#oc: ivan locke | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whumpcereal · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 614 times in 2022

That's 614 more posts than 2021!

209 posts created (34%)

405 posts reblogged (66%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@darkthingshappen

@oddsconvert

@whumpcereal

@hold-him-down

@peachy-panic

I tagged 594 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#behavior modification - 144 posts

#jack kenyon oc - 117 posts

#joe prescott oc - 94 posts

#ivan peters oc - 63 posts

#i love asks - 54 posts

#whump writing - 53 posts

#whump - 40 posts

#poor sweet baby ben - 37 posts

#the kennel - 33 posts

#tw noncon - 33 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#jake also needs to realize that he's human and that he couldn't have stopped any of what happened to benny that first time

My Top Posts in 2022:

Joe giving Jack a bath, and Jack thinks Joe is going to hurt/violate him (early rescue).

content warnings for: bbu/bbu-adjacent content (including the actual unboxing), creepy/intimate whumper, vague references to past noncon and trauma, dubcon nudity, conditioned whumpee, brief emeto mention

Jack sits in the tub, his knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t like this bathroom. The lights are too bright, and it’s too small. From his place in the bath, Jack can see veins of yellow-orange cigarette residue poking through the cheap paint on the walls. The tub is shoved in the rear of the little room, bordered by a shower curtain that Jack doesn’t recognize. The toilet and vanity are crammed in practically on top of one another; there’s barely enough space on the floor in front of them for the pilly bathroom rug.

It shouldn’t feel claustrophobic–Jack’s spent enough time in the leather sack to know it–but it does.

This isn’t home. He’s supposed to be home. But maybe Joe wants to keep him separate. Maybe they aren’t going to live together anymore. He’ll keep Jack locked up here, so that he can use him whenever he wants. Until Jack’s proven himself. That’s why Joe brought him here.

No. Joe didn’t bring him here. Jack was sent. Shipped, like they promised he would be. That’s why he’s in the bath.

He hadn’t meant to make a mess. But he didn’t know how long he’d been in the box. It was too hot, and he’d been so dizzy. He didn’t mean to do it.

That’s probably why Joe’s face looked the way it had when he pried off the box’s wooden lid. He thought Joe would be happy to see him, that Joe would be proud to see how good Jack learned to be–but he wasn’t. Joe hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t said anything. He’d just frozen, his face twisted into an expression that Jack didn’t know how to read.

That’s when Jack realized he was covered in his own sick.

“I’m s-sorry,” he’d said immediately. And then he remembered. “I’m sorry, sir.” His voice had sounded funny and far away, like he was hearing it from the next room.

He had the distant feeling that he should have felt something, like he should have been excited to see Joe after the months apart. But he didn’t feel it. He was too disoriented. Too frightened.

He didn’t think Joe felt it either.

“Jesus Christ,” Joe had murmured. He’d barely even looked at Jack. “Jackie–oh, Jackie, no–”

Joe broke to his knees then, and Jack knew: he’d fucked up. He hadn’t worked hard enough. He hadn’t done enough to change.

It was all for nothing.

Jack is nothing.

Joe took Jack out of the box and carried him straight to the bathroom. Joe left, but Jack waits in the tub because Joe told him to stay there, and Jack will do whatever Joe says. He has to. Maybe it won’t make things right, but it can’t make anything worse. He can show Joe what a good boy he is now.

The water plops into the bathtub, splashing as it collects on itself. It’s warm, and the feeling isn’t unpleasant. Ivan only ever hosed him down in the shower stall, and he never cared much if Jack was comfortable or all that clean. It was more about what he could reach when Jack was tethered to the shower floor. What he could do. What he always did. What Jack was meant for. Is meant for.

Joe must want that too. He does. Jack knows it. Ivan told him so.

Jack hears something crash in a room he can’t identify, and Joe curses. Jack uncoils and lets his hands drop into the shallow water. He hitches his thumbs into his soggy boxer-briefs. They’re heavy with water when he pushes them away, a black wad in the corner of the dingy tub. Jack is heavy too. But still, he presses onto his hands and knees. Position ten. That’s Ivan’s favorite.

Maybe Joe will like it too. He’s never had Jack this way before.

Beneath the water, Jack’s wrists are shrunken and white without their leather cuffs. His joints tremble and his ears are warm, but he knows what he’s supposed to do. The skin on his fingers and toes starts to prune, and the water keeps pouring from the tap.

Joe rounds the corner, and Jack closes his eyes. He can do this. He’s been selfish long enough. Joe deserves to have what he wants, and Jack can give it to him.

“Okay. Okay, baby–Jack. Jackie. I’ve got–” There’s a soft thump as something hits the floor. “What–what are you doing?”

It’s a direct question. Jack can answer. But he doesn’t. The tub’s non-slip bottom bites into his knees. He’s shaking. He can’t look. He can’t.

He thought he could do this. He wanted to be good for Joe.

He isn’t good. He is only afraid.

But he doesn’t show it. He stays still, and he waits.

Joe must turn off the water, because Jack doesn’t hear it anymore.

“Jackie–”

See the full post

104 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

behavior modification

WRU has hired renowned behaviorist Dr. Ivan Peters to refine their training protocol for Romantic acquisitions. When Jack Kenyon--the brilliant young partner of one of Ivan’s med school rivals--applies to be Dr. Peters’ research assistant, he has no idea what he’s signing on for. Maybe reblog or leave a note if you feel so inclined? This is my first real whump offering, and I’m excited!

part one: jack and ivan at dinner

content warnings for creepy whumper, implied future captivity and noncon, dehumanization, and vague references to childhood trauma and specific psychiatric disorders

The restaurant is crowded, but not too loud. It isn’t the sort of place that ever gets out of hand. White linen table cloths, soft lighting, a gentle undercurrent of piano, polished stemware—everything exudes taste and class. Ivan knows it’s impressive; doing business here always gives him immediate caché with his potential interns. They want to be what he is. They want what he has.

Jack Kenyon is no different. At least, in theory. He is young and eager. He is looking to improve his resumé before applying to doctoral programs. He’s heard of Ivan’s work and wants to be a part of it.

But Jack Kenyon doesn’t know that he’s already been handpicked for a very special project.

Jack says all the right things, of course, and as he talks, Ivan lets his eyes move over the boy’s face, his body. Darling Jack takes pride in his appearance, that much is clear. Straight shoulders, lean jaw. Dark hair, thick, but neatly trimmed. Big blue eyes beneath a fringe of black lashes, the kind people always say are wasted on boys. Lips, sweet and pink; one corner lifts higher than the other when he speaks.

Ivan’s fly is tight just imagining what he’ll be able to do with those lips, the way those eyes will look up at him when sweet little Jack is on his knees where he belongs.

Ivan smiles at the thought and takes a careful sip of wine. “So, you’d want to focus on trauma work?”

“I do.” Jack nods eagerly. “I—it’s very important to me.”

He looks at Ivan for approval. It’s cute, Ivan thinks, how badly Jack already wants to please him. That will be useful. But Ivan will not tip his hand. Not yet.

“And why is it so important?”

It is a pointless question. Ivan already knows the answer. He’s done his research. But Ivan enjoys seeing the sudden alarm in Jack’s eyes anyway; it suits him. It is an animal’s unconditioned response.

“Oh, uh—”

“You don’t have to say, Jack. Not if you don’t want to.”

But darling Jack knows better. If he wants this position, he has to answer. And Jack wants this position.

At least, he thinks he does.

“No. It’s fine. I—well, I was in the system when I was a kid.”

“Foster care?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you saw a lot of things.”

“I did,” Jack says softly. “I was a really angry kid. Oppositional-defiant disorder, intermittent explosive disorder—”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder?”

Jack nods, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Ivan’s seen the boy’s records, of course. Seven foster care placements before he was twelve, then a series of halfway houses and group homes until seventeen. And a stint in juvenile detention at thirteen, for attacking his foster father. The man had gone after Jack, and not for a beating. And Jack, sweet little Jack—he’d fought back.

Ivan hopes Jack still has some fight left in him. It’ll keep things interesting.

“But I got help,” Jack is saying. “There was—one of the group homes, it was actually run by someone who gave a shit—” he winces, and it’s adorable, “I’m sorry—someone who knew what they were doing. They hooked me up—connected me with my first counselor, and it was maybe the first time in my life I didn’t feel like what had happened to me was my fault. I—I’d like to do that for other kids—other people like me.”

Ivan nods. Jack will never do any of that, of course. But that doesn’t mean he won’t have his uses. Ivan will make sure of it.

“That’s a noble goal, Jack. To be of service.”

See the full post

109 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

behavior modification, part eleven

<previous, masterlist here

content warnings: EXPLICIT NONCON (touch & forced orgasm), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, forced nudity, muzzles, restraints, stress positions, shock collars, dehumanization, humiliation, emotional manipulation, noncon kissing, implied future noncon

Thanks to @darkthingshappen for letting me run a few things by her!

part eleven, jack's consequences

“Now, you’ll stay this way until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

Fuck. Jack tries to shake his head, but the distended heft makes his neck feel like it’s going to snap. He can’t stay this way. He can’t. Jack may not be a doctor, but he’s damn sure that people aren’t supposed to be left upside-down. Ivan has to know that. Doesn’t he? He tries to look at Ivan, but he can’t get his eyes to focus. Too many shocks.

Ivan’s phone rings.

Please! Jack shrieks. The word rockets up his throat, but it doesn’t make it any further, because there’s a fucking metal plate trapping his tongue. The only sound that comes out is an animal’s groan. But they have to hear him! They have to!

Jack tries again to raise his head, but he can’t. It weighs a fucking ton, and with his arms wrenched back the way they are, he has no way to brace himself–his entire body shakes with the effort. Of course, Ivan designed it that way.

The thought traps Jack’s breath.

He tugs at his cuffs, but the movement burns all the way down to his calves. Jesus. He’s trussed like game, for Ivan’s pleasure. He’s mute, for Ivan’s pleasure. He’s burnt and sick and so fucking tired, for Ivan’s pleasure. And he can’t even scream.

He tries to wrench his mouth open, but the bit stays in place, and the leather of his muzzle glues itself to his sweaty skin. For the millionth time in the last forty-eight hours, his eyes sting with tears–only this time, they run up instead of down.

The phone rings again, and Ivan glares down at him.

“Don’t. Make. A. Sound. Or I’ll push this button until you have more in common with a potato than a man.”

The thing is, Jack knows he will. He’s already seen the way Ivan’s eyes light up in the split second before the collar throws him to the floor.

But what Jack didn’t realize is that he already thinks it might be a relief. To disappear. To not feel everything that’s happening to him–or everything that will happen to him.

Jack doesn’t know if he can take it. Not again. And he doesn’t know if it’s better to be good or bad.

He swallows his whimper and lets his body go slack. The blood rushes to his head, but this time, he doesn’t fight it.

Ivan nods at him and taps his screen. “Dr. Ivan Peters?”

For a moment, the only thing Jack hears is the roar of the blood in his ears–and then Ivan’s breath hitches.

“Oh, uh, hello, Sergeant.”

Sergeant.

It’s the police. The police are looking for him. Joe is looking for him and–

“Would you mind holding for just a moment, Sergeant Wade? I’m in the middle of some work, and I’d like to keep my hands free.”

The police sergeant must assent, because Ivan lays his phone down on the floor next to Jack’s chair. He kneels down and cups the back of Jack’s head in his hand, raising it so that Jack can’t help but look into Ivan’s steely blue eyes.

“Are you there, Sergeant?”

Jack knows Ivan’s speaking to the person on the phone, but his gaze is for Jack alone. Don’t make a sound, Ivan mouths again.

“Yes, doctor.” It’s a woman. The sergeant is a woman. Her voice is kind, Jack thinks. She’ll help him. He knows it. “Sorry to interrupt your morning,” she says. “I’m calling in regards to a missing persons report on a Mr. Jack Kenyon.”

Jack’s tears cut a salty path into his hair, but he manages to keep himself still. He squeezes his eyes shut. Joe knows–he knows Jack wouldn’t run off. Joe knows Jack. Joe loves him. Maybe–

See the full post

116 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

Obligatory Intro Post

I’m Kay, and after lurking around whumblr for the past year or so, I decided to make my own discreet side-blog so that I could join in the fun too. Even though I didn’t know what “whump” was until very recently, I’ve been digging on whumperflies my whole life. You know that scene in Aladdin where Jasmine gets imprisoned in the giant hourglass? Yeah. It probably started there. The whump community seems pretty supportive of one another and enthusiastic about each other’s content, so I thought I’d give it a try.

Favorite Whump Tropes: Thanks to tumblr, I’ve found that I like captivity whump, pet whump, intimate/creepy whumpers, psychological whump, and a lot of the nsfwhump content that bounces around out there. (My writing will include all of that and may also include some non/dub-con elements--heads up!).

Things I’m Not Into: I’m not super into high fantasy stuff, but I’ll give anything a try if I like the writer. Generally, I’m not aware of my hard “no”s until I accidentally stumble onto them, so I suppose I’ll update that as I figure it out.

Favorite Whump Blogs: Absolutely loving @darkthingshappen‘s “Brother’s Keeper” series right now. Fell deep in love with @ashintheairlikesnow‘s Daniel Michaelson months ago. Have reread @card-games-and-pain‘s “Lonely Barricade” and assorted sundries more times than is appropriate. Binged @deluxewhump‘s Zee stories and loved them all.

I’ve got the first bits of my own saga outlined, and I’m looking forward to sharing them (soonish?). Until then, maybe I’ll post a random whump drabble to help introduce myself.

Greetings, whumblr!

121 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

behavior modification master list

WRU has hired renowned behaviorist Dr. Ivan Peters to refine their training protocol for Romantic acquisitions. When Jack Kenyon–the brilliant young partner of one of Ivan’s med school rivals–applies to be Dr. Peters’ research assistant, he has no idea what he’s signing on for.

Please see individual chapters for detailed and specific content warnings. This story will contain noncon elements [*]; proceed with caution!

behavior modification pre-timeline content: organized in rough chronological order

past snippet: jack's fourteenth birthday

-/-/-

part one: jack and ivan at dinner

part two: jack and joe, before captivity

part three: jack's abduction

part four: ivan welcomes to jack to captivity

part five: worries for joe, bath time for jack

part six: jack's intake interview (part one)

part seven: jack's intake interview (part two)

part eight: past, present, and future

part nine: breakfast time

part ten: jack learns his positions

part eleven: jack's consequences*

part twelve: ivan's apology

part thirteen: jack's last chance to feel*

part fourteen: joe and his mother

part fifteen: prelude to punishment

part sixteen: jack's first treatment*

part seventeen: deprivation

part eighteen: jack loses joe

part nineteen: case notes*

part twenty: yes, sir*

drabble: statue*

drabble: bravo*

drabble: good boy, sweet boy*

-/-/-

See the full post

193 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i love that I reblog myself so often it showed up on this nonsense

9 notes · View notes

darkthingshappen · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 936 times in 2022

That's 936 more posts than 2021!

146 posts created (16%)

790 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oddsconvert

@whumpcereal

@quietly-by-myself

@ashintheairlikesnow

@flowersarefreetherapy

I tagged 360 of my posts in 2022

#whump - 132 posts

#whump community - 108 posts

#asks - 74 posts

#whump writer - 73 posts

#answered asks - 66 posts

#captivity - 59 posts

#brother's keeper - 59 posts

#ben adkins - 59 posts

#kidnapping - 58 posts

#benjamin adkins oc - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#ivan peters needs to be boiled in oil and survive and then go through his own fucking system

My Top Posts in 2022:

Brother’s Keeper Chapter 1: Acquisition For Repayment

First story on this account, If you like it, please like, leave a comment, and or reblog. HUGE thanks to @card-games-and-pain for looking it over and giving me great feedback.

Ben’s phone chirped from his pocket; it was probably his older brother, the man had been calling him all evening but Ben was ignoring the calls. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his brother, or that he didn’t love him. He just enjoyed the time spent with his girlfriend more.

However, his night out was over, so he might as well answer as he walked up the steps to his parent’s house. They were out of town for the week, so he had their modest home all to himself.

Ben glanced down to see who was calling, as expected, it was his brother. His face broke into a smile as he answered the phone, “Hey, Jake, what’s up?”

“Ben! Ben! Where are you?” gasped Jake.

“I’m headed home, why?” Ben slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, opening the door.

“Don’t go home! Do you hear me! Do not go home!” there was a desperate edge in his voice that Ben had never heard before.

“I hate to disappoint you but-” he was blinded by the flash of the living room light coming on. “What the he-” He never saw the blow coming. Before his eyes adjusted to the light something landed painfully with a dull thud on the back of his head.

His knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, a pair of shiny black wingtip shoes coming into view. As his vision grayed out he saw a hand with immaculately trimmed nails picking up his phone from where it landed on the ground in front of him.

*!*!*!*!*

Jake listened in horror as he heard his brother cry out followed by a crash and a thud.

“Ben! Ben! Don’t go in the house. They’re there. They’ll find you. BEN!”

Ben didn’t answer. Instead, a man in a sleek black suit and a turtleneck came to the phone.

“I’m sorry, but Ben isn’t going to be able to take any more calls at this time.” The man’s thick Russian accent crackled through the phone.

“Volkov! You bastard. Let my brother go! He has nothing to do with this.”

“But you do. And since you’ve proven to be… uncooperative. I’m going to have to see if little Benjamin here is more… amenable to my terms for repayment.

“No! Don’t do this, he’s just a kid. Please.”

“He looks old enough to me.” Alexei Volkov snapped his fingers at the man currently rifling through the unconscious Benjamin’s pockets. The henchman handed Volkov the young man’s wallet.

He flipped through the various items he found there. “It says here that Benjamin Adkins is twenty years old, lives with your parents, how quaint, and that he attends the University of Pittsburgh.”

“Please. He’s not like me. He’s… he’s got a future. He’s brilliant. He’s not mixed up in all this mess.”

“He has new future now, thanks to your incompetence. Perhaps, if you find some way to satisfy your debt. Return my product, plus interest, I’ll consider giving him back.”

“I told you I don’t have your product. The cops seized it in a raid. I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my baby brother out of this. Please.”

Ben moaned from where he lay on the floor.

“We’ll see what type of arrangement we can come to. But for now, I’m taking little Benjamin with me. And I’m not going to be gentle. You’ve made me very angry, Jacob Adkins, and lost me a lot of money.

“You have two weeks. If I am not satisfactorily compensated for my losses, then I keep your brother. Young men like him, especially ones that aren’t used to it and haven’t been trained, can be exceptionally entertaining. And I have friends that pay well for such entertainment.”

“No! Please. Volkov! Please! Take me instead. I’ll meet you. I’ll come to you. Anything. Please.”

“No, I don’t think so Jacob. As you said, you have work to do to try and get me my money. I have to go now. Your brother is waking up and I haven’t properly introduced myself.”

Jake was still screaming into the phone, pleading for his brother’s life as Volkov ended the call.

*!*!*!*!*

See the full post

95 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

Brother's Keeper

Chapter 5: Welcome Home

Big thanks to @ijustmightbreak for the beta on this and your help with the chapter title.

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad , @peachy-panic, @deluxewhump, @whumpcereal (I hope I'm not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I'll fix it. I'm still getting used to this)

Dmitri lifted Ben up easily, so they could unfasten his arm restraints and then carried him back over to the table.

Ben’s face flushed with embarrassment when he was compelled to wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders for balance as he was set down. Ilya handed him a matching scrub style shirt, also with Velcro closures going down the arms and sides. The material was soft, but very thin for such a cold climate.

Ben hugged his arms around his middle, not knowing what to do with himself. He glanced at the leather cuffs secured around each wrist. There was a small silver padlock on each of them that would keep them in place.

“There’s one on the collar around your neck too. And if you try to take it off, it will activate the discipline response,” Volkov said, grey eyes watching Ben intently as he handed him a bottle of water.

Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak and accepted the water.

What happens to me now? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare. He took slow measured sips of the water, his hands shaking the whole time he held it.

When he had finished drinking the whole bottle, Volkov instructed him, “Lay back, for me, little scholar.”

Ben hesitated, remembering what they’d just done to him the last time he was laying on this table. “Wh-what are you going to d-do?” Ben asked, the water turning sour in his stomach.

“I could decide that I’m going to fuck you senseless. I could be about to hook you up to a generator and electrocute you until you lose consciousness. I could take out my knife and carve you up like a meal. All of which would be my decision, not yours. Now obey without saying another word, or I’m going to guarantee that you regret it. Am I clear?” Volkov’s voice was quiet, deadly serious.

The lump in Ben’s throat didn’t want to clear. His head seemed to bob in the affirmative of its own accord.

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” Ben’s voice quavered as he assented.

Gasping and wincing, Ben slowly laid back on the table. The light above him was turned on again and he flinched, turning away from the light. Dmitri grabbed his ankles and yanked him down the table. Ben yelped and pulled his arms up to protect his face fearing another assault.

Ilya and Volkov pulled his arms back to his side. Volkov sent another jolt of electricity through his neck causing Ben to bite his tongue.

“Be still!” Volkov reprimanded.

The third man that was always with them pulled a chair across the cement floor and sat down at Ben’s feet. Ben’s arms were aching, fists clenched at his side in an effort to remain absolutely motionless. His still sore jaw throbbed at his clenched teeth.

“Well, Andrei? Verdict?”

Andrei, another name to add to the list of who his captors were. A hiss broke free from between his teeth as each of the burns and the deep purple bruises on his feet were probed.

“The bruises are fine. I’ll need to disinfect the burns,” Andrei replied with a calculating look. His voice seemed smooth, more educated. Probably a medic or doctor of some sort. He hadn’t taken part in hurting Ben yet. Maybe he was safe? But he wasn’t here to help Ben. He was here to make sure that Volkov’s toy was able to be played with.

“Good, go ahead. Our little scholar is going to be a very good patient, aren’t you?” Volkov patted Ben’s cheek again. Ben was really growing to hate that and the way that he constantly stroked his hair.

When Ben only nodded instead of answering, he found himself writhing and screaming again as Volkov employed the collar remote once again.

“Yes! God! Yes, sir! I’ll be good. I’ll be good!” Ben’s breathing was once again reduced to panicked, staccato gasps.

Andrei disinfected his burns with a solution that made them feel like his feet were on fire. Ben whined and ground his teeth, sucking in air through his nose for the full five minutes it took for his burns to be cleaned. By the time soft bandages were being wrapped around his wounds, he was utterly exhausted.

Volkov combed his fingers through Ben’s hair as Andrei finished up. The older man took Ben’s chin in his hand and turned his face towards him. The table rattled slightly at Ben’s shaking, his eyes wide and shining with unabashed terror. Volkov leaned forward and kissed Ben’s forehead. “All done. You did well today. I had more planned for you on this first day of our acquaintance, but I think you need a break.”

Again, Ben swallowed, not knowing what to say. Volkov gripped his chin harder but Ben couldn’t raise his eyes to his - the humiliation of the last hour and the realization of his situation was too much for him to process. Plus, he didn’t want to see the satisfaction that he knew would be written on the man’s face.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me for letting you off easy?”

Ben sucked in a breath in fear that he was going to change his mind. “Thank you, sir,” he blurted out.

See the full post

97 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

May 9th: "You Can Cry, It's Okay"

Hide and seek | Phone call | Midnight

@themerrywhumpofmay

Whumpee crouched, terrified behind the crates piled in the alleyway.

“Whumpee…” Whumper called. “I know you’re here. There’s really no need to play these games.”

Whumpee covered their mouth to silence the whimper they felt building inside them. Their fingers shook as they dialed the emergency number on the stolen cell phone. Please let someone answer. Please. Pick up. Pick up!

“911, what is your emergency.”

Whumpee wedged themselves further back into their hiding spot. They could still hear whumper calling for them from the other end of the alley.

“Whumpee, if you make me play hide and seek, you really aren’t going to like it when I find you.”

Whumpee glanced down at their arms, scarred, bruised and burned from the last month or so of captivity. They couldn’t go back. They’d rather die.

“911, please state the nature of your emergency.”

“This is whumpee. I’ve been kidnapped and I got away. I’m hiding, but the man that took me is trying to find me. He’s nearly here. Can you trace the call and send me help?”

“I’m sorry sir, I can barely hear you. Can you please speak up?”

“I need help! Please, send help!” Whumpee whispered as loud as they dared.

“You need help?”

“Yes!” they hissed into the phone.

“Can you please tell me your location, sir.”

“I’m… I don’t know. I just ran. Can you track the phone?”

“I’m sorry sir, location services are turned off on the phone you are calling from.”

Whumpee wanted to cry. Of course they were turned off. Of course they were!

“If you could locate the two nearest cross streets, then I can get you the help you need. Without that, I can attempt to send help to near the cell tower you are pinging.”

Whumpee’s breathing ticked up a notch. They were in the middle of the alley, in the middle of the large block. It was an industrial area, not a residential area. There was no one around at midnight. Tears stung their eyes. Fucking Whumper was going to find them and it would all have been for nothing!

They crept forward… They could make a dash for it. Whumpee looked down at his equally brutalized legs. It was a wonder he’d made it this far. Every wound, every tight scarring of his skin seemed to itch and burn with the effort it had taken to get out of that damned warehouse and get here.

“Whumpee… You’re making me angry. And you know how I get when I’m angry…” Whumper’s voice was so close now. So very close.

Whumpee felt the tremors start at the top of their head and soon their entire body was shaking. A shiny black leather dress shoe came into view. Whumpee shrank back as far as they could into the shadows.

“Sir. Sir, are you still there? I’m sending officers to as close to your location as I can get them…” The voice on the other end of the emergency call sounded loud in the silence of the sequestered alley. FUCK!

Whumpee covered the speaker with their fingers but they knew it was too late. The shoe turned and they looked up into the grinning face of whumper.

“Oh, there you are.”

Whumpee gulped. “I-I-I-I…”

“Shhhhh. It’s okay to cry now. You’re going to be doing a lot of that over the next few weeks. I’m very disappointed in you. It’s a good thing I found you when I did, isn’t it?”

See the full post

138 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

Whumper brings whumpee, bound and terrified, to a wall with dozens of pictures, each more horrible than the next. They’re various depictions of every different stress positions one can imagine. They’re also clearly homemade.

“Choose, and you won’t end up on the wall. Make me choose for you, and I’ll do a reshoot of every position here and you’ll be the star.”

Whumpees eyes cloud with tears. How are they supposed to choose their own torment? But they dare not not choose.

Whumper smiles at their choice. “Excellent. Let’s get started.” He reaches up to take the picture off the wall.

Whumpee looks at him curiously.

“Oh I can’t let you pick the same position twice. You’ll have to pick differently tomorrow.” An evil grin spreads across their face.

Whumpee bursts in to tears.

223 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

May 13th "Wait right here"

@themerrywhumpofmay

Betrayal | Pistol | Nowhere in particular

“You want me to what?” Caretaker gasped with astonished terror.

“Shoot him.” Whumper ordered, pointing at Whumpee’s trembling form, kneeling in henchman’s grasp.

“What? Y-you can’t be serious,” Caretaker cried. “I can’t do that. I can’t.”

“I am deadly serious. You will do it, or I’ll do it for you, and I don’t have the medical background you do. I may shoot him somewhere that would actually matter. You don’t have to kill him. Just shoot him,” Whumper stated with a deadly grin.

“Wh-where?” Caretaker said with a terrified tremble in his voice. This can’t be happeneing. He glanced at Whumper and Henchman 2, both with their guns drawn and pointed at whumpee and caretaker respectively.

“Nowhere in particular,” Whumper said with a disinterested shrug.

Whumpee whimpers from behind his gag but nods to caretaker that it’s okay. He understands. That really doesn’t make it better. That implicit trust makes the betrayal a thousand times worse.

Caretaker is handed a weapon. It’s cold and heavy in his hands. So much heavier than he expected. It is definitely heavier than the chains around his wrists. He blinks back tears. It’s not a matter of knowing where to shoot. He’s never fired a gun. He doesn't even know how to properly aim it. If his aim is wrong…

Caretaker looks at Whumper. “Please. I can’t. Don’t… don’t make me do this. I’ve never even taken a practice shot before.”

“It’s really not that hard. You point the gun where you want and then you pull back on the trigger.”

“But if I get it wrong…”

“I don’t care. Pretty sure if you delay any longer, one or all three of us will shoot him for you. Do you think he can survive three bullets at the same time?”

“No! No…” Caretaker draws in a shaky breath.

His tear-filled eyes meet Whumpee’s. Whumpee gives him another nod of approval. He is shaking harder now, body visibly convulsing in terror, just wanting it to end.

Caretaker raises the pistol. He’ll never forgive himself. He’s betraying every oath he’s ever taken or sworn to himself to do no harm. The best he can hope for is less harm. Do less harm than if Whumper were to carry this out.

There was a deafening BANG!

Followed by howls of agony.

435 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Whump #whump blog #whump community #i love it here

6 notes · View notes

sdotline · 7 months ago

Text

Zayakini oc made by @maraio08

Zayakini is a land mostly covered by arctic desert. Even tho the fields were infertile the people of Zayakini were far from starved. Trade was the majority of the economy, fortunately selling the fur and magical tools to rich foreigners was a profitable business.

While the common people of Zayakini were having a stable and tranquil life, the nobles were fighting over the power. The old and sick King was expected to choose a successor, but he didn't saw both of his children as worthy of the title. Thus he decided he was going to find a capable candidate, man or woman, and have them marry one of his sons.

Nenet was a beautiful boy, with the resemblance of a siberian cat, in a world where those cats were long extinct. He was a rebel by nature, questioning everything and anything. From trivial things like "Why must me dress and puy on makeup like this?", "Why can't I let my hair grow?" to challenging the authority "Why are we letting people who don't have any material burdens chose what is good for our country?"

Every person in Zayakini had 16 years of education. The first eight grades of school were mandatory and free, but the other eight years were fulfilled by being a discipe of a craftsman or by enrolling in an academy focused on magic or other subjects, because of his inclination in studies, Nenet's family, two loving parents and a scary but reliable big sister, choose to send him to the best academy, named after the city it was located in, the capital, Bahrat

There, at 22 years old, on his last year of academy, Nenet was interviewed by the King.

The fact that his usual easy going and lazy attitude was easily surpassed by an imposing and scary demeanor, paired with his sharp native intelligence and slight arrogance, made Nenet a charming yet manipulative youth.

That single interaction made the King so impressed, the old man choose him immediately.

Nenet was put to choose between the gentle and caring prince Azik and the cold and distant prince Ivan. Unfortunately the intelligent young man lacked affection, and the sweet lies of Azik made his heart skip a beat.

After his father passing, Azik imprisoned his younger brother and started his plan in getting rid off Nenet.

Azik threatened to kill his family, if Nenet didn't pass him all his power. While Nenet was lying to agree, the trick he was going to use to fool Azik, got found out and he saw his family get murdered right in front of him

Because Azik temporary needed Nenet, he locked him up and while trying to escape Nenet got killed by an enormous ax at the hands of Azik.

Because of al the resentment and sorrow, Nenet transformes in an evil spirit, mer, and regains his body. From then on he stops all his other plans and focuses on his solely purpose, revange, bloody and painful.

—————————————————————————————

He kinda reminds me of this

#oc #zayakini #i still have to name the world

1 note · View note

breedaboyd · 1 year ago

Text

McKenna's Dog ~ Quinn McKenna

(Gif by maydearalexa.)

Pairing: Quinn McKenna × M!OC!Reader.

Word Count: 2,965.

CW: Anal sex, belly bulge, cum-flation, cum-swallowing, dom/sub, oral sex, size kink, uniform kink.

Pavlovian conditioning, also known as classical conditioning, is a form of learning in which a previously neutral stimulus becomes associated with a specific response due to repeated pairing with another stimulus that naturally triggers that response. This concept was famously demonstrated by Ivan Pavlov's experiments with dogs, where he conditioned them to associate the sound of a bell with the presentation of food, causing them to salivate at the sound of the bell alone...

The night is deep and the quiet of the room surrounds you as you settle into bed, naked and comfortable, your thoughts drifting. But suddenly, the door opens, and there he is — Captain Quinn McKenna — standing at the threshold, kitted out in his full-dress uniform. Your heart skips a beat, surprise coursing through your veins. His gaze locks onto yours and you feel an electric charge in the air. His uniform carries with it an air of authority and power and it catches you off-guard; you had no idea he went into work in his uniform today.

Before you can fully process the situation, your body reacts almost instinctively. It's as if a switch has been flipped and you find yourself shifting into a submissive posture. Your knees touch the floor and you kneel before him, completely bared, your gaze lowered in a gesture of respect and submission.

"August." His voice is low, a mix of surprise and approval. You can sense his own surprise at your immediate reaction, and the tension in the room is palpable.

"Captain McKenna." You reply, your voice clear and dutiful as you acknowledge his presence. He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving you. The weight of his uniform adds to the intensity of the moment, and you can feel your heartbeat echoing in your ears. It's a feeling you've come to associate with these rare occasions, when his uniform comes into play. As you kneel before him, he reaches out, his fingers ruffling your hair affectionately. It's an unexpected gesture that leaves you momentarily surprised. But, even as your heart races, his touch grounds you.

"Good boy." He murmurs, his voice laced with appreciation. His praise washes over you and a warmth spreads through your chest. Despite the initial surprise, you find a sense of pride in your response. Without a word, he steps closer, the toe of his boot nudging against your thigh. The touch is calculated, a deliberate movement that sends a jolt of electricity through you. Your thighs part slightly under his prompting, your body responding to his unspoken command. Your cock throbs, precum leaking down the thick shaft as he regards you. "Eager, aren't we?" He murmurs and you nod. You don't dare look up, your gaze fixed on his boots as you wait, every nerve ending on edge.

He settles on the edge of the bed, and you can hear the faint creak of the mattress as he sits down. It's a deliberate move and you understand the unspoken invitation that hangs in the air. "Come here." His voice is low and commanding. You don't waste a moment. Rising to your feet, you move to stand before him. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the satisfaction in his gaze. It's a satisfaction borne out of understanding your loyalty, your devotion and how deeply you're bound to him. He spreads his legs slightly, creating a space between them. The invitation is clear and you kneel between his feet without hesitation.

The position feels natural, as if you were made to be here, made to serve him. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers tangling in the thick, dark green strands as he guides you to look at him. The touch is possessive, a reminder that you're his, and you revel in the sensation of being claimed.

Each time you kneel between Captain McKenna's feet, a familiar routine takes over. Your heart races as his fingers move to his belt, and the sound of the clasp being undone resonates through the room. As he opens his pants, your breath catches, anticipation and submission mingling in your veins. His dick is only half-hard when he pulls it out but he thickens quickly as he gives himself a couple of slow, deep strokes.

"August." His voice is a command, low and steady. "Mouth." You don't waste a second. Without hesitation, you lean forward, your lips brushing against the head of his cock. The scent of him fills your senses and your breath hitches as you part your lips, ready to obey.

"Yes, Captain McKenna." You murmur, your voice a mix of reverence and eagerness. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you closer. You take him into your mouth, your lips sealing around the girth of it as your tongue flicks along the crown. His breath catches, a hiss escaping his lips as you take him in deeper, not stopping until your lips reach the base. His fingers tighten in your hair and you can practically feel his control slipping as you work your magic.

"Mmmnn... Good boy..." He groans, his voice a mixture of praise and desire as he watches you bob your head along his length. "Always so eager." His words send a shiver down your spine and you redouble your efforts. The taste of him, the sounds he makes; he's perfect and it's your privilege to serve him. Pre-cum oozes down your throat and you're eager to drink down everything he can give you, swallowing hungrily around his cock and hearing him bite back a gasp. You're aware of the flushed heat that's spreading across your cheeks, the arousal that's building between your legs as your own cock aches.

As you continue your ministrations, he guides you with the tug of his hand in your hair. He knows just how to push your buttons, just how to ignite your need to please him. "Mouth nice and wide for me, bubba..." He breathes, his tone husky with desire. "Fuck... You were made for this." His words linger in your ear, fanning the flames deep down. Every tug of your hair, every gasp he lets out, every eager buck of his hips; it all has you eager to please. And as his breathing grows more ragged, as his grip on your hair tightens, you know you're close to fulfilling your purpose. "August..." He pants, his grip on your hair tightening. "I'm...close... Don't stop..." His urgency spurs you on, your movements becoming more deliberate. The taste of him, the feel of his nails against your scalp and the weight of his authority press down on you.

As the Captain reaches his peak, you feel his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you back slightly. Your lips part from him and you're drawn to watch him as he cums, his pleasure evident in the way his body tenses and his breath hitches. With a shudder, he finishes himself off, his hand working quickly along the spit-slick shaft. Your gaze remains fixed on him, watching the way he squeezes his eyes shut, brows drawn up in concentration, his breathless moans filling the air. "August..." His voice is a husky whisper and you immediately keen into his touch, showing your obedience. The swollen head of his cock brushes against your bottom lip and you open your mouth to receive him. As he cums, you remain attentive, ensuring that you capture every drop and making sure none goes to waste. Cum shoots across your tongue in pearly-white ropes and your gaze stays on him, thankful and unwavering. The taste of him is somewhat bitter with a hint of salt and you let it pool on your tongue, awaiting his next command. "Swallow for me." He breathes, his voice a sensual rasp. "That's it... Good boy..."

You watch him as his breathing levels out, pulse slowing. The air is thick with tension, the anticipation palpable, as you wait for his next command.

"August." His voice is steady again, unwavering. "Help me out of my uniform." Your heart races, a mixture of excitement and reverence coursing through your veins. With a nod, you move forward, your hands trembling slightly with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Your fingers find their way to the laces of his dress boots, and you work carefully and methodically, untying them with precision. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes watching every movement. As the boots come free, you place them aside, your touch gentle as you handle each piece of his uniform with care.

Next, you stand and turn your attention to the medals and pins that adorn his chest. Your fingers deftly work to remove each one, your movements slow and calculated. The weight of his accomplishments is evident in the weight of the medals and, as you place them on the bed, you feel a sense of pride and respect for the honour they represent.

His jacket comes next and you slide it from his shoulders, folding it carefully and placing it on the bed. The fabric is still warm from his body and a shiver courses through you as you catch a faint whiff of his cologne; woody and sweet.

The tie is next, the silk sliding through your fingers as you unravel it from his neck. Button by button, you work to remove his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal the expanse of his chest. Each button that comes undone lets you see more, warm ivory skin begging for worship but you hold back, remembering your place.

Finally, you lower his pants. As you help him step out of them, you're left with the image of him standing before you, clad in only his boxer-shorts — having tucked himself away after cumming — and his socks. With each piece of his uniform carefully folded and placed on the bed, you return to your kneeling position before him. "Good boy." His voice is soft, the words a caress that makes your heart swell with pride.

McKenna runs his thumbs under the waistband on his boxer-shorts, working them down his hips before stepping out of them. He lies back on the bed, propping his heels up on the mattress and letting his thighs fall open. The sudden vulnerability in his eyes is a stark contrast to the commanding presence he usually exudes.

"You've done so well tonight, bubba." His voice is a gentle murmur, a mix of approval and affection. "You deserve a reward." His words resonate within you, a validation of your obedience and dedication. The power dynamics between you are fluid and ever-changing and, in this moment, you understand the depth of his commitment to you. He gives you a simple command, one that sends a bolt of excitement through you. "Use me however you want."

You don't need to be told twice. You grab the inconspicuous bottle on the nightstand, your movements deliberate and steady. You slick up your fingers with a copious amount of thick lube before dropping your hand between his legs and slathering some around his rim, making him gasp at the contact. You press your fingers inside, feeling the muscle yield as he whines.

As you prepare him, his breath hitches, a soft moan escaping his lips. The sight of him, vulnerable and responsive, only fuels your want to take care of him. Your hands move with care and purpose, stretching him open for you, warming him up. "F-Fuck... I think that's enough..." He says softly and you pull out, his hole empty as it clenches around nothing. You squeeze some more lube into your palm, running it along the length of your cock for him. His chest is heaving, eyes wide with anticipation as you angle your hips, pressing the head against his rim. You watch him, your breath caught in your throat as the Captain lies before you, his body spread out in all its vulnerability. There's a raw need in his eyes, a craving that mirrors your own.

Without a word, you slide inside him, the tightness of his body enveloping you in a sensation that's almost overwhelming. He tenses, a hiss escaping his lips as his body adjusts to your size. The discomfort is evident in the way his fingers curl in the sheets, a reminder that you're pushing his body to its limit, but his trust in you remains unwavering.

As you move slowly, he begins to relax, his breath hitching as pleasure takes place of the pain. The sensations are electric, a mixture of heat and friction that sends waves of pleasure through you. You can see the way his stomach distends slightly from the size of your cock, a sight that both worries and arouses you. "Use me, August." His voice is a breathless plea, his eyes locked onto yours. "Don't hold back."

Again, you don't need to be told twice. Your movements are fierce and unrelenting, a powerful force that drives into the Captain with an intensity that leaves him breathless as you hold nothing back. McKenna's gasps and moans fill the air, a mixture of surprise and pleasure as he's taken aback by the force of your thrusts. The feeling of your cock battering his insides is both overwhelming and exhilarating, the outline clearly visible through the taut flesh of his stomach. He watches you with a mixture of awe and need, his eyes locked onto yours as you move with abandon. The sounds of his body swallowing you up, the ragged sound of his panting, the almost beastial nature of your growls. Your bodies move in a rhythm that's primal and all-consuming.

As you push deeper, his moans grow louder, his body fit to bursting. The sensation of being completely filled by you is both overwhelming and addicting, a mix of pleasure and vulnerability that sends him spiralling. And then, as the climax approaches, your movements become more desperate, your thrusts harder and faster. You hunch over, teeth bared, as you drive into him, feeling him shake. He's at his breaking point. "Fuckin'...fill me up... Ch-Christ..."

(Side note: Your Yautja genetics come into play during times such as this, causing you to produce an ungodly amount of semen. It's a sensation that's both intense and satisfying, a testament to the power of your heritage. Unfortunately, it tends to be more than most humans can handle.)

As you reach your peak, your body responds with a surge of ecstasy that's overwhelming. You spill into his hot body with abandon, shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over you. As you watch, McKenna's body takes in a good amount of your cum, his stomach swelling from the volume as his eyes roll back. For a moment, you're lost in the sight before you, your breath catching at the sight of his body desperately trying to accommodate for the sheer amount you're pumping into him.

But as the moments pass, it becomes clear that he can't handle all of it. You've produced more than his body can contain. "Fuck! I-I can't—" His voice is a mixture of surprise and need, his body trembling from the intensity. "It's too much..." You watch as he struggles, his belly swollen from the excess, his body overwhelmed. You begin to pull your hips back, your spent cock slipping from his loose hole. Semen gushes out onto the bed and you lean down to kiss him, eyes unfocussed and lips parted, as his body pushes out all that you'd given him. "Maybe— H-Hahh... Maybe next time..."

With the aftermath of your shared pleasure still humming in the air, you find yourself wrapped in a haze of contentment and vulnerability. McKenna lies before you, his body sated and sweaty, his breath still coming in uneven gasps. But despite the intensity of your love-making, there's a tenderness that fills the room. You reach for a towel on the pile of laundry, wiping away sweat and spit and semen. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze a mixture of affection and gratitude.

"Thanks, Augie..." He breathes, his voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. It's a simple acknowledgment of the pleasure you've given him and the care you take afterwards. You offer him a small smile, your fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer before you throw the towel back onto the laundry pile. You help him shift further onto the bed, his body still trembling. His legs seem to have turned into jelly and he can hardly support himself.

As you pull the covers up over him, his hand reaches out, fingers brushing against your jaw. There's a hint of urgency in his touch, a silent invitation that you're more than willing to accept. He pulls you down, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. His breath is still a little ragged against your lips, a testament to the lingering effects of your shared pleasure. But despite the breathlessness, there's a sense of contentment that radiates from him, a feeling that's mirrored in you.

"Thank you, Captain." You whisper against his lips as his fingers thread through your hair.

"Shut up, Augie." He chuckles airily.

With a final caress, you pull the covers up a little higher and he settles back, his eyes heavy as you wrap your arms around him. You don't dare look at the state of the sheets, that's a problem for tomorrow. For now, you bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a kiss there, hearing the way he whimpers at the touch. You nuzzle into the side of his neck, trilling softly as your instincts get the better of you... Your mate, your Captain; Quinn McKenna.

#character: quinn mckenna #source: predator #type: reader #type: oc #misc: chariot writes

1 note · View note

forbodium · 2 years ago

Text

another batch of ocs :)

ah geez it’s been so long. i just want to get them out into the world so i don’t die without ever drawing or writing about them (not that i’m planning to)

it’s professor layton time again! i posted the main characters of my story idea and then the “roccaforte” group; now i want to share my targent-related guys. and one more bonus one who doesn’t fit in a group!

dillon (codename swan) was another undercover agent in london who worked closely with agent gull. they were good friends and when gull went missing dillon was pretty sure she was dead; he realized he didn’t want to die for this job and also went awol

harrier, basically crane’s work daughter since ania ran away. the type of villain who became desperate for power so they’d never be a victim again, parallel to crane

ivan is ania’s dad! he’s dead and crane refuses to talk about him

have a height chart in which hershel’s height has been adjusted for real human proportions. in the pl art style everyone else would be shorter

last one, from a different story idea:

this is elowyn, my love interest for flora. a farm girl who discovers flora locked in the barn in dropstone and helps her try to catch up with luke and layton. she’s just a kind-hearted young lady who loves taking care of animals and all kinds of handicrafts. hand-made puzzles are her favorite kind :)

thank you for reading once again <3

#cornelis appears nonetheless!#my ocs #professor layton oc #professor layton ocs #targent

1 note · View note

winterkoya · 3 years ago

Text

forever winter i

aleksander morozova x wife!oc , aleksander morozova x original female character , aleksander morozova family au summary: in which Arken Visser (the Conductor) was not only requested by General Zlatan to kill Alina, but to kidnap the princess as well.

warnings: kidnapping, angst, fluff

part one , part two , part four , part five

masterlist

*******

Aleksander tried to enter his children’s room, but found the door to be locked. That was weird, he thought, their room was never locked.

“Who’s this?” A tiny voice asked from behind the wood. Kira’s.

“It’s me… Papa.” He answered, confused. Why wasn’t Irina answering the door herself?

He heard the lock turn, and was surprised to see that everything looked… normal. Anya and Eric were building a ship with some blocks, and Kira was the one who answered the door to him, already wearing her nightgown. Yet Irina was nowhere to be seen.

“Children, where is your mother?”

After noticing his wife hadn't returned to the party in quite some time, Aleksander decided to go look for her himself. As frivolous as he thought these balls were, he understood what an important presence Irina was on them. (And he wouldn’t admit so, but the jokes weren’t as funny and the conversations were duller and the mood wasn’t as happy if she wasn’t there.) She was the tsarévna, after all. So he went up to look for her at the kids’ room, but she wasn’t there. He immediately noticed something was out of place. It wasn’t like Irina to disappear like that, especially from a party. She was supposed to sneak out of the ball to kiss the kids goodnight and then come back. Where was she?

He tried to ignore the heavy feeling on his chest, because why, why was he so worried? He surely had more important business to attend than to see where his wife had run off to? Like Alina, Alina who was waiting for him to escort her to dinner. Or the infuriating tracker he had just dealt with, who refused to let him know where the stag was unless he was allowed to see Alina. And yet, he knew he wouldn’t be at peace until he saw his wife, safe and sound.

“She’s with a friend.” Anya responded, shrugging her shoulders, as she helped her brother put the blocks in place.

“Which friend?” He sighed, feeling his chest a little lighter. It was the Winter Fete, after all. People came from everywhere. It wouldn’t be weird for Irina to run into an old friend, and decide to catch up with them. She was such a social butterfly, Aleksander had a hard time himself keeping up with all of the people she talked to.

“I don’t know,” Anya spoke again, “but she said she’ll go with him on a journey and we should keep on playing until you come here.”

“A journey?” Aleksander couldn’t be more bewildered if he tried. But again, Irina liked to call everything a journey. Whenever she went to take care of her garden, she would tell the kids she was going on a journey to discover a magical hidden house between the flowers where small people lived. Whenever obligations forced them to travel to other castles, Irina liked to tell the kids they were going on a trip to investigate a haunted palace. She liked to make everything magical. (Aleksander always found it amazing how, even though she was no grisha, Irina has always been the most magical person he had ever met.)

“Well, did she say anything else?” He asked, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“She kissed us all and said that she loved us very, very much.” Great, another dead lead. Irina was always telling her kids how much she loved them. The fact that she had done so that night meant nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, Aleksander felt something was off. He left the room, already starting to look for Ivan to have the guards quietly search the castle and find her, when he heard small footsteps approaching towards him. He turned around to see his eldest daughter standing behind him in the middle of the corridor, while anxiously glancing around her.

“What’s wrong, Kira?” He asked, worriedly. The girl was looking at him with fear, and because he knew his daughter so much, he noticed she was about to cry. He rapidly approached her, and grabbed the girl’s hand.

“I don’t think it was a friend, Papa.” She whimpered.

Aleksander crouched down, so he could be at the same height as her. He caressed her face with his hand, gently removing a tear from her cheek.

“Why do you say that?” He asked, feeling his heart beating so fast Aleksander was positive it would fly out of his chest at any moment.

“Papa, he had a… weapon.”

• • •

Unlike everyone else in the room, Irina wasn’t looking at Alina perform her light show. She was looking at her husband, and the way he was staring at the holy girl. He had never looked at her that way.

After having a small disagreement concerning his feelings for Alina, Aleksander had gone out of his way to make sure Irina knew he didn’t have any sort of romantic feelings for the girl whatsoever.

And Irina believed him, of course. Her husband could be many things, but he wasn’t a liar, at least not to her. Still, she felt her heart shatter because, romantic or not, her husband had never felt such strong feelings for her, as the ones he felt for Alina. He had finally found his equal. The person with whom he’d go through immortality, hand by hand. The key to all of the plans he had been meticulously planning for years, if not centuries. Irina knew she fell short of living up to that. She couldn’t promise any of those things to Aleksander. Everything she had to offer, she had already given to him.

“Sankta Alina.” She bowed her head down, just as everyone else, when the girl finished, and then walked towards her husband.

“I’ll go kiss the kids goodnight.” She told him. But he wasn’t paying attention to her. He was looking at Alina. “Aleksander!” She insisted.

“I’m sorry, what?” He merely glanced towards her, and she could tell he was trying to avoid looking at her. Was he perhaps feeling sorry? Irina couldn’t figure it out.

Of course Aleksander wouldn’t tell her so, but the ball had felt like a test on him. Throughout the whole night he had been struggling not to keep on openly (and rather indecorously) staring at his wife. Irina was wearing a heavenly gown, of light blue fabric, full of gilded and rose gold embroidery in the pattern of small, delicate flowers. The dress was tight on her waist, and fell elegantly to her feet. The long sleeves embraced her slender arms up to her elbows, and the daintiest v cut hugged her breasts. Her strawberry blonde hair fell loose on her back, and her lips had a faint trace of cherry red on them. If anyone in the room was deserving of being called a Saint, he thought, it was his wife.

As an immortal being, he had been with hundreds of women throughout his life, and yet none of them had managed to so consistently make him feel butterflies in his stomach every time he looked at them, like Irina did. If he could choose one sight to keep on staring at for the rest of eternity, it would be her.

“I’ll go see if the kids are alright, and I’ll put them to bed.” Irina told him, but he was dreamily staring at her, barely listening to a word she was saying, intoxicated by her beauty. “Are you even listening to me?” Irina snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I apologise.” Aleksander shook his head, chuckling. “But you do look very beautiful tonight, Irina.”

“Oh, stop.” She said, blushing rather reluctantly. “You look very handsome yourself, you know.” She giggled. And he did. He was merely wearing his black kefta, almost his everyday outfit, but still managed to make her heart flutter. Irina felt as if he would never stop taking her breath away everytime she looked at him. So entranced they were, looking at each other that both failed to spot a man who was suspiciously glaring at the two. “I said I would go check up on the kids.”

“Oh, alright.” He stared at her. “I would gladly go with you, you know how I hate these parties, but I have to–

“Stay here to take care of Alina, I know.” She sighed. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“Thank you.” He said. “For understanding.”

“Of course.” She smiled, although her words had sounded a bit more dry than she had intended. “I’ll just be a second, I’ll come back quickly. If someone asks, I’m making rounds.”

And so she left towards her children’s bedroom, where she was very happy to find them playing. The two girls were wildly jumping on the bed, while little Eric was halfway across the room, not daring to move a foot.

“No! Eric, don’t cross over there! That’s lava!” Anya shouted.

“Here, Eric.” Kira threw a pillow from the bed she and her sister were standing on, towards the feet of her little brother. “That’s made of magic, it won’t burn. You can use it as a boat!”

“What are you doing, my little troublemakers?” Irina interrupted them.

“Mama!” Eric giggled.

“Mama, be careful!” Anya screamed.

“The floor is lava today!”

“Is it safe to walk through here?” Irina asked, pretending to be anxiously looking around her.

“Mmmh… a little to the right.” Irina moved one step to her side. “Mmmh… one more… and another… now jump two steps ahead.” Irina was trying to act her best and follow her kids’ game. “There you are, it should be safe to walk. But in a very straight line.” Kira warned her.

“Oh dear.” Irina smiled, as she was pretending to walk on a tightrope. “What happens if I fall?”

“You’ll be swimming with sharks!” Anya giggled.

“We can’t have that, can we?” With a small huff, she landed right beside the bed. “Now can I hug you, or are you three little demons made of lava as well?”

“We’ll hug you Mama!” They laughed, as the three of them jumped on her. Irina hugged them all back, and then she laid them on the bed again.

“Did you have fun today?” She hadn’t had time to properly spend time with the kids that day, since she had been so busy planning the ball.

“Tons!” Anya yelled. “We went outside, we picked flowers, then Lilia helped us make a house for all the insects we found, and then I played with Ivan…

“You bothered Ivan.” Kira corrected her.

Anya glared at her.

“... and then Alina played hide and seek with us!”

“Mama, she is so nice!” Kira giggled.

“She is very nice, isn’t she?” Irina said, with a genuine smile on her face. “And you, my sweet, little Eric?” She asked, tickling the boy. “What wonders did you find in the garden today?”

“A big ladybug!”

“Is that true?” Irina asked, with a surprised expression on her face.

“Mama, it was big like a house!” Anya snickered.

“Like a house?” Irina asked, in a way that was almost theatrical.

“Yes! And Eric held it in his hands!”

“You did that?” Irina kissed him on the cheek. “You are such a brave boy! You know what they say about ladybugs?”

“What, Mama?”

“That whoever sees them, will have a lifetime of fortune.” She chuckled. “And what did you do with the ladybug afterwards?”

“We left him where we found him, so he could go back with his family.” Kira explained.

“Very good.” Irina said, as she got up from the bed. “Now you can keep on playing a while longer, but twenty minutes from now nanny Lilia is going to come to tuck you all into bed, and you must obey her, is that understood?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Great, now let me give you one last kiss before I return to the part– ” Irina was suddenly interrupted, by a man gently opening the door. It was a guard, or at least he was dressed like one. Irina had never seen him before, which she found weird because she always made sure to know everyone working at the palace.

“Excuse me, Lady Kirigan?”

“Yes, this is her.” Irina responded, looking cautiously at him. She strategically positioned herself in front of the three kids, just in case.

“I am to take you back to the ball, by the General’s request.”

“By the General’s request?” Irina asked, confused. Aleksander never sent guards into the kids bedroom. Only his most trusted grisha were allowed to enter. “But I told him I’d be back when–

And then she spotted it. The man, slowly grabbing something inside his coat. A gun. He was no guard. No one was allowed guns into the palace, because of Irina’s order. She hated guns and she wouldn’t allow them near herself, and especially her children. She knew that, whatever the man wanted, she had to comply with him. At least until they were out of the room, away from the kids.

“It’s alright, I’ll come, no need to get… wild.” She hurried to say, before the stranger had the chance to pull the weapon out. “Not in front of them, please.” She muttered.

“Right this way, then.” He insisted, gesturing harshly towards the door.

“I– I promise I’ll go. Just let me say goodbye to them.” The man just stared at her for a couple of seconds, as if he were weighing his options, and then nodded.

Irina turned around to face her kids, feeling a lump on her throat. She could tell they were scared, and so she tried her best to make it seem as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

“Who’s that, Mama?” Anya asked.

“Oh, it’s an old friend of mine.” Irina answered, casually. “As a matter of fact, I completely forgot I’d promised I’d go with him on a journey.”

“For how long?” Kira asked, confused.

“Not long, sweet pea.” She answered, caressing her cheek. “You should keep on playing, your Papa will probably be here soon. Now listen to me,” she added, serious, “after I leave, I want you to lock the door and don’t open it to anyone unless it’s Papa, your Granny or Ivan, is that understood?”

“But why, Mama?”

“Oh, well…” Irina stuttered “... because I say so, okay?”

“Okay, mama.” Anya and Eric giggled. She then grabbed them all and hugged them so strongly they started to complain.

“Mama!” Anya laughed. “You’re squeezing us!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She said. “It’s just.. I just love you so, so much.”

“We love you too, Mama.”

Irina blew a kiss to each of them, and then left, forced by the stranger. He had grabbed her by her arm, and, even though she couldn’t see it, she could feel the gun’s muzzle on her ribs.

“What do you want?” She hissed at him. Irina looked around, hoping someone would cross their path, but the man had clearly done his homework about the palace: he knew every single corridor, and the ones that would most certainly be deserted the night of a ball.

“Shh.” He whispered, poking her even harder with the gun. “No one has to get hurt, just stay quiet, do as you’re told.”

“If you ever threaten my children again, I wi–

Irina couldn’t finish her sentence before the man grabbed her by her hair and slammed her body against the wall.

“What, what will you do?” The man asked smugly, pressing the gun to her chest. Irina remained quiet, already more scared than what she was a second ago.

They stepped outside of the back entrance of the palace, where a carriage was waiting. She noticed a man she had never seen before, young, carefree looking, leaning against a tree, but he looked at them and said nothing. He forced her into the vehicle, and chained her hands to the ceiling.

“My husband will kill you for this.” She muttered at him.

“Oh, naive girl.” The man snickered. “By the time your husband notices you’re gone, we will already be halfway to the Fold.” He covered her mouth with a piece of fabric, tightly tied behind her head.

‘The Fold?’ Irina asked herself. What could they possibly want of her in the Fold?

“Now stay here, quietly. Any weird business and remember, I know where your children’s room is. And my associates know as well. Any move you make that draws any kind of attention towards here, and their lives are the ones at stake.” The man softly closed the door, and left.

Irina knew she was in a dead end. A man who was sick enough to threaten children, was also sick enough to stick to his words. Even if she wanted to scream, no one would listen to her with the loudness inside the castle. And she couldn’t even try to escape, because the man had tied her hands so hard her wrists were all scrapped. Oh, how she wished to be a inferni at that time. How she wished she hadn’t left her husband’s side.

She had no idea what the man wanted, but she figured that if they were taking her to the Fold, it had something to do with the West’s pursuit for freedom and General Zlatan. She was the perfect hostage. The daughter’s King and the General’s wife.

It wasn’t until minutes later that she heard someone coming out of the castle. She started moving, so they would hopefully hear her and help her, but then she noticed movement on the rear end of the carriage, and then silence. Whoever had come out of the castle, had shoved themselves into the truck at the back.

Seconds later, she heard people (three different voices, she counted) jumping into the front seat of the carriage.

“Just ask.” One of them was saying, a man.

“Fine.” Another one answered. “Do we have a fix on where the target is?”

The other man didn’t answer his question, and instead he said: “What about Visser?”

‘Visser?’ She thought. Was that the man who had taken her? Irina’s mind started to dance around the name, swearing she had heard her husband mention it at one point in one of his meetings.

“He’s either dead, or taken by now.” The second voice answered. “But don’t worry, we’ll deliver his target to Zlatan, and take the rewards for ourselves.”

And so, the carriage started leaving, with Irina on it.

• • •

Aleksander felt rage like he had never felt before. He could cut every single person in the palace, and would still have anger to spare. They had taken his wife. His Irina. First, he was going to find her. And then, he was going to make sure whoever did it payed for it. With their lives. At that moment, no punishment seemed cruel enough for his wife’s captors.

Aleksander grabbed Eric in his arms, held Anya by her hand and made sure Kira was tightly holding on his kefta before he went to look for Ivan. His wife had disappeared (“Taken. She’s been taken.” He reminded himself. “Under your watch.”) and he wasn’t willing to let the same happen to his kids. They weren’t leaving his or Ivan’s sight.

“Ivan. Ivan!” He started calling, as soon as he saw the man running towards the opposite corridor. The man turned around, and Aleksander saw it. Concern and worry in his eyes. Either he had realised what had happened to Irina, or even more bad news were in order.

“Sir, I’ve been looking for you.” Ivan commented once he reached his side. He glanced towards the children, and then whispered in the man’s ear: “Marie and Genya were attacked in the fitting room. Alina was the target. We have a suspect in custody.”

Aleksander felt his heart drop. What if Irina had been attacked too? What if she had been hurt? What if she was dying at that precise moment and he had no idea? What if he was too late? What if he–

“Sir, what is it?”

“It’s Irina.” He muttered, looking down at his children. Little Eric, who was deep asleep against his shoulder, and his two girls, confused as to why they weren’t in their rooms and why their mother wasn’t with them. Irina had tried to protect them, to avoid them getting worried. She had been so brave trying to pretend everything was fine just so the kids wouldn’t get scared. So they would remain ignorant until Aleksander could bring her back. He owed her that, to keep on protecting their kids’ blissful ignorance. “She has gone on a trip.” He said, emphasising that last word so hopefully Ivan realised what it really meant. “With a friend of hers. I suspect the same one that Marie and Genya ran into.”

“We’ll find her.” Ivan nodded. “I have guards searching the entire palace as of now. No one person or carriage is leaving without us knowing.”

“Good.” Aleksander said, as he glanced at his children again. “Have Alina come to the war room, make sure no one else gets close to her, especially the tracker boy. I’ll be right back.”

“Sir, Alina is not here.” Ivan said, cautiously, fearing the anger of the General. “As soon as we found out about Marie and Genya we looked for her, but she’s nowhere to be found.”

Aleksander pursed his lips.

“Bring me the tracker, then.” He hissed. “The one that came here tonight, with information about the stag.”

He turned around and started walking with the kids towards the patio. He couldn’t take them with him, it was too dangerous. As much as hated it, he had to leave them with the only person with enough power to protect them as much as he could.

“Papa, where are we going?” Kira asked.

“Your Grandmama is going to be with you, for a while.” He explained.

“Until Mama comes back?”

“Yes. Until your Mama is back.”

“Papa, I’m tired.” Little Anya complained, as she yawned in exhaustion.

“Come here.” He said, taking the girl in his arms as well.

He had barely crossed the main garden, when he saw Baghra standing next to the fountain, almost as if she had been expecting him.

“He’s not here.” She said.

“Who?” He asked, confused. Of course his mother saw him there, with the children, and still somehow managed to make it about herself.

“The tracker. Yes, I know about him. And your little mission.”

Aleksander felt his blood boil. He was surprised to find out it wasn’t because he had lost the only clue he had of the stag, but because his mother meddling into his businesses meant yet another distraction from finding Irina.

“What have you done with– nevermind.” He collected himself, for the sake of his children. “I’m not here because of that, I’m here because I need to ask you for… a favour.”

“And what favour is that?”

“Take care of them.” He said, gesturing at the kids. He knew Baghra wouldn’t refuse, for the kids were her one and only weakness in the world.

“I will.” She said. “But why?”

“Irina has been tak… she’s gone.” He said. “And you’re the only person she would want taking care of them in case neither of us can.” And just like that Baghra understood. She had always liked Irina. The girl was sweet, and respected her, more than her own son had ever done. With a nod, she started to follow Aleksander to the children’s room, where he made sure to tuck Anya, Eric and Kira into their beds.

“Papa, will you find Mama?” Kira, the only one who was awake, asked.

He walked towards her bed, and knelt down next to her.

“Of course I will, malyshka.” He smiled at her.

“But what if she has gone far, far away?” She asked, concerned.

“Then I will travel far, far away too. I’ll fight dragons and monsters if I have to.”

“Will you save her like the heroes from my books?” The girl giggled.

“Just like that, I promise.” He chuckled, as he left a kiss on the girl's temple. “Now go to sleep, Kira. Think about dragons and wizards and fairies, so you can dream about big adventures, alright?”

“Alright, Papa.” Kira answered, closing her eyes.

Aleksander left one last kiss on her forehead, before he left the room to meet Baghra outside.

“I don’t know when I'll be back.” He said. “It’s clear Irina has been taken somewhere out of the castle, so we’ll follow any lead we can get. Don’t let anyone else but Lilia enter the room, is that clear?”

“Yes, Aleksander, now go.” Baghra hurried him. “And please, find her.”

“I will.”

• • •

Irina woke up after a bump on the road made her hit her head against the window. Light was peeking from behind the curtains, so she figured it was morning already. It was quite noisy outside, which meant they had arrived at some city. Ryevost, most probably, since they were taking her to the Fold.

She couldn’t feel her arms, and her wrists had started to bleed out of the friction from the rope against her skin. She felt all of her ribs sore, just where the man had hit her with the gun. Her whole body was hurting.

She felt the carriage stop, she heard the three people getting out of it, and for a second, nothing more. But then, a thump indicated to her that the truck at the back had been opened, and whoever was on it had managed to get away.

“We don’t want any trouble.” A man, the same one that jumped on the carriage, said.

“Neither do I,” a voice Irina swore she could recognise answered, “so I’ll just be on my way.”

‘Alina?’ Irina thought. They had captured her as well. She felt the tightness on her chest go away a little; if Alina was missing as well, then Aleksander would most definitely try to find her as quickly as possible.

“Clearly, you want out of East Ravka.” The man insisted. “But we can help you. We have a secure route through the Fold.”

“I prefer to travel alone.”

“Don’t be rash. You stick with us, everyone gets what they want.”

“I’m not being anyone’s captive ever again.” Irina heard Alina hiss. “So step aside, and let me pass.”

“I’m afraid we can’t let that happen.”

Irina heard a bang, which could only mean that Alina was using her powers, and realised that was her only shot at escaping. Alina.

She started to move as much as she could, but the restraints on her arms didn’t let her escape and the fabric on her mouth barely let her breathe. She heard Alina run away, and Irina sank into her seat. Her one opportunity at getting away was gone, she couldn’t possibly fight against so many people. During the first year of marriage, Irina had asked Aleksander to teach her how to fight, and she quickly learnt she was quite good at it, but she couldn’t possibly hope to manage three people. She was only human, after all.

“Why did you let her get away?” One of the men asked, angrily. “You were hired to do a job.”

“Yes, the job was to pick up a fake for an easy million kruge.” A woman’s voice answered. “We found a living Saint who can summon the sun. And anyway, we have the other target as well. We deliver her to Zlatan and get the money.”

“That’s right.” The first man answered. “By the way, shouldn’t we check up on her?”

“Open the door.”

Irina saw the small carriage door open, and then she was dazzled by the beams of sunshine. Once her eyes got used to the light, she saw the face of her kidnappers. Or second kidnappers, she thought.

First she saw the man she had already spotted the night before, the one leaning against the tree. He had the same carefree look, but he was now wearing a hat as well; most importantly, she noticed the gun attached to his body. The other man was slightly taller, had blonde hair and was dressed neatly and used a cane. Finally, she saw a woman. A beautiful girl, who wore knives around her body as if they were an extension of her.

“She’ll definitely need a change of clothes.” The man with the hat said. “She’ll draw too much attention with that dress.”

“Go find proper attire, then.” The man with the cane demanded. The door was slammed again, and Irina was left in the dark once more. She felt shocked, she felt as if her mind was full of some dense material, her thoughts had trouble finding each other. ‘A list, make a list’, she said to herself. So far, a man, named Visser, had taken her in the castle, but now there were other three people she didn’t know the names of holding her hostage. They had arrived at Ryevost and she was being taken to Zlatan. And of course, her one and only chance at escaping was gone, and she started to feel panic rising on her chest.

Half an hour later, the door to the carriage opened again.

“Here you go.” The boy left a skirt, a blouse and some shoes at her feet. “I’ll untie you and let you change in private but don’t try to do any funny business or else…” He tapped at his gun.

Irina nodded, eager to feel her arms again. As promised, the man cut the rope out of her wrists and left her alone in the carriage. Her arms fell with a loud thud onto her seat, she couldn’t do as much as lifting a finger. After what felt like an eternity, she felt the blood rushing through her arms once again, and so she took the fabric away from her mouth. She couldn’t scream, the man had made himself quite clear.

She inhaled a deep breath and looked at the clothes in front of her. For a second she considered not moving, and just refusing to get out of the carriage, but she knew it wouldn’t take her anywhere. They couldn’t kill her, that much was obvious– for her to be of any use to Zlatan she had to be alive, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt her.

She fought the tears that were threatening to come out of her eyes, and grabbed the outfit she was given and changed into it. Surprisingly, it fitted quite well. She knocked on the door to let them know she was ready, and the three of them got inside the carriage with her. They sat in front of her, looking at her as if she were about to explode or something.

“What do you want me for?” She finally whispered to them. Her voice was hoarse, as a result of not speaking and breathing through fabric for hours.

The man with the hat kindly offered her a flask, which Irina took with caution.

“It’s not poisoned, you know.” He said. “Better drink some so you get your voice back.”

Irina chugged on a good amount of water, not realising how thirsty she was before.

“Thanks.” She muttered, giving the flask back to its owner. “What do you want me for, then?” She repeated.

“General Zlatan wants you.” The man with the cane confirmed her suspicions.

“I figured as much.” She responded, dryly. “A princess in exchange for a free country.”

“Well, he’s offered a handsome sum of kruge for you, so we’re taking over our associate’s work and taking you there.” The one who had offered his flask told her.

“And this is how it's going to go.” The other man said, sternly. “You’re going to remain quiet and you’re going to do as we say. You will not draw any attention to yourself, and that way you’ll get to Novokribirsk safe and sound. You try to escape or scream, and this is what is waiting for you.” He signaled towards the other two’s weapons.

“But you need me alive.”

“Exactly.” The man grinned. “We only need you alive. So you either arrive there safe and go back to King in good health, or you barely make it to Novokribirsk and hope you can make it back home. Which one is it going to be?”

Irina weighed her options. The man was right. If she ever wanted to go back home, to see her kids and husband again, she would have to arrive safely to the hands of General Zlatan and hope her father and husband were willing to make a deal for her.

“I’ll behave.” She said in a small voice. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” The man with the hat said. He had a surprisingly friendly smile.

“And what are your names?” She hurried to ask, before they could go away again.

“And why would we give you our names?” The man with the cane asked bitterly.

“Well I can’t go around calling you kidnapper one, two and three right? That would draw too much attention to myself.”

The three of them looked at each other. Funny, Irina though. They seemed to be all part of the same brain. The man with the cane (who Irina started to realise must be the leader) nodded.

“I’m Jesper.” The guy with the easy smile said.

“I’m Kaz.” The other man sneered at her. “And this is Inej.” He added, pointing towards the woman. Irina looked at her, and felt the smallest faint of compassion coming from her.

“I’m Irina.” She introduced herself.

“Well Irina, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” Jesper told her.

“Now let’s get moving.” Kaz said. “We’ll stay here tonight, we’ll see if we can get supplies and hopefully some horses.”

Irina was made to exit the carriage, and she did as she was told. They were right. She had a much better chance at returning back home if she complied with them. She would be taken safe to Zlatan, who she knew wouldn’t hurt her because she was of much more use to him alive than dead. What scared her though, was Zlatan's reaction to finding out neither her father nor her husband would be willing to exchange West Ravka for her.

*****

author’s note: this part was so hard to write, i had to make sure the timeline in which irina was taken didn’t disturbe and make sense with the timeline in which alina escapes and everything! i hope it didn’t end up being too messy and difficut to understand!

tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless , @sithapprentice , @duchessoftheheart , @emmamooney

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova family au #aleksander morozova x original female character #aleksander morozova x wife!oc #irina morozova series #general kirigan x original female character #the darkling imagine #the darkling x oc #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #ben barnes #general kirigan #the darkling #alina starkov #general kirigan fanfic #the darkling family au #aleksander morozova imagine

295 notes · View notes

trans-xianxian · 2 years ago

Note

📱📖🌼 ?

📱 Show your phone lock screen and/or home screen:

homescreen is this art of my oc ivan that I commissioned from @mantoumika and lockscreen is part of the second painting in this post!

📖 Fave book: the little prince !

🌼 Fave flower: hyacinths and marigolds!

#my homescreen is always art that was made for me and my lockscreen is always just art that I like :^)#ask #image #mewts #blood

2 notes · View notes

writer-of-various · 3 years ago

Text

I Run Away, But It Is Always The Same

Long story, the life of my OC Bell

She was born at 2100 hours in Vienna, Austria to Ingrid Emilsdóttir and Ivan Orlovsky, a married couple who have ran away from the USSR due to an issue her father caused. The man was a drunk, abusive to her mother and despite being so young, Emilia remembered what she saw. Her mother locking herself in her nursery, tears falling from her eyes and a new bruise tainting her fair skin. Her wheat blonde hair and dark blue eyes where what Emilia only knew and remembered of her beloved mother, who was murdered by a KGB agent when she was only three years old. Her father packed their bags and they headed back to Russia, where he knew someone that could lend him a hand. He worked as a supplier and hitman, whatever pay he brought home spent on cheap vodka and very little food. Emilia grew up too fast, having to always run away from her father's mistakes, having to raise her father. His boss, however, was her father figure. He bought her food and clothes, helped send her to some fancy school where she earned the highest grades and soon enough she graduated at 15 with a PhD degree. But months before her success, something unspeakable happened.

Call you up in the middle of the night,

The door to their small home swung open, hitting the chipped painted wall with a loud bang. Emilia looked up from the book she was engulfed in, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat as she saved her page and left the safety of her room to greet her drunk father. When she saw him, stumbling around in the kitchen, a frown tugged her plump lips down as she remembered the old days where her father had short and well maintained hair and his eyes weren't so dark. Emilia idly wished she had took Perseus' offer in staying at his safehouse, her fear of her father growing each moment she spent alone with him. Perseus had asked to stay with him and the other agents, that she was one of them and she didn't have to bear the abuse her father sent her way. But she refused, her heart too big and her youthful innocence clouding all the bad things in her life.

"Papa, welcome home." She greets at last, holding back a sigh as her father poured himself a drink. He just came home from the bar and now this? The money she brought him was going to waste- no, calm down, it's not his fault. It is no one's fault. Right?

"Em, baby, go turn on the radio for me" he slurs out, stumbling over to her with an unfamiliar dark look in his eyes. Emilia nodded, turning around to go do what was asked but before she can take a step forward, large hands grabbed her by her hips and she was dragged back.

"P-papa!" She yelped, a loud whimper escaping when he pushed her against against the counter, her stomach painfully colliding with the edge. His body grinded against her backside, trailing a hand up to her hair and tugging it back. Emilia was in a spiral of confusion and fear, trying to break free from the tight grasp but he kept on grinding against her, disgusting grunts echoing the tense air. "Get off me! Papa!"

With all her strength, Emilia brought back her elbow, hitting her father square in the face. He let out a pained shout, cursing as he backed away and let go of Emilia's hair to cup his broken nose.

"You bitch!" He snarled, reaching out for her but she was quick, ducking under his reached out arm and running out of the house, her bare feet splashing the puddles formed by the heavy rain that drenched her. She ran for two miles, pushing past drunks as she entered a discrete part of town. Going into the forest nearby, she kept running even with twigs snapped under her feet and most likely gave her splinters, finally sliding across the ground and dirtying her clothes. When she looked up, a small cry fell from her lips when she saw a familiar cabin: Perseus' house. Racing over to the porch, she slammed her fists against the sturdy wooden door, looking behind her as she waited for her superior to open the door. She didn't have to wait long, as Perseus opend the door mere seconds after she pounded on it, his eyes widening at the sight of his medic drenched wet and shaking and sobbing on his porch.

"Emilia, my dear, what happened?" He ushered her inside, sincere concern dripping from his voice.

Like a firefly without a light.

"He...Ivan- he, oh Perseus I should've listened to you!" She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his chest, to ashamed to look up at him. He embraced her tightly, his eyes hard once he heard her father's name, knowing that man did something horrible for Emilia to break like this. She always held herself up, like a true born soldier, never taking anything from any of the other agents.

"Vindur, what happened?" He asked again, leading her to his couch and sitting her down, a hand rubbing her back as she tried to calm herself down, big tears still trailing down her pale skin.

"He came home, a-and he was drunk but that's no surprise," she laughed bitterly, "and I greeted him and he told me to turn on the radio before he grabbed me and shoved her over the counter...then he- he started rubbing himself against by back-" She choked back a sob, hiding her face in her hands as she struggled to find her voice. "He's a fucking pervert...I managed to get out of his grasp before he could anything serious."

Perseus stood abruptly, pacing in front of Emilia as he tried holding back his fit of rage towards her father, holding back the urge to call his best agents and send them to hunt down that sick bastard. But he was stopped in his tracks when Emilia stood up and smiled up at him, resting a arm on his shoulder.

"Perseus, remember that offer?" She says softly, her smile growing when Perseus seemed to lighten up. "Is there a spot still open for me?"

"Of course, Vindur. Our network would never be complete without you as a agent and as my right hand." Perseus chuckles when Emilia jumps up and down, hugging him and crying tears of happiness and relief. She was free, to start a new life. And she had someone there to steady her and take care of her, like a real father should.

You where there like a blowtorch burning,

I was a key that could a little turning.

Emilia spent a week at the Perseus safehouse, not hearing a thing about her father. She didn't care, as she wanted that man out of her life. Her good friends, Vikhor Kuzmin and Kapano Vang, were always by her side, but it meant that she didn't get a chance to converse with the other agents as the two intentionally scared them off. It was a nice evening on a Wednesday when a guard rushed over to her, quickly saluting before giving her a letter. He remained at the position of attention as Emilia skimmed through the paragraph, repeatedly as cold sweat engulfed her.

Her father was dead.

And that little letter was what woke the confidence in Emilia, what made her fearless and a great agent and leader. She wasn't going to be all nice and empathic to everyone, that specialty was preserved only for her agents and her new father, Perseus.

With a smirk, she tucked the letter in her breast pocket and saluted the guard. "Good riddance, Ivan." But her relief was short lived.

So tired that I couldn't even sleep,

It was a cool day in January where Emilia felt that something was just wrong. She shrugged it off, hanging around with Stitch and Naga, the former having loosened up from being so quiet and serious to pulling pranks alongside Emilia. Stitch was less rigid than usual, his obsession over some American, Russell Adler, having been pushed to the back of his head when Emilia officially joined the agency. She should've suspected something wrong when Arash Kadivar, who was jealous of and mean to her, was greeting her in the halls and even attempting to make conversation. But she was oblivious, innocent, still so young and believing that she can help the world. She should've been on alert during the conference, where Arash sent her smug smirks and winking whenever Perseus wasn't looking. But she hadn't had a proper sleep in two weeks, purged with nightmares and busy uncracking a case.

Later that day she was sent to help Arash deliver some supplies at a airport in Turkey. They went over the intel given to them prior leaving Russia, Emilia nodding as she knew the information given. She listened during the conference as well but she had a feeling with how Arash was behaving, he didn't catch up. Handing him back the file, she leaned against her seat and watched as Arash held the folder in a tight grasp.

"When the plane leaves Trabazon, it's stopping in Duga. That you know." He pauses and Emilia raises a brow at his words. "Here's what you don't know: Perseus won't be there and none of these hired guns are leaving Duga alive. We'll dump their bodies in the forest and move the weapons to Volkov in Berlin."

Emilia felt her gut churn as he talked, wondering why she didnt catch this in the meeting. Did they change plans? Why did Arash sound so...smug?

"From there, we'll fly to Solovetsky." A quiet sigh of relief escaped Emilia when she heard Solovetsky. Perhaps they found a threat on behalf of Perseus' wellbeing and changed the plan before her and Arash left. The driver pulled up at the airport, and Emilia watched with innocent eyes as Arash got out of the car. He stared at her and his next words sent her over the edge.

"But I have other plans for you. Perseus thinks too highly of you. I don't want competition." Before Emilia could react, Arash took out his pistol and shot the driver two times before shooting her. She let out a gasp, her hands immediately reaching up to apply pressure on her wound. Commotion occurred, gunfire and shouts and then loud explosives shaking Emilia as she tried grabbing her own pistol. Her arms shook and she let her hand fall, tears brimming the edges of her eyelids as she tried thinking on why Arash would do this. Sure he didn't like her but she thought they were fine. Before she knew it, her door was opened and a man shouted something she couldn't understand, as her ears ringed. She let herself fall into a dreamless yet painful slumber when the man laid her head against his chest.

So many secrets I couldn't keep.

Promised myself I wouldn't weep.

"FUCK!" Emilia screams out in Russian as another high voltage of electricity was released into her. She spat out blood onto the stained floor, growling when that bastard began speaking again.

"What. Is. Your. Name?!" "Go fuck yourself!" She shouts, only to whimper when he dug his nails into her face, the strong smell of his cologne suffocating her.

"You aren't making this easy, Red. You can save yourself from something much worst if you don't start talking" Emilia bared her teeth at him and growled, grunting when he backhanded her.

"My father used to say the same thing, bastard. He's dead." The man seemed surprised, with how his lips twitched and his body language momentarily deflated before he became rigid and stormed out of the room. He returned hours later with a woman, the same woman who helped him with interrogating her, and they talked in hushed whispers as the man grabbed a shot filled with a misty clear liquid. Emilia fought harder against her restraints as the man crept closer, but her struggles were in vain when he injected the liquid into her. He next week was going to be filled with pain and confusion and Emilia lost who she was.

One more promise I couldn't keep.

It seems no one care help me now,

I'm in too deep, there's no way out.

Emilia wasn't a person no more, but instead she became Bell. Bell admired her fellow comrades, having a close bond with her clandestine officer, Russell Adler. They fought in Vietnam together and have been working hip to hip since then, working on hunting down Perseus. But Bell noticed there were times where Adler or Park would act strange around him, often talking while sparing glances at her when they thought she didn't notice. It could be because she was an ex-KGB spy that was a traitor to the USSR as she released many of their secrets to the Western powers.

"Kid, come over here." Adler calls out, standing by by evidence board and inspecting it. Bell was there in a second, always so obedient to him. She admired Adler, thinking he was her best friend and the bravest man she knew. He was honest, sincere when she would get frustrated on not remembering her past. It was always the same sentence that would fly out of his mouth first when she got like that. 'Vietnam fucked you up, Bell. But I'm here to ground you to reality and I won't ever leave your side.'

"Yes sir?" She says in a chirpy voice, her whole being and personality innocent and child like. Her youthful face and big doe-like eyes made him suffer each day. Reminded him each day how old Bell actually is and he's practically torturing a kid. But this was for his nation. This was for millions, possibly billions, of people. He couldn't let his emotions stop him.

"How are you feeling? Hope our last mission didn't scare you off." He says softly, looking down at her as she remembered the events of 18 hours ago. She was to sneak into an enemy's house, which she did so with ease but right when she was going to plant a tracker in his briefcase, she found Greta in the closet and was then knocked out from behind. The men, Franz Kraus and Anton Volkov, had worked together to capture Greta and her. Bell was fearful that that was going to be her last day but Adler and the others swooped in and she killed that bastard, but his words of before the team coming in brought her in deep thought.

Had Perseus known her during her time in the KGB? Or was Volkov trying to fuck with her. She asked Adler but the events of the last few hours had seemed to disappear from her memory. She didn't pay no attention to it however.

"It'll take a lot to bring me down. You should know that, old man" She says teasingly, getting a chuckle out of him. He stuck out his hand and ruffled her hair, getting a protest from her as she batted away his hands.

"Glad to hear that, Bell. Now, let's go over what to expect for our next mission-"

This time I have really let myself astray.

Runaway train, never going back,

Wrong way on a one way track.

Seems like I should be getting somewhere,

Somehow I'm neither here nor there.

Russell Adler wasn't who Bell thought he was. He was a monster, a sick asshole who brainwashed her with false memories. Yet despite it all, she gave away Perseus' location of the nukes. Her mind was foggy and she didn't know her close relationship with Perseus and his agents. They booked it to Solovetsky real fast, everyone packed up and ready to go. Bell stopped in front of Lazar's little office space, a pressure against her eyes making her turn her head away and continue walking. She would be bring justice to Lazar, wherever he may be. Because he was not dead and she'll rip the world apart to make sure of it.

But her future plans were to be put to an abrupt end. She had stopped the nukes and saved the Free World. Adler called her a hero. But his words on the cliff proved his view on her wrong.

"You did good, Bell," he had said calmly, lighting up a cigarette and taking a inhale of the nicotine. "I just want you to know that this little thing that's happened between you and me... It was always for the greater good. Heroes have to make sacrifices. That's why when I ask you for one more, I hope you understand..." he tossed the barely used cigarette on the ground and grounded it with the heel of his boot, his movements raising red flags and Bell remembered the car to the airport, remembered Arash and she was quick to react this time.

"It was never personal."

Both agents whipped out their pistol and two shots echoed the Artic air. Adler staggered back, grunting as Bell's bullet hit him right in the shoulder. His eyes watched as Bell fell back, her hands going to her abdomen and applying pressure of the gunshot wound. Without another word, Adler left her for dead, in the cliffs of Solovetsky. This was her day, wasn't it? She didn't know why she was crying, the hot tears warming her face as the light breeze grew stronger. She should've known. Why did she tell him? This was her thanks?

"Fucking liar." She coughed out, wincing as her slight movements brought shocking waves of pain throughout her body. She didn't know how long she was alone for, didn't know how long she lay on a rocky surface, bleeding out. The crash of the waves below offered her a soothing distraction, her mind drifting off to questions she'll never get the answers to. Before she fell unconscious, shouts in Russian overshadowed the waves and a warm pair of hands grabbed her, and then she was out.

Can you help me remember how to smile,

Make it all seem worth while.

How on earth did I get so jaded,

Life's mystery seems so faded.

Emilia winced as another wave of electricity shot through her, the monotonous voice repeating his absurd questions.

"What did Adler do to you, Vindur?"

"F-fuck you...what you are doing to me isn't shit compared to what he has done! Bastard..." she muttered under her breath. She yelped when a needle poked her neck, her vision blurring and a loud static noise pounded against her eardrums. Bright red numbers swam around her vision as she thrashed against the leather straps holding her down, a deep voice calling her name somewhere.

"What is happening?!"

"12. 19. 14."

"Vindur?" Emilia let out a loud gasp, her eyes wide and wild and she tried looking around. Her eyes settled on a man, his face so familiar yet she couldn't grasp onto who he is.

"W-where am I? What happened?" She questioned, watching as he undid the buckles on the leather straps. She stared at her wrist, wincing at how red and bruised her pale skin was.

"Do you remember me, comrade?" His voice was as luring as his gentle touch, picking her up by her waist. She grunted, her legs weak and she nearly vomited at the sight of the dried blood all over the floor. "Sorry about the mess, comrade. But let's get you cleaned, you have an important mission."

"W-what is it?" She whispers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Kill Russell Adler."

I can go where no one else can go,

I know what no one else knows.

Here I am, just drowning in the rain,

With a ticket for a runaway train.

Emilia was trained to be the greatest agent in a span of four months. She was getting ready for her mission, to kill Russell Adler, and she had complicated feelings. She remembered what Adler did, the effects of MK Uktra worst than the effects of the Numbers. She learned about her time as a Perseus agent, remembered so many memories that her anger towards Stitch grew. They were the best of friends, they had each others backs, so why was he doing this to her? He claimed his doing was for her, so she can get revenge on Adler. She kept her words to herself, fearful that Stitch would attempt to trigger her brainwashing.

Checking her weapons, she was surprised when her door slammed open and Naga rushed in, shutting it behind him.

"Vindur, you need to leave!" He says urgently, going over to her window and sliding it open. Emilia raised a brow, getting more confused by the moment as Naga shoved some shirts, trousers, and undergarments into a duffle bag.

"What are you talking about, Kap?" She questions, stopping him in his tracks. He cupped her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes were unusually sad, a frown tugging down his lips as he pulled away from her.

"This isn't right, what Stitch is doing isn't right. Perseus doesn't doesn't know and I can't keep the secret any longer, it's hard just watching you being controlled! Leave Russia, and never come back. Start anew, I'm begging you Vindur. You are like a sister to me, and I can't stand seeing you in any more pain. You could leave tonight, and no one would know it for the next two hours." He pushed her coat towards her and slid a polaroid into her bag before zipping it back up. He pushed it to her and handed her a bag full of money.

"Naga...thank you." She gives his stubbled cheek a chaste kiss before going out the window, sticking to the shadows. She was out of Tula and managed to sneak aboard a train in 10 hours, her thoughts overwhelming. She didn't know where she was heading, only that she was stuck in a cycle similar to her childhood: running away.

And everything seems cut and dry,

Day and night

Earth and sky

Somehow I just don't believe it.

Emilia managed to get to England in four months, never staying in a city for more than 15 hours. She had earned very little money from tips, singing songs she remembered from her childhood, where Perseus would help her fall asleep. She set on a mission to find Park, managing to meet an undercover spy from MI6 and got them to contact Park. When Park saw her, her reaction would've been hilarious if Emilia hadn't been so confused.

"Bell?" She mumbled, a small smile tracing her lips. "It's felt like years! How's life, luv?"

"You...you didn't know..." Emilia turned around, controlling her anger before facing Park again, who held a clear expression of confusion. "Adler shot me, back in Solovetsky. Whatever he said was a goddamn lie. I'll explain the rest, I just need help. I know where Stitch is at."

Park nodded, leading her towards her car and she drove off to her office. Bell freshened up and got a new set of clothes, but her equipment was removed from her body once she stepped foot inside the office.

"What are you planning to do, Bell?" Park asked softly, swirling in her chair to look at the young woman. Bell forced a smile, staring off at the map Park had pinned up.

"America. I need to find the others...I need to find Adler."

Runaway train never going back

Wrong way on a one-way track

Seems like I should be getting somewhere

Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Park managed to get the MI6 to give Emilia a free flight to the US, looking unsure as Emilia packed her bag.

"He brainwashed you, Bell. He shot you. Shouldn't you hate him?" She exclaimed, concern in her tone of voice. Emilia smiled reassuringly, embracing the older woman tightly.

"I know he regrets his choices. He wasn't in his right mind, he was following orders. I would've done the same." When Emilia left, Park watched the plane disappear with a sigh.

"Damn it Bell...you're too good for this world."

Bought a ticket for a runaway train

Like a madman laughing at the rain

A little out of touch, a little insane

It's just easier than dealing with the pain

Adler was shocked when he saw Bell storming over to him, claded in tactical gear and holding a sniper. His mission was going south and Woods was actually considering in having them retreat but Adler was desperate to find Naga, who had been caught wondering around the isolated town. She was alive and angry and before Adlet could react, she punched him square in the face. Woods made a noise of surprise and Mason watched with amusement before being told to grab Bell. Bell put her hands up in surrender, her glare sending shivers down Adler's spine.

"B-bell?" He stutters out in disbelief, despite her punching him not a minute ago. She smirked at him and lowered her hands, swinging her sniper over her shoulder.

"The one and only, Russ."

"Wait- Bell, how'd you know we were here?" Mason asks, tilting his head to the side. Bell pats his shoulder and pointed behind her.

"We'll catch up once we get the fuck out of this barren. Adler, hurry up and lead your goddamn team." She orders, already running towards where she came from. Adler blushes, ordering his team to follow Bell as they went into the dead forest, seeing a helicopter awaiting their arrival. Bell stood by it, handing each of his men a water pouch, and they seemed amazed at her kindness since they just witnessed her punch their officer. Adler felt unsteady when he saw one of his mouthy troops try and flirt with Bell, who only shrugged him off and ordered him to aboard.

"Come on, Adler, I ain't going to leave you. I'm not a monster." She says tauntingly, sticking out her head and pulling him in.

"Okay, care to explain what the fuck is going on?" Woods shouts, getting Mason to nudge him. "What? We haven't seen Bell in so damn long and as happy as I am she's here, she couldn't at least end us a postcard?!"

Bell turned to look at Adler, who bowed his head in shame. When she was about to explain what truly happened, Adler spoke up. "I shot her, back in Solovetsky. It was an order but I should have gone against them because of everything I've done to Bell." He trails off and Bell wants to strangle him when he realizes that he wasn't even told them about her brainwashing.

"What- what did you do to Bell?" Mason asks, looking so confused that it was both a sad and adorable sight.

"I brainwashed her, with MK Ultra. We needed information on Perseus and she wouldn't tell us anything, so Park and I decided to brainwash her. I put in memories of my time in Vietnam into her own memories, as MK Ultra is powerful enough to remove all her memories, but I had some mercy. I regret-" for the second time that day Adler was punched, but this time from Mason, who was shaking like a leaf.

"You knew- you knew what happened to me, and you do the same to Bell?! W-why?! I was told I can trust you!" He shouted, getting Woods to try and pull him back but he batted his friends hands away. Bell stood and forced Mason to sit down, running her hands through his soft hair as she hummed a song.

"It's okay, Alex. I'm here and sane, yeah?" She tries laughing but it comes out choked. Adler watched them, the guilt he's been living for the past several months growing. Despite everything, Bell would come running in to save his ass.

The world doesn't deserve you, kid, he thought sadly.

Runaway train never going back

Wrong way on a one-way track

Seems like I should be getting somewhere

Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Two years passed and Bell was the general and new leader of Task Force Vanguard, old World War Two Axis secrets arising and Captain Butcher had contacted her when he learned of her skills. She took the offer and traveled the world in search for the four former operators of Vanguard, getting them to agree and rejoin. They managed to find old projects that the offspring of officer krauts were trying to bring into action and destroy them, thier mission to ensure the Free World was safe from entering a new world war.

Another year passed and Bell was put into a stage of rage, depression, and delirium when she learned that Adler was captured and brainwashed. Mason and Hudson made an attempt to reduce the effects and triggering of his brainwashing, succeeding but like Mason and Bell, this was something he has to live for the rest of his life. Bell had embraced him so tightly, her anger towards Stitch growing because she knew he was responsible. She had a theory she was actually a test subject for the Numbers program, meaning that Stitch has been planning this for years. A couple days after Adler's "debrainwashing" they found Stitch's location. Bell was there but stayed back, trusting that Adler wouldn't get himself killed. Around four minutes after Adler left, a gunshot rang out and Bell broke out in a run. She knew Adler was going to kill Stitch but what if that ain't hisnshot? And for some reason she needed to see Stitch, one last time. She found Adler shortly, her eyes casting down to the prone figure of Stitch. She knelt besides him and winced at the gaping gunshot wound in his head. She removed his signature gas mask and smiled sadly.

"He was always obsessed with this..." she whispers. Adler knelt down besides her and brought her into a tight hug.

"He's gone, kid."

And maybe Bell just hoped to see Perseus with Stitch, and her wish came true but in a different way. Her father figure was gone and Bell didn't hold back her sobs. Was this part of the war over? She hoped it was.

"I love you, Bell."

"I love your too, Russ."

Runaway train never coming back

Runaway train tearing up the track

Runaway train burning in my veins

I run away but it always seems the same

#cod cold war #cod bell #oc bell #cod fanfic #cod adler #cod perseus #cod perseus agents #cod stitch #mk ultra #numbers program

15 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: The Stealth Suit

Summary: Katie has a Stealth Suit Kink, but who doesn’t??

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT NSFW and NO UNDER 18s!!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark.

A/N: Let’s face it…there’s no plot here bar a load of smut so…yeah.. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“For the 500th time…I’m FINE, Steve!” Katie snapped at him. Steve took a deep breath, his hands falling to his hips as the jet fell silent. “I’m not the one with a bullet in my leg” “There’s nothing in my leg!” A voice said causing them to turn to the back of the jet where Natasha was sat, Clint wrapping her leg in a bandage. “Its just a graze…” “Nat, I’m so sorry…” Katie started and Nat shook her head, waving her hand. “Nova, I told you to take the shot.” She shrugged “It was a 50/50…ee had to take the chance. Besides, it hit him too so…” “2 people, 1 bullet…” Clint grinned, but Katie couldn’t find it in herself to smile. “I told Fury this was a bad idea…” she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come.” Clint frowned “Hey, Nova look…I know you’re not technically an agent now but we’d have been out numbered and out gunned without you…it would have been a lot worse.” Katie didn’t say anything. Instead she simply nodded and headed over to retrieve a bottle of water before she sat down. How she had gotten roped into this she had no idea. Actually that was a lie. She knew exactly how it had happened. SHIELD had been tracking a big player who had been bragging amongst certain circles that he had something new, a game changer in the world of arms dealing- a piece of the whiplash technology that Ivan Vanko had developed and used to fight Tony back in 2010. As Tony was currently in London, Fury had asked Katie to look over the blueprints Natasha had retrieved whilst undercover. She had JARVIS confirm it was, indeed, a similar technology and that she also knew from history with Stark Industries that it would be possible to manufacture with the right equipment. That was enough for Fury to run a full scale op to exfil Natasha at the same time as shutting the target down and acquiring the designs to prevent this happening again in the future. Katie had been all set to wish them good luck when Clint had levelled her with a look and told her they were a sniper down as Evans had broken his arm in a training op. Katie had shrugged until Fury had looked at her, asking her to take a place on the field team for this particular mission, and as she had sighed Steve had turned to her and simply said that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to whilst crossing his arms over the front of his broad chest which was adorned with the silver star and stripes…and that was it. She had agreed.

Because she had a weakness for her soldier…and a fucking kink for that goddamned midnight blue and silver kevlar. The mission had gone to shit. They’d gotten what they needed, Katie covering the rendezvous point where they were meeting Natasha only to see her approaching being followed by a man with some form of machete looking weapon. Katie didn’t have a clear shot as Natasha started to duck and dive out of the hostile’s way but Natasha had instructed her to take it anyway. So she did and the bullet had hit it’s intended target…after first grazing Natasha’s thigh as she had thrown her legs up around the guys chest to flip him over. “Stop beating yourself yourself up about it Nova.” Rumlow piped up “Sometimes we take collateral and this time collateral was Widow.” Katie gave an angry noise and turned to Rumlow “I don’t like collateral on any fucking scale Brock…” Rumlow looked as if he was going to bite back but Steve shot him a look causing the man to fall silent. Katie shook her head and made her way back to the seat, pulling our her StarkPhone and burying herself in her actual job, replying to a few emails. Once the debrief was over and Katie had apologised, once again to Natasha, she headed off to the locker room. “You should go talk to her.” Nat looked at Steve as he stood up from where he had been undoing the buckles on his boots. “She’s pissed…” “She’s upset.” Steve corrected. “Get to Medical, that’s an order.” “I’ll see to it she does Cap.” Clint assures him. Steve gave a nod, swinging his shield up onto his back before he headed off after Katie, taking the elevator down to the floor which held the equipment stores and the changing rooms. He knocked on the female one, poking his head in as he knew she would be the only one in there given the hour and the fact Nat was the only other female on the mission. “Honey?” He asked softly as he stepped inside. She emerged from the locker area, dressed in the tight compression tank-top and shorts she wore under the catsuit. “You ok?” “No.” She admitted to him. “Not really…” He sighed and crossed towards her, pulling her into a hug. She pressed her check to his chest as he dropped a kiss to her head. “It wasn’t your fault.” He said and she shrugged in his arms. He pulled back slightly and tilted her chin up with his glove clad hand and she allowed him to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Katie pulled back, and Steve watched as she cocked her head to one side, biting her lip.

He knew that look very well. “You’re a nightmare…” he chuckled, arching an eyebrow and she shrugged, running her hands up his chest, fingers tracing the silver star. He caught her wrists in his hands and she glanced up at him, swallowing at the darkness that was now in his eyes as they flashed with desire. Without a word he reached down, hands hooking on her thighs as he hoisted her up, his lips crashing to hers, her legs wrapped around his waist, underneath the edge of his shield on his back. Shucking off his boots, he strode out of the main area of the room through to the wet room at the back where he gently set her down on the edge of the counter which held the sinks along the edge of the room. He shifted his hands to her back, holding her strongly to him, lips moving from her mouth to her jaw line and then her neck where he nipped gently. Katie gave a groan and her hands dropped to his utility belt, hastily unclipping it before she next went to the button and zips on his uniform pants. “Want something baby girl?” He teased “You know what I want…” she said as he grinned and decided to help her out. He reached for the waist band of his combats, intending on pushing them down over his hips but she stopped him. “Leave it on” “What?” He asked, his voice was gravely from his arousal and he wasn’t quite sure be had heard her right. “You know I love this suit…” she said, reaching into his flies and grabbing his length on her hand, drawing a load grunt from his mouth as she freed him through the space now his trousers were undone at the front. “Leave it on…” “Yes ma'am.” He mumbled, one hand tangling in her hair, the other on the base of her spine as he pulled her close for another deep kiss. He gripped the bottom of her compression tank top and she moved her arms so he could pull it over the top, freeing her breasts and she gave a soft sigh as his head dropped to her chest. His tongue gently traced her nipple, teasing it to a peak as his other hand rubbed at her core through her lycra shorts which were fast becoming soaked. She groaned, her head falling back as Steve grinned to himself, the sight of her simply surrendering herself completely to him in such a raw, trusting and unabashed way was something he would never tire of. His lips traced upwards and he felt her gently pushing on his chest through his uniform. Stepping back slightly, he watched as she jumped down and pushed him round so he had his back to the counter before she dropped to her knees, hands sliding up to the back of his thighs. “Fuck…” he half groaned, half cursed as Katie licked the underside of his shaft making her way from the base up to the tip. She looked up at him, his still gloved hand fell to the back of her head, gently tangling in her hair, the other one grasping at the marble counter top behind him. Maintaining eye contact, Katie wrapped her lips around him and slowly moved her mouth up and down her fingers tightening on the backs of his thighs as he did so. He allowed her to control the pace, his hand simply resting in her hair as her head moved back and forth. His eyes never left hers, the mischievous twinkle still present and as she took him to the back of her throat he let out a loud hiss as his cock twitched. His fingers tightened around the marble top and it was then that they both heard a loud cracking noise. Katie stilled, releasing him from her mouth with a small pop and looked up as Steve glanced at the place his hand rest, the side now displaying finger shaped marks in the marble. “Something got you worked up Soldier?” Katie teased and with that Steve gently tugged her hair. “Get up here…” he instructed softly and she did as she was told, rising to her feet. Grabbing her hips he spun her around and pushed her roughly against the sink basin. His hands tore the fabric of her shorts easily and he tossed the shreds of lycra to the side before he pressed his body into hers, one hand settling on her hip, the other ever so tenderly wrapped around the front of her throat. Steve leaned forward, lips by her ear as he used the hand on her neck to hold her head in place so she was looking directly in the mirror. His eyes locked onto hers as he whispered his simple instruction. “Watch” He saw a flicker in her ears, excitement, as he used his foot to knock her legs apart, bending her forwards slightly before he buried himself in her in one slow, deliberate move, eyes not once leaving hers in the mirror. He saw her face screw up in pleasure as she gave a moan at being taken this way and the hand on her throat gave a gentle squeeze. “Eyes on me doll…” he instructed. Her eyes opened again and locked back onto his as he moved his hips, rocking into her, as deep as he could get. Her back arched, her mouth freely allowing her soft cries and whispers to escape while he thrust deeply into her, again and again. The feeling was exquisite to Katie. He always felt good but now, accompanied by the feel and scratch of that suit against her skin, the noises it was making as it rustled with each movement, the clinging of buckles and belts and then the fact he was being so dominant, ensuring she did as she was told and watched him…fuck, she was all kinds of turned on here. The hand that had been on her hip crept round the front if he belly and Steve reached down, teasing her clit, causing her to shudder and a loud wail of pleasure fell from her lips. Steve chuckled slightly, eyes on hers in the mirror. “Shhhh” he said softly, before he smirked “Like that, huh?” “Fuck, yes…” she groaned, as the hand on her neck moved to the side of her face and Steve turned her head so he could kiss her, his hips moving faster now as he could feel himself starting to unravel. “You close baby?” His voice was a whisper and she answered him with a soft moan as his fingers continued to work in time with his trust, his mouth moving to her jaw line, nipping softly before his hand, once again on her neck, forced her face round to look at him in the glass again. “Cap…Captain…I’m gonna…” “Let go…c'mon…thass my girl…” his Brooklyn accent rolled off his tongue as he continued his deliberate thrusts into her, hand holding her neck in place so her face was focused on his in the mirror. He watched carefully, as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she reached up, grabbing at his arm, as he felt her tightening around him, her legs shaking as she gave a loud, drawn out moan, her entire body convulsing. When Katie opened her eyes she saw Steve’s own flutter shut, his mouth dropping open as his head fell forward, pressing into her neck, biting down softly as he groaned, hips faltering with his release. She watched him, those long eyelashes resting against his now flushed cheeks and when they cracked open to reveal those deep blue eyes she had fallen in love with from the very start, she gave him a soft smile which he returned, tipping her head to kiss him. “You ok?” He asked, his hands sliding over her belly, noticing the marks where she had banged into the unit, frowning slightly. “Did I…” “Stop it…” she instructed him, looking at him. “I’m fine…more than fine…that was amazing.” He chuckled, a swell of smugness in his chest warmed him through as he kissed the side of her neck. “Guess you really do like this suit, huh?” He asked as she turned to look at him, her hands tracing the lines of the star. “Prefer the guy that’s in it but…yeah, not gonna lie. It does things to me…your ass looks great.” She said, looking round him as he laughed. “Its all yours baby” he quipped and she grinned, leaning up to kiss him. “I need a shower.” She mumbled “you joining me?” “Can I take the suit off for that?” He asked. She nodded as her lips ghosted over his “Like I said, the suit’s a kink…what I really love is the man in it.” 30 seconds later said suit was not so stealthily littered around the female changing rooms as Steve backed his girl into the large, rainfall shower cubicle, shutting the glass door behind him with his foot.

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

99 notes · View notes

mizelophsun11 · 3 years ago

Text

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 3

Pairing - The pairing right now is General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner and then will move forward to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - The Sun Summoner has been found! The unlikely orphan from Ketterdam seems to hold the most important power. She must figure out how she fits into the world now that everything has changed for her. A new life is thrusted upon her and she will have to figure out how she will take it all in.

Word Count - 1698

Anna groaned, opening her eyes trying to figure out what was going on. One moment she had been in complete darkness and now she had a Healer kneeling over her. She tried to look over where she last remembered seeing Mal and Alina, she gasped in pain as the Healer continued to work on her.

“Hold on, your collarbone is fractured” she said and worked to heal her collarbone and anything else that Anna needed done

“Wait, Mal.. Alina.. One is a tracker and the other is a map maker, where are they?..” she struggled to speak

“First army goes to medical now please try to stay still” the Healer said and continued to look for anything else that might be broken

Zoya approached them “we have to bring her to General Kirigan’s tent”

“I am not done healing her” the Healer countered

“You can go with her, General Kirigan needs to see her now” Zoya said

The Healier finished making sure that Anna felt comfortable then she was taken to General Kirigans tent. Anna was still slightly out of it, she felt like she had been drained of all of her energy. As she approached the black tent with the guards holding her arms she was amazed by what she saw inside but was also scared. All of this had to be a mistake, she shouldn’t be here, after all she was just a map maker who only had a few years of combat training under her belt.

General Kirigan turned around from looking at the map on the table “what are you?”

“Um.. I am a map maker sir, that's all”

The Grisha in the tent giggled at her response, Anna felt self conscious about her answer but she was telling the truth “Quiet” General Kirigan commanded, everyone stopped laughing “so what actually happened? Zoya? You manned the main sail” he looked over to her

“We were attacked barley two marks in, someone lit a lantern” Zoya replayed the events out loud and in her mind

“And?” General Kirigan asked

“It was her” Zoya answered, point to Anna “she created the light that killed the swarming volcra”

“Our mapmaker.. Is it true? Can you summon light? Where did you grow up?” he looked back over at Anna, with every piece seeming to fall into place, this girl seemed to be at the center of it all

“I don’t remember having a family, I spent a lot of time on the streets of Ketterdam trying to survive, but when I was around 10 Duke Keramsov took me back to his orphanage across the Fold” Anna had never talked much about her childhood, but here she was telling a stranger

“Hmm, and when were you tested?” General Kirigan knew that she had not been tested before, but he wanted to know why from her

“Well, when I was brought over I was past the age of when they would normally test children so on testing day I would be shoved away into a room where they would lock me in there until the testers left” Anna knew that didn’t sound good, but it was the truth and honestly she was glad because then she would not be separated from her friends.

General Kirigan nodded, he was angry about the treatment Anna had when Grisha testers came to the orphanage she had grown up in, but he would fix their mistakes now “If you have never been tested, let us just make certain” he walked up to her taking his claw ring off his pinking and onto his thumb “roll up your sleeve” he summoned shadow into the tent

She rolled her sleeve up, there was nothing she would have to be nervous about. In the moment, she didn’t feel scared, it was as if General Kirigan made her feel less afraid with his presence. Anna had only felt something like this once but, that had been a long time ago when she had a certain boy at her side until he had disappeared. He pulled her sleeve up just a little bit more and used his claw ring to cut her arm and from that wound a burst of pure light came out lighting up the tent and going through the top, everyone in the camp would be able to see. Anna could not believe what she was seeing, pure sunlight was coming out from her arm. General Kirigan smiled at her, seeing the amazement in her eyes, after a bit longer he closed off the cut which stopped the light from coming.

“Ivan” General Kirigan called for him “take her to my coach, I want as many armed guards with her at all times until she is safe behind the walls of the Little Palace”

“Yes sir” Ivan called a few guards over and they ushered Anna out of the tent and towards General Kerrigan's coach.

“Wait, I want to see my friends before I leave, please!” Anna had not seen them since everything went down inside the Fold, they had been taken to medical already by the time she woke up

“No, we have to get you to the Little Palace right now, the sun is beginning to set and there is no doubt every enemy who knows of your existence will be after you now” Ivan kept trying to get Anna to the coach, but she kept trying to fight them

As they approached the coach there was a Healer standing there where he went to make sure Anna was completely healed and took care of the cut on her arm. The Healer then took off his Kefta and gave it to her, she didn’t take it right away but he insisted. It would keep her safe during her journey to the Little Palace.

“Please I just want to make sure my friends are alright” Anna pleaded one more time before they left

“Like I have said, we need to leave now, we must start our journey, we can’t waste a moment. You don’t understand that by now every Shu Han assassin and Fjerdan spy will be after you” with the sun beginning to set in the west and to avoid any danger they would have to leave now while they had some natural cover

Anna knew that she could not fight Ivan and the guards off forever and was about to get into the coach when she saw Mal and Alina trying to make their way over to her “Mal! Alina!” she stepped down and went to run to them but was stopped by another Heartrender

“Miss Mizeloph we have to leave now” Fedyor commanded holding onto her arm

“Anna!” They yelled trying to get closer but where stopped by guards

“Please I need them” she was exhausted, this day had been very draining for her and just a few minutes with her friends would mean the world to her

“I am sorry but you cannot, we must leave now” Fedyor with the help of Ivan were finally able to get Anna into the coach

Once she was shoved into the coach and it started to move, Anna found the back window and pulled the curtains back. She yelled to her friends as she saw them trying to get past the guards to catch up, but there was no way possible for them to get close as the coach left. Once they got farther away from Kribirsk Anna sat down and looked at the two Heartrenders. She sighed and held the Kefta close to herself, so much was running through her mind. Only moments ago she was just another map maker, to now discover she was the legendary Sun Summoner. As the coach continued to move, Anna looked out the window to see the rising moon in the sky, lanterns had been lit to be able to see where they were going.

“So.. I know you are Ivan, who are you?” Anna looked back at the other Heartrender

“My name is Fedyor, and I am sorry about earlier, but we had needed to leave, it is dangerous for you now out in the open and we could not waste a moment to get you to Os Alta behind the walls of the Little Palace”

“Yeah.. I just, this isn’t normal, people coming after me like this. Even in Ketterdam I was never really sought after” Anna went back to looking out the window

“Well they will, if you are truly the Sun Summoner you are the key to taking down the Fold and the Fjerdan and Shu Han will make sure that they will give it their all to make sure that does not happen” Ivan said while looking out the window

“You are after all a hope to our country, it was Grisha who created the Fold and if one can destroy it then maybe.. We could finally be free of its burden, we would no longer be hunted because of who we are'' Anna looked at Fedyor once he was done talking to see that he had a small smile on his face, for him there was hope

Anna looked between the two men and knew that there was so much more to being a Grisha that she did not understand. Just yesterday she had been complaining about how the Grisha at Kirbisk wanted more space to train. However, they had not always had those luxuries, they had once been hunted and in reality they wanted to be treated like others. Grisha could practice the small science at their will, there should be no reason for them to be called witches and hunted until they are all dead. Now that Anna was Grisha she feared that she would now be hunted, always with a pair of eyes over her shoulder to try and survive. She sighed and realized that this would be a long journey, it would be a good idea to get some shut eye before her life changed forever at the Little Palace. Anna closed her eyes and was able to fall asleep pretty quickly, she had started to feel safe with Ivan and Fedyor, knowing they would protect her.

Author Note - I would like to send another big thank you to everyone who has liked my story and left a post! I also wanted to address a question someone had and thought it would be good for everyone to know, Anna is the only Sun Summoner in this story. Just incase anyone else was wondering about that there is the answer. I will be continuing to post chapters and if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know! I would be happy to add you!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #ben barnes #freddy carter #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #grisha fic #grishaverse #the grisha series

36 notes · View notes

oddsconvert · 2 years ago

Text

😭 WAAAAA 😭

My heart is literally withering inside my chest. I'm empty. That poor poor angel, even when he's allowed to speak nothing he says matters! Muzzle only comes off for Ivan's sick wants 😤

Poor poor Jackie - Joe and Momma bear need to find him STAT!!!! He's so absolutely distraught and broken but 'performing' for Ivan because it's what he's used to.

*If he ever stops using that hoodie/finding comfort in it I'm actually just gonna go missing. I'm running away from life*

behavior modification, part nineteen

<- previous, masterlist here

content warnings for: EXPLICIT ORAL NONCON, references to past noncon & implied CSA, forced nudity, restraints, muzzles, electrocution, emotional manipulation, references to sensory deprivation, dehydration, minor blood, and adult language

part nineteen, case notes

After extended sensory deprivation, the subject demonstrated characteristic anxiety and fatigue, exacerbated by moderate dehydration and disruption of his circadian rhythm. No cognitive tests were administered, but the subject showed acute sensitivity to all sensory stimuli immediately following reintroduction. Results suggest possible use of deprivation to encourage increased responsiveness in Romantic protocols.

–

When Ivan returns an hour later, sweet little Jack is keening beneath his muzzle, the beads still thrumming relentlessly inside of him. His naked body is drenched in sweat, and every leather-wrapped muscle is taut against the sheets. It’s extreme, Ivan thinks, to go from complete sensory deprivation to this kind of overstimulation; he wonders what Jackie will be willing to do to make it stop, how good he will promise to be–if he can even speak. But it isn’t necessary that he speak at all. His pretty pink mouth has plenty of other uses, and it’s time it gets some practice.

Ivan punches the remote in his pocket, and the beads rev down. Jack’s chest still beats in frantic pants, but his body deflates against the sweat-stained sheets. His red cheeks are streaked with fresh tears; his fluids are up, then. Ivan brushes one away with his thumb, and Jack flinches, eyes darting beneath his blindfold.

“There now, Jackie,” Ivan says, “you should be a bit perkier now, shouldn’t you?”

Jack whines low in his throat. His head bobs back and forth, like he’s looking for something–only he doesn’t have eyes to see. Not just yet.

“Didn’t you like that, baby?”

Jack shakes his head, the leash rattling against the headboard behind him. Ivan can hear the way his throat flutters, searching for unobstructed breath. It’s beautiful.

Ivan chuckles. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. But it’s necessary. If you’re going to embarrass yourself with displays like the one you made when I brought you up here, you should know that I’m only going to humiliate you further. You have to learn. Joe deserves a good boy, doesn’t he? Especially since he’s taken on damaged goods.”

Jack is silent, but a new tear slips from beneath the black silk over his eyes. His body still trembles.

Good, then. Let Jack think that his Joe is behind this. Perhaps it will give him the motivation he needs to really commit to his training.

And surely, when it’s all done, when sweet Jackie is a product and no longer a person, Joe will be broken too.

Ivan smiles.

“You should know better, shouldn’t you?” he purrs, leaning close to Jack’s ear. “You should know better than to fight. It’s never gotten you anywhere, has it?”

Jack doesn’t move, but Ivan can see his eyes squeeze beneath the blindfold. He drops a kiss to Jack’s forehead and then busies himself with removing the IV line.

“I promised I’d never use your pleasure as punishment, didn’t I?” Ivan says, pressing his thumb to stop the blood welling from Jack’s forearm.

The boy whimpers, but he doesn’t stir. He can’t, really. Not with the cuffs and chains still keeping him tethered to himself. Ivan secures Jack’s wrist back to the belt at his hip.

“And that wasn’t meant to make you feel good. It will be a while before I can grant you that luxury. You’ve done nothing to deserve it, have you?”

He lets his hand rest against the metal fixture that traps Jack’s cock and presses down hard. A groan shreds in Jack’s throat, his muscles cording beneath his collar.

“But I told you: you’re going to perform for me, Jackie. Do it well, and I won’t hurt you again today. And then, we’ll put you back in that bag and see if you can’t behave better the next time I let you out.”

Jack tries to buck away from Ivan’s touch, but bound up as he is, he only succeeds in wriggling like an oversized worm. Ivan laughs and unwinds the leash from the headboard before the boy can strangle himself. He lifts Jack’s head to unbuckle the muzzle; sweet Jackie will need his mouth for what comes next.

“P-p-please!” Jack bleats as soon as the leather falls away. His lips are bloody, white slivers of dead skin flaking off of them.

Ivan throws him on the floor and jams his hand into his pocket for the remote to the boy’s collar. Jack’s bound body arches against the bedroom carpet, and if he screams, no one can hear.

“Oh, Jackie, my sweet boy. I told you, no fighting.”

Ivan wrenches Jack to his knees by the hair, and the boy’s cry is dry and husky. Ivan is sure that those pretty blue eyes are blinking back tears behind their blindfold. He’s beautiful this way, even if he is disobedient.

No matter. Ivan is confident he can make him obey.

“Please,” Jack rasps, his face turning blindly to find Ivan in the dark. His bottom lip trembles, and he rocks back and forth over his leatherbound knees. “Please, I can’t–you don’t know–I can’t–I can’t–I can’t–”

“I do know,” Ivan says gently. “I know what Bill Chester did to you–”

“--no, no, please–”

“--how good you were for him. I know how good you were for all of the men who came after. But you know who you haven’t been good for, Jackie?”

Jack’s head hangs. “No.” The word stretches long, like an animal’s lowing.

Ivan kneels in front of him, steadying Jack’s head with both his hands. “You can do this, Jackie. You’ve done it before.”

“Joe–Joe, he wouldn’t–”

“Maybe he wouldn’t,” Ivan says thoughtfully, “but you should have made him see. He’s better than you are, Jackie. He deserves more. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” Jack whispers.

Ivan’s knuckles graze Jack’s cheek. “Do you love him?”

Jack’s head bobs between Ivan’s hands. “Yes.”

“Don’t you want him to love you? Don’t you want to be worthy of him?”

Sweet little Jack actually flinches. Ivan’s hands drop and take hold of his bare shoulders.

“I know, Jackie. I know that it’s hard. But this is what you were meant for. You know it, don’t you? Joe was only too kind to ask. That’s why I have to help him.”

For a moment, Jack’s head sinks backward, like he’s about to protest. And then he slumps over his knees, limp as a ragdoll.

He knows what he is now. And he wants to be good for his Joe. It’s the only thing he can be.

“It’s alright, Jackie,” Ivan murmurs. He kisses the boy’s eyes over the blindfold, and Jack shudders. “It’s alright, sweet boy. It’ll be easier now, won’t it? Now that you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, baby?”

“Sir,” Jack whispers, and his chest beats with a ragged sob. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy, Jackie.”

Ivan stands, letting his fingertips slip across Jack’s shoulders as he goes. It’s criminal, how soft the boy’s skin is. He takes Jack’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, pressing into the hollows of Jack’s cheeks and forcing his mouth open. He stuffs his thumb into Jack’s mouth and drags it across his tongue.

“Close your lips, baby,” Ivan says. “And suck.”

Jack complies, even as his body tenses and jerks with sobs he won’t let go. His mouth is dry–too dry for Ivan’s purpose. The boy needs water. Ivan pulls away. He runs his thumb over Jack’s bloody lips. They feel like sandpaper.

“Are you thirsty, Jackie?”

Jack nods, his head so loose on his shoulders that it seems to bobble.

“Then, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll get you some water, and then, you’ll show me how good you can be. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Please–sir. Sir.”

Ivan scratches behind Jack’s ear, and he can feel where the muzzle’s strap has started to wear a groove into the bone.

“I’m sure your Joe would love to hear you say that, wouldn’t he?”

Ivan leaves him for a moment to get the water, and when he returns, darling Jack–still blind, still bound–laps the water from the glass at his lips like a helpless kitten. It takes longer than Ivan would like, but when Jack finishes, Ivan sets the glass aside and turns Jack’s head forward.

“I’ll give you another when we’re done, huh?”

Jack doesn’t answer. His body thrums like a live wire twitching on pavement. There’s no way for the boy to anchor himself, and no way for him to escape. Ivan taps his lips with the tip of his index finger.

“Open up, sweet boy,” he whispers.

And Jack does. Tears seep from beneath his blindfold, but he opens his pretty pink mouth and lets his tongue drop over his bottom lip, ever so slightly. His top lip starts to curl over his teeth.

Perhaps he hasn’t done this with Joe, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. He’s been well taught.

Ivan opens his fly and wraps his hand around his own length, guiding himself toward Jackie’s open mouth. He rests his tip on Jack’s waiting tongue and then thrusts in without urgency, forcing Jack to fight his own resistance, to take him down slowly. There is a muffled cry that shakes against Ivan’s shaft, and he arches his back, pushing harder, further. Jack doesn’t fight him, but Ivan can feel the way the boy’s body still shakes.

“Show Joe how good you can be,” Ivan says, letting the words drip like honey. He tangles his fingers in Jack’s dark hair, yanking him back and then pushing him down again. Jack groans, but he can’t retreat. “Move, Jackie. Show me.”

There is a moment of hesitation, and Ivan feels Jack’s tongue–still not as wet as it could be, but soft, like so much silk–twitch beneath his length.

And then, he moves. Even without his hands, Jack bobs forward in one practiced motion, smooth and habitual. Ivan keeps his hands in the boy’s hair to guide him when he can’t balance, but Jack, it seems, doesn’t need his tutelage. His tongue circles Ivan’s head when he pulls back, presses down to the floor of his pert little mouth when he moves forward. He moves with a cringing confidence; he knows what he’s doing, but Ivan can tell that he wishes he didn’t. He forces bursts of hot air from his nostrils, and his tears do not stop, but neither does he stop moving.

When Ivan reaches between them to tilt Jack’s chin, Jack stretches his lips and lets Ivan slip into his throat without a fight. Ivan’s fingers stroke over the bulge of Jack’s Adam’s apple, over the fullness beneath Jack’s collar, and he smiles.

Joe’s been wasting his sweet little Jackie all this time. Ivan will not make the same mistake.

–

Alternating deprivation with overstimulation proved successful in terms of making the subject more compliant with specific directives, particularly those related to his designation as a Romantic. The subject was also more vulnerable to direct emotional manipulation, which suggests that allowing trainees to retain their memories may be useful overall. Using suggestion and directed misinformation, memories may be reframed in order to harness specific vulnerabilities and modify motivational scripts.

Subject’s ability level under duress also suggests the efficacy of seeking out trainees with designation-specific experience.

–

Jack wakes in his crate. Ivan told him he earned a little respite before he goes back inside the leather bag, because he did such a good job. He was such a sweet boy. Joe would be proud of him. Satisfied. That’s what Ivan said.

Ivan took off the blindfold, and he didn’t replace the muzzle. He removed the beads and slipped Jack back into a pair of soft boxer briefs. He’d spooned yogurt into Jack’s mouth, given him water. He’d even chained Jack’s arms to either side of the crate, low, so his shoulders wouldn’t hurt, and let his head rest against Joe’s balled-up hoodie.

Jack knows he should be grateful, that the lingering punch of rotten salt left on his tongue would be worse beneath the muzzle’s metal bit, but all he feels is empty.

“You did so well, Jackie,” Ivan said when he locked the crate door. “I don’t know why you would keep that from Joe. You’re made for this, aren’t you?”

He is. He remembers now. The ache in his throat is enough of a reminder.

He remembers all of the men that came before, the way they would grab his hair and fuck into him like they couldn’t get enough. He remembers the guards at juvenile detention, how he was the take in every Friday night poker game, all of them vying for a taste–just a taste, they said, but it was never true. He remembers Bill, and the gentle fingertips that would brush away his tears, even while his mouth was still full.

They told him he was sweet. Good. So good.

Jack’s head shifts against the fabric of Joe’s hoodie, and he catches the barest breath of Joe’s smell. It isn’t comforting now. It’s sharp, and it cannot overpower the sweat and sex that cling to Jack’s skin.

He’d tried to do it for Joe, when they first started seeing one another. He remembers the way Joe’s back arched when Jack took him down, how he’d called out Jack’s name, how Jack had known just what to do to make him feel good. But he’d fucked up. He got confused, the way he sometimes did, and he forgot it was Joe. He’d pulled back, and he hadn’t even realized he was crying until Joe was on the floor with him, catching Jack’s tear-streaked face between his hands.

Joe swore he would never ask him to do it again. He said he would never ask Jack to do anything that reminded him of what came before.

Jack shouldn’t have let him make those promises.

Of course, Joe would get frustrated. Of course, Joe would want more. Jack has given so much more to so many other people. Doesn’t Joe deserve the same?

He does. He does. And Jack doesn’t deserve to refuse him. Jack knows that. He’s always known it–he’s just been too afraid to believe it.

It was nice to pretend, for a while. He can’t pretend anymore.

He lets his cheek rest against the hoodie, and he tries to ignore the tears that pool in his eyes. It’s silly to cry now. He is safe. He can rest. He did a good job. He’s a good boy.

But he doesn’t feel like one.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” he murmurs into the dark. A sob catches in his chest, and his shoulders jolt against the floor. “I promise I’ll do better.”

–

The subject showed a willingness to improve designation-specific practices after primary positive reinforcement. Results suggest a cycle of deprivation, overstimulation, compulsory performance, and reward may cultivate behavioral patterns in line with company expectations without any psychoactive chemical intervention. Will escalate sexual expectations after next cycle.

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @reflected-pain, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-werid, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @shimae-writes-whump, @whumpyblogthing

#THIS HURTED #JACKIE DESERVES THE WORLD #AND IVAN PETERS DESERVES A FUCKIN GRAVE #or a cough cough WRU contract of his own cough cough #obligatory Ivan 'fuckwad' peters threat time #Ivan autocorrected to Oven so were gonna go with that #I'm gonna shove and lock him in an oven and cook him at a nice and crispy 220°c ❤️#behavior modification #jack kenyon oc #ivan peters oc #tw noncon #tw csa implied

120 notes · View notes