#backpack brush cutter

[machinesguide]

What Are The Advantages of using a brush cutter?

A brush cutter can cut through thick vegetation and up to 4 inches of a tree trunk.

The different blade attachments allow you to tackle different vegetation types efficiently.

As long as the equipment receives proper care and maintenance, it will last a long time.

A bladed agriculture grass-cutting machine is the choice of a bush-cutting machine to take care of dense bushes that even a new grass cutter may be unable to handle.

With this device, hard-to-reach locations can be easily accessed.

The anti-vibration feature reduces operation fatigue.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sharks IV

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to Netherlands Camp

"Okay," Mummy says," You be good, okay?"

She adjusts your shark backpack on your back, closing her eyes briefly when she hands you your Goblin and Cookie Cutter. She smiles at you, running a hand over your cheek.

"Are you sure you want to go with Mama? You won't see Peanut if you go with Mama."

You think for a moment. Lucy and Keira's Peanut is your friend and you rarely see her because she lives in Spain with her mummies now. You haven't seen her at camp either because Mummy's had her big knee ouchy and hasn't gone.

But Mama said that you were welcome to come with her to the Netherlands camp so that's what you're doing.

"Can see Peanut later," You tell Mummy and she brushes your hair out of your face and kneels down to lace up your shoes.

"Okay," She says," Do everything Mama tells you. Be nice. Use your manners. We'll have a chat every night before you go to bed. Sound good?"

You nod.

"Hey...I love you."

"Love you too, Mummy!" You give her a nice tight hug before you join Mama at the taxi.

The flight from London to the Netherlands is fairly short and you have to get into another taxi to take you to the training grounds.

You stay in Mama's arms the entire way to your new room but still manage to wave at the social media people when they film you and Mama's arrival.

Netherlands Camp isn't too different to England Camp except Peanut isn't here. That's nice though. Sometimes Peanut is a bit too loud and excitable for you even though she's your bestest friend.

You sit with Mama in her room and play with your sharks. You weren't allowed to bring all of them with you (which is sad because you think a few of them will be lonely all at home by themselves) but you got your most favourite.

Goblin and Cookie Cutter sit up by your pillows as you take your little plastic figures on a trip around Mama's bed.

"It's a...a..." You think for a moment. "An ecosystem!"

"That's a big word," Mama says.

"It's a group of animals working together so they can all live in the same place," You explain as you make your clownfish hide in the sheets to escape one of your sharks.

"You're very smart," Mama replies and your face goes a little red at the praise.

It stays that way until there's a knock at the door. Mama gets up to open it and you distract yourself by making your swordfish eat your squid.

"Well," A familiar voice says," It's nice to see somethings never change."

You whip your head around and drop your toys. "Daan!" You run into her outstretched arms. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" Daan says, swinging you up and spinning around.

You giggle hysterically. "Mama! Look! It's Daan!"

Mama's got a bit of a weird look on her face but she puts on a smile for you and nods. "I can see that."

"Daan! Daan! Look! My sharks!" You pull Daan over to the bed to show her all the new toys you've got since she's been away.

Viv watches as you do so, suddenly struck dumb at the familiarity you greet Daan. She knows (of course she does) that Beth and Daan used to date. She knows that you had some form of a relationship with Daan.

She just never really expected to see it.

You knew your way around Daan, sitting on her lap and explaining happily what was happening in your little ecosystem. You lean into her body and let her scratch at your scalp as you introduce her to your Goblin and Cookie Cutter.

"Mama got them for me!" You say to Daan and it jolts Viv out of her thoughts, a small smile appearing on her face as you turn to look back at her.

"Really?" Daan asks," That's so cool! I'm glad that you still like sharks." She pokes at your belly. "I remember the first shark I got you."

The smile drops from Viv's face. In all honesty, she hadn't ever thought about how you got interested in sharks in the first place. She hadn't ever wondered who got you your first shark toy.

But, somehow, it being Daan left a bad taste in her mouth.

Viv knows that she shouldn't feel that way but she can't help it, like how she can't help but feel a little anger bubble in her gut at the way you so easily fall back into Daan like she had never left.

The feeling persists throughout the day as you stick to Daan like glue, peering up at her with big eyes and a wide smile. You go everywhere with her and insist on eating with her at dinner.

When Viv gets you back, she can't help but hold your hand tight. She has you wave goodbye to Daan and, after your bedtime call with Beth, she sits on your bed with you.

"I missed Daan," You say as her fingers stroke through your hair.

The feeling is back in Viv's stomach as you continue to talk about Daan, about what you missed about her, about how she used to play sharks with you in the bath, about how she used to tuck you into bed and give you kisses on your cheek, forehead and nose before you went to sleep.

"You must have missed her a lot, huh?" Viv asks even though the question tastes sour in her mouth.

Her words make you furrow your brow, like you're stumped about what she said. After a few seconds, you speak," Only when I saw her. Don't really miss her when I can't see her." Your frown gets a bit deeper. "'Cause I've got you and Mummy and my sharks. I don't need Daan because I'm not so little anymore."

Viv smothers her vindictive smile as she kisses both of your cheeks and tucks your blankets up all the way to your chin. You move your toys towards her and Viv kisses your Cookie Cutter and then your Goblin.

When you wake up the next day and Mama finishes her Netherlands training, she takes you to the pool with Vic. It's empty apart from the three of you and Mama helps you change into your swimming costume.

"It's like a shark!" You say excitedly as Mama takes a pool float out of her bag. "It's a dorsal fin!" You turn to explain to Vic. "That's the big fin that sticks up like in movies."

You clap as Mama slips your arms through the straps and tightens them.

"I've got a fin!" You tell Vic, in case she hasn't realised as she slips into the pool.

"That's so cool," Vic says as Mama lowers you into her arms before getting in herself.

"Dorsal fins help the sharks not to roll over when they're swimming," You say because Mummy read that in your bedtime book with you before you left for Netherlands Camp," And they help sharks swim straight!"

"Well," Mama says," Let's hope that it does the same for you. Do you remember what we talked about?"

You think for a moment. "Hands like ice cream scoops! And...And kick my legs hard...and! And turn my head to breath!"

"Very good!" Mama praises," Now I'm going to swim behind you and Vic's going to be up front, okay?"

You nod. "Okay!"

You take a big deep breath and start paddling. You like swimming. Mummy takes you to the pool lots but only when you wear your armbands. Mama says that you're a bit too old for little kiddy armbands now so she was going to teach you the proper way.

You were happy to throw away your dolphin armbands because you don't really like dolphins anyway. You think they're a lot meaner than sharks so you had a little dance party with Mummy and Mama when they got thrown into the pin.

Your armbands being thrown away meant that you got your new shark fin floaty.

"Woo!" Vic cheers as you swim the long length with only a little stopping," Look at you!"

"Mama!" You turn in Vic's arms to look at Mama," Did you see? Did you see? I swam without my armbands!"

"You did!" Mama takes you from Vic. "You did so good! You'll have to keep practising though."

"I will!" You promise, giggling a little when Mama presses ticklish kisses to your cheeks. You turn to look at Vic as she paddles around you. "Mama and Mummy say that if I eat my vegetables and learn to swim really good then one day, when I'm older, I can swim with sharks!"

"That's a long way away," Mama reminds you," Now, how about we do a few more laps and then we can tell Mummy all about it on your bedtime call later?"

You beam. "Okay!"

[little-de-vil]

hello again! do you mind going more in depth about the cutters and keepers (and the ideological divide between them)? you’ve already mentioned that propaganda has affected the keepers more- is that a purposeful thing done by the captiol? or something perpetuated by the keeper community themselves? a mix of both?

Hello, dear! I'm going to write this with as much neutrality as possible because the lore I have created is long and extensive and I don't want that clouding this response.

I want to stick to as close to the canon as possible and my interpretation of the canon without having what I created leech through [especially since it tends to get jumbled in my head].

Get ready for another long one, Backpacks!

I have always believed that post-Dark Days there has to be that separation between trade and industry, especially in a district that then has two principle industries. Prior to the Dark Days, there was much more community between the trades-folk of 2, everything was very unified and friendly to an extent, which is why Katniss mentioning the first rebellion and the Victor tributes holding has as a sign of unity between the districts mirrors that community and solidarity (CF, 258).

But war changes things in unbelievable ways. There were those who remained loyal to the Capitol of course, by way of taking their names that have Greco-Roman origins (Strabo, Sejanus, Cato, Brutus, Enobaria), and then there were those who remained loyal to their people and their trade, who saw the military industry as a disruption to their work and community and traditions. They were more aware of their slavery once the military entered their lands and held a stronger Capitol favor.

Gale had a point when he said: "It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided amongst ourselves." (THG, 14)

District 2 is one know for its strength in not just its manufactured, propagandized kind, but prior to that when it was full of stonecutters, mountain-miners, blacksmiths, etc. and that strength is just as strong if not stronger after the Dark Days among the trades-folk. Where before there was a healthy delineation between the natural trades of the district, after the first rebellion that bond grew stronger and closer among the working-class because of the military invasion. There was less care put towards whether people mingled between a hewer or layer mason (historically hewer masons [those who cut the stone] was a far more contentious and lucrative job than a layer mason [those who set the stone]) and more of an effort to maintain their community as trades-folk in the face of an oppressive military who wanted nothing to do with them.

So the clear divide between the two industries was done by the Cutters in an effort to steer clear of both becoming a part of the propaganda (in both industry and Games-realted) and siding with the new invaders. There was a high likelihood of ostracization among the Cutter community to those who became Peacekeepers once it was exclusive to 2—prior to the first rebellion, I think it was seen more like how Plutarch had explained it "[as] a way for their people to escape poverty and a life in the quarries. They're raised with a warrior mind-set." (MJ, 83). I do see that last sentence as being more appropriate post-Dark Days, but that's neither here nor there.

As for the Keepers, they are an oppressive, invading force that were not welcomed by the natives of 2 at large, but they are also amazing at brushing that off if it meant more of a chance of wealth and success within the district (and within the Games too, of course). They knew that they were in better favor with the Capitol compared to the Cutters after the Dark Days and more so because they saw themselves as better than the Cutters, still District and not Capitol, but at least they weren't Cutters. And those who came from the Capitol to be stationed in 2? Well, they were all kinds of high and mighty! But as I said in a tik tok breaking down District 2 and my love for it: "the loyalty of District 2 has always been in something that has been Capitol made." (1:42-149).

In regards to the propaganda having more of an affect with the Keepers, I believe it is a mix of both and it has to be. The superiority complex of the Keepers (as in: those born and bred for it, not Cutters who join) comes from sustaining the Capitols favor but it is because of that propaganda that is so deeply imbedded into the district. Once they came into the picture as the new Capitol favorite, they didn't flaunt it so much as usurp it once various military installations came about, like The Nut, that did away with various Cutter work. Maintaining that "warrior mind-set" works with children who saw that as a thing of pride and not a thing to do out of poverty and upper class mobility. I still am having difficulty distinguishing both a timeline and an explanation for how the propaganda becomes successful within the Cutter community because I simply can't see it as A Thing™ without an intense feeling of betrayal to both your heritage and your people*, but again, that's a question for another day.

By Panem, I hope I answered this well! I feel like I kinda dropped the ball on the Keeper bit, but then again, I'm in the minority & don't give them much thought compared to everyone else.

*Please ask me if you want me to talk about Lyme in regards to that sentence because OH BOY IS THIS ALL ABOUT HER!

Also I almost started this with an excerpt from my silly OC fanfic but a ficlet of a scene, only to realize that my open statement completely contradicts that! Anyway, here it is at the end so you can't say I didn't do it in the actual answering of this ask!

Because if the years of watching District 2 pairs reach victory has taught her anything, it’s that those from 2 are loyal to their community. Of masonry or military. And that it’s the worst part of watching The Games in District 2, how much the animosity grows amongst the crowd at even the slightest difference in trade or birthplace is put to question the chance of triumph as one tribute falls.  But is the answer so simple? A mere difference in industry? In home? The Cutters: hewer and layer masons, quarry-folk, stone and crystal miners, blacksmiths. The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general—, cadets in schools, Peacekeepers stationed throughout the country never to return for 20 years, the hundreds working in The Peak*. The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, intrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors.  No, nothing as simple as that. Their mutual destruction is not an echo of past rivalries, but of present vows.

*What I think the natives of 2 call The Nut since that name came about by the 13 rebels, not the natives

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 22 of 30

2692 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she'd been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

Everyone else has already started their days by the time you can be bothered to crawl from your bed. You open your curtains to find the world has become a glistening white wonderland as snow continues to fall heavily from the sky.

The cold creeps into the house through the window panes, the old joints not capable of handling the severe weather change. You rush to shut the heavy curtains again to keep the chill at bay, even with your fox DNA the cold easily found a home in your bones making you shiver even at the thought of going outside. 

You pull on a hoodie that one of the boys must've left behind (Jungkook based on the smell) and shuffle from the room in search of a warm drink to banish away the winter. 

You find Yoongi sitting in front of the patio door with a blanket around his shoulders and a coffee in his hands watching the snowfall. He looks remarkably cosy for a breed that should despise the cold. You help yourself to a steaming cup of whatever he has made in the teapot and grab a pillow. 

You drop the pillow next to him with a thump, startling him, and make yourself comfortable beside him. He recovers quickly and slides half of his blankets over your shoulders before you have a chance to freeze. 

"Good morning," He mumbles groggily into his mug.

"Morning,"

"Did you sleep okay? There can't have been much room with all of you on that futon."

"My necks a bit sore but not too bad." You shrug.

He nods in understanding and turns his attention back to the snow. He watches it with such wonder that you can't help studying his features. His canines poke through his half smile as his eyes go wide each time a particularly big snowflake comes towards the window. 

It takes him a moment to realise you are watching him instead of the view. When he does his ears turn red and his nose buries deep inside of his mug, suddenly very shy, it's an endearing side to him you aren't sure you've seen before. 

"I'm only sitting here while I think about whether it's worth running to the studio in this weather." He states as if he needs an explanation. 

"And? Have you decided?"

"I think it'll be too cold, I'm not good at cold. But I really wanted to work on some stuff while Hobi is at his karaoke job today, to surprise him."

"Ah so that's where he is, i thought it was quiet." You joke, nudging against Yoongi's shoulder.

He chuckles and nudges you back.

"Yeah everyone is out. Jimin took Tae to the shelter, and I believe Namjoon took Jungkookie to Jin's place for a lunch date."

"So it's just us then?".

He nods in confirmation. 

"Then maybe we should do something just the two of us?" You suggest.

"As long as it's inside." He agrees, glancing at the snow with trepidation more than wonder this time. 

You settle on baking, finding the correct ingredients to make cookies. You cream the butter and sugar as Yoongi searches through the drawers for cookie cutters for you to use. He comes back with a selection of odd animal shapes and hands four to you, keeping four to himself. He brushes up against your back as he moves through the kitchen causing you to lose focus as you pour the flour in, creating a cloud of white powder to spurt up to your face. 

You wipe at the flour on your nose, crossing your eyes to try and see where needs to be wiped. Yoongi can't help himself as he giggles before reaching out to help you remove the mess. He uses a damp dish towel to get as much flour as he can. He hovers an inch from your face and studies your features closely. The temptation proves a little too much as you tip forward and peck the tip of his nose, earning yourself another endearing chuckle. 

He leans back and kisses your nose in return, then your cheeks, and then your forehead, and just when you think he is going to kiss you properly he shuffles away. He directs his attention back to looking for a rolling pin and you go back to kneading the dough together. 

Just as you push the dough flat onto the countertop, his arms circle around your waist, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

"Is this okay?" He asks, snuggling in.

"Sure." You nod.

His hands disappear from your waist, but his back stays pressed against yours as he brings the rolling pin around. You take it from him and begin to roll out the dough. His hands cover yours and you awkwardly begin to roll out the dough together.

Some parts end up being much thicker than others as you roll unevenly together, but neither of you wants to let go of the other's hands, so you settle for it until you are ready to cut the shapes.

You place each character carefully and Yoongi presses down, cutting them out and transferring each adorable shape onto a baking sheet. 

Once the cookies are in the oven, you notice Yoongi staring down at his slippers.

You watch him curiously as his feet shuffle back and forth awkwardly. It reminded you a lot of the coming-of-age movies where a boy was about to ask his crush to prom. It was so opposite to what you had come to expect from Yoongi, the usually outgoing and more forward member of the group.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, moving closer to him. 

"Yeah, I just know that everyone has been a bit full-on with you lately, I don't want you to be overwhelmed." he shrugs.

"Is that all?" You ask, dubious. 

"No... I mean it's a lot of it. I don't want to scare you away and have you suggesting you move out again... But I also have never been the best at being the pursuer... I've always been pursued, the only time I'm ever really really forward is when I'm being more of a wingman, like when I dragged Jimin to live here or took you out to tell you about the others and I just..." he looks as if he might ramble on for some time if you don't interject.

"Would it make you feel better if I pursued you?" you say, feeling suddenly bold. 

He looks up at you properly, a little shocked at the suggestion. You take that opportunity to close the gap between the two of you. You kiss him gently, not exactly comfortable with being an instigator yourself. 

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He backs you into the counter, grinding himself against you as he tries to find a way to get closer to you, naturally deepening the kiss as he presses forward. 

Eventually, he breaks the kiss to breathe, leaning his forehead against yours. His smile is all teeth as he pants softly trying to get his breath back. 

"Your lips are so soft," He comments, before diving back into peck your lips again.

He litters little kisses on your mouth, revelling in the feeling of you against him. 

"I've never kissed a girl before... I was really missing out." 

He dips in for another deep kiss, this time his hands begin to roam feeling over your curves as they explore. He pushes up Jungkook's hoodie and digs his fingers into your bare skin. Just as it feels he is about to take his touching a step further, the front door slams open.

Namjoon looks murderous as he carries a clinging Jungkook over the threshold. You and Yoongi jump apart like naughty children caught with your hands in the cookie jar. 

"What happened babe? I thought you were only going to Jin's?" Yoongi asks, making his way over to the pair in the doorway.

The jackal takes the shaking rabbit into his arms, allowing Namjoon to shirk off his shoes and jacket. 

"That nosey little doctor, inserting himself into things that don't concern him." He huffs. 

Jungkook whimpers at Namjoon's loud voice and instant regret appears on Namjoon's face. He reaches out to pet the bunny's ears, but Jungkook just burrows further into Yoongi.

You take Namjoon's hand and lead him into the living room, forcing him to sit down and calm down. Yoongi follows behind sitting in the armchair with Jungkook curled on his lap. 

"How did Jin make you this mad?" You ask, perching on the edge of the sofa next to him.

"He had the audacity to tell me I didn't know what was best for Jungkook. He implied we were harming him somehow. I can't believe he would dare accuse us of not looking after our baby." The bear growls.

You and Yoongi share a look across the room, a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Jin? He doesn't seem the judgemental type... How did that even get brought up in conversation." Yoongi asks.

Namjoon sighs dramatically and starts from the beginning

______________

They pulled into the doctor's apartment complex just after 11 a.m. Jungkook was bouncing his leg nervously at the prospect of going somewhere unfamiliar, but Namjoon had kept a reassuring hand on his leg the entire time, constantly reminding him that he would be happy to go home with him and have someone else drop him off later if that's what Jungkook needed. But the younger man refused, too set on seeing Jin again. 

After parking, Namjoon opened Jungkook's door and held his hand tightly, keeping him close all the way to Jin's front door. 

The doctor opened the door quickly with a wide smile on his face like he had been standing in the hall waiting for them to knock. He eyed how tightly the pair were holding hands but said nothing, moving out of the way to let them into his apartment.

Namjoon leans in and kisses Jin on the cheek as he walks past, causing the older man to blush and stutter a little.

"Make yourself at home in the living room," he said, gesturing to a door on the left. "Can I get you both a drink?"

"We will just take water please Jin." Namjoon answers for both of them. 

He leads Jungkook into the living room and sits down, Jungkook just naturally falling into his lap. 

Jin comes back with two glasses, handing them over and then making himself comfortable in an overstuffed armchair.

"I'm so glad you could both make it." He grinned "Lunch is in the oven, should be about 20 more minutes." 

"It smells delicious," Namjoon said, and Jungkook nodded in agreement.

"How are you Jungkook? it feels like forever since I've seen you," Jin asks. 

Jungkook shuffled uncomfortably on Namjoon's lap, not yet accustomed enough to the environment to come out of his shell. His want to speak to Jin not able to overcome his anxiety.  He shrugs and hopes it's enough of an answer but Jin just frowned, making Jungkook feel bad that he couldn't make himself speak.

"Is it always like this when you go somewhere new?" The doctor asked, aiming this question more at Namjoon.

"It can be yeah. You've seen him have a panic attack before." Namjoon replied, trying to sweep the topic away. " We should talk more about you though, he will calm down soon. How has work been?" Namjoon petted Jungkook's back as he leaned in to give Jin more attention. 

"Have you ever thought about therapy for Jungkook? or for all of you maybe? Like a family thing? I have a few friends in the field I could get in touch with for you." Jin suggested not letting it drop. 

"He is recovering fine, he is much better now than when we met him a year ago, we don't need the outside help"  Namjoon responded, his voice turning sharp.

Jungkook whined in protest at the shift in Namjoon's behaviour. He didn't want them to fight, especially with him in the middle.

"I didn't mean anything by it Joon." Jin said putting his hands up in surrender. "I just think it'd be good for all of you." 

"And I think you should mind your business." Namjoon retorted.

"I only want to help, I can't help it if I care about you all," Jin defended himself.

"We didn't ask for your help." 

Namjoon pushed Jungkook up and took his hand pulling him to the front door. 

"I think maybe we should do this another day," Namjoons said icily.

"Come on Joon, I really didn't mean anything by it," Jin called after him.

Namjoon either didn't hear him or pretended not to.

"I need to get Jungkook home. We can talk about this later." Namjoon huffed as he exited the apartment. 

_______________________________

"So a doctor showed some concern for Jungkook's condition and you freaked out?" You ask.

Yoongi and Namjoon shoot you venomous glares and you put your hands up.

"Look all I'm saying is Jungkook's situation is... a little concerning, especially as an outsider. I really don't think Jin meant anything by it." You explain.

Namjoon sighs in defeat like he knows you are right, but he isn't willing to admit it. Before either predator gets a chance to say their piece Jungkook perks up from Yoongi's lap and reaches out for you. 

You hold out your arms in a similar fashion and he unfolds from Yoongi's lap to find his way to you, but instead of sitting down in your lap like you expected him to, he pulls you up to him. 

He takes you by the hand a drags you into his bedroom. 

It's the first time he has allowed you into his own space. The walls are covered in posters of different movies he enjoys and there are collectables and action figures littering the shelves. The bed is hung from the ceiling with small sides built up around the edges to prevent the mountain of blankets from spilling out in the night. 

"How do you even fit everyone in this bed with that many blankets?" you ask, but he doesn't respond.

He fireman lifts you over his shoulder making you squeal and then drops you into the centre of his nest, positioning you like you're a part of it. The bed sways as he clambers in. Once his nose is buried in the crook of your neck he finally speaks.

"I wanted to stay at Jin's." He whispers.

"You'll get another chance when Namjoon calms down." You comfort him, drawing circles onto his back.

"I wanted to talk to him, but the words wouldn't come out."

"It's okay, new places are creepy. It'll be okay after another visit or two."

"I want to be better all the time." He whimpers, on the edge of tears.

"Then we can talk about ways to help you when tempers are a little less high." 

You kiss him on the forehead and prepare for him to take another nap on you, but he surprises you. Instead, he rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed. He holds your wrists out to the sides and leans down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is a little salty from where tears had tracked down his face, but sweet nonetheless. He is more eager than the others, his main desire is to please you more than himself.

You chase his mouth as he pulls up, but the way his hands are holding you down makes it difficult to catch him. He giggles at your attempt, his head dipping in and out of your reach as you try to capture his lips again. He laughs hard as he teases you, enjoying it a little too much. Eventually, he slips up, accidentally sending himself off balance and allowing you to roll on top of him instead.

You straddle his hips and his hands land on your thighs. You contemplate teasing him in the same way but find yourself becoming too impatient. Instead, you bend down and kiss him deeply.

Next

Masterlist

Send me asks - doesn't have to be fic related. Can be smutty, thirsty, fluffy, angsty, whatever you're feeling regarding BTS. Can be literally anything doesn't have to be BTS

AN: How mad do you think Tae is going to be when he figures out he is the last kiss? Not including Jin of course... although I could be that mean...

[beigehearts]

This is a random smut post I was thinking about… was debating posting this on my main since I haven’t been on in so long or on my private account… but anyway.

Two heroes unlikely to be friends, find a shared interest that brings them to work closely together. Had you only noticed the signs sooner, you wouldn’t be in this position. Aren’t you supposed to be a great villain?

Yan!Hawks/Reader/Yan!All Might

CW: violence, murder, animal death, blood, PTSD, gore, drugging, stalking, noncon, breeding, double penetration, size kink, knotting, forced pregnancy (mentioned)

The quirk to pull things from thin air, something not many have inherited. But it’s not like you’re magically creating things, you’re simply pulling items from different points in time and space for whenever and whatever you need. You imagine it as your backpack sort of, it took a long time to expand the size of your magical backpack but you managed to turn it almost into an endless void.

“The villain is here!” A cop yells out and is followed by the pounding of armored footsteps. You have about twenty seconds before they reach you. Todays mission? Freeing a high security prisoner for a high price. Why? You don’t know, and you don’t care. You do a job and get paid.

You touch your pointer and thumb together and feel out the timeline to see who has a thumb print for the lock. No typical guards have it but… the warden does. You pull a pair of bolt cutters from your backpack and find the wardens location, which is in the downstairs office. With a quick snip and a yell that you can hear through the floors, you now have the key to the lock.

You pull the thumb from your backpack and press it against the lock, blood and all. It beeps and turns green, and the door opens up. A monster lays in the corner with a collar and shackles, staring up at you with a blood thirsty grin. You toss the thumb to the monster and it gobbles up the flesh in one bite. You pry off the locks with the jaws of life you have in your backpack and lean down low to the furry ear to whisper,

“Go get ‘em’ Fido.”

With no hesitation the monster jumps to attention, and sprints from the dark cell. Men and women scream as they’re mauled and ripped apart limb by limb. Bullets ricochet off of the creatures fur and fires back at the officers, turning the prison into a giant blood bath.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pick it up, “He’s headed your way. Just having a snack first.” You answer with.

There’s a small chuckle on the other side of the phone, “Very well. I’m depositing the other half of your pay into your account now. Exactly fifty million dollars, and fifty cents.”

“Pleasure doing with business with you.” The line clicks and you drop the phone on the ground, standing up and crushing it beneath your boot heel. There can be no evidence.

You lean down once more and grab the SIM card, pulling out a pair of scissors and snipping it up into pieces.

After your long day you headed home to your luxury apartment and your favorite being in the world, your dog. He’s a big Doberman who always greets you at the door and always wants to cuddle. And on cue, you hear him whimpering before you even enter your apartment. The moment you open the door he starts wagging his butt in the air and drooling everywhere. He follows you around the apartment as you decompress and get ready for bed.

He waits outside of the bathroom door as you shower and brush your teeth, watches you obediently as you pour food in his bowl, and lays down next to you once you settle in bed. The same routine you do every single night. You wrap an arm around him after setting your phone on the nightstand and let out a sigh. You know you’ll never get a peaceful sleep with the horrors that replay in your head every time you close your eyes… but at least you know you’ll get a safe sleep with your beloved Doberman, Kevin.

Your eyes shut, and it begins again, the never ending nightmare. Faces that have been torn apart, blown apart, and pounded in stare back at you. All of the people you’ve murdered with your bare hands. Their eyes judge you in a seething way. When you shut your eyes it’s like where ring another labyrinth with more and more of them. Each time they get closer and closer. If you try to hold your eyes open they force themselves shut as if you have no control. Each time their gazes grow closer.

Until finally, one stands face to face with you. He bends his neck down so that he can get a better look, his eyelids have been burned off and no longer shut, making his gaze that much more intense. His hair has been ripped out at the roots and you remember the man you first murdered. The man who killed your baby sister. While looking at his battered remains of a face strikes terror in you, it also reignites the rage you had once felt.

He leans in closer and the stench of blood assaults your senses. It’s so heavy, the smell of so much iron makes you nauseous. No wait… this isn’t a smell you’re imaging. It’s real.

You jolt up in your bed and sweat trickles down your barely clothed body. Glancing down you notice that your tank top and panties are drenched in sweat. But that smell is what’s worse than this feeling of being on fire. Quickly you move to rest a hand on Kevin but your hand meets the comforters instead. Where did he go?

The bedroom door is wide open, and you never leave that door open. In the doorway is Kevin’s chain collar, only visible by the moonlight between the curtains. It’s as if the collar has been placed there purposefully, to taunt you. The smell was so overwhelming you hadn’t realized that its eerily quiet, so much so that you can hear your own heartbeat. You reach for your phone on the nightstand but that doesn’t seem to be in its place either.

Fuck, you’re going to have to go out there. All you can do is find something to protect yourself. You’re a well trained and skilled fighter so why are you so scared right now? You stand from your bed quietly and reach into your backpack, grabbing a pistol with a silencer on it, already loaded. You’d be an idiot if you weren’t prepared while being in the line of work you are.

You hold it straight out, arm slightly bent, finger on the trigger and ready to fire. You approach the door and peek around the corner to look in the hall. No one’s in the hall and all of the bedroom doors are shut. As you tip toe through the hall and out the stairs that overlook your living room, the stench of blood gets stronger.

Taking your first step down the stairs you make sure to disperse your wait as evenly as possible to avoid making noise. But your efforts are futile when your toes step in something thick, wet, and warm. You slip down the stairs and tumble all the way to the bottom until your back collided with the wall and knocks all of the air from your lungs.

Still holding the gun tightly you gasp for air and try to focus your gaze through the haze and dizziness. The back of your head and your entire spine screams in pain but you can’t just lay here. You try to stand up, slipping in the process but managing to get to your feet. Why is there so much of this liquid in the floor? You bring your hand to your face to examine the liquid… why is there so much blood in your home?

You reposition so you can shoot on sight now and walk more carefully. There’s nobody here, and not a single sound to guid you… only a blood trail leading you to the dining room. Turning the corner you see something worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had.

Laying on the table, is Kevin. But you don’t even need to check if he’s alive, because he’s been disemboweled. His intestines trails from his stomach and onto the ground, organs slowly slipping out on a blood trail. What absolute monster would touch your dog? What fucking monster? You’re going to have their head on a pla-

There’s only the sound of a tiny gust of wind from behind you, but you’re far too slow to turn around and face it. Two large arms wrap around you, joined by a pair of large red wings. In less than the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on the couch, held against your assailant. One of your assailants.

Before you can even try to lift your hand with the pistol, the man’s hand grips yours tightly until you hear something crack. But you’d never give the satisfaction of screaming, and instead, drop the gun. It’s not like you don’t have more.

You begin moving your fingers to press your thumb and pointer together but he’s still faster. His large hand grips your thumb, tugging on it loud with a loud popping sound. In less than thirty second he had effectively dislocated the thumb that controls your quirk in its entirety. Not even police had figured that out yet… these assailants have done their research.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when a large shadow envelops you. You look up, feeling your heart pound when you see who has taken part in the ambush of your home. “You are mighty intelligent. I have to give it you.” His voice is deep with a bass that resonates in your chest.

Voice trembling, you manage, “Why are you here All Might?”

He chuckles and leans down on one knee, still managing to be a good half a foot taller than you and he whispers, “Did you not hear me on the news? I said I’d be coming for you, the shadow of the night.”

He stands back up and your gaze follows, he sighs and crosses his arms, “I never thought I’d have such a hard time just finding a villain. You take a lot of precaution in hiding your identity. And your operations are so fast, that you’re just a shadow in the night…”

The man holding you who had been so quiet you’d almost forgotten he was, leans in close and whispers, “You underestimated how fast a hawk can be.”

The pounding in your chest starts up again and finally your fight or flight response kicks in. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and you quickly try to find a solution. With adrenaline pumping you won’t feel pain, so you’ll just force yourself to touch your thumb to your finger.

You smash your hand into the side of your thigh, pressing the tips of your fingers together and producing a knife. The only weapon that can get you out of a situation like this. You dig the blade deep into the hero’s thigh and he hisses out in pain, not budging. Once you manage to get your blade out you go in for another stab but you’re stopped in your tracks.

A large hand grabs your wrist and the other grips your pointer finger and thumb in one hand, you’re unable to even think about pulling out another weapon because the gaze of all might puts your body into so much panic that you freeze.

“You can pull out all the weapons you want.” His voice gets lower, “You’ll never be able to escape us.” In just a moment, he quickly pulls your thumb and finger all the way back, there’s a loud crack and with every single millimeter of those bones broken, you can’t help but let out a cry.

You’ve never felt something so painful. To have a gunshot wound is one thing, but to have every single spot in multiple bones completely shattered is something unimaginable. It’s as if they’ve been ground into a dust.

“Obviously she isn’t going to behave, she stabbed me for fucks sake.” Hawks says to the larger man as you waver in and out of consciousness.

“I guess you’re right, and she’ll probably wake up pretty quickly if she passes out like this.”

With the okay now, the man holding you quickly grabs a plastic baggy with a cloth in it, pulls it out and presses it firmly against your nose and mouth, with your one free and you try to rip his hand off of you but with your useless fingers waving around like limp sausages, it’s no use.

The drugs the cloth has been doused in kicks in not too long after, engulfing you in a warm sleep, one without nightmares.

Head is pounding… body searing in pain… and you can’t feel your fingers. You peel your eyes open that have been crusted shut and analyze your surroundings. You’re on a strangely large bed with large comforters on top of you. The large windows have tape over them so you can’t see in or out. There’s a television mounted on the wall with a small plain couch facing it. This room seems fairly nice at first glance.

Ignoring the pain in your body, you lift your arm from the sheets and look to examine your fingers. They’ve been completely bandaged along with the rest of your hand and wrist. They did take a pretty bad blow. While you could unwrap them and force yourself to press your fingers together, you’re a bit scared to see what they look like since you can’t even feel them.

Standing up right now seems unimaginable, probably the pain from falling down the stairs that you were to adrenaline filled to feel. The remote is laying next to you on the comforter and with your good hand you turn on the television. It’s set to the news and you set the remote back down to listen. It’s five days since the attack according to the corner of the screen.

While watching television seems like the dumbest thing you could be doing right now… what else are you supposed to do? You can’t walk, and you can’t use your quirk… you’re basically defenseless.

“Mr. All Might sir! There has been an incredible drop in crime for the past few days. Some say that you’ve even apprehended The Shadow! Is it true?” The reports all quiet down to hear the hero’s answer. The camera focuses on his face and you notice a dark flint in his eyes that you’ve never noticed before. While you may be a villain it doesn’t mean you didn’t admire heroes. You’ve seen All Might plenty of times on tv but never noticed this darkness behind his eyes.

The hero breaks the silence with a loud guffaw, “We have not apprehended The Shadow! The Shadow must be scared after seeing my most recent showdown!”

Another reporter chimes in, “Do you have anything to say to the infamous Shadow?”

All Might takes a moment to think, and averts his gaze straight into the camera. With the darkness you had saw in his eyes now dripping into his voice he says, “Wherever you run, wherever you hide. I will find you.”

There’s a small thud on the bed next to you and you practically jump out of your skin. Sitting there, so casually and relaxed, is the man who killed your dog, restrained you, and chloroformed you.

“Finally awake? I was starting to get worried, you’ve been out for days birdy~.” The man pulls his legs up on the bed and turns to face you, “You can’t worry us like that. Okay?” He coos in such a charming way that it almost makes you want to say okay.

“Get lost chicken.” You bite back.

He chuckles and places his finger on your lips, pushing at them as if he’s enjoying it. “I know you’re probably confused, but you’ll understand in time.”

You bite at his finger and with his lightening quick speed he grabs you by your cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh and leaving you unable to talk.

“Maybe I should have elaborated. You’ll understand your place. You’ll understand that you’re nothing more than our brainless wife.”

Wife? Did he say wife? Your eyes go wide and you stare at the winged man in horror. They aren’t going to put you in prison, you’re already in it. This is their fucked up game of house isn’t it? It’s always the men with power who have these fucked up fantasies.

“You figured it out already? You’re pretty smart… I was hoping you’d play dumb a little longer.” He sighs and his bruising grip on your face loosens. “That’s alright, soon enough you’ll be too dumb to understand anything.”

His hand drops form your face and down to your chest. Pulling at the t-shirt that they must have put on you. You ball your left hand up into a tight fist and throw the hardest punch you can muster into the side of his head. But your punch never lands, he grips your fist tightly, and you begin panicking, not wanting to repeat last night.

Hawks furrows his brows and presses your hand into the bed, “I’m going to do you a favor, and keep this hand in tact. I won’t be so kind next time.”

He lifts the pressure off of your hand and sits back on his heels. He shakes his head and another sickening smile stretches on his face, “You’re probably hungry huh? I’ll go make you some breakfast.” He jumps up from the bed and as he leaves he calls out, “Call me Keigo by the way!”

Psychopath. This man is an actual psychopath.

Two more days passed before anything eventful happened. You spent the days laying in bed, eating when given a meal, enduring small talk when he began to threaten you, and sleeping with no dreams at all.

According to the small clock on the nightstand it’s 1:03am. The front door opens and shuts quietly, as if not trying to disturb anyone. There’s some shuffling from the entrance, to the kitchen, and then to your door. You shut your eyes and listen closely as the door to your room opens.

Footsteps approach your bed, but Hawks has heavier footsteps so it can’t be him. You feel your bed sink besides you and a hand begins to pet your hair. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been home princess. I’ve been working on some hard cases lately.”

This voice is deep but so kind and gentle. You open your eyes and see a lanky but tall man with deep sunken eyes looking back at you. “Who are you?”

He chuckles and rests his hand on the side of your face, “I know I look different right now, but you’re smart.”

You analyze him closely and keep finding yourself looking at his eyes. They’re so blue, a deep beautiful blue. “All Might?” You ask, but this time you don’t feel terror gripping your body.

“See? I told you that you’re smart. Oh my smart little princess, how have you been?” He lifts your from your spot as if you weight nothing and sets you down on his lap, cradling you as if you’re a child.

“Oh uh… my body hurts.” You mutter. Still on guard, but knowing that fighting him will help nothing if it really is All Might.

He smiled weekly and places a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry darling. I had to make sure you would be good and come home with us.”

Come home with us? Your theory of this being them playing house is confirmed. You shake your head and place your battered hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “All Might can I as-“

“My name is Toshinori, call me Toshi.” He interrupts, still smiling.

“Ah, okay Toshi…” you take a deep breath, “Why did you bring me here? How did you bring me here?”

He nods and pulls you back to his chest, preventing you from pushing back, “Of course Princess.”

He repositions do that he’s laying down and you’re resting on his chest, his arms holding you to him tightly but not painfully.

“Never had I ever seen any crimes committed so gracefully. It’s as if someone could teleport into these high security building or you could appear from the shadows. That’s why I gave you that nickname.” He hums and one of his hands lowers to you waist, gripping it roughly but still not painfully. “I couldn’t even find you on CCTV. So I studied your crimes and while I was in the middle of it, someone approached me. He told me that he had also been searching for you, and he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t apprehend the shadow. I’ve never seen him so riled up about something work related. And never in a million years did I expect him to come to me for help.”

He massaged circles into your waist and his other hands plays with your hair. “For months we studied you and your varying patterns. And after finally applying the pattern to the right crime, you fell right into our trap. That entire building was lined wall to wall with cameras. Not only that, Keigo was there.”

For months they had tailed you and you had no idea? I’m the many years you’ve been in this line of work, no one has ever even gotten a sniff of you before. “He took photos as you set that mutant monster free. The one that has murdered more than two thousand people. He had been waiting in the only air vent on top, with his phone camera recording, and eyes watching.”

To know that he had been there, in arms reach, terrifies you.

“It took us so long to figured out where you lived. Because after you did your job, it’s as if you turned into thin air. Keigo said you left the room, and then you were no where to be found. But of course we already knew where you lived by then. One of your exes had loose lips after we cut off his ears.” He chuckles, “Oh man he sure did sing.”

They both must be completely insane. Is it the pressure of being a hero? Or something they were born with? Regardless, these men are completely insane.

“After we finally got our first glimpse of you, we both fell in love. Though to say we already hadn’t fallen in love by the true beauty of your work would be a lie.” He moves his hand from your hair to your cheek, caressing it gently once again, “We’re just so happy you’re finally ours.”

Over time they became more and more affections with only Toshinori to tell Keigo when he’s gone too far. Over time you’ve slowly been fighting this reality that crushes you, yelling at you to just obey. Over time, you have not regained any feeling in your fingers. You have not bothered to use your quirk because the idea of looking at your fingers nauseates you. You don’t even look when they change the bandages.

While the days now seem to be routine, this one would change that monotony. You drag yourself from bed, and into the shower, as you do each and every morning. You brush your teeth and your hair and get dressed. Keigo and Toshinori bought you some makeup since they noticed you always wore it during your missions. Sometimes you wear it and sometimes you don’t. Today you just put mascara and gloss on.

You walk back to your bedroom and stop when in the doorway when you see your bed. The pillows have been rearranged and seemingly multiplied, arranged messily into something resembling a nest. What are they up to this time? They’ve given you multiple presents and surprised to try and cheer you up so this must be one of them.

You walk into the kitchen and Toshinori is standing in a t shirt and sweat pants and a pink frilly apron. He’s cooking something that smells delicious and before sitting down at the island you glance at the front door. You had tried to escape… once. For miles all that surrounds you is forest. No sign of civilization anywhere, and you always seem to end up back at the house. Neither of the heroes even chased you out, they just waited at the door until you tired yourself out and came inside. They forced you to bathe and then cuddled with you on the couch, watching Netflix.

You sit down on the stool and take a sip of the hot coffee and Toshinori had prepared. “Goodmorning Princess, how’d you sleep? Any nightmares?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t had a single nightmare since you moved in. How would he know about that? It doesn’t matter. They already know you better than you know yourself. “No nightmares… I’m just hungry.”

The sound of wings flapping makes me turn my attention to one of the other bedrooms where Hawks comes out bleary eyes in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He enters the kitchen and places a kiss on my forehead before sitting down.

Toshinori scoffs and pours him a cup of coffee. “Could you at least put on some pants?”

Hawks shakes his head, “Nope! You scared our wife is gonna like me more?”

Toshinori pauses but continues plating some omeletes, scones, and assorted fruits. “Not at all, no one wants to see your eggs popping out of your boxers is all.”

Keigo looks down and his face flushes red and he quickly readjusts. “Ah shut up already. I’m hungry.”

You all eat together on the couch and watch some Sunday morning cartoons, their attempt at a regular family weekend.

Out of nowhere your head begins to pound, and you curl over gripping it while moaning. Unbeknownst to you, the two men share a look before tending to you.

Toshinori rubs your back soothingly, “What’s wrong princess?”

Keigo grabs one of your hands in his and kisses the back of it, “Does your head hurt birdy?”

Toshinori nods, “It must be, go get the medicine from the bathroom.”

You groan and Toshinori picks you up and takes you to your bedroom, laying you down gently on the plush bed. Somehow the bed is more comfortable with all of these pillows, you thought it would be lumpy.

Keigo comes in and sits you up a little bit and signals you to open your mouth. You do as your told and he places two pills on your tongue. He helps you wash it down with a glass of water from your nightstand. “Alright birdy why don’t you rest for a bit.”

“If you need anything just call for us okay?” You can barely cling onto his words before passing out without even being able to put up a struggle.

Your whole body aches. It’s as if you’re burning up and your sweat drenches your body. It’s as if there’s fire stemming from your stomach, it’s unbearable. You sit up, ignoring everything in your body begging you to lay down again. You shuffle your legs and there’s a loud wet sound. Looking down you realize not only are you covered in sweat but whatever this slick was that’s pouring from your panties.

It’s the middle of the night now, you slept all day. You turn your head to the door which is slightly ajar, and even darker in the hallway. You would think living with two heroes would provide you with a sense of security especially at night. But it’s nothing like that.

You climb over the pillow mountain and stand up, legs shaking and body trembling. The sweat doesn’t let up, still pouring from your skin. You step out of the room and can hear rain pounding on the roof, followed by the sound of booming thunder. Finally after trailing your hand across the wall you find the thermostat, hoping to turn it down. It’s already at 65… why are you so damn hot?

You struggle towards the bathroom and lean on the sink for support. You open up the medicine cabinet and look through it for some fever reducing medicine. Advil… vitamin C… Heat inducer? You pull the bottle from the cabinet and examine the label.

Heat Inducer for animal morphs

Not made for consumption of beings that are more than 60% human

One drop under the tongue to induce heat for breeding sessions

Had they given you a heat inducer? You’re nowhere close to an animal morph, there’s no telling what it could do to you. You keep looking through the cabinet, desperate for anything to relieve this pain. All you find is a bottle of sleeping tranquilizer pills, making you realize this situation was even more dangerous than you thought.

“Oh Birdy, you should be in bed resting. Unless you’re ready?” He asks with a grin on his face.

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” You spit.

He chortles and shakes his head, “Oh darling, wasn’t that obvious?” He closes the gap with one step and grabs you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

He marches back towards your bedroom but not before making a stop. He knocks on the door it Toshinori’s bedroom and calls out teasingly, “Our little birdy is ready!”

Fuck, you need to get out of this situation fast. You begin unwrapping your numb fingers frantically but squeal when you feel a sharp slap against your pussy.

“You’re so wet birdy! I can’t wait to fill you up.” He picks up his pace and you hurry on unwrapping your fingers. Finally you manage to get it off when you’re thrown across the room and onto the bed.

As Keigo approaches you you grab your finger and thumb with your other hand press then together. Nothing happens. You begin slamming them together, surely rebreaking the bones but you can’t help it as you feel your only hope slip away.

Keigo hovers over you and presses his lips against your ear, “He destroyed all the nerves connecting your fingers to your hand… you’ll never have a quirk again.”

Your body freezes and heart skips a beat. What? This was their plan all along? To strip you of the one thing that gave you power in this world? Every day you realize something worse and worse about them.

Keigo presses his hand flat against your pussy and you scramble to grab it and pry it off. He doesn’t budge, his finger rubbing slowly against your clit, relieving your pain momentarily.

You know the effects of heat, it overwhelms your body until the only thing to take away the feeling happens, sex, and being knotted. You arent going to let this drug take over all of your inhibitions.

You reach one hand up to the back of his head and throw your head forward, head butting him and leaving you with blood dripping down your face. You’re dizzy but still able to gather yourself. Keigo is laying on his side, rubbing his head and groaning.

With perfect timing someone else enters the room. A man you’ve seen every day but something has changed. The lanky man approaches you, and without a word he wraps a hand around your neck and press you back down into the bed. With his other hand he slaps your hard and you even feel your consciousness waver.

He grite his teeth and places a finger under the strap of your panties. “Is that any way to treat your husbands?”

In one fluid motion he rips off your panties and pulls your legs on his shoulders, burying his face in your warmth. Your hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair, pulling at it and begging.

His long tongue prods at your hole and you buck your hips despite holding back. His tongue trails up to your clit and begins pushing it around with the slick he gathered from your hole. It’s like this burning sensation increases where he touches but soothes every pain in your body.

Two fingers punch your nipples and you squeak, bringing one hand to your mouth to stop your moans. Keigo looks bored as he pinches and pulls at your nipple, “Toshi’, I wanna fuck her already.”

Toshinori lifts his head momentarily, “All right all right, let me just prep her a little okay.”

Before you have time to process their words Toshinori’s tongue is back to torturing your clit. Two long slender finger begins prodding at your hole and you squeal out, “No! Don’t!”

Keigo laughs, “We all know that’s not what you really mean.” He leans down and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples sucking and leaving you shivering. You’ve never felt a pleasure like this before.

The two fingers you had almost forgotten about thrust inside of you without warning, scissoring and poking at your walls. Your hand can’t contain your moan and it echoes throughout the room. He continues fucking you with his fingers and licking and nipping at your clit. That mixed with the sensation of your sore nipples being played with you can’t contain yourself. Your back arches off of the bed and you let out a loud, high pitched moan.

Despite your obvious orgasm, the men don’t let up, in fact they get hungrier. Toshinori pushes Keigo off of you and flips you over with your ass in the air.

“Hey! It’s my turn! I didn’t get to taste her yet!” Keigo barks at Toshinori.

“Fine, but don’t… fuck her yet okay?” The lanky man begrudgingly agrees.

Keigo takes Toshinori’s position and you don’t have time to move with their speed. Keigo lowers his head and stretches his tongue to lick your clit from behind. Your fists grip the sheets and you bury your face in a pillow to hide the lewd sounds you’re making.

His tongue trails up and pokes at your hole, but it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going up until it makes contact with your asshole. You buck forward but two firm hands on your shoulders stop you. You look up see Toshinori on his knees in front of you, “Why don’t you suck on something to help ease the pain?”

You’re not given much of an option, Toshinori pulls out his dick and you find yourself fearful again. This time at the sheer length of his dick, “Don’t worry, just suck the tip okay?”

He presses the tip of his dick in your mouth forcefully and at the same time Keigo presses a finger into your tight add hole and another in your needy pussy.

You try to cry out but the vibrations excite Toshinori more, pressing his dick a little further into your mouth. The taste isn’t great but for some reason right now it addictive, you lick the underside of his shaft and he shivers, pressing his dick back until it presses the back of your throat. Normally you would have thrown up on the spot but with this drug in your system it’s like there’s no resistance at all.

Toshinori begins fucking your face violently while holding your head up by a fistful of hair. Behind you Keigo moves both of his fingers to your asshole, thrusting them in and out, stretching you in a new glorious way.

“Toshi finish up. She’s ready.” Keigo calls out from behind you, removing his fingers and slapping your push again.

The slap holes you forward and Toshinori begins pressing your face all the way into his pubes, leaving you unable to breathe. You thrash around but his pounding doesn’t stop and you feel yourself begin to black out.

Toshinori holds your face against his pubes and his dick twitches in your mouth, and you can feel his hot cum sliding down your throat. He pulls you off of him quickly and flips you over so you’re between his legs, head resting on his chest.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy. It’s time for your present.” He kisses the top of your head and your thoughts become hazy.

Keigo sits between your legs and you feel something heavy slap your pussy a few times. Each time you flinch but can’t find it in yourself to move. You glance down and see Toshinori smiling innocently with his hand gripping his thick dick. It’s curved and far longer than any man should be allowed to have. Putting that in someone would break them.

He slides it between your folds and it dawns on you, he’s going to put that thing in you. You jump up and cling to Toshinori, “Please don’t, please! Its- it will break me!”

They both laugh and Toshinori pets your head, “It’ll just be a tight fit at first that’s all.”

You beg Toshinori to not let Keigo impale you but instead he reassures you that you’ll be fine and holds you against his chest so Keigo can fuck you.

“P-please Kei’… Dont.” You whimper.

Keigo smiled and places a hand on your face gently, “Birdy… You’re mine now. You don’t have a choice.”

He thrusts his dick inside of your pussy, not warning you, and not caring that you’re flailing and crying. The stretch from his girth is so painful but he doesn’t even give you time to adjust, just starts fucking you like an animal.

“Keigo be gentle.” Toshinori protests.

Between heavy breaths and not stopping his thrusting he retorts, “You haven’t felt her yet. So stop talking.”

The pain slowly melts into an overwhelming pleasure. Your screams turn into moans of ecstasy and you can feel drool drip from your lips as you bob around on Keigo’s dick like nothing but a tiny doll. Toshinori reached his hand between the two of you and rubs your clit, not needing lube as your slick has gotten everywhere by now. He rubs tantalizingly slow circles, bringing you close to orgasm but ripping it away when he stops suddenly.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” Keigo mutters.

Toshinori begins rubbing circles more vigorously on your clit and you begin to spasm, every muscle in your body freaking out. Keigo grips your waist, nails digging into your sides and wings shivering. Your walls tighten and contract around him, forcing the cum out of him.

His cock literally expands inside of you, sending you into another mini orgasm while being completely overly sensitive. Toshinori keeps rubbing circles and with his other hand he tugs at your nipple.

You can feel it forming. The knot. He keeps trying to thrust but as the knot gets bigger he can only manage small ruts. Then it happens, it all releases inside of you, your walls squeezing and sucking the cum from his dick. He groans as his dick goes back to normal size, and your belly expands, showing just how much cum he fucked into you.

He falls backwards and wipes some sweat off of his forehead, “Give me a few minutes Toshi.”

Toshi nods and you assume it’s over. There’s no way they expect your body to handle anything else. But at the same time, the moment he pulled his dick out of you this burning painful feeling returned. Toshinori lifts you carefully and turns you so that you’re facing him.

“Alright princess, I’ll try to be gentle.” He holds your limp body over his dick, slowly sitting you on top of it.

“Too much… too much- Toshi.” You mumble.

“Oh I know princess but you’re being so good!” He coos.

He lowers you on his dick and just the tip stretches you more than Keigo did. He moves slowly but each time you recover from the pain of the last inch, the pain of the next inch creeps in. About half way down his dick he sighs, “This is never going to work, I’m sorry princess.”

Expecting him to lift you off you sigh in relief, but you couldn’t be anymore wrong. He pulls you down forcefully onto the rest of his dick and you find yourself screaming again with a sore throat.

“Hah, and you told me to go easy on her.” Keigo laughs from behind you.

“At least I’m giving her time to get used to it.” Toshinori holds you down on him firmly, your squirming will never get you out of this position.

Gently he lifts you up by two inches, and cruelly he slams you back down. He does it over and over and no words can escape you, only animalistic sounds of ecstasy and desperation.

From behind you Keigo had gathered himself together, dick already painfully hard from seeing his fellow husband fuck the shit out of you. He lined himself up from behind you and takes on the role Toshinori did before.

He begins playing with your clit and sucking on your neck, leaving you with bruises and bloody bite marks. But right now, everything feels like ecstasy, even teeth sinking into your skin. You’re too busy trying not to cum to feel Keigo lining his dick up against your asshole. It’s sopping wet with the slick from your pussy.

He places it perfectly so that when Toshinori brought you back down his length again, you’d have his dick in your ass too. Electrifying pain shoots you your spin and you fall limp against Toshinori’s chest. Neither of them spare you any kindness, thrusting deep inside of you, Toshinori fucking Keigo’s cum even deeper in your pussy.

But just as it happened with the rest of your pain, the pain of having your asshole and pussy stretched at the same time becomes pleasurable. The men bounce you on their dicks in sync, fucking you fast and hard, gripping different parts of your body and leaving you bruised.

You can feel another tidal wave of an orgasm coming over your body and Toshinori grunts out, “Fuck I’m so sorry princess I can’t help myself.”

Before you can interpret his words, there’s a poof sound and a cloud of smoke. Instantly your pussy walls begin to stretch, until you’re sure you’re going to tear in half. It stays stagnant inside of you, his dick now too big to even move if he didn’t want to pull Keigo out of you. You can feel the veins in his dick pulsating and pressing against your walls, a new kind of pleasure that no person should ever be exposed to.

“Fuck Toshi. Warning please! You’re practically crushing my dick!” Keigo yells out.

“Sorry Keigo, I couldn’t help it.” Toshinori says somewhat ashamed.

“Fuck I’m cumming again.” Keigo’s hands falls to your waist and he sits up more so he can thrust you on his dick and Toshinori’s dick.

Your head falls back onto Keigo’s shoulder, unable to catch your breath as your fucked so violently in a way that satisfies you endlessly.

It happens again, the knot starts forming. Toshinori groans as the knot presses against his dick through your walls. His dick stretches inside of you, heating up and releasing.

Suddenly, Toshinori reaches over you and grabs Keigo by his face, “Get the fuck off of her. It’s my turn.”

Hearing the hunger In Toshinori’s voice, Keigo pulls himself from inside of you and stands up to put his sweatpants back on. Toshinori pulls his pulsating length from inside of you, and grabs your by your hair. He throws you down on your stomach but you can’t even sit up before he pushes his hand on the back of your neck and lifts your ass up with his other.

“Try and lift your head and fuck you until you break.” His words scare you, because you know he’s not bluffing.

He lifts his hand from the back of your neck and presses his thumb into the whole of your pussy, managing to hold in the cum. His dick lines up with your asshole and you know you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

He presses in the tip, forcing your legs to quiver. It’s one thing to have his dick stretch inside of you, but another to have it penetrate you at this size, he presses it in slowly, ignoring your whimpers until he’s all the way down to the base. It’s instant, his hips snap forward and he begins fucking your asshole, stretching you until you finally notice the bulge in your stomach. You don’t even have to look, you can feel it.

Somehow the idea that you’re being penetrated by this huge man turns you on more. And you start moaning as he claims your ass. It doesn’t take long for his violent thrusts to slow down and his dick to start twitching erratically. His cum is just as hot as before, filling you up even more than he had before. He pulls his dick out of you but still doesn’t give you the chance to rest.

He grabs your ankles and lifts you up by them, “Sorry princess, gotta plug you up and we don’t want to leak anything.”

Your head is so numb that nothing he says registers with you. Keigo walks back into the room with two plugs in hand. Toshinori pulls your legs apart and Keigo pushes the plugs inside of you, earning one last moan from your abused body.

Toshinori sets you down in the bed and pulls your back against him. “Oh you were so good princess. You did so well today.”

Keigo lays down next to the both of you and rests a hand on your hip, “And tomorrow birdy, we’re gonna tie your legs up in the air, and fill you with our seed whenever we feel like it.”

“You don’t have to be so crass.” Toshinori grumbled at Keigo.

Keigo chuckles, “Why? She’s gonna love it. Our beautiful little birdy is going to be pregnant with our child, all nice and chubby with big swollen tits. Doesn’t that sound great?”

You’re drifting to sleep but you can feel Toshinori’s boner forming once again, “Yeah, it will be great.”

[rotworld]

27: Nobody Home

(previous)

despite its best efforts, anchor, too, has changed.

->contains gore, graphic description of corpses, mentions of child abuse

.

.

.

The road to Anchor is not the impossible maze you remember. It has been corrected, its kinks and wrinkles ironed out into perfect, smooth normalcy. You drive west out of Prismville and the rocky, steep hills turn to level streets, pockmarks and potholes to smooth, new asphalt. Is this arrogance? Are they so confident in the destruction they’ve caused, so certain that there is no one in the whole splintered wreckage of the Drift still able and willing to bring retribution? Is it an invitation? A trap?

It doesn’t matter. You’ve come a long way to get here and there’s no turning back. 

You see the iron fence, the freshly cut grass, the picturesque shopping avenues and cookie cutter suburbs, uniform rows of American Craftsman houses. You see the gate shut tight between stone pillars, Anchor’s name embossed on steel. It’s colder than you remember. A layer of frost blankets everything. There is no one at the security checkpoint to greet you. There’s not even anyone gawking from the end of their driveway, no passersby watching you with disapproval. In fact, Anchor looks strangely abandoned. You roll down your window and don’t hear anything. No talking. No footsteps. No signs of human habitation. You shiver. You can see your breath.

There’s no one, but there is a car parked right at the gates haphazardly, crumpled front end and bent iron bars suggesting a high-speed collision. 

You know that car, you realize; a bulky, silver SUV with snow tires. The fact that there’s no one inside, the driver side door left ajar, keys still in the ignition, doesn’t quell your rising dread. Your fingers tingle with dull, prickling sensations. The frostbite has reached your knuckles. Soon, you won’t have any feeling left in your hands. 

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: BLINDNESS BY METRIC]

For now, you stick to the plan. You pass the front gate for the courier entrance, a smaller, less grandiose gate on Anchor’s far side. You left in such a hurry before that you never got a good look at the place. No security outpost, no one waiting around to interrogate you, but there is an intercom system and some kind of scanner. Jamie rummages through your backpack for the chameleite Iridesce gave you. When you hold it up to the scanner, it beeps and a green light flashes. The gate rattles open. 

Iridesce was right; it’s fully automated, and it accepts the same piece of chameleite no matter how many times you scan it. Still, it seems odd that you manage to get the entire Nelton convoy and the Verlindans inside this way. Someone should have come down to investigate by now. But as you scan the chameleite a final time and drive through the gate, you find only drifting fog and empty streets. 

There’s no one here. No one driving downtown, no one strolling down the sidewalk, no one in the shops or the offices. The deeper you go into Anchor, the colder it gets and the more the sky darkens. You pass through a suburb as silent as a cemetery and catch a whiff of blood on the wind. There are subtle hints of something terrible happening here, ghosts of fear and violence. Doors left wide open in haste; a crimson handprint smeared across a patio door. The only definitive sign of carnage is a corpse with red slush for a head lying in a driveway. 

Bloody footprints splatter down the sidewalk and trek through the snow. He hunted here, but not in earnest. He was flushing out his prey, watching where they went. Following them back to the nest.

A knock on your window startles you. It’s Glenn, brushing a fine layer of snow from his shoulders. “I don’t like this,” he says. 

Jamie shakes their head. “We need to keep going. The labs can’t be far. Let’s stick to the plan for now, see what’s going on inside.” 

“I’m not saying we need to back out, I just don’t want us getting taken by surprise. This reeks of an ambush. A few of us should go ahead, do some reconnaissance.”

“I really don’t think this is the time to split up. But fine. Courier, what do you think?” Jamie asks. You don’t answer. Your attention is fixed on the suburban yard to your left. “Courier?” 

There’s a human arm lying there. There might be a body attached but you can’t tell, stiff fingers and blood-speckled wrist the only things poking out from behind a trimmed hedge. Looming there, just peeking around frost-glazed leaves, you see the very edge of a winter coat’s fur-lined hood; a glove clutching a gore-soaked tire iron. 

He doesn’t run at you. He doesn’t move at all. You watch him and he watches you, and then he retreats out of sight. You would wonder if you’d seen him at all if not for the arm still lying there, the blood sprayed across the front porch. What do you know about the Road Ripper? You’re marked. It’s you he wants but he’ll pick off anyone he comes across in pursuit of the hunt, waiting until his bloodlust reaches its peak. He can find you no matter where you go.

As long as the snow can get in, so can he.

“We keep going,” you say. “We stick to the plan for now.”

The labs are just as you remember them, the architecture drab and aggressively modern, everything unfriendly gray and harsh, clinical white. The convoy parks up and down the street, reconvening for one last discussion before you proceed. The last time you were here, you walked through the front doors. That isn’t an option today; there’s a metal shutter just past the glass, a wall of immovable steel. The windows are blocked with the same heavy shielding. You hadn’t expected everything to go smoothly but you didn’t think you’d get locked out so soon, either. 

“Have a little faith, courier,” Malachi says, offering a smile. “This doesn’t change much. We knew we’d need to talk our way inside.” Iridesce, too large to fit in anyone’s car, unfolds herself from the back of Malachi’s truck. He helps her out with a hand to steady her, the back of his car dipping momentarily beneath her shifting weight. “Jamie, you mentioned there are cameras at the door. You, Iridesce and the courier should stay out of sight until they start letting us in. Keep your heads down. Garvan, what will your people do?”

The Verlindans looks strangely unbothered by the cold. Even Garvan and the rest of the Stag’s allies, unabashedly nude, show little more than the occasional twitch of the nose in discomfort, sometimes shaking snow from their heads. Most of them have already started to walk away, ambling further down the block to another building connected to the main lab. 

“We wait here,” Garvan says. “We’ve got reinforcements coming and we’ll be taking our own way in.” He turns to you, his nostrils flaring. He smiles, baring his sharp teeth. “I can smell them, courier. They’re afraid in there, as they should be. Good hunting. We’ll see you on the other side.”

It makes you uneasy to separate but you nod. This is the smarter decision; splitting your forces, keeping Anchor on their toes. Malachi and the others approach the lab doors while you and Jamie huddle together in the cold. Something blocks the wind suddenly; Iridesce stands at your back, wrapping her arms around you both. 

You hear an intercom crackle. The voice coming from the speaker is muffled, barely audible over the howling wind. It sounds familiar, you think. A woman’s voice, brusque and standoffish. “Wh—what the fuck? Hello?” 

“Why are we locked out?” Malachi snaps. You’re startled by just how harsh he sounds. His tone is always so soft and cheerful. Iridesce squeezes you gently, mistaking your stiffness for cold or maybe worry. This is part of the plan. He has to speak with a particular sort of arrogant authority, snide and certain. He has to sound like he belongs here. He went out of his way to change before you reached Anchor, trading his cossack for a white button up, blue sweater vest and slacks. You have no idea how well he looks the part of an Anchor resident, but you can’t imagine the camera can make out much of anything through the blowing snow.

“Why are you—are you kidding me? We’re on lockdown! What are you even doing outside? You’re supposed to shelter in place until the alert’s lifted.”

“That’s ridiculous! You’re telling me we’re all just supposed to stay in our homes and die? That thing is still out here!” Malachi manages to both look and sound enraged, talking over the woman’s sheepish stammering. “You can’t do this to us. It’s inhumane. This place is supposed to be safe, it’s supposed to keep things out. You can tell Gallagher he’ll need to get himself a new goddamn research assistant, I’m finished with this.”

“Hold on, you’re staff?” the woman says quickly. “You should’ve been here hours ago. They already sealed the bunker. Look, maybe—if you scan your ID card—”

“My ID?” Malachi says, laughing sharply. “You want to see my ID? I ran here with nothing but the clothes on my back because some maniac broke my door down and not a single fucking security officer is answering my calls. You think I have my ID right now? You think I thought to myself, ‘Gee I better grab my whole briefcase in case some bitch at the lab decides now’s the time to play Rules and Regulations?” What else do you want, my birth certificate? My fucking resume? That lying son of a bitch Gallagher’s letter of recommendation? What a great fucking place Anchor turned out to be—”

“Jesus, alright!” 

There’s a shrill electronic noise, a warning chime, and then the metal shutters at the front door rattle open. Malachi doesn’t waste any time, propping a door open with his shoulder and rushing everyone inside. You and Jamie could duck into the crowd easily enough but Iridesce stops you. “You two behind me, dears,” she murmurs. You understand why immediately. The moment the three of you get within range of the camera, that brief alarm rings again and the protective shutter starts to fall. 

Iridesce catches it with one hand, steel creaking and bending from the unyielding force of her stone palm. She gives the camera a cold smile and nods sharply at the doorway for you and Jamie to scurry inside. 

Inside, the stench of blood is overpowering. The violence you saw in Anchor’s suburbs looks tasteful compared to this carnage. Bodies are strewn all across the lobby floor. The floor is slippery with gore and melted ice, blood and brain matter sprayed and splattered on every surface. You see the Ripper’s preferred blunt force manner of execution amplified to new sickening levels. Some of the corpses are barely recognizable as human anymore, so brutalized that all you see is meat in red-soaked clothing. The dead are frozen mid-crawl in search of safety; several lay behind a welcome desk. Others are clustered hopelessly by the metal coverings on the windows, hands still outstretched for corridors they never reached. 

You move cautiously at first, your group sticking close together, nervously peeking around corners before you proceed, but it soon becomes apparent that there are no survivors. Not here, at least. Anyone still alive has fled deeper into the labs. All that’s left is eerie silence, the faint echo of an alarm in another hallway. 

A creak in an open breakroom makes you flinch, stepping back in anticipation of an ambush. Before anything can move, Iridesce surges past you. You hear a scuffle; a table and chair crashing against the wall, a scream cut off. Iridesce lurches back out of the room dragging someone behind her—a woman in a labcoat, nacre fingers squeezing her throat. You recognize her, you realize, her auburn hair and sharp, watchful eyes. 

“Meryl Underhill,” Iridesce murmurs, tossing her to the floor. Meryl scurries back, trying to get to her feet, but Iridesce slams a hand on the wall beside her head and cages her in. “Where are you off to in such a rush, hm? I’ve got some questions for you.” 

“It wasn’t me,” Meryl says hurriedly, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “You—you were there, courier! You saw me, you saw, I was just passing through—”

The wall cracks under Iridesce’s fingers. Stone dust and plaster trickle to the floor. “You’re an opportunistic little snake is what you are. I know you requested access to the mines, Underhill, I keep very meticulous records. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip out your spine.”

“Because it wasn’t me! It wasn’t, I swear! That’s all Dr. Gallagher. He coordinates everything. He has a repair technician set off the anchorware, I don’t even know how it works!”

“A repair technician,” Iridesce echoes, scowling. “Like our John Doe, I suppose.” 

You’ve all seen him before; the man who could be anyone. Forgettable, unremarkable, a face that slips your mind the moment you stop looking at him. Even now, you struggle to remember him beyond his sharp, professional style and black gloves. In Nelton, he introduced himself as Bachman. Jamie knew him as Tiptree. Iridesce told you before you left Prismville that he was in the city’s records as Lange. 

“You lied to me,” you say. Iridesce glances back. She moves slightly, giving you space to look at Meryl, who stares up at you wordlessly. “You said you were from the University. You said you didn’t know what happened to New Ridgeway.” 

What kind of apocalypse works that way? she’d said, knowing full well it was Anchor.

Meryl’s shoulders sink. “I didn’t agree with that, you know,” she says. “I didn’t think it was right. And I know that doesn’t matter, and you don’t believe me. Of course you think I’m a monster. I don’t think you’d understand it even if I tried to explain. The Drift doesn’t bother people like you, courier, but the rest of us? Normal humans? We don’t want to live like this. I know it’s—it looks ugly from the outside, but we’re trying to make the Drift better, safer, for everyone—” 

A twinge of anger stings your heart. “I’m the one who wouldn’t get it?” you say, your voice rising. “What do you mean the Drift doesn’t bother me? How could you possibly know that? How could you know anything about me or what I’ve been through? It’s normal humans who hurt us more than anything. Not because it’s in your instincts, not because you’re hungry or even scared. You think we’re too different. That our suffering isn’t the same as yours.”

You’re thinking of Compass Hill and its factory and its cruelty, a town full of children robbed of childhood. You’re thinking of Jamie’s mother—exploitation disguised as outreach, a child lying on a cold exam table and a wet, wriggling thing slowly brought closer. You’re thinking of Nelton and all the memories shared with you in brief, surreal flashes. Two boys in a church and one who’s bleeding because his father says he’s sick and unholy. 

Jamie grabs your hand and you realize your face is wet with tears. You swallow hard and turn away from Meryl. You cling tightly to their hand, only vaguely aware of Iridesce’s calm, quiet voice asking questions and Meryl’s terse answers. The labs are completely locked down. No one is getting in or out anymore. The Ripper was here and Meryl’s only alive because she hid in a janitor’s closet and listened to everyone else die.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” she insists, her voice cracking. “I didn’t think so many people would die. I thought Nelton was a mistake, that something went wrong—” 

“You’re detonating extremely sensitive, extremely reactive reality-anchoring equipment,” Iridesce says coolly. “Did you honestly think the damage would be negligible? Easily contained? It doesn’t matter, I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re going to get us into the rest of the facility.” 

“I…I can’t.” 

“You can,” Iridesce insists. “And you will.”

“I don’t have access, I can’t disable the lockdown protocols!”

There’s a burst of static, the droning tone of an intercom announcement echoing down the empty halls. “Courier. I can see over the surveillance feed that you’ve arrived safely. That’s a relief. I was starting to worry, given the conditions outside. Have you given my offer any thought?” 

Your throat tightens and your chest burns with fury. He sounds so calm and polite, no different than he did when you met in Prismville, or Nelton, or at the rest stop. 

“I’m willing to unlock a few doors, but you’ll have to come alone. We need to talk and I’d prefer a private conversation.”

“Fuck you!” Jamie snarls. “They’re not going alone.”

John Doe hums in amusement. “Let me rephrase. The courier, and only the courier, is welcome. If it helps, Dr. Higgs, consider this less of an invitation and more of an exchange.” 

There’s a sinking feeling in your chest. “What do you mean exchange?” you ask.

There’s a brief pause. You can’t remember his face, but you can imagine the feeling you get from his tranquil expression, the unnerving emptiness to his smiles. It felt like he was wearing a mask, always keeping his true thoughts and feelings tucked away. “An exchange,” he says gently. “You, for the Singer of Compass Hill.”

(next)

[little-bloodied-angel]

I'm twenty (maybe. Trauma is a funny thing with regards to time. I only know that that girl in a Catholic school uniform seems so very far away) and I'm in my therapist's office. By this point he's already taught me that it's safe for me to be angry. I'm ranting about Dani's rapist for the umpteenth time, it feels like. I can feel the rage hot under the flimsiest layer of skin. I know that if I saw this man I would kill him first and think about the consequences later. I don't quite tell him that.

He asks about my teacher and I brush him off. I've got a cartridge ready full of excuses, of reasons why it wasn't so bad. It's especially easy with the horror movie I lived with my ex laying fresh in my wounds.

He doesn't let me do that. Not anymore.

("You wouldn't say this to your friend. I know you wouldn't, because I've seen it. Not to anyone else. Why was it okay when it happened to you?"

"because, because, because..."

My throat is clogged with sugar syrup and peppermint and apple shampoo and disinfectant. With my mother's softener on gym clothes; with chalk dust and clean sweat. I don't want to go back. I don't want this to matter.

"he didn't even hurt me

didn't make me

and I kept going back

there were no bruises, I didn't bleed

he was nice to me. he was. he was kind. he didn't hurt me"

The last one is almost true and I don't want it to be, I don't want it to hurt like it does. Kinder than my peers. Kinder than my parents. A speck of comfort at the price of my body when the world felt like barbed wire. I don't know how to explain that, yet.

And he looks me in the eye; his own are green and calm and always look centuries older than the rest of him; and I've torn apart the skin of my hands with my nails, while wringing them.

He says, firm and even:

"You were twelve and he was your mother's age. He was older than your father. He had power over you. There isn't a world where you could consent. There are isn't a world where what he did was not inherently violent just because he didn't leave bruises on you. And he did hurt you".

Nobody's ever put it like that. I can't breathe for a very long time, or so it feels like, the hit crumbling my solar plexus. I cry about it for the first time ever. He doesn't say anything, doesn't try to make me quiet; he knows by now people always do that and I hate it. He lets me cry, like I'm allowed.)

He asks me about the box cutter in my backpack at the end of the session. He knows it's there, under my desk, sandwiched between papers. Like a lethal safety blanket.

We run through the standard questions. I tell him I'm not going to use it, and I don't. Later that night I put a belt between my teeth like I used to and I cry more in a house where I'm not allowed. I don't kill myself. I mourn her.

[jaxteller87]

Rotten Pumpkins 2

It was a few days before Halloween, and Jax had decided that our little girl, Mary, needed to carve pumpkins. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him set up the table with the cool autumn sun casting a warm glow over our backyard. “You really think this is gonna work?” I teased.

Jax glanced up, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, if I tell her we’re using cookie cutters instead of carving them, we might just dodge the pumpkin guts fiasco.” He smirked, remembering last year’s messy disaster when Mary had squealed with elation at the sight of the gooey insides.

I had to admit, he was onto something. Our girl had a flair for the dramatic, especially when it came to anything messy. “Come on, love bug!” I called out when I heard the school bus rumble down the street. “Me and Daddy have a surprise for you and your brother!”

Mary burst through the door, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her face lighting up as she spotted Jax. “Daddy! Thank you!” she squealed, launching herself into his arms.

“You’re welcome, princess,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair before setting her down. The moment was sweet, a slice of normalcy in our chaotic lives.

“So, Daddy thought of something special,” he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he sat her down at the table. Thomas was still in his high chair with his big, innocent eyes. “What do you think about making some spooky pumpkins?”

The kids exchanged excited glances, their giggles filling the air as they reached for the cookie cutters. Jax helped Thomas, gently guiding his tiny hand as he pressed the shape into the pumpkin. “Look, Mama! I did it!” Mary beamed, her little face glowing with pride as she showed off the cat shape she’d cut.

“Good job, love bug!” I praised, unable to resist the infectious joy of the moment. Jax and I exchanged a glance and smiled. 

As Mary continued to push cookie cutters into the soft pumpkin flesh, I found myself grinning from ear to ear. “You know, when I was a kid, we carved pumpkins too. But it was a lot messier,” I said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah? I bet it wasn’t half as fun as this!” Jax replied, his laughter a comforting sound. I watched him engage with the kids, effortlessly slipping into the role of “cool dad,” a stark contrast to the world we usually inhabited.

Just then, the front door swung open, and Opie walked in, his usual laid-back demeanor shifting to amusement as he spotted us. “What’s going on here? A pumpkin party without me?”

“Hey, Ope! You’re just in time!” I grinned, motioning him over. “Join us! We’re making masterpieces!”

“Masterpieces, huh?” he replied, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “Let’s see what you’ve got, little artists.”

With Opie’s encouragement, the atmosphere grew even more playful, laughter echoing through the yard as they took turns showing off their creations. The warmth of the moment wrapped around us, a temporary escape from the dark realities we often faced.

Jax leaned closer, brushing my shoulder with his, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “This is what it’s all about, right?”

I nodded, my heart swelling with affection. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just as the kids were putting the finishing touches on their pumpkins, the familiar rumble of motorcycles tore through the autumn breeze like a gunshot. I glanced up, my heart racing as I recognized the sound. “Oh no,” I muttered under my breath.

“Who is it?” Jax asked, catching my apprehension.

“Clay and Gemma,” I replied, my stomach twisting in knots. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Clay, but this was news that was new to no one. He had a way of getting under my skin, and with everything going on, I wasn’t in the mood for his so-called charm. But before I could voice my concerns, the front door swung open, and they stepped inside, Gemma’s presence immediately brightening the room.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Gemma exclaimed, her arms outstretched as she entered. “You guys making some Halloween magic?”

“Hey, Gem,” Jax greeted, pulling her in for a quick hug.

Clay sauntered in behind her, a relaxed smile on his face. “What’s up, kiddos?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk. Mary and Thomas practically lit up at the sight of him.

“Daddy! Clay’s here!” Mary shouted, running over to him.

“Hey there, little lady! Looking good!” Clay crouched down, giving her a playful wink. I felt a knot in my stomach tighten further as I watched. “You almost knocked old grandpa over! You’re getting strong!” he said, lifting her up above his head as she giggled like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Thomas, how about you?” Clay turned to our youngest, who was still diligently pushing a cookie cutter into a pumpkin. “Need a hand with that?”

“Yeah!” Thomas chirped, his eyes wide with excitement. “Help me, Pap!”

“Let’s see what you’ve got, little man,” Clay said, kneeling beside him, genuinely interested in his work.

I exchanged a glance with Jax, who gave me an encouraging nod and a subtle thumbs up. I was still on edge, but seeing how much the kids adored Clay softened my apprehension a little.

Gemma approached from behind and laid her hands on my shoulders like a masseuse. “So, the pumpkin party seems to be going well, but how about you? You doin’ okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. I’ve been pretty well,” I admitted, trying to shake off my unease. “Just enjoying some family time.”

“Good to hear,” she replied, nodding approvingly at everyone’s handiwork. “You guys are doing great. I can’t wait to see how these pumpkins turn out when they’re finished!”

As everyone got settled into carving, I noticed Clay slipping away from the group, his expression shifting to something more serious. I felt a pang of worry and quickly called Jax over. “Hey, where’s Clay going?” I asked quietly. “You think he’s doing club stuff here?”

Jax shrugged, glancing in the direction Clay had vanished. “If he’s conducting club business in the house, it’s just how it goes.”

I frowned, crossing my arms. “But can’t he at least keep it out of our home? It’s ruining the moment.”

Jax’s gaze softened as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “I get it, babe. But you know how it is— the club’s the club. Just put it out of your head and try to enjoy the time we’re spending together, okay? Don’t let something as simple as a phone call send you into a shitty mood..”

I sighed, accepting his point. “You’re right. Let’s just focus on the kids.”

We turned back to the backyard just as Clay returned, a casual smile on his face that made me wary. For all I knew, he just secured a gun deal from the comfort of my porch— or worse yet, maybe he just put a hit out on someone. I was still on edge, but I could see the kids were too caught up in their fun— I did my best to focus on that and put anything negative as far from my mind as I could.

About thirty minutes later, laughter filled the backyard as Mary and Thomas excitedly showed off their cookie-cutter creations. That was also about the time that the unmistakable roar of motorcycles thundered through the neighborhood, making me jump.

“Great,” I muttered, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “More company.”

Jax noticed my discomfort and just smiled, his nonchalance aggravating me further. “Don’t worry, darlin’; it just sounds like the guys. I’d know Bobby’s beater anywhere.”

Before I could lose my cool, two of the prospects rolled up in the runner van, the engine sputtering to a stop at the back gate of the yard. They jumped out, looking as eager as ever, and opened the van doors to reveal a massive pallet box overflowing with pumpkins.

“Surprise!” one of the prospects shouted, grinning as he gestured to the bounty.

The tension in my chest eased slightly as I watched the kids’ eyes widen with delight. “Look, Mama! More pumpkins!” Mary squealed, jumping up and down.

“Looks like the party just got bigger!” Jax chuckled, stepping forward to help them unload.

Clay caught my eye again, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He knew how easily he could rattle me, but instead of teasing, he simply nodded, acknowledging my presence in a surprisingly respectful way.

“Guess we’re all getting in on the action now,” he said, his tone light, as he approached the new arrivals. “Let’s see what you’ve got, boys!”

“Hey, look who it is! The pumpkin crew!” Tig shouted, a broad grin on his face. “You guys ready to carve some masterpieces or what?”

“Only if I get to carve the scariest one!” Juice chimed in as he grabbed a pumpkin from the pile.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that,” Chibs added with a smirk, giving Tig a playful shove. “Just don’t mess it up like last time, aye?”

“Last time? What happened last time?” Mary asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Oh, you don’t wanna know, sweetheart,” Tig replied, leaning down with a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s just say it involved too much whiskey and a pumpkin that looked like a nice, juicy, wet, warm….”

I loudly cleared my throat before he could say what I thought he was going to say.

“…melted candle,” he finished, winking at me.

“Eww!” Mary laughed, “a melted pumpkin candle…gross!”

“Just you wait, I’m gonna win this year!” Juice declared, brandishing a carving knife like a trophy.

“Keep dreaming, Juice,” Bobby teased, shaking his head as he settled next to the kids. “I’m the real pumpkin master here. Ya’ll ever see a jack-o-lantern carved up to look like the king?”

“You mean like King Triton from The Little Mermaid?” Mary asked.

“King Tri—” Bobby scoffed. “Jax…Amber, I love you guys, but what the hell are you teaching your kids.” He shook his head and leaned toward Mary, “The King of Rock, sweetheart…Elvis Aaron Presley…”

As the chaos of pumpkin carving unfolded, Clay found his way to my side, casually lighting up a cigar. The scent of tobacco wafted through the air, mingling with the pumpkin guts— it almost smelled…good, actually.

“Did you have something to do with this?” I asked as I gestured to the excited crowd surrounding us.

Clay took a slow puff from his cigar, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Maybe,” he replied, his tone teasing but warm. “Just because I’m club president doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be a grandfather.”

I looked at him, surprised but appreciating the sentiment. “Thanks, Clay. The kids are having a blast.”

He nodded. “Family is important, Amber. You all are important.”

The pumpkin carving continued around us, filled with laughter and playful banter. I glanced back at Jax, who was playfully showing Thomas how to carve a face into his pumpkin.

“Alright, who’s ready to see the best pumpkin ever?” Tig shouted, holding up a lopsided creation that looked more like a sad potato than a pumpkin.

“Not even close, Tig!” Jax laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I’ll give you an A for effort!”

Clay chuckled beside me, and I couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he slipped into the role of a grandfather figure. It was a side of him I rarely saw, but one I was beginning to appreciate.

“Alright, let’s see what you all can do!” Clay called out, turning his attention back to the group.

As the laughter and excitement filled the air, I realized that maybe this chaotic family of ours could bring out the best in everyone—even in someone like Clay.

“Look, Mama! I made a scary face!” Thomas exclaimed, proudly showing off his pumpkin.

“That’s awesome, buddy!” I cheered.

The group fell into an easy rhythm, with Clay joking with the kids and helping them out while I watched from the sidelines.

In that moment, as I watched our family and the club come together, I felt a flicker of appreciation for Clay, despite my reservations. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the source of my stress.

[writing-good-vibes]

turn off the shyness

corey and mr allen go on a dirty weekend. that's it, that's the plot. this is somehow an au of my own au, because i'm not 100% sure if it canonically happens in the homewrecker universe. but it is a great opportunity to explore how they would work in a self contained situation that is, by definition, very intimate.

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, smut, hotel sex, alcohol consumption, overstimulation, (very) mild exhibitionism, and a gratuitous number of sex scenes. 4k word count.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus(if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !! or if you don't want to be tagged anymore, that's okay too, just let me know !!)

sources for dividers: [X], [X], [X]

Corey hadn't left Haddonfield very many times before. When he was a kid, vacations had been few and far between. After his dad died, it was just him and Momma, and vacations cost a lot of money that they didn’t have. It’s not like he had any other family to visit, either. Just him and Momma, and long summers spent at home watching the neighbour kids play in a sprinkler across the street from his bedroom window.

Speaking of Momma, he’d told her he was going on a weekend trip with one of his community college classes. He’d even got one of his friends from American Lit. to forge a headed email for him, as proof. She certainly wasn't happy about it, not one bit, and took every available opportunity to chastise him over it --

Momma was in a good mood, or as good a mood as Momma could be, so Corey decided he’d take his chances.

Corey sidled up next to Momma’s chair, watching her while she watched Pioneer Woman on the FoodNetwork. He stood for a moment, waiting, until he felt that sort of lull that meant it was okay to stay. Sitting down, he settles with his back against Momma’s chair, close enough to brush against the bobbly plaid of her pyjamas with his arm.

 “Can I talk to you about something, Momma?” Corey asked.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just wanted to tell you about how college is going…”

Momma scoffs, “College!”

He rambled vaguely about a few of his classes, carefully emitting any mention of friends, the one thing about his college education that Momma was interested in. Eventually he found his opportunity.

“You want to kill your mother, is that it?”

-- but Corey insisted he needed the extra credit and Momma begrudgingly – very begrudgingly – allowed it, though she still chastised him over it right up until he left the house, backpack heavy on one shoulder.

She'd be a nightmare when he got home, launching a full interrogation, demanding a blow-by-blow of his weekend, but he can cross that bridge when he comes to it. He had the whole weekend to mull over a convincing story to tell her.

But, that Friday morning, he walks down the block, out of sight from where he knew Momma was watching from the window, thinly veiled by the voiles, and waits on the corner, trying desperately not to look out of place as he scans the street, one way and then the other.

Just after 8AM, just as Corey’s starting to get restless, a sleek black Mercedes pulls up next to him on the corner.

Corey leans down to peer through the window. "Hi," he says, unintentionally breathless even as he tried to play it cool,

Mr Allen flashes him that roguish smile, "Want a ride?" He nods towards the passenger seat.

Corey lets himself smirk and jumps in; the leather seat smooth beneath him as he throws his bulging backpack into the backseat.

The drive to Chicago takes a few hours. At first they talk, like they always do, about work and school, about football and last night’s episode of Jeopardy!, and about some cookie cutter versions of their futures, where the other man is conspicuously absent. Once they run out of small talk, but before either of them felt like saying anything too personal, Corey’s focus drifts to the window and he spend the rest of the drive staring at the endless fields and dead-end towns just like Haddonfield that they pass through. He watches more intently when he notices the scenery get slowly more populated, and when the high rises start to spring up as they reached the city limits.

They’d stopped only once, at a gas station. Mr Allen pumps the gas while Corey wandered the aisles of the store, wielding a crisp $20 bill from Mr Allen’s wallet. The drinks fridge hummed low and constant beneath the tinny sound of the radio playing through the store as Corey contemplated what Mr Allen might want.

Back in the car, Corey handed Mr Allen a bottle of coke and then watched out of the window as they drove on, drinking his own bottle of milk.

When they pull up to the hotel, Corey cranes his neck to look up at the most lavish building he’d probably ever seen; classic Chicago School architecture, rising up and morphing into a corporate modernist skyscraper. Mr Allen stays here on business trips, he tells Corey. In his expensive suit, Mr Allen absolutely looked like he belonged there, while Corey stood awkwardly behind him, in his cheap sneakers and Target branded jeans. Corey knows exactly how he looks.

The receptionist checks them in and, if she does suspect something, she does a very convincing job of pretending like she doesn't. As they head up to their room in the elevator, the fear of being caught that churns in Corey's stomach mellows, turning into that ache of nervousness that he always has before his clothes come off and he can just stop thinking.

Fortunately for Corey's nerves, there’s no time wasted when they got to the room. Mr Allen closes the door behind them, already pulling off his tie, "Make yourself at home."

Corey kicks off his shoes at the door, wandering further into the room as he sheds his jacket. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a close-to-panoramic view of the city stretching out around them. Corey, wide eyed and staring, had always hated feeling small, but he thinks he could get used to it in a place like this.

When he finally turns away from the window, Corey’s rapt attention is instead caught by Mr Allen stripping off his own jacket, then his shirt.

The space between them quickly closes and, in the time it takes Corey to pull his t-shirt over his head, Mr Allen’s in front of him, warm hands on his warm, bare waist. Before Corey can ask, he's pulled in for a kiss.

Stumbling back, they find the bed and Corey gasps when his back hits the crisp, clean cotton sheets. He doesn’t have time to even pull in another breath, before Mr Allen kisses him again, his clean-shaved skin smooth against Corey’s own as he wraps Corey up against him.

When Mr Allen finally breaks away, standing to remove his belt, Corey sits up on his elbows and manages to heave his stolen breath back in.

More clothes come off – Corey wriggling out of his jeans, his briefs, his socks, all thrown to the floor and around the room with giddy, reckless abandon. There was no need to tame the mess, no need to keep undies in arm reach or find a quick excuse to leave without his flushed cheeks being noticed. Corey's glasses end up on the night stand and he blinks his wide eyes at Mr Allen through blurred vision.

Corey doesn't really need the hand in his hair to know what he's supposed to do anymore, but he wants it there anyway, twisting through his combed-flat curls, pushing him downward. Dropping to his knees next to the bed, he goes for Mr Allen’s black underwear, but the older man stops him.

Eager as always, Corey's mouth drops open when Mr Allen runs a thumb over his kissed-pink lips instead. "There we go," he says, his index and middle finger slipping inside.

Corey swirls his tongue, sucking obediently as the digits probe further, pressing towards his throat but pulling back before he gags.

Another finger and Corey feels the skin-warm metal of Mr Allen's wedding ring, plain gold and dulled from being worn every day for a decade or more; a permanent, boring fixture in his life. Corey lets his teeth graze the edge, then catches it again when he pulls his head back, watching the older man through his lashes as the ring slides over slick skin. Once it was freed, Corey rolls the band in his mouth, feeling the weight of it. It tasted like pennies and was probably worth more than all the clothes in Corey's closet combined.

Mr Allen makes a noise rather unbecoming of a man like him -- or the man Corey thinks he is -- sending a surge of bashful pride through Corey’s gut. He pinches Corey's jaw, thumb and forefinger digging into the hollow of the younger man's cheeks. Corey sticks his tongue out, the ring glinting in the centre.

With his wet fingers, Mr Allen takes the ring and contemplates the piece of jewellery. He doesn’t remember the last time he took it off. It was dripping with saliva.

"You don’t need that, do you?" Corey pouts.

For a long moment Mr Allen doesn't say anything at all, simply rolls the ring between his fingers. Then he wipes the spit off on the clean-for-now bed linens and places it on the night stand, beside Corey’s glasses. "Not with what I’m going to be doing with you."

Corey’s pout splits into a grin.

Later, Corey comes with a whine, head thrown back against the bedsheets, his ankles around Mr Allen’s ears.

"You can order room service, if you're hungry," Mr Allen says, as he comes out of the en suite wearing one of the hotel bathrobes. He tosses a damp wash cloth to Corey, still lay dazedly on his back in bed.

Corey stretches, feeling it all the way from his toes to his fingertips before he relaxes again, looking up at Mr Allen, "Really?" He sits up and wipes at the cum on his stomach and between his thighs with the cloth.

"Sure, anything you want," Mr Allen insists, pulling his laptop and a stack of papers from the brief case he’d brought with him. "I do actually have some work to do on this ‘business trip’,” he chuckles, settling in to a chair by the window and booting up the laptop. “But you can watch TV and get some food while you wait." Looking over as Corey rolls onto his stomach and over the edge of the bed to retrieve his underwear, Mr Allen winks, "Then we'll have some more fun later. Okay, baby?"

Baby? Now that was new. Corey couldn't decide if he likes it or not. Baby sounds so… domestic. Romantic. Sleazy.

Corey nods agreeably, gives a shy smile in Mr Allen's direction anyway, "Okay," before he grabs his briefs and rolls onto his back again to pull them on.

The room service menu is so long that Corey doesn't even know where to start with it. He reads through it twice before he can make a decision and picks the phone up off the nightstand, only to change his mind again at the last minute. When he finally does order, he asks Mr Allen if he wants anything, but the older man declines, "Get a couple of beers, though, Corey."

When room service arrives, Mr Allen answers the door and brings in the covered plates himself. He even lets Corey eat in bed, sat up against the headboard and watching some Western he found on the channel guide.

The movie is almost over when Mr Allen closes his laptop and stands from the table. With his half-drunk beer in hand, he wanders to the bed where Corey is still watching the TV, though his cleared plates and two empty beer bottles had been discarded on the nightstand.

Mr Allen leans forward, catches Corey by the ankle and drags him down towards the foot of the bed.

Corey gasps in surprise but allows the manhandling with a pout, rearranging himself until his legs rest either side of Mr Allen's trim hips.

"Now, you don't need these, do you?" Mr Allen tuts, his finger sliding along the waistband of Corey's underwear.

Corey shakes his head, a grin splitting his pout, and twitches under the delicate touch.

Then, more deliberate, Mr Allen hooks his thumbs beneath the elastic, tugging it down. Corey lets him, lifts his hips and pulls his legs up to his chest, watching Mr Allen's firm hands peel the briefs off him and drop them to the floor.

He should feel exposed, when Mr Allen spreads his legs again, but he doesn't. He should feel exposed, still loose and wet from earlier, but he doesn't. He should feel exposed when Mr Allen leans over him to reach for the lube, but he doesn’t. While they're chest to chest, Corey slips his hands lower, unties the hotel bathrobe. Mr Allen's length is half-hard already, and it twitches when Corey wraps his hand around it.

The TV is still on. Another movie, older this time, and Corey's eyes are fixed on the screen as he watched. Mr Allen has a beer on one hand and a firm grip on Corey’s soft hip with the other, a faint show of dominance while Corey lifts himself up on burning thighs before letting himself sink back down. Corey’s mouth hangs open, gasps escaping him now and then when he hits just the right spot.

Following the younger man's gaze, Mr Allen sees he's watching the leading man intently. Stoic. Weathered. Brooding. Handsome. Not dissimilar to the lover beneath him.

"I think you have a type, baby," Mr Allen says.

Corey turns to look at him over his shoulder. Mr Allen nods towards the screen, "Men like that."

His eyes flit to the screen and then back to Mr Allen before he ducks away bashfully. He shakes his head, then nods, then, "Just you."

Mr Allen smiles; Corey will be the death of him with flattery like that, his wet-behind-the-ears earnestness. He takes a final swig of his beer before discarding the empty bottle along with the others on the nightstand. His hands start drifting, up the line of Corey's spine to his shoulder blades and back down again, a rough thumb rubbing at the dimples on his lower back.

Going slow is getting old though, and Mr Allen tightens his hands on Corey’s hips, pushing him forward on his hands, manoeuvring him until he's face down-ass up.

Mr Allen kneels behind him, teasing, teasing, teasing, "Look at you, you can take it so well, can’t you?"

Corey nods; face pressed into the pillow, a shuddering gasp leaving him. “I can take it,” he reiterates, “I can take it, I can take it…”

The sun has long since set over the city, and the nightstand is piled with even more plates courtesy of another call to room service --

Mr Allen had let the young concierge in the room this time, rolling a stainless-steel trolley in with their food.

Corey sat up in bed, the sheets tangled scandalously low on his hips, watching as the dinner plates are offloaded onto the table.

There was a professional sort of tension as the dirty dishes from the nightstand were cleared away and replaced with the requested bottle of scotch and two crystal tumblers.

“Thanks,” Corey said, though he wasn’t looking at the concierge beside him, but rather at Mr Allen. The older man was wearing the bathrobe again, looking practically modest in contrast to Corey’s obvious nakedness. Corey shifted, letting the sheet fall a half-inch further, chewing on the inside of his plush lip.

The concierge gives him a measured look, eyebrows twitching just slightly, before leaving with the trolley. The door closed loudly behind him.

Corey reached for one of the tumblers, and catches sight of the gold wedding band beside the whiskey bottle.

-- but as both of them had been distinctly preoccupied since, neither had thought to get up and turn on a light. Instead, they're shrouded in darkness, with only the TV still playing in the background to cast a neon blue glow over their bare bodies.

Corey hasn't been able to think straight for hours, long since gone stupid with how good he felt, but over Mr Allen's shoulder he can see the blurry twinkle of lights from downtown. They look like stars.

"Please," Corey gasps, hips bucking and writing as he clings onto the older man, "please keep going, I don't wanna -- Please, I don't wanna stop yet," he almost cuts himself off with a sobbing moan but manages to get his words out, voice warbling and strained.

"Take it easy, baby," Mr Allen reassures him, stroking his damp curls away from his forehead. "That's it, good boy. It's okay, I won't stop."

Corey cries, desperate to chase the feeling even as overstimulation makes his legs shake, his cock aching even though he's already cum too many times.

"Fuck, if I could keep you like this forever I would," Mr Allen grunts above him. "Wanting it so bad you just cry and cry and cry."

Corey's like a live wire, buzzing with the electric pleasure of orgasm and it's too much, too much, too much --

As he comes down again, twenty minutes and another orgasm later, he’s twitching and sore and almost satiated. Corey wonders if they should slow down -- they have all weekend, after all -- but then Mr Allen's fingers are in his hair and the thought leaves him abruptly.

Cold tiles send a chill through Corey when he goes to the bathroom to freshen up before going to sleep. Most of their mess had smeared onto the bed sheets, but there was more still covering his stomach and dribbling down his thighs that he had to clean up.

And that's not all, Corey catches his reflection in the mirror over the sink. A whimper, half pained and half pleased at what he sees. Face still flushed with heat and painted with tear tracks. Lips swollen and wet. Hair damp with sweat and combed through thoroughly with fingers. Pink stains daubed onto his chest that'll darken into hickeys. The evidence of being wanted and needed and used. He almost doesn't want to wash it away, because without it, it’s to easy to think that none of this was real.

He swills his mouth, spits into the sink and scrubs his face even pinker.

Besides the rumble of traffic on the street below, all is quite when Corey turns out the bathroom light and plunges the whole suite into darkness. Mr Allen had turned the TV off while he was gone.

Feeling his way through the dark, Corey makes it to the bed and hesitates while he figures out which side to get in on. As his eyes adjust, he realises that Mr Allen is on the right-hand side, so Corey takes the left, like he knows Mrs Allen does when they're at home.

The silence as they lay there only aggravates his insecurity. So many nights lonely and crying, or flushed and yearning, or angry at the whole damn world for never cutting him a damn break.

He’s ready to roll over and just try to sleep, when he finally felt an arm reach out through the darkness. Wrapping around his waist, he let himself be pulled in. He sunk into Mr Allen's arms, cheek pressed to the older man's toned, salt-and-pepper chest.

Neither of them spoke for a while and Corey felt himself slipping away into sleep but now there was an ache in his stomach that he couldn’t ignore. This was too perfect, he thought, too domestic and it sent a wave of guilt through him. He was just playing at being a grown up. He was being a stupid, selfish homewrecker. He was --

"You're a good boy, Corey." Roger's hand was in his hair, twisting his curls between his lithe fingers. More tender than before, not guiding him this time but simply an absentminded gesture of... something. Something that Corey knew he shouldn't be thinking about. "I hope you get to college next fall."

"I hope so too," Corey mumbles. "I wanna get far away from Haddonfield... far away from Momma."

"You don't get on with her, do you?" Roger hums

Corey squeezes his eyes more tightly closed at the familiar sting of tears. "You don't know what she's like. She’s so… I dunno know how much longer I can last."

Roger’s wandering hand leaves Corey’s hair, instead stroking gently at his furrowed brow.

"And Momma’s gonna kill me if she finds out about --,” Corey cuts himself off, half because he’s fighting against the lump building in his throat, and half because he’s never – they’ve never – dared to call them “us”. For both their sakes, there was no “us”.

But Roger understands. “Oh, baby…” His voice is soft and deep as he shushes Corey.

“She won’t find out. No one will,” Roger promised. “It’s our secret, right?”

Corey’s stomach aches again, “I like being your secret.” His tears are starting to dry on his cheeks and Corey throws his thigh over Roger's hip, rocking softly against him. The motion feels a little like being rocked to sleep.

Getting off is a faraway thought as Corey drifts away into a dream he won't remember.

In the morning they wake up to the sun bouncing into their room, reflecting brightly off the skyscraper across the street. Corey stretches, back arching off the bed and he feels how his hips ache so sweetly.

Roger stirs beside him, and Corey's eyes drop to where his erection tents the cotton sheets. On his elbows, Corey edges down the bed, dragging the sheet with him, until he’s level with the older man's cock, hand circling the base as he pressed a kiss to the tip.

Roger hums appreciatively, his hand finding its way into Corey's hair. "Someone's eager," he mumbles. "Aren’t I lucky, having your pretty mouth to wake me up.”

Corey’s always been a people pleaser. And he always swallows afterwards.

Corey smiles coyly, feeling stupidly proud of himself. He licks at his swollen lips as he crawls back up the bed, settling against Roger’s chest. Roger’s jaw is rough with a shadow of stubble, but Corey nuzzles gently against him anyway, kitten kisses pressed almost hesitantly until Corey catches Roger’s lips. Open mouthed kisses, fleeting and languid all at once, get Corey giggling, though he doesn’t pull away, letting their noses bump against each other as he keeps going back for more.

"What's so funny, hm?" Roger asks, his hands palming, squeezing, groping the flesh of Corey’s ass.

"Nothing," Corey insists, stealing another kiss. "I'm just really happy." So happy that he wishes they could stay like this forever, where he feels warm and wanted and the sunrise paints everything golden.

They shower together in the en suite, in a shower big enough for four people, let alone two. The tiles are cold and wet against Corey's chest, and he shivers every time the tip of his cock brushes the condensation.

After Roger finishes up, he goes to call room service for breakfast. Corey stays longer, letting the water cascade over him until he has to come up for breath. He sighs, low in his throat, at the heat.

The bathroom is hazy with steam by the time he get out and dries off in front of the vanity mirror. Bruises have bloomed where he’d expected, just low enough on his chest to be hidden by his t-shirt.

Roger looks Corey over when he leaves the bathroom, finally utilising the second bathrobe. “Your hair looks good like that, why don’t you keep it natural more often?”

“Oh,” Corey pauses, hand automatically going to smooth his hair down but feels only shower-damp curls. He thinks about the tin of pomade in his backpack. “Momma say’s it’s untidy.”

“You should stop listening to your momma.”

They eat together at the table, pancakes and bacon drenched in syrup, and Roger tells him about the swimming pool and how there are three different restaurants to choose from in the hotel alone. They could go for a swim later, Roger says, and then Corey can choose where they eat.

But first, they go back to bed.

[divyasharma1998]

Tips to Choose the Right Brush Cutter for Your Landscaping Needs

Brush cutters are adaptable instruments made to easily handle dense undergrowth and difficult vegetation. Whether you are clearing large tracts of land for horticulture or farming, or if you have a backyard garden or commercial lawn, choosing the correct grass cutting machine is essential for getting efficient and effective results. Here are the important aspects to think about when selecting a brush cutter for your particular needs and the surroundings.

Engine Power

When choosing a brush cutter, one of the first things to take into account is the engine power. Engine power is commonly expressed in cubic centimeters (cc) or horsepower (HP). When it comes to light- to medium-sized chores like cutting grass and little weeds, a brush cutter with less horsepower (around 25cc to 35cc or 1 hp) is sufficient. To get more cutting power and economy, choose a brush cutter with a larger horsepower (over 35cc or 2 hp or more) for more demanding jobs like clearing dense brush or saplings.

Cutting Width

A brush cutter's cutting width tells the area of vegetation it can remove in a single pass. The cutting widths of brush cutters range from 8 inches for small versions to more than 12 to 15 inches for heavy-duty equipment. Select a cutting width based on your demands and the size of the areas you will be working on. Narrower cutting widths help provide more precision and movability when cutting around obstructions and confined places, while larger cutting widths are best for swiftly covering large areas with less obstruction. However, the most ideal brush cutter width is 12 inches offered by all Honda cutters, this helps fulfill the need for both narrower and wider areas of land. 

Terrain

The type of machine required for a given task depends on the terrain on which the brush cutter will be used. When working on plain, unobstructed terrain, a regular handheld vertical brush cutting machine will suffice. However, it is important to take into consideration a brush cutter with features like 360-degree movability or a stabile handle, and an overhead cam cylinder or a backpack brushcutter that is portable and easy to carry and gives control for hard or uneven terrain, such as slopes, ditches, or rocky terrain.

Choosing a brush cutter with a powerful engine and heavy-duty cutting blade attachments like one from the Honda Grass Cutting Machine range helps to adequately manage the challenging conditions in densely vegetated or highly wooded areas.

Fuel Type

There are two types of brush cutters: gas-powered and electric-powered. Once that runs on gas are perfect for long-term use in distant locations because they have longer runtimes and better mobility. On the other hand, electronic brush cutters emit no emissions, need less maintenance, and are quieter and lightweight. Honda bush cutting machine runs on petrol and gives all these combined benefits and is a good fit for smaller properties or environmentally sensitive places where noise and pollution are a concern. Also, they are great for heavy-duty tasks because they have greater cutting power than any other cutter. 

Brand Reputation and Warranty

It's essential for homeowners, farmers, or commercial land owners to select a trustworthy brand while you purchase a brush cutter, one that is recognised for manufacturing sturdy, high-quality agricultural equipment like the Honda India Power Products Limited. It has been the leading manufacturer of power products with cutting-edge technology and environment-friendly products. It has been serving 5 million customers in India. Buying a brush cutter from Honda with a thorough guarantee of 2 years will give you more assurance and defense against any flaws or problems.

An effective brush cutter is important for keeping your outdoor area tidy, regardless of the size of landscaping tasks or how much overgrowth you need to remove. There are many criteria that need to be carefully considered when choosing the best brush cutter, such as engine power, cutting width, terrain, fuel type, ergonomics, and brand. Select a brush cutter from Honda at a reasonable Brush Cutter Price that satisfies your needs and provides the best performance.

[treeremovalpensacola]

Sunseeker debuts new autonomous mower at Equip Expo

There are a few things that are certain in Pensacola that you will have to deal with at some point - tree removal and tree trimming. Before you hire a Tree Removal Pensacola company you should take into consideration before hiring a tree service company. Some of the things you should consider include: - The type of tree that needs to be removed - The size of the tree - The location of the tree - The condition of the tree If you are unsure about whether or not you need to hire a tree removal company, contact Tree removal service in Pensacola for a consultation. We will be able to assess your situation and give you our professional opinion. (Photo: Sunseeker) Sunseeker will make its North American debut in Louisville, Ky., at Equip Exposition on Oct. 18-20. The company said it will also debut its newest robotic lawnmower, the Platform X. Platform X incorporates three features including real-time kinematic (RTK) for precision boundary tracking within a 0.7-inch margin, virtual simultaneous localization and mapping (VSLAM), and an artificial intelligence sense system (AISS). Sunseeker said these features enable multi-zone management, establish perimeter wire-free boundaries and navigate around obstacles. RTK handles the majority of tasks. However, Sunseeker said in scenarios where Platform X encounters obstructive elements such as dense bushes that could potentially weaken the signal, disrupt connectivity or induce disorientation, the VSLAM and AISS ensure there are no issues with Platform X completing its job. The Platform X also boasts a cutting width of 14 inches and auto height adjustment between 0.8 and 4 inches. The Platform X also offers all-wheel drive, including slope climbing capabilities of 35 degrees, or 70 percent slope grade. The Platform X has remote app control with Google and Amazon voice control connectivity to activate even when its users are far away. It has a smart visual-based quick return to its stand when it is alerted to low battery and a low noise design (under 55 decibels). Platform X also includes auto charger, rain sensor and LED light. Sunseeker offers a wide range of products, from weatherproof backpack batteries, trimmers, and brush cutters to ergonomic hedge trimmers, chainsaws and turbo boost function handheld blowers. Sunseeker said will showcase its Platform X and other products at indoor booth No. 1160 and outdoor booth No. 7460D. The post Sunseeker debuts new autonomous mower at Equip Expo first appeared on Landscape Management.

[krishitool2021]

Brush Cutter Machine | paddy cutter in India - Krishitool.com Book Now :  https://www.krishitool.com/products.php?id=5 Buy brush cutter machine/grass cutter online at lowest price in India. Shop rice cutting & paddy cutting, 4/2 stroke honda gx35 brush cutter machines Crop Cutter 4 Stroke  Price Online at Krishitool.com. ✓ Wholesale Price ✓ COD.

[namorslut]

NAMOR / PEARLS OF JADE

SUMMARY: you're a marine biologist sojourning in the Yucatán Peninsula and stumble upon an underwater cave in the clearing of a dense rainforest. expecting to make an amazing scientific discovery you're swept into a spell down the abyss into the reach of a loveless serpent feathered god who will go to any length to claim you as his.

WARNING: yandere!namor, body worshipping!namor, gift giving!namor, thigh gripping, sub!namor (if you squint) hc!siren!entrancing!namor, human!reader, dub-con (i think)

NOTE:  after reading @jottositto 's post i've included some yucatan maya using a translator although it's not 100% accurate. if this came across a native speaker could you maybe give me corrections as i'd like to be as respectful and accurate as possible. ofc the people living in the peninsula will be speaking spanish as this area was colonised and y/n only has an understanding of spanish. thank u and enjoy!! ps: namor?? more like "mi amor" that man had me kicking my toes and twirling my hair in the cinema on friday. this is dirty af i feel like i'm teasing y'all. might write a part two laterrr. no beta so there are 100% spelling errors which i'll check when i got time.

"Me gustaría ayudarla pero en el tiempo que he vivido en ese pueblo, los que se han atrevido a salir de la seguridad de ese pueblo y dentro de la jungla nunca más fueron vistos. Estarías en mucho peligro si te fueras. No creo que tu proyecto de ciencia valga la pena el riesgo.” The short Mexican woman explained.

Her thinning, silver hair was pulled down into two long braids down her protruding collarbones. Her brows were pulled in a frown, revealing creases running the length of her forehead and the outer creases of her beady, mud-brown eyes.

You pleaded with her, your coffee stained research folder clutched in one hand, as you made contact with her elbow gently.

"Pero señora, forma parte de mi trabajo. Fui enviada para investigar los ecosistemas marinos de esta península."

She considered you for a good minute. Searching your unwavering eyes. She sighed and leant toward you, dropping her wobbling voice to a whisper.

"Has lo que deseas, Cariño. Pero que tengas cuidado." she warned, using her eyes to signal you in the general direction to take to enter the forbidden forest. You trailed her eye line and saw a wooden bridge not so far off camp. You bowed to her as a sign of respect.

The journey through the rainforest was an arduous one as the way was shielded by a mass of coiled, everlasting lianas, strangler figs and long, shallow buttress roots along the soil of the shrub layer of the forest which you tripped over several times. You had to slice through the layers of tropical plants in your way with a machete you "borrowed" from a fruit cutter that was left around camp, making your hiking backpack even considerably heavier than it already was. You didn't stop once to admire and take in the smells of passion flowers or orchids as you moved through the brush; you knew better than to let yourself become the prey of the several species of venomous snakes and amphibians native to this rainforest.

It looked to be late afternoon when you stopped by a tributary, crouching over the crystalline water, you followed the stream with your gaze to check for growths of algae when you noticed a dark entrance. You stood up rigid as your breath stilled, you noticed the eerie silence of the clearing. The sounds of bushes rustling, frogs croaking and flapping wings had died down entirely.

There was utter tranquillity. 

You heard a low, rich brassy voice hum a melody from the rocky cave, the sound reverberating to your spot on the damp soil. You dug the heels of your mountain boots as you felt your body being tugged slowly to the body of water, your heartbeat drumming in your ears, your breaths becoming shallower.

The song sounded like one you would hear as a premonition for bad things taking place in urban legends told around campfires, it spoke of men searching to mine riches out of foreign land to find fool's gold instead and meeting their demise at the hand of otherworldly things. Despite the warning behind the unspoken lyrics, you felt your body lull into relaxation.

You saw him rising from the dark aquamarine pool beyond, his eyes glistening a tawny shade of brown. You didn't miss his long ethereal pointy ears and his full lips. His tanned muscular body was slick with droplets as the rest of his body appeared from out of the water. He was adorned in golden bangles and a thick necklace dating from an ancient civilisation, encrusted with what looks like azurite and pearls of jade.

He floated above the surface and toward you. You felt your mouth dry and heart drop to your stomach as a human-looking man flew slightly above the land slowly in your direction. You fought back a scream as the soles of his foot made contact with the ground, and still towered over you despite that. He scrutinised every detail of your face with an unreadable expression.

You breathed in, mustering the courage to speak.

"What are yo-"

He raised a large hand over your face, your vision darkening and body tumbling forward.

You awoke in what seemed to be an underwater cave with overhanging stalactites, you sat up abruptly from the makeshift bed out of bamboo. You noticed the absence of your backpack beside you. Remembering your phone in the jean pocket of your shorts and pulled them out. Scrambling to get a signal.

"Teech ch'íijsajil despierto." a female voice enunciated in a foreign tongue. You flinched, your pocket phone nearly flying out of your reach. Your eyes landed on a blue skinned woman. A respiratory mask covered her nose and mask.

She wore indigenous print robes and held a spear encrusted in emerald jewels. You noticed how her mouth didn’t move, her voice seemed to have come from inside your head as she stood alone in the middle of the rocky cavern.

"I don't understand" you thought, testing your theory out.

A female voice penetrated in your brain again, speaking to you in what sounded like an ancient Mayan tongue.

"Kukulkán in tu k'áataj a buscara. Búukint le, ku leti'. '' the woman seemed to lecture as she crossed the round room and reached into a clam basket by the foot of your mat and pulled out folded sheets of cream coloured linen, extending them to you. You accepted and forced a small smile to show gratitude.

You put the robe on and the beaded necklaces of jade over the dress, which ran up to your mid thigh and was sleeveless. The material was comfortable and baggy over your body but you felt uncomfortable at the lack of bralette you had underneath, leaving your breast exposed. You found a pair of golden strappy sandals at the bottom of the pile which you put on as well.

The woman from earlier came back for you and beckoned you with her hand out of the round room and past hung tapestries depicting ancient Yucatan gods and monsters. She stood behind you, ushering you to go into the room.

"Cha' k" a familiar voice spoke out. The man from the cave turned from his spot facing the painted mural, his back shifting as he smiled at you as you shivered in fear.

"Teech wilik ki'ichpam yéetel a prendas, a wilik ti' beyo' utia'al in reina” he flirted, in a deep, suave tone advancing toward you, you took a step back. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his rigidly sculpted chest, welded in the image of a divinity and the sleek look of his tanned copper skin. 

"Look, I don't know where I am or what you want with me but I certainly didn't mean any harm by stumbling on your cave. I'm not a threat to your people but I wish to be let go." you raised your hand to your chest, gesticulating as clearly as possible your words, shaking your head. The mythical man let out a boisterous laugh at your words, startling you. He grasped your hand in his firm one, raising it in front of him.

"Oh my little angel, I do know that. But I haven't taken you for that reason." he admitted, speaking to you in English as he interlaced your fingers together.

Fucking bastard.

You shook your hand out of his.

"You can speak my language." you pointed, growing irritated with the man.

"Of course, a dutiful ruler needs to be educated of the world around him." he boasted proudly.

"What is your name?" you asked as politely as you could muster

"My people praise me as Ku'kul'kan but my enemies call me Namor." he tucked a strand of your hair behind your head as his eyes traced your figure, wandering down from your budding breast to your legs.

"Why did you take me? What is it you need?" you defied. He cupped your chin gently with his smooth thumb, inclining your head up to his.

You shrugged against him but felt another hand slithering to your lower back, his touch cementing your body in place. His brown irises dilated as his gaze softened.

"Well if it isn't obvious, I want you. I want you to rule beside me and light a match that will burn the world from underneath their inconspicuous feet. Be my queen and I'll give you all that which your heart could desire."

You shook your head frantically.

He's insane.

His eyebrows quirked at your lack of cooperation.

"I see it in your eyes, that spark of passion and resentment. You've been underestimated your whole life. Your life's work is meaningless to the people around you, you're not getting the recognition you deserve." you grunted, bothered by his assumptions. 

"You know nothing about me or my life.” you stated. 

“I hate to disappoint you my angel but you can either bend to my desire of your own will or we can do things my way.” he remarked as he traced his thumb over your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them. You felt as if every inch of your body was set aflame at his touch. You reclined your head in disgust.

“St-” 

Your mouth betrayed you as it parted open to receive the soft ones of the God before you as his palms felt their way treacherously down your body to the back of your thighs and your nape. You felt your knees buckling together, the flesh of your upper thighs pressing together as you felt heat pulsating from between your legs. You bit back a moan of pleasure as his imposing form bent down to kneel before you. Your eyes widened as his lips pressed against your vee line. You saw a flash of green in his eyes as he looked up to you. You pressed your eyes tightly shut. 

No. 

Suddenly you pushed against the invisible boundaries around you, stumbling backwards out of whatever spell Namor had put on you. You breathed out painfully. 

“Fuck you.” you whispered. 

“Oh?” he enquired, surprised at your incredible amount of resistance. 

She has the spirit of a warrior queen, he thought. I must bind her to me forever.

Namor arose, striding to you. In a single movement, he coiled his arm around your throat; putting some pressure down onto your windpipes as you clawed at his hand. 

He moved you easily against the wall rubbing his nose onto yours, turning his face toward your ear as he whispered:

“We’ll have to go for that second option then.”

[pancakemoutainthatrides]

Would anyone be interested in a continuation?

Howdy howdy, tumblr.  I basically never write, and I certainly never share it when I do, and since I have like 6 followers, who may or may not be bots, this may be pointless, but before I dedicate any substantial time to this, I wanted to see if anyone would be interested in it to begin with! So, without further ado, here’s the intro to my Eddie Munson x reader fic. :)

Untitled (for now)

Eddie Munson was an idiot.  He just couldn’t decide if he was more idiotic for being a walking cliché and having a crush on the girl next door, or if it was more idiotic trying to make himself hate her for mundane, stupid reasons so he wouldn’t be that cliché.

She had moved in that summer, so he knew very little for a fact.  Yet still, he told himself she was a cookie cutter, preppy school girl who would laugh at him if he ever spoke to her.  She was a party girl or maybe a jock.  It didn’t matter that he never saw her with any friends, that she lived in the same trailer park as him with what he could only surmise was her grandma, that the only time she ever left home was riding her bike to her job at the bookstore, always coming home right after.  It didn’t matter when she strummed a cheap little acoustic guitar on the front porch, the tip of her tongue poked out in concentration while flipping through a music book and fumbling through chords.  She was probably playing some lame pop music anyway.

And it certainly didn’t matter when school started, with both Eddie and her in their senior year (him yet again) and she sat right at the front of the classrooms (teacher’s pet) or tripped all over herself and others in gym (ok, maybe not a jock, but definitely a prep) or smiled uncomfortably when anyone tried to talk to her and got red and sweaty (maybe just a party girl then?) and sat alone at lunch, occasionally looking wistfully at all the groups of friends, and still dutifully rode her bike to her job after school and right home after that, even on weekends, even making a little time to keep fumbling on her guitar.

Yeah, Eddie was an idiot, and after about a month of school and seeing the pretty girl he’d been judging muddle her way through as lonely and isolated as he had been, he couldn’t help but mentally berate himself for that idiocy.

It was towards the end of September when one morning a thunderstorm struck just as Eddie was getting ready for school, late of course, which essentially consisted of brushing his teeth, fingercombing his hair, and throwing his half-finished homework into his backpack (with a smell-check of his t-shirt, which was basically fresh).  He ran to his van with his backpack over his head, then peeled out, spraying mud as he did. A startled scream made him slam the breaks and look out the passenger window.  There was his girl next door, bike at her side, already soaked to the bone, covered in mud.

[sayitaliano]

La cancelleria - stationery

La pinzatrice - stapler

L'evidenziatore - highlighter

La puntina - pin

Il goniometro - goniometer, protractor

Il blocco (note) - notebook

Le forbici - scissors

Il quaderno - exercise book

La squadra - set square

Il nastro adesivo (lo scotch) - duct tape

Il righello - ruler

La matita - pencil

La gomma - rubber

La colla - glue

Il pennello - paint brush

Lo zaino (la cartella) - backpack (schoolbag)

I libri - books

Il temperino*, il temperamatite - pencil sharpener

Il compasso - compass

l taglierino, il cutter - box cutter

La graffetta, la clip - paperclip

La penna stilografica, la penna stilo, la stilografica - fountain pen

I pennarelli - markers

La calcolatrice - calculator

Il portamatite (l'astuccio) - pencil holder (pencil case)

i pastelli, le matite colorate - pastels, colored pencils

Il raccoglitore (il quaderno ad anelli) - binder (loose-leaf exercise book)

(beware: *temperino = pocketknife)

[hooniee]

   — ꒰‧⁺celsia *ೃ༄

↷ jungwon x reader  ⋯ ♡ᵎ: 

↷ genre: romance | mystery ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: mention of blade to cut open book! | not proofread!⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷synopsis:  (y/n)’s boring life gets a little bit better, finding a mystery journal⋯ ♡ᵎ

⇢˚⋆ ✎ author note: hello! this is for @enhypenwriters​ event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 this one out of the three stories i made! this one was definitely fun to write and maybe i’ll expand on it later! enjoy!ˎˊ-

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

“celsia’s kingdom was-”

the abrasive scraping of white chalk on the chalkboard had come to a halt. the bell chimes, the more petite hand of the clock was precisely striking 3:00 pm.

ms. jeon glimpses up before allowing a long-awaited sigh, laying the chalk in its corresponding place. dusting off her hands of residue, she concluded our class.

“alright, guys! let’s stop there, we’ll proceed where we left off tomorrow.”

the class arose from their seats, bowing to her before she exited. classmates exalt their breath and stretch their bodies from being restrained in a desk for the prior eight hours.

the rackets of shuffling books being shoved in bags and hurried footsteps came from every corner of the school. chatter goes throughout regarding how dull ms. jeon’s history lesson was.

“who even cares about the past anymore?”

“the princes were never found right?”

“you guys up for some norebang? at han’s?”

while your classmates debated on what karaoke place they intended on hanging out at, you hastily shove the remainder of papers in your bag, not minding if they would be creased.

readjusting your hair slightly, you rise from your seat and attempt to quickly boot it to the door.

“(y/n)! don’t you want to come with us?”

someone seized the end of your sleeve. you turn around to see shin ryujin, the class president, and someone you could view as a friend. 

her freshly tinted grey hair nevertheless had a shock factor on you.

“sorry ryu! i have to get to the library,” you warmly took her hand and squeezed it, before dashing off.

“this girl,” ryujin sighs

"where is (y/n) going?" vice president asked ryujin

"library again"

you had quietly forced your way through the masses of people before having a hand tug at your blazer, causing you to lightly tumble back.

you turn to see heeseung.

“(y/n)! where are you going in such a hurry? i was just about to try to find you to ask you if you wanted to come to the arcade with us? we invited some of our friends from saebom as well,” heeseung interrogates.

sunoo pops up from behind him, “come on (y/n)! i’ll be so much fun, please it’ll be so much fun.”

sunoo was your classmate while heeseung was your upperclassman. sunoo and you were selected to be lab comrades last year and have been friends ever since. that's where he introduced you to his remaining friends, heeseung and underclassman, ni-ki.

as much as you desired to accept their proposal, you remember the library and time was ticking before it closed.

you bowed your head, “i’m sorry guys! but i have to do something important. what about we all hang out tomorrow? you can invite your friends from saebom and i’ll treat all of you guys to a meal? how does that sound?”

sunoo pouts, “alright then”

“get there safe,” you bowed your head.

“see you-” before heeseung could complete his sentence, you had already fled off.

“where is she in a hurry too?” ni-ki abruptly enters the discussion, studying your disappearing silhouette

“OH MY, don’t give me a heart attack ni-ki” heeseung holds his hand above his heart.

“whatever grandpa,” ni-ki snorts before sprinting

“what did you just say to me? get back here,” heeseung commences chasing after him

“i wish (y/n) would have come,” sunoo shakes his head before attempting to catch up with them.

you eventually arrive at the library, catching a few breaths in and noticing ms. kim sitting down in her normal spot.

you take a deep breath, before entering the library. the tiny bell above the door executes a noise, gaining ms. kim's attention.

she glances over to see you and smiles widely. she gets up from her seat to welcome you, “(y/n), you’re here just in time! the new books are on the back table, left side.”

“thank you ms. kim!” you bow to her, with a big smile on your face.

glimpsing round, the library was moderately bare except for two or three students that were distributed from tables.

you headed back to see the fresh heap of new history books that rested on the small birch polished table.

these weren’t unspecified history books, they were royal books.

ms. kim was a historian before a librarian so she was capable of getting her hands on some books about the disappeared royal family from centuries ago.

you smiled at the collection that grazed your eyes. you choose a book that was nearly the measurement of a binder.

you had tenderly dusted off the cover, as you open it. you slightly cough at the quantity of dust the books have garnered 

the publication titled read, “celsia, the royals”

the backbone of the book had been fastened back together, implying you must be cautious when reading.

turning each rusted paper sparingly, you could observe the old castle in which the royal family had occupied before it grew abandoned. 

it was a beautiful interior, built out of the most luxurious rose quartz that anybody could fancy of in that era.

the chandelier that draped in the main room was constructed in the purest gold that was handcrafted by only the best chandelier.

their disappearances were continuously something that was whisked beneath the rug.

we studied briefly about it in history class but we always end at a set point because there was nothingness beyond that.

there remained no traces of foul play at all, it was like everything had vanished inside the castle. all belongings of the families were taken and the only items they could find were some rings that showed to be discarded.

there were three rings, made for the three succeeding crowned princes.

sapphire; purity, wisdom, and chastity

assigned to the oldest of the sons as he was waiting to be the next crowned prince, a face and personality that reflected purity

ruby; nobility, purity, passion

assigned to the middle son, fascinated about archery. the desire to be the greatest hunter in the kingdom. a soul abundant of passion

and lastly,

emerald; wit, eloquence, and foresight

assigned to the youngest son with a voice that could put the whole town to slumber. though the youngest could wield the responsibility like the oldest son.

you softly caress the pages while browsing through the information. it was practically always the identical facts but you couldn’t help but learn how each historian put it in their own words. 

you had gingerly closed the book before proceeding onto the next one.

this book, strangely, didn’t have a name.

the cover was made of brown leather, with J, engraved on the silver button that fastened the book closed.

matter a fact, it wasn’t like a textbook but as a diary

‘who has diaries like this anymore?’ you thought to yourself.

you shrug the thought aside and undo the clasp.

brushing at the pages, you could scarcely obtain any of the words. they were inscribed in cursive and it seems that the ink has smudge.

flipping through the so-called journal, you could gain some phrases.

“castle”

“my older brother”

“rose quartz”

to you, the messages didn’t correlate with anything considering the smudged ink left the words in ruins.

flipping to the end of the diary, you scan the back of the cover.

if you happened to not spare a secondary glance, you wouldn’t have noticed that petite tear that was sliced into the leather.

peering closer, you could see the incision that was nearly flawlessly adhered together.

you were further too curious to place it down, so you went to ms. kim to check it out.

“is this all you want to take home (y/n)?” ms. kim inquiries, scanning the book and your library card.

“yup! that’s all for now,” you chirp.

she pauses for the receipt and fixes it on top of the diary.

“see you (y/n)!” ms. kim waves.

you bow before hastening home, diary in hand. you quickly fish out your keys from the backpack.

the door unlocks before you barge in and toss your bag on the floor. you slide off your shoes and quickly speed to the kitchen.

“where are they? where are they?” you ransack around the cabinet

“ah! there they are,” drawing a sharp box cutter.

setting the diary on the countertop, you open it to the back page. you mindfully compose the incision larger beginning from where the adhesive is and all the way down.

“got it!” you shout, placing the box cutter down.

you thoroughly unfold the slit a little wider to see a piece of something in there. you pull it out to reveal a photograph.

you smile, thinking it was probably a journal of someone’s life story and this photograph has special meaning to them.

you glance over and your eyes widen as you examine it. 

"that's not-"

you squint your eyes at the worn photograph and go straight to the lamp, shining light to see more precisely.

your mouth drops wide open when you realized it was true, clasping your left hand over your mouth.

though the photograph’s colors were faded, there stood the three princes wearing suit colors that matched their rings.

it was a miniature photograph that could comfortably fit in someone's wallet.

sapphire; puppy-like, doe eyes that are filled to the line with love

ruby; the fairest skin, plump lips that were painted red like his passion

emerald: sharp eyes that won’t deceive, dimples that mark his cheek

‘did i just find one of their journals?’ you question.

no photographs of the princes or royal family were ever recovered. it was rumored that they had a significant family portrait, but even that was nowhere to be found in the castle.

holding tightly to the photograph, you hasten to your laptop. there was no rush but the adrenaline that was elevating in your heart said otherwise.

you had opened a new browser tab and started typing swift.

“photograph on the missing three princes”

“celsia’s crowned princes”

“celsia royal family photos”

no matter how much scowering on the internet you did, you couldn’t find any traces of this photo anywhere.

you were gazing at the screen for hours, working to find any data you could.

your eyes became weak as the room grew dim but yet, you still didn’t budge from your spot.

‘maybe i should try the news tag’ you thought.

you clicked on the tag and the first article that popped up

“belongings of the three princes are being found after centuries"

browsing through the article, the grip on the photo became tighter.

it didn’t make sense to you. for centuries, they’ve never attained anything in the castle or anything about the castle. now suddenly, items of the three princes were coming into play.

it appeared like they were planted there on purpose, but it would be impracticable. the whole royal family would be deceased by now.

you looked at the photo one more time to admire the handsome princes. though all were handsome in their own way, emerald caught your eye.

sharp eyes and sharp jaw, yet the eyes hold so much sweetness and the smile holds so much grace. he caught your eye the second you studied the photograph.

emerald was someone interesting.

you cried, “only if guys looked like this in my school.”

the clock ticks, making you look up at it. it just became 8 pm.

you yawned. you desired to do more investigation but tomorrow's test in history was retaining you back.

that clicks in your head.

‘i’ll just ask ms. jeon! maybe she’ll know something’ you made a mental note, as you had just physically printed it on your brain.

you decided to call it a night, eyes dropping down from the intense amount of looking at the computer.

the next morning, you were depleted with your brain being over-exerted last night. you made sure to get up a bit earlier to study on your way to school.

you were ready were putting your shoes on, the photograph caught the corner of your eye. 

you debated whether you wanted to keep it at home or take it with you.

‘it would be safe here but what if someone tries to break into my house?’ 

irrational thoughts came to mind and in the end, you decided to seal it in the journal and bringing it to school with you.

before any second-guessing, you shove the journal into your backpack and rush your way to school.

you wanted nothing other than history class, last period. your mind was tingling with problems that needed solutions.

you hardly made it when the bell went off. you rushed up the stairs, to study hall, seeing ryujin already there.

ryujin sees you and flashes a smile, signaling to you

“(y/n)! over here,” ryujin pats down the seat next to her.

you smile, heading over and sitting down.

"sorry for leaving so suddenly yesterday, the library got new books! you know? the usual" you acted cool

"no problem. i know you well, book nerd," she snorted.

letting out a big sigh, you bring out your history textbook to aim to recall as sufficient information as you could in this brief 25 minute period.

ryujin resumes playing on her phone before she peers over to you. she corks her eyebrow in puzzlement.

“what are you doing?’

now it was your turn to be confused, “studying for our history test for ms. jeon?"

“ah you didn’t hear? ms.jeon isn’t here so that means no test, isn’t that amazing?” ryujin cheers.

the news disheartens you ever so little.

thought you didn’t have to cram information, your heart sinks a little with your curiosity raging as a furnace overflowed with gold.

why did this tug at your heartstrings? it was simply because you were curious right?

“yeah that’s amazing!” you shakily cheer.

you restlessly bounce your leg and illogical reasoning surge your brain.

‘i need to ask her now! but why do i? why do i feel so anxious? my heart feels like it’s beating out of control’

and your head wouldn't stay still even when ms. jeon class rolls around, the time ticks by way too slow. 

“and make sure-”

the bell jolts you out of your seat and you immediately gather up your things. if people were to see you, they might think you were being pursued.

you were strained as is and you try to bolt out of school before someone clutches your wrist.

“where are you going?” 

you turn around to see heeseung clinging onto you

“home?” you cork an eyebrow.

why was heeseung asking an impractical question? it was a wednesday, where else would you be going?

“home? aren’t you coming with us to the arcade? we invited our friends from saebom as well,” heeseung asked, troubled

your mind clicks. you have plans with heeseung and his friends today. you weren't in the best headspace and entirely blanked.

“ah right! i’m sorry, i forgot. let’s go,” you stiffly smile.

“you’re fine. sunoo! ni-ki! ready?” heeseung calls them over, swinging his arm over your shoulders.

sunoo rushes over while ni-ki trudges behind. ni-ki yawns while sunoo squeals at your presence.

“is (y/n) coming with us today?” sunoo cheers linking arms with you.

“yup, and she’s treating us to a meal,” ni-ki smirks

“you boys are going to be the death of me,” you groan, recognizing the deal you presented yesterday.

heeseung laughs and you make your way to the arcade. you guys, the disordered and noisy quadruplets, stumble in.

the arcade was a generous size than the ones you've been to previously. they had more selections of machines and the building was coated in bright colors.

it’s jammed with students in diverse uniforms from all around town with their friends. probably trying to shake the pressure of exam season.

“heeseung hyung!” someone calls out.

“jay!” you glance over to see a boy with bleach blonde hair with silver, swaying earrings, coming over with three followings behind him.

they do a bro-shake, asking each other's day before jay’s eyes land on you.

“oh i don’t think we’ve met before, i’m jay,” he stretches his hand out to you

jay was a few inches shorter than heeseung, stocky rings on both hands, a few piercings on his ears, and someone who was attentive to his fashion.

“i’m (y/n). nice to meet you,” you softly shake his hand

the three boys jostle jay aside before speaking.

“we haven’t met her either, let us,” a soft voice intervenes.

you glance up and at that moment, you assumed your eyes were playing tricks on you.

meeting with the pair of doe eyes that were meant to be captured into a photograph.

your heart sinks to your abdomen, blood drawing through your veins so harshly, causing your whole body to flush.

'there was no way that this was them?' you soothed the uneasy thoughts.

sapphire

“i’m jake! it’s nice to meet you”

his gummy smile reflects the happiness from his tone

ruby

“park sunghoon,”

he bows his head, fair skin that gleams that only princes could accomplish

emerald

“i’m jungwon, it’s nice to meet you”

his sharp eyes turn into small crescents, dimple prominent.

you glance around at the three boys.

"jungwon or jake?"

you vaguely remember the notebook, having the engraving of J on the button of the diary.

"the book addressed his older brothers. that indicates it would be jungwon since he was the youngest and jake was the oldest"

you bow to them, wanting to see if getting a glance of their hands would lead to anything. 

no rings on

right, the rings were founded in the castle. they wouldn't possess it on their body.

“it’s nice to meet you too, i’m (y/n)”

glancing at them, you see capture something from the arcade light. on all of their left ears, hangs an earring that correlates with their colors

gold chain with a small, round sapphire on the end

silver chain with a small, triangle ruby on the end

rose gold chain with a small, heart emerald on the end

it was them. this couldn't be a coincidence.

emerald or jungwon was standing directly in front of you

“let’s go play some games guys!” sunoo shouts before he drags you.

sunoo breaks our introduction. grabbing your arm, he pulls you away to an air hockey table.

sunoo plays against ni-ki as you watch. jay and heeseung verse each other on the basketball game.

you watch around the arcade, observing the happy smiles of people. you smile too before feeling a tap on your shoulder.

you turn to see jake, sunghoon, and jungwon. the three princes.

it became quiet for a minute as you look eye contact with jungwon before sunghoon talks up on the behalf of his younger brother.

“um, jungwon has something he has to tell you,” sunghoon says before bumping jungwon ahead.

“u-um,” jungwon stutters out.

you smother a laugh. one of the crowned princes of celsia kingdom was in front of you, stuttering and reddening.

“don’t be nervous jungwon! i don’t bite”

“can i have your number?” he blurts and now it’s your turn to be startled

'that was unexpected'

“s-sure,” you stutter out as he hands you his phone.

his phone wasn't anything out of the ordinary. an iPhone 8 plus and there was nothing that symbolized he was a prince. the home screen packed with several games.

you enter your phone number and hand him back his phone.

he bows and the three princes are about to leave before you stop them.

this could be awkward if this was synchronicity but you were practically sure it wasn't. reactions will tell the truth.

“jungwon! i need to say something to you, can you come closer?” you smile.

he's confused but complies, leaning into you.

you whisper in his ear, “ whether this applies to you or not, i’m onto you, emerald prince”

he lets out a choked sound, alarming you. you smirk, bowing and heading towards jay and heeseung who were near to destroying the basketball machine.

'bingo'

jake tugs jungwon back and the three of them head to one of the secretive corners of the arcade.

“what did she say?” jake questions

"yeah, what made you choke up like that? you never get surprised like that," sunghoon examines. 

“she’s onto us,” jungwon grunts.

sunghoon and jake look at each other, eyes widening in the process.

“b-but how? we made sure no traces of us would be found-”  sunghoon rambles.

the three princes grew anxious together, questioning how they could meet you again. 

this was the secret that they were expected to remain to the three of them and now an added person knows.

“i don’t know! but she somehow knows and we can’t let her tell anybody,” jungwon groans

"we have to do something," jake sighs.

you felt holes being pierced onto your back, generating an unsettled vibe within you.

“i’m keeping an eye out for you (y/n) “ jungwon flashes.