#shred sensitive documents

[netincomesource]

How I Protect Myself from Mail Theft: My Personal Tips and Experience

Mail theft is more than just an inconvenience—it’s a real threat to your personal and financial security. Over time, I’ve learned that taking a few simple precautions can make a big difference in keeping your sensitive information safe. Here’s what I do to protect myself from mail theft, and I hope these tips help you too. What Is Mail Theft? Mail theft happens when someone steals your mail…

[markresonates]

two hot

summary: for some reason, your body requires more than one alpha to satiate your needs in heat, leading Mark to seek assistance from his best friend when you unexpectedly start going into heat in public.

pairing: alpha bf!Mark x omega!fem reader x alpha!Haechan

other: alphas Jen & Jis lil voy

genre/trope: porn w/ lil plot, tiny fluff bc i'm soft; omegaverse, fake medical conditions as a plot device; (eventual poly, not jealous love tri)

word count: 8.8k

a/n: so here's that markhyuck omega heat sex threesome idea i mentioned a while ago...per usual, it’s longer than i said why am i the way i am so i’m splitting it into 2 pts!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), cock warming, manhandling, exhibitionism & extremely public, voyeurism, humiliation, lil dumbification, overstimulation, degradation & praise, spitting, stomach bulge, cum inflation, knotting, oral fixation reader, breeding & creampie kinks; sweet hard dom Mark & hard dom Haechan, super sub reader [ note – heat sex is categorized as dubcon; therefore, read at your own discretion ]

You thought you had more time. You should have had more time. 

About an hour into your new Introduction to Astronomy lecture, your waning attention span is fully disrupted by a suspicious wetness you feel between your thighs. You uncross your legs and casually glance down, heart dropping when you discover a small pool of glossy slick in the middle of your lecture hall seat, heralding the start of your heat.

it’s official: life fucking hates you. 

Rationally, you’re aware of the fact that you need to formulate a plan but as you shift in your seat, your train of thought is derailed by the sensation sparked between your legs. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth together, forbidding your mouth from vocalizing the shred of gratification you get from squirming in your seat. 

Of all the damn days to pair a bodysuit and a pleated mini skirt, this day has got to be the absolute worst. But of course it had to be warm enough today that you felt comfortable showing more skin. In your mind, it made sense to seize the favorable weather before the last remnants of Summer disappeared into a chilly Autumn, but now you’d rather be bundled in three thick layers and sweating buckets than vulnerable in your current attire.

While you arch your back and discreetly grind against the messy chair, the bodysuit stretches, progressively sliding up your abdomen, and bunching at your waist. The damp material tugs on your hood, a second later, your clit is subjected to rough stimulation directly. Intense tingles ripple through your core from the sensitive spot. Even with your lips pressed together, you can’t suppress the tiny high-pitched squeak in your throat.

Renjun angles his laptop towards you, quickly typing out are you okay? 

You freeze your body. Giving him a terse nod, you rid yourself of the unwanted attention and resume the lewd activity. It takes a mere 30 seconds for your folds to eat up the narrow strips of material that once covered your intimate parts, giving your slick pussy a wedgie. It’s uncomfortably restrictive, and yet, simultaneously a massive turn on. 

You should be more concerned but the torturous pressure feels too good to stop, restraint briefly suspended again in a pleasured daze, chasing the desired pulsating sensation. Your eyes pop out of your head hearing the small metal snap of your bodysuit’s crotch region pop open, exposing your panties underneath and instantly bringing you back to reality. 

Jisung ducks his head near your ear. “Hey, what’s that-?”

“What’s what?” you immediately cut him off, worried he heard the same noise.

He hums, pursing his lips. “What’s that smell?”

“uh, well…” 

You gulp, so mortified that it’s impossible to meet his eyes, embarrassment warming your cheeks, your heat cranking up the bubbling sensation within you.

This shouldn’t be happening. You’ve documented your heat cycle since the day you started taking suppressants years ago. If you left it up to nature, your heat would be a seasonal affair. Now, thanks to the convenience of modern-day medicine, taking one daily pill significantly lowers your heat cycle frequency to biannually.

It’s always been consistent enough that you could pinpoint the exact 48 hour period in which it would start. In fact, a series of predetermined dates are highlighted on your desk calendar for when you’re supposed to be in heat: over four months from now.

Your scent is detectable in two ways: if someone were to press their nose directly to your scent gland, or the significantly more potent way, through the profuse slick secretion omegas produce in heat. 

And given the fact that you’re practically sitting in a puddle of slick at the moment, panic is knocking at your front door with fever. Any alpha in a ten foot radius will soon smell the arousing nectar leaking out of you. 

Fortunately, you’re in the last row of a half empty lecture hall. Rather than a dozen alphas, it’s a handful of the closest ones that’ll be raising their noses to get a whiff of the fragrant aroma floating through the air, two of those alphas being your friends.

Jisung sniffs around curiously, even going so far as to lean forward, over where Jeno is sitting directly in front of you.

“Hmm, it’s, like, sweet and fruity. Do you smell it? Like raspberries…or maybe strawberries?”

Renjun stops typing notes on his laptop. “I don’t smell anything.”

Figures; betas like Renjun don’t detect omega scents until they are at the absolute peak of their heat, and even then it wouldn’t be very strong. 

“Also, for your information, raspberries and strawberries aren’t berries.”

“Wha- Really!?” 

“Yeah. Most fruits that end in ‘berry’ aren’t actually berries, botanically speaking.”

“Um, Renjun?” you try to grab his attention in a hushed voice, failing as a result of Jisung talking over you at the same instant.

Besides your first heat, you’ve always been well prepared. You take preventative measures against potential alphas who may smell you and want to take advantage of a heat-drunk omega. 

Your typical protocol entails remaining holed up in your dark room. The mini fridge by your desk is fully stocked with four days worth of food and beverages, the air conditioner is on full blast, curtains and blinds drawn closed. Your door is secured shut with three bolted locks too.

For your past few heats, Mark has locked himself up with you as well. Being an omega, it was of vital importance to find a trustworthy alpha that wouldn’t savagely take advantage of your heat-induced instinctual nature to follow an alpha’s orders. The whole reason you submit to Mark is because you know he would never take things too far. For your past two heats, Mark was knotting you until his exhaustion proved overwhelming, and he physically couldn’t use his big dick any longer. Basically, your alpha can’t go far enough, for some indiscernible reason.

Based on the increasing amount of slick and the new ache in your core, you’d estimate you have less than an hour before your heat will seriously start affecting your senses. There’s a reason you keep track of your heat cycle, and it’s to avoid horrendous situations like this one. 

You’re struck with uncertainty and a minor sense of helplessness, facing your worst nightmare alone. At the moment, you don’t have Mark by your side, protecting you from other predatory alphas, ensuring you eat and drink something when you’re too out of it to do so yourself; and most importantly, pleasuring you to take away the pain that comes with your extreme heat cramps. 

You need Mark. 

Mouth beginning to water, deep in your filthy thoughts, you don’t register the conversation around you. You imagine him taking care of you in this very lecture hall, bent over the sturdy wooden podium at the front of the class.

You’re preoccupied and perplexed, a fraction of you developing a peculiarly strong craving for a knot – any knot. Considering how fast your heat crept up on you in the first place, you have every reason to believe this craving will continue to intensify. You feel ashamed to admit it, but at this rate, you might just find yourself allowing any alpha to knot you. 

Jisungs face scrunches up in disbelief, hearing another botanical fun fact. “No way. You’re trying to tell me bananas are berries? I don’t believe you.”

Jeno snorts, barely peering over his shoulder to throw his two cents into the hushed conversation. “Why are you arguing with Renjun? When was the last time you ate a fruit?”

“I don’t know. When was the last time you didn’t fall asleep at 6 am?” Jisung grumbles, not-so-quietly as he intended. 

If they weren’t in a classroom setting, Jisung would’ve hidden behind Renjun or grabbed something to shield himself from the other alpha’s wrath. Jeno fully twists his torso around, dawning a toothy grin that spells trouble for the youngest in the near future. He opens his mouth to speak but ultimately falls silent.

The lecture hall’s desks are the type that flip down to hover over half of your lap. With only your right thigh covered, Jeno’s eyes flick down to where you've been looking. 

He zeros in on the source of the fruity scent Jisung was referencing. He drops his smile, licking his lips, dark pupils flashing candy apple red. The other two shift their attention to your lap in quick succession.

Initially, Jisung doesn’t see what they do from his position. His curiosity then leads the naive boy to bend his upper body down and inch forward. Finally granted a vantage point to peer between your legs, his face turns a shade that matches the berries he spoke of a minute ago.  

“Uh, y/n? Are you, um, in-” Jisung stutters, his bright eyes locked between your parted thighs. 

Both alphas stare, mystified by the sight of your drenched panties, the thin white material now see-through and doing nothing to stop you from making a mess in the center of the lecture hall chair. Lifting your head, you see Jeno’s pupils fully dilated, swirling with lust, and you imagine Jisung isn’t too far off, mirroring the older alpha. 

You belatedly try to snap your thighs together but Jisung, of all people, latches onto your inner knee and keeps most of your seeping slit on display for them. His fingers digs into your soft skin in an uncharacteristically possessive manner, while Jeno quietly growls. 

They’re increasingly aroused hearing a spurt of your slick gush from your core, discovering you to be turned on by your own humiliation. You softly whine, embarrassed beyond all possible belief. 

“What happened to decorum, huh?” the beta scolds the younger alphas. 

Jisung snaps out of it and rips his hand away so fast it hits his desk. “Ow!”

“Acting like you just presented and never smelled slick before? Ugh. Get a fucking grip, you guys.” 

Renjun sets his phone on his desk, angling it towards you to show his screen and you tune out the apology from the frazzled boy on your right. “Hey, so I texted Mark. The good news is he’s on his way.” 

You exhale in relief. “Okay. Wait, what’s the bad news?”

Renjun winces, reluctant to kill your newly kindled hope. “Well…he said it’ll probably take him a half hour to get here.”

“A half hour?” 

You snap your tongue, loathing today’s dreaded turn of events. You squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the tears threatening to stain your burning cheeks.

“Oh, hold on.” Renjun scans the new message from your boyfriend, rereading it in his head, triple checking the text before delivering the additional details. “He said he’s…sending someone to get you? And they’ll be here in a dozen minutes or so.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Who?” 

“Dunno, he didn't say.” Renjun shoots him another text, asking for the identity of this mystery person he’s referring to. 

You stare at his phone intently, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck and haloing your hairline. Renjun taps the dim screen to keep it from turning off.

As you impatiently wait for an answer, your old nervous habit of picking and biting your nails resurfaces. You peel part of your nail off and fixate on the minor self-inflicted sting for the sake of a distraction from your intimate regions pulsating with arousal, not to mention the graphic, x-rated imagery about how easily you’d bend over for alphas in your vicinity.

Renjun lifts the back of his hand to your feverish forehead, the worry on his face deepening into his soft features. “Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but why did you come to class if you were in pre-heat?”

“When I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t fucking feel like I was in pre-heat,” you hiss through clenched teeth. 

You ring your head low and swallow your bad temperament as the harsh tone reaches your ears. You cringe, barely recognizing your own voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re stressed out.” Renjun gives you a sympathetic look, equally as confused by your body as you are. “Well this explains why you wore that today.”

“What do you mean?”

Renjun clicks on the weather app to show you the temperature outside. “Because it’s cold today. But if you were really warm, the temperature outside wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Ugh, oh my god. You’re right,” you reply, mentally slapping your forehead for not actually checking the forecast for today. Simply put, you believed you knew better, based on how warm your room felt when you got out of bed this morning.

You hold your abdomen and apply minimal pressure there, preparing for the onset of pain when your cramps start up, just like the bad habit responsible for the new drop of blood swelling at the tip of your finger. 

Jisung is quick to dig into his messy backpack and procure a quick fix for any minor injuries. It’s clear that he’s trying to be as helpful as possible, still feeling terribly guilty for holding your thighs open and preventing you from hiding what was visible to him and Jeno through your thin panties. 

You dab the blood with the folded tissue he hands you, and then wrap the blue and green, dinosaur themed band-aid around your finger. “Thank you,” you whisper to Jisung sincerely, touching his arm to express gratitude. 

You don’t blame the guilt-ridden alpha too much. After watching your pussy leak slick through the soaked white material, it was only in his nature to want to breed an omega on the verge of going into heat. The baby alpha Jisung you know and love wouldn’t do that.

Renjun lightly taps the back of your hand when you pick the finger next to the freshly bandaged one. He clasps your hands together, preventing you from doing more damage to that hand, at least. 

You frown at your hypocritical friend who himself hasn’t managed to kick the same bad habit as you. Nonetheless, you appreciate his comforting action. 

“You know, I keep thinking why me? What have I done to deserve this?” You gesture at your thighs with your free hand. “And how am I supposed to last another however many minutes?”

Renjun pauses and sighs. “On second thought, maybe you should go now. It’s way stuffier inside, so it might be a good idea to go splash some water on your face in the bathroom first before whoever Mark sent gets here.”

You hesitate for a second. You're troubled by not only the mess you've made in your seat, but the continual trickle of slick, potentially painting a colorful bullseye on your wet cunt. 

Alphas with practiced, keen olfactory systems can track a scent from a mile away, the express purpose to savagely use the needy omega they find simply because your kind is at its most vulnerable in heat. 

You always knew that omegas drew the short stick in life, but it was only after you had observed Mark’s rut in person that you officially became envious of alphas. An alpha’s number one priority during rut, above food and shelter and anything in between, is to breed omegas. 

They’ll brutally fuck a slick hole for multiple days, repeatedly knotting them until their bun-hungry alpha brain is sure that the omega will deliver them happy, healthy pups. 

Nearly every omega and most alphas take suppressants, making the chances of knocking up an omega less than 0.001% if both partners are medicated. Though, regardless of their incredibly slim chances of conceiving, that does not dissuade a stubborn alpha in rut from attempting to produce offspring. 

During Mark’s last rut, despite the primal need to dominate and fuck your brains out, oddly enough, his stamina weirdly didn’t match yours. 

“Whoever Mark’s sending is supposed to get here any minute, so there’s no real harm in leaving a minute earlier. No one would try anything with you if you’re in a public setting like school,” Renjun assures you and gives your hand one last squeeze. 

“Y/n?” Jisung works up the courage to gently tap your arm like you did his, giving you what remains of the travel size tissue packet that’s been in his backpack for nearly three years. “Don’t worry about the chair. We’ll wipe it off when you leave.”

Jeno guiltily turns around again and apologizes like the younger alpha. He then makes a generous offer to save you the trouble of waiting a second longer to leave for good. 

“I can drive you home now, if you want, y/n. And, you know, if you feel comfortable enough being alone with another alpha…no pressure. It’s just the least I can do.”

“Um, thank you. I think, uh…” 

Fifteen minutes ago, when you had no plan whatsoever and hadn’t been in contact with Mark, you would’ve taken him up on the offer, but Renjun is right. You know that a part of you is really craving a knot. However, you believe you’re lucid enough to handle going to the bathroom by yourself. 

You don’t see yourself jumping at the first opportunity to sit on a throbbing alpha cock, bouncing up and down, pathetically begging them to fill you up with an excessive amount of cum, like you did before. Plus, you don’t want to attract even more unwanted attention if two of you were to stand up and walk out in the middle of the lecture. 

“I think I’m good, Jeno. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.” 

You pick up your bag, tying the varsity jacket that Jeno generously handed to you around your waist. You head for the door, walking at a reasonable speed to not attract more attention than your scent likely has. 

Jeno’s jacket conceals most of the slick running down your inner thighs, and you make a mental note to somehow make it up to him later.

You have almost reached the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you’re ambushed by an alpha, pressed face first against the brick wall of the science building. 

Whoever it is had the sense to slip his hand in front of your heated forehead to break the blow against the wall and not crack your skull open on impact. Obviously, alphas don’t want a dead omega. 

You can’t breed something that’s not breathing.

That’s basic alpha 101.

Your heart rattles in your ribcage, racing a million miles per hour. You wish you were allotted enough time to wipe up your slick before being attacked. 

If only you had accepted Jeno’s offer to be safely escorted, then you wouldn’t be pinned to a wall, hands held behind your back by an alpha presumably relying purely on an animalistic desire.

To make matters worse, being dominated so aggressively triggers a surge of arousal from within your inner omega, the yearning for sexual fulfillment intensifying at a rate higher than in your lecture. 

On instinct, tremendously touch starved, you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against the half-hard cock hidden in the alpha’s pants. 

He leans closer to your ear, pulling the cherry lollipop out of his mouth to whisper in a deep, gravelly voice, “Did somebody miss me?” 

You whimper, timidly, and he chuckles. 

Something possesses you to tilt your head to the side, submissive and craving a knot so damn badly that you’re willing to bare your vulnerable neck for the alpha. 

He hesitates, before nosing at your scent gland, shakily exhaling through his mouth. Presented with such an alluring opportunity, the alpha almost loses his cool, tempted to accept your invitation and take advantage of your omega’s baseline reflex to submit. 

Practicing a degree of restraint that very, very few alphas in his unique position possess, he instead places a single soft kiss to the spot he knows is reserved for Mark’s teeth.

Mark…

You break out of your innate trance as lips that don’t belong to your alpha are still pressed to your neck, the gravity kicking in about what it means to allow a stranger to bite and claim you. 

You can’t imagine what your life would be like as a double claimed omega, shared by two alphas, belonging to both Mark and the mysterious, possessive person behind you. 

You catch him off guard by ripping away. You whip around, snapping your tongue when you finally discover the identity of your attacker. 

“Argh, what the fuck, Haechan?”

You lean back against the solid wall, holding a hand over your chest as if your heart is on the brink of bursting through the slats of your ribs. 

“Did you have to give me a heart attack? What happened to saying hello, hm?”

He snickers, a melodious, infectious laugh that makes you want to smile as well. This time, with tremendous effort, you hold your ground. 

“What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he says, sticking the candy back in his mouth.

You wish you could chase away the butterflies in your stomach that are consistently conjured up when his designated pet name for you rolls off his silver tongue. You’ve seen Haechan flirt with countless girls, yet he’s always reserved “sweetheart” and “sweetie” for his favorite omega. 

You can’t describe why hearing his pet names excites you, inappropriately so. Perhaps, you like feeling special to him in some way, his sugar-coated sweet tooth reserved for you and you only.

Mark knows all of this.

He would have to be both blind and deaf to not see Haechan’s effect on your body and pick up on the sound of your heart racing. His charming best friend is frustratingly swoon worthy, but Mark had never minded it much. A case can be made that Mark is the jealous type. It’s for this very reason you find it so curious that he allows Haechan to get away with openly flirting with his omega.

“Why are you even-?” 

You freeze as he wipes a tear from your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers along the side of your face and down your neck. He wraps his hand behind your neck with his thumb pressing into where your pulse is fluttering rapidly, tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek to speak.

“Shh, take deep breaths for me, baby. In…out…in…out.” 

The alpha’s instruction marginally calms your nerves, your omega instincts compelling you to follow without question. You are obedient and malleable, most especially in heat, for Haechan and your own alpha, of course.

“Good girl.” His praise has you biting your lip, whining softly. “Renjun probably told you but Mark’s on his way. He sent me to take care of you first.”

“Oh,” you reply, dumbly. 

You should have suspected that Mark would send him to pick you up. It’s obvious in retrospect. He trusts Haechan with his life; by extension, he would have total faith in his best friend to handle you too.

“Yeah, oh,” he mimics with an annoyingly charming curl of his heart shaped lips. 

Haechan basically gets off on annoying people, although his form of teasing you differs from others. Plus, you never fail to give him the reaction he’s searching for, playfully rolling your eyes, quietly snapping your tongue, or throwing some weak comeback in return. 

“Are you disappointed to see me, y/n? I know you're Mark’s princess but you’ll just have to settle for me this time.”

“Wow, how noble of you. My hero,” you reply, sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“By all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”

Right on queue, you roll your eyes, just like he knew you would. You take a few steps in the direction he gestures to before the first heat cramp punctures your core. Luckily, Haechan catches your body as your knees buckle, doubling over in pain. 

Haechan clears his throat. “Y/n, you should know that Mark didn’t just send me here to pick you up,” he says cryptically, unpocketing his phone. 

He proceeds to play a voicemail Mark left him. You listen with pursed lips, furrowing your brow as you take in your alpha’s words. 

You try to concentrate on the message, partially distracted by Haechan’s scent swirling around you, quickly permeating your skin and thoughts. 

“Hyuck, you’re the only alpha I completely trust to take care of y/n like that…and by that, you know what I mean. And don’t be surprised if she, like, starts to beg for it. She can be realllly needy, trust me.”

There’s a spike in Haechan’s scent, reminded of his personal mission to hear you beg. 

Despite not having kissed him, you can taste him on your lips. His all-encompassing spicy musk intensifies, melting into a subtle syrupy vanilla that clings to your tongue and stirs up a hunger for forbidden fruit. The cherry candy is no match to his natural scent.

“Oh! One more thing. y/n likes it a bit, um, rough when she’s in heat…so just keep that in mind. I’ll be there as soon as possible, dude. 40 minutes tops. Alright, see you then.”

Haechan looks at you, searching for a reaction, but instead, he sees your face contort painfully again. 

“Sweetie, look at me.” 

You turn your head, now within proximity to count all the pretty moles on his sun-kissed face, like sunflower seeds you’re tempted to taste and swallow by the handful until you’re physically ill. 

“Do you want…” 

You straighten your back again, a chill running up your spine as Haechan slowly reaches under your skirt. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh. The tips of his fingers draw through the many lines of slick dripping down your legs.

“…my help?” he finishes in a tone deeper than you knew he could produce. 

Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, feeling another mini rush of wetness soak the utterly useless material covering your throbbing core. There’s no denying that you’re incredibly aroused by Haechan. He knows you know he can smell the gush of new slick you involuntarily released.

A strong sexual desire pumps through your veins, driving you up the walls. You’ve always been curious about what it would be like to have the alpha ruin you and use your body like a toy, but you’re not certain how much of that can be attributed to being on the verge of heat. For better or for worse, you decide that that’s a problem for future you to determine, and present you to toss out the window. 

Tasting a mere crumb of Haechan’s touch wasn’t enough – you had to swallow him whole, and the only way you could do that is by giving him the pleasure of devouring you first. 

“y-yes, please.” 

Your answer is so faint that if he were any farther away, he wouldn’t have heard it. 

Haechan suppresses a smug smile, pleasantly surprised to get your first “please” this soon after catching up with you. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His skilled fingers touch where you want him most, grazing over your clothed pussy. Anticipating some kind of pleasured noise, he holds your body close and pops the lollipop inside your mouth. 

He scans your surroundings for a place nearby with any additional smidge of privacy. Locating a possible secluded destination, he steers your weak body in the direction of his choice. Haechan snakes a hand up the front of your skirt again, pressing his thick cock against your ass as you stumble forward. 

Imagining how dirty you must look turns you on, the debauchery of grinding on someone in broad daylight while they have your skirt flipped up to rub over your wet panties has your vision blurring momentarily. Modesty is nothing but a vague concept in the far off distance, seconds away from disappearing over the horizon. 

The next thing you know, your body is pressed against a cool hard surface, bleary eyed and craving the kind of high only a mind blowing orgasm can earn. 

You vaguely recognize you’re behind the science building you came out of before Haechan ambushed you, escaping the bright rays of burning sun that were beating down on you by slinking into the secluded shadows with the golden, silky voiced alpha.

Your skirt rides up as he shoves a knee between your legs. He gets a firm grip on your hips as you grind down against his thigh, soaking the material of his skinny jeans, creating a wet spot in the denim with your slick.

“Wow, would you look at that? Baby made a mess all over me already. I bet you wanted that, huh? Rubbing your slick on me so people know you’re fucking two alphas?”

You remove the lollipop to refute his provocative claim. “I-I’m not fucking two alphas.”

“Ha, maybe…not yet, anyways. But you want to. Isn’t that right, y/n?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue rough, throat scratchy like sandpaper. You part your lips to argue with him but nothing comes out. Instead, you insert the lollipop again, sucking on the shrinking round candy, a poor attempt at covering up your original intention.

“Exactly…now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Haechan places your clammy hands on either side of his shoulders to ensure you won’t lose your balance, then he lowers himself to crouch in front of you.

“Hold.” He lifts up your skirt, giving you the bottom hem so he can get down to business.

Haechan’s fingers dig between your clothed folds, feeling your slick leak onto his hand. The thin material pushes into your entrance in an unsatisfying way and you whine. 

He tsks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “Just as I suspected.” 

You don’t need a reminder of how wet you are, and yet Haechan still brings his hand up for you to see the wet webbing clinging to the tips of his spread fingers anyways. A small embarrassed noise escapes your mouth. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, using his thumb to toy with your clit, “you look so adorable when you’re embarrassed. All rosy-cheeked and messy.”

Haechan slides your panties down your legs and you cooperate by stepping out of them, hands still anchored to his shoulders. He brings them to his face and licks off a great majority of the wetness that seeped out of you, peering into your soul as he does so. Your lips form a slight pout, missing his touch.

“Ha, Mark was right. You are a needy omega,” he teases and pockets your panties like a trophy he’ll proudly keep forever. 

“What would Mark say if he saw his precious omega barring her neck for a total stranger?” 

You softly moan a bit louder as he curls his fingers just right. Your knees wobble, struggling to stay upright. 

The image of the alpha ravaging your body while Mark watches the act unfold, makes it difficult to focus on your surroundings, distracting you from the minor degree of shame in your chest. 

You couldn’t care less about your indecent exposure at the moment either – you feel too good to care about anything. 

“H-haechan…I want you…want you so fucking bad,” you breathe out, words slightly slurred with the round candy in your mouth. 

Haechan’s cock twitches, picturing you in tears, your walls struggling to accommodate him. However, he is aware that behind a school building isn’t the most ideal place to take an omega in heat, especially considering the potency of your heavenly scent, steadily increasing. 

Since Mark isn’t here yet, the least he could do is take you inside the building.

Your slick seeps into the frontside of Haechan’s clothes, clinging to his upper body for dear life as he carries you into an empty classroom. He sets you down on the lab table and observes the damage to his clothes.

“i-i’m sorry about that.” You lean back, peering down at your lap, nervously.

“Oh, baby…c’mere.”

Haechan cups over your knees and tilts forward to kiss your neck, sucking a dark hickey right next to your mating mark from his best friend. 

“I like collecting these little spots from you.” He pries your thighs apart and draws closer to your bare pussy.

“It’s cute that your body can’t help but mark me somehow.” 

He gets on his knees, darts his tongue out to swirl around your clit. His fingers prod your slick core and slide inside you, stroking your sensitive spot skillfully. The breathy noises he’s rewarded with are ones he’ll remember forever. 

It’s astonishing how quickly Haechan figures you out. 

He’s already in tune with your body, keenly aware of what makes you tick, knowing how to make you quiver and arch your back beautifully. 

Not before long, Haechan has you shaking uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut, your short stuttered breathing uneven and shallow as your orgasm peaks, and you topple into an abyss of intense pleasure. The lollipop falls out of your open mouth, rolling off the black table.

You might as well be outside, stargazing in the dead of night based on how many constellations and galaxies twinkle and swirl behind your fluttering eyelids. 

Haechan doesn’t let up on his efforts to overload your system with a tingly static sensation. Sobbing pathetically, you try to bat him away with what little strength you have, overstimulated and overcome with the sizzling heat frying your nerve endings. 

He huffs and retracts his hands, wiping his mouth and the mess of dripping juices on your inner thigh. 

“Okay, fine. I won’t touch you anymore!” he tosses his hands up in the air, melodramatic as ever.

“Finally,” you murmur, granted relief to catch your breath for the first time. 

You’re heavily panting, linking your fingers together and resting your hands atop your head to allow better airflow into your oxygen deprived lungs. He steps back and studies you like a unique specimen for medical observation. 

A few quiet moments pass before the dull cramps creep up inside you, not yet terribly painful but aching in a way that guarantees incoming sharp pains. You whimper for stimulation again, sending puppy dog eyes at Haechan. 

“More…please.”

The alpha’s face is painted with mischief, taunting you by reaching for your body then abruptly stepping back to watch you sniffle, and rock back and forth.

Upon noticing your eyes starting to well up with tears, he ultimately gives in. Haechan curls two and then three fingers inside you, opening you up for his throbbing cock. 

As much as he’d love to see you cry, he’s under strict instruction to satisfy and take care of you. He can’t threaten to not relieve the effects of your heat and tease you to the point of genuine distress.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

You let out a breathy moan and make grabby motions to the tent in his pants. 

“Hm, does the cry baby want a knot?” You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “Yeah? Can you use your words? Or is there nothing going on up there in that pretty little head of yours?” 

He lightly taps your forehead twice, then slides that hand up to tangle in your hair.

You smile, shy and small,  and, dare he say, adorable. “You- you think I’m pretty?”

One side of the alpha’s mouth curls up, amused that “pretty” was the only word that you clung onto. He rolls his eyes, teasingly. 

“Of course you’re pretty, y/n.” Haechan removes his hand from your hair to take out his thick cock. “And only the prettiest of girls get this.”

With a newly unveiled salivating incentive, you immediately pull yourself together, spine straight as an arrow. 

You stare at his shiny, precum-glossy cock with heart eyes, licking your lips as he gives himself a few jerks and produces more pearly droplets from his slit. He pushes you back against the lab table when you try to get to your feet for a taste.

“You can choke on my cock later, princess. I thought you wanted a knot? Or did you change your mind?”

“No! I-I do want it,” you frantically reply.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I really want it, Haechan, really badly.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting more. “Please…please, knot me. I wanna be filled with your cum. I’m begging you…breed me, Alpha.”

Breed me, Alpha rings in Haechan’s ears like wedding bells signifying the everlasting bond of a committed partnership. Hearing your sweet voice desperately begging for his seed, using the dominant title you only ever use with Mark, your real alpha, gets Haechan rock hard. 

He savors every second he gets to be your alpha. 

Satisfied with your eloquently worded, pitiful plea, he lines himself up. His shiny cockhead glides through your folds before breaching your dripping entrance. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” the alpha whispers against your scent gland, his mouth sucking it softly.

 You gasp as he drives his hips forward, forcefully pushing against your tiny hole until you’ve accepted his blunt tip, and sucked his fat cock inside. 

Mark can smell you the second he drives on campus. He rolls his window down to take another alluring whiff, his right hand just barely gripping the bottom of the steering wheel while his left palms the bulge in his snug jeans, tenting obscenely. 

Mind preoccupied, his tunnel vision blinds him from focusing on a single thing besides seeking you out and filling you with loads of cum as soon as possible. He doesn’t recall pulling into the parking lot, getting out of his car, or locking it. All he knows is that, within the blink of an eye, he’s rushed across the campus, his feet landing just outside one of the science labs housed in the same building as your astronomy lecture.

Yanking the door wide open, his wild eyes dart to where his best friend’s knot is locked inside his omega, rubbing your clit so aggressively after your third orgasm that you’re reduced to a twitching mess. 

You don’t immediately recognize Mark’s presence, too lost in the intense buzzing sensation to even register that the alpha barged into the room.

Mark slams the door behind him and purposely leaves the door unlocked like Haechan did. There’s a certain reckless thrill that comes with the possibility of getting caught in a compromising position.

In contrast to the way he raced here, driving haphazardly and disobeying traffic laws, Mark slowly crosses the lab room towards your splayed body in a few, brisk strides. He removes his hard cock from his jeans with a lazy smile, stroking himself and licking his lips as you cry out.

Haechan flicks his chin up at Mark, greeting him happily. He makes a show out of pressing a slick-coated finger against your lips to silence you. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta keep it down. You don’t want everyone next door to hear, right? They’d probably say ‘we should go check on whoever’s crying!’ Only to come in here and find their pretty classmate is a dumb little slut…with a cunt full of cum.” 

You whine, leading him to push two of his dirty fingers into your mouth to shut you up. His smirks as you mindlessly suck on them like a binkie, shutting your eyes and humming pleasantly. 

“She’s so pretty when she cries.”

“I know right?” 

Mark makes a growling noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his hand over where he can see the faint outline of Haechan’s thick knot buried inside you, making your abdomen bulge. Both you and Haechan shutter, feeling a tingly sensation from the pressure your boyfriend applies. 

“So, how’s she been?”

“Well, she-”

“Mar?” you weakly croak around Haechan’s fingers and he removes them.

“I’m here, y/n, I’m right here.” Mark wipes a lone tear of yours away and caresses your warm cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

“I’m…hot.”

“No objection there,” Haechan jokes.

“Why did you send Haechan?” you continue like you didn’t hear the alpha currently plugging you up with cum.

“Oh, y/n. You remember how you were during your last heat.” Mark stops stroking his cock and takes out a tissue to dab away the sheen of sweat on your feverish forehead. 

“Actually, you were probably too far gone, huh?” 

You blink up at him, tilting your head into his hand when he tries to wipe your cheek. If you’re being honest with yourself, you only recall bits and pieces, and none of those memories are exceptionally vivid. 

“I didn’t know it was possible. Like, I looked it up and on average, omegas need to be knotted 5x before their heat breaks. But, y/n, seriously, I lost track of how many times I knotted you and it’s never enough. I couldn’t take care of you throughout all of your heat and it killed me to see you like that and not be able to help you more. You need more than I can give you, princess.” 

He offers you a small genuine smile, his hand trailing down to palm at your exposed breast. Mark gently rolls your nipple between his fingers, hearing you quietly purr. “So Haechan was nice enough to agree to help me help you.”

“But Mark-” 

“It’s for your own good, y/n,” Mark calmly tells you. “And didn’t Haechan make you feel nice?”

“Um, well, I-” 

You gulp, ruminating on how you want to answer, whether you should tell him that another alpha made you feel as amazing as Mark does.  

“Wanna tell me what it’s like to have his knot locked inside that tight little pussy of yours? I know you love being full of my cum. What about his cum? I bet you looove getting fucked full of his cum too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love being full of cum…your cum and-and Haechan’s cum.”

Mark smiles at your response and rewards you by pinching your perky nipple. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.”

You whine when Haechan wiggles his mostly deflated cock out of your tight core. “You really weren't lying when you said she gets super wet.”

“Hm, let me feel.” He hums, looking closer and dipping his fingers inside the dripping combination of your fluids. 

Mark widens his nostrils and takes in the aroma of Haechan’s cum mixed in with your juices, his eyes flashing blood red. 

It’s unfamiliar and vaguely off putting to smell his mate has been violated and fucked open by another alpha. Although, overall, the dominant sensation coursing through Mark is arousal, turned on by the thought of sharing your body. 

“Nah, man. It gets worse, you’ll see. Her heat hasn’t even peaked yet.”

Mark addresses Haechan like you aren’t even here. To be fair though, during your heat you’re not all here anyways. 

“W-worse?” you eke.

“By the end of her last heat, she had so much fucking cum in her, I don’t know where it was all going.”

 “Ha, we got ourselves a little cum dumpster here,” Haechan snickers, sliding his fingers inside your cum dribbling cunt again.

With such an overflowing amount of slick and cum, if someone told you that the obscene squelching that fills the room is a soundbite from some high quality pornography, you wouldn’t doubt it. You croon as he curls them up just right, taking a moment to stimulate your most sensitive spot skillfully. 

He retracts them sooner than you’d prefer and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.” 

A fat droplet falls on your bottom lip. 

Mark rubs slow, comforting circles over your abdomen. “Go ahead, baby,” he encourages, leaning down to suckle on your neglected bud. 

Earning Mark’s blessing, you obediently suck your own berry wetness and Haechan’s cum off of the alpha’s fingers.

“God, what a filthy slut,” he says once you’ve fulfilled his wish. “She gives in so easily, she’d do anything to get another load of cum.” 

A weak sound of protest weasels up the back of your throat, disagreeing with the term he used to describe you. You expect Mark to disagree with his best friend’s crude statement, but he shockingly does the opposite.

“Tell me about it, dude. The whole time she’s always begging for a knot and more cum. I know a lot of omegas beg in the middle of their heat…” 

Mark pets your head gently for a second, then snakes his fingers into your hair, giving it a brief yank. 

If you weren’t on the precipice of your heat hitting full force, his sudden action would’ve caused you a decent amount of pain. But by now, your aching body welcomes any form of touch – the rougher the better. The demeaning terms trigger strobing excitement inside you.

“…but with y/n, it’s like where did my sweet omega go? Who’s this needy cumslut?” 

Your bottom lip quivers, internally conflicted by your budding arousal. Mark looks down at you with pity in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just telling the truth. You don’t know what it’s like trying to take care of you.”

You whine softly, your foggy emotional state making you feel guilty, even if the fraction of you that’s still of sober mind knows that you have nothing to feel guilty for. The seeds of insecurity take root in your head, questioning if he secretly resents being with you, if you’re too much of a burden that he wishes he wasn’t your alpha.

Mark reads the emotional turmoil brewing on your precious face. In an effort to soothe the distress, he quickly leans over to kiss it away. A handful of adoring pecks down your face, lips lightly kissing your forehead twice, the tip of your nose and finally to your lips. He is much gentler now than the hand responsible for the arousing sting to your scalp. Mark tastes the other alpha on your mouth and grins anyway.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about it, y/n.” He again brushes a few stray tears away from where they spill from the corners of your wide, glossy eyes. “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of this time.”

“Even without you, I can take care of myself well enough,” you sniffle, lying through your teeth, fooling no one, not even yourself. 

Your hand twitches, wanting to prove a point but hesitating because you're not used to being watched by two sets of eyes. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself, princess. I know you want to,” Mark tells you.

“R-really? Like, um…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “...in front of him too?” 

You sneak a glance at Haechan, who, by the looks of it, is about ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole any second now. You vaguely remember wanting him to do so not too long ago in your most fuzzy heated state.

“Yes, in front of me and Haechan.” 

“Aw, sweetheart. I just fucked your pretty cunt and yet you still feel embarrassed?” Haechan pouts in mock sympathy. “That’s adorable.”

Mark exchanges a look with his best friend before turning back to you. “Be a good girl for me and demonstrate how you used to do it before we met. You can do that, right, babe?” 

An adoring smile reaches his lips, eyes locking with yours. You could try to deny the lewd act, but above all else, you want to please your alpha. 

Mark wants you to be a good girl, and that is exactly what you will be. You gulp, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodding timidly. Your mouth twitches up to mirror his sincere smile as best as you can manage.

“That’s my girl,” Mark beams.

Mark knows how to comfort you, pushing two fingers into your mouth to give you something to wrap your lips around. He gently cups the back of your hand and guides it lower while you’re pleasantly suckling.  

You tilt back, propping your upper body up by extending your left hand behind your back. Folding your spread legs up and planting your heals on the edge of the wide black lab table, exposing your throbbing cunt to the alphas. 

You trace your fingers through your folds, rimming your freshly used entrance before sliding two of them inside, moaning around Mark’s fingers as you follow his instructions. 

Muscle memory of touching yourself on a frequent basis over the years takes charge, and within seconds, you locate your weak spot. 

“There you go. Good girl.”

You mewl, your legs trembling every so often as you draw your fingers up to stimulate your clit. The muscles in your face are equally as prone to a visceral jumpy reaction as your lower half is. 

Craving more, you lay your upper body back against the table, and switch hands to curl your left fingers in your abused pussy and rub quick circles over the hood of your clit, stroking up and down to stimulate every nerve around the electrifying spot. 

“M-mar…” you whimper, drool trailing from your stuffed mouth. “Fuck-fuck me. Please, I n-need your cum now.”

Mark bestows a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “How about you show me how bad you want it, eh?”

You hop off the table and lower to your knees obediently, folding your legs underneath you and sitting back on your feet, hands placed flat on your thighs, spine arched to show the round curve of your ass.

Haechan whistles. “You sure did train her well.”

“Nah, man. y/n didn’t need training. She’s just a perfect omega.” Mark smiles, happy to show you off. He pets your head as you start to squirm and quietly whimper. 

“Open your mouth, baby.” 

You part your lips, holding your tongue out to catch the spit that falls from Mark’s mouth. He hums, approvingly, watching you swallow it and open your mouth again. He pauses for a second before flicking his chin at Haechan. 

“You want Haechan’s spit too?”

You glance at Haechan and release an affirmative noise a second later. Your core aches for further rough filling again. You rub your slippery thighs together, feeling more slick gush from your throbbing pussy, increasingly aroused when Haechan steps up to the plate. 

He lets a string of saliva dangle from his tongue, slowly dripping into your mouth, and partially dribbling down your chin intentionally, simply because he wants to make a mess of your pretty face.

You're about to wrap your lips around Mark’s cockhead when all of a sudden, the sharpest pain stabs your abdomen. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, crumpling into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut, and nearly blacking out. 

Mark kneels down and rubs your shoulder, lifting your head to look you square in the face. Worry colors his sharp features and shatters the heated, public pornographic fantasy. 

“Shit. y/n’s cramps usually subside for an hour or so after getting a knot,” he mutters to Haechan. “I didn’t want to do this…but I don’t think we have much of a choice now…”

[hint for pt 2]

additional warnings: dr jaem thorough exam, double penetration, spitroasting, oral (fem & male), face sitting, throat fucking, choking, somnophilia, squirting, sex toys, nipple play and breast milking. alright, i think that's it.

it’s 2023.

why did it take me this fucking long to write markhyuck x yn ?? i said i’d write for this pairing in FEB 20 FUCKING 21.

sorry for not posting in forever. the #1 motivation for writers is feedback and interaction. for me, knowing people enjoy my works and appreciate the time i put into something has a huge impact. i'd be really grateful if you shared this by giving it a reblog and would love to see you spam your thoughts/reactions in the tags or comments!

[oct 12th, 2024 update]

pt 2 is about 80% done. now, i'm not saying i WON'T post it in the next week, but comments, reblogs and feedback would definitely inspire me to finish it up soon<3

okay 'tis all. thank you for reading and i hope you (yes, specifically YOU, beloved reader of mine who's reading this RIGHT NOW !) are doing well:))

stream 127's *FACT CHECK*

➾my masterlist

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[jeonscatalyst]

Fuck Hybe and Fuck Min Heejin. I hate how they keep using their artists as meat shields.

Hybe made this whole thing public to try to use MHJ as a scapegoat to all of their wrongdoings, and used their artists for sympathy to get the public on their side.

Then Min Heejin manipulated NewJeans into ruining their careers for her and put this horrible mentality in their mind that they're nothing without her.

Then we find out Hybe has been mistreating Taehyung, letting the people who leaked Jimin's personal documents go without taking any legal action, committing fraudulent album sales, and prioritizing gaining money over their artists protection and wellbeing.

And now, Min Heejin is trying to use Taehyung for sympathy points by bringing up something that happened last year, and pretending she's his friend. He's already dealing with the hardships of military service and now she drags him into her mess. If she was really his friend she wouldn't use him like this, especially at such a delicate time for him.

I hope all the artists are well. I can't imagine how hard it's been for them to deal with all the consequences of the company's mistakes. I just wanna give them all a huge hug 😢💜

Let's protect ourselves as well, as infuriating as it is, we can't let this mess take over our lives and ruin our days. The best we can do is support the artists and remind them about how loved they are. Taking sides and sending hatred is only helping the perpetrators fight each other.

I hope you're doing well!

Borahae 💜

Hey @moo-mood

I understand what you are saying but I think some of the points your brought up are pure conjecture as there is not a single shred of proof from the documents that shows that any of the BTS members are being mistreated. I think that fans are so sensitive of their idols they don’t understand the difference between a label having an opinion on an artist and an artist actually being mistreated.

I have seen people read and misunderstand those documents and I don’t even know where to start from in correcting some of those things. I have seen Tae’s fans promise to bring down the company because apparently the company has been sabotaging Taehyung but there is actually nothing in those documents that support this claim. They had an opinion on Tae’s album and suddenly that was sabotage to Tae stans. The same way they mentioned that Tae’s dating rumors might have helped other members live more peacefully in their private lives and Tae fans took that to mean that Hybe orchestrated the rumours so other members could live freely. The lack of reading comprehension or even understanding what those documents were about in the first place is truly astounding.

Don’t get me wrong though. I don’t for one moment think that company is innocent. As a matter of fact I think they are just as dirty as any other entertainment company and everyone with a brain knows that for these companies to get so big, they have to dip their feet in dirty waters and Hybe definitely is no different. They all have to play the dirty game to keep up with the competition and taekookers are acting like they were right all along and are trying to link every mention of Jk , Tae and Jimin in those documents to a nonexistent romance between Tae and Kook. I don’t think of Bang PD as a saint but I think he actually cares about BTS members and this isn’t because of anything he does or says but because of what the members do and say and how I have seen them around him for years. Watching them, you could easily tell that he didn’t treat them like a boss would but actually like his little friends or younger brothers. You see how he allowed the boys to be able to give him their honest opinions of how he ran things starting from Rookie king when he made it possible for the boys to climb that platform and yell out any grievances they had towards him or anyone else and how Jimin wasn’t afraid to tell him that his previous melody for DNA sucked and he listened and changed it . That is not a dictator. That is not something someone who doesn’t care about the boys or their opinions would do. You also see how freely they tease him, how happy they seem around him, they even have this funny drawing of him that they always laugh about, the even go as far as teasing him about his weight and he just laughs it off.

They have spoken endlessly about how well he treats them and about how good he has been to them. He is usually in the habit of treating the boys to one on one meals and even invited Jin over and cooked for him. We even see how closely Jungkook worked with him in the solo era and I’m sure working with him wasn’t the only option he had.

One thing that I have always found funny is that Tae stans swear that Tae detests bang PD but watch these videos

And this one

Is this how people behave with someone who maltreats them? Pay attention to the part where bang pd calls them after they win first place, Tae is the one excitedly holding the phone and calling him “shiyuk hyung” instead of referring to him with more professional appellations. Also recently, bang pd did a show or something of the sort with JYP and Taehyung screenshotted it and posted it on his instagram story and captioned it something like “does this mean he “JYP” is now my uncle?” Why on earth would he do this if he hated bang pd? Why would he do this if he was sabotaged and mistreated so much by the company?

I think Bang PD is a piece of work and is just like any other money hungry and egotistical boss is but I think he always cared about BTS, I mean that was his first group and they came up together from nothing to something. This isn’t to say that they probably haven’t had misunderstandings but generally I think they have a good relationship with the company regardless of what some fans think.

As for Min Hee Jin, I am somewhat indifferent about her because I don’t know enough about her to form a strong opinion and I Know that in her fight with Hybe, both parties are definitely guilty of things but I think her move to mention how Tae contacts her amidst all of this was low, even for her. Dragging the members into their fights to gain sympathy is low and she knew exactly what she was doing because now she has supporters from within the fandom who are Tae stans and that is because they think she cares about him and Tae likes her. She claims she cares about NJs but look at the nasty things she said about them.

Anyways, hun, let’s just trust in the members and know that they are old enough to take care of themselves and know what is good for them and what isn’t. If at all they are being mistreated, I trust that they would know how to deal with it.

Thanks💜

[jessaerys]

near: would you like to see my at-scale replica of la sagrada familia made entirely from the shredded leftovers of sensitive documents i didn't let gevanni get rid of, L?

the taxidermied corpse of L that was recovered from light’s apartment after kira was defeated that near carefully arranged to crouch in front of a computer running a labyrinth windows 98 screensaver 24/7 in a corner of the spk control room who gives spk agents nightmares:

near: oh– are you– no, yes, it's important. i understand.

the taxidermied corpse of L that was recovered from light’s apartment after kira was defeated that near carefully arranged to crouch in front of a computer running a labyrinth windows 98 screensaver 24/7 in a corner of the spk control room who gives spk agents nightmares:

near [aloof because his feelings are a little hurt]: it’s fine. don’t bother

[vodika-vibes]

It Only Matters How You Look

Summary: It’s been six months since Shadow, the master thief, has thrown down the gauntlet against Fives. And he’s no closer to catching her now than he was six months ago. But he’s not going to give up. Not now, or ever.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 3713

Warnings: Reader is a thief, heated kissing, Reader called Shadow in some parts as a codename

A/N: This is a sequel to Knew You Were Trouble and the title comes from a Miranda Lambert song called "Mama's Broken Heart". I'm still very sick, but apparently having a fever makes me want to write lots, so here you have it.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

The small office that Master Nu gave him when he agreed to start hunting Shadow is no longer big enough to contain the investigation. And that’s only in part because his group has grown by several vod’e.

In fact, they are now a squad, five strong, serving under the orders of Master Nu.

Rex hadn’t been thrilled to lose Fives and Echo. And had been even less thrilled three months later when Jesse, Dogma, and Tup were also pulled from the 501st to work under Master Nu.

To be fair, Rex’s temper was nothing compared to General Skywalker’s temper when he found out that he lost both of his ARCs, and then his third ARC only a few months later.

Fives only found out about General Skywalker’s tantrum later, after it had been dealt with. He also only found out later that said tantrum got him removed from leading the 501st and sent to a retreat somewhere. 

To help him decompress from the war, General Kenobi said kindly as he took both the 501st and Commander Tano under his wing.

Recently, Fives heard that General Skywalker is still at the retreat, so he supposes that NatBorns must be more sensitive to war. 

Though, if he’s going to be honest, he hasn’t thought of the war much these last few months. The only thing he’s been thinking about has been Shadow. 

She haunts him every moment.

When he’s awake, he’s thinking about where she could be and where she’s going to hit next, and trying to find a clue in the mass of evidence he, and his brothers, have collected over the previous months.

And when he’s asleep, he dreams of red-painted lips, thigh-high boots, and skintight leotards.

He is, in a word, obsessed.

Fives pushes his fingers through his curls, messing up his already messy hair, as he stares at the collection of stuff Dogma brought from a lead he and Echo have been following for the last week.

“What is all of this?” He finally asks.

Dogma looks up from where he’s trying to piece together a shredded piece of flimsy, “The hint we got from Dex panned out…sort of.”

“It looks like it was a safe house of some kind,” Echo continues smoothly as he lifts something gold and jewel-encrusted, “But it also looked like no one has been there in years. We took pictures—” He sets the item - a statue of a woman- down on the table and pushes some documents to the side to find a stack of photos, “Ah, here they are.”

Fives takes the pictures his twin offers him and flips through them. Everything in the photos is covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Though, it doesn’t look like a safe house to him.

Take away all of the treasure, and it just looks like it was someone's home.

Fives flips to the first picture, the only picture that covers the whole room, and he frowns at it. Two beds, a larger bed with a worn blanket and an even more worn pillow, and a child-sized bed with an equally plain, but thicker, blanket and a less worn pillow.

The photo of the closet shows worn clothes for an adult man and then slightly less worn for a female child. The bookshelf has workbooks designed for young children sitting in a basket low enough for a small child to be able to reach.

“You know…” Fives says slowly, “I think this safe house is where Shadow grew up.”

Four pairs of identical eyes focus on Fives and then turn to the pile of evidence that Echo and Dogma collected from the shack. Tup digs through one of the boxes and pulls out a small jewelry box, popping it open with ease.

The jewelry box is filled with rings and bracelets covered in gems, but the jewelry that’s sitting in a place of honor is a bead bracelet made by a small child. The beads read “#1 Daddy”.

“If Shadow was the one who made this bracelet, then maybe she turned to a life of crime because she grew up poor?” Jesse asks, “Who does that shack belong to?”

“No one,” Echo says, and then he pauses and makes a face, “Well, no. It belongs to the Banker’s Guild. Has for over three decades. Before that, it was an empty lot.”

“I guess the Banker’s Guild won’t help us?”

“Legally they don’t have to keep records longer than fifteen years,” Dogma notes absently as he picks up a ring from the jewelry box and squints at it.

“...why do you know that?” Jesse asks.

“I read legal texts for fun.”

“...vod, we need to get you out more—” Tup says with a sigh.

“Fives,” Dogma interrupts, as he sets the ring down and picks up a pendant, “I think this is all costume jewelry.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I mean, not 100%.” Dogma shrugs, “But all of this stuff that we collected from the safe house looks expensive, but they feel like nickel and colored glass.”

Echo stands suddenly and moves to another box. He digs through the bags for a moment and then emerges with a small bag with a delicate-looking ring. Fives recognizes the ring even from across the room.

Shadow mailed it to him shortly after he first met her.

Echo holds the ring he’s holding next to the ring that Dogma had been looking at, and the difference is as clear as night and day.

The ring that Shadow sent him is one of the most expensive rings found on Coruscant, made of rhodium and naturally formed pink diamonds, you would need to be royalty to be able to afford it.

Shadow stole it from under the nose of Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan. Luckily, House Organa is willing to allow them to hold onto the ring as evidence, especially since it’s housed in the Jedi temple.

“So, what’s the working theory?” Jesse asks, “Shadow became a thief because she grew up in poverty?”

“Her dad was a thief too,” Fives says thoughtfully as he picks up the statue that Echo had been examining earlier, “What if he turned to theft in an attempt to make a better life for his kid?”

“He wasn’t very good at it,” Tup says dryly.

“Right. He wasn’t a good thief, so he was never able to pull them out of poverty, so his kid became a master thief to make up for his failure?” Fives offers.

“So, do we think dad’s still alive?” Echo asks.

The vod’e share a look, and then they turn to Fives, “How old would you say she was, Fives? You’re the only one who’s met her face to face.” Dogma says.

“I dunno…mid-twenties, maybe? But she was wearing make-up, and General Nu said that make-up can make you appear older or younger, depending on your skill.” Fives shrugs, “But let's say she’s in her mid-twenties for ease.”

Dogma nods and makes a note on a piece of flimsy before he pins it to the corkboard behind him. General Nu is a fan of the classics, so they they a mystery board, with a grainy picture of Shadow in the middle.

Fives stares at the picture and then pushes his hand through his curls again, “How about we take a break for a couple of hours? I need some fresh air.”

Echo smirks at him, “You’re going to visit your bookseller, aren’t you?”

Despite his best efforts, Fives can feel a blush creeping up his neck, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”

“Better hope Shadow doesn’t learn about the book girl. You wouldn’t want her to get targeted.” Jesse points out.

At that, Fives glares at his brothers, “It’s not like that!”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out on a date?” Tup asks.

Fives glares even harder at Tup, “Only if you don’t mind me throwing you out a window.”

“So you don’t want her, but no one else can have her?” Jesse asks, “You know, maybe I’ll go and ask her out too—”

“I’m leaving now!” Fives interrupts, turning on his heel to leave the small room, “Maybe one of you can talk to General Nu about getting a bigger room to work in?”

“I’ll handle it,” Echo says with a grin, “Have a nice date.”

“It’s not a—You know what, forget it.”

Just down the road from the Jedi temple, squished between a liquor store and a lingerie shop, sits the Rainbow Connection Bookstore and Cafe. It’s not the biggest bookstore, but it is popular enough.

College kids like to order their textbooks through you because you don’t charge an arm and a leg, not to mention your cafe is good enough and fairly priced for broke college students.

Honestly, broke college students are your main customers.

It’s not like you need the money from the shop, your alternate revenue stream has already earned you enough money that you could retire right now and spend ten thousand credits a day for the rest of your life, and you still wouldn’t be able to get rid of all your money.

Who says crime doesn’t pay?

Your gaze drifts from one side of your empty shop to the other and then focuses on the news report playing on your datapad.

“That’s right, it’s been three weeks since the Museum of Coruscant was hit by the criminal known as Shadow, and none of the exhibits that were stolen have been recovered—”

Well, duh. 

That’s because they’re not on Coruscant anymore. Your client had them shipped to the Outer Rim, so they’re long gone by now. Honestly, by the time the theft had been reported, the artifacts were no longer on Coruscant.

The bell over the door rings as the door opens, and you close the news site as you lift your gaze to the door, “Welcome to the Rainbow Connection~” You say in a sing-song voice.

“Slow day, Princess?”

Only one person on Coruscant calls you Princess, and a wide smile crosses your face as you focus your gaze on the man standing in the doorway, “Well, it’s early still, Fives.”

He looks tired, and you know it’s because he’s been skipping sleep to try and catch you.

Poor dove.

You feel bad about it. But not so bad as to stop.

“Can I get a caf, Princess?”

“Sure thing, extra sugar right?”

“And an espresso shot.”

“Coming right up, hotshot.” You walk to the back of the shop, where the cafe is, and start the caf, and then you lean on the counter, “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” Fives admits as he sinks into a chair, “I’ve been chasing Shadow for six months, and I don’t feel any closer now than I was when I first met her.”

“You’ll figure it out, Fives.” The caf machine stops brewing, and you quickly make his mug the way he likes it, then you walk around the counter to set it in front of him. You sit across from him, rest your chin on the palm of your hand, and watch him take a sip of his caf flavored sugar.

“I don’t know, Princess. I’m beginning to feel like I bit off more than I can chew.”

“Well,” You lean back in the seat, “I don’t know if you know this, but I am pretty clever.”

He grins at you, “Yeah? You fancy yourself a detective?”

“Well, I have read a detective novel or two.”

He laughs, some of the tension draining from his shoulders, “Alright Princess. Well, we got an anonymous tip and it led us to a shack on the lower levels, near the Works.”

Wait.

“We think it was Shadow’s childhood home.”

They went to my dad’s home?

“Ooh? How exciting! It should be a simple thing to find out who lived there then, right?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Fives sighs, “Turns out that the bank owns the property, and only keeps records for 15 years.”

Oh, thank the Force for minor miracles. 

“Really?” You ask, “Only 15 years? That’s a…rather short amount of time, isn’t it?”

“I think so, but that might just be because their policies are ruining my investigation.” He pushes his hand through his curls, and you don’t bother to stifle your giggle, his hair is sticking up in odd directions.

He’s so cute.

He smiles at your giggle, something soft on his face, “How do you always make me feel better?”

“It’s my superpower.” You tease. It’s a shame he’d never look at the real you like this.

Everything about your civilian identity is a carefully crafted facade. The messy hair, the glasses, the massive sweaters, the calf-length skirts, and the sensible boots were all picked out to make you seem soft and harmless.

Your hair? Styled this way with hair gel and water.

The glasses? Fake, the lenses are glass.

The massive sweaters? Chosen to make you look like you’re hiding in them.

The calf-length skirts? Chosen to make it look like you’re not an athletic person.

The boots? Steel-toed for self-defense…and also designed to look a size larger than your actual shoe size.

“Well,” Fives says as he finishes his caf, “I appreciate your superpower.” He absently twists his mug in his hands, “I should get back to it, I think I’ll head out and interview around Shadow’s childhood home, see if I can get anything from the neighbors.”

Good luck with that. My neighbors growing up are all dead.

“Well, be careful,” You say, “The area around the Works isn’t safe after all.”

“Aww, worried about me, Princess?” He winks at you.

You huff and lift a single shoulder, “Well, I’m not anymore. Let me make some caf for you and your brothers to go. And maybe some sandwiches.”

“You are an angel among women,” Fives praises.

At that, you laugh. “Hardly. I just don’t like seeing people go hungry.” That might be the most honest thing I’ve ever said to him.

It takes you fifteen minutes to get the five sandwiches made up how the five men prefer and to make their travel cups. But you send Fives off with a bag of carefully labeled food and caf, and a warning to be careful.

Fives last comment to you before he heads back toward the temple is a reminder to lock up your shop before you head home for the night, and then he vanishes into the crowd.

You step back into your shop, and a small smile crosses your lips, “Well. If Fives is going to visit my childhood home, I should be there to greet him, shouldn’t I? It’s only polite.”

“What a miserable place,” Fives mutters under his breath as he kicks a piece of trash out of the road and over to an overflowing trashcan.

He’s been here for hours now, and so far he hasn’t met a single person who knows the people who used to live in the old shack down the road. Not even the oldest people living here know them.

He releases a heavy breath. Another dead end. Of course.

Fives turns to head back the way he came, then freezes when he sees the silhouette of someone sitting on the roof of the shack he had investigated.

Someone wearing a high nerftail and a long coat.

He knows it’s her before he can see any details.

Swiftly, Fives runs over to the shack and hoists himself up onto the roof. The building is sturdier than it looks, easily able to hold his weight. “Shadow.”

She turns her head, a secretive smile on her red-painted lips, “Soldier boy,”

“You’re under arrest,”

“Oh, darling, you haven’t caught me yet.” She leans back slightly and her heeled boots lightly kick against the side of the shack.

“Yeah? We’re on a roof, where are you going to go?”

She laughs, and Fives kind of hates himself when his heart skips a beat at the sound. “Won’t you sit with me? I heard that you were poking around.”

Fives clenches his jaw. He should arrest her. Or shoot her. But even as he thinks that he walks over to her and sits next to her. She’s…tiny. Sure, he’s a decently big guy, but even compared to that, she’s still tiny.

“It’s the malnutrition.” She explains, almost as if she can hear his thoughts, “If you live in starvation for long enough, it has lasting side effects.”

“So, this was actually your house growing up?”

“Mm. I lived here with father.” She leans forward, and her long hair tumbles over her shoulder, “The houses are riddled with toxic mold, every single one of them. Not to mention toxins in the water, no heat, and gang violence—”

“You were just a kid! How could your father keep you here?” 

She laughs again, though this time it is a bitter noise, “He did his best, but he grew up around here too. By the time I came around, heavy metal toxins had eaten holes into his brain. The fact that he lived as long as he did is, frankly, a miracle.” She pauses, “He died when I was six, if you were hoping to find him.”

Damn, busted.

“The Devoranian seemed to think that he was still alive.”

She turns to look at him, her smile growing, “Oh, silly man. Do you think six-year-old girls can live on their own?”

The information is like a punch to the gut, “Adopted. You were adopted. And your adopted parents are the ones who turned you into this.”

She shrugs, “Believe what you like. But this is the only hint you’re getting.” She pauses and then smacks the side of her fist into the palm of her hand, “Oh! Right! Did you like the ring?”

“The ring?” Fives blinks, and then glowers at her, “You mean the ring you stole from the Queen of Alderaan?”

“...no? The other ring.” She pauses, “Hm, maybe you haven’t found it yet. Oh well! I’m sure you’ll find it eventually.”

Fives stares at her, “You stole another ring?”

“Uh…I am a thief.” She pushes to her feet and stretches, “Anyway, time for me to go. So much to do, you see.”

Fives scrambles to his feet, “Wait! You—”

He’s not able to finish his sentence as there’s a flash of red, a ribbon wrapping around his wrist to hold him still. And then her lips, warm and impossibly soft press against his, and his heart stutters.

“Until next time, darling,” She whispers against his ear, and then he’s free and she’s gone.

He can still feel her lips against his, he can still taste her on his lips, and he wants to kiss her again. And he hates himself for that, too.

Fives pulls his comm out with a shaky hand and calls Echo. He starts talking before Echo can greet him, “I need you to search the Evidence room. You’re looking for a ring that isn’t in an evidence bag. A new one.”

“Sure thing.” Echo pauses, “You good?”

“No. Not really, but I’m not hurt. Just…do that for me and tell me if you find anything.”

“...can do. Be careful, Vod.”

Fives doesn’t answer, he just hangs up. He didn’t mean to worry his brother, but he just can’t right now.

Then he dials a second number, and waits.

“Hello?” A familiar voice, soft and warm, echoes across the line, and Fives feels his heart settle.

“Hey Princess, you busy?”

“Just doing some shopping, but I’m free to talk. What’s up?”

“I just…I needed to hear your voice, that’s all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “Do you want me to come to you, Fives?”

“No. It’s not safe here. Can I come to your place?”

“Ummm…You can. I just…I haven’t cleaned in a bit—” She sounds so upset about that, that Fives can’t help but laugh, the weight on his heart lifting.

“I don’t mind. I just need to see you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “Alright. I’ll send you the door code and address so you can get in. I trust that you won’t do anything weird.”

“Never.” Fives pauses, “Princess?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

45 minutes later, Fives is sitting on her couch. 

His Princess’ home is so…her. There are bookshelves lining all of the walls and the overflow of books is piled on the floor. Not to mention cute little knickknacks sitting on open shelves and counters. 

Her home is warm, cozy, and adorable. Just like her.

He stands when the door opens, and his Princess walks in carrying four bags full of groceries. “Here, let me help with that,” Fives says as he takes the bags and sets them on an open counter.

“Oh, thank you!”

She’s not wearing her glasses, but then he remembered her mentioning once that she normally wears contacts when she’s not working. It doesn’t matter, she’s still adorable.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“You could never.” She reassures with a bright smile.

“Oh, good.” Fives watches her kick off her shoes and then turn to start sorting the groceries, and then he moves.

His hand comes out to cradle her cheek. She’s so soft. So soft and so warm.

Fives leans in and catches her lips with his. She tastes like strawberries, likely from the lipgloss she prefers, and Fives knows that he could lose himself in her kisses.

He wants to lose himself in her kisses if she’ll let him.

His tongue flickers against her lower lip, and she releases a faint whimper, her fingers curling around the material of his top. Then Fives breaks the kiss, realizing that he probably went too far.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, she’s still standing close enough that her breath is fanning across his face, “I should have asked if you were okay with that.”

She looks flustered, but she also shakes her head, “I didn’t mind.” She drops her gaze to avoid his, “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again—”

A relieved laugh falls from him, and then he leans in and kisses her again. All thoughts of Shadow rush out of his mind as he curls his arms tightly around his Princess and deepens the kiss.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

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@lonewolflupe

[toptierteaser]

Tubby Guy on the Treadmill

"Woah! Oh, come on man! This is so embarrassing! Fuck, dude! C'mon! You know I can't run on that thing!"

You whimper as the Coach prods you up onto the treadmill, digging his sturdy poking stick into your plump, juicy love handle.

"Well," sneers the coach, alternating from your love handle on the left to the one on your right. You stifle a squeal as the sensation of wood being pressed into your sensitive flesh flusters you further. "You should have thought about that before you stuffed your fat fucking face, shouldn't you, porker?"

You can only whimper as he pokes you forward, as you waddle, feeling your plumped-up body rebelling against your tight, restricting clothes. Your t-has already come untucked, your ass wide, threatening to bust straight out of your tight, Camp-issued running shorts. As you waddle forward, each cheek rises and falls with a shuddering quiver, driving your tight briefs farther up between your massive butt cheeks. You resist the urge to pick your wedgie, knowing it will only draw more ridicule from the handsome, fit handler who herds you along. But the feeling of yourself getting closer to busting every shred of fabric, the tightness wedged up every crevice and between every roll has begun to drive you mad!

You arrive, fat and chubby as you look forward onto the treadmill. How much have you packed on since your arrival at the Camp? Fifty pounds? One hundred? An embarrassing amount, there's no arguing that! The coach gives your waistband a tug, signaling for you to stop and you oblige.

"Welcome, Camper!" says a booming, masculine voice from above. Another Coach, no doubt. Another fit, handsome jock who looks down on you like a tubby sack of blubber. You blush as you hear the taunting in his voice, the smile audible over the speaker. "Well, it seems that it's been a while since you've taken to one of these...been skipping out during workouts, have we?" Your plump bottom lip drops in embarrassment, but before you can muster up the courage to answer, the voice continues. "No matter. Today's exercise is merely a...measurement of sorts...an estimate of your stamina. Does that make sense, big boy?"

You nod, though the voice certainly hasn't answered every question reeling in your mind.

"Very good. You'll find this exercise to be much easier the more agreeable you are. Now, please mount the treadmill.” The Coach gives your fat ass a sharp prod and you waddle forward, planting first one heavy foot onto the floor of the treadmill and then another. You find some difficulty mounting properly, your wide hips and juicy love handles getting caught on the armrests.

“Oh my…does our Camper there need some butter to help him squeeze in?”

Spurned on by the thought of the Coach behind you excitedly rubbing your exposed chub as you helplessly attempt to wriggle your lardy ass onto the treadmill before an entire panel of Coaches, you manage to wriggle through, belly wobbling ridiculously as you finally make it. You swear you can hear a sharp ‘BWOMP’ as your juicy ass snaps through behind you and your cheeks turn crimson!

“Well fatty—I mean, camper—I trust you know how a treadmill works?”

You nod.

“Very good. Though, of course it doesn’t look like it. Now, your expectations are as follows. You will be tasked with a simple jog. A measurement of your endurance. Everything will be recorded and documented, from your breathing to your…ahem…body movements. The large red button before you…” you look noticing the impossible-to-miss red button directly in front of your face. “…is for tapping out…only when you simply cannot continue to waddle—I mean run—any further! Is that understood?”

Again you nod.

“Very good. The punishment for tapping out early is severe…” you don’t know what that could possibly entail, but you know it’s nothing good. “Oh, one more thing,” says the disembodied voice. You hear a sharp clack sound from above and watch as something descends above your head. “You will also be incentivized here to continue your jogging for as long as possible…so we have included some…treats…to entice you. As the item descends, you notice a cheeseburger tied to a string dangling right before your eyes. about a few feet above, tied to the same string, is a donut…and above that, a cupcake! Your pulse quickens in helpless excitement as you spot some of your favorite treats dangling above!

“Does that look sufficient to you, big boy?” says the voice. You simply look dumbly at the long string of the dozens of snacks ready for you to consume. “Excellent.” Says the voice. “Now, let us begin. We’ll start slow.” You hear a distinct clank and feel the treadmill begin to move beneath your feet. Instinctively, you step forward, towards the burger that dangles tantalizingly out of reach. You will have to earn it, you know that! But they aren’t making you waddle too fast just yet! You can do this! You waddle forward, feeling your cheeks jiggle behind you like separate, massive entities, your belly rising and falling with every step, your love handles shaking funnily at your sides. Everything is chubby, everything plump. You become more flustered as you feel your thighs rubbing, your elbows pushing up against your love handles as you waddle forward. You can feel the eyes of the Coach behind you, fixated on your widened body. You must look ridiculous, blubbing out of your workout clothes like a pig! Chasing a cheeseburger on a string! And next a donut! And next a cupcake! You can hear the snickering over the loudspeaker, the stifled laughing of the Coach behind you. But as you become consumed with the waddling and the jiggling and the rubbing, the ever-present promise of the cheeseburger that gets a millimeter closer with every step, you are left with little room to consider anything else but the promise of food and the sheer embarrassment of being a butterball on a treadmill…

[dilfartist]

The second part of Missed is so sad to think about. Imagine getting non-conned in front of a live audience, having every second documented by uncaring eyes. How do you heal from that? You can’t trust Leon (someone you cared about!) ever again, but it’s not like you can escape him either. If you scream and pray for death he angrily shushes you and demands you never say something so awful again. Stop eating, and he forces his own food down your throat to make sure you don’t starve. You won’t drink? He’ll pin you down and pry your mouth open, dumping as much water as he can onto your face, knowing you’ll have to swallow at least some of it. When you start bashing your head against the wall, the scientists finally interfere, bursting in to sedate and drag you out before you can do any serious damage to yourself, only for Leon to rip them to shreds for getting close to you. When he tries to comfort you, worried that they might have scared or hurt you, you scream and cry and attack him, asking how he could’ve done something so awful to you, how he could’ve hurt you in front of so many people, letting them watch every second. He has no response, no excuse. Instead of saying something to justify his actions, he just allows you beat on him as you explain again and again how much you hate him, how he ruined your life, how you won’t ever forgive him. You tell him that your life would’ve been better if you had never met him, that he’s the worst thing that ever happened to you. And he tolerates it because deep down he knows that everything you’ve said is true. And then you start screaming for him to kill you, saying it wouldn’t be worse than anything else he’s done to you, that maybe he can do something good for once and put you out of your misery. Finally, you tell him you won’t ever love him or his monstrous children, not after what he’s done to you.

And your words break something inside, just as his actions had broken you.

This is exactly what I aimed for when writing the sequel to Missed, at first I wasn't sure if I had gotten that point across.

And I can't help but hate Leon because of his condition. If it weren't for the Las plagas, Leon would have never done what he did to the reader. He finds himself disgusted after everything happens, angry at himself and even more at the scientists. They knew he couldn't physically control himself. He told them to take you away from him if he were to have any urges.

When Leon starts to get turned on, or known by the scientists as a breeding urge, his body retaliates against him as punishment because he hasn't satisfied his desire. Leon's body heats up, burning his entire body even with a bundle of fans pointed at him. He's so very sensitive at first, but after a couple rounds, he grows less. Basically, he's greatly ill until he cums

For a little while Leon got away with ripping their heads off as revenge for the both of you. You for the trauma you've faced. Him for becoming an experiment and causing him to harm you.

[pmoth]

Words Best Left Unspoken, Mixed Media 2024

detail shots & explanation on what went into this piece 👇

in the past 4 or so months my life has changed drastically. its been an emotional rollercoaster. shedding old relationships and trying to build up new ones is a scary thing for me as someone so rejection sensitive. it’s hard to allow myself to be truly emotionally vulnerable, but recently had the realization that it’s necessary for the kind of life i want to live. i want to live a life of love, not of fear. talking about my feelings is the only way for me to be able to truly process them, but sometimes it’s simply not the right time to talk about them. so for this piece i wrote down everything i wish i could say to two people in particular, shredded the sheets of paper, and made new paper out of those shreds. the self portrait is meant to mimic the figures used to document injuries during an autopsy. The text that reads ココロの中に。。。僕の部屋だ。translates to “Inside of my heart… that’s my room.” I’ll leave the interpretation of those things up to you :) im trying to get back in touch with the reason i started making art in the first place, and that was to express myself. i think i did pretty good.

to LB friends: this piece is gonna be in an art show in town on the 17th :) you can dm if you want the flyer

[inkykeiji]

clariiii!!!! beastzai girlies rise!!!!

okay okay hear me out i jst wanna be his stupid silly little princess that tries to braid his hair while he’s doing paperwork or smt! putting hairclips and ribbons on him, smooching him until lipstick marks stained all over his bandages! and he’d be so calm abt it too like “Oh? A new hairpin? I haven’t seen you use it before.”

he wouldn’t mind if Chuuya or any of his other subordinates walk in tho 😭 bro invented the idgaf war

omg that’s soooo cute tho????? i love the idea of beast dazai keeping this precious, pretty lil princess around ready to tend to his every wish n whim, to satisfy him in whatever way he requires, to serve him in every way—and that’s your only job, really, just be there for him to use whenever, wherever, and however he needs; and in return, he buys you whatever the fuck you want, lets you do whatever you please, prancing around his big office in the cutest lil outfits and lingerie sets, doodling little drawings on the documents he no longer requires (though they have to be shredded after; sorry, baby, Daddy thinks your drawing is really cute, but this is sensitive information that needs to be destroyed, don’t get whiny with him now), playing with his hair and marking him with lipstick and perfume and the cutest, sweetest lil puckered stamps of gleaming saliva across his neck and jaw (they look like lil flowers, Daddy, don’t you think?) <3

and he’s such a fucking pro at staying completely and entirely unbothered, unaffected, that iron grasp of self control inherent and effortless, his concentration wholly unperturbed by whatever it is you’re currently doing.

even so, his favourite is when you curl up on his toes, arms twined loosely around his calves and head resting on his thigh, little threads of drool dribbling from the corners of your lips to soil his trousers in tiny, sticky puddles, sound asleep until he wants to use you again <3 and if anyone has the guts to dare say something other than a glowing compliment—to him OR to you—well, that’s a bullet in the skull, right between the brows <3

does he also accidentally, unintentionally fall in love with you??? yes, of course, because we are hopeless romantics here on inkykeiji, but this is already v long so i am cutting it off here <333

[flipping-the-coin]

[Patient Report: OP-7845-91653]

[Authorization Requirement: Alpha]

[Document Status: Sensitive - 99% preserved]

[Listed Authorized Individuals: Primal Steward Ratchet]

[Overseeing Medical Personnel: - Primary Physician: CMO Ratchet - Secondary Assistant: First Aid]

[Session: #001]

═════════════════

I was called to perform an emergency checkup on patient OP-7845-91653 roughly half a groon after mid cycle. The call was sent by the patient's Conjunx [Note: Conjunx status still not legalized] and I arrived within the following twenty Kliks.

Upon arrival the patient's Conjunx was rather hostile but escorted me into the residence [Note: Residence unregistered - cannot be listed]. Signs of an intense and frantic struggle were evident within the hab in large part due to the damaged furnishings and the various claw marks on the walls. Initial observations led me to consider extreme paranoia and schizophrenia as possible mental ailments.

The patient was in a catatonic state upon my arrival. He was practically feral and curled up in a ball in the center of the living room. He remained unresponsive until I attempted to begin repairing the wounds he inflicted on himself in his madness. Possibly due to the tools or my presence, he flew into a rage the moment I attempted to work on his injuries. The patient needed to be pinned by his Conjunx and sedated by me in order for any sort of progress to be made.

At that point I tended to what wounds I could and then spoke at length with the patient's Conjunx about what symptoms he presents on a regular basis. According to what information I was given, patient OP-7845-91653 will be a long term care project. He suffers from extreme paranoia, minor schizophrenia, partial bipolar disorder, extreme PTSD and trauma, stimuli sensitivity, dissociation, and field management disorder of the third degree. The source of these issues has so far proven to be because of [Subject: Optimus Prime - See file for affiliation description].

For the time being, the patient will need to be put onto strong medication to dull his severe responses to external stimuli. My current prescription is sedatives [Chemical composition YD-7869], sensory blockers [Patch type SUO-3602], and therapeutic exercises [Sensory Adjustment Therapy - Type 90897]. My assistant will deliver the prescription medication within the next cycle and report on any changes in the meantime. The patient's next checkup will be in a stellar cycle and will continue to have similar checkups regularly until confirmed to be more stable.

[Personal Note: I never thought I would live to see the day when the face I knew so well could be contorted in such fear. Optimus never showed such expressions, he was always stoic and controlled in every action and word. Orion though? Whatever happened to him while he was sharing a frame with Optimus... it damaged him so deeply that I fear he may not recover.

He is... terrifying to say the least. The friend I knew before the war seems all but gone now. It is my hope that with time I can fix this... that I can ensure what little remains of Optimus is kept safe and preserved. I know this is not the correct way to think of my friend, but how can I not? He looks so much like Optimus it makes my tanks churn.

I may not be the best Doctor for this case. I cannot remain impartial like this. However at the moment I am quite possibly the only Doctor on Cybertron who can handle a situation this severe. So for the time being... I will endure and do what I can. Its what Optimus would have wanted, and it is what I owe my old friend after everything, even if his Conjunx is a mech I would rather see shredded bit by bit publicly.]

═════════════════

[Assistant First Aid's Report:

Medication was delivered without issue! Mr. Pax's Conjunx was a bit scary, but thankfully he took the package and didn't do anything else. I wasn't able to get a good look at the situation so far, but maybe next time I deliver a package I can check up on Mr. Pax properly.]

[dippyface]

my executive functioning has been so terrible but I am out in the warm beautiful day. went to used book sale and document shredding. I'm free of useless sensitive documents and DVD rich

[hindvanture]

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[royalshredding]

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[hwumbweb]

United States Postal Mailbox: A Convenient Solution for Your Mail Needs

In today's fast-paced world, managing mail can become a cumbersome task, especially for those living in busy cities like Los Angeles. Whether you're a frequent traveler, a small business owner, or just someone who needs a more efficient way to handle mail, a United States Postal Mailbox offers a practical solution. These mailboxes serve as a secure and reliable point of contact for receiving personal and business correspondence.

While traditional mailboxes are still widely used, there has been a growing trend toward virtual mailboxes and package-receiving services. These services have revolutionized the way people manage their postal needs. If you're based in downtown Los Angeles, you have access to some of the best virtual mailbox services that make managing your mail easier than ever.

Best Virtual Mailbox Downtown Los Angeles

For residents and businesses in downtown Los Angeles, the best virtual mailbox service can streamline your mail handling. With the digital era in full swing, many people are opting for virtual mailboxes to receive, view, and even manage their mail online. Virtual mailbox services allow you to receive physical mail at a real street address, and instead of waiting for your mail to arrive at your door, you can access scanned images of your mail in real time from any device with internet access.

Services like HWUMB.com provide users with a dedicated physical address where all mail is sent. Once your mail arrives, the service will scan the outside of the envelope and upload an image to your account. From there, you can choose to have it opened and scanned, forwarded to another address, or shredded for your privacy. This option is particularly valuable for those who may be constantly on the move or live in a location where mail delivery is less than reliable.

The best virtual mailbox services in downtown Los Angeles combine convenience with security, giving you peace of mind knowing that your sensitive documents and packages are safely stored. Additionally, these services offer flexible packages for individuals, small businesses, and entrepreneurs looking to consolidate their postal needs.

United States Postal Stamps: A Brief Overview

Even with the rise of digital communication, United States Postal Stamps remain a vital part of sending mail. These postage stamps are an essential item for mailing letters, cards, and packages through the U.S. Postal Service (USPS). Stamps come in various denominations and designs, often reflecting historical figures, national landmarks, and important events.

For those who still prefer to send physical mail, collecting stamps has become a hobby for many. The United States Postal Service regularly releases new collections that appeal to collectors and anyone who enjoys the art of mailing.

Additionally, stamps are available for purchase at USPS locations, post offices, and even online, allowing for easy access. With the introduction of Forever Stamps, consumers can buy stamps that hold their value indefinitely, regardless of postal rate changes. This ensures that sending mail remains affordable and simple.

Package Receiving Service: A Key Convenience

Another growing trend is package receiving service, especially in urban areas like Los Angeles, where space is limited, and secure package delivery can be a concern. A package-receiving service allows you to receive packages at a designated address, which is especially useful for those who live in apartment complexes, businesses with high volumes of deliveries, or anyone who may not be home during regular delivery hours.

HWUMB.com offers this service, helping individuals and businesses receive packages with ease. This service can be incredibly useful during holidays, sales events, or when you frequently order online but are unable to accept deliveries in person. Instead of worrying about missed packages or package theft, you can rest assured knowing your items will be securely received and stored until you are available to pick them up.

Conclusion

The United States Postal Service continues to evolve, and with modern solutions like virtual mailboxes, postal stamps, and package receiving services, it’s easier than ever to stay on top of your mail and deliveries. Whether you need a United States Postal Mailbox for personal use or are looking for the best virtual mailbox in downtown Los Angeles, services like HWUMB.com are here to make your life more efficient and organized.

Managing your mail and packages has never been more convenient—embrace these innovative services today to simplify your postal needs. https://www.hwumb.com/

[avanti4027]

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[masterheartsxiii]

This is literally commonplace and has been happening at every location with sensitive documents. I work at a government contractor. We have bins that are labelled ��to be shredded- confidential right next to our regular trash cans. Like let’s maybe take the tin foil hats off just for a second and ask ourselves “why would a paper shredder be outside a place with confidential documents”. Like please I’m begging this website to sometimes behave just a little normal.