[luveline]

ooh yay okay short blurb idea!! stevie comforting anxious!reader with back rubs? I feel like he gives the best calming back rubs ever!!! need him to help me w my anxiety :( 🤍🤍🤍

It's not that Steve's presence alone can stave off your anxiety, he's not a miracle, though he is miraculous, but it doesn't take long without him to fall into unhappy thoughts. He leaves to shower and you worry about everything one ache at a time, hands braced on your knees, begging your body to just let it go this time. Just this one time. 

You listen to the shower running, glad for the noise to hide your breath as it begins to wind, but Steve is quick. A minute later he's turning off the water, and a minute after that he's propping open the door to the ensuite to let out the hot air. His hair is still dry. He only wanted a refresher after the hot weather. 

You squeeze at nothing, your hands aching from the scrunch and unscrunching of your fingers. Steve must sense it, your quiet hurting, because he looks up with that resigned concern already lining his mouth, lips pulled down into an unfortunate frown. 

"Hey," he says, pulling the last sock on, "I'll be right there." 

The distance between you is relatively small and huge nonetheless. "It's okay," you say. 

You're wheezing. Steve's eyebrows furrow, and he grabs his glasses off of the night table as he sits down beside you. They slip down his damp nose and fog a little from the heat of his skin, which is a nice distraction until you realise it's a distraction. 

"Can I touch you?" he asks quietly. 

You nod quickly. Sometimes the panic is too much, and anyone's touch feels like a burn, but right now it's the one thing you want. Steve slides right up to your side, thigh to thigh, elbow to elbow. He slides the arm closest to you behind your back to hold you, and the other comes over his lap to your leg, where he squeezes the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

"What is it?" he asks. 

"I think…" you breathe in until your chest feels like it'll pop. "An attack." 

"Okay," he says, pulling you that last bit closer. You're like one person.

You lean forward away from him without thinking. Steve doesn't follow, but his hand tracks a heavy weight on your back. He starts to draw as he usually does when this happens, long fingers and a soft palm roving up the length of your spine and down again, filling the dip of your back as his voice melds to a whisper. "It's okay. We have to ride it out, that's all. You know that already. Keep breathing, babe." 

You cover your face with your hands. Steve makes a small sorry sound and takes your wrist, pulling your hand from your mouth.  

"Just breathe, honey." 

It's not easy. Not as simple as just, but you breathe. Steve's hand is dutiful and loving as it goes, tracing the same path over and over again. He whispers every now and then when you hold your breath or show signs of cracking, and when your eyes fill with tears his touch turns especially tender. 

People forget how full of love Steve is. He wants to love people, even if he does get annoyed at everything. Everything, and yet never at this. This is where his patience lies. 

Your back starts to feel ticklish from his touching. It works better than intended, one uncomfortable feeling replacing the other slowly. Steve puts his second hand on your chest to feel your pulse, his pinky finger sliding under the neckline of your shirt. He counts under his breath. 

"Good," he murmurs, pulling out his hand. "Good job, baby. You're okay." 

The attack ends, the shaky aftermath begins. You feel weak from hyperventilation, hands still shaking. Steve wraps you up in his arms now you're in no danger of suffocation to hold you together, pulling your face to his neck, his cheek turned from you as he sighs in relief. "You're okay," he says again. "That was a sudden one, huh? You okay?" 

You manage a soft laugh. "I thought you already decided." 

"It's two different okays." He rubs the top of your shoulder with his thumb, leaving warmth in his wake. "I know from your heart that you're okay, but are you okay? You know. What do you need me to do?" 

You hug him weakly. "Nothing. I don't need… Thank you, Steve." He's done more than you could ever ask for. 

"You're welcome," he says, kissing your cheek twice, his words warm and quiet against your skin. "Don't mention it. Just glad you're feeling better." 

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Two

EDGE PLAY / LOVE BITES / TERATOPHILIA (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Benny Miller x F!Reader

Summary: There was only one problem you’d discovered about dating Benny Miller and that was that he loved to give you hickeys.

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: Marking, pet names, no use of Y/N, language, mentions of food/eating.

Word Count: 1.2k

There was only one problem you’d discovered about dating Benny Miller and that was that he loved to give you hickeys.

The act was cute at first, it was like being back in high school, a form of childish affection that proved that someone liked you enough to leave a mark for everyone to see. He would always give you one on the crook of your neck, occasionally on the side and in the summer months, he would place a hickey on your shoulder.

During the colder season, you’d happily allow him to decorate your inner thighs, your hips, your stomach. He’d suckle on your skin with accurate precision and you’d gladly wear them, safe in the knowledge that no one would know.

“Benny, did you have to make it so obvious?”

You angled your head so you could get a better view of the mark developing on your neck, front and centre. Eyebrows furrowing, you questioned whether you’d be able to cover it with your concealer.

“I just want everyone to know you’re mine.”

You grumble as he envelopes you, squeezing at his elbows to bring you closer before planting a soft kiss to your temple. Looking at him in the mirror, you watch as his eyelids grow heavy, the tip of his nose pushing into your hair as he breaths you in.

“I hate you.”

Craning his neck back, he peeks at your reflection.

“No, you don’t,” he swiftly kisses your cheek, unraveling himself from you. “I gotta go.”

Where he was going was obvious, the gym branded logo on his loose vest gave it away. He readjusted his cap as he walked, snatching up the last few things he needed from the bedroom with one last look at you.

“See you tonight,” he called from the hallway as he left.

“Have a good session!”

There was a slam that rattled the living room of your apartment, something light definitely falling over but you focused back on the love bite. Dabbing a bit of concealer, you gently rub it into your skin.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

You spent the day tactfully covering up your mark. At the office, you continuously rested your chin on your palm, your arm strategically placed in front of your neck. The only person to notice was the barista who made your lunchtime latte whose eyebrows quirked when he looked at you for far too long. You snatched your drink from his hand and hightailed it back to work, hiding in your walled cubicle to plot your revenge.

Benny came to find you when he heard the door.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?”

He takes your face in his hands and starts to smother you in kisses.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, “other than the fact I had to cover the massive hickey on my neck.”

He froze, “You’re mad?”

“A little.”

“Didn’t you tr—“

“Uh-huh.”

“And it didn’t —“

“Nope.”

“Did your boss —“

“No, thank good.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran his thumbs back and forth. “How can I make it up to you?”

You grab his wrists, “Tell me you’ve made dinner.”

He made you his signature loaded fries even though it pained him. Benny had been surviving on meat and veg for what felt like weeks, mostly in preparation for his first fight of the month. You admired his dedication but felt his eyes on you as you delved your fork into every ingredient, moving to the opposite sofa to ensure he resisted.

“I thought you would have saved loaded fries for the weekend.”

“I could have but I’m planning on going to all you can eat.”

“Where’s my invite?”

You pout jokingly.

“You’re quite welcome to join us,” he says, throwing an arm out so you can tuck snuggly into his chest. “We’d love to have you.”

Him and the boys always followed the same post-fight ritual.

Benny chooses the restaurant, Will comes and picks him up, Santiago and Frankie meet them there. The majority of the time, they just have a couple of drinks, eat a load of good food before he returns home. There was once where Will carried Benny through the door because he somehow had too many but you never probed any further.

You didn’t need to.

“I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”

He chuckles, the vibration running through his chest underneath your palm.

“I’d move them out the way before you had the chance.”

You smile sweetly up at him, see his free hand move out of the corner of your eye. He brings his index finger and thumb to your chin, craning your neck further so he can inspect the blooming love bite.

When his eyes narrow, a shiver travels quickly down your spine.

“What?”

Your single word query is breathy.

He tilts your head from side to side, honing in on the open canvas.

“Maybe I should give you another one… or two.”

Though you were cursing him for the idea, your pussy was saying something else, clenching helplessly around nothing. You whine as you think about where you put that high neckline top in your wardrobe.

He cocks his head to one side, “Would you like that?”

“Not really,” you answer in a nervous giggle.

His smile curls further, he loved how on edge he could get you when he was playing with you. Your whole body was becoming rigid, your throat bobbing as you swallowed and you looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

He had to keep his composure, he couldn’t let you break him.

His tongue flicked over his lips, glossing their pink hue and your heart starts to race. As he begins to lean down, you place a hand to his chest in an attempt to push yourself back. He firmly locks his hand around your jaw, slowly coming closer to the right side and you put as much effort as you can to get away.

“No, Benny!”

You manage to get your legs out from underneath you but when you place your feet on the floor, he uses his weight to bring your back to the couch. You release a sweet grunt as he gently pins your legs down with one of his, squeezing your face slightly tighter.

“Stay still,” he growls.

Immediately, you swat his chest repeatedly as a last stitched attempt to get him away from you, it doesn’t even hurt. What hurt was when you stuck your palm right in his face, your fingernails grazing his nostrils as he battled against you.

His other hand flies to your wrists and holds them steady, moving them a fraction so he can get to you.

You mewl as his hot breath trickles down the slope of your neck, his slicked back hair falling onto your delicate cheek.

His next move is swift, the sudden sensation of his lips against your skin, teeth scraping the surface. He soothes with his tongue before he buries himself into the crook of your neck and suckles.

You melt, sinking deeper into the couch with a honeyed sigh.

There was a twitch in his lips where he wanted to smile. Under his grip, he feels your wrist loosen and as he lets go of the other. Your head falls to meet his, your jawline lining his crown, your breath teasing his hair as he goes in for more.

Sure, Benny giving love bites was a problem but it was a good fucking problem to have.

[wynnyfryd]

By the time Eddie gets Steve up the stairs and down the hall to his horrible plaid bedroom, the flood of excitement has fizzled out and left bone-deep exhaustion in his wake. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt this fucking tired since he woke up in the hospital all those months ago. “Okay, Stevie,” he sighs as he throws himself onto the bed, starfishing across the mattress. “It is possible that I have overestimated my stamina here.” 

“Oh, you think?” Steve grins playfully as he crawls onto the bed beside him. His hand comes to rest on Eddie’s happy trail, fingers skating over the soft hair beneath his belly button.

“Fuck!” Eddie squirms. “That tickles!” 

“Does it?” Steve asks with a glint in his eye that Eddie does not appreciate, but before he can do anything to defend himself Steve is throwing a leg over his lap, straddling him and holding him down while he tickles Eddie within an inch of his life. 

“Stop! Stop!” Eddie gasps, pawing ineffectively at Steve’s chest as he shakes with teary-eyed laughter, “Oh, my god, three taps, red, et cetera, you little monster.”

Steve stops immediately. 

“You’re an actual demon,” Eddie pouts as he sinks into the blankets.

Steve tips forward, laying his weight over Eddie’s chest, and the bastard’s still laughing when he presses an apologetic kiss to Eddie’s neck. “Sorry. Can’t help it if you look cute when you’re flustered.” 

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve sits back up, resting his palms against Eddie’s chest. “What does ‘red’ mean, by the way? Like, I get the gist, obviously, but, uh...”

“It’s a color system people use in kink. Like traffic lights. Basically the same thing as the tap-out system. Which, I still don’t understand how the hell you knew about that if you don’t know about BDSM, but—”

“BD what now?”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Where to fucking begin? “BDSM. It’s an acronym. Bondage, Discipline — or Domination, take your pick, Sadism, and Masochism.” 

Steve makes an adorably confused face, his eyebrows drawing down. “Okay, I think I understood, like, three of those words.” 

God, he’s cute. 

“God, you're cute,” Eddie sighs, and okay, guess his filter’s out of commission for the evening. “Don’t worry about the last two for now. Those are more about pain play” — Steve’s eyes widen in alarm — “which, no shame to anyone who’s into that, but I’m not sure how much interest I have in that particular arena ever since, well...” 

Ever since bats used me as a fucking chew toy, he thinks, gesturing at his fucked-up torso. 

“Cool,” Steve says. “Me neither. I mean, I don’t think. I haven’t tried it, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You might,” Eddie smirks. He leans up on an elbow, kisses the soft skin of Steve’s inner arm. “But you don’t have to, sweetheart.” 

“Cool,” Steve says again, his shoulders slouching in relief. “So, the other two…?” 

“Sure. Bondage is pretty self-explanatory, but there are different degrees of it. The more, uh, extreme side of things usually involves shit like ropes and handcuffs, but it can be more mild. Like tying my wrists up with a scarf, or even just pinning them over my head with your hands.”

Steve’s eyes light up at that suggestion. He leans forward, pressing Eddie flat onto his back, and he scoops up Eddie’s hands and stretches them above his head, crossing his wrists and holding them there with just one hand. Jesus, his hands are huge. Eddie gulps and bucks up into him a little. 

Steve moans, leans down so their lips almost brush. “Something like this?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his voice rough and raspy and wanting. 

Steve presses in, kisses him hard, his hips grinding down as he licks against his lips. Hot and filthy and wet. Eddie parts his lips eagerly, swallows the moan that passes from Steve’s mouth to his when Steve shoves his tongue inside. Licks behind his fucking teeth.

“Okay,” Eddie pants when they part; he smiles up at Steve, pupils blown wide and face flushed red. “So we like that one then?”

“Yeah,” Steve grins. “Yeah, we like that one a lot.”

[lupizora]

(This was my entry to the @/dcmkkaishinevents server's One Prompt Challenge of 2024 with the theme: He was, unfortunately, very handsome. Things became pretty chaotic ever since I posted it on AO3 back in the end of March, so I kind of forgot to post it here too hahah 😅 Hope you have a good time reading it!)

Title: Healing Touch

Genre:  Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: KaiShin

Rating: M (TW: Hospitals, hints to Suicidal Ideation, Minor Medical Procedures)

Word Count: 2,545

Summary: [Is it a dance, if they’re both pretending?] or Kaito wakes up in the hospital after crash-landing his glider, only to find Shinichi in the neighboring bed (who, for reasons unknown, is acting as if finding an unmasked KID is nothing out of the ordinary)

Voices ebbed and flowed like waves on a distant rocky shore.

Kaito was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The steady beeping from some kind of machinery and several shoes scuffing hurriedly on the floor served as additional undertones to his surroundings. Amid this cacophony, the voices were something substantial to lock on and focus. Each individual's timbre, from high and squeaky to low and sonorous, carried its own melody and tune. Speech patterns and word choices could reveal a lot about a person’s inner world. But none of these were an exact science.

Kaito hadn’t perfected his ability to that degree anyway.

It had begun as a game with his father. Back then, Kaito had been absorbing every trick in the book—even if his application of it turned out lacking. He had to experiment and learn as much as he could before settling on his path as a magician. Mimicking voices had been just one of those skills he shelved away as a kid, deeming it useless for anything other than practical jokes and pranks.

The irony was not lost on Kaito when impersonating anyone at the drop of a hat became vital to his career as the Phantom Thief KID. He had stumbled at first, his years of idleness making his voice crack at all the wrong times. But he persisted and insisted; until the disguises were the disposable props in this equation.

Now even that doesn’t matter.

Kaito’s first coherent thought blazed through his mind like a flash fire. It startled him, dispelling the hazy murmur of voices in the background.

Awareness returning to his body, Kaito found himself lying on a soft but firm mattress. Every part of him throbbed with the dull tune of pain. His left hand, draped over the edge of the bed, had some kind of object tugging uncomfortably at the inner side of his elbow. Something warm and featherweight was pressed against the back of his curled fingers. Kaito used this sensation to ground himself in reality and took a deep breath.

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his lungs, the conversations around him clearing up enough for him to understand solid words. Somebody was calling for a nurse. Another was complaining about how long they had been waiting. A kid wailed in the distance, akin to an ambulance’s siren.

A hospital? Kaito wondered before his memories breached the fuzzy dam of sweet bliss. Realization hit him with the same force he had smashed on the ground. A hospital!

Kaito sat up in a hurry.

His heart hammered like a caged bird in his chest.

Light assaulted his eyes, burning them with its whiteness.

Disorientated, he blindly patted his arm.

Soft tube.

Under his skin.

Probably an IV.

Just as he took hold of it, ready to pull, a foreign hand grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t yank it out!” This voice—young, male, authoritative—tickled the edge of familiarity.

Opening slowly his bleary eyes, the fuzzy figure of a person greeted Kaito.

The other guy was leaning sideways from the neighboring bed. His deathly grip on the headboard prevented him from keeling over the space between them. Attached to the arm he was using to hold Kaito’s wrist—right above the turned-up sleeve of a white shirt—he had an IV drip of his own.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, heaving. “You’ll bleed out if you pull it like that.”

Even the chewing out sounds familiar, Kaito lamented in the privacy of his head. Where’s my brilliant quick thinking? I could use some help right about now…

There was one curious detail he was starting to notice though. His previously spiked heartbeat had slowed down.

Odd.

The other gently shook Kaito’s arm. “Hey, are you with me?”

“Yeah. All my marbles are their rightful in place.” Kaito shook his head. “I mean. I’m aware and listening. Can I have my hand back?”

“If you promise me that you won’t do anything hasty, and will let me take a look at it.”

Kaito’s vision, like a viewfinder coming into focus, finally cleared. Realizing who was the altruist worrying for his health, only served to complicate things further. Since the person who had immediately jumped into action to help him was no other than the Great Detective in the flesh.

Although, upon closer inspection, Shinichi looked quite haggard himself. His suit pants were peppered with shallow cuts. If the discoloration of skin near his collarbone was any indication, more bruises were blooming under his shirt. Thankfully, his face didn’t suffer a lot of damage besides a split lower lip and a scratch on his forehead.

Shinichi cocked his eyebrow towards that exact wound. “So?”

Kaito blinked. Right. He’s expecting a reply.

“Sure, I promise.”

“Good,” Shinichi breathed out.

After going through the motions of sitting properly at the edge of the bed, he flagged down a nurse for fresh gauze and latex gloves. The nurse asked some standard questions to Kaito, but otherwise, she didn’t seem bothered by Shinichi’s request.

If anything, Kaito was the one puzzled that his name didn’t receive any reaction. So, while the Great Detective was preparing to help him out of the IV drip, Kaito took stock of his own appearance. The answer staring back at him was ridiculously simple. He was wearing his slacks and a hoodie instead of the KID outfit. No wonder he hadn’t been recognized.

But this brings another question, doesn’t it? Kaito thought. Should I play the fool?

Gloved fingers trailing against his forearm snapped him back into the present. In any other situation, this could have been part of some nightmare. Kaito had seen his fair share of quack doctors performing horror surgeries on him if he ever got his hands on Pandora.

But Shinichi sat still. His expression relaxed and open, offering an invitation for Kaito to take the initiative. It was so bizarre to be treated like a regular civilian without any mask or disguise to hide behind.

Against his better judgment, Kaito placed his arm in the Great Detective’s hands.

They were warm. His fingers gently prodded the area around the inserted tube, picking apart the dressing and the transparent tape holding it in place. Quite not as surprisingly, Shinichi was putting the same care and attention he allotted to clues and evidence onto this.

Kaito felt a little twitchy being scrutinized like that, even if it wasn’t for doing something illegal. Years of muscle memory from soccer balls flying at high velocity toward his face were hard to override.

So, he opted for some small talk. “What are you, an intern?”

“No. I’m a detective,” Shinichi deadpanned.

“What?!” Kaito made a show of trying to pull his hand away. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes. I may not be a physician, but I know a few key things. Waiting for the coroner to make the first call is tedious. Sometimes, I need to identify the proper cause of death and find the culprit before it’s too late.” Shinichi’s hold remained steady and gentle. “Now, stop squirming. You will aggravate it.”

“Aye, sir.”

As more skin was becoming more visible by the minute, the unpleasant kind of squirming settled in his gut.

Kaito redirected his gaze to the room around them. Their beds were occupying the corner near the end of the Emergency Room. A beige curtain separated them from the rest of the beds in their line-up and their occupants, giving them a little privacy. Not that Kaito minded. Not at all, actually. There were worse people to get stuck in the hospital with, more so having them witness his earlier freakout. He wasn’t here as KID, after all.

“Alright. I’m ready,” Shinichi said. “This is going to hurt a little. So, stay still.”

Your understanding of “a little” might be kinda skewed, Detective. Kaito nodded despite his reservations.

Furrowing his brows, Shinichi seemed to search for something in Kaito’s expression. “If it’s making you nervous, you could close your eyes.”

“Thanks, but that would have the opposite effect. I can’t leave the fate of my arm to some run-of-the-mill sleuth, can I?” Kaito crumbled the sheets with his free hand. “Put yourself in my shoes. Who are you, acting all nonchalant without a license?”

Shinichi chuckled. It was short-lived and almost unnoticeable, but the soft sound of it rattled Kaito to the bone.

“I’m kind of a big deal though,” Shinichi meekly said. “I just don’t like bragging about it anymore. Brings more trouble than it’s worth.”

Kaito wanted to laugh at this scenario reaching a new level of absurdity. Instead, he closed his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Hot Stuff. We both have places to be—stuff to do. Let's get this over with.”

He received only an agreeable hum in return. Shinichi’s fingers tightened around Kaito's elbow while his other hand started the procedure. All things considered, the pain wasn’t worse than getting shot at or whenever the belts of KID’s glider would dig deeper after a risky maneuver. Still uncomfortable, still painful. Kaito had never thought he would want to hide his emotions behind a Poker Face for something like this. But he came close, moments before it was over.

Pressing the folded gauze at the wound, Shinichi instructed Kaito how to keep applying pressure to it for a bit. “You took it like a champ,” he added with a smile. “I haven’t heard of anyone holding themselves this well together.”

“What can I say? My pain tolerance might be higher than I expected. Although—” Kaito leaned forward, scoffing— “I have to hope this wasn’t an experiment on your part.”

“Do I look like that sort of person?” Shinichi said, placing the remnants in the porcelain bowl the nurse had provided. His posture gave nothing away. Even the act of taking off his gloves, to throw them away, was done with a grace usually reserved for springing up his deductions on suspects.

What you look like right now is, unfortunately, a very handsome bastard. How did you become so smooth while I wasn’t looking for a couple of years?

Kaito’s inner complaints screeched to a halt when Shinichi took ahold of his hand again.

“May I ask what are you doing, Detective…sir?” Kaito squeaked.

“I noticed something while taking out your IV. Your arm is covered by scratches at weird angles.” Shinichi’s fingers trailed lightly along the wounds from elbow to wrist. “As if you dropped from the air into several thorny bushes and rolled down a hill full of them.”

This conjecture, while close, was not exactly accurate. Kaito had indeed crash-landed earlier amidst one of the parks still retaining its wild forest roots. But the weird angle came from the glider flying through the foliage before hitting the ground. It left Kaito wondering if the Great Detective was losing his touch or if this was the real test appearing at last.

Shinichi didn’t comment on the other’s prolonged silence. His inspection had reached Kaito’s palm and fingers. “These nicks here are more varied. Some old, some new. They are usually made from shuffling cards.” Looking up, he leveled his gaze with Kaito’s. “Are you a gambler?”

Kaito was positive he was messing with him—to what end, was still to be determined. “Sure. I've gambled my life on something that didn't matter in the end. One might say I wanted to soothe my frustrations with this daredevilish stunt today.”

Shinichi's expression darkened.

“I'm only kidding,” Kaito said with a self-deprecating laugh. “These are from practicing tricks. I'm a budding magician, as a side gig and all.”

“So, you're just an adrenaline junkie.” There it was—that troubled furrow on his brow again. “I find it hard to believe when the proof of your hard work is right in front of me.”

Offering a one-shouldered shrug, Kaito used his free hand to sweep Shinichi’s bangs away from his eyes. “Is it that hard? All great artists hit a wall they can’t overcome at some point. Inspiration dries up. Ideas aren’t working, not due to lack of trying, but from the sheer effort they need to come to fruition. Sometimes, there is nothing more you can do than give up and—”

The words stopped in Kaito’s throat. Shinichi had laced their fingers together.

“No,” the Great Detective said; a simple declaration ringing like the true final one. “You don’t get to throw down the mantle until I catch you fair and square, or you find what you’ve been looking for all along. Use me if you have to! I won’t settle for anything less.”

Laughter exploded; loud, unrestrained, and unapologetic. It took a moment for Kaito to recognize it was coming from him. He didn’t stop though. He laughed and laughed and laughed until he was running out of air. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he wiped them out with the back of his free hand. All the while, Shinichi didn’t let go.

“You are truly an incomprehensible piece of work. You know that, right?” Kaito asked, after coming down from his outburst. “What sort of detective sides with the internationally wanted thief? And for what?”

Shinichi glanced at their joined hands. “The kind of selfish idiot who doesn’t want to let go of the thief that easily. Can’t have you dying on me before I solve your case.”

“I’m not—is that why you’re here? I’m pretty sure I called the ambulance myself!”

“You did, huh?” Shinichi cupped his chin in thought. “Was I that wrong in my estimate?”

“Yes. Maybe? It was a lapse of judgment on my part. I still very much like living, I’ll have you know!” A headache was building behind his eyes, so Kaito buried his face in Shinichi’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the flinch. “How did you end up here, if it wasn’t on purpose? Messed with the wrong crowd again?”

“Believe it or not, today was a lapse of judgment for me too.”

“The scandal!”

Shinichi pinched Kaito’s cheek. “I let my guard down during surveillance. Those mobsters I was following jumped me when I was least expecting it.”

“Mobsters? Wasn’t that a little out of your depth? I thought private investigators mostly deal with hunting down cheaters and marriage affairs, that sort of stuff?”

“A case is a case as long as it’s interesting.”

It was Kaito’s turn to give him a once-over. “Good thing they didn’t damage your face too badly. Your mother would have cried rivers upon rivers of tears.”

“As if you care about that. It would have been harder to impersonate me. That’s all,” Shinichi said with an eye roll.

“Am I such a despicable person in your eyes? I simply expressed my genuine worries about your health.” Cupping Shinichi’s chin, Kaito run his thumb over the split lip. “Is that too much for my reckless, handsome Great Detective?”

Slipping from Kaito’s loose hold, Shinichi pushed him back to his own bed. He quickly laid down himself. “The painkillers in your system are messing with your brain. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning, you weirdo.”

Although Shinichi’s back was turned, Kaito could swear he heard him say: “Take better care of yourself, idiot thief. You're not half-bad either.”

[argisthebulwark]

Hands are to us period romance enjoyers what ankles where to Victorian men.

Also never stop hand posting… you’re so right about it, Bryn whose hands are delicate and gentle when lock picking but whose hands are rough and messy (though none the less precise) when he’s got the LDB bent over the guild master’s on the edge of another orgasm. Or Miraak whose hands have fingered the pages of many books in Apocrypha and whose hands have been wrapped around the LDB throat in anger, whose very same fingers now bring the LDB to tears of pleasure and whose hands now wrap around the LDB’s hand in love and reassurance

i've let this sit in my inbox because i've read it approximately a million times thank you. from the bottom of my heart. i'm going to be sooooo normal about hands below the cut. minors don't interact or read, this one is most definitely explicit.

Brynjolf is usually so careful, so well put together. Locks spring open and pockets are silently emptied with his swift fingers. He is devastatingly accurate and strives to be cautious in everything he does. Brynjolf is precise, swathed in shadows and working in silence. Hands bearing old scars and faded tattoos master his tiny instruments with ease, his touch so light most don't realize their jewels are missing. Sleeves rolled carelessly up to his elbows, Brynjolf's precision is reduced to sheer instinct. Lost in the throes of lust his careful fingers clutch the desk's edge, rough when he shoves his Guild Master over it. His soft touch is gone when he grasps their hips, inkpots and parchment clattering across stone floors. He knows exactly where to touch to make them scream his name, caution forgotten in his hunt for more. The gentleness garnered from years of lockpicking means nothing when they moan his name, quills crushed and paper wrecked when he slams them into the desk. One warm palm raises to their face, nerves alight when their lips trail down his thumb to the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. Brynjolf with a touch so calculated it drives his lover mad. He knows every inch of them and puts it to work, dragging out every orgasm until they're seeing stars.

Fingers stained with ink are so light when they trace across the page, quill balanced perfectly in his touch Miraak is always so careful - never leaving behind a smudge. Each line is perfectly straight and all script is impeccable. His work must be pristine. His hands remain unharmed under his thick gloves, untouched by magic's destructive bite. Those same inky fingers pressing into the sides of the Dragonborn's throat despite his mind screaming at him to stop. His arm trembling with the conflict inside him - he should rid himself of the Last Dragonborn while he still has a chance. Wrenching his hand away but still feeling the warmth of their skin on his hand. It's as if they've infected him. Miraak is unable to stop staring at the pink outline of his hand imprinted on their throat. Miraak's careful touch being repurposed after parting from Mora - tracing the outline of the Last Dragonborn's face while they talk, weaving into their hair to drag them deeper into a kiss, unlacing their armor when he's starved for their touch. Miraak whose spine tingles when his Dragonborn's tongue trails along the ink staining his hands or when their fingers ghost over his in a silent request for his touch.

[daryascurse]

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐕: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader // ♡ follow #ULSukuna for updates ♡ // n.sfw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: dominant Sukuna, submιssive reader, οraI, rough sεx, chοkιng, spitting, slapping, fιngering, mild bIood/ wound references, physical/ verbal abusε and degradatιon Chapter length: 5k

“The alternative isn’t so bad,” he said. His voice had changed, something velvet, persuasive, close to gentle. He sounded hypnotically sweet. “Selling your body and soul to me. To be mine forever, here.”

You looked up at that, and for a moment your stomach dropped, looking into the endless pits of his eyes. You could imagine it, as if the eternity already spent here was just a hall of reflecting mirrors, each bending into each other and refracting endlessly.

An eternity, an eternity playing this game of predator and prey, an eternity of being hunted around this temple of bone.

Read after the jump or on AO3 // set the mood

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned.

“Are you satisfied?”

His voice is flat, and you let out a weak sound of agreement.

“Then let me offer you a new deal, before you leave my Domain again.”

You force your eyes open, the swimming blackness beginning to descend from the corners of your eyes once more. Sukuna is sitting, one knee drawn up with his elbow resting across it, turning his head to the side. Two eyes roll down to regard you as he speaks.

“You tire me, if we’re going to repeat this song and dance struggle every time. If I need to remind you what’s going on. If I’m doing all the work to make you heed the terms of this arrangement. Frankly, you’re close to boring me.”

You open your mouth, and close it again, uncertain. 

“So let’s change the conditions. I’ll bring you back here once more, in fact,” – he barks out a harsh laugh, eyes glittering down at you – “I’ll offer you a race again, too. Next time you come here, if you can come first, you’re free. Completely free. But if it’s me, you little whore, then you’re all mine to break and dispose of when you no longer entertain.”

One more time. Another race. Another impossible race, a lying chance. But he’s waiting, and as your body thuds in time with the swirling blackness overtaking you, you say that word to agree and to bind it…

Time had never been easy to track in the rotting carcass of his Domain. It was always impossible to know how long you were strung out over him, to comprehend if time even passed in the same conventional manner of minutes, or hours. Perhaps it’s been years.

But Sukuna was working you over without pause, without break. Your wrists had been rubbed raw some time ago, beads of blood neon against your skin, and still he kept you tied with long nylon cords between each pillar. Your arms strained up as if to worship and exalt the teeth that gaped above you. Your neck ached as your head began to weigh heavy on your sore spine. 

“You’re holding up well,” he said, his voice guttural from behind, and another slap landed sharp against your ass. The sting was enough to make your knees buckle, your shoulders screaming against their sockets in the urge to slump forward. The clawed hand retreated, heat searing under your skin, and you whimpered aloud.

And he was right, you were. As much as his spanks, scratches, and lashes were agony, the abuse of his hands pinching at every sensitive area so hard that your hands twisted and grasped at nothing but constraints, it was enough to burn away the humiliation of being tied spread-eagle and naked at his mercy. It was enough to tantalize, to stir those primal cravings, to feed your inner demon – but not enough to satiate. Not even close.

“It’s not fair,” you said. The words hurt to force out, your eyes hazy in the middle distance. “You said you’d give me a chance. Neither of us are - winning - this is just - torture -”

“I never said that specifically.” Sukuna’s breath was hot in your ear, teeth teasing against your lobe as if he was tempted to rip it off. “Use words with precision. That’s what got you in this whole predicament, isn’t it? Committing to a Vow like that. I still can’t believe you just said it. Still!”

His voice was gleeful, so close to laughing at his own clever observation, and his hand came down between your spread legs. He pushed against your cunt so violently that it hurt, aching up through you behind the pubic bone. It still made you grind against his hand in response. Sukuna moved violently, but the rough caress invoked that instinct to squirm, to writhe against those subtly starting vibrations, to push them higher and harder yet.

Your memory had come back clearer than ever before, those fragmented infinities in his Domain echoing. Unbidden, you remembered his sneering words from one such re-remembered instance – “a glutton for punishment,” when he had you on your side, legs knit between yours and pinning you to the ground as he thrust his cock inside over and over.

It was impossible to count how many memories you had.

You ached at the thought of his words, and rolled your hips as best as possible down against his hand again.

His other hand came to caress your throat, elbow bent against your outstretched arm. Sukuna drummed the tips of his fingers against your taunt skin, splayed his thumb down your neck and bent the nail in just enough to prick blood.

“But maybe it’s time, if you’re getting just as bored as I. I’ll give you that chance,” he said, the words slurring and wet as he hissed. His hand smeared hard down your throat, to your collarbone, and up, a macabre dance along your arm to your bound hand, snapping the nylon with ease. You swung forward almost immediately, using the last strength in your knees to keep upright.

“Pathetic if you give up now,” Sukuna jeered, and his hand slipped away from your cunt to move back, slap your ass sharply. It almost brought you forward again, and you were nothing but a rag doll as he undid your other arm. You couldn’t stop from slumping to your knees in a sprawled M shape, and you panted, throbbing under your skin as you scrambled with trembling fingers to pick at the knots keeping your ankles tied apart. You didn’t know, there was no way of knowing, how long you had been tied up between those fangs. Each writhe and lash stripped the power from your body and left you with little.

Sukuna treaded across the shrine floor as he paced before you in your huddled, shaking state, feet caked with callouses and toenails blackened. He stooped into a squat, arms carelessly resting on his knees, his open kimono spilling from his limbs to the cold slate below. Even low to the ground, he drew himself up taller than you, four-eyed gaze burning from above, fingers laced before your still- unfocused eyes.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before looking up, over the crease of his bent knees, the markings interrupting the cut of his muscles, the even rising and falling of his chest, to Sukuna’s face. 

And said nothing.

His expression was… somewhat disappointed, more than anything else, the longer your silence stretched. The black lines highlighting his bone structure rippled with the furrow of his brow, and he brought a hand up to his chin as he leaned further, pushing his face down. “There’s no fear in you anymore,” he said as his eyes bore into yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, to run, to scream, to strike him. There’s no point. What’s the point. You met his eyes with flat despair, just waiting for him.

And Sukuna was angry . The frown turned deep, an ugly scowl ripping across his devilishly handsome features. He curled his lips, and spat.

It barely missed your face, falling between your splayed fingers to the ground.

“I thought I made it clear. I’m sick of this cowardly shit.”

You said nothing still, and his hand lashed forward, grabbing at the top of your head and fingernails digging down into your skull. It forced your head back, your neck collapsed into your shoulders, and you gasped for air suddenly stuck in your throat.

His glistening ruby eyes were wild, teeth bared in a terrible grin.

“Come on,” Sukuna said, growling his words, “come on, you little whore, prove there’s still that fight in you. You can manage one last fight, can’t you? That’s why you’re here, right?”

Last.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but he jerked to his knees. His kimono fell further down, draping his elbows, pooling on the floor, and with the other hand, thrust his cock forward into your mouth. The sound you made was gargled, chokingly cut off, your fingers scrabbled across the filthy ground as you tried to push yourself up. Sukuna’s hand on your head slipped back, almost cradling your skull in cruel embrace as he moved you back and fucked his hips again into your mouth.

And your mouth was just a sleeve for his cock, your lips stretched wide over it. Tears threatened to leak. Your next breath came as a gurgle as the scent of him rose, the flavor salty, sharp, overtaking your senses. Your hands curled into fists, then out again, finding an anchor.

You couldn’t stop looking at Sukuna, as the pleasure overtook the anger in his face, the muscles of his arms tense, skin pale in the sickly light. His tongue darted out to lick and lick at his lower lip. He looked wild, so beautiful and so terrible, and your throat convulsed as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked against him.

A nail broke against the stone floor in your next tense flex of fingers. Your cry was muffled by his cock, the jerking slide against the roof of your mouth in time with the vibrations of your voice causing those trembling tears to fall down your cheeks. Pain shot sharp up your arm, and your shoulders tensed, but you moved forward again on your own, taking him back in your mouth even as you lifted your unwounded hand to hold the rest of his cock. Your fingers slid, wet with saliva, and you moved them down, to cup, caress. And Sukuna laughed as he moved his hips faster in return.

“You know why you’re not fighting, don’t you?”

Sukuna gripped the sides of your head in two hands, holding you in place as he thrusted in and stilled, choking you with his cock down your throat. You whimpered, gurgled, saliva bubbling from your lips, the tightness at the back of your mouth restricting airflow.

“My special little slut. Because you know that you were made for this, for taking my cock.”

He pulled out, and you gasped for breath, the instinctual tears rolling down your cheeks threatening to turn into a sobbing cry.

“I knew it,” Sukuna continued, “I knew from the moment I saw you, before you even knew it. My perfect whore, and you’re going to stay with me forever now, aren’t you? However long I define that, of course.”

You swallowed, and your mouth fell back open, tongue pushing against the back of your teeth.

This last fight, this last race, this last part of the Vow. Here it began.

“Keep that mouth open wide,” Sukuna said, and he thrust in again, as your hand found its way back up to hold him. He was twitching, tangy as precum mixed with your own slobbering drool, and your eyes rolled with the growing strength of his motions. In the cross vision he doubled, two ghastly faces in devilish elation, and the nudging desire between your thighs returned with a nagging demand. You clenched your muscles, tried to draw your exhausted knees together, rubbed your legs against each other.

And that demand reminded you – this was a race he couldn’t win.

So you breathed hard through your nose and pushed your hand away from his cock, splayed against his stomach as you tried to wrench your head from his grasp.

Sukuna roared with delight.

“There it is!” he panted, in a voice so heavy you were so momentarily terrified that you’d done it, that he had been pushed over the edge, but he lets go of your head and you gasped through raw lungs as he knelt back, shedding his kimono completely. You rubbed your throat, gasping, and Sukuna reached forward – clapped his hand on your shoulder in a show of good sportsmanship, smiled in a jovial way that displayed all his wet teeth, nostrils flaring as he struggled to control his breath the same as you.

“That would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? I always wanted my women with some spirit. And that’s always when you’ve been at your most interesting,” he said.

You glowered up at him and shrugged away, dropping your shoulder to free yourself from his grasp. 

He narrowed all four of his eyes, lifted his hand, and slapped your face.

It wasn’t hard enough to bruise or bleed, but it turned your head, and you gasped, raising your shaking hand to hold yourself. Your skin flared, burning. It was as if you could feel the color red.

“Bit hypocritical for that,” you muttered.

“I could kill you now where you lie,” Sukuna hissed.

He wouldn’t. Would he? You swallowed, keeping your eyes diverted. No, he wouldn’t end this cat and mouse game so quickly.

But Sukuna reached forward again, taking your face in his hand, his claw-like nails digging into your jaw as he forced your head back forward to him. Your eyes blinked down, your scraped hands, your wrists banded with your own dried blood, and his knees crouched before you.

The patterns matched.

“The alternative isn’t so bad,” he said. His voice had changed, something velvet, persuasive, close to gentle. He sounded hypnotically sweet. “Selling your body and soul to me. To be mine forever, here.”

You looked up at that, and for a moment your stomach dropped, looking into the endless pits of his eyes. You could imagine it, as if the eternity already spent here was just a hall of reflecting mirrors, each bending into each other and refracting endlessly.

An eternity of fucking, an eternity playing this game of predator and prey, an eternity of being hunted around this temple of bone. 

Sukuna’s hand moved down, caressed your throat again as his thumb dragged across your lower lip, and you opened your mouth in response. He leaned down into you, and your chest heaved forward with the next breath, unable to blink or look away. The pit lurched in your stomach as you flung your arms over his shoulders to draw him closer still, looking up at him in a cursed embrace.

“There’s one other alternative,” you whispered to the tempting demon man. “That I win.”

He blinked – he blinked first – and the pupils settled with the sneer overtaking his features once more. He drew his lips back and spat again, this time directly into your mouth, and crushed your lips with his in a harsh kiss.

You dug your nails into his back, biting his lower lip as the pain from the broken fingernail shot cold back up through your arm. Sukuna growled into your mouth as he shifted forward, and he almost bit your tongue in response. He forced you further, without a bracing arm on your back to guide you down, and you broke the kiss with a gasp, turning away to settle on your elbows. Sukuna didn’t give you a moment, hand coming hard to the side of your face again as he pushed his body between your raised knees, coming to the shrine floor with you.

Sukuna moved down your body with bites, against your collarbone, opened his mouth at your nipple to bite just around it, and you arched your back to wail at the cavern walls. He repeated at the other before raking his fingernails down the side of your hip, and you screamed again.

“Get on your stomach,” he said, and you did so, keeping your legs pressed together as the throbbing spread from your core down to your cunt. His hands sunk, more like claws than ever, into your ass, and he squeezed, smacked, until you were moaning loud once more. You were rushing wet, the skin between your thighs cold when his breath touched, forcing your legs apart as he shifted down between you.

The moans only made him move more. He pressed his face against your cunt, and your eyes rolled back as the lip and teeth of his lower jaw pressed right into you, harsh, the softness of his tongue only a teasing suggestion flickering against your skin. Your hips jerked up in response, and the sounds started to come from behind, Sukuna panting as he licked you, moaned into you in turn.

Your breath grew uneven, your hands covered your face as you rolled into your fingers in shame, in elation, and a hand came between your thighs as he slipped it up, began rubbing in his harsh earnest.

And finally Sukuna’s tongue was moving up, lapping at your folds, at the arousal dripping from you, and it was so much softer than his cruel fingers as it dipped and hunted through you. He was searching for the places that made you jerk your hips, and you did, again, and again, higher and higher. Your hand slid down, under your stomach, spreading yourself apart, and his tongue found your clit with new ease. You groaned, his name sliding in a sigh from you, and your muscles clenched, thighs trembling, cunt aching for his cock deep inside.

“Please,” you gasped, eyes reeling, heart pounding in your ears.

“Please, what?” It felt like Sukuna lifted his mouth, leaving you cold, wet, glistening. His hand withdrew, even as yours began to rub harder against yourself.

“It’s not going to be that easy, you stupid whore.”

You groaned, in misery now, as Sukuna withdrew from you. But he came back, hissing wet in your ear as an arm wrapped around your stomach, lifting your hips higher as your legs began to bend, bringing you up to kneel. His fingers squeezed at the flesh over your hips as it spilled into his grasp and you shook at it. His cock rested hard against the side of your hip as he tugged you close to his chest, your sore and broken skin stinging and screaming against the heat of his body.

“Keep touching yourself,” Sukuna said, rasping and thick, and he bit your earlobe.

You rubbed against yourself, feeling so swollen, so full of pain and arousal. You used the heel of your throbbing hand to brace yourself on the ground, pushing up against his body. And the finger kept at your clit, kept rubbing at his command, was covered soon by his own as he shifted his embrace against you, giving a harder friction and strength that made you cry out again.

“More, Sukuna, please, please!”

All the rush his lashings and teasing had pushed through you boiled right under you, threatening at any moment to burst in delicious waves, and you bucked your hips against his.

“Do you want it?”

“I do,” you groaned, and he bit your ear, and you shuddered into him. Even as your fingers stilled, he persistently pushed forward. “ Fuck , it hurts, please –”

His laugh was cruel.

“This is nothing, you slut. Wait until I show you real pain.”

The feeble strength in your hips gave at that, just as Sukuna forced his knee against your legs to push them even further apart. He lowered himself with you, pulling his hand up from your cunt and wiping your own slick over your stomach as the gesture eased you to the floor again. You felt his hand come to your hip as he guided himself finally, finally, into you.

“Ah - ”

You gasped as he entered, so deep, so perfectly fitting what you needed, but your air was cut off when Sukuna’s hand slid, spreading you apart for a painful moment, to come up to your throat and squeeze.

It was strong enough to cut off your breath, your tongue forced out over your lower lip in reflex, and he squeezed again. There was only throbbing – in your head, with everything slowly dimming, in your neck, against Sukuna’s crushing fingers, and down in your cunt, the pulse as his cock drove again and again into you. You were only dimly aware of the way your body shook, your hips ground into the floor with each of his thrusts, your hands straining uselessly and scraping raw. Sukuna laughed somewhere above you, the force of it pounding through you, and his fingers fluttered as your vision started to go black.

But he had been right that time, that time he had said, “a glutton for punishment” indeed, and you arched weakly back into Sukuna, cunt clenching desperately against each thrust of his cock.

He let go then, and you completely collapsed, and he laughed again through wet teeth as you gulped air. Tears came once more down your face when you choked and coughed violently. When you found the strength in your forearms to lift yourself off the ground, even as his body caged around you, a puddle of tears and saliva had gathered on the floor.

“What a mess, you filthy whore ,” Sukuna said, and he ground his hips down against yours, his cock brutal and stretching you so deeply. He paused, straining into you with a forced stillness, as your legs twitched beneath the knot of his own.

“Sukuna…” you rasped, trembling.

He was pushing up through you, almost to every part of your body, but stopping had done you no favors, and you shifted anxiously as best as you could, hunting for that friction once more.

“Please,” you said, yet again.

Sukuna moved, at last, but this was worse , and you whimpered when he pulled completely out and did not slide back between your thighs to your needy, waiting cunt.

“On your back again,” he said. “I want to see you so desperate for air.”

But this time he didn’t wait for you to lift your own aching body. He turned you with ease. Your eyes rolled, the blue light and yawning infinite cavern of the shrine reaching endlessly above, before Sukuna settled between you and filled your sight again, leaning over you. He nudged your leg again with his knee, and slid into you with an ease that made you throb even harder, shivering against him, every muscle fluttering.

“Yes,” Sukuna said, and your eyes rolled again when his hand came back, a hard cuff against your throat. Each desperate breath, as shallow and forced as they were, pulled the strength of his thrusts through you, even as the dullness began to spread again. Your hands went numb, head went heavy, and Sukuna kept fucking you, each stroke of his cock pressing his hand hard against your airway and off again.

“I could do this forever,” you thought you heard him say, and a feeble shiver went through you because the thought rolled in allure again - oh, Sukuna, fucking against this floor forever -

Your eyes ached, bulging. You might have tried to say something as he moved with all his weight on top of you, but your vision began to grow dim right when Sukuna let go. You gurgled, gasped for air, lips and eyes wet.

“You become my useless toy when I do that,” Sukuna spat, and that evil, awful smile curved over his face.

Fucking on this floor forever, until he squeezes for a final time.

Time began to stretch again, an endless loop as you quivered below him, your body both lifted from the shrine floor and crushed back into it by the force of his own strength. The heat of him was unbearable; hotter than hellfire, and worse still was the burning of his gaze. Sukuna did not divert his four eyes from you as he fucked you with mouth open and feral groans. Saliva slipped from his lips down to your skin as he interrupted himself with quick open kisses, and you found yourself moaning in chorus.

“Fuck, oh, fuck… ”

This was not love. This was something darker, stronger, deeper, more consuming and more complete. And you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him down to your mouth for a suffocating kiss, tasting yourself still on his tongue.

Sukuna moaned, and your hips shook, arousal flaring in your core with the vibration of him against you. You felt feverish, and you bucked back up into him, moaning in response as you rutted up against him and his cock hit there, right there , so deep inside you that your body began to shake, knees jerking up and feet flexing between his.

“Oh!” you screamed, the sound ricocheting as - there -

But he felt it as his breath hitched, and you felt it too, and you broke from his mouth and cried out in euphoria as the orgasm, so long withheld, roared through you. It was immediately dizzying, a spiral twisting through your core, down to the contractions of your inner muscles going faster and faster, your entire body running hot.

He had forgotten the game in his pleasure, and his teeth gnashed.

“You…fucking…whore…”

And his words were another lash, one last sweet surge of pain.

Sukuna came too, just a little too late to grab that victory. He fucked you desperately with thighs glued with sweat against yours, and he ran hot through you when he reached his own climax. His fingers tightened against the back of your shoulders just as you let go, arms falling to the floor, and he thrust hard into you as your clenching muscles spasmed around his cock, holding your body up against his.

As it roared and ebbed, you thought of it yet again, half-formed images and incoherent words, of always doing this , living some half-life here, under his thumb, under his body, for him to eternally rip you apart and hold you back together – until the day would come that he would snap your neck and kill you on this floor.

It sent a shudder through you, and you shook even as Sukuna lifted himself, withdrew from your swollen and throbbing cunt, and rolled panting to his side.

No. That infinite future was no more. 

You forced your eyes to him, just as he turned to you. He looked wrecked, his face sweaty, and it struck you – this was the most human Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, had ever appeared.

“You won,” he said in a pale disbelief, and you bit back the smile, physically sucking your cheeks between your teeth.

Won.

This was good, right? You staggered to your feet, clutching at the pillar, panting and catching your breath. All you felt was your heartbeat and the fluid sliding from between your thighs. Sukuna’s seed glistened against your skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence deafening.

“That’s it,” you said, your voice small.

“It is.”

Again, silence, before Sukuna sighed.

“Then, farewell,” he said, an exaggerated politeness in his voice that poorly veiled his disgust – if it was disgust, if it was disdain, if it wasn’t disappointment that was so heavy in his words. You couldn’t see his eyes as he rolled his thumb and index finger together, nails flicking against each other. “Congratulations. You have completed the terms of the agreement, so we are released from our Vow. You will return forever to your life with only the memories of me.”

So this is… goodbye.

“It was... a good game, after all," he said, half-musing. 

And as your heart began to pound faster, something in you recoiled at the thought, some strange, aching drop of misery, of something close to grief. You thought again, as he closed his eyes, of the mirrored possibilities of eternity. The pit deep in your stomach screamed so suddenly, shockingly - no, no, no, - and you reached with a trembling hand for him, even as blackness began to cloud around you, even as he turned from you to walk back, away into the shrine.

Sukuna did stop, and you saw the profile of his face as he turned. Two eyes blinked back to you just for a moment, and there was a bitter laugh in his parting words.

“I never even asked your name, did I?”

And you found yourself sobbing, clutching the air as it all disappeared around you. It - disappears. And then you can’t see Sukuna anymore.

You open your eyes and meet shocking white light.

All that happened. All that, and so much more.

Your vision swims. It spins too heavily for you to keep your eyes open and take in your bright, corporeal surroundings, and you close them as nausea rolls through you. You think of his face, so permanent behind your eyelids. All the memories, every infinite one, flood your mind, coming again, and again, faster and faster like through the collapsed walls of a broken dam. Sukuna. Endless Sukuna, leaving you with the terrible parting gift of all your memories.

You’re crying.

Everything aches, everything hurts. It’s like your skin was turned inside out and forced over your muscles and then put back the right way. It’s an overwhelming motion sickness punching up through your guts. Even though your eyes are closed, you lift your fists to rub furiously at the back of your lids, sending a web of red and yellow and green sparks through the black static as tears burn and blur. It doesn’t help the queasiness. Even the pain searing across your skin, so sharp against your broken fingernail, doesn't dull the pictures. It doesn’t suffocate the visions, the memories ever-coming, of Sukuna’s body, his teeth, his voice and eyes and hands all over you.

Bile threatens to rise, and you gasp, coughing through your tears.

“It’s okay,” comes a voice.

A different voice. A new voice.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “Take your time.”

A sheer panic beats through you with each passing pulse pounding sharper and sharper. You part your lips, but no words come out. You’re really here. Back. Out of his Domain. And someone else stands by your side in his stead.

“I’m going to be sick,” you say at last, pushing the heels of your palms into your eyes so hard you see violet.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Just be sure to roll on your side.”

Are you on your back? You can’t sit up, let alone heave yourself up on an elbow to lean to the side. Whatever you’re lying on is cold, hard, and it sends another dizzying spike of nausea through you as you think, again, and again, and again, of the stone shrine floor. Of Sukuna leering down at you from below those awful yawning jaws, time and time again. You might have spent cumulative years on that floor.

You might have spent years more with him.

But you lower your hands, forcing your eyes open. The brightness is still too much, as if you’re directly under the sun, or a focused fluorescent light, and you close your eyes again.

“Take it easy,” the voice says, and behind the static of your eyes, something darker shifts, as if a shadow has fallen over you. You wrench your eyes open again, just for another moment, and you see him leaning over you. It’s just a glimpse of a softer face than the tattooed one that appears in your mind. This man has lips that curve in a small, kind smile, and a band over his eyes.

“You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be alright,” he says. As you reach up to rub your eyes again, you find yourself believing his words, even as the nausea storms through you, even as something flutters, and flutters stronger, in a place lower than your belly.

You have to believe him. Because your mind is broken, and so is your heart. 

chapter v

[nitannichionne]

Ransom's Redemption (Chris Evans Fanfiction), Chapter 28: Our Storm

We crash onto the bed, still kissing, touching and stroking each other. We are both going under each other's clothes, me unbuttoning her pajama top, and watching her arch as I pull it off. I take those seconds right after to take off my upper layers and return to kissing her neck as my fingers pull at the straps of her bra. Her hands reach out to me and caress my face, run over my shoulders and chest. I take one of her hands and kiss the palm. I come down on my elbows and nuzzle her neck again, then nestle my hips between her thighs.

I pull back again, kneeling and pulling at her pajama pants. She lifts her hips and helps me completely undress her. She places her hands on my shoulders and unfastens my jeans. We laugh a little as we get those things off, and I return to her arms. I sigh at the skin-to-skin contact, and she echoes me. I keep running my hands over her--her neck, her arms, her sides, her breasts, her hips, even her knees. She pulls herself up again, straddling me. She cradles my head, and I rake her back gently, my hips instinctively moving to get closer to her. My breath fans her chest and she shivers.

She gasps as I turn her onto her stomach. I run my hands up the sides of her thighs and her body, my lips following up her spine. She comes up her elbows but then I take her hands and put them over her head, letting her feel my body grind against hers. Yes, baby, this is what you do to me... she rewards me, responding with a moan that shocks my spine and spreads through me. 

I lay her back on the bed again, running my lips from her inner wrists to her neck again. She rakes my back and again, she sends that lightning straight through and down my body. The ache in me sharpens and I capture one of her breasts with my lips and take it into her mouth. Her strangled cry soothes me somehow and I swirl my tongue around the tip and suck gently, riding the wave of her arching body and reveling in her moans as her thighs widen and her legs wrap around me. 

"Ransom..."

Again, the lightning.  First it was her eyes, then her touch, now it's her voice. It hurts, it burns, it strikes, yet it also addicting. It does something to all of me. And I want that in her...

I gently caress and squeeze her mound, not letting go of her breast and she gasps, the breath ending in a cry as I brace my thumb against her clit and push my finger into her core. I slightly turn her to me and we are facing each other as I kiss her again, working her though she didn't need it. She was so damn warm and wet. I moan softly as I keep going; I want more. Her breath comes in pants and her fingers grasp my already hard shaft, stroking back and forth as her thumb caresses the tip. "Yes..." I hear her moan softly, and again, I feel waves of relief coupled with a conflicting tension. "Mmmm." I move in time with her hand, and somehow in time with my own on her, in her. 

I drag my tongue down the center of her body and hold her thighs apart as I finally taste her. We both moan, and she writhes as I stay on my course. Her fingers rake my scalp and I moan with pleasure as her fingertips increase pressure at the same time my mouth does. She's whimpering, she's moaning, she's panting, and I love feeling her tremble, hearing her sounds, and knowing maybe I feel lightning, but she is drowning in the storm I'm creating in her and between us, in us. I feast on her climax and she goes slightly limp, surrendering to me.

But I could take her higher. She knew that.

I crawl up her body between her legs and lift her leg. She was completely mine now, pliable, and reaching for me. God, she was mine when we started. For some reason, my mind goes back to our first kiss-the anticipation and how our worlds collided and stood still. I close my eyes and slide into her.

"Uhhhnnn..."

I put my forehead against hers. "Oh, God." I kiss her forehead. I feel her arms tighten around me, her other leg encircle me, trying to draw me closer. I oblige, and I begin to move, slowly at first, then harder, then faster...like a wave rolling to a crest and then breaking...only to start again...and again...

I cannot and will not stop wanting her, needing her, and loving her.

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[tendertenebrosity]

Some connecting scenes for Illiam and Helis, back during their time at the castle. This follows on from here and here. The next piece chronologically is this one.

Masterpost is Here.

Helis woke up slowly. Their wings and shoulders ached, and the floor was uncomfortably hard against their hip underneath a thin layer of padding, but the blanket lying over them was warm. They could almost have closed their eyes and drifted back to sleep again if they hadn’t… remembered.

They forced their eyes open, to a blurry view of a stone wall and a few folds of woollen blanket.

What in Heaven am I going to do now? they wondered drearily.

They took a deep breath, and might have let themself cry again, if they hadn’t heard a noise from behind them, from somewhere else in the room.

They rolled over immediately, blinking sleep from their eyes. The room snapped into focus; disorientingly, they were in a corner, on the floor. The room was all stone and heavy-framed wooden furniture, including a bed hung about with red curtains, bookshelves to rival those in the workroom, and a desk underneath a glass-panelled window.

Seated at that desk, so that Helis could mostly only see the spare casual angles of his legs and his hunched shoulders, sat Illiam. He hadn’t noticed them; he was pulling a book across the desk towards himself, flicking through the pages, setting it aside. The scritch-scritch of pen on paper filled the room. Morning light streamed in through the window.

Helis slowly sat up, drawing their knees up against their chest and pressing their wings back against the wall. The blanket slid down to the floor; after a moment they pulled it back up.

Silver flashed as they did so; they blinked down at their wrist.

It was hard to tell, they hadn’t been paying attention, but Helis didn’t think this was the same cuff they’d been wearing yesterday in the workroom. It was smaller, lighter; more tightly fitted to their wrist as if designed for them specifically.

The cuff had what looked like a fine hinge on one side. There was no chain attached. It could almost have been mistaken for a crude piece of jewellery, except that there was no way it would fit over the bones of their hand to be taken off. Helis pulled their other hand out from under the blanket and found a matching cuff on that.

There were lines of engraving along the outer and inner surfaces of both cuffs. Bits of spell phrases jumped out at Helis; instinctively they reached for it, and were surprised all over again when nothing happened. They bit their lip, then lifted their left hand and craned their neck to try and find the beginning of the spell with their eyes.

“It’s not a design you’ll be familiar with.”

Helis looked up; Illiam had turned in the chair, one arm hooked over its back, and was watching them dispassionately.

“Did you make this?” Helis asked. Their voice rasped in their throat, and they coughed.

“Yes,” Illiam said. He looked more composed than the last time they had seen him; no longer bright-eyed with fury, not even tousle-haired or unshaven and drawn with tiredness. Helis distrusted the evenness of his voice. “Not something I do often, so I doubt the craftsmanship is up to your standards. But it will suffice for its purpose.”

Helis licked their lips nervously. They got the impression he was waiting for the question, watching Helis and predicting what they would say, and they hated it, but they had to ask. “What purpose?”

“It ties you to me,” he explained, still calm. “There is now a magical link between us. I will always be able to find you, and if you get too far away from me, the cuffs will heat up as a warning.”

“What?” Helis stared at the cuffs, sickened. This really was something like a bad play. “Is this what you took my blood for?”

“And my own,” he agreed. He tapped the bandage at the crook of his elbow. “It’s not taboo here, although it comes with certain risks. I decided it was worth the inconvenience of making the cuffs - I needed to ensure you don’t escape, but are still free to move about the castle, and this is the most practical way of doing that.”

“You have a really…” Helis took a deep breath. “Warped idea of practical, Illiam!”

He shrugged. “Would you prefer a cell? Or chains? Or something a little more permanent? Strictly speaking, I didn’t have to make it a device. Attaching the spell to the cuffs made things a little tricky. Have you ever worked on silver? Challenging. But you need to wear the cuffs anyway, and it seemed preferable to permanently inscribing the spell-lines on you.”

They flinched back. “That’s barbaric,” they hissed. “You’re barbaric.”

He rolled his eyes. “I said I was avoiding it. Pay attention.”

Helis hated being seated on the ground looking up at him. They pushed themselves up, wings spread for balance, letting the blanket fall. “This is the most sick and gross use of magic I have ever seen,” they said. “You -”

Illiam’s eyebrows lifted in cool, sardonic disbelief. “Really? This is the sickest thing? Tsk. Have you seen the kinds of spells that get thrown around on a battlefield?” He stood up, rolled his shoulders. “Compared to that, this is perfectly gentle. It won’t even burn you straight away, you’ll have plenty of notice to come back before the heat gets to injurious levels.”

“You didn’t learn this at the Academy,” Helis said.

Illiam shook his head. “No,” he said, with half of a smile. It wasn’t a pleasant expression at all. “This, I learned here, in the North. Surprised to find that there is more to the world than the Academy’s curriculum? Time to grow up, Helis. There’s no ethics classes out here. I’m nobody’s student or apprentice anymore, and your only value lies in how useful you are. I could do far worse to you and nobody would even blink.”

He stepped forward, across the room towards them. Helis rocked back on their feet, resisting the urge to cringe against the wall, wanting to leave but finding nowhere to go. They couldn’t quite manage to tip their chin up to meet his eyes, instead fixing their gaze somewhere near one of his shirt buttons. Still black, they noted nervously.

He stopped short of touching them, apparently content to loom. “So if I were you,” he said, “I would be resigning myself to the cuffs, thanking my lucky stars that I’m not dead in a ditch, and trying my best to be useful.”

He stood there, for a long impassive silence, until Helis took a deep breath and looked up. He was regarding them with an expectant look, as if waiting for them to say something in return. Still calm, still composed.

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked, when nothing was forthcoming.

“Yes,” Helis said, reluctantly. “But -”

He raised a finger. “Do I make myself clear. Yes, or no.”

“Yes,” Helis whispered, their gaze blurring as it slid off him, to the side.

He nodded. “Good,” he said briskly, and stepped away. He collected his coat from where it lay folded over a table that they hadn’t noticed, over by the door. There was a stack of fabric beside it, and he indicated that with a faintly contemptuous wave. “Get rid of the uniform; put those on. I’m going downstairs, and you had better not keep me waiting there.”

The door opened smoothly, with barely a whisper; Illiam left, pulling his coat on over his shoulders as he went.

Helis took a deep breath and let it out, shakily. They scrubbed their eyes determinedly, and went to get dressed.

The clothing by the door was thick fabric, shapeless, rough and drab in colour. Somebody had attempted amateurishly to make the tunic wing-compatible. Helis struggled into it with stiff joints, wishing for proper ties. At least, they supposed, it was both warm and obscured their figure into featurelessness.

There was a basin and jug of water, but Helis didn’t dare use it for anything. They opened the door, let it close behind them, and crept with trepidation down the narrow, boxy set of stairs they found themself in. Their nails went click-click on the cold stone floor.

At the foot of the stairs, where it opened out into a wider passageway, they found Illiam. He was not, to their relief, waiting for them impatiently - he was in what looked like a heated conversation with somebody in muted dark grey clothing.

“… don’t care who’s here. I told my father that I wasn’t going to be available for this.”

“I understand, my lord, but somebody -”

“Go and bother Brant with it.” Illiam turned to leave, dismissing the grey-clad man with an impatient gesture. “This is his element, surely. Heaven knows the man must contribute something of worth. You’ll get me tomorrow afternoon and not before; my work is more important.”

He strode down the hallway and past Helis, barely acknowledging them, as the man in grey bowed and murmured something respectful towards his back.

For lack of anything else to do, Helis followed Illiam. The man gave Helis a look of confusion and distaste as they passed.

They caught up as he turned a corner.

“How far away?” they asked, resentfully. “The cuffs. How far away from you am I allowed to go?”

“Far enough,” Illiam said. His suspicious air of calm was starting to fray; Helis caught sight of one of his hands fiddling with a fastening of his coat. “I’m not going to send you out of range. I would advise against experimenting. And that’s all you need to know.”

“And what am I going to be doing?” Helis kept having to lengthen their stride to keep up with him. Their legs protested. “I mean, what is my job? I don’t know why you want me here if -”

“Well, that makes two of us,” he snapped.

The hallways Illiam followed got smaller and colder, with fewer rugs. Another human in dark grey clothing, her arms full of wicker and cloth, put her head down as Illiam passed and gave them a wide berth.

After a couple of corners and another flight of stairs, Helis realised that they were hopelessly lost and would have no idea how to get back to Illiam’s rooms. Or outside, for that matter; this area of the castle had no windows.

Eventually, Illiam came to a door that looked a little familiar. Passing his hand over the doorknob, he unlocked it with a brief flare of magic, then threw it open unceremoniously.

The windowless room full of magic paraphernalia. Helis lingered uneasily on the threshold, hugging their wings around their shoulders. The glittering fragments of conduit stone had been swept up and disposed of, and any trace of Helis’ blood had been cleaned away. The top surface of the table was scarred with little pockmarks and burns.

“My workroom,” Illiam announced, needlessly. “I’ve wasted too much time on Father’s jaunts across the border and dealing with you; it’s time to get back to work.” He glanced at Helis, an irritable line appearing between his brows. “I suppose you can start by fetching me Halliday’s list of energetic constants. Third volume. And then get a fire started.”

Helis inched inside, letting the door close behind them reluctantly. “What exactly are you working on?”

“I’m composing a spell,” he said. “The most ambitious spell, I think, that anybody has ever attempted this side of the Greater Eastern Ocean.” He clicked his fingers and pointed to the bookshelf - and even despite everything, the careless disrespect in the gesture made Helis’ hackles rise under their ugly, uncomfortable clothing. “Halliday. Third volume. Useful.”

Your only value lies in how useful you are. Helis set their teeth, and went to comb through Illiam’s library.

[piercingdarke]

"my hands like yours," the appendage in question is raised to his mouth, pointed teeth grabbing the tip of one finger on his glove, only to pull it off in a quick go. razor's hands aren't marred with burn scars like diluc's, marks he's seen his mentor try to stuff away between gloves when sharpening blades. wolfkin's are still marred in much the same, however, just with his element. tendrils of darkened skin creep along his palm, his knuckles, the top of his hand, all the way up into his wrist. one fractal scar in particular touches almost his inner elbow, but it's hard to see under his clothes, "teacher calls them lightning scars. you don't have to hide hands, i see them too."

" hm...? "

he blinks curiously, turning his gaze to the young man at his side--he watches intently as razor removes his glove, ruby hues carefully examining the scars etched into his skin as wolfkin speaks of them. they are like his, the same scars for the same reasons with a different look about them, and he can't help but think back to the long, painful nights he spent nursing burn scars all up and down his arms, hiding the pain and the marks from his father and brother and friends. he recalls the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he's out in the city and notices the lingering marks of past struggles peeking through gaps in meticulously tailored clothing, the itching need to adjust his sleeves and his gloves to hide his faults from those who would call him perfect.

but razor doesn't care about the uncrowned king of mondstadt, unmatched in every way. he only sees diluc, a mentor, a friend, his family, and his scars won't ever change that. a smile finds dawn's lips, soft and fond, and he reaches over to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately. " thank you, razor. old habits are hard to break... but i know i don't have to hide anything from you. i appreciate that. "

[littleblondesoprano]

16? And 34?

16. Want any tattoos? What of?

OH. I HAVE PICTURES.

SO - The next tattoo I want to get is the Rider-Waite High Priestess card on the upper, outer portion of my left arm (Between the shoulder and elbow bit). I want this just in line art with some shading. If I do add any color, it'll be the blue of her dress.

THEN, I need this beautiful piece of artwork by Micah Ulrich named 'Cancer' in the same spot as the High Priestess, but on my right arm. (I am SO grabbing a print, too!)

I want bats curling around my elbow on my right arm, OR in a cluster near my right outer elbow.

On my right inner forearm I want a quote by our beloved CT that I screenshotted forever ago so I wouldn't forget it - I'd get it in type script, like from a typewritter: 'I THINK IF LOVE IS AN ILLUSION THEN WE SHOULD ALL ASPIRE TO BE MAGICIANS' - I do still have to ask their permission to get this tho!!

I have an idea to get a little crescent moon on the back of my neck.

In this vein, I am HEAVILY considering finger tattoos - I'd just get little star bursts on my ring and index fingers.

(Like this! ^^ Just MORE)

Also in this vein, I saw this Ozzy tattoo that I want to get on my right wrist - but it also depends on how big the CT quote is - of a skull with a sword through it and bats flanking either side.

(Like this! ^^)

I have one more quote that I'd like to get, and I want it on the inner portion of my right upper arm (the bit between shoulder and elbow I mentioned earlier, but the soft underside) and it's just: "Sempre Avanti" it's Italian for 'Always Forward'. I want it in a very pretty, cursive type font.

I want this, below, on the back of my right calf, but the eye to be blue!

I also have an idea to get a tiny little black pawprint under my right thumb for Fluffy - but that's still in the air. I want a tattoo that I can look at every day and think of her, especially after she passes. (I can't think of this too much or I will start crying, probably why I haven't figured out what I want concretely yet).

Another not-yet-grounded idea, is like a riff on the Master of Puppets tattoos - one of my favorite artists, Fyodor Pavlov, had a flash of a hand dropping stars (below), and I think I'd like that, but have the stars tied to the hand, like it was manipulating them. I've also thought about that same thing with planets. I'm not sure about placement, tbh.

I would like something, maybe, on my shoulders - or flowers somewhere, but I'm not sure what or where! Then again, I have enough to keep me paying for ink for a while 😂😭

34. What’s your favorite flower? 

Oh I have so many!! I love roses the most though, followed by moonflowers and dahlias and hydrangeas!

Thank you!!! :D!!

[aprincessnotaqueen]

Get to know me!

Thanks for the tag @the-type-a​ !!

🖌 - Do you have/want any tattoos?

I have 8 tattoos! My first one matching with @peoniequeen 💕 we got the date we met in roman numerals when we were on holiday in New Zealand, it’s on my left forearm just below the elbow. My second is the planets (including Pluto obvs!) which is just below the numerals on my left forearm. My third is on the inside of my right ankle, it’s an open book. Fourth is on the side of my right wrist so its in line with my pinky finger if that makes sense? It’s an infinity sign with 3 hearts, this one is for my mother who said if she ever got a tattoo that is the one she would get but she hates tattoos so I got it instead! Fifth and sixth I got at the same time, I have the word DREAM is Disney font and its on the side of my left wrist, then the Deathly Hallows symbol on inner left ankle. Number seven is on the back of my left forearm in a line going up from the elbow, it’s of the phases on the moon. And finally my latest tattoo I got on my birthday last year, it’s the Pisces constellation on the back of my left arm just above the elbow. 

I have 5 on my left arm and only 1 on my right and I definitely need to rectify this 😂

💚 - What’s your favourite colour?

Blue 💙

🍕 - What’s the last thing you ate?

Just had steak 🤤

🕰 - What time is it where you are rn?

8:09pm

🌟 - What is your zodiac sign?

Pisces sun! I know my moon and rising are Pisces and Libra but I can never remember which way round they are 😂

🌍 - What is your favourite accent?

Uhhhh I have no ideas?

⚡️ - Do you have any scars?

Nothing of note. I have some chicken pox scars on my face? I have a tiny little line on the side of my finger?

🌺 - What’s your MBTI type?

INFP

🥀 - Favourite animated movie?

How To Train Your Dragon 💕

📺 - Favourite show?

Shows I could watch on repeat are: Brooklyn 99, Agents of Shield, Umbrella Academy, One Day At A Time, Derry Girls, Sex Education.

😂 - Are you ticklish?

A little? I used to be ticklish when I was younger but I kinda grew out of it.

��� - Do you ever want to get married?

I do not. 

😳 - Do you like your name?

I hated it when I was younger, it’s very common, but I’ve grown to like it more recently.

💙 - What colour is your bedroom?

It is blue and cream.

🤓 - How did you get your name?

The story I’ve been told, my mam was watching TV one day and a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes came on and her name was Chloe.

🎓 - When did/do you graduate?

I never went to university so never?

Sometimes I’m sad I never went but my life is on a different path and I need to be oky with that.

🍄 - Do you have/want any piercings?

I have had my firsts and seconds both done twice, then on my right ear I have my mid helix pierced. I used to have my upper helix pierced as well but it didn’t heal properly, I was in agony all the time with it so I let it heal over but I’ve wrecked myself because the skin is tinted black where it was and I have a lump in the back of my ear I suspect when the cartilage was pushed around.

👀 - What colour are your eyes?

Blue!

👱🏻‍♀️ - What is your go to hairstyle?

I straighten it mostly these days, leaving it down.

🥂 - Have you ever drank underage?

A little bit. I was never a big drinker, I would drink a little bit around 15/16 because my friends were but it wasn’t serious, no hard alcohol. Then I had a bit of a mental break in 2018 and started drinking properly then, but I was 23 by that point 😂

🍾 - Have you ever gotten drunk?

Yuuuuup. I’ve never blacked out but my worst was the work xmas party of 2021, where I vommed all over the club toilets and then took a nap on the floor outside the taxi rank (who also wouldn’t let me in a taxi because I also got vom on my dress!). After that I couldn’t even walk down the alcohol aisle in Tesco for 2 months without feeling sick 😂

😱 - What’s your biggest fear?

Spiders have always terrified me but my fear has been getting much better in the last few years. My fear of heights is getting stronger though 👀

🥵 - Would you rather be too hot or too cold?

Too cold. Can always bundle up!

🌦 - What’s your favourite weather?

Warm enough I have the option of wearing a dress or shorts but not hot enough that I’m melting.

🍂 - What’s your favourite season?

Autumn!

��� - What’s your favourite animal?

Cats. 

🐶 - Do you have any pets?

A cat, Gizzy 💕

😴 - What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

About 48hrs. It was one of the years we did a coach trip to Disneyland Paris, was exhausting but so worth it.

🎨 - Any hobbies?

I’d love to say reading and writing but I’m too tired for hobbies 😭😂

🛩 - If travelling was free, where’s the first place you’d go?

Back to New Zealand, I cannot express my love enough 💕

🎇 - What’s your most searched thing on Google?

Usually dumb questions 😂

📱 - Favourite app on your phone?

Other than Tumblr, probably Spotify

🤠 - Are you more of a city person or a country person?

I wish I was a country girl but I am a city girl all the way!

Tagging: @lotsofloveish @xwhatababex @toobadchadlytime

[indigolover97]

We’re Dripping In It

Chapter 13: Do you think that makes sense?

“I want to speak to my brother today,” Jungkook announced at breakfast the next morning. All eyes turn to him as he fiddles with the t-shirt he was borrowing from Namjoon, he looks up at them. “I want to talk to him before we move him to the new place.”

Namjoon and Yoongi glance at each other for a moment before nodding their consent to Jungkook.

“You can see him today,” Namjoon agrees, taking a sip of his coffee. “The doctors told us yesterday that he woke up and is in good health. Apart from a broken wrist and a slightly crushed windpipe, they say he’ll make a full recovery in a few months.”

Jungkook winced then paused, “I didn’t break his wrist.” He whispers in confusion, narrowing his eyes at the sheepish look on Taehyung’s face.

“I owed him a broken wrist,” Taehyung muttered, flexing his left wrist on the table and giving no other explanation but Jungkook could guess what he meant.

“Does anybody else ‘owe’ my brother a bodily injury that I should know about?” Jungkook inquired, looking around the table with his arms crossed. He gives a sigh of relief when everyone shakes their heads. “I also have another announcement to make this morning.”

The men blink at him as they wait for him to speak, side eyeing the smirk on Namjoon’s face with suspicion.

“I’ve discussed it with Namjoon and I’ve decided to go through the training process to become a part of the Bulletproof Company,” he pauses to sip on his coffee, “after I finish my semester at Hybe University, of course.”

“Why wait?” Jimin asks with a wave of his hand. “You could probably get both done at the same time without breaking a sweat.”

Jungkook chuckled and pointed a finger at his boyfriend across the table, “You can take it up with him, that was his stipulation on all of this.”

Namjoon shrugged when the eyes of the table turned to him in disbelief, “It gives him time to change his mind if he wants to, about joining us and about me. And it gives us time to prepare the men for the whirlwind that will be entering the company soon.”

Jungkook scoffed and rolled his eyes, he opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Yoongi’s own scoff of protest.

“No amount of time is going to prepare anyone for the muscle bunny that’s about to hit our streets, they might as well count their prayers now.” Yoongi chuckled and pushed himself away from the table. “We have a meeting at noon, don’t be late Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon hummed in acknowledgement as Yoongi left the room chuckling as he went. Taehyung sighed happily as he watched his husband walk out, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand, a dreamy look on his face.

“I can’t believe these two are still this disgusting with each other, even after seven years.” Jimin mutters, side eyeing his hyung in disgust before following Jungkook’s lead to clear the table of their dishes and carry them back into the kitchen.

“You’ve been with them that long, hyung?” Jungkook asked, setting the dishes into the sink and starting the water to wash them.

“Yep and let me tell yah, it made the days between my initiations pass by disgustingly quickly.” Jimin said, lifting himself up onto the counter to watch Jungkook clean.

Jungkook looks over at Jimin in confusion, “Initiations? You had to do multiple?”

“I was a scout for my previous crew,” Jimin starts to explain. “I had to prove my loyalty to them, being a scout comes with a certain level of mistrust. I basically spied on hundreds of companies and stole their secrets right under their noses to give an edge to the company that sent me. Namjoon-hyung had to make sure that I wouldn’t do the same to him. It’s only been for the past three years that I’ve truly become a part of the Inner Circle.”

Jungkook nods as he places the clean dishes on the drying rack next to the sink, “What made you join Namjoon’s crew?”

Jimin shrugs, “The Bulletproof Company took down the one I was a part of. They were doing a sweep through Korea, taking down any companies that stepped out of line. As the new powerhouse, it was their right to do so. Hobi-hyung was the one that came to take the White Tigers out, he only spared me. I earned the title the Last White Tiger of Busan after that day.”

Jungkook paused his scrubbing to look at his friend, “Do you have any regrets about being here?”

“Hell no,” Jimin bursts out, chuckling at Jungkook’s blink of surprise. “The White Tigers were tyrants, Jungkook-ah, they got what was coming to them. I have no regrets coming to the Bulletproof Company. This crew has been the closest thing to family I’ve ever known.”

“Aw Jiminie I knew you loved us!” Taehyung burst out, running into the kitchen and pulling Jimin down for a soul crushing hug.

“Tae, you’re squishing me!” Jimin whined through squished cheeks, but didn’t push the taller man away. Taehyung crushed him tighter against his chest while Jungkook chuckled at the pair as he finished the dishes.

“Are you ready to go see your brother, baby?” Namjoon asked, sidestepping the pair to stand behind Jungkook as he finished the last dish.

“Yep,” Jungkook nodded, wiping his wet hands on a dishtowel. “Lead the way!”

“Have fun in the sex dungeon, kiddos! Make sure to clean up any mess you leave!” Jimin cackled after them, making Namjoon choke and trip over his feet as he led Jungkook out of the room.

“It's not a sex dungeon!” He protested indignantly, his voice a bit squeaky as he looked wide eyed at Jungkook.

“It's not?” Jungkook pouted as he walked around Namjoon. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Namjoon gulped at the sultry look Jungkook threw him over his shoulder, before shaking himself and continuing leading them towards the fireplace in the foyer. He pulled a hidden lever behind one of the bricks, making a hidden staircase appear before them.

Jungkook whistled lowly as the lights flickered onto the stone stairs, “You must have been dying to show me that.”

“It’s a cool feature on this house,” Namjoon agreed with a smile, gesturing for Jungkook to follow him as he descended. “There’s a series of tunnels that branch off from here, under the main house. They lead to a secondary location in case we ever need to make a quick escape without being spotted.”

Jungkook hummed in understanding as they reached the bottom of the stairs and entered a stone passageway that branched into several directions. Namjoon led him down one of the right paths until they came up a series of jail cells.

“I’ll wait right here, if you need me, he’s on the last cell on the left.” Namjoon whispered, stopping in front of the guard’s desk. The guard on duty bowed to the pair and handed Namjoon a file to look over.

Jungkook nodded, took a deep breath, then made his way down the passage. The cells he passed were not empty like he thought, all of them had an occupant who was moaning in quiet pain to some injury. Jungkook held his head high as he passed them, trying not to flinch at the exposed wounds or bloody bandages. He came up to his brother’s cell and looked at the man laying across the bed with a cast on his left wrist and a line of bruises around his neck.

Seokjin’s eyes widen as he comes into view and he sits up in the bed as Jungkook stands in front of the cell door, “How nice of you to come visit me, brother dear. I’d offer you something to drink but the water rounds won’t come for another hour.”

Seokjin’s voice is hoarse as he speaks but Jungkook is relieved that this won’t be a one-sided conversation.

“Do you want me to continue this pointless banter, or get straight into why I’m really here?” Jungkook asks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the bars as he looks at his older brother.

Jin sighs heavily and moves to sit against the stone wall of his cell, “Might as well get it over with, I’d like to wallow in peace with the sounds of groaning men to keep me company.”

“Why did you lie to me about our father? You told me he died on an oil rig,” Jungkook accuses at once. “And then you lied to me again about his journal when I brought it to you. You told me that he liked to write stories to tell you when he came home. Why would you lie about all of that?”

“Because I had to,” Jin answered tiredly. “After I got back from getting revenge on our father’s murderer, I never wanted you to know anything about this life. I wanted you to grow up normally, like any other boy your age. Especially after learning that our mother was a part of this life as well.”

Jungkook absorbed this information with a blank face, but inside he was reeling from the news that his mother had been in a gang as well. “Why didn’t she help you get revenge, or did she?”

Jin shook his head, “She was part of the company that killed him. The man that killed our father was her brother, our uncle. She had helped him plan the assassination of Namjoon, but she never expected our father, her husband, to be there. It broke her to know that the plan she had a hand in creating led to the love of her life dying.”

“Why did they want to kill Namjoon in the first place? Weren’t the companies coming together to make peace that day?” Jungkook pressed impatiently as Jin paused.

Jin scoffed, “Rival Companies are always trying to take out the leader of others, it's the way of life here. And with Namjoon only just taking his father’s place they saw the Bulletproof Company as weak. They thought they could just eliminate him and take over the whole operation. Obviously they were very wrong, you got lucky Jungkook-ah, your new boyfriend is even more powerful than his father ever was. Nobody has tried to take him out since that day. The carnage he left sent quakes through the underground world that still haven’t stopped shaking those that are left behind to remember it.”

“Then why… why did you even pull the stunt you did in Morocco? What was even the point if you knew it was that dangerous to go after them?” Jungkook whispered, clutching the bars in his fists as he stared at his brother. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

Jin laughed coldly, “Death wish? If only it was that simple, I was clouded by grief and anger. When mom died all the anger and sorrow I had buried from our father’s death came back to me. I couldn’t think straight. When I heard you on that damn airplane, everything rushed at me about how stupid I was being.”

“I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I wasn’t there,” Jungkook muttered, shuttering at the thought.

“So, dear brother, where does that leave us now?” Jin drawled, raising his hands behind his head, ignoring the cast as he leaned back into them. “Are you going to let me rot away in this cell while you play house with your boyfriend. The only family you have left in the world, abandoned for a man you’ve probably only been with for a month at most.”

Jungkook leaned back from the bars, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you yet, but unlike you, I won’t be forgetting your existence while living my life. For now enjoy the sounds of groaning men around you, I’ll make sure to tell Namjoon to leave you in peace, for the time being. See you later, Jin-hyung.”

“Now wait a minute! What do you mean by that?! Jungkook! Jungkook-ah!” Jin called after him, pressing his face against the bars as Jungkook backed away.

Jungkook kept his pace steady as he walked away from his brother’s yells and he joined Namjoon’s side once again. Unaware of the cold, dark eyes following his path as he left the lines of jail cells.

Jungkook shook his head when Namjoon started opening his mouth and pleaded with his eyes for them to go back upstairs. Namjoon nodded in understanding, grabbed his hand, and led him back through the passageways. He pulled the lever to shut the hidden door behind them, before pulling him up to his private office.

Namjoon sat on the couch and watched as Jungkook paced back and forth scrubbing his face with his hands. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No,” Jungkook whimpered, dropping his hands from his face. “My whole life has turned upside down and I don’t even know who I am anymore. Everything about my family has been a lie. I could deal with my father being in a gang, that makes a hell more sense then the bullshit Jin-hyung told me. I could deal with Jin-hyung being in a gang, because he honestly seemed like the type anyway. But my mom… and her being the reason my dad died. And it being an uncle I’ve never met to have done it, that’s… that’s a lot Namjoon. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Namjoon caught Jungkook’s arm as he passed him again and gently pulled him down to sit on the couch, running a soothing hand through his hair. “I don’t know baby, I really don’t know.”

Jungkook sighed and leaned his head against Namjoon’s shoulder, “Any family secrets of yours that you can share to make me feel better?”

Namjoon chuckled as he wrapped his arm around Jungkook’s back, “Despite what you may think, my life hasn’t been all that dramatic with family problems. The only piece of drama we have is that Hobi is my adoptive brother.”

“What? Really?” Jungkook gasped, lifting his head to look at Namjoon’s nodding head.

“My father found him abandoned in a rival company’s warehouse. My mother had me shortly after he was brought home, she raised us together as brothers. I never knew he wasn’t my actual biological brother until the discussions of leadership in the company came up. I assumed Hobi would take the role as the eldest and was shocked to find out he wasn’t blood related. While my parents love him as a son, he has no claim to the leader role. It’s fortunate that Hobi had no aspirations to lead the company, so we never fought over the claim.”

“How very fortunate indeed,” Jungkook sighed. “And here I am with a mountain of emotionally traumatizing family members. I’m a super villain in the making.”

Namjoon chuckled deeply at Jungkook’s dramatics, before sobering up. “You know that you’re family doesn’t define you, right? Their past, their choices, aren’t a reflection on you. And I may not have known your mother, but I knew your father, he was a good man. He taught me everything I know, he gave me the wisdom to take a step back and think before moving to action. I see a lot of him in you actually.”

Jungkook pulled his head away from Namjoon’s shoulder to give him an incredulous look, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, Namjoon, that my boyfriend sees his father in him. Best thing I’ve heard all day, really.” He snarked, making Namjoon groan in agony.

“You know what I mean,” Namjoon whined, throwing his head back to hit the back of the couch. “You have his passion, his drive, his good nature, and his patience. You got being a little shit all on your own!”

Jungkook giggled at Namjoon’s snark, snuggling back into his arms, tucking his feet underneath him on the couch. They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts as they enjoyed each other’s presence.

“I talked to Yoongi-hyung this morning,” Jungkook muttered, getting a hum from Namjoon in acknowledgement. “He’s insisting that the vacant apartment is mine now, won’t take any money from me for it. Also told me not to worry about moving my stuff in there from my old place, ‘hyung will do it’ he told me and just walked off. So, I guess I’m moving there now.”

“So, that’s where he ran off to,” Namjoon mused, his fingers dancing across Jungkook’s tattooed arm across his chest.

“How’s your own moving process going?” Jungkook asks, playing with one of the buttons on Namjoon’s black dress shirt.

“We’re basically ready to be there by tomorrow, the cleaning crew will be done by tonight and the preparations for moving Seokjin will be finished in the morning.” Namjoon answered, glancing at his watch to check the time. He sighed, “And now I have a meeting to attend with the Enhyphan Gang, Yoongi-hyung will have my head if I’m late.”

Jungkook whined as Namjoon untangled himself from him, placing a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room. He sighed in the empty room as he got more comfortable on the couch, his thoughts wandering back to everything that Jin had told him. Jungkook couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea of his entire family having been in the mafia, in some shape or form, then just lied to him about it.

A knock at the door, broke his circle of thought. He titled his head to see Hobi poke his head inside.

“Namjoon is in a meeting with Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook answered Hobi’s confused face.

“Ah,” he nodded and stepped into the room. “What are you still doing in here then, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook shrugged as Hobi picked his feet up, sat down, and dropped them onto his lap. “Just didn’t feel like moving anywhere at the moment.”

Hobi nodded, massaging his ankles with his warm hands as he looked at him, “Do you wanna talk about it? Hyung can help.”

“I really wish you could, hyung.” Jungkook sighed, sniffing lightly.

“Aw Kookie, talk to me please,” Hobi whispered, taking one of his hands into his. “It might help to just talk about it with someone else, I know Joonie probably talked to you. But sometimes you need a friend’s ear.”

Jungkook nodded and took a deep breath before telling him everything that his brother had told him. Detailing all of the lies that Jin had given him his whole life.

Hobi whistled lowly, “Fuck, that’s a lot to be unloaded on you. Did Namjoon say anything that helped?”

Jungkook sighed, “He said that my family’s past doesn’t define me, that I didn’t make the decisions that they did. So, their past mistakes aren’t a reflection on me.”

“He’s right, you know,” Hobi agreed, squeezing Jungkook’s hand. “Your family may have played a part in bringing you into this world and shaping your early years, but you’re a grown man now. The decisions you make now have nothing to do with them. They may have given you morals and guidance, but you ultimately choose to follow them or not. Unfortunately you can’t change the past, so don’t let it stop you from enjoying your present and creating your future.”

“When did you get so wise, hyung?” Jungkook teased, laughing when Hobi smacked his ankle on his lap. “But thank you hyung, that helped. I’m still upset about what they did, but I’ll try not to let it get to me too much.”

Hobi patted his ankle, “Atta boy, you can be upset about it but don’t let it ruin everything. They don’t deserve that kind of power over your life.”

Jungkook nodded feeling much more relaxed after his hyung’s words. “I think Namjoon is worried about how well I’m taking all of this. He won’t say so but I think he’s worried that it’ll hit me one day and I’ll just up and run.”

Hobi snorted through a laugh, “I’ve known you for about two years now, Kookie, I know how tough you are. Joonie has nothing to be worried about there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hobi looked at him for a moment before sighing heavily, “I’m sorry to add to your list of people that’ve lied to you, but I’ve known that you were Jin’s brother since I met you.”

Jungkook stares at him in shock, “What?”

“Jin didn’t tell me your name,” Hobi says, looking away from Jungkook’s hurt face. “He only said he had a younger brother. I knew he was trying to protect you from this life, so I kept it a secret. Even from Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung. When you walked in the door of my dance studio for the first time, I knew right away you were Jin’s younger brother. That purple heart pin that you always wear told me. Jin showed it to me and told me to look out for you, if you were ever to show up on our doorstep. ”

“Why didn’t you tell me hyung? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Jungkook whispers, his eyes pleading for Hobi to explain.

“Because I made a promise,” Hobi whispered, squeezing Jungkook’s hand and looking over at him tearily. “I made a promise to Jin to protect you and to not tell you the truth. I thought Jin would tell you himself and he made me promise never to ever tell you. I’m sorry that I lied to you Jungkook-ah, but I’m a man of my word, I couldn’t break that promise.”

Jungkook nods slowly, wiping the stray tears off of his face. “I understand hyung. I don’t like it but I can’t change the past now.”

Hobi huffed a quiet laugh, “You are always so understanding, Jungkook-ah. You have no idea how rare that is to find in people.”

Jungkook shrugged, “You know my past hyung, what’s the point of not hearing people out when they want to be honest with you. I don’t want to be vengeful when I don’t know if you had a good reason for not telling me.”

“That’s very wise of you Jungkook-ah, I hope Jin will come around. I know how much you’ve missed having your big brother with you.” Hobi says softly, tightening his hold on Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook swallows thickly as Hobi’s kind eyes look down at him, “Do you think he’ll ever understand how hard it was for me? It was like one day I didn’t have him anymore, just one day and I was all alone.”

“He will,” Hobi whispered, pulling Jungkook up to hold him against his chest. “When he calms down a bit, you’ll be able to talk to him. You’ll be able to explain everything to him, it’ll knock some sense into his thick skull.”

Jungkook chuckled as he clutched Hobi’s shoulders and laid his head down into the crook of his neck, sniffing lightly as the man’s vanilla body wash.

“Can I say something else I’ve wanted to talk to you about. About Namjoon.” Hobi says after a moment, rocking Jungkook gently in his arms.

Jungkook hums in agreement as he snuggles into Hobi’s chest. Taehyung and Yoongi liked to do this with him when they had a hard talk with him, Jungkook never felt more loved then when he was in one of his hyung’s arms.

“I just want to say to be careful with him.” Hobi whispers, tightening his arms around Jungkook. “He’s my little brother and he’s more innocent than you’d think. The expectations our father put on him made him grow up so fast. Despite how he acts sometimes, even being our Leader, he’s not the eldest. I know you two will become good for each other, but I just want you to know to be careful with him.”

“I will hyung,” Jungkook swore solemnly. “I’d never purposefully hurt him, it would hurt me too if I did.”

“I know,” Hobi chuckled, peering down at him with a sly look. “The pair of you are such tender hearts, you’ll probably burst into tears in the middle of an argument and forget why you were even mad in the first place.”

Jungkook wanted so badly to retort but he had nothing, because he knew it was true. He rolled his eyes at Hobi’s delighted cackle when he didn’t respond to the jab.

“Come on, that’s enough hard talk,” Hobi said, patting Jungkook’s shoulder and setting him down to stand. “Let’s go blow off some steam.”

“Where are you taking me?” Jungkook asked, letting Hobi pull him out of the office and down the long corridor of doors.

“One thing I’m going to miss about this house, after we leave, is this.” Hobi explained, throwing a random door open and flicking the light on. Jungkook blinked at the sight of a dance studio with its pale wooden floors, dark paneled walls, and a large mirror facing the doorway.

Hobi skipped over to the stereo at the far left side of the room and plugged his phone into it.

“Any requests?” He asked, scrolling through his playlists.

Jungkook hummed in thought as he came over to his hyung’s side, pulling Namjoon’s t-shirt off as he went and folding it onto a small table next to the stereo.

“I don’t want to get it all sweaty.” He explained to Hobi’s side eye, as he tightened the drawstrings on his sweatpants. “I really enjoy the choreography from my song, do you think the two of us could do it?”

Hobi laughed, “Let me call Jiminie while we warm up, the three of us can make it work.”

Jimin joined their warm up stretches as soon as he entered the room, kicking his shoes off to the side and wiggling his eyebrows at Jungkook’s bare chest. Hobi walked them through the steps with Jimin until they got their flow together.

Jimin picked up on the choreo easily and Jungkook felt the troubles of his day melt away as he focused on the movements of his body and feet. His song blasted through the room on repeat as they rehearsed the steps. He couldn’t help but sing along as they danced about the room.

After a few runs of his song, Jimin insisted that they just mess around with random music blasting through the speakers. Yoongi passed by the studio door to find them break dancing across the floor and challenging each other to do various dance moves with rap songs blasting through the room.

“You boys having fun?” He asked, after turning the music down to a reasonable level as he looked down at the panting bodies on the floor. He chuckled when he got weak thumbs up in reply, “Tae ordered some take-out for dinner, come downstairs and eat.”

That got them all off their feet instantly and scrambling down the stairs with Yoongi following slowly behind, chuckling under his breath as he turned the stereo and lights off.

[arecaceae175]

I can help with this! Disclaimer I have two fully functional hands so if these do not work plz correct me! :D I've worked in a physical therapy office, I have a pretty solid base of anatomy knowledge, and I'm also disabled so I love to find accessible ways to do things!

This also applies to anyone who regularly writes or draws or types or anything like that!!! Everyone should do these stretches to keep your wrist happy and healthy!!!

ALSO TW I talk about a little bit about muscles and muscle attachments in this post so if you don't like body stuff or medical stuff just look at the pictures.

These are all based on the wrist stretches I do, just modified to work with only one hand. In these photos I'll be stretching my right hand. If you need to stretch your left hand and these are confusing I can redo the pics! It would not be a problem. And if anything is unclear please ask questions!!

Stretch #1! My palm is facing away from my body and my fingers are pointing toward the floor. I pull my fingers toward my body. This stretches the muscles of your inner arm that attach in your wrist on the palm-of-your-hand side.

To modify this stretch, you can put the palm of your hand against a wall with your fingers pointed towards the floor. Keep your elbow as straight as it can go. Do this either standing or kneeling and position your shoulder so that your arm is straight and level. If you need more of a stretch, lower your shoulder/arm while keeping your arm straight. This is kind of a complicated motion to do if you don't have full range of motion in your elbow or arm. Stretch #2 is easier and focuses on the same muscles if this one doesn't work for you.

Stretch #2! This is very similar to the first stretch. It actually stretches the same muscles, but it puts more stretch-pressure on the muscle attachment in your wrist rather than the bigger, meaty part of the muscle in your arm.

My palm is facing away from my body and my fingers are pointed up. I pull my fingers back towards my body. My arm is pointed down bc I was trying to get the picture lol, but if I was actually doing this stretch it would be straight out in front of my level with my shoulder.

The modification again uses a wall. Put your palm on the wall with your fingers pointing up. Keep your elbow as straight as it can go. Start off with your arm level with your shoulder, then move your shoulder up, while keeping your hand as flat against the wall as it can go, until you feel a stretch.

I found this one to be easier to do kneeling so I could move my shoulder up. ALSO, when I say move your shoulder up, I mean the core of your body. Don't move just one shoulder, that'll put pressure on the shoulder. Does that make sense?

Stretch #3! My palm is facing my body and my fingers are pointing towards the floor. I pull the back of my hand (I pull on the hand for this one, not the fingers) towards my body. This stretches the big muscles in the top of your arm and their attachments in the back-of-your-hand side of your wrist.

For the modification place the back of your hand against a wall with your fingers pointing down. Keep your elbow as straight as it can go and start off with your wrist at shoulder-height and your arm level with your shoulder. You can move your shoulder/body down to feel more of a stretch.

Stretch #4! Next we stretch your fingers! All the muscles in your fingers, hands, and lower arms are connected to your wrist so stretching all of them will help your wrist feel better. First the thumb! My fingers are curled in but not tightly, they're resting in that position. I put my thumb against one side of a corner of the wall, then I push my hand in the direction of my other fingers. Not very hard, though, you won't need much to feel the stretch here. Be gentle.

Next the other fingers! I find this one easier without curling my other fingers at all so I just let them dangle. I put my index finger on one side of a corner wall then push my hand in the direction of my other fingers. Once again, be very gentle with this stretch and move slowly. The fingers don't need much movement to feel a stretch.

Repeat with the rest of your fingers!

Stretch #5! This one is a dynamic stretch, so you'll be actively moving from the position in the first picture to the position in the second picture and back and forth. For the first position, point your wrist down, curl your fingers, and touch your thumb to the tip of your index finger.

Then, uncurl your wrist and your fingers and keep your hand moving up until your palm is facing out and your fingers are pointed up.

Go back and forth between these motions for like 20 repetitions at a time (count whenever your wrist is in the first position). This is a good dynamic stretch, a good range of motion exercise, and a good strengthening exercise!!

Does this one make sense? I could record a video if this isn't clear.

Stretch #6! This one is more of a strengthening exercise. I'm using a can of chickpeas in this example. The thing you hold doesn't really matter, as long as you're able to hold it and you can maneuver your wrist while holding it. Use something with a comfortable weight. This shouldn't be too hard to do so don't make the object too heavy, and the motion is more important than the wright of the object you're holding.

You basically just twist your wrist back and forth while holding the can. The weight of the can will be a good exercise for your wrist. It's also a good exercise if you're a writer because the position your fingers are in while holding the can kind of mimics they position they're in while typing on a keyboard, so it's good training for your wrist to do things while your fingers are in that position.

If you keep your arm held out in front of you and straight, it'll be more of an intense exercise. Do not lock your elbow, though, that's important. If it's too difficult to hold your arm out while doing this or the can is too heavy, you can pull your arm closer to your body so that only your lower arm is pointing out. Also, if the can is too heavy, you can support your arm on a desk or a table and only leave your hand/wrist hanging off the edge. As long as your wrist is moving, the exercise will be helping you.

Start with the can facing away from you and held above your arm. The top of the can will be facing to your left (or to your right if you're using your left hand).

Then, twist your wrist to your right (if you're doing this with your left hand, twist your hand to the left) while keeping your elbow and everything above your elbow in the same position. Twist until the back of your hand is facing the ground and the top of the can is pointing away from you and at an angle towards the ground.

I can also record a video for this one if that doesn't make sense.

These should help your wrists feel better. Also, if there are any other stretches you want to be able to do, shoot them my way and I can try to figure out a modified stretch that will target the same muscles. That kind of thing is really fun for me XD. That applies to anyone reading this!!!! I have a lot of connections within the physical therapy world and the disability community, so if I don't know the answer to a question you have I will almost certainly be able to find the answer or at least point you in the direction of a helpful recourse!

I hope this is helpful!!! <333

Long shot, but does anyone know some wrist stretches that don't require another hand to do? I've only got the one (fully functional) hand and the poor thing is constantly overworked.

(If you don't know any stretches / exercises yourself but might have mutuals who do, could you please reblog this so it can reach them? I'd really appreciate it. 🙂)