#her hair ties are literal chains ... oh :'(

[clericofmystra]

Speaking of the first nighttime conversation with Shadowheart, I love this profile shot of her at the end of it.

[heirofnight]

between you & i

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: reader departs on a solo intel mission after ignoring azriel's warnings of danger. reader ends up captured, and guess who ends up coming to her rescue? you guessed it, a pissed off az. enemies to lovers. reader and az do not like each other. yum.

warnings: talk of injuries, being captured, abuse, minor self-deprecation.

you currently found yourself in a bit of a ... precarious situation. to say the least.

your sweat-dampened hair was matted to the sides of your cheeks, your forehead.

holy gods, was it fucking hot in here.

you pressed the back of your head against the stone wall behind you, hoping that the cool brick would offer some reprieve against the sweltering heat.

oh yeah, by the way, the stone wall that you were sat against belonged to a cell. a cell that you were definitely, undoubtedly, locked inside of.

your wrists were bound in chains, your arms bunched behind you haphazardly. this really, really fucking sucked. rhysand would be so pissed.

you huffed out a breath, eyes cast towards the ceiling that was covered in vines, weeds, and moss. you zoned out, reflecting on the happenings that consequently landed you here.

"are you absolutely sure that you'd rather travel alone, y/n?," rhysand had questioned you the evening prior, expression littered with apprehension and hesitation.

you'd rolled your eyes at his protective concern, a smirk playing on your lips.

"rhys, it's a singular little mission to the autumn court," you'd countered, "i'll be back in what - two, three days?," you'd continued, flicking strands of hair over your shoulders. you were hardly concerned - after all, you'd collected intel for rhysand countless times, and you'd always walked away unscathed.

you were a scholar, and this was a huge part of your job within the night court - the chance of running into trouble was slim-to-none. your task involved meeting eris within the outskirts of his territory, collecting confidential information on the inner-political developments occurring within the crisp autumn court for rhys. easy, peasy.

something you could have done blindfolded, hands tied.

which, now, considering your current circumstances, that part had literally come to fruition.

azriel had stood in utter stoicism next to the head of rhys' polished mahogany desk, brows cinched together, eyes hard.

"no, it's unwise," he'd uttered, voice cold and deep - the first words he'd spoken since you'd arrived for your mission debrief.

you and azriel were - well, complicated. while you didn't absolutely loathe each other, there was this very prominent undertone of thick, suffocating tension that had formed a barrier between the both of you. you'd both opted to tread lightly each other - civil when necessary, silent and aloof otherwise.

he'd never really seemed to give much of a shit about you, so this outburst was unlike him.

his words caused you to sit up infinitesimally straighter, eyes locked on his strong frame from across the room.

"and why's that?," you'd questioned, voice sounding bored, dismissive of his opinion.

"too much unrest across his lands as of late," he offered, shifting within his boots just slightly, "we aren't entirely sure who, or what, is patrolling that area. it's dangerous, i should accompany you," he'd finished, sounding as though he'd already made his mind up.

you'd scoffed at the suggestion, standing with the intention of taking your leave before azriel was able to convince rhys any differently.

"no, thank you, shadowsinger," you'd waved a hand in dismissal, waltzing towards the large, wooden double doors of the office.

"i don't need to be coddled, i think i can manage on my own just fine," you'd added, back turned to the two males.

it was azriel's turn to scoff in exasperation, and although you couldn't see him, you could hear his wings rustle in irritation. the thought made you smirk to yourself, reveling in the idea of getting a rise out of the normally impassive spy.

"now, y/n,-," rhys began, his voice laced with consideration.

"i'll see the both of you in a few days," you'd cut him off, letting the door shut behind you with a resounding thud, the sound echoing down the stone halls.

and that was that. you'd decided to depart first thing this morning, hoping to avoid either one of the busybody males just in case rhys had commanded azriel to travel with you, after all.

you rolled your eyes, shuffling slightly against the cell floor as you thought of the verbal lashing you'd receive once you got back to velaris.

azriel would probably be present while rhysand berated you for this catastrophic mistake, and if you thought hard enough, you could just picture the smug smirk that would more than likely be adorning his polished features. az would be enjoying the fact that he was correct, sunbathing himself in your downfall, your failure.

the thought filled you with so much rage, so much embarrassment. it caused your skin to flush and grow even hotter, which was a feat in itself since you didn't think it was possible for the stifling heat to get worse.

you'd been captured by a lone group of autumn court rebels, who'd just happened to be traveling along the exact same path you'd taken to meet eris. you weren't sure what their plans were for you - a night court female. they knew who you were, they knew you were employed with rhys. if you had to guess, they were holding you hostage to use as some sort of bargaining chip.

regardless, it'd been twelve hours since you'd been tossed into this cell. you had not the slightest clue where you even were in relation to the court itself. you'd been blindfolded and jostled about, and your sense of direction had been destroyed in the process.

you were so, so thirsty. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry enough that it felt like you'd ingested hot coals each time you struggled to swallow.

you were nervous, yes. on edge. your feathers were ruffled. but you knew eris would report your absence to rhysand. it was only a matter of time before someone found you. and when they did, you'd be reprimanded endlessly. you'd probably never hear the end of it - never be allowed to depart on solo missions again. you'd probably be stuck with azriel, that self-righteous, arrogant -

your thoughts came to a screeching halt once you noticed that the cell had become dark. it was mid-afternoon, and barred holes in the wall had been allowing the afternoon light to filter into the small space. which honestly, with this heat, felt like an additional form of torture.

but now, a chill filled the darkened air. no light filtered through - not even a pin-prick of luminance could be accounted for. you couldn't see inches ahead of you. your spine straightened, your head perked up. and before you could make heads or tails of the odd infiltrating darkness, it had dissipated entirely.

you blinked several times, weary, exhausted eyes struggling to acclimate to the warm light.

but once you'd righted yourself, you saw it. saw him.

azriel stood before you, half of his body swathed in swirling shadows. his arms were folded across his chest, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in the sight of you - battered, bruised, filthy, restrained. his wings rustled several times before pulling tightly into his back, clearly agitated.

his jaw ticked in anger, and he dropped his head to avert his gaze to the cell floor at his feet. his muscles flexed with tension, and he was pissed.

and while you assumed the anger was directed at you, at your stupidity, azriel was biting back the urge to level the entire autumn court for what those males had done to you.

you swallowed hard, throat burning from the action. you opted to not speak, fully understanding how monumental this fuck-up was. you hadn't even departed velaris with a weapon strapped to your body, completely void of protection. so, so stupid.

"how could you be so foolish," azriel sneered, his arms dropping to his sides, clenched fists flexing. his voice was so low, so cold, you'd finally understood how he was able to intimidate his victims to the point of broken resolve.

you looked down, ashamed, embarrassed.

"i didn't-," you started, voice hoarse.

azriel huffed angrily at the sound of it.

"no, you didn't," he cut you off, stepping towards you with a leveled thump of his boots. "you didn't," he continued, tone laced with contempt.

"you didn't think. you didn't consider how dangerous-," he paused, having to take a deep, steady breath to compose himself.

you continued staring at the floor, anywhere but him. you definitely didn't dare look at his face, his eyes as they bore into you.

"look at me," he commanded, voice growing harsh.

you averted your gaze from the floor, choosing to stare at the bright, barred window that was cut into the upper left wall instead.

"y/n," he growled, stooping down to your level to grab your chin between his thumb and pointer fingers. his grip wasn't harsh - probably due to him being careful of exacerbating any potential injuries - but it was demanding. "look at me," he repeated.

you caved, meeting his hard hazel eyes with hesitation. you tried your damndest to look as unfazed and unwavering as possible - as though being captured and beaten hadn't taken a toll on you. but when you met his familiar face, took in his features and realized you were being saved, you faltered. relief flooded your veins, overflowing until it reached your softening eyes.

unshed tears began to well up, and you used every ounce of willpower that you had left to not allow them to fall.

azriel's expression became tender as he took you in, as he studied your expression. he saw your bruises and scrapes up close now, and he dropped his head once more, shoulders drooping slightly.

"you could have gotten yourself killed," he croaked, anger still lacing his words.

"so, what," you deadpanned, voice rasping, "then you would have been right, about me - about this mission. about how foolishly incapable i am," you said solemnly, jerking your chin from his unfaltering grip.

he snapped his head upward, meeting your eyes immediately. his brows cinched, and you momentarily observed the splattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose - you'd never noticed them before, had never been this close to him.

he blinked once, twice - his long, thick lashes whispering across his skin as he did so.

"that's what you think this is about?," he questioned, voice breathless in disbelief.

you scoffed weakly, pushing yourself up further against the damp wall behind you.

"please, azriel. you've never been subtle about how incompetent you find me," your voice coated in disdain.

he let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he absorbed your words.

"no, y/n," he grunted, his hands moving forward to begin working at the cuffs around your wrists. you'd both needed to get the hell out of here, urgently. it had been hours since you'd last seen your captors, and you were both painfully aware of the likelihood that they'd return.

could azriel singlehandedly fight off an entire hoard of rebels? absolutely. did he want to dismember and mutilate the males that did this to you? abso-fucking-lutely. but more than that, he wanted to get you home, safe, and with madra.

you hissed as he began to work his deft hands around the harsh chains. they'd been pulled so tightly to your skin, that you'd already come to terms with the possibility of losing circulation to the limbs.

his eyes flickered up to your face at the sound of your discomfort, and he winced at the realization of causing you further pain.

"i've never thought that you were incompetent," he continued as he worked, using his words to distract you from the pain he was inflicting, "hotheaded? yes, confident to a fault? sometimes," he continued, and you scoffed at his jabs.

"azriel, just shut the fu-," you blurted, his words bristling your already raw skin.

"but," he cut you off, continuing on with his tangent, "you are also strong, brave - obviously. loyal to your court, to rhys," he went on, pausing for a moment, "and i've always admired you," he finished, voice lowering.

you went silent, considering his words. you became painfully aware of his close proximity, of his hands against your swollen wrists as he fought to free you.

his eyes flitted to your softening expression, gauging your reaction to his words.

and internally, you were realizing for the first time, that maybe you and azriel were more alike than you'd initially thought.

he finally freed your hands, and you groaned at the relief, at the blood rushing down to the stiff limbs.

he helped you gently, bringing your arms back to the front of your exhausted frame. you closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep, even breaths at the feeling of being free, being saved. by azriel.

"how did you know where to find me?," you croaked, peeking one eye open to look up at the male before you. he was crouched closer to you now, poised to catch you if you careened over.

"eris relayed the information to rhys - the general whereabouts of your planned meeting location," he began, eyes flicking over your entire body to scan for any other injuries.

"and rhysand sent you to track me down?," you questioned, assuming that it was a command from his high lord - a decision he didn't make.

"i didn't give him the chance to," he offered, swallowing thickly, "i was at autumn's border before eris finished his report," he cleared his throat, cheeks tinting the slightest shade of pink.

there was a slight pause.

"he didn't have a choice," he spoke, voice deep and gravelly. he met your eyes with that last statement, as if to make a point.

you sat up slightly, reeling with the words azriel had spoken. they blanketed the both of you, sitting heavy against your chest.

azriel had chosen to track you down, to save you? not only that, but it seemed like it was almost second nature for him. to seek you out, to rescue you.

you opened and closed your mouth several times, looking for the right words. nothing you'd come up with was good enough.

"let's get you home," he said softly, reaching under your limp frame to hoist you into his strong arms. you whined quietly, your body rebuking the movement.

"i know," he soothed, bracing you against his chest.

and then you were both wrapped in endless shadows and night.

cradled against your tall, strong salvation.

things had irrevocably changed between you and azriel after that. you'd both known it.

and sure enough, from that day onward, he was your chosen partner on every mission you'd decide to embark on. and azriel had insisted the same.

choosing each other, time and time again.

and sometimes, when you'd both inevitably need to stop for the evening - finding reprieve in a shoddy inn after a grueling travel day, azriel would request a room with just one bed.

and what happened under the covers on those evenings - when your body would melt into his, his forehead pressed against yours, explorative hands learning each other -

well, that was just between the both of you.

a/n: another one shot that just demanded to be written immediately. brought on by scrolling on tiktok lmao. hope u loved it! let me know your thoughts <3

[thegnomelord]

Gnome, my good man, what's your thought on a trickster spirit!reader within the cod monsterverse? Like, he can be a malicious or a purely mischievous spirit who likes to mess with things and play around. As all spirits are, he's a free one, and refuses to be tied down—relationship wise. Which would probably be for some good angst in regards to one/some of the boys pinning for an unrequited!reader. Anyways, I can just see him being an absolute menace to the other boys :3

Better yet if he's a regular fuckbuddy, but even during sex he's still running his mouth, making crude jokes or some offhand comment that makes his current buddy all "???". The only way to shut trickster!reader is to stuff his mouth with some dick or ride/fuck him so good all he can get out is a bunch of whorish moans.

Just.... thoughts on trickster spirit!reader 😞😞

ooooh yessss, trickster spirit reader like anansi that's very clever but also a fucking troll. Reader that's an absolute menace to anyone in charge, a giant pain in the skull that takes every word seriously, as Price figured out when he remarked 'It's raining cats and dogs' and trickster reader literally made it rain cats or dogs, or some general said trickster reader was driving him up the wall so he ended up stuck on the ceiling lol.

Also I absolutely love love love the idea of brat reader and brat tamer 141. Like, you're a free spirit, to try and chain you don't is about as good of an idea as making the spirit of the sea stay with the sailor who loves her, and the old heartless man of the sea can tell you how well that goes.

So the boys let you roam, they let you have your fun; Holding your gaze across the bar when you're flirting with a faceless stranger, not pushing when you shrug their hand off your shoulder to go grind dance with a person you just met, biting back and resisting following you when you disappear to the bathroom for a quick fuck. You're not oblivious of their jealousy, your kin thrive on creating these emotions in others, and quite frankly it's fun to see how far you can push them.

But oh, little trickster, they may let you do as you please, but that doesn't mean your actions don't have consequences.

MDNI

Eventually you burn away all their patience, eventually, the need to show you why it's them you always return to burns too hot and you end up pinned on the bed, or the floor, or whatever semi-flat surface is around.

This time you're pinned beneath Soap who's half shifted, big burly body bruising your hips with the strength of each bounce, sharp claws digging into your ribs to give him a good hold on you. The headboard bashes against the wall every time he fully drops down on you, the springs creaking and digging into your back.

"Fuck puppy-" You moan so loudly you're sure half the base can hear but you can't give a single fuck about it when his ass is so tight around your cock. "So good- shit, you feel- fuck, fuck, fuck- really know how to chase that bone huh- hm!-" Your mouth runs automatically, the your hands sneaking out of the handcuffs easily so you can grip his hips.

Soap is beyond words, animalistic wolf brain too preoccupied with getting your cock as deep in his ass as he can. His tail wags back and forth, wide canine tongue stuck out of his mouth as he bounces on your cock harder, thick thigs tensing to drive you deeper into his velvet soft depths.

"Oh no you don't." Gaz snickers and snatches your arms. He's much more graceful than Soap when he sits on your chest, leaning over you and pinning your hands over your head. "You didn't let us touch you, you're not touching us." He smirks, the tip of his cock laying against your lips, and you could be fooled into thinking he's a trickster too.

You grin and purposely clench your teeth, looking up at him with challenge.

Gaz clicks his tongue, keeping your arms pinned over your head with one hand. His other hand curls into your hair and tugs just as Soap clenches around you. You're in no way responsible for the whorish moan that falls from your lips, eyes closing and mouth opening.

Your eyes fly open when Gaz pushes his hips and shoves half his cock into your mouth. "There you go, got your tongue." Gaz chuckles, pushing his dick a bit deeper. Another sharp tug is all it takes for your mouth to close around his shaft, eyes hooded, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his cock. Gaz's cock muffles your moans when you get a taste of his precum as it beads down your throat, your mind melting through your cock as the two sergeants fuck all that trickster intelligence out of you.

[fanfiction4sooya]

Hello, lovely! I'm so excited to see that you're accepting requests again! If its not much trouble, may I please request something for Bada? Whether it be g!p or her with a strap but maybe her usually shy and inexperienced girlfriend surprises her by asking to be dominated for the first time, how she wants to be claimed by her in every way and reminded who she belongs too. And maybe reader calling Bada mommy or daddy because we all know Bada is mommy coded and daddy coded. She can do both. 🥵 (*Sorry I got side tracked, but dominant daddy Bada is so sexy to me.*)

Daddy Bada is something istg.... Thanks for the request, luv!! 💖💖 Hope you like it!

cw: nsfw, + 18, gagging, strapon usage, face slapping, spanking, cum play, orgasm delay, nipple play, a lot of pet names, choking, daddy kink, not really proofread;

🌸🌸🌸-

You and Bada had been going out for months now, everything was good, smooth even. She was a gentlewoman, so caring and funny and overall a calming presence, always leading you through things without you even noticing.

She was absolutely perfect, your dream come true. But there was one slight problem... the sex.

Not that it wasn't good, it was great. And although you always got satisfied you always felt like she wasn't 100% there, as if she was holding herself back the whole time. She always treated you as her precious little porcelain doll and that was great and all but it bothered you that she neglected her needs for it. And even though you were so shy you tried your best to think of a solution, to change that. You were going to be bold, yeah. Like why not? The worse thing she can do is tell you no.

You had the perfect plan.

She gave you the spare keys to her house a few days back to feed her dog and to hang out as she spent a few days out of town for some idol's MV, so you got everything prepared in the mean while.

You patiently sat on her couch, robe securely tied around your waist and a cute set of black lingerie underneath it, really hoping she wouldn't laugh at you. You knew she wasn't that type of person, but you were still a bit anxious.

You heard her motorcycle passing the heavy gates and her pretty voice greeting her dog. 'That's it, it's time' you thought to yourself as her footsteps got closer. You got up almost in front of the door doing your best to smile as it clicked and she stepped inside.

Oh she was hot. Jesus Christ.

She was wearing a pair of black joggers and a black jacket, he hair a bit messy because of the helmet and a silver chain with your name's initials on a small pendant. Her eyes lit up when she saw you there, her shoulders visibly relaxed as her smile grew wide enough to show her dimples.

"Welcome home!" You said, literally jumping on her arms. She held you with both hands under your ass and kissed you, sitting you both on the couch to hold you better.

"Did you miss me, baby?" She hugged your waist and you nodded as she kissed you again, feeling you on her hands. Suddenly bada stopped as she felt your skin under the robe. "oh, what's this?" She backed up, staring at you.

"A present?" You blushed, untying your robe and revealing the lacy lingerie, letting it fall back.

"Fuck" She kissed you again, ever so carefully. You stopped her, pushing her lightly by the shoulder. She frowned. "What? Are you not on the mood anymore? It's okay if you are not, baby" You shook your head.

"no that's not it..." You said, looking into her eyes. "I want you to promise me something" you caressed her cheek and she leaned on your touch.

"Anything, baby" She kissed your palm and you felt yourself melting on her lap. You got close to her body, your boobs touching her chest over the jacket.

"Promise me you won't hold back" You whispered on her ear, witnessing in first hand the hairs on her neck stand up.

"What?" Her voice sounded low and you reached for the box on the other side of the couching, handing it to her.

"I love being intimate with you Bada, I really do" You were saying as she opened the black box. "but I feel like you are holding back from what you really wanna do with me..." You did your best not to blush when she finally saw what you were up to.

The 8 inch dildo attached to a leather harness, two sets of white rope and lube. She looked petrified, thinking her next move. Your heart danced on your chest waiting for her to say anything. You couldn't hold your tongue anymore.

"I know I'm young and not as experienced as you but I really want you to feel as good as I feel" You kissed her cheek, your lips touching her skin a bit longer than a normal kiss would made her shiver, her addams apple moving so beautifully as she gulped, her hand gripping your waist and letting go as if her touch alone were enough to hurt you.

"I am scared I might hurt you" She chased your lips, whispering against them and nudging her nose against your cheek.

"I am not made of porcelain" You kissed her lips so lightly it was as if it never happened. "I know deep down you wanna teach me so many things" You felt her slender arm snaking around your waist to press you better against her body. "Do you want me to call you mommy?" She smiled against your lips, shaking her head. "Uhm... Daddy?"

You felt her eyes shift, going from playful to serious in half a second.

"oh, daddy it is" she kissed your lips so urgently you really got surprised. She stood up taking you as if your weight meant nothing to her, one arm around your waist and her other hand holding the box.

Rolling her tongue against yours you felt how she really was holding back before. This Bada was bold and way stronger that you thought she was, literally throwing you in bed with a yelp from you.

"Do you really want me to stop holding back?" She said, unzipping her jacket. You nodded, squeezing your thighs together as her dark eyes scanned you. "Use your words"

"Yes daddy please, don't hold back" you pleaded and she smiled, getting between your legs. Her naked slim body body felt heavy and bigger than the other times, taking your breath away when her skin touched yours.

"Good job" She praised, her big hand going to your neck to hold you in place as she kissed you, her other hand touching your nipple over the fabric of the lacy bra. You moaned against her lips when she pinched with a bit more force. Feeling bold you smiled.

"Is that all you got?" Well that was the wrong thing (or maybe the right one?) to say because next thing you felt was a sharp sting on your cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but it definitely did the job on turning you on even more. You moaned, biting your lip.

"oh baby you like that?" She kissed your neck, pulling the straps of your bra to kiss your shoulder and then your chest.

"I do daddy, fuck" pulling your tits out she licked one, then the other, tugging on it with her teeth. "God, I'm going insane" You tried to hold back a moan and she bit even harder holding your hips to make you hump her thigh.

That was it, that was Bada. You knew she was fighting hard the urge to treat you gently and neglect herself once again and you were making sure to let her know you wanted her to let go on you. You pulled her hand from your hip to your mouth, kissing her fingers. She groaned when you pulled two of them into your mouth to suck, licking them.

"I'm gonna train your throat a little bit, princess" she sat on her heels, pushing them far back on your throat and making you gag. "That's it baby, good girl. Breathe though your nose" she commanded and you gagged again, each time that happened you felt your pussy clench harder and your eyes water.

She kept fucking your mouth as her other hand caressed your pussy over the lacy underwear. You closed your eyes, focusing on all the stimulation you were getting as your body started to shake. She pulled your panties to the side as she toyed with your clit, her eyes trained on your face when she entered your drenched slit with two of her fingers.

She pulled her fingers out of your mouth to kiss you as you gasped for air, crying as she pumped her fingers hard.

"Fuck I was going insane thinking of the day I could finally fuck you like a slut" She bit your lower lip, fucking you hard and fast, curling her fingers up on your gspot and thumbing your clit.

You moaned like a slut, finally also realizing how you were enjoying that rougher side of her, discovering with your girlfriend that you, in fact, liked it rough and not just her.

"Daddy" you cried out against her neck, hugging it. "oh god it feels so good, don't stop please please please" You said and Bada smiled, holding your neck with her left hand as her right one kept the rough pace.

"Oh yeah, does it feel good?" She choked you and as you rolled your eyes clenching for the sweet release she stopped, ripping your orgasm from you.

Your body violently shook, tears streamed down your cheeks as your body ached for her, for more. You were sure you passed out for at least ten seconds because next thing you knew she was pulling you by the shoulders to kneel on the floor.

"I said on your knees, pretty girl" She said, already wearing the strap. Her abs looked delicious with a bead of sweat going down and you clenched hard. "Open" she said, holding you by the chin and you did as she said.

She held it by the base and slowly entered your mouth, her sharp gaze burning your skin as you instinctively pulled her into you with both hands on her thighs. She smiled, petting your head.

"Fuck baby, someone is feeling greedy" You gagged, big teary eyes staring up at her and you felt her hips slightly falter.

She started slowly fucking you with the huge dildo, closing her eyes trying to hold herself together because of the stimulation on her clit.

"Your mouth feels so good" She fucked a bit harder, holding you by the held to use your mouth as a fuck hole. "your lips feel so fucking good" she rolled her eyes and when her stare went back to your face she smirked, taking the cock off. You coughed and she pulled you up to kiss you.

She touched your wet pussy again, this time smearing your wetness on it and gathering some on her fingers to spread on the fake cock. She turned you around to bend you over the bed, face on the sheets.

"So pretty..." She spread your ass cheeks to spit on your holes, watching you clench next. She positioned the cock on your entrance and pulled you by the hair, her other hand on your hip to steady you, her mouth glued to your ear. "Are you sure you want me to stop holding back?" She kissed your neck and your whole body shook.

"yes daddy, please" you didn't even had to think twice about the answer.

"alright then" She kissed again. "Tell me if anything hurts too much" She said and you understood that it was going to hurt, you just needed to enjoy while it wasn't too much for you.

In one go half of the thing disappeared into you and you absolutely mewled, tightly gripping the sheets and burying your face on it. She held your hips, slamming it inside of your tight pussy over and over again, knocking the wind out of you every time.

"Daddy, oh god" you cried out, trying to hold her hand for support but she had other plans, pulling both your arms behind your back as her hips kept fucking into yours.

You were going in and out of consciousness, moaning against the mattress without your arms to hold support your weight.

"This is your place, baby" She growled, fastening her hips. "Ass up for daddy, taking my cock like a good cock sleeve" She held your arms back with one hand and repeatedly slapped your ass cheeks with the other one, each strike making you cream even harder on the plastic cock.

She switched your position again, this time she had you on your back, your knees on your chest as she pounded into your pussy with abandon, spitting on your clit just to make even more of a mess, scratching the back of your thighs just to mark you up.

You could only moan, your voice hoarse and tired from all the throat action but you wanted her to keep going, almost reaching your breaking point.

"Daddy I'm gonna cum" You cried out, scratching her hard abs and she clenched, almost climaxing as well due to the end of the dildo rubbing back on her clit.

"Do it baby, cum for daddy" She moaned, feeling how it was getting harder to move her hips because of how hard you were clenching. Her hands found your neck again, not really choking but holding you in place. She fucked you with might, the hard skin slaps echoing around the room along with both of your moans.

You came so hard you felt your scalp tingling, gushing your creamy juices on her cock as she came as well, silently screaming against your lips as she did so. Her hands never left your neck as you kept kissing, sweaty and out of breath.You could barely open your eyes when she took it out of you, slipping off the wet harness.

she went down to clean you up,knowing very well you didn't like to be sticky for long. She fucked you so hard you could barely feel anything anymore, almost completely numb. She went back up to kiss your lips, spitting your juices back into them, licking your drool as it started to get too messy.

You fell asleep as she kissed yous body, praising you and telling you how well you took her, only hearing how she is going to tie you next time, her warm hands caressing your sweaty skin...

The other day you woke up to see her peacefully sleeping, her slender limbs all tangled in you. You felt sore but so happy that she finally stopped holding back, kissing her cheeks to wake her up.

"Hey pretty girl" She said, kissing your forehead. "How are you feeling?" She asked, her morning voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Sore" You shyly said. "How are you feeling?" You asked, trying to move but she kept holding you as if you were trying to escape.

"Very relaxed" She sounded way too cocky and you rolled your eyes.

"I am not trying to run away, you know" You looked at her arms and legs around your body. "After yesterday I am sure I got addicted to you" You blinked twice and her eyes darkened.

"Oh yeah baby?" You nodded. "Good to know..." She got on top of you, between your legs. "Let me see how addicted to me you are" She kissed your stomach and you whimpered.

Let's say that when you two finally got up after a few hours of hard fucking, you were definitely limping...

[amsgrey]

request for a kaz brekker x reader one bed trope! literally some of my favorite fics to read ever!!! def with some angst maybe reader gets injured on the heist and kaz has to help. reader insists that they should sleep in the same bed and they end up confessing feelings or something. SO GOOD

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long but hey, it's alright.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, typical canon violence, kind of OOC!Kaz, semi-bad writing.

“Hey,” Nina didn’t bother knocking as she stepped into your room, “There’s someone here to see you.” 

You looked up from your small desk, “Who?” 

Nina shrugged, “Wouldn’t say, but she won't leave until she speaks with you.” 

You frowned, getting to your feet and following after Nina. A million possibilities ran through your mind as you descended the stairs, you didn’t know many people from Ketterdam, or you didn’t know anyone that Kaz also didn’t know. WHo had come to speak to you was a complete mystery to you and judging by the way the Crows were gathered at the bottom of the stairs, it was a mystery to them too. 

“Who is she?” Jesper broke the heavy silence first.

You rolled your eyes, “How am i supposed to know, Jes?” 

Walking past him and the others you looked for the woman. There were a few dregs hanging around in the slat, like always. Hiding from the damp Ketterdam air or filling in their afternoons with ale and gambling. It meant the woman stuck out like a sore thumb. When you finally saw her, your blood ran cold. 

“Oh, my,” The woman stepped forward, she grabbed your hands and smiled at you, “Look how grown up you are, my dear.” 

She pulled you into a hug, an awkward show of affection that she had never done before. 

“Mother.” 

She hadn’t changed in the 7 or so years since you saw her last, a few graying hairs and wrinkles around her eyes were the only evidence time had passed. She still wore the same turquoise dress, the fabric stained and dirty where it spent too many years dragging on the dirt. She had tied a knitted shawl around her shoulders, to stave off the cold of the barrel and to make herself look more presentable. When you were a child on the farm with your parents, your mother would refuse to do any of the hard labor or household duties, always dressed in her ‘fine’ clothes and sitting by a window like the queen of Ravka. 

You hated her for it then, the way she forced you to conduct her duties. The hard labor with your father on the farm, the chores inside the home, raising your three younger siblings. Looking at the woman before you now, you hated her just as much. 

“What do you want, mother?” You forced out through gritted teeth. 

The woman batted your hand she still held, a sharp smack to chide you for your tone, “Is that how you speak to the woman who raised you?” 

She didn’t raise you though. Your father was the one who taught you everything you knew, cared and loved you. The marriage of your parents had been of convenience, a rich farmer up the road had fallen on hard times so he married off his only daughter to your father. Something neither of them wanted. 

When your father had died suddenly in a farming accident, your mother had sold you to slavers, without a second thought. You had spent years in Ketterdam trying to bury the memories of your younger brothers screaming for you to stay, the chains that chaffed and burnt your skin and the cruel men who didn’t care about anything but making coins. 

Standing with your mother before you, her soft hands gripping you so tightly, you felt like a young girl all over again. Begging for affection from a woman who hated your existence, cursed to always be nothing to her. You could still remember the beatings and the screaming, the bruises that you tried to hide and the permanent split in your lip which took years to properly heal. 

Kaz was watching the whole encounter, quiet and calculating like he always was. The other crows were growing concerned, there was an air of uncertainty that settled over them all. 

“What can we help you with?” Kaz finally spoke, he stepped closer to you, towering over your mother. Having him at your side brought you ease, a feeling of calm that always came over you when he was near. Kaz was prepared for anything, he always looked out for you and the crows. 

“And you are?” Your mother snapped, glaring at Kaz. 

Kaz didn’t seem bothered, “Are you here for something? Or to terrorize your daughter?” 

You glanced back at Kaz, he had a look of pure rage in his eyes. You hadn’t told Kaz the details of your past, but he knew your mother sold you to slavers. You realized suddenly you didn’t want to be in the middle of Kaz and your mother fighting. 

You grabbed your mothers arm, dragging her away from the gathered Crows and Kaz’s glower and pulling her outside. In the Ketterdam air things were immediately colder, you hadn’t grabbed your coat so you could feel it even more. 

“What are you doing here?” You demanded. 

“Can I not come see my daughter?” 

“You never cared before, I didn’t even know you knew this is where I lived. You sold me to slavers,” You cried, stepping away as you started to get upset. “What in Sankta Alina could you want?” 

“I am married,” Your mother boasted, “He lives in the Zelver district, we want you to come have dinner.” 

You were reeling, so much information was thrown at you all at once. You gapped to answer. 

“Your brothers will be there too,” Your mother waved her hand like she was dismissing your concerns, “They stayed on the farm.”

“Why- why do you want me there?” 

“To make amends, my love,” She took your hands again, “It is time we act like a family again. Perhaps you could bring that guard dog of yours, act civilized.” 

You wanted to say yes, straight away you wanted to say yes and trust that she had true intentions. But there was something nagging in your mind. 

“Who is it that you're married to, mother?”

“A Merchant, trades with the Ravkan crown, Alexei Berezin.” 

You recognized the name immediately, he had one of the largest mansions in the Zelver district, rivaled only by foreign dignitaries. He had brought in a large shipment of Ravkan gold and silk, Kaz had stolen half of it almost immediately, because Berezin had thought himself untouchable. 

“When's dinner?” You forced out, trying not to let your knowledge of the man show. 

“Tomorrow, be there by seven.” 

She wandered away, slipping into the crowd of foot traffic and joining the mess of colours. 

-- 

“Alexei Berezin.”

You forced a smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

The man looked over you and Kaz like you were nothing, he grunted in greeting and disappeared towards the drinks cart. 

You looked at Kaz, “Too late to leave?” 

Kaz smiled, it made him look softer somehow, “We don’t have to stay long, let's hope Inej and Wylan are quick.” 

A servant greeted you as you walked further into the drawing room, she offered you and Kaz wine in crystal glasses. You had played being rich at banquets and galas before, it was easy to hide in a crowd of rich people to steal from them, but here holding the crystal glass made you feel so exposed. The only thing that was stopping you from running out the door was Kaz by your side. He always looked out for you, tonight would be no different. 

Your mother had lied, your brothers were not at the dinner. She had spun some more lies about how they hadn't been able to make the journey but you wondered if they were even invited in the first place. You, Kaz, your mother and her new husband all sat at the ridiculously long table, eating silently except for a few forced comments. 

“So,” Berezin belched, downing his fourth glass of brandy, “Mr Brekker, how is business?”

Kaz looked at you from across the table, “As good as yours, Berezin.” 

Berezin snared, “So then you admit to taking my shipment?” 

“A shipment?” Kaz leant back, starting to enjoy the game. 

Berezin started getting red in the face, rage barely contained in his eyes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Dirty Hands.” 

A smile ghosted across Kaz’s face, “Is this why you extended the invite, Berezin? Hoping to get your silks back?” 

You jumped when Berezin slammed his fist on the table, he stood abruptly, his chair falling backwards loudly, “You listen to me here boy! You will pay me back what I am owed or I will make your life a living hell!” 

“A living hell?” 

“You have no idea who you are messing with, you and your little whore will pay-” 

Kaz was on his feet faster than you had time to process, “Watch your mouth, Berezin, or silks won't be the only thing you lose.” 

Berezin started shouting in rage, his words mostly coming out as jumbled insults and threats which didn’t mean anything for you and Kaz. 

“We’re leaving,” You said to your mother, not bothering to bid her a proper goodbye as you joined Kaz’s side and retrieved your coats. 

You were both halfway through the foyer when things took a turn. 

Somewhere in the garden outside a fire roared to life, a green chemical fire that was Wylan's emergency beacon. Kaz urged you to walk faster, his cane striking loudly against the marble floor as you both tried to leave before Berezin caught on. 

“Thief!” 

Kaz grabbed your hand, and both of you ran the rest of the way out of the house and down the garden path. Berezin was screaming from inside the house, shouting orders to his few guards and screaming for someone to alert the Stadwatch. You and Kaz didn’t stop running until you reached the canal, skittering to a stop and dropping into the waiting boat. Matthias and Wylan were already there, Wylan was heaving like he had just finished a mad dash too. 

“Did you get it?” Kaz demanded as Matthias started to row the boat towards 4th Harbor. 

Wylan was nodding, “Handed it off to Inej, she and Jesper are heading to the warehouse now.”

You had to give it to Kaz, when he had explained the plan this morning after all-night scheming, you didn’t think you would be able to pull it off. But yet again, he proved he knew everyone's skills. 

The plan was somewhat simple, you and Kaz would entertain Berezin while Wylan posed as a servant and slipped into Berezin's office. Wylan would swipe the key to Berezins safe which sat in his warehouse; it was old and Ravkan, protected by small science. You didn’t have enough time on the first job to try and crack it, so now was the perfect time. The original plan was for you and Kaz to stay all through dinner and whatever other pleasantries were to be had, while Wylan snuck through undetected. His Green fire beacon was a sign he had been caught, so you and Kaz hightailed out before things got too nasty. 

 Inej and Jesper were on their way to the safe now, while you, Kaz, Matthias and Wylan drew attention in the opposite direction. Headed towards 4th Harbor meant the four of you could lead the following guards and Stadwatch into the twisting streets and narrow wharves and hopefully escape into the crowd. 

As Matthias moored the boat to the side of the canal, you and Wylan climbed out and surveyed where you were. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him, still aware of how his hands shook. 

Wylan nodded, but you were unconvinced. 

Matthias and Kaz climbed out of the boat after you, the four of you standing at the canal edge for a moment while you tried to compose yourselves. 

“Hey! Stop right there!” 

“Bastards,” Kaz swore, already ushering the three of you to run before they started to shoot. 

“Kaz, they're after us, not Wylan and Matthias…” You shouted as you ran down the street alongside the canal, headed towards the Council of the Tides Watchtower. 

Kaz ordered everyone to stop, “Y/N’s right, Wylan, Matthias, head back towards the slat, take the long way and check for tails, we’ll go the opposite way.” 

Matthias started to argue, “No, we should-” 

You all ducked as gunfire echoed through the streets. Bullets ricochet off the cobbles at your feet, dangerously close to hitting one of you. 

“Go!” Kaz yelled over the noise, blindly reaching for your hand and pulling you along with him as you headed away from Matthias and Wylan and towards the government district. 

You were right, the three or four guards from Berezin's estate followed you, not your friends as you rushed through the dark streets. At this time of the night, the Crow Club and the surrounding area would be buzzing with life, but in this part of town, everyone was shut inside asleep. There weren’t many lights, aside from a few lanterns left on in people's doorways, so as you and Kaz ran you stuck to shadows and unlit alleyways, hoping to lose your stalkers in the maze of buildings. 

Kaz pulled you to a stop after running for ten minutes and started to take a toll on him and his leg. The two of you ducked into an alley, Kaz leaned heavily against the wall and his cane, heaving as he regained his breath. You glanced over him, worried that he wouldn’t be able to continue for much longer. 

“Maybe we lost them,” You whispered, peaking around the corner to the main street, which was completely deserted aside from a rogue tabby. 

Kaz nodded, unable to speak a reply. You kept glancing from the main street to the end of the alley, which appeared as if it curved around and kept going. You had no idea if it was a dead end or not, but staying here was making you anxious, it was still too exposed. 

“I Have a safe house not far from here,” Kaz said, pushing off from the wall and leaning on his cane. 

“A safe house?” You replied, “In the government district?”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “You underestimate me.” 

If he hadn’t been hurt you would have pushed him away, chuckling at his comment. Instead, you opted for offering him your arm so you could walk out of the alley together, hopefully, Stadwatch who patrolled the area would think you were a couple returning home. 

The two of you walked arm and arm down a few streets, smiling pleasantly at the passing Stadwatch or the rare delegate returning to their boarding. After a few turns Kaz said you weren’t far from the safe house, which was an old apartment above a tailor.

“How did you even get an apartment above a tailor?” You teased, “Hiding a side business?”

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you both in your tracks. 

“You even twitched, I put a bullet in the girl.” 

The barrel of the gun was jammed into your back, the voice behind you ordering you both to turn with your hands up. 

The two men before you were guards for Berezin, you could tell from the crest that was pinned to their jackets. You looked around for the other two men, but they weren’t around. Hopefully, they were far away, you weren't sure if you could win a 2-1 battle tonight.

You moved to pull your flint from your pocket, you had stowed it away safely the first time you and Kaz had run for your lives tonight, now you wished you stayed holding it. Your hand slipped into the pocket of your coat, your fingertips brushed the cool material, pulling into your fist and preparing yourself to summon. You only had one chance at this. The sound of the gun firing struck you first, the deafening crack that bounced from the walls. The searing pain in your right side forced your fist open in shock, your flint clattering to the cobbles as your other hand came to cradle your side. Immediately your blood started seeping through your fingers, soaking through your coat and dripping onto the street below. You looked up at the man who shot you, just in time to see Kaz bring his cane cracking into the side of the man's face. It sent him sprawling, the force of the blow knocking him off balance. You used your opportunity to kick the second man in the shin, stunning him for long enough for Kaz to incapacitate him too. 

Kaz wound his arm around your waist, pulling you away from the two men as they groaned on the ground and dragging you up the street. 

“Just hold on a little longer,” He spoke as he led you down another side alley, “We’re almost there.”

He forced you to stop before an old door as he fiddled with the lock. The dark green paint was peeling, revealing the chipped and water-stained wood. Kaz flickered with the lock for a few seconds and the door swung open, revealing a steep staircase into the safe house. 

“You’re kidding,” You groaned, letting Kaz shuffle you into the small space as he shut and locked the door. 

“Go on then,” Kaz smirked, pushing you up the stairs. 

The two of you climbed up the stairs, silent as you struggled together. When you reached the top, Kaz opened the final door and you both tumbled through over the threshold. The safe house was less of a house and more of a safe room. Filled with crates and shadows of objects you couldn’t make out, it felt much more cramped than your room in the Slat. Kaz pulled out his bone light, casting the room in the pale green light. With the new light, you could see the space clearer. A sink in the far corner close to the only window, and a bed pushed as far from the window as possible. You stumbled over to the sink, holding yourself up on the basin as you tried to get a look in the small mirror at your wound. 

“Let me help,” Kaz ordered, pulling out a crate from the wall and forcing you to sit down. 

Kaz looked over your side, letting you know the bullet had gone straight through, but would need some stitches and to be cleaned. There was a pause where you both realized you would have to remove your coat and top so Kaz could see better. With shaky hands, you slowly unbuttoned your coat. Kaz helped you guide it off your shoulders, letting it fall out of the way. 

“You’ll have to unzip my dress,” You whispered to Kaz, hands going back to your throbbing side. 

Kaz cleared his throat, nodding and stepping around you to follow your instructions. You could feel the smooth leather of his gloves ghost over the skin on your neck as he fiddled for the zip. He couldn’t get a good grip, abandoning one of his gloves on the floor so he could hold the small tab properly. Kaz’s fingers were freezing, When he touched the skin on your back the chill seeped under your skin and into your bones. You focused all your energy on not shivering against the feeling. He gently folded the dress down, letting it fall around your hips so he could see the bullet wound clearer. It left you in your bra and skirt half of your dress, yet you didn't feel exposed. Kaz was nothing if not respectful to you and you truly felt nothing but trust for him now.

 There were no words between you as Kaz stepped to your side and crouched down. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, but he was focused solely on your wound, his brow scrunched up in a frown. 

The two of you stayed silent as Kaz worked. You handed him what he asked for, a wet rag, sutures and a needle, a bandage. When he had finally tied off the last stitch, he started to bandage your waist. By now he had abandoned his other glove to the floor too, both of them covered in your blood and useless to him. He focused on the warmth of your skin as he wrapped the bandage around your waist, making sure to wrap it a few times to ensure it was secure. When he was finished, he noticed how quiet you had gotten, staring down at the floor with slightly glazed eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Kaz’s voice came out more of a croak, just above a whisper. It pulled you from your dissociation, pulling you into the moment. You turned to look at him, The bastard of the Barrel kneeling by your side, hands stained with your blood and the most caring, almost loving look in his eyes. 

You must have lost more blood than you thought, Kaz did not love you. 

“I’m fine.” 

Kaz nodded once, shakingly pushing himself off the ground and turning on the water to wash clean his hands. You didn’t move from the crate, mostly because you were unsure of what to do and also because there wasn’t exactly space to move in the room anyway. 

“You should sleep.” Kaz said, refusing to look up at you from the sink. 

“We both should. You can take the bed.” 

Kaz shook his head, “No. You're injured, you take it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Did you sleep last night Kaz?” 

There was a heavy silence. 

“So you need to sleep now. There's plenty of room for both of us anyway.” 

You knew as soon as you said it the atmosphere had changed. It was well known Kaz kept his distance when he wasn’t wearing gloves. You had rarely seen him without them no matter where he was. After the longest silence, Kaz finally nodded, letting out the quietest, “Okay.” 

He turned to you, “There should be a stash of clothes in one of these crates, I could find them?” 

You smiled, nodding. Sitting with the top of your dress folded down was starting to get cold and sleeping like this would only make things more awkward. 

Kaz riffled through a few crates, finding ammo and whiskey before finding the crate filled with shirts and trousers. He pulled one of each out, setting them on the bed and turning his back so that you could get changed with some semblance of modesty. It was amusing for you, that he had already seen enough but he was too kind to even risk a glance now. 

When you had gotten into the clothes, with a little struggle trying to lift your arm into the sleeve, you pulled back the quilt on the bed. Kaz helped, letting you shuffle across the bed to where it pressed to the wall. The bed was so much bigger than your one, more likely double the size. Your bed hardly fits you in it, slightly too short and skinny because of the awkward rooms of the Slat. This bed was different. Although not as soft as your own, the size meant you and Kaz both had enough room so that you weren’t too close. 

Kaz was about to lie the quilt down and get on top when you stopped him. 

“Are you mad?” 

“What?” He scoffed, confused as to why you were heckling him now.

“Kaz Brekker, you will get cold. Just get under the quilt and stop acting like we’re some teenagers who can’t get ahold of ourselves.” 

Kaz stared at you in shock, blinking down at you with pure perplexion in his eyes. 

“Jesper was right,” He sighed, getting situated under the quilt to please you. 

“Right about what?” You pressed, turning in the bed to fix him with a glare. 

“You are cranky when you're tired.” 

“Oh shut up,” You scoffed, rolling back to stare at the ceiling and now him. 

Kaz chuckled, by now the bone light was fading steadily, the pale green light becoming nothing more than a faint glow from the corner of the room. You couldn’t see Kaz’s face too well, barrel able to make out the faint outline of his features in the dark. 

For a while, the two of you lay in silence, the only noise coming from the far-off sound of waves in the harbor. With no one else on the streets, every time footsteps echoed around in the streets below, you held your breath. 

“They won’t find us,” Kaz whispered, feeling you tense next to him. 

You didn’t respond, trying not to panic yourself further. 

“Listen to me,” Kaz shifted, the bed shaking slightly under you both, “We’re safe here, I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.” 

“Wasn’t your fault,” You responded, mirroring Kaz’s movements to face him, “Jobs go wrong sometimes.” 

Kaz didn’t react, “Sleep. We’ll head back to the salt when the city wakes up.” 

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but Kaz being by your side to protect you filled you with a sense of ease. You could relax back into the pillow and trust that he was going to look after you, no matter what. As you slipped into sleep, you thought dreamily about how much you cared for the bastard of the barrel, even if he didn’t share the same feelings. 

Kaz was thinking the same as he watched over you. He sat up in the bed as soon as you had fallen asleep, staring at the door in the dark, prepared for anything that might come barreling through it. He cared too much about you to let you get hurt again, especially when he was the only one around to protect you. He would never say it out loud, like you, but he would do anything to protect you from harm in the city where no one mourned. 

[littlebabyyd0ll]

i cannot get this man out of my head i’m literally going feral

thinking about sitting down in front of one of the age-old couches in saltburn, chin settled sweetly upon your knee, bright eyes trained upon the illuminated tv screen. your lips twitch upwards at the green, groaning ogre complaining to a talking donkey. frilly sock clad toes dig in to the carpet, fidgeting with every minute movement of the boy above you.

you can feel him everywhere, his fingers, the warmth of his shins against your arms, his gorgeous mixture of cigarettes and aftershave. he’d abandoned a ciggy in favour of reaching out for your strands of hair in front of him, collecting them and twisting them idly. his movements are slow as to not catch the attention of any of his family, and he’s so gentle, domestic even. you welcome the light chill that the silver of his signet ring brings to the nape of your neck, bask in the way that he leans forwards in his seat behind you, loses himself in favour of your locks and ignores the family movie, despite it being the one that he picked out himself.

his movements begin to feel tighter, tickle your scalp in a way that only he makes you feel. lightheaded. small. sickly sweet. felix lets put a huff of breath, one that has your baby hairs dancing under his command, and his warm hand is suddenly on your shoulder. skin smooth, nails trimmed, he glides his way down your arm, all the way to your wrist. his large hand dwarfs the bone, elegant movements have his fingers slipping into the hair bobble that resides there and stealing it from you, but so softly you don’t even notice it happening. it’s the same way that he stole your heart, slowly, tenderly, summer over summer, christmas break over christmas break when you came to stay.

“oh, how darling!” his mother gushes as she notices the movements, watches with her ever observing eyes as felix ties off the end of the braid. “just look, pamela, look what he’s done. you look stunning, darling.” she smiles at you, a mother just as smitten with her son’s choice in love affairs as he is.

you turn your head, finally gazing up at him as his hold falls to nothingness. your eyes sparkle in the dim light of one of their many sitting rooms, and he admires the softness of you, just as he does every day. his chocolate eyes trace the softness of your cheeks, the chain of the necklace he gifted you upon your collarbones, the shape of your brow, the gloss upon your grinning lips.

“perfect.” he mutters, and he knows, as surely as he knows that he will die, that he loves you more than anything he has ever seen or imagined on earth.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 10)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior, imprisonment, discussions of drugging/mindbreak, and mentions of attempted murder. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, do not read this series. And feel free to block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any relevant version of 'one piece yandere'. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Stay safe and have fun.

Word Count: 2,243

When you expressed your desire to leave the Moby Dick, this was not what you meant damnit.

You ripped off a piece of bread and ate it, trying to ignore the rattle of the chain connected to the bracelet on your wrist. Both were thick and not quite light. The links dragging on the ground in your seated position and leading all the way to Teach’s bracelet. Hilariously, it’s only by being kidnapped a second time that your kidnapper so openly acknowledges that you don’t want to be there. And not pretending like any day now you’d ‘see the light’.

It felt less confusing and ambiguous this way, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

At least you weren’t tied up the whole time, but nearly the whole point of your kidnapping was to use your devil fruit to boost his. And how could he guarantee that if you weren’t literally chained to his side at all times? On his end of the chain was a bolt that could unhook from it, meaning that you both could separate if need be—thankfully. You had no desire to literally be joined with anyone 24/7.

Teach laughed boisterously, taking a heavy chug of his booze as a few opportunistic women smoozed up to him. One less interested in whatever she thought Teach   could offer her was on your side, quietly enjoying her own drink as she leaned against you. Maybe she felt bad for you? You weren’t entirely sure. She was dressed provocatively in a slim black dress, orange hair in a bob around her jawline. If she was here to flirt, she had a weird way of going about it. At this point, you assumed she wanted a break from batting her eyes at drunk pirates.

She was weird. This whole situation was weird. You miss when the weirdest part of your day was pretending a Yonko wasn’t trying to engage in a conversation with you.

Really, the whole affair was strange and more than a little awkward. Especially given what you now know Teach is capable of. It seemed at odds with his rather charismatic and bubbly personality. Though there was an edge to it now that bordered on new-found confidence and sadism. He wouldn’t strictly aim to hurt you. But if it was faster or guaranteed to work, he’d do it with no problem. He had no interest in winning you over, as evidenced by the literal chain, but aside from the occasional taunt he wasn’t cruel.

You supposed it all made more sense given that he sailed with Whitebeard for many years. You can’t exactly fit in with a crew like that if you weren’t adaptable. But fuck did you have difficulty comprehending Teach’s betrayal. Sure, other pirate crews experienced betrayal every now and then. It was a rather cutthroat life at sea among criminals.

But for one of Whitebeard’s sons to murder another?!

Shit.

You’d be surprised if the news didn’t rattle the marines once it properly got out. That’d be like one of Big Mom’s kids cutting her throat while she slept. Sure, it’s not impossible but… fuck. You knew for a fact that the marines had been trying to subvert Whitebeard’s crew for decades. Double agents either turned up dead, missing, or converted in startlingly short order. And to think they had a snake in the grass without any interference.

Just the prize of a weird devil fruit. Which he’d eaten by now and you’re happy to note that the creepy vibes were cut down significantly once it was claimed.

It still made it hard to sleep well, though. Particularly given how reluctant Teach was to let you out of his sight. It didn’t help that he literally never slept, so when you dozed off he’d just carry you around until you woke up. And his boisterous attitude meant you’d gained a few bruises here and there by sheer accident. You weren’t the shortest marine to enlist by far but Teach was a big man. The chain and his expressive body language meant that sometimes he yanked you one way or the other or tripped you. He’d apologize and mind his arm for a bit but he’d forget after a while, starting the cycle anew.

You suspected he was looking into something a little less cumbersome for himself. Though he reassured you that a slave collar was out of the question. You were supposed to be right next to him at all times, after all. And if the collar went off? Well, Teach didn’t want to get blasted. No mention about how it would kill you, but the inconvenience of it was implied. How reassuring. Under different circumstances he’d probably just blackmail you, but there really wasn’t anything he could hold over you.

Overall though? This was more uncomfortable than with Whitebeard but made a lot more sense.

“Do you want free?” The woman leaned in close and whispered. You gave her a look, lightly shaking your bruised wrist. The iron bracelet hanging off your wrist with your old marine handkerchief helping reduce the damage.

“You think this is a fashion statement?” You whispered back, eating more bread while ignoring the glance Teach gave you before returning his attention to the other ladies. You conversation partner pouted.

“My associate will be here in the morning. He could free you.” You gave her a slow look. “He’s good at breaking shackles.”

You sighed, the pieces falling into place as you noted the various eyes on the two of you.

“We’ll be gone by then. Teach isn’t keen on his ‘brothers’ catching up. I’m not convinced they’re actually chasing us but still… you don’t need to risk your operation here for me. I’ll be fine.” You wrinkled your nose, a bit bitter that your best option at leaving was still out of reach. “Is there anything else you need?”

Revolutionaries. Now, officially, you have a firm stance against all criminal activities. Just like with pirates, you don’t like revolutionaries. You will arrest them if need be but… if you happen to be busy with something else, and the worst they’re up to is freeing slaves? Well, you can’t be everywhere. And, frankly, the fact that you ultimately answer to Celestial Dragons is more than a little embarrassing. You’d seen one. Didn’t have any real interaction, thankfully. But watching the crude, arrogant fuck parade around like he didn’t look like an idiot was just…

You huffed.

“Why does a Whitebeard Pirate have a slave?” She whispered. You gave her a small smile.

“Technically, I’m just a prisoner. My devil fruit boosts others and he murdered a commander for his. I guess he feels more confident knowing his new power is even stronger if he runs into his old crew.” You informed her softly. Her eyes widened in shock. “It only works in proximity though so… hence, the chain.” You took a drink of your tea.

“Where is he headed?” You shrugged apologetically.

“Don’t know. He’s mentioned a plan to become a warlord. How he’d justify keeping a marine prisoner with that position, I’m not sure. Yeah… M—The Phoenix grabbed me from my original base. And now I’m here. Embarrassing, I know.” You grumbled as she tried to control her shock. “I think he said something about capturing a big shot pirate for it, though. That’s all I know, unfortunately. I’m not exactly his confidant.”

She nodded.

“Thank you. If we can, we’ll get you free. You’ll owe us though.” You snorted.

“I’m not sure I’ll be a marine after this. Too much of a risk. Not much I’ll be able to help with if you want an inside man. But thanks. The sentiment is appreciated. Good luck, revolutionary.” You sighed as she slipped away.

Teach laughed, glancing down at you again but not saying anything more. If he knew what was up, he didn’t care much. He knew you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Not only do you have the literal chain to worry about, but also himself. And you’d need more than gumption to take him down, even without a devil fruit.

--*--

Ace scowled at the heart monitor. Thatch laying motionless on the bed aside from slow, even breaths. He barely made it out of surgery, requiring all of Marco’s attention to not die. And even then he flatlined twice.

And like it wasn’t bad enough, that fucking bastard took you too!

And the devil fruit Thatch found but that was besides the point.

Maybe, if Marco wasn’t needed, he could have chased after Teach and caught him. But by the time the strenuous surgery was over with, you and Teach were long gone.

The idea was briefly floated that the two of you worked together to murder Thatch and escape. But Ace knew that wasn’t possible. You weren’t like that at all, even with your mostly playful dislike of Thatch, you wouldn’t murder him. You were, frankly, too passive for outright murder. And escaping like that was too risky for someone so cautious. You were honest, though quiet about your opinions. Sweet despite your obvious discomfort in a way Ace found endearing, though a little baffling. Not once acting aggressively towards anyone on board aside from playful jabs. If you’d been capable of murder it would have shown before now. Well before now.

Marco knew you a little better and agreed with Ace. You weren’t a killer. Your preferred fighting style was defensive and playful, aware of your weaknesses. If you had worked with Teach to escape, Thatch would have just been knocked out or locked in the room instead. It would be smarter, after all. Leaving would already piss them off. No need to add actual murder to the mix.

And the idea that you could sway Teach to betray them was ridiculous. Somehow more ridiculous than their brother of many years up and murdering a commander. Not nearly enough time on board, let alone in Teach’s presence to accomplish that. You also had no reason to ensure Teach would receive a devil fruit you’d just learned of and clearly disliked. To the point that you didn’t even argue when Oyaji called you ‘child’ when you sensed it originally. Even looking to him for comfort briefly.

Escaping them? Sure, as much as Ace hated to admit it, you hadn’t quite warmed up to them all just yet. You were getting close though!

If… if you did work with Teach for this…

Marco had divulged a plan to Ace some time ago. If you started lashing out and acted up. Specially brewed tea for a few weeks and isolation. Not quite Ace’s first thought but he knew what kind of headspace that would put you in. Hell, Luffy being threatened with being completely alone was enough to withstand torture as a child. And even Ace himself could admit that the isolation he experienced, in many forms, fucked with him. Hard.

So.

If you were partially responsible for this, Ace would simply follow through with the plan. Even if it was a bit cruel.

If you weren’t? If you’d been taken from your new (reluctant) home? Teach has a whole new crime to answer for. Though… maybe being grounded for a while would help you settle down finally. They’d had enough friction in the family for a while.

Teach was getting a personal punishment from Oyaji regardless of your involvement for nearly murdering Thatch. Nothing, absolutely nothing, should have made him turn traitor like that. Ace admitted he was fond of you but, to put it lightly, it wasn’t enough to kill his family for. You were family. Anything else can be worked on. Not that he has a lot of room to talk about attempted murder on family members, really, but that was different! He started with the murder attempts!

“…We’ll get them back, Thatch. I promise.” Ace stood up and stormed out the room. Ready to tell Oyaji he was leaving to get revenge. Marco walked out from the shadows of the hospital room, keeping pace with him. His expression grim as he smiled at Ace.

“Ready to go hunting?” Marco asked, eyes glowing despite the well-lit hallway.

Ace grinned.

“Yeah. I am.”

It had only been a day since you went missing. And the clock started ticking. For you and Teach.

They’d be there soon.

--*--

Akainu burned the wooden desk beneath his hands, scowling down at the picture a spy had taken.

You were off the Moby Dick finally. Away from those filthy pirates. But he wasn’t happy about it.

You looked worn down from your time being held captive. Glasses cracked and dark circles under your eyes. A chain tying you to the bastard next to you, keeping you close.

A hiss left his clenched teeth. He’d heard word of what happened. How you ‘left’ the Whitebeard Pirates.

And he didn’t think it was possible to hate pirates more. But Marshal D. Teach accomplished just that, earning a special place in Akainu’s heart.

To be a criminal, a fucking pirate, was a crime worthy of death. But to be a traitor to the crew he’d sworn allegiance to on top of that? Thinking he deserved to have you by his side like you should be by Akainu?

Irredeemable scum he’d soon immolate off the map so thoroughly there’d be nothing left but an echo of ‘Blackbeard’s’ screams.

[herearejoe]

Nya is so real for her comments omg:

Season 4: [dareth changed her clothes] ,,how did you manage to change my clothes ? 😶”

,,I’m not weak, this bucket is weak !”

,,Go with the flow ? I’ll show you how I go !!”

Season 5: Kai: if there ever was a time to unlock your true potential sis, it’s now !

Nya: Oh Let me just flip the switch. Oh yeah, I’m not a Nindroid, I DON’T HAVE A SWITCH!”

Season 6: [to Cole about him trying to breaks the vengestone chains] ,,they are not gonna break Cole 🙄”

[To dareth after him telling her she needs makeup] ,,You are gonna need makeup when I rearrange your face !🥊”

Season 8 ?: just her ,,Thirsty ?”

Season 11 ?: ,,why are your hands tied up ? That makes NOO SENSE !”

Dragons rising: [To Lloyd] ,,I literally saw you leap down and just Spinjitsu klings!”

[To Kai about his hair] ,,please, you shouldn’t even get ,,the Kaaiii””

[To Kai] ,,quit it! Why would you do that, how would that help ?”

[lloyd mentioning that somethings indestructible] ,,HUH that’s an important detail! You were gonna mention that, WHEN ?!”

[lloyd sleeps while steering the bounty] ,,steering a ship is a little easier with your eyes open”

[to Lloyd] I don’t trust your visions either”

[Dragons suddenly stop fighting ] ,,So we’re not fighting anymore ??”

[to kai] ,,Not happening, you’re going down !”

[godlytemperance]

npmd headcanons because my brain is rotted <3 <3

heehee hoohoo i am rotating the entirety of hatchetfield in my brain

im updating this as i think of more stuff so bear with me if this gets stupidly long

richie has audhd. i know this because he is me i am him we are EACH OTHER /j

ruth and richie met in the anime section of barnes and noble in middle school and nearly screamed when they realized they were going to the same high school later on

steph is lactose intolerant and is not brave about it ever. tries to share a hot chocolate with pete and spends the next three hours miserable

grace is doomed to kill in every timeline but it can be prevented by her best friends keeping her too occupied with mundane nonsense for her to find a gun

richie has so much tboy cringe energy. that man kins sasuke you cannot tell me i'm wrong

i have hit them all with my transgender and gay beam >:3c they're the friend group that hit their gender and sexuality realizations in waves. someone's egg cracked first (richie) and it set off a chain reaction

pete is genderfluid and usually presents masc (he/they)

bi with no strong preference either way

only recently began to dabble with femininity in his gender presentation

steph is gnc transmasc (he/she, used interchangeably)

bi with a masc preference

no matter who you are, if you have a crush on steph, you're gay. them's the rules pal

richie is transmasc (he/it)

aroace spectrum! he's demi on both ends, fluctuates pretty often.

somehow incredibly perceptive to romance unless it directly involves him, then he's as dense as a brick

ruth is a girlthing because she's swag like that (she/it/they)

pan with a fem preference

her preferred type is pathetic mascs and intimidating fems

grace is fem-presenting nonbinary (she/they)

formerly closeted lesbian

had the WORST case of comphet until she realized she didn't necessarily have to be attracted to MEN to be attracted to masculinity :3

max is transfem (she/he)

she's a butch lesbian!!! she doesn't feel pressured to be hyper-feminine after realizing she's trans, because she's already pretty happy with her outward presentation

saw all her new friends going through their various gender and sexuality realizations and is just "i hope this doesn't awaken anything in me :)" (it did)

OH also paul is richie's uncle! richie's dad is paul's older brother. they don't interact much but it is literally Autism to Autism

if the group were to fall victim to any of the Lords in Black, it'd probably be as follows:

max - wiggly. rage hatred biting nightmare nightmare >:3

steph - nibbly. he's got the closest ties to the CotSC and also we need more nibbly rep

pete - tinky. duh. probs gets trapped in the box in timelines where steph dies before him and he desperately wants to bring her back

richie - blinky. idk it's just vibes to me. he seems like the kind of guy to go nuts for eye symbolism

ruth - pokey. she's a theater kid and i think that pokey would have a field day shoving her into the fucked up and evil spotlight

grace - all of them. they take turns babysitting her in various timelines. she is their favorite child

richie 100% uses anime terminology to describe normal ass situations. he calls steph a tsundere once and steph has to act like her world wasn't just shifted two inches to the left for the rest of the day

oh also in redemption timelines they have movie / bingewatch nights!! they cycle between everyone's favorite shows or films. it's the best part of their week every single time

max was cast as a leading role the one and only time she ever auditioned for theater and it freaked her out so much that she declined the role

richie's hair is Like That because he tried to get the cool anime spiky hairstyle to work for him (it didn't) (he doesn't realize this until college)

pete was a greek mythology girlie i just know this. something about him screams "i read percy jackson way too much as a kid"

after grace realizes she doesn't have to be a "perfect" christian, she swears like a sailor

also grace hand embroiders all her clothes as a hobby! (this is semi-canon, since she has embroidered strawberries on the cuffs of her jeans in the show)

the first time steph smoked ouid, he made the mistake of using cbd oil and a pipe at the same time. man was in SPACE

all of them are poly with each other but at different levels:

steph and pete are Dating dating. so are max and grace. wholesome yaoi VS toxic yuri

ruth and steph are almost definitely "best friends" in the historical sense

richie and ruth are qpp. if they were both 100% straight they'd probably be the most annoying couple in the world

pete and richie kiss sometimes but its genuinely platonic for them. just bros being bros (they are so deeply in love and neither of them realize it until years later)

ruth and pete are friends to ??? to lovers to friends who cuddle sometimes

richie and steph are polar opposites but they love each other to death. black cat and orange cat kind of relationship

max and grace barely intersect with the nerds but they still consider all four of them to be part of their weird situationship

(grace definitely experimented with all four of them, with max's permission. just to be Sure. y'know.)

max is doing her best to make amends with the nerds but it is very slow going. she has gotten to casual fistbump level with them though!

the nerds usually just look at max and grace from the sidelines like they're watching two wild beasts circling each other in their enclosure. their flirting is NOT rated pg and it still baffles them how the local prude and the highschool football star managed to get together

richie unintentionally dropped the fact that he has a fursuit - a timberwolf, because i'm projecting - and ended up helping everyone design their fursonas. pete is a traditional chimera (goat, snake, and lion), steph is a plain black cat, ruth is a flemish giant rabbit (she did research), grace is a sheep, and max is a checkered-tail nighthawk.

any time that the group gets spam calls, all they have to do is hand the phone to ruth and they get taken off the lists the moment she speaks. ruth was frustrated by it at first but it became a game of "how many companies can i inconvenience before they stop calling hatchetfield numbers entirely"

steph braided pete's hair once and he damn near proposed on the spot

ruth knows how to sew (from doing tech) and helps teach max how to mend her clothes! max ends up being really good at it! she goes on to teach the entire football team how to fix their uniforms and ruth ends up being the honorary team favorite for at least a year

im taking jon matteson's "richie should have blue hair in a movie version of NPMD" and fucking sprinting with it. he dyes his hair at least once a year and it's a wildly different color every time

ruth is the kind of gal to love games with lots of violence because it makes her feel like a badass vigilante (she can barely do a push-up in real life) (just like me)

steph is deeply afraid of large bodies of water. major L on his part seeing as he lives on a fucking island

bouncing off of the above hc, pete's afraid of planes. these two can't travel out of hatchetfield without one of them nearly shaking out of their own skin

max doesn't actually like football that much. she's REALLY good at it, yeah, but she'd prefer to play most other sports even if she isn't good at them! she likes the challenge of doing something she won't automatically win!

grace probably writes lists of things to keep everything in order. she's got lists of all her favorite foods, a checklist of daily chores, etc etc (it's also because she's got undiagnosed autism and she functions better when she has a Routine)

no matter what, pete will always stop and talk to the homeless man downtown. he doesn't really know why, though. (ted wishes he could say something to pete, but he never does. best to keep him at arms length.)

ruth really really really reeaaaally wants to cosplay but she's nervous that she'll be deemed as the "cringy weirdo" by other con-goers. she eventually admits this to richie, who rallies the group into a group cosplay for moral support

it takes a lot of convincing for them to find a fandom they all want to cosplay from. they settled on FNAF, specifically security breach bc it's Timely (they go to the con in 2022)

pete is glamrock freddy, steph is monty, ruth is glamrock chica, and max is roxy!

richie was glamrock bonnie and he gets so mad when the official design comes out a year later bc it was completely different than what he imagined

grace eventually agrees to dress up as vanessa (she never played the games) (she thinks FNAF is a real animatronic restaurant) (everyone they meet thinks she's method acting)

they end up crashing at ruth's place absolutely DRAINED. they all have imprints on their arms from carrying around an absurd amount of merch. pete nearly started a fistfight in the parking lot with a bakugo cosplayer. max nearly finished it.

they all agreed that it was one of the best things they've ever done and also to Never Do It Again

richie had a brief phase where he was obsessed with black butler and he regrets it to this day

grace and max both have scary dog energy but in different directions. max (post-transition) looks really intimidating at first glance but she's got golden retriever energy. grace will stare at you with the scariest fucking eyes if you're mean to retail employees

steph has always wanted a pet, but her dad never allowed it. when he moves out and gets an apartment with the nerds, they all agree to rescue a pair of bonded cats for his birthday. steph doesn't stop crying for at least an hour

steph and pete named one of the cats, while ruth and richie picked the other one's name.

Mittens is the Lautski baby, a black and white girlie who is incapable of mischief. she's like the disney ideal of a cat. she's a cuddle monster and will be so sad if you have to get up and do things without her

ruth and richie are the proud coparents of Sir Jotaro Gooberton (the Third). he is the most stupid tabby you will ever meet in your life and he has made the crime rate in the household go up tenfold.

a very common Lautski date night is going to the candle section of walmart and just sniffing every single one of those bad boys until they get a headache

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

who's running this game, m | myg, jjk

misfit toys au continuation of intro >> don't play with the misfits

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

summary: Oh, Min Yoongi. You've made a mistake, haven't you? And yet you still can't bring yourself to lower your head to your stepsister that would gladly be on her knees for you. These misfit toys are trapped in their own game. Heh, but the funny thing about people is, everyone thinks they run this game, but not everyone knows the weapons in their arsenal... or the players playing.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! implied sexual abuse (no direct actions are described); children of equally wealthy and shitty parents; name calling; lies and deceit; certain people appearing in v convenient places hmmmm; stepsiblings; intense smut stepsiblings still fuckin (fem reader, D/s (switches and ???), m and f-receiving oral, use of a makeshift cock ring (fingers), cock-and-ball torture, face-fucking, fucking in Yoongi's music studio, (literally) ripping clothes off, fingering, cumming on reader's ass, a latex gimp suit, restraints, use of an inflatable gag and a vibrator wand, handjob, overstimulation, face sitting); non-idol!AU - orange-haired!Yoongi x savage, bad bitch!reader, ft protective, security guard!Jeon Jungkook; shifts between your, JK's, and Yoongi's POV

--

“Where’s your brother?”

You didn’t say anything.

Just stared at the open window, out into the blue sky and sunlight. The heated rays cast over half of the bed. The scene of the crime, alight. Over the headboard, the rumpled pillows, and sharp scraps of torn condom wrappers. Your undergarments were merely slivers of shredded lace amongst the luxe white bedsheets that stunk of sex.

“Master?”

You looked away from the window, body wrapped in the obsidian silk robe that was tied securely at the waist. Glanced at the wall, then down at the carpet.

A switchblade with an engraved black tiger laid there, abandoned.

You turned away and stared out the window again, seeing nothing despite the city below honking and screaming with life. You sat at the end of the bed, the side with no sunlight. He even took his cut-up boxer briefs. Not even a single dyed-orange strand left behind. White-hot anger crawled through your stomach, coiling like a starving python. A presence approached, standing beside you.

A tattooed hand on your left shoulder.

Your head jerked, shifting your gaze down at it.

The tail end of a black snake tattoo was sticking out of the cuff, ink slithering up the back of that tan wrist.

You reduced your breathing to nearly nothing.

The strong fingers squeezed your shoulder lightly, reminding you of their grip.

You turned away from the hand and breathed out normally again, only disturbing the air in front of you. The security guard said nothing, because it was not his place to say anything. Still, you were reminded of many things now. Grounded yourself to your senses. Remembered what people are capable of. What you were capable of.

In this world, everyone shot everybody.

And this?

This was just information.

The side of your lips ticked up.

You raised your left hand, accompanied by a new weight of a platinum chain bracelet with black glass beads.

Placed it on tattooed knuckles and stroked them, memorizing the roughness of that skin, listening to the bit-back gasp above you, recognizing the tremble of those fingertips as soon as your touch completed.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, Master?”

Your fingers stilled.

Then you jammed your fingernails into the back of that tattooed hand, growling in your chest, the white-hot anger stabbing through your nerves. For his part, Jeon Jungkook made no noise except the slight flinch of his fingers, and yet he did not recoil, even as you dragged down, almond-shaped manicure clawing downward. You turned your head again, giving partial attention to the sudden red-hot lines on the back of your security guard’s hand.

Some of the black ink was hiding thin scars underneath.

You had felt them as you scratched him.

“Sorry about that,” you breathed, letting your warm exhale wash over the inflamed skin, your lips barely moving. “I’ll add a bonus for today.”

Your hair shrouded your vision, not allowing you to glance up at his face. You didn’t look up anyway, transfixed by the lines of pain you inflicted, feeling a sudden sense of serene.

“There’s no need,” the guard replied gently. “I’m trained to be tough.”

Now you felt yourself smile.

“What about a gift instead?” you murmured, tilting your head a little more. Brushed your hair against the hidden snake tail, leaning closer to the hand so those strong, trembling fingers could feel your delicate sigh. You raised your right hand gracefully and pointed your index and middle fingers together, drawing all other fingers back. Extended your arm straight out. Swept it in an arc, from the window, to the headboard, to right behind you, the wall.

Pointed down to the carpet.

“You like knives, Jungkook?”

A second of silence.

“I love knives, Master,” was the answer.

You grinned.

-

Jeon Jungkook worked as a security guard for a gentlemen’s club. Five days a week, with two consecutive days off. Occasional rotating weekends if a special event was happening. There were also scheduled days off for all staff. He could take vacation whenever he wanted with notice two weeks beforehand and clear communication to the rest of the team. If he was sick, he was advised not to go to work. If he had to work overnight, he would receive an extra day off as well as compensation pay. The hardest part of the job was throwing out drunken old men with lost dignity once their ill-advised advances were rejected.

A surprising amount of strength could be conjured once one’s pride was injured, Jungkook learned.

Like everyone else working there, he liked his job. The girls were hot, the bartending staff gave them free drinks on their breaks, and everyone worked together to create a safe environment. If you got lucky, one of the girls would take a liking to you and you could get banging sex out of it too. Still, everyone kept all relations surface level. There was zero-tolerance for slut-shaming on any side. The owner of the club, who everyone called Master, didn’t allow for childish drama. It was bad for business if co-workers disliked each other over a long period of time. It was almost better to blow-up and physically fight – a lot of issues could be resolved that way, man to man, woman to woman. But that passive-aggressive shit, no, that lead to petty bullshit and wasted time.

The Masters would not allow that.

The old Master was a cunning bitch, despite looking like an airheaded, doll-like bimbo. She counted every cent and herded her girls well. Any other staff was automatically viewed on a lower tier to her innocent working ladies. But above all, the cash flow was more important than an employee’s personal affairs.

Like he said.

A bitch.

Jungkook didn’t bother with taking any of the girls home or being too close with his co-workers. He came to work to make money, not to get into tangled situation-ships or accidentally make friends with the wrong sort.

He had dragged more than one of his co-workers to the emergency room because of a drug overdose.

It wasn’t a normal job. He saw some shit. Did some shit himself. It was better to keep those kinds of things separate from his personal life, he decided. If he didn’t talk about them constantly, they wouldn’t be synonymous with himself as a person. Better for his mental health to dissociate from certain things he had to do on a dark night.

Nothing personal.

Just part of the job.

Anyway, those things were a rare occurrence lately. The old Master was gone more frequently now, and so the young Master, her daughter, oversaw most things presently. Unlike the old Master, who primarily hired based on looks, the young Master had a keen eye for people. I can pay for anyone to look more attractive, the young Master used to comment after interviews when she would collect the staff to discuss the new hires. But I can’t pay for a good head on one’s shoulders. People don’t learn lessons overnight. Jungkook appreciated that she involved the team even if they didn’t have any say in the final decision.

It felt more open and honest.

Jungkook turned his new switchblade in his hand, kicking his feet up on his travertine coffee table.

He slid the blade out.

The mechanism was smoother than any other he had ever touched.

He looked up to the tip of the blade, seeing his high square-footage, high-rise city apartment sprawled out before him. Elegantly furnished with quality brands, the diffuser on his bookshelf giving off a light, clean vanilla scent. Because of his job, he could afford this easily. He turned the weapon in his hand, sunlight gleaming off the edge.

The young Master had instructed him to go home after he dropped her off at her condominium.

His apartment was only a few blocks away.

Jungkook opened and closed the knife repeatedly, seething.

He looked down at the back of his right hand holding the blade. The pink lines were gone now, of course. He healed fast and, besides, she hadn’t been able to dig her nails in that deep.

Unfortunate.

Jungkook closed the knife and held it tightly in his palm, squeezing it so hard so the ridges imprinted into his skin.

Breathed out slowly, remembering last night.

His back against the hotel wall, in silence, holding the keycard to her door. He had waited a long time. A long time, but he was patient.

It was important to be patient.

He had heard the loud clatter and then the sudden rhythmic smacking of wood on wallpapered drywall.

Jungkook did not like the young Master’s stepbrother.

He actually didn’t like any of her family. Not that that cunning bitch she had for a mother; not the charismatic, sharp-faced, self-centered, who-knew-what-number husband mockingly called Papa; and especially not that scowl-faced, self-centered fuck that the young Master called brother. He didn’t have to like them to work for them. To be honest, they never did anything in particular to him. They were far too concerned with themselves to waste time looking down at him. He wasn’t important enough to be demeaned.

But the young Master.

It was not that she seemed greatly different from this chemical disaster of a family. She lived in luxury and used her sexual prowess to get whatever she wanted. She had a ruthlessness to her too, and did not allow anyone to question her final decision. There was something not quite right happening behind those eyes. Jungkook didn’t have the education to dissect exactly what that was, but it didn’t matter that much. He was just supposed to protect her when it was his turn to do so. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions, only answer hers.

Yet Jungkook was sometimes there when she called Min Yoongi, brother, and he saw the way Min Yoongi turned away from it every time.

Her tone was teasing and clearly aimed to provoke her stepbrother.

But her eyes.

Jungkook released his grip on the switchblade and turned his hand, letting it roll solidly to his fingers.

He had been with her when she purchased it.

He had asked her who it was for. Out of curiosity, with not much intention.

“It’s for Yoongi’s birthday.”

He looked up to his wide-screen television, seeing his own reflection in the black. His furrowed brows, set jaw, pursed lips, and lazy home clothes, oversized minimally printed long pajamas, holding Min Yoongi’s birthday present that he had picked off the floor and pocketed, given to him as additional compensation for today.

Jungkook sometimes wondered why the young Master’s eyes looked like a child’s, begging for someone to help, and he wondered why no one ever noticed.

But that was none of his business.

He had a thin, side-leg pocket on his uniform pants. A perfect place to slide the clip of the switchblade into, with the outstretched paw and snarling head of the engraved black tiger clearly visible.

Jungkook got up from the sofa.

-

You slid onto the wooden stool by the easel, picking up the pencil.

There was little room left on this canvas yet, and there were many thoughts in your head, swarming like flies over rotten meat.

You raised your hand and wrote carefully this time. Neatly, with attention to each line and curve, making sure the characters were clearly legible, as if you were a young child learning how to write. It was a stark contrast to the quick, aggressive scrawls beside it. You took your time. You had lots of time. There was no need to rush. In the silence, in the forced dark of blackout curtains, in the red glow of this otherwise sterile bedroom, you breathed out, letting the words come.

He knows.

There was no need to worry.

I can still feel his skin under my nails.

There were aches over your body. Scratches. Bruises.

It’s not about knowing what he’s thinking. It’s about directing his thinking to where I want it to go.

Still, it was good. It meant it was real.

I thought he would take a little more of a chance, honestly. Is he not aware of all the weapons in his arsenal? Or just afraid to use them? That might be it. I felt his fear.

It meant you were alive.

Don’t be afraid.

The sound of graphite on canvas was the loudest noise here, louder than your own breathing.

I’ll bring out the worst in you yet.

You raised the pencil from the canvas. Placed it on the floor, and then cracked open the can of black paint, paintbrush sitting on the drop cloth beside it. Picked up the wooden stick and began to stir, the noxious fumes penetrating the air.

You would open a window after.

-

Min Yoongi stepped out of the shower and nearly collided with his stepsister.

Thick layers of ivory, plush Turkish cotton was suddenly between their bodies, his wet one and her clothed one.

She smiled, amused.

“I think you forgot the staff are on vacation because Papa and Mother aren’t here,” she hummed, pressing the towel to his chest. “No one has restocked the linens. You were too careless to check, weren’t you?”

The steam curled around them. Water ran down his back, and yet Yoongi did nothing but stare into her eyes, the gears in his core click, click, clicking, remembering last night. Fingers tangled in each other’s hair, flashes of pain, eyes locked and hips flush, shared shaking breath between fierce kisses, forbidden pleasure abundant and overflowing.

“Aren’t you lucky I decided to stop by the house?”

She took his hand off the shower frame and placed it on the top of the towel, the edges of his wet knuckles dripping water onto her blazer. A tailored black suit with a white shirt. Everything pressed crisp. She stepped back, and he saw the jacket was cropped, exposing the way the slacks molded to her shapely thighs and the curve of her hips. In the mansion, the bathrooms were large, so the mirrors did not generally completely fog up.

Yoongi glanced at the mirror, seeing her perky ass that begged for his open palm.

He darted his gaze back to her, but she was already giving that view, turning away and heading to the bathroom door.

He barked her name to her retreating back.

She paused, ticking her head to indicate he had her attention, but she did not turn enough to look directly at him.

For some reason, that hurt.

“Stand in front of me again.”

A moment of mute, terrified silence.

Then she turned, luscious hair pinned back one side flaring out. Step by step, lush lashes lifting, and he stepped out of the shower, flicking off water, his dyed red-orange hair damp and sticking to his face, pushing it away so he could stare back into those eyes that were no longer glittering in the dark, but bright under bathroom lights and approaching twilight.

She stood in front of him again, and he faced her.

“What’s wrong, Yoongi?”

The corner of her lips quirked upwards.

He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers, breathing in her perfume and scattering more water onto her pristine suit. Hand rising, fingertips gliding across her jaw, pulling her head close, deepening the kiss and nicking her lower lip with his teeth, making her smile and lean into it, unbothered by the water, her tongue tracing the corner of his mouth.

“So you are glad to see me,” she whispered, sucking away his inhale.

He narrowed his eyes, digging his fingernails into her scalp.

“Get on your knees,” Yoongi growled.

He yanked the towel out from between them, but she caught it, deftly flipping it open with one wrist flick, and then she pulled back, using both hands to bring it up and over his shoulders, cloaking him in soft Turkish cotton.

Smiled, amused.

“Don’t want you to get a cold.”

She should have called him, brother, but they were way past that now. Especially with her dropping to her knees on his command, right at the soft bath mat at their feet, and obediently opened her mouth for him to shove his semi-hard cock into. He sucked in a breath, suddenly enveloped in hot tightness, holding his chin high and looking down.

She looked back at him, curling her tongue around his balls, coating them with saliva.

He involuntarily shivered, then locked his knees, not allowing it, but those eyes only sparkled with mirth, swallowing him all the way to the base. No hands needed. Licked from his balls to the thin skin underneath the tip, up and down and getting him hard fast, so quickly he had to bite back his hiss, tendrils of dangerous ecstasy travelling all over his body, turning his damp cold skin into shimmering heat from his rushing pulse.

Her hand shot up and gripped his spit-covered balls, locking them in a knuckle cage.

“Fuck–”

A jolt of pain, and then his chest rippled, her head immediately moving back and forth, soft lips grazing the sensitive head of his cock and then ramming it into the back of her throat. His shaft swelled, increasing in girth in a wave of lightheadedness, the agonizing ecstasy unavoidable, overwhelming, all-consuming, his left hand flying back and gripping the metal shower frame, the towel falling down his back, skimming his ass and the back of his hard, tense legs, his peripheral vision clouded by slices of blood orange.

Gasping.

Her free hand lifted, gently stroking his trembling hip as she sucked him off.

He steeled his breathing, throbs shooting up his core, and lowered his head, seeing her steadfast hold and plush lips closed around his cock, her gaze immediately flickering upward once he redirected his attention. No wasted time.

Mocking him.

He clenched his jaw and forced his right hand forward, gripping the back of her head and thrusting into her mouth deeply, deliberately, and slower, reclaiming the pace. Her knuckles pulsed, sending another wave of almost pain to his already hazy judgement, but Yoongi did not let himself balk, keeping his hold on her head and rolling his hips forward at his own rhythm. He would not fall to the anger. He was going for his own pleasure, and his own pleasure did not rely on causing pain. He was going to use her for every skill she had. What was the point of being skilled if he couldn’t exploit them?

So, Yoongi did just that.

He fucked his stepsister’s face and flicked water all over her suit, messing up her hair with his grasp, panting hard.

Her tongue circled him and added unpredictable sensation to his thrusts, curling around his girth to become a tighter sleeve, pushing him up to rub against the roof of her mouth, flattening so he achieved a better angle of depth, all the while running the fingers of her free hand over his tingling skin, keeping his balls in an almost unbearable cage of her knuckles. He did not care. Was going to cum whether or not she was going to make it harder for him, not deterred by this obstacle, actually made stronger by it, his core tightening, winding, pooling deep inside. Breathing shallow, eyelids fluttering, staring down at her, her name torn from his raw throat.

Her eyes narrowed, glinting below him.

He grimaced, orgasm colliding into his moment, jerking his head back and shooting down her throat, each hip flinch mirroring his cock twitching, pumping cum down her throat mercilessly. Her throat closed in and she swallowed, causing him to swallow back a tender hiss, his sore muscles reminding him of what he had done less than twenty-four hours before.

The hand around his balls unlocked, releasing him.

She licked all around his softening length, turning the afterglow into a wet, warm caress.

Yoongi breathed out slowly, sensing the quiver in his exhale.

“Get…”

His heartbeat roaring in his ears.

“Get off me.”

She popped her mouth off him and kissed his inner thigh. An icy itch slithered down his spine at the contact. His wet cock flopped out and hit her in the cheek. She stood up as if this scene was normal, being covered in shower water, saliva, and traces of his cum, still composed despite being disheveled by his forceful hands.

She smiled, amused.

“I came to get my passport. See you, Yoongi.”

She waved and turned away, going back to the bathroom door, leaving him there to catch his breath, suddenly cold.

“I forgot my knife in that room,” he yelled to the empty hallway.

“I don’t have it,” she called back, and then her head appeared over the edge of the doorframe, holding up her passport. “You should check the lost and found at the hotel. Or I’ll buy you a new one, if you like,” she added with a smirk.

A surge of annoyance. He bent down and snatched the towel from the ground, scowling.

“Don’t bother.”

Stopped.

The imprint of her knees on the white bath mat, right by his feet.

Yoongi looked up again, but his stepsister was gone.

-

“What happened?”

You turned, startled at the deep voice. Someone was coming out of the employee lockers, wearing all-black. Jeans and a t-shirt, both loose and baggy. Too informal for the gentlemen’s club. Large brown eyes and long black hair, free of his usual uniform hat, the small mole underneath his lower lip peeking out from under the center of shapely, parted pink lips.

One arm was bare skin, unmarked.

The other was heavily inked, splashed with color and bold black lines. An entire sleeve done by a skilled artist. The man was holding a thick black leather wallet in his right hand. He noticed you glancing at it and he raised it, bowing his head slightly.

“I forgot it. Because I accompanied Master last night.”

You tilted your head.

Jeon Jungkook looked sheepish. “Oh… I usually eat whatever the cooks make, or you pay when we leave, so I always felt it was safer to leave it in the lockers.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“Ah, my phone.”

He slipped his hand under the hem of his shirt and pulled out his cell phone, showing the back of it to reveal the card slot in the case.

“Has my IDs in it. For driving and stuff.”

He put it back in his pocket, nodding awkwardly. Made no move to put his wallet away, which is what a normal person would do, but then you noticed his inquisitive eyes were on your suit, honing in the details of the slightly darker spots in the crisp black fabric. He looked up to the ceiling that was nothing but maroon paint and overhead lights.

Jungkook frowned. “Is it raining?”

You told the truth.

“No.”

The guard off-duty lowered his gaze, looking back at you with confusion. “I heard someone almost running. I didn’t think it would be you, Master.”

The service elevator was at the end of the hall. It led up to the other floors, but it also was the only elevator that accessed the top floor. The top floor was a single room. The head office, which was sharply and lavishly decorated for very specific meetings for top clients or investors. It was a display of power and it did its job well. You didn’t keep much in the desk, since you shared it with your mother. She cluttered it with her perfumes, alcohol, and money from her travels. There were big wads of cash in those locked drawers. She wasn’t going to miss any.

Bitch couldn’t even remember her body count.

You didn’t need to take her money, but it felt fun doing so.

Jungkook’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together. “Did something happen? I know I’m not working right now, but I can help the guys out if someone did anyth–”

“Jungkook.”

He immediately shut up. Alert, all attention on you.

“You are not obligated to do anything related to work during your off time. Any disturbance is none of your concern.”

“I know, I–”

Your eyes narrowed.

In his casual clothes, with his hair down, Jungkook almost seemed young. No, young was the wrong word. When he was working, you noticed he was focused and intense, not allowing anything to escape his observance. But now he was standing before you, unguarded. An open book. The was muffled, chaotic noise below your feet. The club in full swing. Alcohol, dancing, depravity. Secrets created every day. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. Scrutinizing him, from his sudden self-cutoff to his right hand clutching his wallet, to his large dark eyes and open mouth, as if he forgot what to say in the wake of your abrupt shift in demeanor.

You found the correct word to describe his current, visible disposition.

Innocent.

Your high heel stayed on the floor as you turned the pointed toe, directing it right at him.

Directed your command to the question in his eyes.

“Say it.”

The slightest tuck of his chin, causing his black hair to fall over part of his big brown orbs. How strange. He was much more direct in his guard uniform. Or was it because he felt exposed in front of you as a civilian? That shouldn’t be true. Your difference in economic class still existed regardless of what he was wearing or doing.

“You… You seem distressed, Master,” Jungkook voiced, bracing himself for your reaction.

There was a lot of noise below but, in this tension, you could hear a pin drop.

You should have told him that you were fine and to go home.

Instead, you said, “You have the next few days off, don’t you?”

Jungkook blinked rapidly.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, I do.”

You held up your passport.

“You want to come to Taiwan with me?”

-

He had never flown first-class before. It was such a short flight too, only a little over two hours. He had so much space to put his legs. He asked how much the ticket was, but the young Master just smiled at him, amused. She was still in her suit. A couple hours had passed, from him throwing together a duffel bag and her waiting outside his apartment. She drove. Had valet take her car. It was already late at night, so security was a breeze.

By now, her clothes were completely dry.

He didn’t want to bring up that he noticed the knees had been particularly wet.

“Were you going to go alone?” Jungkook asked when they were seated, getting ready to take off.

His boss ticked her head.

Looked at him pointedly.

“Mmmm, yeah.”

His breathing stilled, startled by the playfulness of her voice. A stark contrast to the measured, sharpened tone she used for work. Almost childlike in conduct, even though she was dressed in formalwear.

“Why?”

The young Master sat back in her seat and shrugged.

“Can’t take it anymore, I guess.”

Jungkook felt an icy itch slither down his spine as he witnessed her calm expression.

She perked up abruptly and reached for her briefcase. It was black leather, from a high-end brand, but with gunmetal clasps. Normally, they would be gold, or at least that was what Jungkook had seen in stores. This one must have been customized for her. She reached inside and pulled out a big, thickly padded envelope.

Jungkook’s eyes widened.

She placed it in his lap, patting it.

He stared at it like it was on fire.

“Spending money. Do you know my mother likes to carry cash overseas? Isn’t that insane? Maybe she wants to get mugged. A gangbang is probably on her list of top fantasies. What am I saying, she’s probably done it by now. Guess she must have enjoyed the experience. Anyway, saves you the trouble of any bank fees, am I right?”

He jerked his head, gawking at her in disbelief. “Master, I can’t–”

Her finger shot forward and hovered right over his shaking lips.

Not touching.

Above, the intercom dinged, asking passengers to stow away their items and put on their seatbelts. The plane was to take off shortly. It began to move, a mechanical monster lurching around the crowded, unmindful passengers.

“It’d be a bit strange if you called me by my work title on a pleasure trip, wouldn’t it?” the young Master whispered, low and dirty, as if it was a big secret they shared. “I’ll let you call me by given name, just this once.”

She winked, the side of her lips ticking upwards.

Jungkook found that he couldn’t breathe.

“Try it.”

He shook his head. She turned her head the tiniest bit, clicking her tongue. Wagged her finger, like he had done something naughty. Seconds felt like hours. Then her fingertip wandered, and landed on the silver ring at the corner of his lips. Daintily patted the piercing.

A flickering caress, like the brush of a forked snake’s tongue.

“I can wait, Jungkook.”

The attendant came to check and instantly her hand shot back, clicking her seatbelt into place and smiling at the young lady as Jungkook fumbled with his, his heartbeat roaring in his ears and rattling in his ribcage, wondering what the fuck just happened.

-

Min Yoongi nearly flung his cell phone into the wall.

Instead, he crushed the empty water bottle in his other hand, narrowing his eyes at the screen. A quick Google search was all it took and there his stepsister was, splashed over tabloid articles that complimented her impeccable style, oh, and blatantly reminding everyone of her single status. The latest news, snapped just this morning.

In the streets of Taipei City, Taiwan.

He stared down the photo of her in a cropped white puffer jacket. Thin black scarf. Low v-neckline fuzzy white sweater. Black cargo pants slung low on her hips with clean black-and-white sneakers. The smallest peek of midriff appeared when her hips swung during her stride. The paparazzi got the perfect shot, naturally. Light makeup. Clean girl aesthetic, the headline read.

Yoongi hurled the crushed water bottle into the far wall of his studio with a vicious snarl.

Of course. He checked the fuckin’ brothel, sorry, gentlemen’s club, stayed at the family house longer than he wanted to, even breezed past her condo, and this bitch was in fuckin’ Taiwan. Not Japan, which is where he checked first, in spots the family often visited, partaking in over-the-top luxury hotels and other equally pretentious places, pretending they were bonding but actually just ignoring each other and fucking hopeless hopefuls.

Not him.

He just sulked in lowlife bars and drank until he couldn’t think.

Now she was in Taiwan.

Doing what?

Sucked his dick and flew to Taiwan by herself for fuckin’ what?

Yoongi jerked his head and threw his phone onto the desk, where it clattered and spun, landing facedown and into a pile of balled-up note paper. This bitch. Acting like she could run off and do whatever she wanted. Hah. It wasn’t like he had anything to do either. He bet his switchblade was in her condo too, sitting on her damn bookshelf. Obviously asking the hotel staff had done nothing. They had no clue what he was talking about.

She would keep it nearby, because it was his.

She had it.

She must have it.

Yoongi tucked his tongue in his cheek and spun back to his computer monitor, going back to his music.

-

“You ever been to a night market in Taiwan, Jungkook?”

“Uh… no?”

You smiled. “You would like it. Lots of food, just like Korea. They have these fatty red sausages they grill on sticks. The outside is crispy and the inside is still greasy and juicy.” It was already nightfall after a full day of prowling the luxury shops. Streetlights were on, casting shadows over dark and dirty corners. Around you, the elderly spoke in their local dialect, while the younger adults and teens spoke in Mandarin Chinese.

You stopped, pointing up a rickety, half-collapsed building.

“My mother used to work there for a couple years, when I was barely in elementary school.”

A smile, and there was no amusement.

Only dried contempt.

You lowered your hand and turned back to the wide-eyed man in a leather jacket, not elaborating. He followed your hand and then came up to your eyeline. Lips parting, wordless question.

You nodded, and then turned away, walking again.

“That’s why I know a bit of the local language, although I’m quite rusty now.”

“I can’t tell the difference.”

Your smile changed, taking a moment to glance at him. “You’re funny.”

Jungkook looked hesitant, and then he smiled back.

You let him have that moment and then followed the streets. They were different, but the same. A long time ago, this area was less run-down. Still plain, still nearly forgettable. A perfect place for someone to hold a secret meeting, just outside the city. Not too much travel time, so a clueless housewife wouldn’t be too suspicious. If you raised your head just right, you could spot the boarded-up building that used to be a twenty-four-hour pharmacy.

You still remembered running down these streets.

Remembered the feeling of clutching coins and medicine bottles cutting into your hand, running up flights of stairs, lifting your unconscious mother’s head, shoving pills down her throat and crying for her to wake up.

After a while, you stopped crying for her to wake up.

You just shoved the pills down her throat and waited.

Sometimes the men lingered.

You cut the thoughts off and reached out, the chain bracelet with the glass beads clinking with your rapid movement, closing your fingers around a solid wrist.

“It’s down here.”

Turned. Through a narrow alley crammed with boxes and, all of a sudden, lights.

Blaring lights. Yelling. The strong stench of animal fat in the air, thick and heavy and clinging to clothes. Alive, swarming with curious teenagers and anxious children, loudly asking for a pork-filled steamed bun or soup dumplings as the high-pitched jingling of arcade machines rose through the noise, annoying enough to turn heads. The food stalls were crammed together, surrounding plywood tables and colorful, wobbly plastic stools.

“W-Woah!”

“Heh, hasn’t changed,” you chuckled, diving into the chaos.

-

She stared at him.

“I tried to call room service and I… I couldn’t figure it out. The translations provided were in English. Even after you went through the trouble of asking them to keep a Korean translator on standby for me,” he managed to get out, pointedly staring at the young Master’s face and not the lace-trimmed black slip clinging to her body. At least she was wearing the plush white hotel bathrobe over it.

It was still wide open though.

An eyebrow raised. “You want more food?”

Actually, no. Jungkook was so full at this point that he felt like an overstuffed teddy bear. He had eaten so much. Fried sausage on a wooden skewer. Crispy fried squid too. Soup dumplings. Marinated pork belly stuffed into a white bun with ground peanuts, crystalized sugar, and pickled mustard greens. Small buns filled with yellow leek and pork. Chow fun noodle soup. Rice noodle soup. This insane fried pork and mushroom thick-broth soup that went amazing with a clear liquor she served him, the name which completely went over his head. He just ate and drank until she was satisfied.

He shook his head quickly, holding up an empty water bottle.

“I ran out of water. I wanted to ask for another one.”

Her eyes darted to the clear plastic in his hand. “Ah.” She opened the door wider, tipping her head into the hotel room. “You can have mine.”

“S… Sorry for the intrusion.”

She had, of course, booked two separate hotel rooms. One for him and one for her.

She did not, however, give him an extra key card to her room.

He wasn’t working right now, of course.

Jungkook shuffled in with the complementary hotel slippers, looking around. The layout of the space was the same as his, only mirrored. This meant the dresser and desk were on the shared wall, but not the bed.

There was nothing playing on the mounted television.

He picked up the water bottle from its predicted spot on the dresser and turned around, nearly colliding into the young Master.

She tilted her head at him.

His eyes immediately avoided hers, even though they were the brightest thing in his vision, gleaming in the low glow of the sconces next to the bed. She had not turned on the overhead lights or the bedside table lamps. There was no spike in hostility or aggressive stance. Her arms were not crossed. They were simply at rest by her sides.

She leaned in.

Jungkook immediately tilted his torso back, fixating on a spot on the wall behind her head, knowing full well her cleavage was right under his nose.

He shallowed his breathing, not wanting to exhale on her face.

“Remind me again what reception said…”

Her voice was husky, smokey, haunting.

“Jungkook?”

His heartbeat pulsing in his neck, choking him.

“T-They… They said their Korean translator went home for the day…” he forced out, lightheaded, clutching the water bottle tightly.

“Ah.”

Her head bobbed, nodding under his vision.

“That’s right.”

He couldn’t breathe.

Long agonizing seconds ticked past.

She stepped back.

He finally let a breath out. Lowered his eye line, and she was standing in front of him still. Small smile, amused. Might as well have been holding a knife to his throat. Jungkook swallowed, thinning it out so it wasn’t so obvious, staring into her eyes, not looking away further down. It might have been a short time. It might have been a long time. He didn’t know. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t working right now.

There was no obligation to be professional.

Her smile widened, just a tad.

She quirked her head to the door.

“R-Right. Sorry for bothering you,” he apologized again, gripping the water bottle and taking a step, circling around her. Her eyes followed him, almost unnerving. That smile stayed, lingering. He got to the second step, the point where they were shoulder to shoulder, their eye contact now broken.

“Jungkook.”

He froze.

She leaned back, and now she gazed at him under lowered lashes.

“You know you can ask me for anything,” she said. No, purred, the tip of her pink tongue grazing her white teeth in the center of that open-mouthed smirk. His gaze flickered back up, away from her soft, pillowy lips, and he found hers were rising too, taking her time to lock eyes with him again. “Since you did me this favor of accompanying me on this silly little journey.”

If she closed a little more distance, Jungkook would have been able to feel her warm breath on his neck.

She stayed where she was.

Smirking.

“I…”

Thump.

Heartbeat pounding in his throat, choking him.

“I don’t think this trip is silly.”

Something rippled through her expression.

“We should all let loose sometimes,” he continued, his fingertips caressing the full water bottle, feeling its weight and solidness, staring into those beautiful eyes that seemed to cut right through him. “Don’t you think?”

The young Master was highly observant and had a keen eye for people.

This he knew.

In fact, he counted on it.

Jungkook let his lips form her given name and breathed it out, savoring it like a sweet.

-

Min Yoongi punched in the pin code in for his music studio and slid in, his hands still tingling from cold tap water. He hadn’t dawdled too long. Fuckin’ bathrooms here had the air hand dryers, making him feel like a damn idiot sticking his hands in them. And who the fuck thought it was the good idea to put a mirror right in front of it? Like he wanted to see how flattened his dyed red-orange hair had become due to the headset. He had broken it up with one hand before leaving the bathroom, reshaping the flexible gel so it was at least pushed back one side.

An icy itch slithered down his spine.

Yoongi tucked his tongue in his cheek and looked up.

His stepsister was silently picking up the crushed water bottles around his desk and placing them in a recycling bag.

He recoiled, instantly on high alert.

“Who the fuck let you in?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

She picked up an empty bottle of vending machine tea and turned it in her fingers, her stunning profile in his view. Back to a tight black pencil skirt, although this one was shorter and had a very small slit in the back. White-and-black thick-striped dress shirt with a low, pressed neckline, complete with pearl buttons and tasteful puffed long sleeves.

Her long black coat was draped over his leather rolling chair.

Simple obsidian high heels, no ankle strap this time, stepping all over on his goddamn carpet.

“I asked the front desk.”

She tossed the bottle into the recycling bag and pushed aside the piles of balled-up paper, clearing the one side of the L-shaped desk that stuck out. An onyx pen rolled out, metal and heavy-weighted.

She stopped it with the tip of her index finger.

“What the fuck is the security here?” Yoongi muttered, crossing the distance in his slippers. “Stop touching my shit.”

She placed the pen into the stone tray under his monitor. “I’m only cleaning. Surprised you let it get into such a state here. I thought music was the most important thing to you.”

He scoffed, clenching his jaw, keeping his voice even and scathing. “It’s none of your damn business. Look at you, acting like you can go wherever you please. Taiwan, huh? Bet you didn’t given grab a bottle of that whiskey I like. Too busy having fun getting on your knees in a different county, hm?”

His stepsister plucked a plastic food wrapper out of the balls of crumpled paper and scooted it to the open trashcan under his desk.

“You should take better care of the things you care about…”

The individual slivers of anger closed in, twisting together, collecting to a single, sharpened instant, his breathing thinning, chest tightening, the gears inside of this misfit toy grinding against each other, click, click, clicking.

“Brother.”

His hand shot out and grabbed her left wrist, ripping her from his desk and spinning her around, snarl lashing out from his throat. Her done-up hair splayed out in an arc, her head snapping to face him, dark beautiful eyes immediately locking to his furious expression.

Platinum chain links and black glass beads dug into his palm.

He froze.

It was suddenly too hot, too hot even in his black t-shirt and loose track pants. Heartbeat roaring in his ears. Her eyes watching his every move, and now Yoongi understood that weapons were not just sharpened knives and words that cut deep, but also the accusation searing him from the inside.

Her eyebrow raised, tilting her head at him.

“What’s the matter?” she breathed out.

Soft, hazy, with the essence of a coiled snake in the grass.

His exhale jagged, torn-up by the way she looked at him.

“I told you,” Yoongi growled icily, lowering his head. “Not to call me brother ever again.”

His other hand bolted up, grasping her head and he kissed her, hard and bruising and shutting himself up before he could say anything more. Her free hand slid between them too, gliding over his jaw and drawing him closer, kissing him back just as intensely, just as fiercely, sliding her fingers into his hair and clutching onto him, her hungry tongue between his teeth.

She swallowed his erratic breathing, taking it away.

Lips like sin, his whole body on fire, her sweet saliva dripping into his throat.

Yoongi released her abruptly and twisted her wrist, forcing her body to turn around, and pinned her hand to the table, bending her over his now cleared-off desk. Her palm slammed down onto the wood, the loud smack cutting through the tense air between them, and then the vulgar noise was trapped within the soundproof walls of his music studio, unable to get outside.

Her name leaked out between his gritted teeth.

“You’re not a maid.”

She chuckled, slightly breathless and completely dark.

“Maybe you needed a reminder of who you really are. A spoiled rich kid sucking on the silver spoon in his mouth.”

Yoongi knew exactly what she was doing.

And yet the anger was so easy to swallow, so inviting, so decadent that he devoured it with greed.

“A slut gets treated like a slut then.”

He let go of her wrist.

Gripped the two sides of the slit on that pencil skirt, and ripped the seam apart.

She gasped, snapping her head around, but Yoongi shoved a hand into the small of her back and pressed her stomach back into the wood, glaring. Daring her to stand up. Her eyes narrowed, sparks of fury glinting under the overhead lights. He deliberately dug his fingers into the torn black fabric and pulled more. It easily gave into his force, the threads popping and snapping.

He completely tore it off and threw it into the open trashcan under his desk.

Ticked his chin and cocked an eyebrow.

His stepsister kept her hands flat on the desk, cocking an eyebrow back, as if this had happened to her before.

Yoongi hooked one of his fingers into the side of her black panties and pulled up.

She bit her lip, saying nothing.

He reached between her legs and sunk his fingertip into her heat. Followed along the slit to find the hard nub hiding underneath, soaking the silk undergarment and watching her expression change, pleasure snaking into the defiance. He did not force it. He stayed slow, careful, and with precision. Silent. Stroking her clit and twisting her panties into his fist, digging it in more, tearing the seams.

So wet.

It made his cock swell with insatiable need.

Yoongi licked the side of his mouth, swallowing his moan.

Her hands curled into fists, hips rolling back against him.

He kept rubbing, his fingers circling the slick friction, not reacting to her involvement to it. He wanted to draw her orgasm out. Coax it with his touch. He savored the feeling of her leaking juices and the smell of her desperate sex, memorizing every detail. The way her hips flinched, the way her lips parted, lush lashes fluttering, shoulders tense, looking back at him, his name on the tip of her wet pink tongue sliding out, panting softly.

Yoongi did not let himself be alone in this.

He was going to make her part of this madness.

“Y… Yoongi…”

He licked his teeth and pushed her to the edge.

There was a visible writhe of her spine and she gasped, tipping her head back, fists uncurling, nails clawing over the wood as he felt her trembling pussy throb under his fingertips, drenching the panties past usefulness and dripping down her tense thighs, her ass rising and stopped by his clenched, white-knuckled fist.

He could smell it, her sinful orgasm.

Feel it coat his fingers, his palm, his hand, sliding between her legs, his touch smearing it all over her inner thighs, leaning down as his other hand dragged her ruined panties down her shaking legs, sighing out hot breath onto the delicious, perky curve of her ass.

“Yes, that is my name,” Yoongi murmured, licking a long, sensual stripe all the way to the dip between soft roundness, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of her cum. He pooled saliva there, slathering it onto pampered skin.

Her gasps were slowly evening out, tension lessening.

“I’ll make sure you remember.”

Then he straightened, slowly, drawing his hand out from between her legs. No whimper from the predator below him, only a sharp gaze of stalking eyes. Always watching, but Yoongi was not afraid for he had nothing to hide.

He gripped the sides of his pants and underwear and pushed them down.

He saw the palm of her hand on the wood turn, ready to press down to lift her upper body.

“Relax,” Yoongi chuckled, letting the shared sin roughen his tone. “I’m not that stupid.”

Then he gripped his stiff cock and slid up against his stepsister’s ass, rubbing the sensitive head into the puddle of saliva he let at the base of her spine and jacking himself off with her slick cum still sticking to his hand. Her eyes widened, but he just smirked, open-mouthed and tongue between teeth, stimulating himself against the smooth skin, shuddering, relishing, letting himself be consumed by the wrongness of it all, his veins alight with wicked pleasure, heartbeat thundering in his ears to mix with the obscene, wet smacking sound of him thrusting into his own closed fist.

He bent over and increased the friction on the swollen, dark red tip, breathing hard, reaching out to close his fingers around her forearm.

“Squeeze you ass together for me.”

Sly smirk dancing on her lips but he mirrored it, already knowing what it meant, feeling her loosen from his hold and snake her arms down against her sides, pressing her chest to the desk and grabbing handfuls of her ass, pushing the malleable cheeks together and adding a gentle curve to the slick, slippery, saliva-covered tightness for him to rub against.

Yoongi groaned hotly into her hair, slapping his left hand down onto the desk, intensifying his grip, hot taut skin pulsating in his right hand. So hard he was lightheaded, thrusting into the top of her ass, fuck, so soft, fuck, leaking pre-cum to add to the mess of fluids in that glossy pocket, fuck, her ass pushing back against him, lengthening each stroke. Her name vibrated in his throat, his eyes slipping shut, sharp tips of his hair hitting his cheeks with every jerk forward. Couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, wasn’t going to stop until he came all over her ass and back, eager to soak that designer blouse of hers with his indecency.

He grinned.

The coil inside tightened, the back of his thighs straining.

His elbow hit the desk, loud and sharp sensation shooting up to his shoulder, but it didn’t feel painful, only added to the violent turmoil of sensations that burst, starting from his clenched jaw.

Yoongi snarled her name, pierced with lust.

His rigid cock jerked, orgasm spurting out in strings. He snapped his head down, directing and watching the thick, creamy lines dribbling over her back, catching the hem of her hiked-up blouse like he intended, pushing the aching, dark red head into her skin and moaning, husky and hoarse, painting her ass too, squeezing his twitching length so every single milky drop was forced out, decorating her with his desire.

Exhale.

It shook, disturbing the air with its fervor.

Yoongi dragged his fingers across the wood, finding her trembling shoulder, closing his callused grip around her throat.

Pulled his body up slightly, venomous lips against her ear.

“We are not the same,” he whispered, searing like smoke.

He did not specific who he meant by we.

Deep down, Yoongi even wasn’t sure if he knew.

Her body quivered under him. Almost undetectable, almost soundless, almost overlooked. He wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for his hand around her neck. Tremors of deep-rooted darkness, of blackout curtains and blank canvas, of days trapped in play-pretend as good daughter, of memories buried so deep they might as well have decomposed and decayed six feet under.

She snickered into the dead wood below her lips.

“Aren’t I a better slut than you thought, Yoongi?”

He flinched.

As if shot.

Lifted himself and gripped her shoulder, turning her around, and pressing his lips to hers, closing his eyes to avoid the accusation waiting there, speaking instead with the pressure and the intensity of the dance of his lips against hers, shuddering as he felt her smile against his bruising kiss.

Amused.

Yoongi’s hands were on the desk, one soiled and the other empty, deserving it.

His whisper was thin, barely there between ravenous lips.

“I can’t believe those bastards at the front desk let you in.”

She chuckled, nipping at his lower lip.

“I didn’t say they let me in. They only told me that the keypads here require a four-digit pin code.”

His entire body erupted in chills.

Her hands slid up his back, pressing his chest to hers, kissing him deeply, her moans slipping into his throat, his lungs, shimmering against his heart, flint against the fire, and Yoongi knew that his password was a date. A specific day and a specific month.

Her birthday.

-

“I’m sorry about how long I made you wait,” you commented calmly, shrugging out of your coat. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t find this important.”

There was no screaming.

Only blissful silence broken by ragged, heavy breathing.

“I only wanted to be prepared so I can give you the attention you deserve.”

You found the invisible zipper on the side of your skirt and teased it apart, letting the visceral sound echo around the stone basement. There were no security guards surrounding you this time. It wasn’t necessary. The man in a black latex gimp suit was shackled to a padded, heavy bench, wrists and ankles chained together underneath.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

You had the decency to place his head on a small, firm pillow, of course.

Your skirt skimmed past your hips, falling to the floor. You stepped out of it, walking towards the waiting body. Heel to toe, the click of your stilettos palpable and sharp. The top of your suit remained, a short dark pinstriped blazer with satin lapels, tightly fastened. No shirt underneath. Just the slightest hint of lace-encased cleavage if you were looking straight down, but nobody was doing that. The gimp suit only had slits for eyeholes. Barely a half-centimeter in height and three centimeters across.

You looked down at the latex-encased head so he could see your small, amused smile.

The encompassing mask had nose holes, of course, to provide ample breathing space. A zipper over the mouth, with a small silicone bulb sticking out of the zipper head. Inflatable gag. One squeezed the bulb to firmly expand the other end that would be in the wearer’s mouth, gagging them once their lips closed around it.

It had been done for you.

How nice.

You held up the wand vibrator.

The muffled whimper was reduced to a squeaking gurgle.

“It seems simple,” you agreed, stepping away and turning it on, the hum rising next to your ear. “But sometimes simple is best, you know.”

It was a little bit of a joke, but all jokes held truths. You circled around the trembling body, the cool air turning hot with the tension you created with every second, every moment, every breath of anticipation in the waiting. It was a long time coming, this moment. You savored it, a rare moment of allowing yourself to enjoy your achievement.

You earned it.

The black latex was covered in thin film of oil, making it look shiny and inviting.

You ran the vibrator along the inside of the covered thigh.

The reaction was immediate. Choked moan and shivering body, defined muscles flexing against the unforgiving fabric, the steady whirring sound intensifying due to contact with a surface. You let out the breath you were holding, chuckling, sliding the wand vibrator up and down, watching him squirm. The latex made sharp crinkling sounds as he moved, whines trapped behind plastic.

For his part, he kept his legs apart, desperate not to close them.

You turned up the setting, saying nothing, moving to the other leg. Up and down, each up moving closer, closer to the center of those joined legs. At the center was a thick, silver zipper. You admired it. Admired the way it shone in the low light of a single exposed bulb, stretching the little that it could while what was beneath it swelled, pushing, twitching, fighting to get out.

“You like that?” you purred.

A strained moan rattled in that flexed chest.

You lifted the wand for just a moment to rub it lightly against that chest, to the sides where you guessed hardened peaks awaited, smiling as the body below you writhed. There we go. Massaged those two spots nice and hard and rough, abusing his nipples, seeing the neck of the suit flex as the head tipped back, strangled cries frantic for release.

Although there was a lot of movement, he kept his body fully exposed to your sexual torture.

You praised him for it.

“A gentleman.”

His back arched, groan leaking past the gag.

“I like that.”

You traveled back down his flexed abdomen, circling his bellybutton, avoiding his crotch, making him whine sharply in dismay, going back to working his thighs. Focused on the inner parts, closer to that quivering bulge. Scooped down, making him sit on the vibrating wand for a bit.

His spine collapsed, quiet sobbing rising behind his confines.

“That’s it. Just give into it,” you whispered. “Give into me.”

You pressed the vibrations to the base of the zipper and his latex-covered balls.

The thick protrusion behind the majority of the silver zipper jerked, swelling even more. The breathing behind the gimp mask was labored and erratic. No sound except guttural whimpers and choked moans, all words snuffed out by the gag, although he wouldn’t have much to say anyway.

The pleasure of being controlled was too good.

You slid the wand up and down his trapped cock, teasing it mercilessly.

His hips thrust up into the punishment, small pleading noises begging for more. You gave in, smiling, turning up the power, the vibrations screaming against the plastic fabric, filling the stone basement with cries both human and machine. You saw his broad shoulders shake and his head thrash, powerful thighs closing and pinning the vicious sensations to his straining erection, the latex too thick to provide full agony.

You let him fuck himself.

It was fun to watch.

He was breathing hard, whining sharply, in the same rhythm and syllables of your given name.

“I’m thinking about it,” you replied, pressing your thumb to the button and pushing the thundering pulse to maximum.

You did.

Think about it.

He screamed behind the mask, the sound mashed into the gag.

You turned the wand off.

The thighs shot back, thudding against the bench and shaking badly, back flat against the bench, ragged puffs of breath rattling the sodden latex. Both sweat and condensation, probably. You let him have a moment of reprieve, although you limited it to a very brief one.

No sense in delaying what he so desperately wanted.

You pressed the head of the wand to his hip and held him down, gripping the heavy-duty zipper and slowly freeing his trapped cock.

The scent of sweat hit you, along with the dirty, delicious aroma of leaking pre-cum. He had shaved, obviously, to prevent any hair from catching. His cock sprang out, thick and erect and purple-red, weeping from the containment, prominent veins pulsating. It was probably this engorged due to the relentless treatment you had given it, reaching maximum girth already. You calmly reached in and scooped his shivering balls out, caressing them gently to wipe some of the sweat off.

You couldn’t see, but you guessed his eyes were rolling back into his head at your soft touch. It was obvious by the way his head tipped back and his stifled moan reverberated from his chest.

You lifted the wand and jammed it into his balls, mashing the ‘on’ button savagely.

He gasped and locked all his joints, everything in him to prevent him from flinching away from the pounding pressure as he wailed around his gag, the sound of teeth scraping against it cutting into the heavy, lust-filled air.

You removed it, smiling.

He whimpered, begging you to do it again.

“I know,” you purred sensibly. “But you’ll like this.”

You swung a leg over his torso and straddled his chest, wrapping your hand around his twitching, rock-hard, leaking length, and placed the wand vibrator directly into his sensitive balls, squashing them with thundering hardness, grinning as you felt his shocked moans travel through your body from your panty-covered pussy now firmly planted onto on his sternum.

“See? I told you you’ll like it,” you chuckled, grinding circles into his scrotum. “I don’t tell lies.”

Your smile dropped.

Your fingers slid down his length, slowly. Curled your index and thumb around the base, tightening, pinching, creating a makeshift cock ring with your hand as you slid the inescapable vibrations up, slowly, slowly, feeling it briefly shake your own hand, then up, up, up to the dark, dripping head of that thick cock whose owner was pleading, crying, hoping for you to abuse.

You gave him what he wanted.

Held it there and tortured him for long, excruciating minutes.

You did say he could ask you for anything.

You raised your hand and stroked the slick shaft, spreading the pre-cum and sweat everywhere. Not quite enough lubrication but you had manicured, pampered hands that you moisturized often, and besides, that edge of uncomfortable was part of this anticipated, desired pain. It was only the beginning of more, your hand strongly pressing the bulbous tip of the wand vibrator to the swollen, inflamed, dark purple head of this delicious-smelling, throbbing, masochistic cock.

You smiled, enjoying it.

Faster, rougher, moving your hand up and down.

He was losing it under you, thrashing powerfully, but you pinned him down with your weight, forcing him to the brink.

“You don’t wanna cum, is that it?” you exhaled. “Afraid this moment will be over too soon?”

Rubbing the punishing relentless vibrations all around, focusing it on the underside of the head where the skin was thinnest and the nerves most concentrated, making him moan in despair and beg for mercy. You pumped him decisively, grip tight, holding him still in the inescapable cage of your closed fingers.

“You should know this kind of hunger is not so easily satisfied.”

You pushed the power to max.

The man under you groaned, and the tension tore apart, violent shot of white suddenly in your vision and then splattered to your face, too close in your craving, your warm breath washing over his jolting, dribbling cock, each jarring thrust of shuddering hips weakening with a grateful sob, his cum spilling down your closed hand.

You pulled the wand away, fascinated.

Turned it off absentmindedly, staring at the dark purple-red head quivering, still squeezing out beading, milky droplets, your index and thumb locked around the base of that tender tip, his taut skin pulsing with each twitch.

Leaned forward and licked.

The body under you shivered in complete bliss.

Your tongue circled around that hot sensitive skin. Tasting sex and sweat, feeling him remain hard in your hand as you loudly and thoroughly sucked his cum off. Every sudden, uncontrolled flinch made the need in your core turn, winding tightly, the gears inside this misfit toy click, click, clicking.

He tasted good.

Like sin.

You let go, lifting your body off him.

Your panties were soaked, glistening juices stamped onto the black latex like a Rorschach print.

Bent down and pulled the useless undergarment off. Threw them aside, leaving the wand vibrator on the bench between the legs. Breathing hard, matching the pained exertion of the man beneath you, staring at the mess you made in this dark stone basement.

Small smile.

This high was addictive.

You reached over behind the head and brusquely lifted it without warning, gripping the zipper at the base of the neck and pulling. The internal, extra-wide flap of the gimp mask prevented any hair or skin from getting caught. You peeled it away, gripping the hem under the chin and turning it inside-out, the zipper at the mouth loosening, causing the inflatable gag to fall out of shaking pink lips, the small mole at the center underneath them quivering.

Long black hair flared out as you tossed the gimp mask aside.

Large brown eyes staring at your exposed, glistening lower lips. Tan skin shining with sweat, faint traces of talcum powder sticking to his hairline.

You smirked.

Jeon Jungkook shuddered, looking up at you.

You placed two fingers under his chin, tipping his head so he had a better view of your pussy.

“I knew exactly what you were doing the entire time.”

His eyes shifted up, breathing hard in large huffs. The key to his shackles was under him, right by his hand. However, locking the cuffs only required sliding together the mechanism, causing the latch to catch and click into place. A person could do it with only a few fingers even in a precarious position. The metal wasn’t too tight around the wrist, only enough to be inescapable.

“But, then again, you were hoping for that.”

You smiled, amused.

“Weren’t you, Jungkook?”

The corner of his lips ticked upward, the silver ring at the edge gleaming.

He knows.

An unpleasant, bitter feeling coiled around the base of your neck.

You paused. Frozen. Remembering words whispered to you in the dark, remembering strong hands holding you down, recalling apathy snaking all over your nerves, your body already knowing the signal to blank out the next moments.

Let’s make a secret.

You shook your head, cutting the thoughts off.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” you forced out with effort.

Looked down at Jungkook, into those clear brown eyes.

Your security guard smiled. Pink tongue flitting over his strained lips, the wet sound grounding your senses, the display of surrender bringing you a strange sense of serene.

“That's none of my business,” Jungkook purred, deep voice laced with indecent desires.

His lips formed your given name, savoring it like a sweet.

Accepting.

Your chest tightened, feeling alive.

You looked back to the wand, indicating to him that you were going to use it again, and then you stepped forward, Jungkook’s lips parting below you, providing a warm welcome to your dripping pussy, closing his mouth around your clit as you lifted the brutal instrument of sexual torture once again, turning it on to press to his shivering balls and wrapping your own soft, pillowy lips around the aching head of his still-hard cock, burning with pleasure as his tongue began to ravenously lick, hungry for your orgasm.

On the floor was his uniform, neatly folded.

The head of an engraved black tiger gleamed in the low light, the switchblade safely tucked in the side leg pocket of the pants.

-

continued in time to dig up those graves, m | myg, jjk

--

masterpost

[setthishouseablaze]

Fortnight - post mortem

"Fortnight"

(feat. Post Malone)

"I was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me

I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic

All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason

And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?"

To be sent away is to be committed to the psych ward, or sent to jail. From the music video (MV) it seems that in this case it's a reference to an involuntary stay in the psych ward - she's chained up in a bed being made to take pills, however, asylums and prisons are a theme throughout the album as a whole.

In the opening scenes of the video she is dressed up to look like 1920s movie starlet Clara Bow (who is referenced directly as a song title later on the album.) Her hair is pinned up with an extreme number of upside down bobby-pins which on the right side of her head make the roman numeral for 13, and she is wearing a wedding gown.

Clara Bow is known to have engaged in lavender marriages while having secret affairs with women during her stardom. "dropping hairpins" is a piece of historical queer slang, meaning dropping hints that one is queer, and the inverse, having your hair pinned up means that you're pretending to be straight. Hair pins reference back to the lyrics of Right Where You Left Me "Dust collected on my pinned-up hair." I read this scene as "maximum closeting," by force.

The entire room is shown to be upside down and at an angle which reminds me of the classic Emily Dickinson poem "tell all the truth but tell it slant" Given Emily is a favorite poet of TS the Dickinson reference is likely intentional and it's fair to assume that there are red herrings and metaphors in abundance throughout this song and this album. Remember the 'redherring' error code on the website pre-release.

This song and video also reference A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, which tells the story of a person released from prison who has mental health issues due to being tortured during their prison stay, who is then taken by their family from Paris(!) to London (!!) Book 2 of A Tale of Two Cities is titled "The Golden Thread" which reminds me of Invisible String "one single thread of gold tied me to you," and in the second book we're told the tale of how the golden haired daughter provides financially for her family in addition to repairing and maintaining their good reputation. A Tale of Two Cities feels oh so very appropriate as a touchstone for listening to this album.

"I was a functioning alcoholic" is this metaphorical, literal, or both? Other mentions of use and abuse of drugs and alcohol in her discography include Closure "I'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles" Clean "Ten months sober" and Don't Blame Me "My drug is my baby I'll be using for the rest of my life" I think in this case I think it might be both metaphorical and literal. The loss of her love drove her to drink, but also, she was addicted to her illicit love and maybe got away with it until others noticed-?

"All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason. And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?" reminds me again of the song Closure "It wasn't right the way it all went down looks like you know that now. Yes, I got your letter, Yes, I'm doing better. I don't need your closure" It's just as direct, but less aggressive in tone. She hopes her muse is well but they are the reason that she is where she is.

"And for a fortnight there, we were forever

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather

Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors

Your wife waters flowers

I wanna kill her"

A fortnight is two weeks, though, it may be a metaphorical stand-in here just meaning that for awhile it seemed like they were going to be together forever, but now they are acquaintances who make small talk.

"Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors" reminds me of the ever so quotable line "Good Fences Make Good Neighbours" from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall, the irony of the poem is that while setting clear boundaries with a wall prevents petty disputes over property lines the constant need to maintain the wall they've built brings the neighbours together to talk. The line is often quoted by people who've never read the poem without heed for the irony. As a reference here it seems very sarcastic - we're good neighbours look how polite and appropriate we are with our boundaries set in stone.

There are many references to gardens and flowers in the TS back catalogue but for me this in particular recalls the lyrics from Clean "The drought was the very worst. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst." and this line translates to me as I hate your partner because they're growing a relationship/family with you, whereas ours is dead.

The MV shows TS wiping her face to reveal tattoos that almost match those of Post Malone who plays the part of love interest in the MV. The differences are the addition of two tattoos that spell out DDP, an extra heart, and a change from a playboy bunny to what looks like a diamond. The tattoos seem to have been covered with make-up while she was chained up in the asylum, and they disappear as soon as she steps out into the other room - only to reappear onto the face of Post Malone. I don't have any theories about what DDP stands for I would love to hear other peoples. Seeing TS with secret tattoos reminds me of Dress, "made your mark on me a golden tattoo." another song about secret love.

"All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February

I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary"

Mondays being the most notoriously hated day of the week because it's the start of the work week for many people, and Feb being post-celebration winter in the northern hemisphere, I read this as - all I do is work I'm stuck in a bleak winter that won't end. I've tried every option available to get over you but it didn't work.

When she enters the writers room she's wearing a mourning dress, which could lend another layer i.e. all my mournings are mondays i.e. all of my break-ups are work/business.

The whole video is in black and white except for the sparks that fly off the pages into the air between their desks, and the fire once she sets things ablaze.

"And I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

But I touched you"

This is pretty direct but in context I read it as - I'm still in love with you, I feel stuck, I can't move on and my public image won't let me let you in, we may have only been together for a short time but we were together and I can't/won't forget it.

In the MV there are an endless array of masked figures also in black mourning attire, all with masks and hats sitting at identical desks disappearing into the horizon. Are these the other tortured poets from history, made to mask and hide behind their typewriters in a black and white world?

"And for a fortnight there, we were forever

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather

Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors

Your wife waters flowers

I wanna kill her

And for a fortnight there, we were together

Run into you sometimes, comment on my sweater

Now you're at the mailbox, turned into good neighbors

My husband is cheating

I wanna kill him"

"My husband is cheating I wanna kill him" This could be literal cheating, however, she is not literally married so maybe that's a hint - maybe he's violating the terms of a contract? After all she's probably not in love with him since she's pining so badly after the muse of this song-? So, why would she still want to murder him? Maybe they were supposed to get lavender-married but he cancelled the wedding and now everything is in upheaval?

She is laying on the ground with PM in the middle of an image of herself made up of pages reading from "The Story of US" book, "So many things that I wish you knew. So many walls up, I can't break through" they seem to be stuck there and then they break free, pages flying in the air, and hold each other laughing. The tattoos are now gone from both faces.

"I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

I touched you

I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

I touched you"

In the MV she's back in the asylum now, hair undone/pins gone, strapped to a table surrounded by men about to have electro convulsive therapy (ECT) administered, a black dog runs through the frame. The ECG read-out is showing "I love you it's ruining my life" in the read out of her heart beat. One of the panels in the background reads "Master Control." In literature The Black Dog represents depression.

So, when her hair is unpinned she wants to be publicly out as in love with a woman, and the men who surround her and control her and her music deem it inappropriate, they want to 'fix' her. But, when the ECT runs sparks fly, the machinery overloads, she screams, and PM runs over to release her from the table.

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up

Another fortnight lost in America

Move to Florida, buy the car you want

But it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me"

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. Another fortnight lost in America" You won't answer my calls so we've lost another fortnight of our lives to the American culture wars - reminds me of Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince and Paris, which are also songs about running away.

They are now outside in a raging storm stuck on top of a mountain with treacherously steep sides, TS sits atop a phone box in a dress that looks like chain-mail, while PM is inside the box making a call begging..

"Move to Florida, buy the car you want but it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me." TS has said in interview that moving to Florida in this album is a reference to people running away from their mistakes and starting fresh. She's telling the muse to ditch their partner and runaway with her, this ties back to Getaway Car which opens with "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" which is a direct reference to A Tale of Two Cities which opens "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way".

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up

Another fortnight lost in America

Move to Florida, buy the car you want

But it won't start up till I touch, touch, touch you"

TS is back in the writers room, tearing open the draws, letting the pages fly into the air, crying, then stone faced in her mourning dress while the pages swirl around her burning. It reminds me of Dear Reader "Dear reader, burn all the files desert all your past lives" The version of her in the asylum smashes down the window.

And finally the version of TS on top of the phone box reaches down and holds hands with PM. She's created imagery of herself stuck inside cages, boxes, glass boxes, etc over and over through the years and this is the first time we've seen her outside and making contact with another human.

Conclusion: our protagonist has been held by force in the image of a virginal heterosexual bride, going slowly insane while she pretends that the woman she truly loves is just a friend, and she's now completely fed up and her bearding situation has gone to hell, she's asking her love to runaway with her and she's willing to metaphorically set fire to her history/her body of work to be with the one she loves.

[versegm]

You didn't think you'd see the gardens of Avalon ever again.

Though, you didn't think you'd see Avalon ever, period, because only the innocent may pass and you have long crossed that bridge. But you were wrong the first time, and it seems like you are wrong once more, waking up in a field of blooming flowers. 

This is a dream, of course. Which doesn't make it any less real, mind you (you have a hard time telling dreams and reality apart these days) but that also means that you can jump on your feet way faster than you would have when awake. Having no joint pain carrying over will do that to a man.

"Alright," you wonder out loud, "where I am?"

Surprisingly, you don't see Merlin's tower. You don't see much of anything at all, really. Flowers, flowers, a little cottage, and oh, wouldn't you guess it! More flowers.

That cottage is intriguing though, so you head that way. The closer you get, the odder it looks. It has been painted with bright colors, mirroring the flower field around it. The painter was obviously very passionate... and very unskilled. Though, to their defense, painting on walls made of literal swords slot into one another cannot be easy.

You knock, twice. At the absence of response, you open the door and walk in. Similarly, the interior was clearly decorated by someone who wanted it to be cute, but had nothing but swords to work with. There's a wardrobe (made of swords,) a kitchen table (also swords,) a bed (with, thank god, a regular mattress) and-

someone rests on that bed. They turn to look at you as you step in. Half-awake, disheveled, it takes you a second to recognize that they have your face.

"Hello!" You greet them with a smile. It's not your first time meeting another one of you. You might as well be polite. "Sorry for barging in, I-"

The figure jumps on all four, bares their teeth, and launches themself at you.

You flinch back, more by reflex than intent, barely dodging the snap of their jaws. You hurriedly step back, heartrate quickening. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're three steps away from the door. If you throw a gandr at them, it might buy you some time-

The person tries to bite you again, snarling- only to be abruptly stopped mid-jump.

They have a collar. They have a collar, wrapped tight around their neck. They have a collar, and a leash, a thick chain keeping them tied to the bed.

They snarl at you, growl and spit like an animal, not a single word coming out of their mouth. They flail their arms wildly, trying to claw at you with long nails.

They don't reach you. A firm hand closes around your collar, and jerks you away from their reach.

"Ritsuka," speaks a soft voice, "I told you. If you want to bite, bite this."

The person who pulled you away from the mad dog extends an arm forward. Your other self wastes no time; they grab that arm, pulls it forward, and sink their teeth in the flesh. The person doesn't so much as flinch.

Instead, she turns to look at you, and smiles. "Hello to you too, Ritsuka." Says Artoria Avalon. "I'm sorry you had to see this."

You don't know what to say. You don't know how to even begin to process this. 

While you stand dumbstruck, Artoria steps forward. Your other self moves to bite her closer to the elbow. Her pale skin is littered in red teeth mark, you notice. This isn't the first time happened.

"It's okay," she says, calm as ever, as she wraps her other arm around the stranger wearing your face. "It's okay, Ritsuka. It's just me."

Her words must stir something inside of them, because they let go of her arm. There is a small, pitiful whine, and then they start licking at the bite mark.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it." She raises a hand to pet their hair. "It doesn't hurt that much anyways. Your jaws aren't that strong, Ritsuka."

You swallow hard. "What... what happened to them?"

Artoria doesn't even turn to look at you. "Wouldn't you know best?"

You do. Of course you do. If you have learned anything from this baseball game, it's this: for every one of your success, there is a version of you who fails. This one- this is the one who chose to forget the horrors they've seen. "This is the one who chose to be an animal."

That gets Artoria to looks at you, glaring with all her might. "Don't speak of them like that. Don't speak of yourself like that." A slight pause. And then, in a calmer tone: "They're human. You're human. They just... forgot about that, for now."

"Do you think they can remember?"

"They recognize me, don't they?" And surely, they must; why else would they press themself against Artoria so? Why else would they try to soothe the bites they gave? "I found them wandering between timelines, hurt and alone. They are no longer hurt. I won't let them be alone. I will help them be human again. They will be okay. I will make sure of it."

"Do you even know what that means, to be human?" She's a fairy, and a sword, and a star so bright you want to hold her in your palms even as she burns your skin away. Doesn't she have enough of a burden to carry? Why saddle herself with you?

"I know you, if nothing else. And what are you, if not a human?"

You are unsure of many things. You don't believe that you are innocent. You don't believe that you are sane. You don't believe that you are a good person at all, really.

But human. That, yes. That, you're certain you are.

"Thank you," you tell her, on the behalf of the you who has yet to remember how to speak. "Sorry for the bites. They must hurt."

"I told you. It's alright. I don't mind." She smiles, at you, at them, at Ritsuka Fujimaru. "I am your sword. I will never let you be alone. I will never let any of you be alone, Ritsuka."

[a-halo-for-you]

I See You (Writing Chain Game 1#)

The waters of Venice murkily reflected the waning moon above and the silver light shyly peeked around the rooftops of the overshadowing buildings. Music drifted through the air and tourists paced the thin pathways of cobblestone and slate, carefully navigating their way through the mazes of gothic architecture and carefully adapted restaurants and pubs. 

Boats drift through the rivers of the city, the boatmen attuned to the waterways and currents that drifted between the sharp standing buildings which were cracked and dusty with age. They were aged like fine wine, comforting and beautiful with the warm glow of lights squinting out from closed windows and flower baskets hanging from the window sills. Balcony doors were left open to some buildings, the smell of family meals being cooked wafted out and caught the breeze. Couples sat in little wicker chairs, cigarettes in hand and bottles of beer at their bare feet, condensation dribbling down the sides and pooling into the floor as they overlooked the passersby. 

Venice was a land of idyllic sunsets and mysterious nights, with music and food and plenty of places to be lost and never found. A place for one to run away and sink into the nostalgia of their yesterday, a time before their path came quickly to a stop and all roads lead to here. 

Liam Hertz sat patiently in the seat of a gondola, watching as the ferryman's paddle dipped in and out of the water. Droplets glistened in the air before rejoining the waterways and his glasses caught the warmth of the lamps that lit the way through the gloomy river. He shifted slightly in his seat and glanced at the time on his watch, it had a brown leather strap and large face that his wife, Kara, bought for him only last year on their anniversary. 

They were supposed to have made this trip together, it was their annual escape to the very place they first met, the place they married and the place they spent their honeymoon and every anniversary after. He could remember exactly how she had dressed, brown hair tied back with a little blue scarf and a white blouse, she was tanned from her tour around europe and her eyes were as blue as the sky, the first thing he noticed and the first thing he fell in love with about her. 

She had sat at a table across from him, surrounded with her friends who laughed under the warm glow of the restaurant lights. Her glasses were pushed back on her head as she drank and ate a carefully crafted red wine and some type of seafood carbonara. 

“Oh wow, you two have to try this,” She had said, quickly forking some strands onto each of their plates, much to her friends bemused smiles. 

She was bright and kind and her laughter though softer than the squawk of her friends, was endearing in how she hid behind her hands, a delighted shade of pink blushing her cheeks that the longer Liam had stared, the redder his face had gotten too. He could remember how his brother, Tom, had punched him in the arm jovially after noticing and Liam had scowled embarrassed for being caught ogling at someone he did not know, and rubbed his sore arm with a pitiful excuse, ‘I was reading the menu behind her head, that’s all.”

His brother rather than responding had simply smiled, but with enough mischievous menace that he resembled the cheshire cat. 

“No.”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Tom had kept smiling and Liam had not been amused.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Liam’s hand reached for the knife that had previously been for his steak. 

Tom shrugged with too much innocence in his eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

“Oh really,” Liam had to hold back his eye roll. 

The course of the evening had ended with a literal shove from Tom sending Liam to trip right next to Kara who applied a plaster to his cut knee and slipped her phone number into his pocket before they parted ways only to meet for breakfast the next day and the day after that and the day after that. 

Liam couldn’t help but wonder how it had gotten all wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Chain begins! I've begun part one so go ahead and write the next parts however you like. Essentially try to keep the same info like characters and setting in tact for the scope of the story but most importantly lets have fun!

@nebulaqueen42

@queryingquerith

[graylinesspam]

Attending galas was one of the bigger perks of joining the Wayne family in Selina's opinion. The children were never so enthused as she was, but that mattered little to her. Selina was a woman who loved to be seen.

Even and especially if that meant being draped over the arm of a handsome man. She had always believed that the natural counterpart to stealing was flaunting. Why have what others cannot envy?

So as the boys tugged their ties and bemoaned their state of dress Selina was primping. Smoothing her hands down the length of her white satin bodice. The gala tonight was sea themed so she'd had Bruce commission something special for her. It was a faithful recreation of Christian Dior's 1949 dress Junon. The large scalloped skirt details that would have looked very tacky in any other style shined just the way that Dior had designed them to with over three thousand hand sown sequins. Over every white petal curve blue and white sparkles caught the light like drops of water.

She'd had her hair jelled into finger waves; little black curls left plastered to her forehead. She was only waiting for Bruce to deliver her jewelry.

"Any idea what he's picked out?" Selina asked Dick as he leaned against the wall beside her mirror.

"something extravagant I'm sure" he sighed

Selina and Bruce had a game they played, where he picked out her jewelry and she always complained that it was too plain. Selina was the kind of woman that would always be dripping in diamonds if she could. And Bruce while rich had old fashioned tastes.

"well I hope that he'll do better than a string of pearls, I can't let every old biddy in the building out do me in that respect."

Dick cast an uncomfortable look to Barbara, his date, who Selina could see through the mirror was pulling long white opera gloves on.

"The Waynes don't wear pearls." Barbara corrected while she ran a hand over the chain of sapphires that sat snug round her neck.

Selina paused as she was putting away her lipgloss. "oh, I see. Well, all the better. everyone else will be wearing pearls, and when I won't be, it'll be easier to show them up."

Bruce appeared then at the top of the stairs in his dark blue suit A White satin box in hand. Everyone stood back as he descended the stairs and held the long rectangular box out before him.

He lifted the lid and revealed the necklace. It was sizable. Three long rows of rectangular cut diamonds encased in silver made up a two finger wide chain that plummeted low and embraced a massive blue diamond, like to hands cradling it gently with softly curling fingers.

The entire setting was breathtaking but not so much as the center diamond that was almost as large as Selina's palm. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of such an impressive stone.

When Bruce secured the heavy thing around her neck she couldn't believe how well it all went together. The light muted color of the diamond made it somehow less overpowering to the outfit than a sapphire of similar size would have been. But it shined with the dress as did her gelled hair and shiny lips. It was utterly perfect.

"No earrings to go with it?" She teased instead of admitting defeat.

"what earrings could possibly compare?" Bruce replied.

outfit under the cut

listen are these wildly out of the box items to style together? yes, but Selina is a go big or go home kinda gal and I think this fits her literally to a T.

[the11tailedwrites]

Day 7-8 | Kneeling

The Speaker really needed to open up a bingo sheet of who would kidnap him next, he’d be close to a bingo by now.

It had been a rather boring day, he’d finished compiling meeting reports with other factions, resolved an issue between two guardians and had been looking over some new reports about a shard of the Traveler that had been located on one of the far off Earthen continents when the door to his office opened without invitation. He had glanced up, confusion hidden beneath his mask and spotted three guardians walking towards him.

”Knock before you barge in,” said The Speaker

The lead guardian, a titan, stopped in front of The Speaker and punched him in the face. The force of the blow had knocked The Speaker off his chair and onto the floor and broke his mask into pieces. Before he could get up, the hunter twisted one of his arms behind his back and clamped a hand over The Speaker’s mouth. The warlock had trained her gun at his head. The Speaker had tried to free himself, but guardians were renowned for their strength. In the end, they transmatted away with him and now here he sat, on his knees, wrists chained in front of him to a pole (which he was currently wrapped around), a thick cloth gag shoved into his mouth and shirtless.

He could hear talking and harsh whispers from behind him but he tried to stay as still as possible, to not attract attention to himself.

”Well, let’s get started then,” snapped the warlock, “If you two are too much of a pussy to do this, then I’ll start!”

The Speaker heard footsteps approaching him and stiffened. He could hear the sound of something moving behind him. Then there was the sound of whistling air and then pain erupted from the Speaker’s back. He let out a muffled scream as the whip lashed across his back. Then another and another, each hit splitting open his back. He could feel the blood seeping down, hear his skin tear, feel the waves of pain. The guardians torturing him switched frequently to give each other breaks. They rested for but a moment while another took over. The Speaker’s vision was beginning to blur and it became harder to breathe.

”Enough,” called a voice, far off and echoey, “We don’t want him dead,”

The Speaker could hear nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat and they stepped away. He fought to keep himself awake as his vision swirled around him.

The world fell away as The Speaker lost himself to the darkness.

He woke up suddenly, shooting up and gasping. His back didn’t hurt anymore, his vision was clear and he wasn’t tied up. He even had clean clothes on. He blinked slowly, unsure as to where he was. He gazed around, trying to find something that could aid him in identifying just where he was and spotted a few relics sitting on a shelf. Osiris’ house? Those were definitely Osiris’ but how had The Speaker gotten here?

”Hello, Jiji-sama,” a young voice called and The Speaker glanced over.

Standing in the doorway was a young girl with vibrant red hair, red slitted eyes and part fox…The Speaker had never seen a human with arms and legs covered in orange fur and black pads with sharp claws. She even had digitigrade, much like a fox. She even had a pair of fox ears growing from her head. Her ears perked up slightly and a tail swished out from behind her.

”How do you feel?” she asked, bounding over to him.

And yes, The Speaker meant bounding literally. She dropped to all fours and bounded over to him. She leapt up onto the opposing arm of the couch he was laying on and cocked her head from side to side.

”Better…” The Speaker managed, “What…are you?”

”Human, silly,” she said, giggling, “I just also look like a fox too. Best of both worlds!”

”Right, what’s your name?” he asked, pushing away the thought of asking her more questions.

”Uzumaki Makato, nice to meet you datebane!” she said

”Uzumaki?” he questioned

”Oh! Right! Makato Uzumaki, I forgot that in some languages, Family name comes last not first,”

”How did I get here?” he asked

”I found you, killed the evil guardians who were hurting you, not final deaths do not worry, and rushed you to tou-san’s house and fixed you up. Sorry the healing isn’t great, I’m still learning how to heal. Tou-san’s better at it than me. He’s had a lot of training,” she babbled happily, “Anyway, making ramen, want some?”

”Sure,” he said

”Cool, let’s go! Tou-san will be back soon, he’s just got to finish up the Sundial preparation. Ramen time!”

Then she scampered out of the room on all fours and vanished into the kitchen. The Speaker laughed fondly, he always knew Osiris would make one hell of a father.

[chanstopher]

9 YEAR OLD DREAMY WAS IN LOVE WITH GRAYSON??? i actually almost choked on air reading that because when i was 8-10 i had a phat crush on robin/dick from young justice season 1; this is so funny skdjfhj i think there's been a variety of fandoms i've been in but the dc + marvel ones were the longest. i also loved littlest petshop, gen rex, ben 10 etc. but my iron man craze was literally the worst. can you believe that i had all 44 iron mans (the designs) memorized by name when i was 12? it's absolutely mindblowing thinking of that for me, i can barely remember my friends' names now djdjfkfj also hiii hope you are having a lovely day today ❣️ the flamin' hot cheeto look was a really fun one, if i'm being honest and yes! changbin looks so nice with light hair... my favourite binnie remains go-saeng era bin though, the ash blue/grey hair and slight mullet suited him a lot! i personally love natural hair on everyone but my preferred hair colour has always been a deep purple, like the one minho had a while back! whenever any of my biases get the grape hair is when i think they look the prettiest⏤my favourite gem is amethyst and that shade reminds me of the geode a lot, especially once it starts fading towards the pastels, it's like it's fading from the crystals to the chalcedony :D others i love are silver/lychee hair, blueberry hair, peach hair etc. hehe oh you're so cute :c i am more of a person whose love language is acts of service + gift giving so i often end up remembering the most absolutely trivial things concerning my friends, which has extended to my biases jfkjkgjd a few things i associate with them is: the stars (cliche but i once heard someone say to another person that their freckles were like specks of stardust & constellations in the night sky somewhere and that stuck with me for felix once i saw him after that!), guitars, berries, bandaids, skateboards, cooking/baking, cats, trace chain necklaces, sweaters, garlic (LOL) and little envelopes! soem of these are things i've seen them with and the others are like. this will sounds so weird but what i smell/taste/feel/picture when i think of them? it only happens with a few people though and the funniest thing is my ult isn't one of them KLDJDSJ but yeah jeongin is the one with which it does happen! what's your favourite food? and what is some fun activity you'd like to try out with chan if you had the chance to? - 🌨

hi my love! sorry im always so swamped during the weekends im like brain dead lmao

omg young justice was SO good the fact that it got cancelled was such a crushing part of my childhood, it was so perfect but just cause girls liked it they trashed it :( i fully support u memorizing all of iron mans suits, i always go into fandoms like that lmao if i really like something i was to be an encyclopedia of knowledge on it. i used to be that way about lord of the rings but a lot of that info has absolutely leaked out of my brain since i was a kid so now it just pops up randomly and im like how do i know this still???

purple is ALWAYS such a good color, its so sad to me that chris had purple hair for liek a week because its always SUCH a pretty color and i agree it was ESPECIALLY amazing on minho for maniac era, it really suited him! i do wish minho got to have more hairstyles, i feel like he either gets a coconut or coconut but you can see his forehead lol and i think he could pull off anything so i always wonder why they dont really do anything else most of the time.

omg i love remembering little insignificant facts about ppl, i always find that those are the things that make people feel so loved. the amount of times ive gotten something or mentioned something to my best friend that i know she likes it always surprises her cause she doesnt even remember telling me the fact, but im like its about you so it was important to me to remember. I also love gift giving for that reason, cause im not someone to do something super big or elaborate, but i'll get a couple tiny things that i know mean something to someone or that really remind me of them and it always feels nice, like im sharing a piece of how i see them with them.

my favorite food is easily tacos lol i love tacos so much that my best friend has a taco tattoo for me! and i like all kinds of tacos from the garbage taco bell ones to really good authentic street tacos, just something about them i find really comforting I don't know lol but yeah theyre definitely my favorite.

oh god this is massively cheesy but if i could literally do anything with chris it would to be to drive to the middle of nowhere and go stargazing. like just forget everything else and just tell each other stories about the constellations with nothing else around to bother us. i think that would be the most ideal thing to me.